#and i think a few people never received theirs and ugh that still makes me upset :(

[untouchabyeolman]

anyone remember those valentine’s day cards i sent out to mutuals/followers a couple years ago?

[tearsofsyrup]

half-silvered

— With all the time that has passed since your endless fleeing began, some part of you seems to have forgotten that you are running away from actual people and that there is an actual possibility that they might catch up to you.

pairing. kwon soonyoung / reader

genre. space pirate au, exes au, sci-fi au, romance, angst

word count. 4k

warnings. brief violence

notes. part of @merakiiverse​‘s collab! happy holidays, honeys.

-

Your heartbeat is steady. And unsettlingly silent.

The darkness stretching from wall to wall, blanketing the rooms and corridors in a thick black only interrupted by the round stream of your flashlight which creates distorted shadows before you, does not make your blood pump faster anymore. A thrill you faintly remember from past times in this career is but a stale taste in the back of your throat now, its tang long since eroded.

Skimming over the numbers on each crate with heavy-lidded eyes as you proceed, your free hand digs in the pocket of your coat to retrieve a small list. You cannot bother to count the rooms you pass until you find the box with a code matching the one on your piece of paper, dismissing any distant thud that might reach your ear. Even the thought of one of the thugs you passed on the street before entering the warehouse following you inside, does not alarm you. You trust it would be different if a thirty-seven thousand credit blaster - stolen, naturally - wasn’t fastened to your utility belt, but you cannot be sure anymore.

You shove the end of your flashlight in your mouth as you crouch before the targeted crate and pull out your cloaked mobile to hack the heavy lock sealing the lid shut - a fruitless attempt at keeping your kind out. And with nothing but a few taps and a few beeps more, the lock slides open.

The list feels amateur to you despite its ambition; two whole pairs of di-blasters, no less than three Caratian batteries and one weighty pouch of crystal powder. You're aware that this used to be exhilarating, the thousands of credits worth of cargo you are currently tucking in your backpack - multiplied with a one point two by your buyer. However. You suppress a yawn as you check the list again, before closing the crate with a loud boom.

And wandering back the way you came is just as uneventful as you remember it.

Until you hear a door shut somewhere behind you, not far away.

Instinct is what swings you around, arm steady with experience as you shine your light forth and around, other hand ready on the handle of your blaster. You see nothing but shelves and crates and more crates as your light scans the room, penetrating its dense shadow. Your heartbeat is picking up, but shyly so, your breathing yet even.

Silence. Similar to the one that often creeps inside your skull and lays its eggs of isolation and loneliness in your dreams when you try to sleep during some nights. You gulp, slowly releasing the grip on your blaster.

So you turn back around, quietly and carefully-

A face.

Halted breath.

Soonyoung?

Everything burns, lightning setting fire to the bones beneath your skin and squeezing your lungs of their air and-

...

A piercing headache is what coaxes your consciousness, eyes yet closed. Piercing, as though you are being slammed in the head with the handle of a blaster over and over, the resulting groan that crawls its way out of your chest almost causing you to jump in surprise. Attempting to pry your eyelids open only seems to worsen the incessant pounding, so you let them remain shut, slowly realizing that you are slouched on the ground, back leaned against a wall of some sort. You move to push yourself forward.

But your wrists are tied behind you.

It hurts when your breath hitches.

You force your eyes open then, despite it seemingly grasping your brain and ripping it apart, the instinct to survive activating and tingling within your muscles.

A disorienting blur is all you see through your squinting, a distant canvas of blacks and greys and biting lights. You think a monotone whirr surrounds you but cannot be sure if its a figment of mere imagination through the painful pounding in your ears.

As your vision slowly steadies and your heartbeat’s speed increases, you see that someone sits before you. A face. When your eyes close, Soonyoung’s face flashes across the insides of your lids and you feel fluster burning beneath your cheeks, remembering. Soonyoung?

With a sharp sting, you blink and blink away the dim coating your pupils. It isn’t Soonyoung.

“Ji- ugh... Ji-...” Jihoon, your sore throat won’t let you say.

Jihoon?

His glare is pointed, willing everything in its way to turn to stone. Just like how it used to be. But filled with more hatred, directed at you now. And you can barely comprehend that it is really him.

The inside of a ship surrounds you when you look around, a grey and matte metal, various large crates - one of which Jihoon is seated upon - rucksacks and blasters and canisters and multicolored lights crowding the space. It is bigger than the ship of theirs from your memories.

Jihoon’s all but predatory gaze is still waiting when you return to it.

You try to clear your throat, wincing at the painful pounding that follows and echoes between the walls of your skull. Fingertips tingling, you remember being knocked out, in the warehouse. The fiery burn. Electricity.

“Ji-” you begin, voice raspy but Jihoon stands with a sigh and walks away, out through a doorway and presumably into another room.

You are left stunned, feeling abandoned, body aching. The chill he meets you with after all these years, without even as much as a word, squeezes around your heart in a most discomforting way, despite being expected. Despite him clearly having a hand in your current physical state.

But you ignore that pain and will your eyes to scan your surroundings, your instinct to survive muted but present, searching for any way to escape and run.

With as much power as you can muster in your unwell state and vulnerable position, you jerk your wrists against the cuffs tying your hands together. An electronic lock, you guess, definitely attached to the wall somehow. Inconvenient...

You swallow around slimy saliva, throat so dry it almost feels like sand on its way down. And Soonyoung’s face flashes behind your eyelids when you blink again.

Your eyes are fixed on the doorway now, somehow sensing exactly who will soon enter, rhythmic thuds of footsteps approaching.

But expecting his appearance does naught to calm the heat his presence spreads throughout your body.

Soonyoung.

The same Soonyoung but with grimmer eyes, a stronger build and a missing smile.

Your throat squeezes, feeling as though your heart has jumped up and plugged it shut in an attempt to leave the painful constraints of your chest. Feelings you have tried to keep hidden for so long. Nails bite into your palms where your hands form tight fists behind you.

He walks with steady steps, sharp eyes narrow when they meet yours, Jihoon stopping to lean against the doorway while someone unfamiliar follows behind Soonyoung.

It hurts to breathe as heavily as you are now but you cannot stop.

Soonyoung stills before you to sit where Jihoon had, the stranger standing behind him scrutinizing you. But you don’t pay the latter much mind.

“Soonyoung...” you sigh, but an injured whisper, something salty burning distantly behind your eyes.

He watches you silently, eyebrows twitching slightly at the utterance of his name.

“Why-” you begin but stumble on a cough.

Soonyoung reaches inside his jacket and pulls out a small flask, unscrewing the lid and guiding it to your mouth, helping you drink. If he were anyone else, you would give the offer a second guess. But he’s Soonyoung.

Yet here you are, captive in his ship.

“You never were good at being taken by surprise...” His voice resonates within the deepest parts of your chest and you choke slightly on the water, fists tightening impossibly when his sentence his followed by your name. The familiar vibrations in your ears are too shocking and it somehow scares you, a feeling you do not experience much of.

Soonyoung retracts the flask and flashes you a strained smile, eyes remaining dull. “That’s why we made such a good team.”

A stab in the heart, is what that sentence feels like and you cannot help but shift your eyes to the floor, your dirty boots. Unearned, since you were the one holding the knife back then.

You test your voice with a careful hum, lifting your eyes to meet Soonyoung’s returned frown. “Wh- uhm... I- You electrocuted me... Didn’t you?”

He nods, something pained in his stare. Freezing compared to how Jihoon made you feel. “Yes.”

“Wh-” A cough. “Where’s my ship?”

“We’ve parked it in a private haven. It’s ours now.”

Your gaze shifts from Soonyoung to the stranger behind him, his expression inquisitive, then to Jihoon, glare heavy with unmistakable anger. A swallow tightens your throat.

“You- Why am I here?”

“We want credits,” Soonyoung says and you frown. “A desire you must be pretty familiar with...”

Your heartbeat freezes for a second and something stings somewhere behind your eyes again. There is venom in his voice that never used to be there before. But you are who poisoned him so the hurt you feel is unearned, you remind yourself.

“So, then just take-”

“We want credits,” Soonyoung repeats, interrupting you and resting his elbows on his thighs to lean closer. “... but not yours.”

When your eyes stray due to puzzlement they are only received by Jihoon’s still hateful glare, therefore returning to Soonyoung quickly. Even though his hostility hurts you more.

“Then... What will you do with me...?”

The man before you shrugs, head jerking when black strands of hair catch on his eyelashes. “Nothing much... We’re not gonna kill you or hurt you any more. But I can’t make such promises on the Chancellor’s behalf.”

Your jaw drops along with your heart, and probably your temperature too.

“You’ve pissed a lot of people off, y’know?” Soonyoung continues, leaning away. “The bounty on your head only keeps increasing, especially alive.”

“Y-... You’re fetching me for the Chancellor...” Your voice is significantly weaker now.

And it seems to reach Soonyoung differently, because the chill in his gaze turns glum, a poignance in the way he observes your deflating form on the floor of his ship. Which only seems to worsen the pain viciously clawing at your insides, like your body is only just realizing that it is really him. He found you, after so long. And he is sending you to your probable death.

“Soonyoung...”

He purses his lips, as if biting back an apology of some sorts that he knows you don’t deserve. A nod is all you get before he stands again.

“Jeonghan, upload the route and start the ship,” he commands, seemingly to the stranger behind him. Then he is gone through the doorway again, what remains of your heart merely left to soak in self-inflicted misery.

...

They decide to watch you for one shift each whilst you travel toward your pending doom, a wise decision considering your track record of escaping sticky situations. Coupled with the fact that you do not want to hurt either Soonyoung or Jihoon anyway, despite phantom heat still tingling throughout your limbs from the earlier electric shock and heavy handcuffs digging into your wrists.

Jeonghan, the stranger, is the first to watch you. He is surprisingly nice to you, offers you water and even bread, initiating small talk - something you cannot remember when you last did without an ulterior motive.

“So, you used to know Soonyoung and Jihoon, right?” he asks at one point with an encouraging smile, making you wonder how much he knows. The weight of the question rings quietly in your ears.

“Uhm, yes... Yes, I used to know them...”

When you say no more, despite Jeonghan’s patience, he clears his throat. “Did... you guys have a falling out?”

You scoff upon reflex. “Yeah, you could say that...”

Jeonghan squints. “What happened?”

A heaviness brews within Jeonghan’s eyes and suddenly you feel like he knows everything, like he is just asking to confirm what he has already been told. To decide if you really are the vile monster he thinks of you as.

The darkness of the cargo hold turns colder suddenly and you look away. “I’d rather not talk about it...” you squeak as your heart thuds painfully.

Jeonghan’s all but invasive stare fades and he changes the subject then.

...

The next shift is Jihoon’s and you have never felt as naked, vulnerable and guilty as you do under his burning glare.

He doesn’t utter one single word. Only sits in front of you and stares, seemingly trying to summon your death with nothing but one long look and a chilling quiet. And you are terribly surprised that it doesn’t work.

Not even sleep is worth attempting in Jihoon’s silence as when your lids fall shut Jihoon’s loathing expression is imprinted behind them, slowly morphing into Soonyoung’s instead. It only makes your heart jump and eyes itch, so you endure Jihoon’s invisible knives with an increasingly parched throat for the duration of his shift.

...

Despite how unsettling being watched by Jihoon proved to be, when it is Soonyoung’s turn you almost ask Jihoon to stay.

Your body has grown heavy with fatigue but your mind awakens painfully when Soonyoung approaches, bringing a tension so thick it makes you sweat with him. Therefore his first action of offering you water is appreciated. But the way there’s a permanent frown weighing at the corners of his mouth makes the water taste bitter.

You break the silence after moisturizing your vocal chords, speaking over the consistent beeping sounds in the background.

“I think Jihoon wants me dead,” seems like the only thing you can think of saying. Even though there are so many words boiling within your chest with Soonyoung’s name written all over them, you feel like you do not have the right to their utterances.

Soonyoung’s lips purse, slanted gaze serious. “You’re probably right.”

It hurts, though you have not earned that pain. Only caused it.

A quiet that lasts a forged eternity proceeds, until the tension turns deafening.

Soonyoung sighs, a slow hand combing through his hair. “Jihoon used to like you more than me, y’know? You were always his favorite...”

It really hurts.

“Until you fucked us over,” Soonyoung finishes.

Averting your eyes you swallow around slimy saliva, a cold knot twisting in the pit of your stomach. And there is a burn behind your eyelids you are afraid will boil over if you meet Soonyoung’s stare again. The cognizance of your weakness that washes over you and makes your hairs stand on end is unpleasant, mercilessly corroding the strong image you’ve built of yourself.

“You-you gave up everything we had for... money,” Soonyoung continues when you can’t, the weight of his tone increasing. “You left us, you left... me. You left me for fucking credits...” His voice wavers and it’s a dagger in your heart, a sting behind your eyes.

Your memory is as clear as if it had only just happened. Seeing the offer that had been sent to you. Considering and considering and considering, all those credits that could be yours if you just made the right choice. Lying sleepless next to Soonyoung that night, palm flat on his naked chest. Getting dressed quietly, leaving the ship with the emptiness of an unspoken goodbye in your stomach, one you convinced yourself wasn’t real. Giving away the ship’s location to the bidder, knowing the trouble it would bring your friend and your lover. How salty the countless credits tasted once yours. You still taste it now.

Though you cannot be sure of how long it takes for you to notice that you are crying, you find that your will to save face has run out. You break at last.

Ugly sobbing bounces between the metal walls of the ship, worsening with each breath as you keep remembering that you are not the one who should be crying. Your lungs burn painfully, Jihoon and Jeonghan surely waking upon your horrid weeping. It feels as though your heart is melting, running down your cheeks and dying as the droplets flatten across the floor. In only moments, you are reduced to nothing. Nothing but shame. And the man whose heart you battered witnesses it all.

Eventually, there are no more tears left to cry and silence thrives again, save for the rhythmic beeping.

“I’m sorry,” comes the apology that is long overdue, as raspy as it may be.

Soonyoung’s expression is blue, eyes glazed over with a sadness you only recognize now when yours are too. “It doesn’t matter,” he reminds you, though his tone is not as dismissive as the sentence it offers.

Your head shakes quickly, strands of hair sticking against your tacky cheeks. “I know it doesn’t. You’ve always been a man of your word Soonyoung, and you will turn me in no matter what I say now...” you concede and Soonyoung’s shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry. I-I-I was greedy and selfish and only cared about credits, about feeling strong and independent and invincible-... Or so I thought. Or wanted to, I-... I cared about you two...” Your throat tightens, but you force your words out anyway. “I loved you Soonyoung and I- It wasn’t fake, I was never lying, I just-... I wanted to feel like I didn’t need you... And there will never be a time when I won’t regret what I did...”

Tears descend the expanse of your face again, but silently this time. And Soonyoung’s stare is filled with something warmer now, despite his steadfast sorrow. And you can only think about the hugs you left behind, the kisses, the smiles, the laughs.

“You’re an idiot.”

Your chest jumps at the new voice, blurry stare shooting to where Jihoon is leaned against the doorway again. He sounds the same after three years. And some of the hatred in his glare has faded now.

You nod carefully, lip shaking. “I know.”

Soonyoung’s eyes remain steadily on you.

From where your limbs are slumped in a dead pile against the wall, they stiffen abruptly when there’s a sudden hand on your cheek and your attention jumps to Soonyoung again. He wipes your tears with gentle touches, warm thumb soft across your skin. Nails tickle your cheekbone lightly as he moves to tuck some stray strands of hair behind your ear. Your heart must be shuddering.

“I missed you for a long time,” he tells you, pupils tracing the shapes of your features along with his finger. “And then hated you for even longer.”

Your lips purse, sour accord pooling in your eyes, his touch leaving a trail of pleasant tingles. “I hate myself too, and it’s due time I get served my share of consequences.”

Soonyoung’s lids become heavier and his gaze darkens. “You should get some sleep now,” he mutters.

And the temperatures within and around you drop when his hand leaves your face.

...

Despite Soonyoung’s request and your extreme fatigue, sleep did not come easily that night. Likely due to the knowledge of your approaching punishment - though it is hard for you to imagine feeling any worse than you already do.

The guilt that you postponed for the past years weighs uncomfortably on your shoulders as you now stand by the still sealed ramp, and so do the electronic cuffs around your wrists along with the hanging shadows beneath your eyes. A sickness is brewing in your stomach, made up of shame and hunger, but you somehow like it in the same way that you deserve it.

You can sense Soonyoung’s presence behind you as much as you can hear it by his footsteps, and turn around slowly. Jihoon and Jeonghan stand idly in the background, also awaiting your departure. Though there is seemingly something sour in the curl of Jihoon’s brow, and something hesitant in the stiffness of Jeonghan’s lip.

But undoubtedly, the grim matte of Soonyoung’s eye is worst of all.

His face hasn’t been this close in years and the longing ache his proximity offers feels as undeserved as his frown. You threw him away and he is still the victim, despite the handcuffs trapping you. Soonyoung is still the good one.

“It’s time,” he says, voice steady and breath fanning your face. He really is close.

You nod, "it’s time.” And the silence that has plagued your chest for too long only deepens then, cold within the confines of your ribs.

A smile is what the grimace you present is meant to be, eyes piercing his own, desperately trying to remember his exact shade of brown and the charming tilt encasing it. What you fell for, what you betrayed and what put you in your place. This is right, as much as it hurts and as dead as it renders your barely beating heart. The goodbye you have earned.

But a fire is rising in Soonyoung’s gaze, even though it’s not supposed to.

And then he is grabbing your face, gloved palms flat against your cheeks, and kissing you. His lips are soft and plump, his pace is hard and reckless, his taste is warm and familiar and your whole body is frozen. Until your heart bursts with something so loud it feels like it hasn’t made a single sound in forever.

Coming to half your senses, you kiss Soonyoung back with as much fervor as you can manage, tied hands tingling with an insatiable desire to touch him and hold him closer. As if hearing your silent plea, he pulls you in, leaving no air to breathe between you. You distantly imagine Jihoon’s head turning away and Jeonghan’s unreadable expression but cannot find the will to care.

Soonyoung pulls away far too soon and his serious yet heavy-lidded gaze pierces you still.

“Listen to me,” he starts, chest heaving in time with yours, grip meaningful on your shoulders. “Get out of there as quickly as you can, and come find me.”

Your whole body is shaking under the impact of your heartbeat.

“Understand?” Soonyoung’s brows shoot upward.

The demand is unrealistic. You have not heard of anyone escaping the captivity of the Chancellor and know that the odds are positively against you, no matter how skilled you might be. Your death is surely ready to welcome you with open arms, as soon as the ramp is lowered.

Yet, you nod. Knees quivering.

Faintly, you register something beeping.

“Soonyoung,” Jeonghan calls.

You don’t know what to make of the man’s expression when you turn to look, nor Jihoon’s.

Soonyoung’s whisper of your name brings your bug-eyed stare back to him. Those deep brown, fiery eyes.

You nod again.

He sighs, carefully.

Then steps away to push the button that opens the ramp.

Cold winds rush inside the ship and tousle your hair, worsening the shaking in your limbs. But all you feel is rhythmic exhilaration pumping from your heart.

You turn around, met with the sight of the Chancellor’s guards standing in the midst of a snowstorm, waiting for you. Nearly stumbling while descending the ramp’s tilt, the guards grab you and begin searching you immediately, while one of them relays a message to Soonyoung that you can’t seem to hear.

Your neck twists, eyes looking up and meeting Soonyoung’s from where he stands at the top of the ramp. Something in your chest is screaming and it’s deafening.

With guards’ hands patting you down, Soonyoung smiles and his eyes do too. And you are immediately infected, mirroring his expression instinctively, aware of how little you deserve him. In the chilling temperatures of this weather, your blood is warm. Soonyoung presses the button.

When the ramp seals shut, you are left knowing that Soonyoung will be there and he is left wondering if you will ever come.

[sangyeonsofthours]

lee sangyeon; nsfw a - z

rating: 18+

warnings: a lot of sex mentions

a/n: would you guys forgive me for bad writing smut ugh but i kind of felt the need to write this hahwhejsklr plus english isn’t my main language so,,,, sorry for any mistakes!

a; aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Sangyeon gets pretty rough sometimes, so aftercare is something he’ll always make sure to do after sex. Never forgets to ask if you’re okay and if you need anything. If you’re both tired he’s going for a quick cleaning you up and cuddles and sweet kisses until you fall asleep. If there’s still some energy left, he will take you to the shower, or maybe a bubble bath, before putting you on comfortable clothes (one of his shirts, probably) and tucking you in bed.

b; body party (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He loves your lips. From the way you smile lovely to him to the way you kiss his cheek softly in the mornings and from the way you passionately kiss his neck and body to the way you wrap them around his cock. Well, now about his body... He likes his abs (we’ve been told he has a choco abs, right, this man... he’s shameless). Oh, and his thighs!!!! They're strong and he's proud of them bc the only game he's able to win is the Leg Wrestling™️. Plus, I'm pretty sure he does love it a lot more when you sit on them. And ride them. Naked.

c; cum (anything to do with cum basically)

I feel like Sangyeon really likes to cum inside you (I think his dom/possessive side could have some to do with it, plus it’s kinda romantic when he’s making love to you) but I also think that he wouldn’t care about making a mess on your tummy or back every now and then. To be honest he thinks it’s really hot to see you covered in his cum.

d; dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

This man... Sometimes he’s just want to be taken care of. He surely has this rough dom aura revolving around him, but in the end of a long day he’d be glad to be the sub one for you. Likes to receive soft kisses as you give him praises like “good boy, you work so hard, baby”, an slow blowjob and that fluff shit we all know.

e; experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

I don’t think Sangyeon has had many sex partners, even tho he seems to be kind of experienced (I mean, sometimes he looks like a sex God alskdjafh). Maybe he had a lot of sex with a few partners? Idk, I just feel like he’s not the type to fool around with many people. Plus he’s a talented guy, he can learn anything quickly, you know, so you guys are able to learn a lot of things from each other.

f; favourite position (goes without saying)

Well well, he has two moods. The passionate lover who’s gonna fuck you really sweet in missionary cause he wants to kiss you and look into your eyes while feeling your body close to his. And the rough dom who’s gonna hit you from the back, slap your ass and pull on your hair while grunting and saying dirty things into your ear.

g; goofy (are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He’s definitely more serious in the moment. Not completely serious, but serious in a comfortable and cautions way. It doesn’t mean it won’t be fun tho. I can see you guys giggling and being silly too. It depends on the mood.

h; hair (how well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Like, he does keep it trimmed, but won’t go for an all shaved up look.

i; intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Sangyeon really values intimacy, sometimes being in a relationship is the most confortable way for him to have sex. If he's in love, well, then you're in for a ride. Since he likes slow and romantic sex just as much as rough sex, you'll never feel bored. He makes sure you know how much he loves you, even during the most rough sex.

j; jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Sangyeon always tries waiting until he can be with you, but if he knows he won’t be seeing you any time soon, he just goes for it. Sometimes just imagines scenarios in his head, sometimes goes through pics and videos you sent him. Locked in his bedroom, he lays back in bed and starts stroking himself. He doesn't waste time teasing himself, he misses you and it doesn't feel the same as being inside you, so he prefers to get straight to the point and cum as soon as he can. Thinking about the last time he had you, he cums groaning your name as he spills his seed all over his hand.

k; kink (one or more of their kinks)

He likes being called “Sir”. Loves powerplay so he can edge and overstimulate you until you’re begging for him to let you cum. Some spanking and light choking (giving). Praises and body worship (giving and receiving) cause he’s a sweetheart too! Face fucking (bonus points if you swallow his cum, it can make him hard all over again).

l; location (favourite places to do it)

His favorite place is the bedroom because of it’s privacy&comfort™️. But he definitely will fuck you wherever he has the chance to. The bathroom? He loves fucking in the shower! Kitchen? You both always make use of that countertop. Couch, wall, coffee table, even your car: if there’s a chance, you just go for it!

m; motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

This man actually loves when you act all shy, like his touches and kisses doesn’t affect you. Your soft demeanor can get him really hard. And when you moan and beg him to fuck you, that’s when he loses control. That’s when he knows you guys won’t be stopping until you’re both sweaty and panting.

n; no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Even tho Sangyeon does have a dom soul, he’s not into too extreme things, like hardcore bdsm, because hates the idea of hurting you. Yes, he has some kinks and stuff, but he would never take a chance on trying things that could end up hurting you or making you uncomfortable.

o; oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He sure as hell loves a blowjob. He's the kind of guy who's going to hold onto your hair and fuck your mouth, making you gag as his cock hits the back of you throat. He loves every second of it. But he's just as good at giving. He's going to eat you out really good with his skilled tongue, to make sure to return the favor.

p; pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He’s the sensual sex kinda guy, who’s going to fuck you in a nice and hard pace, making you gasp as the bed shake and hit the wall. He does get faster and a bit sloppy towards the end, tho, almost lost in all the pleasure you’re both giving each other. When he’s trying to be romantic and make things a bit more special, then he goes for a more soft and slow pace.

q; quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He clearly enjoys proper sex a lot more than quickies, but he isn't against it when necessary. Since he has control over his body it won't happen very often. But if he's really needy and horny and there isn't a lot of time, so be it. He'll find a place where he can fuck you and make the most of the time he has with you.

r; risk (are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

If it makes you happy, he's willing to try it out. He's open to experiment things, as long as it doesn't involve too risky things such as hurting you or getting caught by someone.

s; stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Hmmm, he won’t push it for too long. Three rounds at the most, I think, when he’s back from tour and schedules and you guys missed each other too much. He is a quality over quantity kinda guy!

t; toy (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

No toys for him. He doesn't really see a point in it when he's the one who wants to make you feel good. Won't mind if you do have some of your own tho, since you can use it on yourself when he's away.

u; unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh boy, he does it a lot. Not just with actions, but with words too! He’ll flirt to make you blush, then slowly kiss your neck while softly touching you under your clothes to make you shiver. Won’t stop the teasing until you're begging him for more.

v; volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

I don’t think he’s loud, but he groans a lot, plus he’s probably going to grunt loudly when he cums.

w; wild card (get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

"Oh, fuck" Sangyeon groans as he slowly slides his length into your mouth, "I can see how desperate you are for it, babe, you’re such a cockwhore." His hand is firm in your hair, keeping you the way he wants. You flick your tongue against the veins of his dick, getting him all nice and wet, as you purposefully moan around it in a try to get more noises out of him.

You barely catch your breath before he sets up his pace. His thrusts are fast and you can only whimper around his cock as your hands hold on his strong thighs for some balance. Trying not to choke as the tip of his length touches the back of your throat, you make sure to keep the eye contact, since you know he appreciates that.

There are already tears streaming down your face as your gag reflex gets the best of you, but you're sure you can handle that.

Now see, getting horny while sucking Sangyeon’s dick was something usual to you, but this time something really... different came up. While he took your mouth as his personal fuck hole, thrusting his hips against your warm mouth like there was no tomorrow, you felt this strong feeling blooming inside you. Your legs trembled and something warmed you up as a familiar pleasure grew just down your belly button. You moaned shamelessly around Sangyeon when the powerful and delectable feeling exploded and hit you right through the core. By the time you were shuddering in waves of a rough orgasm, your lover was almost hitting his high as well. The unholy scene before him making him lose control over his moves and pace. With a couple more of sloppy thrusts Sangyeon cums down your throat with a loud groan. You barely have time to register what just happened before Sangyeon pulls you up, kissing your swollen lips fiercely, tasting his salty seed on your tongue.

“Can’t believe you came just by sucking me off, babe, you did so well” Sangyeon says, his breath is still heavy but the devilish smile on his face is undeniable as he watches in delight how wrecked you look. You sigh as your boyfriend lightly run his fingers up your shoulder and neck, making a shiver run down your spine. Your legs feel like jelly and you hold onto him to keep standing on your toes.

“I swear, your mouth will be the death of me" he whispers, and you let a tired laugh, still trying to catch your breath. He gently nuzzles his face into the croock of your neck, leaving soft kisses on your shoulder, neck and cheeks. You hum enjoying the affection.

“I love you, babe" he smiles and peck your lips carefully.

x; x-ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s not big nor is he small. He’s pretty average, tbh. I think he’s big enough to fulffil your needs!

y; yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He doesn't get turned on super easily, it really depends on the mood (and how well you know how to turn him on). Likes to have sex about 4-5 times a week, but if you say and do the right things, he goes with your flow.

z; zzz (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

This goes as I said before, if he’s too tired, he probably going to quickly help you clean up, so you can cuddle and sleep. If not, he'll take his time to hit the shower with you, put on comfortable clothes before going to bed with you.  I see some pillow talk here too, you know? Light conversation about your day, you, your relationship, the future and other stuff.

n/a: thanks for reading until here  ♡  hey, if you support my writting you can also support me by buying me a cup of coffee! 

[hoidn]

Writer Tag Game

@anghraine was kind enough to tag me for this.

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 110. they're not all fic, though.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 386,718. again, it's not all fic, so let's call it an even 385K for the fic portion.

3. What are you top 5 fics by kudos?

A Wild and Distant Shore Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth/Darcy

Hearing Light Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth/Darcy

to suppose the truth of it possible Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth/Darcy

Drowning in the Absolute Yes Pride and Prejudice, Elizabeth/Darcy

if you came this way Star Trek: Voyager, Janeway/Chakotay

4. Do you respond to comments; why or why not? for the sake of my mental health, i would prefer not to answer at this time. (i’m not being sarcastic. this is actually very difficult for me to talk about.)

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? probably Periapsis. Callisto’s just been raped by Zeus. we all know what happens next.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? i really don't know how to answer this. most of my fics have, at the very least, hopeful endings, and i think a lot depends on the context. for example, Elizabeth and Darcy are happy in both A Wild and Distant Shore and Hearing Light, but one is the happiness of a newly married couple still learning the joys of sexual intimacy with each other, whereas the other is the happiness of a newly engaged couple still in the first tremulous throes of requited love and attraction. how do you quantify which state is happier? to use a different sort of example, Harvest ends happily for Griet because she’s achieved a kind of freedom she never imagined, but i don't know how to compare that to, say, Mulder’s happiness at still being with Scully after so many years in and the world keeps beginning. there are different kinds of happiness is what i'm saying, and i don’t know how to judge the relative values.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest most absurd one you’ve ever written? how about we don’t use the word ‘crazy’ here? i’ve written a few crossovers, though i'm not a big fan of them. (as opposed to fusions, which i absolutely adore.) for most absurd, considering that Pride and Prejudice and Star Trek: The Next Generation are two of the unlikeliest canons to combine, Lydia, still has been a surprisingly well-received fic.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic? if i have, it wasn't particularly memorable. i suppose it depends on how one defines 'hate' in this context. i know i've had comments from people who have not been happy with some aspect of a fic, or with me generally, but nothing i'd actually term hate. (truthfully? i'm kind of disappointed.)

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? there are kinds? i wasn't aware of this and i don't know what the categories are. amusing fact (at least to me): my most popular fic by kudos happens to be the first piece of smut i ever wrote. since then i've written a lot more, for a variety of f/f and f/m pairings, including various kinks, dub-con, non-con, and even alpha/omega (heavens to betsy!); however, my writing preference is people who love each other (even if they don't know/won't admit it), and those pairings make up the bulk of my smut fic.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen? just the once, to my knowledge, and it was an extremely disappointing experience. a few years ago if you came this way was repackaged into a fic called Hired for Love by someone named cress26. and when i say it was disappointing, i mean... like, okay, i know i'm a solid writer. (that sentence notwithstanding.) obviously i'm no anne carson or a.s. byatt, but i'd give myself a solid B average for overall quality. so i guess i figured that if someone was going to steal my stuff, it would be because of that. but, no. instead of merely suffering the insult of being plagiarised, i was forced to also suffer the much, much worse indignity of having a story that is absolutely freakin' beautiful in places -- and i do say so myself -- taken apart and put back together like frankenstein's monster. seriously, even now, i am still so much more offended by how dreadful they made the fic than by the actual plagiarism. a copy and paste job i could understand! that fic is good, damn it! that is some A-grade shit right there. but how can anyone have so little respect for writing, or for language, just in general that they’d take something and then ruin it to claim it as theirs? ugh, it’s so dreadful. 

...wanna see? ;D most of it is still available on the wayback machine.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

11. Have you ever had a fic translated? i feel like maybe someone did once ask me if they could? but i have no confidence that that actually happened, so i don’t know. anyway, i’ve got a blanket permission statement in my profile, so it’s possible that someone has translated something and i’m just not aware of it. or i was aware and i forgot. these are all possibilities. i’m a very unreliable narrator.

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before? no. it's something i've long been interested in trying, and there have been a couple of people i've wanted to try it with, but i can only imagine i'd be a nightmare for someone else to work with, so i've never broached the topic.

13. What’s your all-time favourite ship? once upon a time i would've said Mulder/Scully but i'm sad to admit that's no longer the case. while Elizabeth/Darcy is now my most enduring ship, i really can't say it's my all-time favourite (though it's in the top 5, certainly). i think, at this point, given the word count devoted to them, and the number of hours i've spent thinking, writing, and making gifs of them, it's going to have to be Walt/Vic. our relationship is only six years old, but those six years represent an output that exceeds all the years of all my other ships combined.

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? yeah, see, there's a reason why i don't post real WIPs. (with one current exception that i’m still actively working on). actually there are more than a hundred reasons, scattered across a variety of documents on my hard drive. i doubt i'll finish any of them, but this way no one’s disappointed except me, and i was disappointed to begin with.

15. What are your writing strengths? i'm able to compose grammatically correct sentences and i actually know what words mean. oh, sorry, was that overly sardonic? let me try again. sex and feelings. those are my strengths. i’m good at writing sex and i’m good at writing feelings and when you put those two things together you have most of my fic.

16. What are your writing weaknesses? getting bogged down in details or overly convoluted metaphors, anything resembling plot, actually writing things. (see above re: over a hundred WIPs.)

17. What are you thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? i'm pretty sure i've never had any thoughts on the topic. nobody told me there was a prerequisite for this meme!

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for? The X Files. the year was 2006 and i was 29. that's right, kids. i was late to the fandom party. also i am middle agéd. run away! run away!

19. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written? i don't have one. i feel affectionately towards some for different reasons; there are some i don't like at all; a few i'm particularly proud of, whether or not i actually like them. basically, my feelings about my own writing are very complicated. i will say that i think Darlin', everything's on fire is one of the best things i've ever written. even there some bits make me wince when i read it, though. (and now the song is stuck in my head again. damn it.)

▪︎

i will tag @sarking, @sqbr, @wendelah, and @ziparumpazoo if they feel like it, because they’re the only ones i can think of right now, but any other fic writers who want to participate, please consider yourself tagged. below you’ll find the list of questions (with my edit) for your convenience:

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 3. What are you top 5 fics by kudos? 4. Do you respond to comments; why or why not? 5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? 6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending? 7. Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest most ridiculous one you’ve ever written? 8. Have you ever received hate on a fic? 9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? 10. Have you ever had a fic stolen? 11. Have you ever had a fic translated? 12. Have you ever co-written a fic before? 13. What’s your all-time favourite ship? 14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will? 15. What are your writing strengths? 16. What are your writing weaknesses? 17. What are you thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? 18. What was the first fandom you wrote for? 19. What’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

[dammitadolfnomorecake]

Once Bitten, Twice Stupid prt 210

210

For some reason only known to the lord above, on their bed, “wrapped” with a red ribbon around its handle, was a lawnmower. Blue, silver, and black in colour, this had to be Shiro’s dumb idea. No normal human would gift them a lawnmower at a baby shower, nor would they put it “in bed” like it made any kind of logical sense. It hadn’t been there when Keith opened the windows earlier... if he’d seen it, he would have moved it. Sniffling loudly, Lance then choked out

“They got me a lawnmower! I’m a terrible person!”

Now that he knew Matt had been in their space, he could smell him in the room. Too many scents were in their room. Matt, Curtis, and Shiro, three scents that didn’t belong in their space. Lance gave them pretty much free reign of the house, allowing them to violate the sanctity of his office with the promise they’d never look at his client files, or in the boxes that’d come from Lenny and were currently occupying the spare bed

“Let me take it off the bed, then you sit down and we’ll talk”

Lance shook his head, the way he gazed at their bed hurt to see

“I need the bathroom first...”

“Okay, baby. It’s okay, we’ll sort this out”

Lance came stumbling out the bathroom looking worse than when he’d headed in. Downstairs Rieva had started yelling at Matt for being stupid, then started yelling at Shiro for encouraging Matt to be stupid. Coran had tried to calm her, so she’d yelled at him about how he should understand what Lance was feeling with his nesting instincts and being close to giving birth. There was a whole lot of yelling for a party that had been otherwise running semi-smoothly, provided you didn’t count Pidge feeling a bit down and Shiro and Curtis cremating the sausages on the barbecue, somehow managing to leave the middle red raw.

Waddling over to him, Keith held his arms open, Lance going straight for the hug. Nosing at Lance’s belly, Keith sighed softly as his fiancé started playing with his hair

“You should sit down”

“My stomach feels gross, I want to stand for a bit...”

“You don’t need to hide it. Matt shouldn’t have been in here”

“I know he lives here... but this was supposed to be our alone space... I can smell him... and... and... the windows open and all our smells are gone. Why would he open the window? Why did he have to come in and ruin our room? I don’t go in theirs! Not even to clean! I get they wanted to surprise us but... this is our room! I don’t want the... the smell changing and now it’s being ruined”

With tears dropping on Keith’s hair, Keith tilted his head back to look up at Lance

“I’m... the one who opened the windows. I’m sorry. I was trying to get rid of Lotor’s scent for you. I didn’t think about how comforting scent is when we’re like this. I’m sorry I fucked things up for you”

Lance hiccuped a sob as he tried to bring his crying under control

“You... you didn’t... know... I... I don’t know what to do. This feels... wrong... in here... I can’t... I don’t know how to... how to... fix it... This... was... my safe space...”

Keith got it. Lance’s loved the comfort of blankets before he’d gotten pregnant, with all the instincts running through him, he had to have things a certain way. Despite his fiancé being anal about the dirty washing going in the dirty clothes basket, more than a few of Keith’s shirts had made it between the blankets. Keith also benefited from the space being so thoroughly soaked in their scents. He could smell the difference between Matt’s lingering scent in the halls and his fresh scent in his room. Poor Matt copping the brunt of his silent jealous as he was the only other person in the house that could get Lance pregnant, had his fiancé not already been pregnant. His ego had a hard time accepting Matt near Lance when Lance could pop at any moment. His fear made no logic sense, yet that didn’t mean that did exist

“It’s still our safe place. I’m sorry my brother is incapable of being a normal human, and I’m sorry that he was probably really proud of putting the lawnmower on our bed...”

“I want to laugh at that, it’s a good one and it’s funny, but I feel so angry that I’m not sure I won’t go for blood if we go downstairs... I don’t want to be that way. Not today. They put together a great party for us. I just wanted to be normal enough to enjoy it”

“There’s still plenty of time. We can strip the bed and change out what’s on it. It’ll help to get rid of Lotor’s scent too”

“I know. I know it’s just some sheets and blankets, but...”

“You’re exhausted. I know you are, babe. Let me change the sheets and you can have a bit of a nap. With the amount of alcohol Pidge stocked, I’m pretty sure drinking is on the plans”

“I haven’t thanked anyone... I don’t deserve any of this. Not a barbecue, or an outside set, or a really nice new lawnmower...”

Keith would steal every star in the sky if it made Lance happy

“You do. No one made our friends go out and buy anything. They chose to, and it’s not like it’s just for us. I’m sorry I didn’t get you a present”

“You don’t need to. And I don’t need a fancy ring. You keep your word, babe. That’s all I need”

“Let’s get you to bed. Tonight we’ll make sure to really stink the blankets up”

Lance gave a broken sob of a laugh

“You’d have sex with me, when I look like this?”

“If you haven’t realised by now, all you have to do is breathe and I’m like “I want to tap that”

“You’re going the right way for a smacked arse”

“Promises, promises. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to let you pull my hair as I rail you to the mattress”

“Now who’s making promises?”

“You already said it, I keep my word. Just keep your night open, because I’m not letting you slip away”

*

Lance fought going down for a nap, Keith fought the urge to stay with him, dragging himself from their room and downstairs. Their friends knew better than to let the pair of them disappearing bring the party to a close. Coran was now getting a lesson in beer pong from a ruthless Pidge. Rieva and Matt both seemed saddened, their scents weird as they hit his nose. Allura the first to cast a smile in his direction

“I’m assuming that Lance went down for a nap as you’ve returned alone?”

“Yeah. He needed it. I’ll wake him up in a couple of hours”

Shiro cleared his throat, Allura about to say something else but stopped so Shiro could

“I’m sorry about the lawnmower, we thought it’d be hilarious”

Lance’s obsession with grass was well known, the only way the joke could have been funnier was if they’d dressed the lawnmower in lingerie

“Oh, Lance thinks it’s funny as fuck. He loves it. He’s just super sensitive to scents, and I made it worse by airing out our bedroom. He’ll bounce back and you know he’s going to be apologising when he comes back down. I still don’t know why you guys had to go through our drawers”

Shiro answered for Matt who copped a very direct glare from Keith. Matt couldn’t help being a werewolf any more than Keith could. Both of them cared deeply for Lance, their stupid egos and scents making things ridiculous for the pair of them

“I needed a spanner. We were joking about how being Lance, he’d probably keep on in his room... you know, because he fixes everything the moment he knows somethings broken or leaking”

Keith groaned. That was logical. He wouldn’t be surprised if Lance did. Everyone knew Lance was the handiest person in their group

“Okay. That’s fair. But stay out of our room from now on. This scent thing is really messing with his head. He doesn’t want to be mad, but he’s also emotionally exhausted”

Shiro gave him a mock salute

“Message received loud and clear. Are you staying down here, or headed back up?”

The temptation to go back to Lance was enormous. Helping him strip down to his shirt and underwear, Keith had tucked him with plenty of kisses until Lance finally drifted off to sleep. His fiancé looked so angelic when he was slept, though plenty of people would argue the snoring and drooling ruined the effect

“Nah, he’ll be fine. I’m more interested in who’s winning and who’s idea it was to let Coran face Pidge of all people”

“His. Grab a beer and come sit down”

A beer sounded great... This was a party after all... but he’d been a drunken idiot far too many times with Lance taking care of him. The time had come to be an adult and stick with water for the rest of the party

“Ugh. I wish. I’ll be back in a minute”

Being a fae, they were renown as trickster demons. Keith had never seen Coran this competitive as the tables turned on the game of beer pong. Starting to make trick shots, Pidge was soon swapped out for Curtis, heading down the wrong side of tipsy she tripped and landed in Krolia’s lap, declaring a rematch would be had once she’d sobered up enough not to be yelling into Krolia’s crotch. Curtis put on a valiant effort, making more shots than he missed, yet Coran didn’t show the slightest hint of intoxication. Lance would have been shocked. Keith was shocked. In Coran’s world there was nothing better than a good cup of tea... not copious amounts of alcohol.

There came a gradual shift in the mood of the party. It’d become less of a baby shower and more of a “We need to defeat the demon in Lance’s living room” kind of a deal. Curtis was subbed out, six shots his limit. Coran, on the other hand, didn’t get the game and questioned why his cups weren’t refilled. Matt happy to refill Coran’s cups, not mentioning the aim of the game was to make the loser empty all of theirs. After Curtis came Shiro, who already tipsy from the seems of things, was beaten easily as he failed almost every throw, Coran growing more talkative and prideful in defeating their friends one by one. Finishing the cups in front of him, Shiro flopped over backwards where he sat, Coran frowning at losing his opponent as he asked

“Now what happens?”

Rieva retrieved Shiro, dragging him over to prop him up against the chair near Krolia’s feet. Firmly she brought things to an end. Shiro looked absolutely wasted as he sat there with his eyes closed and a smile playing in his lips. He didn’t even seem to notice when Krolia stuck her bare foot under his nose

“That’s it. All the cups on this side are finished”

“That’s rather disappointing. I really quite like this game of yours. My cups are still quite full. Allura, perhaps you would fancy a game?”

Allura laughed politely. She’d been cheering on their friends, though she had no idea what to cheer over, she’d given it her best shot

“I think I’ve seen quite enough. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you consume so much alcohol”

“Nonsense. This is mere dishwater compared to the stuff we used to drink. Barely made a dent, if I do say so myself”

The man had single handedly taken out Pidge, Curtis and Shiro... and was still up for more? Keith could only shake his head at the thought of a drunk Coran being as rambling as a tired Lance

“Krolia, perhaps...?”

“Nope. I’m driving Curtis and Shiro home tonight. Keith’s got Lance to look after, Hunk has to drive Shay home”

“Then perhaps our Shay would care for a game?”

Shay shook her head

“I’m not going there. You’re a demon, what chance do I stand?”

Coran burst into tears. None of them expected it and no one quite knew what to do, apart from Allura who slipped off the sofa to wrap her arms around him to comfort the fae. They couldn’t help being humans

“There, there. They are human after all”

Coran shook his head, puffing his chest out

“Don’t you see, I won! This means I’m the winner! Oh, I can’t remember the last time I won at something so fun, and on my first try!”

A silent groan fill the room. They’d bowed out, and their plan to take Coran was ruined by the sheer amount of alcohol he could tolerate. Allura clearly forced a smile to her lips, Keith sympathetic as this would surely become another of his stories they’d all be stuck listening to

“Uh, yes. Yes, I suppose it does...”

“Wait! I can still drink!”

Waving her left arm, Pidge pushed herself up with her right hand, then flopped backwards against Krolia

“No I can’t! Where’s Lance?! He could do it!”

Patting her arm, Shay broke the bad news to Pidge

“Lance isn’t allowed to drink, it’s bad for the twins”

Pidge’s eyes narrowed, animatedly she yelled angrily

“That undead arsehole! Lance! You suck! Coran, I demand a rematch!”

Coran’s eyes filled with some kind of excitement. Drunk Pidge wasn’t someone to be messed with, heck, sober Pidge wasn’t someone to mess with but with her moral compass out the window anything was likely to happen

“What do you suggest?”

“Mario! You’re gonna lose so bad! That useless Peach is gonna wipe the floor with you! Hunk, we need Mario! I won’t be happy until he feels the devastation of rainbow bridge!”

Hunk pointed to himself, Pidge nodding, Keith wondered if he should say a prayer for Coran now or later on

“This rainbow bridge sounds most interesting. How do you play?”

Pidge wiggled her fingers at Coran as she laughed, failing at trying some kind of spooky accent

“Very very carefully. No one beats Pidge on the rainbow bridge! You hear me, Lance! I’m coming for you too!”

For all her yelling, a long groan of his name from upstairs told Keith that Lance had finally woken up due to their pint sized big mouth. His fiancé’s timing couldn’t have been better as he needed an excuse to flee the living area. Coran had no idea the fire he’d awoken in Pidge. A sober Pidge with a controller in her hands was bad enough, a drunk Pidge with a controller in her hands was near on demonic. With a healthy fear of what would happen should Pidge lose, Keith opted for the convenient excuse of Lance calling for him. Yeah. Whatever happened, the others would totally take care of it... he was not a coward at all.

Sitting on the edge of their bed, Lance had gotten himself tangled trying to take his shirt off. His fiancé’s expression filled with sadness as he softly asked

“Keith... help?”

“Oh, babe. I’ve got you”

Lance had gotten one arm out, and stuck in head hole bit, too sleepy to escape on his own. Walking over to his fiancé, he dropped a kiss on Lance’s head before taking over getting Lance free of his shirt

“I’m sorry...”

“It’s okay. Is there a reason you were getting naked?”

“Wanna take a shower... I made a mess”

As Lance started crying, Keith hushed him. His fiancé pretty much limp as he got his trapped arm free and then helped him out his shirt

“Okay, mister. Pants next”

“I made a mess”

Messes happened. Lance couldn’t help it

“That’s okay, these things happen. Let’s get you out your underwear. Up we go”

Swaying on his feet, Keith pulled down Lance’s underwear as Lance kept his balance with his hand on Keith’s shoulder. The mess wasn’t what Keith expected. Lance’s underwear sodden with cum, his lover half hard as Keith tried not to stare

“Don’t... look... it’s embarrassing”

“You had a wet dream, no big deal. Was it about me?”

“You’re the one who put sex in my head... I want to take a shower”

“Do you remember what happened?”

Downstairs no longer mattered. Keith’s ego elated that Lance had had a sexy sex dream about them

“Keeeeith... please...”

Taking Lance’s half hard erection, Lance groaned as Keith slowly began to jerk him off

“Tell me what happened in your dream”

“Babe... the party”

“Fuck the party... they can afford to miss us and we really don’t want to go back down there right away”

Shifting position, Keith wrapped his lips around the tip of Lance’s dick, sucking lightly as Lance’s hand flew to his hair

“Keeeith”

Letting his lips slide to meet where his hand was, Keith bobbed his head twice before pulling back

“I want to know what you were dreaming about”

“You...”

“What about me?”

Jerking Lance faster, his fiancé moaned. He knew teasing was bad, yet was too filled with elated ego not to. Letting himself feel pleasure rather than pressing need to shower and return to the party, Lance panted out his words between moans

“I... you... were riding... my dick... I was fucking you”

“Is that what you want to do? Do you want to fuck my mouth?”

“God, yes”

“Then you better do it like you mean it”

Holding Keith’s head to his groin, Lance slowly built up to fucking his mouth. His pregnant fiancé had urges, and it’d been a long while since they’d used the pocket pussy, as they usually couldn’t slow down and stop themselves long enough to think about anything other than getting off. Hallowing his cheeks, Keith had tears in his eyes, Lance filling his mouth perfectly, even if he seemed to be trying to ram his dick down Keith’s throat, despite how bad it’d initially made Keith gag

“Keith... I’m gonna come”

“Nghhffd...”

That was Keith speak for a yes, “while my fiancé’s fucking my face”, Lance easing back enough to give space to Keith as cum flooded his mouth, then dribbled down his chin as he tried to swallow as much as he could. The vampire coming with a low growl as his fingertips scratched Keith’s scalp.

As Lance’s knees gave out, Keith caught him by the hips, pushing him so “fell” sitting on their bed. His lover’s chest heaved, as he brought his breathing back under control, Keith wiping Lance off his face with the back of his hand

“You looked wrecked... and we didn’t even do the do”

He was horny, nearly coming in his pants from blowing Lance. Lance would fall back to sleep if they had sex now. Plus he’d be overly sensitive from coming twice

“You seemed pretty into it”

“I was very into it, now I’m very into going for a shower... want me to return the favour”

A million times yes!

“Nah, it’s fine. That was kind of hot”

“Your mouth was kind of hot... I did try to tell you I was coming”

“The meal was delicious. Am I as good as you dreamt?”

Bringing a hand up, Lance rubbed at his stomach. They’d made about as much mess as what Lance had woken up in... whoops

“Way better in real life... God, I feel fat. Help me up?”

“You’re not fat”

“Are you sure? I feel like I just ran a marathon”

“Babe, you’re in great shape. Round is a shape”

Lance kicked him lightly in the leg for his teasing

“I know how round I am, I don’t need a reminder”

“I’m just saying... You’re a very round little vampire. I wonder how chubby your bat form would be”

“Well don’t... I can’t believe I let you blow me when we should be downstairs entertaining our guests”

“Well I can’t believe it’s not butter”

His lame joke earned him a sigh from his fiancé

“That was terrible. You should feel bad”

“I do. I also feel like bending you over our bed and fucking you senseless, but you’re right, we have a party to get back to”

Lance opened and shut his mouth, cheeks flushed as he looked away from Keith

“I suppose a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt”

God. If only Lance knew how much he wanted to take him up on that offer. He probably should be putting himself in a horny mutt time out, but it’d been sooooo long since he’d had Lance beneath him. His dick was definitely up for it... Time to adult again

“It’s okay, babe, I’m joking. Besides, you’re going to need whatever energy you have left to keep the peace downstairs. Pidge challenged Coran to rainbow bridge”

“Damn. I go down for a nap and miss all the excitement...”

“He also got Shiro, Curtis and Pidge all like drunk by winning beer pong. So it’s drunk Pidge taking on Demon Coran”

Lance groaned

“My poor living room. It’ll never be the same again”

“Nope. Come on, you can lament the loss of your living room in the shower, then maybe we can wrap this party up and go to bed early”

Keith was weak and Lance’s arse was glorious. He’d been going to behave himself, he really had... then he’d been sidetracked. Sitting on the toilet, he told himself he making sure Lance didn’t slip... not ogling his gorgeous fiancé. One thing lead to another and then suddenly he had Lance bent over the bathroom counter, lasting all of a minute. It was quick quickie, even for them. Lance’s arse too cute not to touch, his lover’s opening soft and puffy beneath his fingers when he’d been supposed to help Lance dry off properly. Whoops... Keith tried to feel bad but the strength and warmth of their bond left him smiling like an idiot. He really did deserve a cone of shame around his neck, Lance’s boobs the perfect handful as he lost himself. Nobody pregnant had the right to be as perfect as his mate. His belly so gravid Lance looked as if he had a whole soccer team inside him. Keith definitely knew he had a kink for his very pregnant fiancé, he just didn’t know how to knock said kink on the head. Lance limping as he led him back into their room to get him dressed, Keith promising to clean their cum off the bathroom cabinet and floor before Lance realised he’d only cleaned him up.

Lance insisted on looking “presentable” as Keith helped him into his clothes. Keith annoyed at how many buttons there were that’d he have to undo later to get his vampire naked again. Wisely he kept this to himself. Lance would have smacked if he’d known his mind was still in the gutter after fucking his arse with as much force and need as Lance had fucked his mouth. Maybe he should try bottoming again? The weight of Lance’s stomach hanging low must have been uncomfortable as it’d taken a bit to bring Lance to orgasm, despite his hips having a life of their own. Stealing a few extra moments, Keith wrapped his arm around Lance, dropping kisses to the top of his head as Lance chuckled at him for it. He loved Lance. A good solid dose of cuddles from his fiancé was just the thing he needed before they headed back down to face their friends.

[unibrowzz]

Mod (finally) reviews all 67 winners of the Eurovision Song Contest Part VII (FINALE)- The 2010s

And we’re on the home stretch! Just 10 songs left now.

The 2010s stands as the only decade I watched live and the only decade I haven’t yet rewatched, mainly because I have no interest to. I’ve already seen the contest anyway, if a song didn’t stick with me then, it probably won’t now.

Also prepare for some hotter than usual takes, mostly down to the 10s contests being the most well known due to recency bias. I can say whatever the Hell I want about older contests and what songs I despise from there, but one non-positive comment about Euphoria and suddenly about five butthurt anons appear in my inbox telling me why I’m wrong.

But without further ado, let’s finish these off!

2010: Satellite

Country: Germany

Artist: Lena Meyer-Landrut

Language: English

Thoughts: I used to defend this song a lot, for some reason. I used to get super defensive when people dismissed it as a cheap lazy pop song that shouldn’t have won over (insert song here, but let’s be real here, 99% of the time it’s Turkey's equally cheap lazy emo rock song) and that it robbed so many better entries, blah blah, you know the drill. And I think it’s because it was the first winner I saw as I started properly watching in 2010, so I didn’t want to shit all over the winner that introduced me to the contest. Or maybe it’s that it makes me really nostalgic, or something to that effect. But, dear God, why did I? It’s so… not worth it. I appreciate it for being a much less instrumental-heavy winner, with its skippy, snappy beat and bouncing vocals which sound closer to plain talking than actual singing, but… How many times were the lyrics ran through GoogleTranslate before they were finalised? What’s with the janky, overexaggerated fake-English accent? Why does the singer look embarrassed to be a part of this? Why was this written?  And how the FUCK did it win? It’s so weird and awkward to listen to. It’s the song equivalent of trying to make small talk with that one classmate you never talk to because they’re shy and boring. It’s like listening to an old person laugh half-heartedly at their not-that-funny old person joke. It’s canned laughter in a mediocre sitcom. It’s just an awkward, painful to listen to song that’s made all the more painful by the fact that Germany has sent much better songs that easily could have replaced this as their one post-reunification winner.

Was this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what was? Spain- Daniel Diges- “Algo Pequeñito”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 60th

2011: Running Scared 

Country: Azerbaijan

Artist: Ell and Niki 

Language: English

Thoughts: Look, this one isn’t as bad as people make it out to be. Doesn’t mean it’s good, or that I find it particularly good, but the worst winner of all time? Goodness no, it doesn't even come remotely close. What we have here is a mildly pleasant ballad duet song with a distinctive sad-boyband vibe. Like you can definitely hear the “X-Factor winner’s first cover song” energy just radiating off it from the first few lines. I suppose you could argue that that does make it feel a bit clinical and like it’s trying too hard to be a big hit, but come on, it’s not like this is the first winner like that. The singing is alright; better than half the singing that won in the 2000s anyway, and the male singer especially has a nice voice. The lyrics aren’t exactly poetry, sure, but again, other winners have terrible lyrics as well and don’t receive nearly as much hate as this one does. And… that’s it. Why all the hate? No idea, but I can only assume the people who declare this song to be the worst winner ever haven’t heard anything that won before 2010.

Was this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what was? Denmark- A Friend in London- “New Tomorrow”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 42nd

2012: Euphoria

Country: Sweden

Artist: Loreen

Language: English

Thoughts: Ugh. Listen. This is not a bad song. It’s decent, middle of the table, listenable, marketable, well sung, well performed, well shot. I must stress, this is not a bad song. But the best Eurovision song of all time? Absolutely not. Euphoria is one of the few winners I would describe as “overrated”, and that isn’t a term I use lightly (since it’s overused as Hell), because frankly, I don’t see what people see in this song. Hell, I forgot it completely until the 2012 voting, and further still until mid 2013 when a friend said he liked it. This song left that little of an impression on me that I completely forgot everything about it for a solid year.  And considering how many fans regard this to be one of the best, if not the best song to ever come out of the contest... that baffles me, I just can’t wrap my head around why so many people hold this song up on a pedestal and worship it like it was dropped from the hands of God himself. And I'm not sure if it's because this just isn't a genre I care about, or if it's because this was WAY back when I was a casual fan who didn't follow any of the songs or artists so didn't know who'd be the favourite going in like I do now, and therefore didn’t know to keep an ear out for this one. Or maybe you have to be piss drunk and at a nightclub to really feel the impact of this song. This song triggers absolutely no response from me other than “Oh, a Eurovision song”. I feel no emotion towards it aside from complete indifference. I can’t deny that this song made an impact, it just… didn’t make an impact on me.

Is this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what is? Spain- Pastora Soler- “Quedate Conmigo”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 40th

2013: Only Teardrops

Country: Denmark

Artist: Emmelie de Forest

Language: English

Thoughts: Let me ask you a question: What do you get when you sandwich an otherwise decent pop song between two of the most iconic and recognizable winners of the decade? You get this. Only Teardrops is a weird, weird winner to me. On one hand, the fandom acts like it might as well not exist, you go straight from Euphoria to Rise Like a Phoenix, who cares about that filler song which came between them. On the other hand, I know a lot of people who really like it, yet all of them are either very casual fans or not fans at all. So this makes me feel like this song’s main weakness is that it’s too mainstream, at least for Eurovision fans. What are my thoughts? It depends. For one, I enjoy this song a LOT more than Euphoria; I always have done and I’m not ashamed or afraid to admit that. I find this song has a lot more personal appeal, particularly a much bigger finale in my opinion, and being surrounded by people who like this song has admittedly kept me fond of it. BUT, I still wouldn’t necessarily call it a favourite of mine. Maybe a favourite of the 2010s, but not overall. At the end of the day, it’s a little too generic, a little too normal, a little too like every other song you’d hear on the radio. It’s not really a song I find myself coming back to again and again and loving every time, it’s the song I stick on to shut my family up when they want to listen to Eurovision music and I’m too shy to show them the songs I actually really like. It's just a decent song that's unfortunate enough to be stuck in between two more iconic winners, doomed to be little more than the answer in a pub quiz question.  And even though I do prefer this one to some of those icons, and don’t really have anything else to say about it, it’s just enjoyable yet kind of bland.

Is this my personal winner for this year? This or Iceland

If no, what is? Iceland- Eyþór Gunnlaugsson- “Ég á Líf”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 16th

2014: Rise Like a Phoenix

Country: Austria

Artist: Conchita Wurst

Language: English

Thoughts: Ah yes, the man who made the entire continent of Europe collectively forget what a drag queen is. What a shitshow that night was. But I'm not here to talk about that, I'm here to rate/say some things about the song, and honestly? This is arguably the most vocally impressive winner from the 2010s. Seriously, there’s nothing I can fault here; this guy’s got some serious pipes. Every time I go back to it I just end up blown away by how powerful and raw this song is. And obviously good vocals alone can’t carry a song forever, otherwise I would’ve had nicer things to say about the early 70s and mid 90s, but with this song the vocals go hand-in-hand with the gimmick. Without the powerful vocals this would just be a knockoff Bond theme sung by a drag queen with a beard, like it’d just be another sensationalist gimmick song to throw onto the pile with all the other gimmick songs. But with the good singing, this has the distinction that it’s a gimmick entry that still had every right to win because the singer was actually competent. Also unlike the 70s winners this one actually has strong emotions tied to it rather than it just being a bunch of pretty French words, so there’s that.

Is this my personal winner for this year? This or the Netherlands tbh

If no, what is? N/A

Personal ranking (out of 67): 17th

2015: Heroes

Country: Sweden

Artist: Måns Zelmerlöw 

Language: English 

Thoughts: Fun fact: I was so bitter this won that I stormed off before the voting was done and cried in my room over it. I hated everything about this song: I hated how Sweden won just three years after their last win, I hated how the staging was just BEGGING people to vote for it, and I ESPECIALLY hated how it beat out the televote favourite because the juries were too busy wanking off to this one to care about anything else. I just despised everything about this song, and it turned me into an obnoxious jury-hater for a solid year.  And yes, I'm extremely embarrassed of all that because honestly this song is fantastic. I would go as far to say it's my favourite Swedish winner, maybe not one of my favourite Swedish entries but definitely my favourite winner of theirs. Everything about this is just so appealing to me, from the brooding intro and vocals, to the lyrics, to the staging, my GOD the staging! It’s one of the best performances of the contest to date; It's impressive without being tacky or try-hard, he interacts with his background, and that little doodle boy character he’s created is adorable. I just love this performance, it’s so mesmerising.

Was this my personal winner for this year? Not then, is now

If no, what was? Then? Serbia- Bojana Stamenov- “Beauty Never Lies”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 11th

2016: 1944

Country: Ukraine

Artist: Jamala

Language: English, some Crimean words

Thoughts: I mean… it’s good until she starts singing. Now I am by all means not an advocate for bringing back the old language rule, but songs like this sure as Hell make me one. This should have been left entirely in Crimean. Simple as that. The English lyrics are bloody awful, no way to sugarcoat it, and absolutely annihilate the potential this song is otherwise seething with, because the instrumental to this song is fantastic and the chorus and climax give me goosebumps. The performance at the contest was chilling as well; a perfect blend of both simple yet flashy staging to set up a really uneasy atmosphere that compliments the song perfectly but, God, the lyrics are bad, man, especially for such a serious song about a personal topic.  That said, it's still the only song in the 2016 top 3 that seemed winner-worthy, unlike Australia's obvious Jurybait and Russia's obvious Telebait. So… it has that. 

Was this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what was? France- Amir Haddad- “J’ai Cherché”

Personal ranking (out of 67): 57th

2017: Amar Pelos Dois 

Country: Portugal 

Artist: Salvador Sobral 

Language: Portuguese (Translation: “Both of us”)

Thoughts: I still question why it took Portugal until 20-fucking-17 to even reach the top five, but that's a rant for another day.  Not that this is a rant, far from it. Anybody who knows me knows that I love this song after all, and that it’s one of the few winners I remain rather defensive of, though that’s mostly down to the amount of hate this song and its singer receive.  I will defend Sal and his hot takes on pop music until I die. Now I’ll admit, this song surprised me in more ways than one. Namely by actually winning the televote; given how this song has split opinions clean down the board as to whether it’s spine-tinglingly beautiful or soul-crushingly boring, I was expecting it to come mid-table in the televote whilst some other country swiped first. Yet somehow it managed to stomp the televote just as hard as it stomped the jury vote. I guess I wasn’t the only person this struck a chord with after all. Also, I can’t be the only one who thinks this is a perfect dance song? Like it’s great for ballroom, or contemporary. It’s so dreamy and flowy, and I usually HATE dreamy flowy songs, yet this one just resonates with me for some reason and I’m not sure why.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Yes

If no, what is? N/A

Personal ranking (out of 67): 4th

2018: Toy

Country: Israel

Artist: Netta Barzilai

Language: English, some chicken noises, cringe

Thoughts: And here we have another case for bringing back the language rule, because if this song had a Hebrew version I would 100% listen to it more often. When I heard Israel was sending an, ahem, "feminist anthem" about the #MeToo trend on twitter, my first reaction was "ew". When I heard it was the favourite to win, my reaction was also "ew". And when I heard the song for the first time? "Hm, not as bad as I thought."  And also "ew". This song is just embarrassing. I’m embarrassed listening to it, I’m embarrassed watching it, and I’m embarrassed when someone mentions it when I’m trying to convince them Eurovision actually has good music. You can just tell from the first few lines that it was written by middle aged men trying to shill themselves out to gullible young women who think listening to a song by some Israeli DJ “empowers” them.  And let’s be honest here: “empowering” is just media speak for “shit”. The only thing stopping me from putting it at the VERY bottom is the instrumental and performance because without the cringy lyrics you’re left with a pretty good club song, and I swear to God Netta Barzilai could sell herself sneezing for 3 minutes. If “Toy” had been entirely in Hebrew I would’ve given it a pass, and maybe a cheeky vote or two.  But, alas, that was not to be.

Was this my personal winner for this year? No

If no, what was? Italy- Ermal Meta & Fabrizio Moro- “Non mi Avete fatto Niente”

Personal ranking (out of 67):  64th

2019: Arcade

Country: The Netherlands

Artist: Duncan Laurence

Language: English

Thoughts: You know, in my 9 or so years watching the contest, I don’t think I’ve ever felt genuinely ecstatic watching a song win. Most of the time I either feel neutral (most of them) or a more general, content kind of happy (2014 and 2017). Like I’ve never let out a shout of joy and slid on my knees across my living room floor in sheer, blind happiness. But that’s what I did with “Arcade”. I’m not really sure why that is because, I must confess, it wasn’t my personal winner of the night, and, looking back, I preferred other songs, but… God, I just can’t explain how overwhelmingly happy I was when this song won. I’m not sure if it’s because I was alone or if I was rooting for this deep down (or if it’s because it was between this song or fuckin’ Sweden again). But that’s by the by. How’s the song? Honestly? Really good. One of my favourites of this decade, if I’m honest. It’s the kind of song that’s grown on me a lot since the night of the contest; even though it wasn’t my favourite song from 2019, I’m not mad at all at it winning.

Is this my personal winner for this year? Honestly I had about 10

If no, what is? I could list them if you want

Personal ranking (out of 67):  6th

[themandadolorian]

Paz Vizla NSFW Alphabet

Originally posted by coredrive

A/N: okay tumblr was being dumb so I had to re-upload. So yeah, here is my - what is sure to be hot pile of garbage that I wrote at midnight last night lol. Listerally this is by far the most sinful thing I’ve ever written/posted so please don’t come for me. It took everything in me to post this in the first place 🙈

Warnings below the cut

Warnings: Pretty self explanatory? Y’all know how these things work. Smut, Paz has a breeding kink (obvi), and yeah. It’s just a bunch of sin y’all. I’m a hoe for Paz okay?

///

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

Okay, as we all know Paz may appear intimidating and brutish, but he is a total fucking teddy bear and I will fight anyone who says otherwise. No matter how slow, sensual, rough, or fast he takes you, he will ALWAYS make sure you are taken care of afterwards. Whether it’s just a warm cloth or a full on shower he will make sure you are both clean before slipping under the covers and pulling  you into his chest.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Okay I feel like Paz is like an ass and thighs kinda guy. I know, I know - super stereotypical guy stuff but like?? He has really big hands okay? And he loves to just grab handfuls of you and squeeze you. He loves wrapping his hands around your thighs and picking you up and pressing you to the wall when neither of you are patient enough to make it to the bed. But he also loves just taking handfuls of your ass in his palms as he fucks down into you.

OOF.

Yeah Paz is definitely an ass and thighs kind of guy.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Okay - BITCH. We ALL KNOW that this big blue bastard has a fucking breeding kink, something that I will discuss further down the alphabet lol. So like his favorite place to cum is definitely inside you. ESPECIALLY if you aren’t on contraceptive (and have had the appropriate baby talk lol).

But despite that being his fave place, I definitely think he has a thing for seeing it on you too. I believe Paz is a very uh…territorial man - and if he’s in the right kinda mood I don’t think he would hesitate to

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Oof okay so thanks to @stubbychaos and @hdlynn for helping me with this one bc I was struggling lol. But this man DEF has a thing for wanting to be the submissive one sometimes. He’s never done it before but he’s always wanted to try it. But he will never for the life of him bring it up to you on his own. He has a reputation to uphold you know? But if you mention it first one day? Lord help him, he won’t hesitate before complying. You being in charge in the bedroom instead of him? Cuffing his hands together and magnetizing them to the hull so he has to beg to touch you?

Phew…yeah he’s into that.

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

Paz is pretty experienced. I think he definitely knows what he’s doing in the bedroom when it comes to the act itself. HOWEVER - I don’t think this man has been in a lot of long term relationships? I feel like that is new to him,so while he knows what he’s doing and how to pleasure you, he is still learning the romantic dynamics lol.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

I definitely take Paz as a no-nonsense kind of guy, when he’s with you in that way (no matter how y’all are doing it lol) he wants to make sure you are getting the pleasure you deserve. And when he’s making love to you? Forget it man. This dude is so fucking serious and soft and just UGH. I don’t think he takes it lightly I guess is what I’m trying to say. Especially if you haven’t sworn the riddurok yet - being that vulnerable with you and placing that much trust in you takes a lot and I don’t think either of you really jokes around in the actual moment.

But Paz is definitely a funny guy. He won’t hesitate to tease you or cast a dirty comment your way when he has the chance. While he takes your relationship seriously he also has a sense of humor - especially leading up to the moment itself.

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

I don’t think Paz really thinks about stuff like that tbh. His life is hectic - he has a job to do and people to protect so I don’t think he concerns himself with stuff like that. Really the only grooming he tries to keep up with is his facial hair, he makes sure to keep it neat under the helmet because if he didn’t it just causes him irritation. But he makes sure not to go completely clean shaven simply because he relishes in the noises you make when his scruff scrapes along the tender skin of your neck when he leaves kisses there - or even better - when it brushes along the inside of your thighs. Yeah, those noises are his favorite.

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

I think Paz is a total romantic and you can’t change my mind.

Like i said before, he’s never really done the long term relationship thing so he wants to do it right ya know? He’s always checking to make sure you’re okay and enjoying what he’s doing. Whispering sweet words of praise and pleasure into your ears as he thrusts into you. He just loves to be with you in every way possible, touching you, holding you - anything.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Hey, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.

He travels alot, and sometimes he’s away from you for longer than usual. This results in some more….depraved evenings alone in the refresher. It’s even worse when you send him a particularly lewd hologram of yourself. Then he definitely can’t help himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Okay - here we go friends. I am finally going to address two anonymous asks I have gotten in this section, SO:

●      Breeding kink: This man has one, plain and simple. He honestly discovered it by accident once when he saw you holding one of the foundlings in the covert, rocking it to sleep. From that moment he was a goner. The minute you walked into your shared quarters, he had stripped you both down and was on you the moment you were bare before him. Just the thought of you, belly swollen with his child? A future Mandalorian to carry on his name? Yeah. the minute that image crosses his mind he’s gone - spending himself inside you before pulling you to his chest and rolling onto his side, never leaving you the entire time.

●      Biting/Marking: Again, another ask I received that I have been gaining the courage to post lol. As stated earlier, Paz is somewhat territorial and kind of protective. He in no way sees you as some kind of property, but when you are together, he wants everyone to know. The morning After a night of passion when he returns from a mission, he sees the bruises on your hips and the dark purple marks on your breasts and neck and he almost takes you again right then and there. From that moment, he makes it a personal mission of his to leave behind at least a couple pieces of evidence. Not that you are complaining of course.

●      Okay this one is kinda mean I think but - idk why - but I think this man has a thing for making you cry 🙈 Obviously this isn’t in a bad or painful kind of way. More, he wants to see you cry out in pure euphoria. You’ve gone several rounds, and he’s pulled more than a few orgasms out of you and that’s when he sees the wet trails down your cheeks.The first time he was worried - afraid that he had hurt you ror pushed you too far, but you explained that it was just that good - OOOO this man just keeps on going.

●      Finally, working off that last one, Paz 100% has a praise kink. He just absolutely loves hearing your gasps of pleasure and encouragement to ‘keep going’ or ‘just like that Paz, maker-!’. It just spurs him on because he knows he’s doing at least one thing right.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Paz definitely prefers either your quarters on the ship or in the covert. He doesn’t really like wearing the helmet when you are together like that and the only place he feels safe enough to remove the helmet is in those two places. Plus, it’s just more comfortable.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

YOU WEARING HIS SHIRTS. That man turns feral if he sees you in one of his shirts. The way it’s so large on you yet only comes to about mid-thigh? Yeah, that is an instant turn on for him 100%.

Also as weird as this might sound he absolutely loves it when you tease him. Mainly because he knows when you do that, that neither of you are aiming for a soft experience lol. Usually when you tease him by wearing those tiny shorts you own or by flirting with someone else just to get his attention, you all won’t even make it back to the safety of your quarters.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Paz will not do ANYTHING that involves hurting you. Period. One of his biggest fears is accidentally hurting or losing the ones he loves, so there is no way he will intentionally cause you pain or harm. I think the only exception to that would be like spanking? But he only does that if you beg him too. But absolutely no knife play, etc…

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

This man will Happily go down on you. And he’s definitely skilled at it. Honestly I think going down on you is probably one of his favorite things and he does it every chance he gets. Because not only does it bring you pleasure, but he loves the way you taste and the way your fingers pull at his hair as you beg him for release….yeah it’s just all around a good time for every one lol.

He also likes receiving but I think he definitely prefers to give rather than receive.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Again I think he’s both. However, I think he leans towards fast and rough, mainly because sometimes all you both have time for is a quick bout before he’s off to his next responsibility or job. But don’t put it past the man to make that up to you. He is always slow and sensual when he gets the chance. Taking his time to touch you and explore every inch of you in an effort to memorize the expanse of your skin and the things that make you tick.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

As stated above, I think quickies can be a regular occurrence between you two, but I also don’t see them happening like all the time, if that makes sense?

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

I think Paz is game to try out some new stuff. Again as long as it’s nothing that could harm either one of you, I don’t think he would mind straying from his comfort zone.. Especially if you’re the one asking.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Listen…this man FUCKS. Like a lot and for a really long ass time. Like each round may not last like super duper long (unless he’s feeling like a tease then he will drag each one out as long as possible) but this man can go so many rounds. He fucking loves it too.

Sometimes you won’t even have time to catch your breath before Paz is ready to go again and there are tears in your eyes as he just continues to rail into you despite you both having reached your highs several times. This man’s stamina is like no other y’all.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I don’t think Paz is really into toys himself. I mean if it’s something that you want to do/try he won’t say no but I don’t see him being the one to seek them out or own them. And if he did use one it would definitely be on his partner rather than himself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Honestly? Paz can be such a fucking tease. I don’t think it’s something he does like all the time or anything but if he’s in a particular mood or you’ve been a brat all day, he will not hesitate to be unfair as hell. Like just going until you are right on the edge of release and then stopping completely, making you cry out in frustration before picking up again and doing the same thing over and over again. He pretty much won’t stop until your sobbing beneath him begging him to let you cum. Them and only then will he relent and finally, finally, get you to that point of release, following not far behind you.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

hmmm…I feel like he definitely has a thing for an SO that is smaller than him. More in the sense that they are just shorter. He likes to tease you or put things on taller shelves so you have to ask for his help. But he also loves it because it makes it easier to pick you up and toss you onto the bed. Or, since he’s a lot larger than most people, he loves the way his hands look on your body. The way they just like engulf you and make you shiver - yeah idk. But he’s into that lol.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Do I really even have to say it? Because I feel like we all know lol. But Paz is not lacking in that department at ALL. This man is very blessed, well-endowed, whatever the hell you want to call it okay? Honestly the first time you see it you’re a little bit concerned for your own well being lol.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty fucking high lol. Paz is a horny bitch and that’s a hill I will die on.

He just loves being with you and near you in any way possible, but he especially loves being with you in this way. As stated several times before, having never been in many relationships, he relishes in the trust and vulnerability that he is allowed to have with you. But beyond all of that kind of stuff he just loves pleasuring you. Loves hearing the whines and gasps you let out as he fucks you. He loves the way your hands grip his shoulders or the way your nails rake down his back, reminding him the next day how much you enjoyed it. Yeah, Paz fucks okay? And he enjoys it a lot lol.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

I don’t think he’s one of those people to just konk out afterwards lol. But he also doesn’t stay awake for too long. He will make sure you are both cleaned up before slipping back into bed next to you, pulling you to his chest and running his hand gently up and down your back. Tracing every little dip and curve of your body, until your breathing evens out and your warm breath fans over his chest. This is usually when he will fall asleep. He will drift off to your steady breaths and the feeling of your skin against his own.

[let-it-raines]

Not Your (soul)Mate {12/16}

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused.

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

Rating: Mature

A/N: As always, thanks to @captainsjedi for all of the time and effort she put into making all of the wonderful artwork for this story! It’s the coolest thing to get to have❤️ And thank you to the organizers of @cssns!

Also, look! I add a chapter! You guys now get an epilogue! Woohoo!

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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Tag list: @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @a-faekindagirl @emmas-storybook @searchingwardrobes @spartanguard @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @dreameronarooftop15 @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @superchocovian @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera @qualitycoffeethings @jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @xellewoods @thejollyroger-writer @galaxyzxstark @cssns

-/-

Killian: But categorically, you cannot tell me that cold pizza is better than fresh out of the oven pizza.

Emma: Ugh. I’m not saying that. I’m saying that if you get nasty delivery pizza, it’s just as good cold as it is warm.

Emma: If you’re getting wood fired pizza, obviously you eat that shit warm.

Killian: ‘Eat that shit warm’ is not a sentence I ever wanted to read.

Emma: Don’t make it gross.

Killian: It’s too late for that.

Emma: I seriously want Ariel to get a pizza oven in her house because I have to put on a bra to go to Eric’s restaurant.

Killian: I mean, I wouldn’t complain if you didn’t.

Emma: Again, don’t make it gross.

“Are you texting your boyfriend again?”

Emma jumps in her office chair, her phone tumbling out of her hands and onto her desk, bouncing around until it lands on top of her computer’s keyboard, jamming down on several keys all at once like a toddler that just got one of those toys that make too much noise when you press a button. That’s not going to mess the database she was going through up or anything. They finally got the funding to computerize their files, so she spends all of her days doing just that. She’s really regretting putting in that request right about now. She won’t in a few weeks, but she does now.

(At least they didn’t have to make a calendar or do a bake sale. She really doesn’t need to see a picture of David wearing, like, a “Kiss the Cook” apron and nothing else just to raise a little money.)

She also regrets tossing her phone in the air and how quickly her heart is beating. David’s going to see the nerves all over her face, going to see how frazzled she is, and he’ll see right through it. Hell, he pretty much already does. At least he’s a hell of a lot more chill than Mary Margaret.

Not like that’s hard.

(What, like it’s hard? Elle Woods for the win, always.)

Last night she was eating dinner with them at the farmhouse, and for approximately three seconds she looked down at a text on her phone and apparently smiled. She’s sure it was nothing more than a slight curve of her lips, a whisper of happiness, but Mary Margaret practically threw her fork across the table (which is a great way to stab someone in the eye) and demanded to know who she was talking to.

It was Killian. It always seems to be Killian.

She’s not sure how she feels about that even if she’s admitted to herself that she kind of (definitely, really, truly) likes him. It’s a very odd feeling that makes her soul feel like it’s not connected to her body.

She told Mary Margaret that it was Ariel complaining about how much it sucks to be eight months pregnant in the summer heat. The fact that Mary Margaret didn’t call Ariel right then and there and offer up every bit of advice was a miracle. Honestly, looking back, Emma knows that she should have said that she was talking to Ruby about a date that she has. Mary Margaret rarely asks for more details on Ruby’s dates than what Ruby offers up, not that the girl leaves a lot to be desired. It’s one of her best and worst qualities all at once.

But Mary Margaret believed her and got carried away talking about the joys and sorrows of motherhood, and if it weren’t for David, she would have gotten away with her lie unnoticed.

She feels like a freaking Scooby Doo villain thinking something like that.

If only she had a creepy mask to take off too.

Or maybe not. That could be weird. No, definitely weird.

“I don’t have a boyfriend, and you know it,” she says as calmly as she can, reaching forward and grabbing her phone only to look up at David and the smirk that’s plastered on his face with his hands behind his back. “What’s with the creepy look you’ve got going on there?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re a horrible liar.”

“So are you.” He moves his hands from behind his back to reveal a small vase full of yellow roses and whatever that white filler flower is. It’s some weird name like breath of a baby or baby’s breath because that’s totally what a flower should be called. “Because I don’t know about you, but I don’t send baskets of baked goods and flowers to my friends.”

She’s definitely going to kill Killian. The word is in his name, so it’s basically fate.

Murder should not be where her mind goes.

That is probably not the reaction most people have when they’re sent flowers by the man they may possibly have some major feelings for, but she is not most people. She thinks of murder when she should be thinking of...romance? Is that the word she’s looking for? Do these flowers signal romance?

It’s all confusing. Seriously. She has no idea what’s going on. She has no idea if there should be feelings of romance or murder or even friendship.

Okay, friendship seems like the best option. Murder seems like the worst.

“Those probably aren’t for me,” she lies, knowing that it’s a horrible one, especially since David already knows who sent them.

David rolls his eyes before placing them on her desk. “Your name is on the note.”

She glances toward the flowers and at the note, Killian’s handwriting largely penned across the envelope, before she looks up at David, nerves working their way down her arms. Which, technically thinking, that’s how nerves work, but she was never really very good at biology.

“Did you read it?”

“I can be an ass, but I’m not going to read the closed note that your not-boyfriend sent you.” David shrugs his shoulders and sits down in his desk chair, rolling it up underneath the desk. “And I’m not as nosy as my wife.”

“Which is why I can spend so much time with you.”

“You have to spend time with me. Did you notice that we’re missing the hard copies of the files for the Anderson case from two years ago?”

“Yep. I’ve already emailed the records office at City Hall to see if they have anything. I don’t know why it would be there, but it always could be.”

“If this town ever had serious crime, we would be screwed.”

“Hey no, I kick ass. We could totally work that thing out.”

“You’d intimidate everyone until they confessed.”

“I am a very intimidating woman.”

“Who receives flowers from men who are pining after her.”

She huffs, not wanting to even respond to that, but she grabs her empty to-go cup from her coffee this morning and throws it at David, hitting him in the back of the head. He doesn’t even acknowledge it, letting the paper fall to the ground and clatter against the tile floor all while he hums to himself a theme song that she recognizes from one of Leo’s shows…which means she’s heard that theme song far too many times since it’s not her kid.

Seriously.

And Killian Jones is not pining after her. Definitely not.

(David knows far too much, but at least he doesn’t know that Killian is her soulmate.)

They fall back into work after that since they are technically supposed to be competent professionals in a very loose sense of the word, and she tries not to look at the vase of flowers on her desk for the next few hours, telling herself that it’s not a big deal and she absolutely will not read the note until she’s finished getting through this section of files. She will do her job first…whatever it is with Killian can come second.

Surprisingly, working on her computer keeps her busy until her shift is over, and since it’s Friday, she picks up her vase of flowers and holds them in her lap as she drives home, hoping that there’s not pollen or anything to get onto her shirt since she knows from experience that it’s hard to get out. Plus, she really likes this shirt. And it’s not until after she’s changed out of it and into some shorts and a t-shirt that she remembers to check her phone and the note that came with the flowers.

The note with the flowers comes first. Priorities and all that.

Swan,

So I couldn’t decide between sunflowers and yellow roses. And before you get any ideas as to why I’ve sent you flowers (besides the fact that I imagine whoever delivers them to you will tease the hell out of you. I’m hoping for Dave.), just know that Luis and Luca made me buy a voucher booklet from their school, and the one to the floral shop was about to expire. So it was either you or Will, and Will isn’t quite as pretty as you are.

I hope they bring a little extra sunshine to your day.

Killian

She pulls out her phone and sends of a quick text, unable to stop the small smile that’s formed on her face. Unable to want to stop it, really, as she falls back against the couch, her legs hanging over the end.

Emma: I’m glad you used your flower shop voucher on me.

Killian: Yeah, well, like I said, the other option was Will.

Emma: If he comes over tonight, I’ll tell him they’re for him.

Killian: They viewing apartments still?

Emma: Yep.

Emma: I have ‘All By Myself’ playing on repeat.

Killian: That’s very fitting.

Emma: I thought so. Any fun plans for you tonight?

Killian: I am wrapping all of the gifts for tomorrow and then going to sleep early to celebrate the near end of summer and my mildly busy season.

Emma: You are the life of the party.

Killian: Just wait until the baby shower tomorrow. I’m going to crush all of those awful games. No one can change a diaper as fast as I can.

Emma: Is that on your resume?

Killian: Yep. Liam is a bloody stickler of a boss. The skills we have to have here are insane.

Emma: I thought you were co-owners? I don’t think of Killian Jones of ever being anything other than a boss.

Killian: I have that commanding of a presence, do I?

Emma: Well, your ego does demand a lot of the space in the room.

Killian: Luckily for you, I’m happy to share the space so your ego can have a little room to breathe as well.

-/-

When she wakes up the next morning, it’s to the sound of movement in Belle’s bedroom, and she instinctively pulls her pillow over her face. Maybe it’s to cover her ears. Maybe it’s to smother herself over the sounds that she’s hearing in the next room. Who knows? She certainly doesn’t. And as sad as she is to be losing Belle as a roommate whenever she and Will find a place of their own, she is certainly not going to miss the muted sounds of Will’s dirty talk.

Seriously.

A woman can only take so much.

(Belle can apparently take a lot. She keeps asking for more.)

Instead of suffering in silent misery, she gets up out of bed and slips into a pair of sandals, figuring she can go check her mail just to get out of the apartment while Belle and Will finish. She and Killian have mostly been texting over the last few weeks, their conversations going deep into the night and throughout the day, but they’re also still sending letters. It’s a weird thing, she knows, and every internal instinct that she has is telling her to burn the letters and run, but something keeps her from setting it all aflame.

Someone.

She’s lost her mind. She really has. Killian is…he’s Killian. He’s a nice, handsome guy who makes her laugh and causes the bricks weighing down her shoulders to lift one by one until she’s not feeling quite so weighed down anymore. He’s her – they match up well, and she still doesn’t know how to feel about that. She knows how she feels about him, she knows that she likes him, that she enjoys talking to him in the limited way that they can, but then, in the back of her mind that demon comes out and whispers in her ear that he only likes her because they’re soulmates, that the knowledge is tainting their...relationship thing.  

That’s been one of her worst fears ever since she found it.

Because what if she falls in love and he doesn’t? What if they break up? What if it doesn’t work out? What does she do then? What happens if the one person she’s supposed to be with forever doesn’t want to be with her? Is she supposed to then live out the rest of her life as the poor girl who was too broken for even the universe to help out?

The ‘what ifs’ kill her.

Not really. She’s obviously still alive and breathing and all that fun jazz, but they still keep her up at night wondering of all the ways this could go wrong. And she doesn’t really know how any of this can go right. She likes sex. It’s a great time, it feels freaking fantastic, but she and Killian can’t possibly live out the rest of their lives wanting to constantly have sex whenever they have conversations. Logistically, that’s not possible. And, like, she knows it’s better now than the first time they met, than the second time too, but every time she spends an extended amount of time with him, especially when they talk, all she wants to do is grab him by the collar again and kiss him.

Just without the clothes and all.

Definitely without the clothes.

If she could put into words how she’s feeling, she’d write it in one of these damn letters and never mail it simply so that she can maybe understand.

Understanding is never going to happen.

There’s no one at the mailboxes or in the laundry room, so before she even gets her mail, she runs back upstairs and grabs her basket of clothes and detergent, humming to block out the noises still happening, and then walks back to the basement, putting her clothes in the washing machine before getting her mail, taking the one letter that resides there, and propping herself up on the wall of unused machines as she reads.

Emma,

I’m going to blame the rum for this letter. I really am. It’s around two in the morning, the moon high in the sky. We’ve just spent the day together, which was bloody wonderful by the way, and I can’t seem to stop thinking of things. Even as I write, it seems rather foolish to put my thoughts onto paper, but hopefully I won’t think to mail the letter. Or maybe I should. I honestly don’t know. This is all uncharted territory for me, and I seem to be diving in headfirst even if I am wearing a life jacket.

You see, I rather fancy you, Emma (No Middle Name) Swan, and it’s been a long time since I fancied a woman for more than one night or possibly a few weeks. The last time that I did, I had my heart broken so horribly that I retired from the Navy and moved across an ocean. Quite dramatic, don’t you think? I’ve been told that I’m a dramatic ass. That may have been Liam, but it also may have been you. I can’t recall at the moment.

Her name was Milah. She was beautiful, absolutely stunning, and I loved her with what felt like every beat of my heart until her heart was no longer mine to love. We met at a Naval Christmas ball. She was there with her brother, and I’ll never forget the black dress that she was wearing. We danced, and as they say, the rest is history. But as you know, I’m a bit of a history buff, so I like the details. I imagine you might too. I always knew that she wasn’t my soulmate. I didn’t have a sign, but she did, a simple tattoo on her hand. It was something we didn’t talk about in our three years together until one day we came across a man with a matching tattoo. She didn’t leave me, not at first, but as she got to know him, she fell for him. And who was I to keep two soulmates from having each other?

I think that’s what makes it worst of all. There was nothing wrong between us, but she had someone who she belonged with. It wasn’t me.

So you may think you’re the only person with an aversion to soulmates. You’re not. We all have our issues, our baggage, but I’ve found that since spilling that iced water down your dress (you should wear that dress more often by the way) the weight on my shoulders seems to have lessened. I’m…happier, I guess. I have such a wonderful life, but lately, I’ve had more reason to laugh. I think it’s because of a certain blonde with a penchant for mismatching her socks and junk food that no sane person would ever eat so regularly.

But who knows? This could all be the rum speaking.

Love,

Killian

She reads the letter three more times before she truly allows herself to let all of it sink in. It’s been three weeks since Labor Day, three weeks of the two of them going on and continuing to text and write letters – ones other than this one – and yet this one has shown up in her mailbox this morning. Either the US Postal Service really sucks or Killian didn’t send this the night he wrote it. He was likely drunk, at the very least tipsy, but he’s the most well-spoken (written) drunk man she’s ever seen.

And he bared his soul to her.

Because she makes him happy.

She does that.

Her gut feeling is to run, not really sure where she’d run to since this town and these people are her family and she’d never leave them, but she wants to run from her feelings, from the way that her insides unpleasantly twist and the way her heart squeezes. She knows that she feels the same way about Killian, that he makes her happy, but seeing it written out like that, seeing the words in Killian’s handwriting, that’s an entirely different story. And it doesn’t matter that he was drunk. Drunk words are sometimes the most truthful.

How in the world is she supposed to handle any of this?

Does she push it away? Pretend she didn’t get the letter? Does he even know that he sent it? Does he remember writing it? Should she write something back? What the hell would she write back? How would she even do that without having a little liquid courage too?

She can’t get drunk today, not with Ariel’s baby shower, but she really, really wants to.

That’s the thing too. She’s not even sure if she wants to get drunk for herself or because Killian’s letter brought back every feeling of abandonment she’s ever experienced. He was left, just like her yet again, and whether she likes it or not, they do understand each other.

(Of course she likes it, likes being understood.)

Her brain never quite turns off after that, reading the letter over and over again so many times that she might as well have it memorized, and she only knows that she moves because she changes her clothes over into the dryer, cleaning out the lint filter before twisting the knob and listening to it rattle to drown out all of her thoughts.

Goodbye shower. The laundry room is now the place to have an existential crisis.

But she does somehow manage to turn her thoughts off enough to know that she really does need to shower, so while her clothes are drying, she heads back upstairs and takes one, quickly washing her hair and her body, shaving her legs up to her knees since her dress for today only really shows half of her calves. She’s got three hours until Ariel’s baby shower, but she needs something to do, so she tugs on her dress, letting the blue and white striped print hug her body, and takes the time to apply her makeup, going through an actual routine instead of simply slapping some mascara onto her lashes.

Today really must be shaping up to be a day.

“Why are you already dressed?” Belle asks when she walks out of her bedroom, making her jump at the sight of Belle sitting at the table eating a bowl of cereal in pajamas that she definitely wasn’t wearing an hour ago. “And why do you look like a deer in the headlights?”

“Oh, I, um…”

She tugs at the waist of her dress, pulling the tie a bit to tighten it as she thinks of a lie. As much as Belle knows about she and Killian, she doesn’t know the half of it. She purposely hasn’t told anyone. She can’t. If everyone thinks that she and Killian are flirting and maybe fucking, that’s fine with her. That’s nothing. But if anyone were to know that they were soulmates, it’d make everything far more complicated. There would be expectations and hopes, and if others have those, how could she not? And why can she not figure her brain out?

But Killian told her he wouldn’t tell anyone, so no one else is going to know.

“I’m doing laundry,” she finally says, knowing that the best lies are routed in truth. “I needed something to pass the time, so I went ahead and got ready. Well, with everything but the mess of my hair.”

Belle’s brows pinch together, but she doesn’t say anything else, scooping her spoon into her bowl before taking another bite. “So Will and I think we found an apartment yesterday.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, nodding her head. “It’s downtown, in that cute little complex across the street from Granny’s with the pink awning. I loved it. I mean, it’s bigger than this place, but it feels very homey. And there’s this built in bookshelf that I think I might love more than I love Will.”

“Oh good. That means I can keep the one here.” Belle rolls her eyes, and Emma walks forward to pull out her chair from the table before sitting down. “I’m so happy that you guys found a place. Like, obviously I’m going to miss you, but after the show I heard this morning, I think we might need a little space.”

Belle doesn’t even blush. All she does is reach into her bowl and pick up a dried strawberry, flicking it at her. “In all fairness, you never wake up that early on a Saturday.”

“I mean, how could I sleep through such a performance? Whatever you’re doing, you’re obviously doing very well.”

“You’re going to share all of this at the wedding, aren’t you?”

“Oh absolutely. And if you put a little tequila in me, I might even act out my own version of the events.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll get arrested for that.”

“I’m on good terms with cops. Where is your partner in crime, by the way?”

“I left Ariel’s present at his place, and he went ahead and went home to get it and get ready. You want to drive there together?”

“Absolutely.”

-/-

“Why do you look like you’re dying?” Ariel asks, wrapping her arm around Emma’s waist as she stands in Ariel’s kitchen looking at the spread of food out ahead of her, Max wandering around the table in an attempt to get scraps.  

“Because I am. What’s up with the creepy pigs in a blanket snacks that are made to look like babies? Am I supposed to eat those?”

“No, no.” Ariel rubs her hand up and down Emma’s back, and if she wasn’t already thinking about the fact that one of her best friends is having a baby while the other is getting married, she’d definitely be thinking of all of the motherly instincts that Ariel possesses and how she has likely never had those even if she thought that she did at one point. “That’s just a weird thing that Mary Margaret brought. I think she saw it on Pinterest and thought it would be cute, but it’s super creepy.”

“I mean, like, the creepiest. And the deviled eggs are the same way.”

“I’d stick to other foods if I were you.”

“Anything not baby related.”

“Ah, yes, but save room because I believe there’s a game later where we have to eat baby food.”

“Just kill me now.”

“It can’t be that bad.”

She rolls her eyes and leans her head over to Ariel’s shoulder, wrapping her arm around Ariel’s waist knowing that she’s taking up too much time from the guest of honor, but everyone else seems to be just fine milling around the kitchen and living room, most of Ariel’s regular furniture pushed aside to fit in table cloth covered tables with flower centerpieces sitting in the middle of all of them. It’s cute, and she has to admit that Mary Margaret definitely knows how to host a party, weird food choices aside. But it most definitely hasn’t been the worst hour of her life, especially since she knows every single person here. The only real issue was when Killian showed up because she thought that she was going to have to stop talking, which isn’t the easiest thing in the world when she’s with her friends. But he stayed away from her, making sure to speak quietly instead of being his usual commanding presence.

His words, not hers.

And mostly she was thinking about how refreshing it is to have both the father of the baby and male friends at a baby shower. She gets that the woman pretty much does all of the work (she’d like to speak to someone about that because it seems fundamentally unfair), but both Ariel and Eric are having a baby. It’s not simply Ariel’s to raise. It’s Eric’s too. And yet most fathers don’t show up to showers, don’t put in the effort, and no part of her has ever understood that. But maybe she’s simply hoping for something that’s better than most people’s reality. She doesn’t know. She never had parents, never got to see it first hand, but when she thought…no, it doesn’t matter. None of that was real, and there’s no use in thinking of it now even if thoughts of Neal have been niggling themselves into her mind since this morning.

She’s simply glad that Ariel has Eric, that they have each other and baby Fisher.

They have a family.

“I’m not eating pureed food unless it’s, like, pureed donuts or something.”

“They don’t make pure sugar for infants. That would be a fundamentally awful idea.”

“Eh, I don’t think so. The babies would probably be super happy.”

“You’re going to be the person who gives the baby sugar right before you send them back to me, aren’t you?”

“You bet your ass I am.”

“Alright,” Mary Margaret claps, making Emma turn her head to look in the living room, “who wants to play a game?”

The game isn’t eating pureed baby food, but somehow it is much, much worse. In reality, she knows that it’s really not that bad. It’s cute and funny, and if she wasn’t who she is, she’d be thankful that this is the game that Mary Margaret picked out because it’s damn fun.

Who’s That Baby?

She’s got a large board full of baby pictures, some of them adorable, others a little scary (not that she would ever say that out loud), and everyone is having to guess which baby is who. She hasn’t guessed a single one because, really, she’s selfish and can only think about the fact that her picture isn’t up there.

And she knows this because, well, Mary Margaret never asked her for one. While Mary Margaret can work wonders, it would be pretty much impossible for her to gather baby pictures of everyone without anyone knowing, so she must have asked everyone to send them in. But Emma was never asked, not at all. Sure, she could pass it off as an oversight, as a mistake, but she knows that none of that is true.

Mary Margaret didn’t ask for her baby picture because she knows that she doesn’t have any.

Today was not supposed to be emotional like this. Today was supposed to be…a sob suddenly catches in her throat, one she has to force to keep down, and when she feels hot tears forming in her eyes, threatening to escape, she quietly excuses herself from the room, knowing that she won’t be missed if she ducks into the bathroom for a moment. But the bathroom is locked, and since she sure as hell isn’t going to go into the nursery right now, she opens Ariel’s bedroom door and collapses against the wall, letting her legs bend until she’s sitting on hardwood and pulling her legs to her chest as she tries to breathe.

Breathing is seeming pretty difficult at the moment.

So is not crying.

Why does she want to cry?

That’s a dumb question. She knows why she wants to, why she’s about to, but it’s been almost eight years. Things like this shouldn’t hurt anymore, should they? She should be over it. She has to be over it.

She isn’t over it.

Another sob rumbles through her, this one escaping from the confines of her throat, and when she hears it, even she notices how ugly of a sob it is. It’s one of those where she can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but let her shoulders tremble and tears fall down her cheeks. The more she tells herself to calm down, the more uncontrollable she gets, the more she feels like she has no control over anything.

And then there’s a click, a turn of a knob, and she’s paralyzed in fear and embarrassment that is only exacerbated when she sees tight blue jeans over muscled legs and a simple white button down with small light blue stripes that she knows belongs to Killian.

Words don’t come out of her mouth even though she’s got an excuse on her tongue, a pathetic one about being allergic to the weird baby themed foods, and while she expects him to be snarky, he’s not. It’s so much worse because after she takes one look at the raised brow on his forehead, he slides down on the wall next to her, their thighs hitting each other as his arm wraps around her shoulder so tentatively that she nearly grabs onto it and pulls it over her shoulder herself.

She definitely has gone crazy.

But when she doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move away from his embrace, he moves closer to her, his embrace a little tighter, and she can feel the heat of his body all over her as his hand rubs up and down her shoulder while she buries her face in his shirt near the slight exposure of his collarbone and the chain that resides there. He smells like the spice of his cologne, something warm and comforting, and even though it’s ridiculous, that’s what calms her, what makes her stop crying, just the smallest of whimpers and hiccups occasionally escaping her lips.

It should hit her that she’s having a meltdown in her best friend’s bedroom at said best friend’s baby shower in front of the man who she has…something with. But honestly, she feels puffy and exhausted, and she’s more concerned with the fact that her mascara is going to ruin Killian’s shirt and the way that his hand seems to be large enough to cover every inch of her as he comforts her.

And she focuses on the fact that he’s silent.

Well, he was.

“You know, darling, I think that you should cry in here a little longer so that Ariel and Eric can get some practice with someone crying in their bedroom at weird times.”

She huffs into his chest, rubbing her nose into his collarbone as his scent consumes her. “That’s bold of you to assume that there’s not already someone crying in here on a regular basis.”

There’s a thud against the wall as Killian’s head falls back with laughter, his chuckles deep but light, and she hiccups again in response, not really able to do much else.

“Now, Swan, I don’t think their sex life is that bad. They are having a baby.”

“Believe it or not, an orgasm is not required for conception.”

“No, it’s not.” He rubs his hand up and down her arm again, squeezing her bicep before continuing and moving along her back so that his nails trace patterns into her skin. She must be really upset and out of touch with herself right now because they’re talking, and she feels no shivers running down her spine or heat curling between her thighs. Maybe all it takes is for her to be having a meltdown. That makes it even worse. It’s probably just that they haven’t talked enough. “Would you like to talk about what’s got you hiding away in here, or do you want to talk about our friends’ sex life for a little longer?”

“Can I have the option of neither?”

“No.”

“That’s unfair.”

“So is life.”

Emma rolls her eyes knowing that Killian can’t see it, and maybe that is the reason why she rubs her eyes into his shirt some more. “Aren’t you going to get a boner if I talk too much?”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Ridiculous man.

(Sweet man.)

“I got your letter about Milah this morning.” Killian’s hand stills and his tongue clicks, but she keeps going, knowing that if she’s going to talk, it’s got to be while she can’t control her body and emotions and her tongue basically has free range. “I don’t know if you knew that you sent that, if you did it on purpose or got drunk again, if the mail was just late. I don’t know, but I read it while washing clothes and I hated it. I hated that you were screwed over, that you were screwed over by the whole soulmate thing. I mean, you were in love, and it ended because of what? Because she had a tattoo that matched another man? That’s such bullshit.”

“It’s okay, love.”

“It’s not. Nothing about any of this is okay. But, like, that’s not even why I’m having a meltdown. I mean, you definitely put me in a confused mood because you talked about your heartbreak and how I’m helping with that, and I – I can’t deal with any of that right now when all I can think about today is the fact that there are all of those baby pictures up on that board and not one of them is of me. Mary Margaret didn’t even ask because she knows that I don’t have one, that no one cared enough about me to take a picture and give it to me. And obviously I’m spiraling because then I get upset about a baby that never even existed. I’m not even one of those people who desperately wants a baby or something.”

“What are you talking about, Swan? What baby?”

The only reason she has the bravery to say this is because she’s not being forced to look at Killian, to look at the blue of his eyes, and if she can’t see his eyes, none of this is real, right? It’s like the texts. They’re separated enough that it’s not all overwhelming for her.

“When I was seventeen, I met a guy, Neal. You’ve probably heard of him from our friends. They’ve never met him, but I guess…he’s kind of a legend in the group. Anyways, we dated for three years, and when I was twenty, my period was late. So obviously I’m freaking out, probably having a panic attack, but then I take a test that says I’m pregnant. And weirdly, I feel calm. I feel calm because, you know, I’m going to have a family, have something I’ve never had.”

“Swan – ”

“I wasn’t pregnant,” she interrupts, not wanting him to stop her and ask any more questions. “It was a false positive, a cheap test. But I didn’t know that until after I told Neal, and he basically told me that I should have kept my legs shut before packing his bags and leaving to go live with his father in fucking Tallahassee. So I was left alone with no boyfriend, no kid, and a hell of a lot of bitter thoughts because I thought the man was my soulmate and I’d never have to feel alone again. I thought I was done being abandoned. The joke was on me.”

She’s not crying anymore, not even sniffling, but she feels cold and stiff and like she can’t really breathe through her nose. Here she is baring her soul to this man who has all of the power to break her, and yet she still told him, still let the words pass her lips are they were spoken into his skin. But he did tell her about himself too, tell him how he was broken too, and maybe that comforts her.

Maybe it also comforts her that she knows Killian’s got to be pitching a tent right about now. She’s been talking for ten minutes at the very least with her long pauses and ramblings, and there’s no way that he isn’t struggling. And yet he’s sat in almost silence listening to her and comforting her all the while he wants to fuck her.

What the hell even is their lives?

And that’s why she starts laughing, a chuckle bubbling up through her throat while her shoulders shake, the corners of her mouth curving into a smile, and she moves her head up to look at Killian even though she knows that she probably looks like a raccoon would after a night out at the bar.

That thought is unsurprisingly not the weirdest thought she’s ever had, not even the weirdest this week.

“There’s that smile,” Killian encourages, nodding his head and thumb at her chin while his own smile appears on his face, making eyes crinkle. She likes that a lot. It makes her stomach twist in unfamiliar and yet not entirely unpleasant ways. He complains about them only being there because he’s older than her, but she doesn’t mind in the slightest. “The sun would rise early to see your smile.”

“But then I would literally get less sleep or have to spend money on blackout curtains.”

“I’ll buy them for you.”

She chuckles again and shakes her head even as Killian’s thumb moves from her chin to beneath her eyes, wiping away the tears that remain and probably still continue to flow. She feels like jelly or a blob or something else shapeless, something else that can’t be contained. They haven’t been this close since…she wants to say since she kissed Killian on the fourth of July, but it’s most likely as close as they were on Labor Day.

Summer holidays seem to be a pattern for them.

But it’s nearing autumn now, and her breath hitches as she looks at the scar on his cheek, the freckles near his nose, the long, dark lashes contrasting against blue eyes. He’s such an attractive man, almost so much that it would take her breath away if it wasn’t already gone. She’s not going to kiss him now. She knows that he’s not going to kiss her. But their breaths are intermingling, and she can still feel the warm presence of his hand on her arm.

“I’m sorry that you were hurt like that,” he whispers, her gaze flicking up from his lips to his eyes. “I’m sorry that you were hurt by Neal and Walsh and your parents and every other person who doesn’t deserve you and your funny sense of humor and kind heart.”

“It’s fine. It was all a long time ago.”

“Wounds made when we’re young tend to linger, and it very obviously isn’t fine. You’re having a bit of a time hidden away in our friends’ bedroom, and that’s okay. You’re allowed to be hurt. I wrote you a drunk letter about my ex because I was hurt. I still get angry over my dad leaving and my mom dying. The universe has fucked me over in a lot of ways, but I think it did something right in letting me meet you.”

Oh well damn. That’s just not fair.

“No one should be as good with words as you are. Like, even your drunk letters were basically professional novels.”

He shrugs at the same time that he reaches forward to tuck her hair behind her ear, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down her spine. “I was a wonderful English and literature student if I do say so myself. And for someone who reads as many books as you do, I’m surprised you’re not always speaking in limericks.”

“Yeah, well, besides the occasional historical romance, I read a lot of books about murder and mystery. They’re not exactly teaching me to speak like Shakespeare.”

“All I got out of that was that you know how to murder me and get away with it.”

Emma chuckles, shaking her head as she gently pats his chest, their faces still impossibly close. “I’ve told you before, I’m not someone you really want to mess with.”

His brows raise in the way that they always do, the lines on his forehead appearing. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve told you how I quite fancy with you even when you’re yelling at me, haven’t I?”

“You fancy my ass,” she deflects.

“I am a fan of every part of you,” Killian sighs, rubbing his hand over her back in the way that he does where his hand nearly covers all of her, his forearm pulling her closer. “If that includes your ass, so be it. Though, I always considered myself a breast man. You seem to have converted me to both.”

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or completely and totally disgusted.”

“You can compliment my ass if it makes you feel better.”

Rolling her eyes, she pulls back from him, putting more space between as she moves back to sit a little closer to the bed, her limbs still a little shaky. “I’m not falling for that.”

“Damn, I really could have used the ego boost.” Killian stands from the ground, and she’s not at all distracted by the way his thigh muscles look under his jeans. But maybe she kind of is as she doesn’t notice the way he holds his left hand out, the one covered in scars from the accident, until he’s looking down at her expectantly. She takes his hand, the warmth and roughness overwhelming her, and he helps her stand so that her legs are a little more stable. “Do you think you’re ready to go back to the party? I’m sure they’ve moved onto A opening up breast pumps and someone doing something entirely inappropriate with them. How could we miss that?”

“I mean, the only thing that could top that would be if there were more weird, baby-shaped food.”

“Isn’t that bloody disturbed?” Killian laughs, his face lighting up with joy in that way that makes her stomach twist yet again. Her intestines must really hate her. “I mean, why would I eat that?”

“Because it tastes good.”

“You should not say things like that. I can’t look at you the same way hearing those words come out of your mouth.”

“Hey now.” She holds her hands up before reaching back and tucking the hair that keeps falling in her face behind her ears. “At least there’s not one of those cakes with the baby’s head coming out of a frosting vagina.”

“Swan,” he groans, leaning forward and resting his head against her shoulder while his own shoulders heave with muted laughter, “please don’t talk about that. I’m rather fond of that particular area, and I’d rather not imagine things coming out of it.”

“That sounds kind of painful for all of your sexual partners if you can’t pull out.”

“Well, the baby does have to be made somehow.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said.”

“You can’t say that about everything that I say.”

“I can if you keep getting that ridiculous.”

Killian laughs once more before leaning back off of her and wrapping an arm around Emma’s shoulder, the weight heavy and comfortable while he opens the bedroom door with his free hand. “Come on, love. Let’s go see if there’s a cake depicting Ariel giving birth. If not, I hear Mr. French takes requests.”

Ridiculous.

Such a ridiculous man who is making her laugh and feel comfortable with his arm around her shoulder after she just spilled her guts to him about some of the darkest parts of her life. She should feel uncomfortable, awkward, ready to run. She’s been waiting for all of those things since she read his letter. They’re not coming. They could later, but for now, all she can do is laugh at Killian telling her about Liam nearly passed out when Elsa gave birth.

In all of this, all that has happened, all that she has revealed, only one cohesive thought truly remains.

She and Killian are inevitable, always have been, always will be, and she’s fallen into the trap of liking him much more than she ever intended to.

Maybe even loving him.

That’s the craziest thought of them all.

But she has to wonder about the fact that she didn’t feel aroused once in that conversation when she always thought that was the thread that was holding the two of them together.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #267

“you can take my heart, you can take my breath - when you pry it from my cold, dead chest.”

When did you last talk to the last person you kissed? Last night. Do you think people have any misconceptions about you? Oh, I'm positively certain. What’s something you wish you could understand better? There are a great many things, but the first that came to mind are certain political/moral beliefs that I REALLY do want to understand, but I just don't. When was the last time you cried really, really hard? About a week back when I woke up shrieking and sobbing from a nightmare about Dad. Have you ever injected a drug? No. How many people have you liked in the past 5 months? I've been COnfuFSSeD!!!!!! Are you currently in a relationship? Nope. Probably for the better. Have you ever touched a dead body? Animals, yes. I may have at an open-casket wake, but idr. I was young. Ever played Grand Theft Auto? Nope, but oh man, good memories of those stupid games with my neighbor back when I was younger... He loved that game just to fuck around, and I liked watching. Then Jacob and Jason played it together at the apartment a lot, and those are warm memories, too. The last male you spoke to … is he attractive? That would be my 3-year-old nephew, so it'd be fucking weird to call him that. He's one handsome little boy, though. We all know he's gonna be a lady killer one day. If your ex called right now, would you answer? Yeah. Is there a dictionary on your bookshelf? I don't even have a bookshelf. Do you have any pet names for the person you love/like? Not anymore. Who was the last person you had a serious conversation with? What is your honest opinion of that person? Mom. I love her to death. Who was the first person you dated? What is your honest opinion of that person? Aaron was my puppy-dog love, and I have not the slightest clue what he's up to now, but I have faith he's kept that good head of his. Ever fallen in the shower? I've passed out while getting *out* of it. I've slipped a number of times too, but not truly fallen. Do you think that things will get better? For me, I genuinely don't know. Ever been to a bonfire party? Yes, by my cousins' friend's pool for a b-day party. It was cool. Their house was fuckin' wild. Movie theater inside and all. Is your dad bald? Just about. His head is just mostly shaved. Have you ever slept at a member of the opposite sex’s house? I mean yeah, all the time when we were together. Have you ever hooked up with someone to hurt someone else? Wow, no. I don't do "hook-ups" anyway. Do any of your relatives actually pinch your cheeks when they see you? No. Have you ever made a member of the opposite sex cry? Ugh, yeah. Do you know the last person you kissed's parents? Yes, I adore them. Do they like you? I think so. Name a couple things you can cook. ... Literally just scrambled eggs, if you mean something pretty much from scratch. Well, I could probably still do pasta if I read the box. Who was there to help you last time you were puking? My mom. I am absolutely terrified of vomiting, so she's kind enough to somehow manage to stand in there with me and talk to me. Are there any boxes of tissues in your room? What’s the design on it? No. Are you in high school? When are you done? No. I graduated in 2014. Are you embarrassed to say if you’re a virgin or not? More like confused and awkward, because I genuinely DON'T know for sure. Have you ever met someone you thought you’d be with forever? It was  "certainty" to me. That's partially why the breakup was so traumatizing. I MEAN IT when I say my brain couldn't even fathom the idea. It was "impossible." It simply couldn't happen. Then it did. ^Where are you two now? We haven't spoken in three years. Has your best friend ever been in love? Yes. What was the last magazine you bought? I've never been a magazine person. Will the last person you kissed get you anything for your next birthday? *shrugs* Do you think Family Guy is funny or just stupid? It can be both. Have you ever stayed with someone who treated you like shit just because you liked them so much? NO SIR-EE. You'd never see me stay with someone who treated me badly. Would you date someone all your friends and family hate? If I REALLY liked them, but if everyone hated that person, I would seriously consider why that is. Are you already looking forward to your wedding? Ha ha, not really, in most ways. Like, I hate getting all fancy and such. Have you ever spit on someone? No. Would you rather cuddle or make out? I MEAN, that depends on the mood??? Has your best friend ever been cheated on? No. Do you text with one hand or with both? Both. Are your parents left or right-handed? Right, to my knowledge? What was the last photo you took of? Something on FB I wanted to show to Sara. What topic always interests you and you will never tire of? C R Y P T I D Z Are you more or less tolerant than the average person? If you mean of varying beliefs, stuff like that, definitely more. If someone were to rate your life, what film certificate would it receive? PG-13 or R, idk. Actually, probably R for all they profanity lmaooo. Do you mind eating cold fries or are they disgusting? Ewww. What song makes you cry? What about it makes you cry? I physically cannot listen to "Stairway to Heaven" by Led Zeppelin because of Jason joking at prom that the music sucked and we could dance to something like that, then once he took me home, I played it from my iPod over his car speakers and we danced in the headlights of his truck and it all felt like a fairy-tale. I'm emotional just typing it and it makes my stomach hurt, so moving on. If you could remake a movie, which movie would it be? Silent Hill: Revelation. As a fanatic over the series, I enjoyed it decently, but, objectively, it sucked and was ALL over the place. How about if you could rewrite a book's ending, which one? Why? I don't think I'd change any. Maybe a clearer answer to The Handmaid's Tale, but it's still g. What colour hair does your sibling(s) have? Brown, except Misty and Katie. Theirs is black. What gemstone would you like on your wedding ring? A dragon's breath opal or rose gold would be gorgeous. What are you looking forward to in the near future? We're throwing my little sister a surprise graduation party at our older sis's house. Thanks to the quarantine, her senior graduation isn't *actually* happening, so. How is life going for you, anyway? Be honest. IT KINDA S U CKS!!!!!! What time did you get changed this morning? I haven't changed out of my pj's. I almost never do (besides obviously after a shower) because I have nowhere to go, like ever. Have you met somebody that you want to spend the rest of your life with? Yeah. Have you ever dressed up as a Disney character? Which one? Maybe as a kid? Have you ever played chess? If so, are you good at it? I’ve never played it. If I wanted to buy you a chocolate bar, what kind should I NOT get? Ew, Snickers. Of all your close friends, who have you known the longest? Sara. What was the last song you heard, that made you feel emotional? Hm. Maybe "Disguise" by Motionless In White. I wonder all the time if that's how Jason felt. Plus it's his favorite band, so that's a double whammy. When was the last time you took a selfie? Maybe about a month ago. As a child, did you ever have any scented gel pens or markers? Oh, I remember those! Yes. Name an alcoholic beverage that you dislike. Hell, most that I've tried. I hate strong stuff. Can you recall the last time you were on a dancefloor? When I was shooting someone's wedding last year. Do you own any color-changing mood jewellery? No, I have zero faith in those. What was the last thing you heated up in your microwave? Ummm pizza rolls, I think. What was the last flavor of ice cream you had? Moose tracks. Do you have an online game that you play often? I play World of Warcraft daily, and I enjoy the Dragons of Atlantis app a few times a day. I was into it when it was still a game on an actual website, and I more recently downloaded it on my phone. What’s your favorite cookie? Soft chocolate chip... yum. How long would you have to date someone for before moving in together? I think this depends very much on the relationship, BUT LIKE, definitely not TOO quickly because you need to test the endurance of the relationship. I'd at the very least give it a year and seriously consider how healthy the relationship is. Moving in with each other shouldn't be an impulsive "this is working great omg I love him/her let's do this!!!!". What's your favorite kind of sushi? N/A How much was the last bill that you paid? I've never paid a bill... wow, that's sad. What was the cause of the worst low point you've had in your life? A very abrupt, traumatic breakup. What are some of your favorite types of cheeses? Really just American. When did you last feel like your privacy was invaded? I'm not sure. Do your parents volunteer anywhere? No. Do you own more than 50 books? I have my Warriors books stocked somewhere. Probably in the attic. Do you have a bachelor's degree? Bitch I wish. How old were you when you became financially independent from your parents? I'm 24 and still aren't independent. Does your kitchen have an island? No. Have you ever bought or sold something on Facebook Marketplace? No. Do you know anyone famous enough to have their own Wikipedia page? No. What was the last appointment you had? With my psychiatrist over the phone because yeah quarantine. Why did you last feel like crying? I woke up from yet another nightmare. I'm so, so tired of them. They make me dread sleep. Do you keep your friends secrets/private information to yourself? If it truly is private, yes, and secrets, absolutely. What negative quality do your friends bring up the most? "I... don’t think I’d like to be friends with people who have a habit of bringing up 'negative' things about me." <<<< This. Do you often "jump" to conclusions? ONLY ALWAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! What about the world do you wish you never found out? Christ, there's a lot. For some reason, the first thing that came to mind is the dogmeat trade in Korea. A girl in my first semester did a presentation on it, and just... wow. I never had the slightest clue it was a thing. Does the sight of blood make you feel sick? No. Does someone's background affect whether you'll be friends with them or not? Well, yeah. I'm not gonna be friends with a rapist or something. How about their religious background? Depends on if they push that shit on me or not, as well as things they believe. If someone admitted cheating in a past relationship of theirs, would you trust them? NNNNNNNNNOPE. Do you drink tea and/or coffee every day? There are so many tea/coffee questions in surveys... and no. I don't like either. Did you ever want to be a cook as a kid? No. Do you wish that magic was real? Well, it depends on what the magic is. Do you prefer fire or ice? Fire is cooler. Do you rap along with rap songs? No. When happy, do you become more talkative? WAY MORE. Bowling or sailing? Why? Never sailed before, but bowling is fun. Especially with the lights off but all the neon and signs lit up. Do you prefer sitting in the front or back of a car? THE FRONT!!!!!!!!! Sitting shotgun and being able to control the music is everyTHIIIIIIIIIIIING. How about in a train? On the bus? I don't really have a preference here. Do you care about politics? I should... Are you offended easily by non-politically correct language? No, honestly. Do you think the censors/fcc go a bit too far or are just right? Definitel too far. Have you ever taken a martial art? Which one(s)? No. Do you know anyone who is scared of you? No. I am so unintimidating. Do you like watermelon? Not really, no. Can you remember the month of your first kiss? April or May, p sure. What do you think is the most interesting thing about you? Uh. I dunno, man. Do you have a photo album? Mom has tons. What was your biggest fear as a child? Thunderstorms. I was fucking terrified. Can you remember all your past teachers' names? The majority. Do you find people taller than you intimidating? Generally tall men do, but not always. What's your favorite thing about your country? We have a lot of freedom. What's your least favourite thing about your country? We're greedy as fuck. What websites do you have bookmarked? I have a few on my personal laptop, which I don't have access to now so can't recall well. What TV show scared you as a kid? Courage the Cowardly Dog... though I watched it anyway lmao. What is one thing you regret having done or not done in your life? There's a lot. Let's not focus on it. Which parent do you identify with the most? I guess Mom. What embarrasses you the most in front of other people? laskdjflawe admitting I RP is almost ENTIRELY IMPOSSIBLE to others, especially in-person. If you had to choose one thing you were most passionate about, what would it be and why? Politics, 'cuz that's shit that seriously matters and affects the world. Who are you most envious of—real or fictional—and why? Probably an old friend who's an award-winning, quite successful photographer here in the state. She's shot fashion and model stuff professionally. She's absolutely gorgeous, does the coolest stuff... What’s the saddest song you’ve ever heard? Good Lord, I know so many. "UR A WOMAN NOW" by Otep is one, then there's "Terrible Things" by Mayday Parade, "Cancer" by My Chemical Romance... wow, I'm so surprised they're not just rushing to me. How about the sweetest song? Biiiiiih "Here For You" by Ozzy Osbourne laskdjfk;awe Do you know how to play dominoes? No. What food will you absolutely not, under any circumstances, eat? Exotic/endangered animal meat. What is one thing you’re embarrassed to admit you want to try? Uhhh I'm really not sure. Which famous person would you like to be BFFs with? Shane Dawson is MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE. Is there something you wish you had said sorry for but never did? Many things.

[kasu-meow]

May I, one day, become your ideal heroine

-A Shizuku love story-

Summary:  Ōsaka Shizuku is a first-year transfer student currently enrolled in Nijigasaki High, where she moved to pursue her dream of being a school idol. However, after the School Idol Club was fractured, each member went her own way and Shizuku decides to use her passion for acting to give better performances; after starting to train in the theatre club, one day in a deserted hallway, she meets her destiny...

Pairing: Shizuku x Anata-chan (ShizuAnata)

Word count: 5960

A/N: As some of you might’ve guessed, this is a songfic based on Shizuku’s song, “Anata no Risou no Heroine.” This is the first thing I’ve ever written for the Love Live fandom, so I’m super nervous posting it >_< I’ve already posted it on A03 if you want to check it out, I would be really glad if you left a comment telling me what you thought about it <3 hope you enjoy! 

“Ouch!”

 “After school, when everyone has left, in the corner of a hallway,

the dance hall is my own - a stage no one else knows of.”

 With her back against the cold floor, Shizuku found herself staring at the ceiling. She closed her eyes and let herself rest for a second, sweat running down her forehead as her chest rose and fell. Shizuku knew it was late – she didn’t know how late, but she couldn’t hear any noise coming from the nearby theatre, and that was indication enough that most students had gone home, but not her. No, for the last few weeks she had made the hallway her own private dance floor instead, a stage where she could practice as much as she needed.

She couldn’t go back to the School Idol Club yet, after all.

Shizuku thought back at what had happened; they couldn’t put their creative differences aside, and that drove them apart. They couldn’t become one, so Shizuku had to practice more.

She started being a school idol because she wanted to improve her acting and stage presence, but something odd happened: she found herself enjoying it more than she thought she would. She looked forward to the afternoons of practice in the club, and she didn’t want to give up just because they were all different people. She just needed to get better, so she could bring more to the club. She could use her acting skills to give a better performance, she was sure of it!

That’s why she worked as hard as she could in the theatre club during the day, and she did her best by herself, practicing her dancing and singing in the hallway when everyone else was gone. Just a little more, and she could…

“Uhm, excuse me? Are you okay?!”

A voice suddenly called for her, and it made her eyes open abruptly. Her body reflexively shot up; was it a teacher? Did she get in trouble? She was ready to bow her head and apologize, but…

“Oh, I’m so sorry! Did I startle you? It’s just, you were lying there and you weren’t moving, and I thought I’d heard someone fall down… did you hit your head? Are you okay?”

It was a student she had never seen before, which wasn’t that surprising, considering how big Nijigasaki High was. The girl standing before her had a cool and unbothered vibe, but her eyes had a hint of concern to them. She was staring at Shizuku with her brows furrowed, and that’s when she realized she had just been gaping at her like an idiot without answering.

“O-Oh! Uhm, I’m fine, don’t worry! I was just… resting?” She stuttered, while blushing. Why was she so nervous? “I apologize if I worried you… I promise I’m alright.”

The girl sighed. “That’s good to hear!” She smiled. It was the brightest smile Shizuku had ever seen in her life. “Are you from the theatre club? You guys must practice hard…”

“Well… sort of!” Shizuku let out a light laugh; it’s not like she was lying! “By the way… I’m Ōsaka Shizuku, I’m a first-year transfer student. What’s your name?”

The girl smiled again as she took Shizuku’s hand in hers and shook it a little. “I’m a second-year. My name is…”

 “It was a day like any other. I was practicing by myself,

and covered in sweat, when you happened to pass by…”

 “That’s such a coincidence, though!  Ah-ah, who would’ve thought you were one of the ‘lost members’ of the School Idol Club?”

Shizuku blushed slightly, as she walked side-by-side with the dark-haired girl. It was an incredible coincidence. There is no way she could’ve predicted that the girl standing by her side would become their club president in the span of a few days. When she was practicing her play on stage and she saw Her and Kasumi in the audience (and Ayumu, but she didn’t know her yet at the time) she almost thought her heart would stop beating. Or start beating so hard it would come out of her chest. One of the two options.

Shizuku had no idea why she was feeling this way. Surely, the fact that she was a senpai was a bit intimidating, but she had no problems with her upperclassmen in the theatre club, or the other members of the School Idol Club. But this girl, who had gotten so concerned about her even though she was just a stranger at the time, who loved school idols so much she single-handedly managed to bring all the members back and find new ones, she was… special.

“Oh, I just remembered! I started working on your songs.” That snapped Shizuku out of her thoughts. The songs! “I’m almost finished with Ayumu’s, and I was planning on working on yours next…”

That was another reason why Shizuku thought she was amazing. They had asked their president to write songs for each of them to enter the school idol competition, and unsurprisingly, she was already done with the first one. She had never heard her play anything, but she was sure it would be… wait, had she just said she wanted to work on her song next?

“M-my song?” She uttered.

“Yes! I already know a bit about you, but I was wondering what kind of song you would like me to write. I want to get to know you better so I can write a good song that really feels like… it’s yours.”

That got Shizuku blushing. She wanted to get to know her better? She knew it was just about the song, but there was a fairly big part of her that was hoping it would lead to something more. She didn’t know what her feelings were yet, but she couldn’t ignore them. She also wanted to get to know her president better, and she couldn’t shake off the feeling that she could do something more for her.

While the perspective of receiving a song specifically written for her by her favourite upperclassman was thrilling, Shizuku wanted to do something herself. She had been practicing a lot lately, in the club and in her spare time. She learnt a lot in the theatre club every single day, and she wanted to put that knowledge to good use, for the club. Wasn’t that the reason she left in the first place? So she could pursue her passions and find a way to combine them, so she could find a way to become more useful to both her clubs.

“Senpai!” The words left her mouth all on their own, as Shizuku’s feet came to a stop. “I know you are writing the songs and I appreciate it a lot. We all do. It’s really kind of you, you’re always supporting us and doing so much for us and it’s not like I don’t trust you, I just…” “You want to help me write it?” She didn’t look offended at all. That was a relief. “I wouldn’t mind that at all. How about this? Since the main part I need to help with is the music, how about you write the lyrics?”

“The lyrics?” She pondered it for a bit. She could write lyrics! At least, she thought she could. “Yes! That would be great. I would love to.”

“Great! Then it’s settled!” And with that, she flashed Shizuku one of her signature smiles.

She let out a breath. She could do this. Working with the older girl was even better than she could’ve hoped. This song wouldn’t be just hers, but theirs. Now, she just had to figure out what she would write. She had never written scenarios in the theatre club, but she did have some experience with writing poetry from her literature class.

When Shizuku got home that night, she sat at her desk and looked at the blank paper. As she played with her pencil, a familiar face made its way in her mind, and she could hardly think of anything else after that. She took a deep breath and started writing. She looked over at the words she had just jotted down: “Your ideal heroine.”

 “Every time we talk, a feeling in my chest starts overflowing,

it’s like watching a good comedy, and I'm enveloped in happiness.”

 “Aaaand that’s a wrap!” Ai yelled excitedly.

The School Idol Club had been hard at practice for the last couple of days, in prospect of the competition. There was only one week left to perfect their choreographies and practice their singing, so it wasn’t a strange occurrence that even after rehearsals had ended, two or three members stayed behind to get in a little extra practice. Maybe Kasumi felt like she was on a roll that day and decided to make more progress, or maybe Karin got fired up after seeing Setsuna practice and said she didn’t want to lose.

Shizuku was usually among the members who stayed behind, practicing hard to make sure her song, that she had created with her upperclassman, was as perfect as possible.

“Are you going to stay behind today too, Shizuku?” A voice called her.

It was Her. Even if she wasn’t a school idol, she always made sure to watch their practice closely and cheer them on, and she often stayed behind whenever anyone else was staying, too.

“Ah, yes. There is only one week left before the competition, after all, and I think my choreography still needs some work… I really want to win, so we can go to the School Idol Festival.”

“Not fair, Shizuko! If you become too good… no, Kasumin is the best idol in the universe! I cannot let myself be upstaged! I will stay behind and practice, too.”

“But, KasuKasu! You, Rina-ri and I have plans, remember? We were gonna go to Harajuku and eat crêpes!”

“Aaaaaah no, don’t call me KasuKasu! No more Kasu, it’s forbidden! Call me Kasumin!”

“Rina-chan Board says: sad…”

“R-Rinako…! Ugh, fine. Just because we already had plans, and Kasumin always keeps her word. But Shizuko, you just wait! I will show you what I’m capable of tomorrow!”

“Sure…” Shizuku chuckled. She stayed silent during most of the conversation, watching her friends make a ruckus. Thinking about them, she found herself smiling without meaning to: she truly treasured her time in the school idol club, and she couldn’t help but smile thinking about their daily little arguments, and how unique each and every one of them was.

She looked over their practice room, and aside from Ai, Rina and Kasumi playing around, she noticed that everyone was kind of in a hurry, particularly Ayumu, who was frantically whispering something to their club president in a corner. Curiosity got the best of Shizuku, and she couldn’t help but wonder what they were talking about. The club president looked… nervous? The conversation looked very intimate, which only made Shizuku wish she was part of it more. An unfamiliar feeling found its way to her chest, and it made her insides hurt a little bit. Was she… jealous of Ayumu?

Suddenly, Shizuku’s hands flew to her face and she smacked herself a little, while simultaneously turning around to prevent anyone from realizing she was having an internal crisis of sorts. The realization, or rather the wish not to realize how big and scary her feelings had become, brought her back to reality and she was grateful for that, at least. She had to concentrate on her practice, and she couldn’t let negative feelings produced by her own imagination affect her performance, or even worse, her relationship with her fellow school idols. Ayumu was a really sweet girl, and Shizuku liked her a lot! She was kind, considerate, hard-working…

“So, it looks like it’s going to be just you and me today.” The club president flashed her a smile. Had she gotten lost in her thoughts again? That happened often, lately.

“What about Setsuna-san? She always stays late!” Shizuku inquired, a slight hint of concern in her voice. No one loved being a school idol more than Setsuna did, and she showed it every day at practice. For her not to be there, it must have been a pretty big deal.

“She said she had something to do with her parents. You know they are a little… strict. Then, Karin has a photoshoot, Kanata is going to check on Haruka, who had a slight fever this morning. She was worried sick. Emma is face-timing her siblings tonight, and Ayumu is, uh…” The older girl appeared unsure for a moment, “picking up her costume from the tailor? …Yes, she had a couple last-minute adjustments made; she was very excited about the details she added! Then, well, you heard about Kasumi, Rina and Ai.”

Shizuku tried her best not to think about the glimpse of conversation she had caught between the club president and Ayumu, and she tried her best not to connect it to her upperclassman’s uncertainty and light pink-coloured cheeks.

“O-oh, but senpai! You don’t need to stay behind just for me. You should go home and rest…”

“No way! I love watching your performances, Shizuku. You’re so… expressive. Besides, we wrote this song together,” she chuckled “so I really want to hear you sing it. Please, let me cheer you on.”

And how could she refuse?

 What neither of them realized, was that a certain peach-haired girl had been quietly listening in on their conversation, and she was making a mental note to update her accomplices on the “progress” they had made that day, while she smiled to herself.

She looked at her best friend in the world, whom she had known since they were children, and whispered to herself: “What am I going to do with those two…?”

 “Unlike all the times before, my practicing alone

doesn't feel so harsh ever since I've met you.”

 As the date of the competition drew closer and closer, Shizuku’s anxiety grew stronger and stronger.

It was the day before the dreaded competition, or, to be more specific, it was the night before the competition. Shizuku felt like she had done everything she could in terms of practice; she had stayed late as much as she could, and she put all of her love in her song. Why was she so nervous, then?

She was excited at the perspective of competing for the School Idol Festival, but she was afraid of making a mistake. What if she messed up the choreography? What if her lyrics were simply not good enough? The perspective was frightening.

Deep down, though, she knew it wasn’t the only frightening thing that could await her on the next day. The song she had written… it was deeply related to her senpai. One could say her feelings for the upperclassman were the true protagonists of the composition. And while she had seen Shizuku practice her dance with the other girls and she had heard her practice singing some of the tougher parts at times, she had never heard the complete version.

Once she heard that, there weren’t any doubts in Shizuku’s mind that she would immediately catch on, and she feared, no, dreaded her reaction. The song was pretty obviously about her feelings towards the upperclassman, but what if she didn’t feel the same way? While she did treat Shizuku with kindness, that was just one of the traits of her character. She was kind to everyone, and she cared about everyone in the School Idol Club. Shizuku was probably not even the one she was closest to, that would have been Ayumu. And she usually spent the most time with Kasumi anyway.

Sigh. Shizuku doubted she had a chance with someone as great as her. She didn’t know why, but she was overcome with the sudden need of hearing her voice; she was always so considerate, she would have probably known what to say to calm Shizuku’s nerves.

And just as that thought crossed her mind, her phone started ringing, a familiar face appearing on the screen, making Shizuku go from pensive to flustered in the span of a second.

“H-hello? Is something the matter, senpai? You are not the type to call so late.” Shizuku said as she picked up her phone.

“Hi! No, I guess I just… wanted to hear your voice. How are you feeling? Nervous about the competition?”

Had she just said she wanted to hear her voice? Shizuku forgot how to breathe for a solid minute. Then, she remembered she still had to answer.

“Definitely, yes… I’m just… afraid, I suppose.” Shizuku whispered, voice suddenly getting smaller.

“Afraid?” Replied the older girl, a surprised tone in her voice. She had accounted for anxiety, but not for fear. “What are you afraid of?”

“Where to begin? I’m afraid I will make a mistake and ruin everything… after all, I’m not talented like Setsuna-san, or cheerful like Ai-san, or… good-looking like Karin-san…” She said the last part so softly, she wasn’t sure the other girl had heard her.

“That’s nonsense, Shizuku. You’re not Ai or Setsuna, you’re you and you have your own charm. Wasn’t that the point of performing as solo idols? So you could find your own way to shine… I love your performances because they are full of life and incredibly expressive. Your movements are so captivating I can’t take my eyes off you.”

Shizuku could do nothing but listen, dumbfounded, as she heard the girl she was in love with go on and on.

“Besides, you’re not alone, Shizuku. You might have the stage for yourself, but there is going to be nine of us there with you, who have your back. No matter what happens, I’m going to be in the first row, cheering you on. I will be there with you.”

Yes, please be with me. “Senpai… there is something I want to tell you tomorrow. With my performance.” Shizuku took a deep breath. “Please look at me, and listen to my song.”

After a few seconds of silence, the answer came clear on the other line. “I will.”

 “The expressiveness I've since lacked, I now have.

The curtain is rising quietly on the second chapter of my story.”

 The Nijigasaki High School Idol Club had made plans to meet at the entrance of the school, where the minibus they had rented awaited them. They loaded it with everything they might need, other than their costumes and props, and they all rode it together to the site of the competition.

When they arrived, the club president, followed closely by Ayumu, went to check them in and get their badges. Even though it was very early in the morning and it was still a couple hours before the competition started, there were already plenty of people outside. Shizuku knew a direct ticket to the main stage of the School Idol Festival was a very big deal and an incredibly demanded prize, but her imagination had failed to predict just how many people would turn up to witness some of the most famous school idols in the country compete against each other.

Shizuku started feeling self-conscious again. Ever since they stepped off the bus, she kept spotting notorious school idols here and there, she was sure some were even on TV at some point. Did she even have what it takes to compete with such amazing groups?

No, she couldn’t let herself have those kinds of thoughts again. She recalled her phone call from yesterday and reminded herself of the fact that she was not alone. All her friends were there… and She was there, too. She was supporting her, and she promised that she would listen to what Shizuku had to say… so, she had nothing to be scared of.

“Sorry everyone! There was a line at the registration desk…”

Her senpai. She loved their club president more than she loved anyone else in the entire world. She clutched the hems of her skirt tightly as they made her way to their dressing room. It was fairly big and well-lit, with enough make-up stations for all of them.

The atmosphere was heavy, and thick enough to be cut with a knife; as each one of them went off doing her own thing, Shizuku stepped in one of the dressing areas. She finished getting dressed and took one last look at her costume as she twirled around in front of the mirror, before she stepped out. She let herself smile a little; she loved her dress. Now, only hair and make-up were left, maybe she should ask Karin for help? Her hair always looked amazing.

As she left her dressing space, she locked eyes with their club president, and looked away immediately without really meaning to.

“Wow…” said the older girl, “just… wow.” She sighed.

Shizuku grew more and more self-conscious under her gaze. “Do you like it…?” She asked, referencing her costume.

“I love it. It really suits you...” she replied, finally tearing her gaze away from Shizuku, and focusing it on anything else, really.

Shizuku’s cheeks grew a deep burgundy colour as she grabbed her skirt again, and her senpai covered her face with her hands. What was happening? Shizuku was sure her brain had short-circuited.

“What are you doing?” Kasumi inquired loudly.

“No, Kasumi-chan! I told you to leave them alone!”

Shizuku turned around, and she could see the older girl desperately trying to stop the younger one from interrupting their moment, as the others quietly spied from behind one of the dressing areas. That got Shizuku even more flustered.

“But why, Ayumu-senpai? Shizuko, what are you two doing?” She asked, once again. Then, when no one answered, she loudly gasped. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to upstage me again! Senpai, are you plotting something to make her win?? Senpai, you should be on Kasumin’s side!!”

“KasuKasu, let’s go for a walk, okay?”

“Ai-senpai, why? I don’t feel like walking! U-Uh? Why are you dragging me away? Shizuko!!”

“…So, where is that schedule? I wanted to check when each of you is going to go up on stage…” said the club president.

The moment was broken, and everyone slowly went back to getting ready. They helped each other with their hair and make-up, tension visibly down after Kasumi’s outburst, and they assembled the props they might need for their individual live shows; specifically, Kanata’s small replica of a bed. Shizuku thought it would take them at least an hour to get it together, but considering it wasn’t a real bed made for real sleep, assembling it was much easier, granted it wasn’t as stable as a real bed should’ve been.

While they tried to stop Kanata from destroying her prop by taking a quick nap on it, a staff member came by to tell everyone to finish getting ready: the competition was about to start. As if on cue, everyone started looking nervous again.

“Alright… I guess I will see you guys from the audience. I have a front-row seat.”

“It’s true, you will be cheering us on… I hope I see you in the audience, that would make me less nervous!”

“Ayumu, I’m sure you’ll do great! As will all of you. You practiced so hard, and I honestly believe you have what it takes to bring this home. I will be supporting you as hard as I can!”

“Ah-ah, that’s our club president, alright. You made my anxiety disappear with your pep talk.”

“Senpai, make sure you watch me closely! I want to know everything you loved about Kasumin’s performance!”

“Ah-ah, sure, Kasumi. I will look at all of you closely.”

After giving them one last look, the upperclassman opened the door and gently waved before making her way to the audience. Shizuku could’ve sworn their eyes met for a second. She had no time to think about it though, as they were all about to head to the backstage as well. It was time.

 “I want to be one who can bring a smile to someone else,

but most of all, I want to bring a smile to you.”

 All ten members of the Nijigasaki High School Idol Club were behind the stage along with all the other participants, anxiously waiting for the results to be announced.

All their performances had gone well, and they hadn’t made a single mistake; in fact, Shizuku thought hers was her best performance yet. Regardless of that fact, she felt as nervous as ever; however, she knew that wasn’t entirely because of the competition. When she was on stage, she had not only been able to spot her senpai, but she made eye contact with her more than once; one might have said she directly sung her song to her. Nevertheless, her senpai hadn’t mentioned it at all, and she didn’t seem to have caught on the fact that the heavy words Shizuku had written from her heart were, in fact, all about her.

Decided to take her mind off the hurtful thoughts, she looked over to the other members, who looked just as nervous as she was.

Every single one of them was special and unique in some way. Ai was outgoing and her puns were sure to cheer you up at any time; Setsuna was a school idol and the student council president, she had never seen anyone work quite as hard as she did or, for the matter, love something as much as she did. Kasumi liked to put up a big fight about how she was the cutest and they were all her rivals, but deep down, she really cared about her upperclassmen and the school idol club. Heck, she had stayed behind all by herself to wait for the other members to come back, and she had fought all by herself to make sure the club wasn’t shut down. Rina had a hard time expressing her emotions, but she tried her hardest and her Rina-chan board was an incredibly cute and ingenious device. Karin was the best-looking girl she had ever laid eyes on in her entire life, and she was also a caring and nice upperclassman. Emma was the most caring one of the group by far, she made everyone feel at home with her reassuring smiles and she had quite the appetite. Kanata was always sleepy, but she always came through when the situation required it, and she loved her little sister more than anything in the entire world. Last but not least, Ayumu was someone you could always count on, she was sweet and treasured her friends the most.

And Shizuku? She wasn’t sure about what made her special before, but after endless days of practice at the theatre club, and then more practice by herself in the hallways, she found out. Or at least, she thought she had found out.

Shizuku had the spirit of an actress, and the love of an idol. She had great stage presence and she knew how to tell a story, every performance became so captivating that her audience was pulled from their seats into the story, and she knew just what words to use to make her feelings come across, to make her audience understand. She made good use of the acting techniques she had learnt in the theatre club, but that didn’t mean she loved acting more than she loved being a school idol. The act of loving itself was part of being one; school idols love what they do so deeply, and they shine so brightly, it’s inevitable for their audience to feel that love, too.

Shizuku had always thought that. But until recently, she hadn’t been able to grasp that love, and convey it to her audience the way she wanted to. Then, one day in a deserted hallway, she found just what she had been looking for. And what that love was…

“Oh, it looks like they are about to announce the winner!” The club president exclaimed.

Another pang of nervousness made its way to Shizuku’s chest, and she was unable to hear a single word the conductor was saying until, at the last second…

“And the winner is… Ōsaka Shizuku, representing the Nijigasaki High School Idol Club!”

The world stopped for a second, as all the members jumped around and congratulated Shizuku. In between “We are going to perform on the main stage!”s and “You were so amazing, Shizuku!”s, she didn’t even realize she was crying from happiness.

Everything went really fast after that; they celebrated in their dressing room, they packed up their things, and they went back to their club room to have a second, but proper celebration.

As the party went on, Shizuku started to feel like there was something missing. She knew she should have been feeling happy about winning the competition, of course, and she was! To a degree. However, her mind couldn’t help but drift back to the upperclassman who had stolen her heart; she had seen her have a pretty intense back-and-forth with Ayumu, and ever since then, she had been quietly sitting in a corner of the room by herself. Since Shizuku had been blatantly staring at her the entire time, their eyes inevitably ended up meeting here and there, but the upperclassman always diverted her gaze so fast Shizuku thought she might end up hurting her neck at some point.

Maybe Shizuku had gotten it all wrong, and the older girl had, in fact, understood the meaning of her song. She probably didn’t like her that way, and that was why she was avoiding her now. Had Shizuku actually made her uncomfortable with her attention and her unwavering gaze?

She started feeling sick. She had to get out of there.

Unable to contain her feelings, she made up an excuse and headed for the hallway. She walked all the way to the theatre club in an attempt to calm down, but when her eyes landed on a special spot, the tears started spilling out again. It was that one hallway. The place her and her senpai had first met. Had her legs subconsciously brought her there?

“Shizuku! I finally found you…”

She quickly dried her tears. What was She doing there? Had she followed her out? She turned around and indeed, there she was, hands in her pockets, nervously looking left and right, everywhere but directly at Shizuku.

“W-what is it, senpai?” Shizuku said, failing to hide her emotions.

“I, uh… I just saw you storm out, and I wanted to see if everything was okay…”

Shizuku smiled bitterly. Of course, that was all it was.

“I’m fine, I just…” it took her a second to recall the excuse she had given the girls before she left. “I needed to use the restroom.”

“Oh, I see.” The other girl replied, still unconvinced. A second of awkward silence passed, and she decided against pressing Shizuku on the subject. “I wanted to congratulate you, by the way; I realized I still hadn’t. Your performance was… beyond outstanding. Your lyrics were beautiful.”

“Thank you, senpai… it means a lot to hear you say that, but I really have to go.” Shizuku chuckled drily and turned around abruptly, without waiting for a reply. Unable to stand the upperclassman’s presence any longer, she started walking.

Just as Shizuku reached the end of the hallway and was about to turn the corner, her feet were brought to a sudden stop.

“I want more!”

What was that? Had she said it out loud? Had she imagined it? It took a second for her brain to register the fact that she was not the one who had spoken, and that the words had come from someone else. She turned around once again, and almost fell back from shock when she found herself face to face with the girl who had been occupying all of her thoughts and torturing her heart.

“What…?” “I said I want more!” Repeated the older girl, without letting Shizuku finish. She paused for a moment to take a short breath, as if she was bracing herself for something. “I heard your lyrics. I listened, like you asked. I don’t want you to be just a kōhai; you… you are not just another underclassman to me.”

Shizuku felt like she could faint at any moment; her legs were shaking, her throat felt dry and she clutched her shirt with both hands, as she listened. What was happening?

“When I heard your song I… I knew you felt the same way as I do, but… I guess I was just scared. I didn’t know how to talk to you about it, how do you even approach a subject like that? And I was afraid you were going to tell me I just misunderstood or something. But I don’t want to hide it anymore; I like you, Shizuku… I think I’m in love with you. I don’t want to be just a senpai to you, and I don’t want you to be just a kōhai.”

Shizuku didn’t know where she found the strength to do what she did next, it was like her feet moved on their own; in one motion, she stepped forward and hugged the girl standing in front of her, who awkwardly reciprocated.

“I don’t want to be just an underclassman to you, either.” Shizuku said, her voice muffled by the embrace. “I have feelings for you too, senpai. A-and I…” she stumbled over her words, she didn’t know if it was the anxiety or the happy tears. “I was hoping you would notice… that you would listen… to my song.”

They stayed there for a while, hugging, and then laughing and talking, hand in hand, in that familiar spot, the place where they had found love. Shizuku felt like she was on cloud nine, her heart fluttering every time her eyes met her girlfriend’s. Girlfriend. She still couldn’t believe she would get to call her that, now. It was like the perfect ending to Shizuku’s play, her quest finally fulfilled, and she would now get to spend days of eternal happiness in her lover’s embrace.

It might have been a little cheesy, but Shizuku felt just like one of those heroines she was used to playing, the ones who find true love and live happily ever after. But she wasn’t just any heroine; she was your ideal heroine. And that fact alone was more than enough to make her happy.

 “May I, one day, become your ideal heroine…

I'm bad at ad lib-ing, so lead me through with a nice scenario.

The lines I memorized over and over just don't come when I look in your eyes.

So, for now, please let me perform beside you simply as a junior partner.”

 “Ouch! You stepped on my foot…”

“Ssh! They’ll hear us!”

“I can’t believe they are finally together… I worked so hard to make it happen…”

“What do you mean, Ayumu-senpai?”

“Ah-ah, you were the only one who didn’t notice, KasuKasu!”

“My name’s not KasuKasu, call me Kasumin!”

“Ayumu-chan, are you crying?”

“Just a little bit!”

“They are so sweet… we should leave them alone now, though. We can congratulate them tomorrow.”

“You are right, Karin-senpai. Back to the clubroom, everyone! This is not over, we have to start preparing for the School Idol Festival now!”

“Aye-aye, student council president…”

“Right, the School Idol Festival…” Ayumu snuck one last glance at the happy couple. She looked at the face of her childhood friend, her best friend in the whole world; her eyes were light up, no trace of anything but happiness and love in her gaze. She smiled. “Thank you, Shizuku.”

[lovemesomesurveys]

Have you ever had a computer virus before? Not with any of my Apple laptops, which I’ve been getting for over 10 years now. Prior to that, I did have a few issues with viruses. Not fun.

Are you dependent upon anyone? >> Of course. Everyone’s dependent on someone, even if only indirectly. <<< True. I’m also very dependent upon my family, especially my mom.

Are there any book characters you’d like to portray? Uh, I don’t want to portray any character. I’m definitely no actor.

Who did you last text? My dad.

Is there anything on your bed right now? Yeah, several pillows, my bedsheets, my throw blanket, a few stuffed animals, a coloring book, a couple sets of colored pencils, two little pencil sharpeners, a little notebook, a book, an Nintendo Switch, my laptop, my phone, the chargers for aforementioned electronics... lol my bed is also my desk since I spend majority of my time in bed.

When was the last time you went to the grocery store? Back in early March. Prior to this quarantine/lockdown, I went with my mom twice a month. Since all that began, she’s just been going. We’ve been using the online order thing. What way would you like to die when it’s your time? Peacefully.

What are you most afraid of in the world? Death, diseases, violence, losing loved ones... Have you ever been caving? No.

Do you do well in math related things? Noooo. Me and math never got along.

What is your favorite fruit? Bananas. 

If you had to choose, which sibling would you live with? My younger brother and I already live in the same house.

Do you have any tattoos? Nope.

Are you planning on getting any in the near future? No.

When was your last date? Four years ago.

When did you get Facebook? Sometime in 2008.

What was your first pet’s name? Buster.

Are you good when it comes to computer issues? Uhh, depends what the issue is. If it involves the hardware itself then no.

Are there any people at your job who absolutely hates you? No job.

What was the last book you read? Don’t Tell by Willow Rose. I’m just starting, The Girl and the Hunt by AJ Rivers, which is the 6th book in a series.

Have you ever read any books in one day? Yeah, several.

What was the last thing you bought? A couple shirts and masks from Young and Reckless. The masks are black and say, “Keep your distance.” The shirts are black and say that as well in tiny font on the upper right side and on the back it says, “Thank you for staying away” in big font. I got one for my mom as well because it seemed like the perfect shirt for her to wear to work lol.

What are your plans for tomorrow? Nothing out of the ordinary.

Is there any jewelry you wear constantly? Nope. 

Are your fingernails painted at the moment? Nope.

Do you prefer cool, warm or neutral colors? >> I like a variety of colours for different reasons. <<<

Have you ever taken art classes? Just an art history class in college.

What’s the most boring movie you’ve ever seen? Hmm. I’m blanking.  Do you know how to work a cash register? I’ve never used one.

Fact or fiction novels? I’m more of a fiction gal.

Have you ever suffered from depression? Yeah, it’s been an ongoing battle for as long as I can remember, but these past few years have most definitely been the worst. Depression won.

Do you think you’re a clingy person? I can be when it comes to my mom. 

Do you enjoy kisses on the cheek? Uhh depending on who it’s from.

Have you ever been in a physical fight before? No.

How often would you say you disagree with your parents? We definitely have our disagreements, but I don’t know how often I’d say they are. A lot of them are about the same things.

What color shirt did you wear yesterday? >> Black.

Do you have a job? If so, do you like it? Nope.

Have you ever been called a slut before? I’ve had friends say it as a joke.

What’s something you’ve been craving? A day at the beach. D:

Have you ever slept with your window open? Yeah.

Can you play violin? I took lessons in 4th grade, but I didn’t enjoy it. Just wasn’t my thing. I stuck it out for the whole year, though.

What was the last desert you had? Brownies.

Have you ever had a wild animal as a pet? No.

Do you know anyone you talk to on Facebook but won’t talk to in person? No.

What color are your mother’s eyes? Brown.

Do you have a best friend? If so, how long have you been best friends? All 30 years of my life.

Do you cry easily? Yeah. Somedays I’m just on the verge of tears all day and anything can set it off. 

Have you ever been into a court room? I think during a field trip in elementary school.

How many necklaces would you say you own? Hmm. Maybe five.

Do you plan on being strict towards your children? I plan on not having children. I’m going to be 31 soon and feel strongly about not having children and I just don’t see something super drastic happening that makes me change my mind. But I’d be even older if something drastic did happen, so probably not even then. I’m meant to have doggos. (:

Do you own any tie-dye shirts? Yeah, a few.

What would you say is your favorite day of the week? They’re all the same for me, really.

Do you ever wear lipstick? I haven’t in a long time.

Do you own a pool? Nope.

Do you have a Tumblr account? Never heard of it.

Would you say you’re overweight? No. I’m actually too underweight.

How many colors are in your hair? Well, it’s mostly red, but my roots are starting to grow out. It’s not too bad, yet.

Do you flirt with a lot of people? I’m not a flirtatious person in general. If I flirt, it’s with someone I’m interested in and have been talking to. I don’t flirt with everyone or with people I don’t know.

How many bank accounts do you have? Just one.

Have you ever been falsely accused of starting drama? Yes.

How old are you? 30.

Do you attend church regularly? Not physically, but a local church uploads their service every Sunday to watch or listen to and I’ve been watching that even before the lockdown/quarantine. Since then, they’ve been live streaming since they can’t meet in person.

Have you ever found a song that describes your whole life? There’s a lot of songs where the lyrics just speak to me as they say and I really relate to them.

What time did you wake up this morning? I haven’t gone to bed, yet, but I assume I’ll get up sometime between 1 and 3 since that’s how it’s been the past few months.

What time do you plan on waking up tomorrow morning? ^^^

What kind of car do you drive? I don’t drive.

What kind of car would you like to have? Not something I’ve given much thought.

Have you ever been to Dairy Queen? If so, what’s your favorite thing to eat from there? Not since I was a kid. I remember liking the blizzard things.

How old did you turn on your last birthday? This is just another way of asking how old I am, which you already asked me.

Ever felt like falling apart? Oh yes. I’ve felt like I’ve fallen apart and like I’m going to fall apart, just barely hanging on. I’m always just trying to keep it together. I’m like Humpty Dumpty who couldn’t quite be put back together again.

Have you ever been in an ambulance? Yes.

Do you tend to worry a lot? Yepppp.

How old were you when you lost your first tooth? Like 6, I think.

Do you remember your first time on the internet? It was when I was 9 or 10.

Which website do you email from? Yahoo.

Do you enjoy receiving souvenirs? Sure. I love getting them myself when on vacation and I’d certainly appreciate if someone brought me something from theirs.

Do you get angry with people easily? Not angry, but irritated and frustrated. 

Do a lot of people dislike you or is it the other way around? I feel like I’m just not even on the radar for most people.

Have you ever had the flu? Yes.

What about strep throat? Yes. It’s been a longggg time, though.

Have you ever been to a psychologist? No, but I need to.

What’s the worst part about school? For me it was that I just got so overwhelmed and stressed out so easily.

Do you normally have a lot of homework, if you’re still in school?

When was your last vacation? Back in early February. I can’t believe that even happened this year because quarantine/lockdown has felt like 84 years.

Would you ever consider going on a cruise? I’ve thought about it and they do sound fun, but... I don’t think I could.

What did you last buy from the store? A few Starbucks Doubleshot energy drinks.

Would you say you enjoy being single or in a relationship more? All I really know is being single, so I can’t really say for sure. I do miss being interested in someone and talking to someone in that way, though, and the very little experience I do have with dating. It’s best for me to be single, though.

Do you try to stay busy a lot? I spend my days with my usual go-to distractions. I wouldn’t call that keeping busy, though. I don’t feel like spending all day on various social media platforms, watching YouTube and TV, reading, playing Animal Crossing, and lounging is “busy” if that makes sense. I think of productivity when I think about keeping busy. To me the things I do are just distractions and things to pass the time. Just something to do, ya know? *shrug*

What’s your favorite quote? “Blah.” ha.

Do you lie a lot? I’d be lying if I said I never lie, but I’m not a pathological liar. 

Do you still act childish most of the time? I sure can be stubborn, moody, and whiny like one.

Did you ever enjoy gym class? Nope.

What is your biggest insecurity? I have a lot of insecurities. 

Have you ever painted a room alone? Nope. Or at all.

Speaking of which, when did you last paint your room? Never.

What’s for dinner tonight? I don’t know, it’s only 3 in the morning.

Do you ever drink alcohol? Nope.

Have you ever had a terrible hangover? Ugh, yes.

Do you ever get migraines? No, but I get terrible tension headaches.

Do you know how to garden? I don’t do any gardening. Not my thing.

What was the last thing you plugged into an outlet? The egg cooker thing to make hard boiled eggs.

Do people consider you to be a funny person? I have my moments.

Do you have any bad habits? Oh do I ever.

Do you like children? If not, why is this? Sure, in small doses. haha.

What is your favorite snack? Deviled eggs. Super random, but they make a delicious snack.

Do you own any gaming systems? I have a Nintendo Switch. I use my brother’s PS4 to access stuff like Netflix or watch DVDs in the living room.

How old were your parents when they had you? Early and mid 20s.

Is there a big age difference between you and the person you like? There’s no such person, currently.

Do you trashtalk people a lot? Nah, just myself.

What is the most amusing thing on the internet, in your opinion? TikTok has been pretty amusing.

Does the future excite you or scare you? It terrifies me.

Have you ever been to Disney World? If so, how many times have you been? No.

Do you try to spend a lot of time with family? I spend a lot of time with my immediate family. We’re very close, but we also live together so we’re able to do so. I don’t see my extended family very often, and not at all since the quarantine/lockdown.

How often do you shower? Every couple of days.

What would you say is your favorite genre of music? I like a variety of music.

Do you need to clean your bedroom? It could use a little straightening up.

What do you plan on doing with the rest of your life? I don’t know. I don’t want to keep going on like I have been the past few years... 

Do you enjoy Chinese food? I like some. I haven’t had any in quite awhile, though. I’ve actually been really wanting potstickers.

Do you smile a lot? *shrug* I give a lot of half smiles.

What is your favorite movie from the nineties? That’s tough. I love a lot about the 90s.

Which decade were you born in? The 80s, albeit halfway through the last year of the decade. 

Are you good at giving advice to people? I think I used to be. Not now.

How many huge secrets do you have? Wouldn’t you like to know? Maybe I have a lot. Maybe I have none. Like the Tootsie Pop owl says, “the world may never know.” Oooh, I’m so ~mysterious.

How many people know these secrets?

How many times a day do you brush your teeth? Once.

Do you ever floss? Once in awhile, but no not usually. 

Have you ever been in a long-term relationship? No.

Ever considered suicide? If so, did you try to commit suicide? Yes. No. Is there anyone out there who makes you feel completely useless? No, I do that to myself.

Do you like texting or calling people more? Text. I don’t like talking on the phone. I don’t a lot of texting either, though.

What’s your favorite band? Linkin Park will always be one of them.

Do you have a lot of friends? I don’t have any friends.

Have you ever painted something and been impressed by it? I don’t paint.

Would you rather go out to eat or stay in? Oh, I’m not going out to eat anywhere anytime soon. I don’t care if dine in is slowly becoming an option again. Things are starting to open up again in phases, but please don’t mistake that to mean we’re in the clear and it’s perfectly safe to do so. We’re still very much in the midst of this pandemic. Please don’t be lax about your outings or start going all over the place. 

When did you last babysit, if ever? Not since my brother and a couple of my cousins were kids. They’re all adults now. 

Do you have any younger siblings? Yep, just mentioned my younger brother.

Have you ever thought of someone as useless? I don’t think of others that way, just myself.

Have you ever considered bleaching your hair? Yes and I do.

Do you drink vitamin water? I was super into Vitamin Water back when I was in high school. I haven’t had any in quite a long time.

Do you ever straighten your hair? It’s been a few years since I’ve straightened it myself, but when I go to get my hair done the lady who does my hair straightens it.

What’s the best way to end a conversation? Uhhh it depends? 

Are there any old movies you absolutely love? Yeah, there’s several.

Have you ever had a Big Mac before? Many times. I’ll get a craving for one every now and then.

Do you think you attract the opposite sex at a reasonable rate? Haaaaa no, not at all.

Where is your favorite place to travel? Beachy places.

What is your goal for the next few months? Getting through the summer somehow. Next week we’re having a few triple digit weather days.... it’s not even summer, yet. I don’t know how I’m going to do it. I can’t even escape to the beach this summer. D:

Can you count to ten in another language other than your own? Sí, en Español.

Do you own a lot of shoes? A few pairs.

What is your favorite season and why? Fall and winter. I just love everything about it--the cold weather, the holidays, the smells, the decor, and just the coziness of it.

Does photography interest you at all? >> Not really. I like looking at photographs other people have taken, though. <<< Yeah, it interests me in that way but I don’t have any interest in taking up photography myself.

Have you ever played on a sports team before? If you have, what was that sport and when? Nope.

Have you ever filed a lawsuit on someone? No.

Do you think you’re a good singer? Nope, I know I’m not. Doesn’t mean I don’t do it anyway at home to myself, though. 

Would you rather wear jeans or sweatpants? I’ve only been wearing leggings the past few years.

Do you think you have a good sense of style? I like what I wear, which is all that matters.

Do you enjoy reading often? Yes, I love reading.

Ever had food-poisoning before? Yes. Not fun.

Where did you last eat dinner at? We got Wingstop takeout last night if that counts. I haven’t physically been out to eat in months, though.

Have you ever shot a gun before? Yes, once. I went to a shooting range with friends and learned how to hold and shoot one. I don’t know what type it was exactly, but it was a small handheld. It actually made me quite anxious doing so and even just being in that environment, so yeah it was just that one time. 

[ed-edward-blackbeard]

Fanfic Author Meme.  Keep Reading after question 2 for 3-50.

1. What was your first fic and could you stand to reread it today?

Jesus Lord, no.  I’d die of secondhand embarrassment before I got halfway through it.  It was never published online, thank Christ.  It was called … ugh, I don’t remember what I called it, but it was a line from Edmund Spenser.  (Don’t judge.)  It was an OC female character and Autolycus, from Hercules and Xena, played by Bruce Campbell.  It was… a SHAMBLES.  Self-insert, wish-fulfillment of the worst kind.  But, my friend Alicia read it at the time and she told me how great she thought it was, and I should keep at it.  So, thank you, Edmund-Spenser-titled-fic.

2. What’s your most recent fic and how far do you think you’ve come?

It’s called “i commit sins every day but i never give my soul away”, and it’s on my AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/22951009.  And I actually don’t have a unit of measurement for how much I’ve improved.  But it’s also been… God, I’m 43 today,  so it’s been 27 years I’ve been writing.  Almost thirty years.  Shit, I’m old.

3. In your opinion, what’s your best fic?

Oh, man.  Tricky question.  If by best you mean technically written, most enjoyable?  I’d say maybe wasting the dawn.  Definitely By Inches We Fall.  But to be totally honest with you?  I think my best fic, the one that got me, personally by the throat, shook me, and hasn’t let me go?  Shoah.  It’s one of my earlier fics, from the Sentinel fandom, but man.  Writing this was rough.  I did my research on concentration camps, and I couldn’t sleep right for weeks.  Lisa and Patt were holding my hands over AIM practically every night when I was sobbing that I couldn’t finish it, that I couldn’t do it, that it was too much.  (I’d have been about fucking seventeen, maybe nineteen, when I was writing it.)  I bit off way more than I was prepared for, but I didn’t quit.  And I’m proud, quite frankly, that I even finished the damn thing, but even this far removed from it, I still feel that gut-punch when I go back re-read it, which is why I don’t.  And haven’t for a couple of years.  

4. In your opinion and without looking at any numbers, what’s your most popular fic?

It’d probably be Consortio.

5. Is there any fic that makes you super happy to reread and remember you wrote that?

I actually feel that way about 99% of my stuff.  Even some of the older stuff, I re-read it and I get really happy because not only do I see myself changing and maturing, I realize I was harder on myself than I should have been.  I didn’t suck like I thought, and I get the warm fuzzies.

6. Is there any fic that makes you super embarrassed to reread and remember you wrote that?

Er, not really?  I mean, there’s some cringey shit I wrote when I was like, twelve, but not even I know where those notebooks got off to.

7. What’s the fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?

By Inches We Fall.  It’s my only Game of Thrones fic, and I feel like I really want to continue the story of Jamie and Brienne and their kids, and of Jaime being Hand to King Jon and Queen Sansa.

8. What’s the oldest (longest since last update) fic you most want to continue (unfinished or no)?

How Firm A Foundation.  It’s a Deadwood fic, and I (many years ago, when Deadwood was actually on the air) actually sketched out how every chapter would go.  There’s a few things I’d change today, if I started it again, just because I can plot better than I could ten years ago, but I think the thread of the story is gone forever.

9. Have you ever written for a fandom without watching/reading/playing the source material?

Yami No Matsuei.  A friend of mine was actually heavily into YnM, and I wrote several stories for her.  Later I’ve watched some of it, and I realize I did okay on my characterizations, but there’s always things I could have done better.

10. Have you ever written for a fandom without reading other fanfic for it?

Pretty much every fandom I have ever been in.  I don’t read a lot of fanfic, because I’m afraid (almost paranoid, in fact) that I’ll internalize something I’ve read and later spout it out in my fic, and I don’t ever want to copy anyone, deliberately or otherwise.

11. Have you ever written a fic for a concept you know someone else has done before? How did it impact your writing process or feelings after posting?

I have, and I didn’t publish it for the reason above; I didn’t feel like my take on it was original enough to bother.

12. Have you ever written a fic and decided never to publish it? Why?

Lots of reasons, actually.  Sometimes I write with the intention of not publishing, it’s something just for me.  I’ve also written a few fics that I ended up absolutely hating, and they’ve never seen the light of day.  I’ve also done some that I felt wasn’t original enough, or they were written about the trope du jour, and I had nothing else to offer that ten other people hadn’t already done.

13. What’s the biggest change between your style when you started in fandom and today?

Sentence style and structure.  I used to do the whole, “He said.”  “In reply, she said.”  “The sky was blue when he rode in.”  And then a few of my better friends (and betas) took me in hand and showed me how to mix it up, chop my comma addiction in half (seriously, I once had a single sentence run on for twelve lines.) and I feel like I get a better grip on characterization.

14. What’s the biggest change in your taste between when you started in fandom and today?

Sex.  I used to write it in everything.  And then the more I wrote, and the older I got, the less I wanted to write it (or read it, or talk about it.)  So I’m a lot more comfortable writing non-sex stories than I used to be.

15. Have you ever purposefully written one fandom/fic idea over another because you knew it’d be more popular?

Of course.  I think everyone has, at one point or another.

16. Have you ever stopped writing a fic/for a fandom because it wasn’t receiving enough attention?

Anything I’ve ever abandoned was lack of my own attention, not anything else.  I’m kinda used to not getting a lot of attention.

17. In your opinion, what’s your most overrated fic?

What He Wants.  It’s pretentious wankfic, for a pairing I don’t actually like all that much (Lucius/Harry), and I just feel like everyone loves it way more than it deserves.

18. What’s your most underrated fic?

I’m gonna pick on Shoah again, because I feel like it just doesn’t get enough love.  I’m biased, because of how emotionally attached I am to the fic, but I feel like it’s ignored.

19. If you had to pick one fic/scene/chapter of your work to describe your entire portfolio to a stranger, which would you pick?

Wasting The Dawn.  It’s a Magicians fic, and it showcases every character from the show, and I think I did a passable job of hitting every voice.  So I’d be proud to show that one around.

20. Have/Would you ever rewrite a fic? If yes, would you take the original down?

Would I rewrite it?  Sure.  Would I take down the original?  Um, that’s a little more difficult.  On the one hand, I’m not really ashamed, as such, of anything that I did.  But having two copies of things would get really complicated and onerous.  I might actually start a second pseud, like maybe kelex-originals or something like that, and move the originals over to that, and leave the rewrites on my main, with a link to the original in the notes.  Yeah, that’s probably what I’d do.

21. If someone starts kudosing and commenting your fics in a spree and has a few works of their own, would you go look through theirs?

HELL YES.  Mostly because I’m always looking for shinies to read in fandoms I don’t write for.  I also kind of like to read their stuff and get a feel for who they are and why they like what I’ve got.  But mostly, I just love it and it makes me giggle watching someone go through my fics and like EEEE THERE YOU ARE AGAIN.

22. Has there ever been anyone who’s made you freak out because they read your work and followed/favorited/reviewed?

Fucking scads of people, actually.

23. What’s the nicest review you’ve ever gotten?

Oh man, I’ve got a fuckton of good ones.  But the one that I always get a kick out of is on one of my Gotham fics, and the comment was along the lines of, the tag mentioned bed-sharing and they thought that was all it was going to be, but it was so much more and they got caught up in it and it was wonderful.  And that’s my favorite (if not the nicest) because I love the fact that I was able to give someone something they enjoyed, even more because it was unexpected!

24. What’s the meanest review you’ve ever gotten? Do you think the reviewer intended it?

It was a review back in the days of OneList, and I was told that my pencils should be broken and my keyboard taken away because I was a terrible writer.  And yes, I know they meant it.

25. What constructive criticism, however well-meaning, always makes you feel bad when you see it in a review?

It’s less a concrit and more a crit.  But it’s always, “why did you do X?  It was out of character!” and that makes me grit my teeth.  Mostly because I feel like I’ve always explained, thoroughly, why I’ve done something (whether in dialog, in the writing itself, or heavily implied in monologues), and that question always makes me want to throttle someone because either they didn’t get it, or I didn’t.  

26. What aspect of your writing do you most enjoy to see praised?

Humor.  I’m a sarcastic bitch, and when it’s appropriate (and sometimes when it isn’t), I have funny characters or have characters deadpan things.  And it delights the fuck out of me when someone highlights that as one of their favorite parts.

27. If you could only ever write crossovers or single-fandom fics ever again, which would you pick?

Single fandom fics.  I’m not a fan of crossovers, though I’ve written them from time to time, and probably will again if I think it’s appropriate.  I just prefer not to cross the streams, as it were.

28. if you could only ever write for a single crossover or a single fandom again, which would you pick?

Good Omens.  Hands down.  So. Many. AUs.  So many ideas.  So many delightful characters.

29. Does the division of your writing across fandoms line up with your reading? What’s the biggest discrepancy?

It does not.  I read far, far less than I actually write.

30. Do you continue to write for a fandom after you’ve moved on or do you focus solely on the new one?

I usually focus on the new one, however, I’ve occasionally re-visited a fandom after I’ve left it, because inspiration hits me, or I’ve gotten back into it.

31. Who’s the one character you’ve just never managed to get perfectly right?

Margo Hanson, from the Magicians.

32. Who’s the one character who shines without you even trying?

There’s a few.  Eliot Waugh, Lex Luthor, Jack O’Neill, the Doctor (9 & 10 mostly)

33. Is there any particular character whose scenes always wind up being longer/more frequent than you expected? Does the quality hold up?

Not really?  Characters and scenes are as long as they need to be.  I do think the quality holds up, though, because honestly, by the time they’re done, I’m done.

34. Was there any fic that you wrote that really surprised you in the fandom reaction? Was it just by the numbers or did they take it an entirely different way?

Not really, or if there was, I don’t remember it.

35. Have you ever written a ship into a fic without meaning to?

Yup.  It snuck in there, especially in the background early on, and by the end I was like, what the fuck, I don’t even ship you, YOU DON’T EVEN GO HERE.

36. Have you ever sincerely written a ship you do not support into a fic?

Nope.  If I don’t like a ship, I don’t write it.

37. Have you ever purposefully bashed a character/ship in a fic?

No.  Not as a writer.  But like, I have written a character saying “I don’t think X belongs with Y, they belong with me!” because that’s pretty much how the actual relationship went down.  (Spike, Buffy, Riley most specifically.)

38. Have you ever purposefully written something you know your readers would find uncomfortable/would not enjoy? If yes, why?

Very, very, very many years ago.  I wrote it just to see if I could.  I could, I did, and I haven’t written it again.

39. Do you consider yourself to have a readership?

No.

40. Do you feel like you put out enough content?

I feel like I put out what I need to.  Is it enough?  idk.

41. If you cross-post your fics on multiple sites, do you have a favorite? Are there certain fics you would only post on certain site?

AO3 is, hands down, my favorite.  For awhile, I was posting to WWOMB (Wonderful World of Make-Believe) but I’ve stopped there, sadly.

42. How many views has your most popular fic gotten?

Consortio is my most popular fic, and it’s gotten 21,658 hits.  Although the fic is multi-chapter, so I don’t know how to break that down into individual hits. In fact, four of my five most popular are multi-chapters.  The only single-chapter fic is What He Wants, clocking in at 6,743. 

43. Your least popular?

The Rose and the Yew Tree, with 0 hits.

44. Do you follow/favorite/kudos/comment/review more stories than you have received?

Unfortunately, no.

45. If you had to call yourself an author of a single genre (besides fanfic) what label would you give yourself?

Pornography.

46. Do you consider yourself a diverse author?

Diverse as in fandoms?  Yes.  Diverse as in style?  Not so much.

47. If someone you know in real life who isn’t involved in fandoms asked to read your work, would you let them? If yes, what would you recommend they read first?

I’ve done that before, and I’ve tailored it to the person and what I know they like.  For example, my old boss got me hooked on La Femme Nikita (the Peta Wilson one), and so when she wanted to read my writing, I gave her my LFN fics to read.

48. Does anyone you know from outside of fandom know you write fanfic? Are they involved in the same fandom too?

Yes, and some of them.

49. Has anyone in your life ever read your fanfic just because you wrote it?

Yes.

50. Has writing fanfic had a significant impact on your life? Would you say it’s entirely positive?

It has had a very significant impact, and no, it hasn’t been at all positive.  Some of my best moments, as well as my worst, are because of fanfic and fandom, but fanfic in particular.  Fic’s brought me close to people, fic’s pushed me away from people, and it’s made people change the way they look at me.

[love-killed-the-superstar]

femslash february strikes again and i finally updated that one cornirma fic that ive been meaning to get back to for literally an entire year

Title: The Frying Pan Conversation Pairing: Cornelia/Irma Chapter: 2 - funny how we run around Summary: “You're awake...” “Great detective work, Sherlock, want a medal?” “It's too early in the morning for you to be sassing me,” grumbled Cornelia, half-heartedly throwing her phone onto the blankets and scooting closer to Irma. “Good thing you're way too cute for me to be sassing you with intent to kill,” Irma teased, pulling her in closer for a hug. She was overly warm from sleep and Cornelia happily melted into it. Irma's boobs made for an excellent pillow. (Cornelia and Irma spend Christmas with the Hales.)

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13743063/chapters/42144206

Cornelia loved watching Irma sleep. While she usually ran her mouth during the day, when she slept she had some sort of serenity around her, a tranquillity one wouldn't expect from someone who spent half the night tossing and turning, hogging the blankets and drooling all over her pillow. Yet, when morning came and Cornelia returned to wakefulness, Irma was at peace with herself in the land of dreams, hair framing her face like a halo. It took all restraint not to kiss her, but Cornelia had never been a fan of kissing before one had brushed their teeth.

Instead, she continued to watch. It was quiet and dim, the early morning sun casting strange light and shadows throughout the main room where they were set up. Without her family milling around, it felt peaceful. She wondered if this was how it would be all the time, if she and Irma moved in together some day. Sure, it wouldn't be some luxury cabin, but the world would be quiet like this. There would be no eyes on her. The whole room would be theirs to lie in silence and watch each other and feel cosy and secure. While Cornelia did want lavish things for herself someday, when she was older and things like throw pillows and vases mattered greatly in the grand scheme of things, it amazed her how easily she would sacrifice that just to be able to wake up next to Irma each morning and take on the day, regardless of whether they were in a plush king-sized bed or squashed together on a pull-out.

Geez. She really was picturing the rest of her life with Irma, like the hopeless romantic she was.

She rolled over to reach for her phone in the semi-dark. Too early to start messaging the group chat, but she hedged her bets with someone who did have a tendency to be up at this hour.

Will, you awake?

Not three minutes later, she received a reply.

ofc?? no rest for an athlete, corny. how did telling the parents go?

It didn't. Turns out I'm a bit of a coward.

nah it's tough. i only told my mom about being genderfluid a month ago, and i had no idea if she'd even CARE about it

Well, she cares about YOU. And from what you've told me, she's taken it well?

The speech bubble indicating a reply stayed for a while, and Cornelia repositioned herself so that she could watch Irma doze while waiting on Will to get back to her. After a few minutes, her phone finally pinged, and she hastily lowered the volume as Irma stirred slightly.

yeah, turns out dean being our teacher way back in the day finally paid off bc sheffield has diversity training or smth. he sat down w me and my mom and talked over all this stuff she was confused about. and she still doesn't totally get it, but she said she just wants me to be happy. guess that's all i really needed. stuff like if she comes to pride and w/e doesn't matter to me tbh, just knowing she's there for me is enough

Cornelia chewed her lip wistfully. If only it worked out that simply for everybody...

That's great. Really, I'm so happy it all worked out for you. I'm just worried about my parents, I guess. They're not bad people, but sometimes they can be so backwards with things. Really, I just want them to accept that this is a part of me so I can stop lying about a college guy just to keep them from overanalysing the way I am around Irma.

hey i get it! you're both just so darn cute together!

Indeed we are.

They shared some quick, casual conversation (Will, as usual, had some funny story to tell her about life as Taranee's roommate, and Cornelia caught them up on the bullshit that was her and Irma's road trip to the cabin) before Will had to leave to start their morning swim practice.

“Psst. Blondie.”

Cornelia dropped her phone in surprise, catching sight of rich green eyes watching her intently.

“You're awake...”

“Great detective work, Sherlock, want a medal?”

“It's too early in the morning for you to be sassing me,” grumbled Cornelia, half-heartedly throwing her phone onto the blankets and scooting closer to Irma.

“Good thing you're way too cute for me to be sassing you with intent to kill,” Irma teased, pulling her in closer for a hug. She was overly warm from sleep and Cornelia happily melted into it. Irma's boobs made for an excellent pillow.

“You're comfy,” she mumbled.

“Yup, cushy tits run in the family,” Irma remarked, relishing in the way Cornelia shuddered with an implosion of laughter. “You know this is the first time in months we've woken up together?”

“Feels like it too,” Cornelia sighed. “I've missed this. You should really come visit me more often, you know.”

“Oh yeah? I visited you twice last term. It's your turn to visit me just as soon as daddy dearest hands over your fucking prius.”

“Well, no offence, but your college campus is like a 30 minute drive away from Heatherfield,” pointed out Cornelia. “I'd sooner you visit me than risk bumping into Uriah of all people at a house party.”

Irma scoffed. “Thanks a lot! It may not be ivy-league or State U or anything, but there's still a ton of stuff to do! Besides, pretty sure Uriah's at Sheffield Community College, Anna works with his mom.” She paused. “Though, I did run into our dear old chum Nigel at a Halloween party this year.”

“Oh? And how did that go down?”

“How do you think? He followed me around half the night asking about Tara until I finally snapped and was like, 'you missed the boat, honey, our girl is gay as the day is long'. Haven't seen him since. Reckon he dropped out when he heard how swimmingly Taranee's life is going without him.”

“I doubt he flunked out because of a girl he was dumped by five years ago,” Cornelia deadpanned.

“Uh, hello? Our girl is a catch. He's lucky to have even walked the Earth in the same lifetime as her.”

“A bit dramatic, but I get the sentiment.”

Cornelia fell quiet, listening intently to Irma's heartbeat, her breathing.

“D'you think today's gonna be the day?” Irma asked softly.

Cornelia let out a noise, somewhere between laughter and a sigh.

“How do you always know what I'm thinking?”

“Because you have the antithesis of a poker face, darlin'. I've been reading you like a book since I was thirteen.”

She tangled her fingers up in Cornelia's hair, gently combing through, careful to avoid knots.

“I don't know if it'll be today,” sighed Cornelia. “Does it make me a hypocrite? I was so certain I wanted to do it this time.”

“Look. You need to stop putting this pressure on yourself to do everything exactly how you imagined,” Irma said firmly. “You don't have to tell them I'm your girlfriend. You don't even have to tell them you're pan if you aren't ready for it. We can call this off, you can spend the rest of Christmas break not having to worry about their reactions, and we can make out and cuddle and all that good stuff the second we set foot in my house. Would that make you feel better?”

“No?” Cornelia reached up to pull Irma into a proper hug. “I want them to know how happy you make me. I want them to know that I'm happy being myself. But the part where I actually tell them? Opening up like that, it... it's a very emotional process.”

“I know. I know it is. But I promise you, once it's out in the open... never mind their reaction, you will feel worlds better with it off your chest.”

“Ugh, why does my girlfriend have to be so wise?” Cornelia wondered aloud. Irma formed a fist and lightly knocked her on the head.

“If I'm going to be a teacher some day, I gotta be wise. I'm meant to be some sort of inspiring prophet, if your dad's stirring speech at dinner last night was anything to go by.”

“He's a passionate guy,” Cornelia shrugged.

“Sounds like someone else I know.”

A sudden creak from down the hall disrupted them, and they sprung apart, Cornelia sitting upright and reaching for her phone while Irma pretended to go back to sleep. A moment later, Harold's face poked around the door.

“Morning, darling!” he uttered in a stage-whisper, before stepping into the room clad in his robe and slippers. “Does Irma take coffee? I was thinking of brewing a pot to wake your mother up.”

“Only with six million sugars in,” Cornelia said, rolling her eyes fondly. “Don't worry, I'll take over. I know how to make it so she doesn't spit it out.”

Harold laughed, and moved over to start on breakfast as Cornelia set up the coffee maker.

“You two are as thick as thieves.”

Cornelia's hand froze.

“...Well, we're still good friends, but...”

“I drifted apart from my school friends when I went away to college, you know,” Harold mused. “I regret it now. The rift grew so big, and by the time I saw them again they were married, had families... and although we could still talk with ease about these kinds of things, the bond we shared at school – the books we liked to read, the movies we saw together, the pranks we would play on our teachers – all of that was gone. It was something we could look back upon and laugh at, but it's not the same.”

“I didn't know that.”

Harold offered her a kind smile, and reached over to crack some eggs into a bowl, dusting the mixture with pepper.

“Well, I think it's important to keep in touch with those you love. I was actually quite worried when I heard that you were going to your college alone. I know how close you are to the girls you met at Sheffield. I'm... glad that you were able to keep a close bond with them despite the distance.”

Oh, if only he knew how close.

Cornelia set out some cups on the side, hoping her face wasn't burning. If she really was as easy to read as Irma said...

“Well, they're my friends. They're important to me.” She glanced over at him. “Dad, I'm... I'm really happy with my life right now. With the person I am, and the person I'm with.”

Harold stopped whisking, and moved over to pull Cornelia into a tight hug.

“I'm so glad to hear that, darling. I really am.”

They worked in a pleasant silence after that, and when Irma next rolled over, Cornelia was nudging her, cup of overly sweetened coffee in her hand.

“Rise and shine.”

Harold was whistling away as Irma took her first sip, his back to them as he began tossing some bacon and eggs in the pan.

“Mmm. You made it just how I like it.”

“Well, you're picky. If my dad made it you'd choke it down and feel awful the rest of the day,” Cornelia teased. Irma stuck her tongue out.

“Jerk.” After another sip, she added coyly, “I heard the conversation between you two. It was sweet. Are you thinking today might be the day after all?”

“Maybe,” Cornelia said, a flame of confidence ignited in her heart. “He really wants me to be happy, so... maybe when I tell him, he'll understand.”

“Look, Harold Hale might not be leading a revolution, but he's always seemed like a chill guy to me,” Irma said quietly. “If you keep dropping hints, he might figure the rest out on his own.”

“Maybe.”

Cornelia glanced back at her father, still blissfully unaware of their conversation, and she leaned down to press a kiss to Irma's forehead.

“Now, drink up. We have a big day ahead of us.”

…

Breakfast was uneventful, with Lillian dominating the conversation with talk of some dream inspired by a zombie TV show she'd been binge-watching over Christmas break. Irma munched on French toast and bacon and watched in amusement as Harold became disgustingly sweet with Elizabeth, pressing kisses to her head whenever he went to refill drinks, even reaching down to pinch her behind when he was sure his daughters and his oldest's girlfriend weren't looking. Elizabeth swatted his hand away, pretending to be mortified at his brazen display in front of Irma, but the rouge on her cheeks and the affectionate eyeroll told another story. All the while, Cornelia quietly ate and drank, keeping a straight face while prodding Irma's foot playfully with her own under the table.

Oh, Irma could get used to mornings like these.

They took turns showering and dressing, and did the usual routine of wrestling for more mirror space as they brushed their teeth and put on make-up.

“So what's the plan for today?” Irma asked, rubbing some kind of moisturiser into her cheeks. Cornelia leaned in closer and inhaled with a happy sigh. Mango. Irma took the opportunity to turn and press a kiss to the tip of her nose, and Cornelia pulled away with a grin.

“Oh, well now we're all together, today will definitely be a decorating day. I mean, it's Christmas eve tomorrow, so it'd be a little sad if we didn't have the decorations ready by then,” she explained with a shrug, uncapping her mascara beginning to apply it to her upper lashes. “It really shouldn't take too long though. We'll have some time to get away, don't worry. And I think tonight my parents reserved dinner for us at a restaurant in town. I have to warn you, the waiter we had last time was super obnoxious...”

Irma stared at her reflection in the mirror, zoning out of Cornelia's anecdote about the wait staff at said restaurant, before glancing over at her girlfriend. In their teen years, she'd always envied how immaculate Cornelia's appearance was. She'd always seemed flawless somehow, even though Irma knew better and would never ever admit that much. Then, those feelings started to mix with something else, and attraction, jealousy and self-consciousness melted into an ugly soup of insecurity in her psyche. Even now, when she knew better than anyone that Cornelia was smitten with her, doubt crept in, especially in situations like these when they had to stand beside one another and pretend like they belonged in the same league.

“You're beautiful,” she sighed, interrupting Cornelia's spontaneous yelp review. Cornelia's hand jerked at the suddenness of Irma's statement and she hurriedly reached to blot away a clump of mascara stuck to the end of her eyelashes.

“Oh. Well, I do my best, and when it comes to make-up practice always makes perfect, you know.”

“I'm not talking about make-up, though yeah, you should consider dropping out of college and becoming a beauty guru on youtube instead.”

“Well, I think you're gorgeous too,” Cornelia replied with a smile, moving onto her lips. First a layer of balm to soften them, a waiting period of three minutes, and then the application of gloss or lipstick. It was her routine every time, and the waiting drove Irma mad in the mornings they'd spent together over the years. Cornelia's lip balm always smelled so damn good that fighting the temptation to kiss it clean off was a rare torture.

“Have you seen me?” muttered Irma, frowning at her reflection. “Eyebags for days. Messy brows. My lips are chapped to fuck and my skin has been kind of red lately...”

“Every time I see you I want to kiss you all over,” Cornelia said in the kind of factual tone that had Irma raising an eyebrow in disbelief. Still, she didn't protest as Cornelia wound her arms around her, and Irma caught a whiff of coconut lip balm. God damn it, she wanted Corny-kisses so bad. “You still get insecure, huh?”

“Hard not to when my girlfriend could pass for a fucking supermodel.”

“While I'm flattered that you hold me in such high regard, you're a far cry from the disaster you're making yourself out to be,” Cornelia laughed. “Besides, if you're really worrying about stuff, just talk to me, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Irma muttered. Cornelia rifled through her make-up bag for a few moments, before bringing out a small bottle.

“Come here, dope. Let me help you.”

“Why pay big bucks for a beautician when you can get one for free in the form of a generous girlfriend?” Irma deadpanned, but a smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Cornelia grinned back and started to apply the liquid to her cheeks and brow with some kind of blender sponge thing shaped like an egg.

“The trick to combating redness and dark circles is to have a good, strong base that neutralises any discolouration in your skin. In your case, green tones kind of cancel out reds, and yellows are good against dark circles, so it just leaves your skin looking healthier, see?”

She switched over quickly to one with a yellower hue, and Irma hummed in agreement, staying put as Cornelia began tending to her eyebags.

“I think I get where you're coming from. Hay Lin calls me up all the time to gush about colour theory, the importance of colour wheels is stuck in my brain for life.”

“Oh, you and Hay Lin call each other all the time? More than me?” Cornelia teased. She put down the sponge and reached back over to her make-up bag, retrieved something that Irma could only describe as the world's tiniest broom, and began to tame Irma's unruly eyebrows. “Don't tell me the two of you are having a sordid affair behind my back.”

“Our torrid love affair is about as real as yours with mystery botanist man,” Irma responded. Without breaking eye contact with Cornelia, she reached over for her own chapstick and began to apply it. Cornelia's tongue poked out slightly in concentration as she smoothed down Irma's brows.

“It's bad enough my parents keep going on about him, don't you start.”

“Well, he is my alter-ego,” Irma pointed out. “Seems a little rude to silence my opinions on him.”

“I hate when you make a good point.”

Cornelia leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Irma's brow, breathing in the smell of her mango moisturiser one more time and sighing deeply. Irma, in a similar moment of pure, unfiltered lesbianism, caught the scent of Cornelia's lip balm and damn went out of her mind. She tilted Cornelia's head down and what transpired for the next few minutes were a combination of kisses, hugs, and several attempts to escape Irma's python-like grip.

“It's lipstick time,” Cornelia complained, a playful glint in her eye as she finally pried Irma's arms off of her waist. “My lips will dry out.”

“Honey, we're both balmed up, if anything, now we have a double coating. You'll be fine.”

“Still, the sooner my make-up is done, the sooner we can get decorating out of the way, and the sooner we can chill out watching crappy holiday movies.”

“The temptation to stay in this bathroom where no one's watching and we can keep kissing forever, though...”

“Aren't we saving 'kissing forever' for the week at your place?” Cornelia asked innocently, perfectly pencilled eyebrows raised.

“No, that's 'sex forever', silly,” Irma said cheerfully, clapping her on the back.

She glanced back at her reflection. While the foundation and tiny grooming hadn't done much besides tidying her reflection up some, her eyes twinkled with something she could only describe as 'the Cornelia effect', and she found her appearance didn't really bug her so much by this point. As they stood side by side, Irma came to the realisation that she and Cornelia really did fit together, but more like a pair of odd socks that compliment each other in all their contrasting glory.

Maybe someone else would call that love.

…

Christmas with the Hales was turning out to be pretty fun.

Irma and Lillian fought bitterly over control of the spotify playlist that morning, while Elizabeth and Cornelia decorated the tree and Harold cheerfully filmed the entire ordeal. Lillian was stubbornly obsessed with the classics, while Irma kept switching them out for lesser appreciated cover versions, partly because rooting for the underdogs was how she rolled, and partly because she got immense glee out of pissing Lillian off (and for that, Cornelia saluted her for her heroism). When Karmilla's edition of 'All I Want For Christmas' came on instead of Mariah Carey, Lillian threatened to throw Irma's phone out of the window, which had Elizabeth swooping in and putting an end to their temporary rivalry.

They called a truce when the parents set out to buy icing and other edible decorations for the Christmas cookies, leaving the girls to prep them for baking. Lillian greased the baking tray while Cornelia mixed eggs and flour and sugar and cinnamon together in a big red bowl. Irma, meanwhile, sat herself on the island and, in compromise with Lillian, put on a playlist of nineties nostalgia, singing along to Re-feel-it and pretending to drum with a pair of wooden spoons against the countertop.

“Funnyyyyy, how we run around,” she belted. “And see what we got, we don't even know what it is we found...”

“And honey, take a look around,” Cornelia chimed in, using the whisk as a microphone. She spun on her heels, her eyes meeting Irma's as she lifted the whisk up to her lips. “By the time we get there we won't even know where it is we're bound!”

The two of them burst out laughing, and Lillian rolled her eyes. “Dorks.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Cornelia sighed dramatically, smirking at Irma before turning back to the mixing bowl and continuing to whisk the mixture. “I forgot we were in your divine presence, Lillian. I hope you can forgive us for entering the realm of uncool nostalgia for two seconds.”

Irma snorted.

“You know, she always gets more sarcastic when you're around, Irma,” Lillian accused.

“Yeah, I rub off on her. I'm a baaaad influence.”

“Is that any way to talk to our renowned guest?” Cornelia chastised. “What would Dad say?”

“He'd probably tell you not to sing into the whisk. You know how many germs you could be putting into the cookies by breathing on the mixture? You've built up an immunity living among students, but have some consideration for those of us who haven't stepped foot in a sweaty student union hall.”

“You're actually mad,” Irma cackled. “What kind of diseases could Cornelia have besides a bad case of the cooties? Unless... Corny, please don't tell me your parents are anti-vaxxers, or I might have to end this friendship for good.”

“Hell no, they're fine. Since when did you become such a germophobe, Lillian?” Cornelia teased.

“I play zombie games,” Lillian responded sagely. “I know how infection spreads.”

“They really don't paint as accurate a picture as you've been led to believe.”

As the mixture began to thicken into a dough, Lillian joined Irma on sitting on the island counter.

“So what's college like?”

“Classes are boring, my roommate sucks, and I'm drowning in student loans. But the parties are fun, and the people are cool when they aren't being pretentious tools.”

Lillian hummed.

“I can't wait until I go to college. Community's one of my favourite shows.”

“Heh, well, Community is an exaggeration for the sake of comedy, but...”

“Cornelia, what's your college like?”

“You saw it when you and Mom and Dad helped me move in,” Cornelia pointed out, distracted as she began to knead the dough.

“Yeah, but it's not the same! Your dorm is nice, sure, but what about the classes? The parties? The boys?”

“Hmm, I don't know about that. Boys aren't my area of expertise.”

“Well that's gay.”

Irma raised her eyebrows.

“Using 'gay' as an insult? Very 2004 of you.”

Lillian rolled her eyes. “Sorry. So you don't have a boyfriend?”

“Nope,” Irma said shortly.

Cornelia began to knead a little harder.

“I bet you know stuff about Cornelia's boyfriend though,” Lillian said to Irma, arms folded. “Why doesn't she talk about him? Is he secretly ugly?”

Irma snorted.

“Ha. I know a thing or two, but he's actually... probably the most handsome person I've ever known. Aside from your sister!” She playfully punched Lillian on the arm, who looked unimpressed by the statement. Cornelia made a strangled sound.

“Lillian, pass me the cookie cutters, please,” she choked.

Lillian raised her eyebrows and hopped off the counter top, retrieving ones shaped like pine trees and angels and bells, handing them to Cornelia.

“Here they are, weirdo. Anyway, you can't blame me for being curious! We had to pry it out of you that you were seeing anyone at all, and you're always so twitchy when we bring him up. Irma, is he a junkie or a biker or something?”

“Nope, just a loser who lies around watching cartoons all day,” Irma responded with a lazy grin.

“So you have a thing in common.”

“Lillian!” Cornelia admonished, slamming a cookie cutter into the dough with enough force to make the other shapes jump. “Also, Irma, I don't appreciate you calling my partner a loser.”

Lillian pulled a face.

“Partner? What are you, old timers?”

“Cowboys,” Irma chimed in.

“Oh, stop teasing me,” Cornelia huffed. “I'm just trying to be more inclusive. The world could do with more of that, you know.”

Lillian shrugged. “Whatever. So you're liberal now?”

“I reckon I've always been, yes.”

“And you, Irma?”

“Socialist, through and through.”

“Of course you are.”

“Just wait until college, Lillian,” Irma chided with a smile, as Cornelia began setting out the Christmas cookies on the tray. “There's a whole wide world out there.”

…

The Italian restaurant Harold took them to that night was fucking fancy, to say the least. The kind of fancy where there were lemon-scented wipes in little packets on every table and complimentary garlic dough balls and everyone was in suits and dresses. The Hales looked like they fit right in, and Irma was some vagrant they'd picked up off of the streets and were treating to dinner in a commendable act of charity.

“I don't even know what half the stuff on this menu is,” Irma hissed to Cornelia as they took their seats.

“It's good food,” Cornelia promised. “They just use posh names to scare people into thinking its worth the money they're paying. Come on, you watch enough Hell's Kitchen to know what filet mignon is.”

Irma ended up ordering something that she was pretty sure was some kind of beef thing, and Cornelia ordered the one pasta dish on the menu that used aubergines instead of pancetta. The wine was decent at least, and Irma found it easier to sneak glances at Cornelia's cleavage in the scoop neck dress she was wearing with the large flower centrepiece obscuring them from her parents. Lillian, while looking the part in a simple white turtle neck dress, was very obviously playing on her phone under the table.

The sweet onion soup starters arrived swiftly, and Irma was dragged back into a light grilling about her teaching degree from Harold, while Elizabeth began to catch Cornelia up with the latest family drama.

“Why, I just think it's so inspiring that you're choosing to act as a beacon for young people, and pave their futures-”

“-And your uncle, of course, is still coming around asking for money, as if your grandparents don't have enough to worry about-”

“-And you know, teaching qualifications open up the whole world to you! You could teach in international schools, or you could teach English in schools where it's a secondary language-”

“-It's not like their health is getting any better, you know! I keep telling him it's time to stand on his own two feet, he's certainly old enough-”

The moment that their waiter came to take the dishes away, Irma hurriedly excused herself.

In the bathroom (one of those spotless white ones with tiny shell-shaped soaps and embossed toilet paper because of course, rich people) Irma took a few moments to collect herself, staring at her reflection in dismay. She'd done her best to look presentable, but she still stuck out like a sore thumb in this kind of environment. Her dress was a little tight since the last time she'd worn it was for graduation, and her choker was crooked. Her bun was already starting to look lopsided, the redness of her cheeks was starting to show through the base Cornelia had applied that morning...

“Why am I not as perfect as the folks out there?” she muttered to herself, eyes narrowing as she glared at her reflection. She reached for one of the shell-shaped hand soaps and began to pick it with the edge of her fingernail. Absently, the faucet turned and water began to gush out, thrumming to the beat of her frustration.

After a few minutes of self-loathing and contemplation, she heard the sound of the door open behind her, and saw a flash of Irish green fabric, before Cornelia came up behind her, a vision of concern. She startled as the small army of water gushing from the faucet turned on her, almost letting out a hiss of steam, before Irma quickly called it off, allowing it to taper down the drain and out of sight.

“Irma, are you okay? My parents thought I should check on you in case the wine didn't agree with you, but...”

“Yeah, it isn't the wine,” Irma sighed. “It's this whole place. I can't fucking believe your dad called this place rustic on the way here.”

“He doesn't know the meaning of the word,” Cornelia agreed with a giggle. She wrapped her arms around Irma, leaning down to rest her chin on her shoulder. “You look amazing tonight.”

“Really?” Irma sighed. “I don't feel it. Or is this a classic 'lying to your girlfriend's face so she doesn't start crying in a stupidly fancy bathroom' tactic?”

“Well, it wouldn't be a great start to the meal.” Cornelia pressed a kiss to her jaw. “But I'm serious. You look great.”

“I'm practically bursting out of this dress. My tits are fighting for freedom. And my hair is coming undone and my stupid face is getting stupid red!”

“Of course it is, you've been drinking,” Cornelia said, rolling her eyes fondly. “And your face is the furthest thing from stupid, so don't even start.”

“I'm past the point of starting, Corny, I'm waist-fucking-deep in it. Look at this damn soap.” She gestured aggressively towards a shrivelled pebble in the basin. “That was shaped like a fucking seashell when I came in here and I picked and picked at it and now it looks like, I don't know, a really tiny golf ball?”

“Wow. Okay, let's take a step back from the soap.” Cornelia spun her around and rested her hands on her shoulders. “Irma, you look wonderful tonight. Seriously, you do, and I hate that going to this stupid dinner has made you so worked up.”

“It's not just the dinner.” Irma frowned up at her so-tall-it-was-unfair girlfriend. “Look at us. I mean, really look. We're like chalk and cheese, except, you're too pretty to be chalk. We're like – I don't know! An oil painting and cheese! I don't belong here eating food so fancy I can't pronounce it with wine I'm too weak to drink and in a dress that's too tiny for my damn good. You might fit into this magazine-spread life where everything is minimalist and perfect and velvet but I just don't. I saw it in the mirror this morning and I saw it in the mirror again just now. Are you honestly okay with that?”

“Why are you asking me this?” Cornelia asked, the smile gone from her face. “I love you. I love having you in my life. Sure, I like the nice material stuff sometimes, but if you think for one second that I'd put that stuff before you – before us – then the wine has definitely gone to your head.”

Irma huffed. After a beat, she muttered, “Rich people wine is ridiculous.”

“Agreed. Now, listen to me. We're too deep into this relationship to be hitting insecurities over stuff like this, got it? You know I come from money. You wanted to come on this trip with me. Unfortunately, that means seeing the way my family lives up close and personal. I just want you to remember that doesn't define me, or how I feel about you. I want you here. Okay?”

“I hate when you're being reasonable,” Irma groaned. She hugged Cornelia tight.

“Oof. Heh, don't tell me you're drunk already, we have the rest of a dinner to get through.”

“Are you gonna tell your parents tonight?” Irma mumbled into Cornelia's waist.

Cornelia hummed uncertainly. “Maybe. I don't know.”

“Well, remember I still love you. If you don't wanna come out here in this stupid fancy restaurant, no pressure. We'll make it happen some other time.”

“Hey, no need to comfort me, you're the one feeling insecure,” Cornelia teased. Irma lifted her head up to protest, and was met with Cornelia's lips pressing against her forehead.

“Ugh, you're too cute,” whined Irma. “If I weren't wearing heels I would go on my tiptoes and kiss you. And if you weren't wearing heels, we might actually be fucking level for once.”

“Thanks for clarifying that,” Cornelia quipped. “Not to worry, I can accommodate you.”

She leaned down and cupped Irma's cheeks, pulling her into a kiss.

The sound of the bathroom door abruptly shutting ended the sickeningly sweet moment, and they jolted apart. Lillian stood there, wide-eyed.

“Uhhh. Mom told me to come get you two, the main courses are out...” She blinked a few times. “Are you guys... lesbians?”

“Lillian,” Cornelia started, voice strained.

“I'm a lesbian,” Irma said with a shrug and an awkward chuckle.

“So you called me ignorant earlier even though you really are gay?”

“Ignorance is ignorance, sis.”

“Lillian, please don't tell Mom and Dad about this,” Cornelia pleaded. “I'm going to tell them myself, I just haven't had time to yet.”

Lillian folded her arms and huffed.

“I can't believe your mystery guy is just Irma.”

“Oh, ouch?”

Cornelia let go of Irma and approached Lillian.

“I'm serious. Can you please promise me you won't say anything?”

Lillian shrugged.

“I guess. I mean, I don't care about it. Not like they'd believe me anyway.” Seeing Cornelia's pinched expression, she sighed loudly. “All right, no. No, I won't say anything. So you can stop looking at me like that! Now come on, or Mom will be next to find us in here.”

As she pushed open the door to leave, she turned back.

“Also, Irma, you've got lipstick on your face. Hard to play dumb when the evidence is right there on your forehead.”

“When did she become such a smartass?” Irma muttered as Cornelia fished around in her clutch, bringing out a make-up wipe. “Look, don't panic. Lillian might be a pain, but she respects your business. Probably. I mean, I don't know her that well, but it's none of her business right? She knows that.”

“How did she seem to you?” Cornelia asked, chewing her lip. “Uncomfortable? Freaked out? D-Disgusted?”

“None. It was the same kind of grossed out she got when she caught you making out with Peter for the first time, I reckon. It was sibling disgust, not, y'know, her being a phobe.”

“Are you sure?” Cornelia fretted.

“Super sure. Now come on, you heard what she said. Lets go back before your mom drags us back by the ears.”

Irma reached over to squeeze her hand and didn't let go until they were out of the bathroom and in sight of the Hales. Elizabeth turned and shot them a disapproving look, motioning them back over, and Harold's face lit up with a delighted smile.

“I was starting to think the two of you had fallen in!” he joked, as they took their seats. “Is everything all right?”

“Oh, everything's fine,” Cornelia promised, a lie rolling effortlessly from her tongue as Irma stared down at the steak au poivre in front of her. “Irma just smudged her mascara and needed me to come to her rescue.”

“Ah, I see. Surely it shouldn't take that long though?” Elizabeth turned to Lillian. “Were they taking selfies?”

“Oh, they were having a gay old time in there,” Lillian deadpanned.

Cornelia froze. Irma dared to look up from her food to stare daggers at Lillan.

A moment passed, and Harold shrugged.

“Well, I'll never understand it, myself. But the youth of today are always finding beauty in everything! They can make moments last a lifetime! And I'm envious that an entire generation has learned to take pictures from an angle that certainly appear more flattering in post-production...”

As his speech continued, the tension melted away. Elizabeth raised her eyebrows at the two of them, as if to silently chastise them for sending Harold on a spiel about technological advancements, before tucking into her food.

Cornelia swiftly kicked Lillian under the table, but all she got back in response was an impish grin.

…

“Urgh, I'm full to burst.”

A now pyjama-clad Irma flopped face down on the pull-out bed, before rolling onto her side and burping softly into the back of her hand.

“I told warned you against dessert, if you recall,” Cornelia said with a grin, pulling her nightgown over her head.

“Yeah, but they had cheesecake. You know I'm weak for cheesecake, Corny.”

“That I do.” Cornelia lay down beside her. “I was a bundle of nerves the whole night.”

“Aw, come here.” Irma pulled Cornelia close, combing her fingers through her hair. “Lillian was just being a brat, that's all. She's got dirt on you, of course she's gonna poke a little fun. But she wasn't about to out you or anything.”

“I know,” Cornelia groaned. “I know. But she's on thin ice, I'm telling you now!”

“Well, the sooner you get it off your chest, the sooner she'll lose that power over you,” Irma pointed out. She yawned. “I'm pooped. Can you turn the light off? And then come spoon me?”

“Sure, your highness,” teased Cornelia, prying Irma's hands off her waist. As she wandered over to the light switch near the hallway, she caught sight of Lillian leaving the bathroom. The two stood there in silence for a few moments, before Cornelia uttered, “Hi.”

“Hi.” Lillian shifted from one foot to the other awkwardly. “Hey, Cornelia?”

“Yeah?”

“Um. I know I didn't say it at the restaurant, but... I don't like, mind or anything. About you and Irma.”

Relief washed over her.

“You don't?”

“No! And you should stop caring that somebody does, you know? Mom and Dad are whatever. I don't know if they'd care about it. But, it shouldn't matter if we mind or not, that's my point. It's about you and Irma, not about the rest of us. Although, since you're a lesbian now, I wish you had better taste in girls. I've seen her eat peanut butter out of the jar with her fingers,” Lillian pointed out, pulling a face.

Cornelia, stunned by the overload of information, leaned back against the wall.

“With her fingers?”

“Yup. It was our house peanut butter, too!”

Cornelia buried her head in her hands. “Oh my god. If I didn't love her so damn much that would for sure be a deal breaker. Also, I'm not a lesbian.”

“You're not?”

“No. I loved Peter, remember?”

Lillian pouted. “Yeah. I miss him.”

“I know you do, you remind me all the time.” Cornelia squared her shoulders. “Lillian, I'm pansexual.”

Lillian raised an eyebrow. “Pansexual?”

“Yes. Pansexual. I... fancy people regardless of whether they're a guy, a girl, or nonbinary.”

“Nonbinary?”

“The internet is a great place to learn about this stuff, since you're on the track to being an ally now.”

Lillian giggled.

“Yeah, I guess. Well, okay. So you're not gay, you're... what's the short of it? Pan?”

Cornelia nodded wordlessly.

“Okay. Cool. You're pan. And Irma's your girlfriend. And she's a lesbian?”

“Yes. You caught on fast.”

With a shrug, Lillian said simply, “It wasn't that hard to grasp. You're pan, Irma's gay, you're dating. That's that.”

Cornelia's mouth opened and closed a few times. At last, she uttered, “You made that seem really easy.”

“I'm a smart and socially aware kid,” Lillian said proudly, hands on her hips. Her smug expression softened. “And I'm happy you're happy. I was kinda thinking, cause you never mentioned your 'mystery uni boyfriend', that maybe you didn't really like him. I'm glad it's just a mix up.”

Cornelia's heart swelled, and she stepped towards Lillian, hugging her tight.

“You're a good sister.”

“And you're a clingy sister, god!”

They bid goodnight and Cornelia climbed into bed beside Irma, who had her back to her and was softly groaning. She yelped as Cornelia wriggled under the covers.

“Holy crap, Corny, your feet are colder than Mount fucking Thanos!”

“So warm me up.”

“Sorry, you got the wrong guardian for that party trick.”

Cornelia rolled her eyes fondly and reached around to spoon her.

“Geez, you ate too much. Your stomach feels like a rock.”

“Don't bully me, that was rich people food! How many times am I gonna get to eat like that again, huh?”

“If you'd just let me take you fancy places-” Cornelia pointed out.

“You know I hate fancy places!” whined Irma, punctuated by another burp. “Ugh. Just cuddle me to sleep, jerk.”

“Who are you calling a jerk, jerk?”

Cornelia obliged nonetheless, letting her body wrap around Irma's with a familiarity that had adapted over the years; from guardian sleepovers to family vacations to just the two of them drunkenly sprawled out in Cornelia's dorm. And now here they were, fitting together like jigsaw pieces, water and earth.

“Sweet dreams,” Cornelia whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of Irma's neck.

“Keep your lips to yourself, Corny,” mumbled Irma sleepily, snuggling closer all the same.

[universal-kitty]

“When you’re happy, I’m happy.” for you and N! 💖🧡 [Robotarmjokes]

Send me a number and a paring, and I’ll write a ficlet!@robotarmjokes

   “V! Guess what!? You’re a....veeby! A baby! But with a V!” The trainer burst into laughter at the expression Victini made in reaction to the statement, chirping and trilling their opinions in a very excitable manner. It even made their companion laugh, perfectly hearing the words of the pokemon.

   “A baby?! I’m not a baby!!! I’m a very powerful, legendary pokemon! I’m soooo powerful and lucky! Luck-power! You gotta respect meeeeee!!!” Honestly...what a delight to bare witness to.

   It’d been a few years since N had returned from his explorations of the world. Understanding people better and the bond that formed between trainers and Pokemon. What did that mean to such a delicate system? That journey was to highlight his shortcomings and better figure out how to move forward. What he hadn’t expected from either of them was the persistent ache of missing someone important...

   Kira, the one with the Victini. A cherished friend they obtained somewhere along their journey and bonded with deeply. Back then, they’d been such a small-time trainer. Sometimes, he could still remember the Snivy in their arms, determined to stick by this trainer he- at the time- barely knew. All he knew was that his trainer loved him unconditionally, healed him when he was hurt, and brought new experiences into his life...and he already never wanted to part from them.

   The beginning of his interest in them. The beginning of their never-ending chase for him, from the dismantling of Team Plasma to even trying to find him from region to region around the world. Such determination, passion, emotion... It overwhelmed him back then. It was important to him then, and even now.

   It’s even why they began dating in the first place, Kira being endlessly patient with him, all their pokemon, and even their new understudy, the current Unova champion. (A young woman named Kisa. They’d gotten a good laugh at the similarity in name and got along well. Too high-energy for N to be around for long, personally, but she apparently was dating some up-and-coming star, so... Good for her.)

   N found himself snapping free of his daydreams as green moved beside him. It was Pride, once that little Snivy, now a proud Serperior...and it was watching him. For a long moment, nothing was said, just staring between the two; Pride’s stare intense, while N was simply curious.

   “...May I rest on your lap? My daughter has tired us both out.” N’s smile brightened, nodding eagerly. “Yes, of course! Feel free to.” His smile widened when he saw the younger Snivy- Ivy, funnily enough- slide off her father’s back, quickly crawling into N’s lap. Pride curled his body close, then contented himself with placing his head on N’s left thigh, sighing softly as he got comfortable. Pride’s body rippled a moment in quiet surprise when N’s hand gently landed on his head, but relaxed once pets were given.

   This was...nice. Lovely, even. He looked up just in time to meet Kira’s eyes, V now in their arms and watching the scene under the tree with an affectionate, warm smile. (Heat rolled from the top of his head into the tips of his toes at such a loving look. Hopefully his heart was faring better...) It took them a moment, settling the small legendary in their arms and giving them a treat, before they could walk over and sit next to him.

   “Ivy being a mischief maker again?”

   “So Pride said,” N agreed with a small nod. “She seems very energetic for such a small pokemon.”

   “Only around us, maybe,” Kira said with a soft laugh, leaning a little into N’s side. (His heart soared, head light with joy. Emotions are so...odd, yet delightful.) “She’s so shy everywhere else... It makes it hard to go into the city sometimes. She either wants to hide in my hood or crawl into my jacket. It’s just easier and a bit more comfortable for the both of us when she stays in the pokeball.”

   “...Not too much?” He can’t help but ask for the clarifaction. It still makes him uncomfortable and nervous, the idea of not giving pokemon more freedom. Of limiting them so much. He knows Kira wouldn’t- they’re so kind and love pokemon just as much as he does- but--

   “Of course not,” they assure, nose brushing his cheek. His face burns red within seconds, flustered all over again at such simple things. Suppose that’s what it’s like to love someone? If he kissed them now, it wouldn’t have been the first time they’ve done so, but it still makes him so unbelievably happy...

   A yip draws his attention away from Ivy in his lap and to Zorua, who’s finally given up on digging holes and causing mischief to wild pokemon. Kisa originally received him from a Plasma grunt (one that still followed and believed in N), but- on N’s request- returned him to his original trainer. Now the little pest was much akin to a son to them both...along with the other Zoroark and Zorua Kira caught during their shenanigans after N had left Unova. (A short few months before they left Unova to find him.)

   V is dozing off in Kira’s lap, Ivy’s taken up N’s, and with Pride nearby... Zorua abandons begging his trainer for affection, crawling into Kira’s lap and flopping over V, instead. The two have become friends since they’ve met, practically, so when V peers down and black and red fur, they do nothing but wiggle into a more comfortable spot, and get back to falling asleep.

   “...He’s so cute,” Kira crooned softly, scratching the fur of Zorua’s cheek. The pokemon made a soft noise, but did nothing else. Was he falling asleep already? Ah, N could be envious of that...

   “I don’t think he’s quite as cute as you, though.”

   “.........oh.” N glanced at their face, a smile brightening up his own at the pink on their cheeks and the shy look in their eyes. Every once and awhile, he’d give lines like that a shot- a try at confidence- and every time it worked, he felt bolder. More proud of himself and how far he’s come... How far they’ve come, to be together like this.

   “It’s true,” he murmurs, voice low as his hand moves from resting on Ivy’s back and to Kira’s hand, tangling their fingers together. “You’re so cute, darling. So lovely. My heart races when I look at you. You mean the world to me, you do. When you’re happy, I’m happy. When you’re sad or upset, I would like you to keep telling me, so I can be there for you...just as you have always been there for me.” A kiss to their cheek first, then nuzzling down until they tilted their head up just enough for him to kiss them. “...I love you, Kira.”

   They gave a shaky sigh, flustered tears in their eyes and face burning red. He knew they were a bit of the “crybaby” type; too many strong emotions make them weepy, but he still needed to ask... “You okay?”

   “Y-Yeah...” A sniffle, a nod, and then they continued, “You’re just...so sweet. I worried so much about so many things and now... Now you’re here. We’re together now and... Ah. I love you too, N. So, so much. It makes my heart hurt.”

   “In a good way, I’d hope.”

   “A good way,” they murmured, then laughed softly. “Always a good way... Everything is better when I’m with you, Natural.” Now it was his turn to laugh, eyes brightening at the rare use of his full name. Not all too proud of it- thus why he was still called “N” over it- but it...was nice to hear from Kira, every now and then.

   ....Maybe longer...

   “Hey, Kira? Have you thought...on traveling together?”

   “Hmm?” They looked up at him and it took him all his focus to make his eyes meet theirs, swallowing hard. Oh boy...

   “You mentioned visiting Johto...and how you’re incredibly fond of Ecruteak City. I thought we could visit it together sometime.” They stared at him- expressionless- a moment longer before those dark green eyes widened, straightening up a little.

   “...Really?”

   “Yes.” A pause, then them eagerly nodding their head, eyes bright. “Ah, I’m glad! I’ve been making plans, but it would’ve been a shame if you didn’t want to go...”

   “Plans?!”

   “Shhh!” They both glanced down at their napping pokemon and, seeing that nobody had woken up, N continued. “Yes, but they’re secret plans. You can’t know until we go...and I won’t tell you there either, okay? You’ll only know as we go from place to place.” He smiled, proud of himself and his notebook of plans, hidden back at his apartment. A whole week for them...and something else, too. How scary! How exciting; thrilling, even!! Something new for both their lives...

   “Ugh, fine...but I’m definitely all in. Let’s figure out when we should, yeah?”

   “Most definitely.”

[deadlybeautydbz]

“Behind Enemy Lines” - Sneak Peek!

The other week, I mentioned my long-fic I’m working on. Set in a future universe that is being destroyed by the androids, Goku has died from the heart virus and there are no dragon-balls to help. This will be a K/18 story like no other and with a twist that you wont see coming.

In this scene, Krillin finds himself coming face to face with 17 and 18 for the first time. Let me know what you think and if you’d like to see more! This scene is about 3000 words, and so far I’ve written about 30,000 (which is maybe 1/3 of the intended total length) so there’s plenty more where this came from!

Read below the cut. And please ignore any spelling/formatting errors, this is still very much a WIP

Another explosion, closer this time. More frantic screaming.

“No. Those people need my help. You go. Now!”

With that, Krillin turned around and ran. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel for Yamcha, he did, honestly, but right now, there were people who were in more serious need of his attention. He ran as fast as he could, feet pounding against the broken pavement, quickly covering the few blocks between himself and the Androids. His heartbeat quickened as he approached, not from exertion, but from fear. So far Krillin had managed to avoid a face to face confrontation with these monsters and he’d been hoping to keep it that was for as long as possible. There was literally nothing he could do to stop them. When it came to his power level verse theirs, he was as useless as any ordinary human. Hell, even Vegeta couldn’t put up a fight against the two of them, so what hope did he have?

Standing idly by wasn’t an option though. He knew he couldn’t take the Androids on, but that didn’t mean there weren’t people there he could help. Rounding the final corner, Krillin came to a screeching halt and felt his heart lurch up into his throat.

‘Okay,’ he surveyed the scene. There they were, right there, no more than 50 meters away. The Androids. Gohan and Vegeta had described them to him, but to see them here, 17 and 18, in the flesh – so to speak… it felt surreal. They looked like, well, like normal people. Krillin didn’t know what he had been expecting, something straight out of The Terminator maybe? Maybe that they would sound or move like the robots of bad 1950’s sci-fi? But here they were, standing right in front of him – they hadn’t noticed, or at least acknowledged his presence yet, and so Krillin was able to observe them for a tiny moment. Everything about them seemed, from this distance at least, unremarkable. If he hadn’t of known what to look out for, these two could have easily been mistaken for average survivors. A shiver ran down Krillin’s spine at the thought.

The girl, 18, stood on the sidewalk, arms crossed over her body, scuffing the tip of her boot into the ground. She looked bored. And 17, he was… oh no! He was holding a poor woman, who was too petrified to even call out for help, by the scruff of her shirt; a bright blue ball of energy sat in 17’s other hand. His crazy laughter echoed down the otherwise silent street.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl as what happened next unfolded.

“Noooooooo…” Krillin cried, alerting the Androids to his presence. Both twins turned to look directly at him. Two pairs of icy blue eyes piercing right through to his soul. He tried to run, to save that woman, but Krillin could only move at a snails’ pace. Everything around him happened in an instant, and it was taking hours for his brain to even make the connections. The woman was dead before he had even taken a single step towards her. Her lifeless body slumped to a heap at 17’s feet.

Time sped back up.

“Shit.” Krillin was a sitting duck, standing right here in the middle of the road, two killer Androids staring him down. Beside him, was the burnt out husk of a car, and without much more of a thought beyond surviving the next five seconds, he tucked and barrel rolled behind it, out of the line of sight of his predators.

 “Where did he go?” A male voice, dripping with sarcasm asked, making Krillin’s face blush a shade of red so bright, he was probably creating a glow. What a fucking idiot he was. These weren’t toddlers he was dealing with, they understood the concept of object permanence. All Krillin had managed to do was make himself look like an incompetent moron in front of them. Great. Classic Krillin.

Krillin took a long, deep breath, trying desperately to calm his racing heart. “Okay,” he said to himself, “okay.” Beads of nervous sweat trickled down his neck as he willed his mind to come up with a plan. Something, anything would do at this point. The Androids were closing in on him, the sound of their footsteps grew louder with every inch of ground they covered.

 “Come out, come out where ever you are,” 17 taunted Krillin, as he slammed his fist down into the hood of the car the small human was cowering behind. Krillin yelped in surprised fear, the pathetic sound that came out of his mouth was not one that he was proud of. Yet another thing to add to the list of stupid things to do on the last day of your life. The twins cackled with laughter as he leapt up from his ‘hiding’ place and tumbled out onto the road where he narrowly avoided crashing right into the pair.

“Found you!” 17 exclaimed with delight and clapped his hands. Krillin was bemused by the display to say the least, a reaction that he hoped wasn’t too evident on his face. Maybe he was dealing with a toddler after all.

18 was done, she’d had enough of 17’s moronic behaviour for one day. It was time to get down to business. “Knock it off,” she elbowed her brother in the ribs, and shot him a nasty glare, not so subtly reminding him that they were supposed to be intimidating and scary.

Receiving his sister’s message loud and clear, 17 cleared his throat, straightened his posture and put on his best detached, murderous psychopath look of nonchalance. It worked, Krillin was about ready to soil himself.

 “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure,” 18 turned her focus away from her immature brother and towards the man she had been stalking for a large chunk of the afternoon. “18,” she introduced herself with a coy smile.

“K…Kr… Krillin”

“I know who you are!” 18 snapped, silencing Krillin’s pathetic attempt at verbal communication. She would never stop enjoying the thrill of luring men into her trap with her sweet and innocent act before revealing her true, cold self and demolishing them. With looks like hers, it wasn’t hard. She fully intended to murder every living being on this planet, and still, men fell in love with her every day.

Krillin strained his neck to look beyond the pair, trying to spot any survivors further down the road, despite his better judgement and years of martial arts training screaming at him that now was the time to focus. Never take your eyes off your opponent. That was combat 101 right there. What would Goku say if he ever found out about Krillin’s lack of discipline? What would Vegeta say? They weren’t too far from Capsule Corporation and Krillin could feel the Ki signature of the Sayian superpower closing in on them; he must have sensed the sudden influx of Krillin’s power. He’d be here any minute.

‘Ok, great!’ Krillin thought, pepping up. All he needed to do was not die for a few more minutes, and then Vegeta would be here and he would be able to sneak away to find somewhere to hide – and cry, there would most certainly be crying. For a brief second, a relieved smile wormed its way onto Krillin’s face. It vanished as quickly as it appeared though, when the tall blonde standing before him cleared her throat and locked her dangerous eyes onto him, commanding his full attention.

 Who the fuck did this guy think he was? Ignoring them? Ignoring her? No man had ever dared look past her, and she wasn’t about to let them start now.

“Hey,” 18 bent over at her hips, bringing herself to eye level with Krillin. She was well aware of the fact that the scoop neck of her teeshirt was hanging in such a way that it allowed a perfect, unimpeded view of her perky, and very ample breasts - which were barely contained as they strained against a silky red bra. “I’m talking to you. It’s rude not to look at someone when they’re talking you know?”

‘Please,’ Krillin said a quick prayer to himself, eyes darting frantically up, down, left, right, anywhere but straight ahead. Of course he’d known the Androids were ruthless, but he was only human and this was just cruel! Why was 18 doing this? Obviously the second he looked it was lights out for him. But 18 was waiting, and he didn’t really see any other choice. Oh well. Krillin surrendered. He was most certainly going to die, and really, as far as final images went, this one was pretty good. With a loud, nervous swallow, Krillin looked directly ahead, copping an absolute eyeful of undeniably spectacular cleavage, before moving his gaze up a few inches and meeting a pair of the iciest blue eyes he had ever come across.

“Enjoy the show?” 18 asked, as she stood back up, a big victory smirk sitting smugly on her face.

“Uh, sis, I think he’s about to be sick,” 17 took a curious step forward, apparently not at all phased by the threat of vomit. “Looking a bit green there, short stuff.”

“Really?” “Definitely.” “Ugh. Gross.”

18 let out a sound that was half groan, half sigh and all frustration as she took a step towards the queasy looking Krillin and in one swift movement, kicked him square in the gut. Not too hard, she didn’t want to kill him yet, but with just enough force to knock him a block or so down the street. Not even 17, who was usually pretty good at reading his crazy sister, had seen it coming and he couldn’t help but laugh as he watched the small bald warrior fly through the air, a stream of literal projectile vomit following behind him.

They watched until he landed with an unceremonious thud in the middle of an empty intersection. Show over, 17 was finally able to turn away from the spectacle, and towards his sister. His one arched eyebrow said more than any words he could produce would be able to.

“I didn’t want him to get it on my boots,” 18 answered his question before he had even asked it. She shrugged her shoulders as she turned her back on the messy scene. “I like these boots.”

 Krillin pushed himself up onto his elbows, pain shooting through every fibre of his body as he tried to piece together what in the hell had just happened. His brain was still cowering behind that car 50 meters up ahead, it needed a few seconds to catch up. That was okay, Krillin had time to wait. It wasn’t like he was completely helpless and alone with two sociopathic killers or anything. What the hell was taking Vegeta so long? If he showed up with a Slurpee or something, Krillin would be so pissed!

“Hey!” apparently his brain had also detoured for an icy treat, because Krillin did not remember standing up, or shouting out to the Androids, who had already lost interest in him and were walking away. Yet here he was, doing exactly that. What was wrong with him? Why was he so hell bent on dying today? “Hey, stop!”

Krillin could feel that vomit coming back up as the twins stopped in their tracks and spun back to face him. He was a good distance away from them now, too far to hear what they were saying to each other, but close enough to know he was still in big trouble.

“Or what?” 17 called, his voice echoing down the empty road. Even from here, Krillin could see the sadistic grin on the Androids face. He swallowed nervously.

 “Or I’ll blast you into the next dimension!”

‘Oh thank god.’ The sound of Vegeta’s voice made Krillin weak at the knees. Relief flooded through him and he may have felt a few tears stinging at the corners of his tired eyes, not that he would ever admit it.

 “Oh, great,” 18 rolled her eyes. Vegeta was a cocky piece of shit who had no right to swan around acting as high and mighty as he did. Sure, he might have been the most technically accomplished fighter this planet had to offer, but he was still no match for her.

“Vegeta,” she spat out his name like it was a bad taste in her mouth. Honestly, she wasn’t in the mood for a real fight today, she just wanted to pick off weaklings like Krillin without ruining her outfit. “You take him,” 18 said to her brother, “I can’t be bothered with that buffoon today.”

“With pleasure!” 17 was like a kid in a candy store as he leapt off the ground and charged up into the sky towards Vegeta. A fierce battle broke out between them immediately. It was a flurry of lighting quick kicks and punches, much too fast for the normal eye to keep track of. 18 held up hands up above her eyes, as a sort of make-shift sun visor, it was a bright day and she wanted the best view possible, it was always fun watching Vegeta get his arse kicked.

 What was happening up above was of very little concern to Krillin right now. He could hear the sonic boom like crashes as arms and legs collided, the familiar crackle of a charging Ki beam and more than a healthy amount of swearing, but he was much more interested in what was happening on the ground.

18 had all but forgotten than he existed as she watched her brother clash with the only person on this planet who was any sort of real threat to them. This was his chance to escape.

Carefully, with the stealthiness of a ninja, Krillin tiptoed his way out of the intersection. 18 either hadn’t noticed his departure, or she didn’t care that he was running away, but he was able to slip around the corner of a building and out of her immediate sight with relative ease. For the first time since he’d offered to go on this stupid mission for Bulma – lesson learned there - Krillin let out a sigh of relief. He felt his muscles starting to relax as he rested his back against the cool brickwork and closed his eyes, he hadn’t realised how tensed up he was. Thank god the Androids didn’t actually engage him in a fight, he was not prepared.

“Help!”

What was that? Krillin’s eyes shot open and he instinctively dropped his body into a battle position. “Help!” he heard it again, a loud whisper. Normally, Krillin would have raced blindly towards the cry, ready to help whoever it was who needed him. Now though, after the cruel encounter he had just had with 18, he wouldn’t put it past her to play mind tricks on him, and so he preceded slowly with weary caution.

Following the sound of frightened whimpering, Krillin ventured into the guts of the building he was hiding behind. Like most every other structure in the city, and the whole world probably, it was mostly collapsed and in no way a safe place to seek refuge, but when the Androids showed up, you hid where you hid and worried about structural integrity later.

“Hello?” Krillin whispered into the darkness, carefully stepping over broken office furniture and collapsed cubical walls. As his eyes adjusted to their new dark surroundings, he was able to make out a figure huddled behind a makeshift forte of old desks which had been pushed onto their sides. Two figures actually.

“Please, sir, help us.”

A woman, maybe in her early twenties popped out from behind the desks, she had a small child, who looked to be about three or four with her, clinging tightly to her leg. She was wearing tattered clothes which were covered in a thick layer of grime, but that wasn’t what caught Krillin’s attention at first. It was her eyes. They were wild with fear. “What’s wrong? Are you alone?”

“Yes,” the woman nodded, seemingly grateful to have found someone kind in this cruel world. “Yes, it’s just me and my son, please, we need supplies. Food, water, anything. Can you help?” She wrung her hands together nervously, already preparing for a no.

Instinctively, Krillin went to reach for his backpack before remembering he’d given it to Yumcha. He had nothing. But he couldn’t do nothing. Not with that woman’s scared eyes burning right into him, begging for help.

A sound interrupted Krillin just as he was about to reply to the woman’s heart wrenching plea. A sizzling noise he knew all too well. “Watch out!” he yelped and lunged towards the woman and her child, knocking them both to the floor. He managed to reach out and scoop the boy into his grip as he was falling, pulling all three of them into a tight huddle, and as he did, a stray energy ball came careening into the building, missing them only by meters. By using his own body as a shield, Krillin was able to protect the pair from the danger of the flaming debris that was falling all around them. It burned through the thin jumper he was wearing as it hit him, scolding his skin, but he had been through worse before, and knew  worse would be coming after, so he grit his teeth and took it, knowing that he was capable of surviving much more than this.

“Are you okay?” he asked, lifting himself up off the pair as he did, and trying not to wince at the long forgotten, yet intimately familiar pain of fresh burns.

The poor woman wrapped her arms around her wailing son and pulled him close into her, she stroked his dark hair and kissed the side of his head over and over, fully aware of how close to losing him she had just been. “Thank you” she said through tears, “Thank you, thank you. You saved us. I’m Nora, this is my son, Ronin.”

“My name is Krillin,” he smiled a warm, honest smile at the pair, but it was short lived. They were still in very real danger. “We need to get out of here. We’re not safe.”

Carefully, Krillin lead the mother and son towards the exit of the dark building. The explosion had blocked their original path, but with some careful rearranging of obstacles, they were able to make it back out into the bright sunlight. Up above Vegeta and 17 were still trading blows, it was hard to tell who had the upper hand from down here, but Krillin had a feeling it wasn’t Vegeta. This whole area could be nothing more than a smoking hole in the ground any second, they needed to get away.

Where the hell was 18? Krillin’s eyes darted around frantically, he had no idea which way to go. Not that it made much difference really, it wasn’t like they were going to outrun her if she decided to toy with them. “This way,” he arbitrarily picked a direction and began to run.

[orokinarchives]

Ticker Dialogue

In addition to the black-market debt-bond trading, Ticker also runs a shop called Ticker's Secondhand as her cover job. She sells Solaris-themed decorations for the Tenno to place in their Orbiters or Dojos, accepting debt-bonds as payment. She also will receive debt-bonds to be traded directly for Standing with Solaris United. With these exchanges, it is possible for a Tenno to essentially buy Solaris United Standing with credits, by purchasing debt-bonds and then redeeming the debt-bonds for Standing.

Like the other vendors in Fortuna, Ticker will reveal her true face, hidden in her chest compartment, when the Tenno reaches the rank of Old Mate with Solaris United.

Idle quotes

These are un-subtitled lines that Ticker says when she is not interacting with the Tenno.

"Hey there, Stardust. Our stock is hot, hot, hot, right now. Mmm, mmm!"

"Odds and ends need love too, sweet thing. Let's you and Ticker talk about giving something that once knew love a second lease on life."

"The once-loved in need of a little TLC, Stardust. I hope you came here with credits and good intentions."

"Hello, hello, hello! Old things looking for a new home at very reasonable prices. Under less stressful conditions."

"Every trinket a story! A story waiting to be shared, my lovely. A story waiting to be freed."

"Get over here, doll. Free love to a second home. Treasures that deserve a second chance."

"Let's go lovely, tippity-top!"

Greeting the Tenno

(if the Tenno is new to Fortuna) "Well, well. Look at you: a Tenno, fine, kind, and benign. Ticker can spot an ambidexter a block away, and, Stardust, you ain't it. So listen, and listen tight: my real line is debt forgiveness. Charity. You buy some poor rig jockey's debt, and they sidestep brain-shelving. Every sinner's a winner. Now… I'd appreciate you keepin' this little ol' conversation to yourself. And when I ask you for help, you look me in my baby blues and say 'yes'."

"Here's the kicker for Ticker: the Temple teaches charity? Mortal sin. Ticker gets caught helping a repo? That's me done, Stardust."

"Don't matter to Nef one whit if you're an engineer or a lowly thrower. You owe, you go. That's where Ticker comes in, ray of sunshine that she is."

"Well well, here comes hope for the hopeless. Gimme some good news, Stardust."

"Got good people hoping to see another sunrise. No time for sweet talk, Stardust. Save some lives."

"Time's running out for those on my books, Stardust. What have you got for me?"

"It takes long winter nights to teach a girl how to cultivate within herself invincible summer days."

"I've never met a priest who could tell you anything about Heaven, but they knew every square inch of Hell. They should. They built it."

"Ain't no victims on these lists, Stardust. Every one of them workin' against the impossible to make things right for them and theirs. Makes them a hero in Ticker's eyes. Still… like the man said… show me a hero and I'll write you a Void-damned tragedy."

"Best advice I was ever given? 'Ticker, you'll be a lot happier once you stop caring about the opinions of a culture that is beneath you.' I learned my worth, learned the places and people that matter. Opened my eyes."

"Sometimes strangers don't know any better, but I swear to the Void… I do try to keep a lid on it, but sometimes the wrong thing just lets all the bats out."

"A person gets told a lot of things over the course of a life. Who they are. Who they should be. Amateurs, lecturing a professional. Anything that can't survive scrutiny, shouldn't."

(if the Tenno has just reached the rank Old Mate) "Ugh, finally. I do so prefer dealing with clients face-to-face, but, you know, one doesn't just give it up on the first date. Pleased to meet you. Again. Shall we deal?"

(if the Tenno is rank Old Mate) "Well well, if it isn't my little spray of Stardust. Ticker's gonna put the comm on the hook and take five. How are you?"

(if the Tenno is rank Old Mate) "Well! Pump the brakes, look who it is! Stardust. Where have you been?"

(if the Tenno is rank Old Mate) "Ugh, Stardust, don't even ask what kinda day Ticker's having. Tell me about you."

(if the Tenno is rank Old Mate) "Love took me places, Stardust. And love brought me back. We fell to this place together, he and I. But I was the only one who stood back up."

(if the Tenno is rank Old Mate) "Modification's a strange bird, Stardust. It happens, and you think you've lost yourself. I was my arms, I was my legs, I was that person. But, live with it long enough, truth is, the only thing you didn't really lose was precisely who you are. Ain't nothin' left but what's behind your eyes. So you make sure that's beautiful. And Ticker… mmm mmm. She loves her some beauty."

(if the Tenno is rank Old Mate) "I don't think much of myself, if I'm honest. Oh, don't misunderstand. Ticker's astounding and she knows it. Just that I've been so many people over the course of a life long lived. These days I think more of the world."

(if the Tenno is rank Old Mate) "Stardust. Let's you and me talk about what I can do for you, then I've got to run a few nutrient canisters to little ol' Smokefinger. I swear if I didn't make him intake once a cycle he'd spend all week just staring at rocks."

(if the Tenno is rank Old Mate) "Some think Zuud is a bit much, but I got time for the old lady…[sigh] and all her invisible friends. 'Ticker,' my mother once said. 'You be home by 12. The Void's takin' me at 12.' And, sure enough, I get home at 12:02 and there she is, dead in her rack. So yeah, I got time and an open mind. Anyway, what can I do you for?"

(if the Tenno is rank Old Mate) "The Business loves Venus for the growing thing that it is. But not all things that grow are good. Bad days, Stardust. Bad days lead to bad thoughts, and bad thoughts grow like weeds. Livin' here, you learn fast: keep that garden tidy. Blood's a hell of a fertiliser."

(if the Tenno is rank Old Mate) "You like stories? Someone like you, Gara, faced up to an Eidolon – might as well have been a god – never blinked, saved a world. See, the value of stories isn't in telling you there are monsters, Stardust. It's in showing you they can be kicked square in the down-belows."

Opening a dossier

"Terrible choice to have to make."

"We all need help time to time."

"Life's a hell of an adventure, isn't it?"

"Comedy or tragedy, depending on your wage bracket. Isn't right."

"Some day, things will be different."

"Some see life as adversity, or adventure. The adventurers make it."

"Life's a ride, isn't it? Hell of a ride."

"They never gave up on themselves. We shouldn't either."

"They can save themselves, with a little help."

"They could use your help."

"There is no shame in helping your fellow creatures."

"Keep the light from dying inside them, Stardust."

"We all do what we can, Stardust."

"Everyone makes mistakes. Shouldn't be a crime."

"An entire life can change thanks to one act of kindness."

"Really quite sweet, that one."

"One of the good ones, that one."

Purchasing a dossier

"You're doin' good, Stardust."

"No guarantees in life, but that don't mean we gotta like it. Thank you."

"The life we get is so rarely the one we planned for. You've done good, Stardust."

"The only happiness we ever know is love, Stardust."

"The Void sent you to us, I'm sure of it."

"Your wish is my commish."

Exiting debt-trading without purchase

"We all do as best we can."

"I have other options. There may still be a chance."

"There's no shame in giving what you can, when you can."

Ticker's Secondhand

"Not sure what's in here, to be honest."

"See a little somethin'-somethin' to make a house a home?"

"Hey, this cover's gotta be useful for something."

"Ticker don't do retail, so… lemme know what you find."

Purchasing an item

"Isn't that a pretty little thing. Here y'go."

"Done deal, darlin'."

"…and this is for you."

Exiting Ticker's Secondhand without purchase

"Mm-hmm. Knowing when to move is half the game, luvvie."

"A cool head. I like that."

"Mm-hmm. Do what you gotta."

Redeeming debt-bonds for Standing

"Something you want to talk about?"

"What is it you have for us, Stardust?"

"I'm listening."

Upon redeeming debt-bonds

"Appreciated."

"Well, aren't you lovely."

"You're one of the good ones, Stardust, and no mistake."

Declining to redeem debt-bonds

"Something else?"

"Another time."

"Chek-chek."

Bidding farewell

"Check back in a little bit. New merchandise all the time. All the damn time."

"You know where to find me."

"I'll be here, til it's me on those dossiers. Til then, we dance, don't we, Stardust?"

Ticker's story is also told in the memory fragments scattered around the Orb Vallis.

Discussed in: Ticker

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