#but no actually i think this is the prettiest birthday art yet

[cynicalmusings]

*drops this in your inbox*

*leaves*

HDKRPOAANKLRFAQPBPQWJJEJBENWLAERHLAAPEPFKANKELELE WAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

my heart. genuinely. is in danger.

HE’S SO BEAUTIFUL I WANT TO CRY YOU CAN’T JUST FUCKING WINK AT ME LIKE THAT AND EXPECT ME TO BE OKAY YOU DORK?? (affectionate)

heizou needs to start getting a permit for being the most beautiful man alive it’s not even funny

[shotorozu]

BABE , i saw a hc ( i think it was urs) where the boys’s s/o was really fashionable, ( as somebody that’s gone viral on pinterest a little too many times ) I WAS WONDERING , what if you did a todobakudeku ( separately please omg) with somebody that’s like the emma chamberlain of fashion and they own everybody’s pinterest boards and stuff AHAHA IDK , the amount of times somebody has said ‘ wait ur that one pinterest girl right?? ‘ ANYWHAHEEIE I LOVE YOU N HAPPY BIRTHDAY !!! 💗💗

pinterest famous s/o

character(s) : midoriya izuku, bakugou katsuki, todoroki shouto (bnha)

legend : [Y/N = your name] afab! reader, they/them pronouns (at the request of anon) strong quirk hinted; not specific

headcanon type : fluff, crack-ish (x reader)

note(s) : thank you anon!! so ok, i still used they/them pronouns even though the reader is afab (again at the request of anon) and whdjwkd sorry for the inactivity :,) also im gonna post more later so— sorry for the delay

»»————-　♡　————-««

midoriya izuku

when middle school midoriya finally got a phone, he downloaded pinterest for the sole purpose of looking at screencaps of heroes

but then, he hasn’t touched it a few months, because he’s been training with all might

then, when he finally had enough free time again— he decided to go on pinterest

but instead of finding any heroes he could look at, he found the prettiest human being he has ever seen in his entire life 💀

that person was a different type of beauty, y’know— they weren’t just fashionable, but their beauty was,,

timeless? that’s how he’d describe it. yeah. that person lived in his head rent free for a while

sadly, he feels like you’re that person he sees once in his life, and never again 😔　which isn’t the case

when he finally meets you, midoriya realizes that you look VERY familiar— someone on pinterest, that he unfortunately, didn’t know the name of

but then wait! he realizes that you’re that person. that one person that blew up on pinterest, and ended up in all of the fashion boards.

okay, you’ve been recognized a few times in the past, just because you were pinterest famous— but you didn’t expect him to recognize you

“wait,, you know me?” you asked him when you saw the realization sink in

and you were honestly,, flattered when he went on a tangent on how you were on all of the pinterest boards, and how your sense of fashion was timeless

but you know what’s the best thing of it all? when izuku developed a crush on you (and not because he thought you were just an attractive face)

it was very easy to find pictures of you online! he says it’s for research but,, he tends to look at them for a long time

probably has 3-4 pages dedicated to your hero costume— since fashion icon = fashionable, yet a very practical hero costume!

does he get jealous whenever people fawn over your looks, or whenever he sees comments in pinterest comment sections just asking for your socials in such desperation?

hmm,, yes? he does occasionally feel like someone like you, should be with someone as equally beautiful as you

he thought he was always plain looking, but you wholeheartedly disagree! in fact, you fell in love with his ability to pay attention to detail.

to the random creeps in the comments section, he just contacts the uploader and asks them to delete any malicious comments and it works 100% of them time.

on the brighter side, he helps a lot with taking your pictures (if you ask him to) and sometimes! he’ll even appear in them

izuku will always be your #1 fan!

bakugou katsuki

at first, you’d be like “katsuki owning pinterest? naaah.” but! i think he would

being an all might fan, he liked looking at all might screen caps— and while katsuki would be on the discreet side, he’d find himself looking at them whenever he has extra minutes to burn

not to mention, the cooking recipes on there aren’t the worst, so he doesn’t just use pinterest to look at screen caps of heroes doing their work

and, how could he forget that you’ve been bugging him to search for rare screen caps? he says that it’s useless— but he finds himself digging for you anyway,

which is whyyy

he finds an entirely different rabbit hole, and it’s way past 10pm, 3 more minutes wouldn’t wound him.

the blond doesn’t know how he even stumbled on.. this side of pinterest. the one that kind of hurts his eyes.

the more well known side of pinterest, that is covered in pictures of fashion boards, and the standard pretty person.

the ‘aesthetic’ side, kaminari calls it— it makes bakugou cringe, and he was just about to refresh his page

when he spots something familiar, it’s you‼️ well it wasn’t just you but, you were dressed in something,, nice.

like sure! you’re attractive. but that’s not why he’s dating you, there’s a lot of reasons as to why

but, he’s baffled. seeing you in a different light, and in such nice clothing, what more, when he sees that you’re actually everywhere. he hasn’t seen this much of you and your attractive ass before

katsuki told himself that he was going to sleep a few minutes ago, but now? he’s left admiring all of your pictures.

how did he not know that his s/o’s pinterest famous? you’re practically in every single board!

he confronts you the next day in an oddly weird manner, “you didn’t tell me you were famous on that stupid pinterest app.”

you’re sheepish, “welll, i didn’t know that you were going to stumble on that side of pinterest!”

he doesn’t say anything, and really! it looks like he doesn’t care about the newest discovery of his s/o

but he shows his feelings in his own way.

like, how katsuki insists that he finds a new outfit that you’d absolutely love— one that’ll fit with your aesthetic

and that he insists that he does your graphic liner, because you’re going to ‘poke your eyes out’

makes an entirely different account to reply to those simps and creeps in the comment section, sort of like

random pinterest user : “the things i’ll do to be crushed by them 💦”

pinterestuser461903 : “go touch some fucking grass.”

also would’ve commented “your art sucks” at the poorly done drawings of you in the comments, but knows you appreciated the art— so he doesn’t

(still thinks the fanart doesn’t do you enough justice)

he’ll be super proud when someone notices you in person like “yeah that’s fucking right, but too bad they’re super attractive and way out of your league.”

in short, it looks like katsuki doesn’t care at all about your pinterest famous life, but he’s your #1 supporter

todoroki shouto

i am certain for this one— he doesn’t have pinterest

well, he didn’t have pinterest, until midoriya convinced him to create an account, but it kinda just ended at that

but the person that actually made him use pinterest was sero, because he kept bugging him to give it a try

todoroki finds the app very practical— he can find screen caps of heroes in action, and he can also find oddly helpful tips in cooking (and in anything)

but sero was like “todoroki, what about the aesthetic value??” and todoroki didn’t really get that part to be honest 💀

todoroki, being clueless didn’t know what to search for— so sero being the wonderful friend he is, helped him search for it

and that’s when it happened. it didn’t take that long, but they eventually found an entire section just full of pictures of you; their classmate and crush

“is that Y/N?” mina notices what they’re looking at, and she observes the picture “oh wow— it is her! no wonder why she looked familiar.”

“it’s impressive! our classmate is pinterest famous!” they continue to look at every single post in each board, and todoroki’s left to observe in silence

he has definitely taken a liking to you, even if he didn’t realize it at first— he liked you because of your hard work when it came to training, personality and patience, not because of your looks

obviously, todoroki thinks that you look good in anything, trashbag style or not. but seeing you in this light was interesting.

so after training, todoroki would spent a good portion of his time scavenging for more pictures— not because he was obsessed or anything

but because,, he really liked your pictures. maybe it was because without you in those pictures, it would feel incomplete

he didn’t know how to approach you after this discovery, which is why he’s glad that you approached him first

“todoroki! what are you looking at?” you took a peak at his screen, and you’re baffled to see yourself, and that very famous picture of you

he’s quiet for a second when he realizes that you’ve caught him staring at your pictures, but he explains calmly, “sero accidentally discovered your pictures,, and i just wanted to take a peak at them, if it was okay,,”

and he’s relieved— well, you’re also relieved. you didn’t know how your crush would react if he ever saw those pictures, but your heart skipped a beat knowing that he enjoyed looking at them

“it’s alright todoroki,” you smile, honestly over the moon as you spoke “i’m really glad that you like them.”

sometimes you’d get shy whenever he’d go on pinterest just to look at your pictures, “todoroki, not that one! that one was really old,,” is what you’d say whenever he’d look at your older photos but he’d still look at them anyway 💀

at first, todoroki helped you in his own subtle way. since he’s quite the fashion icon— he’d recommend you clothes to wear for future pictures

he eventually confessed— and it was because you were talking to him while he was really tired, and he blurted out that he really, really liked you and you almost passed away because of his words

so yeah— it was a case of secretly admiring their beautiful best friend to lovers scenario

he’d go the full mile when it came to taking your pictures. he’d check the weather forecast just in case if it was going to rain for that date, and impromptu picnic photoshoot

that boyfriend that has pictures of you in his photo gallery, and has a backstory for each photo if anyone were to ask

also that boyfriend that knows how to take pictures, will probably even lay down to take them, even if you didn’t kindly ask him to

when you asked him to join the picture, he didn’t really know how to— but he made it work! and the both of you guys went viral

but this isn’t all one sided, no— whenever you guys would cuddle, shouto would simply stare at you with HEARTS in his eyes,

and even before he leans in for a kiss, he’ll stare at you with so much love in his eyes, while he traces his thumb across your cheekbones. man’s in love— you’re gorgeous.

he knows that you know that he’s not with you because of any ulterior motive, you both have mutual trust in each other— so it’s not something you guys will bother on questioning because you’re both hot asf lets be real

he’s not uncomfortable whenever people gawk at you in public— i mean, you two get stares on the regular. and how could they not stare at you? you’re very attractive, and he’s glad that people recognize that

but he’ll get protective if they’ll try to be a threat to your loving relationship with him, he won’t be afraid to be blunt

regarding the comments on each pinterest post— he hates it when people say things out of the line

always tries to hide them from you so you don’t feel bothered by them, but if you knew about them— he’ll be sad :,(

but he’ll end up mass reporting those nasty comments— and they always get taken down, because of the shouto todoroki luck

in short? man’s whipped, and the both of you guys are SO attractive together— what more if people knew about the om chemistry?

really— you being pinterest famous was just a nice plus, he fell in love with you for you

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission

[jjkpls]

first love (m)

genre : fluff, angst, light smut

pairing : kim seokjin x reader (f)

word count : 4.6k

warnings/content : mentions of sexual intercourse, mature language, infidelity, separated parents, unresolved past relationship, dad!seokjin, mom!reader

Seokjin doesn't mean to overreact. He knows he shouldn't. Knows you hate it. Knows, because he's been told enough times, that these types of reactions are unnecessary and possibly harmful for a child.

He can't really help it when deep down he knows he was meant to be an actor. Right before his actual birthday, his mother had dreamt of giving birth on a theatre stage, for God's sake.

But his father wasn't into it, given his ambitions, his own growing company and all the promising opportunities he envisioned both for him and for his only son. Therefore Seokjin went to law school, graduated with excellent mentions, followed an accelerated program in business development and managing and joined his father exactly where he was expected.

He isn't exactly complaining.

He likes his job, most of the time, likes the money and luxury that come with it especially and appreciates the work safety.

Now, you can't blame him for being quite the drama queen in his everyday life. All that pent up, buried alive passion for the arts of acting need to express, somehow.

That's what he'd say to you when you used to yell at him for starting weeping loudly in your ear when he'd call you to cancel a date last minute because he couldn't come, instead of just, cancelling it, aplogize, get over it like a normal person.

Or when you'd kick him in the ribs because he'd be all wild gestures and screeching screams when he'd teach your son to ride a bike and he would fall, as he should to learn, making the boy cry even when he wasn't hurt, solely from the projection of his dad's fear.

You're not here to tell him yourself but the glazed, annoyed roll of his son's eyes tells him precisely what you would. Those eyes are the worst. The prettiest he's ever seen. The ones he loves the most. The ones you also wear on your own pretty face.

"Since when?" He has a hand pressed to his chest, preventing a heart attack it seems, gaze wide and alarmed. Timothy sighs.

"A while. They were already together for Valentine's Day-" He explains patiently. That kid is sweet. The way he's slumped over, obviously annoyed to have to be the one telling his dad and having to deal with the consequences but still, he's watching over him with a soft eye, mouth torn in a sympathetic pout. He wouldn't mind his parents to get back together even though he is almost sure it wouldn't be a good idea for the both of you. He's heard tales of dysfunctional families, of parents hurting each other and their children and doesn't want that for any of you. He can't imagine it happen. You two are too good for that. That's probably why you had decided to separate in the first place.

Seokjin is quickly making maths in his head. Not really counting the time but situating himself in that time frame. Where was he at when she was out with this guy? What was he doing?

He may have been in Japan when it started. He remembers a call from you, you were asking him to take Timothy for a couple of days. You sounded embarrassed and he didn't know why but couldn't take the time to investigate, he had a flight expecting him and a conference call waiting to start in a couple of minutes. Important stuff. None of it would have mattered if he had known what you were up to.

"You okay, dad?" Timothy asks, awkward but kind. His mom basically.

"Devastated." Seokjin says with the widest grin on his face. He's not devastated. It'd be ridiculous to be for something absolutely predictable, fair and normal. He's not mad, nor disappointed. You deserve to be seeing people, have them desire you and make you feel good. He wishes it were him but if he can't do that, if you won't let him, he's glad you still can allow someone else to do it.

He's surprised though, he can't lie about that.

Honestly. That's stupid. But he didn't expect one second that you were seeing someone. You never mentioned anything and you didn't look like it. If there's a way you look when you're dating.

He remembers rosy cheeks and short skirts. You were younger.

"You think it's serious?" He asks casually, surprising even himself. His heart is in a turmoil but he showed enough to Timothy, acting like he was half dying, gasping for air and all.

"I don't know. She doesn't want to bring him home yet. Like, introduce him to me. I asked." Timothy, not only is he nice, he is smart. He's thirteen, shouldn't know much about Love and adults' matters yet. He's supposed to still be at that stage when one believes children and adults are two very distinctive race of humans, one that depends on the other and the other having it all figured it out, having reached a certain knowledge and expertise on all things and can't really be wrong on accident.

Timothy knows precisely what his dad would love to hear. And he gives it to him. Not to feed him vain hopes. Not even for this tiny hidden greed to have you back together. Simply because it's the truth and if for once the truth is pleasant to hear, then he should give it. Seokjin's smile only gets brighter. He shares a glance with his son, a glint winking his way and Timothy rolls his eyes, unable to hide the lift of the corners of his lips.

"Anyway, I heard you won that science fair at school?" Seokjin has already left his seat on Timothy's bed. He's rummaging through his leather bag and Timothy knows what it means. He has a present for him. Seokjin always has a present for him. Most of the time, he can justify it by some event or some success Timothy had encountered. The thing is they don't see each other that often, therefore, almost systematically, something new has come about and Seokjin can explain why he's brought a brand new console, a new laptop, a TV for his room or that one limited edition of this way too expensive branded pair of sneakers.

You used to get really mad at that. You'd say that he shouldn't, that he didn't need to bring him all these expensive stuff because what he'd like (it was a long time ago when Timothy was too young to have his own opinion and you would speak for him) is for his dad to be here more often. You'd say he wouldn't have to buy him shit for any other times than Christmas and his birthday if only he could be here for him. His dad would be his present.

It caused a lot of drama, a lot of crying. You had made sure not to scream, not to be too angry but Timothy felt from the way you squeezed him hard against your bosom that you were very upset. His dad had apologized, had said the most with his eyes only for you to understand. Timothy was staring, trying to get it too because he was involved, wasn't he? But that was one of those adults moments he wasn't allowed to participate in yet.

From then on, his dad wasn't late anymore when he'd set dates with him, his phone would be turned off when they were together and he would text him more often.

It was really nice. Because at first, Timothy felt that maybe if his dad wasn't so present it was because he didn't want to. For some reasons. He thought maybe he was too much of a coward or too nice possibly, to leave you two altogether, to disappear from your lives and start another one somewhere else, one he would have chosen and shaped as he'd want. Turns out Seokjin really appreciated his son and the time he got to spend with him. The more time they spend together, the more Timothy is met with awed eyes and whistling lips, impressed as his dad is by his smartness, his humour and hidden talents. He just was very busy. You explained that to him. That he was passionate by his work, that it required a sacrificial amount of time in one's life, and that he shouldn't ever take it personally because even he loved you and couldn't give you that time.

It's the conversation that led him to think that maybe his parents are meant to be, except they won't because... circumstances.

In any case, no matter how often they meet now, Seokjin still brings him gifts each and every time. The difference is that he has to think of a reason, sometimes make one up to not be struck down by your fury.

"Yes, I did."

"Of course, you did! Cause my son is the smartest." Timothy waits for the moment he says that his brain and the magic fuel filling it all come from him. It doesn't come. Instead, a neat white box is held in front of his face. There's a pretty tie made of ribbons glued in the middle, to hide the picture of what's inside, but there's no doubt that this is an iPhone. He rips the tie off and surprise surprise it's the iPhone 12.

"Mom is going to kill you." Timothy says first, before even thanking him, heart pounding from excitement and face split in two by the wide banana grin.

"Probably." He shrugs, unapologetic.

"Thanks, dad!" Timothy doesn't forget to add, eyes shiny and toothy grin even shinier.

He hopes so. That you're going to be mad. You two are too old to have petty fights now. You don't waste your energy in screaming and finding the worst things to say to hurt his feelings. You just cross your arms under your tits, clench your jaws and adopt that pout on your mouth, eyelids low and eyebrows high, the embodiment of condescendence and you look sexy as hell. He smiles and winks at you, calls you by an old pet name and you're swooning even though you try to hide it. No one is charming like he is, and no one charms you as he does therefore he's not too worried.

His son was just going around with this prehistorical device you dared to call a smartphone. With the broken screen, and the non-functioning selfie cam and the safari app needing a good ten minutes to charge one fucking page -this was deliberate as you wanted him to have a phone to call and text you and not go and lose himself on the internet or whatever. He's almost fourteen though and he's doing a great job at school and is such a good kid at home, he deserves it.

"I know and I don't care. I don't need you to tell me my son is good." You are infuriated. The perfect picture of you he had imagined, the only difference is that, you've just walked out of work, you seem to have had a rough day and your hair is a mess. With the wild locks hanging off of your bun, framing your pretty face, you look even better. "I don't want him to have something so expensive on him, first of all."

"His dad is richer than Cresus, what do you expect?" The cockiness dripping from every pore should suffice to make you explode. Of course, it doesn't. He has that stupid side grin. The one he's got you with in the first place.

"And what about- internet and even just the darn AppStore? He's too young to-"

"Are you worried about porn?" He frowns, you flush. That's precisely one of the things you think about. You don't want him to fall upon stuff he doesn't need to see -in your opinion for a good ten years at least- or start taking interest in social medias where creepy fuckers could hang out.

You flush because apparently, it's a word complicated still to hear from him. "I've made a parental software installed in it. And a localisation too. Not that we really need it with him but you know."

"Oh." All tension escapes from your torn face and tensed shoulders.

"Oh, wow, my first love is such a good dad." He mocks, voice high, hardly resembling yours, barely biting back a smirk. He even goes as far as swiping the right side of his bangs back, eyes closed, mannerism insufferable.

"Shut up." More flush. A fist to his chest for punishment. Bad idea. Apparently, he went back to the gym.

"You should be nicer because I have something for you too." He says, eyes glancing mischievously as his hand dips in the pocket of his trench coat. "Well. I don't want it." You cross your arms on your chest again which only serves to push your tits forward to him and he wonders what you're playing at. Probably the same game he plays when he winks and smiles and lifts his eyebrow to you.

"Wait 'til you see it." He sees the moment you realize it's a jewellery box. He reads the instant wild excitement, he catches also the gloomy shadow you try to paint over it because you don't want to accept it. How many times does he need to be told to stop? He won't ever stop.

"You can't buy me, Seokjin." You're eyeing the velour box in his hand, a tiny beautiful red in this large pearly white palm. You want it. You always do. You don't dare uncross your arms though because you know that if you even do something as reckless as taking it in your hand, just to have a look at it, you won't be able to refuse it.

"Of course, I can." More of that smirk. You glare, it makes him wheeze as he does.

You have never ever been able to refuse any of his shiny presents. You're not a gold digger, that's precisely why you felt so guilty all the time, accepting to receive from him things you could never afford for him -or yourself. He's born richer than you'll ever be, he loves to spend it on his loved ones -and on cars and designer clothes- and amongst everything else he loves, he adores covering you in shiny little rocks.

No one has ever worn diamonds the way you do. You look beautiful without them, magnificent with them. They were made to enhance your beauty and you were made to give them sense.

"You're such a dick." You say, tone way too monotonous to still have been in total control of your free will. Your eyes are glued to the shine of the two dainty clear earrings nested in the case. He's holding it open in front of your nose, like a hypnotizing stick. He sees your determination wavers. Your arms have just untied. Your hand is getting close. He smiles already savouring his victory.

"Take them, petal, I don't think your new boy could ever afford them." Your hand freezes mid-track, face falling you look up. He's a bit surprised to see guilt in those eyes. Shame and guilt. Even though, you have the right to see whoever you want. Obviously.

"How-" His head tilts slightly towards the hallway, where the bedrooms and the one Timothy is in, probably playing with his new phone. "Great. Bribing our son into giving you off my personal information."

"I gave him the iPhone after he told me." Seokjin feels the need to precise. His son loves him and he confided for this very reason. He wants to believe. He hopes that it's not because he's worried his dad would have a mental breakdown if he were to learn the news the day his mom would invite him to their wedding or something.

You sigh. You don't know what to say it seems. He doesn't want you to feel upset. He's not going to congratulate you either. He can't.

"Take them."

"He could- he's a doctor, you know." You sound like a petty little girl saying that, fingers aiming for the box but mouth reshaped by contempt.

Thankfully, the mesmerizing glee on your lovely face makes up for this last information.

A doctor.

He snorts, huffs and rolls his eyes.

"Are you really being disdainful over the noblest of all professions?"

"I bet he's not as handsome as I am." Seokjin says, staring away into space in a very Vogue kind of pose.

"And it's relevant because your face saves lives too, right?" You add to his clownery, biting on the smile wanting to take over your face.

"Precisely." You're already putting them on, watching your fingers work in the reflection on the microwave door. He's loving it. One is on, reflecting the light coming from the window, bringing a new sense to your whole stance. You don't look tired anymore. You look very fancy. Sexier than before. Your butt sways a little in excitement when you take a new look at yourself, now beautifully decorated and he's reminded of an idea he once had but never got to realize.

He wanted to have a fashion designer make a garter holder made of tiny diamonds. Solely diamonds. It would fit you just right, maybe a bit tight on you, would dig slightly in the meat of your thighs, enough to look fucking sinful and not too much so it doesn't hurt. He was quite young when he had the idea first and was probably not rich enough to make it happen.

He now owns a few palaces perched on the last stage of skyscrapers in three of the most expensive cities in the world and he would sell one in a beat if it meant he could get that for you and see you wear it for him.

You'd probably end up accepting it and then wear it for your new boy so that's out the question.

He doesn't hesitate when he reaches a hand forward, slip his fingers through the tie holding your hair in a bun and slide it off. You don't even flinch, he's still allowed to do that.

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you." You whisper with a smile, both for the compliment and for the present.

"You went to the hair salon." You nod, forcing yourself not to show your surprise. He doesn't need it to throw himself some flowers, "See? I noticed." He adds with way too much pride for so little.

"Your lenses work, congratulations." Sarcasm is the only answer to his stupidity, you both have figured this out long ago. "Is he nice?" Seokjin can't help but ask. He doesn't want to know too much about him. Kind of hopes that it won't be necessary as the guy won't last too long. But he can't resist his curiosity.

"Yes." You say without much of a hesitation. "Last week, he took me to this nice French restaurant in Songpa." You tell, eyes looking away, a bit pensive, mindlessly playing with one strand of your hair. Your face is taken over by that air. Seokjin realizes then that you really like him.

"I used to take you to very nice restaurants all the time, remember?" He's just messing around now. He knows it's not that relevant. Knows it won't get him higher in your regard,

"And I would spend half the date with the waiter while you'll have yours with your phone. I do remember." Especially given you don't recall your common past the same.

He does remember now that you mention it. His memory has been awfully selective and mainly, what he could picture when he thought about those times, is how beautiful you looked, how much he wanted you and felt like even sitting right next to you, he couldn't satisfy that need, was missing you even if you were right there, and the mind-blowing sex too. The later probably happening because he owed to make it up to you because indeed, his job was on the dates too and you hated that. He remembers the late mornings, the lazy ones, you'd make him carry you on his back because your legs and your hips hurt too badly.

"Ouch!" Toppling over, hand on his bosom where it actually really hurts, he yelps in agony, pretending to have been shot. You giggle and slap his shoulder, pester him to stop when you both hear Timothy ask from his room if everything's okay. You'd think he would know by now that his dad is just a clown whose shenanigans shouldn't be taken seriously.

"Are you seeing someone these days?" What a shame, Seokjin really thought for once he'd be solely cool and collected and handsome. Instead, he can feel his ears start to burn in embarrassment, walks a few steps back, pretending to want to throw a glance through the window when really, he'd do anything to not have see you notice.

"Someone?" He huffs. "Some three, actually some four or five. You know how the ladies get with me-" He sounds dumb as hell. It suffices to make you laugh. You've always laughed at his antics. Even when you were going through complicated times, like the pregnancy and the soon to follow break up, he'd try to dry your cheeks and lighten your gaze, heartbroken as he was to see you like that, and it would always work.

"And I know how bad you are with maths." He nods, doesn't look at you, simply stares at the shiny tip of his italian shoes. "You should call me sometimes, Jin." You don't need to tell him, he knows. You say that to him almost every single time. It's just you being kindhearted, the way you've always been. But first, he hates the idea that somehow, to some degree, it's a pity hand you're holding out for him. And secondly, he knows he'll fuck up if he calls.

He won't be able to talk about his job or politics or what's on the dumb tv these days. He'd probably start by asking what you're wearing and end it all by serenading you. What a bad idea. "You don't ever call, only Tim. Which is fine but-" He is lonely, he does miss you, but he's not that stupid. "I miss you too, you know." You look awfully sincere when you say this. There's still a sad shade to your eyes and he suspects it comes from you worrying about him rather than you simply wanting him more in your life. Maybe it's there for both reasons. He can't be mad at you for caring about him still, can he? Ultimately, it's sweet. It's not your fault he tends to be a loser in his very personal life.

He wouldn't know who he is trying to comfort when he strides forward and place a kiss on your cheek. The other one he's cradling in his palm feels warmer the longer he touches it. He doesn't let it go once he backs up and away. You're looking up to him with your eyes looking all round and childish. Quiet and in expectancy. You look like you do when you would wait for him to kiss you. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip and he smirks.

"Expecting me to kiss you?" He asks with an eyebrow raised high. Pretend judgment in his tone, even remonstrance. As if. "How scandalous, when you already have a boyfriend." You know he's just kidding and he can tell that. He wouldn't play with that if he wasn't sure. He doesn't want to hurt your feelings, make you feel wrong or bad in any way. He loves you too much for that. You could let him kiss you and he wouldn't hold you accountable for it. Therefore he does. Because he's dying to since the last time it happened a couple of weeks back. And when your own lips welcome his, with that much willing and tenderness, he suspects you've had too.

He doesn't allow it to go too far. He thought you would stop him, at some point, but you don't. He's the one pulling away when his tongue, instinctively, means to reach out for your own. He knows what comes after that, and what comes after that and after and after. And even if you transpire guilt and shame, he can sense in the way your eyes stare into his that you would have let it all happen.

He's not lacking in desire, he hopes you know that. Honestly, since earlier, and that random flash of the diamond garter holder, his brain is half clouded by the thought of your thighs and his face buried in between them. You used to make the most delicious sounds, pulling at the root of his hair and chasing your high with your hips. Also now that he's met your mouth again and he envisioned what could happen if he just let go, he can't help but think about that dresser in your room. The gigantic thing you wanted him and Timothy to put together as sort of a father and son enterprise to bound or whatever - he ended up paying a guy to do it for them and they played Mario Kart instead but you don't need to know that. Point of the matter is, that massive dresser has a massive mirror on its door and that massive mirror sits perfectly in front of your bed. And all he can think about is how bad he'd like to fuck you on your bed while you'd watch yourself in it. He'd pull back your hair, hold in tight in his fist like he knows you love so you could see your own cute face while his cock would reshape your cunt to its fitting, all this with the pretty little shiny earrings adorning your ears.

Fuck, what a concept.

And it is to say that right now, he knows, you'd let him. He's not that wicked though. He feels your too weak to resist him today therefore he's not even going to chance it. He doesn't want you to do something you'd hate yourself for afterwards.

"I should go, I still have documents to send for a new contract before-" He takes a look at the expensive watch heavy on his wrist, you roll your eyes. "Half an hour ago, great." He offers you a smile that doesn't reach his eyes no matter how hard he tries before he's off to the hallway, giving you his broad back. "I'm going to say bye to Tim."

"It's just- like that, Seokjin." The words are pretty badly chosen. They don't mean much. Seokjin still gets it though. He can picture you behind him, shrugging your shoulders and tilting your head to the side. It doesn't mean much.

"I know, petal. Don't worry." He throws over his shoulder, faux lightness in his tone even though his heart feels raw. It doesn't mean enough, is more accurate. This kiss like every single one of your shared looks and words and bickering and touches, they all mean that you still fit perfectly good together. However, it's not enough because somehow, someday, you came to the conclusion that you were not meant to be. He's confused as to why and how he agreed with you then. Here's the main reason why he never calls you.

When Timothy looks up from his new phone, wearing your eyes and his smile, he feels a whole new range of pain affected to his sensitized heart. How can you not see that you're meant to be?

A/N: Happy Lunar New Year :) this little thingy was inspired by Arsène Lupin and the relationship between Assane and Claire for those who watched it! I don’t know if i translated well the alchimy and unfightable attraction and connection they still have even after having seperated. ANYWAY, hope you all are doing fine, hope you liked this, LET ME KNOW what you thought, tell me about your day, your resolutions if you have any, what’s the weather like where you at etc lmao xoxo

PS: stay tuned for a new upcoming series i’m quite excited about ~~

[moonctzeny]

Cygnus

pairing: royal!ten  x fem!reader x villain!doyoung

genre: angst, smutty elements but not anything too much

word count: 4,8k

warnings: ‘forced’ marriage, mentions of death, blood, stabbing (not too descriptive I promise), manipulation

summary: “When your father, the king, gets brutally assasinated in his royal quarters, you realise how big of a threat the opposing Indigo kingdom really is. In order to further protect both your kingdoms, prince Ten proposes a unification by proposing to you. Amidst your duty as his queen and your inappropriate meetups with your royal advisor, Doyoung, you’re not sure where your heart really belongs”

a/n: This fic has a lot of referencing of the past. Just to clarify: if a part is written in the past tense and is inside the separators, it’s y/n recounting past events

requested by/written for my dear French Anon ❤️❤️ I hope you like it 🥰

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The starry night spreads like a veil over the kingdom. Your kingdom, ever since your head was adorned with a veil of your own. The moonlight, pale and bright, illuminates all the stories of the night. From the mothers that kiss their children goodnight, praying that the impending war doesn’t find them in their adolescence, to the whispering silhouettes of the King’s traitors, plotting with the opposing kingdom to overrule his reign.

Like the weeping willows of your royal garden, you sit alone in the dance hall’s balcony, gazing at the sky’s unknown that always felt so comfortable to you. How dull and drab you must look, even in the ornate gown you were in, amidst all the decorations and joyous music of your wedding’s one year anniversary. Maids, peasants, guards- they all congratulated you on your happy marriage, wishing the queen a long life of prosperity. Even Sirius, the prettiest diamond in the sky, seemed to shine like a spotlight for tonight’s celebration.

“y/n? It’s time for our royal dance.”

You recognized the silky voice to be that of the King’s, your longest companion other than the stars. In spite of all of your misery, Ten, the man you swore to hold in weakness and in health, till death do you part, was someone you valued deeply.

You first met the prince in your early teens, travelling to his neighboring kingdom with your father. He was still a young boy, bothered with the blemishes on his face and excited to play with the snow covering the windowsills of his room. The only person who could relate with the insecurities and troubles of an heir like yourself.

“Why are the peasants hungry while we throw away most of our food?”

"Why does the Indigo kingdom want to declare war on us when we both have enough wealth to live on?"

 "Do you think that when we grow up, we will become just like our parents?"

The prince was thoughtful and gentle, a pacifist in the wrong position. Talented in the arts, in dance, in anything that is as beautiful as he is.  

His beloved subjects do not know it, but the nickname Ten, was given to him by you. 

It was probably the third time you met the prince, excited to spend time with your only friend just a day before your 15th birthday. He had been bugging you over what you wanted from him as a present, the beautiful jewelry and dresses his father gifted you seeming too impersonal to him. You shook off his offers, insisting that him being there with you, in your castle’s terrace, was more than enough. 

You were gazing at your beloved stars and he was gazing at you, rambling on and on about the celestial objects in the sky.

“And what star is this?”, he asked curiously, eyes reflecting the constellations and sparkling in the night. Chittaphon, unlike the countless teachers insisting astronomy for a princess was useless, was endlessly entertained by your knowledge and always thirsty to learn more. His finger was pointing at Deneb, one of the brightest stars of the night sky.

“This star is part of a greater ten-star constellation, Cygnus”

“Cygnus?”

“It means swan in greek”, you explained and he squinted his eyes cutely, trying to find the resemblance to the bird.

“According to greek mythology, Phaethon, the son of Helios the sun god, demanded to ride his father’s sun chariot for a day. Unfortunately, he 

was unable to control the reins, forcing Zeus to destroy the chariot with a thunderbolt, with Phaethon drowning in the river Eridanus where it fell. Phaethon's lover, Cygnus, dived into the river for days on end to collect Phaethon's bones, in order to give him a proper burial. The gods were so touched by Cygnus's devotion and deep grief, that they turned him into a swan and placed him among the stars.”

Chittaphon, intrigued by the story, stopped plucking out the roots of the grass you were sitting on, and decided to lay his head comfortably on your lap. His hair looked so pretty that you couldn’t help but run your fingers through its softness, the intimacy making your heart skip a beat.

“That is my greatest fear”

You were so lost in your contentment that you’d almost miss his whispered confession. Placing your hands on his cheeks carefully, you turn his face so that he looks at you, and it takes everything in you not to lean down and kiss his pout away.

“Hm?”

“What if, when I finally take the reins of my father’s kingdom, I end up ‘drowning’ as well? What if I’m too weak to control them and someone stronger than me decides to destroy me?”

With a sigh, you look back up to the sky. As an only child and therefore sole heiress, the worry of leading a kingdom was the main cause of your night scares as well. You were just teenagers, still figuring out yourselves, but Chittaphon wasn’t some ditzy child. He didn’t care about the lushes and gold, he wasn’t power hungry. His idealism and ethos were admirable, and you felt safe knowing that when the time comes, he would be your ally.

“You’ll make a great king one day”

He smiles up at you, his happiness lighting up the night sky. He always shone the brightest.

“You really mean that?”

“I do. And if you don’t, I promise to collect your bones and bury you properly”

He laughed heartily at your joke, and you continued to braid his locks, counting the freckles on his face until your heartbeats synced with the other.

You just laid there, thinking the prince had fallen asleep in your arms, when he spoke again.

“I don’t know how, but one day I’ll gift you those ten stars. And it will be the best birthday present you’ll ever receive”

That’s how you got through adolescence, holding on to Ten’s promise, and dreaming of whatever life might offer you. And life seemed to be gentle on you, up until a couple of years ago. Up until the incident.

Ten takes your hand in his, rubbing your knuckles tenderly with his thumb, and leads you to the dance hall. The skin is scabbed and rough from you compulsively scrubbing it every time you take a bath. You’d watch the water endlessly run through your fingers, yet no amount of soap could flush the memory of the deep red of your father’s blood staining them.

It was a Friday like any other, a walk in the royal gardens at 6 and then your waltz dance class at 7. You replayed the new choreography over and over in your head, drunk in your instructor’s praises and wanting to show off. Skipping the steps of the stairwell leading up to the king’s room, you wish you had taken a jacket with you. Goosebumps started appearing on your arms, both from the cool night breeze and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Your father was the reason you started waltz lessons. “One day you’re going to marry a man to queendom and you’ll better be able to keep up with me on our father-daughter dance”. You’d just giggle and tell him you had plenty of time till that day, you were just stepping on your twenties, no reason to step on a dancefloor too! But alas, one dance recital from Ten and your father was sold on the idea of getting you to take some lessons. You chuckled to yourself. Come to think of it, your father just really loved Ten.

You reach the heavy door of his suite, opened by just a slice. While there was light coming from the room, illuminating the hallway you were standing at, there was no one guarding it. You found it a little strange that the guard’s huge frame didn’t block your way from your father like he like always did, yet you were happy. Your father always acted colder to you around him.

“Dad, dad, look what I learned toda-“

The sight of his cold, lifeless body brought you to your knees. The cause of death was obvious, with the dagger shoved deep inside his guts, but if you asked anyone in the kingdom, they’d tell you he died from a bad heart. He loved heavy food, and alcohol, the meals suited to a king. No one other than a select few could know that the king was assassinated in his own bedroom.

But that was not your only secret.

You don’t know how, but Ten has managed to finally drag you in the middle of the dance hall. Your shoes clack against the marbled floors and the music brings you momentarily back to the now that you want to escape so badly. The music sounds familiar, you think, and you stay still for a second, trying to identify the song.

Your king brings you closer, one hand steady on your waist, the other keeping your fingers intertwined. He hums to the tune and looks at you with those eyes, those dark eyes that always hold a certain sadness in them. And when he starts to lead, it finally hits you that this is the song you got engaged to.

It was Ten’s idea, actually. With the rumours of a murder travelling to the neighboring kingdoms, including the Indigo kingdom making statements of invasive strategies against you, a form of alliance was clearly needed to be made. 

He showed up to the royal conference room, all dressed up and holding a bouquet of red roses. You could hear his heart thumping as he approached you, his hands sweaty and clammy when he held yours.

“My queen, there is no denying our kingdoms are in a crisis”. His familiar voice was comforting to you, yet the words seemed too formal to be leaving Ten’s mouth. “The Indigo kingdom has indirectly declared war on you. They are powerful, especially with the weapons they possess. And their men are notorious to be ruthless and as cold as ice.”

You gulped visibly, your mouth getting dry at the thought of your people getting as violently killed as your father. Looking at any place possible other than his eyes, you wondered why he took the time to pay you a visit, just to point out the things that you were already more than worried about.

“My kingdom has great soldiers, skilled and apt in martial arts, yet they miss one thing, one thing that your peaceful kingdom can offer mine. Your servants love you, my queen, and they are willing to do anything for you”. He stops and takes a breath, handing you the bouquet he had been holding in his other hand. “I know I would”

The sweet scent that hits your nose matches his sentiment, yet the glossiness in his eyes -that you finally picked up the courage to face- told you things would get bitter soon.

“Are you suggesting we form an alliance for the war? Our kingdoms might be on good terms now, yet our predecessors used to be enemies for hundreds of years. There is still a lot of mistrust weaved in the hearts of the people.”

“I know”, he said, his voice breaking lightly. A thorn from the bouquet pricked your skin as you saw him fall down on one knee, a drop of blood falling from your finger as a teardrop stained your face. “That’s why I am asking for your hand in marriage. Let our kingdoms become one”

You were the one who said ‘I do’, yet the decision was already taken for you. Your whole life, in fact, was painted right in front of your eyes, hues of marsala reds and hunter greens. Hues like the ones Ten put on his palette almost every night before you go to sleep.

You and Ten had never slept together. He insisted that it was never his intention when marrying you, and he’d completely respect your boundaries. You’d be lying to yourself if you said you hadn’t had a thought of laying with him, as you helped him remove the drying paint off his fingers every night. You couldn’t ignore the twitch of your sensitivity as he saw you changing into your silk robe and nightgown, nor the heat of your face when he called you beautiful. His pretty voice was made for begging and teasing and singing out moans. With his flexibility and core strength, you could only imagine what he’d be like in the bedroom. Just the image of his feline eyes looking up at you from between your thighs sent chills down your spine.

That being said, you always felt a bit annoyed by his chivalry as he slipped through to the guest room to spend the night. Through his proposal, he had ridden you of the chance to choose your other half, doomed you to endless nights of loneliness and a cold half of the bed. He should’ve at least taken responsibility.

Not even the guards could know that the two of you didn’t share a bed, the alliance holding on the thin thread of facade you played out for everyone. Sweet kisses in the breakfast room, fake smiles and the silent mourning of your freedom. But that wasn’t your only secret.

You see a hand tapping lightly the velvet shoulderpads of the King’s suit, causing you to halt your dancing. A man, about half a head taller than Ten, successfully steals his attention from you.

“My king, may I steal the lovely queen for a dance?”

Kim Doyoung.

Tall, nice-mannered, lethally handsome. Your father’s trustiest advisor ever since he turned 18 and one of the most respected men in the castle. If the king is the jungle’s lion, then Doyoung surely is a jaguar, attacking his enemies unexpectedly, emerging from their blind spot. He is also your secret.

Kim was the one who found you crying over your fathers body, notifying the knights of the murder since you had no voice to scream for help. He offered you a shoulder to lean on during your grief, while helping you manage the kingdom in your inexperience. It was inevitable to come closer to the man you spent countless hours with at the royal meetings, who you wined and dined with daily, who led you through your duties and made everything make a little bit more sense.

The attraction you felt for him however, well, that was on you. 

It started one night, warm like this one, when the diplomatic settlements with a new kingdom took way too long to figure out, and the pair of you were stuck in his personal office at the early hours of the morning. 

Your hair was a frizzy mess, eyebags darkening the thin skin of your under eyes and all you could focus on was the ink slowly spilling from the metal tip of your pen. And Doyoung, though hardworking and diligent as always, showed the signs of exhaustion as well, stretching his neck from side to side to release the tension.

A crack from his joints grabbed your attention, or rather his skin that was glowing in the limelight. 

He was wearing a beautiful silk shirt, the fabric matching his rich stature and highlighting the delicate lines of his body. His collarbones, sharp like him, peeked from the buttons he had been unfastening, one by one, all the while keeping his eyes on yours.

Your mind wandered under his stare that did nothing short of stealing all oxygen from your lungs. Every slither of your bare skin that landed on it was starting to burn up, and you assumed that’s what his touch must feel like as well. You imagined unbuttoning the rest of his shirt yourself, giving his shoulders a little massage to help him relax. You’d run your hands down this torso, marking it lightly with your fingernails, until you felt that little line of hair right over his pelvis.

The thought is too sinful, so you return to the document in front of you, yet all of your concentration dissolves when the advisor suddenly places the back of his hand against your forehead. His touch is cool and refreshing against your hot skin, yet the proximity only raised the temperature of your body more.

“My queen, you look exhausted. Have you been sleeping properly since the… incident?”

You wince at the memory and shove it down your subconscious again, shaking your head as if the dark thoughts would just brush off of you.

“Not really. I keep tossing and turning. I lay on my bed and I just feel so- so lonely.”

Immediately realising how suggestive your words sound you put your hand over your lips, but Doyoung removes them, taking your raised hand in his and kissing the top.

“My duty as your advisor is to rid you of your worries, my queen. Apparently, I’m not doing a good job, so tell me”. You let your eyes fall on his plush lips, holding your breath as his sweet talk leaves them. He mouths the next words against your wrist, and you can feel every movement of his mouth against your sensitive skin. “What can I do to relieve your stress?”

You can’t stop staring at the smoothness of the junction of his neck so you leave a light layer of your lipstick on it, the pink hue against his pale skin reeling you back to reality.

“Advisor, this is not right”, you try to excuse, “I cannot allow myself to take advantage of your duties like that”

Your eyes stay glued on his neck, and you watch as his Adam’s apple bobs in a chuckle. He guides your hand, that is still in his grasp, and boldy places it over his thigh, your pinky finger grazing against a hardness that is most definitely his-

“Can’t you see what you do to me? What does a man have to do to be yours for the night?”

And that’s how he ended up tangled in your sheets every night, sneaking in your room silently so that the guards don’t notice him. 

“It’s been one year, huh?”

You smell the citrusy after notes of wine in his breath, his lips slightly stained by the liquid. He looks just as addictive as the alcohol he consumed tonight, covered in the silk fabric that he loves so much.

“Have you been drinking again?”

“What else am I supposed to do when I see my queen dancing with that bastard?”

“That bastard is your king, yet you talk so lowly of him”

“And that king is your husband, but you were moaning my name on your wedding night”

You had changed into a white nightgown, the ivory dress discarded on your bathroom’s floor. The beads that were delicately weaved into the wedding gown sure were heavy, but that was not the reason you felt so suffocated in it. You had to sit there for hours, resenting everyone who made a toast for the husband and wife. The celebrations seemed endless, the wine abundant, their laughs maniacal. Your wedding ceremony was the image of luxury and opulence, yet you felt so poor.

Your feet led you to his room on their own, swollen and cut from all the dancing in heels. When Doyoung saw you, angry and choked up with all the injustice you felt, he offered to do what he was the best at. Distract you with his touches, his wet kisses, his sweet nothings. 

A pang of guilt ran through you the moment your back hit the wall, his body trapping you between the cold surface and the overwhelming heat of his body. You wondered if Ten was still sleeping in your newlyweds’ suite, if he was pretending that he dozed off, what he was thinking. You knew you were selfish for only thinking about your feelings, as if you were the only one forced into this marriage. But then Doyoung’s fingers danced on the hem of your dress, and your mind would go blank with lust.

“This is wrong”, you said out loud, a statement directed mostly at yourself rather than Doyoung.

“You coming here?”

“This. I shouldn’t have allowed myself to come this close to you”

“Divorce him”

You blinked back at him a couple times, trying to register what came so nonchalantly out of his mouth.

“Out of all people, advisor, you know exactly why I can’t”

His hand slid upwards, following the heat of your core, yet his fingers never touched where you needed him most. Small indentations were formed on the softness of your thighs, caused by his rings, and you wished the marks would stay forever. The shirt he wore as his sleepwear was oversized on his small frame, the iris tattooed on his shoulder peeking out from the fabric, as if it flowered on his skin.

“Out of all people, my queen, you know I can give you so much more than him”

As if knowing you’d argue with him, he started to nibble the skin on the middle of your neck, forcing your voice to bubble out muffled and weary.

“But advisor-“

“Say my name”

He let the pad of his finger fick your clit, and you moan “Doyoung” out, the name addictive on the tip of your tongue. So you say it again.

“Doyoung, I need you”

You felt his grin clearly against your skin, you wetness dripping on his fingers and covering his rings. His next words came out with a gravelly sound:

“I might hurt you, my queen”

Your whole life was laid out in front of you, from the wedding ring that weighted down your finger, to you laying on your royal deathbed, looking back at a lifetime that was never really yours. A linear progression to unhappiness, but you hated straight lines. 

“I want it to hurt”

Doyoung brings your body closer to yours, perhaps way closer than the etiquette allows, his hand on your lower waist sliding as near to your ass so as not to raise suspicion. He dips his head forward in a way that makes you think he’d leave a tipsy and careless kiss on your lips, but he whispers in your ear instead.

“Why haven’t you left him already?” The question is bold, especially between all these people, especially in the celebration of the wedding he asks you to break off. “I thought you said you’re mine”

“I am, but-“, your head moves towards the king’s direction, whose eyes are boring holes through the pair of you. You feel so small under his stare, suddenly feeling dirty. 

“He doesn’t even love you” 

There is a weird feeling bubbling in your stomach when you finally make eye contact with Ten, all his forms in which you’ve seen him through the years running in your mind. The innocent boy who became your best friend, the uncertain teenager who became your first love. The empathetic king, the mourning friend. The dependable spouse.

“But you do”, Doyoung concludes incredulously, his right eyebrow raised. It’s as if he tied together the pieces of a big jigsaw puzzle, the disappointment and anger and determination all trying to fit in his handsome features.

A hand draws your body away from Doyoung quite aggressively, and you quickly realise it’s Ten who has caught up with you. He intertwines your fingers together, pulling you into your previous dancing position but something is different this time.

“Times up. My wife’s too precious of a gem to let go of for longer”

Doyoung scoffs lightly, but hides it with a small bow to his king, leaving the two of you alone like he was asked. The tension between you and Ten is so thick it felt like all the lies you’ve told your kingdoms liquified into a thick substance that’s suffocating you now. His fingers are digging in your hips, in a possessive manner that’s a first for him, and he takes a deep breath before speaking.

“Do you ever think of me when you’re having sex with him?” 

The question catches you so off guard that you ungraciously step on his feet, wobbling on your heels until he helps you find your balance. 

“Why would you ask that?”

Now, you weren’t trying to play clueless, you know Ten is smart. You see the way he studies you and Doyoung, how he catches your secret glances, the electric touches. He surely has figured out where you sneak off every night and whose cologne you reek off the next morning. What you don’t understand, is where all his dislike for your advisor stems from.

Ten just chuckles bitterly, letting a puff through his nose, with a face of almost disgust when he looks at you.

“I don’t understand why I feel this way. I don’t understand why I care about you when you’re plotting with him against me. Why I feel jealous every time I see his filthy hands on you, or why I still think you deserve better.”

Plotting against him?

You’re left with a mouth gaped open, his harsh words both hurting you and confusing you as his voice gets even more strict than before.

“I thought maybe if I asked you to marry me you’d slowly distance yourself from him. I thought that maybe, just maybe, you reciprocate a handful of all the things I feel for you. But you still stay by his side, hanging from his every word”, he says it all in one breath and his eyes are watery when he addresses you again. “How can you sleep soundly next to me when you’re fucking the man that killed your father?”

A buzzing sound rings in your ears and you realise that you’re one breath away from falling apart.

And just like that, everything makes sense.

Why Doyoung was the first to find your father’s body, why the assasination seemed like an inside job. His sudden romantic interest in you and his pleas to have him as your king instead.

The indigo flower that decorated his body.

Ten shakes you a little, worried now at your sudden stiffness and the loss of blood from your face. He didn’t expect this reaction from you, didn’t expect to see your body shake with anger like this. You seem even more shocked than he was when he found out about Doyoung’s true nature, but, aren’t you the advisor’s accomplice in the plot of his overruling? 

“Wait, all this time- you didn’t know?”

Ten’s eyes widen as his body jerks forward, and you barely manage to catch him in your arms. A woman’s shriek resonates in the dance hall; the musicians halt their playing with a scratchy sound of the strings that stretch out of tune. And then you see the blood, staining the marble floor under Ten in small drops. You also see Doyoung emerging from behind him, with a maniacal look on his face, and a dagger in his hands. 

All hell breaks loose. The unarmed guests scream in fear, urging outside the dance hall in flocks. Glasses of wine shatter on the floor, women leave their heels behind in their hastiness to save themselves. You see the knights running in your direction, creating a shield of protection for you and the king, yet you notice that not all of them have gathered around you. A good part of them stand next to Doyoung, his face distorted in a mischievous grin. The extent of the betrayal in your kingdom shocks you, but when the first knight launches forward with his sword, you know you need to get Ten out of there immediately.

Throwing Ten’s arm over your shoulder, you drag him with difficulty all the way to the balcony, desperately trying to mute out the shrill sound of swords clashing in the process. You manage to bring him to safety, laying him down carefully in the same spot he found you in before, his head on your lap. After unbuttoning his shirt, you inspect the stab under his ribcage, and you swallow a scream at the sight of the deep wound. The most you can do is rip a big piece of cloth from your skirt, tying it up tightly around his waist, and wait until the fight is over. 

You see clear drops falling on his face that is turning sickly pale and you realise you’re crying. Holding his face between your hands, you get reminded of those days you went starseeing, of those moments of absolute peace with him that you wished would last forever. His body is cold and the cloth is turning burgundy, but he has the most tranquil smile on his face as he looks up at you. 

“Stay with me, please”, you sob over his rigid body, hugging it tightly as if his existence will just slip right through your fingers. “Live with me, and I’ll gift you all the stars in the sky”

[hb-writes]

Thank you? No one has ever said that to me before.

Inspired by my 100+ lovely followers, @love-me-a-good-prompt’s “THANK YOU IDEAS” prompt list, and those fun OC questions we tried out a few weeks ago when I wasn’t able to write a thing.

Summary: After having her wisdom teeth removed, Charlie Specter is brought to her brother’s office to recuperate. High on pain meds, she ends up doing a bit of stand up comedy in the bullpen and gives Mike a compliment he will never forget. 

Featuring: Mike Ross, Rachel Zane, and Charlie Specter

-----

Mike first caught a glimpse of Charlie behind Rachel’s head, just sparing her a quick glance at first before realization hit him and he took in the whole scene--the suit jacket draped over her shoulders, the moccasin slippers, the puffy cheeks, and sleep ravaged hair, all of it up on a swivel chair in the bullpen for everyone to see. 

“Shit,” Mike said, stopping Rachel mid-sentence and her eyes followed his.

“Aren’t you supposed to be looking after her?” Rachel said.

“She was asleep,” he answered. “Like completely out. I thought--”

“Well, she’s certainly not now.” 

Mike was meant to be watching Charlie while Harvey was in a meeting and Donna was out getting lunch, and he had checked on her, twice already, actually. She’d been asleep both times, practically comatose, entirely immune to his poking or calling her name, but still breathing. He’d double checked on that. 

Donna had told him Charlie would probably sleep until Harvey finished up for the day. The girl was strongly affected by pain killers, always had been. Yet despite Donna’s assurances, here Charlie was giving impressions to the associates. 

“The only time succc--succck--suck-cess comes before work!” Charlie pointed at the nearest associate, Harold, the words slurring as they came through her lips. “Is in the dictionary. I worked all day and all night and walked up hill both ways to get to the office in the snow and rain so now I’m a big important law man with a corner office. And I dress better than everyone in this room. And no one can tell me what to do.”

She showed off the sleeves of the suit jacket before bowing dramatically, like a court jester before royalty.

Mike stepped out of his cubicle. “I should, uh--”

“Handle that?” Rachel suggested, eyebrows raised as she looked to the youngest Specter, a small smirk on her face.

“Yeah, I should go handle that,” Mike said, whispering ‘shit’ once again to himself as Charlie moved on to introducing an impersonation of Louis. 

Mike moved across the bullpen, stopping in front of the girl on the swiveling chair and reaching out for her hand. “Charlie, you have to come down from there.” 

A smile broke out on her face, the chair spinning a bit as she jolted excitedly. “Mike! Everyone, look! It’s Michael Ross. First year associate, olympic bicyclist, grammy’s boy, teddy bear collector, an--”

“Alright, that’s enough of--” Mike started, steadying the chair.

“Mike, I’m gonna do Louis next!” 

“No, Charlie, c’mon,” he said. “Come down from there.” 

“No, I’m--” Mike wasn’t sure how exactly, but he pulled her from the chair and into his arms in a swift move and Charlie immediately wrapped her arms around his neck, a pout on her face. 

“But I was gonna talk about prunies and bran bars and cats and mudding and...” she mumbled, an exaggerated pout on her lips. “I had a whole thing planned.”

“That was planned?” Mike asked, eyebrow raised.

“Obviously, Michael,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Wait, no. I just came up with it. I’m very spontaneous, Mike. Very, very clever. The cleverest person in the building, probably.” 

“I can see that.” 

“Wanna know how I’d impersonate you?” Charlie cleared her throat and attempted to sit up straighter, forgetting she was in Mike’s grasp, forgetting that the only thing keeping her from falling to the floor was Mike’s arms under her knees and around her back. 

“I’m Mike. Pew, pew, pew,” she said, shooting finger guns at him. “You’re stupider than me because you’re not as smart or cool and you don’t have any skinny little ties.” 

Charlie laughed to herself. “Oh! Oh! And!” She cupped her hands over Mike’s ear. “And I’m in loOoOoOove with Rachel,” she whispered, giggles erupting from her lips in between the words. 

Mike’s cheeks burned as Charlie continued to giggle in his arms. 

“You’re high as a kite, Charlie.” 

“No, I’m not! I’ve never even heard of drugs...or alcohol! Hugs not drugs, Michael.” She poked him in the cheek. “You should listen to that advice.” 

“I’ll do that,” Mike answered. “Do you even remember taking pain killers?”

“I didn’t take any pain killers.‘I’m’ ‘very’ ‘sensitive’ ‘to’ ‘them’,” she answered, a deliberate pair of air quotes assigned to each of the words. “Wait, can I take some? A pretty doctor pulled my teeth out today.”

Mike sighed as he set her feet on the ground just inside of Harvey’s office. 

“Let’s just get you back to sleep.” 

Mike took the suit from her shoulders and tossed it over one of the arm chairs. 

“But now I don’t look fancy.” 

“Well, how about I give you this nice fancy blanket instead?” he suggested, holding it up.

Charlie smiled, snatching the blanket from Mike’s hands before running and jumping onto Harvey’s couch. Mike picked up the pillow that had fallen on the floor when she pounced and dropped it on the couch beside her.

“I think I’m a little tired,” Charlie said, lowering her head to the pillow. “Stand up is hard work, Mike. You should keep your day job.” 

“Thanks for the advice,” Mike answered. 

“Can you tuck me in?” Charlie asked. “Harvey always tucks me in.”

“Always?” Mike asked. 

Charlie nodded as Mike pulled the blanket up under her chin and settled it around her.

“But it’s a secret. He thinks I’m asleep when he does it, but sometimes I’m not,” she whispered. 

Mike nodded. “Do you need anything else?” 

Charlie shook her head, snuggling further under the blanket as Mike sat in the armchair beside her. Charlie mumbled his name.

“Yeah?” Mike asked. 

She was looking to the ceiling or at least she hadn’t bothered turning to look at him. 

“Can I tell you another secret?”

“One more, then you should get some rest.”

“You have really pretty blue eyes,” she mumbled. “Pretty like a blue... colored...  pencil.”

Mike snorted, shaking his head a moment. “Thank you? No one, uh, well...no one has ever said that to me before.” 

“The prettiest of pretty blue colored pencils,” she continued. “Crayola ones, not Roseart. You’re like Crayola, like a...” 

“Like a what?” Mike asked, leaning forward enough to see that Charlie had passed out mid-sentence. 

Charlie’s birthday wasn’t for a little over a month yet, but Mike already had a plan for her gift. Sure, he’d end up with a few extra art supplies lying around, but the idea of Charlie unwrapping a package containing various shades of blue colored pencils was simply too good an opportunity to pass up. 

--

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

[surveysonfleek]

1581.

Have you ever been to Las Vegas? yes, i have! its one of my favourite cities

What did you have for breakfast this morning? i had scrambled eggs and hash browns

Do you have any loose change in your pocket? no pockets and i hardly ever leave things in my pockets

Do you like Taylor Swift? i dont mind her, she has some catchy songs

What’s your favorite Disney Channel movie? camp rock haha

If you met your favorite celebrity, would you be calm or star struck? id try to stay calm, id probably be super nervous just being in their presence though

Are there any lights on in the room you’re in? nope, its day time

What’s your favorite subject in school? it was visual arts

What’s your favorite holiday? christmas, it always means ill have a week or two off work!

Do you ever have to do yard work? nope

Is your school close to your house? ive been out of school for a longggg time but it was a 5-10 min drive

Speaking of school, how did you get there today? -

Do you think Bad Romance is a catchy song, or an annoying one? its a good song! i dont love it but im not surprised at how massive it got

Do you use perfect grammar online? honestly, in my previous surveys i would but now i cant be bothered. i use perfect grammar day to day when working so i just sorta wna chill and not focus too much when i do these now

Are you currently using a laptop? yes

Do you have any live versions of songs in your music software? most likely, i used to love downloading them back in the limewire days

Did/do you listen to Britney Spears songs? i loooooved britney when she first blew up. and i still do! i dont listen to her stuff too heavily anymore but i still love it

Is it a windy day? nope

In the past week, have you ridden in a taxi? no

What shorthand do you use the most? if were talking about typing, i still text/chat people with ‘u’ instead of ‘you’

Do you ever wish on stars at night? no, ive never seen a shooting star

What color are your eyes? brown

What album is the current song you’re listening to off of? not listening to music, i have the tv on while doing this

What are you doing after you finish this? not sure, maybe another survey

In your opinion, what song is the most overplayed right now? i havent listened to the radio in forever

Are you in a band? no

How clean is your bedroom? pretty clean!

Is there a pen within reaching distance of you? no

Are you sitting at a desk? no, im in bed lol

Does your favorite band have a male or female lead singer? male

Do you normally shut your bedroom door before you go to sleep? of course ol

Have you seen the movie Moulin Rouge? i feel lik ei have once but i do not remember anything about it 

Would you ever dye your hair a different color? yes

Are there any framed pictures in the room you’re in? yes

Have you ever been to a Broadway show? not in broadway... ive seen the musicals lion king and aladdin in my city though

Do you watch So You Think You Can Dance? i did when it first came out

What’s your favorite movie soundtrack? none really stand out to me

Do you prefer group or individual work? individual, id rather just count on myself

Do you have a key to anything besides your house? car

Are you wearing anything with stripes? nope

What time did you go to sleep last night? i think 1am

Did anyone tell you you were beautiful today? no

What show did you last watch? american horror story

Do you think you’ll do anymore surveys today? maybe one more

What’s your favorite ice cream flavor? run and raisin

When was the last time you stayed home from school sick? years ago when i actually attended school lol

Could you ever complete a 500-piece puzzle? i probably could, i just wouldnt have the patience

If you could run a red light and not get caught, would you? nah. id rather not risk mine or others’ lives

Do you like to listen to music as you do your homework? i dont have homework

Did you think Adam Lambert’s AMA performance was really that controversial? i dont recall, this survey is probably really old

Do any bands flat-out annoy you? nah, i just dont listen to them

Do you have a mirror in your bedroom? yes

Was today a birthday for any of your friends? yes actually! ill need to greet him

When was the last time you rode in a limo? never been in one :(

Do you take naps daily? no. i wish!

Do you still make Christmas lists? yes haha

Do you watch the show Dexter? i did. apparently theyre rebooting it which is exciting! the ending was pretty trash

What’s the background on your phone? its a dark cityscape of nyc

When were/will you be a a sophomore in high school? -

Are you scared of any animals? cockroaches. also i live in australia so while im not afraid of snakes and spiders, im pretty mindful of them

Have you ever been to any sort of convention? yup! ive been to sexpo and a wedding expo lol

Which song did you last listen to on repeat? probably a kehlani song

Where do you want to live when you grow up? around here still

Are you currently using a blanket? yep

Are there any songs that make you cry? not really

How many siblings do you have? one

What are you doing this weekend? its saturday today. im doing nothing. tomorrow im going on a picnic with friends

Do you prefer swimming at the beach or in a pool? pool, its so much more comfortable than a beach lol

When was the last time you had a haircut? hmm... maybe june?

Which musical instrument do you think sounds the prettiest? a harp!

Are you in band or chorus at your school? no

Do you know what you want for Christmas? nope. i dont ‘need’ anything.

Do you watch fireworks on New Year’s Eve? most of the time!

Is your birthday within the next three months? no

How long is the song you’re listening to? not listening to music

Are you anticipating anything this week? yeah, kinda waiting to see if were going ahead with buying some land

Is your mom or dad the older parent? my dad

Have you taken the SATs yet? -

Do you watch anything on E? i dont have e

Are you going to get off the computer now that you’ve finished this? nah maybe one more survey lol

[nctnight]

(college!johnny part three) < part one < part two

a/n: first half in italics is flashback! and i listened to d half moon by dean while writing this. listen to it and... enjoy c:

5:24pm

“what is this, Johnny?” you squint your eyes trying to hold your laughter. you are pretty sure that 70% of his body is covered in chocolate.

when you had opened the door to his apartment you didn’t expect to find him almost drowned in dough and flour. 

he grins sheepishly. “I was trying to make a cake for you, for your birthday,” he explains. “but it kinda exploded,”

you roll your eyes. “cakes don’t explode, what did you do?”

Johnny hands you a piece of paper and says, “the recipe Mark gave me.”

you laugh, not being able to hold it. he looks so lost, yet trying to keep his confidence. Johnny can’t help but laugh as well. that’s what you did to him. you made him light and happy, safe. like if he had a place in this world, and it was beside you.

“why don’t you take a shower and we’ll go to a bakery eat some cake and then we can celebrate my birthday at the pizza place.” you offer, wiping some chocolate from his nose. “we’ll invite Mark, Yeri, Haechan, Yuta...”

he nods and sighs. “well, at least I tried.”

“and I’m glad you did.” you chuckle, looking up at his face. he smiles cunningly. “what now? what else did you do? did you explode Mark too?”

“no,” he says, laughing. “I bought you a present.”

you gasp, hands flying to your mouth. “what is it? give it to me”

he shakes his head. “your birthday is only tomorrow,”

“I don’t care, it’s my birthday week, you can give it to me now,” you argue. he pauses a moment, as if pondering your request. you smack him in the arm, making him wince. “come on, you giant.”

“I am not a giant, you are the one who’s small,” he pauses, staring at your attempt at making puppy eyes. “okay, wait here.”

Johnny disappears into his room, leaving you with a knot on your stomach. whatever he had for you, you knew you would keep it forever. he showed up a minute later, his hand closed in a fist. “close your eyes, open your hand.”

you look at him questioningly but do as you are told. something metallic falls on your palm, and you can tell is a type of chain. “you can open your eyes now,” he whispers too close to your neck.

on your palm was a golden necklace. it had a small anatomic heart. “it’s prettier than that cliche heart and it looks cuter, anyway. I thought you’d like it. and I also printed a picture of us together and bought a frame, but I will give it to you tomorrow, no buts.”

you squeal and jump into a hug, not caring about the mess he was. “thank you so much. I love you.”

“I-I love you too, y/n...” he whispers, hugging you back. “you are my best friend.”

. . . 

[05:24 PM, 4/10/2020] mork lee: y’know u should talk to him…

[05:24 PM, 4/10/2020] y/n: who?

[05:25 PM, 4/10/2020] mork lee: you know who, y/n

[05:26 PM, 4/10/2020] mork lee: he’s coming up w the creepiest and most disturbing scenarios to why u r avoiding him

[05:29 PM, 4/10/2020] y/n: we won’t be friends anymore if I tell him

[05:34 PM, 4/10/2020] mork lee: I hope so lol

[05:34 PM, 4/10/2020] mork lee: just talk to him, k? you guys will sort it out

[05:41 PM, 4/10/2020] y/n: I’ll think abt it

. . . 

april 12th

it truly was a beautiful spring day. the birds were chirping, the trees were the prettiest shade of green, the sky was a pale blue. you decided to take a walk. spring break was coming around the corner and the truth was, you were going to miss your campus life. 

you had so much more freedom than back home. you had Mark, Haechan, Johnny. you hadn’t spoken to him since the party, four days ago. you were scared that you wouldn’t be able to say your farewells before spring break. he hadn’t texted you, so you were hesitant to take the first step.

you put on your favorite sweater and leave your room, earphones and phone in hands. you had to finish some essays due this weekend, but your mind was cheating on you with thoughts of him. it was frustrating and irritating. nothing seemed to make sense.

a sigh leaves your lips, as one of Johnny’s playlist plays through the earphones. 

your eyes wander through the landscape ahead of you: students leaving class—fortunately, you had morning classes and had your afternoons and nights free—, people speaking on the phone, exercising, laying on the grass to catch the last sunshine of the day. 

and there, a few meters away from you was Johnny. he was holding a pretty flower in his hand, his eyes locked on you. he smiled hesitantly. you pause your music, approaching slowly. “hey,” you say, giving him a small smile.

“hey, I was actually coming to see you...” he trails off, scratching the back of his head. he smiles again, taking a pause. “I think you’re keeping something from me, y/n. I’m not sure what it is, but I must be honest with you. I’m hiding something as well.”

you gulp, watching as he becomes a ball of nerves. you cross your arms over your chest. “what is it?”

“well uh...” Johnny pauses again and takes a deep breath “I-I was so scared when we became friends because you’re an awesome person and you understand me and my art, you know about all my dreams, my fears, but I d-didn’t tell you that I’m irrationally scared of being rejected,” he pauses, catching his breath. “you are too good, of course you’d reject me... and that’s why I didn’t confess to you when I first noticed that I liked you. but if I keep it in for too much longer I will explode,” he smiles awkwardly.

you felt your whole body going numb. your mouth went dry. your hand went to your chest, trying to calm your rabbit heart “w-what about Marie? why did you hooked up with her? was that to hurt me?”

“no! obviously not. it was something so dumb, and I’m sorry about it. I truly am and I understand if you want to stop talking to me after this, but the truth is that I tried to forget you with her,” his eyes look deeply into yours, his lips pressed in a thin line. “I know it’s a cliche, it’s just a dumb excuse. I admit it was something stupidly wrong to do, but I was not brave enough... now I am. you are my best friend but I want to be... more.” 

he looks away, playing with the flower still in his hands. “if you decide that you do not feel the same, I ask that you at least let me be your friend. I rather have you as my friend than not to have you at all.”

you bite your lip. “but, Johnny... I decided, a long time ago actually. I love you.” you chuckle dryly, remembering the party and how lost you are when it comes to Johnny Suh. his eyes widen, processing what you had just said. “I can’t blame you for being scared, because I was, too. but don’t try to cover up anything from me ever again, please.”

he nods, an anxious smile on his face—that same smile that has been giving you carnivore moths on your stomach for the past seven months. his fingers tangle into yours, your grin slowly widens. he’s so beautiful, it hurts, you think, but it’s a good hurt.

“this is for you,” he hands you the flower, a lilac tulip. “will you go on a date with me?”

you nod excitedly, accepting the flower. “what about a picnic?”

[sfjn]

a blog post lmao it’s year of our lord 2020 and i’m returning to longform semi autobio blog posts on a few different platforms just to share a bit of myself

i keep talking too much and sharing too much. feeling too much, thinking too much. texting too much, laughing too much, crying too much. loving too much. it’s been a really, really long two weeks. but the most beautiful thing about the past fortnight is that all my too muches feel just fine. i feel slightly embarrassed by them, but it’s like the embarrassment of a sibling or a motherly kiss. i brush it off and keep moving. i keep sharing, remembering things. 

i was already on this path, the upwards movement. from the week that i told my therapist i wanted to be bad, but in a helpful way. in a “such a mess together!” way. but i never expected where i would go with it. which is literally to the future.

it’s just kind of nice to think that i have the power to love without expecting anything in return. i can love someone and not fear rejection. i can open up about the privacy of the human heart. and i have the entire rest of my life to practice that. all because two weeks ago i realized what work was mine to do. i saw the signs and listened.

i used to walk around listening to negative songs and use them to hold my pain in place like a band aid. it felt like i was listening to them alone in a vacuum, hurting myself. my most hurtful songs, i refused to share with others. holding a sword in my side, because pulling it out would kill me. i didn’t want to physically hurt myself, but i also didn’t want to stop. to stop would be to give up, or accept the inner narrative i was writing.

it’s two weeks since i started relistening to love songs. it is funny how art changes when you are gone. june 2020 really said gay rights, but also they specifically said rights for the outsider gays, the ones who question even their space within the space. it’s probably because of the pandemic, or the revolution, or both, but it felt different this time.

tonight is two weeks since the evening i couldn’t sleep for fear of messing things up. since i danced across an ocean in a heartbeat. three since i made a masterpiece for my best friend, and since i found a new home. i actually signed the lease on the new home the weekend before it all went haywire. four weeks since i found confidence in a blog post, of all places. a blog post from 2014, of all years. i realized i could simply listen to my little beloved, and i could reread old messages and know they still held true. 

five weeks since i realized that it was me who had to use my power, to bring everyone along with me, yet somehow also release my control, meditatively, quietly, easily, silently. the afternoon i listened to a britney song about clowning and longboarded hard until i wiped out. six weeks since i collapsed in a mess in the middle of the work day because i thought that feeling bad might be a good time to do bad things, without actually abusing substances or fucking someone or passing out miserable focused on fictional things. a planned supernova. six since i let my family see how sick i really am, and they still let me leave. 

i started talking about rainbows with my family, what they symbolize for me. you’d think this was a way to talk about being gay, but it’s not for me. rainbows are a sign of the storm’s beauty. sexuality is different for different people. and sexuality has never been a beautiful thing to me. not even gender has been beautiful. it’s always been something i had to learn to perform in order to do something for others. performing and never letting on how raw it all was to me. as i think most people do at age 13 but i just continued to feel wrong, forever. i always just wanted my rainbows to be rainbows.

there was one afternoon in May where i was trying to calm my mind, and i realized that i liked watering plants, even if they’re not mine. the sun felt so hot, and the plants in my parents’ front yard looked so dry. i made a rainbow out of hose water, and stood there staring at it, wiping the rainbow back and forth. i expected the moment to die, like all others, and to go back inside to lie down. i recorded the rainbow for a moment, anyway, because i was saving up videos for my friend’s birthday gift. i had been asking my dad for advice, after a bike ride we took together. “how do i stop being anxious,” i think was the general question.

my dad came to the screen door and looked at the rainbow as i stood there, swiping the hose back and forth to keep the rainbow moving. the sun was perfect and i didn’t want to go inside the house. i liked that he was looking at it, too. (my dad lies down often, too. he’s very tired. that is what 45 years of dead end jobs does to you, especially when you think you’ll never be able to retire.)

 “do you know why rainbows appear in water?” i asked him, looking steadily at the colors.

i could not see his face in the shadow of the tiny porch. “you can see it too?” he asked. “i thought i was the only one. because of the screen door.”

“no, i can see it too. it’s because light separates in the prism of the water,” i told him. he just listened to me. “light is all colors when it comes from the sun, and when it hits the water it separates into the colors because all the colors are already in it. grass is green because the light bounces off it. the sunset turns those colors because the light bends funky.”

“i didn’t know that,” he said, or something like that. this is all totally true, tho i’m fictionalizing the dialogue. this entire blog post happened to me. i am loving with my whole heart. i am saving us from our sorrow.

i turned and started spraying our rhododendron with the hose. i had been fascinated with these trees for the entire length of my May stay with my family, because i’d realized they dotted the entire town. huge, pink blossoms, all free to look at. i had never noticed them before. never really walked around the neighborhood that much. the pandemic has been doing that kind of thing. the prettiest ones where the ones i saw at dawn. the pink just faded.

i joyfully videotaped the beautiful droplets of water falling out of the tree for a few minutes. i forgot everything. this all was later set to music. my father then realized that i was spraying the rhododendron home of a little robin we knew. a mother that we had spotted keeping eggs warm in the branches. he yelled at me to stop, but the yelling was almost like laughter. i turned the hose off.

as if a bit of rain could kill a bird.

[brieflygorgeouss]

17 and 95

17. nothing is wrong with you & 95. i’m a mess (part two of this fic aka The Angst Fest™)

Here is another mistake Lucas makes — he goes on a date with the Glasses Guy.

Or maybe it’s not quite a mistake. Just a change. It happens easily enough, quickly enough for him not to dwell on it. It’s a nice change of pace. Lucas tells himself that that’s what he needs — someone new to spend time with, someone new to like, someone different, someone else, anyone else. And if his heart’s not in it, maybe things will change with time. He needs a while, is all. It’s okay.

Lucas is not miserable, or anything. Not exactly. He’s just been better.

The Glasses Guy’s name is actually Marc. The next time their paths cross at the library, Lucas says, ”This seat is not taken” when he sees him looking hopefully in his direction, and the smile he sends him this time is amiable where it used to be artificial. So Marc comes over and they chat for an hour, surprisingly easy, and Lucas leaves the library that day with a new number typed into his contacts and a possibility of something new coursing through his veins.

Marc is an astrophysics student and wears neon shirts that remind Lucas of highlighters, blue and green and orange, and he’s a little stiff and a little awkward, but Lucas writes that off as an initial shyness rather than anything else. Marc talks about his job at the science museum with an eerie sort of pride and his voice has a lilt to it that makes everything he says sound a little like a sing-song tune and he keeps complementing Lucas’s eyes and it’s…nice, Lucas guesses. It’s nothing like when Eliott does it — the prettiest blue I’ve ever seen, like Monet’s ”Water Lilies”, you know, he’d said once, and Lucas blushed furiously back then even though he’d never even seen the painting — but Marc is, Lucas quickly realises, apart from his warm smile and messy hair, nothing like Eliott at all.

Maybe that’s the point.

Lucas is honest with him from the start and tries to give him a chance. ”I’m just trying to get over someone,” he says at the end of their first date, does his best to keep the bitter feeling away from the words, because that’s only for him to deal with. ”Sorry. This whole thing might be a little slow.”

He doesn’t really expect it when the answer he gets is a crooked smile and a lazy-paced, ”Slow is alright.”

Because, see — Marc is nothing like Eliott, but maybe that’s not a bad thing. He is understanding and patient and kind, and Lucas thinks, at the end of their second, then their third date, that maybe he could learn to like him. Love him, one day. Maybe he could pluck the feelings for Eliott from his chest and plant them elsewhere, grow them into something different but still similar, something he wouldn’t have to hide. It would be nice, to not think about the sunlight in Eliott’s eyes and the warmth of Eliott’s smile and how he’d said, I wouldn’t be good for you, instead of I don’t love you like he should have.

And even when they kiss at the end of date three and there are no fireworks, no rush down his spine and no thrill, Lucas thinks, keeping his eyes closed, that it’s okay. He can work with that.

*

They are in a coffee shop on their fourth date, holding hands over the table and talking about how the barista messed up Marc’s order when Lucas hears from behind, ”Oh. Hi.”

And there it is. It’s a little ridiculous, really, how something in his chest curls into itself as he turns, but ridiculous seems to be one of his main traits, these days. Lucas knows this voice. Knows this person, and knows how the last time they’ve seen each other, he spit everything he felt out onto a dark street corner and then hauled up and left. It’s like watching a car crash, the rush-like feeling suddenly there in his mind, except he is in the car, too, and can’t stop it.

He thinks, with no real reason behind it, fast forward to now, fast forward, fast forward.

It’s Eliott, because of course it is. He looks exactly like he always does, tall and relaxed and in another one of his weirdly patterned shirt, white and grey mixing. His hair is in his eyes. There is nothing about him, really, that should make Lucas’s throat close or his head spin, but it all happens anyway, in smooth sequence, one, two, three. Rinse and repeat.

They haven’t talked at all, ever since Lucas left him standing on the sidewalk that night. There were no calls, no texts, no unexpected visits. Lucas was grateful for that, for a while, because isn’t that what he asked for, from Eliott — space, and time, and a chance to reinvent himself, become someone with less to give so that he could come back and, in a weird twist of reality, give Eliott exactly what he wanted?

And if he’s missed Eliott all this time, so fucking much, then that’s on him. If he thought about the art Eliott had shown him, the feeling of his hand in his own, about alternate universes and better endings and about a different Lucas and a different Eliott, together, somewhere, then that’s on him only.

”Hi,” he says.

Eliott is looking at him. His eyes flit all over Lucas’s face like he can’t decide where to look at all, or like there’s too much to look at and too little time. Lucas watches as a hesitant smile blooms on Eliott’s face, corners of his mouth lifting just so, timid in a way Lucas isn’t used to seeing.

”How are you?” Eliott says, and the sound of his voice matches the smile, coy. Hopeful, maybe. Lucas can’t decide.

Something is starting to take roots in his chest again, right there behind his sternum. He knew it would happen the moment he saw Eliott again, but there he is anyway, stupidly surprised at the feeling, like a child that forgot about their own birthday with a gift being pushed into their hands, and just a little dazed at the sight of Eliott right here in front of him, and happy and worried and unsure all at once. It’s all there.

But he tries to swallow it down.

”I’m okay.” It comes out a little stiff, more than he intended, but once the words are out there, there’s not much he can do. He takes a breath. ”And you?”

For a second, Eliott looks like he’s expecting something more. He’d get it, too, if it was a different time and a different place. Lucas would start to complain about his lukewarm coffee, maybe, or say, come on, sit down, and launch into a story about something irrelevant, and Eliott would listen, amused, draw something on a napkin for him, or on his coffee cup, a silly little thing Lucas would spend the rest of the day thinking about, wondering if it meant something more than it really did.

But that’s—not them anymore. That’s not them yet. Lucas can’t afford to let the lines get blurred again. He thinks, despite himself, anew, I’m sorry.

”Yeah, I’m—” is what Eliott says after a moment of pause, ”Yeah, me too,” and then his eyes shift to somewhere beside Lucas. To Marc.

Oh.

Lucas blinks a few times. The world starts spinning again.

”Who’s your friend here?” Eliott asks and redirects his smile as it turns from timid into merely polite. Marc smiles back at him in the same manner and Lucas watches it happen with a weird notion in his gut, feeling like a character in one of those cliché romantic comedies Mika likes so much. And because he’s watching Eliott’s face, he catches the exact moment his eyes slide from Marc’s face down to his and Lucas’s hands still clasped together, to their intertwined fingers and the touch that’s still new but growing comfortable.

Something flickers in Eliott’s eyes. Lucas fights the sudden urge to move his hand away from Marc’s but only loosens his hold in the end.

”Marc,” Marc introduces himself before Lucas can. It’s friendly, but then Eliott is suddenly flitting his gaze from Marc to Lucas and then back and his smile gets a little weaker, grows a little stiff around the edges as if someone just pinned it in place to keep it there.

The thing is — Eliott is not stupid. It is a clear message. Lucas keeps looking at him and keeps thinking, this is me moving on, this is me doing what I promised I’d do. He doesn’t know, really, why Eliott’s relaxed posture suddenly turns into closed angles and tight shoulders, even if it’s subtle enough of a change for no-one else to notice, probably. Lucas sees anyway, like he sees everything about Eliott, all the time. It’s just what he does.

”Nice to meet you,” Marc provides after a few seconds of suddenly weird silence. Eliott’s gaze catches on his face and stays there. There’s something in it that Lucas isn’t sure about, like when clouds gather in the sky and you can’t tell if it’s going to rain or not, even when the world gets darker and darker.

But everything Eliott says is, ”Yeah. You too.”

”Marc, this is Eliott,” Lucas cuts in, and it makes Eliott look at him again. Lucas holds his gaze. ”He’s an old friend.”

He wants to backtrack, for a second. Wants to say, he’s more than that, because it’s the truth and that’s what Eliott seems to be pointing at with way he holds himself, unsure but wind up, with a strange tightness of his jaw and piercing gaze. Eliott is more than that, so, so much more, but he is also less, at the same time. It’s what Lucas gets, he guesses, after being so greedy before, after overshooting the mark, hoping to get something that was never his to take.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Marc shift a little awkwardly in his chair. The sudden tension that Eliott brought with him is, he guesses, impossible to miss. ”Cool,” Marc says, a feeble attempt at remaining casual. Lucas untangles their fingers, tells himself that it’s because his hand is getting stiff. ”How long have you known each other?”

”Oh,” Eliott says at that before Lucas can answer, and then his smile flickers like candlelight and turns into something else. Something wistful, for a nick of time, but then Lucas blinks and the thing’s gone from Eliott’s expression, whatever it was, as quick to vanish as it was to appear. ”We sure do have some history.”

It’s neither here nor there. Lucas’s chest tightens, minutely, and he just keeps looking and looking at Eliott’s expression, strange like a puzzle game that’s missing a piece, and Eliott keeps looking back.

Then, he says, ”I should go.”

Lucas feels his eyes on him as he moves his hand farther away from Marc’s, puts it in his lap. It’s not an admission, but it feels like it, in a way. ”Yeah,” he says, and that feels like a confession, too. He swallows. ”You probably should.”

So Eliott goes. Lucas looks at his back until he pushes the door of the coffee shop open and then closed, gets out of sight.

He only turns his eyes away when Marc says, suddenly, quieter than he usually is, ”So. Is he the one…you’re getting over?”

It’s not what Lucas expects to hear, but he doesn’t ask how he knew. It wasn’t that hard to figure out, maybe, with the way Lucas only had eyes for Eliott the second he noticed him, like a fucking idiot. Not hard to figure out when Eliott kept looking like that and smiling like that and being how he always is.

”Yeah,” he admits on a sigh. He’s been honest from the start, after all. For a change. ”I’m sorry, that— that was weird.”

Marc is quiet for a while, after that. His eyes are cast down. He’s curled his fingers into a loose fist, and Lucas thinks about taking his hand back in his own but doesn’t do it. He doesn’t think about a reason, even when Marc finally lifts his gaze and meets eyes with Lucas.

”I think…he might still be in love with you.”

And Lucas—stares.

It’s like a punch to the stomach, a little, and a lot like a very weird misunderstanding. He’s aware of the seconds passing by, and of the sounds of the coffee shop rush hour still there in the background, but he can’t—make a noise, suddenly. He feels like he has a punctured lung, with how difficult it is to take a breath.

”No, you—” he hears himself say eventually, ”you’ve got it wrong, he never—”

Marc shrugs.

”I’m just saying what I saw,” he mutters, and then turns his eyes away again.

*

Later at night, after Lucas turns the lights in his room off, after Mika shouts a ”goodnight” from his own bedroom for everyone else to hear, after the world gets darker and softer and a little less real, Lucas gets into bed and closes his eyes and doesn’t sleep for a long time.

He and Marc parted ways on a kind of awkward note, and Lucas’s phone has been silent ever since. It’s not like he’s expecting anything, really. Not after what happened, and not after what Marc told him, in a quiet voice and a little like a question Lucas would rather not answer just yet. But he stares at the phone anyway, a dark shape on his nightstand, right next to the lamp. If he tried hard enough, or waited a few minutes longer for his eyes to adjust, he could probably make out the sticker of a tiny hedgehog on his phone case, right there in the left corner, a little faded and worn out but here all the same.

He got it from Eliott. It was such a long time ago that he doesn’t even remember why Eliott gave it to him in the first place, but maybe there was no occasion at all. Eliott is like that, he thinks. It’s just him.

”It reminded me of you,” Eliott told him, back then, trying to wink at him and failing, and Lucas remembers his heart doing something weird, remembers trying to cover it up with mock-offence and pretend.

”I told you it’s not my fault I’m shorter than you,” he’d said, flipping Eliott off, which only made Eliott laugh. He’d taken the phone from Lucas’s hands, grinning wide, their fingers brushing, and he was probably completely unaware of how Lucas’s chest was suddenly too tight for his heart, how he had to fight another stupid blush from creeping onto his face.

”That’s not what I mean,” Eliott told him, inspecting the phone case as if a generic all-black plastic it was made of was somehow interesting for him. ”It’s because you’re very defensive and don’t let people get close easily, but you’re also very cute once you finally let someone in. You know?” and then, before Lucas’s overworked heart could decide on a response and his dazzled mind could come up with something to say, Eliott had already stuck the sticker onto his phone and was pushing the device back into Lucas’s loose grip, and then he was smiling at him again, saying, ”There you go, Lu.”

And as Lucas lies there in the dark, staring at his silent phone, his heart suddenly heavy at 1 in the morning, he thinks, fuck Eliott. Fuck him. Fuck him for being so unfair, for doing things he never had any right to do, for being so sweet and so nice and so kind through and through, with his smiles and his gifts and his attention.

Lucas thinks about picking his phone up from the nightstand and calling Marc. About telling him, I wanted to hear your voice, or sorry about today, or anything, really, just for the sake of it. He thinks he should — they are almost official, after all, four dates and a few perfectly nice kisses in, holding hands in coffee shops, sitting next to each other close enough for their knees to brush.

And then he thinks about how Eliott looked at him earlier, about his shy smile and hopeful gaze and how the world faded around the edges, the second their eyes met.

Love is not a decision. He knows that. But other things are, maybe.

Lucas doesn’t call.

*

Another throwback, just because — the night they talked about the confession, after Eliott said, ”Do you know what it’s like to be told that by someone like you?” and after Lucas made up his mind and got up from the ground to finally go home, after he’d said, ”We’ll figure it out,” Eliott said one more thing.

”It’s a goddamn honour, Lucas,” he’d told him. In the night air, the words sounded very raw. Lucas had turned to him, then, feeling a little dizzy and very tired and sad, overall, but still covering it up. The trick of the light in Eliott’s eyes settled, then solidified. ”To be loved by you. You, of all people.”

*

His fifth date with Marc begins with an awkward kiss on the cheek and ends with a break-up.

It’s very simple, really. In the end, there’s not much to say.

”I think your heart is not in it,” Marc tells him, looking a little defeated and a little disappointed, but not too hurt. That, at least, is a good thing. ”I think your heart is somewhere else.”

And what is Lucas supposed to say to that, exactly?

So they just…part ways. The ending comes like the beginning came, not anticipated but still there, and Lucas finds himself not feeling much at all, then. It’s awful of him, maybe. Probably, even. Maybe he should have tried harder, or should have been more stubborn, maybe he should have said, my heart is right there, what do you mean? and fight.

But the truth is — Lucas is tired of fighting. Tired of fighting himself, and Eliott, and everyone around, of fighting Imane’s soft glances and Basile’s unsubtle remarks and Yann’s too-kind questions and there is not much strength in him, really, there’s never been, despite what everyone else always thinks. So he doesn’t fight. Sometimes, that’s just how it is.

”I’m sorry,” he only says, at the end of it all, and if Marc was hoping for a different answer, it doesn’t show on his face. ”I’m a mess.”

Marc sighs, but then he’s shrugging, aiming for nonchalance, and Lucas takes it as such with a small flicker of relief behind his sternum.

”That’s okay, I guess,” Marc tells him, in his highlighter-like t-shirt and with his round glasses and dark brown eyes. ”Aren’t we all?”

*

The rest goes like this — he doesn’t know how the hell the boys find out that he’s freshly broken up with, but somehow they do, and they keep harassing him in the group chat to come over to Yann’s on Friday to ”drink the sadness away”. In all honesty, Lucas is not really sad. But maybe he is a little weary, and a little sick of going back and forth between what he’s feeling and who he’s feeling it for, and a little tired.

So he goes.

Yann’s apartment, when he gets there, is already full of people he’s never met before and loud music and booze, whiskey and vodka and beer, mostly the cheap, nasty kind, but Lucas barely drinks anything anyway. Arthur and Basile are having a karaoke battle in the corner of the living room, and it’s horrifying. At one point, he spots Emma and Daphné dancing together. It is almost fun, he thinks as he pushes past people to get to the kitchen, his red solo cup empty but his mind still clear. It’s not bad.

Eliott is here, too. It is, Lucas guesses, nobody’s fault. He spots him on the way, near the balcony, where he is talking to Idriss and Sofiane and a couple of other people Lucas doesn’t know, and again — Lucas is tired. Exhausted, just a little bit.

That’s why he allows himself a second of leeway, then. He leans against the doorframe and looks, for a moment, again, at the contour of Eliott’s profile, at how his shirt is loose on his shoulders, and catches the exact moment Eliott throws his head back and laughs at something, free and pretty, with his hair sticking to his forehead and his skin glistening in the lights.

Lucas turns his head away.

There is something, he thinks in the back of his head as he steps into the kitchen where it is less crowded and less suffocating, about standing in a room full of people and only really looking at one person.

*

He stays in the kitchen for a while. People keep coming and going, vanishing into the crowd like it’s an ocean, and Lucas watches it all from where he’s perched on the kitchen counter right next to the sink. He pours tap water into his slightly mistreated plastic cup and just sits and listens to bits of conversations as people pass him by, watches as the night gets darker and darker outside the window.

He doesn’t know how Eliott finds him, but it happens.

If it was in a different time, he would have thought that it’s a sign, maybe. See, Lucas used to read into it a lot, and build his high hopes on it — on how he and Eliott always seemed to gravitate towards each other, about how often they ended up huddled somewhere together, about how easy it’s always been to find Eliott in a crowd. Lucas has spent countless parties watching how Eliott turned people’s heads, how they followed him with their eyes, and used to flush happily at the fact that he was the one Eliott always sought out in the end. But it never meant anything. Still doesn’t.

That’s fine.

But Eliott finds him, anyway. Something passes over his face when he notices him, but it is quick to vanish, and then he’s walking over to where Lucas is sitting. Lucas tries to ignore the way his throat tightens a little at that and braces himself, on autopilot, for a confrontation, because that’s all they’ve been doing, lately, as much as he wished things were different.

But it doesn’t happen.

Eliott only fills a glass with water from the tap, instead, keeps his eyes on it and doesn’t say a word. Lucas just sits there next to him and barely moves himself. The noises of the party and other people’s chatter fade away into the background, somewhere far, mix with the clinking of glasses and bursts of laughter. Lucas thinks, I’d leave, if I were drunk, but he isn’t. So he doesn’t go.

He notices, almost involuntarily, that Eliott must be a little nervous if the way he fiddles with the tap is anything to go by.

”So, uhm,” is the first thing Eliott says to him after a drawn-out moment, after he’d filled his glass to the brim and put it on the counter and didn’t drink a drop from it, ”where’s your guy?”

For a second, Lucas doesn’t know what to say. Eliott sounds like Lucas is feeling — unsure and weird and muted, kind of, too quiet for the setting they’re in. Lucas isn’t used to that, from Eliott. It makes something in his chest stir.

He decides to go with, ”Not here.”

It’s a little too curt and Eliott flinches just slightly, then fiddles with his glass. He says, ”Oh. Okay.”

They’re quiet for a moment again. There are shouts coming from the direction of the living room, then someone turns the music down a bit, but Eliott doesn’t turn to check what’s happening, so Lucas doesn’t either. They stay as they are — close but also miles apart, hesitant, hovering. In another universe, it crosses his mind, maybe that’s how they met — at a party, in Yann’s kitchen, talking about something silly right there by the sink, without the mess of Lucas’s bundled up feelings to fuck it up even before it started.

Lucas takes a breath, tries to push whatever it is in his chest down and away before saying, softer this time, ”We’re not together. Anymore.”

Eliott turns his head at that, sharp, surprised. It’s the first time tonight that he looks Lucas right in the face and his eyes are huge, coloured dark with the scant light in the room. He looks like he’s waiting for Lucas to continue, maybe, just for a second, but Lucas doesn’t really have anything else to give, so he just shrugs. It feels like a capitulation of sorts. Like armistice.

Eliott asks, eventually, with something in his voice, ”Why?”

You know why, Lucas thinks. You know.

But he doesn’t say it.

He just shrugs again, helpless. It is how it is. There is nothing to explain, really, because he’s tried that already and failed, time and time again. It must show on his face, or Eliott is just looking for it, because when Lucas doesn’t say anything, he tells him, ”I’m sorry to hear that.”

Are you, is what Lucas wants to say at first, but it wouldn’t be fair, because Eliott sounds like he always does, infuriatingly kind. Don’t be wouldn’t be right also. He chews through all the words on his tongue and chooses carefully in the end, puts every ounce of lightness he has left in him when he says, ”I don’t think I need your drunk apologies, Eliott.”

Eliott clicks his tongue. ”I’m not drunk,” he says, and yeah, Lucas knew that already. They’re probably the only sober people at the party. And then Eliott says, ”Even though I don’t think he was right for you, I’m still sorry.”

And that—that’s not fair. That’s not fair.

The thing behind Lucas’s sternum grows, suddenly, makes it difficult to breathe. His chest is too tight for his heart. He grips the counter with such force that it digs into his palms and then he holds on, holds on.

He says, ”I don’t need your approval, either, you know.”

Eliott straightens up at that. Like this, Lucas sitting on the counter, they’re almost the same height. At least that, Lucas guesses, is fair when not much else isn’t, because here they are again, almost-arguing, even when he wished and hoped for it not to happen anyway. He thinks, how many more times.

”I know that,” Eliott is saying in the next moment, like an apology, but Lucas doesn’t want it. He doesn’t want another “I’m sorry” and “Don’t do this”. He doesn’t want that. Eliott can take it all back. ”I just meant—”

”I don’t care what you meant,” he cuts in. The counter is solid under his hands. ”I don’t care, Eliott. Do you really think I want your opinion on this?” And then, ”Am I supposed to be unrequitedly in love with you forever? Is that what you want?”

Eliott deflates, then. His facade drops steadily, just a little, and for once he isn’t smiling, and Lucas doesn’t know if it’s for better or worse. Eliott’s smile is the thing he loves the most, really, but recently, even the thought of it has only made him want to cry.

”No, that’s not what I want,” Eliott says finally. His eyes are gentle. He is looking right at Lucas, and Lucas thinks that it is, somehow, very brave. ”I want you to be happy. That’s all. It’s all I want.” And then, when Lucas doesn’t say anything to that, Eliott asks, quietly, ”Aren’t you going to ask why?”

Lucas wants to. He really does. But he is scared of questions, at this point, and of answers he hoped for that never came, of getting his heart broken again and again, of breaking it all by himself with how naive and stupid it is. He is angry at Eliott and mad at himself and why, why did Eliott even come here in the first place?

That’s why he says, ”I don’t think I want to know anymore,” and then, not giving Eliott the time to make him question this decision as well, Lucas adds, ”Please, can you just— can you just go?”

Eliott does, even though his eyes look sad.

It is another thing Lucas loves him for.

*

And then, later, as he’s stumbling home at 2 in the morning, he gets a text.

i’m at your apartment building, Lucas reads, squinting, i really need to talk to you.

And then, ten seconds after that, as if hesitating, Eliott sends, please.

*

”Hi,” is what Eliott says when Lucas gets there ten minutes later, already weirdly uneasy. ”Um— you haven’t answered my text?“

Lucas hasn’t. He doesn’t know what he was supposed to write anyway, because ”of course” was too vulnerable and ”i don’t want to see you” was not true, not entirely. So he just came, instead. He doesn’t know how long Eliott has been standing here on the street already, but he looks like he’s been here for a while — his hair is windswept and he’s kind of hunched, hands in his pockets, and he’s looking at Lucas through the dark. For a moment, Lucas just kind of looks back at him.

”What are you doing here?” he says at last. It comes out a little rough.

”I have— something to say,” Eliott says, then licks his lips a little like he does when he’s unsure of something. ”I wanted to talk.”

About what, Lucas wants to ask at first, but it would be a little rude. Talk, then would, too. He’s not sure if he’s ready to listen to whatever it is that Eliott has to say to him, but then again, maybe the sooner he deals with it, the better. Eliott’s listened to him, after all, the first time around, then the second. How much worse can it get, right.

”Let’s go inside, then.”

”Actually, I would — can we talk here?”

Lucas frowns. It’s almost completely dark here, outside, and kind of creepy with the only source of light being a streetlamp, and even though the day was warm, the night really isn’t. ”Why?”

Eliott sends him a strange half-smile. ”If we’re in public, you’re less likely to punch me when I’m done talking.”

In public, he says, even though there’s hardly anyone around. Lucas is not sure if it’s a bad joke to ease the weird tension between them or just Eliott being himself. It’s hard to tell, sometimes. ”Are you serious?”

In response, Eliott runs a hand through his hair. Lucas doesn’t think he’s aware of the gesture. ”Yeah? I don’t know. I’m kind of nervous.”

”Eliott, what is this about?”

Eliott looks up at him from where he’s been staring at the ground. He’s biting at his lip again. But there’s a firm set to his jaw, now, and something unyielding about the way he holds himself. His eyes lock with Lucas’s and then stay.

”Lucas, listen, I—” he starts, but then shakes his head, as if correcting himself. ”I’m gonna start at the beginning. This is going to be a mess, I’m sorry.”

What is going to be a mess, Lucas wants to ask, here in front of his apartment building, standing in the darkness, feeling a little unsettled, but then Eliott breathes in and starts talking.

”When you confessed, months ago,” he starts, and Lucas’s heart aches a little at the memory, still, ”I— didn’t see that coming at all. Looking back at it now, maybe I should have. Maybe a smarter person would have seen it. But I didn’t at the time, and I was— I was very blindsided. I panicked. I panicked and I turned you down because I didn’t want everything to change between us so suddenly, you know — which was fucking stupid, because I should have known it would change anyway.”

Lucas opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. Eliott looks down again, swallows, and then goes on.

”I told myself I wasn’t the right person for you, and I still kind of think that. You deserve someone brave, Lucas, and good and kind, and I’m not—there are so many things that are wrong with me. There’s so much.” A breath, a pause. ”And I was a coward, I was scared of talking to you at first, and then I was scared of what I was feeling, and you were so sad. You were— so sad, I made you so sad, but you were trying to make your peace, you were trying so hard, and I thought — if I were right for you, I would have never made you go through such a thing. But I’m selfish, and I’m a shitty person, so I did. I thought—”

Eliott still isn’t looking at him. Lucas can feel his heart in his throat, his pulse hammering in his head. It’s not that cold, really, but he feels like he’s freezing. It’s—

And Eliott’s saying, ”I thought I could fix it, you know. On my own terms, because that’s how I am, trying to cover my own ass when I’m not even the one hurt. I thought I had time, that I could show you slowly, find a way to make you see that I—yeah. Take you out somewhere, show you some paintings, or maybe invite you over, or say that I miss you and that you’re important to me, all those things. Those are all true,” he says, ”but aren’t the things I should be telling you.”

Lucas’s lungs feel too small, all of a sudden. ”Eliott,” he manages at last. He doesn’t know what’s happening. ”What—”

”And then you were suddenly moving on, already with someone else, and I saw you and just—” Eliott shakes his head like he’s frustrated with himself.“ I was running out of time, but it would be so unfair to take all the effort you put into rebuilding our friendship and just throw it out the window—”

Lucas more feels than hears himself speak. ”Eliott,” he says, feeling kind of numb. ”What are you—”

”I know those are all shitty excuses,” Eliott cuts him off. Lucas can’t remember the last time he’s seen him struggle with words so much. ”And I’m really sorry. But I don’t have any better ones.” He breathes in, breathes out. “I was scared and confused and selfish and I’m so sorry, Lu.” And then, outside of Lucas’s apartment building, in the dark, Eliott tells him, lifting his head up, ”I’m in love with you. I have been in love with you for a while, but I’m scared that I’m too late, now.” And then, quieter, ”Please tell me if I’m too late.”

And Lucas is— quiet. Very still. For what feels like a very long moment.

This is what it feels like when streams freeze over in the winter, he thinks numbly. His heart is beating so fast, but it feels like there’s no oxygen in his brain. He keeps looking at Eliott and keeps repeating his words in his head, but they barely make any sense. They barely make sense.

”Why didn’t you say anything,” is the first thing that finally comes to him, so that’s what he says. Lucas feels, for the second time tonight, a lot like someone just socked him in the face. The words feel foreign in his mouth, like he’s speaking some made-up language. ”Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Eliott winces, kind of.

”What was I supposed to say, Lucas?” he asks, and he sounds weird. Breathless, like he never does. He sounds like Lucas feels. ”When you were sitting there with a different guy, looking more at peace than I’ve seen you look in months? More yourself than I’ve seen you look in a while?” A sigh. ”There’s no good way to bring something like that up, and you didn’t talk to me at all and…” When Lucas looks at him again, he’s looking back. ”I don’t blame you. I don’t. I understand — you were so brave, and all I had to do was say like, two words, and I didn’t even manage that because I was scared. That’s not okay.”

”No,” Lucas says, still dazed. ”No, that’s not okay.”

”Yeah,” Eliott says, smiling a little now, but it’s not a happy smile. It’s self-deprecating, tilted, heartbreaking, just a little. Lucas wants to wipe it off of his face. ”If I’m too late, I understand. If you don’t— want this, anymore.”

And Lucas thinks, God, dear God, and, dazed and with his heart in his throat, with the rush of blood in his head, he takes two steps and kisses him.

It’s a little graceless, at first. Eliott’s breath catches when their lips meet, and Lucas’s whole body still feels kind of numb. His own pulse is everything he can hear. But then Eliott cups his face, thumb stroking his cheekbone, and Lucas tilts his head and their lips slide together and they’re kissing. They’re kissing. He grips Eliott’s jacket, Eliott lets him press closer and they’re kissing, sweet and dizzying and warm and Lucas just lets it happen. Lets Eliott kiss him and lets himself kiss back, again and again until time goes a little wobbly. Until he runs out of breath.

”You’re such an asshole,” is the first thing Lucas says when they part, words shaky. He grips Eliott’s jacket tighter. ”You’re the biggest fucking idiot I’ve ever met.”

He can feel the warmth of Eliott’s breaths on his skin.

”I know,” Eliott says, a low sound. He is holding himself very still. ”I’m the biggest idiot I’ve ever met, too.”

And Lucas leans in again and kisses him, feeling angry and relieved and nervous and happy and a little like he’s dreaming, too. All those things, all at once. It blooms in his chest like a garden, and he is full of it.

Eliott keeps kissing back. He keeps kissing back as Lucas moves his hands from the front of Eliott’s jacket to his shoulders, keeps kissing back as Lucas deepens the kiss and as Lucas’s breath catches. Eliott kisses his bottom lip, his top lip, holds Lucas’s face in his hands and the touch is so gentle it’s almost cautious and they keep kissing. Lucas shivers, doesn’t know if it’s from the chilly wind or from something else entirely.

Then someone across the street cheers loudly, screams what sounds like a tipsy ”Go get some!” and Lucas can’t help the grin that breaks out at that, spills all over his features, feeling so dumb and so young and jittery. Eliott kisses the corner of his mouth, once, twice, again. His lips are warm.

”I’m so angry at you,” Lucas tells him because he is, he should be, will be later, but right now he’s also something else. Eliott’s ears are just slightly red, and the tip of his nose as well. His lips are red, too, but that’s from kissing. That’s because they kissed. It happened. ”But I understand, I think. Love is scary.”

”Yeah,” Eliott says, and then, in an attempt at lightening the mood, or maybe out of genuine concern, ”Does this mean you’re not going to punch me?”

”I haven’t decided yet.”

”Okay,” he says, low, tender like a bruise, then adds, ”That’s alright.”

And see — Eliott loves him. Lucas thought he knew what it was like to love someone, before. His parents, all his friends, Yann and Mika and Lisa and Manon, and then Eliott, too. But maybe he was a little bit wrong. He was wrong about many things, apparently.

Eliott’s still cupping Lucas’s face in his palms. His hands are shaking a little, either from the nerves or from the cold. Lucas covers Eliott’s hands with his own, because that is, apparently, something he can do, now.

”Just for the record,” he says, then, because it feels important that Eliott knows, ”nothing is wrong with you. Okay? There is nothing wrong with you, Eliott.” And then, he smiles just a little, hoping it looks like an encouragement. ”And if there’s anything wrong with you, then there must be something wrong with me as well. We are both a mess, me and you.” He catches Eliott’s gaze. ”Alright?“

And Eliott looks at him, open and vulnerable and so, so stupid, silly and kind and everything in between, and turns his head, kisses the inside of Lucas’s palm, presses his smile into Lucas’s skin, and says, ”Alright.”

*

A throwback to a different time and a different place: Lucas’s heart is in his throat and he keeps thinking, love is terrifying. He keeps staring at his own hands. He feels young and silly, just a little damaged, a little out of place and frail. He’s in love and keeps thinking, I made a mistake. What if I made a mistake?

Fast forward to now: it was the right universe all along.

It’s all okay.

[allycat-writes]

Dress

A/N: Still on my Doctor Strange kick and not at all sorry about it. This contains exactly zero IW or Endgame spoilers (and basically ignores both movies except that pretty much everyone knows everyone). So, bam. Will Tony Stark and Stephen Strange get along with both of their egos long enough for all involved parties to celebrate his fiancée Pepper’s birthday gala celebration?

Pairings: Stephen Strange x Master of the Mystic Arts!Reader, Tony Stark x Pepper Potts, Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff, Vision x Wanda Maximoff

Warnings: Uh, literally none this time I think. A tiny bit of jealousy and overprotectiveness? Maybe some implied messing around sorta in public?

Also, as always, likes are incredible, but reblogs (and getting this out to a larger audience!!!) are gold, kisses, lovelies!

(Not my GIF)

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“I thought you hated Tony Stark.”

“I do. Which is precisely why I have to show up and outshine him at his own party.” You sighed, turning to roll your eyes at Stephen as he examined his reflection in the mirror. You sat down on the nearest surface to slip your heels on with a slight wince at the discomfort of the shoes. Stephen struggled with the bow tie for a moment, feeling your eyes watching him from across the room. He sighed, turning towards you with a small smile. “Would my lovely girlfriend be my hands once more?” You smiled back, standing up and crossing the room to him. You reached out, softly fixing his bow tie.

“There. Handsome as ever, Stephen,” you breathed, flipping his shirt collar down and smoothing it out.

“I’ll have the prettiest girl on my arm for the night.” You blushed under Stephen’s soft gaze, his eyes focused on your face. He took your hand, spinning you around to examine the emerald dress clinging to your body. Stephen smiled, pulling you close. “How have I been this fortunate? What in my life has been good enough to warrant this? You being here? With me?” You smiled, your cheeks heating up at his kind words. Stephen gently took your chin between his thumb and index finger to draw you closer with a shaky hand as he leaned towards you, pressing your lips to his. After a moment, you hummed and pulled away.

“If we’re not careful, we might not make it to Stark’s party at all,” you teased him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. Stephen laughed.

“Oh no, we’re attending this party. I have to go remind Stark that, stunning as Pepper is, my girlfriend is the most stunning creature to ever exist.” Stephen turned to look in the mirror once again before turning back to you. He offered you an arm and you smiled, happily accepting it. He raised his free hand to form a portal. You stepped through together and started up the stairs of the building. A well dressed man opened the door for you, stepping aside so you and Stephen could pass.

“Thank you,” you murmured, giving the man a kind smile.

“Of course Stark would throw a party this extravagant,” Stephen muttered, his eyes roaming over the interior of the building.

“What is this gala even for?”

“Sabrina the Teenage Witch! Witch Doctor! Glad you guys could make it to Pepper’s birthday gala. Honestly didn’t expect either of you to show up,” Tony started, causing you and Stephen to turn towards him.

“I did RSVP to this. Why wouldn’t we be in attendance?”

“You and me don’t really get along most of the time, Doc,” Tony shrugged. He looked the pair over and gave a low whistle. “You two clean up nice, magicians.” You smiled.

“Isn’t Stephen just the handsomest thing you’ve ever seen?” you asked, giving Stephen a half-smile. He smirked. Tony laughed, nodding his head.

“Definitely an upgrade from the cape,” Tony agreed, with a grin. “But do the rings really match the outfits?” Stephen scoffed.

“Like either of us would go anywhere without our sling rings, Stark.” Tony rolled his eyes as he took his sunglasses off. He gestured to a waiter carrying glasses of champagne, the young boy hurrying over. You smiled, picking up a long stemmed glass with two fingers, taking a delicate sip. The boy smiled back as Stephen picked up a glass as well. Tony gave a small salute to the couple before starting away.

“Well this should make for an interesting night,” you whispered, your eyes scanning the room at the superheroes, government agents, and normal people mingling in the spacious ballroom. “Hey, uh, Stephen?”

“Hmm?” Stephen hummed, his attention turning back to you.

“Isn’t part of your job as Sorcerer Supreme to keep an eye out for threats to our universe?”

“Obviously,” Stephen muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Well, Loki is right over there with his brother and Wanda Maximoff.” Stephen turned, his eyes scanning the room. He froze as he spotted the dark-haired god, his eyes lazily sweeping the room. Loki fixed Stephen with a bored stare until he spotted you by his side, his expression changing to one of intrigue.

“Oh no.” Stephen started to pull you away, causing you to lightly bump into someone. You opened your mouth to apologize when you turned to look at the person, your eyes widening when you realized the person you had bumped into had been Princess Shuri of Wakanda.

“I am so—” Shuri laughed, waving a hand.

“It is really not an issue, I should have also been looking at where I was going. My apologies,” she replied, grinning at you brightly. She dipped her head at Stephen. “Sorcerer Supreme.”

“Princess,” Stephen greeted her, dipping his head in return. Shuri gave you a wink before slipping off. You watched as Okoye gave an exasperated sigh before hurrying after the young girl, rolling her eyes at you as she passed. You grinned, turning your head to watch them.

“Doctor Strange!” You and Stephen turned at the voice, relaxing at the sight of Steve Rogers flanked by Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson.

“Captain America. It’s a pleasure to see you again,” Stephen replied with an easy smile. You met Sam’s eyes and a smirk replaced the small smile on his lips.

“Hey, Y/N. Having fun?”

“So far, so good but the night is still young and I have only just arrived,” you mused, a small grin on your face. Sam laughed.

“Well, you ever get too bored, I’ll be around.” You felt Stephen tense up beside you, his arm tightening around yours.

“Thanks, Sam, I’ll keep that in mind.” Stephen excused the two of you before steering you away. “You’re the one who wanted to keep our relationship private, Strange,” you reminded him, gently.

“I’m just glad Stark is taken or he would never shut up about you.”

“Y/N! Stephen! I’m so glad that you two made it!” You turned to smile at Pepper, letting go of Stephen to hug the redhead.

“Happy birthday, Pepper!” Pepper laughed, hugging you back.

“Thank you so much,” she breathed, smiling widely. “My fiancé did make sure to welcome you, didn’t he?”

“Yes, your intended did welcome us in with open arms,” Stephen replied, hugging Pepper once you had let her go.

“Good, I’m glad. I know you boys have your rivalry so I’m glad you’re getting along tonight,” Pepper paused as someone called her name, “I really hope you lovebirds enjoy yourselves tonight.” She shot you a wink before moving back into the crowd.

“I thought—”

“I didn’t tell her. But you have been rather glued to my side all night,” you reminded Stephen, raising an eyebrow. Stephen opened his mouth to speak when a gentle hand grabbed your elbow. You turned your head sharply, relaxing at the sight of Wanda and Natasha grinning at you.

“Come on, Y/N. Let’s have some fun, no?” Wanda whispered, raising a delicate eyebrow. You nodded, grinning back. You squeezed Stephen’s hand before following after Wanda, Nat walking beside you. “Who are you trying to impress with that dress? It is definitely stunning. And half the men in this room can’t seem to keep their eyes of you, Strange included.” You glanced back, Stephen’s eyes still trained on you as he sipped his champagne. The girls beside you giggled.

“Maybe I am trying to impress Doctor Strange,” you shot back, waggling your eyebrows suggestively. Wanda laughed, shaking her head at you.

“You hardly need it. At least 43 percent of the men in the room are plotting to find a way to get you to leave with them,” Natasha smirked, glancing around the room.

“I literally walked in on a man’s arm.”

“And? That does not stop them, darling,” Wanda pointed out over her shoulder.

“Okay, enough of my love life, where’s Vis?” you asked, scanning the room as Wanda led you to a secluded spot by the wall.

“He is here somewhere. I think he and Bruce were speaking together earlier.” You smiled as you noticed Vision making his way through the crowd towards the three of you. Vision smiled at you and Natasha as he reached Wanda’s side.

“Do you ladies mind if I steal my beloved away for a while?” he began, still smiling gently. You grinned, shaking your head lightly. Vision turned to look down at Wanda, offering her his hand. “Wanda, darling, would you care to dance?” Wanda smiled, accepting the hand before turning to wave as Vision walked her towards the dance floor.

“Good. I’m glad her and Vision are happy.” You nodded in agreement.

“Speaking of happiness, where’s Clint? I haven’t seen him yet.” Natasha turned her head, gesturing to where he was leaned against the bar talking to Rhodey as he sipped on his drink.

“Are you and Stephen ever going to actually announce your relationship?” You raised an eyebrow at the assassin.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you replied, coolly. Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sure you don’t.” Natasha turned as Clint approached, smiling softly at him. Clint smiled back, brushing a reddish-auburn curl behind Natasha’s ear.

“Would you two just get out of here? You’re making me sick,” you teased, smirking slightly. Natasha rolled her eyes at you, taking Clint’s hand and starting to pull him away. You watched them go, still smiling slightly. You turned to take a step, almost running into someone again.

“I would be more careful if I were you, darling.” You tensed up at the familiar voice of the Asgardian prince, his blue-green eyes fixed on your face and expression curious.

“Loki.”

“It is, Y/N, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Was there something I could do for you?” you replied, keeping your voice even and uninterested. Loki’s smile widened at your disinterest.

“Would you care to dance?”

“I try to avoid dancing with sadistic beings with genocidal tendencies.” Loki laughed.

“What harm can one dance cause? I promise I’ll be on my best behavior,” he paused as you rolled your eyes at the sarcasm expertly lacing his words, “I won’t stop asking until you say yes.” You sighed, grimacing slightly. “Just one dance and I will let you enjoy the rest of this evening.”

“Why do you want to dance with me so badly?”

“I always attempt to make it a habit to at least share a single dance with the most stunning attendee at every party I attend.” Loki extended his hand, his expression intense. You paused, weighing over the options in your head before you hesitantly took his hand, letting him lead you over to the crowd of people dancing in the center of the room. “Milady.” He bowed before raising back up and placing a hand on your waist, taking your hand with the other. You placed your free hand on his shoulder, cautiously. As you danced, you caught sight of Stephen from across the room, his eyes narrowed at you. As the dance came to an end, Loki opened his mouth to speak before someone grabbed your hand, pulling you away. You startled, glancing over to see Stephen walking in front of you, his grip tight on your hand as he pulled you into a hallway, away from prying eyes.

“What on earth are you doing?” he whispered, turning towards you.

“I was dancing. It was one dance in a room full of people. I don’t think I was in any danger, Stephen,” you replied, your voice soft as you crossed your arms in front of you.

“He is dangerous, Y/N. He should be the last person you associate with.”

“Stephen, I’m just as good as you are. I can take care of myself. You don’t need to protect me.” Stephen sighed, his body sagging slightly as the tension left his body. He tugged your hand gently, pulling you towards him. You rolled your eyes before you moved towards him so he could wrap his arms around you. You relaxed slightly at his embrace until he started moving towards the wall. “What are you doing?” Stephen smirked, pressing you against the wall, his body moving to cover yours.

“Guaranteeing that everyone knows that you are spoken for in every sense of the word, my love.”

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In case anyone is curious, that’s the dress ^^^ (or just imagine a different one, that’s fine too!)

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@mezzomercury

@angeleyesmalek

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #259

"i went straight to heaven, but i kept on knockin’.”

What's something that makes you feel more creative? Music. What are the last three nail polish colors you wore? Wow, idk the last time I wore nail polish, but probably black or maroon. What's the last thing you binge watched? Avatar: The Last Airbender w/ Sara. Do you watch youtube videos or tv shows more? YouTube is essentially my TV. Quite literally - I don't have a television in my room because I never watch it. What's a DIY project that you don't think actually works? Oh dude, plenty. I have DIY-obsessed friends online as well as a Pinterest, I know this shit, lmao. I can name one though with total certainty because I was with a friend when she tried that disgusting "YOU CAN MAKE cuPCAkES IN A C uP!!!!!" crap. It's the most eggy shit you'll ever try. Do you collect Mason jars to use for crafts? No, but I think those crafts are generally super cute. Have you ever gotten rid of something and then regretted it? If so, what? (or what's one thing?) Oh yeah, one of my biggest being my senior prom pictures, but not for the reason you'd expect (save for two pictures of us that're just REALLY fuckin cute): I want them back because goddamn I was pretty ok and I miss that now that I hate my body every waking moment of every day. :^) What color is the zip-up hoodie you wear the most? Don't have one w/ a zipper, they're ugly. Do you live in an apartment that has inspections? No. Do you hate taking naps during the day? Nooo I love naps and usually take one a day. I tend to feel really tired all over again a few hours or so after I wake up. Who in your immediate family has the best natural hair? MEEEEEEEEEEEE. Would you ever audition for American Idol? Hell no. Do you know anyone who thinks they're more talented than they are? Lol wow, this is mean. I don't think so. Do you buy gum? Rarely, even though I like it. What's your favorite dollar store?  I don’t have a favorite, I'd say? But I think we normally go to Dollar General. How many cell phones have you had in your lifetime? Maybe like, six? Have you ever been inside a Victorian mansion? BITCH I WISH!!!!!!!!!!!! I would kill to get married in one, omfGGGGGGGGGGG. What was the most boring field trip you ever want on? I don't remember a bad one. I loved going on field trips. The last time you went, what were your favorite rides at Cedar Point? I’ve never been. Which country would you most like to visit? Eeeeek idk, but probably South Africa. What are your favorite types of videos to watch on YouTube? What I watch on YouTube has become pretty diverse, but I know my favorites are easily Mark's actual big projects w/ egos 'n shit alksjdflk;w gOOD SHIT MY FRIENDS. I still love let's plays, of course! Are you a hoarder? No. Is there a guy (or girl) that you wish things had worked out with? Yes. If you were to start a collection, what would it be? I'd loooove Shadow of the Colossus stuff, particularly the amazing figures they used to have only in Japan. And World of Warcraft stuff; all I have rn is an Illidan poster and a fae dragon plushy hanging from my ceiling that Jason got me. If you were rich, what things would you get done cosmetically? Mother of god, a lot. #1, make me skinny again for the love of fuck. Which would result in loose skin being taken off and probably a breast lift because being overweight ruined my comfort with them laskdjfw. Whiten my teeth and give me laser hair removal surgery on my legs, please. Are your parents too controlling? Not at all. Who is your favorite fictitious redhead? VOL'JIN Blizzard what the FUCK give him BACK What shows have you seen on Broadway? None. Who is the prettiest Asian YouTuber that you can think of? Bitch Mark is Korean and he's gorgeous as fuck goddamn it ain't fair. But this is a weird question. What is the best news you've heard lately? When my mom got a follow-up blood test, things looked good!! She especially needed to level out her sugar, which she did well on. She also didn't lose or gain any weight, so that's wonderful. Have you ever flown first class? Hunny I am v poor. Have you ever had food SO bad in a restaurant that you sent it back? I don't believe so, anyway. Do you talk in your sleep? Very regularly now. Have you ever locked yourself out of your house? OOF, yes. Are you the type of person who can shake insults off easily, or do they tend to stick around in your brain & bother you? They stick with me for a long, long time. At least two I remember from years upon years ago. Who was the last person you cut out of your life intentionally? My old therapist that I trusted and loved when I fucking shouldn't have. Where were you raised? By who? Eastern NC, by my parents. What were your first words? "Dada." What were some of your favorite things when you were young? DINOSAURS, Webkinz, Pokemon, and Spyro, to name a few. What did you grow up listening to? Mostly country and pop music. What games did you play in the past? Spyro was my obsession, and I also loved hunting games (ironic, as irl I would never even consider it???) as well as fishing ones, plus Crash Bandicoot. What was the best birthday party you ever had? I'm not sure. How about the best vacation? I'm unsure; I haven't really been on a lot. Do you have any secrets you never intend to tell? Yup. What memory would you like to disappear from your mind forever? A nightmare I had about my dad. If you were someone else, would you be friends with the person you are now? Yeah. Do you consider yourself a smart person? No. What friend in your life has been the greatest influence to you? I don't know. Where is the scariest place you’ve ever been? What made it so terrifying? I shared a bedroom with an EXTREMELY volatile, violent woman once in the mental hospital. As in she had to go in solitary when she had a violent episode, during which she became very destructive to her surroundings, so as you could guess, I was worried about my own wellbeing. She was eventually moved because I was that uncomfortable. Did you celebrate Easter? Are there any holidays you are more inclined to celebrate than others? If so, which? Well, Easter hasn't come yet, but we'll probably go to my sister's house for the kids. We'll celebrate Christmas and Thanksgiving without fail. We don't pay much attention to others. I'd LOVE to do something for Halloween, we just never have anywhere to go/anything to do. What was the last thing you deleted? Pictures. What colors make up the majority of your wardrobe? Is there any color you like, but don’t wear often? There's black there. Oh, there's s'more black. What's that???? More bLACK????? MAN, I wish I could pull off pink. When was the last time you were in any amount of pain? I had a pretty intense headache yesterday. Who was the last person to hug you? Do you hug this person often? My niece, and yeah, every time I visit. What are you most likely to argue or debate about? The fact I almost never leave my pajamas lmao. What was the last show you watched? Have you seen it before, or is it something you’re watching for the first time? A few days back, I was reeeaaally bored and actually watched TV deliberately, CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?????? It was The Witcher; wasn't bad. I'd be willing to watch more. How would you describe your taste in clothing? What would a dream outfit look like to you? uuuuuggggGHHHHHHHH let me be GOTH. Give me a corsette if they weren't notoriously uncomf with plenty of chains 'n stuff. BIG, SPIKY BOOTS. SKINNY LEATHER PANTS. UUUUGGGGGGGHHHHHH. Have you ever tried snowboarding? No. What’s your favorite planet besides Earth? Saturn is dope. Would you ever be a coach for any sport? Nope. What color of eyes do you have? Blue. Do you like tacos? NOOOOOOOOO. White or red wine? Wine is gross. Do you prefer foxes or wolves? Foxes. What’s the youngest you would consider dating? No younger than 21. Do you think suits are sexy? mmmmmmmmmMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM Did you go to high school with your current best friend? No. What is your boss’ (or school prinicpal’s) name? N/A Were you a fan of Michael Jackson before he died? I was never really a fan. Respected him immensely as a musician, I just didn't care much about his music. Turkey or ham for Thanksgiving? Ham. Turkey is always too dry and stringy. Do you look good in hats? I wouldn't know, I haven't worn one in forever. Never with short hair. Colons or equal signs for your smiley face's eyes? Colons. Do you like architecture? If so, do you have a favourite style or structure that you’d like to make note? Yes, and I should really have an answer for this, as architecture was a big part in Art History... Ummm Etruscan stands out, and of course Roman/Greek (even after the class I don't remember their differences well...). I love Middle Eastern architecture, too. What is one of your favorite words, in any language, and why? I just love the sound of "serendipity," as well as uhhhh "sakura" in Japanese and "kanji" in Chinese. I'm trying to think of a German one, as there certainly are some, but they're evading me right now. Where is the farthest you’ve travelled on foot? JESUS FUCK probably going to get Sara's brother from school, mother of all that is holy. But it might just feel like it because it was during the peak of my muscle atrophy in my legs. Are there any songs that you perhaps like but avoid because it makes you sad when heard? A good number. Do you like the area that you live in? What do you like or dislike about the area? NO. There's not shit to do and it's not aesthetically pleasing at all. Do you have a memory of when you really thought that you have lucked out on something? If so, what was it? Uhhhhh. A handful, I guess? Oh, uh, the suicide attempt to name one and probably the biggest. I took way too many of those pills to experience almost zero symptoms of an overdose; I did look up what "too many" was, because I wanted that. I'd say I was pretty fuckin lucky. If you have apps on your mobile phone, which one do you use the most? Facebook. Which do you like better: fantasy or science fiction novels? Why? FANTASY!!! I think it allows more creativity and possibilities of something magically "making sense" because yeah, it's fantasy. Science fiction has more "realness" to it, more, obviously, scientific elements versus make-believe. Do you like opossums? Do you think it is ethically right for others to keep opossums as pets? OPOSSUMS!!!!!!!!! ARE!!!!!!!!!! FANTASTIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They're my second-favorite animals kdsja;lkdjaw. BUT ANYWAY, no, unless it's for rescue reasons. When was the last time someone asked you a huge favor or advice? Do you get asked often by this person? Oh I have no idea. Probably my mom? And no, definitely not. She hates asking for help. What are your thoughts on nihilism? I definitely get it, but it's not my personal outlook. Do you like the snow? More like love. What are your thoughts and feelings towards work/jobs in general? I don't know? I've never even had a real, steady job, so it's hard to really answer... I've only had bad experiences. It's kinda weird to me how you have to work your ass off (usually) to get a job you enjoy, as well as slave for some stupid green paper until the day you die just to stay alive and healthy. But at the same time, it offers a sense of fulfilment and is as well something productive and beneficial to the masses to do. Civilization would be very, very different and unadvanced if we were without them, so I guess it is a necessary thing. Humans gotta work together to keep where we're at. Do you believe in astrology? I've never actually elaborated why I don't believe in it so there ya go: not in the slightest. All it does is offer extremely broad characteristics that, in some light, almost anyone can relate to so they feel included in something. We naturally want to "belong" within something as social creatures, and astrology is an easy one with it being so vast. It gives equally indirect advice that can be applied to a multitude of situations, so people just mold what they read to fit their world. Don't base your goddamn life choices on the random positioning of shit in space. What is something that you’ve made/created? Do you take pride in your creations? Well, way way way too many OCs that I do indeed love a hell of a lot. If you have a Tumblr account, do you have any followers that you wish would not follow you? Well I'm sure there are bots. What kind of books do you generally enjoy to read? Fantasy stuff, mostly. But I also love novels with deep meaning, particularly about life in general. A good plot is mandatory. Does the quality of a video, on YouTube or a television, matter to you? I mean of course in some situations, like if I'm watching something educational/something to gain visual knowledge from. What is one situation that may cause you to become shy (if there is any)? Don't don't don't don't don't point out that my serious interests/things I massively love are "weird" like it's been years and I can still barely explain why my biggest tattoo is a tribute to some fuckface on the Internet lmao. When one is depressed, what can a friend do about it? Do you find that there is a good method to approach people in helping them combat depression? It is SO important to, first, ask them what they want. Do they want advice, an ear to just listen, just your presence, to be alone? As for combating depression, that greatly depends on the origin (if any) of theirs. There are so many factors in answering this question, but what I mentioned should, imo, always be the start. Do you tend to listen to music that embraces your mood or does music dictate your mood? Is it a little bit of both? Definitely both. When I'm sad though, I'm almost definitely listening to somber music too. Do you find yourself to be generally a forgiving person? I'm too goddamn forgiving. Do you have an embarrassing memory that you now look back at and can laugh? If so and if you’re comfortable, could you share one here? Omg I have a Bible-length collection of those suckers. I'd prefer not to. What is one skill that you have worked hard to develop? Is there still room for improvement on that skill? Damn, anxiety-coping mechanisms and actually trusting them to help me through attacks. I used to be convinced that they were useless because it just wouldn't work and weren't immediately effective, but you've gooooooot to trust the process, friends. What do you consider to be your main passion(s) and how did they come about? Spreading awareness of the seriousness of mental health and the comfort of knowing there's hope. You can never stop pushing. My own experience with mental health struggles is definitely the deeeep roots of that. Who do you think influenced you the most in your life so far? Why? Jason changed my life in many ways. Trauma does that. He taught me a lot about the necessity of having faith in yourself to survive on your own, a shitload about love and how it's not some fairy tale, and that people change, even those you least expect to. What is something that you have overheard people talk about that really bothered you? I could name more than a few things about race stuff, living where I do. What do you normally say or how do you normally act in response to a compliment? I usually do this shy laugh and say "thank you" with too much enthusiasm. How many books do you own? Do you have more physical books than electronic books? I've no clue where a lot of my old ones are. I have no electronic ones; I strongly prefer to read a physical book. What are your thoughts on higher education? Is it really necessary? In your opinion, what changes can be made? Depending on your aspiring career, it can be necessary, but just as easily, it can be unnecessary. I know for a fucking fact it should not be NEARLY as expensive as it is. Maybe even free, but I have no idea what monetary concerns that could cause with whoever runs the place. Have you ever received a heartfelt compliment from a stranger? Probably at some point. How many people would you consider to be extremely close to you? "Extremely"... like three lmao. Maybe one more or so. When was the last time you had to speak to a crowd? How well did that go? When I was taking pictures at a wedding last. It went okay. How would you describe your general outlook towards humanity? We by no means deserve to be the apex predator and Earth would be a shitload better without us. How long do you think you could last without any contact with your significant other, best friend, or a person whom you consider would be the closest to you? I'll use my mom here, in which case idk. I don't particularly want to find out. I talk to her at LEAST by text daily. Every day now that she can't work/is always home with me. Have you ever realised that someone was lying, but it was too late to confront them? Nope. Eventually speaking up is how I lost her, but.

[rovvboat]

Painted Flaws - Colossus/Piotr Rasputin x villian!Reader

Part 2

A/N: i’m dead AGAIN(in a good way) from writing this. Hope you enjoy from the bottom of my heart. A lot more to come! 

Let me know how you feel about this series!

Word count: 4.1k

Warnings: nothing too outlandish

Summary: You’re a villian with a moral grey area. You meet Piotr at an art exhibit, but both of you are there for completely different reasons. Though the attraction was inevitable, will it be enough? A growing passionate love wrought with secrecy, both of you try to move through this maze. But when the ball drops, what will you choose?

Tchk Tchk Tchk Tchk Tchk Tchk

Bloop

Piotr types furiously at his phone, only putting it down on the table to get ready for the day. He walks into the kitchen, dressed in denim jeans and a nicely ironed navy-blue Polo shirt – brought together nicely by a brown leather belt. The sudden change in fashion prompts the occupants of the room to look up from their towering plate of pancakes and syrup.

‘’Looks like someone’s going out. Wow… You never leave the mansion, much less in your human form. Where are you off to?’’ NTW asks, mouthful of cereal. ‘’Could it be… that you have a date?’’

‘’You look nice Colossus!’’ Yukio complements from next to NTW.

He gives her a smile – before the unmistakable notification tone sounds from his phone, and the screen is on his face within seconds.

[Try not to look too handsome. Don’t want anyone  else’s eyes on you but mine 😉] 11:24AM  ̬̬

 He grins at the screen and huffs, his thumbs at work again, typing out a response.

NTW and Yukio watch, completely entertained by this new side of Colossus – previously never seen. Their mentor was now looking like teenager about to go on his first date.

‘’Wow, Colossus. Using your phone at the breakfast table. Whose bad influence got you doing such despicable things?’’ NTW feigns a teacher’s concern. Piotr looks up from the screen, suddenly aware of where he was, and immediately put his phone away.

‘’Sorry about that, that was rude of me.’’

‘’Woah, it’s fine, Colossus. I was just teasing. Who’s gotten you in such a good mood this morning? Wait, don’t tell me. Is it that Hot Art Studio Attendant from a week ago?’’

Colossus looks away, flustering a weak response and trying to derail the conversation.

‘’Holy shit–‘’

‘’Language please, NTW.’’ Piotr chides half-heartedly.

‘’No wait, it is them? That’s great, Colossus! Where are you taking them? Well, by the looks of your dressing, I’m guessing somewhere casual.’’

‘’Is it a picnic?’’ Yukio asks in her sweet voice.

Piotr chuckles. ‘’You girls really are quite the detectives. I was thinking of bringing them to the carnival downtown, but… I am not one for… thrilling rides or rollercoasters… and the foods there can be very unhealthy.’’ He confesses.

‘’Hmmm well if that is what you planned, maybe you could try it out first. See if they’re enjoying it. If not you both could discuss something else to do.’’

‘’That does sound like a good way to go about it.’’ He contemplates to himself. ‘’Alright. Please take good care of the mansion. I am off for my… date.’’ Piotr gives a shy smile, as he walks out the door.

 He books a cab to your place, and arrives an hour early. As the cab rumbles off onto the main road, his eyes look ahead and onto the street, and he scans his surroundings. It’s a charming little neighbourhood, with trees swaying leaves that looked like flowers. (How were they pink? But somehow not be flowers?) Piotr mentally scratches his head.

His gaze happen upon a quaint little flower shop at the corner of the street.

Perfect

The doorbell hung at the top of the door gives a cheery ring through the store as Piotr enters.

‘’Hello and welcome to Bert’s Flower House! How may I – Wow.’’ The shopkeeper stops in his tracks, his face awestruck by the man before him.

‘’Hello.’’ Piotr greets the keep – who seems to be in his 20s – whilst unaware of the effect he’s had on him.

‘’I am here to buy some flowers. I was thinking about getting a few that are beautiful, yet easy to handle. I also have a list of colours I would like to get–‘’ Piotr unfolds a piece of paper; scribbled on it were all the names of the prettiest combination of flowers and carnations that he thought would look beautiful – ‘’3 stalks of blue roses…’’ He continues, before the shopkeep interrupts him.

‘’Woah woah, slow down, good-lookin’. Now tell me. Which date is this one? Is it the first date? The second date? Or the ’I’m asking you out with a flower’ date? The ’oh shit it’s their birthday and I forgot something’ date? Or…’’

Piotr listens, amused and wide-eyed, at the surprising number of dates the shopkeeper was very clearly adept at handling. Piotr brings both hands up in a polite gesture to signal that it wasn’t any of those.

‘’It is only the first date.’’ He says sheepishly.

‘’Ah! Then maybe a simple, single rose would do the trick…

Is what you would think is the right answer. But it’s not!’’ The shopkeep smacks the counter in dramatic fashion at the last word. Piotr jumps back slightly, before responding earnestly.  

‘’I was thinking the same. My date… they are… most beautiful. My words fail me, but I would like the flowers to be as beautiful as they are.’’

The shopkeep eyes Piotr with renewed interest. ‘’Well then, follow me.’’

Piotr strolls along the long rows of flowers and plants, taking in the myriad of colours he would –  normally – have on the surface of his artist palette – drying out  – as he hastily works on his art projects; hunched in the closet-sized room that he had, painstakingly, converted into a musky makeshift studio.

The shopkeep strides ahead, his quirky sing-song kind of voice filling the air.

‘’Different flowers have different meanings. Roses, of course, mean intense love. Daffodils symbolize new beginnings. Morning glories are beautiful, and they also signify affection. Here are some right now–‘’ he points to a row of fresh beautiful low-lying shelf filled with baby blue morning glories – ‘’They’re me and my sister’s favourite flower. ‘Morning. Glory.’ How majestic and optimistic does it sound, right?’’ He says, basking in the untamed charm of the flowers.

‘’They look splendid. And I think that they would go wonderfully with 2 stalks of roses.’’ Piotr ponders. ‘’Yes, that is what I would like to purchase. 2 stalks of the most strikingly red roses you have, surrounded by a good number of the blue Morning Glories.’’

The shopkeep raises his eyebrows tentatively. ‘’That… actually looks like it’s going to look pretty good. I’m impressed.’’ He regards Piotr with approval, before heading to the back of the stores and gathering the order in a nice arrangement of cerulean glories and two red roses.

He brings them to the front counter and places the flowers gently onto a translucent crafting paper, skillfully wrapping around the exposed stems – and bringing to life the exact display of flowers that Piotr had envisioned.

His eyes light up as the shopkeep secures the bouquet with a scarlet red ribbon, fastening the middle in a perfect bow.

‘’That’ll be–‘’ the shopkeep pauses as he taps lightning fast onto the register– ‘’$26.99 – but since you were so open to listening to my recommendations, I’ll bring it down to $16.99.’’ He winks.

Piotr grins as he pays for his purchase. ‘’Thank you for telling me. You were of much help to me today! I’ve forgotten to ask. What is your name?’’ Piotr holds out his hand.

The shopkeep smiles, and accepts the handshake. ‘’I’m D.K. It was definitely a pleasure to meet you Mr…?’’

‘’You may call me Piotr.’’ He smiles back.

 Piotr walks towards your apartment building, excitement building alongside his nerves. Each step he takes makes his stomach lurch. He inhales in a sharp breath and slowly puffs out the air – in an attempt to calm his nerves, before jogging up the stairs to the second floor – veering towards the door at the far left, and stopping right before his hand raises in a fist, ready to knock.

I really hope she enjoys today.

He gives three solid knocks on the door, and he hears the telltale clunks of the door opening. You open the door and stand in the doorway, wearing a bright yellow sundress, patterned with white flower patterns snaking around your front, with matching chic navy blue heels. You had your hair falling loosely, framing your face beautifully.

Piotr looks at you, awestruck, mouth-agape; which causes you to giggle and swat playfully at him.

“Gosh Piotr, don't just stare at me like that.” You go to push away a stray strand of hair from your face.

“Sorry I… you look wonderful, dorog–  Y/N.” He stutters at the end, which puzzles you – but you wave it away.

“You look splendid as well, Piotr. We even match! See?” You loop an arm around his, and gently thumb at his shirt.

He brings out the hand he was hiding behind his back, revealing the bouquet he had gotten.

Your smile widens at the sight of the beautifully arranged flowers.

“Oh my Gosh, Piotr they're… so beautiful! You even got me morning glories? They're my favourite!” You take it from his hands and put your nose close to them, getting a whiff of their fragrant petals.

“I am very glad that you like it, Y/N. But they are not even close to your beauty.”

You purse your lips together, before demanding light-heartedly, ‘’stop it! Now, let’s get going! The carnival waits for no one!’’ You tug at his arm, and he follows behind you, chuckling at your blushing red face and insistence at him to not compliment you.

 The sun blasts down your backs by the time you arrive. You stand in line with Piotr; your ears pick up on the rumbling of rollercoasters and the squealing laughter of children, exciting you to no end. 

When you finally entered the carnival, the smell of popcorn, caramel and all things sweet, fried and unhealthy assaults both your noses, but in the best way possible. You make a beeline for the giant cotton candy machine, and Piotr watches you - a fully grown human - standing in line with a bunch of screeching children half your height, and he laughs to himself. The sight was beyond endearing.

You walk next to Piotr, arm in arm, eating your cotton candy - periodically pinching a few clouds off the mass of cotton candy and feeding him, even though he protested at first. He was surprised to find the feeling of it dissolving in his mouth to be satisfying.

You did it with such routine that, somehow – as he was looking around the carnival games – he had his mouth open for you expectantly. You watch him, waiting for him to realise that the sweet wasn’t coming, and as if on cue, he looks at you – registering what just happened – as you crack up at the scene before you.

His face feigns betrayal, before gifting you a deep, rumbling laugh that fills you with warmth – and you find yourself wanting to spend more time around him, laughing, smiling – whatever it may be.

You go a few rounds at the various booths, effectively failing at every one – cue a montage of poorly aimed rings at the ring toss, and awfully close calls at the basketball throws; followed by groans of disappointment, and Piotr watching patiently, amused at your eagerness to play – before you finally reach the softball throw. The objective was to smash the ball through a small, circular layer of paper. Piotr takes up the task, and focuses at the ready.

He throws the first baseball right through the paper, and it crinkles open loudly in victory. He does it 2 more times, with exceptional ease, winning you one of the bigger prizes – a pink tiger as wide as your arms would be if they were outstretched. You squeal, clapping delightedly, as the gamemaster hands you your prize.

‘’Wow, I didn’t know working on a farm would get you so good at aim and throwing. And damn, your muscles must weigh more than any of mine.’’ You inspect his biceps, poking and prodding at them, and look up at him with admiration, clutching at your pink tiger. He lets out a bashful laugh, and you could do nothing but let yourself be completely enamoured by him.

You hear shrieks of exhilaration in the far distance, as the rumbling of the rollercoaster gets closer and closer. You stare at it, and Piotr watches the excitement and adrenaline visibly growing around you. You turn back to him, face bright and eager, before the dreaded words roll off your tongue.

‘’Let’s go on that one.’’ You state, smirking. You had no idea he was squeamish about these things, or that he gets motion sickness easier than most people do. His lip contorts, and you see the uncertainty sit on his face. You nudge at him to get his attention.

‘’You scared of heights?’’

‘’No, it is not… the heights… I don’t think I could handle being thrown around the air like that...’’ He nervously rubs the back of his neck.

‘’Have you ever tried?’’

‘’No… I have not.’’

‘’Well then, that’s more than enough reason for you to do it, right? First time for everything. But hey, I’m not going to force you into it.’’ You get closer, and whisper low into his ear. ‘’But maybe I can sway your decision in my favour.’’ You give him an impish smile. Piotr’s eyes widen at the proposition, but before he could say anything, you’re pulling him into the Performer’s Only section of the circus tent.

You miraculously find what you’re looking for. It’s a makeshift changing area, separated by a long temporary partition.

‘’Y/N, Are you sure–‘’

You turn your body towards him – arms rushing to snake around his neck – before planting a kiss right as he was about to retaliate. His face, surprised at first, mellows into one of focus – his eyes slowly shut, lowering his neck for you to reach him – and he’s completely under your spell within seconds.

It’s hot, and it’s stuffy, under the small tent – but it only adds to the risky nature of it all.

Your lips brush against his, your head tilting, as you savour more and more of him – your soft moans humming against his lips. You tease him with your tongue, and he takes the bait – hastily cupping your face between his hands – as you both get a taste of each other.

Cotton candy.

Your hand slowly trails runs down his neck. His taut chest simply irresistible - as was the rest of him. The light touch of your fingers through his shirt sends shivers down his spine, and you find it such a waste that he didn’t have it off. 

His hands now find themselves on your waist; pulling you, closer, deeper into the kiss. The heat rises from both your bodies, and you feel sweat trickling down your back.

Before you could pull away, his hand gently floats across your butt, down to your thigh, as he hitches one leg around his waist. He holds you close, hand steady at your lower back, as he stands, the rough denim of his jeans so utterly close to your core – and you feel a rush of arousal. 

‘’Piotr…’’ You hum, your breathing low and laboured, into his ear; as he trails, inch by inch, down your neck, his lips never gone for too long from your skin – nibbling and sucking gently, causing you to giggle under your breath. 

You brace for what’s to come next, when

‘’Who’s there?’’ A deep voice sounds out. Your body tenses, and Piotr looks at you, eyebrows raised in alarm.

Busted.

You promptly bring down your leg, smoothing down your dress, as Piotr’s head swivels in the direction of the voice.

‘’You’re supposed to be at the show already! Hurry up and get your asses to the performance’’ The voice grumbles.

You impersonate a surprised and hasty voice, ‘’Yes sir! I’ll be there right away.’’

You finally breathe a breath of relief when you hear a few grunts, and the eventual sound of footsteps leaving the tent. The both of you book it out of there, and when you were finally a good distance away, burst into laughter.

‘’I… cannot BELIEVE he fell for that!’’ You force out the words between a snickers and hearty laughter.

‘’I saw that coming, but I did not think we would get away with it.’’ Piotr admits, as you both finally calm down from the event.

‘’Okay, now for the main event. You ready?’’ The excitement in your voice was hard to mask, and Piotr didn’t want to refuse any of your wishes.

‘’Of course, Y/N. But I am only doing this for you.’’

Your face shows a hint of red. And he smiles at you. You tiptoe up closer to him, giving him a light peck on the cheek. ‘’You’re the absolute best.’’ Before dragging him long behind you towards the thriller of a ride.

  You return home, gripping a nauseated Piotr by the waist with one arm – guiding his hulking body back towards your apartment. He has one arm over you, while the other covers his mouth – his face twisting in a way that showed that he was resisting the compulsion to puke.

The floorboards creak as you stop at your door. You swiftly dig into your bag and grab your keys, quickly unlocking the door, and usher him into the living room.

You walk slowly, one arm still held steadily onto him, towards your bed. His body tenses, and he stops walking. He moves his hand from his mouth to your dresser to steady himself.

"No, please… I will only be needing your restroom. I do not want to intrude." He grimaces, his voice strained.

"No, you need to rest, Piotr. And you're not intruding. I'm happy to have you here. Please, lay down on the b–"

He bolts towards your bathroom before you could finish, and you hear the unmistakable sound of retching and vomit hitting the water. You grab a cold glass of water and a towel, and walk briskly into the bathroom.

His massive form is hunched over the toilet, waiting for the next uprising of hydrochloric acid, bile and partially digested carnival food. You can’t help but feel bad for convincing him onto the coaster.

You settle down on your knees next to him, pressing one hand down on his back, stroking up and down his back reassuringly, encouraging him to let it all out.

He heaves, and the last of it comes out and into the toilet.

"That's it, big guy. Here, wash your mouth with this." You hand him the glass of cold water. He looks at you, his forehead sweating from the sudden heat, and he takes a big swig of the water, gargles, and spits out the residue back into the sink.

You give him some time in the bathroom, while you prepare some hot water and bland foods for him.

The bathroom door unclicks, and he steps out into the laundry room adjacent to the kitchen. You peek over the wall and beckon at him to come over.

He walks over to where you are, and leans against the counter, as he observes, with a rather dazed look, your back and forth from the kettle to the cabinets.

The way you tiptoe as you reach for a small light blue sachet on the second shelf. Your fingers slowly peeling it open, before dumping the contents into a tall empty glass, then moving back to the kettle to fill it up with the warm water.

And how you're now holding out the glass, waiting expectantly for him to take it. A sense of comfort rushes over him.

"Drink it up real slow so that you don't upset your stomach..." you advise. He takes the glass from you and takes a small mouthful.

"Thank you so much for the hospitality, Y/N. But I feel that I am intruding into your space, maybe I will get going." He says, fatigue still etched in his voice. He was still sweating even though you had the A/C on - he clearly wasn't feeling all that well. You frown at him.

"Nonsense, Piotr," you chide, as you move closer towards him - pressing the back of your hand onto his forehead, "look, you're even burning up. You're always welcome to stay, and especially now. C'mon, you'll feel better once you're rested."

It took a little more convincing to get Piotr to lie down on your bed and rest, much less get him to take a nap.

You sit next to him, once again checking his temperature with the back of your hand. His tousled hair was sticking to his forehead, and you fondly move them out of the way. You fetch him a towel soaked in cold water and use it to wipe down his face and neck.

‘’I’m so sorry for making you go on the ride, Piotr…’’

He brings a hand to your wrist.

"It is alright, Y/N. It was a carnival… Of course you wanted to go on the ride. But I just… do not want you to remember our first date as something like this..." He says coyly.

You look at him, and your face softens. You bring your hand to his face, cupping his cheek, and letting a thumb gently stroke his skin. "Piotr... Let me take care of you today alright? You're unwell. I know you'd do the same for me, and you'd go above and beyond. So, let me do this small thing for you alright? I would love to just be at home with you like this too." You give him a sincere smile.

His foggy eyes stare back at you, and his body relaxes as he nods, his eyelids getting heavier and heavier.

"Good boy." You tease lovingly.

He goes in and out of sleep, and when he’s awake for longer than a few minutes you encourage him to eat a banana or two. You stretch out your legs on the bed, letting your back rest on the headboard.  

You look up when Piotr shifts next to you, peeling back the fruit, and before you could say a word, half of the banana disappears in a second. You laugh heartily, as he looks at you – wide-eyed and cheeks puffed – moving in circles as he chews on the big bite of the fruit.

‘’Da?’’

You keep your adoring eyes on him, beaming at him like a the sun in the mid-morning sky.

What are you doing to me, Pete?

He lays back down - with only the sound of you tapping on your keyboard filling the silence. He watches the ceiling, before his voice rumbles through the stillness. He sounds sleepy, but continues, his speech slightly hazy.

"I'm sorry if today wasn't as... eventful as you expected it to be."

Your head perks up at his apologetic tone. "Are you kidding? It was so fun at first, but the heat was killing me. I'm glad to be back home. At least now we're both comfy. It's still a pretty good date in my books.” You give a reassuring smile, putting a comforting hand onto his. Piotr’s lips curl into a faint, drowsy smile as he is pulled, once again, back into slumber.

You can't help but let the scene set before you bring warmth into your chest. Just being next to him, there was solace to be found.

A full hour goes by, and it's 5pm. You quietly work on scheduling your shipments, sipping on your coffee as you sat – legs outstretched, completely relaxed – next to Piotr. There was absolutely no where else you would rather be.

It had been a long time since you've brought anyone home, and Piotr seemed harmless and – though you'd never admit it –  you actually cared for him.

Your phone rings, and you hastily slide the answer button so as to not wake Piotr up. You walk out of your bedroom and into the living room. The person on the other end had already ended the call, and when you look at your screen, you’re greeted by a text instead.

Unknown Number: [Sleeper-1. Strbs. 10 Bs. D-O. 30m. V-E-Ru] 5:24PM  ̬̬

You curse under your breath, but work was work. And it took precedence to anything else in your life.

You walk back into your room, and gently rouse Piotr from his deep sleep; he moans as his eyes slowly flutter open. You could tell his head was still all fuzzy from waking up, but you talk to him anyway.

“Hey, baby, I've got to go run an errand for a bit. You sleep as long as you need to. I'll be back in an hour okay?”

Piotr mumurs a deep note of acknowledgement, before hugging his pillow and promptly falling back asleep.

Well, that's good enough of a response.

You bring your palm to his head, and gladly note at the receding fever. You place a soft kiss on his forehead, and watch as his eyes scrunch a little and his lips curl into the faintest smile.

You change into a dark grey turtleneck and jeans, before grabbing your essentials – burner phone, lighter, pocket knife hidden under your top, and a trusty… protein bar?

You’re pretty sure you weren’t the one who put it there, but it was definitely a welcomed addition.

And you were off. To possibly do more harm than good.

Taglist! @emma-frxst @fluffymadamina

[lovingsiriusoswald]

Meet Andromeda Mercia!

Here’s to the people who wanted to know!

Andromeda Mercia is the new OC for my Royal Advisor AU aka the au that had been torturing me for days! Andromeda literally means “advisor or ruler of man” and Mercia means “compassion and forbearance.”

Furthermore, people named Andromeda are creative and very expressive in the arts. They have a deep inner desire for order and physical creativity, and want to be involved in conventional, safe activities. Meanwhile, people named Mercia are orderly and dedicated to building their lives on a solid foundation of order and service. They value truth, justice, and discipline, and may be quick-tempered with those who do not. Because of their focus on order and practicality, they may seem overly cautious and conservative at times.

Andromeda Mercia is called the Beautiful Brain, correlated to Lancelot Kingsley's title, Beautiful Beast. She is the Royal Advisor of the Red Army, guiding her King and Queen's decisions and checking their plans for approval or alteration. She also aids in battle strategies with the Jack of Hearts. She is often mistaken as a princess, catching the attention of all the people around her when she passes by. Her beauty is enchanting and ethereal, just like her mother's.

Andromeda Mercia is the only child of a famous seamstress and Royal Advisor of the Red Army, Lady Cassiopeia Windsor-Mercia and Sir Cepheus Mercia.

Lady Cassiopeia had a very difficult time during her pregnancy, she struggled during her 8th month and was forced to travel to the Land of Reason. Leaving Sir Cepheus behind, she and Blanc leaves at the night of the full moon. Unfortunately, she died after giving birth to her only daughter. She whispered her name before passing away peacefully.

Andromeda was taken to a private orphanage and stayed there for four years, until Blanc finally arrived again to send her home. When Sir Cepheus finally meets her only daughter, she cherished her just as much as his late wife. For a year, she was a normal child —playing, laughing, crying, dreaming— until King Arthur Kingsley officially declared that she is the next Royal Advisor.

Andromeda had never stepped foot outside the walls of her home again. Her training was difficult and strict, she was home schooled, and often punished for being tired or showing emotions — and treated very harshly because she was a girl. Whatever she had done was always not enough. After Prince Lancelot's 13th birthday (Andromeda was 7 years old), she was never seen again. Only her instructors and father had seen her growth. This made the King of Hearts concerned, but Sir Cepheus often dismissed it and reassured him that her safety is their top priority and training is going smoothly.

Sixteen years later, several months before the assassination of King Arthur and Sir Cepheus, she visited the Red Army Headquarters to familiarize herself in her future workplace. She did not meet any of the generals, but was formally introduced to Prince Lancelot again. After a week of exploring the headquarters, she retires back to her home.

For an unknown reason, King Arthur orders the previous Jack of Hearts, Claudius Bright, to assassinate Sir Cepheus. A month later, King Arthur is killed at the Black Bridge.

Later on, Prince Lancelot and the orphaned Andromeda took their positions as the rightful heirs of their fathers at the same time.

Birthday: November 4

Age: 23 years old (second youngest in the army)

Features: Alabaster skin, almond-shaped light brown eyes, pointed nose, slender build, dark wavy hair that reached shoulder blades and often ornamented with a pearl and rhinestone studded headpiece, bruised and scarred feet, a tiny simplified crest tattoo below her nape, a tiny maroon diamond tattoo on her left wrist pulse, a tiny heart on the other, 165cm height.

Family Crest: An owl with two suns as eyes, the scales behind the owl with a crown above it.

Uniform: Champagne and red dual toned gown, with feathers of a rufous owl and snowy owl as details. An owl pin rests near her left shoulder. 

Casual Wear: A v-neck burgundy sequin tulle long dress, half sleeved. 

Trivias:

During her trainings, she used ballet shoes to hone her balance and agility.

Versatile in weaponry — archery is her strongest skill.

All of her clothes were tailored by her mother's family business, sometimes too extravagant and luxurious for her taste, but always the most unique and stylish in all of Cradle. The designs were all designed by Lady Cassiopeia during her pregnancy.

She was homeschooled all her life and followed a strict routine. 8 hours of studying, 3 hours total of meals, 2 hours of etiquette training, 2 hours of military training, and an hour break total per day. 

Her breaks include painting, designing or tailoring. 

She inherited the items her mother used and received from the Land of Reason, but was kept away in a small treasure chest that was beside her mother's urn. She also kept a hat given to her from the Land of Reason before she left from the orphanage. 

She had never been to Central Quarter or beyond the area of her family residence. 

Journals, typewriters, and baby's breath flowers are her favorites or "aesthetic." 

Moon sign is Capricorn, Sun sign is Scorpio and Rising sign is Cancer. Her MBTI personality is INTJ-T. 

Personal Notes:

I don’t know if this is considered an au because the Alice is the only one different ahskfhsal 

I actually don’t know who to pair her up with yet oopsies. 

She almost feels like a mix of Lancelot, Edgar, and Oliver.

I’ve been writing about her interactions with everyone and her surroundings and try not to write another lengthy one

I thought about her when I was washing the dishes and the idea of her kept bugging me to the point I wanted a visual of what they looked like and did researches with the names, did personality tests, and went very specific with minor details in the fics that i’d been writing. its that bad

Exaggerated, but I think she’s the prettiest of all the OCs I made and will ever make

Hope you would like to hear more from her soon!

[breathebangtan]

To Safety: Pt 1

Genre: Soulmate!au

Members: Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Synopsis: On the morning his 18th birthday he sees a name written along the upper side of his torso along with a paint brush full of color. But after just finding his soulmate, Jungkook is faced with having to fight against all odds to save himself and his soulmate as others try to break their link to each other.

Warnings: none

Pt.2

“More and more teenagers have been found on the streets. It is finally revealed what it is that’s going on. As some investigators have figured out that the reason behind why they look so depressed and dead like is because the link between their soulmates has been broken. As to how or why that is, is still unclear. The authorities have yet to have an idea of who is doing this, but they assure that they are doing there best to stop whoever is behind this.” I sighed listening to the news and decided to just turn it off. I picked up My plate and left it in the sink before walking into the bathroom to shower for school. As I removed my shirt I noticed something on my side and looked at the mirror. “What? Y/n? That’s pretty, she must be a painter or at least really into art.” I thought to myself and smiled as I was looking at the little paint brush next to my soulmates name. The paint brush was slanted and the bristles were filled with paint and it seemed as though a couple drops were falling from them. The colors were very bright and vibrant. I walked into the shower after looking at it for a bit longer and continued with my routine.

Finally I finished getting ready for school and walked back out from my room to the living room. “I’m leaving now!” I called out as I walked to the door. But suddenly I could hear my parents voices singing. “Happy birthday to you, Happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Jungkook, happy birthday to you!” They sang very cheerfully and I couldn’t help but smile. “You didn’t have too.” I said to them but really I was glad they did, I made a wish before blowing out the candles. The two of them smile brightly at me before mom asks the big question. “Have you seen it? The mark?” My father nodded as he smiled brightly waiting for my response. “I mean, yeah I saw it earlier when I went in for a shower.” I try to say casually, as my parents looked at each other wondering what it could be. “Well, could you show us?” They asked a little too eagerly. “It’s kind of in a private area.” I try explain to them. I didn’t feel too comfortable showing them that, maybe if it was on my arm. “How private? Is it in your danger zone?” Mom asks, making me cringe. “No, oh gosh no! It’s not that private,” I quickly shake my head while making an x with my fingers. “It’s here.” I motions to the general area of where my mark is. “Oh come on honey, show us. We’re you’re parents. That’s not such a bad place.” She insist, but instead I bolt to the door before they can force me to show them. “I’ll be late for school! Bye!” I quickly leave and run off to the bus stop to wait.

Your POV:

“Hey what’s that?” Your friend Ava asks you, pointing to your forearm. You look down at it, and surely enough there was two X’s connected to each other in a gold color. You pull up your sleeve a bit higher to reveal the name of your soulmate. “Jungkook? What does that symbol mean?” You whisper to yourself but Ava pulls your arm to inspect your mark. “Hey, isn’t that the Greek symbol that means ‘where there is a will, there is a way’? I’ve seen it before!” She explains to you as she keeps looking at it. “That Jungkook guy must be one of those try hard types. You know? The type that never gives up, always tries to improve and is really good at what they do. But wasn’t your 18th birthday two years ago?” She asks out of curiosity and you nod your head. She was right, it was two years ago. You had panicked when the day of your 18th birthday had passed and the mark hadn’t appeared. Thankfully your mother cleared up the misunderstanding, telling you that that was normal. That the mark only appears as as a hint to help you find your soulmate if you still haven’t by 18. The reason yours hadn’t appeared was because although you were 18, your soulmate wasn’t. “His birthday must be today, that’s why it’s appearing now.” You explained to Ava, as she cooed at you. “Awe, he’s younger than you, he’s a baby!” She laughed as she said it and you pushed her playfully. “Yah, don’t say that, it makes it weird.” You laughed as your professor walked into class and everyone greeted him. You did as well taking out some materials and following along with what he said for a couple seconds. After those few seconds, you instead opened your sketch book and started to doodle again, a drawing of what you that he would look like. “Happy birthday Jungkook.” You whispered with one of the biggest smiles you had ever had. Ava giving glancing at you with smile, but you didn’t care.

Jungkook POV:

After awhile the bus had finally arrived at school and I was walking to class when Taehyung came running towards me. “Hey! Did you get your mark yet? The other boys want to know as well.” He said excitedly as he showed me his phone screen to our group chat, where they clearly all were asking excited for my answer. I laugh as I quickly glance through the messages. “Yeah, is it someone you know? We’re all so curious, come on, tell us!” Jimin chimes in besides Taehyung. I shake my head before answering. “No, I definitely don’t know her, and I’m pretty sure no one here has her name. It’s Y/n.” I explain to them, which I’m completely sure of. They both look at each other with questioning eyes but I completely disregard it and continue explaining. “I think she might be a painter, or at least really love art, because the mark is a paint brush.” I told them and looked down slightly as I felt my cheeks get warm thinking about her. “Awe, look at you blushing!” Taehyung said as they both playfully punched both my arms. “Ah, hyung!” I yelled at them, pushing them out the way and running towards my class. “Hey, don’t forget to meet us at the gate, we’re taking you out later!” Jimin yelled after me and I turned around nodding at them as I waved good bye and left for class. The bell ringing just in time as I sat down in my seat, taking my materials out.

Y/N POV:

The professor finally put down his marker and stepped to his desk gathering his things. “That’s all for today class, have a great day and I’ll see you Monday.” He waved good bye to us as we also said good bye to him. I stood up gathering my things as well. “I was wondering if you wanted to come with me to this really great place everyone has been talking about. It’s not to far from here and I’m dying to try it.” Ava asked you as she slung her back pack on. You followed her out the class. “Sounds good, I’m actually starving, I skipped lunch to study in the library and I regret it.” You explained to her as you held your belly. “Tell me about it, I’ve done that before and boy do i regret it.” She agreed with you as you both buckled your seat belt and she drove off to the restaurant. You were honestly very excited for it, of course because you were hungry, but excited nonetheless.

“Oh hey, I’ve actually walked by here before and got curious to go in just never have. I’m much more excited now!” You said happily as your mouth watered. After she had finally parked the car, the both of you walked inside of the place. It was very pretty. Each table had a little pot of flowers on the edge and the lights that hung from the ceiling had very intricate designs on them and the lighting made it feel cozy, the whole aesthetic of it was very pretty. “Why don’t you go find us a place and I’ll go order for us, some friends mentioned a couple things that are good so i figured I’d order.” Ava suggested and you nodded your head. “Okay, sounds good.” You said smiling and then going to find an empty table. Which you quickly found one near the main area, deciding on the sole fact that the flowers on that table were the prettiest. You couldn’t resist taking a quick picture to draw later. After, you left your phone on the side of table and waited for your friend.

Jungkook’s POV:

After school had ended I meet the hyungs outside the gate like we’d agreed. From there we walked to the restaurant Jin had suggested to us. “I heard It’s really popular and it’s new.” He told us and we all agreed we should go there. The walk there actually wasn’t that long as it was near my school. “Wow, this place looks really cool.” Hoseok and Taehyung said as they looked around. It seemed to have two floors and the stairs were these cool wooden spinning stairs that went up in a hole in the roof which of course led to the second floor. The lights hanging from the ceiling had really cool intricate designing and every table had little pots of flowers. We walked together to a table looking around. But my heart suddenly started beating really fast, more than normal or anything I’d felt before. I looked to my side as we walked past a table with two girls sitting down. The girl facing me turned to around and looked at me, and just as she did i could feel this odd tugging. Almost as if there was a magnet near her, pulling me in. I kept walking with my hyungs and sat down at a table not to far from them. where I sat, I had a perfect view of her. She looked gorgeous, she had medium length hair and bangs, her hair was black with under tones of purple. Her big golden eyes had left me speechless even now that I was sitting down. “Hey, you okay kid? I saw you staring at that girl earlier. Taehyung had to pull you along so you wouldn’t stay behind.” Yoongi asked me, and I quickly nodded. “Yeah I’m good, It’s just I felt this odd sensation when we walked passed that table, as if I was being pulled to her.” I explained to them as I took a glance at the girl again, she was laughing with her friend, talking casually. “Stupid! That’s her!” Hoseok said while smacking the back of my head. “What was that for hyung?” I asked him holding the back of my head. “That’s your soulmate, that’s her!” He said. “Yeah, didn’t your parents explain to you? That’s how you feel when your first meet them.” Namjoon asked and I shook my head. “They haven’t yet. I’m sure they would have if I didn’t run off this morning before they could.” I told them and I noticed Taehyung and Jimin looking at each other with the same odd look from earlier but before I could ask what it was about Jimin asked me something. “Hey, by any chance is the girl we’re talking about the girl with bangs and dark black hair?” He asked and I nodded at him and he quickly slipped Taehyung some money and I quickly looked at them confused. “What? What was that?” I asked quickly and Taehyung explained. “You said earlier her name is Y/n, we have a class with her. I bet with Jimin that it was probably her by the name, he didn’t think it was her though.” My jaw dropped, but I quickly laughed not believing what he said. “No way, you got to school with her?” I asked them but it came out more like a whisper. “Wow. you two bet on who his soulmate would be?” Jin asked them and they nodded and the rest of us laughed at this. “Well, what are you waiting for kid? Go introduce yourself.” Yoongi said and all the boys started getting rowdy as they pushed me out to go Introduce myself.

“Aright, I’m going okay!” I said, fixing my school uniform before walking over to their table, and as I did I could see the other girl signal to me, letting Y/n know I was approaching them. I smile at them waving and reach my hand out for her to shake. “Hello, I just wanted to introduce myself.” I say a little nervous and she takes my hand shaking it, her touch feels electric at first but soon it settles down into a feeling of flowing energy. “Oh, hello. I’m Y/n.” She smiles the most beautiful smile I've ever seen and her name only confirms what I already knew. “I’m Jungkook, nice to meet you.” I say a little too fast out of nervousness, smiling brightly. Her smile grows and her friend mouths my name as if she recognized it. “So we finally meet.” Y/n says. Happiness over flowing inside me.

[coeurdastronaute]

Giant Ch. 19

When the night was full of terrors And your eyes were filled with tears When you had not touched me yet Oh, take me back to the night we met

The entire museum was alive despite being after hours. Gowns and lights and all manner befitting a Luthor party existed there amidst the flashing camera lights outside and the stars above. It was a dream of a dream, a fragment of a wish a child would make when they wore their mother’s heels and tried to be a princess. The night gracefully nodded at itself in the mirror and enjoyed itself.

The gala was alive, lingering outside despite the mild heat. The lights glowed from the roof, glowed from the poles and trees in the courtyard of the museum. Summer hummed just above the quartet, and Kara soaked up the evening, hoping that a new season would mean a new her. Lena soaked in Kara like she was the sun.

They were good at those things. Good at the parties and the music and the small talk. Lena was polished, while Kara was sweet. Lena would just smile while her girlfriend recalled birthdays and children’s ballet recitals, asking all the questions she could from people she thought as strangers. No one was a stranger to Kara for long. People actually enjoyed seeing the two, enjoyed talking with the relaxed Luthor and her adorable girlfriend. It was a new feeling, one she couldn’t remember feeling since she was a kid and her mother dragged her to all of those things and people liked them.

It was a difficult event, and despite her best efforts to not be a Luthor, Lena could never get rid of the memory of her mother, nor could she find enough hate in her heart to push away any kind of chance to help. And so, on the anniversary of her mother’s birthday, a day that was once filled with balloons and her favorite dinner and handmade and painted wobbly art projects as gifts, Lena filled the museum with people and money and she donated enough to find a cure or at least try. That was how one honored the dead, in her opinion.

“You look amazing, did you know that?” Kara grinned as she kissed her girlfriend’s temple. “Spectacular. I’d say this is my favorite dress you’ve ever worn.”

“You’ve said that every time we have to go to one of these things.”

“I love you in sweats that you refuse to update and my old shirts, but this is a close second.”

“Is that your unbiased opinion, Kara Danvers, CatCo reporter?” Lena shook her head and tugged her along the line of cameras toward the entrance.

“It is,” she nodded. “In my professionally unbiased opinion, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Amidst the crowds and the people calling their names to look at cameras on the line, neither noticed much else, trapped in their own little world and utterly happy about it. Lena squeezed Kara’s hip as they took another step.

At no point in their decade long dance would she have imagined moments like that were possible. At no point, when she was sneaking glances at the girl who smiled during movies and actually would start breathing faster during tense parts, would she imagine one day holding her hand at an event. Lena never had a second to fathom the idea of dressing up and wanting to go to something like that. Nor could she venture the idea of planning it. Nor could she have allowed herself to imagine being that happy. Seventeen year old Lena would have told present Lena to fuck off with her description of the future. She’d never believe that the nerdy reporter with big glasses and a penchant for tripping over her own feet would be the woman of her dreams.

Instead of thinking of it, Lena looked to the cameras while Kara absolutely beamed. It was amazing to feel how easy happiness was attained near someone like that.

“If only the nerdy Kara from senior year physics class could hear you now.”

“She would have said the exact same thing if she’d been just an inch more brave,” the reporter promised.

Quietly, Kara watched Lena answer questions, her excitement about the event evident. And she felt her hand squeezed slightly.

Once, when she was in college, Kara visited Lena, and she remembered looking at her, really looking at her. And she wasn’t perfect, she never claimed to be, but Kara was absolutely in love with the things Lena complained about from time to time. Her nose had a bump in it. Her eyes were wide. Her lips were too small. The little scar between her eyebrows that was barely noticeable. All the pieces people missed, Kara was obsessed with, and she looked at Lena with the same kind of ferocious wonder, once more reaching that epiphany of utter satisfaction.

“I’m very proud of you, Lee,” Kara promised as they made their way into the museum, time and space and history repeating once more for them.

“Oh, stop,” she brushed it off.

“No, I mean it. I’m always just…” she furrowed and paused because she had words. Her job was words. Someone who crafted them so often should be better with them.

“You’re sweet.”

“Wait. I mean. Just. Lena I’m so darn proud to know you. I don’t think I tell you that enough. I’m in awe of you. I’m bursting at the gills proud of who you’ve always been and what you’ve become. Sometimes I don’t think saying I love you encompasses that. But I’m so proud of you. I’m honored that you pick me. I’m… I am in awe of you constantly.”

“I could say the same for you,” Lena smiled sweetly.

Kara held her hips and let Lena lean her forehead against her own. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, savoring it. Lena just basked in the sunshine in the deep dark night of August. She trailed her fingertips along Kara’s long neck, and she smiled to herself, her chest aflame, as if she were crafted of sparklers.

“Sometimes, I’m not sure who I’m supposed to be, but I know, beyond all else, that I am supposed to be here with you.”

“You’re too sweet tonight.”

“I’ve been known to dabble.”

“You’re the sun to me.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Thank you for coming with me tonight. My mom is probably very amused that we’re here together.”

The moment was there, atop the steps with all eyes on them and not, at the same time. But it broke. They opened their own and exhaled and were alive in the real world.

“I liked her a lot.”

“What do you think she’d say about all of… you know?”

“She’d probably insult Lionel’s tie and say something sassy about the notion of it.”

“Yeah,” Lena smiled to herself.

“Ms. Luthor, Ms. Danvers,” Jess interrupted the thoughts brewing, and for once, Kara was grateful for the intrusions.

“You look amazing, Jess,” Kara smiled, hugging her tightly.

“Oh, no, this is just… I mean… It’s okay, but you two…”

“You did an amazing job, Jess,” Lena assured her. “I’d say that promotion was well worth it.”

“That was still too generous.”

“You’re capable, and I couldn’t think of a better CFO.”

“My two little business ladies,” Kara beamed putting her arms around both of their shoulders. “I’m just so happy.”

The museum was alive. There had been a small, very different celebration earlier in the day in which Lena quietly went to the cemetery and put down her mother’s favorite flowers. She didn’t like to go there often. In fact, she actively avoided it. But today was different.

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that flowers were already sitting there, or that her father somehow slipped into the private space despite the vigilant surveillance. He had a knack for the dramatic.

But Lena didn’t let it bother her. She couldn’t. Because when she got back to the apartment, her girlfriend didn’t try to make her feel better by being loud and happy, but rather she just allowed her to curl up with her on the chaise on the balcony, setting down her book and losing her space.

Lena was someone Kara lost her place in a book for, and sometimes, to some people, that was a lot.

The day was bittersweet in the truest way.

But all at once, Lena was filled with the deepest melancholy and the most overwhelming kind of love. And it wasn’t just for her girlfriend. But as they spent the night among friends, Lena saw her little family, her new people, and she was inundated with happiness that did not mitigate her ache, nor did it stifle her pain, but rather existed at the same time, in harmony with it.

She had Jess, and she had Maggie, and she had Winn, and she had Jack, and she had Sharon and her rec league, and she had Sabine and her wisdom, and she had people. Good, honest, genuine people. It wasn’t many, but it was enough. More than enough.

There were speeches and there were auctions as they sailed toward their goal for the evening. This was just a drop in the bucket for the donations and charity work Lena did throughout the year. Kara could never understand why people didn’t recognize it more.

From the bar as she waited for drinks, Kara watched Lena hug someone, and she sighed a contented sigh at her night, at her life.

“When you first told me you had a crush on her, I thought you were insane,” Clarke smiled and adjusted his glasses beside his cousin.

“I thought so too,” she returned his smile and handed him another drink.

“If she’s your family, she’s my family.”

“Thank you.”

“Did Alex talk to you about what they think he’s planning?”

Kara took a drink and wished it were stronger. Though her smile faltered, it couldn’t be taken away by the likes of Lionel Luthor.

Instead, she just watched Lena from across the room and she couldn’t help but feel a little familiar ache of that high school reporter yearning after the prettiest girl in the world. That was never far away from her.

“I thought you were in town for the event,” she muttered. “Lena invited you because you’re my family. My only blood family, and you’re important to me.”

“I came for that,” he assured her. “I just… I have a feeling.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Do you want to do a lap?”

“I thought you were retired,” Kara ventured.

“Believe me, I am. Just, trust me. I know how they work.”

Kara eyed her cousin. What he did weighed so heavily upon him that he couldn’t trust himself. As much as she reassured him, as much as she wanted to help, there was no true retiring from their life, and she saw the burden playing out through him. It was terrifying.

Gone were the sturdy, steady eyes. Gone was that lilt to his chin that defied injustice. Left in his wake was  Clarke that was unsure and wounded and so very mortal.

“Yeah. Let me go tell Lena.”

“Yeah,” Clarke nodded. “Meet you in a few by the Greek stuff. I have to go ask Lois.”

With a nod, Kara put on the smile again and brought her girlfriend another drink, hoping that two super guts were wrong.

“No one gets hurt if the Supers come out to answer for what they’ve done.”

The voice, though amplified over a speaker, was familiar. The crackle of it, the deep baritone waft in it, the emotionless hint beneath an apathetic front. Lena knew the voice, though she barely recognized it. She didn’t want to know it, but it haunted her more than most.

The crowds screamed and were herded toward the courtyard and Lena stood taller and walked against the crowd toward the giant metal suits and henchmen that surrounded them, crashing the expensive party and the memory of her mother forever.

Her party disintegrated with long shrieks and the yelling of people as they attempted to flee. All around her, everyone looked for safety, and where they sought it, they were met with only a more ferocious kind of violence in the form of her father’s henchmen. Lena was the rock in the middle of the river of terrified bodies as they broke around her and she just stared ahead.

“Everyone who worships their false idols will pay for it tonight.”

He must have something, Lena decided. She couldn’t find his face amidst the chaos, but she heard his voice, and she knew the cockiness of success. Her first thought was that tonight would be the last night she saw Kara. And the second was that she hadn’t told her how beautiful she was in too long. Those thoughts made her so sad, Lena felt empty. Until the third thought of somehow protecting Kara wormed its way, full of hope, to the top of the pile.

There were aliens like they had not seen in too long, the drugged, deranged kind, the same kind that Superman once belonged to, the same kind that were pawns in her father’s sick revenge. She saw people attacked. She heard sirens, and still, she approached the largest suit of all.

The gun rounded and pointed toward her before the suit even started to turn around.

“Dad!” She flexed her jaw and stood her ground, eyebrow twitching from the power she needed to draw to brave the storm.

As soon as it fired, she felt herself tackled, in a way.

“Just stay down,” Kara yelped as she arched her back and took the impending stream of bullets.

Lena felt her girlfriend’s body shaking with the impact, she heard her grunt with the weight of the high caliber and modified weaponry.

“You have to get out of here,” Lena told her, clutching her shirt, gripping the emblem in her fists as tight as she could, even when the barrage stopped.

“I think you should, actually,” Kara grunted.

“Not the Super I was looking for, but you’ll do just fi--” a loud clang erupted as Kara’s cousin swung into the game, tossing one machine at the leader.

“Get these people out of here, the back through the kitchen,” Kara said as she held Lena’s shoulders, making her focus despite the debris and dust kicked up by the battle that was tearing apart the museum and street outside. “Don’t go home. Go to Alex’s. She’ll know how to keep you safe.”

Dumb and mute, Lena stared back and gaped slightly because she was just putting on a fundraiser and now she was confronted with a manifestation of her literal daddy issues. Sometimes, Lena remembered that bumbling reporter who snapped a pencil the first minute they met. That was another lifetime, but ever since that, they had always been a team, and there had never been just Lena, or just Kara.

“You can do this. Get them out. Get to Alex’s,” Kara repeated, eyes boring into her girlfriend’s.

The museum would be in shambles, the proud columns outside in the street, the modernist facade that was a violent affront to design was smashed, and just a cage devoid of glass, the party was a gathering of screaming people who just wanted to survive the rabid aliens and monster metal machines that created a new chaos.

“You come home, too,” Lena finally said, though it wasn’t enough. She had so many more words.

“I lov--”

A yank of her cape sent Kara hurdling backwards and into a wall, and left Lena starting at nothing in particular until she fought against her gut and heart, and began to do what Kara asked.

Three years ago, Lena bought a water tower. She told Kara that she was selling the home in Midvale, but she couldn’t do that, and so when she returned and walked the halls for a full three days, she bought the water tower because it was a good place. Her home in Midvale was a good place too. Kara fought Lena on selling it because there was still a doubt there, and she never trusted Lena to not be impetuous.

Kara bought Lena a necklace on her birthday a few months before the gala. It was a thin silver chain and a little constellation, with a diamond in the place of where Krypton would have been. It wasn’t a water tower, but it was something good and important.

The fight with Lionel was unyielding. Kara struggled against the rogue agents and the machine, but when when she saw a necklace on the ground, she felt fear more than the pain inflicted against her person.

It came in waves, the attacks. Lionel’s planned attack against the Supers was effective. A reformed and more intelligent serum made the aliens stronger, made it harder to hurt them without hurting them.

And then there were the machines. The goons. It was a fight, and Kara couldn’t win, and she made herself not think about Lena. That took up a lot of her power.

It was a losing fight though.

Tossed across the street once again, with the edge of a weapon made of high-grade Kryptonite slicing across her chest and arm and abdomen, Kara could barely see straight.

“The mighty house of El brought to their knees by mere mortals,” Lionel growled and gloated as the monster’s metal feet stomped closer. “It ends now. The revenge is finished with this.”

Unable to stand up, Kara tried anyway, her hands pushing weakly against her own knee though she didn’t go anywhere. Vision blurry, she blinked and spit at the ground, her wounds leaving her bones aching. All she could make out was a shield of a body standing in front of her, obscuring Lionel’s hateful smirk.

“Lena--”

From out of the rubble, from out of the mess of the night, a figure emerged and hurried to inject themselves into the struggle.

The rest of the party was gone, saved and led to freedom despite the impending battles. Lena couldn’t leave though, not even with her promise. She climbed through the rubble, she tore her dress and she cut up her legs as she squeezed through crashed cars and the broken museum debris.

When she saw Kara, bloody and battered and almost attacked again, she raced out, not even thinking for a moment at all about what Kara told her to do.

The gun came from the body of a dead guard in the street, half buried under the remnants of the display of presidential portraits. She didn’t think she even knew how to use one, but she held it up to protect the woman she loved.

“You can’t,” Lena stood between her father and the wounded hero. She clenched her fists and tried to look as brave as Kara did when she stood up to giant monsters and evil men. “I won’t let you hurt her.”

“Move aside, Lena,” Lionel leveled the gun again, the barrel pointed at his daughter. “This doesn’t involve you.”

“Mom would be so ashamed of what you’ve become,” she shook her head and raised the gun in her hands back at him.

Tears were streaming down her face, her muscles all ached, and the inevitable bruises and cuts formed. Her dress torn, her face covered in dirt, she looked like she played the entire game straight through, with no breaks. She looked like a survivor.

It’d been years since she’d seen him in the flesh, but somehow, standing there, was as if he was a stranger. She sure as hell didn’t know him. Not anymore.

“Lena, please,” Kara begged, gritting her teeth through the pain. Her hand held at the large gash in her side, her own blood seeping out despite herself. Between her words, she coughed and gurgled and spit. “Don’t hurt her!” she called to her enemy, thought it never reached that far.

As much as she struggled, her muscles had nothing left in them. Kara fought against gravity, normally a much easier war, but she was grounded, she was doubled over and couldn’t stop bowing under the pressure of simply existing. From her knees, she tried to reach out, to push herself up and walk, but nothing worked, not with the Kryptonite in her system. Never had she felt so fragile, so human.

“It’s going to be okay, Supergirl,” the CEO promised, not moving her eyes from her father’s. He was a stranger to her now thought. She wasn’t sure what to call him.

“Move, Lena!” He bellowed, his anger infecting the words violently. “I won’t ask again.”

“Don’t make me do this,” Lena shook her head and sniffled. She felt a few tears drip off of her cheek. Tracks formed through the dirt on her face like river beds after a flood. “Please don’t make me do this!”

“You’d betray your family for that-- that-- that thing?”

“She’s my family,” she disagreed. “My only family died. The rest left me. She’s never stopped choosing to love me.”

“Lena! Go! Don’t do this!” Kara yelped, trying to stand and failing miserably. Her cape hung heavy on her shoulders, weighed her down until she was on her knees, crawling forward with her wounds making her lightheaded. But she had to fight, and she had to save Lena. That made her press on despite all manner of injury.

“You  bring shame to the name Luthor,” the father shook his head.

“The name gets power when you give power to the name,” she repeated his famous words. “I have done more for that damn name than any other before me. But it dies with you. It dies with Lex. I don’t want it anymore.”

“Lena, princess,” he swallowed and softened slightly. He didn’t understand how that idea could hurt him so much when the threat was supposed to get his daughter back in line. “You can’t--”

“Just drop it. Just walk away. Just go to jail and let me forget you,” she begged, hating the name, hating the memories that came with that voice. “Please. If you ever loved me, you would just stop.”

“I can’t do that, Lena. It is for your own good. It is for the future of this world!” He straightened, swallowing away that softness that felt so distant, as if it were from a memory of a movie he once saw, but never lived.

“Put it down!” Lena yelled.

“Move, or I will kill you!” he screamed.

She gripped the gun harder, she took a deep breath. Both began yelling at the other, and all Kara could do was watch as she felt the world spin and her consciousness begin to fade. Never before had she fought so hard to stay awake. Never before had she felt so powerless than effectively watching her girlfriend with a gun trained on her.

“Lena!” Kara tried to call her, but she knew her voice was only a whisper. Her throat was dry. Her body was weak.

Gravity was heavy. Living was painful. Loving was exhausting.

“Please, Daddy,” Lena begged, lip trembling as she heard Kara’s call for her.

“I’m sorry, princess,” he smiled slightly, his face easing as he took aim again toward the hero, hoping to find a shot around his daughter, though he knew it was impossible.

“NO!” his daughter screamed before pulling the trigger, causing him to stagger backward a few steps.

Another shot rang out, and he dropped the weapon and fell to his knees. Lena pulled the trigger again until he fell to his side, writhing. She screamed the entire time until there were no more bullets, until she threw the gun on the ground and rushed to his side. The past decade rushed off of her shoulders, dropped to the ground in a deluge.

“I’m so sorry,” she kept muttering through sobs. “I’m so sorry.  You made me. You made me choose.”

“You were always,” he coughed and coughed and coughed. “The best thing. And now look at you--”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You’re just…” he closed his eyes before trying to lift his hand. He coughed again, only to open and look at his knuckle against Lena’s cheek. Lionel smiled as he felt the softness of her skin beneath the sheen of tears. “Just like my Lily.”

“I’m so sorry,” she held his hand, kissed his knuckles, inhaled that smell beneath the dirt and grime.

It wasn’t as much an apology for pulling the trigger, and they both knew it. It was an apology for everything that led to this, it was for everything he thought her to be, it was for everything she knew him to be.

“Don’t be sad,” Lionel closed his eyes once again. “You were never meant to be a Luth-- a Lutho--”

Sputtering noises came. Lena heard the police and DEO descend and she couldn’t move as the hand went limp and the noises stopped.

Despite herself, Lena sobbed. She didn’t know she was capable of such noises or sounds, but the entire battle left her defenseless and exhausted. She ran her hand along the stubble of his cheek like she once did when she was a child and he came home late from work. She ran her fingers over his eyelids, shutting them for a final time.

He was right; he freed her.

She was never meant to be a Luthor. It wasn’t malicious, it was a gift. The last gift that he could ever give her.

With a final look at his lifeless body, Lena stood before sprinting toward Kara, more afraid of what waited her there.

“Superman rounded up the aliens. He’s transporting them to-- Supergirl!” Alex shouted, noticing the body on the ground under the cape as Lena tried to turn it over. “Secure the area and start processing survivors. Get a damn med team here!”

“She’ll be fine, right?” Lena asked. “She was shot with Kryptonite before, and she lived.”

The agent didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Instead, she did her best to triage while the Luthor ran her palm along her girlfriend’s lifeless cheek and pushed the dirty hair from her face before kissing her through tears and swallowed wails of bone-breaking pain in her soul.

[writer-and-artist27]

10Q x a billion

Tagged by: @owlsofstarlight

Put under the cut for the sake of not being long.

1. What’s one genre you really love the idea of, but are disappointed when you go to read/watch it?

Romance, because so many harem shows and so on just make it way too dramatic and painful to get through. Aside from Cardcaptor Sakura and stories like @langwrites‘ Catch Your Breath, which did amazing Slow Burn, I rarely go into Romance genre stuff.

2. Feelings about fire in general? (where my fellow pyros?)

Neutral. As long as it can help keep the house warm and cook food, I’m good.

3. Which of your OCs is the kinkiest?

In terms of hints/innuendos? Hikari, since she does tease Judai on occasion when they’re alone. Of course, this happens when Tomoko is not around. Hisako does troll Tomoko a little bit herself, but not in that category since sex-related stuff is very iffy for Tomo in general.

4. What is the one thing you most want a fan to say someday?

“Could I draw fanart for you?” or “I was hoping if I could write a fanfic of your fanfic?”

I’d be squealing all day if that happened.

5. Which OC do you think readers will like the most?

From personal opinion? Tomoko, Hisako, and Hikari, since those three ladies stand out so much in CP and in S&S. From what I’ve seen of FFN reviews though, Hikari’s the Ensemble Darkhorse, and that’s awesome.

6. Were your OCs born naturally, with pharmaceutical assistance, or via c section?

Aside from Hisako, because Nobody status for Tomoko, all my OCs were born naturally. I honestly think Judai was the only one that came from c-section, because his mother (and in turn, Tomoko’s paternal grandmother) suffered from some health problems. I can’t expand on it aside from that because I haven’t exactly thought about Judai’s parents. For as long as Judai himself knew, he was an orphan.

7. What is the single emotion that is the absolute hardest for you to write? (loneliness, loss, hopelessness, joy, etc)

Seething anger to the point of extreme action. I can get close with my empathy and sympathy to many different emotions, but anger in that level (where a character might even kill or something) is something I can’t imagine. Nor the simple mess that is Orochimaru’s craftiness, because all he is in my head is a pedophile snake that deserves to die.

8. If your OC were a cookie, what sort of cookie would they be?

Tomoko would be a sweet red velvet cookie. Hikari would be macademia nuts, Judai a chocolate chip protein cookie (because ninja status), and Hisako would be peanuts and M&Ms.

Tomoya, on the other hand, I see being birthday cake, because she’s still figuring out who she is past her assigned male gender.

The Hitoshi family would all be oatmeal cookies that got badly burnt in the oven. :d

9. How important do you think it is to describe a character’s appearance?

Pretty important, but not so much to where you dedicate entire pages to them. The reader should get an idea of how they look, but also leave some room for interpretation/fanart opportunities. Hence why when I do describe appearances in writing, they’re simple and sweet so that art has a leeway to come in.

10. And, spitballing off that, which OC do you think is the prettiest?

Right now? Hikari, since she can rock almost any outfit. Also helped by how she makes her own clothes. Tomoko is still growing, but she’ll get there.

11. Your absolute most evil OC is startled by a toaster popping. What happens next?

Mamoru (the original Drunk Guy) would kinda smash it with an alcohol bottle. Only for Natsumi to go on and yell at him because that was still a perfectly okay toaster. Satoru would be rolling his eyes and heading out the window to avoid another argument on his parents’ parts.

12. One of your OCs is in a Disney animated movie. What’s the “big” song of that movie? (Pocahontas’ was “Colors of the wind,” Aladdin was “A Whole New World,” Hercules was “Zero to Hero” etc.)

If it was Tomoko, the song would be Let’s Just Live from RWBY Volume 4. Simple as that.

For Hisako, it’ll be Neon, also from RWBY, this time being Volume 3.

For Hikari, it would probably be Taylor Davis’s violin cover of My Heart Will Go On from Titanic.

Judai naturally gets Teardrop by BOWL.

Tomoya would probably get something like Mirror Mirror, Part 2 from RWBY Volume 3.

13. Do you think having to write while stuck out in the wilderness by yourself (in a heated cabin, food and water but no wifi, tv, or phone service) would help or hurt?

I think it would help for a while, since I get peace and quiet, not to mention my laptop already having offline editing accessible. But after a few weeks, I would just get worried about how to get back to my family, since I’m still living with them and I love them very much.

Leo and Josh would probably be the first ones to blow a gasket out of worry about me, aside from my Mom and Dad.

14. You have written or thought about writing dirty fanfiction. What is it?

…Really? You’re asking this? From the sex-repulsed, demiromantic?

Well, I thought of fanfics where an adult Tomoko and Kakashi went and did it, but got too much second-hand embarrassment to even think of writing. I’m not even going to bring Kei into this, because Lang kinda had to witness my reaction to the revelation of Kei and Kakashi’s relationship going sexual by OSF firsthand last year, and it’s sorta painful to look back on because getting triggered sucks.

15. Someone offers you thirty million dollars to ghostwrite a book about how Hell is real and all dogs go there, good or bad. Do you do it?

Nope. My uncle has a sweet Corgi dog by the name of Yuko, and I do not want to think about a story where all dogs go to Hell. Yuko deserves better, and I can get the money elsewhere. If anything, I’d just point at that person with a blank face, say, “You’re just a scam,” and walk off.

16. You will automatically get a million dollar contract for anything you write, but it has to be at least five thousand words long AND you can only use as many letters of the alphabet as complete pullups you can do. How does that work out?

I’d have to exercise more, because I do more push-ups and rollerblading than pull-ups. So no. I’d prefer writing for fun, not for the money.

17. Your dog turns into a person and writes a book about your lives together, and it gets turned into a movie. During the premiere of the movie, your dog turns to you and tells you that Hell is a place of our own making. What kind of popcorn do you order?

I would order a medium popcorn with extra butter. And I don’t think I should worry about the dog part since I actually don’t have a dog. The only dog I interact with is the aforementioned Yuko, and she’s too sweet to say something like that.

18. What’s a genre of fiction you don’t think you’d ever get the hang of writing?

Smut, because sex-repulsed demiromantic here. And any despair-inflicting stuff since I know fluff runs in my veins so much better, hence why I’m still surprised about the Danganronpa crossover that’s been going in my head. Hell, the things my head has come up with for S&S Tomoko past the Memory Arc have been less than cheery, and I have to thank Lang and by extension, Os and Abalisk for getting me out of that mindset many times, because the things she has coming up hurt.

19. How similar is your story world to the Earth we live on?

Aside from the ninja and feudal Japan-like aspects, pretty similar. The only thing Tomoko misses is freedom of speech and democracy, because despite America’s flaws, it did allow Vy’s parents to immigrate and find better lives to meet each other.

20. What inspired any of your WIPs?

Catch Your Breath. I’ve said it enough already, and owe Lang many things.

21. What song best explains the squad in your WIP?

Let’s Just Live from RWBY. Because it’s the main theme for CP in my opinion, and going onto S&S, the message of moving forward is something I think everyone in the squad tries to aspire towards.

22. Do you use Pinterest for your characters/stories?

I have a Pinterest account, but I don’t use it. It’s kinda clunky, and Tumblr and FFN has been shown to be better in my opinion.

23. Do you have an Asshole character?

The entire Hitoshi Family. Even if Satoru hasn’t shown up in S&S (because all the flack surrounding him in his initial arc in CP was bad enough), the family’s bad.

24. What superhero is similar to or is idolized by your OCs?

I feel like Tomoko would idolize Starfire and Wonder Woman, since both had to deal with coming to new worlds and adjusting to life with new people. Not sure on the others though. Judai might sympathize with Batman, but aside from that, I’m blanking.

25. Do your protagonist and antagonist get along?

Nope. Tomoko would probably want to yell her head off at Madara for being so stupid in her opinion, and grab her Wayfinder to slash Black Zetsu with. Hisako agrees with the Zetsu sentiment, but would probably want to kill Madara more than yell at him.

Danzo on the other hand, is someone Tomoko and Hisako haven’t exactly encountered. Judai, though, would want that bastard as far away from his family as possible, since Danzo has offered Judai a place in ROOT back before he met Hikari. It was not pretty, to put it lightly.

26. How many of your current WIPs do you plan to publish, if you are publishing?

I’ve published most if not all of my WIPs on FFN. I don’t know about cross-posting on AO3, since it’s a pain in the butt, but yeah. The Danganronpa thing should come out when I get more chapters of S&S done, and when I finish the anime.

27. Is there a song that inspires you to write, or inspired any of your WIPs?

Let’s Just Live comes up yet again in this long post, but I also have to credit many of Kyle Landry’s piano covers of Kingdom Hearts, because his work on the already great soundtrack gave me the idea to make Tomoko into a pianist in the first place.

28. What trends do your OCs use/wear/etc.?

Anime-inspired kimono stuff. And casual, comfy wear that’s simple and pleasing.

29. Do you listen to music or ambiance while you write? Or just silence? If it’s music, what genre?

When I need to write somber moments, I use silence while sitting in a corner of my room. For everything else, I bring up piano music to keep up the theme of CP having piano themes.

30. Are any of your characters sassy?

All of them can be sassy in some ways, but the people that really dominate the “sassy” category have to be Hikari, Tomoya, and Hisako. Those three can really rip into someone if they want to.

31. How did you come up with the idea for your current WIP?

For CP? The simple question of, “What if Kakashi had a best friend from the near beginning?”

For S&S, though? “How would things be better or worse for Kei if she met Tomoko and they worked together?”

32. How long have you been working on your current WIP?

CP: a little over a year.

S&S: nearing a year, since its first anniversary is coming up in 2 months.

33. Are you planning to publish your current WIP?

Uh, they’re already up on FFN if that’s what you mean. Because honestly, I don’t see myself writing past fanfiction.

34. If your MCs were youtubers, what kind would they be? (ex. vlogger, artuber. booktuber, comedy, etc.)

Tomoko would be like Kyle Landry in putting up various piano covers of the songs she finds.

Hisako would be half comedy, half vlogger/booktuber as she comments on the many things she sees in Tomoko’s head and through Tomoko’s eyes. The booktuber part comes from Hisako’s home being Tomoko’s mental library, so she might be reviewing the books/memories that come her way while in front of the camera.

Hikari would probably be another musician, teaming up with Judai on occasion to be like the real life Videri String Quartet, only as a duo because they both handle stringed instruments.

Tomoya would probably put up piano covers like Tomoko, but also film advice videos for those who are trying to transition like she is.

35. What season do you associate with each of your characters, and why?

Hikari is spring, since she brings along the most cheeriness in the house when Tomoko can’t.

Tomoko is autumn, since she picks up the pieces after summer passes.

Tomoya is winter, since she’s still unsure about herself and trying to find her way in the world.

Hisako and Judai both share summer, since they can be pretty hot-headed when it comes to people they care about.

36. Is there one scene that you are particularly excited to write, or had a lot of fun writing?

In terms of scenes I’m excited to write:

CP has me waiting for Kakashi’s ANBU arc to come by, since Tomoko and Kakashi are already in a relationship at this point, and I’ll be able to flesh out both civilian and ninja sides since the two are going to be kinda separated as a result of ANBU forcing Kakashi to get his own apartment in the ninja barracks for security purposes.

For S&S, I’m looking forward to the Commencement and Memory Arcs, since October Tenth and Sorayama were two events that really impacted Kei’s life originally in CYB. Tomoko being there will lead to significantly different emotional aftermaths, so exploring that has me shaking in my shoes (in the good way).

In terms of scenes that I had fun writing…

CP had Kakashi buying his signature outfit for Kannabi in Chapter 42, because Tomoko (the innocent dork) is finally starting to recognize for real that she loves her best friend and honestly doesn’t want him to die while in the field. Also for Hikari being that fashion badass that I wanted her to be.

S&S had Tomoko’s bulging duffle bag of things in Chapter 16, since that was something I had in mind since the beginning of the brainstorming stages for the story, because Kei’s shown that she can be reckless already. Our civilian pianist, on the other hand, takes things to a completely different level, and I’m kinda sad no one commented more on that scene in the reviews anyways.

37. What would the ship name be for your favorite romantic pairing in your WIP?

For CP? KakaTomo, taking the first 2 syllables from Kakashi and Tomoko’s names to get this.

For S&S? It’s a crack and sunk ship at this point, but KeiTomo kinda grew on me since writing S&S.  More so since Tomoko has been shown in S&S to be very dedicated to Kei in a way that’s different from her CP counterpart’s love for Kakashi. It would’ve been pretty interesting to explore, but talks with Lang confirmed it wouldn’t exactly work (as KeiRin shippers from CYB can probably attest to), but thoughts of it are cute to think on.

38. Are you a planner, or a pantser, or in the middle?

In the middle. I plan, but also leave enough holes for the characters to fill in with their actions.

39. What’s your favorite detail that you put into your worldbuilding?

All the family relations between the characters and how a simple network of loved ones can easily make so many changes in the Narutoverse. I’m still happy about how everyone on FFN was so receptive to the CP version of Kannabi, because that was planned from the very beginning of the story. To know that all the build-up, family and fluff moments and all, showed the natural progression of how a canon-doomed mission turned into one that was mostly heartwarming and partly bittersweet.

40. How long are your chapters, usually?

From 5k to 10k words on average. The most I’ve done, I think, is 14k words.

41. If you could meet one of your characters, who would it be?

Tomoko, since I’d be able to assure her that everything will be okay and that she doesn’t have to worry too much.

42. If you could meet any fictional character (not yours), who would it be?

Kei, since Kei’s a dork, and I think I’d be able to get her to relax a bit more by introducing all of RWBY to her and updating her on what’s happened since her past self’s death.

43. Which character is the most fun to write?

Hisako, because she’s a nicer version of Monokuma. She can say so many things that Tomoko just doesn’t say, and without any consequences.

44. Which character is the most painful to write?

To be honest, Judai, since I’m still lurking on his Interlude that expands his backstory leading up to Tomoko’s birth, and trying to make all the Yugioh GX elements transition into Naruto-terms hasn’t been easy.

45. What are some of your favorite tropes?

You Are Better Than You Think You Are, You Are Not Alone, Glomp, and True Companions.

46. What genre is your favorite to read? What genre do you usually write?

Hurt/Comfort as well as a good Mystery mixed with Fantasy are my favorites to read. For genres I write, it’s obviously Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, and Fluff.

47. Earbuds or headphones?

If given an absolute choice, earbuds because portability, but both are fine.

48. What made you want to write what it is you’re currently writing?/ What was that first spark of an idea?

As I’ve said many times before, Catch Your Breath from Lang. The next spark was actually Inoue Shiori by Hermionechan90, since her take on civilians and their relationship with ninja got me thinking.

49. What are your project’s main themes or undertones? (Yes, I do really like this question)

“Keep Moving Forward for Yourself and the People that Care for You.”

“Don’t give into your own doubts — use them as a motivation to improve yourself.”

Also, quoting Madoka from the last episode of the TV series:

“If someone tells me it’s wrong to hope, I will tell them that they’re wrong every time.”

50. Which of your characters do you relate to the most, or has the most of ‘you’ worked into them? And what aspect of you is this? (If you’re comfortable with sharing).

Tomoko obviously has the most of “me” worked into her, because of her status as an SI-OC. The biggest aspect though? Her heart, emotions, and desire to help others. That’s something I still share with her greatly, despite maturing, so seeing her grow as been a wonderful thing to witness.

51. What are the main points of inspiration/original concepts or aesthetics behind your main characters?

There’s a reason why I keep turning back to Let’s Just Live, because it shows just how much aesthetic these characters take from the song and in turn RWBY. You shouldn’t give up just yet, even when life is unfair. You have to keep moving forward, because the ones who have passed on and loved you would’ve wanted you to. If you can’t live for yourself, live for the people that are still alive and that still love you. That’s why I believe Chapter 13 of CP and Chapter 9 of S&S are still so powerful, because it’s something that Sakumo and everyone else needed to hear, and why it still stays despite all this conflict.

52. What’s your favorite quote from your project so far?

From Tomoko herself:

“Don’t take the coward’s way out. Face your pain, your mistakes, head on, and recognize what happened. You can’t change the past, but you can change the present. The future. Don’t start to cherish something when it’s long gone. Recognize what you have now, and treasure it with your life. Remember all the positive moments you’ve had, all the people you’ve loved, and just live. Don’t fear loss or pain. Take it in, endure it, and use it to help others. Because in the end, life is a gift, but short, and with the world the way it is, wouldn’t it be better to impart love and care to our loved ones before the inevitable?”

53. What’s your favorite book and why?

Don’t know if I have one aside from manga and fanfiction.

54. Do the books you like/ genre you read influence your writing style at all?

Yep. Cardcaptor Sakura was all about fluff and positive relationships, for one thing. I can’t list more off the top of my head right now, but that’s a big one.

55. Do you have a weird writer thing? Like a habit or obsession or something that’s just generally unusual when it comes to scribbling words?

Sometimes, when I’m really stressed, I just put on my headphones and pull up hairbrushing ASMR videos, because the sound of hairbrushing is surprisingly relaxing and nice when I need to get into the right working-mood.

56. Are you a hand-writer or a screen-typer?

Screen-typer.

57. What’s your favourite character from a text you’ve been forced to study and why?

Surprisingly, even though I haven’t finished the book yet, Werther from Goethe’s The Sorrows of Werther stands out, because he’s the first male protagonist I’ve seen in historical texts that is so emotional and open, and considering how my HUM professor likens his development to that of the Romanticism Movement that I already unconsciously took from, all the right bells were hit.

Tagging: No one. Whoever wants to do this, go ahead! Just pick 10 from the questions up above. :)