#i wish people didn’t question the kindness of your pure relationship

[wildeoscars]

Excerpts from 20 Questions: Eric Bogosian

Playboy, July 1991

The raging monologist who gave us “talk radio” raps about street life, horny guys and the redemptive joys of gardening.

Playboy: Your characters plead, cajole, threaten, offer skewed insights, and exhibit paranoia. Is your stage act a cry for help?

Bogosian: I need to solve my own personal problems. I know nowhere to look other than to myself, so I look at my own questionable traits. And then I personify them in a character. Early in my career, I spent a lot of time on things that had to do with sex, because I wanted to have better relationships with women. FunHouse was about pure, unadulterated fear, because at that point, I was just freaked out. My wife, Joann, and I were impoverished; we lived in this tiny apartment. Drinking in America, written when I became more successful, was about a hunger for power and success. Sex, Drugs, Rock & Roll asks, How do you live when all you know how to do is party?

Playboy: You honed your performance style in New York’s downtown art scene. Was it easier and cheaper than enrolling in drama school?

Bogosian: The downtown scene allowed me to walk out on stage every night and say and do whatever I wanted. I would go out and insult the shit out of the audience. There were nights when I took all my clothes off. I had fights with the audience. The best thing about the scene was that we were making our work and having a good time entertaining one another. I would perform in front of audiences that were guaranteed smart and hip. They didn’t care whether or not I was doing something right, like some acting teacher had taught me. They would tell me whether or not they got it. I was performing loud, nasty, insulting stuff.

Playboy: Does The Stud, your monolog about one man’s extraordinary endowment, reflect your own desire for a larger penis?

Bogosian: I was taking a pee one day and I looked down and wished I had an eight-inch dick. You’re going to quote me on that. Don’t quote me on that. It’s part of men’s fascination with themselves. I wanted to take something out of the back room of male mentality and stick it right out in front of everybody. The Stud is one of my oldest pieces. Doing things about giant dicks is not that far out at the moment. There are probably twenty comics out there doing dick things. But when I started ten years ago, it was extremely embarrassing for men in the audience; they’d sit there with their hands folded over their crotches, not laughing, and the women would be laughing their guts out and the men would be getting angry. I thought it was great stuff going on between people in the theater.

Playboy: Horny guys populate your monologs. Do you claim special knowledge of America’s testosterone level?

Bogosian: I’m very average in what I want. And my desires point me towards centerfold models as the ultimate, the ultimate, the ultimate. The ultimate accomplishment in my sexual life would be to ball a centerfold model. For a pretty girl with large breasts to be the object of delight to millions of red-blooded American men is perfectly normal. Nothing wrong with that. Guys get horny and need to focus on something. Large breasts are great. A large breast is a lovely thing at a particular moment. But as I become old and wise, I think the really important thing is being oriented towards something and understanding that you don’t necessarily have to have the thing to enjoy the thing. I happen to be in love with a woman who has medium-sized breasts.

Playboy: You are synonymous with the downtown New York scene. Do you dream crossover dreams?

Bogosian: At this time, I don’t think I’m going to show up as some kind of box office attraction. But you never know. I’d like to be a star. There’s always the challenge, especially when you’re surrounded by agents and producers, to see if you can really catch the gold ring. Can I fill Madison Square Garden? Can I go on Johnny and do a killer five minutes? I can’t imagine getting on Letterman, people would watch and say they knew what I was doing: This guy plays thugs from New Jersey and subway panhandlers. They wouldn’t see the irony; it would be like I’m just making cruel fun on these guys. I need an audience to be with me for a little while.

Playboy: You’ve bought a house in New Jersey. Will crab grass begin to crop up in your monologs?

Bogosian: It has already. I did a monolog called Normal Guy. I like gardening a lot. Gardening gets me real mellow. I grow twenty-five kinds of vegetables, and when I’m lucky, like last summer, a lot of things come up very nicely. I grow lettuce and beets and carrots and different varieties of cucumbers. I grow different varieties of corn and tomatoes and squash and pumpkins and peppers and okra and all kinds of neat stuff. And early in August, you get to a point where everything you’re eating that night at dinner was grown in your own garden. That’s nice. However, when you garden, you find out that in order to get your vegetables to look good, you have to kill everything within a hundred yards: animals, plants, and little insects. And you realize that after you do all that, you still end up with this gnarled little carrot. Then you go to the supermarket and you get this perfect carrot and you wonder, What are they killing to make these?

Playboy: One of your characters defines being civilized as sitting on a couch with a babe, watching TV, eating clam dip on a ripple potato chip, smoking joints, snorting coke–and swilling bourbon, beer and champagne. What’s your vision of the civilized life?

Bogosian: In New Jersey, we have a fireplace and we’re very, very civilized. I’m sitting on the couch and the fire is going and snow is falling outside and I’m reading a pulp novel by Stephen King. Being over thirty-five, there’s no question that there is a vibe in me that’s moving toward a Stratolounger with a bowl of potato chips and a cable TV with a channel selector. I will fight that tooth and nail. It scares me. I like middle-class life. I don’t think it’s a sin to be middle class. I don’t have to be mainstream to be comfortable. I’ve spent time with Frank Zappa, and he has a very normal, middle-class existence. He’s a daddy and has a whole family and they have pizza for lunch and they have pets and it’s a very normal life. But he’s not mainstream and never will be.

[persephoneflouwers]

I hope Louis will hang this on his wall 🌷

[lure-of-writing]

Price to Pay

You were his long before she came into the picture. Being the child of parents that were deemed as traitors not many people sought you out in hopes of a friendship, neither did Xaden but nonetheless he took on responsibility of all the marked children in hopes of keeping them alive. It was a freezing wet cold January morning when you met him, purely by accident at that. You were never intended to meet him , at least until you got to the riders quadrant. “There is always a price to be paid my sweet girl, whether or not you know it.” Your mothers voice rang true in your head. In all your life it seems that she was never wrong, not even in death. 

“You are the only person who was being…” The deliberate pause of the man standing before you didn’t go unnoticed, with a slight cough he clears his throat. “Being trained as a healer of some sorts. And seeing as he won’t let anyone else help him you surely understand why I asked for you to be the one who came, right?” The agitated tone of his voice did nothing to soothe the anxiety hurling throughout your body. “I mean after all, I can’t let the boy die.” Ah, there it was. The real reason you were brought here. Never would they allow the leader of the rebellion's son to die before they got a chance to play their death games with him. Pretending to play gods. Something tells you Malek wouldn’t be too happy with their doings. With a heavy sign you give in “Where is he?” After all your mother was just as involved with the revolution as his father was, which means you are not only responsible for the others, mostly out of guilt that your mothers actions caused them to lose their own families, but you also know that your mother would want you to look after the boy like she looked after his father. Shame and guilt have an interesting way of making people do things that they wouldn’t normally do. Such as willing to walk into what could be considered a death wish of a house. 

Xaden was exactly where they said he would be. The room was basically empty besides the bare necessities and random things he must of deemed worth collecting along the way. Hues of tan, white and gold engulf the room in what you could only imagine to be an attempt at not only showing a wealth of money but also a failed attempt at being inviting. If anything it only made the raised, wilted and barely healed wounds lining his back to be even more glaringly obvious, if that were even possible. While observing the marred flesh you noted that you didn’t see his back rise and fall. That was a bad sign, a very bad sign. Quiet but hurried steps made their way over to where he laid in bed. His head was facing you but his eyes were closed. Naturally you stuck your finger under his nose to see if he was even breathing.  “Is it normal for you to stick your fingers under the nose of people you don’t know?” The sudden noise has you pulling back and quickly placing a hand over your heart. “My god, why would you scare me like that? I thought you were dead, you dumbass.” you grumble “In what world would I just be sticking my hands in the faces of strangers?” You swear you heard an attempt at laughter out of him but it could also be a groan of pain. Your second guess was probably much more likely. “What hurts the most?” you stop assessing his back for a moment when you see him peek open his eye “Everything?” His tone drips in disbelief, not that you blame him. It was kind of a stupid question. Sighing you pull over his chair from his desk and take a seat. Another sigh tumbles out while rubbing your face and all you can think is that you definitely have your work cut out for you in more ways than one. 

The path of your relationship had for the most part always been a rocky one. Xaden never wanted to accept not only your help but the role you played keeping the other marked children alive. While he might be the son of the leader that doesn’t make you invisible. Day in a day out you would teach those around you the knowledge you possessed of plants and herbs and remedies in hopes that they would never need to use them. Teaching, training, building children into young adults who understood what they were going to be up against was something you took pride in, even if Xaden frowned upon it. 

He would never say it out loud but he thinks you are not capable of teaching them what they need to know, how to survive in a war college that's meant to kill you. In his eyes you are too soft, too kind, too willing to help, to survive Basgiath War College. And if you couldn’t survive then how would the children that you are supposedly teaching?

Unfortunately for him you are your mothers daughter. Not only were you almost as lethal as him in the challenges, you were quick and smart and strong. Stronger than he ever thought you were capable of. And after many fights about letting you help, letting you correct as much wrong as you humanly could, Xaden finally caved. That is where the tab for your price to pay begins collecting. 

Something about him was like a drug. Constantly pulling you in for more but causing a world of pain when you lack access. You never planned on your relationship becoming more than a begrudging and slightly reluctant friendship. But just like with any drug you think you're good at controlling the amount you need in what doses, but then over time you need more and more until it's all consuming and you can’t function without it. Won’t function without it. You always thought you were better than others at controlling your feelings and never allowing yourself to get too close to someone but everything about Xaden goes against what you know. 

Life had been as blissful in a war college that attempts to murder you at every chance they can get, can be. After fighting the obvious mutual attraction for longer then you would like to admit. You and Xaden found a routine in being a couple in a psychopaths dream scenario. In the three years that you had been there alot had changed. Somewhere obvious, some well…some where definitely not. Like Xaden falling out of love with you. He would never admit it. Violet's sudden arrival to the riders quadrant was unexpected to say the least. Xadens request for her to be put into his wing was even less expected. Obviously you weren’t dumb you knew the saying “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer” but looking back your unyielding love kept you from seeing the truth and in turn maybe you were in fact dumb after all. 

At first her presence didn’t worry you at all. Did it slightly irritate you? Sure but you were confident that she would be nothing more than a slight annoyance. Oh how wrong you were. Slowly you felt Xaden pull away from you. It wasn’t anything unusual being a wingleader that he was pulled away at different times for varying amounts of time, as were you. This was nothing outside of your usual. A red flag was suddenly raised when Bodhi and Garrick couldn’t seem to look you in the eyes, constantly covering for where Xaden was at and what he was doing. Or rather who he was doing. As dumb as you were you knew without a doubt that their loyalties lie with your boyfriend but you had also hoped that as your friends they wouldn’t turn a blind eye to his affair. You soon learned hope is a useless thing. Hope gives you the ability to pray for change, to see other possibilities, to turn a blind eye at what is happening in front of your very own eyes. Hope is what kept you in the dark, and later would later kill whatever remained of your heart. 

Years down the line you would learn from Bodhi what exactly happened between Xaden and Violet but it would never help repair what had been broken. You would live in the dark of where things went wrong, what signs did you miss because you were too young and in love to pay attention to your surroundings. It was after threshing when you noticed how he looked at her. How he cradled her cheeks in comfort, just like he did with you. When news of Xaden’s dragon being bonded with Violets finally reached you, all you could do was groan in frustration at how much more complicated your life was about to become. “Is it true?” Xaden didn’t need to know what you were talking about, he already knew. With a slight tilt of his head he beacons you into his room before closing the door. Last thing he needed was somebody eavesdropping on a conversation that didn’t involve them. “Yeah.” he drops into the desk chair while you place yourself on the edge of the bed. “What are we going to do?” Slowly he looks at you with a resigned look. “There’s really not much anyone can do about it.” Scrunching your face you look at him in disbelief “But you know what happens with mated dragons as well as I do. They can barely go like a few hours being separated. What are we going to do? Bring her along like we’re her parents or something?” you watch as he crosses his arms over his chest with a raised eyebrow. “Would you like to talk to Tairn and Sagely about this?” 

“Don’t  be fucking stupid Xay you know they don’t give a shit about how I feel about this situation. But you have to admit this is absolutely ridiculous, this isn’t going to work, we graduate soon and will be sent off to gods knows where and she will still be here.”  you gesture to the four walls of his bedroom “Are you really willing to get yourself killed by coming back to this place every other week?” With a shrug he groans before placing his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “It's either here or out in the field.” While you have grown to accept his air of nonchalance, its about to drive you up a fucking all. “For fucks sake Xaden why are you not concerned about this? About how it will affect us and everything we are working so hard for.” You're met with a cold hard glare “Don’t you dare question my commitment to what I am trying so hard to protect, to those I am willing to help and willing to die for.” You couldn’t hold back the laugh of disbelief that falls out of your mouth “Are you willing to die for her?”

“Goddamnit (y/n) why can’t you see that this is out of my control? This is normal for me to accept what has happened and figure out how to deal with it. So if you’re done questioning my alliances then I think you should leave.” Never has Xaden talked to you like that and you would be damned if you let it happen now. “Who do you think you’re talking to Xaden? Because I know for sure it isn’t me, so I suggest you fix that attitude of yours and try that again.” There is a long beat of silence while you refuse to break eye contact with your boyfriend. He sighs again before lightly motioning for you to come to him with his hand. Blankly you stare at him, there isn’t any way you are going to go to him after the way he spoke to you, not even Malek himself could drag you over there.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m sorry. You know it didn’t mean it. I’m just stressed. I now have to figure out how to keep Violet alive because you know if she dies I die, and if you haven’t noticed she's kinda making it more difficult than it needs to be. I mean you have seen her for yourself, she's behind in basically everything.” You don’t even bat an eye at his so-called apology. That was lackluster at best. “(y/n) baby I’m sorry. My stress isn’t a reason to take it out on you just because you are concerned about me. You know that your opinion matters to me more than anything and just hearing your worries adds a whole other layer of stress to this clusterfuck of a mess. I know you’re concerned and you have every reason to be, if this was the other way around I have no idea what I would do. But I promise you I am going to do everything in my power to not let this affect us and what we have going on outside of here. We’re going to figure it out, just like we always do right?” His question hangs in the air like hope. “Right.” you reluctantly agree before giving into his beckoning and plop yourself into his lap. “There isn’t anything in this world I wouldn’t do for you, you know that right?” his eyes pierce into yours and you swear you saw something else dance in those eyes of his and it wasn’t love “I know.” 

Your life was never the same after that moment. The memory is frozen in time, forever memorializing your heart break. It was the night the war games started. You hadn’t seen Xaden all day having been preoccupied with your own wing to have time and check in on him and his wing. After looking for him everywhere the only place left to look for him was his room. You know for a fact that he hasn’t taken off with Sgaely so that only left one place for him to be. Xaden had warded his door so that no one would be allowed in but in the moment of lust with Violet he had forgotten all about the fact that he had also worded it to allow you into his room at any time. Finally you had reached the end of the hall where his room sat diagonally from yours and pushed the door open.

Violet. Xaden. Violet. Xaden. Your eyes didn’t know where to focus. On him? Or on Her? You didn’t hear as violet shrieked in shock or as Xaden uttered your name. For a moment no one moved. No one even dared to breathe, for all hell was about to break loose. “You lied.” it tumbles out of your lips like a ghost. Xaden barely caught the end of what you said. “You lied! YOU FUCKING LIED!” Your heartbroken cry breaks him out his trace pulling Violet off of him and reaching for his pants. He watches as blue bolts of energy strike randomly around the room sending various objects flying. “Xaden we kinda have a situation a-” Garrick and Bodhi appear behind you. Obviously they were looking for him also. Except they were hoping that they found him before you did. 

“So this is what you’ve been doing? You’ve been fucking some first year behind my back? I thought I meant the world to you huh? That there was no one else in this world who was more important to you than me? You remember that, don't you Xaden?’ Never in his life had he seen so much anger consume someone that he could see it dancing in their eyes but he could see it in yours. The way you went from screaming to clam sent a shiver down his spine, and he was not one to scare. Another bolt of energy went flying and this time it landed right next to Violet who was wrapped in his blanket trying to cover her naked body. Without thinking his shadows built a wall between her and your bolts of energy. You watch as the wall of shadows is formed and dissipates before your very eyes. He was protecting her. Protecting her from you.

A loud scoff of disbelief strikes a nerve in his body sending him into action. “(y/n) look at me, baby. This was an accident, a mistake. You know I only love you.” He could see the particles of energy bumping into each other gaining strength and as he goes to step forward closer to you it strikes, keeping him in his place. “I thought you only loved me?” Violet cries out in heartbreak. Shaking your head you laugh “You are such a fucking liar, but I have to admit you had me fooled Xaden.” Slowly you start to clap while staring the man who once held your heart in his hands keeping it safe from everyone and everything but now it lays shattered on the ground into a million pieces. “You truly had me there for a second, I fell for your tricks. I had a feeling that I was never good enough for you, that you were waiting for someone else who was better to come along and I guess you found better huh? Tell me Xaden just exactly how long you’ve been fucking her behind my back?’ He takes a long deep breath while looking at the ceiling before answering “Since threshing.”

Deep down Xaden knew the second he saw Violet that he was doomed but he had hoped for both yours and his sake that it was just a thought, he knew that one would compare to you, no one would be able to love and understand him on the level you do. And yet here he is doing the one thing he promised to never do. “Fuck you Xaden Riorson.” The look in your eyes is cold, dead even. The only thing keeping them warm is the hatred he knows you keep for him shimmering beneath the surface. And with that you turn swiftly on your heels and shoulder checked both Garrick and Bodhi who were too stunned to move, “Fucking energy wielders” Garrick mumbles 

You now knew just what the price of loving Xaden was. What dues were to be paid. It was your soul, your heart and everything left you had to believe good in the world does exist. Loving Xaden Riorson was your price to pay. The heart of the girl who used to be is no longer there, all that's left is the gaping hole that Xaden caused when he ripped your heart out that night with his own bare hands.

[espinosaurusrexex]

Serious Questions

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader

summary: Bucky agrees to go on a date to make his colleagues shut up. Now, he just feels sorry for the poor woman that has to spend an entire evening with him. He really tries to make it work, though, because he actually enjoys her company.

a/n: This was a request by the lovely @alana-32. Hopefully, it meets your expectations 💙 I haven’t written pure fluff in a hot minute but this was fun!

word count: 2.9k

warnings: nervous and wholesome Bucky, super fluffy, just a really beautiful bond unfolding 

･ﾟ✫* 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 ｡✭･ﾟ

You should get out more, Bucky. Meet people and make friends, Bucky. You need to get laid, Bucky.

Sam’s words echoed through Bucky’s head as he pushed open the door of the restaurant. The warm air welcomed him and the little bell at the entrance rattled when he entered. He didn’t know how it exactly happened, but all of a sudden Clint had pitched into the conversation and urged him to meet his cousin. And Bucky had agreed. Well, the desperate attempt to make them shut up backfired. Big time.

He didn’t want to date. Apart from the fact that he didn’t wish himself on anybody, he didn’t think he could handle a relationship like that. Hell, Bucky barely realized how he made friends in the past year, so how the hell was he supposed to date? He hadn't done it in ages. It was probably different now than it was 80 years ago. 

The waiter looked at him with wide eyes - fear visible on his face - when he entered and chose a quiet place in the corner, though the whole restaurant was fairly empty. What would he even talk about? His hand started to sweat. This had been a bad idea. A really stupid bad idea. His eyes swerved to the door and then back to the waiter standing behind a small bar. Was it too late to back out? 

But then the bell above the entrance chimed again and he knew that he had missed his chance. 

“Hello.” You smiled at him, clutching your bag with nervous fingers. “Are you James Barnes?”

Bucky scrambled to stand up and held out his hand to you with a tight smile. He nodded and gestured for you to take a seat after you told him your name. 

He could do this, he thought. Especially because you seemed just as nervous. The first thing you two had in common, right?

“I’m really sorry, this is kind of awkward.” You looked down at your hands beneath the table with hesitance. “I... uhm... I haven’t done this in a while,” you confessed with genuine eyes. And Bucky could see a hint of comfort washing through your face. 

“I doubt your last date is as long ago as mine, doll. You’ll probably do a lot better than me.”

A small laugh pressed past your lips and Bucky’s heart warmed at the sound. It felt good to make you laugh. He wanted to do it again.

“Let’s rush through the basics then so we can get to the interesting bits. I think that first half hour is what makes these things so awkward.” Your mouth spread into a grin as you straightened up.

“Sounds like a plan.” Bucky nodded. 

“Well, you already know my name... I work in a small bookshop in Brooklyn, I am an only child but never wanted to be. I love dogs, cats, ducks - all the animals, really, but I don’t have any pets because my landlord doesn’t allow them. Well... I have fish - I had to settle for fish because they're quiet. But that’s their problem, you know? They’re quiet and you can’t play with them or pet them.” You shrugged. “Uhm... I like to read - I do that a lot, and I think that’s it.” Your speech ended with a bright smile and Bucky couldn’t help his own from spreading. 

“My turn?”

“Yes.”

“Okay...” He straightened ups as well, a little giddy about the situation now. Normally, Bucky wouldn’t react this way to something he didn't like, but he wanted to try it this time. You were just so sweet and he didn't want to ruin the date... for you. “My friends call me Bucky, I grew up in Brooklyn, I have a sister... had a sister. And I think I’m more of a cat person - if I had to choose. I don’t have any pets. I work a lot, I guess it keeps me distracted. And... I feel like my back story doesn’t need to be explained, you probably know all about it.” He didn’t give you much, Bucky knew that. But those were the things he could say easily and really, he wasn’t sure how you’d react to most of it.

“Bucky... I like it. What’s it short for?”

“Buchanan. ’s my middle name.”

“Like the President?”

“Yup.”

“Hm... I guess that’s kinda cool.”

“I guess.”

"Can I call you Bucky?"

He felt weirdly content with you saying his name. "If you want." There was no regret in his decision as he watched your face scrunch in excitement.

The shallow topics went on for a while, and Bucky was surprised to see that talking to you was easy. He didn’t worry about what you thought, because you reacted to his replies with intrigue and adoration. He felt heard. And he had to admit that he actually enjoyed the little meeting his teammate had set up so far. He learned a bunch of stuff about you. And he picked up on little quirks you had and he celebrated every new one he noticed. Like the way your nose slightly crunched when you didn't believe him, or how your finger grazed over the table when you talked about something you really liked - back and forth. It was comforting to be in your presence.

Bucky leaned back in his booth as he emptied his beer, watching as you ordered another drink for yourself. He found himself smiling into the bottle when the waiter agreed to add an extra peppermint leave, making you bite back a bright smile. The waiter smiled as well, a lot less tense than he had been before you had arrived and it fascinated Bucky how contagious your good mood was. Then you turned your attention back to Bucky and he had to regain his composure. His arm slipped from the back of the booth and fell to his side as he waited for you to talk again. 

“Okay, real talk, now - and I need you to answer this question honestly.” Your fingers pressed on the table like he’d seen important politicians do and Bucky had to hide a smile. 

“Hit me with it.”

“If you could be a mix of any two animals, which combination would you choose?”

Bucky was baffled for a second. He had expected everything but this. And then - out of the blue - he laughed. A real can’t-hold-back-the-snort-if-I-tried-laugh and it felt so unbelievably good, it scared him a bit.

You gasped appalled, but the small smirk behind your hand couldn’t be hidden. “This is serious, Bucky. It says a lot about you.”

“Really, how?”

“Well, for example, I would choose an elephumblebee because it would look freaking adorable. A tiny elephant with wings and a furry butt, are you kidding me? Why the government hasn’t made that happen yet is truly beyond me.”

Bucky got it, then. It really did say a lot about you. You were fun and cute and he could imagine a little clumsy at times - just like he would imagine an elephumblebee. And even though it still felt foreign to him to engage in a silly activity like this, with you, it was fun - and he wanted to. So he thought really hard, his eyes focusing on the wall behind you and you waited patiently and ordered another beer for him. 

Who would have thought that James Bucky Barnes would ever sit in a restaurant and think about how ridiculous a dog with a giraffe’s head would look? Certainly not Bucky. But it was almost comforting to do so.

“Alright, I think I got it.” You just nodded in anticipation. “I think I would be a spider-wolf... a spi- a spolf.” Bucky was satisfied with his answer: A lone wolf and someone people didn’t really like - pretty accurate if you’d asked him. 

You just watched him with a tilted head for a while and Bucky felt a little uncomfortable with his answer now. Had he said the wrong thing? 

“What?” Your lips just pursed in response. 

“Nothing, nothing..,” you trailed off and Bucky couldn’t stop staring at your lips. “I was just thinking, you know - I think I’ve never seen a real wolf before. It’s not on my bucket list or anything and I heard they are so much bigger than you think, but like... have you?”

“I actually have. In the wild - amazing animals and yeah, bigger than a dog, that’s for sure.”

“Really?” Your eyes lit up. “Wow, that must have been such a unique experience.”

Bucky smiled sadly, nodding. “To be honest, I didn’t really realize it when it happened. I couldn’t appreciate it the way you would.”

“Oh well, still. It’s awesome. The most extraordinary animal I have ever seen in ‘the wild’ was a raccoon. There’s not a lot of wildlife potential when you never leave the city.” You shrugged as you pressed your lips in a straight line, but Bucky chuckled.

“Not much of the vacation kind?”

“It’s not that...” You paused and sighed. “I just love the bookstore too much. There is this one lady. She comes in every Thursday at exactly the same time and she just sits and reads and she has the most amazing stories to tell. And then there is the little stray cat that comes by every day and we have a little cuddle session. Oh, and I can’t forget about the quiet tatted college kid that secretly reads romance novels in the back isles for hours on end. I would miss them too much...”

Bucky just sat and listened to you ramble on and on about all the individuals you were so attached to, even if they didn’t know. And he was reminded yet again how much he enjoyed this initially dreaded evening. It didn't feel forced and you were so authentic and kind. Bucky was relaxing with every second he spend in the cozy little restaurant with you. He was sure that he could spend a whole day here with you, without getting bored.

He leaned forward as he watched the corners of your mouth tug up and your eyes sparkle with joy while you talked about the bookstore. And he couldn’t help but ask himself how he ended up here. How had he gotten a date with the most caring person in the world - no, really, what were the odds of that happening to him? But the most present thought swarming his mind was: How is a woman like you still single? 

You suddenly stopped taking and Bucky was catapulted back to reality. You looked at him with wide eyes for the fraction of a second and then they softened and your gaze averted to the table. Had he just said that out loud?! Bucky didn’t know what to do. He was frozen to the booth, his hands tightening around the bottle and he held his breath - didn’t dare breathe until you gave him a new reaction.

After a beat, you sighed and looked him in the eyes apologetically. “I... I don’t know.” Your hand moved over the table and nervously began picking on the toothpicks in the glass jar. “I guess, I don’t seem to be the taste of most men around here. I don’t like wild parties and spending my weekends wasting away with a hangover.”

Bucky felt himself cringing at how uncomfortable he had made you. You clearly were embarrassed talking about this, but he would let you talk - or chose not to anymore. Either way, he would respect your decision.

“I... uh... I just haven’t had any luck so far. When I talk about my interests, everyone’s eyes just glaze over and then I never see them again. They think I’m boring, but that’s... I like concerts and dancing... I just don’t need the whole-” Your hands flailed in front of your face before you sunk back into your seat. 

“You’re not boring, doll. I completely understand what you’re saying. I don’t need all that-” now his hand flailed in the air, “either.” Which made you break a smile that got brighter when he returned it. And Bucky felt a little pride swell in his chest when he watched your mood lift again. 

“Can I ask you something?” You suddenly said and Bucky felt a little nervous at the piercing stare you gave him.

“Uh... sure.”

You bit your lip before finally speaking again. “You don’t really strike me as the social type, either.”

Bucky waited for you to continue, but you seemed in thought all of a sudden. “That’s not a question.”

You laughed nervously. “Right. I guess my question is... well, why did you agree to this evening? Clint didn’t really make it seem as if there was a lot of convincing involved.”

Bucky already facepalmed himself mentally for what he was about to say next. But he didn’t want to lie to you - it didn’t feel right. No, you deserved the truth - especially after you had answered his stupid question earlier so honestly.

“To be completely honest, I didn’t know how else to make my friends- uh...shut up. But I don’t regret coming here if that’s what you’re getting at.” He rushed that last part when he saw your face sadden. “I don’t get out too often, that’s true. Which doesn’t mean that I don’t want to... I just don’t know how to do this very well - talking to people. Usually, I get weird stares or fearful glances.”

Your eyes gleamed with something unintelligible before you leaned forward, your elbows resting on the table. “I don’t know how anyone could be scared of you, Bucky.”

“That’s very sweet of you to say, doll. But I don’t blame them, I would probably react the same if I weren’t... me.” His eyebrows furrowed with the last word and he could see a shiver of sadness wash over you.

“I think you’re pretty great,” you offered with an encouraging tap on his hand and Bucky felt his stomach churn.

A short silence overtook you and Bucky tried to keep his composure. The mood had shifted slightly, not uncomfortably, no - but just enough to leave his mind free from any topics he could talk about. Which usually wasn’t a problem, but he wanted to talk to you - tell you more and get told more. Which was why he was extra grateful for your breaking the silence after a couple seconds.

“So... I guess we can check off the heavy stuff as well?”

“Seems so,” he chuckled, holding on to the little feeling of relief you had sparked in his chest.

For the next hour, you actually got Bucky to open up a little more. He hadn’t even realized you were the one talking most of the time because he enjoyed listening to you so much. He came to realize, however, that it wasn’t so bad to talk about himself. He liked the way your eyes lit up at his stories about Clint, or the occasional ‘what, really?’ you threw into his anecdotes, making him feel important.

After another 30 minutes, you had made it outside. And as Bucky stood outside the restaurant door, hands buried deep in his coat pockets, helooked at you with an honest smile, while you adjusted your mittens.

“Thank you for giving this a chance, Bucky. I had a lot of fun tonight.” Your words built puffy white clouds in the air, but other than those, the butterflies in his stomach didn’t dissipate.

“I did, too,” he confessed, realizing for the fourth time today, that this was really true. “We should do this again.”

You bit your lips as your shoulders jerked with reluctance, but before you turned fully, you stepped towards Bucky and hugged him tightly. “Definitely.” 

The cold weather seemed a lot more bearable all of a sudden. Bucky caged you to his chest with his arms and pressed his smile into the crook of your neck while an excited shiver ran through him. He felt incredible, safe, content, and he realized how much he had missed hugs - real, affectionate hugs.

“And you’re not a spolf,” you mumbled into his ear, squeezing him a little tighter. “You’re a curtle - a cat-turtle. Because you have a hard shell and you don’t trust very easily, which might make people feel like you don’t care. But you do - you’re just a little misunderstood.” You pulled back with a sad smile and Bucky felt his hands tighten around you as he stiffened. Though despite the surprise, his lips split into a bright smile.

He gazed into your eyes for a little longer before he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on your cheek, making a giddy smile appear on your lips. “Thank you, doll.” 

And then, with a final wave ‘good night’ you turned and walked down the street. Bucky watched until you rounded the corner, unable to wipe the stupid grin off his face.

**Bonus:

“So... how was the date?” Sam teased as Bucky entered the main area of the compound. But his friend just wanted to go to his room and revel in the serenity, you had brought him, a little longer.

“That’s none of your business, punk,” Bucky grumbled, passing the sofa. 

“Why, did you more-than-kiss her goodbye?”

Bucky stopped in his tracks and turned with an annoyed expression, but not even he could hide the blush on his cheeks from deepening at the thought of actually kissing you. His heart was pounding in his chest.

“Oh! Wait? Did you really?!”

“Shut up, Sam.” Bucky wanted to deny it for your sake, but he liked the thought of it too much. So he swiftly decided to simply not spill in front of his friends and your cousin. 

“Holy shit.” He heard Clint chuckle while he made a beeline to his room, missing how the two avengers exchanged a $10 bill behind him.

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[unluckiestmember]

Arcane x innocent reader? Like someone who is a literal angel?

Of course! Coming up!

Arcane X Innocent! Reader

Characters: Jinx, Vi, Viktor, Caitlyn Kiramman, Vander, Silco, Ekko, Sevika, Jayce Talis and Mel Medarda.

Tags: Fluff, established relationship, Jayce being Jayce, Jinx being Jinx, overprotectiveness, innocence and reputations trying to be kept.

Warning: None. SFW.

A/N: I adore innocent readers and OCs! I feel they have a way of bringing out the true nature of characters, especially with this kind of cast! Also sorry to everyone for taking so long, I unfortunately have a chaotic and no good life. XD

Jinx

“Hey, toots! How has ya day been? Did you miss me?! Of course you did! Come here, you cute little bunny!”

You are Jinx’s little bunny! She loves how innocent you are for someone who hangs out with her, and in a way, you keep her grounded. You are the sunshine in this dark unforgiving world. Usually she loves destroying things and making others lives harder to live.

But when it comes to you? She is extra careful. She never lets you go on missions or patrol unless she’s with you. You’re in her hideout? She’s doing safety precautions by forcing you to wear a welding mask or staying six feet away from her projects. And unless they are little trinkets and presents for you, you can’t exactly touch them unless she assists you with them. You are a porcelain doll in her eyes. She doesn’t want you to break or become corrupted at all. She’s you’re protector and your lover and she won’t let you forget that.

Violet "Vi"

“Do you know how cute you are? You’re adorable… Hey, don’t hide that face from me, I mean it. You’re adorable.”

Vi is known to be a hardass sometimes to people, but around you? She lets her true colors come out. She’s super affectionate physically and verbally, telling you how much she loves you and cherishes you. If anyone was to hurt you, she’s not just breaking their nose, she’s breaking their entire body. You are so precious. Maybe too precious to her.

She always rushes from work back home just to cuddle with you and ask how your day was. And don’t get her started on your bashful nature, she adores it so much since you only get that way around her. Does she wish you could stand up for yourself? Sometimes. But for the most part, she’s okay with it, especially since she can protect the both of you. To everyone else, she’s a wild card with muscle and snark. But to you and only you, she’s perfect.

Viktor

“Rodnaya. Did you fix my calculations?... Please, don’t fret- I’m not angry. I’m just wondering… What did I do to deserve you?”

Viktor thinks you are make believe. There is no way someone as sweet as you should exist. How can you be so in love with someone like him? He believes he can never give you what you want or need, but whenever you assure him he can, his spirits are lifted and his confidence gets a significant boost.

Whenever you are around, you make Viktor feel he can make all the progress in the world no matter what anyone says. You make him feel a little more comfortable in his skin, which is nice. But even better is the fact that because of you, he tries his best to exercise self love. This can come in the form of taking a few breaks from his project and treating himself whenever he makes a huge accomplishment. Viktor cherishes you so much and he hopes you know that no matter how nose deep he can be in work.

Caitlyn Kiramman

“Good afternoon, my darling. I didn’t keep you waiting, did I? Let me make it up to you… You’re too sweet, but I insist.”

Because of how innocent you are, Caitlyn sometimes compares you to an angel. She finds you to be a bit pure and needs to be protected. Though unlike Vi, her protective nature is more tamed. She’ll prefer protecting you with her words, choosing to ask questions regarding your well being. But if you are in physical danger, she has no problem jumping to your aid with her gun in hand to scare those who hurt you away.

You mean a lot to her and she’ll show you by inviting you to places or showing you the many gardens in Piltover. Of course, she’s not without having more personal evenings together at home, cuddled together and enjoying each other’s company. All in all, she loves you and she’s not afraid to tell or show you that.

Silco

“This life. One of hardship and poverty, is not one that you deserve. I promise, I’ll grant Zaun its independence. For all of us. For you.”

If Silco is the king of Zaun, you are his king/queen. It’ll take a while for you to get close to him because of the locks he usually has around his heart. But if you are able to cut them off with time and effort, Silco will treat you as if you are royalty. Expect him to show you off to those around you, whether it be you sitting on his lap or standing by his side.

That being said, do not expect him to shower you in kisses and snuggle up to your body. He has an image to hold, so the last thing he needs to hear from his men is that he’s gotten soft and mushy. Around them and under the eyes of Zaun, you are just his second half. But behind closed doors? You are more like his life. Just make sure you don’t tell anyone.

Ekko

“Damn, the light here really knows how to bring the beauty out of you. Are you sure you’re not an angel in disguise?”

You and Ekko have a pretty chill relationship. You’re his lover and he’s yours for the most part. He’s not overprotective, but he can have moments of being a helicopter boyfriend. You’re going on a mission? Take Scar with you. You want to go into Zaun to get something? Why doesn't he tag along to help? You would bring it up to him that you don’t always need someone with you, but your bashful nature makes it a little hard. So unless another firelight realizes what’s going on, be prepared to not go many places alone.

Outside of the following, Ekko is for the most part considerate of you and what you want. You can always find him asking you what you desire or need from him and even if you try not to answer, he will subtly find ways to get most of the unspeakable answers. 

Sevika

“Hey, we can… Cuddle later, okay? Right now, my crew is here and I don’t want to ruin my reputation.”

Compared to Silco, Sevika is more open in her relationship with you. She’ll tell everyone that you are her lover and in her own way be proud of it. That being said, she tries not to show a lot of PDA in hopes of protecting her reputation and mainly yourself. In her mind, if her group or anyone finds out you mean a lot to her, you can become a prime suspect in future kidnappings or blackmail. And she doesn’t want that for herself nor for you.

Outside of work, Sevika makes up for having to be a little distant with you. She’ll take you gambling with her and if you don’t prefer that, you guys can always hang out somewhere else. As long as you are content and safe is what matters. Sevika’s a good girlfriend, very protective. Just don’t expect her to be super verbal with her love, she prefers actions over words. But do be on the look out for a lot of teasing.

Vander

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself from picking you up, you’re too cute... Screw it, you’re all mine.”

Vander is a big ol’ teddy bear when it comes to loving you. He doesn't care if anyone at the bar comments on your relationship with him because he will waste no time picking you and showing you off like a trophy. He talks about you almost nonstop if he’s not talking about work or affairs occurring in Zaun.

When it comes to his affairs with Piltover, he makes sure you are nowhere near it. In his eyes, you are too precious to get in the middle of anything affiliated with them. Not to mention, he wouldn’t be the same if somehow you got hurt or worse. The kids need you and so does he, because with you in their lives, they feel like a complete family. You hold the hound down on a leash and he loves you for that.

Mel Medarda

“You know what? After I’m done with meetings at work, we’re doing whatever you want. How’s that sound?... Come on now, love. You have to speak up.”

When it comes to Mel, conversation is key. Which is why your relationship can feel like a relationship, but also like a class. She pushes you to speak for yourself in many situations, but doesn’t force it upon you. It’s not that she hates how innocent and bashful you can be, she just doesn’t want that to be used against you or for other’s personal gain. So if she can shape you up to speak for yourself just a tiny bit, that will make her content.

Regardless though, she enjoys your company, especially after stressful days working with the council. In a way, you two kind of act like a married couple, having an unspeakable bond, but a loving one nonetheless. 

Jayce Talis

“Yeah, the meeting was great!... Okay, fine, I skipped it- But can you blame me? Why would I want to rehash work when I could be here with you?”

If you were a dog owner, Jayce would be that golden retriever that gives you a run for your money, but makes you feel intense happiness. Every day is always something new with this man because he will give you a run for your money due to how hyper he is when he gets a new idea. Also he’s very loving around you, wanting to spend as much time with you as he can.

Though, he’s no Jinx. He knows that the both of you have lives and duties to fulfill. So he’ll give you space. But not for long. Just be ready to be working or relaxing when Jayce pops up out of nowhere to check up on you. If you forget your lunch, he’s going to deliver it to you. Forgot paperwork? He’s already on it, all you need to do is check for numerous errors. Everyone knows how you feel to date Jayce; It’s a wild ride, but a fun one that’s worth it.

Arcane requests are currently open! :D

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, be safe and have a good day! <3

[musicalmoritz]

Can you analyze Aoikane? Like does aoi really like Akane? Is Akane a good person to her? Doesn’t he just treat her like everyone else? Even after the severance arc?

I’m glad you asked this! I’ve written a lot about Aoi and Akane as separate characters but I haven’t really gotten to go in depth explaining their relationship. This won’t cover everything but I’ll try to address all your questions. Just a heads up, I incorporated a mix of canon evidence and personal interpretation here. I tried to address each time I was purely stating my perspective but be aware that this is very opinionated

So to answer your first question, “Does Aoi really like Akane?” the answer is no…Aoi LOVES Akane. Aoi is love with Akane to an embarrassing degree, dare I say more embarrassing than the time Mitsuba said “yes sir” to Kou

On a more serious note, Aoi loving Akane is a core part of their development. If Aoi didn’t love Akane, Akane never would have fallen in love with Aoi

This right here is the key moment, the moment when Akane realizes what he means to Aoi. He offhandedly tells her he hates her, and it makes her cry. At that age, nothing made Aoi cry, not even bullies. But she felt so strongly about Akane that the mere thought of him hating her was enough to bring her to tears

Akane’s character arc centers largely around coming to understand, empathize with, and help the people around him, so when he sees someone who needs him he goes all in offering his help. When he saw that Aoi loved him, that she would cry if he hated her, all he wanted to do was make her happy and make her feel loved. This is what he dedicated his life to, judging by everything we know about his relationship with Aoi after this event

Another way we know Aoi loves Akane is because she tells us this herself! She asks Hanako to talk about love and then explains her past with Akane. Before this, when Aoi got left behind leaving Hakubo’s boundary, she confessed to the audience that she loves Akane (“I never got to tell him I like him”). That line has clear romantic connotations, especially for a series that places so much emphasis on confession scenes. But on the train, we learn why Aoi loves Akane

To Aoi, Akane is everything she is not. He is naturally liked by people, hard-working, and kind. Aoi seems to view Akane as the epitome of a good person, and herself as the opposite. Think of it as a sun/moon dynamic, we see this with many ships in the series. Hanako seems to think similarly about Nene, considering himself a murderer and then viewing Nene as this ball of sweetness. When asked what he likes about her, he simply says “Everything.” Even Aoi was shocked lol (but this ain’t about them)

It confuses me that a lot of fans ask why Aoi likes Akane when she’s outright stated it herself. It could be that some of them haven’t finished the manga (not saying that’s you btw that wasn’t one of your questions), and hey there’s no shame in that. I just wish they would either admit they haven’t read it or look up the chapters they need to read because their arguments are lacking some pretty key information😭 Guys, step one of analyzing is to READ. But I digress

I think another explanation would be that fans don’t understand Aoi’s character, they still subconsciously view her as Nene’s popular best friend. They may not think they do, because they think the extent of her facade is pretending to be perfect. They don’t understand how she looks down on people, how she only thought about herself when Nene and Akane started acting different, and how she gets emotionally dependent on the people closest to her. There’s a reason for that too, many fans don’t like that side of Aoi. They see her express an unhealthy attachment style and decide the problem is AoiAoi rather than Aoi as a character, so they completely erase her flawed management of relationships when they write her

Aoi displays an avoidant attachment style, she pushes away the people she wants to be close with. She also arguably shows signs of BPD, and though I won’t get into that today, one of the defining symptoms is intense and unstable relationships. The sad truth is that people really hate people with avoidant attachment styles, and they really hate people with BPD (and any Cluster B personality disorder in general), so when they see Aoi expressing these traits they erase them rather than admitting they don’t like that side of her. Which is sad because you rarely see people doing that with male characters. Teru and Hanako are loved for the aspects of their personalities that are unlikable to the fanbase, whereas Aoi’s toxicity is ignored because it doesn’t fit the image fans have of her. Aoi is misunderstood by the fandom the same way she’s misunderstood by the characters in the manga

One last note on this, if you dislike Aoi just say that (again this is aimed at the general fandom, not you specifically). Don’t erase her obvious signs of mental illness, that representation is important to a lot of fans. When I wrote my TikTok essay on Aoi having BPD, I had people with BPD in the comments telling me how much they related to her. On other posts about Aoi, I’ve had people tell me how much it means to them to see a character realistically portray an avoidant attachment style. Mental illness is rarely portrayed correctly in media, and it is highly offensive to those who have it irl to erase those traits in a character just because they don’t fit your cookie-cutter image of them. And yes, I know Aoi doesn’t canonically have BPD but slandering her for traits that strongly relate to BPD is also weird (this is the opinionated part I warned you guys about lol, but yk a psych student is gonna have to lecture you on ableism)

Aoi’s feelings for Akane have also been teased since the beginning of the manga, through jealousy. She claims not to like him back, but she completely shuts down whenever he shows interest in someone else (or when someone else shows interest in him). Again, this is not a healthy response by any means but I personally think it’s an interesting character flaw, you are welcome to think otherwise🤷🏼‍♀️

She actively encourages his confessions with her point system, if she didn’t enjoy his confessions she would have turned him down from the get go. This connects back to the avoidant attachment style thing, Aoi wants Akane’s attention but she maintains distance for fear of letting him in. She keeps walls up to protect herself, because while Akane is the sun she basks in, she doesn’t really believe he likes her

This is because Akane puts her on a pedestal just like the rest of the school does. Some fans overlook this because they’re focused on post-development AoiAoi but at one point Akane made Aoi feel very isolated. It must have hurt extra since he’s her childhood friend. She thought Akane was only in love with the perfect version of her, which I don’t believe to be true. Akane loved Aoi, flaws and all, and that’s why he saw her as perfect. Most of the information we learn about Aoi is given to us through Akane, so it wouldn’t add up for him to not know her real personality. During their fight scene, he lists all her worst qualities and proceeds to kiss her hand and tell her he loves her

My conclusion is that Akane’s love for Aoi was so intense, he saw her through a rose colored glass. He knew the real her, but he loved her so much that her flaws didn’t bother him. He only focused on the good parts, and thus ended up putting her on a pedestal. He didn’t realize his behavior was hurting her up until the truth came out in chapter 69, and to answer that one part of your question, yes his behavior did change after that

He encourages Aoi to talk about herself, offering to do all of her favorite hobbies with her. He gives her free reign and support here, letting her talk and then offering solutions to her worries. He reassures her that she can fix things with Nene, which is like!! A major step in the right direction!! Akane is usually very possessive of Aoi, even when it comes to her friendships, but here he is encouraging healthy communication between her and Nene. He doesn’t deny her bad actions, but he gives her room to resolve them

After that, we see him start to treat her normally. He acts like himself around her, the same version of him we see around Teru and Nene. None of that lovestruck, over exaggerated worship we’re used to seeing him show towards Aoi. Even during the Severance, he took time to work with Nene and Teru rather than obsessively focusing on Aoi. He gave Teru motivation when he felt like quitting, even felt comfortable using their mutual love for a Aoi to fuel their rivalry. He formed an alliance with Nene even though he initially felt bitter towards her for Aoi’s disappearance. He learned to look past his own feelings enough to be there for his friends, likely because Aoi taught him to remove those rose-colored glasses. He saw that only focusing on what he wants (only focusing on Aoi) was hurting the people around him, including Aoi herself. Post chapter 69, Akane becomes much more down to earth. He still loves Aoi deeply and puts her first, but he treats her like a normal human being. This allows him to treat other people normally too

A lot of people use this chapter as evidence that Akane hasn’t changed but guys, he’s allowed to be jealous over the girl he loves. He panics here, but he doesn’t try to get violent with Teru the way we used to see him do when guys would express interest in Aoi. He doesn’t look possessive or angry here at all, just sad. He’s genuinely devastated that he’s in a world where he can’t be with the girl he loves. This is bad news for both him and Aoi, judging by the sad look she gives him as she leaves and the events of last chapter, it’s clear that this Aoi is still in love with Akane. Our Akane knows how dependent Aoi is on him, he knows that he’s the reason she’s started taking steps towards healing. Without him, all of her development gets erased, and there’s the simpler sad fact that she can’t be with the man she loves. Akane wants happiness for both of them, there’s nothing wrong with that

Even when he confesses to her, it looks so much more genuine than the old scenes of his confessions. It gets a full page, they’re both blushing and their eyes are full of light. His words are so genuine too, he doesn’t wax on about how perfect and delicate she is, all he does is promise to love her forever. For someone with such severe abandonment issues like Aoi has, those words are all she’s ever wanted to hear. Her father left when she was young, then the two people closest to her started to pull away from her (not in this universe but still). She’s terrified that people will hate her, that everyone will leave her if she reveals her true self. And here Akane is, promising to love her and only her for as long as they both shall live (and beyond that)

So, yes, I truly do believe Akane’s behavior towards Aoi has changed. And keep in mind, the manga isn’t over yet, they will have more development. We just learned Aoi’s backstory with her father leaving and her mommy issues, there’s still so much we don’t know about the characters. They still have a long way to go, so if they haven’t grown as much as you’d like then give them some time!! But they have made a lot of progress already, and I wish more fans recognized that

As for the question of whether or not he’s a good person to her, that’s very subjective!! Some fans don’t like any level of toxicity in their ships, so chapter 69 was enough for them to write off AoiAoi entirely. That’s perfectly fine, no one should feel forced to like a ship that makes them uncomfortable. Some love toxic ships, some only love toxic ships if they have development, and others love ships with extreme toxicity (I finished Interview with the Vampire season 1 today so that is where I’m at right now lol)

Let me ask you a few questions though. Is Kou a good person to Mitsuba, for mimicking the actions of his abuser and force-feeding him?? Is Hanako a good person to Nene for attempting to trap her in a fake world and kill her best friend? Is Hakubo a good person to Sumire for eating her alive? Is Natsuhiko a good person to Sakura for letting them destroy the world? Are any of these characters good people to each other???

All of those situations have nuance, and so does AoiAoi. Yes, Akane choked Aoi, but only because she was about to kill herself. She was in a shinigami’s boundary, talking about wanting to “go somewhere far away” and never return. If he hadn’t done something, she never would have returned from the far shore. That doesn’t excuse his actions, but it provides some perspective. Akane wouldn’t choke Aoi under normal circumstances, just like Kou wouldn’t force-feed Mitsuba under normal circumstances. However, both of them would go to those extremes if it meant protecting the ones they love. I personally believe it’s toxic, but some fans insist it’s completely justified because they were doing it for the greater good. Again, it all comes down to perspective

Their dynamic also largely relies on the yandere!Akane gag, which is very hit or miss for some people. Although it’s for comedic purposes, those scenes did happen in canon and they happen a lot. They can be very distracting and cause fans to feel confused once they’re introduced to the deeper side of AoiAoi, which is understandable. Part of peoples’ interpretation on AoiAoi’s level of toxicity comes down to how serious they take the yandere jokes, and how much they like yandere characters. If you hate yandere characters but don’t take the gag too seriously, you’ll be able to overlook it. However, if you hate yandere characters AND you take the gag seriously…AoiAoi might be a difficult ship to accept

Otherwise, Akane does look out for Aoi a lot. He beats up guys who harass her, he asks her how her talk with Nene went, he checks on her injured hand, he will stop at nothing to save her when she’s in danger and, well…the list goes on. There’s no denying Akane cares about Aoi, though some fans may argue he cares about her to a toxic extent. I find that attitude a little hypocritical when they like every other toxic canon ship, but every ship has different appeals so I get it. I’m very biased tho so every argument I see against AoiAoi is just words, words, words

Keep in mind that the TBHK characters and their relationships are all meant to be flawed. This is an imperfect cast of characters who all want to be loved, who have their own goals and try desperately to save each other even though they’re doomed to fail. I wouldn’t call every character morally gray, but they’re realistically flawed. Akane and Aoi want to be together, but they have a lot of individual issues to work through first. They’re undoubtedly better together though, seeing as the progress they make is because of each other (I gave Akane credit for Aoi’s development earlier but it goes both ways!!). If they were separated, we wouldn’t see them grow as much as they have. That doesn’t have to be romantic ofc but I do believe that Aoi and Akane make each other better, they just have to go through the process of making each other worse first in order to get there

I am a person who LOVES flawed characters and relationships. If the ship doesn’t have a splash of codependency, I don’t want it. I incorporate sadomasochism into almost every fic I write. My view of AoiAoi is going to be different from that of someone that isn’t interested in flawed characters/ships (yes, you’re allowed to prefer characters that are “morally pure”). If you’re looking for something that’s pure fluff then AoiAoi most likely isn’t for you, very few TBHK ships are unless you’re heavily fanonizing them. That’s simply the nature of this manga, there’s a reason we’ve seen every canon couple hit each other at some point. It’s not as bad as some fans suggest, but it’s still messy. I want to reiterate that this isn’t aimed at you specifically but I feel it’s something the fandom as a whole needs to hear. Of course, there are toxic ship enjoyers who may not find AoiAoi interesting, but every complaint I’ve heard about them so far has been about their toxicity so that’s what I’m addressing. I personally find it to be tame compared to the other ships but not everyone is going to interpret it the same way

Thank you very much for this ask, I got a little carried away with the yapping lol. I’m a bit worried I’m gonna get hate for this one since it’s kinda controversial and I got very opinionated at times…please know that I didn’t mean to offend anyone or invalidate any other opinions. If you feel that I did that then feel free to block me. I hope everyone reading this has a nice day <3

[berryhobii]

Clouds (jhs x reader)

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x black!female!reader

Word Count: 6K+

Warnings: heavy angst, metaphors and illusions of depression, mentions of autism/depression/sociopathic disorders, mentions of the mistreatment of black women in medical situations(bc this very much still happens), overbearing mothers(but she comes from a good place I swear), feelings of being incomplete, feelings of inadequacy, a very bad date, mentions of fetishizing black women, Hoseok being a ray of sunshine, CRYING, mentions of codependency(bc it’s a soulmate au), one kiss but it’s very sweet, lots of rain and sun metaphors

A/N: Hi hi! I’m back with this sobfest of a fic 🥹 I swear I did not mean to make this this sad, it just kind of happened. I rewrote it a bunch of times and finally flowed on his particular idea. I love soulmate au’s, especially the cute ones with a countdown timer but I wanted to try something different. Something not as overt while still keeping the spirit of a soulmate au which is finding your other half. This is also a shoutout to all of the black people who suffer from depression. I know us being depressed isn’t taken as seriously especially to our families. Mental health isn’t taken seriously in black communities altogether and I really hope that will change. I see so many of us breaking generational curses; with our children, our friends, our relationships, and ourselves. I love seeing it. If you’re non black and read this, I hope it gives you some insight as well. To my black and melanated readers, I hope my stories can give you some comfort outside of just BTS. I hope you feel represented, I hope you feel important, and I hope you feel loved. Because you are all of those things🩵🩵much love. Stay safe. Criticism is always appreciated.

~

Dull. Stagnant. Lifeless.

That’s how you’d describe your world.

Each minute passed slower than the last, the monotony of your days only broken up by the arrival of the night. You didn’t even dream. Sleep was purely a necessity for you; you couldn’t escape to the vividness of a dream because color didn’t exist in your world.

You’ve accepted it. Accepted that you’d simply exist, drifting as another human among the billions of others. There was nothing special about you nor did you have any qualities people desired to interact with you for.

Mundane. Indifferent. Uniform.

That was you. Plain ol’ you.

“Are you okay, baby?” The voice of your mother called from the doorway of your childhood bedroom.

Rain pattered against the window, your gaze following whatever drop you found most interesting. You’d follow it until it disappeared or until it merged with other drops, the combined weight causing it to cascade faster down the glass.

You wished you could be a raindrop. Falling from the sky to nurture the earth then returning upward to form clouds. Then at least, you’d be useful. You could help plants grow, overfill the streaming rivers, bring relief to dry deserts.

Raindrops were so important.

You tore your eyes away from the window, looking at your mother. “I’m fine, mama.”

You could say that but she knew it wasn’t true. She also knew that asking you too many questions only resulted in her own emotional breakdown.

Why was her baby like this? What was wrong with you? Why did you look at her like she was just a stranger?

Swallowing back her tears, she managed a tiny smile. “The food is ready. It’s baked chicken, your favorite.”

Was that your favorite meal? You didn’t even know. Food didn’t matter much to you. It just kept you alive.

“Okay. I’ll be down in a second.” You said before turning back to the window, only to find the rain had let up. A light drizzle.

Your mother didn’t say anything, just backed out of the room, a single tear rolling down her face.

When you were born, the doctor’s considered you kind of a strange child. Not only was your mother’s entire labor pain free but you didn’t cry coming from the womb. You were breathing and all of your senses were completely fine.

You just wouldn’t cry.

You didn’t cry when you were hungry or wet, not even when you fell and hurt yourself. You felt pain but you didn’t cry.

Lots of people chalked it up to you just being a well behaved and calm kid. That should have been a blessing to your parents, right? A kid who didn’t cry or throw tantrums to do regular stuff kids did. Your parents should be so lucky.

But your mother knew something was wrong. That perpetual blank stare you always had, how you never smiled or found any real interest in toys or television, how you kind of just drifted around. You reminded her of a still flower on a rippling pond; so beautiful but unaffected by things around you.

She consulted many doctors on possible reasons for your seeming lack of emotions.

Were you chronically depressed? Did you have a sociopathic disorder? Were you autistic?

Maybe. Perhaps. A possibility.

Nothing was set in stone.

It even hit a point where your parents just completely lost hope. They still loved you the same. They’d just have to accept that you were the way you were.

But then your mother took you to see one final doctor who cleared up every suspicion anyone ever had.

Soulmates.

Less than 0.0001 percent of the population were comprised of these special people. However, there was so little information on this phenomena that affected such a minuscule portion of the population. Did a such thing even exist?

Your father was skeptical. He thought you just had some sort of mental problem and that the doctors were misdiagnosing you. He worked in the medical field and he knew black women were more likely to be mistreated. He believed they just didn’t care.

But your mother believed. What else could she do? She was holding on to the little ray of hope that you could get better.

Soulmates were opposites of one another in a multitude of ways. Sometimes it could be something as simple as height or biological sex, other times it could be complex like gender or religious affiliation.

And in serious cases like yours, it could be something as deep as the very fibers of your being.

You were incomplete without your soulmate. Only they could shine the light and illuminate the darkness that surrounded you.

The only problem is there was really no identifying factors that could help find your soulmate. No marks, no red string, nothing.

And with so many people all over the world, the chance of you finding them was almost nonexistent.

But your mother wouldn’t give up. She’d fix you.

~

“He’s a very nice boy. His mother says he’s upbeat and friendly too. He might be the one.” Your mother gushed as she removed another flexi-rod from your hair, her oiled fingers working carefully to unravel each one.

You didn’t say anything, staring ahead into the mirror in front of you. You had become used to seeing your made up face; foundation, concealer, highlight and whatever color eyeshadow matched the outfit she chose for you. You didn’t really care but your mother insisted you wear some to impress your date.

That’s why she was doing all of these preparations; to send you on yet another date in hopes of finding your soulmate.

Now that your mother knew the cause of your “ailment”, she was working overtime to find whoever they were. So far, you’ve met 41 people, male and female, multiple ethnicities, and all from different backgrounds. The only thing that tied them together was that each other them were happy and bright people. Each of them were social and loved by many. That had to be who your soulmate was, right?

All of these people and meetings and you’ve yet to find your other half. Your mother had been expanding her social circle in search of the person who would “heal” you; children of close friends, children of friends of close friends, even random people she’d overhear talking about their own children. She was on a mission and nothing would stand in her way.

Your mother completed the final touches on your hair, her smile wide.

“Look at how beautiful you are.”

She told you that often, ever since you were a little girl. Words of affirmation recited to you in an attempt to build your self confidence.

You guessed it must be true since she said it everyday.

You didn’t say anything again, her smile faltering just a tad but quickly widening again. She retrieved a simple necklace off the vanity, clasping it around your neck.

“There. Perfect.”

Suddenly, the doorbell rang and your mother sprang into action.

“He’s here! Come come.” She beckoned you with a frantic hand.

You stood from the chair, following her out of the room and to the living room. She handed you your purse and draped a shawl over your shoulders.

“Okay, you’re ready. Remember your manners and smile, okay?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

She pulled you into a hug, squeezing you tightly as she always did. Affection wasn’t really something you minded nor did you reciprocate it. Your parents hugged you all the time but you never really felt anything. You understood it was how people showed affection and love, the internet told you that.

You just didn’t get it. You didn’t feel it.

But you hugged her back anyway.

You stood there in her embrace for 23 seconds longer before she released you. Her hand came up to cup your cheek, her thumb running across the apple of it.

Her smile was gentle but it didn’t reach her eyes, that glossy sheen always misting her eyes. Your mother cried a lot but never in front of you. You could sometimes hear her or find her wiping away tears if you’d enter the room, that smile always pulling at her lips acting as if nothing was wrong.

It confused you. It was obvious she was cried so why did she hide it?

Oh well.

“Have fun, okay?”

Opening the door, you found date number 42 standing there. He was dressed sharply in a crisp suit, hair gelled back out of his face, a bouquet of flowers in his hands.

His mouth dropped when he saw you, eyes traveling from your feet to the top of your head.

“Wow.” He breathed out. “You look stunning.”

Remembering your manners, you answered, “Thank you.”

Clearing his throat, he held out the flowers to you. “These are for you.”

You took the bouquet from him then you remembered something your mother drilled into you.

“Always smile when someone gives you flowers. It means you appreciate them.”

Wasn’t saying thank you the appreciation?

Still, you put a smile on your face. A practiced smile that you’d rehearse in the mirror under your mother’s watch.

“They are lovely. Thank you.” You tried to add some inflection to your voice to sound grateful but it just came out robotic.

If number 42 noticed, he didn’t say anything, simply taking your thank you for what it was.

Holding out his arm, he asked, “ready to go? Our reservation is soon.”

Nodding, you placed your hand on his arm and let him escort you out of the door and down to his car. He opened the door for you, helping you inside and even making sure you put on your seatbelt before closing your door. He rounded to the driver’s seat and got in, buckling himself in and starting the car before pulling off.

“I hope you like seafood. The restaurant we’re going to has the best seafood pasta.”

You didn’t dislike it. Food was food to you. It was simply sustenance.

You stared out of the window as he began rambling about his favorite restaurants. You blankly watched the scenery pass, not really taking note of anything. Just watching.

Then you saw a raindrop hit your window, followed by a few more.

You heard your date make a noise of concern. “I didn’t think it would rain. Hopefully it’s only a drizzle. I hate when it rains. Don’t you?”

“No.”

He glanced over at you, a little chuckle coming from him. “Ah you’re one of the ones who like rain, huh? Why? It’s cold and wet and makes you sick.”

You continued to watch the drops patter against the window.

Yes rain was cold. It passes through a thin layer of cold air before falling to the earth. Yes rain was wet. It was water.

But rain was also….

“Rain is important.”

He snorted. “I guess so. It’s just inconvenient in cities.”

Inconvenient, huh?

You didn’t say anything in response to him, silence engulfing the inside of the car.

He coughed to break the air before reaching for the radio. A low pop song began playing through the speakers, not doing anything to alleviate the awkwardness but doing everything to prevent any more conversation.

Thankfully(for him), you arrived at the restaurant just minutes after. The rain was still at a very light drizzle which was good since he didn’t bring an umbrella.

He opened your door, holding out his arm to help you out.

The restaurant was nice on the inside. It reminded you a lot of the places your parents would take you for birthdays or graduations.

Clean. Fancy. Stuffy.

You both approached the hostess that sat behind a podium. She greeted you both with a bright smile.

“Welcome to Rêverie. Do you have a reservation?”

“I do. Two under Lee Jihyun.”

Oh yeah. That was his name.

She scrolled through her tablet. “Ah yes. Right this way.”

She led you through tables filled with other patrons. For a Thursday night, this place certainly was busy.

Jihyun pulled out your chair and you thanked him before sitting down.

“Your waiter will be with you shortly.” The hostess said, bowing and then walking away.

After removing his suit jacket and draping it over the back of his chair, he turned to face you.

“So, y/n. Tell me about yourself.”

That was an open statement. You didn’t know what to say.

So you questioned, “what do you want to know?”

He tapped his chin in faux thought, a little inquiring smirk on his face.

“Hmm….what’s your favorite food?”

“I don’t have one.”

His smile dropped a little but he remained positive. Letting out an awkward chuckle, he ran a hand through his hair.

“Okay. What’s your favorite color?”

“I don’t have one.”

You saw the little twitch in his brow. Your father did that sometimes when he was really focused on his work. He told you it was because he was annoyed or frustrated with something.

Was Jihyun annoyed or frustrated with you?

“Then where are you from?”

“Chicago.”

He exhaled some air through his nose, tilting his head a little. This was getting nowhere.

At that moment, a waiter came to your table with 2 glasses of water and some menus.

“Hello there. I’ll be your waiter today. Can I start you off some drinks?”

Jihyun seemed to perk up at the arrival of the waiter, his smile returning full force.

“Yes we are. I’ll take a glass of your finest red wine.” Then he looked to you. “And for you? A glass of wine?”

You didn’t drink alcohol. Mainly because you just didn’t like it.

“No. I’ll keep my water. Thank you.”

The waiter nodded. “I’ll be right back with those and to take your order.”

Now you two were left alone again. Great.

A silence just as thick and uncomfortable as the one in the car encompassed your table.

Jihyun drummed his fingers on the table, thoughts racing as he tried to think of a conversation topic to get you talking. Then it hit him.

“Your mom set this date up, right? My mom’s been hounding me about settling down. What about you?” He curiously inquired.

He didn’t know? Hmm.

“She’s searching for my soulmate. She said that I’ll be happy if I find them.”

That seemed to spark his interest. “Soulmate?”

You nodded. “Yes.”

He tapped his finger again. “So…..how exactly does that work?”

You barely knew fully. The doctor who diagnosed you could only explain so much since soulmates still aren’t very common or explicitly studied.

“I can’t express or feel most emotions, specifically ones of joy or sadness. Whoever my soulmate is is the opposite of me. That’s why my mother set you and I up.”

He let that information soak in. His mother didn’t say anything about this. All she told him was that a friend of hers had a gorgeous daughter. And if he was being honest, he was pretty curious about dating a black woman.

You certainly were beautiful and your poofy hair was interesting looking.

Your personality though? It left a lot to be desired. He was expecting you to be a little sweeter, more responsive to him. You didn’t even react at seeing his super expensive car nor did you say anything about the restaurant. He was putting a lot of money into this date so he was expecting more.

At least you were pretty.

Now as for this soulmate business. It didn’t make a lot of sense to him. Of course he’s heard about soulmates but he thought it was a load of crap.

Then again, you were strange. You were expressionless and lackluster. Your monotone answers showed your lack of interest and you’ve only smiled once since he met you.

Maybe you did have a soulmate. No one could be this boring without reason.

Well, your personality didn’t really matter. You weren’t ugly, that’s all he was concerned about.

He snorted, waving a hand around. “You don’t have to worry about that. You have me now. I’m all you need.” He reached a hand over to cup your chin. “As long as you listen to me and stay pretty, it’ll be fine.”

Listen? Stay pretty? You already did that.

Your objective wasn’t either of those things. It was to find your soulmate; the person who was your other half.

The person who would help you.

“You’re not my soulmate. What could you offer me?”

His eyebrow twitched again, a forced laugh falling from his lips. He released your chin and leaned back in his chair.

“Ha! What do I have to offer? I have plenty.” He bragged with a huff and a flare of his nostrils.

But what? What could he offer you? Your mother said that only your soulmate could give you what you really needed. This man obviously wasn’t it so what could he give you? Why were you even still here?

“Never leave a date early. It’s rude.”

What was the point? Wasn’t the goal of this date to figure out if he was your soulmate? He wasn’t so why couldn’t you leave? All the lessons from those etiquette classes your mother instructed you to sit through danced around your head.

“You aren’t my soulmate. There’s nothing you could give me.”

That really seemed to piss him off because he was suddenly slamming his hands down on the table. The force caused your water to shake, the liquid rippling in the glass.

“How dare you?! I take you on this fancy date and try to be nice to you and you insult me like this? You should feel grateful I even entertained the thought of meeting you.” He ranted spitefully, his entire face blazing red and veins popping out of his forehead.

Grateful? You should feel grateful? How did you do that?

Other patrons were startled by your date’s sudden outburst, whispers and mutters sounding around the restaurant.

That’s when the hostess appeared at your table.

“Sir, please calm down or I’ll have to ask you to leave.” She attempted to soothe him, holding up her hands as if calming a wild horse.

But your date wasn’t hearing any of it. His anger was too much to contain right now.

He pointed at you. “I only went on a date with you because my mom said you were pretty but she didn’t tell me you were so disrespectful. She also said your mother was desperate to marry you off and that she’s been trying to push you on any person she could.” He bellowed with a hearty and mocking laugh. “Just how many people have you been with already?”

“41. You’re number 42.” You answered simply and that took his irritation from a 100 to a 101.

Letting out a growl of frustration, he stood from the table, grabbing his jacket and practically snatching it on his body.

“You know what? I don’t need this! I have plenty of women lined up for me. I thought dating a black girl would be exciting but you’re seriously a bore. I’m leaving.”

He stomped away from the table, leaving you alone and letting the mind’s of the strangers surrounding you racing.

Just as you were about to get up to leave, he came back to the table, snatching the flowers he gave you earlier from the surface.

“And give me these back!”

Ah. There goes number 42. Your mother would probably get that look on her face again. That misty look in her eyes…..that she’d just cover with a smile and reassure you that she’d find someone else for you.

Again and again. Over and over.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw your waiter shuffling back over, a small brown bag in his hands.

“Um, we won’t charge you for the wine since it never reached the table.” He stated nervously, worried that you’d blow up next at his words.

“Okay.”

He then placed the bag on the table. “Please take this red velvet cake. It’s on the house.”

~

The rain was pouring when you stepped out of the restaurant. The awning outside protected you from the brunt of the downpour but you could still feel the drops hitting your bare legs.

You should call a cab. A cab would take you home.

Home.

As if they had a mind of their own, your feet carried you out into the heavy rain. The harsh drops hurt your skin but you continued.

Cold rain soaked through your clothes and all the way down to your shoes, goosebumps rising across your skin but it didn’t bother you.

Nothing did. Maybe that was your main problem.

The stares of people you walked by didn’t bother you. The chill of the rain didn’t bother you. The pain of your feet in these heels didn’t bother you.

Why? Why were you like this? Why couldn’t you feel anything?

“Because you’re broken.”

That’s right. You were broken. Like a porcelain ballerina on a music box; anyone could see how poised and perfect you were, a true sight to see. Sparkling and beautiful, their expectations were high but when they turned your key…..

No music came out. The inner workings of your soul were rusted and stiff, your heart merely a muscle that pumped blood through your veins, your life just something you lived.

You had no purpose. You didn’t exist for anything. You were just a doll, one that would collect dust in an antique case until the end of time.

Your feet slowed to a stop, the assault of the rain feeling like daggers against your skin. You tilted your head back to stare up into the dark sky.

You wished you could be a raindrop. You just wanted to fall and then go back to the sky.

At least then you wouldn’t be so useless. You wouldn’t make your mother cry. You wouldn’t be a burden.

You wouldn’t be incomplete.

“Hey are you okay?”

Your ears itched so you lifted your hand to scratch at it.

“Why are you out here without an umbrella? It’s pouring.”

Why were your ears so itchy? Did you need to clean them?

“Did the rain come out of nowhere for you too? The forecasts are so unreliable sometimes, huh?”

You didn’t understand. Why was……why…..?

Your head slowly came down from its craned position and your heart did something other than simply beat.

It squeezed.

Something you’ve never felt before jolted through your entire body, so powerful and consuming that your knees buckled. You stumbled forward a little, the grip on the bottom of your heels doing nothing to keep your upright.

“Oh hey! Are you alright?”

Then you were met with warmth. No, something more than that.

Heat. Body scorching and all encompassing heat engulfed your body. It felt like someone had poured gasoline over you and a lit a match.

A hand touched your arm and that heat spread like a hot brand across your skin. You couldn’t even feel the coldness of the rain that soaked your clothes and skin anymore. It was like someone wrapped a warm towel straight out of the dryer around you.

“Hey….”

Slowly, as if this bubble you formed would burst, you leaned your head back to look into a pair of eyes so iridescent and dazzling that you thought you were staring right at a cluster of stars.

Like the sun after rain, a rainbow stretching across the blue sky.

It was him. He had found you.

You two stayed locked in eye contact for a very long moment. The world seemed to fade away, not even the sound of rain or honking cars could bring you back.

Then like a ray of sunshine, he smiled but unlike your mother or other people you’ve met, this smile held no sadness, no pain, no ulterior motives.

It was pure. It was beautiful.

“Have you been waiting long for me? I’m sorry.” He lifted the hand that wasn’t holding the umbrella to cup your cheek, his thumb wiping away a stray raindrop.

Then the dam broke and for the first time in your entire life, you did something you never thought you’d be able to do.

You cried.

Loud and heart wrenching, as thunderous and roaring as the storm you two were in. Every emotion you’ve never felt since birth swelled in your chest, traveling up your throat and out of your mouth as you let out wails of sorrow.

Wails of joy. Wails of anguish. Wails of strife. Wails of gratitude.

You cried.

And he held you, shielding you from the rain and holding the broken pieces of you together before you could fall apart again.

His hand stroked your back up and down as he hummed a song to you. “It’s okay. Let it out. I know it’s been hard for you. I’m here now.”

Yes. He was here. He found you. You’d be okay.

~

The sound of a phone ringing woke you from your haze of sleep. Your head felt fuzzy and your body felt heavy.

Where were you?

Lifting your arm, you felt around the nightstand until you touched the object you were searching for. You turned on your side, bringing your phone to your face, eyes squinting at the brightness.

Mama.

Why was she calling you? Wasn’t she in the next room?

Pressing the answer button, you held the phone to your ear.

“Hello?”

“y/n! y!n, where are you? My friend just called me and told me you had a falling out with Jihyun. Are you okay? You didn’t even come home. I thought something happened to you.”

Jihyun? Oh yeah, your date. The memories of that awful dinner were starting to come back to you. You couldn’t even call it dinner since you didn’t even eat but whatever.

“Sorry, mom. He left me at the restaurant and it started raining really hard so I….” Your train of thought derailed, more memories of last night flowed into your brain.

Jihyun leaving you. Your walk in the rain. Bumping into someone.

That feeling in your chest….

Your soulmate! You found them. You never went home. You went with them instead.

“y/n? Is everything okay?” Your mother questioned with concern laced in her voice.

You felt something move behind you and you remembered everything.

“Mama, I promise I’m fine. I’ll be home later, okay?”

You couldn’t see the look of confusion on her face but you could feel it was there. “Uh, alright honey. Be careful. I love you.”

You smiled, feeling tears prick your eyes as your heart rapidly pounded in your chest.

“I will. I love you too, mama.”

And you did. You loved her so much. You could feel it.

Just like how you could feel her own tears even after you hung up the phone.

After placing your phone back on the nightstand, you paused and sat in silence for a moment.

So many feelings and thoughts rushed through your body like a rapid stream, rain had fallen and filled the cavern that was your soul, overflowing every empty crevice and nourishing the flora that had been withered and dry. With these new and unfamiliar feelings expanding, it almost hurt.

You were happy that it hurt though because that meant you were feeling.

You could feel now. You were so unexplainably happy.

Turning back to your other side, your eyes met the sleeping form of the person who made all of this possible.

Reaching a hand out, your fingertips grazed over his cheek. You could still so vividly remember how the cheekbone rounded when he graced you with that breathtaking smile. You wanted to see it again. You wanted to learn about what makes him smile, what makes him happy, what makes him sad.

You wanted to understand his feelings.

Your finger traced all across his face; his eyebrows, his nose, his lips, his chin. As if you were trying to memorize each atom of his face.

A part of this felt like a dream, one you were afraid you’d wake up from but if you did, you still think you’d be happy. Happy because at least you had this much. If this was a dream, you wouldn’t mind because this dream would be precious to you.

With another touch of his eyelids, he flinched causing you to do the same. His hand lifted to rub at his face, grumbles and mumbles coming from his lips. You watched as he stretched his body before flopping back down and then his eyes cracked open.

Your breath hitched in your throat, heart going crazy in your chest and another swell of emotions you couldn’t place surging as well.

He blinked sleepily before his eyes finally landed on you. Staring into the brown irises brought that heat back but even stronger this time. You didn’t really understand it but you wanted to.

“Oh, you’re awake? Did you sleep well?” His light voice croaked as he rubbed the drowsiness out of his eyes.

You nodded. “I did. Did you?”

Then he smiled and your heart squeezed.

“Yeah. I did too. For the first time in a while.”

There was a hint of something in his words but you couldn’t place it.

“Do you have a hard time sleeping?”

He looked up at the ceiling, staring as if it held the solution to all of his problems.

“Yeah.”

You felt like he had more to say and you were about to ask a follow up question when the sound of your stomachs growling interrupted.

His smile was bright and his laughter was contagious. “Are you hungry? I can make us some breakfast.”

“That sounds great.”

~

“I’m Hoseok, by the way.” He said as he placed a fried egg on a plate and then served it to you.

He let you shower first, even letting you wear some of his clothes since the dress you wore last night was still soaked through. You were actually already wearing a large t shirt of his and a pair of boxers that he leant you, both brand new of course. A part of you didn’t even want to shower because you didn’t want him to leave your eyesight. You finally found him and all you wanted to do was admire him and be close to him. He felt exactly the same but he was starving since he didn’t eat dinner last night. And now that you thought about it, neither did you.

Now you were both in his kitchen while he whipped up breakfast.

You didn’t even realize you never asked him his name. Hearing it now flared that heat in your heart again.

Hoseok. It was nice. It fit him.

“I’m y/n.”

He smiled at you again. You really liked seeing him smile.

“That’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”

You’ve been hearing that for years, all your life really but hearing him say it, you truly believed it. From his lips, it sounded sincere, like he was looking past just your physical appearance.

He was looking at you. All of you.

“I have a question.” He said as he ate a blueberry.

You hummed in acknowledgment, letting him know he could continue.

“Why were you out in the rain like that?”

Any other time, you wouldn’t have hesitated to give the answer but your words got caught when he asked. Should you even tell him? Would he get upset? Why did you feel so guilty?

He noticed your hesitation and it was like he could see the cogs turning in your head. He didn’t quite understand you yet. What were you experiencing before you met him? What were the effects of your incomplete soulmate bond?

You felt a hand place itself over yours where it rested on the table, your eyes lifting from your half eaten breakfast to meet those sweet eyes.

“You can tell me. I promise I’ll accept whatever you say. I’ll accept you.”

Tears prickled at your waterline but you didn’t let them fall. You felt like if you cried again, you’d never stop.

Taking a deep breath, you admitted, “I was on a date.” When he didn’t say anything, you continued. “My mom would set me up on dates in order to find my soulmate. I was on one with this guy and he left me at the restaurant. I was about to go home but something told me to start walking.”

He listened intently, a little burst of anger firing in his heart at whatever asshole left you by yourself like that. He couldn’t help but feel a little relieved, however. Because if they didn’t leave you, he probably wouldn’t have found you.

“I see. I’m sorry that happened to you.”

“I’m not.” You quickly responded, moving your hand so your fingers could entwine with his. A look of surprise crossed his face, his gaze going to your linked hands. His own heart thudded wildly like a stampede.

Then you smiled and what an absolutely wonderful smile it was.

“Then I’m not either.”

You two tucked back into your food in silence, hands still locked on the table.

“I have a question too.”

“Yeah?”

“Why were you out in the rain?”

He made a noise, shrugging his shoulder and finishing off the last of his breakfast. “I couldn’t sleep so I took a walk. It started raining on my way back home. There was a convenience store on my way so I got an umbrella there.” He explained as if it was so simple but something told you it wasn’t.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?”

What a good question.

“Whenever I try to sleep, I get this overwhelming feeling that keeps me up. It’s like…..I’m always uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?” You parroted.

He hummed. “Like whenever I try to sleep, I can’t. It feels like….something was missing.”

“Like what?”

He pondered in thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain it to you. He’s been asked that question before and he could never quite answer. To him, showing emotion came so easily. He could empathize with most; he cried when others did, he rejoiced when he was happy, he got angry when something didn’t go his way. All of it came naturally to him.

But when it was time to shut those feelings down and rest, he couldn’t. He took walks often as a way to both clear his head and try to tire himself out. He slept sometimes but never more than a couple of hours, those feelings always startling him awake again. He slept but he didn’t rest.

Something was keeping him awake. Something was missing. Something that he didn’t have.

His eyes left his empty plate to finally lock on the beauty of you. With you, all of those conflicting feelings calmed down. They settled in his heart, that heavy weight that once constricted him now lifted. Like when you curled up next to a window, a book in your lap and a blanket over your shoulders as a gentle rain fell.

“Peace.”

A soft smile stretched across his face, his eyes holding so many feelings that he’s always been able to express but never truly able to receive. Looking at you now, he knew he could have it all now.

He could have peace. The reason he couldn’t sleep was because there were too many emotions storming around him, leaving him lost in the torrent of his own life. He had friends who loved him, family who supported him, and bonds that could never be broken but even with all of that, he still lacked one thing.

One person.

You.

He rounded his small kitchen island until he was standing next to you, his hand that wasn’t holding yours moving to cup the back of your neck. He leaned down just a little. Your lips were so close, a few centimeters closer and they’d touch. A frenzy of everything was happening in both of your bodies; anticipation, fear, passion, and more things neither of you could make.

His eyes flickered from your lips to your eyes, back and forth.

“I’m so glad I found you.” He whispered.

“I’m glad you found me too.”

And just like that, your lips joined. As did your hearts, as did your souls, as did your beings.

Complete.

Like the sun shining through the clouds after a rainy day and the rain returning to cover the sun, you two fit together in a delicate cycle.

One that could never be broken.

The sun. The rain. The earth. The sky. The moon. Red. Purple. Orange. Green.

Blissful. Confusing. Playful.

The colors that made up your world were bright now.

All thanks to your sun ☀️

[only-lonely-stars]

The Best Gossip on the Planet!

Oneshot – (FFN) (AO3)

Summary:

Cat Grant had it! The best scoop she'd ever gotten, right on the roof of The Daily Planet! Or, Superman and Lois aren't the most careful when it comes to who sees them. One thing leads to another, and to another, and to an article in The Daily Planet.

This fic is inspired by artwork by @tsbdhdndj! Thanks for letting me write based on it! <3

It was undeniable! Simply preposterous to even begin to dispute this truth! This would be the story which made the fabulous Cat Grant a star journalist! 

The story began that morning, when Cat heard one of her coworkers cry out that Superman had flown up to their building’s roof. Every time Superman showed up, juicy stories followed him! Cat wasted no time as she ran to the stairs, scaled the fifteen floors above her, and then tip-toed up to the access door. She planted herself there, listening intently for her favorite kind of news: gossip.

“Come on, Superman! We both know Lex is just a spineless coward. You can take him!”

“It’s not about whether I can take him in a fight. This is a problem of reputation.”

“That doesn’t mean anything! He’s just a bully. Who listens to bullies anyway?”

Cat pushed the door open gently, just wide enough to see through a crack.

Lois Lane and Superman were standing on the roof! And by standing, of course, she meant that he was floating a few inches off the ground and she was in his arms, too close for him to have just carried her up. No, he was holding her more intimately than that.

She’d caught them red-handed!

“Lois, I can’t just punch all my problems away. Plenty of people listen to him, that’s why Lexcorp even exists. I have to handle this the hard way.”

“But–”

“No buts! That’s not how this works, and you know it.”

Lois sighed heavily, laying her head down on his shoulder in an awfully familiar manner. “I wish it wasn’t so hard…”

Cat reached for her phone and snapped a picture through the crack in the door. The shutter gave a little click.

“I know– hold on.”

Superman moved faster than Cat could blink. He pulled open the door, Lois abandoned where they’d been just prior, and he was glaring at Cat. “Cat Grant. I should have expected you to be eavesdropping.”

“Cat?!” Lois shrieked. “Cat, stop, this isn’t what it looks like!”

She jumped on the opportunity. “Superman, please, elaborate on the situation here! Are you aware Ms. Lane is currently in a romantic relationship with Clark Kent, another of our journalists? How does it feel to be the side chick? Just how long has this been going on?”

Superman backed away, wide-eyed. “Woah, hold on! That’s not– it’s not–”

“I’m not cheating on Clark!” Lois cried. “It’s– this isn’t anything, purely professional!”

“Professional?” Cat whooped with laughter. “My dear, my dear! It didn’t look that way to me!”

“You’re wrong. It’s nothing weird like that.”

“Nothing weird? Why, this is exceptional! Superman, you must let me interview you!” She gave him a sly smile, enjoying how his eyes widened in either fear or hope. “To clear the air, of course.”

Superman cleared his throat, averting his gaze for a moment before he spoke to her directly. “Ma’am, I must insist that it’s none of the public’s business.”

“Oh, but the public–” Cat pointed at herself– “already knows that something is going on! Surely you’d like to get ahead of the rumor wheel.”

He considered her argument, and Cat knew that he would agree. She always knew.

When he glanced back at Lois for confirmation, Cat was certain she had her scoop, even though Lois was frantically trying to pantomime that he should stop. “...Fine. I’ll answer your questions.”

Cat whooped in victory. “Fabulous!”

She sprang forward and grabbed Superman’s hand, pulling unsuccessfully. “Come, come, you must want privacy!” He complied and walked with her, and Cat dragged him to the corner of the rooftop near the building’s AC units.

She spun to face him and held up her recorder. “First question. What do you think of Clark Kent?”

He blinked twice. “Uh… who is that…?”

“Lois Lane’s self-proclaimed boyfriend! He’s another reporter here at the Planet, and has written several articles about you.”

“Uh– oh, yeah, Mr. Kent! Of course I know him!” He laughed awkwardly. “Um, he’s fine. Just a regular guy, a good reporter. Nothing special about him!”

“Oho, nothing special?” Cat pressed her advantage. “So you think he’s mediocre? Is he not worthy of Lois?”

“What?! I mean– no, nobody’s worthy of anybody else. Ms. Grant, I don’t think about him at all!”

Another score! She tried a new angle, “And what about Lois? What drew your eye? Didn’t you once say your ‘ideal woman’ was a ‘tall surgeon?’ We both know Lois is nothing like that.”

Superman frowned. “Ma’am, I don’t think the events of a reality show have any bearing on real life.”

“So did you lie?”

“What? No, I don’t lie to people.”

“Come now, Supes. Everyone lies. That’s why I have a gossip column in the first place.” Cat smirked. “Now. What’s so special about Lois Lane to capture the eye of Metropolis’ most eligible bachelor?”

She knew she’d struck a chord when the superhero blushed. He paused, stammering and hemming and hawing.

“Well… she already said it's nothing like that.”

“Come on, Superman! That blush says you have eyes for her. Spill.”

He sputtered and blushed a deeper pink, giving some excuse before he finally answered. “Lois is certainly a special person. She’s brave and kind, and really has a heart for Metropolis. She thinks the people should know what’s happening in their city, and I… admire that.” He shook his head, gaining some composure. “Ms. Grant, I won’t go into what is not between us. Just know that Ms. Lane is a wonderful person. Nobody needs to be extraordinary to be valuable.”

Cat nodded, mentally noting how Superman seemed to grow more confident as he spoke about her– like Lois meant more to him than he was letting on, just as she’d expected. What a twist, to have a superhero vying with an average man for a date with a journalist! This was going to be one of her best articles so far.

“Of course, of course. One last question, Superman.” She leaned forward, holding his gaze. “What would you like to say to Clark Kent? You know he’ll read this article, so give him a message!”

Superman paused, thinking hard, and placed his fists on his hips in one of his most iconic poses. “Well, Ms. Grant. If I had one thing to say to Mr. Kent, I’d tell him to keep Lois close and treat her even better than she deserves. He’s a lucky man.”

Cat snickered. “Is that really everything? You won’t try to stake your claim?”

“Stake my claim?” He considered it again, and then grinned– a mischievious expression that Cat wished she could get a photographer to capture. “Oh, I see. Yes, please put in the article that while I won’t fight him, we both know Lois gets whatever– and whoever– she wants.”

The scoop was hers! Cat whooped in victory. “Of course, Superman! I’ll make sure it’s impossible to miss!”

Superman nodded, gave her a bland goodbye, and flew away. The rooftop was suddenly quite empty and still, with Lois having somehow escaped during her conversation, but Cat was triumphant anyway.

Now, to add the pièce de résistance!

—

“Oh, Claaaark!~” Cat sang as she walked down the halls of the Daily Planet, waving a piece of paper in the air. “Claaark, where are you!”

She opened the door to the newspaper morgue without knocking, just to find the very trio she wanted to find. Jimmy and Clark were bent over the table, looking over some documents, while Lois was pinning things to their ‘murder board’ at the back of the room.

All eyes fell on Cat.

She laughed. “Oh, perfect! Just who I wanted to find!”

Lois shrieked. “Nope! Nope, nope, nope! Get out of here, Cat!”

“No can do!” Cat barged in, delighting in the boys’ shocked expressions. Lois tried to push her out of the room, but Cat managed to close the door just in time to stay inside. “Come now, Lois, there’s no need for that! I just wanted to talk to you bunch.”

“Absolutely not!” Lois was red in the face now.

“You don’t even know what I wanted to say!” 

“I have a pretty good idea! Clark, help me get her out of here!”

Clark looked between them with a bemused expression, smiling. “What’s going on here? Cat’s got just as much right as anyone to come in here, you know that Lois.”

“I swear, Smallville–”

“Clark!” Cat cheered and reached out to grab his hand. “Perfect, just the man I wanted!”

Clark blushed. “What?”

Jimmy’s jaw dropped. “What?!”

Cat laughed. “Oh stop that. Nothing of that sort, boys. I need to talk to Clark. An interview!”

Clark laughed nervously, sounding faint. “Um… you want to talk to me? Is this work-related?”

“Of course!” Cat pulled out her recorder and clicked it on. “Tell me, what do you think of Superman?”

He blinked, and blinked again. “What?”

“I said, what do you think of Superman? Come on, give me something to work with here! You know non-answers don’t work for articles!”

Clark stammered a little more, looking between all of the people in the room. He landed on Jimmy, who wiggled his eyebrows. “C’mon, buddy. Just tell her. It’s probably some human interest piece.”

He sighed. “All right. What are you looking for here, Cat?”

Here was the clincher. She leaned forward, winking. “Give me your full, honest opinion about him. Do you think he’s a good person? Is he handsome? Approachable? Honest?”

Clark laughed. “Honest? Of course he’s honest. Do you seriously think someone who spends their time helping everybody without asking a thing would be a bad person?” He rolled his eyes. “Please. I bet he’s the type to splurge on gifts for his mom, or… adopt a kitten in need of a home, just because it needs one. Metropolis is better off with him helping us.”

Cat nodded and jotted down a couple notes. He obviously thought highly of the superhero… was it highly enough to get a good reaction? 

She pulled out her piece of paper and offered it to him. “Look at this and tell me what you think about it.”

Clark stared at it, with Jimmy and Lois coming up behind him. Lois was somehow even more red, as if she was about to combust. Jimmy looked at it, then at Cat, then back and forth between the two. The paper illustrated Superman and a blue sky background, as if flying through the air, with a superimposed candid of Lois from around the office pasted into his arms. It looked a bit like a sticker on top of a poster.

Jimmy looked unimpressed. “Uh… Cat, did you Photoshop this?”

Cat rolled her eyes in frustration. “Yes, but that’s not important. Give me feedback!”

“This looks like a fan comic.” He took it and looked it over, turning it this way and that. “And a bad one. Seriously, did you even try?”

“Of course I tried!” Cat snapped, grabbing it from him. “It’s called a visual aid, darling. Now–” She looked at Clark, who was looking between everyone else with an unreadable expression. “What? What is it?”

“...Cat, why did you Photoshop Lois and Superman together?”

The scoop was hers!

“Oh, well, I just wanted to know what you had to say about Lois and Superman secretly dating!”

Jimmy gasped. “What?! No way, you’re crazy!”

Lois looked like she could melt through the floor from sheer embarrassment. “Yeah… crazy…”

Clark gaped at Lois. “Lois? You’re kidding. Please, tell me you’re kidding.”

Lois glared at him and said nothing.

“Oh… oh, boy. Oh my gosh. What? I mean– I just– what?” Clark sputtered, making some meaningless noises, ruffling his hair and knocking his glasses askew. “You said he wasn’t going to be a problem!”

“Clark–”

“No, you said he was just a friend,” Clark continued, staring at her. “You’re telling me that you said you ‘didn’t want to be official right now,’ and then went off and started going on dates with Superman? Lois, that’s just cold!”

Something undefinable crossed between them. Cat pulled out her phone to snap a subtle picture– with flash, of course– as Lois turned on him.

“Well, you know what? He’s exciting. He’s a hero. Of course I said yes to going on a date with him!”

“And I’m not exciting? I’m not good enough for you?”

“You’re not Superman,” Lois accused.

“So?! I treated you like a queen! You met my parents, Lois! I’ve never brought anyone to meet them. How about when your apartment bathroom flooded and I helped you clean it up? Or when your dad came to my parents’ for Thanksgiving? Or–”

“You think you’re such a hero?!” Lois snapped, storming over to him and pointing her finger right in his face. “Then you go and be Superman. Go ahead, just try to save Metropolis the way he does every single day. Just try and be half the man he is.”

“He’s not even a man, he’s an alien!”

“Maybe I like aliens. Ever thought of that?!”

Cat couldn’t keep down her whooping laughter. It echoed through the morgue, stopping Lois and Clark in their tracks. The two turned on her in sync with matching angry expressions.

Lois raised her finger to point at Cat. “You. Stay out of this.”

“No.” Clark stepped forward, between Lois and Cat. “You know what? No. Cat, I know you’re gonna write an article on this, so I have a message for Superman that I want you to put in, word for word.”

Cat was giddy as she got out her notebook. “Please, tell me! I want all the details.”

Clark took her recorder and brought it up to his face, speaking slowly and clearly. His voice was low, dangerously low, and filled with brimming frustration. It was enough to rival the male leads in Cat’s romance novels!

(So she liked to read trashy romance. Sue her. Romance was the world’s largest book genre for a reason.)

“Superman, this is a message from Clark Kent. You might be a hero, and might save Metropolis from whatever comes to hurt its people, but you don’t get to take everything you want just because of that. If you want someone to date, go about it the normal way.” 

His gaze slid to Lois. “If you really want to romance Lois so badly, first you have to take it up with me. I’m sure you know where I live, so… so… meet me on the roof and talk to me like a man. I won’t give up on Lois, not ever, so we’ll let Lois decide once and for all.”

Lois was watching him with wide eyes. Cat took back her recorder, smiling slyly as she put away her notebook. “Is that all?”

Clark smiled, then nodded slowly. “That’s all. Now, if you’ll excuse us, I think I need to have a little talk with Lois. Will you give us some space?”

Cat snickered. “But of course. Have fun, you two!”

She opened the door, and almost as an afterthought, grabbed Jimmy by his jacket collar. “Come along, Olson! We’ve got an article to write!”

“Hey, wait– let go of me!”

“Metropolis waits for no one!” Cat sang it out as she pulled the door closed behind her, slamming as she left. She pulled the struggling Jimmy down the hall to her cubicle, only letting him go when she dropped him at his own space. “Don’t go back in there, dear, they need their space.”

“But–”

“No, no buts! Trust me, you don’t want to see that.” She winked, enjoying how Jimmy’s jaw dropped. “They’re just fine with no one else there.”

Jimmy sputtered. “Wh– I– fine?”

“Good, good!”

Cat left him behind, sliding into her own cubicle with a sly smile. She felt like the cat that had gotten the canary!

What would it be like when they met? Oh, she could already envision it! The mental picture was delightful, she just had to laugh!

She could see it now. Superman and Clark Kent, facing off against one another. The anger, the tension, the jealousy! Superman, superior in strength, and Clark Kent, able to affect Superman’s reputation in every article he wrote. Would they fight? Would they shout?

Oh! What if Lois were there? Torn between the two men she’d been seeing, who fought over her like a prize! She would be so torn. Cat could see her faint expression now, how she would want them to settle the matter! Two men, vying for her heart, and one of them superhuman.

It was too juicy to resist! Cat logged into her computer and started writing immediately. Something this hot had to make it into tomorrow’s paper!

—

ONE LUCKY LADY! by Cat Grant

We all know that the hearts of Metropolis’ people were captured by Superman as soon as we met him. Strong, powerful, and superhuman. What’s not to love?

The Daily Planet has investigated Superman ever since breaking the news of his debut. His exploits have been nothing short of legendary. Many of our own reporters are able to tell of times when Superman personally saved them from falling buildings, rescued their pets, or helped them with whatever they needed– not to mention fending off alien invaders and strange tech weapons. He’s been a rock for our community.

So what is he up to now?

The Daily Planet is pleased to report that Superman seems to have turned his eye to the romantic side of life… and is dating our very own investigative journalist, Lois Lane!

Eagle-eyed readers may remember that Ms. Lane has been romantically involved with another of our journalists, one Clark Kent, for several months now. Lane and Kent frequently work together, and have a reputation of a loving relationship. But could something be wrong in paradise?

Superman was willing to answer a few interview questions on the matter.

CG: What do you think of Clark Kent?

S: Mr. Kent! Of course I know him. He’s fine, just a regular guy and a good reporter. Nothing special about him. I don’t think about him at all.

CG: What’s so special about Lois Lane to capture the eye of Metropolis’ most eligible bachelor?

S: Lois is certainly a special person. She’s brave and kind, and really has a heart for Metropolis. She thinks the people should know what’s happening in their city, and I admire that.

CG: One last question. What would you like to say to Clark Kent?

For this question, Superman considered his words carefully. What could he have been thinking?

S: I’d tell him to keep Lois close and treat her even better than she deserves. He’s a lucky man… While I won’t fight him, we both know Lois gets whatever, and whoever, she wants.

Talk about a challenge! Metropolis’ darling makes it sound like he’s not the slightest bit worried about who she might choose. But what would Mr. Kent think?

The story only gets better. After quite the argument with Ms. Lane, he gave the Daily Planet a message for Superman.

“Superman, this is a message from Clark Kent. You might be a hero, and might save Metropolis from whatever comes to hurt its people, but you don’t get to take everything you want just because of that. If you want someone to date, go about it the normal way.

“If you really want to romance Lois first, you have to take it up with me. I’m sure you know where I live, so meet me on the roof and talk to me like a man. I won’t give up on Lois, not ever, so we’ll let Lois decide once and for all.”

Talk about a challenge! Superman, we hope you’re ready for your most dangerous battle of all… a battle for Lois Lane’s heart. Here at the Daily Planet, we already have our favorite horse in this race, and that’s Ms. Lane. No matter who she chooses, she’s the luckiest woman in Metropolis right now!

—

Of course, Cat had no way of knowing what actually happened in the newspaper morgue that day, or how the article would be received.

She didn’t hear how Clark cracked jokes about Lois having to choose between him and himself. She didn’t see how Lois egged him on, pretending that he would hunt down Superman and give him a knuckle sandwich. She didn’t see how Lois laughed and laughed, begging him to spare himself, until finally the two ended the so-called argument with a kiss and a nice, long hug.

What she did hear was that Superman had flown around the city the day it was published, signing every copy of The Daily Planet he could find, and leaving a signed copy with a note on her desk for her to find when she arrived at work.

Dear Ms. Grant, 

The spin you put on this story was entertaining, so thank you for a good laugh. Please make no mistake that I do not date citizens– or anyone, Lois included. I wish you continued success in your writing.

-Superman

[yeosboba]

perfume - l.mh

another one i'm transferring here from @yeosluvr

______________________________________________________________

Perfume - Lee Minho Featuring: Lee Minho of SKZ

Genre: Angst, a little fluff

A/N; This is an idea I’ve been thinking of for a long time, and is actually part of a series that I’m currently (slowly) working on, so for now, just enjoy the random word spill huhu. Do leave some feedback and reblog

Disclaimer; this is just a fanfiction and doesn’t portray how lee minho or any stray kids member behave irl. sorry for the late updates.

...

Minho stares at the bottle of perfume now standing - out of place - on the top of his vanity, away from all of his other belongings. It’s cheap perfume, still a quarter to be full, and he doesn’t even remember the brand - maybe there was no brand, to begin with? - but he remembers her being used to coming up here, to his room, lying down on his bed and having breakfast in bed with him, having that cheap perfume stashed in her pocket for emergencies. He remembers the first time he ever officially talked to her - scratch that, it was her who talked to him first. It was about his perfume.

“Where’d you get your perfume?”

He also remembers at the time that it was after his very first breakup - and he even liked her a lot too despite his flirtatious ways- and after that, she came into his life through a simple tap on his shoulder and a seemingly trivial question with a much more trivial intention. She didn’t really expect that it’d hurt to fall in love. He grimaces at the thought and stands up to take the bottle of perfume on the stand.

Twelve months ago, she had come up to him, jet black eyes behind thin rectangular glasses, in a librarian uniform with her name tag stuck proudly on the left side of her vest. He remembers her looking down at her polished leather shoes and the frantic eye language she gave him - the wrong person to ask for help actually since she needed help asking him a question. He chuckles at the memory, and remembers that he answered, “It was a gift from an old friend.”

His ex. Anyone would refer to their ex as an old friend, right?

He could see the surprise and embarrassment eating up on her when she bit her inner cheek and crimson flooded her cheeks, and he thought to himself that he found this girl cute. Awkward, sure, also highly introverted, and not to mention her addiction with books and the school library was beyond what he could fathom, but she was cute nevertheless. Her chuckles rang through his ears, and he found himself smiling over that little action alone.

And without even thinking through, the words passed through his lips.

“Are you free tonight?”

Minho lays down on his bed, legs hanging off the edge as he sighs quietly, closing his eyes, the quarter-full bottle of cheap perfume held tightly to where his heartbeats quicken over a memory he’d do anything to replay.

*

Waking up to her tidying his room was one of the most wonderful things in life that happened to him. He’d rate her existence as a blessing, God-sent. He had needed this kind of person since the breakup and she was the perfect fit for the requirements.

“So…

You want me to help you forget about her?”

No, certainly not in a dirty way. Not to such a pure, innocent creature as herself, who admitted to never having been asked out on dates or even been in a relationship, although she had embarrassedly confessed to wanting to know what real love feels like.

As if he knew. He scoffed at her request at first, because he thought that he knew what love was. Before the break-up, he thought he knew what it was. Post-breakup? Not very sure. But he wasn’t sure as to why he wanted to grant her wish when he saw her looking down to his hands hesitantly.

“I really wanted to know what love is, Minho.”

“Okay.” He didn’t know what drove him to agree after only the second time she asked. After all, it wasn’t unknown that Minho was one of the people who were very hard to convince.

Minho looks across his room and finds the tulips she sent him months ago in a vase. One of them is starting to wither, he observes. “Red tulips,” she once said to him, he recalls. It’s one of his favourite quotes from her still, and he tries to remind himself of her everyday. “To love someone so great is a wonderful gift. I wish I could love and be loved like that.."

He grumbles at the squeaking pipe at the kitchen sink, and the slow flowing of water into his glass, and as Minho impatiently taps his foot on his kitchen tiles, his cousin Felix walks in.

"Hey."

"Morning, cousin.” Felix chuckles, and Minho shakes his head at the younger man before he notices that the glass is already full, so he retreats into his room quietly. He doesn’t miss the pity in Felix’s eyes as he slowly retreats to his room, not wanting to miss watering the tulips that she gave him months ago.

*

Climbing up to his upstairs apartment was a routine for her, because God knows how Minho can get freakish headaches in the morning if he wasn’t woken up the right way. Minho discovered that she had approached him moderately, just the right amount as to not let the pain rise to his head.

There was a pattern to it too.

Of course, he gave her the spare keys to his apartment so she could help him get up in the morning. He’d groan first, before finding one of her cheeks and pecking it, give her a little smile, and he’d greet her afterwards. “Morning, beautiful,” was an accustomed one that even she got used to.

Afterwards they’d be eating their breakfast together, her snuggling into his chest, and he’d make comments about some random reality show that came on TV. An hour before his first class for the day, she’d get up, tidy her clothes and fix her hair before she’d kiss his forehead - her kisses were always longer than his. It made him feel somewhat strange, something stirring inside him that he couldn’t name. She’d wish him a great day and to text her if he wanted meals together, and he’d follow her out after he gave her a kiss on her cheeks.

Another thing he got used to doing was to walk her back to her studio after classes and meals. They didn’t even talk much on the way back, just comfortable silence and her asking if she could put her hand in his pocket, and later on he’d hold her hand in his pocket. He couldn’t explain why he loved it when she simply smiled at this little skinship, but it felt so pleasant and familiar that he didn’t even disagree with it.

Were they something more than friends when they had that, he wondered.

Perhaps it was something else. It was also possible that friends would do that. It would be the feelings that come with it that’d be inappropriate, in his opinion. Feelings that made him feel his cheeks go warm, feelings that made him stutter in his words, feelings that simply told him that he wanted her with him always, feelings that told him she deserved better. So he had to shake it away one way or another.

They were friends, he’d remind himself. Very close ones. He’d tease her and she’d smile through it, and truthfully it made him happy that simple gestures that told him that the weird friendship they had didn’t go one way made her happy. Simple things in life like buying her her favourite coffee. Remembering to wish her good morning first thing - if she wasn’t in his apartment, that is. Remembering to wish her good night.

In truth, he was scared of it.

It grew to be even more frightening when she accidentally left her cheap perfume- the one that he’s holding at the moment- in his apartment. He was so curious that he picked up by means of teasing her when they’ll be having Literature in a few hours. That was until he smelled it and thought, ‘she smelled nothing like it.

She smelled better.’

Literature was fun. She was one of the tutors in their year, and he’d always tease her when she came round to teach his group about literary components. It usually amused him to see her cheeks flare in red and she’d swat his hand in furious embarrassment, but that one specific Literature night class was … he didn’t know how to describe it, but he felt all giddy reminiscing that one particular night.

“Ah, hey guys. Need help?”

“I think we’re kinda good here, princess.” He was the one who answered, and he had ideas in his head that might’ve shown on his face that made Seonghwa choke on his water and Hongjoong had to poke Minho on his shoulder. “Yeah well, stop kissing her in your head, Lee,” Hongjoong smirked, and if that didn’t make his heart race he didn’t know what would. And surprisingly, her face had seemed to be the same shade of a ripe tomato- if it wasn’t redder.

And then came the teasing.

He didn’t know what drove him. He really didn’t know, but the only thing in his mind at the moment was to see her smile goofily. He had to do it, right?

He leaned forward in his seat, closing the proximity between them two, until their breaths mixed with each other - which actually took her by surprise because she was too focused on drawing a mind map on their whiteboard- and said, “You left your perfume in my apartment, sweetheart.”

At the sound of his voice so close to her, she whipped her head up to see his smirking lips first, then his incredibly shining eyes - that was what she said to him anyways - and she leaned back. Her face was red. She was stuttering on her words.

It was nice to see he wasn’t feeling one-sided about all the arrangement wasn’t it?

“I’ll see you later, honey,” he winked at her.

She nodded, before walking to another group, fanning herself.

*

Minho really badly wants to cry at the amount of memories that are replaying in his head as he clutches the perfume to his chest. Where it hurts. He’d see her smile, and the glow in her eyes whenever she looks at him. Looked at him. It’s getting harder to breathe, so he walks up to his window and for the first time in months, he draws the curtains open.

Senior year was about prom. Of course it was always about prom.

Lee Minho asked her if she’d wanted to be his date- “As friends, of course. Single friends,” he laughed- and she had agreed to it. Which led to the agreement that they’d go with matching colours. That time, she made a request for him to take him out shopping for black ties. He’d groaned, actually, but it came out a whimper, then a sigh, when he glanced her way and saw her big hopeful eyes, blinking at him.

“Okay.” He smiled.

It didn’t help that on the day of said purchase of tie, she’d hurriedly took some cash out of her wallet and handed it over to the cashier before he could even protest. “I’ll pay for this,” she affirmed firmly, and the cashier squealed over how cute of a couple they were. Which led him to the first of his many regrets in their 'friendship’.

“We’re just friends,” he chuckled, not noticing the way her smile faltered and the cashier nodded awkwardly at her. By then she felt very weak in her knees, but he didn’t really notice it because she was too quick to hide it when he turned to her and asked her if everything’s okay. Of course, she’d answer that it was all fine. All very very fine.

He didn’t get a good night reply that night.

She seemed okay in the morning, though.

She had told him how excited she was for prom, and when curiosity came to him and urged him to ask her about her gown for the night, she just gave him a plain smile emoji and told him that she wanted to save the surprise for the night. He’d smiled at that comment and had waited patiently for the sun of the day of prom to set.

Minho takes in one breath as he remembers the night where he first sees her in the black gown. He wants to remember taking in the sight of her in that black gown of sequins and the frilly neckline and her face was shaded with the lightest tones of make-up and even her hairstyle was simple, her bangs pulled back in bobby pins, and her hair was pulled back with a flower scrunchie, flowing in a wavy side ponytail.

Beautiful. He tells her, the her in his memory.

Thank you, the her in his memory replies. Same voice, same shyness.

She got him tripping and she didn’t even know.

“You look gorgeous, Lee Minho,” she smiled.

“Likewise.” He bowed his head, knowing full well that in her eyes he’d be very flushed-face in the mere presence of her. In a black gown. With that hairstyle. At that point, he was very confused with the border that separated friendship and something that he’d labelled as 'something more’.

The rest of the night, to him, was a complete haze as he kept his hand firm on her waist, keeping her close to him at all times. He didn’t know why he acted like it, but she seemed to not mind, only excusing herself at one point because she needed the toilet. He thought the night went perfectly, and her presence with him had kept him at ease and composed, and he didn’t even remember that he used to have someone that wasn’t her.

Well actually, that thought was interrupted by a gentle poke on his shoulder, and what greeted his sight - to his shock - wasn’t her, but his ex. All in her glorious emerald green dress, all smiley. All beautiful for someone that wasn’t him. His heart stopped at the thought and for a moment all he could think of was how pretty she looked. If only she was his.

“Hi, Minho.”

“Hey yourself.”

A moment of awkward silence passed as she sheepishly grinned at him and he struggled to keep his breaths in check, because he finally remembered what it was that made him stay with the girl in the black gown all along. She was able to make him forget his misery. Had he really used her for his own good? He didn’t know he was capable of doing that, but when his stomach turned and flipped and made him feel sick, he realised that maybe, it wasn’t love that he felt for the girl in the black gown.

So why was he crying?

So why is he crying?

“You came."

"Yeah.” He gulped, not wanting to meet her gaze.

“I saw her just now.” She chirped, and from that voice alone he knew she was genuinely happy for him, thinking he had found someone for him. Someone that could make him happier than she did. “She’s really pretty isn’t she?”

He couldn’t speak.

“I’m glad you’re happier with her, Minho.”

Supposed that she only made him believe in temporary happiness, and not actually him feeling happy with her? The girl in the black gown? Then what should he do? What had he done to himself?

What had he done to her?

“I’ll see you around, Minho.” She smiled, and before he knew it, she had tiptoed up to his cheek, felt a brief second of a kiss on his cheek, and left without any more words exchanged. He felt slightly ashamed of himself, felt as though he was undeserving of any kind of love at all.

But he didn’t know why he’d feel so, so terrible when he looked up to see the huge eyes, those huge, terribly tearful eyes - in terms of trying trying hold back tears from overwhelming - looking at him, who stood in the middle of the room, and her, from the entrance to the hall where the prom was held.

He didn’t even know why he felt so broken, felt as though he’d begged her to stay when she let one of her tears fall and wiped the others away with her hand. He was waiting for a slap - some kind of physical pain on any part of his body - as she crossed the room in small steps. But there was nothing.

She’d crossed the room, took his hand and kissed his knuckles gently, and he felt some more tears falling onto his fist.

“Was I not enough, Lee Minho?"

"No, sweetheart,” his breath hitches at the memory, and he feels his gut kicking against the walls of his stomach as he says so. “You’re more than what I deserve, more than what I asked for,” he says to her in his memory. The words that he didn’t say to her that night.

“Minho?” Another hand came to hold his knuckles and he felt her shake. And of course, the tears. Waves of slow music echoed against the walls and Minho was so thankful that nobody had noticed her. Or him. Crying.

“Hey.” He whispered, bringing his hands to wipe the streams of tears running down her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered close to his touch, and he felt the pain throbbing inside him again as he kissed her eyelids. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s dance,” he whispered, and his arms went down to her waist as he buried his head in her neck.

She nodded quietly, soft sniffs still loud in his ears as he took in her scent, and before long he felt her arms gently going around his neck, and felt her wet cheeks against his chest. Still shaking, he felt her swallow her sobs, prompting him to slide his hands against her back in an attempt to calm her down.

“I’m so sorry,” he says to her in his memory. “I thought it was for the best.”

“I know, Minho.” Figured that he had said the same thing, because he had remembered her saying this all, and her looking up to him, wet eyes and sad smile. “I’m so sorry,” she sniffed again. Minho ignored the urge for him to kiss her right then and there.

Shaking his head, Minho swiped his thumb across one of her cheeks and she smiled. The lump in his throat remained as he felt his cheeks becoming wet after seeing that broken smile of hers. As if she was somehow… just giving up her happiness for his. Although he couldn’t really explain why that thought that might’ve run through her head made his heart sink.

Afterwards Minho had taken her to the photobooth, by means of making her smile. At least they could make funny faces at each other when they sit there, right? At least they’d laugh at each other right?

But he couldn’t really do anything at the moment. Not when she seemed to force herself to enjoy the night because of him. The first take she was laughing because he had tripped on her and she had pulled him to sit down on the seat beside hers, and the cameras flashed on their faces before he could comprehend anything.

The second take was more like him laughing at her as he teased her about how beautiful she looked in that gown. How he wished he could make her his, the voice in his head had whispered. A pleasurable shade of cherry red again coated her cheeks, like the previous times where she had been teased by him, and the second take was her stifling a silly grin and playfully shoving his shoulder.

The third take was him pulling her to sit on his lap, and that the cameras had caught her surprised look on the cameras made his stomach turn. She had her arms around his neck to keep herself balanced, and for that matter she needed to look up.

The fourth take was unexplainable. She was sitting on his lap, and the cameras caught him looking at her with the same confusing emotions he had felt the whole time he was with her. And he had mistaken those feelings to be similar to what he’d felt for a friend when he knew she wasn’t just a friend. She was smiling so beautifully, looking into his eyes as she did so, and he knew he felt warm, as though something inside him was melting to the sensations she was making him feel.

“Lee Minho, I love you."

Between the bright lights of the camera flash and the sound of shutters being clicked open and close, he heard the small voice of her amidst everything.

That night had somehow ended with shaky breaths and hushed voices as he walked her back to her studio, and somehow it felt as if it was the last time he’d hold her hand.

Minho stands up from his position and walks to his desk. His very, very dusty desk, pulls out an old book - that’s for another story for him to tell - and takes out the set of four black-framed polaroids they had taken that night. Brushing his hands across the pictures, he sighs at the sight of her in that gown he adores so much.

But even without the gown, she looks so much more beautiful than any other girls he’d ever known.

Is this love?

He brushes his thumb across her cheek in the picture and feels a weird sense of … something unnamed overwhelming his five senses. Bringing the perfume in his hand to his nose, he gently sniffs on it, before he brings the Polaroid set to his nose. It smells the same, he hears the voice in his head speaking fondly. It smells wonderful. This is her smell.

Brushing the pads of his fingers against her wet cheeks, he bent to her forehead, leaving unspoken feelings and hidden meanings behind a simple lingering kiss to it, but it wasn’t just that that broke her. He had said something that made it particularly difficult for her to forget- and it was such a Lee Minho thing to do when parting ways.

"Don’t ever change for anyone, darling.

You’re perfect the way you are,

Stay the same, love.”

Goodbyes were hard, but it was extremely- surprisingly- difficult for someone who had said a lot of goodbyes such as Lee Minho, and he hadn’t expected that to happen with anyone. Except he didn’t expect meeting her would be the end of that statement for him.

He turned on his heels after the kiss, begging his heart to not even spare a glance, because this was her. She’d make it especially difficult for him to leave.

But long after he reached his apartment, changed out of his suit, and drank a mug of hot choco that Felix had made for him, he found himself staring into darkness, his mind drowning in the remaining memories he had of her.

He sighs again, clutching the two items to his chest and takes in the smell of her. As he closes his eyes, he remembers feeling a sense of warmth flooding him as her smell engulfs him in what he can only as her comfort hugs. How can she smell good even without perfume?

She always does that when she knows he’s upset.

Somewhere in between his consciousness and his dreamstate, he hears a little voice pleading with her in his memories.

If I ever get to meet you next time, I’m praying to God that even if you find someone that’s not me, please don’t ever change.

*

It’s early morning the next day when Minho next opens his eyes. Since his curtains were drawn open yesterday, he’s greeted first thing by the little rays of sunlight. The sun is rising. Groaning, he fights the urge to curse the sun for being up too early. It’s the weekend, what the heck?

The first thing that he registers is that he hears Felix singing as he makes his usual pancakes, and that if he’s very much awake he’d realise Felix is actually having a pleasant conversation. With a girl. But Lee Minho’s not in his right mind, so he doesn’t think of it too much when he realises that the voice is hers- because he thinks he’s still dreaming.

“Hyung!”

He hears Felix’s three soft raps on his door, and he swears that he can hear Felix smiling when he presses his ear to the surface of the wooden door when Felix says, “Someone’s out here to meet you, hyung.” Minho doesn’t think too much of it, because Felix usually invites his friends over, and his friends- Hyunjin, Jisung and Seungmin- he can say they’re basically fond of him.

What he didn’t expect was to see her.

With a box of Pepero sticks that he remembers mentioning to her that he craved for. That was over a year ago.

He blinks, grip tightening on his door handle as she lowers her gaze in a small bow. Minho feels all his senses heightening at an alarming rate, so he turns to Felix, who throws worried looks in his direction as if wanting to ask if he’s okay with her coming. He notices her gulping, wondering if the anxiety hits her the same way it’s currently hitting him.

“I’m just stopping by,” she stutters. “To drop this.” She gestures at the big green box, giggling nervously as she picks at the skin of her arm. When his gaze finds hers again, she looks down to her stockinged feet. She’s still the same, he whispers to himself.

Felix eyes him nervously, an eye language of, “Maybe I should leave you guys alone.”

Minho nods at him, and before she can look up to stop Felix, he’s gone.

The sound of a slammed door surprises her and makes her jump in her position, but Minho stifles his chuckle because he doesn’t want to scare her away like he did last time. It seems as though they’re both thinking the same thing, because Minho notices another gulp going down her throat, and that’s what he’s currently having a problem with. His throat feels dry and it feels particularly difficult to breathe.

“Hey.”

She looks up.

“Let’s sit down. Talk.”

“Like old times?"

He sighs. He knows that it won’t feel like old times anymore.

"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bring that up.”

“It’s okay, darling.” He says, and he feels the nerves in him relaxing. “I wanted things to be the way they were too."

He sees her open her mouth, but then she closes it. Considering her words and actions before she regrets it.

He walks towards the couch in front of the TV, prompting her to follow him. She doesn’t sit when he sits, slightly troubled and confused, but he knows she can’t refuse him when he holds out one hand and something else in his eyes that begs her to do so, so she sits.

He then carefully slides his arm around her waist, glancing at her to assess her reactions. Under his touch, he notices she tenses, the red spreading to her ears and he sighs and before anxiety can creep back up to eat him from inside out, he pulls her closer to him, putting his chin on her head.

An involuntary content sigh leaves his slightly parted lips, and he relaxes into her figure. Gradually, she leans against his chest too, and he hears a heavy breath coming from her. Another bold move that he attempts is to take her other hand in his, and he cheers quietly when she doesn’t budge, instead leaning more into him, and this time he hears a happy hum from her.

It’s so tempting for Minho to sway her in that position, so he does that, and he hears a giggle from her. The giggles that he’s deprived of for over a year. Immediately he feels as though a huge amount of oxygen is being returned to him, as though his sleepless nights will be no more.

"Minho.”

He hums.

“What are we?” She looks up to him, and he lifts his chin so that he can see her expression.

She’s hopeful.

Tired, but hopeful.

“Are you willing to wait for me?” I promise I won’t be long, he promises quietly, tightening the grip he has on her hand.

“I’m willing, Min,” she affirms, responding to him with a reassuring squeeze of her hand around his. “So long as it makes you happy,” she adds, before leaning into him again, another happy hum escaping her lips.

“Then let’s just stay like this for a while,” he whispers into her hair.

“Okay, Minho."

It takes a minute for him to take in the smell of her, this fresh her, smelling like that perfume he has in his pocket, like the Polaroid set in his old notebook. Everything’s going so perfectly, the way he’s holding her, the way she’s fitting so adequately into his arms.

"We’ll be alright this time.

I won’t run away again.”

She doesn’t look up to meet his eyes when he lowers his eyes to meet hers, stiffening in her position, but remains there on his lap, and Minho understands her too well that he knows she’s slightly uncomfortable with his promises. Ones which he knows that she knows he’ll struggle to keep, and she doesn’t want that. No hurting Lee Minho if she could ever help it, she’d say. If anyone is going to get hurt, it should be her.

“I don’t want you to promise, Lee Minho.” She sighs, playing with the fingers that are intertwined with hers. “I’m more than willing to wait for as long as I must, so please, don’t hurt yourself,” and Minho just doesn’t know what it is that stabs him deep inside but it really hurts to hear the pain hidden in the fake calmness of hers.

“I won’t promise then."

Her perfume in his pocket long forgotten, and the Polaroid set lies abandoned in their shared notebook, Minho takes in the scent of her wafting through the air around them. It’s the first time in over a year that he’s able to sleep so peacefully, and he doesn’t even need her perfume to help him sleep.

She never changed.

[elegantwoes]

If Clerith is canon, then how come there only exists the possibility for Cloud to kiss Tifa in the game? At the point where Aerith is still alive. And as for your question about why Aerith needs to die like in the original, it’s partly because she needs to be in the Lifestream to summon Holy. There’s also the fact that Final Fantasy 7 is a game about loss and finding the strength to still live despite said loss. Aerith’s death works because she was a character who loved life, and thus to see that vibrant spirit suddenly snuffed out is tragic. And as for the whole Clerith vs Cloti thing, the Sector 5 dream date kind of puts a wrench in that with Aerith’s dialogue about “knowing where they stand” and the difference between “liking someone and liking someone”. The love triangle is an illusion that ends when Cloud regains himself, and the player can no longer choose dialogue options for him. Nojima seems to be going full steam ahead with Cloti and Zerith in Part 3, and while it’s fine not to prefer that, that’s what’s happening.

The reason why I question the choice of killing Aerith again is because the devs have said that dying is a fate/promise that Aerith is desperately trying to escape. Couple that with the fact they promoted Remake and Rebirth so far with posters as, “Defying fate,” and making the characters say “the future isn’t set in stone”. Near the ending of Remake you the player gets to defeat fate. Introducing alternative worlds where Zack and Biggs are alive. Implying that even if Cloud didn’t save Aerith in his world there is another world where she did survive and that Aerith is waiting for him. All of this sweet build up and for it to what? To go down the route of, “psych, no you cannot change your life. You need to give up and resign to whatever is coming your way.” Giving hope to not follow through with what you have been hinting at isn’t good storytelling. It’s pure sadism. But no matter. I am relatively confident that Aerith will get her wish. To live long happy life with her friends and Cloud.

Zerith is a ‘couple’ that doesn’t exist. It was created by certain shippers to get Aerith out of the way without being overtly hateful to her. Aerith is allowed to have somewhat complicated feelings to Zack without her feelings for Cloud being diminished. Zack may have been her first love, but there is no doubt that Cloud is her true love. That is clearly established in the alternative world where Marlene says Aerith is In love with Cloud. This is even further hammered down when Aerith has the opportunity to fight with either of them near the end of Rebirth but while she heals Zack she chooses to stand by Cloud and with him fight against Sephiroth. Zack himself has accepted that Aerith moved on. He wants Cloud to save her and not let her die. If only people more understanding like him.

As for the kiss you speak of. Nojima said that all the Gold Saucers dates are separate from the main story and more similar to dating sims. The fact that the kiss did not change the relationship between Cloud and Tifa in the main story shows it should be treated like it never happened. No impact means not relevant. It’s interesting you believe that is the direction the game is going. We each can have our interpretation and can only wait for the part 3 game in a few years to confirm whose analysis is right. Until then I say goodbye, anon.

[lerexclamationpointpeter]

•your girls•

You and Pete spend some time at Gwen’s grave.

CW: mention of Gwen and her death, grieving, crying, religious/spiritual themes, reader is spiritual, reader listens to Paramore (it’ll make sense at the end i promise), fem!reader

Peter and the reader are in an established relationship

It’s been 3 years since Gwen’s death

Sorry for taking so long to write this

Enjoy this sad ass story that I couldn’t stop thinking about

You laid the blanket in the space in front of Gwen’s headstone and sat down with Peter. The third anniversary of her passing was a couple days ago. This was the first year on the anniversary of her death that he was in a relationship with someone else. It wasn’t easy on him.

He had a nightmare on the day of her passing. It took a while to calm him down. He was a bit distant towards you for the rest of the day, and he actually apologized to you for it the day after, which you weren’t expecting. You figured that everyone was allowed to grieve in their own way. You didn’t blame him for being distant.

When you suggested going to see her gravesite, he seemed almost shocked. It was like he couldn’t understand why you would want to do such a thing. He took a while to think about it before agreeing to the idea. And now, here you both were, sitting in front of her. It felt kind of like meeting her for the first time in a way, even though you were just looking at a stone with her name on it.

It was nice. The atmosphere was peaceful. The sun was shining and the birds were singing. It was a perfect day to come see her.

Peter wiped a tear from his eye. He promised himself that he wouldn’t cry, but he couldn’t help it.

“I think you two would’ve made really good friends,” he said.

From the stories you’d heard about her, you agreed.

“I wish I could have met her,” you replied.

Pete pulled you closer to him, resting his chin on top of your head.

“Maybe someday we’ll all meet again. In a better place.”

Pete’s voice breaks as he says this. You lean into him a bit more.

“I think we will, Pete.”

You do your best to comfort him, rubbing your thumb back and forth on the back of his neck.

“I hope so,” he admits.

He is silent for a moment before asking you a question that’s been on his mind.

“Hey, you know how you believe everything has a spiritual meaning?”

You nodded.

“Sometimes I wonder what her death was supposed to mean.. Why she had to go so soon, y’know? I just don’t understand why it had to happen..”

You thought about what he said, thinking carefully about how to respond.

“Was Gwen religious at all?” you asked.

Pete thought for a moment.

“Well, I think her family is Catholic. She wasn’t extremely religious, but she did believe in God. There was a priest at her funeral who read some Bible verses. I didn’t really understand what any of it meant or what it had to do with her...”

You nodded again. Sometimes you wondered if priests ever opened the Bible to a random page, closed their eyes, waved their finger around, and pointed at a random Bible verse to preach about before services.

“There’s this story in Catholicism I heard once.. About why it seems that good people always die young.”

Peter looked at you and tilted his head, intrigued.

“What’s the story?” he asked, curious.

You took a deep breath, recalling the story as best as you could.

“Some people think that angels make certain decisions about our lives before we’re born. Things like our fate and whatnot,” you started. “They believe that some people are so pure and good, that the angels argue over whether they should give them life or not. On one hand, their life would make an impact on many others, so some of the angels argue that their life is necessary for the sake of all humanity. On the other hand, life is filled with pain and suffering. Some angels think that the person’s soul is too pure to subject them to the harsh cruelty of earthly living…” you sighed. “So, they fight and argue for a while… and then they make a compromise.”

Peter listened intently, waiting for you to make your point.

“They decide that this person’s impact is too important to waste, so they must give them life. But once they’ve made their impact, they have to return to Heaven… And from hearing how highly you speak of Gwen, I think it’s safe to say she made her impact.”

Pete’s eyes fill up with tears.

“I never thought about it like that before,” he said quietly.

He squeezed you tightly as he began to cry. You wrapped your arms around him and squeezed him back, softly crying along with him.

Time passed as the both of you cried together. The sun had started to set, and you and Peter were going to have to go home soon. Peter wiped his eyes and cleared his throat.

“You two had a lot in common, y’know?” he said suddenly.

You sniffed.

“Yeah? Like what?”

Pete cleared his throat again, then took a deep breath.

“You both were really good at making people feel special, and you both always knew exactly what to say when things got tough.. I can only imagine the kind of conversations you two would have with each other.. Probably some wild ones,” he laughed.

You smiled.

“You should talk to me about her more. Everything you say about her makes me realize why you loved her so much.”

Pete turned his head to make eye contact with you.

“It’s not a problem if I talk about her?”

You gave him a puzzled look.

“Why would it be a problem?” you asked.

“Well, I guess she’s technically my ex. I don’t know how many girls there are that like it when their boyfriend talks to them about their ex.”

You chuckled.

“Well, I wouldn’t say she’s your ex.. You guys didn’t break up.. She might not be here anymore, but that’s still your girl.”

Pete gave you a puzzled look this time.

“Well, yeah, but… You’re my girl…”

There was a pause as you thought about what you wanted to say. You could tell he still held onto so much guilt for her death. There was a side of him that wanted so desperately to move on, to let go of the pain of losing her. But there was another side of him that wanted to hold on for dear life and never let her go. It never occurred to him that he didn’t have to make a choice between the two of you.

“Pete, what if Gwen was the one that brought us together? What if we’re both of your girls?”

He sat in silence, deep in thought.

“I mean, think about it.. How old were you when she passed away? Like, 18? 19? I don’t think she’d want you to grieve her loss so much that you could never fall in love again.. I think she’d want you to live happily and fulfilled. Maybe she had a hand in us meeting?”

He nodded.

“Yeah… I think you’re right… I didn’t think I would ever fall in love again after she died. And I was alright with that. Until I met you. Then, all the sudden, it was my mission to get to know you. I felt like I had to. Before I met you, every offer I got for a date, I turned down. But when I met you, I was the one that asked you out. I had no idea what caused the complete 180… But maybe it was Gwen.”

You took some time to think about what he said. The visual of Gwen screaming at Peter from Heaven to go talk to a girl was amusing. The thought of her screaming at Peter to go talk to you specifically was flattering, though.

“Why do you think Gwen chose me?” you asked, wanting to know his answer.

He grinned.

“She was a smart girl. Way smarter than me. I don’t know what her reasoning was, but obviously she made the right decision.”

Pete planted a kiss on your forehead. He cradled your head towards his chest and gently massaged your scalp.

You mentally thanked Gwen for allowing you and Peter to meet. You never knew Gwen, but you had nothing but the utmost respect for her. You understood why Peter loved her so much. If she were still here, he’d still be with her, and that made perfect sense. You promised her that every time you told Peter you loved him, you were telling her that you loved her as well.

Now that Peter felt more open to talking about her with you, there was no reason not to ask him some more questions.

“So, what else did we have in common? What kind of music did she like?”

“She wasn’t much of a music girlie…” he paused as he thought for a moment, “But now that I think about it, she did listen to Paramore.”

“Oh, of course she did. Every hot girl likes Paramore.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: sorry for taking so long to post my adhd is absolutely terrible but i am trying 👍

[shmaptainwrites]

Late Nights [Richard Castle]

Pairings: Richard Castle x fem!Reader

Characters: Richard Castle, Alexis Castle (brief)

Summary: Reader and Rick spend a few late nights together over the course of their relationship

Warnings: none this bitch is pure fluff

Note: I said I was gonna do it didn't I, well anyways here's another fic no one is gonna read because Mimi can't stop simping for random-ass middle-aged white men

Rick Castle wasn’t unfamiliar with late nights. Whether it was a book launch party or just late nights in the office finishing his next book. And almost each time he couldn’t wait to come back and sink into his bed. 

It shouldn’t, of course, be mistaken that Rick didn’t enjoy a good night on the town coming up with all sorts of crazy ideas, maybe even getting arrested once or twice, but some days it just felt better to go home and go to bed. 

Today was one of those days, a long launch party with people following him every which way, asking questions he couldn't give answers to, after the first hour it became exhausting. 

So when the last people finally left the venue and his publisher informed him it would be an acceptable time to leave, he climbed into the first cab he could find and gave his home address, sinking back into the seat and waiting to arrive at his destination. 

When he unlocked the door to the apartment, noticing all the lights were off and a quiet hush had fallen over his home, he made extra care to not wake those sleeping. 

His poor little Alexis, sick in bed with a cold. It tore him apart to leave her, but there were certain obligations he couldn’t get out of. 

He took off his coat and hung it over the couch before making his way upstairs and into his own room. He didn’t turn on the lights, only taking a seat at the edge of the bed to pull off his socks and run a hand through his hair before letting out a yawn.

“You got back late.” 

Rick turned around and the figure he assumed was sleeping had actually been wide awake, curled against her pillow. 

“I know, I tried to leave earlier at least three times,” he chuckled. “She went down okay?” 

“Easy peasy, you know how much she loves me,” you said. “Gave her some cough syrup and read her a story and she was out like a light.”

“And you?” he finished unbuttoning his shirt and tossed it on the ground before leaning in to give you a kiss. 

“Exhausted. I tried to clean the kitchen after I put Alexis to sleep, but there were like ten thousand other things to do,” you told him. “Plus, it didn’t help that I missed you.” 

That made him smile, his hand going to find your own, interlocking your fingers together. 

“I missed you too, parties aren’t much fun if your favourite person to get in trouble with isn’t there.” 

“And your daughter is at home sick.” 

“That too,” he agreed.

“You’re probably tired too, finished getting changed then get in here,” you patted the empty spot next to you. “We’ll need all the sleep we can get, especially if Lex comes in here in the middle of the night.”

“You read my mind,” he kissed you once more, this time lingering a little longer, like he was savouring the small moment he had with you in the dark quiet room. 

He finished getting changed into something more comfortable before sliding in under the covers next to you and playfully pulling you into his side only to give you more kisses. 

“Rick, stop, that tickles!” you squealed quietly. 

“That’s kind of the point, sweetheart,” he mumbles into your neck as his head snakes around your waist. 

“Rick!” you whined and he respected your wishes, but not before turning your face towards him, the tip of his nose grazing your own. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

You kissed his nose and snuggled into his side before whispering, 

“I love you too.” 

—

Ten Years Later

“Hey, what are you still doing awake?” Rick quickly closed the door behind him before checking the time again on his watch. “It’s almost 4.” 

“I was worried about you,” you came up to him, scanning up and down for any sign of injury. “You didn’t respond to any of my messages or pick up any of my calls.”

“I’m okay, I promise,” he assured you, holding your wrists in his hands. “My phone died, and I didn’t have a charger with me, I’m sorry I should have called to say I was going to be back late.” 

“Yes, you should have,” you agreed with him. “Don’t scare me like that again, Rick.” 

“You know I can't promise you that, it would just be a lie,” he tried to tease you to lighten up the mood before bringing you in for a tight hug. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, really.” 

“I know you are,” you sighed. “It’s just hard knowing you’re out there chasing all these people with Detective Beckett, I just get worried.” 

“I’ll check in more, I can promise that. I didn’t realize you were such a worry wart.” 

“Neither did I until you started trailing behind the detectives at the 12th like a puppy,” you teased right back. 

“At least I know you’ll never murder me for my money, otherwise why would you be so scared.” 

“Maybe it’s just to draw away any suspicions,” you poked his chest. “And I’m not the only one who worries for you, Alexis waited up with me until about two hours ago.” 

“She went to bed?” 

You pointed your head over to the couch where Alexis was fast asleep, a blanket draped over her. 

“Your mother on the other hand,” you pressed your lips together in a thin line and stared at the ground. 

“No, that one I’m used to,” Rick nodded. “How the hell did you think I ended up the way I am?” 

You chuckled a little before pressing a kiss to his cheek and encouraging Rick to take Alexis up to her bed so she wouldn’t wake up with a sore back. 

When he came to join you in your room, you were sitting in front of the small vanity you had set up, taking off your jewelry and placing the various pieces in their separate containers. 

Rick came and stood behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders before bending down to press a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Why do I feel like you have an idea up your sleeve?” you asked, looking up at him. 

“Maybe because I do,” he hummed. “Grab a light sweater and come with me.” 

Despite your exhaustion, you listened to him and took his hand in yours while he led you out of the apartment and to the elevator, clicking the button that would take you all the way to the top floor. 

“Rick, what are you doing?” you sighed, still standing in the elevator as he walked out of it. 

“Only an hour until sunrise,” he tilted his head and gave you a look. “Come on.” 

You tried your best to keep the annoyed look on your face, but you couldn’t help but smile. Rick had always been romantic. 

You sat on one of the concrete blocks overlooking the rest of downtown, slipped on your sweater and leaned into your husband.

“You ever get tired of me Rick?” you asked. 

“Tired? Of the woman who staged the house like a crime scene to help me with my writer’s block? The one who recently got arrested for public indecency? The one who continues to surprise me every single day and be one of the…” he counted on his fingers. “Four things in my life that keep it interesting? I could never.” 

“What are the other three?” you looked up at him. “Alexis is one I’m guessing.” 

“Yes it would come down to Alexis, my mother, and the criminals of New York City,” he confirmed. 

“How domestic of you Rick Castle,” you laughed and pulled your sweater closer to yourself. 

“And I hope you don’t get tired of me,” Rick added. 

“Nah, a dork like you’s always got a little something to spice up life,” you patted his thigh. “Plus I love you too much so either way it doesn’t matter.” 

Rick squeezed your arm and pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“Somehow, after a long day, no matter what it is or where I am,” he started. “I can always look forward to coming back home to you.” 

“Even if it is at 4 A.M.” you chuckled. 

“Especially at 4 A.M.” 

Rick tilted your chin up so he could look at you. You smiled softly at him, the way he looked at you like you were the only thing in the world, a one of a kind sunrise over downtown New York and all he could do was watch the orange glow in your eyes. 

“Honey, you’re missing the sunrise,” you said quietly, really not minding the attention. 

“I think I’ve got a better view right here,” he dipped down and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, resting his forehead against yours once your lips had parted. 

And in that moment you both knew you would never mind the late nights so long as you always found your way back to each other.

If you read this fic please consider engaging by reblogging or commenting :)

[pod-together]

Pod-Together Day 1 Reveals 2023

The Matchmaking Bentley (Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Queen (Band)) written by ChrisCalledMeSweetie, performed by Juulna Summary: Crowley's Bentley is determined to make the ineffable husbands' relationship more effable - with a bit of help from Queen.

Just Missed You (Ted Lasso (TV)) written by chainofclovers and gnen, performed by klb, rockinhamburger, petrodobreva, eafay70, Ceewelsh, JanuariumPods, meyml, ToughPaperRound, dairaliz, SSLeif, HowOldAreWe, gnen, chainofclovers, and DryDreams Summary: Ted and Beard, one year later. (They love each other, they will see each other again.) A "found audio" story for pod-together 2023.

Value (Jewish Scripture & Legend) written by Hagar, performed by eafay70 Summary: Le’a is kind as often as possible, but it doesn’t always help ease the sting of life in the shadow of her beautiful sister Rachel.

Lightning (Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV)) written by tadhana_writes, performed by gracicah Summary:"Lightning flashed. In that horrible moment of pure light, I saw my mistake."

Things are well. Holmes has returned, life has returned to a quiet lull, and they're in another case. Same thing as always. By the light of a thunderstorm, Watson realises that things may not be the as well as he wishes them to be.

Pay Attention to Me (A3! (Video Game), A3! (Anime)) written by Dokuhan, performed by ChaosKiro Summary: Chikage will swear up and down, left to right, backwards and forwards that jealousy is beneath him. But that becomes a lot harder to say when Sakuya and Tasuku start spending more time together than usual.

camouflage (Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)) written by roxas_oxo13, performed by Wonderlandian_Geek Summary: “You remind me of myself, I guess.” “Impossible.” “Why’s that?” It's now or never. He’s already not likable; he has to nothing to lose. “You’re good-looking. You’re always surrounded by your flowery little posse. You always have something to say. You don’t know what it’s like to have people avoid you and tell you that your parents are the only thing you have going for you. It’s always do this, try this, be better, until it’s time to do a science project and suddenly you’re hot shit.”

Visit to a Strange World (陈情令 | The Untamed (TV), 陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) RPF, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù) written by FlutterFyre, performed by pezzax Summary: Xiao Zhan awakens to find himself in an impossible situation. He has more questions than he knows what to do with, the biggest being, How do I get home?

Surrender (Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling) written by SanctuaryAngel, performed by SerenaEW Summary: Harry ends his life within the Veil after losing Sirius, and Severus spends every day visiting, wondering if he should follow.

Don the Mantle [text, audio] (Star Wars: Rebels) written by wanderingjedihistorian, performed by Flowerparrish Summary: The world spun as he took in the date before him. Perhaps this was a nightmare of some sort? Or a hallucination? The brief said they weren’t entirely sure what protections the device had on it. Forcing him to relive the assault on Lasan certainly would be a fitting way to neutralize him. Still, that didn’t…that idea didn’t seem right. This felt all too real.

Not Alone (เขา...ไม่ใช่ผม | Not Me (TV 2021)) written by FlutterFyre, performed by Wereflamingo Summary: Not that any of that mattered. Black wasn’t here and – like the rest of them – Sean was hooded, cuffed, and crammed in the back of this van like unwanted luggage. Helpless.

Get A Read On Me (Men's Hockey RPF) written by savvygambols, performed by Beryllinthranox Summary: Roope considers Jason, his broad chest and his strong arms, his big dark eyes and his beautiful brown skin. Jason is a good-looking man and his shirt doesn’t fit at all. “We’re going shopping after practice,” say Roope. “Uh—” says Jason. He rubs his palms on his jeans. His jeans don’t fit. Roope can fix this. Roope can fix all of this. “I mean, I don’t know, Roope. I don’t, like—I mean, you know me and clothes, right? It’s not my thing.” “It wasn’t a question,” says Roope. “We’re going.”

[irrealisms]

jun wu or bwx for character asks? 👁️

starting off: hi yen if you're reading this it's got spoilers so pls skip this post ty <3 u can come back to it when u finish tgcf which at your current rate will be in like. a couple days lol

How I feel about this character

Im Normal About Him.

the ending is. perfect. the bamboo hat. it's never too late. when he's defeated he looks relieved. quoting myself from discord:

he cannot face being proven wrong, because it means he’s done terrible things and hurt people when he didn’t have to. he wants so badly to be proven wrong, because it means that maybe there’s good in the world and not just endless crushing pain and evil.

i have a lot of thoughts abt him & the tragedy of him & his entire ideology!!! i am sort of failing at condensing them but i have a lot of thoughts about him .

All the people I ship romantically with this character

hehe. xie lian (i am a sicko). i can also justify this to some extent--jun wu/bai wuxiang (i think mostly bai wuxiang, actually?) remarks positively on xie lian's appearance a notable amount, there's the "makes one ache, makes one excited" bit which i cannot read as anything other than Kind Of Weird And Horny, there's the thing where jun wu tests xie lian's virginity by making him bleed on jun wu's sword (i have another whole meta in my heart about swords as blatantly phallic in tgcf but i assume you do not need to be convinced of this lol)--but honestly i don't fully stand by it. this is a ship i have at least 80-90% because i am a sicko. i hope you can all understand

My non-romantic OTP for this character

ALSO xie lian. im complex. i contain multiple guys. the thing is that i have a beautiful google doc that consists of every time jun wu/bwx is analogized to a parent/teacher and xie lian is analogized to a child and it has . like. 30 quotes? somewhere around there? it's a lot! it's a lot. "i have decided that we are the same guy due to The Parallels but also i am going to enforce this and Make us the same guy by Molding You into Becoming Me" is an incredibly good dynamic whether it is slash or gen, and i do think the "weird forced adult-child relationship going on" reading is in fact more supported by the text than a shippy one. also when i'm not being a sicko about it there's also something deeply beautiful to me about their ending, about xie lian defeating jun wu but also showing him this moment of grace. and of course the Parallels which apply equally when it's slash vs gen. also you may have noticed that neither this question nor the last one do i bring up guoshi. this is bc idgaf about him. sorry mei nianqing . he exists i just Do Not Care

My unpopular opinion about this character

im gonna be so real i have no idea what is and is not popular wrt jun wu. what are the popular jun wu opinions.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

once again im kind of at the same place i am wrt mu qing of, like.... nothing, honestly? i am incredibly happy with what we got, i think it's beautifully written and the resolution is perfect, mxtx is a good writer and tgcf is a good book, no complaints

having a bit more of his backstory with mnq might be cool, i guess? we get the huge infodump but it's kind of just an infodump, it is just Pure Exposition, going into that a bit more / more naturally than "guoshi helpfully exposits for us" could be neat even tho i dont think its necessary. as mentioned i'm p much happy with what we got

(ask game, give me a character)

[ladamedusoif]

Chimes at Midnight, or an EoY Ramble.

(divider by @saradika - thank you so much for your incredible work)

Who can cling to a ramblin’ Rose?

Good question. But cling to me for a few moments, as I ramble my way through an end of year post - of sorts. Personal shenans ahead.

I have no great wisdom to impart. No life lessons, no affirmations, just reflections and observations after a year where my entry into this fandom brought me much joy, kindness, love, and strength - and, unfortunately, some upset, hurt, and pain, too. 

But then, such is life, and while many of us use this space as an escape, the dynamics of just being human can’t help but filter through here, too.

I (and my 120k and counting words of fic - correction, my “ethical porn for nerdy types”) am here because of an alignment of events in early 2023. Here is my origin story:

I was stopped in my tracks one day by a friend’s Instagram story - or, specifically, by the twinkly-eyed, crinkly-eyed, smiley handsome man being interviewed in the video they’d shared. And something fired in my brain (bear in mind, a reaction like that is highly unusual for me).

Around the same time, my divorce process began. After a day of crying in my office and/or on the street, my sister sent me a message with some advice: You need something distracting and comforting. Watch The Mandalorian. You’ll like it.

(This is all her fault.)

I can only blame traumatised soon-to-be-divorcée brain for the fact that I didn’t quite immediately put the twinkly-eyed handsome smiling man together with the tin can dad with a voice like melted chocolate and an adorable green child that reminded me of my toddler niblings. Whoops. 

(Sorry, P. Divorcée brain!)

Long story short: it clicked, eventually, and with a hop, skip and a jump from “hey there, handsome” to “I love him a normal amount” via SNL, I ended up here. 

People often compare Tumblr and fandoms to the purest form of childhood friendship. Oh, you have a Bluey backpack? I like Bluey too. Let’s be friends? And it’s a perfect analogy. It was a joy and a comfort to realise that, after a lifetime of feeling like I had to hide and be ashamed of the things and people who made me happy, there were other people just like me who didn’t feel shame, and who helped me realise this was…normal? And good? And, though this might seem like a contradiction in terms, healthy?

I rediscovered the pure joy of shared fangirling (gn). I read other people’s beautiful fics and, overcoming my fears and anxieties, rediscovered the person I’d been until I went to college and only wrote academically/professionally - the person who always made up little stories for herself, who tapped out “novels” on her mother’s 1970s portable typewriter, who never went anywhere without a copybook for writing and drawing her stories, who dreamed of being a writer. I started to write Visiting, and people actually read it. 

And through that, and reading their words and talking/flailing in their DMs, I connected with people who in some cases became close friends. People who seemed to like me for me, for the me I was re-learning how to be after an incredibly traumatic period in my life. And that meant - and means - the world. 

(Not all of those connections or friendships were sustained, and I still don’t really understand what happened to end them - in some cases, abruptly and without explanation. All I can do is remind myself that people need different things at different times, wish them well, and allow myself to miss them.)

Gratitude sometimes gets a bad rap as a practice but it can be freeing and healing. So, putting aside the hurt and negative experiences and focusing on the good:

I am grateful for the affirming, kind, supportive relationships I’ve built through a mutual love of one (1) man. 

I am grateful for the way my presence in this community, however marginal and irrelevant I might feel, is kept going through mutual support and silliness. 

I am grateful for the opportunity to rediscover writing as creative practice and fun, rather than just something I have to do in my line of work (and which is bound up with anxiety in that respect).

I am grateful for the people who take the time not just to read but to respond to, share, and love on my work. (You’re amazing and I love you all!)

I am grateful for the people who showed and show me love even though they’ve never met me in person, and in myriad ways. (These ways include personalised birthday poems and fancams, sending me a copy of Esquire out of sheer kindness and surprising me - and my neighbour, who took in the package - with a talking Dinjamin figure. You all know who you are.)

I am grateful to my friend for her thirsty Instagram story and to my sister for her unwittingly consequential TV recommendation. 

And some general observations and reflections about my presence, experiences, and work here that I want to carry forward into 2024:

Popularity is definitely not a marker of quality.

You are entitled to have opinions and share them, even if they don’t follow the prevailing wind. Arguably, especially then.

Your feelings are valid.

Trust your gut.

It’s okay to want people to read and interact with your work, and to wonder why it doesn’t get picked up, no matter how many ‘write for you!’ posts you see from the Big Writers.

Speaking of which: if there’s room for everyone and everything, then there should be room for everyone and everything. Not just the chosen few and a handful of tropes.

Responsibility is a two-way street.

You’re worthy of love, kindness, and respect.

The love you take is equal to the love you make - or, in other words, give love and be receptive to it, whether in affirming messages, positive comments, or a simple flailing, excited reblog. 

Carry your little light, however fragile, into the new year.

With love, Rose. (And my Ben, below - print by the incredibly talented Alyssa Gonzalez)

[yeosluvr]

Perfume - Lee Minho

Featuring: Lee Minho of SKZ

Genre: Angst, a little fluff

A/N; This is an idea I’ve been thinking of for a long time, and is actually part of a series that I’m currently (slowly) working on, so for now, just enjoy the random word spill huhu. Do leave some feedback and reblog

Disclaimer; this is just a fanfiction and doesn’t portray how lee minho or any stray kids member behave irl. sorry for the late updates.

Minho stares at the bottle of perfume now standing - out of place - on the top of his vanity, away from all of his other belongings. It’s cheap perfume, still a quarter to be full, and he doesn’t even remember the brand - maybe there was no brand, to begin with? - but he remembers her being used to coming up here, to his room, lying down on his bed and having breakfast in bed with him, having that cheap perfume stashed in her pocket for emergencies. He remembers the first time he ever officially talked to her - scratch that, it was her who talked to him first. It was about his perfume.

“Where’d you get your perfume?”

He also remembers at the time that it was after his very first breakup - and he even liked her a lot too despite his flirtatious ways- and after that, she came into his life through a simple tap on his shoulder and a seemingly trivial question with a much more trivial intention. She didn’t really expect that it'd hurt to fall in love. He grimaces at the thought and stands up to take the bottle of perfume on the stand.

Twelve months ago, she had come up to him, jet black eyes behind thin rectangular glasses, in a librarian uniform with her name tag stuck proudly on the left side of her vest. He remembers her looking down at her polished leather shoes and the frantic eye language she gave him - the wrong person to ask for help actually since she needed help asking him a question. He chuckles at the memory, and remembers that he answered, “It was a gift from an old friend.”

His ex. Anyone would refer to their ex as an old friend, right? 

He could see the surprise and embarrassment eating up on her when she bit her inner cheek and crimson flooded her cheeks, and he thought to himself that he found this girl cute. Awkward, sure, also highly introverted, and not to mention her addiction with books and the school library was beyond what he could fathom, but she was cute nevertheless. Her chuckles rang through his ears, and he found himself smiling over that little action alone.

And without even thinking through, the words passed through his lips.

“Are you free tonight?”

Minho lays down on his bed, legs hanging off the edge as he sighs quietly, closing his eyes, the quarter-full bottle of cheap perfume held tightly to where his heartbeats quicken over a memory he'd do anything to replay. 

*

Waking up to her tidying his room was one of the most wonderful things in life that happened to him. He'd rate her existence as a blessing, God-sent. He had needed this kind of person since the breakup and she was the perfect fit for the requirements.

"So…

You want me to help you forget about her?"

No, certainly not in a dirty way. Not to such a pure, innocent creature as herself, who admitted to never having been asked out on dates or even been in a relationship, although she had embarrassedly confessed to wanting to know what real love feels like.

As if he knew. He scoffed at her request at first, because he thought that he knew what love was. Before the break-up, he thought he knew what it was. Post-breakup? Not very sure. But he wasn't sure as to why he wanted to grant her wish when he saw her looking down to his hands hesitantly. 

"I really wanted to know what love is, Minho."

"Okay." He didn't know what drove him to agree after only the second time she asked. After all, it wasn't unknown that Minho was one of the people who were very hard to convince. 

Minho looks across his room and finds the tulips she sent him months ago in a vase. One of them is starting to wither, he observes. "Red tulips," she once said to him, he recalls. It's one of his favourite quotes from her still, and he tries to remind himself of her everyday. "To love someone so great is a wonderful gift. I wish I could love and be loved like that.." 

He grumbles at the squeaking pipe at the kitchen sink, and the slow flowing of water into his glass, and as Minho impatiently taps his foot on his kitchen tiles, his cousin Felix walks in.

"Hey." 

"Morning, cousin." Felix chuckles, and Minho shakes his head at the younger man before he notices that the glass is already full, so he retreats into his room quietly. He doesn't miss the pity in Felix’s eyes as he slowly retreats to his room, not wanting to miss watering the tulips that she gave him months ago.

*

Climbing up to his upstairs apartment was a routine for her, because God knows how Minho can get freakish headaches in the morning if he wasn't woken up the right way. Minho discovered that she had approached him moderately, just the right amount as to not let the pain rise to his head.

There was a pattern to it too.

Of course, he gave her the spare keys to his apartment so she could help him get up in the morning. He'd groan first, before finding one of her cheeks and pecking it, give her a little smile, and he'd greet her afterwards. "Morning, beautiful," was an accustomed one that even she got used to. 

Afterwards they'd be eating their breakfast together, her snuggling into his chest, and he'd make comments about some random reality show that came on TV. An hour before his first class for the day, she'd get up, tidy her clothes and fix her hair before she'd kiss his forehead - her kisses were always longer than his. It made him feel somewhat strange, something stirring inside him that he couldn't name. She'd wish him a great day and to text her if he wanted meals together, and he'd follow her out after he gave her a kiss on her cheeks.

Another thing he got used to doing was to walk her back to her studio after classes and meals. They didn't even talk much on the way back, just comfortable silence and her asking if she could put her hand in his pocket, and later on he'd hold her hand in his pocket. He couldn't explain why he loved it when she simply smiled at this little skinship, but it felt so pleasant and familiar that he didn't even disagree with it.

Were they something more than friends when they had that, he wondered.

Perhaps it was something else. It was also possible that friends would do that. It would be the feelings that come with it that'd be inappropriate, in his opinion. Feelings that made him feel his cheeks go warm, feelings that made him stutter in his words, feelings that simply told him that he wanted her with him always, feelings that told him she deserved better. So he had to shake it away one way or another.

They were friends, he'd remind himself. Very close ones. He'd tease her and she'd smile through it, and truthfully it made him happy that simple gestures that told him that the weird friendship they had didn't go one way made her happy. Simple things in life like buying her her favourite coffee. Remembering to wish her good morning first thing - if she wasn't in his apartment, that is. Remembering to wish her good night. 

In truth, he was scared of it. 

It grew to be even more frightening when she accidentally left her cheap perfume- the one that he's holding at the moment- in his apartment. He was so curious that he picked up by means of teasing her when they'll be having Literature in a few hours. That was until he smelled it and thought, 'she smelled nothing like it.

She smelled better.'

Literature was fun. She was one of the tutors in their year, and he'd always tease her when she came round to teach his group about literary components. It usually amused him to see her cheeks flare in red and she'd swat his hand in furious embarrassment, but that one specific Literature night class was … he didn't know how to describe it, but he felt all giddy reminiscing that one particular night.

"Ah, hey guys. Need help?"

"I think we're kinda good here, princess." He was the one who answered, and he had ideas in his head that might’ve shown on his face that made Seonghwa choke on his water and Hongjoong had to poke Minho on his shoulder. "Yeah well, stop kissing her in your head, Lee," Hongjoong smirked, and if that didn't make his heart race he didn't know what would. And surprisingly, her face had seemed to be the same shade of a ripe tomato- if it wasn't redder.

And then came the teasing.

He didn't know what drove him. He really didn't know, but the only thing in his mind at the moment was to see her smile goofily. He had to do it, right?

He leaned forward in his seat, closing the proximity between them two, until their breaths mixed with each other - which actually took her by surprise because she was too focused on drawing a mind map on their whiteboard- and said, "You left your perfume in my apartment, sweetheart."

At the sound of his voice so close to her, she whipped her head up to see his smirking lips first, then his incredibly shining eyes - that was what she said to him anyways - and she leaned back. Her face was red. She was stuttering on her words. 

It was nice to see he wasn't feeling one-sided about all the arrangement wasn't it?

"I'll see you later, honey," he winked at her. 

She nodded, before walking to another group, fanning herself.

*

Minho really badly wants to cry at the amount of memories that are replaying in his head as he clutches the perfume to his chest. Where it hurts. He'd see her smile, and the glow in her eyes whenever she looks at him. Looked at him. It's getting harder to breathe, so he walks up to his window and for the first time in months, he draws the curtains open.

Senior year was about prom. Of course it was always about prom.

Lee Minho asked her if she'd wanted to be his date- "As friends, of course. Single friends," he laughed- and she had agreed to it. Which led to the agreement that they’d go with matching colours. That time, she made a request for him to take him out shopping for black ties. He'd groaned, actually, but it came out a whimper, then a sigh, when he glanced her way and saw her big hopeful eyes, blinking at him.

"Okay." He smiled.

It didn't help that on the day of said purchase of tie, she'd hurriedly took some cash out of her wallet and handed it over to the cashier before he could even protest. "I'll pay for this," she affirmed firmly, and the cashier squealed over how cute of a couple they were. Which led him to the first of his many regrets in their 'friendship'. 

"We're just friends," he chuckled, not noticing the way her smile faltered and the cashier nodded awkwardly at her. By then she felt very weak in her knees, but he didn't really notice it because she was too quick to hide it when he turned to her and asked her if everything's okay. Of course, she'd answer that it was all fine. All very very fine.

He didn't get a good night reply that night.

She seemed okay in the morning, though.

She had told him how excited she was for prom, and when curiosity came to him and urged him to ask her about her gown for the night, she just gave him a plain smile emoji and told him that she wanted to save the surprise for the night. He'd smiled at that comment and had waited patiently for the sun of the day of prom to set.

Minho takes in one breath as he remembers the night where he first sees her in the black gown. He wants to remember taking in the sight of her in that black gown of sequins and the frilly neckline and her face was shaded with the lightest tones of make-up and even her hairstyle was simple, her bangs pulled back in bobby pins, and her hair was pulled back with a flower scrunchie, flowing in a wavy side ponytail.

Beautiful. He tells her, the her in his memory.

Thank you, the her in his memory replies. Same voice, same shyness. 

She got him tripping and she didn't even know.

"You look gorgeous, Lee Minho," she smiled.

"Likewise." He bowed his head, knowing full well that in her eyes he'd be very flushed-face in the mere presence of her. In a black gown. With that hairstyle. At that point, he was very confused with the border that separated friendship and something that he'd labelled as 'something more'.

The rest of the night, to him, was a complete haze as he kept his hand firm on her waist, keeping her close to him at all times. He didn't know why he acted like it, but she seemed to not mind, only excusing herself at one point because she needed the toilet. He thought the night went perfectly, and her presence with him had kept him at ease and composed, and he didn't even remember that he used to have someone that wasn't her.

Well actually, that thought was interrupted by a gentle poke on his shoulder, and what greeted his sight - to his shock - wasn't her, but his ex. All in her glorious emerald green dress, all smiley. All beautiful for someone that wasn't him. His heart stopped at the thought and for a moment all he could think of was how pretty she looked. If only she was his.

"Hi, Minho."

"Hey yourself."

A moment of awkward silence passed as she sheepishly grinned at him and he struggled to keep his breaths in check, because he finally remembered what it was that made him stay with the girl in the black gown all along. She was able to make him forget his misery. Had he really used her for his own good? He didn't know he was capable of doing that, but when his stomach turned and flipped and made him feel sick, he realised that maybe, it wasn't love that he felt for the girl in the black gown. 

So why was he crying?

So why is he crying?

"You came." 

"Yeah." He gulped, not wanting to meet her gaze. 

"I saw her just now." She chirped, and from that voice alone he knew she was genuinely happy for him, thinking he had found someone for him. Someone that could make him happier than she did. "She's really pretty isn't she?"

He couldn't speak. 

"I'm glad you're happier with her, Minho."

Supposed that she only made him believe in temporary happiness, and not actually him feeling happy with her? The girl in the black gown? Then what should he do? What had he done to himself?

What had he done to her?

"I'll see you around, Minho." She smiled, and before he knew it, she had tiptoed up to his cheek, felt a brief second of a kiss on his cheek, and left without any more words exchanged. He felt slightly ashamed of himself, felt as though he was undeserving of any kind of love at all.

But he didn't know why he'd feel so, so terrible when he looked up to see the huge eyes, those huge, terribly tearful eyes - in terms of trying trying hold back tears from overwhelming - looking at him, who stood in the middle of the room, and her, from the entrance to the hall where the prom was held.

He didn't even know why he felt so broken, felt as though he'd begged her to stay when she let one of her tears fall and wiped the others away with her hand. He was waiting for a slap - some kind of physical pain on any part of his body - as she crossed the room in small steps. But there was nothing.

She'd crossed the room, took his hand and kissed his knuckles gently, and he felt some more tears falling onto his fist.

"Was I not enough, Lee Minho?" 

"No, sweetheart," his breath hitches at the memory, and he feels his gut kicking against the walls of his stomach as he says so. "You're more than what I deserve, more than what I asked for," he says to her in his memory. The words that he didn't say to her that night. 

"Minho?" Another hand came to hold his knuckles and he felt her shake. And of course, the tears. Waves of slow music echoed against the walls and Minho was so thankful that nobody had noticed her. Or him. Crying. 

"Hey." He whispered, bringing his hands to wipe the streams of tears running down her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered close to his touch, and he felt the pain throbbing inside him again as he kissed her eyelids. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's dance," he whispered, and his arms went down to her waist as he buried his head in her neck.

She nodded quietly, soft sniffs still loud in his ears as he took in her scent, and before long he felt her arms gently going around his neck, and felt her wet cheeks against his chest. Still shaking, he felt her swallow her sobs, prompting him to slide his hands against her back in an attempt to calm her down. 

"I'm so sorry," he says to her in his memory. "I thought it was for the best."

"I know, Minho." Figured that he had said the same thing, because he had remembered her saying this all, and her looking up to him, wet eyes and sad smile. "I'm so sorry," she sniffed again. Minho ignored the urge for him to kiss her right then and there. 

Shaking his head, Minho swiped his thumb across one of her cheeks and she smiled. The lump in his throat remained as he felt his cheeks becoming wet after seeing that broken smile of hers. As if she was somehow… just giving up her happiness for his. Although he couldn't really explain why that thought that might’ve run through her head made his heart sink.

Afterwards Minho had taken her to the photobooth, by means of making her smile. At least they could make funny faces at each other when they sit there, right? At least they'd laugh at each other right?

But he couldn't really do anything at the moment. Not when she seemed to force herself to enjoy the night because of him. The first take she was laughing because he had tripped on her and she had pulled him to sit down on the seat beside hers, and the cameras flashed on their faces before he could comprehend anything.

The second take was more like him laughing at her as he teased her about how beautiful she looked in that gown. How he wished he could make her his, the voice in his head had whispered. A pleasurable shade of cherry red again coated her cheeks, like the previous times where she had been teased by him, and the second take was her stifling a silly grin and playfully shoving his shoulder.

The third take was him pulling her to sit on his lap, and that the cameras had caught her surprised look on the cameras made his stomach turn. She had her arms around his neck to keep herself balanced, and for that matter she needed to look up.

The fourth take was unexplainable. She was sitting on his lap, and the cameras caught him looking at her with the same confusing emotions he had felt the whole time he was with her. And he had mistaken those feelings to be similar to what he'd felt for a friend when he knew she wasn't just a friend. She was smiling so beautifully, looking into his eyes as she did so, and he knew he felt warm, as though something inside him was melting to the sensations she was making him feel.

"Lee Minho, I love you." 

Between the bright lights of the camera flash and the sound of shutters being clicked open and close, he heard the small voice of her amidst everything.

That night had somehow ended with shaky breaths and hushed voices as he walked her back to her studio, and somehow it felt as if it was the last time he'd hold her hand.

Minho stands up from his position and walks to his desk. His very, very dusty desk, pulls out an old book - that's for another story for him to tell - and takes out the set of four black-framed polaroids they had taken that night. Brushing his hands across the pictures, he sighs at the sight of her in that gown he adores so much. 

But even without the gown, she looks so much more beautiful than any other girls he'd ever known. 

Is this love?

He brushes his thumb across her cheek in the picture and feels a weird sense of … something unnamed overwhelming his five senses. Bringing the perfume in his hand to his nose, he gently sniffs on it, before he brings the Polaroid set to his nose. It smells the same, he hears the voice in his head speaking fondly. It smells wonderful. This is her smell.

Brushing the pads of his fingers against her wet cheeks, he bent to her forehead, leaving unspoken feelings and hidden meanings behind a simple lingering kiss to it, but it wasn't just that that broke her. He had said something that made it particularly difficult for her to forget- and it was such a Lee Minho thing to do when parting ways.

"Don't ever change for anyone, darling.

You're perfect the way you are,

Stay the same, love."

Goodbyes were hard, but it was extremely- surprisingly- difficult for someone who had said a lot of goodbyes such as Lee Minho, and he hadn't expected that to happen with anyone. Except he didn't expect meeting her would be the end of that statement for him.

He turned on his heels after the kiss, begging his heart to not even spare a glance, because this was her. She'd make it especially difficult for him to leave.

But long after he reached his apartment, changed out of his suit, and drank a mug of hot choco that Felix had made for him, he found himself staring into darkness, his mind drowning in the remaining memories he had of her.

He sighs again, clutching the two items to his chest and takes in the smell of her. As he closes his eyes, he remembers feeling a sense of warmth flooding him as her smell engulfs him in what he can only as her comfort hugs. How can she smell good even without perfume?

She always does that when she knows he's upset.

Somewhere in between his consciousness and his dreamstate, he hears a little voice pleading with her in his memories.

If I ever get to meet you next time, I'm praying to God that even if you find someone that's not me, please don't ever change. 

*

It's early morning the next day when Minho next opens his eyes. Since his curtains were drawn open yesterday, he's greeted first thing by the little rays of sunlight. The sun is rising. Groaning, he fights the urge to curse the sun for being up too early. It's the weekend, what the heck?

The first thing that he registers is that he hears Felix singing as he makes his usual pancakes, and that if he's very much awake he'd realise Felix is actually having a pleasant conversation. With a girl. But Lee Minho’s not in his right mind, so he doesn't think of it too much when he realises that the voice is hers- because he thinks he's still dreaming.

"Hyung!"

He hears Felix’s three soft raps on his door, and he swears that he can hear Felix smiling when he presses his ear to the surface of the wooden door when Felix says, "Someone's out here to meet you, hyung." Minho doesn't think too much of it, because Felix usually invites his friends over, and his friends- Hyunjin, Jisung and Seungmin- he can say they're basically fond of him.

What he didn't expect was to see her. 

With a box of Pepero sticks that he remembers mentioning to her that he craved for. That was over a year ago.

He blinks, grip tightening on his door handle as she lowers her gaze in a small bow. Minho feels all his senses heightening at an alarming rate, so he turns to Felix, who throws worried looks in his direction as if wanting to ask if he's okay with her coming. He notices her gulping, wondering if the anxiety hits her the same way it's currently hitting him. 

"I'm just stopping by," she stutters. "To drop this." She gestures at the big green box, giggling nervously as she picks at the skin of her arm. When his gaze finds hers again, she looks down to her stockinged feet. She's still the same, he whispers to himself.

Felix eyes him nervously, an eye language of, "Maybe I should leave you guys alone."

Minho nods at him, and before she can look up to stop Felix, he's gone.

The sound of a slammed door surprises her and makes her jump in her position, but Minho stifles his chuckle because he doesn't want to scare her away like he did last time. It seems as though they're both thinking the same thing, because Minho notices another gulp going down her throat, and that's what he's currently having a problem with. His throat feels dry and it feels particularly difficult to breathe. 

"Hey."

She looks up.

"Let's sit down. Talk."

"Like old times?" 

He sighs. He knows that it won't feel like old times anymore.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn’t bring that up."

"It's okay, darling." He says, and he feels the nerves in him relaxing. "I wanted things to be the way they were too." 

He sees her open her mouth, but then she closes it. Considering her words and actions before she regrets it. 

He walks towards the couch in front of the TV, prompting her to follow him. She doesn't sit when he sits, slightly troubled and confused, but he knows she can't refuse him when he holds out one hand and something else in his eyes that begs her to do so, so she sits.

He then carefully slides his arm around her waist, glancing at her to assess her reactions. Under his touch, he notices she tenses, the red spreading to her ears and he sighs and before anxiety can creep back up to eat him from inside out, he pulls her closer to him, putting his chin on her head.

An involuntary content sigh leaves his slightly parted lips, and he relaxes into her figure. Gradually, she leans against his chest too, and he hears a heavy breath coming from her. Another bold move that he attempts is to take her other hand in his, and he cheers quietly when she doesn't budge, instead leaning more into him, and this time he hears a happy hum from her.

It's so tempting for Minho to sway her in that position, so he does that, and he hears a giggle from her. The giggles that he's deprived of for over a year. Immediately he feels as though a huge amount of oxygen is being returned to him, as though his sleepless nights will be no more. 

"Minho."

He hums.

"What are we?" She looks up to him, and he lifts his chin so that he can see her expression.

She's hopeful.

Tired, but hopeful.

"Are you willing to wait for me?" I promise I won't be long, he promises quietly, tightening the grip he has on her hand.

"I'm willing, Min," she affirms, responding to him with a reassuring squeeze of her hand around his. "So long as it makes you happy," she adds, before leaning into him again, another happy hum escaping her lips.

"Then let's just stay like this for a while," he whispers into her hair.

"Okay, Minho." 

It takes a minute for him to take in the smell of her, this fresh her, smelling like that perfume he has in his pocket, like the Polaroid set in his old notebook. Everything's going so perfectly, the way he's holding her, the way she's fitting so adequately into his arms.

"We'll be alright this time.

I won't run away again."

She doesn't look up to meet his eyes when he lowers his eyes to meet hers, stiffening in her position, but remains there on his lap, and Minho understands her too well that he knows she's slightly uncomfortable with his promises. Ones which he knows that she knows he'll struggle to keep, and she doesn't want that. No hurting Lee Minho if she could ever help it, she'd say. If anyone is going to get hurt, it should be her.

"I don't want you to promise, Lee Minho." She sighs, playing with the fingers that are intertwined with hers. "I'm more than willing to wait for as long as I must, so please, don't hurt yourself," and Minho just doesn't know what it is that stabs him deep inside but it really hurts to hear the pain hidden in the fake calmness of hers.

"I won't promise then." 

Her perfume in his pocket long forgotten, and the Polaroid set lies abandoned in their shared notebook, Minho takes in the scent of her wafting through the air around them. It's the first time in over a year that he's able to sleep so peacefully, and he doesn't even need her perfume to help him sleep.

She never changed.