#just put an emoji heart in and hit submit

[cheswirls]

rjwusuauau still galls me (in a fun way it's fine I promise) that i'll comment on someone's acsb fic only for them to turn around and go 'omg i love your work'

my dude i promise i am literally just some guy. it's so fucking funny to me every time this happens. also highkey why i wish normalizing ao3 comments (on acsb fic in particular) would happen eventually bc it shouldn't be a surprise or a shock to receive praise for your fic no matter who it's from

if it's good it's good. if i like it and i have smth to say then i WILL full stop. that shouldn't be unusual right??

[house-of-slayterr]

Mad Hatter

@howl-fantasies

Tw: Yandere and mentions of sexual assault

Maggies POV:

It was so nice to wake up in my own bed again. It was nice to not have overly lavish sheets and people doting on me every five seconds. Even mom never made me buy the expensive stuff for my room. I rolled over and smiled when I remembered the book Bruce gave me. I’d carry it with me everywhere. I got up and made my way over to the dinky coffee pot, and frowned when I realised I didn’t have any coffee. In fact it had been over a month since I’d been here, I’d probably have to throw everything out and buy fresh.

I quickly hopped in the shower and got dressed before heading down to the local coffee shop. Maybe I could get something fancy today. It was just nice to be out of Oswald’s suffocating grasp for five seconds. I opened the door and the sweet smell of espresso hit me. I was hooked on the Latte Y/N had ordered me way back when we first met. Nothing could ever beat that tatse.

“One french vanilla latte, extra foam and two plain coffees please.”

The barista took my order and left to make my drink. As I waited I checked my phone and realised there were 54 unread messages from Oswald.

“Shit.” I muttered under my breath.

I pulled up a group chat with Tabitha and Butch.

Maggie:

Good morning my favourite people on the planet.

Tabitha:

…

Butch:

Do you have any idea how much screaming we’ve put up with today? Where are you?!

Maggie:

Haha… about that.

Tabitha:

Don’t think just because you have a cute face and a nice ass I won’t kill you… cause I’ll do it… I’m this fucking close

Maggie:

Oh I believe, I’m not testing my luck. I just needed a break to clear my head for a bit. Just distract him until the end of the day ok, I promise I’ll be back soon 🥰

Butch:

The blushing heart emoji isn’t going to work this time…

Maggie:

What about my smiling face?

…

Tabitha:

God Damn it woman, stop being so fucking cute… well put up with the gremlin and his bullshit today but you owe us!

Maggie:

Whatever you say hottie 😘 I’m all yours

Butch:

Damn, I feel left out…

Maggie:

Please you know I’ll give you whatever you want, just might make you beg for it first

When neither of them replied back I assumed they got to work on distracting Oswald. The Barista came back with my drinks and I blushed when I noticed she wrote her number on the cup.

“I assumed the fancy one was yours cutie… text me” with a smiley face.

I don’t know what it was about Gotham, but I must have pleased Cupid in another life. Nobody ever talked to me, let alone approached me for dates back in Starling city. I was used to people flirting with Ollie and Thea all the time. Hell I even had to see people flirt with mom after Robert passed. It was a bit overwhelming, when really the only person I wanted to be with was Jim. But things just had to be so damn complicated.

I made my way over to the police station, taking the familiar path I used to take every day. I spotted Harvey right away.

“Long time no see mi amigo!” I greeted.

He turned around to meet my gaze.

“I see Oswald’s let you off your leash.”

“Let is a strong word… I broke out.”

He laughed.

“This one is for you!”

“Maggie, you didn’t have to get me coffee.”

“Really? You sure there’s not some law somewhere saying ‘you must bring your overworked cop friend coffee or you will be submitted to death by disappointed dad glare?’ Cause I think I read that somewhere.” I joked.

“I do not have a dad glare!”

“Yeah you do. You seen Jim?”

I saw his face scrunch up.

“Nope. Hey thanks for the coffee but I really got go handle this case.”

He was lying. I just sighed. I had to fix whatever this situation was before the tension destroyed me. It was driving me insane. I stood there for a movement sipping my latte, waiting to see if I would spot him, when someone popped into my vision. Lee. I frowned.

“How are you?” She asked in her sickly sweet voice.

“I’m fine.” I said a bit more bitterly than I meant too.

I mean what kind of girl leads a guy on, tells him that she loves him, then goes and gets engaged to Carmine Falcones son? Maybe Jim didn’t have enough money for her tacky taste. But all I know was that she didn’t deserve him. But part of his heart would always belong to her and I hated her for it. She must have picked up on my animosity, because she became blunt very quickly.

“I don’t think you should see Jim. Harvey told me you were looking for him.”

“Yeah, to bring him his coffee.” I waved the cup for emphasis.

“But he hurt you-“

“So people keep saying, but I want to hear it from him Lee. I wanna hear his side of what happened, because no matter how many times I try to run over the scenario in my head, nothing makes sense. So if you could please step out of my-“

Lee cut my off my by grabbing my arm and pulling me into the autopsy room. A small bit of Jim’s coffee spilt on my wrist and I held my breath at the soft pain.

“What the hell?” I exclaimed.

“Look I really don’t think it’s in your best interest to talk to him.”

“And I really don’t think I asked. I’m not a baby Lee, I can take care of myself. Grab me like that again you’re gonna be the one laying on that table.”

I motioned to the unfortunate soul who was splayed open on the cold metal.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Are you gonna touch me without my consent again? Cause I can get you for harassment and assault…”

“You’re being defensive.”

“You cornered me.”

Lee stepped to the side and I pushed open the door, glaring back at her. That’s when I ran into someone. Jim.

“What the hell?“ I heard him mutter.

“Omg Jim I’m so sorry.”

His whole body stiffened when he heard my voice. I cringed. I was yet again grabbed by my arm and dragged into a side room, but this time I didn’t much care. I stumbled a little bit Jim steadied me, realising he had been too rough.

“So first you accuse me of sexually assaulting you, and now you spill hot coffee on me?” He says, sounding annoyed.

“Jim I didn’t-“

“What, you didn’t tell Harvey that you didn’t remember anything from that night?”

“I did tell him that, but I didn’t know that was the conclusion he would reach. I didn’t know he would run with it! Jim I didn’t mean for any of this to happen you have to believe me.”

“Why didn’t you just talk to me?” He sighed.

“Am I not I doing that right now?”

I could feel tears spilling from my eyes and I frustratedly wiped them away. I felt like a child, it was so stupid to be crying. Jim was hesitant to touch me, that much was obvious.

“So you really don’t remember?” He said softly.

“I’m so sorry. Trust me, don’t you think I’d want to? I was dreaming of that moment since the day we met. And now I’ve gone and ruined everything cause I have this stupid memory problem.”

“Memory problem?”

“Since I was younger. Ollie, my- my brother, he says I lose time. And no matter how had I try I can’t get it back. Therapy doesn’t help, meds don’t help, it’s just gone. And I hate it so much. You must hate me.”

“I could never hate you Magnolia. I just, I really wish you came to talk to me sooner. Or maybe I should have come to you. Look, things will work out with time, but maybe for the time being it would be a good idea if we aren’t seen with each other.”

“Oh.” I choked out. “Ok.”

I ran out of the room, leaving Jim in my wake. I’m not sure how I expected this conversation to go, but it certainly wasn’t this. I hated this, I hated not knowing what was happening, not understanding my feelings. Everything felt broken. Before I knew it my legs dragged me to the Gotham cemetery of all places.

But I had to admit, it was quite peaceful. Not many people wasted their time in the cemetery, and at least I knew nobody would come looking for me here. So I walked to the corner of the lot and leaned against the fence, pulling out my backpack. I took out the book Bruce had gifted me, and quickly got lost in my own world. It felt nice to just turn my brain off for a while. That was, until I heard crying.

I tried to ignore it and just mind my own business, of course people would cry in a cemetery. I didn’t want to interrupt anything going on, that would be rude. But the utterance of a certain name caught my attention.

“Oh Alice, my sweet Alice, these roses I’ve painted red just for you. The white rabbits still hoping, the clock is still tocking, tomorrow i start a new.”

“Alice?” I questioned. A little louder than I meant to.

I hid my face behind my book when I could sense he would turn my way. I didn’t want to be caught staring, when Is hardly even gotten a glance. When he didn’t say anything, I assumed it was safe to move on as if I’d said nothing, but I was wrong. When I dropped the book, the man was right before me. I jumped slightly, dropping my copy of Alice In wonderland, but he caught it before it could hit the dirt. His gaze was intense, but I couldn’t seem to avoid its severity. The stranger was the first to break the silence.

“There is a place like no place on Earth. A land full of wonder, mystery, and danger. Some say to survive it, you need to be as mad as a hatter. Which, luckily, I am.” He spoke effortlessly.

“A hatter is only as mad as the head on his shoulders Mr….” I responded sceptically.

He broke into a smile.

“My apologies! The names Jervis Tetch, and what May your name be?” He bowed, gradually handing me my book and offering me a hand up.

I took his hand, it was softer than I expected it to be.

“Magnolia Blossom, but you can call me Maggie.”

“Maggie, like a Magpie?”

I looked at him incredulously.

“That’s what my brother calls me, yes.” I narrowed my eyes at Jervis. “And I suppose they call you The Hatter?”

He was dressed like one, and living in Gotham has taught me many thing, but I’ve grown used to expecting the theatrical. Everyone had a Persona, and I couldn’t tell his his first was Mad, or Jervis.

“Right you are little Magpie! Tell me, why is a Raven like a writing desk?”

“You haven’t the slightest idea.” I responded boldly.

An endearing smile crept onto his face. He must not have expected me to continue with my answer, because his face lit up even more if possible.

“But I suppose, it’s because they can produce a few note, though they are very flat; and it is never put with the wrong end in the front.”

He jumped up and down clapping!

“Spectacular, we’ll done! Well don’t my dear! Here, have a rose!”

He handed me one of the roses from the grave he was previously at.

“This is a Rosa alba.” I muttered, I didn’t think it was loud enough for him to hear.

“How could you tell?”

“Because Im a florist, I can always tell when a flowers been tampered with Mr. Tetch.”

“What a wonderful brain you have my sweet little songbird. I’ll be see you around, be carful not to fall down any Rabbit holes now.” He mused.

Before I could ask what he meant by that he was gone. God I hated when they did that. Ivy was good at it, Tabitha was great at it, and Y/N, fuck she was the best. I don’t know how they could just vanish without a trace. Even my own brother was good at it. Maybe it was a skill I’d have to learn if I wanted to stay in Gotham a little longer.

But skill building would have to wait, nightfall was coming and I was sure Oswald would blow a gasket if he didn’t see me by dawn. So begrudgingly I packed up my things and made my way back to the mansion. I hide the rose in my bag, not wanting Oswald to question me about it. I couldn’t risk upsetting him more than I already had. But thoughts of my new acquaintance plagued my mind on the journey home. What even would my rabbit hole look like?

An: I’m so sorry this took so long to write. I could have written more but my minds kinda blank right now. But I’ll have more ideas soon and the next chapter will be even better!

[fushiomi]

Here’s a video on how to reach Liber/Eng staff about the termination of the English server:

[Video ID: Player is in the A3! app, the songs “Insert the Sunshine” and “Slowly Flowing”, both OST from the game, are playing. The player click on the profile icon, (the content isn’t important). They click on their bio and write “Hi” with a kaomoji on the side, then they write a letter “i” and hesitate before deleting it and click off. They exist their bio and leave the profile page. They instead click on the “Support” button which leads them to a page titled “A3! for Appstore inquires”, there’s a hyperlink that reads “For feedback regarding the ceasing of operations”, and below that in smaller writing it reads “Frequently asked questions (FAQs)”. There are four options viable to the viewer, “I want to play on another device”, “I have received my purchased Gems”, “I can’t login. / I got error 904/905/906.” The player clicks on the hyperlink that leads them to a page to give feedback, it has a green banner and says “For feedback edgar ceasing of operations. Below it reads: “Players that have any opinions or feedback on regarding ceasing of operations can do so here. A disclaimer is below that reads “*Although feedback from users will be reviewed, we cannot respond to individual users”. Green text above a box is present after scrolling, it reads “Please input your feedback here.” The user types in “don’t please ahaha you’re (stylized as ur) so sexy” with a winky emoji, they then access their emoji keyboard and place a broken heart. They can clarify “Actually write something serious though (written tho) with a kaomoji of a smiling person, then press done (two exclamation points) don’t spam and remember to be kind (two exclamation points)”. They then click off the page and settings, the video ends with them on the main page of the game. End ID]

Bellow the readmore is what I ended up (actually) submitting, if you want to copy and paste it, please make a few changes! But ultimately what I felt like was needed to highlight:

- Marketing issues and comparisons between other games that handled international marketing.

- The sudden nature of the announcement and how it impacted the player base.

- The fact the game does have a fanbase and has a market (leads back to the point of bad marketing), and that the success in Japan is an example that the game does have ability to be a hit.

- Other options that don’t include terminating the server (such as a temporary hiatus).

—

Other ideas: Events to connect with the fanbase (example: art contests where winners get “X” amount of gems), twitter events (“Y” amount of retweets in “Z” days will give “X” reward”), subtitles of the stage play so international fans have more content to interact with, etc.

DISCLAIMER: I wrote this while still drowsy from crying and sleep medication, so if you’re able to, please help us write something better than… this.

“Hello, I hope this review/feedback finds you well.

As you can imagine, this is about the ceasing operations of the A3! English/International servers, and the opinions and ideas I (as well as other players) have.

I’ve been observing the way the player base has reacted to the news and, not so surprisingly, the reaction has been pretty negative. A lot of players feel overwhelmed with the sudden news, many disappointed at – what feels like – the sidedness of the decision. While we are all thankful for the amazing localization of the game, we can’t help but feel deeply saddened and, in more extreme cases, betrayed at the decision. The game has garnered quite a community, notably in social media sites such as Twitter and Tumblr, as it became quite a vital and comfort game for many.

Alongside seeing the way the player base has reacted, I looked at the graphics and economical side of things and noticed how players in the server have been lowering. Which, alongside the pandemic and loss of profit Cybrid and Liber have been experiencing as of the last two years, is what I imagine is impulsing the decision to halt activities.

With all of that in mind, I personally still think that terminating content to the English server is a bad idea — in the long run, that is.

The last two years have been quite a financial struggle for many, and to decide to end the game due to loss of profit seems hasty. While I understand it’s not possible to continue operations, I think halting operations until further notice would be a better idea.

Instead of completely pulling the plug, halting operations while focusing on marketing would honestly work better.

The marketing of the game has been, for lack of a better word, quite messy. I think there were lot of missed opportunities, marketing the game as found family and card game — where you accompany a group of people to achieve their dreams — would have been a better strategy than saying it was an otome game - which is what led to a lot of player joining and then leaving due to the lack of romance wh the characters. A good example of marketing, in my opinion, would be the Obey Me! franchise or games such as Cookie Run.

I’m saying all of this, but what I mean is, if the team behind it focused more on the advertisement on social media’s such as twitter and ads on youtube where the nature of found family and the true nature of Mankai (a company where family and brotherly love blooms) the game would find and flourish in the demographic, since it’s not unheard of players wanting a game like that — especially in the west.

Basically, what I’m saying is that I think the idea of terminating operations on the English server is a bad idea especially when there is an obvious marker for it, and A3! really does fit it. Personally, I think halting the events and focusing on marketing the game further — truly pushing the game with ad’s (which could include in game CG’s where we see how the boys grow and connect as a family) where the nature of A3! is shown clearly, A3! English server could absolutely bloom into something amazing.

A3! is about not giving up, even when things get tough, and to try and reach an audience – which is why, I guess, seeing you guys give up on it seems… sad and like a truly missed opportunity.

As someone who’s been with the game since launch, the game has so much potential, so please, please give it another try. Focus on the marketing, push it with ads on youtube and instagram, put the boys’ face out there and make the focus of the story known.

Look into the way games such as Obey Me!, the idol games (mostly female based), and other successful asian/japanese games have marketed themselves and try to adapt it into A3!. An example, instagram ads where you can see parts of a CG (let’s say the Muku and Yuki from Act 1) where Muku comforts Yuki, the voice lines there as you hear the game music and subtitles playing. Be honest about the gameplay, it’s not the most exciting, but market it as fun, add more rewards for when you train the actor — more gems or maybe trophies if you train “X” amount of times in a day instead of just a training card. You can even make more Eng server exclusive cards to insensitive Japanese players to also engage with the English server.

I feel like there are so many ways to go about it that don’t include shutting down the game, because shutting down the game truly feels like the easiest way out… but it doesn’t mean it’s the best way.

Anyway, I hope nothing in this feels malicious, I'm simply passionate about it as someone who’s invested hours and hours, almost 700 days of their life, onto this, A3! and the Mankai company feels like a part of my life, and as many others feel as well, I don’t want to let go. Not when I know there’s so many events and games, gachas and character, left for us as international players to experience.”

[jikyuz]

birthday present ✰ t. mashiho (m)

✦ pairing: soft dom!mashiho x gn!reader ✦ watch out for: dirty talk, a lap dance, praise, no actual sex but mentions of it ✦ words: 1.6k ✦ a/n: aaa i'm very nervous posting this as it's the first full scenario i've written in a while ;-; i'm not sure if this is good or not so please be easy on me, i promise i will get better !! i hope you like it anonnie, thank you for requesting and feedback is always appreciated ^_^ ✦ listen to while reading: dangerous woman by ariana grande

It wasn’t long before you finished the last of the preparations for the night that you got a text from your boyfriend saying he would be home soon. It had been a long day for him, and you could tell by his lack of heart emojis or punctuation that he was tired. Although it was his birthday, he still had a lot of things to do, including preparing for their Japanese debut. You only hoped he wasn’t too tired for your present.

“My love?” Mashiho’s voice was soft, almost too soft for you to hear him from the bedroom. Sweat accumulated on the back of your neck as you shifted from foot to foot, waiting for your boyfriend to follow the petals that you had masterfully placed leading to where you stood.

Instead of answering him, you waited silently, listening as he set his bag down, took off his shoes and mumbled to himself about something you couldn't quite make out. Footsteps slowly came closer, stopping every few feet as you assumed Mashiho was following the rose petals. It had been a long time since you surprised him like this and a shoot of electricity went through you at the thought of his reaction.

“Y/N? Are you - oh, wow.” As Mashiho walked into the doorway, he stopped in his tracks, mouth gaping open and eyes trailing up and down your body. It took a long while and a lot of digging but you found a really sexy outfit to wear, completely silk and honestly you felt amazing in it, not to mention that the silk made it really soft. It was one of your boyfriends favorite colors on you, a deep red that he claimed only accentuated your beautiful figure. You always got shy whenever he mentioned it but you kept that fact in the back of your mind for nights like this.

“Happy birthday, Mashi.” You smiled, your nails clicking against the wood of the chair that sat in front of you. It faced the doorway, inviting your boyfriend to take a seat and you watched as Mashiho observed the situation, his gaze flicking from the chair back to your body and then up to your face. His eyebrows raised in intrigue and you patted the seat of the chair. “Take a seat, baby. I have a present for you.”

There wasn’t much hesitation, his legs automatically guiding him into the room. You watched as he turned to face away from you, sitting down and placing his hands on his thighs. Anticipation bubbled up inside you as you walked around the chair, your legs grazing your boyfriends as you leaned down so your face was inches away from him.

“Just sit back and enjoy the show baby.” Your hands started at his jeans, fingers playing with the rips as you leaned forward just enough to connect your lips. He had a slight smile, his hands grabbing your waist suddenly and making you straddle his lap.

His eyes held a deep passion that had your legs feel like they were turning to jelly. Your skin felt like it was on fire as Mashiho smiled up at you, a smile that sent a shiver through you and almost made you submit to every word that fell from his mouth. Except you remembered that it was his present and you needed to stand your ground.

You lifted yourself from Mashiho’s lap, turning away from him and walking over to the bedside table which held a small speaker and your phone. The playlist lit up as soon as you unlocked your phone and you smirked, hitting the shuffle button and turning back around as soon as the soft bass filled the air.

The atmosphere shifted from playful to completely serious as you slowly strutted back to your boyfriend. He sat with his legs slightly spread, leaning back in the chair and his eyes bore into your own. His gaze was captivating, wordlessly drawing you in. it was like he had a spell on you, his lap inviting you and you obeyed.

As you walked you swung your hips to the beat, your eyes closing as you enjoyed the way the music made you feel. Paired with the way Mashiho was looking at you like you were the only person on earth, you felt powerful and a strong surge of confidence overwhelmed you.

Dropping down on your knees, you did what you practiced, throwing your head back and exposing your neck. The necklace that Mashiho gave you on your one year anniversary sat nicely between your collarbones. In front of you there was a sharp inhale of breath and you fought back a smirk at the thought of how much you were affecting Mashiho.

The beat of the song changed and you began crawling forward, looking up through your eyelashes at the man sitting before you. One of his hands rested on the bulge of his pants, palming himself. The smirk on his face was nothing except amused and aroused, his teeth tugged at his bottom lip and he beckoned you forward with just the flick of his finger.

As soon as you sat down in his lap, both of Mashiho’s hands planted on your waist. He could have guided you, pushed and pulled your body just as he wanted but he chose to let you take the reins, with the imprint of his hands still searing into your sides.

“Start what you finished, don't need no hold up.” The man beneath you whispered, obviously referencing the song playing but just the way he spoke made you almost turn to jelly. The strings inside you didn’t come loose, however, you pulled yourself together, letting the music guide you.

Grabbing his shoulders you began rotating your hips, a small shock of pleasure running through you. Although you knew you could submit to the man below you, letting him take you and give you whatever you wanted but this was about him, and you pushed your own needs aside to make sure Mashiho was getting a great present.

“Fuck.” Mashiho whispered under his breath, watching as you scooted closer to him, feeling his bulge right under you and biting your lip as you pressed yourself down onto him. The music around you only pushed you more and your hands moved on their own accord, pulling at Mashiho’s shirt and eventually getting it off.

His skin was flushed, abs on display as you bent down, pressing kisses to his neck. Long breaths came from your boyfriend, his head tilting back and letting you do whatever you pleased. The music was still leaking into every crevice of the room and your hips still rotated in small circles.

As another song began, you stood up, keeping one hand on Mashiho’s shoulder and walking behind him. Your fingernail traced a muscle in his neck, satisfaction running through you when he twitched slightly, obviously affected by what you were doing. The bass surfed through your veins, controlling your every movement as your other hand threaded through Mashiho’s hair, pulling back slightly and making eye contact with him. His eyes were deep, controlling and incredibly serious.

“Come here, love.” His voice was just above a whisper and if it weren’t for the music being on a low volume, you weren’t sure you would have heard him. The crossroads appeared before you, obey Mashiho or go against his command. The thought of being just slightly in charge of the situation was charming but it was a present, you wanted to give Mashiho exactly what he wanted.

So you walked around once more, swinging your leg around and gasping when Mashiho’s hands kneaded at the flesh of your thighs. His gaze was captivating, a rich black color that seeped into your bones. There was silence for a moment, the only sound being the music playing and the audible breaths that the man underneath you took but it didn’t last much longer.

“Keep dancing, you’re doing so well.” Heat seared through your body at his words. He knew you liked being praised, especially when it was something so new to you so he used his knowledge of you and your body to his advantage, his fingers still absentmindedly rubbing your thighs. “Show me what you learned, y/n.”

All of a sudden it was like the music overcame you and you threw your head back, leaning backwards as you left your whole body on display for Mashiho. Knowing the effect you had on him had you even more aroused, loving that he was enjoying himself.

So you danced like nothing was holding you back, your hands exploring your own body as well as Mashiho’s, whom had removed his jeans when you stood up once more. As he sat in just his boxers, his bulge even more visible, you finally settled back in Mashiho’s lap, your breath coming out in ragged breaths as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Dancing was exhausting and a small drop of sweat traveled down your back.

“Love,” Mashiho’s voice surrounded you, his thumbs rubbing circles just above your hip bone, his change in tone indicated one thing and one thing only; you had had your fun and now he was the one in charge. “Thank you for the present but as much as I love watching you, I really just want to fuck your brains out.”

Mashiho stood up from the chair suddenly, his hands cradling your thighs as they stayed locked around his waist. You were proud of yourself for putting together the present for him but you were out of your mind if you thought it was going to end in anything except this.

[heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon]

Alright, so once again, this is the most recent post I could find vague blogging about me on her tumblr in regards to this specific issue so I don’t know where all the “Wow! heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon DID THAT?!” Anons are coming from here, or how those anons are aware that you even tried to submit me something, unless you’re just sending them to yourself to try and stir more trouble but just ....

Leanne, Leanne, Leanna Leanne.... I feel as though I must para-quote Gene Wilder’s character in Young Frankenstein here because just what is the matter with you? Like do you not understand the concept of hyperbole at all? Don’t you know a joke when you read one?

The entire reason I screenshot that ask this way was to show case the fact that color and formatting of the ‘t”,  on what I didn’t know happened to be goth day just happened to match both the obnoxious eye sore color palette and theme of your tacky little blog, Princess. 

The whole coincidence gave me the willies, so I was just making a funny, honey.

Although, apparently, you can’t comprehend my humor or my kindness because now isn’t that part of what got you into this mess in the first place?

“Luna” is for long time mutuals only. Don’t pretend like we’ve ever spoken more than twice, and don’t pretend like you ever gave a damn about my well being when you can’t even get my disability right. My correct name and minority status is written all over my blog.  And to think you’re the one who bitched and complained to me about being called “Honey”.

I only found this on your blog because I have no way of responding to your original Submission even if I wanted to now because Tumblr seems to have eaten it (which, to that I say good riddance) and the only reason I found your Twitter is because it’s exactly the same as your gmail address due to the fact that you’re that basic. There wasn’t anything “random” about it.

“I would never send hate for no fucking reason...” Ah, but by that logic you would dish back hate to someone if you had a reason. So why would you like, concern troll me and chastise me for hate trolling someone when they gave me a reason?!

“And then to say that you that I would hack into your account? WHY??????? Why would I do that? I dont even know HOW to do that! YOU ARE TEARING MY HEART EMOJI APART LUNA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Again, honey, please calm down and teach yourself how to form a coherent sentence, learn the concept of what a hyperbolic joke is, leave your fandom(s) and get a freaking life.

I thought you were my friend too until the night you pulled that shit with me, respect that I blocked you and frick off.

And for the love of God, stop “joking” about writing smutty fanfics between you and Al and getting “married” to him and delete all of Angel’s pictures from your blog why don’t you!

Your obsession with all of us is beyond unhealthy.

“I know that you have reason to listen or believe me...” Honey, I know that when you were typing this your little crocodile tears were hitting the keyboard so hard that you couldn’t even form a coherent sentence and you need to shut the fuck up. (Also SIDE NOTE of how Cletus and Striker are like, the worst Helluva Boss characters to have “taste” in: Some sleazy little man baby and an ever only slightly cooler and more tolerable Wild West Reincarnation of Toffee, I should have known you were like this. Oh and that Vampire Chick from RE7 everyone including yourself is into right now is like if Eclipsa was a freaking Fairly Odd Parents Pixie and Meteora would have her daughters for a snack, both figuratively and literally. Die Angry About it.)   

I had two whole interactions with you and I wanted to beat that bunny fursona of yours down with a tree branch Lilo and Stitch style the second you hopped into my ask box that night and 4 days later you gave me an excuse to. I only found out about the shit that you were putting my friends through when Orn started vague blogging to me about what you were doing to them after I exposed you as a snake in the grass arse little bitch and they had no reason to try and White Knight you.

In starlatte27’s case she was just tagged to help attack me by the same stalker that you were going out of your way to defend and latte blocked me before I could even so much as figure out who she was, meaning we didn’t even have an “altercation”, her existence to me personally at that point was merely a blip that served to cause me more disorientation and stress, but I knew she was just as much of a bitch as you were before my friends did and now you’re both causing them immeasurable harm in comparison to what I was put through and you both need to delete your blogs after you apologize. NOBODY WANTS YOU TWO IN THIS FANDOM!

I have absolutely no interest whatsoever in reading you reiterate your excuses for your racism and gross mistreatment towards my friends to me, nor do I care for your off putting arse attempting to have some sort of petty, infantilizing, paternalistic, para-social relationship with me!

Angel and Al, may I add, haven’t been online in weeks because of you and starlatte27, and now you’re only trying to get to me because I’ve still been available online and you’ve been bored. And if I had the capability and privilege of doing anything other than sitting, I can tell you that I certainly wouldn’t be in front of a computer right now if I actually even had the option not to be ether.

And for your information, being able to meet Angel and Al, at least out of all this mess in the first place, has been the only good experience that I’ve had within in this fandom thus far and their presence on my dashboard only makes my day brighter, I willingly shared my experiences with them to let know they’re not alone in all this shit.  

Stop being a sleaze to Angel just because he’s more attractive than you and clearly not white passing, and delete all his photos from your blog.

Stop being a skeeve to Al and stop making “jokes” about marrying him and your jokes about smut because that’s actually beyond the conception of “cringe”.

Stop infantalizing me and acting as though you have some weird parental para-social relationship over me or some shit when I’m freaking three years older than you are, apologize to all three of us before deleting your accounts and dropping off the internet why don’t you and then leave all three of us the fuck alone!!! 

I can tell how the little twit whom said this to me the other day has certainly never met you.

[knightofameris]

—𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬—

◦ 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 ◦ 𝑠𝑜𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑎 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝𝑠! ◦ 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠! ◦ 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑒! ◦ 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑠!! (𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠!)

𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑠' 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑒: blacklist “ameris 500 celebration!” if you don’t want to see any of my posts about this celebration! also if this flops i will cry. jk i won’t but it’ll definitely take a hit on my heart u__u (and if it does flop, you didn’t see this post)

—𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐔𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍—

Ahhhh! I’m so amazed that I got to 500 followers despite the fact that I barely?? Post?? And sometimes I just talk about random shit but even then, I still appreciate all of you guys so much? I have a few options on what I have to celebrate and I am so excited heheh. But before I get started I just,,, Have a few more things I’d like to talk about (cus I like to talk LOL). Feel free to skip though!! 

content continued below the cut!! (warning; introduction is long because I just have a lot of thoughts I want to share LOL. seriously, feel free to just skip) 

I know that I only really started posting Haikyuu!! around my 300 mark, and I feel like the people after my 300 mark are the one’s who are active because of how much I come onto tumblr and then disappear. 

If you don’t know this, I’ve actually been writing on Tumblr since 2015/2016. I’ve just changed blogs so many times that it’s like, hey, this is my new blog. Or like, I would write for a few months, disappear, come back but then everyone who followed me was dead so I was like eh I’ll just start again or whatever. And I think this makes me very very soft because out of all the communities I’ve been in, I’ve truly felt more welcome/at home even?? With everyone in Haikyuu? Like yeah there’s shit that goes down every few days or whatever but it’s always so fun to see people interact with each other and though I was hesitant at first (because before this the only writer I’ve ever interacted with was Scout for marvel oop) I’m really glad I reached out to a few of y’all and vice versa. 

But despite that, Marvel will always hold a place in my heart and to everyone who followed me from my Marvel days, thank you for supporting me way back when. And even to my Narnia days (AHAHAHA). I don’t think I would’ve continued writing on tumblr without your guys’ support. I know that younger me appreciated you all for reading those old works (even if I hate my old writing now). 

And to everyone now, thank you for sending in asks or commenting on my works. I actually think I would’ve disappeared by this time from this blog if you guys didn’t interact. I’m not saying I’m writing for the follows or the notes, if that makes sense. But it’s more like, I feel less of a robot that people expect to churn out works. Idk, it makes me feel like a person? And it just gives me a lot more serotnin than you might think!! 

One last thing though, it’s not me saying I expect you guys to always read my work and always comment. It’s more so, I’d actually rather have you guys comment or whatever because you want to and you want to read it. Like on one hand yes it does make me feel appreciated but I also don’t want you to feel obligated or feel guilty of you don’t read my things. No matter what, I will always be writing. It definitely does feel nice tho LOL 

I promise in the future, if I ever do intros they won’t be this long lol. 

Phew. Anyway. 

For this celebration, this is only for Haikyuu!!

—𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏𝐒—

I love love love self ships SO much. So I want to hear about your guys’ self ships! 

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

this will only be open from 12am september 23 — 11:59pm september 25 PST 

any requests received before or after will be deleted (may be extended depending on how many requests I get!)

do keep in mind that i’m starting classes soon so it will take me some time to get through this.

send it in through asks or submissions! 

send in as many asks as you’d like

if you use an emoji to show who you are, include it on all asks :3c

nothing nsfw for this, thanks!

since this is a follower celebration,,, i do have to ask that you be following me! honestly, i won’t check if you are, thats too much work on my part but it would mean a lot if you’re following me to participate in this celebration! ); 

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 [example]

i will be creating two instagram posts with one of them having a comment section (3-4 screenshots)

i might also include a screenshot of your profile and/or your s/o if I can put in more pictures!

chats with your s/o ( heheh (; ) (1-2 screenshots)

chats with your s/o’s team! (1-2 screenshots) (this will possibly be with the entire team or just a select few)

take a look at the example as that’s what i’ve done for a friend of mine!!

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨

send in 1-2 headcanons about you and your s/o

send in a little bit about your personality!!

your pronouns! and a name you’d like to go by!

give me your instagram handle! (not your real one, but what it would be within haikyuu) otherwise, i’ll make a random one based off your name!

what are your ~aesthetics~ 

what phone nickname would u have for your s/o (or any other people on the team) so it can be more personalized! or if ur like me where everyone is just their name besides a select few

do u have particular texting habits?

what’s your favorite animal? this is what I will be putting as your profile picture! alternatively if you submit all of this through my submissions and give me a piccrew, I will use that!

you could give me the most BASIC description, you don’t need to do all of these points, and i’d be fine with that. It’s up to you how much you want this to be personalized <3

(also this one’s not necessary, it’ll just be more ~fun~ but lmk if u wanna be a manager of the team! or if u have ur own little AU so u might have other certain details u want to throw in. otherwise i’m gonna make it a sorta free for all lol)

𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒: hi! my name’s ameris and i ship myself with suga! my pronouns are she/her/hers and i like to think that suga and i have a sort of childhood friends to lovers trope. i also like to think that we go stargazing at least once a month no matter what! my aesthetic is definitely space heh. i’m a little bit like suga where i’m chaos and baby! i curse a lot and i have way too many interests to count but i always like trying new things! my instagram handle would be ameris_stars (dude idk lMAO) and suga’s name in my phone would be Koushi <3 i make a lot of typos and i like using a mix of emojis and emoticons/occasional kaomojis. my favorite animal is a fox or dog!

this,,, is a lot but i’m okay with that! heheh

to protect you, I won’t publish your ask! I will make separate posts titled w/ your name + s/o + emoji (if you use your emoji). If you do it off anon, I will tag you! 

Request List!! If you don’t see your name on here, just submit it again :3c I will not be tagging for the sake of not spamming you guys lol. 

—𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐘𝐎𝐔—

I would love love love to get to know you! So tell me about yourself! 

what’s your favorite color?

who’re your favorite haikyuu characters?

favorite haikyuu teams?

you got any writers you want to give a shout out to?

maybe a little self promo too?

adsfasdfasdflj i will keep bringing this up but like any,,, spice asks,,, about the haikyuu characters cus like,,, lol

horn knee asks will be tagged with: “ameris needs a drink” which honestly sounds like i need an alcoholic drink and at this point, yeah 

please be 18+ if you do send in any spicey asks!!

This can go on for as long as y’all want really, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  I’ll just answer these like normal and spread them out too lol

—𝐆𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐄—

I have a few ask games I’ve reblogged before, so I have a few linked for you LOL 

intrusive asks 👁👄👁

~space~ asks! (this has a lot more!)

zodiac asks (just about my writing!)

writer’s asks

a little game I got from my friend which I think is absolutely so much fun

this is a version of fuck-marry-kill, but send in THREE characters (this one can be from any mix of my interests!) and I’ll choose which one I’d rather have a fanfic trope with: 

“enemies-to-lovers” 

“childhood friends-to-lovers” 

and “fake dating”

would definitely prefer haikyuu characters

but doing a mix and match from all my interests is a lotta fun

things i used to or am currently into: haikyuu, marvel, bnha, demon slayer, rwby, sailor moon, voltron, dc, overwatch, tales of vesperia, legend of zelda, bungo stray dogs, narnia (lmao), one piece, uhm, i’ll add more if i can think of more, tbh u can even just say random characters and i’ll just google them 

As always though, feel free to ask me any other questions!!

this will also go on for as long as whenever, i’ll probably spread out this one! 

—𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒—

AH. It was lookin a little long so here’s the link to the post :3c (will edit post later!!! when I come back from my exam!!!)

to those who got to the end, omg i’m sorry. i talk so much. but thank you for your support and just getting through this block of words hakdfhkasf

[ghostking-wenning]

Radishes, Chapter 6.2

This one’s a 2-part! Enjoy!

2.5K, Rated G, modern au, NingXian etc

***

Qionglin sat bolt upright in his bed. A thin sheen of cold sweat coated his body, the sheets tangled around his legs. His chest heaved and his cheeks flushed. A dream. It was just a dream! Oh, but what a dream it had been. Wuxian on his knees before him, looking up at him as he… oh god. Qionglin clapped his hand over his eyes, as if that would block out the memory of that vision. 

Tentatively, he stood on shaky legs. He breathed a sigh of relief when he realized he hadn’t made a mess of his sheets, aside from wrinkling them beyond recognition. Sure, he’d had raunchy dreams before, but never like this! Never so long, with such detail, with a specific person that he actually knew! They weren’t even boyfriends yet! They had only recently shared their first kiss! Why would his brain conjure up such naughty imagery? Such naughty sensations?

He shivered remembering the feeling of Wuxian’s hands… and mouth… all over him. It had felt so real, even though he’d never done any of … that. His dream had even replicated the scent of his cologne, the flavor of his favorite wine. Heat coiled in his belly as he remembered the way he squished him against the wall, leaning his whole body into him. Then all that heat immediately rushed to his face when he remembered the way he had simply submitted to Wuxian’s ministrations, baring his throat like a dog to a wolf. 

Really? He asked himself. Is that what I’m into? A wave of dread and shame washed over him when he heard an echo of the words “good boy” whispered in his ear and remembered how much he loved it.

“Oh god,” he groaned aloud. “I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again…” What a shame that was, too, they were such beautiful eyes. Especially when they were fixed on Qionglin with that searing heat as he-- 

“Nope!” Qionglin said, forcibly derailing that train of thought. A cold shower. That’s what I need. He peeled off his sweat-soaked nightclothes and headed to the bathroom. In the mirror, he was almost surprised to find his neck and chest exactly as they always were, not mottled in lurid red marks. He couldn’t bring himself to look any further down, so he hopped into the shower and turned it on full-blast, hoping the water would pressure-wash his filthy mind. He didn’t even flinch at the cold.

He lost track of time, but he eventually calmed down. He dried off and redressed himself in clean pajamas. It was still several hours before he needed to be awake. He laid down on the couch, so he wouldn’t have to change his sheets for the moment. 

Mercifully, the rest of his sleep was dreamless and deep. He woke to the sound of his phone chiming. He had a message from his sister. 

“Happy birthday, little brother!! I love you! We still on for dinner tonight?”

Oh god it’s my birthday! In an instant, all traces of sleepiness vanished. Somehow he’d entirely forgotten his own birthday. Am I seriously that clueless? He shook his head, rolling his eyes at himself.

“Thank you, jiejie! Yes, of course, I’ll meet you at 7!” He replied, tacking on a few heart emojis.

Granny didn’t allow anyone to work on their birthdays, so he had nothing to do until dinnertime. He slumped on the sofa and stared at the ceiling until his phone pinged again.

“Bring that little punk boyfriend of yours. I have to make sure he’s good enough for you.”

He knew Qing well enough to read between the lines: “This is not a request.” 

He didn’t even bother pointing out that they weren’t technically boyfriends yet.

Usually he would be elated to spend time with Wuxian on his birthday, but a) Qing could be … intense… he wasn’t sure if he was ready to introduce them yet, and b) he was convinced Wuxian would somehow read his mind and discover what a weird pervert he was. Maybe he’s busy! Maybe he won’t even come. He tried to reason with himself, but that actually just made him sadder. 

It took a couple of hours to build up the courage to text Wuxian. He was a lot of things, sure, but he wasn’t a psychic. (Right? That would be crazy… right?) If Qionglin could just keep his cool, he’d never have to know about his dreams. He took a deep breath and opened the message app.

“Hey, Wuxian! Are you busy tonight?” He cursed the way his fingers shook as he typed.

Not five minutes later, his phone beeped.

“Nope! What’s up?”

Fuck. 

“I’m having a birthday dinner with my big sister, and I was wondering if you’d like to join us!” He decided not to mention that Qing wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Wait, is it her birthday or your birthday??”

“Mine.”

“What?!”

“Why didn’t you tell me!!”

“Happy birthday!!!!!!!!” 

“I forgot! I’m sorry!” It was fully true, but that didn’t make it less ridiculous to admit.

“FORGOT? Wild. Anyway I gotta go find you a present! Can’t wait to see you later!” A string of kiss emojis followed, and Qionglin giggled in spite of himself.

He gathered himself quickly and responded. “You don’t have to get me anything!!”

“Too late! I’m already out the door! See you later byeeee!” 

A minute later, Wuxian texted again. “Wait, where and when am I seeing you?”

Qionglin snickered softly, an endeared smile growing on his face. He sent Wuxian the map link and enjoyed about four minutes of peace before remembering why he’d been so nervous about texting Wuxian in the first place.

Panic hit him like a train. Several trains, maybe. His heart skipped and his fingers tightened around his phone so hard his hand shook. Calm down, he tried to tell himself over the alarm bells clanging in his head. Calm down!! Through sheer force of willpower, he evened out his breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth, he repeated like a mantra.

He walked briskly to his bedroom, pointedly ignoring the rumpled sheets on his bed and snatched his anxiety medication. He popped one in his mouth and hastily gulped some water, and sank into his desk chair. Leaning back, he shut his eyes and waited for his heartbeat to calm. 

Something to focus on, that’s what he needed. Something hands-on. But if Granny caught him working the fields, she’d chase him away with a rake -- it had happened before. So he decided on target practice. He grabbed his bow from its stand in the living room and marched out to the woods. 

In a small, round clearing were a line of painted wooden targets he’d made himself. He liked to warm up starting from 30 meters, then progressively back away. He took a deep breath as he lined up his shot, shoulders flexing as he drew the bowstring back. The middle target, dead center. He exhaled slowly as he released the arrow, which made a satisfying thunk as it sank exactly into the center of the target. 

After landing perfect bullseyes into each target, he backed away to 40 meters, then 50 and so on. He felt perfectly centered; there was nothing in this forest but him, his bow, and his breath. 

He leapt about a foot in the air when his phone chimed in his back pocket. How was it already 5 PM!? Where did the time go? He thought, as he began to gather his arrows. It was well past time to get ready. He hurried back to his house, where a fat orange barn cat woke from its nap on Qionglin’s rain boots. It made a curious prrt noise as it fixed big yellow eyes on him. This was the one his little cousin had dubbed “Cheese.”

“Hello, Cheese,” he greeted, stooping to scratch behind its ears. “I’m sorry, but you can’t come inside.” Cheese purred and pawed at the door, but didn’t put much effort into following him inside. 

Hanging up his bow, he realized he felt much better, as if his thoughts sorted themselves out on their own. It was just a dream. It’s perfectly natural, and he’ll never even know! And if he found out somehow, I’m willing to bet he wouldn’t blame me at all. It was magical, almost, how archery relaxed him, even as it wore out his muscles. (His medication probably also helped, but he liked to think it was mostly archery.)

He washed his face, and pulled back his hair, fussing with the locks that were too short for his half-ponytail. Poking through his closet once again, he wondered if Wuxian would say anything if he wore the ghost shirt again. He decided against it, instead opting for a grey striped shirt and a dark blue cardigan that he thought looked pretty sharp. He may not have a lot of nice clothes, but he thought maybe he was getting better at dressing well. Well-ish, at least, he thought, tugging on his comfy-but-ugly sneakers, but it was those or work boots. 

He checked his pockets and whisked out the door to his car. He would probably still be on time.

He was not.

Fifteen minutes late, he scurried into the restaurant and scanned the room for his sister. At least for his birthday she might not scold him for being late. Soon enough he found her, looking polished and perfect as ever, in a tasteful dark red dress with her long black-tea-colored hair in a sleek braid. Across from her was none other than Wuxian, Qionglin realized with a start. What-- how did she find him? Why-- oh god what are they talking about? 

He stood stock-still for a few seconds, until Wuxian laughed brightly, the sound spurring Qionglin forward. As casually as possible, he strolled over and plunked down beside them. With any luck he’d missed the awkward small talk and Qing inevitably giving Wuxian the third-degree about what he does, and his intentions with her little brother.

“S-sorry I’m late,” he said, offering a sheepish smile. 

Qing looked like she wanted to say something about it, but Wuxian beat her to it.

“No worries! Happy birthday!” He said, grinning and reaching for Qionglin’s hand. 

“Mhm,” Qing agreed. “Happy birthday, hun.” She patted his cheek fondly, and he blushed, unable to hide his cheesy grin at the attention.

“Thanks…” he mumbled. “Um, so, I guess you’ve already met, so I don’t need to introduce you. I-- I hope you weren’t waiting too long, though.”

“Not at all! Your sister was just telling me about how cute you were when you were little,” Wuxian said, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Qionglin’s head whipped around. “Qing!” He complained, exaggerated betrayal written on his face.

She smiled deviously. “What? You were adorable! You used to hide behind me and follow me everywhere like a little duckling.”

Qionglin groaned and buried his face in his hands while Wuxian giggled. 

“He’s still adorable,” Wuxian said. “Absolutely too cute.”

“Yep.” Qing nodded. 

Well, at least they’re getting along… Qionglin thought. The rest of the evening went in a similar fashion, the two of them teasing him affectionately and relishing in his embarrassment. After dinner, they sat around chatting over glasses of wine. Qing reached into her purse and produced a small envelope. 

Qionglin carefully opened it and read the card. Tucked into the corner was a gift card to a ritzy clothing shop.

“I’ll take you shopping next weekend, if you’re free.” Qing promised. 

“Mm! Thanks jiejie,” Qionglin said leaning over to give her a one-armed hug. 

“Ooh, my turn!” Wuxian chimed in. From inside his jacket, he pulled a little bundle wrapped in red tissue paper. He handed it over, grinning proudly.

Qionglin untied the silver ribbon holding it together, and the paper unraveled. Inside was a packet of heart-shaped candies and a set of charming pins shaped like monsters: a werewolf, a sea serpent, an alien, and a ghost, much like the one on his t-shirt. Qionglin’s heart threatened to burst in his chest. Faintly blushing, he gazed up at Wuxian, who was watching him intently, eyebrows raised.

“Thank you…” he said, somewhat breathlessly. “I love these.”

Wuxian’s face split into his signature dazzling grin. “I���m so glad! I noticed you don’t accessorize much, and I thought maybe it was because jewelry would get in the way of farm work or whatever, so I figured pins might suit you-- I even made sure to get the kind with extra-sturdy backs so they won’t fall off!”

Qionglin chuckled shyly. “That’s… really thoughtful. Thank you,” he repeated.

Qing scoffed lightly. “Way to show me up,” she said looking pointedly at Wuxian, but she was smiling. She gave a small, approving nod. Apparently Wuxian met her expectations well enough. She stood gracefully and tossed her braid over her shoulder. “Well, I should get going, but you two have fun, okay? Dinner’s on me.” She bent slightly and gave Qionglin a firm hug and kissed the top of his head. 

Then she walked around him and extended her hand to Wuxian, who shook it graciously. She leaned in and whispered something to him that Qionglin couldn’t hear. 

Wuxian’s eyebrows shot into his hairline and he blanched. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured weakly. 

Qing flashed Qionglin an indulgent smile and bid them both goodnight, before sweeping away, paying the bill and leaving, her heels clacking decisively.

Qionglin cleared his throat awkwardly. “S-so that’s my sister,” he said tentatively. “I hope she didn’t say anything rude.”

Wuxian laughed, light and breezy, like he hadn’t just looked scared out of his wits. “Nothing unusual, anyway. Just the shovel talk-- and a quick one at that. Very efficient. She’s cool, though!”

“Isn’t she?” Qionglin agreed wholeheartedly. “I-I’m glad you got along okay. She seems to approve. Of you, I mean. Of-- of us.” He felt his cheeks color slightly, savoring the word us.

Wuxian smiled again, and squeezed Qionglin’s hand. “Good. Because I plan on sticking around.”

When they finished their wine, they took a walk through a park to sober up. The moon was just beginning to rise over them as they strolled leisurely, hand-in-hand. 

“So, how old are you now? 23?” Wuxian asked, somewhat out of the blue, stopping and stepping off the paved trail.

“Mhm, exactly.” Qionglin said, following him into the trees. “Why?”

“For this,” Wuxian answered. He tugged Qionglin closer and cupped both sides of his face, then began peppering him with kisses, everywhere he could reach. Qionglin spluttered and tried to pull away, but Wuxian was unstoppable. He seemed determined to cover Qionglin’s entire face in a layer of kisses. “20,” he murmured, kissing his left eyebrow. “21,” he kissed the center of his forehead. “22,” he kissed the tip of his nose. “23,” he whispered, and at last kissed Qionglin’s lips, wrapping his arms around his waist and holding him tight.

When they finally parted, Qionglin was breathless and practically vibrating. He hid his face in Wuxian’s collar and snuggled close. Wuxian chuckled lightly and nuzzled his hair. “Happy birthday, Qionglin.”

[ultradiplr]

#1 Fan

Plot: You catch the eye of your favorite baseball star Siebren de Kuiper before a game~

Tags: Sort-of-Sexting, Age Difference. Semi-Public. BJ. Overuse of the smiling emoji. Reader radiates big bottom energy, but is otherwise gender neutral. Sigma is a… Fuckboi. lol

A/N: I have no self control and even though I have like five other things I’m working on right now @sketchingshow ‘s Baseball!Sigma has given fuel to a new fire.

Xx

You look at the clock over the ticket booth and grimace, looking down at the digital ticket you had pulled up on your phone screen, mentally face palming at how you had gotten 12:30 and 2:30 mixed up. You sighed and walked up to the qr scanner, verifying yourself, and walked through the rotating metal pipes of the entrance, figuring since you were already here you might as well check in. It’s not like you could go home and wait considering it took you an hour to get here.

Oh, the things you were willing to put up with so you could see your favorite baseball player Siebren de Kuiper in his last season.

There were a bunch of people here already, staff and fans alike, though mostly for the home team, so you weren’t that anxious at being so early. You walked through the entrance hall, taking a few photos of some of the player posters hanging, and out through a vomitorium that lead into the stadium. You looked out over the empty field, bright and green and surrounded by high walls of seats, and took a quick selfie with the vast expanse of the stadium behind you, at least being this early meant no one knocking you down or being in the way for a cute photo. 

You wandered down closer to the field, taking in the smell of freshly cut and watered grass, and took a load off in one of the more expensive seats. The home team was currently practicing before the game so you didn’t really care that much about watching them, content to fiddle with your phone until somebody told you to move. 

For a while you browsed some videos and looked through your social media when you got an alert. Siebren de Kuiper had posted an update on his profile. You tapped the notification and simultaneously had your heart drop into your feet and your stomach rise into your lungs when you saw something you never thought you would,

A picture of you, sitting alone in the stands wearing his name and number, boredly looking at your phone with the caption, 

“Not seen much nowadays, an eager fan. Lol. -Siebren.”

Your face was instantly set ablaze with embarrassment, too embarrassed to glance up and see the teams trading off field time, not sure how you’d react if you actually saw him looking in your direction. God, you wanted to die, but at the same time you felt like shouting out loud and dancing. You didn’t know what to do, you’ve never been noticed by a celebrity before. Should you leave a comment? Reshare it? Screencap it, print it, and hang it on your wall? Well, maybe not that, but what! Oh god this was so cool and crazy and oh god, you looked so weird in this pic! Was that what it looked when you sat down? Such poor posture! Ugh and you looked so tired! Would it be weird to try and doll yourself up or-

You shake your head and pinched the bridge of your nose, you were overthinking this. What would a normal person do in this situation? You typed out a quick comment. “Haha, that be me!” No, no too childish. “Wtf, that’s me!!!” Too surprised. Hmmm...

“Lol that’s me!”

Normal and friendly. Exactly how it should be. You were proud of yourself as you submitted the comment, marveling at it under his picture. You were nervous at him seeing it as you scrolled through his feed a little, mostly selfies of him with his team, over filtered pictures of his home life, and reshared posts about space facts and dumb baseball puns. It was honestly kind of adorable and underappreciated, if the low amount of likes meant anything, the man was as wholesome as they came and no one seemed to appreciate it!

A new notification popped up as you scrolled, a reply to your comment!

You tapped it and felt your heart flutter, Siebren de Kuiper had liked and replied!

“Thank You for your eager support then! :) - Siebren.”

A wide smile crossed your face at that, god that was adorable! You typed out a reply without thinking,

“Always a pleasure! <3” 

You giggled when you hit confirm, insides all warm. This was so cool. Like, literally, this was the coolest thing ever. You glanced up to the field, face burning when you noticed that he sat not too far away from you, sitting in the dugout a little diagonally from you, tapping away on a smartpad. Most likely browsing his own stuff. That was cool. He was cool. And handsome. And nice. And funny. And smart. And- okay your brain was going haywire. 

You needed to take a walk before you began to hyperventilate. You stood up and walked back into the entrance hall where miscellaneous vendors had set up, mostly baseball paraphernalia for the visitor’s team since the home team had it’s own gift shop in the building. You browsed a bit to distract yourself from the excitement. 

You were looking at a new version of the shirt you were already wearing when your phone buzzed with a notification.

“New direct message.”

That was odd, you never got dmed. You quickly opened it to find that you got a message from a random, empty account you weren’t following named Sigma14, weird name.

Where did you go?

You always forgot to lock dms to private, shrugging, you typed out a quick reply.

Sorry, Wrong person!

You were flipping through your settings to find the right configuration when a new reply came through.

Oh, I’m sorry!

I forgot this was my personal account!

It’s me, Siebren!

Your heart stopped and heat filled your body again, but your rational mind was rightfully unconvinced.

Yeah, sure you are.

Just send me the virus link

lol

You typed out, but waited for a reply this time, not knowing if you’d prefer to be let down with this being some weird scammer or actually get a real reply. Both seemed equally upsetting but for different reasons and on different ends of the spectrum. 

Here’s Proof!

He sent a few pictures. The first was of him, smiling into the camera with a thumbs up while sitting in a dugout, his face sweaty and his greying hair a little mused, then the next was a picture of the field you were just in, the name of the stadium clearly seen, and the last was a picture of the seat you were sitting in with a red question mark and arrow pointing to it. 

See!

He added after. You hugged your phone and squealed quietly, suddenly bursting with energy. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. It was really him!!!

akdjfldjsaf!

it’s really you!!!

I’m a huge fan!!

You typed out excitedly. 

Haha

I noticed!

Thank you for supporting me!

:)

So where did you run off to?

You took a photo of the shirt table you were standing at, glad that it was still pretty empty so no one seemed to mind you loitering around the table. You framed two different shirts with his name and number on it in two different colors, home and away.

Just buying some merch.

I need a new shirt

Lol

Which one do you think I should get?

You smiled when the texting bubble instantly popped up, feeling bubbly at the knowledge he was paying attention to you and not practicing.

Firstly, You have excellent taste!

And secondly, I don’t know…

I think I’d have to see it on you!

That last message almost killed you as you stood with your mouth open, if you’d been an omnic you were sure you’d have overheated and combusted. What the heck! What the Heck! Was he? No. Was he? No, surely not! He couldn’t have. That was… that was.. Did he just ask for a pic? You were blushing hard and silently staring at the words on screen before the typing bubble came up again.

Goodness!

I’m sorry for that last sentence!

I didn’t realize how that sounded!

I hope I did not upset you!

You let out a breath reading his reply, nerves calming. Of course he didn’t! Why would world famous baseball star Siebren de Kuiper want to get a pic of you in his jerseys? You were sure he could have actual models if he wanted. He didn’t need you! Oof, that was harsh, but true.

asfadaafsd haha

it’s alright!!!!!

I didn’t think anything of it

I think I’m just going to buy both, they’re both nice

You quickly replied, not wanting him to think you were upset at him. And you weren’t. Surprised, yes. But not angry. You mean, you’d totally send pics to him if he wanted, but you were sure he’d never want that. Right? 

They are!

And I’m sure both will look great on you!

:)

Your hands flexed on your phone as you gripped it a little tighter, looking at the two still unpurchased shirts. You picked up the shirts up, buying them and went to the nearest bathroom. You take off your shirt and replace it with the away shirt, leaving it a little unbuttoned, and snapped a mirror selfie, and looked at it on your phone. Cute despite the bathroom behind you. You did the same with the home shirt. 

You sat on the toilet holding your phone tightly as you debated actually sending them. They weren’t very explicit but still, the implication would be carried if he really meant anything the first time around. If he meant anything. Which he probably didn’t. So these photos wouldn’t be too bad to send… right?

You bit your lip and hit send. Waiting anxiously for a reply. Your heart was racing as you waited, feeling your blood pressure rise when the typing bubbles popped up.

:) :) :)

I was right.

They do look good on you!

You erupted in a fit of giggles, nerves a little on fire, god this was the craziest thing you’ve ever done. He wasn’t finished as more texts came in,

Would you like to get them signed?

:)

Holy fuck. Was he flirting with you? He had to be, right? Well shit, you couldn’t pass this opportunity up! You quickly typed out a reply, fingers shaking a little.

Would you?!?

Omg that would be amazing!

His reply came in instantly,

Come by entrance five in ten minutes.

I’ll gladly sign you.

:)

You actually yelled laughed, face burning like a stove, and pumped your fist in the air. Yes. Yes. Yes. You left the bathroom insanely giddy, wearing the white home shirt, and went to look at a map of the stadium. Entrance five was the farthest from the main entrances, and from what it looked like on your phone, a part of the stadium that was going to be completely empty. You chewed your lip as you made your way over there, nerves on fire. God you hoped this was going the way you wanted it and you hadn’t just misinterpreted everything.

About twelve minutes later as you sat in the empty hallway flipping through your phone and trying to distract yourself from your racing thoughts, he walked in through the stadium side. You got up instantly as his large shadow stretched across the floor. God, he was tall. Seven feet if you remembered correctly, two feet taller than you, and broad, insanely broad, arms like pythons. He looked a bit sweaty in his baseball uniform, an outfit that hid very little on his hulking frame, and smiled at you apologetically.

“I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” He said coolly as he walked inside.

 He stepped up toward you gently, a kind smile as he held out a hand. You grasped his hand with both of yours, his hands were large, insanely, fuck, he was so much bigger than you, your mouth watered a little. 

“It’s no problem, I was happy to wait!” You said nervously and a little quickly, “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeated in his slightly accented voice, warm and absolutely lovely, sounding a lot different than what you were used to from watching interviews. “A lovely name.”

You laughed nervously and looked off, embarrassed, “T-thank you.” you stutter out as you dropped your hands to hide in your pockets.

“So, make this out to Y/N then?” He asked, pulling a pen out of his pocket and looking at you softly. God, your heart was a puddle.

“Uhh, yeah, I guess.” You said and he hummed in agreement.

You were going to hold out a piece of your shirt out for him to sign, but instead he stepped a little closely and bent down, putting the tip down just under your shoulder. You didn’t miss the glimmer in his eye as he bent in close, holding you still a little with his big hands, and wrote delicately on your skin. You held your breath, biting your lip as the hulking mass of him was so close to you, making your head swim.

“To my loyal fan Y/N,” He said as he wrote, his tone having gone down a notch, making your skin erupt in goosebumps, “Siebren.” He signed, eyes locking with yours as he stood back up.

You laughed breathlessly, leaning on the wall behind you for support as he didn’t move back much, looming over you a bit. 

“T-thank you, I, uh… thanks.” You said, biting your lip a little and fluttering your eyes.

He smirked as he leaned on the wall above you, caging you a little, though leaving enough room that if you really wanted to leave you could. He was giving you a chance to stop, maybe saving face if he also misinterpreted, this was all up to you.

You chewed your lip as he looked down at you expectantly. Your hands shook a little as they rose and gently rested against the rough fabric of his uniform over his chest. He continued watching you, eyes darkening as you hands wandered over his abdomen, feeling him up a little. He was so firm and a lot more ripped than you had thought. This man was a damn brick house.

You hesitated a little as you got lower, looking up at him for permission as your fingers got to his waistband. He smiled, his hand not propping himself against the wall raising to grasp your smaller ones and gently pushing you lower himself, right over his half hard on.

He huffed hotly as you made contact with him through his pants and you couldn’t help the little whine that escaped your throat. You felt him up, mouth watering a bit at the feel of the size of him, only half hard it was already bigger than the length of your hand. You groped and stroked him through his pants, pulling a few groans from him for the effort, but as he got harder he stopped you.

“Enough of that.” He said a little strained, voice heavy with lust as he patted your greedy hands away.

He stood up a little, no longer leaning over you for a moment as both hands went to undo his belt as your hands rested on his large thighs, you mind momentarily filled with the image of you straddling these thick slabs of meat. When he finally pulled himself from his pants, just as long and thick as you always imagined.You licked your lips and looked up at him, his face red, sweaty and eyes looking at you hungrily, it made you shiver in excitement. Fuck, you wanted him to come undone.

Without any prompting you bent down and kissed his cockhead as you slid onto your knees, earning a breathless word in dutch. You didn’t know what it was, but it sounded endearing and it stroked something inside you. He had to bend his knees a little and haunch over you, leaning his head against the wall, the height difference a little difficult while standing, but it made it all the more hotter in your opinion.

You lavished his hard cock with wet kisses and gentle stroking, going off the amazing noises he was making to get a feel for what he liked as you licked him sloppily. His dick was so hard and hot and beautiful His tasted a bit salty but he smelled really good, like grass and dirt and... chalk? It was a strangely arousing combination.

You smiled up at him as he stared at you, eyes half lidded and face red, looking a little angry and a little delirious. So handsome. Like a wet dream. You trailed a line of kisses from the underside of his base up to his tip, eyes locked with his as your lips got closer to his head, and when you did, you opened your mouth and laid his head on your tongue.

He moaned loudly, his hips canting and slipping through your hold into your mouth a little, dragging another moan out of him as you enveloped his head with your soft mouth. A hand dropped from the wall above you as it weaved itself into your hair. Your tongue swirled around his head, humming with please as he choked a little at the feel and gripped your hair a little harder.

He began to circle his hips a little, his cock slowly leaving and entering your wet mouth, getting a little deeper as he went. You just took it, drooling and moaning as he got deeper and deeper and pulled out less and less. As you got most of him in he stilled to a halt, breathing hard as you swallowed around him, looking at him with eyes full of hot tears with the stretch. Fuck, the feeling of him so deep was glorious, but he hadn’t hilted, and despite the fact he looked about to bust and you were not that sure if you could, you began bobbing your head a little to get farther.

His strangled moans where music to your ears as he didn’t stop your endeavor, burying his head in the crook of his arm against the wall as his other hand still had a tight grip in your hair. Your throat was getting raw as you mouthfucked him and you knew that you were probably depriving yourself with sufficient oxygen, but you didn’t care, the desire to please him much too large. 

Finally your nose met the pubes on his groin and he held you still against him, every muscle on his body pulled taut. He was mumbling something, but it didn’t sound like English, or dutch for that matter, just pure breathless gibberish as you felt him pulse in your mouth. You focused on breathing and relaxing around him, brain too scrambled to do much else.

Everything felt so good, your nerves were so sensitive and every little sensation made you shiver in desire.  The feeling of your shirt against your chest, of your pants against you groin, of his fingers in your hair, of the feeling of his thighs under your hands, it all felt so good. Fuck, having him in your throat was turning you on so much it felt like you were going to cum from this alone.

Slowly he began to rut into your mouth, using your mouth as his own little fleshlight. Fuck, it was so hot. H was breathing so hard, his thighs twitching under your hands. He was saying something now, dark and needy, spoken like demands or praises but you couldn’t understand him, couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the squelch inside your head of him fucking into your throat.

Your eyes lulled and you just moaned around him, feeling the drool spill onto the front of your shirt as he fucked you to delirium, choking you repeatedly on his cock. Suddenly he held you tight to his base and said the first words to break through the haze of lust since you started, 

“Swallow.” He said through grit teeth, like you had any other choice.

The feeling of him twitching in your mouth and spilling his hot cum in the back of your throat triggered your own orgasm, and without any direct stimulation your body was wracked with a full body shiver. Your body flinched against his hold as you felt the thick liquid get forced down, but he held you steady, and before he was finished, he pulled out quickly to squirt the last of himself on your slightly swollen lips and drool covered chin.

You would have been angry if you weren’t so out of it. He hummed with please as you stared up at him through the tears in your eyes, tilting your face up to him so he could see the copious amount of cum on your tongue.

“Swallow.” He said softer than before, out of breath.

You obediently closed your mouth and swallowed, opening it again to show him and he smiled widely, petting your head. 

“Goed, goed.” He purred and it made you bristle in happiness in your post orgasm state.

You stayed like that for a while, him petting you and whispering kind words as your mind slowly booted up again. As he got himself presentable again and you cleaned yourself, he helped you back onto your feet and you checked the time on your phone. 2:15? Geez, time really flew by.

You were about to alert him of this when his hand met your lower back as he lead you back toward the entrance hall, “Yes, I know.” He said with a wink.

You were confused until you actually got out and saw through the large glass windows of the entrance the sheets of rain pouring over everything. There was an alert on your phone from the ticket holder, 

Delayed Game.

You looked up at him and he smiled smugly, “It seems I have a bit more time before the game.” He said with fake surprise.

“Do you have anything else you’d like to get signed?” He asked, hand still on your lower back as he lead you into the more private area of the stadium.

The fire of desire was lit again and you smiled up at him, “I still have two more shirts.” you say innocently.

He hummed and you felt his thumb rub lightly over your lower spine, 

“Well, then, let’s find a pen.”

[roman-writing]

two, across (5/8)

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Hilda Valentine Goneril / Lysithea von Ordelia

Rating: T

Wordcount: 7,492

Summary: Lysithea can barely keep afloat under the workload of giving undergrad lectures and finishing off her PhD thesis. Meanwhile Dr. Hilda V. Goneril is somehow both the laziest person as well as the most successful young professor she has ever known. It’s absolutely aggravating.  

Read it here on AO3 or read it below the cut

The fact that Lysithea manages to last nearly four hours at the bar after her epiphany is nothing short of valiant. She spends a great deal of that time stealing furtive glances at Hilda, who eventually notices and teases her with a rakish smile and a quip of: "Do I have something on my face? Or am I just that good looking?"

Whereas normally Lysithea would have rolled her eyes and fired back with a sarcastic remark, now she flushes and changes the topic as quickly as possible. Hilda laughs, but lets it go, which allows Lysithea to breathe easier. If she had continued to tease, Lysithea doesn't know what she would have done. 

As it is, Hilda invites her over, and looks disappointed but not unhappy when Lysithea declines. 

"I should probably make sure my flatmates remember what I look like," Lysithea says. 

Hilda gives a theatrical sigh. "Their gain is my loss. I'll see you later, then!"

When they part at the train station, Lysithea thinks that's the end of that for the evening, but then Hilda pops up on a different platform in full view. They end up miming at each other across the tracks, until Lysithea hears a train coming, at which point her phone buzzes in her pocket. Lysithea fires back a few texts of her own until her train pulls up along the platform. 

As she sits down and the doors close, she can still see Hilda bowed over her own phone on the platform over. Lysithea's phone pings in her hand and vibrates. She tightens her hold around it, and watches Hilda for as long as she can until the train carries her away down the tracks. 

Somehow it feels like she's left her stomach behind on the platform.

That heavy sensation in her gut doesn't go away when she arrives back at her own apartment. When she steps inside, Raphael pokes his head out of his room, having to duck down so as not to smack his forehead against the lintel. His face brightens with pleased surprise at the sight of her taking off her shoes in the entryway.

"Hey! Lysithea's actually back! Hey, Lysithea!"

"Hi," she waves at him, trying to summon up a smile that she knows must appear glum in spite of her best efforts.

He ducks through the door, concern written across his face. "What's wrong? I thought you and the dean had solved everything, and you were submitting today?"

"No, no. Everything's fine," Lysithea lies. "I submitted today."

In response, her flatmate gives a great whoop, and lifts her off the ground in a bear hug that leaves her gasping past a few crushed ribs. She pats him on the back until he lets her go.

"Well done! That's so exciting! Hey, Ignatz! Did you hear?" Raphael sets her down on the ground, and immediately races off, barging into Ignatz's room to deliver the good news. 

Lysithea takes the opportunity to sneak off to her own room, and shut the door. She leans against the door, her head falling back and her eyes falling shut. She takes a long moment to steady her breathing, but it does nothing to slow the hammering of her heart in her chest. 

Her phone buzzes in her pocket, and her heart rate doubles in an instant. Cautiously, Lysithea unlocks her phone. A surge of mingled relief and disappointment floods through her when she sees that it's Edelgard texting her this time. 

The fact that she's disappointed makes her irritated at herself. She sends a reply to Edelgard confirming that her thesis was submitted, and gets back an immediate text that's just a single exclamation point. 

Briefly, Lysithea considers ringing Edelgard up and telling her about her latest revelation, but the very idea makes her face redden. Instead, she drops her bag onto the ground, walks over to her bed -- which has remained pristine and untouched for ages now -- and flops facefirst onto the mattress. 

Her phone buzzes and chimes again. Lysithea groans into the sheets. For a moment she doesn't move. Then, sluggish, she glances at what texts she has received in the last forty seconds. 

Hilda has sent through a blurry picture of her laptop on her bed, a tub of Lysithea's favourite flavoured ice cream, and the latest big horror show on Netflix. The very title screen of the show makes a prickle of fear run down Lysithea's spine. The picture is captioned with: 'Look at what you're missing out on' 

She furiously sends back an answering text. 'You are an asshole.' 

Hilda laughs in return, and even though it's all in the form of way too many emojis, Lysithea can still hear the ghost of her laughter as though she were back at Hilda's apartment, sitting beside her on the bed. 

Lysithea flings her phone further away on her own mattress, and grabs a pillow so she can bury her head in it. It doesn't help. 

Later that night, it takes her forever to fall asleep. Everything about her own room feels off, like she's sleeping in a stranger's house. She tosses and turns, until finally, grumbling all the while, she creates a vaguely human-shape in the bed beside her with a number of spare pillows. Pillow-Hilda lacks the warmth of the real deal. 

Lysithea hates the fact that she has allowed herself to grow so accustomed to sleeping beside another person. 

--

The weekend passes without incident. Lysithea is at a loss for how to fill her time now that she no longer has to worry about her thesis. She finishes her lecture notes and power point presentations for the entire next week, and then twiddles her thumbs until she finally relents and keys in her phone's passcode.

There are a heap of texts and replies from both Hilda and Edelgard. Her thumb hovers a phone number. She chews anxiously on her lower lip for a solid minute, before gathering up enough courage to actually hit the button.

The dial tone rings a few times, and Lysithea is tempted to hang up and pretend that nobody is going to answer. But then Edelgard picks up.

"Congratulations again," Edelgard says by way of a greeting, and her voice is warm.

"Thank you." 

Lysithea is sitting on the couch in the living room. Ignatz is at the art studio, Raphael is at practice, and Marianne is sleeping off her night shift. Lysithea sits on one of her hands, her knees squeezed tightly together, and her heels drumming against the base of the couch. 

There must be something in the tone of Lysithea's voice that clues her in, for Edelgard suddenly sounds sharp and serious. Business mode activated. "Is there something wrong?" 

"No, no!" Lysithea lies. "It's just - It's Hilda."

"What about her?" Edelgard's words are wary. "What has she done?"

"Nothing! She's -! She's great! She's -"

Brilliant. Talented. Funny. Gorgeous. Completely out of her league.

Lysithea has to pause for a moment before she can trust herself to speak without giving it all away. “I only wanted to call to see what you think of her.”

“What I think of her? You realise I’ve never met her, and have only ever spoken to her a handful of times on the phone.” 

“...Yes?”

Edelgard does not answer immediately, and for a brief moment Lysithea fears the connection may have dropped. Then -

“My first impression was that Hilda is far more cunning than she lets on, but also that she has a loyal streak that is hard-earned and runs a mile wide,” Edelgard says with the kind of clinical precision she always employs when discussing stock prices or the abysmal state of the economy. “Why are you asking me this all of a sudden?”

"No particular reason."

"Somehow, I don't believe you," says Edelgard dryly.

"It's not -! It's nothing. Really. Just a stupid crush that will pass."

"A crush," Edelgard repeats.

Even hearing it repeated makes Lysithea's cheeks heat up. God, but it sounds so dumb. A crush. She feels like she's sixteen again, except without the impending threat of death looming over her shoulder.

“Haven’t you been living in her apartment?” Edelgard asks.

“Not technically!” 

“Lysithea.”

Lysithea whines. “Don’t say my name like that.”

“You’re even starting to sound like her, you know.”

“Okay. I’m hanging up now.”

"Wait," Edelgard sighs. "In all honesty, I thought you two were having some sort of casual relationship."

Lysithea jerks the phone away from her to stare at it, before putting it back to her ear and saying incredulously, "When have you ever known me to do anything casual?"

"Alright, that's a fair point."

There's the sound of other faint voices down the other line, then a door opening and closing in the background, as though Edelgard were moving to another room. "And you want my opinion on the matter, do you?"

"Well -" Lysithea plays with the frayed seam of the couch's armrest. "Yes. I suppose I do."

"I think you could do a lot worse."

Frowning, Lysithea asks, "What does that even mean?"

"It means: I personally have very high standards, but I still think she’s a decent sort. It’s not my call, and I will of course support whatever decision you make."

"You're very unhelpful."

Lysithea can hear the exasperation in Edelgard's voice, "Fine. Don't date her, then."

"That's not -!” Lysithea splutters, but can’t admit allowed that that’s the very last thing she wants to do.

"Did you really just call me to confirm what you already know? You have obviously already made up your mind."

"Yeah, but -" Lysithea swallows past an obstruction in her throat. She has begun to pick the thread completely out of its stitching in the couch. It unravels beneath her nervous fingers. "-you know I can't just do that."

For a moment there's silence on the other end. Then Edelgard says softly. "I understand that this may be new territory, but -"

"That's - That's not it. Well, it sort of is." Lysithea sucks in a deep breath, then admits. "I really like her, El."

A long pause follows that statement, and then Edelgard says an emphatic, "Ah."

“You know how it is. I never put much stock in romantic liaisons because -” Lysithea fumbles over how to phrase it in the least macabre way possible, “well, because I always believed the future was no place for me. Becoming involved with someone would be cruel to both parties involved, and one night stands with strangers aren’t exactly my style.”

Edelgard listens quietly, before replying. “But now the prognosis isn’t nearly so grim. We have time. Not as much as we might like, but it’s more than I, for one, ever expected. You shouldn’t give up on chasing the future.”

"Yeah," Lysithea says lamely. She grimaces at how non-committal she sounds even to her own ears. 

"You should talk to her."

"That," Lysithea says, "sounds even more terrifying than returning to the hospital."

"That bad?"

"That bad."

In the background of Edelgard's call, a door creaks open, and Hubert's voice murmurs something. Edelgard's answer is muffled as she places a hand over her phone, and then returns to crystal clarity once more. 

"You have to go," Lysithea prompts before Edelgard can even say anything.

"In just a moment, yes. But I am glad you called, actually. One of our directors lives out your way, and I've arranged for the next board meeting to take place at our building in the city. I should be able to take a bit of time out of my day for a personal visit."

At that, Lysithea perks up. "Really?"

Edelgard chuckles, a low, rich sound. "Yes. I'm only there for a weekend, but I figured we ought to celebrate you finishing your thesis."

"It's still undergoing examination," Lysithea points out. "It's a pass fail, you know. I might not -"

"You will. If it's you, I know you will," Edelgard says firmly. 

"What weekend?"

"Week after next."

Lysithea can feel herself smiling. "That sounds great. I can meet you wherever."

"Fantastic. Bring Hilda."

Lysithea's mouth goes dry. "Wh - What?"

"You heard me. And go talk to her, or else I will call her myself."

"You wouldn't dare. Edelgard. Edelgard!"

The only response is the beep of the call ending. 

--

Lysithea doesn't ring Hilda. In fact, she does not speak to Hilda until the next morning, which in theory doesn't sound like a long time, but in practice is quite a long time for them. She is mildly surprised and concerned that her phone hasn't been lit up with texts or phonecalls for the remainder of her Sunday. She guesses that Hilda is either lazing the day away at her apartment, or out with some of her other friends.

Come Monday morning however, Lysithea sticks staunchly to routine. It would feel strange not to at this point. She arrives at the ground floor of the university with two coffees in hand. As she rounds the corner to the elevators, an irrational spike of fear streaks through her. Perhaps Hilda won't be there. Perhaps she has already messed this up somehow. Perhaps Hilda is already growing bored; she gets bored so easily, after all. It's possible, Lysithea convinces herself.

"Heyoo!" Hilda waves at her by the elevators. The button to call one of the elevators has already been pressed. Hilda makes a grabby motion towards one of the coffees in Lysithea's hands like she's a man happened upon in the desert and dying of thirst. "Ohhh, you have no idea how much I need coffee this morning."

Lysithea hands over the cup. She tries to act casual. "Did you have a good rest of your weekend."

"Meh," Hilda shrugs. "Same old. Same old. Thought about doing laundry. Didn't do it. Went out for a bit. Worked out for a bit. Thought about working on another article. Made some jewelry instead."

The elevator doors open. They both step inside. "How many articles are you going to finish this year?" Lysithea asks, genuinely curious about the answer. She hits the button for the second floor and the elevator doors slid shut.

"Only three."

"Only three," Lysithea repeats, rolling her eyes. The floor counter rapidly rises as they are carried up the various levels of the building. 

Hilda gives a dramatic sigh. "Yes. I'm a shame to my people."

"Who? Sasquatches?" 

"You joke, but like -- yeah. Honestly. I keep forgetting you've never met my family," Hilda says around the lip of her takeaway cup as she takes a sip. "You really should. Then you'll understand."

"Alright," Lysithea says before she can pause to think about the implications of it. 

Hilda pauses and glances over at her. Slowly, she lowers her coffee cup. Behind her pink-lensed sunglasses her eyes rove downwards to Lysithea's chest. It is so blatant that Lysithea blinks in surprise. 

When Hilds takes a step towards her, Lysithea goes tense, but Hilda only reaches up with her free hand, and touches the sweater clip at the end of one of Lysithea's shirt collars. 

"I told you this would look nice on you," Hilda says. 

She toys with the fine gold chain between thumb and forefinger for a moment. Lysithea is frozen in place, unable to move. She almost does something very foolish and impulsive and quite unlike herself, when she is saved by the elevator doors announcing that they have arrived at their floor.

With a smile, Hilda lets go and walks through the elevator doors, leaving Lysithea standing there, heart pounding in her chest like she had just run a half marathon.

She is so flustered for the remainder of the day that she forgets to invite Hilda to lunch with Edelgard. 

--

Over the course of the week, Lysithea debates with herself whether she should even bring Hilda along to meet Edelgard. It doesn't help that Hilda is somehow more distracting than ever. She is sure that Hilda has changed nothing about her behaviour; it is just that Lysithea now notices every little thing that Hilda does. She is convinced that Hilda has always been so liberal with physical touch, but it's difficult to think whenever Hilda catches her staring and flashes a self-satisfied smile.

On Wednesday, Lysithea dares to bring to work the small makeup kit Hilda had given her ages ago. She had thought to try its various products on in her own bathroom, but she has to share one bathroom in her apartment between four people, and it's difficult enough for her to try putting on mascara for only the third time in her life when Raphael is pounding on the door groaning that he's going to be late.

Instead, she sneaks into one of the nice staff bathrooms at the university. The ones that have no stalls, and are just a single private restroom with an enormous mirror and enough bench space that she doesn't have to put her bag on the tiled floor. Pulling out the small makeup kit, Lysithea opens it and then gazes down at its contents, trying to recall all the advice she’d been given. 

Mostly she remembers Hilda touching her face while she had applied the makeup, but not much in the way of Hilda's actual instructions at the time. She had watched a few videos online however, and pulls out foundation and an appropriate brush. 

It's still far more difficult to do than Hilda had made it seem. Then again, Hilda was well versed in these kinds of things, and Lysithea had never wasted precious time with appearances when in the past she had to make every hour count. Now, trying to learn these things as an adult makes her feel clumsy and flustered. 

Lysithea takes her time. She applies a light and even layer of foundation, but then hesitates over eyeshadow. 

What was it Hilda had said? Bold makeup for stage, and subtle makeup for intimate interactions? A concept which only confronted her with the fact that she very much wanted to have ‘intimate interactions’ with Hilda, whose bed she had been sharing for weeks if not longer, but which she had never considered before this moment. 

Lysithea has to pause to collect herself; she nearly dies of mortification right there over the sink. 

Finally, she just picks a colour at random. Something subtle. Not too much colour unless someone were to stand very close and look at her. Eyeliner, mascara, and then Lysithea is packing everything away before her presence is either noticed as missing, or someone else needs the restroom.

Later in the afternoon, Hilda knocks on the door to Lysithea's office before pushing it open without waiting for an answer. She strides in, idly fiddling with a pen, and sits on the desk beside where Lysithea had been typing away at her computer. 

"Hey! I was just going to -" Hilda breaks off what she was going to say, and leans closer with a glint in her eye. “Ohh! Is that purple eyeshadow from one of the samples I gave you? What’s the occasion?” She gives the pen a mischievous twirl between her fingers. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Lysithea can feel her cheeks burn, but she doesn’t push her chair away from the table. “There’s no guy.” 

“Girl, then. Or -- you know --” Hilda clicks the pen multiple times, “- person. Whatever.”

“Why does there have to be a person at all?”

“Dressing up just to feel nice?” Hilda taps the pen against the underside of Lysithea’s chin, and winks. “You really are taking my advice! And here I thought you never listened to me.”

Lysithea snatches the pen from Hilda’s fingers. “I listen when you say something worth listening to. And this is mine!”

Hilda just shrugs. “Yeah, I stole it from you two months ago. Thought you would’ve noticed sooner, to be honest.” She pushes off from Lysithea’s desk, and starts walking down the hallway, talking all the while. “Anyway, let’s get coffee before your big date. I need caffeine before facing the horrible gremlins in Chem 104.”

“There’s no date!” Lysithea insists, but she is already following Hilda past the communal office kitchenette and lounge area.  

"Why not? I thought you were sooo 'dateable'."

"That's -! I mean -! I am!"

“I’m very convinced right now,” Hilda says dryly.

Normally they had their conversations at work in the morning when nobody else was around. Now however the offices are scattered with people, and the two of them are beginning to attract a few stares. Or maybe it is just the first time Lysithea notices that other people are noticing them. Indeed, at least one of their colleagues just shakes his head with a rueful chuckle and returns to marking a stack of papers. 

It strikes her then that if Edelgard had thought she and Hilda we're dating -- even casually -- that others might, too. Lysithea seems to be the last person on the planet to know.

--

By the time the weekend comes around, Lysithea starts making up excuses as to why she can’t go over to Hilda’s apartment like she used to. At first it’s easy. Everyone in her apartment is lending a hand for a big spring clean, now that the snows have started to melt away and they can actually put things outside. Then, there's an apartment inspection by the landlord's agent that she needs to be present for, because all of her other flatmates have other commitments at that time. Not to mention, Lysithea wants to catch up on writing her lectures, so she doesn't have to do them so last minute during the week.

Hilda never complains, or even seems to mind. She accepts every reason -- even the most screwball excuses Lysithea can think of on the spot -- with a laugh and the promise to catch up some other time. 

Eventually, Lysithea knows she will just have to grit her teeth and talk, but for now it's much easier to avoid having any sort of serious conversation. The very idea makes her feel sick. It's a new sensation; nothing about Hilda has ever made her feel ill before. And yet somehow it's better than the possibility that the moment Lysithea admits any sort of deeper feeling, Hilda would laugh, or scoff, or be scornful, or worse. 

At least she has Hilda now. She's far too selfish to risk giving that up.

--

'CAITIFF.' Hilda points to the clue for three down, and Lysithea writes it into the little boxes on the newspaper. 

It is the morning of Tuesday of the next week, the week Edelgard arrives, and Lysithea still hasn't said anything. She takes a drink of her coffee, handing the pen over to Hilda so she can write the next few clues. 

"What's another word for a ‘golden coated horse’?," Hilda asks. 

Lysithea hums, and lowers her takeaway cup. “PALOMINO.”

"Oh. Duh,” Hilda mutters at herself. 

As Hilda is scrawling in the answer on the crossword puzzle, Lysithea studies the side of her face as discreetly as she can. She has seen Hilda wear some outrageous makeup before, but only on nights where they were going out to Claude’s or elsewhere. Today she is most definitely wearing something more subtle.

She is quietly observing how long Hilda’s eyelashes are, when Hilda asks without looking up from the newspaper, “You know, I haven’t seen any big boxes come in the mail for you lately. Did you tell her the keys to the Maserati were too much?”

Lysithea frowns. “Edelgard has never given me the keys to a sports car before.”

“She hasn’t? Well, that’s just outrageous, isn’t it?”

“If you must know, she hasn’t sent anything this month because -” Lysithea focuses on the crossword puzzle and tries to sound nonchalant, which is something she has never been good at, right up there with being charming. “- well, because she’s coming to visit this weekend.”

“Oh-hoho! A visit from Her Majesty herself! Are they rolling out, like, a red carpet at Town Hall?”

“No,” Lysithea says, then adds. “Though they might do that at her company’s building.”

Hilda stares. “Oh my god, I was joking.”

“‘BAMBOOZLE’,” Lysithea takes the pen and writes in the answer to four down. “She’s only here for the weekend, but she’s invited you to join us for lunch.”

"A chance to meet mystery millionaire? In the flesh? Count me in." 

When Hilda takes the pen back, their fingers graze. For the remainder of the time before Hilda has to leave for class, Lysithea only manages to get another two or three clues, because she’s thinking about the calloused warmth of Hilda’s hands instead.

-- 

Edelgard's company's building is not the tallest skyscraper in the CBD, but it is the second tallest. Plus Lysithea knows from experience that it has the best views. Right now however, she and Hilda are standing on the street below it. Hilda is craning her neck back to look up its sleek glass facade. Every facet of it reflects the blue sky and surrounding buildings with astonishing clarity.

"Jesus," Hilda mutters under her breath, lowering her sunglasses to get a better look. "This is the building? Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty sure," Lysithea says dryly.

"So, hang on," Hilda puts her sunglasses back on, and looks at Lysithea standing beside her. "I've been calling her 'mystery millionaire' this entire time, but like that seems a bit -- I dunno -- light in the cash department, if you know what I mean."

"Edelgard doesn't really like to talk about money."

"Oh, fucking Christ. It's worse than I thought." Hilda sighs down at her own clothes, which are as rakishly stylish as ever. "I should've worn something more business-y. I can just feel it."

"You look great. You always look do," Lysithea assures her. The words tumble out before she can think to stop them. 

Hilda lifts one of her shoulders in a coquettish shrug. "I know. And don't think I haven't noticed the fact that you're actually wearing one of the designer outfits you got sent in your monthly care packages." Hilda reaches out to adjust one of Lysithea's sleeves, even though the cloth does not require it. 

Lysithea can feel the brush of skin against her upper arm. She has to clear her throat before she trusts herself to speak. "We should probably go inside."

"Yeah, yeah. You hate being late. I know." 

Together they walk through the automatic glass doors and into the foyer of gleaming white marble draped with crimson banners between every pillar like some sort of triumphal scene from antiquity. There is a row of bronze keycard stations blocking off entrance to even the elevators from the common rabble that might have dared to walk in off the streets. 

A line of security personnel and front-desk workers are arranged on either wall flanking the entryway. Lysithea knows the drill. She does not hesitate to approach one of the front-desk staff, and in exchange for their names receives two visitors passes that are stamped with the company logo: a rampant red and black eagle that looks like it has been adapted from heraldry for a more modern audience. 

As they swipe their keycards at the security gates, a green light flashes and the bronze arms lower at each station to let them pass. While waiting for the elevator, Lysithea pockets her own keycard, but Hilda stares at her own in utter bewilderment.

"Alright, now I'm just imagining that your friend dresses in, like, some eighties businesswomen's power suit. You know. Tall. Stilettos sharp enough to kill a man. Shoulder-pads stuffed so broadly they could support the weight of all my failed dreams. That kind of thing."

The elevator doors slide soundlessly open, and Lysithea steps inside. “Relax,” she says. “She is really nice once you get to know her.”

Lysithea retrieves her keycard once more to wave it in front of a sensor; it allows her to hit the button for the top floor penthouse suite.

Hilda stares at the illuminated floor level button. “Right. Yeah. I’m super relaxed. Cool. Cool cool cool.”

The elevator doors start to close. When the carriage beneath their feet smoothly begins the ascent, Hilda begins to fidget. She has forgone her usual numerous rings, and instead only wears two on each hand. The metal clicks against the golden chain strap of her handbag over one shoulder as she toys with the links. Behind her semi-opaque pink-tinged sunglasses, her eyes are fixed on the floor counter, which ticks rapidly upwards with every moment spent in the elevator. 

Lysithea hesitates for a moment, then gathers up enough courage to gently close her hand around Hilda's fingers. It stops her rapid fiddling. She doesn't say anything, but Hilda releases a tense breath. When they reach the top floor, Lysithea pulls her hand away, but not before Hilda can run her thumb against Lysithea's fingertips. 

The elevator doors open. The penthouse revealed beyond is a broad open space. It's high ceilings seem to extend beyond the heavens and take their place among the clouds. It's floor to ceiling glass, and polished marble, and brushed steel, accented only with the rarest streak of colour. 

It is a far more sterile space than Lysithea normally prefers; it reminds her too much of years spent in hospitals, despite being nothing at all like hospitals. Having visited Edelgard's family home many a time however, she knows exactly why Edelgard's personal tastes run away from anything that felt too woodsy or antiquated. 

They each have their own ways of rejecting the past. For Lysithea it's warm cardigans and the pursuit of greater knowledge in the light of her family’s rampant anti-intellectualism. For Edelgard it's one ninety seven stories of glass and long-harboured designs of familial vengeance. 

The moment the elevator doors open, Lysithea steps out into the foyer. There is nobody to greet them.

“What? No butlers?” Hilda whispers in an overly covert voice, poking her head from the elevator and peering around as though scanning for an ambush. “What about snipers? Quick: do you see a red laser dot on my forehead?”

“Oh, stop being such a coward,” Lysithea says, very much aware of her own hypocrisy.

“Says the one who jumps out of her skin when I so much as play the theme song of a horror movie!”

“I’m -! I’m not that bad!”

“I saw you get scared in a Halloween shop once.”

“That’s it. I’m leaving you here.” Lysithea starts to walk further into the penthouse. 

“Noooo! Wait! Wait wait wait!”

Lysithea doesn’t stop. Behind her, she can hear the clack of Hilda’s designer boots. Hilda jogs up beside her so that they walk side by side. “How do you know where to go?”

“Edelgard always stays here when she visits.” 

When they turn a glass corner, they are faced with a long hallway and an ornate double door at the very end. By the door stands a man dressed all in dour black. He looms as they approach, his gaunt face somehow always cast in shadow despite the well lit room. 

Lysithea waves. “Hi, Hubert.”

Hubert greets her with an incline of his head that seems more like a shallow bow than anything else. “Lysithea. I am glad to see you well.”

Hilda leans down to whisper in Lysithea’s ear. “Is this the butler?”

“There are no butlers,” Lysithea says. She thinks for a moment, then adds. “Well, not here, anyway.”

In contrast, Hubert does not incline his head towards Hilda. He glowers, and he is very very good at glowering. As though he practices in the mirror every morning. “Hubert von Vestra. Head of Security, and personal attaché to the Managing Director and Chairman of the Board, Edelgard Hresvelg.” 

Hilda sticks out her hand to introduce herself. "Dr. Hilda Valentine Goneril. Two-time Commonwealth Champion, and Terror of Pub Trivia Night. Nice to meet you."

He lifts a contemptuous eyebrow at her her hand. He does not take it. “I’m afraid I’m going to need to inspect your bag before you are allowed entry.” When Lysithea starts to shrug her bag from her shoulder, he says, “Oh, not you. Just her.”

“Wow.” Hilda says. “Thanks.” 

Still, Hilda hands over her purse. Hubert handles it delicately, as if aware of its fine label. He prods around inside and along the seams. At one point, he lifts a small gold and coral handled switchblade, and shoots Hilda an unimpressed glare. 

Hilda shrugs, completely unapologetic. “A girl’s got the right to peel fruit without getting gross rind under her nails.” 

In answer, Hubert tests the switchblade with an expert twirl of his fingers. He pockets it, and when Hilda makes a wordless whine of complaint, he informs her, “You may have it back upon your departure.” 

Grumbling under her breath, Hilda snatches her bag back from him and slings it over her shoulder. Hubert opens the door for them and ushers them inside. Lysithea grimaces apologetically at Hilda as they walk into the next room. 

There, sunlight blanches the room in pale tones through the broad windows. At the head of a long table, Edelgard sets down a tablet she had been reading, and rises to her feet. She is clad in a militant knee-length scarlet coat with a flair of sumptuous white lining. Somehow she can always make whatever she wears look army-issued, but in a stylish way. Like she had just stepped from a monochromatic 1940s picture and into full colour. 

“Ohh, you’re wearing the new McQueen,” Hilda sighs wistfully over Edelgard’s coat. “Ohhhhh, and it looks so good on you, too.” 

The corner of Edelgard’s mouth curls in amusement, but all she says is a cool, “Thank you. It's nice to finally meet you, Hilda.” 

When Edelgard turns her attention to Lysithea, her face relaxes into a genuine smile. She walks forward to give Lysithea a hug, and murmurs, “You’re right on time.”

“I hope we’re not interrupting your work too much,” Lysithea says, nodding towards the tablet. 

“Oh, that.” Edelgard gives the device a dismissive wave. “Board papers. I’m halfway through the latest financial results, and already bored out of my mind. You saved me. And now I must reward you with tea.”

They move to take their seats, Lysithea at Edelgard’s right hand and Hilda sitting across from them, but Hilda hesitates. She stoops, half-seated, and asks, “Just tea? I thought -? Are we going out for lunch after, or, like -?”

“High tea,” Lysithea says. “There will be food. Snacks. Lots of them.”

“Ohh. Right. Okay.” 

Hilda sits. She fidgets with her purse in her lap for a moment, before dumping it in the seat beside her. The table is long and extends quite a ways beyond them, while they use only a small section of it. It could have easily seated twenty. 

Hubert does not take a seat, but instead hovers in a small patch of shadow cast by a pillar. Close enough that his presence is unquestionably part of the group, but far enough away to not partake.

Sighing, Edelgard glances over at him. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Did we? It must have slipped my mind.”

In answer, Edelgard only gives him a pointed look, then gestures towards one of the empty seats. He relents, and takes the seat directly beside Hilda. As he does so, Hilda not so discreetly clears her throat, and shuffles her own chair a little further away from him. 

“Don’t mind Hubert. He means well,” Edelgard tells Hilda. Her white-gloved hands are neatly clasped atop the table. “I really am glad you could make it. Lysithea’s descriptions pale in comparison to the real thing.”

Hilda hoists her eyebrows up, and she gives Lysithea an amused glance. “Well, then! Lysithea never told me you were such a charmer!”

“Because my charms are completely ineffective where she is concerned.” 

“Difficult to be charming when I’ve seen you covered in vomit,” Lysithea interrupts.

Edelgard makes a face, then explains to Hilda, “Treatment drugs. I cannot in good faith recommend them.”

“Oh, I dunno. I hear the side-effects of ‘living’ are kinda worth it,” Hilda quips. 

“Barely,” Edelgard drawls. She smiles, but her gaze is steady and sharp. “Now, I’d heard you had a range of interests and skills, but I never dreamed that someone would be able to convince Lysithea to actually wear the clothes I send her.”

Lysithea can feel her cheeks burning.

“What can I say?” Hilda runs a hand dramatically through her long hair. “I’m a woman of mystery.”

At that Hubert’s presence seems even more menacing than before. "There are no secrets you have that I do not know, Dr. Goneril. I personally prepared your background docket for the Chairman."

"Which I did not read," Edelgard assures Hilda, then adds. "Mostly."

“Oookay!” Hilda smiles broadly at them, then at Lysithea. “I am officially concerned now!”

Before Lysithea can do anything, a door opens. Two waitstaff emerge from another room, bearing china and triple-tiered trays of bite-sized food. 

As the cups and plates and trays are assembled on the table, Lysithea frowns reprimandingly at Edelgard. “I always try to look nice when visiting your company buildings. They would turn me away at the door otherwise.”

“I know that’s a lie, because I give them your photo with the express orders to admit you.” 

“Well -! It’s -!” Lysithea fumbles for a good counter. “It’s nice to not stick out from the decor sometimes.”

Edelgard’s expression slips into something very sly. “Yes, and I’m sure the makeup is all for my benefit as well.”

Lysithea hunches her shoulders and sinks down a little in her chair. “Alright. Let’s go back to picking on Hilda.”

“Hey!” Hilda mimes throwing her cloth serviette at Lysithea across the table. 

A printed card with the day’s selection of tea is presented to each of them, with assurances that there are other flavours available should they require. Lysithea picks something sweet and apple-flavoured -- a loose leaf that Edelgard always makes sure is in stock when Lysithea visits -- and thanks the wait staff profusely. The gentleman murmurs, and takes the card away once more. 

The other waiter is bowed over Hilda’s shoulder, while she orders a rose blend and also asks, “And do you have any paper napkins I can use as projectiles? It’s really important.”

“Of course.” The waiter takes the card from her. 

“Thanks!”

Neither of the waiters approach Edelgard or Hubert, whose preferences are already so well known that they do not need to be asked. The wait staff disappear behind the door. Casual conversation with a tense undercurrent continues until they return, bearing round trays upon their shoulders, which hold large glass pots. 

The tea leaves steep visibly. There follows a show of pouring the tea, where the waiters fill their cups with each respective flavour from increasing heights, all while not spilling a single drop upon the pristine white tablecloth. Lysithea has already started on the selection of macaroons, unable to resist the temptation of sweets and savoury dishes artfully arrayed before them. 

When the wait staff are gone and the tea half-drunk, Hilda props her elbows indecorously on the table. In one hand she wields a miniature cake that has more layers than most full-sized pastries. A few paper napkins have been set on the table for her. “So, tell me: what’s your secret, Managing Director and Chairman of the Board?”

Lifting cup and saucer between her hands, Edelgard answers with her usual cool composure. “The role of Chairman is heritable due to a rather fortuitous and iron-clad clause in the shareholder’s agreement.”

“And the Managing Director part?” Hilda presses. She takes a bite of the little cake, and her eyes widen. “Oh, shit,” she mumbles around the mouthful. “This is really good.” 

Lysithea nods in agreement, and reaches for another of the little cakes, herself. Silently, Hubert turns the tray that they share so that more of the sweets are angled in her direction.

Edelgard takes her time to sip at her tea, placing the cup back in its saucer. “The role of Managing Director, I admit, I had to wrest for myself. Though I do not claim to handle anything below a strategic level of the business. I have a very competent CEO for that.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call Ferdinand ‘very competent’,” Hubert interjects.

“He keeps up staff morale,” Edelgard says.

“And questions you at every turn.”

“Good. That’s why I pay him such a high salary.”

“Okay, enough with the bullshit. I have a very important question to ask you.” Hilda leans forward and fixes Edelgard with an intense stare. “Do you have childhood photos of Lysithea?”

“Absolutely.” Without hesitation, Edelgard pulls up the tablet that has been sitting at her elbow.

“Now, hang on just a minute -” Lysithea watches in horror as Hilda scoots her chair around so that she can look over Edelgard’s shoulder. 

It’s far too late. Soon, Hilda is making cooing noises and pinching the screen to zoom in on a photo Lysithea can’t see and doesn’t want to see, while Edelgard tells the story behind it. Meanwhile, Lysithea drinks her tea and attempts to staunchly ignore them with as much poise as she can muster. It isn’t nearly enough poise, though, for Hubert grimaces at her in his imitation of a smile, which he only does when he’s trying his very best to show support or be comforting. 

“Shall I call for some refills?” Hubert asks her, his voice as soft as he could make it.

“I’d like that,” Lysithea sighs. 

The other two don’t take any notice as their cups are filled with steaming tea once more. They continue to trawl through Edelgard’s apparently extensive collection of photographs, until Hilda shuffles her chair back over to her place. 

“God, she was a cute kid.” Hilda reaches for one of the savoury pastries. 

Lysithea sinks down a little in her chair. Her face feels aflame. 

Edelgard casts a sidelong glance in Lysithea’s direction. “I see someone hasn’t had a talk with you, yet.”

“What?” Hilda asks.

“So! How about those macaroons!” Lysithea says, a little too loudly. “Did you have one, Hubert? You should, or else they’ll all vanish.”

Indeed, the supply of food has steadily diminished as time goes on. He gamely plays along and plucks a macaroon from the tray. 

Rolling here eyes, Edelgard takes a prim sip of her tea, and murmurs, “Predictable.” 

Still, she allows the conversation to move along, and does not mention it again. They graze. Their cups are refilled. The sun slips towards the horizon, casting the table in warm golden light. Lysithea can’t help but stare as Hilda seems to be illuminated from behind. The flossy rays glint against her earrings, and she sparkles when she laughs. 

Eventually, Hilda scrapes her chair back and rises to her feet. “Alright. I’m going to let you two catch up in peace.” Everyone else had stood when she did. Hilda holds out her hand for Edelgard to shake, which Edelgard does. “Thanks for having me.”

Edelgard smiles, and it’s a genuine smile. It might have been too small a thing for Hilda to notice, but both Lysithea and Hubert exchange silent, incredulous looks. “You are welcome anytime.”

“Don’t say that, or I might just take you up on your offer of a private jet ride.”

“I never offered you a ride in my private jet.”

“No, but you could. Think about it.” 

At that, Edelgard actually lets out a huff of wry laughter. “Good bye, Hilda,” she says, very pointedly.

“Ohh, chilly!” Hilda pretends to shiver, but shoots Edelgard a parting wink before turning to Hubert. One hand on her hip, she holds out the other to him with an expectant look.

Her knife appears between his fingers, and he passes it over. “You might consider leaving it behind next time, Dr. Goneril.”

“Funny. I was going to say the same thing about the stick up your ass, but, you know -” She flutters her eyelashes at him. “We all have our little foibles.”

Hubert gives an amused little chuckle when she taps at his chin with the folded knife handle, but his dark eyes glitter dangerously. 

If Hilda is at all intimidated, she doesn’t show it. She rounds the table and leans down to swiftly press a kiss to Lysithea’s cheek in farewell. “See you tomorrow!”

Lysithea blinks. “Yeah,” she says, slightly dazed. The warmth and softness of Hilda’s cheek lingers against her skin. “See you.”

“Allow me to show you out.” Hubert does not give Hilda the option to refuse, and follows her through the doors.

A silence falls in their absence. Lysithea stares after the barest glimpse of Hilda’s clothes and hair until she and Hubert have disappeared around the corner. When she turns back around, Edelgard has sat back down and lifted her teacup to her lips.

“So?” Lysithea drops into her chair. She awaits Edelgard's final verdict with anticipation.

Edelgard sips at the fragrant earl grey. “You could have done a lot worse.”

[pckarchives]

beneath the cut , you’ll find random tidbits of info that i thought up at unholy hours of the night. took all day but tbh ..... this was therapy. i really said, “i’ll make my own damn self happy,” and it shows.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟏.     ›     alicia marie levesque boyd-whitley.

► hobbies ➔ painting and decoration, primarily. for the most part, this is due to the nostalgia of doing it with her moms. she’s not awful at it, but she’s not van gogh levels of good, either. it’s just for fun, as all things should be. she’s also incredibly creative, so things like renovation ideas come easy to her. she did ballet for several years, but dropped it before she moved to beacon hills. ► social media handles ➔ she’s aleesha on just about everything. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ mostly conventional, with a series of emojis attached to every name. ► favorite color ➔ green. but sea foam-ish green. ► favorite video game ➔ animal crossing new horizons. she’s a simple bitch; she sees cute animals, she plays the damn game. ► favorite song ➔ style by taylor swift. ► favorite scent ➔ pumpkin spice! not to be totally cliché, but that scent is unbeatable. she has a million candles with that scent alone. ► favorite band/artist ➔ taylor swift, of course. ► favorite place to be ➔ nana’s house! ► favorite season ➔ winter! she had so much fun with lucy over this past winter and if that’s the way lucy acts every year for christmas, then alicia looks forward to it! ► favorite word ➔ squishy. ► favorite meme ➔ maybe so.gif ► if they were an animal ➔ cheetah! ► if they were a color ➔ beige. no longer the pure white she once was, but not the tar pit that she could have been, either. a beautiful mixture of purities and imperfections. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *going through the five stages of grief* HHHHHHHHH !!!!! someone just slid in my dms and *voice cracking* this is what they said.... *sobbing* gIRL.... *sniffle* HNNNNNN..... you should sell hoT DOGs.... ‘cause you know how to make a weiner stand. hNNNNNN.... HNNNNN!!!!!! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ shake it off. ► aesthetic ➔ paint-stained overalls, tear tracks covered in glitter and flower petals, crooked fingers snagging the last slice of pizza out the box, thick-framed glasses with the lens popped out, it’s for the aesthetic, sharpie’d converse kicks and open hearts doodled onto the palm of your hand –– darling girl, someone will really love you one day. ► motto ➔ “it really do be like that sometimes.” ► theme song ➔ lights up by harry styles.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟐.     ›     amari rose kent.

► hobbies ➔ writing, mostly out of spite. in middle school, she had a meeting with the principal, during which he told her she was at risk of being expelled, due to how many teachers had issues with her. this was the same principal who told her she would never get anywhere, hanging off of tate’s coattails, so she wrote a 50-page paper in the span of one week, shaming the school for its discrimination and unethical practices when it came to students. instead of giving the paper to the principal, she submitted it to the board of education and got the man fired. not only did the essay make it onto local news, it also got her a scholarship to devenford prep; lucky, since tatum had already been offered a scholarship and was on the verge of turning it down because she wouldn’t go without amari. though she hasn’t spitefully written anything that huge since, she is still not afraid to thinkshame. also dabbles in poetry and collage-making. ► social media handles ➔ amari_rose on twitter and instagram. she surprisingly does not have a snapchat! ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. at best, she’s giving nicknames. ► favorite color ➔ black. ► favorite video game ➔ she doesn’t play video games, so she doesn’t know. ► favorite song ➔ bad guy by billie eilish. ► favorite scent ➔ not to kinkshame, but.... leather. ► favorite band/artist ➔ billie eilish, she is not ashamed! ► favorite place to be ➔ wherever tate and owen are, honestly. ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ bullshit. ► favorite meme ➔ thA’TS MY OPINION !!!! ► if they were an animal ➔ panther. ► if they were a color ➔ silver. black is a hard color to obtain and she hardly comes close. she’s got all the darkness she doesn’t need, but the world put that in her. still, she’s close to light, too; close to breathing in sunlight. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ to the mIDDLE SCHOOL TEACHER –– yes, YOU, you know who you are –– who said EYE would never be shit, LOOK AT ME NOW, WHORE ! LOOK AT ME NOW .... not shit. and HOW YOU LIKE IT ? *twerks belligerently* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔  sad beautiful tragic. ► aesthetic ➔ messily chopped hair in the bathroom sink, tongue poked out to lick ketchup off of nimble fingers, rushed words in a lost diary, a bottle drifting out at sea, cigarette smoke and tequila-coated daydreams, harsh breaths in and out and in and out, bruised knuckles and bleeding lips, we’re not done here. ► motto ➔ “chin up, chest out.” ► theme song ➔ all the good girls go to hell by billie eilish. alternatively, kiwi by harry styles.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟑.     ›     camden wesley layton lahey.

► hobbies ➔ he took up woodworking a few years back. therapy and whatnot. he likes making little birds and figurines out of wood, keeps a box of them in his nightstand. ► social media handles ➔ he’s not on social media! he’s old, leave him alone. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ very conventional. again, he’s old, leave him! ► favorite color ➔ grassy green. ► favorite video game ➔ he’s always going to be a sucker for mario party. that game is unfairly frustrating, but he would ride or die for it. ► favorite song ➔ i of the storm by of monsters and men. ► favorite scent ➔ peppermint! it used to make him sick, because it’s such a strong smell, but it’s now his absolute favorite thing in the world. ► favorite band/artist ➔ gorillaz. ► favorite place to be ➔ he honestly prefers closed spaces? tight spaces where he can see every corner, every entrance, every exit, every tile on the floor. whenever he starts panicking, he will sneak away to the nearest closet or something. ► favorite season ➔ spring. rebirth, babyyy. ► favorite word ➔ dammit. ► favorite meme ➔ it’s free real estate. ► if they were an animal ➔ german shepard. ► if they were a color ➔ light pink. this strange mix between the pure white of being a blank slate and the awful red of having spilled more blood than he can even remember. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ AWWWWWWW 😍😍 awww, i’m gonna die alone 🤗🤗🤗 awww !!! i’m never gonna know what it’s like to be LOVED, AWWWWWW !!!! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ holy ground. ► aesthetic ➔ sweat-dotted skin, racing heart, jingling dog tags, checking the locks on the door once and then again and then again and once more just to be sure, hesitant hands and wet eyes, a smile that’s easy even when nothing else is, sunlight pouring in through a cracked window, a step closer to an answer, five steps back. ► motto ➔ “sure, jan.” ► theme song ➔ clint eastwood by gorillaz.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟒.     ›     charles gerard argent.

► hobbies ➔ someone should tell him that working out isn’t a personality trait, but it really is his hobby. your depression can’t catch up to you, if you’re getting these gainz. ► social media handles ➔ he’s charliecharlie on everything, because he’s funny. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ it used to be creative, but man, that depression hit him hard and he switched to conventional. ► favorite color ➔ white. ► favorite video game ➔ fortnite, shut the fuck up, liam, he doesn’t want to hear it. ► favorite song ➔ perfect ruin by kwabs. ► favorite scent ➔ salt water. ► favorite band/artist ➔ clairo. ► favorite place to be ➔ at the beach. he takes frequent drives up to the closest beach, ► favorite season ➔ summer. beach time! all the time! ► favorite word ➔ yeet. ► favorite meme ➔ y E E T. ► if they were an animal ➔ raven. ► if they were a color ➔ a myriad of colors; there are so many facets to charlie and until he figures out exactly where he is in life, he’s going to keep creating a puddle of colors. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *dancing and singing to the tune of under the sea* ptsd 🤪 anxiety 🤪 crippling depression, there is no question, you should kill me !! let me be with HARAMBE 😤✊ i feel like shit every day ! i’m asking nicely, do it by drowning, under da sea 🌊🌊 ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ getaway car. ► aesthetic ➔ that damnable water’s edge, the view from the top of a mountain, gnawed fingernails and scraped skin, 11:11 and back again, holstered knives and picturesque smiles, droplets of blood spilled into cold coffee, palm grazing the door to happiness but not quite opening it yet ––– another day and you might just make it. ► motto ➔ “que ce sang protège ceux qui ne peuvent se protéger.” ► theme song ➔ broken bones by kaleo.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟓.     ›     cora vienna hale.

► hobbies ➔ lowkey has a love of mechanics. she doesn’t trust anyone else to repair her bike, so she learned how to do it herself. also learned how to fix cars, because scott is always messing his up. also still plays soccer when she has the time. ► social media handles ➔ she’s just corahale on everything. it’s more “professional” than what she had before. which was... a series of expletives that made lydia blush. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, unless she really hates you. then she can get creative. ► favorite color ➔ black. ► favorite video game ➔ detroit: become human. ► favorite song ➔ hold on just a little while longer from d:bh. luther snapped. ► favorite scent ➔ pinecones. ► favorite band/artist ➔ bryson tiller. ► favorite place to be ➔ the hale house. it feels good to be able to go there again and not be assaulted with all of the reminders of what she lost. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ buttercup. look her in the eye and tell her it’s not the cutest word you’ve ever heard. exactly, you can’t. ► favorite meme ➔ looks into the camera like she’s on the office. ► if they were an animal ➔ lion. ► if they were a color ➔ gold. pure and beautiful; maybe not innocent, maybe not for everyone. but royal and bold and unrelenting. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ sO... .i just went to starbucks and i got my iced coffee and i was standing in line and these little girls were looking at me. *sniff* and i was like, “okay, funny joke.” so i, um, i’m s–– i’m waiting for my coffee, uh, at starbucks, and these other little girls were just, like, LOOKING AT ME and they kept on staring and then this DAD kept on looking and then he kept on staring. and *uncomfortable laughter* ....... *more laughter* ..... *turns on music* *keeps laughing* *turns music off* what kind of sick fucking joke ? .... *uncomfortable shrugging* ...i EXIST ? *more laughter* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ clean. ► aesthetic ➔ a horrid red fire meets a river of blue, gasoline stains on faded tees, an unexpected smile on a rainy day, the way the forest breathes after a rainstorm, skintight dresses and haughty gazes, a smirk that rests for no one, the innocence of a white wolf in a prom dress. ► motto ➔ “flectere si nequeo superos, acheronta movebo.” ► theme song ➔ big god by florence and the machine. alt. the man by taylor swift.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟔.     ›     daniel nahele mahealani.

► hobbies ➔ he no longer loves hacking or music, because... whew, high school killed everything he cared about. mostly sticks to being lydia’s dress up doll. ► social media handles ➔ he’s d-annyboy on all things, because it’s easy! ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, unless he’s trying to hide something from jackson and lydia. lydia is not afraid to go through his phone, which he genuinely doesn’t mind, that’s why she knows all of his passwords and stuff. but he does not need her to know how many guys he’s fucked that she didn’t like, he’s not here for the lectures. ► favorite color ➔ red. ► favorite video game ➔ wii sports still outsells, he is not taking criticism or debate on this topic. ► favorite song ➔ magic in the hamptons by social house. ► favorite scent ➔ hot chocolate. ► favorite band/artist ➔ childish gambino. ► favorite place to be ➔ at the risk of being gay, wherever theo is. ► favorite season ➔ autumn. ► favorite word ➔ pack. he loves feeling loved, sue him. ► favorite meme ➔ kermit spreading his asshole. ► if they were an animal ➔ elephant. ► if they were a color ➔ orange; just on the cusp of happiness, but always holding back. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ hEY GUYS, i’m just really co–– really confused, ‘cause what does fall have to do with fuckboys 🧐🤔 ‘cause I’VE been fucking boys .... EVERY MONTH, winter, fucking februarymarchaprilmay, june, december... dULY ... *someone taps on the trunk of the car* *looks back* ...that’s my dad *frantic zoom-in* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ afterglow. ► aesthetic ➔ scar-littered skin and callused hands, abandoned hobbies and hopes and dreams, all stashed to the back of the infamous closet, dimples cheeked and optimistic eyes, high school jerseys folded in the drawer, letterman jackets treated like sacrosanct, the memory of when things were simpler and the rain didn’t last so long.  ► motto ➔ “this could be worse.” ► theme song ➔ clementine by halsey.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟕.     ›     derek alexander hale.

► hobbies ➔ book collecting. as their lives continue to not make sense, he collects books on any and every odd ‘myth’ out there and just waits for the day it comes in handy. ► social media handles ➔ lydia has made him dhale on everything, because he’s boring. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ very conventional. he now has a lock on every app in his phone, because fiona and lydia will happily break into his phone to change his contacts, if he’s not careful. ► favorite color ➔ black. ► favorite video game ➔ he doesn’t often play video games, but he will school these youngsters in a game of yahtzee! ► favorite song ➔ when doves cry by prince. ► favorite scent ➔ something baking in the oven. ► favorite band/artist ➔ prince. no, he is not talking about it. ► favorite place to be ➔ the hale house, when the entire pack is there. close second is the loft, when everyone is there. he’ll complain until he’s blue in the face, but everyone knows he’s secretly weak for that. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ no. ► favorite meme ➔ blinking white guy. ► if they were an animal ➔ i... a wolf. ► if they were a color ➔ tree bark brown; steady and stern and stable. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *standing at the bathroom door, glaring* if it breaks. one more time. don’t ––– shut your mouth. if it breaks while i’m sleeping, i will grab you by the neck and shove you down the shower drain. *continues to glare* ......... i’m going to take my shower now. *slowly and threateningly closes the door* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ daylight. ► aesthetic ➔ shattered handcuffs, ashes spread across the floor, delayed inhales and painful exhales, a pool of flowers at your feet ––– begin again. ► motto ➔ “no.” ► theme song ➔ sinnerman by nina simone.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟖.     ›     dominic joseph kim.

► hobbies ➔ yoga, meditation, brewery, skin and haircare routines, and swimming! a king stays busy. ► social media handles ➔ he’s domkimi on snapchat, instagram and twitter, but he’s baddiebbarbietingz on reddit. he has a tumblr account, but he refuses to tell the pack what his username is. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ creative. feel free to look through his phone, but good fucking luck figuring out who is who. ► favorite color ➔ gold. ► favorite video game ➔ sims 4. he gets the chance to actually build a sustainable life? with a family? in a house? with cheat codes? and love? and aliens? and lovers who become plants? sign him the fuck up. ► favorite song ➔ would you mind by prettymuch. good form by nicki minaj is a close runner-up. ‘cause he do, in fact, be the baddie b barbie tingz banging body b, everybody be on his d, cause he gotta be in reality–– ► favorite scent ➔ pizza! if it’s not good for you, why does it smell so good? make it make sense. ► favorite band/artist ➔ prettymuch. ► favorite place to be ➔ tate’s lab! it’s where he and owen do most of their brewing, aside from their field trips to the greenhouse to get more ingredients. it’s basically where dominic does his best and calmest work. close second is his own apartment, because he does yoga in the living room each morning. ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ cecelia. ► favorite meme ➔ who said that.gif. ► if they were an animal ➔ a turtle! specifically, one of the turtles from finding nemo. ► if they were a color ➔ blue. calm and collected. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ so i said i’m a switch on tiktok, right ? and now all these ladies are comin’ out of the woodwork like, “hey, i got a strap-on and a dog collar with your name on it ! ” 😳😳 and i’m like... you put my name on it ? 😍👉👈  /// alternatively: theee necklace my boyfriend bought me just came in the mail *zoom in on necklace* ....I’M my boyfriend ! i bought this for myself ! EEE *excited grin* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ style. ► aesthetic ➔ the push and pull of a tidal wave, a dash of eyeliner here and a bit of mascara there, collared shirts and wrinkled jeans, overrated pop over a bluetooth speaker, a fascination with milkshakes and musicals, a heart that beats out of rhythm but never misses a step. ► motto ➔ “the birds work for the bourgeoisie.” ► theme song ➔ good thing by zedd and kehlani.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟎𝟗.     ›     elliot james aldridge.

► hobbies ➔ aside from his bathtub poetry and crime, he has revived his love of cooking and music. is masterful at the piano, guitar and harp, dabbles in cello and flute. he likes his music pretty, okay, sue him. ► social media handles ➔ redacted by the fcc. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ depends on how much he likes you! if you’re kosher, you get a creative name. if not... you get your own name. ► favorite color ➔ blood red. unironically. ► favorite video game ➔ he’s a poker man, but if he has to choose a video game, meet him in super smash brothers. ► favorite song ➔ say so by doja cat. ► favorite scent ➔ blood. ► favorite band/artist ➔ hozier. ► favorite place to be ➔ no offense, but the french quarter in new orleans. ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ self-care. ► favorite meme ➔ why would you say something so controversial, yet so brave? ► if they were an animal ➔ hyena. one of the asshole ones from lion king. ► if they were a color ➔ red. he’s not hiding that. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ i’m not falling, i’m not falling, i’m not falling, i’m not falling, i’mnotfallingi’mnotfallingi’mnotfalling, i’m not f a l l i n g, i’m not FALLING, i’m not falling, i’m not falling, i’m not fALLING....... !! *deep breath* oKAY, i’m falling. /// alternative: the oNLY reason i have not destroyed the world is because i have not had ice cream in a while, i want some ice cream. but tRUST ME, when i get some ice cream ? your ass is grass and i’m the lawn mower ! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ ready for it? ► aesthetic ➔ a hoop of sterling silver, initials carved into dying trees, tempting eyes and a charming smile, cufflinks left on the nightstand, a prison cell and a funny story, top three buttons left undone, far too aware for his own damn good. ► motto ➔ "excuse me, i'm new in town and it gets worse." ► theme song ➔ sunlight by hozier.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟎.     ›     erica juliet reyes.

► hobbies ➔ tracking deucalion and peter, for one thing, but that’s more of a job than anything else. does raving count as a hobby? she’s officially taken up rock climbing, by the way. a huge slap in the face to her epilepsy. ► social media handles ➔ she changes her handles frequently, because she’s indecisive, she can’t decide–– but she’s currently reyofsunshine on everything. shoutout to fiona. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ creative and often explicit! ► favorite color ➔ sand brown, don’t @ her. ► favorite video game ➔ until dawn. understand the palm of my hand, bitch.... jesus hot sauce christmas cake.... what were you tweeting, hashtag there’s a freaking ghost after us? your fave could never! ► favorite song ➔ hot girl bummer by blackbear. ► favorite scent ➔ lucy or fee’s baking. she’ll come home just for that. ► favorite band/artist ➔ blackbear. ► favorite place to be ➔ at a party. she’s very into raves. ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ motherfucker. ► favorite meme ➔ respect the drip, karen. ► if they were an animal ➔ a horse. enticingly beautiful but will also kill you. ► if they were a color ➔ gold. not as pure as cora’s gold, but twice as inviting. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ all i’m gonna say is that i didn’t take ap classes in high school, escape the friend zone, graduate with honors, get cheated on, go to college, mentally deteriorate, become addicted to nicotine, sign a year lease, drop a sorority, fail chemistry and dye my hair purple, just to cry over the frat boy leaving me on read that smokes weed for breakfast, lunch and dinner 💁🏼 ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ false god. ► aesthetic ➔ push-up bras covered in black lace, smeared lipstick against the bathroom mirror, jeans that leave nothing to the imagination, a wolf that lies in wait and fears no god, the epitome of poison. ► motto ➔ “meanwhile, back at the ranch...” ► theme song ➔ needed me by rihanna.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟏.     ›     fiona evelyn porter.

► hobbies ➔ baking, pinterest, cheer, volleyball and softball. truly depends on the season. ► social media handles ➔ feezypeezyporter stays true to her brand. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ creative! her contact ids are indecipherable, the only people who can understand them are katie and cass. dom gave up. ► favorite color ➔ light green and light pink! ► favorite video game ➔ beat saber! ► favorite song ➔ love again by carly rae jepsen. ► favorite scent ➔ is.... is it gay to say cass? ► favorite band/artist ➔ carly rae jepsen. ► favorite place to be ➔ the loft! it really is her happiest place. alternatively, wherever cass is, ‘cause that’s home, babey! ► favorite season ➔ spring! baby sticks to her brand. ► favorite word ➔ braggadocio. how on EARTH is that a real word? ► favorite meme ➔ let me see what you have. a kNIFE! NO! ► if they were an animal ➔ cardinal. ► if they were a color ➔ green. the color of grass, covering everything, everything, everything. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *crying and sipping tea* it... is ver .... very b... bold of you to assume ............. ! *pained smile*  /// alternatively: ONE OF YOU FAT BITCHES UNFOLLOWED ME !!! *manic laughter* i’m not mad, but like...... *climbs onto bathroom sink and leans in very close* what was the last straw ? ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ me! ► aesthetic ➔ bare lips passing over green leaves, a lullaby to a struggling orchid, spanks and sweat drops and a desperate need for approval, a digital scale blinking red numbers back at you, pills of white and blue and yellow, maybe tomorrow you’ll be happy again. ► motto ➔ “team work makes the dream work!” ► theme song ➔ work this out from the high school musical 2 soundtrack.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟐.     ›     hayden louisa romero.

► hobbies ➔ she has a love of sports. got into lacrosse before her imprisonment, though she was a little too fragile to play a real game. was a soccer star as a kid. also puts on glamour shows for the kids and the dogs, if they ask. ► social media handles ➔ she doesn’t have social media. imprisonment tingz. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. at best, you get an emoji or two at the end of your name. ► favorite color ➔ ocean blue. ► favorite video game ➔ will forever be weak for pokémon. ► favorite song ➔ 1985 by bowling for soup. timeless. ► favorite scent ➔ french vanilla. ► favorite band/artist ➔ she’s getting into melanie martinez. ► favorite place to be ➔ bias goes to being with the ito pack, but the preserve is pretty much paradise. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ covenant. ► favorite meme ➔ and i oop––– ► if they were an animal ➔ manta ray. harmless babey. ► if they were a color ➔ prism clear. a maze of reflections, but so fucking breakable. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ you mess with ME ? w ..... ! y...... ! *vague hand movements* you probably aren’t gonna experience any problems, because i’m afraid of confrontation !! /// alternative: *struggling to place lamp inside of another lamp* i JUST TOOK A TEN HOUR NAP ??? *panic* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ it’s nice to have a friend. ► aesthetic ➔ scars lifted among tanned skin, wary glances to read every room, crop tops floating above your belly, a lack of cares for a world that cares a little too much, marked skin and glossed lips, wanna make a deal with an angel? ► motto ➔ “my priority is me.” ► theme song ➔ i know by pink sweat$.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟑.     ›     judith wendy mayer-argent.

► hobbies ➔ biking! she does it primarily for work, but she also does it for fun. also, huge gamer. and protestor. baby keeps busy. ► social media handles ➔ mayerjude. she can make so many jokes out of her own last name, don’t tempt her. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ creative! unless it’s someone important or authoritative. then they get their own name. ► favorite color ➔ sunshine yellow. ► favorite video game ➔ fornite. ► favorite song ➔ sunday candy by donnie trumpet and the social experiment. ► favorite scent ➔ cupcakes! the frosting! the delicacy! ► favorite band/artist ➔ maroon 5. ► favorite place to be ➔ in the middle of a protest, rally or march. if she’s not in action, then what is she doing? ► favorite season ➔ spring. ► favorite word ➔ audit. ► favorite meme ➔ surprised pikachu. ► if they were an animal ➔ dolphin. ► if they were a color ➔ sunset orange. no, i will not elaborate. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *walking down the street* so we were peer reviewing papers in one of my classes aaaand this girl goes, “you use some FANCY LANGUAGE ! ” and i was like, “what word ? ” and she was like, “perpetuate.” .........on GOD, we gon’ get you a dictionary. ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ don’t blame me. ► aesthetic ➔ sunflowers pushing up from freshly dug graves, a smile away to keep the doctors away, sprained wrists wrapped in inappropriate laughter, bruised knuckles and black eyes, drink in hand, swinging your hips to that voicemail left by your toxic ex-boyfriend. ► motto ➔ “just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming, swimming, swimming...” ► theme song ➔ modern love by david bowie.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟒.     ›     kali kaira laghari.

► hobbies ➔ knitting. she has abandoned all of her self-care and therapy ideals, now knits and talks to ghosts. mind ya business. ► social media handles ➔ she’s not on social media, either. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. she has no times for games. ► favorite color ➔ red. she’s a scorpio, what do you expect? ► favorite video game ➔ not to be controversial, but she’ll take mortal kombat any day. ► favorite song ➔ nintendo game by alessia cara. ► favorite scent ➔ tea! ► favorite band/artist ➔ alessia cara. ► favorite place to be ➔ aside from wherever rohan is, she prefers the bookstore. confrontations aside, it’s a very small space, quiet and relaxing. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ goddess. and yes, for exactly the reason you think. ► favorite meme ➔ as a treat. ► if they were an animal ➔ scorpion. ► if they were a color ➔ smoky grey. everything’s a little hazy with this one. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *staring at the food on the table, slowly losing her mind while everyone else argues over murder* *holds head in hands* *bangs hands on table repeatedly, screaming* WHAT ARE WE THANKFUL FOR !!! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ i did something bad. ► aesthetic ➔ cross-legged sitting in the middle of the road, waiting for a new thrill, fingertips grazing the harsh blade beneath your skirt, popcorn and wine with a man you could’ve loved if you were both a little less fucked up, a question that should never be answered, a world-view that should never be defiled –––– and you did it all. ► motto ➔ “i don’t need permission or advice; just help.” ► theme song ➔ simmer by hayley williams. you should see me in a crown by billie eilish.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟓.     ›     kira fuyuko yukimura.

► hobbies ➔ she trains to keep herself calm. often talks with her fox nowadays; she wants to build trust. and given that kira is doing fuck all to deal with her issues, she needs someone to talk to her. she and her fox get along a lot better these days. she also runs, practices lacrosse maneuvers on her own and plays with lightbulbs.  ► social media handles ➔ she’s a simple woman: kyuki. cut the fluff, cut the extraness. also, kyuki is what she’s named her fox.  ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, save for people who warrant a creative one. aka those whose names she doesn’t know. you would be surprised at how many there are. ► favorite color ➔ purple. ► favorite video game ➔ also a fan of animal crossing! ► favorite song ➔ ahead of myself by the ambassadors. ► favorite scent ➔ cinnamon. ► favorite band/artist ➔ the ambassadors. ► favorite place to be ➔ it’s dorky to say, but she likes being with her parents! they’re still in new york, so she doesn’t get that chance as much. however, her second favorite place to be is.... her bed. ► favorite season ➔ autumn. ► favorite word ➔ poppy. ► favorite meme ➔ guess i’ll die.png ► if they were an animal ➔ truly a fox. ► if they were a color ➔ steel blue. baby is electric. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ i might be a BIG, DUMB, GAY BITCH ................ !! *smirks at camera* ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ cruel summer. ► aesthetic ➔ a thunderstorm in your bedroom, leather gloves pulled over dainty hands, quick footwork and sly gazes, untied shoe laces dragging across the floor, leggings beneath skirts, quiet meditation before bed, sharp teeth poking into bruised lips. ► motto ➔ “yeah, this isn’t weird at all.” ► theme song ➔ fall in line by christina aguilera and demi lovato.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟔.     ›     liam stephen dunbar.

► hobbies ➔ lacrosse no longer counts as a hobby, considering he made it his entire life. does training with allison count as a hobby? does texting gwen bad jokes count? ‘cause that’s all he does, my guy. ► social media handles ➔ he’s dvnbcr on everything. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, until fiona gets her hands on his phone and changes his ids again. ► favorite color ➔ red. ► favorite video game ➔ he’s that guy who plays all of the 2k nba games. like, he has to stan. ► favorite song ➔ i don’t care by fall out boy. ► favorite scent ➔ turf. he’s a loser, what do you expect? ► favorite band/artist ➔ fall out boy and kendrick lamar are tied. ► favorite place to be ➔ the lacrosse field. he does not stray from his brand. ► favorite season ➔ autumn. lax season! ► favorite word ➔ shit. fuck is a close runner-up. ► favorite meme ➔ i’ve won.... but at what cost? ► if they were an animal ➔ rhinoceros.  ► if they were a color ➔ gray; that perfect intersection between white and black, good and bad, wolf and bomb. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *talking to his mom while she’s watching tv.* hey, mom? will you pause that? you know that guy i’m talking to is 6′4″? can’t wait to get my shit wrecked. so you are a bottom. ...wait. okay, i.... that’s not what you’re supposed to say! what am i supposed to say? don’t –– not that! *goes to sit next to her* i’m 👏 not 👏 a 👏 bottom 👏. bullshit. *confused look of betrayal* is this legal? have you ever done anything for anybody else? no, you’re a taker. /// alternatively: *trying to start a fire* hope so ! you gonna let the fire breathe or you gonna fuckin’ suffocate it ? i will end your goddamn short ass piece of shit useless life. ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ this is why we can’t have nice things. ► aesthetic ➔ a rage that you can never quite tame, hand broken from too many punches, the green of fresh cut grass, car mileage piling up, miles and miles and miles left to go, bashful smiles and reddened skin. kid, you’re not nearly as bad as you think you are. ► motto ➔ “i blame scott.” ► theme song ➔ dr. whoever by aminé.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟕.     ›     lydia charlene martin.

► hobbies ➔ sewing clothes, throwing parties, picking up new languages, ruling the world, saving this pack from falling apart, doing everything in this goddamn house! ► social media handles ➔ queenlydia, but who’s surprised? ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ convention meets creativity in lydia’s phone. everyone has their first name, with a lord/lady/duke/duchess/etc. attached to it. jackson is the only one with king, obviously. you know you’re in trouble when she attaches peasant to your name. good luck climbing your way back up the ladder. ► favorite color ➔ pink. ► favorite video game ➔ not to be controversial, but dead by daylight is that bitch. ► favorite song ➔ honey by kesha. ► favorite scent ➔ strawberries. ► favorite band/artist ➔ kesha. ► favorite place to be ➔ in jackson’s arms, she is not taking that back. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ throne and jackson are tied. ► favorite meme ➔ why are you booing me? i’m right! ► if they were an animal ➔ swan. ► if they were a color ➔ purple. royalty is not a game, kids. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ not a vine or tiktok, but yes, it’s me 💅🏽 & you guys are mad about it ohmygod i make y’all feel that 🤢 well, i just wanted to pop up here & show y'all how i'm doing ! i'm doing great. i'm looking great, i'm feeling great, y'know 💇🏽 i'm obviously over here very booked & busy, while you bitches over here are still looking raggedy & not doing shit ! hahaha ! WOW ! 💁🏽 but anyway, um, i just wanted to let y'all know i'm not going anywhere. so talk your shit, you shitholes ! you can't defeat a bad bitch ! you just cannot do that ! i rise above that ! EW 🤮 so i just wanted to say hey ! & that i'm here to stayyy ! & you gon' be mad everydayyy ! HAHAHA ! SUCCESS ! ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ paper rings. ► aesthetic ➔ a crown that fits just perfect, newly manicured nails, breakfasts at tiffany’s and on decorated balconies, the picture on the altar, damp curls and loose braids, tight dresses and sinful heels, brave but never fearless. ► motto ➔ “i’m lydia fucking martin.” ► theme song ➔ okay, okay by alessia cara.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟖.     ›     scott lucas mccall.

► hobbies ➔ video games! he also likes helping the pack renovate whenever they decide to. though he has put fiona on a limit. after she redesigned her room five times in two weeks, he finally had to put his foot down. ► social media handles ➔ he is the most disorganized of the bunch. he’s scootermccall on snapchat, scottymccall on instagram, scotthewmccall on twitter because he’s weak for whatever fiona asks. it’s a mess, but he’s not changing. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional, but with lots of emojis to show he cares. ► favorite color ➔ red. ► favorite video game ➔ he wants to say mario kart, because that’s his and lucy’s thing and, um, he’s in love with her. but other than that! life is strange. he hasn’t figured out how to win yet, but gosh dammit, that’s not going to stop him from trying.  ► favorite song ➔ dna by lia marie johnson. ► favorite scent ➔ lucy’s perfume! ► favorite band/artist ➔ panic! at the disco. ► favorite place to be ➔ at the vet! he’s so happy when he’s around animals and it feels good to know that he’s helping these animals get better? ► favorite season ➔ summer. ► favorite word ➔ lucy. ► favorite meme ➔ i’ll be honest, i can’t read. ► if they were an animal ➔ golden retriever. ► if they were a color ➔ yellow. speaks for itself. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ i had an essay that was due at 11:59. instead of being a smart, responsible student, i decided to wait until 11:40 .... to START my essay. i finished the essay on time. but the gag is............. it was a five-page essay. and i got it done in sixteen minutes. *dancing* they gon’ hate me regardless, that’s why i do what i do ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ state of grace. ► aesthetic ➔ a lighthouse drawing in the lost, the open door of a sunken ship, wrongly buttoned plaid shirts, clumsy fingers and stumbling feet, saddened eyes that follow healing hands, the suspension of disbelief ––– whatever that means. ► motto ➔ “everything will work out!” ► theme song ➔ only the young by taylor swift.

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝟎𝟎𝟏𝟗.     ›     tatum coretta bellfleur.

► hobbies ➔ nanotech mechanics! she learned as a way to make things for owen and amari that they couldn’t afford to buy. won a few competitions, got a few scholarships, got into programs that taught her how to do greater things than she’d ever imagined. took up baton twirling at devenford, but gave it up when she got to college. fiona is trying to convince her take it up again next year. ► social media handles ➔ she’s tatertot on everything, courtesy of one judith mayer. ► conventional or creative contact ids ➔ conventional. keep it simple, thanks. ► favorite color ➔ silver! it’s so pretty. ► favorite video game ➔ death stranding. no, she will not elaborate. ► favorite song ➔ mo money mo problems by notorious b.i.g.  ► favorite scent ➔ flowers! ► favorite band/artist ➔ tupac. yes, she is that bitch. ► favorite place to be ➔ her lab. ► favorite season ➔ winter. ► favorite word ➔ free. ► favorite meme ➔ you know i had to do it to ‘em. ► if they were an animal ➔ doe. ► if they were a color ➔ white. no matter how much she hates being protected, she’s the picture of purity. ► if they were a vine/tiktok ➔ *sitting in front of a mirror.* maybe.......... i’m the problem 🤨 ► if they were a taylor swift song ➔ out of the woods. ► aesthetic ➔ a blanket of snow covering the grime and pain of yesterday, contained explosions and soft humming, tight ponytails breaking cheap rubber bands, tongue poking out the side of your mouth, the sun peeking through the slits of your blinds, wondering where you’ve been these last couple’a days. ► motto ➔ “i’ve lived through this before, i’ll live through it again.” ► theme song ➔ 100 years by florence and the machine.

[harley-sunday]

The Draw (02)

Summary: The whirlwind starts at the 2018 ACE Comic Con in Phoenix but you’re not sure where it will end...

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x reader

Warnings: Language.

Word count: 3336

AN: For those of you have been around a little longer - this story was originally published on my secondary blog Leijona Writes, but then taken down again, so you may have already read it :) Either way, please let me know what you think! I don’t have a taglist, but if you follow Harley Sunday x Sebastian Stan you should see any update I post. Masterlist

Your heart starts beating a little faster and you wonder if it’s really him, and just as you’re about to tap the notification to open the email, your boss calls and all of a sudden you find yourself trying to solve a shitstorm of epic proportions because one of your colleagues forgot to submit a document due this morning. You work your ass of trying to make things right so that by ten-thirty you get to call your boss to let her know that the problem is solved and that you’re heading out. She praises your work and promises she’ll cover your overtime, but she’s made promises like that before and you have yet to see any compensation so you shrug it off and tell her you’ll see her again on Monday.

At least the drive home is quick this time of night, with almost no traffic, but by the time you get home you’re so tired that you head straight to bed, completely forgetting about the email you were supposed to read and the presents you were supposed to order.

When you wake up that Saturday it’s close to noon, but you feel a bit better and decide to make the most of your weekend, treating yourself to a breakfast downtown before hitting the shops to spend some money on things you don’t really need. You even manage to find two presents for Jake at the local comic store, one of them a Winter Soldier figurine. It’s then your mind flashes back to yesterday and you mumble a quiet “Shit” when you realize you haven’t read the email yet.

You decide to head back to the same place you had breakfast at this morning, but this time you order a cappuccino and find a quiet table in a corner somewhere, turning your phone over in your hand absentmindedly as you wait for the waitress to bring you your drink. You smile at her once she does and take a deep breath, unlocking your phone and pulling up your email app, your finger hovering over the subject line for a second before you press down and the email opens.

Dear (Y/N),

First of all let me apologize for taking such a long time to reply. It’s been almost three months since Comic Con and while your email was forwarded to me shortly after I wanted to sit down and write a proper reply rather than a rushed and meaningless ‘Thank you for your email’.

But honesty, thank you for your email :)

And of course I remember meeting Jake and you, I think your photo shoot was the most fun I had that day - so thank you for that! You two seem to have a great bond and I think any kid would be lucky to have an aunt like you. I feel bad for the kids who bullied him, because they missed out on having a great friend. Will you please tell Jake that the Winter Soldier has his back no matter what?

Anthony and I both think Jake was the real superhero of that day, helping us out when Captain America bailed on us, and we would therefore like to invite both Jake, his parents and you to the premiere of Infinity War in Los Angeles. Someone from Marvel Studios will contact you by email later this week to send you all the information.

I really hope you can make it, maybe we even get to take another picture for your wall ;)

Thanks again for reaching out, I’ll see you in L.A.!

- Sebastian

You stare at your screen, letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding before a smile creeps on your face. You read the email again and you let out a quiet “Oh my God,” when you realize Sebastian just made sure you get to give Jake the coolest birthday present ever.

You want to call your brother to tell him the news, but you make yourself wait until you get home, just to calm yourself down enough that you won’t be rambling when you talk to him. You order another cappuccino, the smile not leaving your face and you’re sure the waitress thinks you’re a little strange but honestly you don’t care.

“Hey loser,”

“You’re the loser,” you counter automatically and you smile when you hear your brother chuckle on the other end.

“What’s up?” he asks. “You find anything for Jake’s birthday yet?”

“Yup,” you answer with a smile, letting yourself fall down on your couch, propping your feet up on the coffee table, “Once again, I am the best aunt ever.”

You hear your brother sigh, “What did you do now?”

“Hey,” you say, a little offended. “But ok, listen, after we went to Comic Con I sent an email to Sebastian Stan’s agency, just to thank him for taking the time for us that day, you know?” You wait for your brother to say something, but he stays quiet so you continue, “Well, he emailed back yesterday and invited the four of us to the world premier of Infinity War!”

“Huh,”

“Huh?” you echo, sitting up now because you can feel an argument coming.

“I’m not crazy about this idea,” your brother says.

“Why?”

“Ok, don’t get mad, but last week Jake asked us why we never take him anywhere fun,” he clears his throat, “Sarah took it pretty hard when he said that it’s always you he gets to do fun stuff with,”

“Nate-” you try, but he continues before you have a chance to say anything else.

“I just think that maybe taking him to Comic Con was enough for a while, you know? I mean, it was Legoland last year, SeaWorld the year before that, the kid’s not even eight yet, I think it’s all bit much, and flying to Los Angeles just for a premiere, I don’t know,”

“But it’s all of us, Nate,” you argue, “You and Sarah get to come too, we could make a weekend out of it-”

“Don’t.” He sighs. “Listen, we haven’t told Jake, but things aren’t going great at work right now, ok? Money’s kind of tight and I just, we can’t go.”

You know better than to offer to help out financially, because he nearly bit your head off that time you suggested you’d pay for a trip to Disneyland for all four of you. Instead you try to change his mind one last time, “Can’t I just take Jake then? I promise I won’t plan anything else until he’s at least ten.”

“No,” he says in a way that tells you he’s not going to give in, “and I would really appreciate it if you would just let this go. I’m using my older brother card for this one.”

“Fine,” you grumble, knowing you’ve lost this round. “I’ll see you next weekend then?”

“Yeah, party starts at two,”

“Alright,” you sigh, “See you then.”

You hear him mumble a quiet “Bye,” before he ends the call and you lean back, tapping your phone against your chin as you try to understand your brother’s point of view. And honestly, you know he’s making a valid point, because you do spoil Jake, and it’s not just with these annual trips but also with movie nights and whatever else you can think of that a seven-year old would want to do. Now guilty about making Sarah feel bad you remind yourself to talk to her next Saturday, because you really don’t want to let this come between your sister-in-law and you.  

You send your brother a text then, telling him he was right and that he can have his older brother card back for another argument that’s no doubt bound to happen some time later this year and he sends you the peace-sign emoji in return and you smile, knowing that you two are good.

You decide to answer Sebastian that same night, not wanting to drag this out any longer. Plus, it seems like polite thing to do.

Dear Sebastian,

Thank you so much for your email and for inviting us to the Infinity War premiere. It was really nice to read you had fun during the photo shoot, I know Jake had the time of his life!

Unfortunately Jake and his parents won’t be able to make it out to Los Angeles. Thank you again for your kind offer, and please know that the Winter Soldier will always been the one we’re rooting for over here in Charlotte!

All the best,

(Y/N)

The better part of your Sunday is spend doing all sorts of chores you’ve been putting off all week, and so you find yourself at Whole Foods right in the middle of the Sunday afternoon rush, with kids running up and down the aisles and a bunch of babies crying in a weird sort of symphony that make it almost impossible for you to remember what you wrote down on the shopping list you conveniently forgot at home. An old lady has run her shopping cart into your ankles twice over the course of the last minute, making you want to turn around and yell obscenities at her, because fuck lady, watch where you’re going, but you know that would be frowned upon by the other shoppers so instead you wait for her to pass you and then run into her once on purpose, a fake smile plastered on your face as you shrug at her when she turns around and gives you that old lady look filled with disapproval.  

You’re feeling miserable and you think about just leaving your shopping cart right here, in the middle of the store, while you escape this hellhole and live on takeaway the rest of the week, but then you wouldn’t be the responsible adult that everyone expects you to be, now would you? So you suck it up and make your way down the aisles, grabbing everything you think you might need at a steady space.

After unloading all your groceries onto the belt you take out your phone, while you wait for the cashier to ring up the lady in front of you, and your heart skips a beat when you see you have another email from Sebastian. You can feel your cheeks heating up and you quickly look around to see if anyone’s noticed, but Jesus, of course no one cares. You quickly put your phone back in your pocket, not wanting to read the email just yet. Slightly distracted you load your groceries into your shopping bag and pay for everything, answering the cashier’s, “Thank you for shopping at Whole Foods,” with a cheerful, “You too!”

You throw her an apologetic smile but she’s already onto the next customer and so you hurry back to your car, quickly putting the bags in your trunk and returning the shopping cart to its designated area. You take out your phone again and sit down on the driver’s seat, pulling up your email app.

Have to keep this short b/c I’m in between takes, but am sorry to hear Jake and his parents can’t make it. You’re still coming right?

-S

You whisper a quiet, “Holy fuck,” and read his message again, your heart beating just a little faster than usual. Closing the email you tap the icon for the texting app and send your best friend a quick note.

You home?

She replies within seconds saying that she is and so you start the car and head over to her place.

“Shut. Up.” Lauren says, eyes wide in shock, after you’ve told her everything that’s happened since your trip to Phoenix. She lets herself fall back against the couch and shakes her head, “This is crazy!”

“I know,” you agree, half laughing, half in shock as well, because somehow it seems even less real now that you’ve told your best friend.

“You are gonna go though, right?” she says, throwing you a look that tells you  she’s going to kick your ass all the way over there if you even dare to say no.

Still, you just shrug, because you’re not completely convinced it’s such a good idea.

“Oh come on,” she groans, rolling her eyes, “Not only is the man ridiculously good-looking, but he’s inviting you to the premiere of one of those superhero movies you like so much-”

“The Avengers,” you mutter quietly, because for as long as you have been friends she’s never understood your fascination with comic books.

“Yeah, whatever,” she says, waving her hand dismissively, “Listen, honey, you’re going. End of story.”

“Yeah, but,”

“Ah, ah, ah,” she holds up a finger to silence you, “No buts. Not this time.”

“Laur, come on,” you whine, but really it’s for show because yeah, you’re going.

She knows it too because she just shakes her head at you, taking another sip of her tea before she continues, “So, when is this premiere exactly?”

You’re about to say you don’t know, but of course you’ve already looked it up online, “The 27th.”

“Alright, so here’s what you’re going to do,” Lauren sits up, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She starts ticking things off on her fingers, “Tomorrow you’re going to request some time off from work, preferably two weeks, with some time before and after the premiere,”

You nod, because so far you’re liking where this is going.

“Then, you’re going to email Mr Smooth, saying that, yes, of course you’ll still come,” she sticks out her tongue at you after you’ve rolled your eyes at her, “Next, we’re going to go shopping next Saturday, because you need to look fierce as sh-”

“I can’t,” you interrupt, “Jake’s birthday party is on Saturday.”

“Ok fine,” she sighs, a little too dramatically, “I’ll clear my schedule and we’ll go on Sunday. I suggest you take at least,” she pauses for effect, “at least two days off before they have you fly out to L.A., so we can do some last-minute shopping, get a haircut, a mani-pedi, you know the drill.”

“This all sounds surprisingly similar to our prom prep,” you laugh, “minus the flying to L.A. part, of course.”

“Well yeah,” she states matter-of-factly, “the ultimate goal is the same, isn’t it?”

You just stare at her, not sure what she’s getting at.

“Getting a hot guy to take you back to his hotel room at the end of the night. No?”

Once you get home and your groceries are unpacked and stored away you take out a crumpled up piece of paper from your back pocket, because your best friend is the kind of person who fiercely believes in to-do lists and has written everything down for you. You stick it on the fridge and decide to tackle task number one and two right away, grabbing your laptop from the kitchen table and nestling yourself on the couch right.

You login to your work email and write a short message to your boss, asking for two weeks off starting Wednesday two weeks from now before you then login to your private email and type a quick reply to Sebastian.

I’d love to.

(Y/N)

On Monday your boss tries argues that she can’t really miss you for two weeks, wanting you to take no more than a week, but then you remind her of all the overtime you’ve worked without ever writing it down and she’s quick to give you the extra week.

And even though Sebastian hasn’t replied yet, you do get an email from Julie from Marvel Studios that afternoon, asking you for your personal details. You reply to her that same evening, letting her know that you are more than happy to pay for your ticket because you’re adding an extra four days in L.A. after the premiere but when she sends you your itinerary on Tuesday you see that everything is taken care of and you send both her and Sebastian an email to thank them for their generosity.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Jake exclaims once he’s opened your presents, the biggest smile on his face. He carefully takes the Winter Soldier figurine out of the box and examines it thoroughly.

You plant a kiss on his head before you head to drinks table for a cup of coffee. Sarah’s just filling the tray of cupcakes and you bump hips with her, “Congratulations on with the kid,”

“Thanks,”

“Listen, I uh,” you clear your throat, figuring you might as well get this out of the way, “I’m really sorry if I went a little overboard with taking Jake on trips the last couple of years. Nate told me it was all a bit much and I just want you to know that I’ll tone it down from now on.”

She nods, but doesn’t say anything right away, her gaze landing on Jake, who’s trying on the roller-blades you got him, not paying much attention to the new backpack his parents gave him.

“Shit,” you mutter, turning towards her, “I’m sorry, Sarah. I promise it won’t happen again.”

She smiles then, “Listen, I’m not sure if Nate should have made such a big deal out of it, but I do appreciate what you’re saying. I mean, Jake just turned eight, you know? There’s plenty of time to take him on trips once he’s a little older.”

“Yeah,” you agree and give her a hug, “thanks, sis.”

She nods and walks back to the kitchen, probably getting some more food.

Your brother joins you then, grabbing a cupcake and taking a big bite, following up with a sip of his coffee, “Great party, huh?”

You look at him in amusement, because if there’s one things your parents taught you it was not to speak with your mouth full, but both of you have long foregone that rule. You take a deep breath, because after discussing this thoroughly with your best friend, you and Lauren decided it was best to be honest with him, “So, I’m flying out to L.A. in two weeks.”

He just nods.

It’s making you a little uncomfortable and so you try to explain, “I told Sebastian you couldn’t make it and then he asked if I would still come and I figured I might as well, right?”

“Of course,” Nathan offers, and he’s smiling now, “I just wanted to make you feel bad, loser.” He laughs, “I’m all for my little sister going to this fancy premiere with this handsome movie star. You get it, girl,” he mocks, clicking his fingers.

You smack his arm, but can’t help but laugh, “Asshole.”

“Ugh, no,” Lauren wrinkles her nose in disgust at the dress you’re wearing and hands you two new ones to try one.

Looking at yourself in the mirror you can’t help but agree with her sentiment, the pink dress your wearing doing nothing for your skin tone or figure. You decide to go with the floor length dress Lauren’s handed you, which looks remarkably like the Elie Saab dress you’ve been obsessed with every since you saw it on Elizabeth Banks a couple of years ago.

Lauren audibly gasps when you step out of the changing room, “Wow,”

You turn around, your mouth dropping when you see yourself in the mirror.

“It’s like it’s made for you,” Lauren stammers, as she stands next to you and grabs your hand, giving it a squeeze, “You look gorgeous.”

[reigensarataka]

Have you ever made a fic rec list you could link me to?? If not what are ur fave fics???

what’s are ur fave klance fics overall?

do you have some nice fluffy klance fic recommendations? pls i need sustenance

ive been putting this off for so long now bcs i never save/bookmark the fics i read nd i can never remember the titles BUT i managed to dig some of them up so!!!!!!! under the cut bcs its kinda long wuwhwuhw

Cut to the Feeling by usernicole

“Let’s do it again,” Keith says breathlessly. “Here and on every planet we come across. Let’s get married on every planet we can.”“Are you joking?” Lance asks, incredulous. “You really want to get married to me on every planet we land on?”“Yes,” Keith says, voice high pitched and shaky with residual adrenaline. “Yes. Every planet. If it feels like this every time, let’s get married ten, twenty, a hundred times.”

 “Let’s break records. I want the universe to see us and be jealous.”

Or: Five times Keith and Lance get married, and one time they don’t.

my good bitch. my dude. if u havent read this then PLEASE do urself a favor nd read it asap…. like i shit u not this is probs my all time fave and its just them getting married on every planet nd. its just. idk just rly gives u that warm feeling in ur heart u know……

call me, beep me by orphan_account

(00:31) Do you think she gave me the wrong number on purpose?(00:31) Or was it a genuine mistake?(00:32) Like maybe she writes funny and I misread it?(00:32) Some of the numbers do look a little dodgy…(00:33) Cause, you know, her threes could very easily be poorly formed eights? And maybe she writes her sevens like her ones?(00:45) What(00:46) The(00:46) Fuck???(00:47) Oh good, you are awake!

where lance messages the wrong number and things kind of snowball from there

a classic from the early fandom days, rly popular so yall probs read it already but text fic nd just. yah its cute…..

A Light In The Dark by usernicole

Far away from his friends at the castle, Keith’s only way of communicating with them is a battered old phone. This is maybe going to be harder than he thought.

A long-distance, friends-to-lovers fic, set during season four.

u might not know of this but i am one huge slut for these kind of fics nd all i gtta say is this shit rly changed my goddamn life (i think there r two parts but im not sure if i read the second one so!!)

blue notes by mothpoem

This laughter, here and now, is hushed, and soft as rain, and Lance can feel it against his face, in warm puffs of air. It’s a laugh reminiscent of a furtive secret, like something only Lance is allowed to see. He watches it run its course in the near-pitch black of the observatory, with starlight gleaming weakly against Keith’s pale face, and that’s right about when Lance’s heart gives a few foreboding throbs, heavy on the bass, as if to say, they’re here (they being romantic feelings for Keith Kogane, Lance’s former mortal enemy and current friend).

Oh, he thinks to himself, with sudden and startling clarity. I’m Fucked, capital F.

its not finished nd i havent even read chap 2 yet but its a rly good take on lances pov from all the moments from s1 (also the garrison *eye emoji*) with keith nd. yeah.. its good……

and we dream of home by mothpoem

“Then come see me,” Lance murmurs, and it makes Keith’s heart pound behind his breastbone. “Us, I mean. Once a week or something? Like mental health check-ins. We can just hang out, or…or go on low-priority, low-stress missions? Scouting, or flower-picking for Coran, or supply runs. Dumb stuff. Just…so we know how you are. I don’t want…I mean, we all miss you. And I don’t want to sound presumptuous, but…it feels like you’re not…not okay, Keith.”

Well, Keith thinks, a little weakly. He never really stood a chance, did he?

“Okay,” he says, right away. No fight. No refusal.

His life is a hell of a lot easier when he lets himself cave under all the ways he wants Lance’s luminous attention, and company, and friendship. All the ways he wants Lance, full stop.

another one of those fics set during s4……… once again nothing to add just. please read it…… i loved this…….. sm………………

Moonset Deep by MilkTeaMiku

  All his life he’d been told to make sure he was never seen – it was what all the children were taught from the moment they were born. Never let a human see you, never fall in love with a human, and most importantly, never kiss one.

For Lance, humans were a mystery. He’d lived beneath the surface of the ocean with his shoal his entire life, and had intended to remain there. He knew the danger humans posed to his kind, and what would happen if he came close to one. That’s why, when he found one drowning, his first instinct was to save him.

He’d never been good at following the rules anyway.

mer au!! i started reading this a rly long time ago and im on chap 27 i think…. but this ones good…….

can we burn it slow by saltylances/stereostars on tumblr

“Sweet dreams, pilot.” A wink. “Make sure not to drool over me too much.”

Keith thrusts his middle finger over his shoulder as he steps out of the room, but he can’t hold back the smile that kicks up the side of his mouth. When he dares a look back, just before the doors are about to slide shut, he sees Lance kiss his fingertips and blow air over his palms at Keith.

It makes Keith wonder if it’s possible to fall any harder.

In which alternating snapshots between Keith and Lance lead to their eventual relationship.

WUH i love anything saaj writes….. a masterpiece…. also please read ‘so what are you waiting for’ too………..

under your feet the dirt turns to gold by laallomri

“I like you,” Lance says in a rush.

Keith blinks.

“That is—” Lance clears his throat, shifting his weight uncomfortably. His hands are still in his pockets, his shoulders still hunched. “I like you—I like-like you. Like, in a more-than-friends-way like you.”

For a long moment Keith can only stare at him, astonishment and disbelief and cautious delight warring for dominance. And then, because he’s an idiot, because he spent a whole goddamn year in a goddamn shack in the middle of the goddamn desert and has no idea how to be a socially competent person, because he’s Keith, he says, “That was a lot of the word ‘like’ in one sentence.”

In which Keith has about a dozen chances at happiness, and sabotages (nearly) all of them.

yummy……….. this one rly hit the spot my dudes……… i think there r 2 parts too!!

Sweet Quiznak by CheckeredCloth

“You’re really into him,” Hunk mutters, and wow, Lance’s face is on fire.  Hunk is killing him.

“Look, read into how you like, Freud, just make sure that if I die Keith knows I totally would’ve mowed his ass like grass.  That way, I can laugh hysterically at his emotionally-constipated expression from the afterlife.”

Or: Lance is badly injured and has a few skeletons in his closet.  Or maybe just the one.

a classic…. one of the first fics i read so i dont rmmbr much but yeah……

Stormchasing by sinelanguage

This isn’t how Lance intended to spend his vacation, chasing after Keith’s premonitions. But here he is, and he’s one hundred percent blaming Keith for all the trouble they’re about to get into. Keith makes bad decision, Lance makes mistakes, and both of them are stuck together on a space pirate adventure neither of them asked for.

if im not wrong i think this is one of those handcuffed together fics… also rly cute……

we’ll make it, you and me by asexualrey

“Keith, if we make it out of this alive, I’m going to kiss you.“ 

the description gives it away….. yall know what tf goin on……..

Public Displays of Affection by VaraderoBeach

Lance held his breath. He knew, at this rate, they’d have two options: fight with what they had (which was Keith’s knife and team spirit) and hope they can skirt by with the help of the locals, or submit and become prisoners to the Galra. Neither situation was ideal. Lance looked to Keith, at his eyes and his eye lashes, the curve of his nose and the pink in his lips. He knew it was bad timing, but he really wanted to kiss Keith before whatever happened, happened.

But when Keith turned his body to face him and said, “Kiss me.” With the same amount of emotion one would say, “Hand me that stapler,” it threw Lance completely off guard.

ft that scene from the winter soldier (i think??) yeah…… good food………

something as true as this by astrolesbian

“You better fucking call me,” Lance says, and reaches out to rest a hand on his shoulder, and smiles, sad and bright all at once. “I’m not taking no for an answer on this one. Okay?”

“Okay,” Keith says.

and lastly yall shld know since this is the THIRD TIME im putting a fic like this on this list that i love this shit nd just….. yeah……….. op snapped

[iwroteinapastlife]

For the last day of @auyeahaugust I decided to finally start writing my Teacher AU. This has been in the making for years and I’m excited to finally start it! Enjoy~

“Now get some sleep, Adrien. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “See you tomorrow.”

With a heavy sigh, Adrien hung up the phone call with his old friend and collapsed into the soft cushions of his sofa, silence settling back in its rightful place in the big, empty apartment. The refrigerator was too expensive to hum, the building’s air vents were probably the quietest in existence, and the cars on the street fifty floors down couldn’t be heard through the top-of-the-line soundproofed walls and windows. Even his mischievous black cat was asleep in the corner. Complete and utter silence.

He turned on the news and set the volume to low before getting up to keep packing.

“—retiring even though he’s only 36 years old and still as popular as ever. Gabriel Agreste has refused to make any public statements on the matter, but his recent hiring of a new model leads us to believe that this change is in fact permanent.”

“Better believe it,” he mumbled as he walked into the kitchen. The white, sleek cabinets were as pristine and empty as the day he’d moved in. He opened each one in turn to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything and found the box of crackers he’d set aside earlier. His immediate instinct was to set them back aside—no snacks after 10pm, fruit if you absolutely must—but with a wicked smile, he remembered that he was free to eat however he wanted now, and that meant Wheat Thins at 11:43pm were A-OK.

He stuffed three in his mouth with delight and continued combing through the kitchen. All clear except for the banana and granola bars sitting on the counter for tomorrow’s breakfast.

In his bedroom, the big walk-in closet was completely empty and all that was left in his dresser drawers were the boxers, socks, jeans and t-shirt he planned on wearing tomorrow. He got them out and laid them on his desk in a neat pile right next to his open laptop. He mindlessly glanced at the screen and paused as the little red notification bubble from Discord caught his eye.

Ladybug: NO.

Ladybug: NOOOOO.

Ladybug: NO NO NO NO NO.

Ladybug: You cannot honestly believe that Live Free was a better album than Jagged on the Move! Jotm was ICONIC.

He laughed at the woman’s usual overdramatics as he typed a response. At least amidst all the chaos and headlines in his life, his online friend’s argumentative nature never changed.

Chat Noir: Iconic? Yes. Absolutely amazing? Yes. Crucial to his career? *Definitely.* But the best album he’s ever made?

Chat Noir: Nope.

Marinette scoffed at her computer screen in horror. She could not believe what she was reading. Jagged on the Move was the classic Jagged Stone album—the album that had not one, not two, but seven hits on it! She dropped the fabric and needle she was working with and furiously typed out a rant to show her friend the error of his ways.

“Uh oh,” Kagami remarked from the couch. “What was the pun this time? Was it another cat one? Or eggs? Did it at least have to do with the conversation this time?”

“No no not that,” Marinette mumbled, glaring at the computer as if she could glare at the man himself. “It’s about Jagged Stone.”

“Ah,” her roommate nodded. She looked back down at her book in disinterest.

Marinette hit enter, sending out the three-paragraph in-depth analysis comparing the musical qualities of the two albums before sitting back again and resuming her work. A few minutes of peace passed in their cozy apartment, the only sounds that of the soft jazz music playing from Kagami’s laptop, the turning of book pages, and the occasional rustle of fabric. Then, after placing some final stitches, the designer turned the mannequin to face her roommate.

“What do you think?”

Golden brown eyes lifted from the book in her hands to assess the dress. “I like all the tattered fabrics,” she began. “The bright, varied colors speak to the chaotic and whimsical nature of the fairies.” She squinted, scrutinizing the details, and though Marinette knew she was great at communicating constructive criticism, she couldn’t help the nervous wave that rolled through her. “Can you make the skirt longer?”

“Yeah…” she answered slowly, looking at her work. “I can throw some extra fabric down there and tie it into the design. Why though?”

“Lydia is playing Puck, right?”

“Probably.”

“I remember Kim saying the other day that she’s recently hit a growth spurt.” She rolled her eyes. “He was gloating that her long legs will make the track team perform better than the fencing team this year or something like that. Anyway, the star of the show might be showing off a lot more leg than you want her to at that length.”

Marinette nodded as she jotted down the note. “Thank you.” With a smirk, she added, “Kim’s delusional if he thinks he’s got an edge on you.”

“That he is.”

Kagami raised her phone camera and shot a picture of Marinette sitting next to the dress, completely oblivious as always, and sent it to the group chat.

Inigo Montoya: [Photo]

Nino paused with his toothbrush hanging from his mouth to open the message on his phone. He immediately smiled and sent back a heart-eyes emoji. A moment later, the bedroom door shut and he could hear Alya collapse on the bed with a heavy sigh. He peeked his head out from the bathroom to see her face down in the blankets, feet still touching the ground as she hadn’t even managed to make it that far.

“I swear,” her muffled voice grumbled, “the older they get the harder it is to put them to bed.” He chuckled and resumed brushing his teeth as he approached.

“Check it out,” he tried to say around the toothpaste in his mouth. It came out more like sheh-kih-how, but she understood nonetheless. He dropped his phone on the bed next to her and she turned to glare at it, then perked up when she saw the photo.

“Oh damn! That’s going to go great with the playlist you’ve been putting together!”

“Mmhmm.”

She sighed, hopping up with renewed spirit to go brush her teeth too. “Man, Marinette just gets better with time. She’s like fine wine.”

Nino followed his wife back into the bathroom and hugged her from behind as she got out her own toothbrush. “Could say the same about you,” he said in garbled toothpaste-speak. He watched those beautiful hazel eyes in the mirror as she laughed affectionately.

“But really though,” she continued, “those are professional-level costumes.” She stuck her toothbrush in her mouth and pulled her own phone out of her pocket.

Lois Lane: OMG

Lois Lane: GURL

Lois Lane: P L E A S E

Lois Lane: SUBMIT THAT

Lois Lane: TO A COMPETITION

Lois Lane: OR SOMETHING

“My fucking god, tell Alya to shut up.”

Luka stirred to movement in the bed as his girlfriend leaned over him to grab his buzzing cell phone from the bedside table.

“How do you know it’s Alya?” he mumbled tiredly. “Oof.” His breathing was suddenly restricted as Lila lay across his middle.

“It’s Alya.” He grabbed her by the waist and shifted so that she wasn’t pressing uncomfortably into his abdomen as she opened up the messages. “Oh!”

“Hmm?” he hummed, still half-asleep and running his palm over her back mindlessly.

“Marinette finished the Puck dress,” she replied, holding up the phone. He winced as bright light suddenly flooded his vision. Blinking away the spots on his eyes, he eventually saw a dress made up of a wide array of colors that while chaotic, blended beautifully. It was perfect.

“That’s awesome.”

“After that, she only has Titania left, right?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Damn, the acting may suck, but those kids are sure as hell going to look good—ow!” He pinched her. “Oh come on, that was a compliment for Marinette.”

“And an insult to the kids acting—and Mylène’s directing.” She made a disgusted sigh and he didn’t have to see her to know she was rolling her eyes. She didn’t argue though; she knew he was right. He smiled and went back to softly smoothing his hand over her skin, this time kneading his fingers along her spine.

She sighed. “You gotta start putting this thing on Do Not Disturb though.”

“Sorry, I forget that you’re such a light sleeper.” Her only response was to hum and sink into his touch, laying down even though she was still across him. “It would be easier to remember if you slept here more often,” he continued. She hummed again. “You’d save a lot of gas money that way too by just carpooling to work with me.” Another hum. “And I could make you dinner every night.”

With a heavy sigh, Lila pushed herself up to hover over him. Her kiss was as intoxicating as always, complete with smooth, plush lips and that tongue that always seemed in perfect tandem with his own. Even the very first one had floored him, and it seemed her kisses only got better with time.

A moment later, it was gone and she was rolling back onto her side of the bed. “Your closet isn’t big enough for all my clothes,” she stated simply. He huffed a small laugh.

“Fair enough.” The phone buzzed again and he realized she must have been too distracted to actually put it on Do Not Disturb. The bright screen lit up his vision once again as he picked it up.

Bill and Ted: Most excellent [thumbs_up]

“Okay okay,” Nathaniel muttered to no one in particular as his cell phone buzzed across the room again. He finally set aside his drawing tablet and grabbed his empty water glass to go refill it while he was up, snatching his phone from the desk on his way out of the room.

“Oh no man why you gotta do me like this please I’m too young to die!!”

Nathaniel ignored Enzo’s frantic yelling from the living room as he made his way to the kitchen. His son’s outbursts and the video game explosions that accompanied them had long since become normal background noise in his ears.

Oh, it’s already tomorrow, he noted in the back of his mind as his screen popped to life. He supposed that made sense, since it had been 10pm when Marc had sent him the script for the week. He could probably crank out a few more pages tonight before bed and then get the rest done in the morning before Enzo’s dentist appointment.

When he finally opened the group chat, there were 27 notifications waiting for him, 23 of which were from a string of one-liners from Alya. He scrolled back to see what had started it all.

A subsequent grin spread across his cheeks.

Ninja Turtle: It’s perfect.

Ninja Turtle: Marinette, I don’t know how you consistently manage to compliment my scene designs so well but seriously DAMN

Edna Mode: [heart]

“Alright,” Kagami announced, shutting her book. “I’m going to bed.”

Marinette looked up from all the praise on the group chat with a smile. “Goodnight.”

“Don’t stay up too much longer,” she warned. The music stopped as Kagami shut down her laptop. “Remember we’re meeting Alya and the kids tomorrow for brunch.”

“Right right. 11?”

“10.”

“Bleh,” she replied with a sour face. “Early.”

“Only for night owls like you.” The woman stood with grace, hefting up the computer and giant hardcover book in her arms. “Better start getting used to it again; only a couple weeks left.”

She groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

Kagami laughed. “I bet you thought lamenting the end of winter break was over after lycée.”

“I can’t believe I signed up to go to school for the rest of my life.”

As if on cue, a new notification sounded from Marinette’s computer.

“Isn’t that your school email?” Kagami asked, recognizing the sound. She approached to watch over her roommate and coworker’s shoulder as she pulled up the message.

“Yep. Looks like it’s for all of us.”

Nathaniel heard the email notification chime right as he sat back down at his desk. He told himself he’d check it in the morning. He wasn’t ready to be a teacher again quite yet.

Luka’s head was just settling back into the pillow again when a new notification sounded, from Lila’s phone this time. She vaguely grunted in annoyance, but otherwise ignored it. He decided to do the same, rolling onto his side and draping an arm over her waist to pull her close.

Somewhere in the very back of his mind, Nino acknowledged the twin buzzes from their phones, but consciousness was drifting far too quickly for him to check it now.

Adrien closed the tab confirming his flight information and opened the very first message to be received on his brand new teacher email.

From: Chloé Bourgeois

To: All Faculty Members

Happy new year everyone,

I hope you’ve all been enjoying winter break and are ready to return for a new term in a couple weeks.

As you all know, this past term was our last year with previous Math and Science Department Head, Max Kanté. I’m sure you’ll all be delighted to hear that he has since settled into his new position at Cambridge and says that while he misses all of us here at Lycée Françoise Dupont, the university is treating him well.

Acting as the new head of the Math and Science Department from now on will be math professor Sabrina Raincomprix. In addition, to fill the gap, we have been working on hiring a new professor to take Max’s place teaching physics. I am happy to inform you that a decision has been made.

I’m sure many of you have heard of Adrien Agreste’s recent retirement. Though he is known for modeling the fashion designs of his father, Gabriel Agreste, Adrien’s true goal has always been to be a teacher. With a Master’s degree in physics, a Bachelor’s in mathematics, and the recent attainment his teaching license, he makes the perfect candidate to fill the gap in our current faculty. I trust you will all give him a warm welcome this Spring as the newest addition to our team.

Enjoy what is left of your break, and I will see you all again in two weeks.

Warm Regards,

Principal Bourgeois

Chloé shut her laptop and stood with a tired yawn. She should have been asleep hours ago—she risked getting bags under her eyes staying up like this. But she knew the second word got out about Adrien teaching, it would be all over the news and she wanted to make sure her faculty heard it from her first.

She reached up and pulled out her hair tie as she walked to the bedroom, flicking off all the lights in the apartment on the way. What little hair had been pulled back fell down around her head with ease, returning to her classy bob. She sighed and ran her fingers through it as she pulled out her phone to set the alarm.

7 am. She would be a bit behind on sleep, but her morning coffee would make up for it. She made a mental note to grab an extra caramel macchiato as well. Knowing Adrien, he would likely be tired and craving something tooth-rotting when he got off the plane after staying up all night packing instead of sleeping.

She smiled and finally crawled into the silk sheets on her memory foam mattress. As much as she wasn’t looking forward to getting up in the morning, she was excited to see her friend again.

And with that thought in mind, she slept soundly.

[peachwaifu]

☾ ⁞ ❛ ᴀʟʟ ᴡᴇ ɢᴏᴛ | ᴠᴏʟ ɪ

note ⁞ i just really wanted to write some boyfriend!shawn. i'm already working on a second chapter ehehehe word count ⁞ around 1.6k

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Mariana’s strumming her guitar, her delicate fingers still just starting to form calluses. It’s not that she’s new to guitar — she’s definitely not; she’s been playing since she was ten years old now. But she gave up her life of music for 5AM shifts at a coffee shop and seven hour study sessions at night. All in all, she’s just been too busy to pick up her guitar and strum her stress away. All that changed when she met Shawn though. Now, her life consists of 5AM shifts at a coffee shop, seven hour study sessions, and late night FaceTime calls with him.

When they first met, she didn’t think much of him. He was just another pop star who had another overplayed song on the radio. She was a fan, don’t get it twisted, but she knew that she was just another face in the crowd to him. Only… she wasn’t.

He didn’t notice her in the crowd. No, that would’ve been nearly impossible because unless the house lights were on, there was no way in hell Shawn could properly see anyone past the first few rows in the crowd. She didn’t spend more than $80 on her concert tickets, so she was somewhere much higher, somewhere where he couldn’t see.

It was actually a mutual friend who introduced them. Her friend, Rei, invited her to her wedding in LA, and Mariana packed up a weekend’s worth of clothes and drove her ass to Los Angeles. She was sat at the same table as him, and they hit it off instantly. Their conversation flowed easily, and while Mariana was thinking she was never going to see him ever again, Shawn couldn’t wait to ask her when they could meet for coffee. Except… Shawn got cold feet and left without even saying goodbye, much less her number.

They didn’t talk after that until two months later, Mari got a text from an unknown number one morning asking her if she was free for coffee. She texted back asking who it was, and Shawn didn’t hesitate on calling himself a dumbass and telling her it was Shawn from the wedding and that he had gotten her number from Rei and that he’d only be in LA for the weekend and he really wanted to get a cup of coffee with her.

You can only imagine how much his heart sank when she told him that she didn’t actually live in LA, sent with a broken heart emoji and a bunch of sad faces. She let him know that she was actually from around San Francisco, and his heart found new hope before he replied with ‘coffee next Thursday then? I’ll be in San Jose.’

It was love at first sip for Shawn when they finally met up for coffee. He wanted so badly to fall in love with someone, and when he thought all hope was lost, it was as if the universe finally answered his prayers and brought him Mariana. The only problem? She was all the way in California whilst his home was in Toronto. But he figured that’s a problem he’d think more thoroughly if they ever get far enough down that road.

So here they are now, five months later. Mariana’s strumming her guitar for the first time in maybe two years whilst he’s on FaceTime with her, tucked in his Toronto bed.

“How is it we’ve been together for four months and I never knew you actually sang — like for real? And that you play?” Shawn’s voice is groggy and croaky due to a mixture of sleepiness and a sore throat. Mariana shrugs, halting her strums and resting her chin on the base of her guitar. “Are there any other secrets you’re hiding from me?”

“I play the piano… kind of.” Shawn’s ears perk up a little at her answer. “I used to be in choir? I don’t know. I used to take music a lot more seriously.”

“Babe, what the fuck.”

Mariana laughs at his curse and places her guitar back on its wall stand across her room. “Sorry, sorry! S’not my fault that it never came up!”

“Fuck, Mar, I really thought you just had a nice voice! I didn’t think you actually were trained or anything. What the fuck, dude. Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Calm down, dude,” Mariana snorts. “I haven’t touched my guitar in ages, and I haven’t sang properly since high school. And it’s not like you had any reason to ask me about it. You’ve never been to my house so you’ve never seen my choir pictures or any of my guitars — ”

“You have more than one?!”

“Or like my piano in the living room or anythin’.” She ignores his interruption and sighs. “D’you see what I’m getting at here?”

“No?”

Mariana rolls her eyes. She doesn’t know if he’s genuinely this clueless or if she’s just not being obvious enough or if he’s just really sleepy. “You’ve never been to my house. You’ve never met my family — only my cousin that one time and that was on accident, and like, babe, we’ve been dating for almost half a year. I know you’re busy as hell, like trust me, I know, but I just? Don’t you think it’s kind of weird that we’ve never met each other’s families?”

“You wanna fly out here to meet my family?”

“No, Shawn I — ”

“So you don’t wanna meet my family?”

“That’s not what I meant. I just mean that it’s — ”

“What do you mean then, Mar?” She’s annoyed by now. He keeps interrupting her, and it’s such a pet peeve of hers whenever she can’t finish her sentence, and he knows this.

“Jesus fucking Christ, if you would just let me finish.” Her Macbook is perched on the edge of her bed and she’s thankful for this because now she has two free hands to tangle into her hair due to frustration. “You’re such a fucking Leo.” Mariana spits out his zodiac sign like it’s a slur, but she knows damn well that she loves that he’s a Leo.

“Hey!”

“I’m just saying that, like, you’re in California pretty often and we see each other often enough.” She hears him trying to start a sentence but she glares at the webcam on her laptop before he even gets a chance to speak, as if saying try it, Mendes with her eyes. “I know it’s not often enough, but we talk everyday and you come to visit when you can, but whenever you visit, you don’t say hi to my family. And you know how important they are to me. They’re starting to think I’m lying about even having a boyfriend, and you know how hard it was for me to even convince them that I’m 20 and I’m allowed to be in relationships now, and just… ” She trails off before she starts rambling unnecessarily.

“Yeah, I know that baby, and you know that it’s important to me especially since it’s important to you. Next time I’m there, I promise, I’ll meet them. We can have a cheesy dinner at the table, and then I’ll fly you out here and then you can meet my fa — ”

“Shawn, I don’t… have a valid passport anymore.”

“What?”

“My passport expired like four years ago.”

“Mariana, why haven’t you gotten a new one?”

“There was never a point before! I haven’t left the country since I was like 10! And, like, I’ve been meaning to get a new one because I wanted to visit Canada anyway before I met you, and visit Mexico too but, like, passport books are just so expensive and I figured — ”

“Babe, I’ll pay for your fucking passport, just — ”

“No, Shawn I can pay for it myself, I just wanted to let you know that it’ll take about two months or maybe longer before I can even think about leaving America, but also I don’t know if my parents will let me travel to a whole ass other country by myself to meet my ‘maybe real’ boyfriend’s family.” She puts quotes around ‘maybe real’, recalling the time her dad accused her of making up Shawn being her boyfriend.

She doesn’t have to look at the screen on her laptop to know that he’s rolling his eyes. “You’re 20 years old and you have to ask your parents for permission to travel. I know it’s not my place,” Shawn starts, and Mariana already gets irritated before he even continues, “but I think they have too much of a hold on you. You’re literally an adult.”

“Well, sorry, that I didn’t start travelling the world at like 12 years old,” Mariana rebuttals, crossing her arms.

“I wasn’t 12!”

“Whatever.”

And that was the end of that. Mariana lays down on her bed with her laptop beside her, eyebrows still furrowed, but her irritation dies down slowly. Shawn’s still on the screen, but his eyes are closed and his face is dimly lit by the light on his own laptop. She can tell he’s still awake, but by the slight movement of his shoulders and the soft snores that are leaving his mouth, she can also tell that he’s ready to fall asleep at any given moment.

“Goodnight baby,” she murmurs, and she thinks that he doesn’t hear her, but the subtle curve of his lips prove her otherwise and her lips mimic his as he responds with a mumbled out ‘night, love’. Her heart still skips a beat every time he calls her a pet name, and yeah she’s probably being dramatic, but she squeals a little inside her head and her cheeks blush a little, and it’s just her favourite thing to be called cute little pet names and it’s even better when it’s coming from her favourite person.

She’s happy and content as her own eyes close and she falls into a blissful sleep.

[featherquillpen]

Congratulations! Leverage, OT3, Eliot figures out that they're way more than a team and decides to do something about it. He is the retrieval specialist after all

Eliot didn’t have a moment of revelation when he knew he was in over his head. It was a slow slide, a million compromises with himself. Just this one time, I’ll stay over at Hardison’s apartment and talk to him all night about trying to do the right thing as a dumb kid on his first tour of duty. Just this once, I’ll let Parker climb in through my window and cook her breakfast when she asks me to. I’ll let my guard down and hug Hardison, but never again. And each time, the compromises got bigger, and he never even noticed.

There wasn’t a moment of revelation. What happened was that Eliot called up Toby and told him about his plans to expand and update the brewpub, and talked about how much Hardison and Parker would like how it was going to look a couple of years down the line.

“I can hear you smiling right over the phone,” Toby said. “Which one of them are you in love with, son, and what are you going to do about it?”

Eliot didn’t even need to think about that first question. He’d known the answer for years. But he’d never really thought about the second. What was he going to do about it? “What would you do?” Eliot said, hoping to distract him with a story from Toby’s sweet courtship of his wife.

“What do you think I’d do?” Toby said. “Cook a dinner they’ll never forget.”

Eliot had cooked dinner for Hardison and Parker more times than he cared to count. But it was another thing to make a statement with a dinner. He’d taught Parker about that. 

He made the food sweet, because they liked that, and this wasn’t a meal for challenging their tastes. He had to show he accepted them. So he made melon gazpacho, and ham with a brown sugar glaze, and collards to remind Hardison of his Nana, and cupcakes topped with Fruit Loops for Parker. He set up the table with a whole side free for Parker so she could hang from rigging on the ceiling while she ate if she liked, and he put out candles and flowers on the table, because Parker wasn’t a romantic but Hardison was, right down to his bones.

Eliot put “Dinner at Eliot’s” on their shared calendar app thing, like he’d done before. He paused before hitting submit, then, feeling like a teenager with a crush, he added a heart emoji to the event name. Not because he thought emojis were anything but silly, mind you, but Hardison and Parker would like it. He hit submit.

A minute later, his phone pinged, and then again. Accept. Accept.

And that was the thing, wasn’t it? He kept asking more and more, from himself and from them, and somehow they always answered, accept. Accept. Accept.

[makbaes-archives]

Mark’s Kiss - Pt. 2 of Mark’s “Types of Kisses” Series

member: mark rating: nc-17 genre: smut word count: 2987

A/N: And here’s part 2 that someone requested!! Thank you for your support, everyone <3 You can read Part One here.

I also have a treat inside for you! Be sure to put your name in the box and hit submit for a more immersive read. (It only works if you’re on my page, and using a browser with javescript enabled.)

Your name: submit What is this?

Mark spends all his free time with his family while in LA. Which, reasonably so, but you can’t help being a bit sad about not getting some one-on-one time with him. That doesn’t stop him from texting you nonstop, however. You can’t seem to get the stupid grin off your face, either, because of it.

You talk about stupid things most of the time. He sends you a few silly selfies while he’s at Disneyland, and you sent a few back of yourself, bored at home.

Now that their US tour is over, and he’s heading back overseas, Mark promises to FaceTime you when he can. And he does. You mostly text back and forth, replying nonstop when you’re both awake and replying back hours later once either of you wake up. Mark even breaks out the selfie stick on FaceTime to make sure you can see all the guys and say hello.

After a month or two, FaceTime happens less often and replies start coming later and later. You don’t blame him at all. You’ve seen their schedules. With the comeback, they’re going nonstop again, and you wonder if they ever get a break to just breathe.

You start to think whatever brief moment you shared with Mark months ago was just that: a brief moment. You had wanted so much more out of it, but that was just wishful thinking. To think you actually had a chance with Mark was ridiculous. Not only are you in another country, but he’s Mark Tuan of GOT7. He’s a highly sought after idol. And now that the dating ban is up, he could have anyone he likes.

The memory of his lips on yours still plays through your head as if it happened yesterday, though.

It’s one of those rare days that you get a text from him that you also receive some amazing news. You’re going to be visiting Seoul again next month. It’s a work trip, so you’ll be busy during the days, but your nights are free, and, although you shouldn’t get your hopes up, you hope at least one of those nights are spent getting to see Mark.

You decide to surprise him.

When your trip comes up, and your plane has landed, you take a picture of your boarding pass and send it to Mark. He replies instantly.

You’re here?!

Yep. Just landed.

How long for?

A week. My nights are free if you are.

Let me see what I can do.

You don’t hear from Mark for two days, even though you send him several texts, one including a selfie you managed to take during one of your meetings of you ‘sleeping’. Instead of texting back, he calls you at 10 pm.

“Hello?” You’re only slightly confused and a little tired, having already snuggled into your hotel bed.

“What are you doing?” He asks you, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Mark, it’s 10 o’clock at night.”

“I know. Were you sleeping already?”

“Well, no, but I’m in bed.”

“Come see me. Let’s do something.”

“But I’m all comfy,” you whine. You hear him laugh, and your smile grows at the sound.

“You don’t want to see me?” Before you can answer, he continues. “Because I want to see you.”

You’re freaking out internally. Like, screaming a lot on the inside. It’s a wonder you can let out an even remotely flirty sounding, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Let’s take a walk. I’ll text you where to meet me.”

“Okay.”

“See you soon.”

The call ends, and you lay there trying to figure out if that really happened. Did Mark just call you and invite you on a walk with him at 10 pm at night? Your answer comes in the form of a text with an address and a smiley face emoji.

Hoping out of the warmth of the bed, you throw on some clothes, brush your teeth, and check the mirror to make sure you look decent and your hair isn’t a mess. After approving of your current state, you rush out the door and down to the lobby to hail a taxi.

The smile on your face gets bigger when you realize where you are as the taxi drops you off. You’re on the riverfront, and it brings back memories from when you would come here for walks on stressful days at school. You see Mark not too far away, so you head over, waving once he spots you.

He smiles, and it takes him a moment before he says anything as he stares at your face like he can’t believe you’re here right now. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” You smile back, but his gaze is so intense, you have to look away. You bite your lip, shake your head as you chuckle lightly. Your stomach is a mess of butterflies right now, and all he did was say hello.

You see him hold out his hand, and you look up. He’s still smiling, but his lips are closed, and it’s softer now. With the street light behind him, he looks like an angel. You take a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and reach out to take his hand.

It’s so peaceful this time of night. The noise level down and the sloshing of the water is calming as you both stroll along the river. You don’t talk for a long time, but it isn’t awkward at all. And when you do talk, it’s so easy.

“How’s work going?” He asks, breaking the peaceful silence.

“It’s good. I’m really enjoying it there. Although, I’ve missed Seoul. I’m glad I still have a few days here.” You look up at him. “What about you? You getting enough rest? Eating enough? I know comebacks are crazy, especially right after a tour.”

Mark nods, letting out a soft laugh. “Yeah, mom, I am. Thanks for asking,” he jokes, and you roll your eyes playfully. “No, I’ve been good. Tired most of the time, but I try to stay healthy best I can.”

“Listen, as a fan, and—feel free to tell me if I overstep my bounds here—as a friend, I just want you, and the rest of the guys, to be healthy and happy. You all work so hard for fans, and we love and appreciate it. But we worry sometimes. I worry.”

At your words, Mark looks down, cheeks tinting pink. “We know, trust me. We’re still going to work hard for our fans, but we’ll try to rest more. I don’t want you worrying.” He nudges you lightly on his last words.

You nudge back and reply, “I’ll always worry about you guys. But, I’ll also always be proud of you. And… thanks. For everything you do.”

Mark gives you a momentarily confused, amused look, but ends up smiling wide and laughing. He releases your hand and drapes an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. A chill goes down your spine at touch, and Mark rubs your arm.

“Cold?”

“No. Warm actually.”

The brunet glances down at you briefly and licks his lips. You look up just in time to catch it. As a thought comes to mind, your heart picks up pace.

“Do you, um… wanna come back to my room? Might be more comfortable… sitting.” Your words end lamely, and you cringe internally, but when he agrees, you look up in surprise.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Really?”

All he does it nod, and you nod back as you start to make your way up to grab a taxi back to your hotel. It doesn’t take too long before you’re back inside the privacy of your room.

Mark notices the single bed. “No roommate this time?”

“Nah. Lucked out with an odd number of us, so we pulled straws. I won.”

Mark bites his lip and smiles. He sits on the bed and watches as you take off your sweater and check the room temperature. You weren’t lying about feeling warm, but you’re sure it’s not the temperature of the air that’s making you so.

“You okay?” He asks, concern written clearly on his features.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

He stands and places a hand on your forehead. When he feels no fever, he frowns. It takes him a moment, and then he’s grinning. “Are you nervous?”

“What? Why would I be nervous?” You let out a laugh that is entirely too nervous sounding. Good going.

“I don’t bite, you know,” he tells you, sitting back on the bed.

“Yeah.” What if I want you to? “I know.”

“Come here.” He reaches out a hand to you, and you hesitate, just starting at it. He flexes it, beckoning you to take it. “Y/N.”

You look up at the sound of your name. You’re finally able to hang out with Mark again after months, and all you can think about is that damned kiss. Well, it was the last physical memory you have with him.

“I’m sorry. I’m being stupid.” You cover your face with your hands and face plant into the bed beside him, letting out a frustrated sigh.

You hear Mark laugh, bright and loud. It doesn’t make things any better for you.

“A little. But that’s okay.”

His voice is right next to your head, and you turn, locking eyes with him.

“I wanna kiss you again,” you blurt out, and you can’t even be mad at your lack of filter when he’s on the same page as you are.

He chuckles and replies, “Good. Me too.”

Mark wastes no time leaning in, pressing his lips to yours in an almost desperation. It’s like once the wall of awkward is broken down, neither of you care about tiptoeing around it anymore. He pushes your back against the bed, maneuvering between your legs. Your arms reach up around his neck, pulling him flush against you as you wrap your legs around his waist. You card your fingers through his hair and moan as he slips his tongue past your lips.

You think back to the kiss you shared months ago—about how Mark didn’t want to come into your hotel room because he wouldn’t want to leave. You wonder if he’ll leave tonight.

Pulling away, Mark looks into your eyes as he brings a hand to cup your face. You can’t help but lean into his touch. The only sound in the room is both of your labored breathing. His other hand, the one that has been rubbing soft circles into the skin under the hem of your shirt, moves up, ghosting across your ribs, thumb swiping across the underwire of your bra. You lean up, catching his lips in another kiss as you manage to grab your shirt and lift it off.

This gives him enough assurance to undo your bra and toss it away with your shirt. Your pulling at his shirt as his lips make their way down your neck, past your collar, and on your breasts. Mark teases you, kissing around the sensitive buds until you groan and yank his shirt over his head. He laughs, hands moving to palm at them, thumbs swiping over your nipples. Your eyes flutter closed when you feel him take one into his mouth, teeth nipping lightly before soothing over with his tongue.

“Mark…” you sigh, hand moving back into his hair to tug lightly. He hums in response, the sound low in his throat it almost sounds like a growl.

He leaves light bruising on your breasts and nipples, and even though you’ll be sore tomorrow, you’re excited to have his mark on you for a few days at least. He takes pride in the bruises and moves further down your body.

You help him with your jeans, and as you kick them off, Mark slips out of his own. You take control at this point, feeling emboldened at the sight of him in nothing but his underwear. He’s so beautiful, you think, pressing his back into the bed. You swing your leg over his hip and sit just below the tented fabric. Your teeth pull in your lower lip, and Mark only looks slightly worried about your smirk.

Lifting your hips, you rub your core against him, eliciting a groan from Mark. His hands find your hips, and he guides you as you grind against him. You lean down to kiss him, the kiss more urgent than before.

“Y/N,” he breathes, breaking apart from your lips.

“What do you want, Mark?” You ask, lips moving down his neck, nipping lightly, careful not to leave marks behind.

“You,” he replies, and you feel his hips buck up into yours. You feel his hand move between your bodies, and you gasp as you feel his thumb slip into your panties and brush against your core.

“Mmm.” Your grinding has more of a personal purpose now as you buck into his hand. You gasp again against his neck, and you’re perfectly fine letting him have you. “I’m all yours.”

Mark wastes no time flipping you both over, catching your hands and pinning them above your head. He kisses you again before pulling back and watching you—watching your chest heave, your skin flushed.

He lets go to find his pants, pulling out a condom from the pocket, and you bite your lip to suppress your laugh. Mark notices, as he opens it and slips it down his length, and he gives you a look.

“Someone had expectations for tonight.”

Mark laughs and leans forward again, kissing you, his hard member pushing against your folds. Your lips turn up, smiling into his kiss. Everything about this feels comfortable and fun and amazing, and you wish you could spend every night like this. A twinge of pain sparks as you realize you’ll be going back to The States in a few days.

But that’s in a few days, and this is now.

You lift your legs and hook them at the ankles behind his back, pulling him closer, urging him on. He shifts slightly before he buries himself inside you slowly, and you both let out various sounds of approval.

Once he bottoms out, Mark kisses you and starts moving, pulling out and pushing back at a moderate pace. It’s fine for a minute, until the burn inside you aches, and you want more. You grip at his back, nails digging into hot skin, and arch into his body.

“Faster,” you whimper as he hits you just right.

Nodding, Mark adjusts his knees, leaning back to thrust into you faster. The new angle lets him get deeper, and you cry out in pleasure.

“Oh, God, just like that.”

Mark grunts in response, eyes taking you in hungrily as you writhe beneath him. The heat in your stomach builds, and you know you could get yourself there quickly if you wanted to—could reach down and chase it—but the thought leaves your mind when you open your eyes to find Mark watching you.

It only serves to turn you on more, and you bite your lip, whimpering again, fingers digging into the sheets above your head.

Shifting again, the brunet lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder and leans forward. You’re getting closer to your orgasm, and you don’t even know how, but he’s hitting you right where you need it, and it’s going to be over too quick.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He groans as he leans lower, pressing kisses where he can on your skin.

“’m close, Mark.” Your voice is higher than it normally is, and feel your hips stuttering as your climax approaches. “Oh, my God, don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t. He’s relentless as he plunges into your wet heat. As your climax builds, your muscles clench around him, and he moans your name out, his own climax getting nearer.

“Come for me, baby,” Mark commands you, his voice impossibly lower.

That does it for you. Back arching into his chest, your mouth open in a silent moan as your orgasm takes you in waves, leaving you a shaking mess beneath him. It’s only seconds before Mark is coming, too, hips stuttering in an uneven rhythm as he rides it out.

You’re still coming down from your high when he nearly collapses on top of you, limbs like jello. He stays inside of you until his dick starts softening, then he pulls out and disposes of the condom in the bathroom.

When he rejoins you on the bed, your eyes are closed. He snickers a bit and tugs the comforter from beneath you, causing you to whine playfully. Mark covers the both of you, and you snuggle into his side. His arms hold you tight to his chest, and he presses a kiss to the damp hair against your temple.

Your breathing gets heavier as you sleep starts creeping up on you. Your voice is low as you mumble, “Are you staying?”

You feel rather than hear Mark hum his response. You smile, kissing his shoulder and collar.

“Can you stay every night?”

You hear him chuckle. “I wish I could…” He pulls away slightly, and you look up to find him looking at you. “Y/N…”

Worry starts to eat at you, but Mark shakes his head and brings his hand up to your cheek.

“Hey, don’t look that way. I just… really wish I could spend more time with you.”

You sigh, both relieved and sad that this will eventually end. “I do, too, Mark.”

There’s something that flashes in his eyes briefly, but he doesn’t say anything, just kisses you gently before getting comfortable again. You sigh, content for now; however, you know once morning comes and he’s gone that you’ll be alone again. In more ways than one.

But morning is hours away, and right now you’re pressed against a naked Mark Tuan, so you’re going to enjoy this feeling while it lasts.