#never have i ever cared about colors THIS MUCH i’m so serious i KNOW THIS WON’T DO WELL BUT IF YOU SEE THIS FEEL MY SUFFERING

[willthespy]

Yes, I use solangelo for all my little drawing experiments. What about it?

EDIT: this looks like the fucking propaganda posters that they throw at you in history class... i might have accidentally created solangelo propaganda, i fear

[seungkw1]

mine — jww

♡ pairing: boyfriend!wonwoo x afab!reader ♡ theme: fluff, smut [18+ mdni], non-idol au ♡ wc: 2.6k ♡ warnings: swearing, size kink, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex (stay safe y’all), creampie, dacryphilia, petnames (m. & f. receiving - babe, baby), reader is gender neutral but referred to as girlfriend once, gr8 aftercare ofc ♡ a/n: this is a part two to so fucking pretty but you don’t have to read that one first :)

‧₊˚✩彡 moodboard by @myhimbomingi ‧₊˚✩彡

You wouldn’t consider yourself a very romantic person, but your boyfriend’s Valentine’s Day surprise might just change your mind about that.

You’ve never given a single shit about Valentine’s Day. It’s not so much that you hate it or anything, but rather indifference - you simply couldn’t care less. Just another capitalistic holiday for companies to profit off of, right? Plus, red and pink is simply a godawful color combination. So yeah, you’ve never given a shit. 

That is - until you met Wonwoo. 

You’ve dated here and there over the years, but nothing ever too serious - all of your partners either turned out to be lousy or the relationships were just bland. So, all of them ended, and you were never too upset about it. 

But with Wonwoo, everything is different. You’ve only been dating for three months, but your relationship is the complete opposite of lousy or bland. Wonwoo is warm and loving - squeezing you in his arms and giving you kisses every chance he gets. He is caring and kind - listening to you talk no matter whether you needed to vent or just wanted to infodump about your interests. He is sweet and gentle - leaving you cute notes and surprising you with little gifts just because.

He is also incredibly fucking hot, and an absolute god in the bedroom.

You fucked him on the first date, which is very unlike you, but your chemistry was undeniable and it just happened naturally. That was the best sex you’ve ever had in your life - and every time since then has also been the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. You’d be an absolute fool not to stick around.

And so, Wonwoo became your boyfriend. You’ve always found that term to be a bit juvenile, so historically you’ve just referred to your significant other as your partner. But every time you think about Wonwoo you feel the urge to giggle and kick your feet in the air, so the term boyfriend simply feels right. You’re practically head over heels for the man. 

“Ooooo you’re so in love with him,” your best friend teased as you were gushing about your boyfriend for the nth time. 

“Oh shut up,” you rolled your eyes as you replied. Maybe you’re a bit jaded from your mediocre past relationships, but the phrase in love is not one you throw around lightly. 

But deep down, you know it’s true. You’re in love with Wonwoo.

But you’re not ready to admit that to anybody. So you keep it to yourself. You’ll cross that bridge when you get there.

That day arrives much sooner than you anticipate.

—

February rolls around. It’s the dead of winter, arguably the most boring time of year. Your mind is preoccupied with the job interview you have coming up, and you’ve been a bit stressed about it. Wonwoo has been nothing but supportive and helpful - giving you advice, offering to help you practice, cleaning your apartment for you of his own free will - and you are more than grateful to have him around. 

One particularly cold Saturday morning, you wake up to a text from Wonwoo. 

Good morning beautiful! Text me when you’re awake 😊

You smile sleepily as you reply. 

Good morning babe 💖 I’m awake!

The chat bubble pops up as he begins to reply immediately. 

Great! Can you be ready by 11am? I have a surprise for you 😁

A surprise?

Y/N: Oooh, what kind of surprise? WW: It’s a secret 😉 Y/N: Hmm 🤔 Okay... What should I wear though?  WW: Wear whatever you want, you look cute in everything! Y/N: Hehe okayyyy WW: Perfect, I’ll pick you up at 11! See you soon 😊

You hop out of bed and start to get ready, practically dancing around your apartment. You open your closet and stare at your clothes, trying to decide what to wear - which proves to be hard when you don’t know where you’re going. You end up grabbing the cozy light blue sweater Wonwoo complimented you on when you wore it a couple weeks ago, and a cute pair of jeans to match. You’re putting on your heeled boots when you hear the knockknockknock of somebody at the door. You open the door to see your boyfriend, looking incredibly handsome in his dark coat and black-rimmed glasses. He extends to you a bouquet of a dozen red roses.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says with a soft smile. 

As you take the bouquet Wonwoo pulls you in for a kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist. As your lips part you look at him, an inquisitive look on your face.

“But it’s not Valentine’s Day yet,” you tell him.

“I know,” he replies as he gives you a little kiss on your nose. “But I couldn’t wait.”

You feel a huge smile color your face. 

“So, where are we going?” 

—

The waitress sets a massive plate of the fanciest waffles you’ve ever seen in front of you. You start to salivate at the sight of the fresh berries and cream heaping on top.

A few weeks ago you had casually mentioned the bougie brunch place you’ve always wanted to try, but it was expensive and the wait was always way too long. Turns out Wonwoo immediately called and made a reservation for you two.

You go to dig into your waffles when you notice your boyfriend holding his phone up, taking photos of you.

“Hey! Stop that,” you say as you playfully try to grab his phone.

“What?” he asks innocently. “You just look so pretty.”

He looks at you adoringly. You pout, feigning annoyance, and he snaps another picture - making you laugh. There’s no way you can be mad at him, he’s simply too sweet.

After the decadent meal Wonwoo walks you back to his car, holding your hand, and insists upon opening the car door for you - even helping you take off your coat. It’s silly, but it still makes you feel warm and fuzzy.

Wonwoo starts driving, but in the opposite direction of your home.

“Where are we going now?” you inquire.

“Remember how you said you’ve never been ice skating?”

“Oh god,” you groan. “Can’t wait to make a complete fool of myself.”

“You won’t,” he insists. “You can hold onto me.”

“But you’ve never been ice skating either,” you point out. “How do you know you’re not gonna fall too?”

Wonwoo smiles. “Then we’ll fall together.”

You scoff playfully, but a grin also appears on your face.

Ice skating ends up being a disaster. Neither one of you can stop falling (it doesn’t help that you refuse to stop holding hands, so when one of you falls both of you go down), but you also can’t stop laughing - to the point where your cheeks hurt from smiling so much. You haven’t had fun like this in ages.

You look over at your boyfriend. He is extraordinarily cute right now, his cheeks rosy from the cold air. Wonwoo catches you looking at him and leans over to plant a kiss on your cheek - he then immediately runs into the wall. You let out a giggle - he looks back at you sheepishly.

“Maybe you should pay attention to where you’re going,” you tease as you nudge him with your elbow.

“Hard to do so when my beautiful girlfriend is right next to me, distracting me.” His tone mirrors your playfulness, but the way he’s looking at you - you can tell he means it.

You roll your eyes, but a huge smile lights up your face as you wrap your arm around his, squeezing him tightly. 

On the drive back Wonwoo suggests you go to his place, to which you happily agree. Before you enter, he tells you to close your eyes.

“No peeking!” he insists.

“I won’t!” you swear, placing your hands over your eyes. 

You walk through the front door and wait in the entryway, resisting peeking as promised. You hear Wonwoo fiddling with things for a minute, and then you hear the opening notes of your favorite album - the sound emanating from his record player.

“Okay, you can look now,” he tells you as he once again is standing right next to you. You remove your hands, opening your eyes to the sight of Wonwoo’s dim apartment - illuminated only by the dozen of freshly-lit candles placed around the living room. In his hands are the biggest box of chocolates you’ve ever seen, and a cute fuzzy teddy bear that’s holding a heart with Be mine embroidered on it.

“Oh my god, you really went all out,” you remark, smiling from ear to ear as your heart practically flutters in your chest.

“Only the best for you, babe.”

He sets down the chocolates and the bear, stopping to help you out of your coat before drawing you into his embrace, kissing you softly and slowly. He then takes your hands in his, pulling you toward the hallway.

“There’s one more surprise,” he tells you.

Before you can ask him what more he could possibly surprise you with, you see the trail of rose petals down the hallway, leading into his bedroom.

“You did NOT,” you exclaim as you laugh, truly bewildered at the sight of it.

You follow the trail as he pulls you into his room, where even more petals lay on the bed, perfectly forming the shape of a heart.

“It’s so beautiful I almost don’t want to ruin it,” you proclaim.

Wonwoo raises his eyebrow at you.

“Hey, I said almost.”

Without a word he smiles, pulling you in so he can grab the hem of your sweater, gently pulling it over your head to reveal the lacy bra you had chosen to wear today.

“So pretty,” he remarks as he runs his hands over your breasts, before reaching around your back to undo the clasp. “But even prettier without.”

He tosses the bra aside, taking your tits in his hands. You begin to undo his shirt buttons, revealing his incredibly toned body that still turns you on so much every time you see it. His shirt gone, you move to his belt. You unbuckle it and pull it off, throwing it to the floor as you take the bulge in his pants in your palm. He lets out a soft groan as you caress him, his erection quickly growing. You go to unfasten his pants, the taut fabric giving way as you undo the zipper, his cock now bulging through his underwear, begging to escape. 

Wonwoo suddenly grabs you by the hips, twirling you around and pushing you onto the bed. 

“Get comfy, babe.”

As you recline into the soft pillows, he removes his pants and then begins to take off yours, pulling them off of you in one go. He gently pushes your inner thighs open and situates himself right in between your legs, the only barrier between his face and your cunt being the thin lacy underwear that do nothing to hide how wet you are right now. He softly kisses your clit a few times, then licks a stripe over the sheer fabric. You run your hand through his hair as he starts kissing your clit again, this time more intensely. You begin to squirm slightly against his face - silently begging for more. Wonwoo gazes up at you, giving you a little smirk as his lips hover right above you - so close that you feel breath against your core.

“Stop teasing meeee,” you whine.

You feel his finger slide under the fabric, pulling it aside to reveal your soaked center. You feel the sharpness of the cool air hitting you, followed by the warmth of Wonwoo’s mouth against your cunt. You mewl softly as his tongue traces against your folds, lapping up your juices but only making you wetter in the process. You continue to stroke his hair as he goes down on you, enjoying the view. You love the way his nose brushes against your clit as he alternates between sucking on the bud and fucking you with his tongue. 

Eventually you feel his fingers delicately graze your entrance - he inserts only one finger at first, but it still feels so good. 

“More,” you beg. “Please.”

Wonwoo slides a second finger into your cunt. He knows how to curve them perfectly, hitting you in just the right spot to drive you insane. He fucks you as he continues licking your clit - you become a moaning mess as your orgasm draws closer and closer. Your hips begin to buck involuntarily, grinding your cunt against his face - overwhelmed with pleasure. Wonwoo wraps his arms around your thighs, holding you down against the bed as he devours you. 

“Fuck, baby - I’m cumming,” you cry out. Your legs shake as the incredible sensation takes over your entire body, the white-hot flashes of pleasure flowing through you as your pussy throbs against your boyfriend’s tongue. 

As you come down, Wonwoo gives you soft little kitten licks. You sink into the pillows, your whole body relaxed in bliss. He kisses your stomach before crawling up, his body weight laying against you cozily as he presses his nose against yours. He kisses you, his lips and chin covered in your juices. You begin to make out, his tongue moving against yours, his bulge pressing against your core. You reach down, slipping your hand through the band of his underwear, and pull his cock out. You’ve fucked your boyfriend countless times by now, but every time you’re still in awe of his size. You wrap your hand around his thickness and stroke him a few times, causing precum to leak out. You guide his tip to your entrance - you moan as it easily slips in, his size stretching you out so perfectly. He slides his entire length into you, letting out a groan as he bottoms out. 

“Your pussy’s so perfect for me, babe,” he says in a low voice. He begins to fuck you, slowly pushing his cock in and out, letting your walls adjust to his size. 

“So good baby, fuck,” he says, practically growling. “Your pussy’s all mine.”

You moan as he picks up speed, thrusting his huge cock into you further and further. His lips meet yours again - your mouths and tongues dancing against each other as he fucks you, more passionately than ever before. 

“All mine, you’re all mine.”

“Oh my god,” you cry, tears forming in your eyes from the intense pleasure. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“I’m close baby - wanna cum in you,” he groans. 

“Please,” you beg. 

Wonwoo’s rhythm picks up speed - tears are fully running down your face as you let out cries of pleasure. You feel his cock pulsate against your walls as he releases, groaning as he thrusts into you, filling you up with his cum. 

As he comes down from his high, his warm body melts into yours - he’s squishing you, but you’ve never been more comfortable. His cock still inside you, he plays with your hair as he kisses you slowly. 

You lay there together for a while. Eventually, Wonwoo slowly pulls out of you, giving you a kiss on the cheek before he gets up to grab a warm towel. After he cleans you up he plops back into bed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in, squeezing you so tightly it makes you giggle. 

You draw your head back just enough so you can look your boyfriend in the eyes. He’s so hot, so cute, gazing at you so lovingly - you truly don’t think you’ve ever been happier than you are in this moment. 

“I love you,” you tell him - for the first time. 

You didn’t plan on saying it, it just came out naturally. Because it’s true - you love him, more than you’ve ever loved anyone. 

Wonwoo smiles, caressing you softly as he holds you warmly against him. 

“I love you too.”

[end] 

[sprinkler-ashes]

guilty as sin? // aaron hotchner x reader

guilty as sin?

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

words: 3.9k

warnings: pining, longing, a bit of angst, jealous hotch, slight language, povs switching back and forth because i couldn’t focus on just one sorry

description: in which you can't have the one person that you want. inspired by guilty as sin? by taylor swift.

a/n: whoops i am so sorry about disappearing for so long. basically i’ve been studying abroad and while getting to travel the world has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me, i'm so excited to be back with time to write! hope you guys like this one (and it’s holiday themed #sleigh) lmk if you want a part 2 and i might do it

messy top lip kiss

how i long for our trysts

without ever touching his skin

how can i be guilty as sin?

Aaron Hotchner can’t remember the last time, or if ever, he’s hated someone that he's never met before.

The BAU's annual Christmas party was in full swing, the atmosphere alive with laughter and the soft hum of holiday classics playing in the background – thanks to JJ’s playlist. Glittering, colorful lights and festive garlands adorned the room, and a tall, magnificent tree stood proudly in the corner, its ornaments catching the light. 

Penelope was right – no one could decorate for the holidays like she could.

Aaron stood at the far end of the room, a glass in hand, his eyes scanning the crowd. His team looked relaxed, their usual burdens temporarily lifted by the party that he had sworn he wasn’t coming to this year. 

It had been a tough year – every year was tough, but this one especially considering the ordeal of Emily faking her death and coming back. It had taken a toll on everyone. 

However, despite the pretty decorations that he knew Penelope had put hours into putting up, his focus remained focused on someone across the room.

You.

You looked stunning tonight wearing a deep emerald dress, your smile so blinding that it put Penelope’s decorations to shame. But it wasn’t just your beauty that held his attention.

 It was the man standing beside you, his hand resting a little too low for Aaron’s liking on your back as he leaned in to whisper something that made you flash a smile.

The man you’d brought as your date.

Aaron had been eyeing him all night. He was in a perfectly fitted suit with a tie that matched the color of your dress. He'd heard from JJ that the man was a lawyer that you had been set up with by one of your friends from college. Apparently, it wasn’t serious yet, and the two of you had only been on a few dates.

Not that he cared that much. And not that he nonchalantly asked JJ or anything.

Aaron’s jaw tightened as he took another sip of his drink, the liquid doing little to calm the feeling inside him. He had no right to feel this way, he reminded himself. You were his colleague, part of his team – he was your boss – and yet he couldn’t stop the wave of jealousy that surged through him every time your date leaned closer or when you laughed at something he said.

“You’re going to crack that glass if you keep holding it like that,” Rossi’s voice broke through his thoughts. He turned to find his friend’s knowing smirk, his wine glass tilted slightly as if in toast to Aaron’s predicament.

Aaron stiffened, his composure faltering for just a moment before he shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on,” Rossi said, rolling his eyes. “You’re oozing jealousy. It’s almost painful to watch.”

“I’m fine,” Aaron replied, loosening his grip on the glass. His tone was clipped, but Rossi wasn’t easily fooled. There was no use in trying to lie to one of his closest friends, but Aaron attempted to regardless.

“You’ve been staring at her all night,” Rossi said. “You might want to rein it in before someone else notices. Need I remind you that you’re in a room full of experienced profilers?”

Aaron said nothing as his gaze shifted back to you. Your date was gesturing animatedly, and you were nodding along, a genuine smile lighting up your face. It should have made him feel relieved to see you enjoying yourself after the traumatic year that you had been through but instead, it twisted something deep inside him.

“She seems happy,” Rossi observed, his voice softer now. “It’s good to see her smile. She’s been through a lot this year. We all have.”

Aaron didn’t respond immediately. He thought the pit in his stomach couldn’t go any deeper, but it did. His grip on the glass relaxed, but the knife in his chest didn’t ease. 

“Yeah,” he finally said, though the words felt distant, like someone was possessing him and speaking for him. “She took the Prentiss situation hard.”

You and Emily Prentiss were attached at the hip. There had never been two people who immediately matched each other’s energy more than you and Emily from the second that you joined the team. When Emily faked her death, you had been devastated. It caused you a lot of time in therapy and an even longer amount of time to accept the fact that she really wasn’t dead.

So, in short, yes, it was good to see you happy.

Aaron just wished that it was him making you happy instead.

“You can talk to her, you know,” Rossi told him. “She doesn’t bite.” Before he could respond, Rossi was pulling at his arm to follow him.

“What the hell are you doing?” Aaron muttered underneath his breath.

Rossi rolled his eyes. “Can you relax? You’re acting like an angsty teenager. We’re just going to go say hello.”

Your smile brightened at the sight of Rossi, and it lit up even more as your eyes moved to find Aaron’s.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Rossi said, but both him and Aaron knew that he was not sorry at all, “but I had to come to see how our star agent is doing this evening.”

You smiled at the compliment. “Oh, Rossi, stop it.”

He shook his head and looked at your date. “It’s only her second year here with us, and she’s almost as good as me.”

“Okay, now you’re just lying.”

Aaron’s eye finally caught yours, and he could’ve almost sworn that your breath caught in your throat, but he was probably just seeing things. You tossed him a small smile – one that made his chest tighten.

Rossi raised his hands in surrender. “I would never,” he said with a grin. He turned to your date. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

You cleared your throat in preparation to do introductions, but your date beat you to it. “Agent Rossi, right?”

Your date shook hands with Rossi as he introduced himself.

“And Agent Hotchner, correct?” He turned to Aaron and put out his hand. “It’s great to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

The tension between the two men was palpable, though your date seemed oblivious to it. Maybe it was just one-sided.

“Good things, I hope?” Aaron attempted a joke, much unlike himself.

Your date laughed. “Really good things – don’t worry. She thinks very highly of you. She’s always talking about you.”

You laughed awkwardly while Rossi attempted to hide a smirk behind his wine glass. Aaron, on the other hand, thought he was going to have a heart attack.

Thinks very highly of you.

She’s always talking about you.

“I think very highly of her as well,” Aaron said, trying to keep his voice at bay. “She’s an excellent agent.”

He locked eyes with you, and he knew he wasn’t imagining the way your breath hitched this time. You kept opening and closing your mouth like you wanted to say something to him, but no words ever came. Instead, you brought your drink to your lips and looked away.

Rossi, seeing the interaction that just played out in front of him, swooped in to help. “Well, it’s great to meet you.”

Your date, oblivious, nodded. “It really is. She’s been telling me how much she enjoys working with all of you. Sounds like a great team and sounds like you all are pretty close.”

“We are,” Rossi said smoothly, his voice warm but his eyes calculating as he watched Aaron out of the corner of his eye. “It’s not every day she brings someone to a work event. You must be quite the catch.”

Aaron was going to kill him.

You opened your mouth to interject, but your date beat you to it. “Well, I don’t know about that, but I like to think I’m lucky to have met her. We’ve had fun.”

“How did you two meet?” Rossi asked. It was a genuine question on his part.

“We were introduced by a mutual friend,” he explained. “It was kind of a blind date, but it worked out pretty well.”

Aaron’s grip on his glass tightened even more, and he hoped you didn’t notice how his jaw clenched for just a fraction of a second.

“Well,” Rossi said, breaking the tension, “it’s always nice to see someone who recognizes what they’ve got. Right, Aaron?”

Aaron’s gaze flicked to Rossi, his expression carefully neutral. “Absolutely,” he said, his voice steady but devoid of emotion. Then his eyes shifted to you, softening just enough to make your heart stutter. “She deserves the best.”

The weight of his words hung heavily between you, and for a moment, the room, the background chatter, and the bright lights seemed to fade away.

It was just the two of you, caught in a silent conversation that spoke volumes. You wanted to reach out – to say something, but you couldn’t as your date’s arm moved around to your waist, grounding you in the reality of the moment.

You had come here with someone. It wasn’t fair to him for you to be thinking about your boss in a not-very-appropriate way.

“Well, we should probably mingle,” he said cheerfully, oblivious to the tension swirling around him. He glanced at you with a warm smile. “Ready?”

You nodded, your smile feeling strained. “Yeah, let’s go.”

As he led you away, you glanced back over your shoulder, your eyes meeting Aaron’s one last time. Your expression was unreadable, but the emotion in your eyes was evident. It was an unspoken feeling that stayed with you both long after you turned away – a reminder of everything the two of you couldn’t say to each other and everything you couldn’t have.

Rossi watched Aaron carefully as the two of you disappeared into the crowd. “Before you say anything, I was testing to see how serious it is between them. You need to do something about this before it eats you alive,” he said, his tone devoid of his usual teasing.

Aaron didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the spot where you had been standing. After a long moment, he downed the rest of his drink and turned to Rossi. “You shouldn’t have done that. Some things are better left alone. It would never work out anyways.”

Rossi shook his head, a hint of sadness on his aged face. “You don’t know that unless you actually try.”

Aaron didn’t reply while Rossi clapped a hand on his shoulder and walked away, but the set of his shoulders and the tension in his jaw spoke volumes. The holiday lights around the room glowed softly, a contrast to the storm of emotions swirling inside him.

Maybe he should’ve said something to you. Not just tonight, but before it turned into the mess that it had become.

You and Aaron had been working together for two years. You’d started not long before Haley died. He wasn’t sure what it was about you that made him forget how to speak, but there had never been a moment since he met you that he wasn’t completely and utterly mesmerized just by your mere presence.

It wasn’t just him that adored you. The whole team did – you were exactly what they needed. Rossi hadn’t been lying earlier because it was true: you were excellent at your job, but you were also kind, understanding, and empathetic – something Aaron felt like he lacked at times.

He knew you felt it. Whatever was going on between the two of you – it wasn’t just something one-sided that he had made up in his head. It didn’t take a profiler to figure out that you both had feelings for one another because anyone with eyes could tell.

Except your date, apparently.

Aaron would like to have said he didn’t know why the two of you had never brought it up, but he would be lying if he said that. 

A relationship with his subordinate would be a field day for Strauss. Logically, he wasn’t sure if it would ever work out as long as both of you were still working with the BAU, and if it would never work out, what was the point of even talking about it?

At the end of the day, Aaron was as professional as they come. He would never act upon anything with a risk of you losing your job over it.

These were the thoughts swirling around Aaron’s brain as he decided to step outside for some air, coming to the conclusion that he needed a moment to breathe and get out of the stuffy room.

To avoid drawing attention to his exit, he briskly left the room by taking the stairs rather than the elevator and made his way down and outside of the building.

As the cold December air hit his face as he sat down on one of the benches, Aaron knew with certainty that he had to get over the way he felt about you. It was evident that the man you came with was a good person, and he needed to shut down whatever unspoken attraction you had for each other.

“Was it overwhelming in there for you, too?”

Hotch whipped his head around at the sound of your voice to find you walking towards him, still in your dress but wearing your winter coat, your hands stuffed in the pockets. There was no evidence on your face of how you were feeling as you sat down beside him. You weren’t close enough for your leg to be touching his, but close enough that if he moved even the slightest inch, it would be.

He tried not to think about that.

“Hot, stuffy, and too many people,” he said as he tugged on his tie, hoping that loosening it up would help him breathe easier around you.

You laughed. “I love Penelope’s enthusiasm, but did she really have to invite what feels like the entirety of Quantico to this party? I would’ve been fine with the team just getting dinner or something. I don’t know, like, over half of the people in there. I think she just sent out a mass invite to the entire FBI. Speaking of that, what were your thoughts on the e-vite?”

“I didn’t know that many shades of pink existed,” Aaron said, fully serious.

Another laugh escaped you, this one much more prominent. You looked so pretty that he couldn’t help but crack a rare smile – something that actually wasn’t that rare around you.

A comfortable silence grew between Aaron and you. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth.

“Your date seems nice.”

He glanced over at you as you raised an eyebrow up at him. You didn’t say anything.

“What?” He asked in response to your silence.

“You can be honest.”

Aaron frowned. “I am being honest. He was,” Aaron paused, trying to find the right word, charming.”

You chuckled. “So you’ve been glaring at him all night because he’s charming?”

That caught him off guard. “I wasn’t glaring.”

“Hotch, I think you forget that I’m also a profiler,” you retorted, “and a damn good one. You don’t have to lie to me if you don’t like him.”

He frowned. “Why do you care what I think of him?”

This time, you were the one that was caught off guard. You pursed your lips together in concentration, trying to think of what to say to Aaron.

“I value your opinion.”

Aaron nodded. “Because you think very highly of me?”

You turned away from him with a playful eye roll, a tinge of embarrassment running through your veins as you remembered your date telling your boss right in front of you that you talk about him all the time. In your defense, you wouldn’t say that you talked about Aaron all the time.

Okay, maybe seventy-five percent of the time, but you couldn’t help it.

Aaron Hotchner was charming, attentive, and a natural leader when it came to his job. He made everything look effortless. It was no wonder why you were immediately drawn to him right after meeting him.

You weren’t sure if you were ever not going to be drawn to him.

Your mind raced back to your date, who was still inside while you had told him that you needed some air. You grimaced, feeling guilty at the idea of him inside by himself while you were sitting on a bench with the man you actually wanted to be with.

But technically, you weren’t doing anything that you shouldn’t be. In fact, you weren’t even official with the guy – this was only the third time you had seen him and while you liked him as a person, you were planning on telling him that it wasn’t going to work out after tonight. 

You’d only agreed to your friend’s incessant request for a blind date in an attempt to get Aaron out of your head, and he was actually the one who offered to come to the party with you – not the other way around. He was a nice man who, in any other circumstance in which you had never met Aaron, you probably would’ve been head over heels for.

Both fortunately and unfortunately, you had met Aaron Hotchner.

“Well, if I recall correctly, you also said that you think highly of me.”

“I did say that. I do think highly of you. I’m not denying it,” he said before he quickly added, “I think highly of everyone on the team.”

Aaron wanted to kick himself after seeing how your face fell before you quickly replaced the disappointed look with a smile. “Yeah, it’s a good team to be a part of.”

He was trying to keep it together like the professional that he claimed to be. The comment was meant to be a neutral compliment, not hurt your feelings. Of course he thought highly of everyone on the team, but the way that he said it didn’t make the situation better.

You cleared your throat, knowing you had to go back to your date and stop digging yourself deeper into the situation you were already in. “I should get back inside.”

Aaron nodded, getting ready to stand up with you. “I should, too, before Garcia sends a search party to hunt me down.”

As the two of you got ready to stand, your eye flickered to his undone tie.

“Oh, your tie is undone,” you told him. 

He looked down at it and moved his hands to fix it, but you hesitated for a moment before you stopped him. “Let me,” you murmured.

You weren’t sure what had gotten into you, and you weren’t sure why your hands were now moving to your boss’s neck to fix his tie when he was perfectly capable of doing it himself. You’d just told yourself that you were going to go back inside, but there you were: your hands inching closer and closer to Aaron Hotchner’s body when you should’ve been going back inside.

Aaron froze, his breath hitching audibly as your fingers brushed the fabric, your knuckles ghosting his chest over top of his white button-up dress shirt. Slowly and carefully, you straightened the tie, your fingertips grazing the skin at the base of his throat as you finally slid the knot up to his collar. 

His pulse thrummed under your touch – it was rapid, unsteady, and unlike him – and you felt your own heart race in response to the close proximity.

It shouldn’t have felt the way that it did. You were fixing his tie. It wasn’t an act that was supposed to be intense, but it was. You didn’t want to be dramatic, but you were positive that fixing his tie was the most intimate act of your life.

Neither of you spoke as your hands moved. Aaron’s gaze bore into you, dark and heavy with something you couldn’t name, but you felt in every nerve and every inch of your body.

When you finished, your hands lingered, trembling slightly. Whether that was from the cold or from the moment with Aaron – you weren’t sure. 

His tie was perfectly fixed now, but you couldn’t bring yourself to get up off the bench and walk back inside. Your hands never moved – one holding his tie and the other resting against his neck. He lifted his hand, hovering near your leg as though he wanted to touch you, but he didn’t dare.

“Aaron,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your pounding heart. Your eyes searched his, looking for a sign as to how he was feeling.

For him, his name on your lips was his undoing. You never called him Aaron – only ever Hotch.

 His hand moved to your hip before snaking it around to your lower back, your bodies now as impossibly close as they could on the bench. 

His grip was firm but tentative as he leaned in, his forehead nearly brushing yours as his other hand moved up and around to rest gently against the side of your face. The only audible sound in that moment was the sharp intakes of breath between the both of you

You didn’t know who moved first, but the distance between you disappeared. His nose grazed yours while you involuntarily closed your eyes. If you moved even the slightest inch, your lips would meet.

 His breath was warm against your lips in the winter air, and for a fleeting moment – a split, brief, delusional second – you thought he might kiss you.

But then, as if the weight of reality came crashing down, he pulled back. His hand dropped from your hip, his expression a mix of longing and regret as he avoided eye contact with you – something that he never did.

“We should go back inside,” he said, his voice strained as he moved to stand up.

You nodded, your throat too tight to speak and your hand still gripping his tie. Immediately, you pulled back and stood up quickly, the cold air rushing in to fill the space where his warmth had been.

As you made your way back inside, the tension between you and Aaron was undeniable and worse than it had ever been before. It was something neither of you could escape as you walked back up the stairs, not daring to come up in the elevator together.

You didn't look at him as you moved quickly to breeze past him on the staircase, afraid of what you might see in his eyes.

Or worse, what you might not see.

When you returned, the party was still in full swing, the lights and music still bright and loud. You didn’t have time to think about what had just happened before Spencer came up to you, rambling on about something that you couldn’t bring yourself to fully listen to.

 But as you rejoined the crowd and tried to be present in the conversation with Spencer, the memory of Aaron's touch on your body lingered. 

It was a silent reminder of everything you couldn’t have.

[angelbarelywritesslashers]

♡ slashers scenarios | y’all accidentally adopt a kid (part 2)

♡ fandoms; House of Wax, Hannibal (TV)/Silence of the Lambs, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Vincent Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, Hannibal Lecter

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡cw; parenthood, kidnapping, mentions of violence. basically don’t tell these guys you want a kid ig

♡notes; another sparse selection but i don’t think Billy Lenz is allowed within 100 yards of a school so it is what it is

also I hate how much I’m starting to love Bo oh my god

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Vincent Sinclair

> he’s a nurturing man- to his brothers and you

> hell he babies Jonesy too

> even so, he’s shocked when you mention offhandedly that he’d make a good father

> he denies it vehemently

> even as the golden child he grew up in hell

> no way he’d know how to do any of it right

> but you just gently laugh and shake your head, insisting but not pressing it

> it makes him think

> and think and think

> he didn’t know much about kids, but you’d be a great parent

> and you wouldn’t lie to him- maybe he’d be at least an okay father

> families don’t come through often

> and when they do, Lester leaves them be

> if they ever get to Ambrose on their own, the town stays off- none of the Sinclairs want anything to do with harming children

> but mistakes happen, and Bo is freaking out

> a little girl with dark hair and bright blue eyes was sleeping in the back of a car while he took care of her parents, and he didn’t realize until far to late

> she’s maybe 3, and awfully scared and quiet- but when they bring her in the house she walks right up to you and Vincent

> she hugs your leg and finally smiles when Vincent kneels down to show her that Jonesy is a nice dog

> Bo is in shock when you volunteer to adopt her, but Vincent is in quick agreement

> she’s nonverbal, but you look through her family’s things to find out her name - Lilly Henson, or something to that affect .

> Lilly Sinclair has a much better ring to it anyways, doesn’t it?

Bo Sinclair

> he’s the type that if you mention that you want a kid to this man, he asks what color

> he is endlessly devoted to you

> and while he never wanted a kid before, he’s always so insistent you make him a better man

> so some snot nosed brats would complete the picture perfectly

> he’s not super serious about it, not really

> you have plenty of time to plan for a family

> and he’s the type to want biological children if possible- he’s so used to white picket fence suburbia-type ideals

> when a car pulls up to the gas station, he stops when he sees the infant car seat in the back

> he’s about to tell the parents to move along- but then he sees the second matching one

> something - probably his overinflated self worth - tells him he’d be a much better father to twins that these chucklefucks

> and you want a kid anyways! would two be much better

> they’re not identical- he’s not not disappointed by the fact, but they’re still adorable

> a boy and a girl a bit over a year, with big brown eyes and infectious giggles

> he’s beyond proud when he strides in with them

> “daddy’s home!”

> he thinks you might actually kill him this time

> but then Charlotte - the girl based on what’s embroidered on her blankie, reaches for you and you melt

> you’re still scolding him as you happily take Theodore too

> but he knows you’re beyond thrilled

Hannibal Lecter

> he’s always wanted a successor

> quite frankly it never had to be his child - or a child at all

> he thought about taking younger serial killers in the making under his wing more than once

> to teach them the art of culinary cannibalism and the finer points of flaying people

> but it’s far too dangerous - especially with you around

> you’re the one thing that trumps his egomania

> so he lets it be for the time being

> but one day, he takes on a special case at work

> a young boy who recently lost his parents very violently

> he’s in kindergarten, and expresses most everything through his rather advanced drawings

> you don’t interact with his patients- even though he works from home you’re pretty skilled at dodging them

> but on the way out that afternoon the little boy- Peter, his name is, runs out before his social worker and smack dab into you

> she apologizes on his half profusely but you’re so sweet with the boy

> you pick up his dropped drawings and comfort him- he’s quite upset he may have hurt or angered you

> he gives you a huge hug and Hannibal can see the fond, parental look on your face

> after that it’s quite simple to draw up the paperwork

> he’s already in foster care, and it only takes a few false documents to make the courts think that Hannibal’s custody is the best place for little Peter

> you learned long ago that it’s best not to question how or why Hannibal does something when he gets like that

> and either way you’re content with your new little family

[mikanotes]

(no need for) liquid courage

arisu x gn!reader — 2.3k words

genre: fluff

warnings: alcohol usage, swearing, arisu and the never ending struggles of social interactions, love at first sight (not really but what the hell!) honestly badly written, barely proofread

synopsis: Arisu will never, ever like parties. He knows that. He has known that since forever. But then he sees you, and he has to consider changing his entire view on that.

author’s note: welcome back arisu i missed writing for u… also everyone thank my best friend for telling me not to write the ending i originally planned or i’m being very serious when i say the tags would’ve included major character death LMFAO

It only takes a total of thirty seconds at a party hosted by friends of Karube’s for Arisu to decide: this is definitely not his thing. Not at all. The colored, flashing lights. The uncomfortably loud music blasting through speakers and hitting each wall of the place until it reaches Arisu’s ears with the promise of an impending headache. The deadly amount of people— There’s just no way I could stay here and hope to actually survive the night, he thinks.

Someone jogs up to him and slaps him on the back and Arisu sighs. “No.” he says, before Karube can get a single word out. The latter groans and shakes the glass of alcohol in his hand. Alcohol. For a moment, that seems like a good idea. Karube chugs it down before shaking his head.

“Yes.” he counters, and shushes Arisu’s complaints immediately, holding up a finger, “Only time I’m acting like an asshole friend, alright? Only time. And even then, I’m trying to help you out.”

Arisu furrows his eyebrows and looks at him weirdly. Karube is not wrong, because he never pushes him out of his comfort zone much and Arisu appreciates it. However, he really can’t see this whole thing as an act of help in any way.

“Help?” he repeats, almost sounding baffled, “How? By just fucking, s-suffocating me in a crowd? What?”

“You know what? Yes.”

“Karube!”

Karube shrugs and lets go of him to gesture towards the ever-so-threatening crowd of drunken, dancing college students. “Arisu!” he mimics his tone lightheartedly, before walking away from him and disappearing between all the people.

Great. He thinks then that he’s glad he isn’t in college because he could not live a life surrounded by people who enjoy partying so damn much— And clearly, college students do.

He won’t try. He’s not gonna leave, not immediately, because he feels like he’s getting judged enough as is by the few people glancing his way, and he doesn’t want to worsen it by leaving a minute after walking in. Not that he cares, because he doesn’t know a single person here besides Karube, (and Chota, except he has no idea where he even went) so he doesn’t have to worry about seeing any of them ever again. 

But he does care enough to lean against a wall and grab his phone from his pocket instead of leaving, because that’s just Arisu Ryohei. Besides, the prospect of hearing anything irritating come out of the mouths of either his father or brother if he was to come back home right now was much too unpleasant, and he couldn’t just hang outside without his two friends (who are here, in this stupid party.) So playing on a game until the two idiots decide they’ve gotten drunk enough to leave, it is.

Except his phone is knocked out of his hand not even a few seconds after he opens a game. 

Fuck.

“Fuck.” an unfamiliar voice sighs, the sound of footsteps moving to a stop syncing with the one of his phone clattering against the floor. “Sorry.”

He glances up at the cause of his deepening despair and back down to grab his phone, only to find the one who knocked it out of his hand reaching for the fallen device as well.

It ends up with quiet apologies on both ends and awkward fumbling with the phone before everyone is back up straight and Arisu can check if his screen isn’t shattered enough to make him consider jumping out the nearest window.

Except the flashing party lights brighten your face before they do his phone, and he forgets how to function for a good three seconds.

So it takes one minute and thirty-three seconds into a party for Arisu to feel like he might be experiencing love at first sight. “Oh.” he says, stupidly, then clears his throat. Thinks about what to say. Cannot think of what to say. 

Your face doesn’t let any emotions pass through, which is a bit comforting in a way because if he’s embarrassing himself, which he knows he is, you’re not looking at him like it’s the case.

Then you laugh a little. “I’m sorry. Can’t see shit in here.” you say lightly, glancing around for a bit, then back at him, “Are you okay, though?”

“I’m okay.” he says, pressing on a tight smile. Then he takes a deep breath and looks down out of habit, only to be met with a crack on his screen. “Nevermind that, actually.”

You lean a bit closer and sigh again. “Shit. I’m so sorry.” you say, leaning away. You cross your arms and Arisu looks up at your face. You look annoyed for a bit, but it seems like you’re thinking. “I’ll pay…” you trail off. You stay silent for a beat more before suddenly listing things off with your fingers, muttering about things Arisu cannot catch at all with the sound of the music. Curse the music. He wants to listen to you.

Snap out of it, idiot.

You clap your hands together lightly and nod to yourself before looking up at him with a small smile, “I’ll pay for the repairs. My fault.” you say, before laughing sheepishly. You clear your throat and nod your chin towards his phone, “It’s like, uh, working, right? Only the screen’s broken?”

Arisu blinks and shakes his head to focus and presses the button at the side of his phone. It lights up, and he checks the touchscreen before nodding. “Yeah, barely broken.” he says, looking back up at you. The light of his phone before it dims makes your features clearer for a moment again and Arisu swears something is wrong with him. Why is his heart beating so fast? Anxiety?

Anxiety. That has to be it.

“But you really don’t have to—”

“Please,” you shake your head, “I’d feel like I owe you, otherwise. Let me.”

An idea pops into his mind. “Uh, alright.” he says, then prepares himself mentally so the words come out right, “Then can I get your number? In case you, like, run away before paying and I need to find you.”

You chuckle and he breathes out in relief.

“Yeah. I’ll give you my number.” you say, “But you might want to type it in yourself. Clearly it won’t end up any better in my hands.” you gesture towards the phone. Arisu laughs at that and shakes his head, but goes to his contacts app himself nevertheless.

So he gets your phone number, and you’re getting whisked away by two of your friends before he can ask for your name. Part of him feels disappointed you’re gone but he’s also relieved he gets time to breathe and process the whole interaction.

So he… Stays. He tells himself it’s for the same reasons as earlier, but the way his gaze moves towards your direction every other minute tells a different story. Suddenly, a party seems great. He wants to get to that bar and order a good drink that’s definitely alcoholic so he gets enough courage to go back up to you. Anything. Any-fucking-thing.

“Hey, Karube!” he hears someone exclaim, though it’s muffled by just about every other sound at the party. He sees Karube turn towards someone and follows his gaze to you, who’s hand is gesturing for him to come over. You know Karube?! That could be good. Or the absolute opposite. Karube has had ‘flings’ with a few people. The sudden image of his best friend with his apparent new crush makes him uneasy enough to genuinely consider trying to brainwash himself into thinking he never met you.

Either you’re acquaintances, either you two had something at some point. Arisu doesn’t even pretend his game is of any interest to him anymore, focusing only on what you could be saying once his friend walks up to you. You’re gesturing towards the two friends you’d been hanging out with and saying a few words, before Karube takes out a pack of cigarettes and hands you two. His mannerisms seem to be saying ‘that’s all they get’ and you laugh as you hand the two cigarettes to your friends. Karube walks away, seemingly towards Arisu’s direction. Yes! Arisu thinks, perfect.

“Man.” Karube seemingly deflates the instant he walks in his vicinity, a disappointed look that seems to be much more exaggerated than it should be due to the alcohol, “You’re still here?”

“Would I be anywhere else?” Arisu scoffs.

The other man waves his hand back dismissively and sighs, “Alright. Get off your phone for a second.”

“I’m literally not on my phone.”

Karube ignores that and pulls him to his side by his sleeve, “So now, look around. Is there anyone that catches your eye?” he asks, slurring his words just a bit. “There has to be. I know the type of people you’re into. And, well, I’m saying this as your friend so don’t take it badly, but I know you have the typical shut-in look. But trust me, lots of people are into that! Surprisingly enough. Anyways, so don’t…”

Arisu would be lying if he said he was listening to his friend at all. The only thing he can focus on is you, talking and laughing with your friends near the dancefloor. The flashing colored lights only seem to compliment you. Long gone is the idea of them being the worst thing ever and a direct attack to his eyes. No, now everything feels pretty. Everything feels slow, perfectly-paced. The music is background noise and the partygoers are all in the shadows.

Fuck, what the hell?

“— So that’s why I’m trying to help you out.” Karube seems to finish what was a very-long monologue, then pauses for a beat. He shoves Arisu’s shoulder and the latter looks at him with wide eyes. “You weren’t listening at all.”

“No.” Arisu says blankly, only to break out into a laugh and back away when his friend pretends to try and strangle him. His eyes turn back towards your direction without even noticing.

“Huh. Oh! That’s why.” Karube barks out a laugh, grinning, “You got a crush on them?”

Arisu’s gaze moves wildly between the dancefloor and his friend as his lips part and open to speak, only to stretch into a nervous smile when he tries to laugh. “No? What? Who?” he nearly stammers.

Karube turns and yells a name which Arisu figures is yours and he fears he might hear it at least a thousand more times in his thoughts alone. Then he notes that the honorifics he used when calling you felt much too formal, so maybe you’re not as close as Arisu’s nightmarish thoughts imagined. You seemingly notice him and he beckons you over with his hand. He loses sight of you for half a second when you disappear into the crowd, and the rest of the time because he turns his gaze literally anywhere else.

“Yeah?” you ask, a bit breathless, “Oh, phone guy!”

Karube elbows Arisu (less than discreetly) and nods with a tight smile. “Meet Arisu Ryohei.”

“Oh, that’s Arisu?” you say, and the latter looks at you, chuckling nervously. He bites his tongue out of habit and decides he doesn’t need to participate in this conversation yet (Bless the heavens.) “Damn, I just saw Chota earlier, too. Who would’ve thought I’d meet all your friends tonight?”

“It’s more surprising you never ran into each other before. All of you seem to think the bar’s your free lounging space.” Karube scoffs, crossing his arms. “Anyways, you two met?” he looks at Arisu, who forces himself not to gulp.

“Yeah. Briefly.” he says, running a hand up and down the back of his neck, “My phone dropped ‘cuz of them.”

“Sorry.”

Arisu chuckles and shakes his head lightly. “It’s fine.”

“It’s fine, huh?” Karube echoes, squinting at him. He looks at him and tilts his head, prompting the other to laugh and look away, “I see how it is. Anyways, you said you saw Chota, right? I’ll look for him before he drinks too much.” he turns to you again.

“Sure. He’s talking with that girl from my history class. You know the one?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

He slaps Arisu on the shoulder before he leaves.

And then there were two, huh? Arisu sighs and looks around the same way you do. He really wants to curse out Karube for fucking him over for the second time tonight (bringing him to the party, then leaving him alone with you) but he’ll save that for later. For now, his mind is too busy trying to find a way to make sure this silence doesn’t last long enough to become awkward, so it’s really difficult to think about anything else. You beat him to it.

“Didn’t— Huh. Wasn’t Karube calling me over to ask me something? Or was he just looking for Chota?” you ask, brows knitted in confusion. Arisu hums for a while.

“Uh… Honestly?” he laughs lightly, “No idea.”

You scoff and look at him. Properly. “Arisu Ryohei, huh?”

He finds himself biting back a smile, finally properly hearing you say his name. He nods slowly, then says your name for the first time, tasting the sound of it on his tongue. It’s nice. It’s better than the discomfort he would’ve faced had he decided to actually drink alcohol. Your name would’ve felt uncertain, mixed with the taste of beer. Slurred. And he might not have remembered it as well. Now it just feels… Clear.

“Well, nice to properly meet you.”

“Tell me that when we’re out of this club and the sun is up.” you say, “I mean let’s go out on… Like, let’s, I don’t know, hang out. Karube’s bar. If you're fine with it. When we’re all recovered from the party and stuff. Yeah?”

Something in the way your words come out sounds much more nervous than all the times he heard you talk before, and part of him feels relieved he wasn’t alone in this. Then he actually processes what you said and it’s his turn to struggle to get a coherent response out. Sound cool. Sound cool.

“Yeah!” What the hell, Ryohei?

You laugh, head tilting down for a bit. When you look back up at him, you’re smiling. “It’s a date.”

[persephone-writes]

A Diviner's Guide to James Potter

Chapter Twenty-Seven: A Wonderful Accident

James Potter x Fem!Gryffindor!Reader

Chapter Twenty-Six - Chapter Twenty-Eight ☆ Series Masterlist

Description: A tough conversation awaits, as does some unexpected perks of winning a duel against a dastardly opponent.

Word Count: 7.3k

Lily’s mouth was wide, her gaze rapid as it darted between you and James. At the same time your heart had all but stopped, a rush of heat moving like a wave down from your face all the way to your feet. The three of you, like prey animals remaining like statues, deliberating whether to flee or play dead, seemed to be having the same concurrent thought: holy shit.

Her mouth clamped shut, a flush of color rising to her cheeks as she swallowed. For a moment you thought she may turn and leave as if nothing ever happened, willing to pretend she had not walked in on such a startling event. However, you should have felt foolish for forgetting her character so easily, for she did not run away, taking a few careful steps into the room. It seemed as though she wished to speak though couldn’t find the proper words, struck mute by what she saw. 

James stood to his full height, moving away from the bed. “Lily,” he began, testing the waters. She did not flinch away, some of the rigidness in her shoulders relaxing. “I’m so sorry you had to find out this way.”

As some of the initial shock settled, you could no longer tell what she was thinking. It was obvious her mind had caught up with her eyes, though beyond that you had no insight. 

“I was going to tell you today,” you said, unable to allow James to do all the work for you, “but then Agnes came with the fizzybomb thing and Mulciber— it just turned into such a big mess and I’m sorry.” You were practically pleading with her, though for what, you did not exactly know. 

She let out a breath, meeting your eyes for a drawn out moment before turning back to James. “How—” she stuttered, “how long has this been going on?”

“A month and a half,” you said, answering before he had the chance. Your heart ached as you spoke, though some of the adrenaline high from earlier had not yet worn off, allowing your mouth some freedom you otherwise would’ve had to force. 

You could see a renewed jolt of surprise run through her at your confession. James moved closer to her, though you could no longer see his face, only the way his hands came up in a timid, hesitant motion. 

“This isn’t just a fling. I swear, it’s not like that at all,” he said in the same desperate tone as yourself. He glanced back at you, his eyes holding within them an unguarded hope, free from all masks. You knew he believed she’d be okay with it, though you wondered if that belief was slipping the longer she appeared so utterly bewildered. He turned back to her, resuming his explanation, “I’m serious about this, really fucking serious. We both are. I promise that I’d never—”

Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat, standing in the doorway of her office. Her face was expressionless, looking between the three of you. “Is there something to which I should be made aware?” she asked, again without any indication of how much she had heard.

You shook your head, though Lily was the first to speak. 

“No, ma’am. I apologize if we were too loud. Professor McGonagall released me from my duties for the time being and said I was free to visit Y/N, as long as that’s all right with you,” as she spoke she was perfectly collected, as if nothing was out of the ordinary. 

Pomfrey gave her a skeptical look, her mouth tight. “You may stay, Miss Evans.”

She spun around and went back into her office, this time closing a door with less than an inch of space left open. Later, you’d have to find some way to thank her for the increase in privacy. 

“James,” you said after a moment, still afraid, though far less than you would have been an hour ago, “could you leave us, just for a few minutes?”

Just then the clock tower chimed, quite loud from this place in the castle. The school day was finished, though it wasn’t as if anyone was still in classes. 

James nodded once, offering you a smile that could barely be seen before he left the Hospital Wing. Slowly, Lily walked over to the chair in which James had been sitting, watching as you moved to sit on the edge of the bed, your eyes in your lap. The ringing had ceased, the room silent once more, save for your racing heartbeat. 

“James was right,” you said, lifting your face. “I’d never, we’d never do this unless we were completely serious. If I wasn’t entirely certain that I would regret it for the rest of my life—not giving it a chance—I wouldn’t dream of risking something like this,” you stopped, your eyes closing. “More than anything I regret not telling you sooner. I should’ve told you right from the start. Godric, I really wish I did. It was one of the worst mistakes I’ve ever made, and I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Lily.”

You spoke low enough that you hoped Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t hear, though you were a bit past humiliation at this point. Pomfrey being privy to your conversation would not be the worst thing to happen today, at any rate. 

Lily opened her mouth a few times before she spoke, the gears turning in her head, “I thought that you two might fancy each other. Well, I was almost certain James fancied you, but I never thought that you were,” she faltered, letting out another breath that sent her shoulders slumping. “So you’re together. Really together?”

You gave her a solemn look, nodding. “Yeah. Really together.” 

You knew what you ought to tell her, perhaps the thing that would make or break your entire friendship, though your throat was tight as if to keep in the damming words. I’m in love with your ex-boyfriend was not something one looked forward to saying, especially after such an awful, abysmal sort of day. 

Her hand came up to her face, rubbing along the corner of her mouth as her eyes drifted off to some point on the floor. She seemed pensive, processing the tidings with an agonizing intensity. 

“You know,” she began, still looking away, “I feel a little foolish for not realizing sooner.”

You were taken aback, your brows furrowing. Out of all the possible things you were anticipating she might say, that was not one of them. “Huh?”

She glanced up, more quizzical than anything. “When did it start exactly?”

“Uh, Saturday night after the quidditch match, when we left the party,” you answered somewhat monotonously, still a bit stunned by the question. 

She hummed, leaning back in the chair. “Yes, that's just about a month and a half,” she said to herself, making another curious noise. 

“Lily,” you said, very carefully. She looked back to you, still a bit lost in her own thoughts. You took a deep breath, pushing away your lingering anxiety. “We’re, well, James and I are in love. We have been since that night.”

She said nothing for far too long, so long that you wondered if you’d pushed her to the brink of madness. Your hands fisted into the Hospital Wing bedding, your face contorting in a mix of pain and trepidation as you waited for her to make any indication she even heard what you had said. 

Finally, she said your name with a deep, long sigh, her head hanging down for a moment as if she were suddenly tired. If she was, you’d hardly blame her. She ran a hand down her face again, frowning at you like a disappointed parent. “You’re a real tosser, you know that?” She snorted, almost like a laugh, smiling without much joy. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. You’re in love and you didn’t tell me?”

She appeared more sad than anything, staring up at you in mild betrayal. It wasn’t as bad as you had feared, though you still felt a heaviness in your chest, years of friendship weighing down upon you. 

“I was scared,” you muttered, forcing down tears once again. “I thought you’d hate me forever, that you’d never want to speak to me again. It was selfish of me. James wanted to tell you, but…I didn’t want to lose you.” Every syllable felt like wading through sludge, thick and tacky. You tried to remember how you had organized it all in your head, but you came up empty, forcing you to make it up as you went along. “I never thought I’d feel anything close to this, and I’m sure that I never would have if it weren’t for him, but I’d also never wish we weren’t friends, never in a million years. I guess that’s really what makes me selfish. I want both at the same time.” 

“Did you really think I’d be upset with you for falling in love?” she asked, seeming to momentarily forget your disloyalty. 

You swallowed down the lump in your throat, your eyes burning as you nodded. 

She laughed, small and tinged with a bit of sorrow, though it was still like a harbor in the tempest. “You really are thick.”

“What?”

“You remember how James and I bickered?” she said, cocking her head.

Completely dumbfounded, you answered her question, “Yeah…”

“Then you remember well enough that we were not good together.”

You felt like she was a professor explaining a very simple concept that, for some unknown reason, you couldn’t quite grasp. “Yeah, but I still—”

“Lied to me? That was a bit of a dick move— well, maybe more than a bit, but that's not what I’m talking about,” she paused, giving you the kindest, gentlest look she could have as she placed a hand on your knee. “How could I possibly be upset with my best friend falling in love with another one of my friends, who, I’ll remind you, I was not very compatible with? James is his own person. He can do whatever he wants. He always has, anyway, no matter how many suggestions I made to him,” she chuckled, her smile subtle, though no less warm. “I want you to be happy, Y/N, and I want him to be happy. If you do that for each other…that seems like a wonderful accident.”

The leaden storm clouds raging above you, carrying with them the rumble of lightning and whipping rain, opened up, revealing glorious rays of golden sunlight piercing through the gloom. You could almost feel the heat of it on your skin, the shift in the air as they peeled away, fading into nothingness. 

Your face lit up, a bubbling laugh of surprise falling from your lips as you stared at her. You suddenly felt eleven years old again, completely and utterly sure that you and Lily would stay friends for the rest of your lives. 

“You’re okay with it, me and James?” you asked, though there wasn’t much need. 

Lily was shaking her head at your reaction, her smiling having grown. “Yes, I’m okay with it.”

“And it isn’t because I almost died today?”

She hummed, giving your question some consideration. “No. I don’t think so, anyway. It may have put me in a more forgiving mood, but I think the end result would have always been the same. Maybe it just would’ve taken me a few hours,” she laughed. 

You put your face into your hands, still grinning as you nearly felt her arms pull you back from the ledge of the cliff. “James said you would be,” you mumbled through your fingers, taking your hands away just in time to see her roll her eyes. 

“Of course, he did,” she droned. “Thinks he knows everything.”

Her snarky comment, which any other time would have caused you to laugh further, made you pop down from the bed, leaning forward to throw yourself into her arms. This was Lily, your best friend, your sister in all but family tree and pesky Ministry papers. You wrapped yourself around her shoulders, pulling her in as tight as you could. She was startled at first, letting out a small laugh before she returned your embrace.

“I love you, Lily,” you said, meaning every word. “Thank you. I can’t even— I couldn’t possibly—-”

“You don’t have to,” she said softly, her voice the same as the bright day emerging from the storm. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” you whispered, unwilling to break the hug first. Life still felt unreal, now for an entirely different reason than before. An hour ago everything felt too horrible to be truly happening, though now it felt too lovely. “I wish I could take it back. Godric, you don’t know how much I wish I had a time turner. I don’t know how I’ll make it up to you, but I will. I promise.”

She moved you away, standing with her hands still on your arms. “There will be no making it up to me. I just need you to promise one thing.”

“Of course, anything,” you said immediately. 

“Never, ever keep a secret like this from me again,” she said. “You’d think after seven years you’d realize I’m not very frightening.” She continued when you saw you make a face, “Well, perhaps I’m a tiny bit hot-headed, but you almost never make me upset. Not truly, in any case.”

“I promise,” you said, amazed at her infinite kindness. After a moment of thinking on how you and James were free to just be, maybe even in front of the entire school now that Mulciber would be gone, you began to ponder the smaller, less significant questions that had been pushed to the back burner for the time being. “It’s not weird for you, him and I?”

She shrugged. “I mean, I would’ve preferred to have found out in just about any other way,” she teased, “and it might take some getting used to…but, no. I don’t think of him that way anymore. It’s actually sort of amazing I ever did.”

“I’m telling him you said that,” you laughed, always enjoying the moments when Lily was wickedly brutal. 

Lily looked proud of herself for her joke, though she soon motioned to the bed with her chin, walking around the foot. “Get back in bed, you should be resting. I’m gonna go get him. He’s probably giving himself a heart attack out there.”

When Lily cracked open the door you heard the sound of James’s shoes shuffling down the corridor, sliding to a stop as he peeked inside. Lily opened it wider, allowing him in. He had since taken off his robe, which had taken the worst beating, the charred fabric hanging in his hand like the flag of a kingdom marred in battle. His gloves were also missing, though now that you thought of it, you were quite sure he hadn’t had them on the entire time. Where they could have ended up was a mystery that would have to be solved at a less pressing time. 

He was looking between the pair of you with a great deal of unease, though it soon turned to curiosity when he took in each of your easy demeanors. 

“Is everything…?”

Lily snorted, crossing her arms. “Yes, everythings fine.”

James beamed, the heaviness of the day seemingly lifted off of him despite Lily’s annoyed countenance. You weren’t quite sure if her demeanor was due to the fact that James had been right about her feelings, something she certainly wouldn’t want to give in the satisfaction of, or the lingering irritation over not being told about it. Either way, James was gloriously happy. 

“I’m buying your butterbeers for the rest of the year,” he said, unperturbed by her lack of thankfulness. 

“That's right, you will,” she mumbled.

James finally noticed her mood, his smile dropping. “Did you two not make up?” he asked, looking at you for a moment. 

You shook your head, half-shrugging.

“Everything is perfectly fine between us,” Lily began, staring at James with the strict look students often received from McGonagall, “though it would’ve been nice of you to ask me first.”

“Ask you?”

“You just assumed I wouldn’t care, and you’re lucky you were right,” she said, not seething, though far from pleased. 

His shoulders relaxed, his posture returning to something softer, though never entirely slouchy. He had too much energy for that. 

“C’mon,” he drawled. “I knew you wouldn’t be upset. If I wasn’t sure, I would’ve asked.” 

Lily pointed a finger at his chest, taking a step towards him. “You’re lucky I’m not going to tell her parents you’ve been seeing their daughter for over a month and never even sent them a letter.” 

You were reminded of their old bickering days, the arguments that would make Sirius roll his eyes and Peter sink into his chair. Half of the time you weren’t sure who won and who lost, or who you thought was right. Looking at them now, you wondered how you didn’t see their break-up coming from a mile away. 

James glanced over at you, unfazed by her threat. “She’s bluffing, right?” 

You only laughed, giving him no answers. Your parents wouldn’t care anyhow, which Lily knew quite well, though you weren’t sure if she’d forgive you if you revealed that now. 

Just as he began to pout, the Hospital Wing door opened again, though at first you didn’t see anyone enter. All your eyes shot down nearer to the floor, finding Isby standing with a small trunk floating in the space behind her. 

“Isby brings your things,” she said as she headed into the room, leading the trunk to the foot of the bed where it was dropped. 

You got up in order to thank her properly, which she took graciously, just as she always did. 

“You are welcome,” she squeaked, her large eyes roaming across you just the way Pomfrey’s had “How are you feeling? Isby heard what happened with your classmates. Isby knew he was trouble, knew it!” She stomped her foot once, quite grouchy. 

You knelt down, giving her a reassuring smile. “It’s all right now. Professor McGonagall and Taurisus probably have him locked away somewhere until someone from the Ministry comes to get him.”

She did not seem convinced, huffing to herself. “Miss L/N said that before, and look at what's happened.”

“Wilkes’ father won’t be able to get Mulciber out of trouble this time. It’s cut and dry, I promise. I doubt that Wilkes or Zephyr or any other of the Slytherin’s will try anything, either.”

Somewhat appeased, Isby gave you another nod, looking over to Lily and James. “Your uniform!” she said, horrified by the state of his robe. 

James laughed, glancing down at it. “Oh, this? Don’t worry about it, Isby. The seasons almost over, anyway.”

Isby shook her head, mumbling something about reckless James Potter before she turned back to you. “Isby is glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” you said, standing up. “Thanks again for my things, Isby. I’ll have to find some way to repay you for all the kindness you’ve shown me.”

“Isby has a salary and clothes of her own. Isby needs nothing from Miss L/N.”

You were not insulted. On the contrary, you were glad to know that not even you, who Isby seemed to have taken some sort of liking to, could not boss her around. Although you were a bit sad that you’d be unable to do anything for her, you wouldn’t want to risk upsetting her with an unwanted gift. 

“Okay, if you insist.”

“Isby must go and help with dinner,” she said with one last look up at you, scurrying across the Hospital Wing towards the door. 

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

It felt a bit odd having Lily and James waiting for you in the main room while you washed up in the lavatory. You wondered if they were talking or silent, and if they were speaking, what was the subject. Was it vain to think it would likely be you? No, you reasoned. Not with the day I’ve had. 

When you looked at your reflection in the mirror you searched for any sign of the cut on your forehead, finding it almost entirely unnoticeable. The skin was slightly shiny where the wound had been closed, though you knew even that would disappear within a few days. The gash on your calf was more obvious, though the small, thin scar would also fade in time thanks to Pomfrey’s healing. They were, other than your weariness, the only evidence of your duel. Your headache was gone and not even your cheekbone, which had also slammed into the ground, hurt. Perhaps Pomfrey’s headache draught was dual-purposed, though it was also plausible you were still in shock. You cringed as you thought of your head hitting the uneven bank of pebbles and rocks, the ringing that had sounded in your ears. Flipendo, as it seemed, was becoming an enemy of yours. 

Wearing fresh clothes that made you feel almost like an entirely different person, you returned to the main room to find a fair few more people waiting for you than when you had left. Dumbledore was standing in the center of the room, McGonagall behind him with Madam Pomfrey near her office door. More chairs had been taken from the other bedsides and brought over to yours, where James, Lily, and now Sirius, sat. Just as they had done in the field an hour prior, their eyes all fell onto you, your skin crawling with the attention.

You stood lamely on the opposite end, staring back at them wordlessly. Today was only the second time you had a conversation with the Headmaster, though now that you thought of it, you hadn’t even spoken to him yet. As you caught a glimpse of him, your eyes never quite meeting his, the anxiety you had felt when you first were brought into his office returned in full force. You had done nothing wrong, yet you almost expected to earn detentions for the remainder of the term and a great loss of house points. The first you could very well deal with, though the second would be a sour affair, considering you were neck-and-neck with Ravenclaw. 

“Feeling better, I hope?” said Dumbledore, the low rumble of his voice seeming more soothing now that Mulciber and the blackened grass was out of sight. 

“Yes, sir,” you said, walking forward to meet him. You felt as though every movement you made was awkward, as if you were new to standing on two feet. “Thank you for—”

“No need, no need,” he said, interrupting your poorly planned speech. “We may discuss everything in my office, if you are feeling up to task.”

McGonagall and Pomfrey did not appear in favor of this, the former shaking her head just enough for you to see. You briefly looked to James, though the action felt unconscious, a reflex you couldn’t get rid of no matter how much you tried. He seemed worried again, though you hadn’t the slightest idea as to why. Surely he didn’t think you’d get in trouble for something like this, especially after everything that's happened. 

“Of course,” you answered.

Dumbledore smiled softly, and you remembered all the speeches he gave before feasts, or sometimes seemingly on a whim during random evenings when he felt like he had something to say. There was always an air of practicality to them, a piece of wisdom weaved into kind words and a few jokes. Lately they had become a bit more serious in nature, though Dumbledore had still remained a hopeful realist, or at the very least, that was what he wanted his students to believe. In this moment he looked just as he did when he stood at his podium: acutely aware of the gravity of the war outside the castle, yet the light of joy never completely dimmed from his spirit. 

“We’ll take the floo, if you don’t mind. It’s a long way to my office and I am not as young as I used to be,” he chuckled, leading you towards Pomfrey’s office. 

You glanced back at James, Lily and Sirius, all bearing different expressions. James seemed as though he wanted to get up and follow you, Lily silently encouraging. Sirius’s countenance was sobering, for he still carried with him grave significance of the recent events. He was like a cord pulled taut, ready to snap. 

McGonagall stood in the doorway as Dumbledore traveled through the floo first, watching you with a nervous twitch as you grabbed a handful of powder and stepped into the hearth. She said nothing as you threw it up, preparing yourself for the inevitable sneezing fit that would greet you upon arrival. 

Dumbledore was standing by the fire when you came through, stepping out with a sneeze. 

“The floo doesn’t agree with you?” he asked, a light tilt to his voice. 

“No, it's all right—” you were interrupted by another sneeze, then a third. When you stopped, you turned to Dumbledore with an apologetic look and a great deal of embarrassment, though he only smiled. 

“I had a close friend who always sneezed when he used the floo, worse than yourself,” he said, walking over to his desk. The perch was still beside it, though Fawkes was nowhere to be found. “Twelve sneezes, every time. His consistency was rather remarkable.”

The same as before, his office seemed dazzling, filled to the brim with curiosities, though it didn’t feel cluttered like the Room of Requirement or a cupboard you alway kept shut. You sat down in the chair across from him, your eyes still bouncing around the room, searching for Fawkes. 

“Fawkes will not be joining us,” he said with another small laugh. “He is off somewhere near the castle, likely patrolling for strays.”

You couldn’t have been more befuddled, inching forward in your chair. “Strays?”

“Your classmate appeared to have acted alone, though there are two other students who we have been unable to locate,” he said, quite matter of factly. 

Your stomach churned, for you could guess which two had gone missing. “Wilkes and Zephyr?”

He nodded, his hands folded casually in his lap. “I have the professors scouring the castle and grounds as we speak, though I fear their efforts are likely in vain. Don’t look so frightened, Y/N. I expected the wake of this event to be far worse.”

Dumbledore had misread your expression, taking your parted lips and widened eyes as fear, rather than understanding. You closed your mouth at once, taking a moment to think. It would be easy to slip out of the castle during the chaos, though you were all free to wander the grounds anyway. It was only a slightly harder feat to scale the boundary wall— though far from impossible. From Hogsmeade they could apparate to wherever they pleased, as long as it was in a reasonable distance. That meant the British Isles, maybe northern France. Still, they would certainly be wanted for questioning, if not by the Ministry than by Dumbledore, meaning they were essentially fugitives. Their family’s homes would be the first places anyone looked, leading only to the unsurprising, solemn conclusion that someone else was willing to hide them or buy them a way into Europe. 

“They’re the only ones missing?” you asked, thinking of Severus and the rest of the Slytherin gang who you hadn’t had the pleasure of dueling. In particular, you thought of Regulus, who you wanted to be free of this mess more than anyone else. 

“Yes,” he said. “They are the only ones.”

You straightened your posture, reminding yourself that you ought to get used to this, that this would be a regular feature of your life for the foreseeable future. “I’m assuming you don’t know who’s hiding them?” 

He didn’t answer you at first, placing his folded hands on his desk as he stared at you. “Nor will we for some time, though their whereabouts make little difference to you— or to me.”

You could hardly believe what he was saying, your face burning not with embarrassment but a growing anger. He was so casual about the matter as if you hadn’t nearly died just hours before. Maybe he had been hardened by the sporadic, escalating war, though you hardly thought he’d disregard Wilkes and Zephyr so easily. Perhaps James was right to be upset with him before, you thought, because he’s acting like a real tosser. 

You did nothing to hide your emotions, your hands curling into fists before loosening, over and over as your palms began to sweat. “Makes little difference?” 

He did not react to your behavior, which was teetering on the edge of improper etiquette around the headmaster and total insubordination. 

“The term will be finished soon, and while they are not the brightest minds to ever grace these halls, your classmates would have certainly graduated,” he said thoughtfully. “They are only a month ahead of their original plans, which I can say with much confidence would not have changed in such short a time. Their hearts, I’m afraid, are well out of our grasp. They have, unfortunately, been irrevocably lost, at least for the time being. ”

His words, as they seemed to you, might as well have been etched in stone. You knew he was right, that where they were now was not far from wherever they would’ve been on the first of July. 

“You did well,” he began again, breaking you from your thoughts, “very well, indeed. You and your friends can hardly blame yourselves for your failure to thwart the fiendfyre. Even if Mulciber had been successful, he too would have perished in the flames.”

“Fiendfyre?”

“Dark magic,” he said, seeming unhappy to have to speak of it. “It takes great skill to control, so great that I venture no more than two or three living wizards possess the ability. I implore you never to attempt it.”

You were certain Dumbledore himself was included in that number, and likely the Dark Lord was as well. The thought nearly made you shudder.

“I have no interest in dark magic, sir,” you said, trying to rid the image of the towering inferno from your mind, the mouth of the snake wide and lunging. 

He smiled softly, the twinkle returning to his eyes. “Even those who long to do good can be prevailed upon by the promise of power. The distinction between the virtuous and the villainous is not made in the temptation, no matter how strong. The difference is only in the choice to pursue it.”

You nodded, not knowing what to say to such a statement. Your heart had slowed nearly to its normal rate, though your nerves hadn’t entirely dissipated. Dumbledore had called you into his office for a reason, though you didn’t think it was simply to tell you Wilkes and Zephyr were on the loose.

You were saved from the effort of conjuring a reply, for Dumbledore spoke again, “I’m sorry to have broken my promise.” He continued when he saw your look of confusion, much of his mirth gone, “The last time you were invited to my office, I gave you my word that I would ensure your safety. I have failed in this task. On the contrary, you acted with extraordinary speed to incapacitate your classmate.”

“I doubt it was necessary,” you said, your voice small. As you were washing up, you realized that it was somewhat foolish to think Dumbledore left himself entirely unprotected after he extinguished the fire. An eighteen year old was the last person who could kill, or even harm, Dumbledore. 

He let out a short laugh, though it was rather glum. “Yes, Mulciber’s spell would not have had an effect, though the rarity of this case is not likely to be repeated. Under any other circumstance, you would have saved a life, which should be treated with equal weight. Speaking of—” He stood, moving with no great haste towards one of the large glass cabinets on the opposite end of the room. You twisted around to watch as he searched the contents, muttering to himself all the while. “Ah!” he said finally, taking out a silver cup, not unlike the house cup, though far smaller in size. It was slender, the handles curving almost the entire length, mounted on a wooden stand. He brought it over, blowing on it as if it were dusty before placing it onto the desk before you. 

You furrowed your brows, looking up at Dumbledore where he stood beside you. He only sat back down at his desk, glancing at the cup before returning his attention to you. 

“My failure to fulfill my duty as Headmaster has forced upon you the necessity of accomplishment. It would be a further misdeed to allow such accomplishment to go unrewarded,” he said, his voice in the odd space between serious and jubilant. He motioned to the cup, some of that very seriousness dropping away. “The Barnabus Finkley Prize for Exceptional Spell-Casting,” he said quite fondly. “Exceptional is a fitting word, don’t you agree?”

You had perused the trophy room more than once, given that it was never locked, and knew quite well who was also a recipient of this award. You couldn’t recall any other student earning it during your time in school, nor did you recall recognizing any of the other names of the people who’ve earned it in the past. Albus Dumbledore was the only recipient that stood out to you, which was the reason you couldn’t bring yourself to speak. 

He appeared entertained by your astonishment, watching with a muted smile as you opened and closed your mouth three times over. 

“You must be wondering why I would keep an unawarded trophy in my office,” he said, his feigned misunderstanding thinly veiled. “Most are not, of course. I keep a few of the more— well, as you’d say— generous honors here in case the need arises. While it is a rarity, I do enjoy the pleasure in giving them out.” Again, he motioned towards the cup with a wrinkled hand, content to discuss the physical nature of the prize in lieu of your befuddlement. “It’s a fine cup; Goblin-wrought. Hogwarts makes a fair few commissions.” 

His expression was almost mischievous, the same look he gave wide-eyed first years during the start-of-term feast as he made a silly quip to ease their nerves. “Your friends, Mister Potter and Mister Black, are much deserving of the Special Award for Services to the School, though I’d kindly ask you to keep this news to yourself before I can award it to them in person.”

“Of course,” you said, largely automatic. You had not stopped reeling from the news of your award, almost unable to comprehend it. “Professor, are you sure that I’m, that what I did— I don’t think I would have come out all right if it wasn’t for James and Sirius,” you stumbled over your words, hoping that your meaning was coming across well enough. You paused, taking a breath to collect yourself. “Exceptional spell-casting doesn’t seem to describe me very well.”

“You attended a single Dueling Club meeting, am I correct?”

You nodded, your shoulders slumping as you became lost in Dumbledore’s perplexing train of thought. “Yes, sir.”

“Your Defense Against the Dark Arts grades, I’ve seen, have not been particularly astounding, though you do quite well on written examinations. Your practical skills, however, have not been of remarkable notice,” he continued, still with the same air of unusual humor. “After your performance today, I have considerable doubts that the vast majority of your classmates would make any move to challenge you, for your abilities quite obviously surpass all other students— though perhaps not more than your friends, who I imagine have a great deal to do with your improvements. Though I’m sure you know better than I that you need not worry about their betrayal,” he paused, his eyes softening. “It is one thing to study the art of defence in a classroom, to practice it with your classmates— all useful endeavors, of course, though it is quite another to face an opponent whose goal is not petty embarrassment, but death. Your actions today are exceptional not only due to the merit of your skill, but the exceptional nature of your improvement.”

“I see,” you said, very still and quiet for a long beat until a laugh of disbelief rose up from your chest, bursting an otherwise stagnant moment. 

Dumbledore stood, taking out his wand and pointing it towards the trophy, the plaque on the wooden stand then inscribed with your name and the year. 

“I am also awarding you one hundred fifty house points, though I’m afraid I’ve taken ten from Miss Meadowes,” he said, turning back to you. 

After your conversation and the Barnabus Finkley Prize, one hundred fifty points did not throw you too far off kilter, though any other time you may have fainted. Still, your smile grew. 

“Thank you, professor.”

“You are quite welcome. Now, Madam Pomfrey is sure to be furious with me. I’ve kept you for far too long,” he said, leading you back to the fireplace. “Send Mister Potter and Mister Black up, if you’d please.”

You nodded once, your eyes darting around his office for a final time before you grabbed a handful of floo powder, leaving the enchanting room which you would likely never visit again, already missing its captivating quality. 

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

You sat with Lily while James and Sirius met with Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall watching from the wall with fretting, fidgeting hands. Beneath the wide brim of her hat her eyes roamed from you to Pomfrey’s office and back again, her patience thinning as the minutes ticked on. Currently, you weren’t sure if she was so twisted up over your safety or the general excitement of Mulciber and the two missing students, though their influences were most likely even. 

Staring down at the stone flooring, you followed the straight edges before they bent around the corners, your fingers picking at the blanket. More than anything, you wanted to be alone with all your friends. You couldn’t imagine the frenzy that would erupt once you all reconvened, especially when they saw that your psyche was well enough intact to discuss the circumstances of your duel. 

You glanced over your shoulder towards Pomfrey, spinning around on the bed to face her with your most ingratiating, somewhat pathetic look. “Are you sure I have to stay for the night, Madam Pomfrey? My head doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Yes, yes,” she said, shaking her head as she came over to you. “I’m afraid I’m insisting. Thank your lucky stars I’ve allowed your entourage to stay.”

You nodded solemnly, wholly defeated.

“Am I attending classes tomorrow?” you asked, looking now to McGonagall.

Taken off guard by your question, she considered it with a small humph. “No, dear,” she said, far kinder than you expected. “Take tomorrow and the weekend. You can return on Monday.”

“That is if the Ministry doesn’t want to see her,” said Lily from behind you. 

McGonagall seemed to hate this possibility even more than you, her chest rising with an uneven breath. “We shall see.”

You all turned towards the office when you heard the poof of the floo, a burst of green light shining through the open door before Sirius walked out, brushing dust off his shoulder. He smiled at you, a little crooked and tired, which was still a pleasant change from before. 

“Hey, hotshot,” he said, sauntering over to your bed. Another flash of green shone from the office, followed closely by James’s voice saying your name with a considerable deal of enthusiasm, his earlier worry entirely gone. Sirius looked back, suddenly stepping aside just as James ran from the office, nearly knocking into him. “Oi!”

“Mister Potter,” McGonagall scolded, though she didn’t seem to mean it much, for she said nothing else as he continued to run. 

James paid no attention to either of them, beaming as he came to an abrupt stop in front of you, his eyes shining. “The Barnabus Finkley Prize,” he said, almost like a question, but more like an exclamation. 

Lily perked up. “What? Who?”

James’s eyes flickered from Lily’s back to yours, motioning to you in excitement

Lily gasped, her hand hitting the side of the mattress. “You didn’t tell me you were awarded that!”

McGonagall and Pomfrey seemed surprised as well, with McGonagall whispering something to the latter. 

You shrugged weakly, looking between James and Lily. “Sorry.” 

You really did feel bad for not telling her, though you had come back from Dumbledore’s office so dazed that you’d nearly forgotten all about it. 

Sirius threw himself down in one of the chairs, slouching back as if he were in the common room. “I’m a little peeved. It makes our Special Services to the School look like peanuts.”

You all turned when another green puff illuminated from Pomfrey's office door, likely McGonagall’s exit, for she and Pomfrey were no longer in the main wing. After a few moments Pomfrey did not emerge, apparently no longer needing to supervise your entourage, as she had put it.  

“Minnie didn’t even give us a goodbye,” said Sirius, shaking his head. Lily only rolled her eyes. 

“Barnabus Finkley,” James said again, his renewed attention making your heart ache in the best way. “You deserve it, you know.”

Of course he would say that. 

“He’s right,” Lily said. She was giving you the same look she did in your dormitory during your first year when you had confessed your first secret; reassuring, kind, proud.

“How many house points did he give you?” you asked James and Sirius, knowing the House Cup meant far more to them than it did to you. You never were very competitive. 

“A hundred,” Sirius answered, slightly cocky and entirely expected. 

You smiled, reveling in your next statement. “He gave me one-fifty.”

Sirius’s lip curled, grumbling to himself. “Show-off.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t be a baby.” 

“You know I meant it when I said I believed you were a Gryffindor,” he said, leaning forward. “These performances are getting out of hand.”

You laughed, “You can’t tell me about braggadocio.”

James sat down on the bed, surprisingly quiet given the news that Gryffindor was certainly going to win the House Cup no matter how well any of the other houses did the rest of term. Sirius said some funny quip, though you missed it, caught up in a quality of James’s expression that made you embarrassed to be around other people. It was as if his eyes were too intimate, his mouth curving around saccharine words that would sound overly sentimental to anyone else but you. You were coming to realize that being in love meant that everything you thought or said about the other seemed entirely perfect and natural when it lived only between the pair of you, though when witnessed by anyone else, it seemed to be completely mad. 

“—and I don’t appreciate you using big words just to make yourself sound smarter. It only proves my point,” Sirius finished. 

Lily saved you from having to defend yourself, laughing at Sirius from across the bed. “Just because you have a poor vocabulary doesn't mean—”

James paid no attention to them, his smile small and devastatingly sweet. “Do you still feel all right?”

How could you possibly answer that question in full, you wondered. How could James not already know what you would say?

“Y’know, I sort of feel perfect,” you said, chuckling as Lily and Sirius continued to bicker. “Absolutely perfect.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Notes: so I absolutely LOATHE the house-elf enslavement mess so we’re all gonna pretend that house elves had a revolution and are now all free and can vote and crap— AND they do not, in fact, love being slaves by-and-large. Also justice for winky

-✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧──────✧₊∘₊✧-

Tag List: @floverisland @ilovejamespottersomuch @googie-jeon @tvnile @eli-com @lovelyteenagebeard @letssee2468 @abhootghiihii @iamawkwardandshy

[clumsyromantic]

NOT ANOTHER RAINBOW LEGACY CHALLENGE

Welcome to this ten generation legacy challenge based on vibrant colors! Inspired by all the other color themed legacies out there, because who doesn’t like basing their sims whole personality on a color (I know I’m a sucker for it lol). I won’t put a long list of rules here, because at the end of the day I want this to be your gameplay and story that you create. I will suggest that you follow each generation, but if something isn’t to your liking, by all means, change it for yourself. With that being said, don’t claim this challenge as your own, even if you tweak it. Remember, though, legacy challenges are all about having fun!

If you play don't forget to tag me here or on instagram @clumsy.romantic or use the hashtag #notanotherlegacy. I would really love to see some gameplay/stories!

Generation One: Licorice.

You never stay in one place too long. As a criminal, you’re always on the run. You don’t commit to anything. The only thing you’ve ever truly loved and committed to is your career. When it comes to actual love, you dip as soon as it seems like things might get serious. You don’t like being that close to people, letting people in like that. You can’t trust anyone, or so you thought.

Traits: Evil, Non-Committal, Romantic. (Additional: Self-Assured, Mean)

Aspiration: Serial Romantic.

Career: Criminal.

Have more enemies than friends.

Have a child with an enemy.

Move to a different world each time you age up.

Only your child(ren) can be your partner in crime.

Get caught cheating at least once.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Mischief, Handiness and Programming skills.

[Packs used: None]

Generation Two: Pearl.

From the time you could hold things, you were coloring, drawing, painting, anything that could help you express yourself. You are the exact opposite of your parent. Maybe you’re like the other one? You wouldn’t know, though. You never met them, nor heard a single truth about them. That doesn’t matter, though, because as soon as you can, you move out of your parents home so that you can start your own life and family. Love isn’t easy, as you don’t truly know what it’s supposed to look like, but with how kind and caring you are, it almost comes easy to you.

Traits: Creative, Cheerful, Family-Oriented. (Additional: Loyal, Good)

Aspiration: Big Happy Family. 

Career: Painter.

Complete the Artist Prodigy as a child.

Move to a different world from your parent.

Marry someone with amazing compatibility (or someone with similar traits).

Have 5 children.

Have a bowling night with the family at least twice a week.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Painting, Parenting and Bowling skills.

[Packs used: High School Years, Growing Together, Parenthood, Bowling Night]

Generation Three: Latte.

You come from a big family, and you’ve always loved every bit of it. However, nothing can compare to the love you have for fitness. As a teenager, you become a simfluencer who models athletic wear and shows off your healthy lifestyle. As a Young Adult, you constantly have dogs. You tell yourself all you need is dogs, until you meet another fitness buff who you end up having a baby with.

Traits: Active, Dog Lover, Vegetarian. (Additional: Ambitious, Outgoing)

Aspiration: Friend of the Animals.

Career: Simfluencer.

Have a good relationship with your parents and siblings.

Go to the gym four times a week.

Change your hairstyle once a week.

Have at least 3 dogs as a YA.

Become a B-lister.

Have a baby with someone you meet at the gym (bonus points if they have the active skill).

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Fitness, Entrepreneur, Media Production, and Pet Training skills.

[Packs used: Cats & Dogs, High School Years, Get Famous]

Generation Four: Dandelion.

It was hard for you to relate to your parents, as they were much more outgoing and sociable than you were. Keeping up conversations and being around people always made you feel drained. You preferred being by yourself with a good book. It was usually a sci-fi book about robots. It’s no surprise that you’re the first in your family to go to university and you end up working in engineering. Your best friend, perhaps lover as well, is a robot you built. Seems like a good life to you.

Traits: Loner, Overachiever, Socially Awkward. (Additional: Bookworm, Geek)

Aspiration: Nerd Brain.

Career: Engineer.

Attend university.

Build a servo bot.

Be romantic partners with the servo.

Woohoo with the servo in the rocketship.

Only adopt or have science babies.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Logic, Handiness and Robotics skills.

[Packs used: High School Years, Discover University]

Generation Five: Emerald.

You want to make the world a better place for the next generations. Everything you do involves Mother Earth. You live off the land, garden and fish for your food. You raise chickens for your eggs and cows for your milk. You also fabricate and make things for yourself, others and your animals. Some of the things you create you sell on Plopsy for income. You have a baby with someone you’re engaged to be married to. But as soon as you can, you pack up and leave them, taking the baby with you.

Traits: Loves Outdoors, Maker, Freegan. (Additional: Green Fiend, Recycle Disciple)

Aspiration: Master Maker.

Career: Plopsy Seller.

Live in Evergreen Harbor (If you don’t already, move there as a YA).

Live in Port Promise, where you must make the eco footprint green.

Additional Challenge: have the Simple Living lot challenge in Evergreen.

Knitted and Fabricated items can be sold on Plopsy when you need simoleons.

Get engaged and try for a baby until one of you is pregnant.

Once you have reached green for the eco footprint; break off the engagement, take the baby and move to Sulani.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Knitting, Fishing, Gardening and Fabrication skills.

[Packs used: Eco Lifestyle, Nifty Knitting, Island Living]

Generation Six: Turquoise.

Growing up on a beautiful beach with your single parent doing everything for you made you into a spoiled brat. The only thing you actually want to do, besides sleep and chill, is fashion photography. You have a real eye for fashion. Although, you don’t really have a knack for picking up work. You’re more likely to be suntanning than actually doing your job. The few times you do accept a job, you fall in love with the model. Instead of falling happily in love together, you are constantly fighting, and to make matters worse, you have a kid together. Something neither of you wanted.

Traits: Self-Absorbed, Lazy, Hates Children. (Additional: Jealous, Squeamish)

Aspiration: Beach Life.

Career: Freelance Fashion Photographer.

Accept a job once a week.

Have a baby with one of the models that has the Mean, Hot-Headed or Evil trait.

Only have 1 child.

Have a bad relationship with your child.

Move to San Myshuno as an Adult.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Charisma and Photography skills.

[Packs used: Get Famous, Outdoor Retreat, Moschino, City Living]

Generation Seven: Ruby.

You constantly heard your parents fighting over something. They were never not fighting. You found your solace in music; listening to it, writing it, playing instruments, just everything about it. You get married young just so you can move out. But you’re in love with a musician on the side. You’re not really sure if you should keep seeing them, or stick by your spouse. You never really were good with decisions, especially ones that could really impact your future.

Traits: Music Lover, Hot-Headed, Childish. (Additional: Erratic, Dance Machine)

Aspiration: Musical Genius.

Career: Live off tips and fame.

Marry and move out as a YA.

Have a bad relationship with your parents.

Cheat on your spouse with someone who plays an instrument or sings.

Only earn money from tips when you play instruments or sing in public.

Have either a dance battle or karaoke night once a week.

Obtain fame, at least c-lister, from music.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Singing, Dancing and any instrument skills.

[Packs used: Get Famous, City Living, Get Together]

Generation Eight: Magenta.

You’ve always used humor and pranks as a way to cope with everything going on in your life. No one but your best friend really gets you. It’s hard for you two to get over being friends when you realize that you have feelings for each other. Except, after having a baby together, you realize you were better off as friends. You still civilly raise the child, just not under the same roof anymore.

Traits: Paranoid, Goofball, Gloomy. (Additional: Clumsy, Cat Lover)

Aspiration: Chief of Mischief.

Career: Social Media.

Have a childhood best friend.

Have a baby with said best friend.

You and your best friend fall out, but you still raise the child civilly.

Have at least 1 cat.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Comedy, Writing and Mischief skills.

[Packs used: Cats and Dogs, Strangerville, City Living]

Generation Nine: Tangerine.

You prefer the finer things in life. You live in the city, but as a young adult working in law, you often take vacations to Mt. Komorebi. Where, when you fall in love with a local and have children, you take your children there often. Not until you retire, do you and your spouse move there. In the meantime, you enjoy the time you spend there; skiing, snowboarding, rock climbing, sightseeing, etc. You dream of your vacations while at work.

Traits: Adventurous, Kleptomaniac, Bro. (Additional: Lactose Intolerant, Materialistic)

Aspiration: Mt. Komorebi Sightseer.

Career: Law.

Take 2 vacation days a week to go to Mt. Komorebi.

Marry and have children with someone who lives in Mt. Komorebi

Continue living in San Myshuno until you retire and move to Mt. Komorebi.

Steal one item a day.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Skiing, Snowboarding and Rock Climbing skills.

[Packs used: Snowy Escape, Cottage Living]

Generation Ten: Aubergine.

Your parents always showed you the luxurious sides of life. Treating you to everything and anything you could ever imagine. It lit the way for your future career as a critic. You enjoyed being able to put your 2 cents into whatever you could get your neatly, well kept fingers on. You also always looked and presented to be your best self. 

Traits: Neat, Foodie, Snob. (Additional: High Maintenance, Perfectionist)

Aspiration: Party Animal.

Career: Critic.

Host 3 parties a week.

Each party has a theme; decorate and cook accordingly.

Get married 3 times (not to the same person).

Have 1 child per marriage.

Don’t get close to your children until they are Young Adults.

Max your career.

Complete your aspiration.

Master the Cooking, Writing and Gourmet Cooking skills.

[Packs used: Spa Day, City Living]

[awkward-walking-potato]

wade Wilson with an s/o that doesn’t celebrate their own birthday? (bonus points if you make them forget their own birthday because it’s been so long since they ever celebrated it)

Better Than Cake

Wade Wilson never missed an opportunity for a party—especially if it involved ridiculous decorations, food, and cake. But something had been bugging him lately, something about you. No matter how long he’d been with you, he realized he didn’t know your birthday. Not because he hadn’t asked—but because you’d never seemed to care.

Today, Wade was lounging around your shared apartment, wearing his usual red-and-black Deadpool suit, with the mask casually pulled back to rest around his neck. He watched you make breakfast, and a thought crossed his mind.

“Hey, babe,” Wade called, his tone oddly casual for once. “When’s your birthday?”

You paused, turning to look at him with a confused expression. “My… birthday?”

“Yeah, y’know, the day of your miraculous, earth-shattering entrance into this glorious world? The day you were born? It’s kind of a big deal.” Wade grinned, but he was watching your reaction carefully now.

You frowned slightly, thinking about it for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t really celebrate it. Haven’t in… years, honestly. I don’t even remember when the last one was.”

Wade blinked, stunned for a moment. “Wait, hold up. You forgot your own birthday?”

You chuckled softly, shaking your head as you went back to cooking. “I guess I just stopped caring after a while. It’s not a big deal.”

Wade’s grin faded slightly, replaced by an uncharacteristically serious look. “Not a big deal?” he repeated, standing up and walking over to you. “Babe, your birthday is a huge deal. How could you not celebrate it?”

You shrugged again. “I don’t know. I just never thought much of it. After a while, it’s just another day.”

Wade stood there, staring at you like you’d just spoken in another language. “Okay, no. Absolutely not. We’re fixin’ this right now.”

You turned to face him, raising an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“We are gonna celebrate the hell out of your birthday, no matter when it was,” Wade declared, a determined gleam in his eyes. “If you don’t remember, we’ll pick a day. Hell, we’ll pick today. Today is now officially your birthday. Boom! Done.”

You laughed at his enthusiasm, but before you could protest, Wade had already darted off to grab his phone. “Wade, seriously, you don’t have to—"

“Too late! I’m ordering a cake, decorations, and balloons. Oh! And we’ll need streamers. You can’t have a party without streamers. It’s in the rulebook of fun.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips as you watched him go into full-on planning mode. “Wade, it’s really not necessary—"

“Necessary? No. Fun? Hell yes!” He winked at you before continuing, “Trust me, babe, everyone deserves to feel special on their birthday, and if no one’s done it for you in a while, that just means I’m gonna have to go extra hard.”

It didn’t take long for Wade to throw together a “birthday” celebration. By the afternoon, the apartment was covered in balloons, confetti, and banners that read “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” in obnoxiously bright colors. You had to admit, it was a little overwhelming, but in a strangely heartwarming way.

Wade even managed to get a cake—though he’d clearly taken a bite out of it before he brought it to the table. He stood there, proud of his hastily thrown-together birthday bash, grinning from ear to ear.

“Alright, (Y/N),” Wade said, standing in front of you with the cake in his hands. “Make a wish. And no, you can’t wish for me to stop being so ridiculously handsome.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you blew out the single candle on the cake. “I don’t know what to say, Wade. This is… a lot.”

“Damn right, it is,” Wade replied, setting the cake down and wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “But y’know what? You deserve a lot. And if no one else is gonna make a big deal out of your birthday, I’m gonna do it for both of us.”

You smiled softly, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had gone out of their way to make you feel this special. “Thanks, Wade. Really.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “Anytime, babe. Anytime.”

[solarmorrigan]

They aren’t high, but they might as well be.

It’s so late that it’s early, sitting in those odd hours of motionless night when exhaustion throws a ridiculous filter over everything and it’s an effort not to laugh loud enough to alert Robin’s parents to the fact that there’s an unauthorized boy in her room.

She and Steve have been lying side by side on her bed for the last hour, both knowing they should probably go to sleep if they’re going to wake up with enough time for Steve to sneak out and actually drive home safely, but they’re not quite ready yet. Instead, they’re content to be pressed together, shoulder to ankle, hands intertwined between them, content to feel the other secure and nearby.

Robin lifts their hands and uncurls her fingers, spreading them open like a star and prompting Steve to do the same, until their hands are pressed flat together with their fingers outstretched.

“Your hands are bigger than mine,” Robin says, looking at the way her palm fits into Steve’s with room to spare and the way his fingers extend past hers by almost a whole knuckle.

“Probably because I’m bigger than you,” Steve says, also lazily gazing at the way their hands fit together.

“Yeah, but they’re, like, way bigger than mine,” Robin insists. “You have really big hands.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “They’re not that big. You just have stubby fingers.”

“Rude. You just have giant hands.”

“I do not.”

“Like mittens.”

“No.”

“Banana hands.”

“You are literally the only girl who has ever said something bad about the size of my hands.”

Robin smacks her free hand against Steve’s chest. “Ew.”

Steve is laughing. “You started it.”

“Lies,” Robin says, taking Steve’s hand in both of hers so she can continue examining it. “Why are your nails so nice?”

Steve watches as Robin traces the tips of her fingers over the even cuticles and neatly trimmed ends of his nails. “Because I take care of them, and I don’t bite them, unlike some people.”

“I never bite your nails,” Robin says, smiling as Steve groans dramatically.

“That was terrible. You’re terrible.”

“Nope, you love me.”

“I can love you even if you’re terrible.” Steve turns his hand so he can catch one of Robin’s and look it over for himself. “You’ve been biting your nails a lot lately.”

Robin shrugs. “Stressed,” is all she offers; she doesn’t really have to say much more for him to get it.

Steve frowns, threading his fingers back through hers and squeezing. “You used to paint them, didn’t you? Like, to help you remember not to chew on them so much?”

“I did, yeah,” Robin says thoughtfully. “It’s been a while since I’ve even thought about doing that.”

“You should do it again. Give your nails a chance to heal,” Steve says.

Robin hums, as if she has to think it over. “Only if you let me paint yours, too.”

And maybe it’s the fact that it’s after two a.m., but all Steve does is shrug and say, “Yeah, sure.”

Robin sits up on the bed like Dracula popping up out of his coffin, turning to stare at him with her bedhead flying wild around her face. “Seriously?”

“You want me to say no?” Steve asks.

“Well I didn’t expect you to just say yes!” Robin says in a hushed yell. “I thought I’d have to argue you down.”

Steve grins. “Go get your nail polish before I change my mind, Buckley.”

He doesn’t have to tell her twice. Robin swings her legs off the bed and goes to her dresser, digging through her makeup case and returning with a handful of black-capped bottles.

“Pick your poison, Harrington.” Robin gestures to the array of colors.

Steve is slow to sit up, stretching and groaning before he turns to sit cross-legged in front of Robin. “You pick. I’ve never had my nails painted before, so we’ll have to go with your expertise.”

“Hmm.” Robin clasps her fingers together under her chin, tapping her lips with her index fingers as if this is the most serious decision she’ll ever have to make. Finally, her hand flashes out and grabs one of the bottles, holding it up and wiggling it for Steve to see. “How about a little navy blue, sailor?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he can’t tamp down his smile. “Why not?”

“Okay, gimme your hand.” Robin holds her hand out for Steve’s, palm up and fingers making grabby curls.

Steve puts out his left hand and lets Robin place it on her knee, fingers outstretched while he waits for Robin to shake the bottle of polish thoroughly and unscrew the cap.

“Try to hold still,” Robin instructs him, biting the tip of her tongue between her teeth in concentration as she applies the brush to his thumbnail.

Obligingly, Steve holds as still as possible, content to watch as Robin works her way from his thumb and onto his index finger, coating his nails in shining wet navy blue.

He pulls his hand away for a moment when Robin has to dip the brush back in the bottle for more polish, looks over her handiwork, and lets out a low whistle.

“Wow,” he says, putting his hand back down on Robin’s knee when she gestures for it. “You really suck at this.”

Robin lets out a surprised bark of laughter, narrowly avoiding streaking nail polish down the length of Steve’s finger. “Fuck off, I do not!”

“You kinda do, Rob,” Steve says, his voice full of warmth even as he denounces her skill with a brush.

“How would you even know?” Robin jibes. “You said you’ve never had your nails painted before.”

“I know the nail polish isn’t supposed to go over the edges of the nail,” Steve shoots back.

They both pause to look at the way the polish has been laid thick over the skin on either side of Steve’s nails and has even dribbled a little bit onto the tip of one of his fingers.

“Shut up. It’s a process,” Robin finally says, taking the brush to his ring finger.

“A process, huh?”

“Yes! You paint the nails, and then you use nail polish remover and, like, a Q-tip to clean up the edges.”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re just fussy, that’s all,” Robin pronounces, grinning at Steve’s little noise of offense.

“I am not fussy,” he insists.

“You kinda are, Steve,” Robin replies. “Anyway, I’d like to see you do a better job.”

“Deal,” Steve says, maybe a little too quickly for Robin’s liking. “I’ll do your nails next.”

“Well that, I have to see,” Robin says, putting the brush back into the bottle and motioning for him to switch hands.

True to her word, Robin quietly retrieves the nail polish remover and some Q-tips from the bathroom and neatens up her paintjob once she’s finished, and Steve appraises her work like a jeweler looking over and handful of gems.

“Not bad, Buckley,” he says, shrugging his lips.

Robin rolls her eyes. “What are you now, a fashion critic? Hurry up and paint my nails so I can make fun of you.”

Steve’s answering grin is unsettlingly sharp, but Robin still lets him pick the color. He settles on red—“To accent the blue, obviously”—and shakes the bottle before pulling the brush and starting on Robin’s left hand where it rests on his knee.

His strokes are smooth and even, not once straying over the edges of her nails, not even over the bitten, ragged ends, and he moves from one finger to the next with a kind of practiced ease.

“What the fuck!” Robin barely remembers to keep her voice down in her outrage. “Why are you good at this?”

Steve ducks his head, clearly holding in a laugh. “I used to paint Carol’s nails for her all the time.”

“Carol Perkins?” Robin asks, brows furrowed.

“Did I spend a lot of time with any other Carols?” Steve shoots her a look from beneath his lashes before turning back to his work.

“Why?”

Steve shrugs. “She tried to get Tommy to do it one day and he refused, so she asked me to do it instead, and… I dunno, I figured, why not? I did suck at it at first,” he admits. “But I think she just liked having someone’s focus on her for the time it took to do her nails. And I guess I just – like, it felt good, I guess. Taking care of someone else, even just in that little way. And I liked how the nail polish looked when I finally got it right.

“Any time we hung out at her house, she’d ask me to paint her nails for her, or she’d steal my mom’s nail polish if we were at mine. It was, like… our thing, I guess?”

For a moment, Robin sits in the knowledge that Steve and Tommy Hagan and Carol Perkins had actually been friends.

From the outside, the three of them had looked like a toxic hurricane of derision and unfairly nice bone structure; they were rarely seen without looks of condescending amusement or lounging around being too cool for everyone else. It had been easy to think of their arrangement as some kind of superficial bond of mutual bitchiness, but at the same time, everyone distantly knew that Steve and Tommy and Carol had been a package deal since at least middle school.

Tommy and Carol had been the only two people Steve routinely hung out with, now that Robin thinks about it. People from basketball and swim and other hangers-on came and went, but those two had been fixtures. They’d probably been his best friends.

And midway through Junior year, Steve had left them.

He’d realized they weren’t who he thought they were, or maybe he’d realized they weren’t who he wanted to be, but the fact is that he’d left behind the two people he’d known the longest and had stepped uncertainly forward without knowing if he’d have anyone at all after that.

For a while he’d had Nancy. Then had come Henderson and all the other rugrats – but as much as Steve loves them, that isn’t quite the same as friends your own age, is it?

But now, he has Robin.

And she’s going to make sure that’s worth something.

“I can’t believe I’ve had some kind of professional manicurist under my nose this whole time,” Robin laments, grinning at Steve when he glances up at her with a huff.

“I’m pretty sure you have to get paid to be a professional. Are you gonna pay me for my services?” he asks.

“I will pay you in love and affection,” Robin declares. “Money can’t buy you these things, Steve.”

“That’s convenient,” Steve shoots back.

“Isn’t it? And I’m going to paint your nails yellow next time,” Robin says.

Steve glances to the side, where Robin’s collection of nail polish sits. “You don’t have any yellow.”

“I’ll buy some.” Robin shrugs. “I think it would look good on you.”

“And you just assume I’m going to let you paint my nails again.” Steve raises an eyebrow at her as he dips the brush back in the bottle to rewet it for the last couple of nails.

“Yep,” Robin says easily.

Steve looks back down, like he really needs to focus that hard on getting the nail of her ring finger just right, but she can tell he’s biting down on a smile.

“Okay,” he finally says, quietly.

“Okay,” she echoes back, giving him a sleepy smile when he glances up.

It’s late, and it’s going to be even later by the time they can go to sleep without ruining their nails, and in fact they’re probably not going to get any sleep at all, but somehow, Robin doesn’t mind.

Even being sleep deprived together with Steve is better than anything she can think of doing apart.

[Prompt: Comparing hand sizes]

[richarlotte]

Most important steps to your glow up?

Top Tier.

Braces.

I had my braces on for 18 months, and they were the best decision of my life. I can breathe better, my jaw and chin look better, my teeth are straighter, and I have no more pain. Facial harmony is everything, and mine was restored by an expert orthodontist and continued use of my retainers. Jaw surgery wasn’t reasonable or necessary, but I can’t even begin to describe the impact that dental whitening, braces, weight loss, and proper dental care work had on my face.

 

Electrolytes and Hydration.

I was severely dehydrated and in need of electrolytes for years and years. I thought that drinking enough water wasn’t as important as people made it seem, but my life changed when I started to do it. Life feels much less stressful now that I’m properly hydrated, and I make sure to toss a little lemon and salt in my water and drink a Gatorade or Liquid IV to get electrolytes.

 

Darker and Longer Hair.

I look better with hair that’s long, dark, and thick. I have alopecia, so I did a number of things to disguise my hair loss growing up, but I wear wigs now that my hair is gone. I was told to wear my hair long, dark, and straight last year, and whenever I do, people tell me that I look otherworldly. Now that I know what to do with my hair and what looks best, I’m a million times more confident about myself.

 

Less Dairy.

I am not lactose intolerant, but I do not need to be eating dairy in excess. I enjoy dairy, so I won’t cut it out of my diet, but I don’t need to be eating it in the amount that I did. I was bloated, always breaking out, and tired all the time, but my low energy dissipated the second I cut my dairy intake. I’m not 100% dairy-free and most likely won’t ever be, but I’m careful with the amount I consume.

 

Korean Contact Lenses.

Americans think that all colored contact lenses are unnatural, and American-made colored contacts are. I use Olens contacts and only use the dark shades, and they’re amazing. I find that having huge, dark, striking eyes helps me get exactly what I want, and I love the way I look when I’m wearing contacts. I use contacts to craft my look and emphasize my eyes, and I never buy or use colors that aren’t brown or black. Wearing dark contacts has reduced my need for so much bright eye makeup; they make me look friendlier, and I look better in photos.

 

Better Quality Makeup.

Investing in higher-quality makeup and actually learning how to apply it was crucial. Buying Hourglass, Pat McGrath, Charlotte Tilbury, MAC, and Nars was sort of essential to my makeup journey, and I look much better now that I’ve invested the time and money into learning about makeup. Dupes just don’t hold up to the real things, and I look better now that I’m spending $45 on one product instead of spending $45 on five different products to try to replicate the look.

 

Urea, Glutamic Acid, and Dry Brushing.

I used to have serious strawberry arms and legs, dry skin, and dark spots from body acne, but all of that has cleared up. Hyaluronic acid and body serums have nothing on this combo, and dry brushing has completely cleared up my rough skin and helped with my stretch marks. If you want skin that’s plump, hydrated, glowing, and looks healthy, then you have to exfoliate your dry and wet skin and start using this trio to care for your body.

 

Better Skincare Products.

I invested a lot in using fancy designer brands, but the things that helped me the most were basic, unscented, and quality. I use Paula’s Choice exfoliant, plenty of SPF 100, retinol, and a variety of Korean and American products. My facial acne is gone, my dark marks are cleared, my skin barrier is healed, my skin looks healthier, and I’m glowing. Drunk Elephant, celebrity skincare brands, and trending products didn’t do it for me; figuring out what I needed and then implementing it into my routine helped.

 

Creating my own aesthetic.

I won’t stop talking about The Blend because it helped me become who I am today. I wanted to create a look that would help me, and so I had to spend months solidifying my image. It took me a year to get to where I am today, but life became easier once I was able to figure out what I should be doing, what I should be saving for or investing in, and what suited me. The Blend isn’t just about style, and I had to be scientific with it at times and really work with the resources I had and what was readily accessible to me.

I can do Mid Tier next.

[gingernut1314]

Just thinking about how...

Gojo is the epitome of the “don’t rush me, Katie. I’m--just not ready.” audio going around Tiktok from Monsters vs. Aliens.

He’s cocky and smug and teasing but as soon as your hands start moving down his strong torso, fingers nimbly beginning to unbutton his pants he’s going to become the biggest nervous wreck you’ve ever seen.

Why?

Thank you for asking I will elaborate. 

I personally believe he’s only been with a small handful of people intimately. 

Most sorcerers view him as this untouchable weapon that they want to use and control. 

Its also my belief that a lot of sorcerers might be too scared of him to even try to approach him in that way if at all. 

Non-sorcerers are an opinion I think he probably explored once but after that once never went back because non-sorcerers and him are just too different. 

Sorcerers and him are just too different. 

There was only one person in his life who understood--who wasn’t too different, but that person turned into a mass-murdering cult leader. 

Gojo wants people to think he’s this super charming sex god. 

When in reality he spends half his time outside of work locked in his room, listening to sad-girl music and shoving his face full of sweets while he continues to think about and pine after Geto. 

I half think he wouldn’t even want to know the person's name.

But the other half of me thinks he would want to know your favorite color and the name of your first pet before he even thinks about going to the bedroom with you.

Honestly, I think Gojo’s walls, while very flashy and fun, are very tall and very thick and it takes a lot to even get a peek behind them.

He’s been treated differently his whole life. 

Treated poorly because most think words couldn't possibly hurt him.

And on top of all that, had his heart broken by someone he cared for and trust deeply.

So being intimate with someone is something I think he struggles with. 

A “do they just want to sleep with me cause I’m the strongest” and “What if I get attached” mindset type of guy. 

Gojo was hesitant to get into a serious relationship with you.

You had to fight tooth and nail for a long time to win a place in his heart.

So when you feel his muscles tense and hear him begin to talk on and on about literally anything and everything under the sun, you take a pause. 

Give him a comforting space to talk about his fears and anxieties. 

If you care about him even a smidge, and you care about him so much it hurts, you’ll let him initiate.

You’ll wait for him to be ready and when he is I pinky promise it’ll have been worth it.

[bruhstation]

Hello Senja! I’ve been following you for a while, and I absolutely love your art style. I also do some TTTE fanart myself and have a few questions I’d love to ask you.👉🏻👈🏻It seems like you’ve been drawing TTTE for quite some time, so I’m curious—when and why did you start creating TTTE fanart? Also, I feel like TTTE fanart isn’t that popular, so how have you managed to keep going with it? I often feel discouraged because of the lack of attention,/supports，and sometimes I think about quitting fanart altogether, but I really want to keep my love for it and keep creating. (Also, I’m not very familiar with the aesthetic standards in the Western fanart community, and it’s been a bit of a barrier for me.) Do you have any advice? Thanks so much for your help!🥺

hello, anon! first of all, thank you for sticking around. looking at the archives, I’d say I started posting around may 2022! I launched this blog with my now-dusty pokemon mystery dungeon AU… I started bruhstation because I’ve been watching ttte clips to cope with the harsh high school dormitory life of 2022-2023. “wouldn’t it be silly if I made thomas gijinkas for fun lmfao” fast forward 3 years later. it doesn’t matter that ttte fanart doesn’t always make it big — I’m enjoying myself here and I’m sure the same goes for nostalgic folks coming to take a peek

as for followers… I never really chased after that high ever since I started high school? I prioritize my education first. also because I have a pretty sizeable following so worrying about followers is one of the last things I have in mind. from my observations, my blog exploded when I actively posted about casa tidmouth’s story… so that’s that. I kept wracking my brain coming up with their backstories and characterization and engaging with my inbox.

getting into your questions; what kind of arts are you making? fanarts in general? or are you making AUs? find a good balance between comedy and insightful characterization. too much comedy will make your story incoherent like “lol random humor XD”. too much tragedy will lessen the impact of serious moments in the story. yes, you are free to make whatever art you like, but once you start wanting an audience, you might have to treat your stuff with a little bit more dignity. also if you really watched tommy and the pals show you know how stupid some of these engines can be

people would often say “make art for yourself! who cares what others think?” but it’d be nice to be noticed once in a while, no? it’s very human to desire inputs and attention from others. everyone wants their work to be appreciated. I don’t know you nor the content you make, but keep improving bit by bit every day. watch lots of speedpaints. study coloring values and canvas composition. use references and try techniques you never tried before. don’t just draw characters smiling in a white void in the same 3/4th facing angle. make them interact. have beef. your circus your monkeys

[jakesangel]

the third date - 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒘𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 event request

preview : jake being the most repeectful man you've ever meet, but his needs and clingy wes also interfer

word count + genre : fluff + 918 words ( not proofread but when will it be ㅎㅎ )

warning : none, they kiss tho

jake been a total sweetheart. tho i'm not dating him yet, he never fails to put me and my needs first, respecting my wants to take things slow. he still takes the lead to plan our dates, surprising me but making sure of my date likings.

i'm now here, a beautiful red picnic blanket spread on the green grass, the moon is shining on us with a smiley jake looking at me. what ?, you ask smiling, expecting a flirty joke but you're faced w a genuine jake, nothing you just look really good tonight, he nonchalantly says going back to his desert. he always surprised you, you can never expect what his answers would be or what is about to come. once second he can be serious, then become very flirty or starts w the funniest joke and then becomes very needy, almost puppy like.

he suddenly wipe his lap as he stands and offers his hand to help you get up, would you please, come with me. i want to show you something, he ask with the softest voice. and as much jakes has different sides, he is a trustworthy person, allowing you to feel safe with him. so you take his hands, and follow his lead, without a question.

the both of you walk to the end of the park, the moon shining even more here. what do you wanna show me ? you ask as you look at him. just look ahead, he answers kissing the hand he is holding. so you look back in front of you, and waits until the thing to come.

and that's when you see the the prettiest firework to ever witnessed. not because of the colors or the shapes, but because of the lovely boy by your side, currently stroking your hand with his thumb. he truly put a lot of thoughts into this date, you've only mentioned about doing a night pic nic once, in early talking phase, and tho it's chilly, your heart feels warms. but what you don't know is that, ahold you think about him, looking at the firework, jake, never looked at it. how could he when your surprised face is this lovely ? he wants to tell you that you're pretty one more time, all the time, but right now he keeps it. he will tell you. but later.

as the firework starts to dies down, the night wind makes its appearance. he uses it as an excuse to interlace your fingers together and pulls you closer, are you cold ? he ask, his eyes strained on ur arm's goosebumps. your eyes goes to your locked hands to his concerned face, finally understanding that no one will ever come close to him. his kind and caring behavior made you fall for him, and tonight you want him to stop taking it slow, this night is perfect actually, you tell him, looking up to him because of your closeness. i'm having such a good time, jake. you try to start, but as the wind goes, your hair keeps flying around your face. both of his hands come domestically to the side of your face, rearranging your flying hair. the both of you chuckle, trying to ease the romantic tension between you. he, then tucks, the last loose hair behind your ear and keeps his hands on the side of your face. you stare up at him, as he does so, a fuzzy and imaginary bubble, forming around you.

he can only think of kissing you, but he also want to be respectful and keep your steady and slow pace. but seeing your round eye, expectly waiting for him to do something, your hands unconsciously coming to his chest, he brings your face closer and kiss your forehead, a good comprise for each other needs. he then pulls you even closer, hugging you, a coping mechanism to control himself. i'm sorry, i couldn't stop myself. i hope i’m not making uncomfortable, you softly hear, his arms blocking his voice. but you can hear his hope that you aren't mad at him or uncomfortable and you just can't believe he is truly a total sweetheart. you wanted him to kiss you, but he still respected you. you've got yourself a man, so willing to protect and respect you and your needs. tho it is the bare minimum, he does it with so much care and perhaps love. you can only give up with the slow pace, you once wanted. so you back up a bit, just enough to be able to look at him. jake, you've been amazing. you dont have to apologize for anything, you reassure him. i actually wanted you to kiss me, you shyly admit, breaking the eye contact. you wanted me ... to kiss you... ?ᩚ he excitedly says, his puppy tails wagging, can i still ? he hurrydly and expendly says, showing you the brightest smile of his. you can only look back to him, smiling back at him. and the second you nod, he grabs your waist and you cheek, and softly dives in. the kiss is soft and tender, just like how jake is. you wrap your arm around his neck, a hand on his nap, fingers on his hair, making him smile in the kiss.

you're the one who stop the kiss, but he still keeps you close, his forehead coming to yours, god, he contently sigh before, did i told you you looked pretty tonight ?

notes : hai anon bby >< i loved your request so so much, i had so munch fun writing it, i did it in one go n almost 1k words ?ᩚ i hope it's more enjoyable to reading than to writeᵎᵎ lemme know <3

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🍓୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ tag list : @dreamiestay @jakesprincess1

perm tag list : @allurecile @luvj4key @stwrjvke @amouriu @neos127 @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @jaeyunpinkyring @pockettwinzz @jwsdoll @heeheeswifey @sjylouvre @txnwvc @oopshee @luvlyhee @en-ner-jay @en-chantedtomeetyou @erenmyman @driedflowwr @hoonion @jlheon

[infinityinakiss]

arcane incorrect quotes: dysfunctional sisters edition (+ cait, the number one sister-in-law)

vi: go to hell!

jinx: where do you think i come from?

//

jinx: my assistance will be an act of beneviolence.

vi: ...don’t you mean benevolence?

jinx: no.

//

caitlyn: don’t go picking a fight with me. i could make your life difficult.

jinx, sarcastically: wow. i wonder what it’d be like to have a difficult life.

//

jinx: i'm gonna nickname my child "lil bitch". vi: i see you're passing on your name.

//

jinx: i typed "bitch" into my gps and guess what? i'm in your driveway.

caitlyn:

jinx: vroom vroom, come out already.

//

jinx: hey, caitlyn?

caitlyn: yeah?

jinx: can a person breathe inside a washing machine while it’s on?

caitlyn:

caitlyn: where’s vi?

//

vi: advice of the day kids, if you ever meet someone who calls gatorade flavors the actual name of the flavor instead of just the color then they are a certified nerd.

jinx: yeah but you have to specify, frost glacier or cool blue? you can’t just say blue because there’s more than one blue.

vi: blue and light blue, nice try nerd.

//

jinx: people tell me i have a unique way of lighting up a room.

caitlyn: it’s called arson and those people are called witnesses.

//

jinx: i never understood why people cared so much about their dumb friends until i got a dumb friend myself.

jinx: *picks up isha*

jinx: i've only befriended isha for a day and a half, but if anything happened to them i would kill everyone in this room and then myself.

//

vi: ...i'm pretty sure that place is fire-proof, or something.

jinx, grenade in hand: alright, but is it explosion-proof?

//

vi: why am i not the protagonist of an amazing story…?

jinx: you are, though - it’s called “your life.”

vi: shut the fuck up, i wanna struggle fighting demons not struggle with getting out of bed every day.

jinx: but those are your demons.

vi: …

vi: i am hereby naming you as the antagonist and now it is my sole job to find you and hit you in the face with a chair for that bitch-ass comment you just made.

//

vi: why would you think any of this was a good idea?

jinx: probably because i’m a dangerous sociopath with a long history of violence.

vi:

jinx: i don’t know how you keep forgetting this.

//

vi: you’re alive.

jinx: no need to sound so disappointed.

//

vi: can you be serious for five minutes?

jinx: my record is four, but i think i can do it.

//

cait: tell jinx off, vi! assert yourself!

vi: that's my ice cream!

cait: good! now let them have it!!

vi, handing jinx the ice cream: here, you can have it!

//

jinx: you know, pinocchio could tell us so much about the universe! he could randomly claim stuff like “the big bang happened” and his nose would confirm or deny our theory.

cait: pinocchio’s not omniscient, you dumb fuck! his nose only grows when he’s intentionally being dishonest!

vi: things are heating up in the pinocchio fandom…

//

jinx: look, i'm glad everyone’s on the same page.

jinx: but it’s the last page in a book titled “we’re all going to die”.

cait: that’s not even clever.

//

jinx: FIGHT ME, YOU NERD ASS SLUT!

cait: at least try to sound slightly more sophisticated when you threaten someone.

jinx: oh, i'm sorry. i should ask; dost thou want to engage in a duel, my good bitch?

cait: somehow that's worse.

//

vi: i don’t think we can mansplain, manipulate, or malewife our way out of it this time.

jinx: *cracks knuckles* manslaughter it is!

//

jinx, holding a toy lightsaber: i’m darth vader!

vi: i'm done with everyone’s bullshit.

[shiftyjaxic]

SilentStation headcannons because I have nothing ahead of me 🚂🎞️

Including individual HCs & relationship HCs

I’m not the best with character interactions/compatibility lol

Basic Info:

Chuck:

transmasc, bisexual

real name: Chiara Carlo Macaluso

hair color (under green hair dye): brownish-black

eye color (just because): hazel

52 yrs old

6’2 ft

walks with crutches on good days

misophonic

NOT built like a stick. He has muscles. Flesh.

Gray:

cis man, pansexual

real name: Greige Escoffier

eye color (under grey colored contacts): amber

skin color (under white face paint): chestnut brown

48 yrs old

6’0 ft

partially deaf, wears hearing aids

selectively mute

Personalities & Qualities:

Chuck:

Driven, passionate

Volatile, hot-headed

Charismatic

Eccentric

Morally courageous

Loud & friendly (at first glance)

Lonely, lurks in solitude

-Has known exactly who and what he wants to be; has lost touch with society & control of his own emotions and mind as an indirect result

Gray:

Quiet (obviously)

“Cool-minded”

“Charming”

“Elegant”

“Droll”

“Stoic”

“Prefers solitude”

“Has a strong sense of justice”

Empty.

-Never knew what he wanted to be; looks into his emotions & mind more than ever as a result

Individual Conflicts:

Chuck:

Obsession

He would prioritize his creations of music over anything else, mainly himself. He would only stop when he needs to be on the Ghost Train, when his needs [e.g. sleep, hunger, thirst] become too unbearable to the point of getting in the way of his work, or if someone he cares about nags him enough.

Isolation/Detatchment

He works with his creations alone, and has worked alone for most of his life. However, only when he entered the Ghost Station in pursuit of “the next big thing in music!” did he really start detatching from society and even himself. People rarely see him outside of the station. He’s also forgotten how to relate to people & even parts of his early life.

This is kinda canon, too.

Tempestuousness

Chuck was already the type not afraid to show his emotion. Thanks to his mental health deteriorating during his time in the Ghost Station, this quality’s been made even more extreme. His mood is unpredictable; He can go from tranquil to livid in a matter of seconds. This doesn’t fail to scare most people away.

Also pretty canon.

[Gender] Dysphoria

This conflict isn’t as serious as others mentioned, but it does get to him from time to time. It’s also another reason he convinces himself not to go outside.

Gray:

Loss of Self

He believed a lifelong occupation should arise from a fiery passion, yet he never found more than an ember. Living as an empty husk, he discovered acting—living a life given to him. Through acting, he filled his long-held void, but at the cost of his true self. Everything everyone knows of him is merely an act that’s second-nature, making him distrust himself; His entire identity may only reflect his characters', after all. Even if he manages to shed his personas, he’d be right back as an empty husk. Right back to square one.

So he holds onto his act. He clings to it and keeps it in his grasp through wear and tear and blood and tears.

(Still proud of his successful career. It earned him a life, after all.)

Relationship Harmony:

Chuck’s POV:

Kinda jealous of Gray’s cool mindedness

Admires him in a celebrity-kind of way; Gray is quite literally a celebrity actor.

Will stand up (no pun intended istg) & fight for him when he doesn’t himself

Feels refreshed in his charm

Gray’s POV:

Thinks of Chuck’s hot-headedness as a bit of an inconvenience, but also a little something to chuckle with him about

Admires him in a “He’s really dedicated!”-kind of way; Chuck quite literally sacrifices his health for his music.

Will stay behind and make sure he at least tries to get better

Feels warmth in his charisma

In general:

Opposites attract dynamic

“You have so much to do, and I have nothing ahead of me.”

-both sides.

Random Relationship HCs:

Chuck is iffy about Gray carrying him. Sometimes he loves it, sometimes he hates it, and sometimes it’s just a quick favor.

Chuck has pretty fluffy hair (when it’s not greasy or tangled from neglect). Gray likes touchin’ it (much to Chuck’s dismay and/or content).

They both have effortless hair routines. Chuck just puts a hat on and calls it a day while Gray ruffles it up a bit and gets majestic outcomes.

Sometimes, Gray is comfy enough to whisper to Chuck. Since Chuck has great (& sensitive) hearing, he has no problem hearing Gray’s whispers.

Gray somehow found Chuck’s sweet spot to kiss: in between the tragus (ear) & his side burns.

[r3starttt]

RIGHT TIME

Spider man! Dina

Before she can reply anything back you’re already sneaking out of your house for probably the third time this week. Black converse hitting the dirt, a baggy hoodie that was actually Dina’s and didn’t really cover you from the slight cold breeze, and some money that you’ve been saving from lunch all crumpled in the back of your jeans, just in case.

She’d insisted on going to your place but you didn’t want your parents to notice so you’d agreed on seeing each other at a small park near your house.

Everything’s quiet, there’s just the constant sounds of the city in movement. The sky slowly fading into a complete dark blue color tone and the moon getting shiner along with the small stars that looked like tiny dots in the sky.

The squeak of the swings and your feet scraping the ground stop when you see her in the distance. She waves once she noticed you too.

“I have the feeling that you’re always on your way here before you even ask” she chuckles, walking towards the swing next to you “What if I am?” you laugh back, shifting your eyes towards her and immediately looking at her with pure confusion.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Dina was biting her bottom lip, her smile was slightly curved almost as a smirk, she had something to bother you about “I can’t stop thinking about the spider man thing, you’re ridiculous” you immediate burst into laughter, hitting her shoulder gently “Dina just forget it I was clearly joking”

“Oh really? Because your confession seemed pretty serious” you just roll your eyes “I really wonder how long have you been thinking about him, because you never just tell me_” “Dina, stop it. I’m not gonna give you details if that what you want”

“Oh so there’s details? I though it was just a random thought that occurred to you today” she raised her eyebrows. You knew she wasn’t gonna stop any soon, if she ever forget about it.

You groaned back, covering your face with your hands for some seconds “why do you care so much?” “You really wanna know?” she laughs at the small slap that you gave yourself as you let go of your face, hitting your legs in pure annoyment

“You’re not gonna believe me anyway” you don’t say anything back, but your eyes are basically speaking for you so there’s no need really “remember how you said that I was probably on my way before?” you nod, confused on what she tried to say

She extends her arm, aiming to a small can of coke next to a trash can; suddenly shooting her webs and brings the Can to her hand. Your eyes open wide in pure amused, mouth partly open and heart racing so much your heartbeat could almost be heard.

“I’m spider man” the way she says it so casually makes you laugh nervously as your eyes are still locked on her wrists, trying to make any of this make sense.

“How the fuck am I not suppose to believe in that when I just saw webs coming from your arm”

“From my hand-well, my wrist”

“And you’re fucking casual about it?”

She just shrugged.

And now realization was hitting you. So many thoughts on your mind at once.

“I thought it was the right time to tell you since you practically told me how he made you-“

your hands covered her mouth, completely ashamed “stop” her hands move on top of yours, gently taking them away from her face and pulling them closer, placing them on top of her knees.

“At least I know you won’t hate me” a small chuckle escapes from her mouth. She looked so normal about this whole situations but in fact she’d been overthinking about this since she first came, wondering what your reaction would be; so the look on your face, all the mix of emotions you were feeling, it made her feel good, less stressed.

“I would never it’s just” you sighed “I just told you how I think he’s hot” both of you laughed awkwardly “Well it’s not like you’ve never tell me that I’m hot so…” “Ugh just shut up”

You try to move your hands away from her, and she lets you; shooting her webs at the swing to pull it closer to her and cupping your face with her hands, pressing her lips on yours in a small sweet kiss. Just enough for what you both needed.