#or love them so much you hope they never have to live without you

[bvidzsoo]

Through your colours

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: artist!Kim Hongjoong x barista!reader

੭ Warning: recreational drug use (weed), alcohol consumption, swearing ੭ Word count: 11k ੭ Rating: nc-17 ੭ Genre: fluff, angst-ish, slice of life, strangers to lovers, a hint of simp Joong? post university setting ੭ Summary: A broke barista and a broke artist meet in a student infested dingy pub, what do they have in common? The desire to make something great of themselves, to live a fulfilled life. But first impressions can go wrong, deterring people from each other. You're probably lucky that's not how your story with Hongjoong goes, though.

A/N: Hello, hello, my lovelies! I present you another story that was supposed to be a drabble but instead turned into...a smaller oneshot?? I consider anything that's below 15k a drabble because my oneshots just go over 20k all the time, save me! This idea came on a random whim while my pinterest suggested three photos lol, and it took me some time to write it, but it's here at last. Your feedback is greatly appreciated, let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy it! divider

            Gustav Klimt had once, sometime during the nineteenth century, stated that, “Art is a line around your thoughts”. This could be interpreted many ways, of course, but for an artist it was just as plain and simple as Mr Klimt had said. Whatever was on your mind, you could give it life by putting it on a piece of paper by the brush of ink and feather against the parchment, or by the swift twist of one’s wrist as their brush coloured their canvas. Art comes in many forms, many thoughts, and many interpretations. After all, everyone relates to it based by their own experiences, based on the emotions they feel and have felt before…and overall, their capacity of seeing beyond what’s shoved in front of their eyes. Maybe that’s why Hongjoong would stare at a painting or picture for hours on end without growing tired. He liked to see everything, he wanted to understand every stroke of brush, or why the lightning fell in that specific way on the item in the picture. Hongjoong wanted to feel the same emotions the author of the creation had felt while creating their piece. It helped him draw inspiration, expand his horizons towards new possibilities. Hongjoong liked new challenges as long as they were about his art. In life, he preferred the steady and sure lifestyle, the one that was predictable enough that it wouldn’t send him into an existential crisis over the smallest inconvenience.

Hongjoong needed order in his life since his art was all over the place, judged by many and often misunderstood. He didn’t paint just for the fun of it, sure, there were passion projects he started on a whim without much of a goal in mind, and usually those were well received by his professors, by his colleagues. But whenever Hongjoong wanted to say something through his art, he’d get scrutinized for it. He yet had to find that one person that saw beyond what others called a mess. He’s never thrived for attention or validation, but it had gotten lonely after a while when he realised nobody really understood him. He felt like he was the odd one even in a crowd full of odd people. He’d always been different, more open-minded and receptive to the changes in the world, and he’d always been judged for it. Here, instead of being frowned upon due to his character, he was sometimes ignored because his art was either dull or not good enough. Nobody seemed to understand that art is relative and subjective, that whatever lay on the canvas made by Hongjoong was his and would always be. That he had dipped his brush into a touch of colour from his soul, displaying it for the world to see on the once blank canvas. He became vulnerable for them and yet nobody had appreciated it yet. And so, Hongjoong got used to not being seen for his art, but for who he was.

Quirky with questionable fashion taste to many, bold because he wasn’t afraid to try out new styles—much like with his paintings—and intimidating because no matter how many times he tried out something new, he’d instantly make it his, owning whatever concept he had in mind. Hongjoong knew not everyone was against him out there, but it was easy to fall hostage to such thoughts when he was alone. It would make sense for an artist to have a mind clouded by questions and rarely answers, a mind that worked too fast and yet never good enough. Doubts and fears pulling one down, Hongjoong loved expressing it through his paintings, his hand nothing but a guide to the brush clutched tightly between his fingers, calling out to him even when he chose to step away. Hongjoong was in it for life, and he wondered whether the weeping willow tree by the river bank in his framed painting was a premonition for how his life would look like.

            The bar was busy like every other night in this student-infested town. It wasn’t even a surprise anymore, you should have known better than to wear your boots with high heels. There were no seconds to waste and even less time for breaks between preparing drinks, cleaning the bar, and running around the room to clean the tables too. Nobody wanted their hands sticky because someone had previously spilt their drink, and you were more than ready to clock out for the night. The only problem was, however, that you still had three hours left of your shift. You sighed as you averted your eyes from the clock, realising you hadn’t started preparing the drink the drunk college student had asked for on the other side of the bar. His eyes were glossy and he was swaying in his spot, you debated filling his cup with water rather than Vodka, but you couldn’t risk getting a complaint since your boss was a stinky little fucker. Your hands worked fast, and years spent doing this kind of work were showing as you did a few tricks, hoping you’d get a nice tip. You doubted the college guy would leave a huge tip, if anything at all, but at least you tried. It was all about trying in places like this one. Trying to stay calm when a customer was rude, trying to remain sane when night after night the DJ played the same playlist for the drunken students, trying to smile and hide the fact that you hated when these frat boys flirted with you. And also try and hide the fact that you were fed up with people, and needed at least a month away from civilisation.

But if one wanted to achieve something in life, one had to work for it to happen since it wouldn’t fall from the sky. Going abroad and starting a new life over there wasn’t for free, and it especially wouldn’t happen overnight. You were well aware of that, that’s why you were working day and night, taking up shifts that were probably too long to be healthy. But the dream you had in mind demanded such sacrifices, and if it meant working hard right now for a comfortable life in the future, you were willing to spend your nights sleepless and surrounded by annoying college students. You had been like them once, after all, but that was a few years ago, and since then, the harsh reality has awoken you. What was the purpose of a degree you couldn’t do anything with? Yeah, you could’ve laughed at yourself, but then it would soon turn into hysterical crying and you weren’t strong enough to deal with such emotions. You’ve cried enough, it was time you took action now. You sighed as another rush of bodies crowded the bar, asking for shots and long cocktails. You weren’t a fancy place by any means, but you served the usual sweet cocktails that could be found in every other place. Your hands worked fast as you catered to everyone’s likes, your coworker, Hanni, was somewhere lost between the students as she had gone to clean up the tables. And even in your rush, it seemed like you couldn’t satisfy everyone. It shouldn’t have phased you, but you’ve had a rough day today.

“Hey, babe, think you could work those hands faster, maybe?” You ignored the question and smiled as a group of girls paid for their pink cocktails, leaving a bigger tip than most men would. You felt grateful and felt your smile turn genuine when the tallest in the group winked at you before they became part of the rowdy crowd again. Then, you could face your impatient customer. He didn’t look like a student, way too old to be in a crowd filled with students, but who were you to judge? Some people go to college at a later age, maybe he wanted to get the full student experience. Although, you doubted a thirty-year-old had anything in common with young adults on the brink of maturing, if they managed to mature during their upper-level study days.

“What can I get for you?” Your voice was raised since the music was booming, and unfortunately, you also had to lean over the counter to hear the man better. For some reason, that made the man smirk as he leaned forward as well, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat. You ignored it as your teeth ground together, you’ve seen men like him before, he wasn’t the first to act like this and you knew he wouldn’t be the last one either.

“How about…you, sugar?” Your expression didn’t budge as his smirk became shit eating as if he had accomplished anything by saying that. You waited, without blinking or reacting to what he’s said, hoping he’d catch on that he wasn’t hilarious nor flirty.

“Don’t we all wish to have a piece of the pretty barista?” That managed to throw you off as your head whipped to the side, eyebrows furrowing as you just now noticed the newcomer. He was…well, something else for sure. He wore no casual or ordinary clothes, nothing you could compare to the annoying frat boys or just the other dudes with a regular fashion sense. His hair was dark but it looked a little fried, as if it had been bleached already one too many times before. His white blouse was loose and tucked in at the waist, his black pants wide and reaching below his ankles. A thick belt was secured around the guy’s petit waist, and if you looked harder, you swore you could see a dark blue bow tied to it. His brown vest seemed to elevate the outfit even more, the pleated brown choker sitting at the base of his throat with a few other silver chains, a ruby pendant hitting his pecks as he was leaning against the counter lazily. His hip was jutted out and his painted nails tapped against the side of his head, cat-like eyes blinking slowly as he watched you. The hat he wore looked something like you’ve only seen in Peaky Blinders, and for a second, you almost chuckled. He looked peculiar but not in a negative sense, it’s just that you haven’t seen someone like him stumble inside the pub before. He didn’t seem to belong with the crowd and that would’ve been something you’d appreciate on any other day than today.

“I don’t think we were talking to you, no?” The cocky man in front of you raised a mocking eyebrow at the other guy, and you rolled your eyes for a second. But before you could answer, the other guy did for you.

“You threatened my game is better than yours?” The artsy-looking guy asked with a chuckle, his tone was more on the higher side, and you found yourself not irked by it too much. But you weren’t here to have men measure their cocks by who can get the barista’s phone number faster, so you interrupted them before they could piss you off even more.

“Listen, fellas, I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Your tone was sharp, straight to the point, and shut down all attempts at flirting as the man in front of you scoffed, shooting a dirty look at the peculiar-looking one. You tilted your head as the older man finally faced you, trying to downplay his irritation as he plastered on a charming smile again. It made your jaw tick again, but you said nothing more.

“Do you have whiskey?” You were already reaching for the bottle of Whiskey before the man was finished talking, your other hand grabbing a glass as Hanni finally returned to the bar, her tray filled with dirty glasses.

“I’ll just wash these and come help.” She said as she passed by you and you nodded, filling the man’s glass with ice and whiskey, not too much but not too little either. Who even drinks Whiskey in a place like this one? But you didn’t care as long as he’d be out of your hair, so you placed the glass on the counter, but before you could tell the guy how much it was, he had already slid a bill on the counter, sauntering away. You grabbed it and pushed it into your fanny pack, taking a step back to take a deep breath. You could do this, Hanni was back and maybe you could ask her to cover for you for five minutes. A bathroom break was allowed at any time, after all. Your small moment, however, was interrupted by a scoff. You blinked your eyes open and looked towards where the sound came from, eyes narrowing when you realised the other guy was still lingering around.

“What a pig, he didn’t even tip you.” You had to agree with his slurred words but instead walked over with an impassive expression. You weren’t here to be nice or to make friends, and you never failed to make it clear to your customers. These entitled dudes thought they could get your number and get in your pants with just a few—fake—nice words, you could confidently say you hated them all and that they made you wish you never again encountered their species. But alas, that wouldn’t happen tonight, so you headed over to the pompous guy, raising an eyebrow. He was intriguing, you couldn’t deny that, but you also knew not to mingle with guys who frequented the pub. So, even if one sparked your interest, at the end of the day, you’d still walk home alone and relish in the quiet of your room.

“What can I get for you?” You tried to keep your tone level as your hip pressed into the counter, feet aching now even more. You were ready to chuck your damn boots at the wall and call it a night, but as Hanni flashed you her typical sweet smile, you knew you couldn’t leave her alone in the wolf's den. She was too sweet and too naïve, smiling and laughing along to the shitty jokes of the frat boys who were eyeing her up with little regard for the fact that she was visibly uncomfortable.

“Something sweet like you.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, telling yourself to keep your cool. He wasn’t saying anything offensive, unlike many other men, he just kept calling you sweet and pretty. That could be considered even nice, but not tonight.

“The menu is literally behind me, you can choose anything from it.” You pointed a finger behind yourself, where you knew the menu was hung high on the wall so that everyone could see it. The peculiar guy just gave you a look of confusion before looking past you, blinking his eyes lazily once again. You tapped your fingers against the counter, waiting for his choice, glad that you could take a breather now that nobody was crowding to get their drinks refilled. Hanni whizzed past you when she noticed a smaller group of girls approaching, her smile reaching her ears and already talking to them, beckoning them closer. Hanni was an excellent barista, she kept her customers entertained and always engaged with them…unlike you, but that’s why your duo worked so well. You were the stoic one and she was the sunshine, but you were both quick on your feet so your boss couldn’t complain.

“Uh, I’ll take a Cosmopolitan.” The guy finally decided and you quirked an eyebrow, grabbing the shaker.

“That’s not sweet.” It was unlike you to make conversation, but the words were on the tip of your tongue so you couldn’t ignore them. The guy chuckled, letting his elbows rest on the counter as he placed his chin in his palms. Your eyes raised for a second to look at him, and you were taken aback by how cute he looked. But as he blinked slowly again, a small smile spreading onto his lips as he watched you, you quickly focused your attention on his Cosmo.

“I know, I was just trying to make you feel better.” He sighed, tracing a manicured finger against the dirty counter. You had to clean that too. As you grabbed some olive to stash on a toothpick, you followed his finger with your eyes and noticed the two silver and shiny rings on his finger, his nail done a neon yellow with a black smiley face painted on top of it.

“What do you even know…” You scoffed to yourself, placing the martini glass on the counter for the guy to take. He was still looking at you, his eyes hazy, and you allowed yourself to take in his features. He had a petite and sharp nose, pretty and well-fitting with his sharp jawline and otherwise intimidating eyes if it wasn’t for the smile in them. His lips were more plump than thin with a pretty Cupid’s bow, slightly pouty as he gave you a small frown.

“Well, I bet you don’t plan on wasting your life away here.” The way he spoke had an airy feel to it, as if he wasn’t really thinking before speaking, “And by the looks of it, it seems as if your degree didn’t take you too far as of now, which is not a big deal, people change their minds all the time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as the guy reached for his Cosmo, your fingers brushing together since you hadn’t retracted your hand yet. You ignored how warm his fingers felt, the softness of them as they lightly brushed against yours, “It’s just sad to see talented people waste their lives away in places like this one, you know? I mean, we all go to college to make something of ourselves, but then we end up in a dimly lit and smelly bar, selling alcohol to entitled pricks, forced to listen to their attempts at flirting, or them berating us for ‘not’ doing our job. Sure, it’s honest work, but at the end of the day, when you walk home after an ungodly long shift, you still hate yourself, so…”

Something in you broke at his last sentence, making you gulp hard. You still hate yourself, the guy had said with the most easy-going expression on his face, a slight smile pulling at his lips as he continued to blink lazily at you. What did he even know when he was clearly wearing designer clothes to a pub where alcohol could be spilt on you, among many other things? Who was he to assume you couldn’t do anything with your degree, rubbing it in your face that he knew people ended up like this when he clearly came from a rich background with all those accessories on him, his tone airy and almost mocking. Your jaw clenched again as you realised you had tears in your eyes, and your hand came down harshly on the counter as the guy slipped a bill towards you, way over the price of his damn Cosmopolitan.

“Go fuck yourself.” You snapped as you threw the change back at him, watching his expression fall, his eyebrows raising comically high. You didn’t sit around to listen to him trying to get your attention again, you brushed past Hanni and leaned down to tell her that you needed five minutes. She gave you a worried look before nodding, letting you head to the bathroom as a few tears spilt down your cheeks. Today was complete shit, you couldn’t wait to get home and ignore all the responsibilities and problems you had. You were doing this for a better future, this was just a small fragment of your life, and it wouldn’t last forever. At least you really hoped so.

            You released a long sigh as the cool air hit your face, eyes stinging from the sudden coldness as the red backdoor slammed shut behind you. Hanni and you kept telling your boss to change the hinges, but he had more important things to take care of, of course. Stepping aside so that the door wouldn’t slam into your back if any staff member decided to come outside at this moment, you leaned against the cold wall, pushing your hands into your pockets. You didn’t bother grabbing your jacket, although you should have given the fact that your skin was now covered in goosebumps, teeth slightly chattering. It was always a whiplash coming outside from that parched pub, having to forcefully push through the bodies too busy to notice your approaching form. It was another busy night, the weekend was approaching so the students were coming in waves that the pub could barely house. You’ve been telling your boss that you should put a capacity limit, but he wouldn’t make as much money like that as he was making now, so of course, he said no. He was a greedy monster and he didn’t even try to hide it.

Just as you closed your eyes, you heard a loud tsk followed by a hiss, and your head jerked to the side, your eyes widening. You hadn’t realised there was someone else here with you, too taken by your own thoughts of wondering what you’d cook for dinner…if you make it home at a decent hour, which was looking less and less likely to be. With your eyes narrowed and head turned, you tried to find the source where the sound had come from, eyebrows furrowing when you noticed someone crouched down right by the door, their head lowered over their knees. It wasn’t your business what anyone was doing, really, but if a client was feeling unwell and would need assistance, you’d feel guilty if you just walked away without a word. So, sighing to yourself, you pushed off the wall and took a few steps to approach the person, eyes taking in the black messy curls on the top of his head. The person had a baby mullet growing out, framing his pale nape. You cleared your throat and reached down, gently poking at the guy’s shoulder.

“Hey, you good?” You asked unsure, eyebrows furrowing when the guy grunted only. Tilting your head, you realised he was shielding his left hand, his right thumb trying to roll the sparkwheel of his lighter, but to no avail.

“Yeah, this bloody thing won’t work.” The guy groaned, shaking his lighter as he tilted his head back, a hand-rolled cigarette hanging between his lips. Your eyes widened as you realised the face was familiar, having seen him just yesterday. The guy’s eyes looked innocent as they rounded, recognition flashing in his too. You gulped and straightened up, your expression slightly hardening as the guy’s harsh words from yesterday rang through your ears. He seemed pretty fine to you, but before you could step aside and go back inside, he spoke up.

“Hi there, pretty barista.” He then grinned, a lazy pull of his cherry-red lips, his tone easy. You didn’t expect him to be so easy-going after what you had said to him, but it almost looked like the guy wasn’t bothered by you cursing him out…maybe he really wasn’t, “You on a break?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, watching as he struggled to get his lighter to work. You had one in your pocket, but you found a bit of satisfaction in watching him struggle. Maybe if he asked whether you had one, you’d let him use yours. But people who didn’t ask wouldn’t get help, that’s what your father taught you, at least.

“Obviously.” You muttered matter of fact as the guy hummed, grinning wickedly when the lighter finally sparked to life, allowing him to light his cigarette. You watched as the flame danced in front of his face, making his dark eyes appear amber-like, sharper from this angle. You realised, alarmed, that you were appreciating his looks so you quickly stopped, looking away as the guy puffed out a whiff of smoke.

“You want some?” The guy asked, reaching his hand toward you as you eyed the cigarette, its smell hitting you. It was too herbal to be a normal cigarette, you belatedly realised as you watched the guy take another hit of his joint.

“What’s in it?” You decided to ask, just to make sure. If you were wrong and it was a regular cigarette, maybe you’d accept a smoke. You didn’t usually smoke but you were still tired from yesterday’s shift, and something that could loosen your nerves would be highly appreciated.

“Good stuff.” The guy grinned, giggling even a little, and the sound almost put a smile on your lips, but you caught yourself in time and instead shook your head, pushing your hands into your pockets again.

“I’m working, so, no.” The guy just hummed as he looked up at you again, taking a drag of his joint as you gulped and everted your eyes. It felt like he was gazing right through you and into your soul as your eyes had met, and given the fact that you were still butt-hurt over what he had said to you yesterday, you refused to look at him too long…you’d only admire his beauty, either way. He wore a fuzzy yellow and pink sweater today, his brown dress pants looking way too thin for this weather, but the guy didn’t seem to mind. His nails stood out with their unique design, and he wore fewer rings today but more earrings than yesterday.

“Hey, yesterday…what I said at the bar, I didn’t mean to berate you.” The guy gulped, his eyebrows furrowing as you looked back at him, slightly taken aback to see such sincerity on his face. You’ve never met someone so easily readable before, “My intention wasn’t to hurt you, I was smoked out too so I was just running my mouth, I do that when I’m high, sorry…”

A beat of silence passed as the two of you shared an apprehensive look, making you bite your bottom lip. You cleared your throat and at last averted your eyes, kicking a few pebbles towards the guy without meaning to, “Right, I shouldn’t have cursed you out either…I’m sorry too, I guess.”

The guy hummed, a smile slowly appearing on his lips before he took another drag of his cigarette, his eyes boring into yours again, “I’m glad the pretty barista doesn’t hate my guts anymore.”

You have no idea what took over you, but your cheeks were suddenly flushing as if you had been noticed by your crush for the first time, your skin prickling. You weren’t one to care about the compliments your clients gave since most of them were only trying to get in your pants, but this guy seemed to be genuine. He didn’t try to hit on you, he was just calling you pretty, and it was getting to you. You hummed and turned towards the door, hand reaching out for the knob when suddenly the guy spoke again, “Humans are easily susceptible, you know? We judge without knowing first, and we rarely apologise and recognise our mistakes. I hate people like that, rude people for no reason too. I don’t stand for all that bullshit, so I’m glad you told me to fuck myself instead of smiling at me like you do with all the other assholes. I appreciate your hard work, we all have to make due somehow and you aren’t less for working in this pub, pretty barista.”

There he was again, making your chest feel heavy as you huffed, a sarcastic smile pulling at your lips. Once again, what did he know about you? Maybe you loved this damned job, maybe being a barista in a shitty pub has been your lifelong dream. You almost scoffed at yourself, eyes narrowing as the guy took more drags of his joint, seemingly waiting for an answer that you didn’t exactly want to give. But you didn’t want him to have the last word, much like yesterday, so you plastered on a sarcastic smirk, “There you go again, blabbering your mouth when you’re smoked out.”

You didn’t expect the guy to start laughing loudly, his head falling back as it landed against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners. You didn’t mean to gape, but he was beautiful and painfully honest, it was refreshing in a world full of fakeness. He was an intriguing person, and you would’ve allowed yourself to become interested in him if only you had met in a different setting. With a hum and lingering eyes, you pushed the door open as the guy nodded at you in goodbye once he realised you were leaving for good. And with a faster beating heart, you willed yourself to focus on the few hours that you still had of your shift.

            It’s been quite a while since you had the chance to wake up at the crack of dawn without feeling tired, or without having to rush in for an early shift. Through hard work, you had earned these two days of break, and while you wished you had been given a full week, you made sure to utilise these two days wisely. You had always been an early bird, wishing to wake with the sun, opening your windows to hear the song of the birds, but it was too cold for them to hunker down in front of your window today. You didn’t mind, you’d take a stroll after your breakfast and check out the new art store that’s opened not too far from your apartment. You’ve heard great things about it, the prices seemed to be reasonable, and it had an adjoint bookstore and a coffee shop as well. A quick check on the internet showed you just how cozy it was, so you thought you could buy a book from your to read list and settle down in the coffee shop. It sounded like a great plan to destress and forget for a bit about work and all the idiots that kept you up at night, quite literally.

Your scarf was thick as you buried your nose into it, trying to keep it warm from the cold chill of the early morning. The city was awake with you, orange sun rising on the horizon and blinding you as you were walking towards it, you couldn’t help but smile. It warmed your cheeks and body, feeling the sun on your skin during cold season always felt like a blessing, you would always relish in it as much as you could because you knew it wouldn’t last for long. You exhaled as your eyes remained squinted, watching the people around you as you walked towards your destination. Kids were rushing to school, parents by their sides guiding them, and traffic was as crazy as ever, impatient drivers honking and disturbing the little peace everyone had. You paid it no mind and felt thankful that you were able to wake up so early instead of just going to bed, all tired and wishing for your boss to fire you. But if he did fire you, you would be in trouble, so you didn’t actually wish for that to happen. And suddenly as you turned the corner, the guy’s words from the bar managed to ring through your ears once again. Working at the pub was just as much of an honest job as it would’ve been working anywhere else.

You sighed, realising you were thinking about him again. You’ve been doing this a lot lately, letting your mind wander to his peculiar fashion sense and even more peculiar way of thinking. He seemed almost raw with his words and thoughts, unafraid to say them to your face. It was refreshing and intriguing, but you couldn’t let yourself be sidetracked right now. You had a purpose, and that was working until you had enough money to move away. If somehow a guy came into the picture right now, you felt like that would mess up all your plans and vision of the future. Under no circumstance would you stay here, but you knew your heart would betray you and try to keep you here for longer, with your lover. You didn’t even want to think of the guy as a potential love interest, you didn’t even know each other, so you shoved these thoughts to the back of your mind as you reached the art store, eyes widening at its exterior.

You haven’t seen anything quite like it before, the windows reached from ceiling to floor, a clear view of what was going on inside. There was a spiral staircase that led to the higher level which was littered with bookcases and low hanging retro chandeliers, bean bags spaced out on the floor as people sat around with books in their hands. To the right was the coffee shop with a separate entrance if you were only here for coffee, but you could also enter through the art store. And the art store was gorgeous as you made your way inside, the double doors opening easily. A sweet scent hit your nostrils as you walked further inside, your eyes wide as you took in the whole place. Paintings were hung on the walls, blank canvas placed underneath as many shelves housed all kinds of art supplies. The clerks were all smiley and they welcomed you warmly once they noticed your arrival. Maybe you could find a nicer workplace, something like this one. The workload seemed less strenuous and the people that came here to shop were less rowdy and rude. As much as you loved admiring the fine arts, you didn’t have the talent for drawing or painting, you could mess up even something as simple as a cloud. It was embarrassing, but arts have never been your forte, so you headed for the staircase to look for the book you had on your mind.

Navigating around the many shelves seemed a bit intimidating at first, but then you noticed they were sectioned on different genres, the tags hanging low from the ceiling with an arrow pointing towards the section to help you out. You smiled to yourself as you unrolled your scarf from around your neck, the warmth of the store helping your frozen fingers as you turned down a corner, two tall bookshelves on your sides. At the end of the row sat a younger girl with a manga in her hand, another one pressed to her lips as she seemed to be giggling. You felt yourself smile as you came near her, looking at the titles of the books. Asking for a clerk to help you find the book you were looking for would’ve helped enormously, but you found yourself wanting to stroll around in the warmth, fingers grazing the spines of the books. The girl giggled just a bit louder and blushed when you glanced her way. This wasn’t a library, so she wasn’t disturbing anyone, but she was still mindful of those around her. You turned the corner once again, finding the High Fantasy section, having made your research beforehand, you knew you were in the right place. It took a bit more cruising down the row to finally find the book you were looking for, and you grinned when you found it, taking it off the shelf.

You thought about strolling around the store more just to discover it further, maybe they had cheap trinkets you could buy. You even thought about paying a visit the coffee shop as well, maybe they had one of your favourite patisserie delicacies. You wouldn’t turn down something sweet right now, you didn’t have a sweet tooth necessarily, but there were days when your cravings got the better of you. With that in mind, you headed back the way you had come, sneaking another glance at the younger girl as she gasped, manga now clutched tightly in both of her hands. You chuckled before you rounded the corner, now back on the main aisle that led to the spiral staircase. You noticed that most people who were inside the store looked to be college students, their outfits mismatched colours and patterns, hair coloured something vibrant as most of them had piercings you never even thought possible before. You really liked their style and found yourself staring at them, blushing when a girl caught you and raised an eyebrow before she smiled. You nodded your head and hurried down the stairs, flustered and a little embarrassed. They oddly reminded you of the guy from the bar, you thought he’d somehow fit right in with the people inside the store. It looked something he’d enjoy, not that you knew anything about him besides that he smoked weed, wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and had a nice sense of fashion.

You were looking at the hard cover of your book as you got to the base of the staircase, taken by the pretty illustration and completely unaware that someone was headed straight towards you, just as taken by items in his hands as you were by your book. The collision could’ve been avoided if you both had been paying attention to where you were going, but alas, you gasped loudly as you felt a hard body collide into yours, items spilling loudly onto the floor. Your head shoot up, eyes wide as you looked at the equally startled man and—wait, it was the same guy from the bar! You gulped, suddenly feeling nervous as your cheeks burned, but the guy hadn’t noticed you yet as he had crouched down to collect his items off the floor. You felt bad and hoped the expensive palette on the ground hadn’t been broken, so you crouched down too and reached for it to inspect it. The guy still hadn’t quite noticed that it was you out of all people, but as you reached for the same brush, his head raised sharply. Your smile was apologetic as the guy’s eyes widened, recognition flashing on his face. This was the third time you met this week, the sheer coincidence of meeting outside the pub was a bit jarring…especially since you’ve been just thinking about him.

“Pretty barista from the pub!” He motioned towards you then chuckled, letting you pick up the brush. Your book was placed on the ground next to you so your hands were free to help.

“Hi,” Your voice came out a lot shier than you had intended it to be, and you chewed on your bottom lip awkwardly, “Sorry about this, I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Don’t worry,” The guy chuckled, scooping up the small canvases, “I wasn’t either. If it makes you feel better, it was both of our faults.”

You hummed and grabbed the last item off the floor, standing at the same time as the guy. His arms were filled with his items, and you wondered if you handed over the four in your hands how he’d be able to carry everything. Despite the cold weather outside, he was underdressed. He wore a simple turtleneck with a brown knitted vest over it, long flowy plants and mismatched tennis shoes. As you both stepped aside from the staircase to make way for others, you cleared your throat and averted your eyes once you realised you were staring again. But you hadn’t seen him wearing glasses before, and with the curly strands falling over his forehead, he didn’t only look handsome but cute as well.

“What brings you here?” The guy made conversation as you tried to figure out how to hand him his items without making him drop them all again, “I say this without meaning to be rude, but you seem like the last person who’d be interested in art.”

You huffed, not bothered by his honesty, “While that statement is incorrect, I’m not here due to the art section of the store. I was looking for a book.”

“Right!” He exclaimed, glancing down at his own chest, “Oh, sorry, you can hand me those, I can carry them!”

“Are you sure?” You asked as he nodded enthusiastically, so you complied. You stepped closer to place the other four items in his arms, watching as he clinched the smaller canvas underneath his chin to keep it from falling. You would’ve laughed and offered to help until he got himself a bag or something, but the guy looked pretty content like this. Like it wasn’t his first time doing this…

“Are you collecting them?” The guy’s incomplete question left you raising a confused eyebrow at him, “Sorry, I saw you’re buying The Hobbit. It’s a pretty famous reprint, the covers are gorgeous, my best friend is collecting them so I assumed you are too.”

You glanced down at the book in your hand and bit your bottom lip, trying to brush off your embarrassment. Why were you feeling like this all of a sudden? It made no sense, but you didn’t want to leave a bad impression on the guy…even though his perception of you might already be fucked since this wasn’t your first time meeting.

“I’ve, uh, so, uhm, I have a to read list for books I’ve never read while growing up, so now I have a little tradition that I buy a book from the list each month and read it.” You spoke quickly, avoiding eye contact as the guy listened to your ramble. His intake of breath was sharp and you chanced a glance at his face, finding his eyes wide and his mouth rounded.

“Wait. Are you saying you haven’t read The Hobbit before?!” He sounded incredulous and alarmed, and your cheeks grew hot once again, actually managing to sour your mood a bit. Not having read the book didn’t make you less by any means, but you had a feeling this guy was well-versed in literature, so it felt like a jab and even a subtle scrutinising.

“Yeah, not everyone likes reading while growing up…” Your tone grew cold and voice snappish as you continued to avoid eye contact, looking towards the front desk so that maybe the guy would get the hint that you were done with this conversation. But it didn’t actually surprise you that he continued speaking without noticing you didn’t want to keep conversing anymore.

“That’s totally cool, my brother hated comic books growing up and now he’s obsessed with them.” The guy chuckled, expression innocent and tone genuinely excited, “I think you’ll love the book, it’s filled with adventure and otherworldly creatures. It’s a nice step back from our grim reality, I feel like you need that right now.”

Okay, there he was assuming again that he could just…psychoanalyse you or whatever, “Can you stop doing that? I’m not a painting you can interpret to your liking.”

The guy blinked, face going blank before his cheeks flushed, his gaze averted now from yours, “I…have I been doing it all this time?”

“Ever since we’ve met.” Your answer was sharp and quick and the guy blushed even more.

“Oh, sorry, I just…I’ll stop doing that,” Then he smiled awkwardly and held eye contact with you, “I’m Hongjoong, by the way, I don’t remember introducing myself.”

Because he hadn’t. You repeated his name in your head, finding yourself liking the sound of it, it seemed like a fitting name for him. You hummed, extending your hand.

“I’m Y/N.” But you and Hongjoong glanced down at your extended hand and then his occupied ones at the same time, chuckles leaving your mouths as he seemed flustered.

“I’m shake your hand the next time we see other.”

“If there will be a next time.”

“I quite like the pub you work at, pretty barista.” You cleared your throat and avoided looking at him because as corny as it was, it kind of made your heart flutter. What was happening? The chiming of the doorbell reminded you that it was time you left and took care of other errands you had in your schedule, but before you could say goodbye to Hongjoong, he asked a question that took you off guard, “Wanna grab a cup of coffee with me?”

Then he turned sideways, nodding towards the adjoined café, and you hesitated for a second. You could actually slip in a little time to have coffee with him, but you felt reluctant. You had met him at the pub, after all, and you still couldn’t decide what type of person he was. Of course, he was handsome, and so far, has showed a good character, but there were little moments when he somehow managed to ruin everything with his words. And he was still a complete stranger, so, listening to your rational mind, you slowly shook your head.

“I don’t like coffee, but thanks!” Your smile was easy, Hongjoong’s face morphed into something knowing as he hummed with a nod.

“Sure, I’m glad I caught you here.” Then, as you were about to take off, he added, “The pretty barista now has a name, I can say my morning was successful.”

You tried to huff and look irked, but the blush betrayed you. You just shook your head before heading for the front desk, “Goodbye, Hongjoong.”

“See ya!” His smile was radiant as he turned around and headed for the café instead, and you realised he was underdressed because he had come from the coffee shop, his things already there. And with Hongjoong on your mind, you followed his distinctive walk as he sauntered over to his table with an elegancy yet swagger you hadn’t seen before.

            Now, a week ago you probably would have said no to a preposition that involved you following home a complete stranger whose name you had known for a maximum of four days, but tonight had been literal shit and you were on the verge of tears when Hongjoong had sauntered over to the bar, his Chesire like smile blinding. You had one more hour left of your shift and you’d be clocking out, not even staying behind to help Hani clean up. Your cramps were terrible and a guy who hit on you for the whole night had spilt his drink on your favourite blouse, calling you a bitch as well for shunning him away, so, when you saw Hongjoong approach the bar with mischief in his eyes, you were ready to scream at him and tell him to get lost. Except that you didn’t do all that because his question completely threw you off guard.

“Y/N, do you like art?” He had a rolled-up joint resting at his ear, his hair pulled to the side and clipped back with colourful hair clips. Your laugh that bubbled past your lips sounded incredulous and tired, but you nodded.

“I do, do you want something to drink?” Hongjoong shook his head, leaning across the bar despite it being wet from spilt alcohol.

“When does your shift end?”

“In an hour.”

“Wanna see some of my art?” Then Hongjoong grinned, looking proud of himself, “I’m a painter.”

Something came over you and didn’t even let you ponder over your decision, “Do you have weed?”

The answer was obvious as you glanced at the joint and Hongjoong laughed, tilting his head in a way that sharpened his features under the neon lights of the pub.

“Obviously, got some on me right now. Want some?” Not while you were working, afterwards, however, you were free to do whatever.

“After my shift, yeah.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you in the back. See ya.”

And that’s how you ended up at Hongjoong’s apartment, not even ten minutes away from the pub. Your feet ached and your cramps were so bad you felt like doubling over and emptying your already empty stomach, but you tried to hold yourself together in front of Hongjoong. There was a nervous flutter in your chest as you had followed him up the steel staircase, the building old and dodgy. However, the second you walked inside his studio apartment, it felt like you had entered a different realm. He was the true definition of an artist, you came to realise, with canvas strewn around the apartment, most finished but some blank, oil paint tainting the wooden floor and even the walls. The colours were neutral, beige with a slip of sage green here and there, the curtains sheer and pulled to the side as Hongjoong hurried over to the windows to push them open. There was an earthy smell in the air mixed with something sweet like vanilla, and you couldn’t help but marvel at the cosiness of Hongjoong’s studio. You recognised a few prints on the walls, they were the paintings of well-known painters who no longer lived, and the décor Hongjoong had used was rather vintage than modern. His huge wardrobe was open, and he pushed the door closed with little care as he picked up a hoodie off the floor. You were surprised he even owned one of those.

You flinched when it collided against your head, confused as to why he had thrown it at you. Hongjoong chuckled as he shrugged his coat off, trying to tidy his messy bed but quickly giving up when he realised you didn’t look like you cared. Truthfully, your apartment wasn’t in a better shape, the dishes in the sink had been there for three days and your bathroom was in dire need of a deep clean.

“We can’t smoke weed with closed windows, so it’ll get colder.” Hongjoong suddenly explained, shrugging on a cardigan that looked very soft, “Wear my hoodie, it’ll keep you warm.”

You hummed, glancing down at it before you stepped out of your shoes, shrugging your jacket off and wearing the hoodie. Its scent was sweet but potent with something musky, and you blushed as your nose buried into its fabric, drinking in its soft material.

“Make yourself feel at home!” Hongjoong grinned, walking over to the small kitchen section to grab two cups, “Do you want tea?”

You shook your head as you walked towards the small bean bag, pushing it with your leg to try and get it more gathered together. And then, just as you were about to sink into the chair, you heard a faint sound come from the kitchen. You turned your head and were met with a small black creature blinking at you in wonder.

“You have a cat?” You asked in surprise, staring back at the little pet. Hongjoong chuckled, looking down at his pet as the electric kettle started whistling.

“Is it so surprising? I found him near a dumpster a few years ago, he’s been by my side ever since.” You couldn’t help but gaze at Hongjoong with admiration as he spoke, pouring hot water into his cup for the tea, “His name is Woo ‘cuz he reminds me of my friend. They are both rascals and really loud.”

As if on cue, the cat meowed loudly and you chuckled, finally easing yourself into the bean bag. Your lower back protested and your spine cracked as you allowed yourself to lean back, arching your back. You could’ve cried at the relief, thankful to finally be off your feet. You couldn’t wait for the weed, it would dull your cramps and help you ease up after the day you’ve had. You were probably in dire need of a shower since you smelled like alcohol, but you didn’t feel comfortable showering at a guy’s place you barely knew. Which, now that you thought more about it, realisation started setting in. You weren’t too smart for following Hongjoong home, but he had never creeped you out, so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt tonight. You stared at the cat as Hongjoong mixed honey into his berry-flavoured tea, the warm mist hogging up his glasses. The cat, still at Hongjoong’s side, stared back at you and then slowly walked towards you, its head tilted in wonder. You smiled at it and let it smell your fingers, taking you off guard when it unceremoniously climbed into your lap, starting to make biscuits against your lower abdomen.

“Ah, of course, you’re already in the lap of the pretty barista.” Hongjoong mused with an amused smile on his lips, “You take after Wooyoung more than one would think.”

You had no idea who this Wooyoung guy was, but it sounded like he was a flirt if Hongjoong wasn’t bluffing.

“I like your apartment,” You blurted out as you started petting the cat, smiling down at it when it started purring, “It’s got character, much like you.”

“That’s the first time you said something completely honest to me.” Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked up at Hongjoong, the joint from his ear now gone as he grabbed some matches to light it up. You didn’t think that was true, but you didn’t say anything as Hongjoong came nearer, sitting down on the floor across from you. You looked at him as he took a long whiff of his joint, then extended his arm for you to take the weed. It’s been quite a while since you smoked any, you knew it would hit you faster, but you hoped it wasn’t too strong or you’d become sick. You took a careful drag of it as Woo settled into a slumber in your lap, and the earthy taste of it made you grimace. But you kept the smoke in your lungs for a bit before exhaling, taking another drag as Hongjoong watched you with a lazy smile. He looked so…handsome. You’ve had a few days to yourself to think about Hongjoong after your encounter in the art store, and you realised you were attracted to him. It was mostly physical since you liked his looks, but his brutally honest character also had you intrigued even if you’d get offended at times by what he was saying.

“I find it hilarious that you decided to come home with me after you declined to have coffee.” Your eyes met Hongjoong’s quickly just as you were about to hand over the joint, “Do you really don’t drink coffee? Or did you just want to get rid of me that day?”

“I…” You licked your lips as Hongjoong took the joint from you, grinning as he took a long drag once again, “Both, actually. I just…I don’t know you well enough and we’ve also met at the pub, I don’t like meddling with clients. Those frat boys are horny and only want to sleep with me.”

“Good thing I’m not a frat boy then, right, Woo?” Hongjoong grinned and ruffled the slumbering cat’s fur, looking back at you with an understanding look, “I’ll be done with my master’s degree in just a few months.”

You hummed, picking at the sleeve of Hongjoong’s hoodie before you saw the joint handed to you again, “And after that? What do you plan on doing?”

Suddenly, Hongjoong had a pensive look on his face as he leaned back on his arms, staring up at the ceiling. You took shorter drags of the joint now but kept the smoke in your lungs until it started burning.

“I want to travel the world, visit art galleries and drink a lot of expensive wine.” That didn’t sound bad at all, Hongjoong continued before you could tell him, “It’s hard breaking into the industry as a painter even though some realtors have already approached me to buy my paintings and put them on display.”

“And? What did you say to them?” You felt genuinely curious, the cat sighed loudly in your lap and Hongjoong looked at you two, reaching out for the joint. Your fingertips brushed together and Hongjoong’s hands felt too cold, but you didn’t comment on it.

“I turned them down,” Hongjoong smiled, but it looked almost sad before he shrugged, taking a drag, “I don’t want just anyone owning my creations. I want someone who understands what’s on that canvas to contact me, I want someone who genuinely loves art and isn’t just doing it for the money. It’s hard to find people like that nowadays, but I’m willing to wait as long as it takes…even if that makes me broke.”

Hongjoong scoffed out a chuckle, sounding bitter by the end of his sentence. For someone who was so good at reading others and commenting on their lives, Hongjoong seemed to be having his own demons he had to fight. You hummed, closing your eyes for a second as you felt your muscles ease up, your cramps less torturous. You were glad the weed was slowly kicking in, your cramps would’ve had you crying if not.

“So how do you plan on travelling if you have no money?” Maybe the question was insensitive, but you were curious. Hongjoong didn’t take offence as he smiled, looking at you with sparkling eyes.

“There are art courses all around the world, I might sign up for one and leave, never look back…”

“Do you hate it here?” The question tumbled past your lips before you could stop yourself, “Because I don’t.”

Hongjoong didn’t look surprised as he nodded, handing back the joint so you could finish it. Three drags and it would be gone, so you took your time savouring it.

“It’s not the worst, but I don’t see much of a future for myself here.” So, Hongjoong was just like you then, “When are you leaving?”

“How did you know?” You sounded shocked as Hongjoong shrugged, averting his eyes.

“You and I are rather similar, you just fail to see it, Y/N.” Well, maybe he was right, maybe he wasn’t. You couldn’t read Hongjoong as well as he could read you, you needed more time to feel out his character.

“Six months and I’m out of here, never to come back if life’s kind to me.” Your voice was quiet as you didn’t look at Hongjoong, smoke wafting through your lips as you finished the joint. Hongjoong hummed, a low and warm sound, as he reached for the stud to take it from you. Your fingers brushed together once again, and you looked at Hongjoong when he held your wrist.

“You’re stronger than you think, you’ll make it big out there, Y/N, have more faith in yourself.” You found yourself smiling now, head a little hazy as you nodded, finding it easier to believe whatever Hongjoong told you.

“You’re the artist between the two of us, you’re the one supposed to make it big.” Hongjoong chuckled and stood, headed for the kitchen.

“Can’t we both make it big?” He raised an eyebrow as he threw the stud away, turning around to face you. You hummed, not entirely agreeing with him, but you decided to nod. Then, Hongjoong turned towards where his bed was and grinned, “You’re here to see some art, no?”

“Right, I almost forgot about that.” Hongjoong chuckled, then beckoned you over. You grabbed the cat in your lap and pressed a kiss against its small head, placing it on the bean bag in your spot. Your feet felt light as you headed towards Hongjoong, who had sauntered over to the desk pressed up against the wall underneath the open windows. He turned the small lamp on, and suddenly you were looking at small canvases filled with colour and abstract shapes. Somehow they looked like an organised mess, even in the overflowing swirl of colours, you managed to find a pattern that seemed to never end like a loop. You turned your head to look at Hongjoong, and suddenly you realised his art was a perfect reflection of who he was.

“I can tell you made these.” Perhaps phrasing it like that was offensive, but Hongjoong only looked curious. He hummed, raising an eyebrow.

“How come?” His voice was quiet, curious.

“I can see you in these.” You pointed at the canvas with orange and yellow as the more prominent colours, circling a deep blue that looked almost black, “The blue is you at your core, dark and perhaps scared of the world. And then all that orange and yellow? I think that’s how you see the world, how you wish it treated you, hoping it would lighten all that darkness that looms over you all the time. And this one? I wonder if it was a coincidence you hid so many infinity symbols in the background, this burgundy is gorgeous, by the way. I think everyone is afraid of disappearing without leaving a trace of themselves in this fucked up world, and I actually…I admire you for being so honest and straightforward, very few people are like you.”

Hongjoong’s eyebrows were furrowed the longer you spoke, but he remained silent as you smiled, looking down at the white canvas, unfinished but with light blue swirls creating the illusion of a clear sky, “I wonder what this will turn into. So far, it reminds me of serenity, of the calm before a storm. Life’s like that too, don’t you think? It’s quiet and gentle, and then it turns into a scary thing that can destroy us if we let it.”

Hongjoong just gulped, his eyes clouded but his heart racing. He was positive no one had been able to interpret his art for what it was before, and he wondered how much of him you could see through his eyes if you could read so well what the trail of his brush had left on a blank canvas. It made him feel seen like never before, not even his biggest supporter, Wooyoung, could see beyond Hongjoong’s intentions when he sat down to paint, to tell the world his pain and rage, yearning for someone to just finally see him.

“You’re…” Hongjoong gulped, his throat feeling dry as you smiled at him, curious if you’d been right, “You are a person I should cherish more from now on.”

Your eyebrows raised in surprise, your heart skipping a beat once again. What did he mean by saying that? You wanted to ask, but Hongjoong stepped closer, his tone breathy as he spoke up again, “‘Whoever wants to know something about me – as an artist which alone is significant – they should look attentively at my pictures and there seek to recognize what I am and what I want’…that’s what Gustav Klimt once said. And so far, you are the only person who’s managed to do that.”

Your mouth gaped open, and you both heard Woo stretch and meow loudly, his soft footsteps loud as he walked towards Hongjoong’s bed, jumping up and finding a new spot to sleep. You didn’t know what to say back to that, but you felt your heart race as your cheeks flushed, shy all of a sudden. Hongjoong was looking at you with a softness no man has looked at you with, it was a bit hard to take it all in without freaking yourself out that this wasn’t real, that it was just the weed, or that maybe Hongjoong wasn’t as genuine as his expression showed.

“Y/N,” You didn’t flinch when his hand wrapped around your wrist, his tone still soft, “I think you already know that I find you pretty, and I…I might have gone to that dingy pub for so long just to see you, actually.”

Those words had your heart racing even wilder as you looked up, finding Hongjoong’s face closer to yours as his eyes now bore into yours, “I should’ve been more specific when I asked you to have coffee with me. I meant to ask you out on a date, but I panicked because I knew I had slightly upset you, but…”

He gulped nervously and you felt so curious to hear what more he had to say, perhaps a smile would encourage him, so that’s what you did, offered him a small friendly smile. He released a breath and cleared his throat, his hand slipping from your wrist to your hand, “Can I kiss you?”

If this was anyone else but Hongjoong, your answer would have been an instant no. But the longer you looked into his eyes, the more excited and giddy you felt, so you just nodded your head and licked your lips, trying to ignore the deep flush of your cheeks. Hongjoong chuckled, suddenly looking shy, but he started leaning in, his eyes fluttering closed just as your lips met. It was careful, it was sweet and it made your heart roar as you stepped just a bit closer, your noses brushing together as your lips moved slowly and carefully, mostly just testing out the waters. Hongjoong’s lips were soft and sweet, and surprisingly didn’t taste like weed but like peaches. You wondered if he used any sort of lip balm to have them taste like that. His hand settled on your cheek and he gently caressed your cheekbone with his thumb, making your heart roar once again. It’s been long since someone had treated you with such gentleness, and you told yourself to remain level-headed, but it would be just so easy to fall in love with Hongjoong. You couldn’t help but smile as you two pulled apart, Hongjoong tried to hide his own grin as he sucked his lips together, but his eyes gave him away. You chuckled and he giggled, and suddenly you felt the urge to pull him into a hug.

“So,” He cleared his throat as he let his arms rest around your torso loosely, “If you don’t like coffee, what do you like?”

“Delicious cakes.” You didn’t hesitate to answer and Hongjoong chuckled, patting your head.

“Well then, would you like to go on a delicious cake-hunting date with me?” You closed your eyes to contain your excitement, but the weed had not only eased your muscles but your always worrying mind as well.

“Yes!” You didn’t mean to squeal, but it was hard not to when Hongjoong startled giggling sweetly once again, nodding his head.

“Good, I’ll make sure we find the best spots in the city then.”

And perhaps not just in the city, but also in foreign countries while you attended Hongjoong’s art expositions, an expensive bottle of wine waiting for the two of you back at the hotel.

੭ Masterlist ੭

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[solxamber]

ougghrhehhbebf this valentines event is so cute!!!!!! I’m gonna be feasting on sol writing again nyehehehe

Malleus, platonic, with 蛍はいなかった/Fireflies never came by Harumaki Gohan please! do whatever you think fits the vibes :)

it's a little similar to the silver one but I hope you like my take on it <3

"Fireflies never came" || Malleus Draconia

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Fireflies never came by Harumaki Gohan

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 760

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Angst with a Happy Ending, Reincarnation, Platonic Malleus x reader

Malleus Draconia had spent a lifetime watching the world from the outside.

It had always been that way—noble and powerful, a prince of the night, but forever set apart. The people whispered his name in reverence, in fear. They saw him as something more, something untouchable, something other.

And then you arrived, and the world changed.

You weren’t afraid of him. You never hesitated, never bowed your head in trembling obedience. Instead, you smiled at him as if he were simply Malleus. Not a prince, not a legend, just a friend.

And that was dangerous.

Because Malleus had never truly had a friend before, and he did not know how to hold something so precious without breaking it.

He remembers the first time you told him about the fireflies.

“They only shine for a little while,” you had said, your voice soft with wonder, eyes reflecting the night sky. “But that’s what makes them special. They live knowing their time is short, so they glow with everything they have.”

Malleus had listened, entranced by the warmth in your voice, by the way your fingers traced idle patterns against the grass.

“If they are so fleeting,” he murmured, “then we must go see them before they are gone.”

He had promised. And when he made that promise, you beamed at him—bright and beautiful, like starlight made flesh.

That moment had been so simple, so small. And yet, Malleus had tucked it away in his heart as if it were something sacred.

But the fireflies never came.

That night, the field was empty. The air was still, heavy with disappointment. He remembers how you had stared at the darkness, lips pressed together, and then—

You laughed.

“Guess we’ll have to try again next year,” you said, nudging him playfully. “I’ll hold you to it, Malleus.”

He didn’t know then how much those words would come to haunt him.

Because there was no next year.

One day, you were there. And then—

You were not.

Malleus had lived lifetimes, had seen kingdoms rise and fall, had watched stars burn out and turn to dust. He should have known that humans were fleeting things, fragile and brief, just like the fireflies you loved so much.

But knowing did not make it hurt any less.

For centuries, he walked the same paths you once did. He visited the places you had taken him, traced his fingertips over the carvings you had left on tree trunks, sat beneath the same moonlit sky where you had once whispered stories to him.

The world moved on. Time erased your footprints, wore away the echoes of your laughter.

But Malleus did not move on. He carried you with him.

And then—

One day, in a world far removed from the one you left behind, he finds himself walking toward the place where you had once promised to meet again.

He doesn’t expect anything. He never does anymore.

But then, he sees someone sitting in the grass.

A human.

A stranger.

And yet—

Malleus does not hesitate. He does not stop to think, does not allow himself to drown in uncertainty.

He walks forward, drawn by something old, something endless, something familiar.

You turn, and—

Oh.

Oh.

It is you.

Not just someone who looks like you. Not just a distant echo of what once was.

It is you.

His breath catches in his throat. His vision blurs. He does not know if it is from disbelief or the sting of unshed tears.

And then—

You smile.

And Malleus runs.

He doesn’t remember ever running before, not like this. Not as if his entire existence depends on reaching you, not as if the weight of centuries is finally lifting from his shoulders.

He stops just short, afraid, uncertain, and yet—

You laugh—soft, warm, real—and it is the most beautiful sound in the world.

“I told you we'd see the fireflies together,” you say.

Malleus swallows against the lump in his throat. He wants to speak, to tell you everything he has held inside for so long. But the words get stuck, tangled in the overwhelming tide of emotions that threaten to pull him under.

So instead, he kneels before you, his hands trembling as he reaches out, as if afraid that you will disappear if he touches you.

But you do not disappear.

You take his hands in yours—warm, solid, here.

And Malleus knows.

This time, there will be a next year.

And this time, the fireflies will come.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[svetamillss]

NSFW alphabet with them🫦

Featuring: Park Gyeong Seok x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f)

A/N: By popular demand, I wrote an alphabet with them. I hope you like it!

🫦🫦🫦

Park Gyeong Seok

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

A man immediately helps you clean up all the mess, helps you get to the bathroom, where you may take a joint shower. After all, you either talk for a long time or fall asleep in each other's arms.

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

He loves your tits. He likes to suck your nipples, leave his marks on your tits, spank them, and basically he likes how your breasts fit perfectlyin his palms.

In himself, he loves his pumped up body: hands, abs. Because he sees you drooling when you see him without a T-shirt.

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

He cums most often in you (you want more children, except Na Yeon), he also likes to cum on your tits or in your mouth (in your mouth with your consent).

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

He has long dreamed of painting with his paints on your naked body, and then have sex with you.

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

He is twenty years older than you, he was married once, and he also has a daughter, so he was one hundred percent experienced.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary: this is an old classic for him. Cowgirl: he likes to see your tits jump to the rhythm of his pushes into your pussy.

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

He's always serious during sex, so don't expect jokes from him (he also doesn't know how to joke too well).

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

He is not used to watching the hair in the groin area, but he began to do it for you, although sometimes rarely, he just doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable.

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

He is quite romantic, even at such moments. The man tries to shower you with all possible compliments.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He jerks off, but not very often. This happens when you can't have sex for quite a long time.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

You are in his clothes, outfits where your breasts are clearly visible when you call him "daddy"

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He prefers everything classic: a bedroom or a living room. Sometimes you can have sex in the shower.

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

Dirty talk, flirting, your requests that you really want to have sex.

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

Will never hurt you.

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

A man loves it when you give him a great blowjob and he also doesn't disdain to give you cunnilingus.

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

Gyeong can start slowly and finish quickly and roughly.

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

He doesn't like quick sex, he doesn't have time to enjoy you, so you don't do that.

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

Gyeong is also not a fan of different experiments, he likes everything in the classics.

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

He will definitely be able to withstand 4-5 rounds.

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

No toys.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sometimes a man can tease you, he likes to see how you are embarrassed by his vulgy words.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not to say that he’s too loud. Gyeong is something between loud and quiet, in addition to moaning, he can also growl and swear.

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

Since he is an artist, you make small dates at your home related to his work. You become his model and he draws a lot of candid pictures with your image, which only you two will see.

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

8 inches.

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

Not to say that the yearning is very high, rather above average.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

If you don't talk about something, he falls asleep right away, making sure you're okay.

Nam Gyu

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

You either talk a little or fall asleep right away, because sex with him is quite exhausting.

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

He loves your hips, because Gyu always kisses and bites them, he can also spank them. He also likes your tits, he likes to suck them like a little kid, he also loves it when you jerk him off with your tits.

He rather likes a dick in himself, because he thinks it's perfect for you.

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

It quickly enters the taste, so it cums wherever it wants: in your pussy, on your face, on your stomach, on your tits, in your mouth. Nam likes to watch you look with his sperm.

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

He wants to have threesome sex, where his best friend Thanos will be present, but he knows that you will be against it, but maybe someday he will offer.

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

He had several girlfriends before you, so he is quite experienced, unlike you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Missionary: the guy loves to look at your face, and also to see how his dick is deep enough in you.

Cowgirl: he loves your tits and the way they jump.

Doggy style: Nam likes to slap your ass during sex and feel the main one.

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

He's not very serious at such moments, he likes to joke or even talk.

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

He shaves and not only because of you, Gyu just doesn't like it when he has a lot of hair on his body.

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

You were surprised when you saw that your boyfriend is romantic during sex, he likes to tell you various compliments and kiss you.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Nam jerks off almost every day, he relieves his stress after a hard day, but then he will definitely take care of you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

The way you call him "daddy" when you're in the form of a sexy kitty, his clothes on you, light suffocation and slight humiliation.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

He doesn't care where to have sex, he can fuck you in the bedroom, in the shower, in his car, in the cubicle of the public toilet.

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

Dirty talk, the way you meow for him, kisses on his neck, if you undress in front of him.

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

He will never hurt you or do what you don't like.

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

He likes both cunnilingus and how you give him a blowjob.

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

He is usually fast and rude, but if you ask him, he can be slower.

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

He has nothing against quick sex, you do it when you need to quickly relieve stress, but not very often.

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

He's a risky guy and ready for various experiments, but the main thing is that you agree.

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

He can easily withstand 5 rounds.

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

He can use various toys such as cat ears, collar, cat tail, whips and various vibrators, but only with your consent.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Gyu can't do without flirting, so you're used to his vulgy statements in your direction.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He's quite loud, it's high for him to know when the neighbors hear you fucking.

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

In the evening you got into a traffic jam that went on for quite a long time, he was very bored and the guy decided to have fun. And you were wearing a light summer dress. The guy began to caress your pussy with his fingers, through the fabric of your panties, and when he saw that you wanted more, he began to fuck you with his fingers.

But Gyu became cramped in his pants and he came up with another plan.

- Kitten, are you riding your daddy while he's driving? - he said in a purring voice, you were very excited.

He had tinted windows, so no one will see you. He slightly moved the seat away so that you could sit comfortably after you took off your panties and pulled down the underwear with Gyu (he helped you with this). You sat down with a loud moan on his dick, starting to move quickly. Nam slapped you on the ass with one hand, and held the steering wheel with the other.

- Fuck, I love evening traffic jams so much. - he says, before moaning loudly again.

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

7 inches.

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

High, even very high!

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Gyu falls asleep almost immediately, hugging you at the same time.

🫦🫦🫦

[maretinelli]

FOR THE BEST MOM

Lewis Hamilton X Wife!fem!reader

Summary: When Lewis and Y/n have already lost two babies during pregnancy, but he never fails to send her flowers on Mother's Day and reminds her that even without them there, she is a good mother.

Words: 3K+

Warnings: Mention of pregnancy loss, mention of child loss, anguish, anguish, and anguish until the end. But Lew is a good husband, and this will make you cry.

Author: English is not my first language, so apologies for any spelling, grammar and slang mistakes that may be in the story. And this story leaves me COMPLETELY speechless, I don't know why I wrote it, but I needed some anguish. Sorry, and grab some tissues.

MASTERLIST

⚠️SENSITIVE CONTENT⚠️

The love between Y/n and Lewis was always strong, built on complicity, respect and admiration. They were partners in everything, in joys and challenges, in moments of lightness and in those of greater weight. Just as they had promised on their wedding day.

Every shared laugh and every silent touch carried a deep meaning. They had each other, and that was always enough. At least, that's what they tried to believe.

The day they discovered their first pregnancy was one of the happiest of their lives. Y/n was in shock for a few seconds before letting happiness flood her. Lewis, upon hearing the news, felt a wave of emotion take over his body. Tears came before he could even contain them. He lifted her into the air, spinning her around carefully, his chest exploding with joy. Every kiss he placed on her face was a silent thank you for that gift.

They spent the next few days daydreaming. They imagined what it would be like to hold the baby for the first time, how they would decorate the room, what traits they would inherit from each other. Life seemed even more colorful, full of new promises.

But then, it all came crashing down.

Shortly after, Y/n started to feel unwell. At first, she tried to ignore it, believing it was something temporary.

But then the doctors broke the news, and it came as a brutal blow. The silence in the room felt overwhelming, and the air became too heavy to breathe. All the happiness, dreams, and plans they had made were gone in an instant.

The next few days were cloudy. Y'n felt like the world around her was spinning in slow motion as Lewis tried to be her stronghold. But at night, when she fell asleep, he would let the tears flow silently.

A year later, a new positive test. The fear was still there, haunting them both, but there was also hope. The rainbow baby they had wanted so much was finally on the way. They decided to celebrate, even though deep down they held on to happiness with caution,

But once again, pain struck them.

The second loss was even worse. There were no more words of comfort that could fill the void. The silence became more frequent, the conversations about the future with children diminished, and the pain settled between them like a constant presence.

Years passed, and the subject of 'having children' ceased to be mentioned. They moved on with their lives, still in love, still partners, but with the feeling that two pieces of their hearts were missing.

And the flowers arrived.

On the first Mother's Day after the second loss, Y/n noticed the bouquet of flowers left on the table. She hadn't connected it with the fact that it was Mother's Day. It was just a silent gesture from Lewis, a tribute he made without expecting any reaction. But it made her smile and thank her husband for the beautiful flowers.

The following year, he repeated the gesture, but this time he added a note. When Y/n found the small piece of paper among the petals, Lewis's words made tears fall before she could control them.

'To the best mommy our little ones could ever have. I know they're not here physically, but I believe they feel all your love. And I feel it too. You're amazing, Y/n. You always will be.'

She cried until Lewis got home. And when he found her clutching the note to her chest, all he could do was wrap his arms around her and hold her tight.

The years continued to pass, and with them, flowers became tradition.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

3 years after the second loss.

It was Mother’s Day, and Lewis wasn’t in town. He wanted to be with Y/n and her mother, to hold her in his arms and remind her that she was never alone. But his running that weekend kept him from going home.

Y/n spent the day with her mother, having lunch together, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. But, even surrounded by love, there was an emptiness that persisted, a feeling of longing for something that never came to be.

On the way home, as she drove through the quiet city streets, one of her favorite songs played on the dashboard of her car. The sound brought comfort, but the tears came before she could stop them.

They fell silently, aimlessly, without her really noticing until she had to wipe them away with the back of her hand. She sighed deeply, trying to push away the thoughts that haunted her.

When he reached the garage, he turned off the car and stood there for a moment, taking a deep breath. Gathering his strength. When he opened the front door, the low sound of Roscoe's snoring in the living room filled the silence. A soft laugh escaped his lips, mixed with the tears that still insisted on falling.

Before she could close the door, a voice called her name. She turned around and saw the doorman of the condominium approaching with a gentle smile.

"Good evening, Mrs. Hamilton."

Y/n walked down the steps and shook the older man's hand affectionately. "Good night!"

The doorman then held out a bouquet to her, a beautiful arrangement of lilies and white roses. "Mr. Hamilton asked me to deliver this to you. I forgot about it when you came through the gate just now."

Y/n blinked in surprise. She took the bouquet delicately, feeling the soft scent of the flowers fill the air. "Thank you" She said with a small but sincere smile.

The man nodded and returned to his post, while Y/n hurriedly climbed the front stairs of the house.

As soon as she entered the house, she walked to the kitchen, placing the flowers on the table before carefully removing the note stuck between the petals. Her hands trembled slightly as she unfolded the paper.

'To the best mom in the world.

I know today is a difficult day, and I wish I could be by your side, to hold your hand and tell you that you were never alone on this journey. You will always be the mother of our little ones, no matter where they are. I know that if they could, they would tell you how much they love you and how proud they are of you. I know I am.

You are the strongest, most incredible woman I know, and my heart will always be yours. Forever. All my love, Lewis.'

The tears came before she could stop them. But this time, they were not tears of sadness, but of love.

She ran her fingers over the words, taking each one in. That man. That man always knew exactly what to say, even from far away.

Quickly drying her tears, she took out her cell phone and took a photo of the bouquet, sending it to Lewis with a short but sentimental message.

Before locking the screen, he read the note once more, a small but genuine smile dancing on his lips.

Lewis always found a way to remind her that even in the quietest, most painful moments, she was never alone.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

4 years after the second loss.

Mother's Day had arrived once again. Four years had passed since the second loss, and somehow Y/n felt like she was doing a little better this year.

She spent the afternoon with her mother and siblings, enjoying the day with laughter, stories, and shared memories. There were moments when she felt homesick, but the weight was a little lighter. She knew that Lewis was with her mother too, and that at the end of the day, he would be home to her arms.

When she arrived, the house was silent. Roscoe was sleeping peacefully on the couch, and a small smile appeared on Y/n's lips. She turned on some soft music on her cell phone, letting the melody fill the rooms as she prepared dinner. She cut the vegetables calmly, humming softly to the song that was playing.

It was then that he heard the familiar sound of the lock unlocking.

Seconds later, Lewis's voice sounded in the entrance hall, speaking softly to Roscoe, who had come to meet him excitedly. Her smile widened without her realizing it.

Lewis appeared in the kitchen doorway, watching his wife for a moment. She was stirring the pot with a calm expression, humming softly, and it warmed his heart in an indescribable way.

He approached silently, holding a bouquet in his hands. As soon as he reached her, he leaned over to place a soft kiss on her shoulder.

Y/n smiled and turned to him, touching his face briefly before giving him a quick kiss on the lips.

"How was your day?" He asked softly.

"It was good. My mom made that broccoli lasagna she always makes and we spent the day looking at old photos. She even sent some for you to see," he replied, and Y/n laughed. "By the way, she said hi to you too."

She smiled fondly. "I spent the day with my mom, and my brothers were in town too. It was nice...fun even."

Lewis nodded, and for a few moments, silence reigned between them. Y/n went back to stirring the pan, and he just watched her, as if recording every detail of that moment.

Then, with a small smile, he held out the bouquet to her. Y/n held the flowers, a tender glint in her eyes. She already knew the reason for that gesture.

Lewis kissed her cheek before murmuring, "I love you." Then he pulled back a little, giving her space to read the note attached to the bouquet.

Y/n opened the small envelope and skimmed over the words. Lewis still couldn't say all of that out loud. It had always been easier for him to write, to let the words spill out onto the paper so she could feel them in every letter.

'My love,

Another Mother's Day, another year by your side, and another reminder that you will always be the best mom our little ones could ever have. I know they are watching over us, and I know that if they could, they would tell you how much they love you and how grateful they are for you. You have always been and always will be an incredible mother. No matter where they are, the love you have for them echoes in every corner of the universe. I love you, Y/n. Forever. With all my heart, Lewis.'

The tears came before she could stop them. But this time, they didn't just carry sadness. They brought love, longing, memories.

With a tender smile on her lips, she turned to him and hugged him tightly. "I love you too, baby daddy." The words hit her before she could think.

Y/n felt them in her heart, and Lewis felt them in his soul.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her as if he would never let go. He placed a soft kiss on her shoulder, soaking in that silent but meaningful moment.

Then, Y/n sighed and broke the silence with a light tone, "My nephews were hell today. You should have seen the chaos at my mother's house.

Lewis let out a low laugh, feeling the air lighten.

They didn't avoid the subject, but they were still healing. They talked about it as best they could, in whatever way they could, respecting each other's time.

And somehow they knew they were walking together, side by side. Always.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••

5 years after the second loss.

The day had been peaceful. For the first time in years, Mother's Day was not marked by heavy silences or painful moments. Lewis and Y/n spent lunch with Carmen, laughing at the stories she told about Lewis's childhood. Afterwards, they had dinner at Y/n's mother's house, enjoying time with her brothers and nephews.

Neither of them mentioned the loss they shared. They just lived in the moment, allowing themselves to feel the lightness of being with family.

Now night spread across the sky as Lewis drove back home. The car was filled with the sound of Y/n's excited voice, telling something funny that happened at work.

"And then he thought I was serious!" She laughed, leaning her head back against the bench. "You should have seen his face!"

Lewis laughed along, shaking his head. "I swear, sometimes I think your job is just a big sitcom and you're the lead."

Y/n laughed, feeling her chest lighten. But as the laughter died down, she realized Lewis wasn't heading home.

"Where are we going?" She asked, curious.

Lewis smiled sideways and placed a hand on her thigh, giving it a light rub. "I'm just looking for an open place to buy something."

"What thing?"

"Surprise."

Y/n rolled her eyes, but smiled. She knew there was no point in insisting. So she just went back to telling stories about work, and Lewis listened attentively as they drove through the city.

A few minutes later, he stopped in front of a 24-hour store.

"What are you going to do?" Y/n asked as soon as he turned off the car.

Lewis smiled. "I'll be back in a few seconds." He leaned over, kissed her on the cheek, and got out of the car.

Y/n laughed to herself and started changing music on the dashboard, waiting for him.

When Lewis returned, he held a single rose in his hands. He opened the door and handed the flower to her with a small smile.

Y/n frowned, but took the rose, laughing. "Thank you..."

Lewis took a deep breath and looked at her. "I didn't have time to buy a bigger bouquet," he said softly. "But I had to do it today. You know!"

Y/n understood instantly. Her chest tightened, but not in a bad way. Just intense.

Then, for the first time, Lewis began to speak. "I never knew how to put it into words. You know. I used to write it on notes, but now I'm a little better at saying it out loud," he began, his voice low but firm. "All these years, I've tried to move on, I've tried to accept it... But the truth is, a part of me has always felt like I failed you. That I should have done more." Y/n squeezed the rose between her fingers, feeling her heart tighten in her chest. "I've imagined so many times what it would be like. You holding our baby in your arms. Us choosing names, setting up the nursery, fighting over who would stay up late at night... I always knew you would be an amazing mother, Y/n. And it hurts me to know that we never had that chance."

His voice wavered at the end, and Y/n felt tears well up in her eyes. She ran her fingers down Lewis’s cheek, feeling the texture of his stubble beneath her touch.

"You didn't fail me, Lew," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "And you'd make an amazing father. I always knew that."

His eyes met hers, seeking comfort in the midst of their shared pain.

"I know it still hurts" Y/n continued, smiling sadly. "But... today I feel like I can breathe a little better. I'm taking the courage to say this out loud to you."

Lewis smiled slightly, bringing his hand to hers and intertwining their fingers. With the other, he places it on her cheek and smiles. "You are an incredible woman. And a very good mommy, with or without them here. I love you." Lewis kisses her, Y/n smiles and returns the kiss.

When they lose their breath, Lewis still keeps his hands intertwined with hers and starts the car, to go home now. Y/n smiled at the rose in her hand and went back to talking about the funny moments at work.

When they got home, Lewis opened the door and let Y/n in first. As soon as she stepped into the living room, Roscoe came running up to her, wagging his tail excitedly.

"Hey, kiddo" Y/n smiled, running her hand through the dog's fur.

She walked to the kitchen and grabbed a vase to put the rose in. When Lewis arrived shortly after, Y/n was leaning over the counter, looking at the flower with a smile on her face.

The silence stretched for a few seconds before she took a deep breath and hesitantly closed the distance between them. "I... I still want to have children."

Lewis was quiet for a moment, but then he nodded and walked over to her. Y/n looked at her husband, feeling her heart beat faster. "All of this still hurts." She confessed, "And I'll never forget. I don't want to forget. They're part of our history. But I want to move on."

Lewis nodded again, and Y/n felt his hand on hers, warm and comforting. She swallowed hard before asking, "Do you still want to have children with me?" She cried softly.

And then, that question caught Lewis off guard, pain shot through his chest and punched his heart. It made tears come to his eyes as well.

"Of course I do, love." His voice was choked, but full of conviction. "I've never wanted this with anyone else but you. I could never imagine my life without us building a family together." Y/n sobbed softly, and Lewis squeezed her hand tighter. "It still hurts to think about them... and I think it always will. But I want to move on with you, in whatever way, for as long as it takes. Not to forget... but to turn the page. To give new meaning to all of this. I'd face anything to be able to hold our baby in my arms one day" He whispered. "And I know that when that day comes, it will be worth every moment."

Y/n sobbed harder and pulled him into a tight hug. Lewis's chest rose and fell rapidly, trying to control his emotion, but he held her like he never wanted to let go.

For a long time, they stayed like that, just breathing together, feeling each other's warmth, allowing that moment to completely envelop them.

A comfortable silence fell, and then Roscoe came over to them, nudging Y/n’s leg with his nose. She laughed and bent down to pet the dog, while Lewis watched her, his heart lighter than it had been in years.

And in that moment, as he watched the woman he loved smiling softly, her eyes still shining with emotion, Lewis knew that no matter what the future brought, he would never be alone.

He had Y/n. And one day, they would have a little piece of their love in their arms.

Author: I had seen somewhere where the husband did exactly that to his wife, but I can't remember where I had read it. But anyway, I cried while reviewing it.

[goodlucktai]

could you please do prompt number one with the a team duo? (raph and leo!!!) i just think leo is in need of big brother love sometimes <3 prompt number one: "Shit. Shit, shit, shit, c'mere." (btw, ur writing is amazing im literally blown away every time!!! tysm for all the writing u do)

dialogue prompts

1. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit, c’mere.”

x

Something bad happened to Leo in the prison dimension. In the minutes—the minutes—between losing him and getting him back, something bad happened to him.

“This isn’t right,” Casey had said that first night in the medbay, staring at the X-rays on the illuminator as if he could change them by wanting it hard enough. “These breaks aren’t new. They can’t be.” 

“He wasn’t running around with a spiral fracture in his tibia before the alien invasion,” Donnie replied tersely, more high strung with every second his twin remained limp and unresponsive on the infirmary bed. 

Mikey was glued to Leo’s side like a miserable orange barnacle, Splinter rarely venturing more than two steps away at a time. April had been torn in two with worry for Leo and worry for her mom, and had only been convinced to leave when S.H.E.L.L.D.O.N pinkie-promised to feed live updates to her phone at the top of every minute. 

If Leo had woken up even for just a minute back on Staten Island, it would have been a reassurance his family could stack all their hopes on. Instead, the brother they dragged out of the void had about as much life to his limbs as a ragdoll. His head lolled in Donnie’s hands like something out of a horror movie—and Mikey’s breaths started to shudder, and Raph thought for a fleeting, hysterical second that the world had ended, after all—and then Donnie found a heartbeat. He showed a weeping Mikey where to find it, their fingers pressed in the soft hollow of Leo’s throat where the carotid artery pulsed loud and clear. Raph kept his own hand there for the entire trip home. If that stubborn heart stopped he didn’t know what he would do. He didn’t know what he would do. 

“But the bone has already formed a hard callus,” Casey said. “I know sensei and my uncles healed faster than mom and Aunt April did but still. Leo shouldn’t have reached this stage of healing for another week at least.” 

Donnie’s face, already stormy, reached a level of dark anger Raph had never seen before. He studied the charts on the wall without speaking, memorizing them. Ninpo sparked around his fingers like he was only barely resisting committing violence, and only because the desired target was well beyond his reach. 

“What does that mean?” Raph asked hoarsely. His hands were squeezed tight between his knees so no one would see if they started to shake. 

“It means that either Nardo broke his bones in about eight different places a week ago and no one noticed,” Donnie said in a brittle deadpan, “or that monster put its hands on him in the prison dimension and Leo healed from it somehow.” 

“But he was only in there for like, for like ten minutes,” Mikey warbled. He sounded heartsick and confused and too young to carry the weight of the world on his shell. “We got him right back out, we—we didn’t leave him in there long enough for all that.” 

“I have a theory,” Donnie said, and then didn’t say anything else. He dragged a chair over to Leo’s bed with an unholy screeching sound, tucked his head against his twin’s at what couldn’t have been a comfortable angle, and started to tap around on his phone. 

“Okay,” Casey said at length, recognizing an immovable object when he saw one. He turned to Raph instead, a child-sized soldier whose mission wasn’t quite finished yet. “Raphael, could I look at your eye?”

He had finished cleaning Raph’s eye and patching up his shoulder and moved onto wrapping Mikey’s hands when Donnie surged up from his chair so suddenly that everyone in the room jumped. His phone crunched into two distinct pieces in his hand, military-grade case and all, and he flung them away. 

“Woah, hey,” Raph said, “Dee, are you—” 

“I ran diagnostics on Leo’s gear,” Donnie said. It was his flat, toneless voice, the one that meant he was feeling so many things he had to shut something down to prevent a total systems failure. “The timestamps didn’t make any sense. So I ran them again. And again. And everything seems to be indicating that Leo was in the prison dimension for over three hundred hours.”

No, Raph thought. He stared at the shape of his little brother in that bed, at the vivid black and blue bruises on his face—noticing for the first time the faint yellows of much older ones around his neck. 

Horror crept up Raph’s throat. 

Please, no. 

“What?” Mikey blurted, sounding as hysterical as Raph felt. “What? No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t have. It was only—”

“For us, thirteen minutes,” Donnie said bleakly. “For Leo, thirteen days.”

Since then, Raph has learned a lot more about temporal differentials and post-captivity recovery than he ever wanted to know. Donnie made four different PowerPoint presentations that the entire family was forced to sit through. All of them are budding experts on several subjects that they might otherwise not have been, studying as feverishly as undergrad students cramming for a final, desperate to be helpful. 

So this is Raph’s fault. He knew better.

If he’d taken even a second to think before following the unmistakable sound of a turtle falling out of bed into Leo’s room, before lunging over to the crumpled-up form of his little brother on the floor, he would have recognized the blackout for what it was. He, of all people, should have seen it. 

The episodes are few and far between, but only because Leo is rarely left alone when he’s awake, and sleeps even less than he did before. It’s easier for him to keep his head straight when he’s ensconced in a turtle pile, or curled up in Splinter’s lap for reruns of really bad soap operas that he mumbles along to in Spanish, or keeping Mikey company in the kitchen, taste-testing everything that gets pushed his way (handily supplementing all the meals he only picks at, Michelangelo is a genius for discovering that work-around). 

It’s when he’s asleep and the nightmares come knocking that they have to worry. If Raph had known he was in here taking a nap, he would have made sure Leo had company. He probably would have curled up around the slider himself, giving Leo’s highly strung subconscious a hand,  soothing him back to sleep before the bad dream could dig its hooks into him and yank him awake. 

But the sleepiness probably hit him in a sudden burst, the messy pile of pillows and stolen purple blanket too tempting to resist. He must have curled up to rest his eyes and drifted off. 

And he woke up alone, in the dark. The shape of someone much bigger than him looming above everything else. Raph knew better. He did. Of course a cornered animal was going to bite. 

“Fuck,” he breaths out, white hot pain shooting up his arm from where Leo had buried his teeth a moment ago. It hurt, but it had nothing on the way his heart was breaking. 

He’d seen Donnie lash out like this a few times before, overstimulated and fully ready to bite whoever was stupid enough to put their hands on him, but not since they were kids. Mikey used to handle all fits of temper by hiding in his shell and closing the little hinge to keep everyone else firmly out, grumbling ticked-off turtle noises until he was left alone. 

When Leo was little, on the other hand, he wanted attention when he was feeling bad—he wanted to be picked up and held and would cry and pout until he got his way. Whether he was feeling upset or angry or scared, the solution was always more or less the same.

There’s no recognition in his eyes now. Leo has never looked at Raph this way before, even when Raph was the Krang’s puppet, even when Raph had him dangling by a strangling grip on his throat—even then, Leo didn’t look at him like he was a stranger. 

He had to fight like this in the prison dimension, didn’t he? He had to tear survival out of that place piece by bloody piece.

Raph hates that he had to do that and loves him for it in equal measure. 

“It’s okay, Leo,” Raph murmurs. “You did just right, okay? You stayed alive. However you have to do that is okay. You got mixed up just now, but it’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have scared you. Raph’s so sorry.”

Leo is staring at him, eyes wide and glassy. All the gold in them is edged out to black, pupil swallowing iris whole. There’s blood on the corner of his mouth. He smacks his tongue, tasting it. Like the worst version of giving him ice cubes to hold or peppermint to smell, it grounds him, bringing him back to the present moment. 

Raph watches Leo realize where he is and what he’s doing, sitting on the floor in the corner of the room with blood in his mouth. 

“Raph?” he says, small and scared and sixteen years old. 

“It’s me, I’m here,” Raph says, too fast, “you’re safe, Leon.” 

Leo’s eyes drift lower. He clocks the teeth marks in Raph’s arm and starts to cry.

“Shit,” Raph says, scrambling forward frantically on hands and knees. “Shit, shit, shit, c’mere.” 

Leo spills willingly into his hug, like it’s ten years ago and he’s had his heart broken by an argument with his twin and nothing on earth could possibly console him but he was willing to let Raphie try. 

Except Raphie knew all the tricks. Raphie knew that tearful little turtles just needed to be squeezed tight and rumbled at and snuffled until they couldn’t help but giggle. 

It isn’t such an easy fix this time. Leo’s shoulders shake like he’ll never stop crying, his wet sticky face smearing salt and blood where he has it crammed in the crook of Raph’s neck. He clings as if he’s half-afraid something or someone is going to wrench him away. 

Not in this lifetime. Never again. 

“I’ve got you,” Raph tells him. Heart settling now that his little star is in his arms, safe and sound. They could come back from anything as long as they had this much. “Raph’s always got you. Don’t be scared. Don’t be sorry. We’re okay.” 

[mr-damian-s-power]

I've had the Sins on my mind recently and thought up another idea for them. What if they were all suffering from the sin they represent? They don't just spread their influence to coerce others to sin, but because they physically can't live without doing the same.

-

In any other story, the physical embodiment of Gluttony being anorexic could've been interesting, but Beelzebub being that means nothing in Viv's Hell and it isn't explored with any amount of depth. Instead, I choose that she has a bottomless stomach so to speak. An insatiable hunger that she can never hope to appease. No matter how much she eats, no matter how far into excess she delves, Bee always feels the constant gnawing twisting pain in her stomach. She has to eat nearly constantly, but thanks to her insane metabolism, you wouldn't think she has to eat thousands of calories a day just for a few seconds of reprieve.

Adding onto my idea of Greed being a casino instead of a circus, Mammon has a serious gambling addiction and is very loose with money. He loves the notion of getting more than he already has, despite having a fortune that could set him for several lifetimes. Enough is never enough! He can't help but constantly strike deals with others for some small gain, even if the odds are very much not in his favour. He ends up losing more money than he gained, but he feels accomplished just for winning.

Ozzie has an insane libido. No matter what he does, no matter who or what he does it with, he's never satisfied. He can hardly sit still most times. He has hundreds of simultaneous spouses (where he doesn't love a single one of them) and uncountable one-night flings, but it just isn't enough. His skin itches just from never being able to feel like it was good, but he carries the mindset he's just not trying hard enough. This lust forces him to always delve deeper into debauchery, always try more and more depraved acts in some vain hope of making this nagging feeling finally go away for once.

-

Thoughts? Would you have written them slightly differently? Let me know!

[mirisss]

Chapter 12

Wordcount ≈ 4.2k

Warnings: Some talking of anxiety but mostly this is a fluffy chapter,

Taglist: @ayoo-bangtan, @lose-lose07, @kingcarrot-thecarrotking, @starjane312, @reighlee-greaves, @hi-39024, @queenmea604, @septicrebel, @justayoungandwisefangirl @imasimplol, @k-p0p-4ever, @detectivedoodle, @hehe-24-hehe, @jinnie-ret, @0325tiny, @borahae-reads, @shycreationdreamland, @kiaralynn3838, @blondechannie, @theydy-madamonsieur, @boi-bi-ahaha, @riri321, @3rachasninja, @kkamismom12, @yuki-sama6, @fun-fanfics, @turtledove824, @skybluelixie, @ellisdefrog, @odetteskies, @xxeiraxx, @aalexyuuuhm,

Please reblog! 

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, 

Jeongin joined Seungmin in the kitchen, helping with the final pieces of the clean up, before he went to the living room, joining the hug-pile on the couch and letting himself fall asleep as well. Perhaps, the afternoon, will be kinder on all of them.

Third person POV

Seungmin stayed awake, looking over his loved ones during their nap, he checked in on Jisung and the others as well, most of them were asleep, though Chan was half awake as he recently woke up from his nap. “How’s everyone else doing?” Chan whispered, “They’re asleep on the couch, Innie is there too, I prepared some tea for everyone, I was thinking of going out and getting some cookies as well, Felix is asleep so he can’t bake any and we don’t have any left at home,” “Sounds good, Min, be careful,” 

And so, Seungmin left to buy the group some cookies, a much-needed sweet treat after the morning they had, hoping it would cheer both Jisung and (Y/n) up. Chan checked Jisung’s temperature, happy to see it was going down, he went out to the living room, smiling as he found the pile of his loved ones on the couch. He carefully woke Minho up, the dancer mumbled a curse at him, but once he opened his eyes and found Chan in front of him, he stopped complaining and did his best to leave the couch without waking anyone else up. 

The two eldest made their way into the kitchen, Minho saw the preparations for tea, the cups, the bag of tea, everything was prepped and ready. “Seungmin’s out to buy some cookies, he also prepared tea before he left, I woke you up because I wanted to talk about what happened, I never thought this could affect Ji so much, perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to take her in or?” Chan looked down at the kitchen counter, he was tired, sad, and worried. He felt responsible as the oldest and the leader, should he have been thinking differently about this whole thing? 

“I don’t think it was a mistake, she completes us, we all love her and she loves us, we’re family now. Everyone has baggage and some of us are more open to sharing it with each other, Jisung cares a lot, and so he took on too much of her anxiety and past on himself, he’s an empath, we all should have been more careful but none of us regret saying yes to adopting her, this isn’t your fault, it’s no one’s fault,” 

Minho put his hand on Chan’s shoulder, trying to reassure him that everything would be okay. “Thank you, Minho,” Minho smiled, “Let’s go wake everyone up so that everyone’s awake when Seungmin gets back,” 

Minho went into Jisung’s room to wake Jisung, Changbin, and Felix up, while Chan went to the living room to wake (Y/n), Hyunjin, and I.N up. “Hey, guys, time to wake up,” Chan said as he sat down beside them on the couch, Hyunjin was the first to wake up, followed closely by Jeongin, and finally, (Y/n) after some gentle shakes to wake her up from her deep slumber. “Hmm, what’s going on?” (Y/n) mumbled lowly, her voice husky from sleep, “It’s time to wake up, we can’t sleep through the entire day,” Chan said, assuring smile on his face as (Y/n)’s eyes searched for any anger or emotions alike it in his eyes. 

Meanwhile, Minho went into Jisung’s room, finding Changbin already rubbing his eyes as he looked up at Minho tiredly from the floor. “Hey, how are you?” Minho asked as he went over to Felix, to wake him up. “Tired and my neck hurts a little, I fell asleep with my neck bent awkwardly,” Changbin answered as he stretched his neck from left to right to try and straighten it out. “That’s why we don’t sleep on the floor,” Minho said teasingly. “Felix, Lixie, wake up,” When saying his name didn’t work, Minho began lightly tickling Felix who jumped awake at the feeling, swatting at Minho’s hands. 

“Sorry, but nap time is over,” Minho said as he walked over to Jisung, who was still sleeping soundly. Minho was relieved to see that Jisung seemed to have calmed down, anxiety is no joke, it can be detrimental, so he was happy that they all had each other, they weren’t alone and they would never be alone again. The same was true for (Y/n), she had been alone for most of her life but now that she had them, she would never live in the shadows again. 

“Ji, time to wake up,” Minho sat down on the edge of the bed beside Jisung, after no luck with trying to wake him up by just saying his name, Minho opted for gently (and then not so gently) shaking Jisung until he woke up. “Uh? What?” Jisung woke up with a jolt after Minho shook him, “Sorry, Ji, but you needed to wake up, Seungmin’s gonna be back with cookies soon,” Jisung instantly perked up at the mention of cookies. “Oh, cookies, that sounds nice, how’s (Y/n)?” Minho smiled at Jisung’s concern for the hybrid. “She’s fine, just tired, like you, we’ve all been tired lately from working so hard, so we deserved a day off,” 

Jisung smiled, relief washed over his face, “That’s good, then,” “Now come on, let’s go join the others in the living room,” Minho got off the bed and waited for Jisung to follow, which he quickly did, Jisung stretched his back and his arms a little before the two walked to the living room just in time for the front door to open, and Seungmin came back home. 

Minho went to help Seungmin bring the bags to the kitchen, while Jisung walked into the living room, happy to find (Y/n) sitting there smiling as she talked with Jeongin and Hyunjin. “Hey Ji, how are you feeling?” Chan asked as soon as he saw Han standing in the doorway to the living room. Jisung walked over and sat down beside Chan, “Better, I’m still tired and a bit hungry I think, but otherwise, I’m good now, I’m sorry that I caused some inconvenience,” “Hey, Han, don’t even apologize for your mental health, I much rather make sure we have a day off at home to handle everything and make sure everyone’s okay, even if that can be inconvenient than us going to the company and having no time to take care of ourselves,” Chan put one of his hands on Jisung’s cheek, to show his sincerity. 

(Y/n) looked over from her spot on the couch, relief and happiness filling her as she saw that Jisung looked okay, she tried to see with her other senses if he truly was okay, her hearing heard his heart beating soundly in a calm and normal matter, her nose told her he was still a bit tired and stressed but way less than earlier in the day. The bunny took in a big breath, happy to see that her family was safe and sound. She stood up and walked over to Jisung and Chan, sitting down on the other side of Jisung, without a word, she embraced Jisung in a tight hug, her muscles once again relaxing as she inhaled his sweet and warm scent, the familiar scent of home. 

“Hey, bunny, I’m sorry if I scared you earlier.” “I’m just happy that you’re okay.” (Y/n) stayed there, embracing Jisung for a few minutes before Sengmin and Minho came into the living room with tea, cookies, and a few sandwiches. It wasn’t until then that (Y/n) let go because finally, everyone was there, everyone was okay. 

The rest of the evening, the group stayed close together, cuddling, watching movies and just enjoying one another’s company. Before they knew it, it was time for bed. Because tomorrow they need to go back to the company, and they need all the rest they can get. 

That night, (Y/n) would sleep in Hyunjin’s room, she was excited about it because she had spent some time in there with him previously when they were painting. She wished she could paint some more with him, not tonight but hopefully soon. Even though they had taken a long nap during the day, (Y/n) was exhausted now so she was sure she would fall asleep quickly. Once dressed in her pajamas, she walked over to Hyunjin’s room, it was empty because he was still getting ready for bed. (Y/n) walked around and looked at the paintings he had out in the room, the bunny was in awe at all the art, she knew he was talented but she was still surprised. 

After looking around for a little, she laid down on her bed, getting cozy in the sheets, she had to fight the sleep away so that she could stay awake and say good night to Hyunjin. Hyunjin finally walked into his room, ready to sleep, he found (Y/n) blinking rapidly, trying so hard to stay awake, he walked over and gently scratched behind one of her ears, he placed a kiss on her forehead. “Good night, Bunny, sweet dreams,” “Night, Jinnie,” The words were mumbled but Hyunjin understood what she meant, and only seconds later, small snores could be heard from the bunny as she fell into a peaceful slumber. 

The next morning, the alarms rang early, causing all residents of the SKZ dorm to groan as they reluctantly woke up. “Morning, (Y/n), did you sleep well?” (Y/n) sat up in her bed and rubbed her eyes as she yawned. “Mm, I did, what about you?” Hyunjin too sat up, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed. “I slept very well,” (Y/n) smiled at the response as she once again yawned and tried to find some energy to get through the day. Hyunjin thought she was so cute at that moment, he just wanted to wrap her up and put her in his pocket. 

“Come on, let’s get ready, did you shower last night or do you want to shower now?” “I’ll shower now because I was too tired last night,” “Okay, great, go get some clothes for the day and jump in the shower, I’ll pack some things for today, we have 1 and a half hours until the driver is here, so take your time,” Hyunjin took out a bag and walked out of the room while (Y/n) got up and walked over to Jeongin’s room to get some clothes and once she had a pile in her hands she went to one of the bathrooms and took a shower. 

It wasn’t until the water was running through her hair and down her body that she realized, just how comfortable she was now. She used to be terrified of water, but not once since Minho found her, has she feared it, that’s how comfortable she is around the boys. The baths she has taken, the showers, have all been calming and nice, it has been nothing to fear. The realization made her smile, these boys are her home and they had helped her so much already in their short time together, she never wanted to leave them, she wanted to get closer to them. 

She finished her shower, got dressed, and headed out to meet the others. Most of them were dressed and ready to go, once again they would eat breakfast at the company, (Y/n) thought about the first time they ate the company and how crowded it could be but also how nice it was to meet people who treated her fairly, like an equal. 

“Okay, everyone we still about 30 minutes until the car is here, so anyone not ready should hurry up. Anyone hungry? Make a smoothie or a sandwhich because we won’t be eating breakfast for a few hours,” Chan listed of his morning speech, and at the mention of a smoothie, (Y/n) couldn’t help but want one. They are just too delicious. 

“Here, (Y/n),” Changbin put a smoothie down in front of her, she was shocked, she hadn’t asked for one. “Why?” “I figured you’d want one, if you don’t just give it to someone else,” “No, I really do want it, I just didn’t think you would have prepared one already, thank you, Binnie,” Changbin smiled and put his hand on her head, “Of course, anything for you bunny,” 

(Y/n) didn’t wait a second longer until she began sipping on her smoothie, it was just as good as the others she had tasted. Sometimes she wondered if this was all a dream, or maybe something like heaven, just a few months ago she couldn’t imagine life could be this good, but now, here she was. 

Chan looked over at (Y/n), she sensed his stare immediately and met his gaze, he looked nervous. “Could I talk with you, alone?” (Y/n), became a bit worried, what could this be about? But she nodded and took her smoothie with her to leave the kitchen and talk with the leader. 

Chan sat down on the couch and (Y/n) sat down beside him, still worried about what this talk could be about. “It’s nothing serious, sorry if I made it seem that way, it’s just a little awkward for me to talk about so I didn’t know how to bring it up, the vet mentioned earlier that as you begin to become more healthy, your heats could be triggered, and he messaged me yesterday about having a check in to see how everything seems, and to ask if you want to take surpressants or have your heats come naturally,” Chan’s entire face became red as he continued speaking, (Y/n) was surprised at how cute he looked, he tried to be supportive even though he was embarrassed. 

Not to say that (Y/n) wasn’t embarrassed as well, because she was, a lot. But she was relieved, her anxious mind instantly went to thoughts of being kicked out after the previous days events, but she argued with herself, she should know better, these boys aren’t like the other humans she has met. 

“Oh, um, well, I don’t really know, a lot of other hybrids took surpressants at my previous, um, place-” Chan reached out and held on her trembling hands, to show that he was there, she was safe. “- I won’t call it home, because it wasn’t one, but they seemed to like taking them, but I don’t know anything about heats or surpressants so maybe it’s best if the vet has an opinion on this,” Chan smiled, to reassure her that they wouldn’t do anything that she wasn’t comfortable with. “Yeah, that’s probably the smartest move here, I’ll talk with the vet sometime today and book an appointment, this time we have to go the office though, he can’t do the check ups here,” 

Even though, (Y/n) was a bit scared of going to a vet’s office, it was new and scary, she felt safe because she wouldn’t be going alone, she would have at least one of the boys with her. The past is in the past, she was living a different life now, she had met this vet before and he seemed nice, so it would be fine. “That’s okay, as long as someone comes with me,” Chan smiled, he noticed how her small bunny tail was twitching, he knew she was anxious but he was proud to see that she tried her best to be brave about it. “Of course, anyone in particular you want to come with?” 

(Y/n) took a second to think about it as she took a sip of her, almost empty, smoothie, “You, I want you to be there with me,” Chan felt happiness surge through his body, he knew he was a safe space for the bunny but he had thought she would have asked for Minho, Felix or Jeongin, he didn’t expect her to ask for him. “Then I’ll come with you, now, let’s go down, the car should be here any minute,” 

“Chan,” “Yes?” “Thank you,” “For what?” “Everything,” Chan almost teared up as his eyes once again met the hybrid’s, they were shining with life and happiness, such a stark contrast from how dull they had been when Minho had found her, how scared she used to be to just speak around them, and now, here she was, speaking freely and smiling. “No need to thank us, darling,” (Y/n) blushed at the nickname, yet she yearned to hear it again. 

~ Time Skip ~ 

It was lunch time for Stray Kids, (Y/n) had been sitting in the dance studio, watching the group dance from morning until now, she was glad she drank that smoothie in the morning because they had all been so focused on perfecting the last parts of the dance that they forgot to eat breakfast, but finally it was time for lunch. 

“Ahh, I’m so hungry, I want to eat like a horse or something,” Han exclaimed loudly as the group was walking toward the cafeteria. “Anything in particular that you want to eat today, (Y/n)?” Seungmin asked as he walked beside the bunny at the back of the group. “I don’t know, maybe a soup or stew, it sounds good because it’s cold outside,” “Oh, yeah, a nice stew does sound really nice, they should have something like that,” “Do you think it will be full like last time?” “Probably, it’s unfortunate that they don’t switch the lunch times for everyone around so that not everyone had lunch at the same time,” “Yeah, but it was kind of nice sitting with just you, last time” Seungmin smiled, feeling warm inside from the bunny’s cute confession. “I’m glad to hear that,” 

Chan’s phone suddenly rang and so he stayed behind to take the call while the other eight went to the cafeteria. As usual it was packed with people. (Y/n) found two people that were familiar to her just in front of them in the line to order food. It was two of the girls from Itzy, though she wasn’t too sure which ones they were. As the girls heard the familiar voices behind them, they turned around to say hello. 

“Hi, guys, hey (Y/n),” “Hey, girls, how are you?” Felix asked, they continued their conversation with each other as the line slowly moved forward. (Y/n) tried to remember the names of these two girls but she drew a blank and she didn’t want to seem rude and ask them. “Lia, Chaeryong, nice to see you two, it’s been a while,” Suddenly Chan came up behind her and said the girls’ names, (Y/n) felt her anxiety wash away. “We’re good, how are you (Y/n)? Are the boys taking care of you?” “I’m good, and yeah, they are,” “That’s good to hear, if they start slacking, you just come to us and we’ll take care of it,” Chaeryong said jokingly, (Y/n) smiled at the joke, and seeing how well they got along with the SKZ members, though she knew, that she would never have to ask for help because she knew that SKZ would take good care of her for the rest of her life. 

Just then, it was time to order food for the Itzy girls so the conversation died down. “So (Y/n), I just talked with the vet and we have a time booked for tomorrow, at 2 pm, I have taken a few hours off around it so that we can go,” “Okay, I hope it isn’t to much of a burden for you to take time off for this,” “No, not at all, right now we’re mostly doing the finishing touches for the dance, and we’re scheduling which variety shows to attend, and things like that can be dealt with by Changbin for a day or two,” “Your, um, comeback? is quite soon, right?” “Yeah, it’s just 2 weeks away, and once it starts our schedules are going to look quite different from now, we’ll be travelling around more, you can of course come with us but if it seems like too much for now, you can stay at home or maybe be with the Itzy girls, if you’re comfortable with it,” 

“It sounds like a lot, but I want to try being with you guys, but I also want you to be honest with me if my presence becomes a burden or a distraction, I know you love me and you’re not saying it to be mean, but I don’t want to be the reason you guys can’t work,” Chan reached out and petted the hybrid’s head, “I promise, if it ever becomes a problem, we’ll talk about it,” “Good,” That was the end of the conversation, they ordered their food and went to sit down at a table, fortunately they managed to get one that fit their entire group this time. 

The rest of the day went by quickly, and before anyone knew it, the group was home and ready to head to bed. Now it was time for the sweet bunny to sleep in Jisung’s room, she was excited because she had barely been in his room, since she moved in. “Hey,” Jisung said with a yawn as (Y/n) came into his room, they were both exhausted after the day. “Hi,” (Y/n) answered with a shy wave, feeling a bit awkward for some reason. She noticed a few plushies in the room, but they all seemed to have been recently moved from the bed, as they didn’t seem to belong on the floor, half in a bookshelf, or on the desk by his computer. 

“Um, so, I heard that you cuddled with Changbin, the night you slept in his room, and well, I was wondering if you might want to do it with me as well? Only if you’re comfortable with it of course,” He looked shy and nervous, maybe even anxious if the bunny focused on his scent. While it did seem a bit scary, she was also intrigued and quickly agreed with the rapper’s proposition. “Yeah, I’d like that,” 

(Y/n) went over to her bed and picked up the pillow from it and brought it over to Jisung’s bed, she laid it down beside his own pillow, and then she got into the bed. It felt a bit weird but she was excited to cuddle again, she has come to love being close to the boys. The two laid there, facing each other in silence for a few minutes, just looking around and into one another’s eyes. Blushing. Like two high school kids having their first sleep over with their first love. 

“I’m really happy that you live with us now, I know it hasn’t been that long, but I really do love you, we all do,” Jisung shyly reached out and caressed (Y/n)’s cheek as he gazed into her eyes. “I love you too,” The bunny reached out and mirrored Jisung’s action, caressing his cheek too. They stayed like this for a minute, before their eyes met once again, and they both leaned in, slowly, milimiter by milimeter until finally. Their lips met. In a short and shy kiss, their lips pressed against each other, their eyes fell shut as they basked in the presence and feeling of each other. 

As their lips parted from the short kiss, their cheeks were painted as red as a rose. They looked away from one another, their eyes instead falling on the other’s lips, (Y/n) took a deep breath, searching with all her senses for an answer as to what this meant, while she recieved no such thing, she slowly fell into a deep slumber, surrounded by the scent of Jisung, the warmth of his arm around her, the sound of his breathing and his heart beats, and the feeling deep inside of her, that she yearned for more, to be closer, to all of them. 

And so the two fell into a deep and calm slumber, no nightmares of anxiety in sight, nothing but sweet dreams of their future together. 

~ To be continued ~ 

And that ends chapter 12! What did you guys think? Finally a chapter with little to no angst, did you enjoy it? Or do you miss the angst? 

In the next chapter, (Y/n) and Chan will go to the vet, what will they find there? What will happen with the bunny’s heat? And what will happen once the boys finally have their comeback? 

Thank you to everyone who reads this! I appreciate you all, have a good day/night! 

[twola]

I’m sorry for asking but I don’t know where else to turn but— do you or anyone else who might see this question have any tips for writing Mary Linton? Especially in a fic where Arthur falls in love with a female oc or a reader. I find it hard to write without either demonizing her or making Arthur look completely uncharacteristically over her. That being said, I have no problem with the fics that dive into their dare I say toxicity of a relationship but I just don’t want to be extreme lol

So I don’t claim to be any kind of expert on this, but I’ll tell you my way of approaching it. There is no right answer on how to approach this; it is all about how you want to approach. That is the joy of fandom. I’m not sure if this will even qualify as tips, but I’ll just extrapolate on my approach.

In my writing canon, Arthur certainly still cares for Mary. Pines for her. After all, she was his first true love. Mary also pines for him, she loves him deeply, but cannot condone his lifestyle, and cannot live within his existence. Frankly, he’s a murderer. A killer, a thief, an outlaw. An overall bad person, even he says so.

That’s why she begs him to run away. If only he can give up being an outlaw, it will work!

But that gets into the toxicity. Is that asking too much because it is that is who Arthur is? Is that asking too much to change? We as the players mostly think so. But we also play AS Arthur. For Mary, someone who was never forced to scrape by, Arthur’s behavior is abhorrent. From her perspective, it shouldn’t be that much to ask of Arthur to stop being a bad person.

Mary has the luxury to ask that of him. She has never had to scrape by for existence. She has never had to resort to criminality to live.

In my writing canon, I think that is the difference. If a female OC is running with the gang because they are an orphan, an outlaw, a widow, an outsider with nothing, that OC doesn’t have the luxury to ask Arthur to change.

Arthur sees and knows that he can never give Mary what she’s asking for. He’s not going to change his ways (in the canon, he is not going to leave the gang, which he loves also).

But over time, there is that OC… she may be there. They may bond. There may be tension. There may be attraction. She doesn’t ask Arthur to change.

Mary’s love, tragically, is conditional. Which I can’t blame her for!

I love you, but you need to change. For you, for me, for us.

Maybe that female OC isn’t asking Arthur to change.

I love you, in just the flawed way that you are.

I actually like Mary Linton. As soon as I finished the game I actually started writing an A/M fic. Their love story is incredibly tragic. They both obviously love each other, but are unwilling to meet on either side of the chasm between them.

So writing Mary, I try not to make her mean, or out of touch, or overly manipulative. I write her as a woman deeply in love with a man who won’t make that final commitment to her. And the asking for help that she does? Very much part of it is to see Arthur again, because again, she is in love. And he loves her too. And always will.

But he has room in his heart to grow. Maybe part of it will belong to his first love. But maybe he will grow to love a woman that does not or cannot ask him to fundamentally change.

I hope that answers your question…? Maybe? Or maybe that is just me rambling.

[ghostofskywalker]

Hello!

Can I please request this prompt for your event with the beautiful Sargeant Hunter???

“You love me?” || “I always have”

hello! sorry this is so late, but i hope you enjoy it!! i always liked thinking of pabu as a place where people don't lock their doors and neighbors drop off baked goods to each other just because they wanted to share, like small new england towns in the 80's, so this is kind of based on that

Not Exactly How One Plans a Love Confession

words: 1,230

summary: Hunter originally doesn't want to tell you how he feels, but after you overhear him talking to his brothers, he decides to take the plunge.

clone troopers masterlist

Everyone talks about falling in love like it’s a boulder that rushes down the side of a mountain, mowing down the unsuspecting people standing in its path. But for Hunter, things came on a little bit slower than that. Maybe it was the fact that he was still adjusting to life on Pabu and experiencing so many new things each day, but after a while he didn’t even question the way he felt about you, or the way your lives had become so effortlessly intertwined. 

Shuffling out to the kitchen one morning (with a particularly egregious case of bed head), he barely took note of the fact that there was already a steaming pot of caf waiting for him, and he grabbed a muffin from the basket sitting on the counter without a second thought. It was only when he moved to sit down and enjoy his breakfast that he realized the confections were new. They still didn’t have much in the way of material possessions (despite being here for almost a year now), and a wicker basket like this definitely wasn’t on any of the lists he and his brothers had made of all the things they still needed to fix up and buy. 

As Hunter took a sip of his caf, Crosshair stepped into the kitchen, signature scowl on his face as he filled a canteen with water from the chiller. It wasn’t a shock to see him awake, since he slept on the couch most of the time. “Those better be good,” he said plainly, gesturing towards the muffins. 

Hunter wasn’t quite awake enough to catch his drift the first time around, and he just looked at Crosshair in confusion. “What?” 

“Your girlfriend woke me up when she left them on the counter,” his brother responded. “She walked in like a gundark in a china shop.” 

Hunter just raised his eyebrows, his mind having not even registered the fact that you were never referred to by name, but he knew exactly who Crosshair was talking about. “I doubt that’s exactly how it happened,” he said. “If it was that loud, are sure it wasn’t Wrecker who brought the muffins in?”

Crosshair raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure. No one else would be humming when the sun isn’t even up yet. You know, the two of you should just hurry up and get married, or at least invite her to move in. Maybe then I won’t get woken up by the door slamming open at 0600.” 

Although still half-asleep, Hunter did catch Crosshair’s words the second time his relationship with you was referenced. “Shut up, you know she’s not my girlfriend.” 

Crosshair snorted. “I don’t know a single person who would wake up at the crack of dawn and break into my home to leave freshly baked muffins and start a pot of caf this way she knew I ate something.”

“That’s because no one wants to be around you,” Hunter shot back. 

The sound of someone descending the stairs stopped Crosshair from whatever he was going to say in response, and it was Echo who stepped into the kitchen next. “Good morning,” he said sleepily, trying to stifle a yawn as he shuffled over to the caf machine. “Where did the muffins come from?” 

“A little fairy dropped them off before sunrise,” Crosshair said, raising his eyebrows as he looked over at Hunter. 

Echo nodded, knowing exactly what Crosshair meant. “Make sure to thank her today when you go over there,” he said. 

“What makes you think I’m going over there?” Okay, his brothers were right, he did plan on seeing you today, but Hunter didn’t really want to admit that so easily. 

“We know you,” Echo responded. “And even if you don’t want to admit how you feel about each other, it’s kind of obvious.” 

There were only so many times Hunter could vehemently deny the accusations before he broke, and apparently this was the moment that his defenses came crumbling down. “Fine, I will make sure to thank her.” 

Crosshair gave him a look. “And you’ll tell her how you feel?” 

Without even thinking about what he was saying, Hunter spoke in response. “I’m not going to just tell her that I love her without even going on a date first.”

Both Echo and Crosshair’s eyes widened, but they didn’t even get a chance to make a joke about the situation, because a new voice had entered the conversation. “You love me?” 

Silence fell over the area in an instant, and all eyes turned towards the doorway, where you were standing. The sound of the front door closing behind you made it clear that you had just arrived, and there was a basket of fruit in your hands, no doubt a gift from Shep and Lyana, who you were very close with as well.

Hunter froze, his mind racing as he weighed his options. 

Did he lie and try to save face? But what if you felt the same way? 

Did he own up to his feelings? What if that ruined your friendship?

Whatever was going to happen though, it was clear that Crosshair and Echo had no intentions of being part of it, because they cleared out so fast it was almost as though they dissipated into thin air, and Hunter couldn’t decide if it was a blessing or a curse. The room seemed so much emptier now, and the silence was starting to grow awkward. 

Well, the damage was already done, he thought, before taking a deep breath and speaking. “I think I always have,” he said, getting up from his chair as you took a few steps closer to him. “Even if I didn’t realize it until a little while ago, and I wanted to tell you in a slightly more acceptable way.” 

You laughed, taking the final few steps so that you were close enough to take his hand. “I’ll admit it’s not the most romantic way to find out,” you said. “But I don’t care, I love you too.”

If he was dreaming, he officially never wanted to wake up. “Really?” 

“You’ve become such a big part of my life that I don’t think I ever want to go back to the way I lived without you,” you said. “I’ve lived on Pabu my whole life, but you make it feel like so much more of a home.” 

Okay, now Hunter was trying to keep from tearing up (even though he would never admit it if asked). “Can I kiss you?” he asked, moving even closer. 

“Yes,” you breathed, before finally closing the gap between you and pressing your lips to his. He could hear the basket of fruit clatter to the floor the moment his hands found your waist, but at the moment, he didn’t really have it in him to care. 

When you finally broke apart, he couldn’t help but smile, saying the first thing that came to mind. “By the way, the muffins were really good.”

You just laughed before leaning in to kiss him again, a quick peck this time. “If that was your way of saying thank you, I’m certainly not complaining.” 

“Well then, allow me to fully express my appreciation.” 

Hunter supposed he might have to eventually thank his brothers for getting him to admit things, but he wasn’t ready to admit that just yet.

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

[boba-pearl-writes]

1/31 - remember- word count: 741 - @rosekillermicrofic - major character death

It was just a normal mission. Another one of those “strike fear in the hearts of the muggles and they will listen” assignments. They didn’t even have to take down any aurors this time.

And then they saw Moody.

Mad-Eye Moody was one of the best aurors that there ever is, was or will be. At least, that’s what the auror department called him. They weren’t joking, either. The only people who remotely stood a chance against him were the inner circle of the Dark Lord- which included Barty and Evan.

Barty was a promising Death Eater, and, because of his smarts and cleverness, quickly rose up the ranks. Evan was one of the best duellers they had, who had once, before, taken down three aurors at the same time.

Moody, this time, though, had the element of surprise. 

As soon as he saw them, he cast an expelliarmus towards Barty, and Barty was too slow to dodge. Then, Evan sent a dark hex back at him, and Moody blocked it with a well timed protego. 

They sent hexes and curses back and forth while Barty got on the floor and swept his hands across the ground to try to find his wand. His hand closed around the familiar wood and then-

“DIFFINDO!” Moody yelled, just as Barty whipped around and yelled “STUPEFY!” Moody crashed backwards into a tree from the force and desperation of the spell. At the same time, Barty heard a strangled scream of pain from behind him. 

Fuck. 

Evan. 

Barty turned back around and rushed to where Evan was stumbling back against a wall, hand and arm pressed against his chest protectively. Barty helped Evan sit down, helpless as the blood seeped out from behind his hand. Barty gently pried Evan’s hand away to reveal a deep slash across Evan’s chest. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered under his breath as Evan coughed blood onto the ground. Barty didn’t have the spell to help Evan, and he doubted there was a spell strong enough to bring anyone back from this. The gash was too deep, Barty was pretty sure the spell had affected his heart. 

They didn’t even have hope. In those last moments, all they had was desperation. 

Barty’s mind was frantic, trying to figure something out. Something, anything. Please. 

He couldn’t live without Evan. He wouldn’t. 

“I-“ Evan rasped, fighting to get the words out. Evan’s beautiful hazel eyes connected with Barty’s own gray blue ones and Barty went still. 

For once, Barty went still and just looked. He looked at Evan, looked at him like a drowning man grasping for straws, like a thirsty man gulping down fresh water. 

“Barty,” Evan said, and tears welled up in Barty’s eyes. He wrapped his arms around Evan carefully, trying not to disturb the wound. He tried to hold on as tight as he could to something that was so fragile it could crack in his arms. 

“Evan,” he said, and his voice cracked. “Rosie, angel, don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

“Don’t- don’t do that. Please, Bee, I don’t- I can’t- I never wanted to leave you.”

“Ev-“ Evan looked like he was confessing something- something of finality, an ultimatum. 

“I love you so fucking much,” Evan said, and his voice cracked. He started coughing out blood again, and Barty helped him through it, then laid him down so that Evan’s head rested on his lap. Evan raised a hand to Barty’s face, his fingers brushing Barty’s cheekbones. “Don’t forget me.”

Barty placed a hand over Evan’s. “Never. I-“ Barty let out a wet laugh “-you’d have to kill me and suck my soul out to make me forget Evan Rosier. My Rosie.” He offered a small, tearful smile.

Evan’s eyes fluttered, like they did when he was tired. Barty didn’t want to think about that. He tightened his grip on Evan’s hand. 

“Remember to…” Evan trailed off, then blinked a few times, each blink longer than the last. “To find me after this life. Or in the next.”

“I promise,” Barty whispered. Evan’s face softened. 

“Love you, Bee.”

“I love you, too, Rosie.”

When Evan’s breath slowed, and then stopped, when his heart didn’t beat out those familiar rhythms Barty knew anymore, when his eyes closed for the last time, Barty buried his face in the crook of Evan’s neck and cried. 

Evan was gone and, with him, so was a piece of Barty’s soul. 

[solxamber]

Hi! Trey, romantic, Casual by Chappell Roan:)

"Is it casual now?" || Trey Clover

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Casual by Chappell Roan

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 730

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Suggestive Content, Casual to serious relationship, Happy Ending

Trey doesn’t know what to do with you.

His friends say he should walk away. Riddle tells him he's being reckless. Cater tells him to live a little, but not this much. Even Ace, of all people, warns him not to get too attached.

"They’re just playing with you, Trey. You’re a good guy, but you’re not special to them. Something fun to pass the time."

He knows they’re right.

But when you text him at midnight, he still picks up his phone. When you tug him into your room, he still lets you push him against the wall.

When your hands are in his hair and your lips are on his neck, he still groans and gives you everything you want.

He knows how this ends.

You’ll tease him, take what you need, and then you’ll leave. And yet—

When you press against him in the dark, breath hot against his ear, when you whisper “You’re so good to me, Trey,”—he still hopes.

And he hates himself for it.

He should be stronger than this.

But every time he’s with you, his resolve cracks like fragile glass.

Because you never stay away for long.

You let him hold you after, even when you say this isn’t serious. You let him touch you, let his fingers linger, let him pull you back for one last kiss, then another, and another.

You tell him not to get attached, and then you slip your hands under his shirt, run your nails down his back, and he groans into your mouth.

You make it impossible for him to let go.

And god, he wants to let go.

Because you don’t belong to him. You never have.

But his shirts are still in your room. Your scent lingers on his skin. Your toothbrush sits next to his in the bathroom, and when he finds your favorite ring in his pocket one day, he swears he’s losing his mind.

He tries to be casual, too. He tries to play the same game.

But he still wakes up wanting more.

He wants to wake up with you in his arms, your legs tangled with his, your breath warm against his collarbone.

He wants you to drag him to brunch and introduce him as your boyfriend, wants to hear you say it like you mean it.

He wants lazy Sundays with you, wants you curled against his chest on the couch, wants to kiss you slow and deep without thinking it might be the last time.

Most of all, he wants you to want him back.

But he can’t pine alone forever.

So tonight, he’s ending this.

You’re draped over him, body warm and pliant, your fingers still tracing over his chest, teasing, tempting. You’re smiling like you know you have him wrapped around your finger. Like you know he won’t say no.

But tonight, you’re wrong.

“This is the last time,” Trey says, voice low and rough.

You pause, blinking up at him. “What?”

He exhales sharply, raking a hand through his messy hair. “I can’t do this anymore. Not if you don’t want something real.”

You stare at him. And then you shift, pressing your bare leg between his, your lips ghosting over his throat, the way you always do when you don’t want to answer a question. “Trey—”

“No.” His fingers grip your waist, holding you still. “Not this time. If I’m just a game to you, tell me now, and I’ll walk away.”

You don’t speak for a long moment.

Then, finally, quietly—

“…What if I don’t want you to?”

Trey stills. His breath catches. “What?”

Your fingers tighten around his arm, holding onto him like you’re scared he’ll slip away. “What if I want more?” You swallow hard. “What if I don’t want this to be casual anymore?”

His head is spinning. His heart is pounding so loudly, he swears you can hear it. “Say it again.”

“…I want you.”

And Trey breaks.

He kisses you, deep and hungry, pressing you down into the sheets, pouring everything he’s been holding back into you. His hands map over your skin, like he’s trying to memorize every inch of you, like he finally, finally has permission to love you.

Like he never wants to be casual with you ever again.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

[electricneonvalkyrie]

Abby is the best at helping you heal—from that toxic ex, from that narcissistic parent, from the damage they left behind, from the fear that love will never feel safe again.

I promised myself I wouldn’t stray too close to the sun by writing fanfiction again, simply because it requires so much of my mental bandwidth, and I truly struggle to put things down once I’ve picked them up (thank you, autism; thank you, OCD).

This hobby, and writing in general, demands more time and energy than my current lifestyle allows. But I still love journaling about her, and this topic is deeply important to me. I hope, though this isn't more than a rambling, you get something out of it.

So if you’re here, thank you.

You keep bracing for love to hurt. To come with conditions. To be something you have to earn. Abby notices that. She notices when you hesitate before reaching for her, when you flinch at raised voices, when you swallow your feelings before you even say them. And every single time, she reminds you—you don’t have to be afraid here. Not in her arms.

Overthinking? Abby is kissing the top of your head. Feeling tense? She’s pulling you closer. Panic rising between your ribs like a swarm of angry hornets? Abby is hooking her pinky around yours under the table and you're okay.

You're okay.

She helps you understand and forgive your past mistakes, paving the way for healthier expressions of love. She walks beside you on the arduous journey of identifying unhealthy patterns and replacing them with positive, safe methods of communication.

She understands the toll of a toxic relationship. She knows how being manipulated by someone you once trusted can make you act in ways you don’t recognize. She knows that sometimes, survival makes people unkind—to themselves, to others. But she never holds it against you.

"I don’t ever wanna hear you apologize for the ways you had to survive. You know better now, yeah? That’s all that matters to me. That shit doesn’t define you. How you grow from it does."

Abby will reassure you that you are lovable—so easy to love, in fact, that every minute of patience with you is always worthwhile for her.

She is accountable for her words, even when she slips up or unintentionally hurts you. Call her out on it, and she will show up for you. And better than that? You never have to worry about her hurting you the same way twice.

She won’t.

"You can be annoyed at me, you know. I’m not gonna punish you for it. You don’t owe me perfection—you owe me honesty. That’s it. I’m really glad you told me."

Oh yeah.

Abby apologizes.

And she does not fuck around.

Not with half-hearted words meant to smooth things over. Not with superficial attempts to move past the issue without real change. There's no brushing feelings under the rug with her.

When Abigail Anderson apologizes, she does it with her full chest. And she works damn hard on that chest, so you can bet your bottom dollar that it’s going to be a healing milestone between you.

"I wasn’t thinking, and I see how it hurt you. My dumbass wasn’t paying attention the way I should’ve been, and I won’t let that happen again, okay? I promise. I’m sorry—really. You don’t owe me your forgiveness right now, but I need you to know I’ll do better. You matter to me so fucking much. I’ll show you."

Your disagreements are short-lived, and they rarely get heated. If they do, she doesn’t raise her voice. There’s a time and a place for that, and it’s never with you.

"I get why you’re pissed. Can you give me a second to figure out how to say this right? I do this thing where I shut down, and it’s not fair to you. But I just… need a second, okay? I love you. I’m not going anywhere."

If you're pulling away from her out of fear—because every past argument you’ve ever had ended with you taking the blame and feeling defeated—take a deep breath.

You’re in calmer waters now.

She sees your fight-or-flight instincts kicking in, and she won’t let you disappear into them.

"Hey. I know this is scary. I know love hasn’t always been safe. If this is hard for you, then we do it together, yeah?"

Abby holds your secrets and your desire for privacy the way she holds you—carefully, protectively, never with the threat of using it against you. She knows your life and your experiences are for you to share, not her. That trust? It’s sacred to her.

She’s seen what it did to you—the way they twisted the things you once whispered in confidence and laid them out for strangers like cheap gossip. She knows the betrayal of having parts of yourself—parts you only ever entrusted to them—thrown into the world like they were nothing.

She saw how it broke you. How it made you question who, if anyone, was ever truly safe.

So she makes damn sure you never feel that way again.

With Abby, there’s no fear of your private moments becoming ammunition. No hesitation before speaking, wondering if your words will be turned against you one day. She doesn’t use your pain as leverage, doesn’t drag your past into the light just because she can or because she's upset.

Even if things don’t work out between you, that doesn’t change. That’s a piece of your soul and Abby would never betray that.

Because trust, to her, isn’t something you shoulder when it’s convenient. It’s something you protect.

And if they ever try to drag your name through the mud? If they ever twist the truth, distort your story, make you out to be something you’re not? Abby will keep an eye on things. Not because she’s looking for a fight, but because she knows how much it hurts you. She wants to help you see it for what it is. Remind you that you've made the right choice.

And when your triggers hit, and you start to spiral, she’ll remind you.

"Don’t give them what they want. Anyone who knows you—really knows you—won’t fall for that bullshit. Look at me. I see you. Let them talk. Their words don’t change anything, do they? I’ve got you."

She will defend you against anyone trying to manipulate your image. Because one thing Abby can’t stand is people who talk shit about those she loves.

"I know you better. I know you when you’re safe, when you’re loved—when you don’t have to second guess everything. They never knew you. They knew who you had to be to survive them. And you know what? They had their shot and blew it—so, cry about it, yeah? Fuck ‘em."

Because Abby does know you.

She knows the sound of your bright, genuine laugh. The one you don’t hold back. That full body, tears absolutely pouring down your cheeks as you gasp for air kind of laughter.

The way you light up over things most people overlook. Your quirky special interests that drag her by her toes into wild, sporadic info dumps she can’t get enough of.

How you care, in so many ways, even when you can’t always express it.

She sees you.

And she’s here to stay.

Not because she has to. Not because you need her to.

But because she wants to.

Because choosing you? That’s the easiest thing she’s ever done.

Maybe this time, with Abby’s gentle fingertips tracing every scar, you’ll stop seeing them as evidence of your broken parts... and start viewing them as the map that led you exactly where you were always meant to be.

[madelynhimegami]

Arle Nadja Guide

I've heard a couple people say that they feel like they don't really get a good feel for who Arle is. Dunno if this will change their minds any, but I hope it helps.

Arle Nadja is freewheeling and easy come, easy go girl.

She loves adventure and exploring. Especially when that prominantly involves dungeon crawling.

Helps that she's been doing it from age 4.

Arle is, in fact, so hooked on dungeon crawling that Ringo and Amitie had to actively prevent her from entering what she already knew was a trap made to look like a dungeon entrance.

In addition to the adventuring, Arle likes travel as a means to meet new people with different ways of living.

She's well aware that most of her friends (especially from her own world) are insane. But she loves them regardless.

Arle isn't materialistic. As long as she has a way to get her basic needs met, her interest in wealth is, at most, transient.

Similarly, she's not particularly interested in becoming powerful.

I think she still likes learning new stuff about magic, including new spells, but the power of the magic in question is inconsequential to her.

Arle acts and speaks very casually, regardless of where she is or who she's talking to. She doesn't really care for formality and dislikes being expected to act a certain way.

Consequently, she has no reason to really ever acknowledge or respect authority without them earning it.

She made fun of brick jesus and his decisions to his face (at least before learning she was dealing with a small child).

I feel like Arle tends to be pretty good at reading vibes of others. As in, she can generally tell if someone is dangerous, stupid, struggling, being forced to act a certain way, sincere, or manipulative.

If so, she doesn't use that skill very often, because she's encountered too many people she will never understand she prefers to live and let live.

Arle is always willing to lend a hand to those in need of one. In fact, she's not very good at refusing to help, if asked.

Arle doesn't plan ahead very much. She just goes with the flow of things and assume that it'll all end up working out for the better.

She's not particularly inclined to strategic thinking (though she is perfectly capable of it). Her preferred method of handling obstacles is to face them head-on.

Satan doing something stupid? Beat him up. Door blocking the way? Tear it off its hinges.

That said, Arle is quite flexible, able to work with rapidly-changing circumstances, plus she's good at imrovising solutions.

She also probably has plenty of survivalist skills. You don't survive 12+ years of dungeon crawling without having a good sense of knowing what will or won't kill you, and how to protect yourself from the latter.

(I hate that I have to say this, but that does include bathing. Not washing dungeon gunk off is how you get fun and exciting new diseases.)

Her spells reflect those priorities, as well. Most of her combat-oriented spells aren't for dealing direct damage, but for self-defense.

Even then, she's has a blasé attitude towards danger, and doesn't get threatened easily in the slightest.

This is a girl that got into multiple fights with an owlbear and won before she started kindergarten.

She's not reckless, however. She's very aware that she's not invincible or unstoppable, and has reliable risk assessment.

Tight situations where she's in more trouble than she was prepared for is where a lot of her improvisation skills shine.

Arle's really forgiving. She doesn't hold grudges or resentment, even if someone has reduced her to her last frazzled nerve.

Case in point, she became friends with a man that abducted her and subsequently tried to kill her. Despite his protests.

Her gregariousness tends to grow on people, making her pretty good at making friends (albeit not as good as Amitie).

However, her forgiving nature only extends to herself. Threaten or annoy her all you want, she'll let it slide. But if a friend of hers has a problem with you, so does Arle.

Arle has a very dry sense of humor. She can snark with the best of them.

She mostly employs sarcasm to tease her friends (mostly the ones from her world), but she'll use it in full force if something annoys her enough.

(These often overlap, especially when Satan's involved)

She also can and will verbally destroy you for your nonsense if pushed far enough.

While known to get annoyed, frustrated, or agitated, Arle very rarely (if ever) gets truly angry. I firmly believe attacking a friend with intent to seriously harm is one way to do it, however.

She tends to have more patience with anybody younger than her. Doubly so if she has reason to believe they're relying on her.

Arle is very stubborn. She dies hard and never gives up.

It also makes her strong-willed enough to resist possession. She's actually on the record for forcibly expelling Ecolo from her body by attacking herself.

Both the above tie into Arle's greatest fear: helplessness. She is terrified of being trapped in a situation where there is absolutely nothing she can do to affect it, even superficially.

Much like Ringo, I think Arle is, in theory, a perfectly capable cook. But unlike Ringo, where Arle goes off the deep end is her obsession with curry. She'd pretty much always prefer making that.

Although not a powerhouse, Arle isn't your typical squishy mage. She's fit and resilient enough to get by a lot of her situations. And she can throw a good punch if needed.

We don't see it very often anymore (which is a shame imo), but Arle is a capable staff wielder, and will use one as a magic focus if it's available.

I think Arle used to be more self-centered and interested in magic for her own gain, but changed after a certain incident while she was at magic school.

Because of the incident, she's decided that there is no knowledge, possession, or power that is more important than the lives of other people, especially those you care about.

That being said, she actually doesn't remember the incident very clearly.

Of note, even before this personal epiphany, Arle was against fighting lethally and made it a point to only leave those she fights unconscious. She's even begged her friends to not kill someone even if it would help her.

The epiphany is another reason why she's less materialistic, however.

Arle is a believer in the idea that it's the journey, not the destination, that matters. Several of her adventures end in disappointment or anti-climax, but she gets over it quickly.

No matter how an adventure ends, there's bound to be another one over the horizon.

Because of the above, and her aforementioned penchance for flexibility and adaptability, Arle doesn't let setbacks bother her. If she can stand back up, she can always keep going. And she will.

Although Arle isn't at all shy, she doesn't like to be made the center of attention or put on a pedastal. She's just a girl doing her thing, y'know? To her, that's not something she needs to be lauded for.

She's also doesn't really show signs of physical or romantic attraction of any kind. She can recognize a person as being handsome or beautiful, but only does so as a neutral descriptor.

Arle is the only one that can truly understand Carbuncle. She's fully fluent in gu, as well.

Somehow that lets her understand other mascot-like critters, on the rare occasions she comes across them.

[scorpiusmalfoylovesoscarwilde]

albus "I hope I die first, because I can't live without you" potter

and

scorpius "I hope I die second, so I can save you from that grief" malfoy

[vaguely-concerned]

I've been trying to figure out a dynamic between neve and rye that I find more compelling, because right now there's not much of anything there for me to sink my little teeth into. but I think I've landed on something delicious with the idea that especially after minrathous gets fucked, rye looks at neve and sees myrna -- someone he feels he keeps letting down horribly no matter how hard he tries not to and can't quite achieve the approval of/connection with that he wishes so it's better to just pull away completely and disengage rather than stay in that unshifting shame. neve is (very understandably) measured and distant with him after what happened, and he's flashing back to his student days of myrna gazing at the perpetually hungover heartbroken heap of a person of him on the other side of her desk every time he missed the deadline of a paper or project like '...can we at least both agree that this is. a bit disappointing. especially considering your potential.' (and him all smudged black eyeshadow and numb ruefulness being like 'sure that's a very kind way to put it myrna thank you'.)

aside from the 'if I let him get too deeply into this he'll go the way of brom and it'll be all my fault (again)' element, neve thinks rye is dismissing her and her city/being a bit callous in the same way he was after varric's death (listen. how fucking wild must rook's reaction to losing a beloved mentor seem to the rest of the crew who aren't seeing the blood magic paper doll ghost varric the whole time, especially those who got to see them interact. you WOULD think 'there's something wrong with this guy. putting the job first is one thing just not seeming to react at all is another this is fucking freaky', wouldn't you, especially after seeing the warmth in that dynamic in action beforehand.) perfect storm of two people who grit their teeth and turn inwards in pain deciding that not talking about it is their best bet (NEWSFLASH: IT ISN'T) lmao

(rye spent his last year of watcher training on a mostly joyless bender and then got it together enough to finish the eternal orb project last moment in a fevered near-sleepless week instead of the half a year that was intended. emmrich is both astounded and distressed to hear this. "a week? but -- but that is an astounding accomplishment rook!! and also why in the maker's good light would you ever do that to yourself?" ("well you see there was no one to stop me from doing it like that but me. and under those conditions these things tend to happen".) rye was working through/looking up stuff around transitioning and doing every kind of OTHER high level watcher research through that whole time, but ultimately he's an excellent watcher and a terrible student, at least under traditional methods. adhd from here to the fucking moon. touched by something akin to divine inspiration in moments of high tension that pulls all the threads into one coherent unbreakable cord, a bit of a frayed mess in most other settings. in our world he'd be dropping out of a masters program at the very last hurdle in this moment maker bless and protect him)

[good-beans]

Goodnight wonderful people who live in my phone!!!