#poetic pastel press

[minorlyatfault]

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 ! j. todd x f!reader

𝒮yponsis: after a rough(er than usual) night, jason peter todd seeks comfort in your arms.

𝒲arnings: ooc jason todd (?) grammatical errors (?) (my poor attempt at being poetic & my writing while half asleep.)

𝒩ote: reader is slightly(too) girly(im sorry), reader has a bunny named mr. bugs bunny. the pastel color of reader's bed was not specified, so you decide which shade of pastel reader 's bed is.

jason's already spent by the time he opens your apartment door. his body is lead, bruised, scraped, & he has no idea what the hell else he beat himself up over tonight. his leather jacket weighs him down more than it should, his boots drag along the floor, & all he wants to do is collapse into something soft and forget the world exists.

& that's just what he does.

&, for some reason, the moment he catches sight of you curled up in bed, wrapped in your cocoon of pastel blankets & surrounded by stuffed animals, something about him just… melts.

your(that is now 'ours') room is ridiculously cute. like, embarrassingly so. fairy lights dangle in the walls. everything is surrounded in this gorgeous warm pink light. there is a bookshelf full of novels, tiny knick-knacks, & far too many candles. scattered around on the floor, there are pastel pillows, &, of course, mr. bugs bunny—the oldest stuffed rabbit there is, right next to jason, chilling away.

it was nothing like anything jason had known. nothing he was familiar with. nothing he's used to.

he would feel out of place in your room—big, scarred, forever covered in blood & gunpowder. but somehow it doesn't. it couldn't.

it just feels like home.

he exhales, running his hand through his hair before shedding his jacket, letting it flop over the back of the chair. his boots land on the floor with a thud; he rubs a tired hand down his face. normally he would try to shake off the weight of the night before getting into bed. and normally, he'd have to take a shower. he refuses to be close to you by the end of the day, & he, having the scent of smoke.

but tonight he just doesn't have it in him.

the mattress dips as he climbs in beside you, & you stir, blinking up at him sleepily.

"jay?"

your voice is groggy, soft, & he feels his chest tighten just hearing it. you barely open your eyes, just enough to see him, & instead of saying anything, you just lift the blanket in silent invitation. an invitation for him to get closer.

& jason doesn't think twice.

he slides under the covers, the blanket's & your(mostly yours)warmth immediately surrounding him, & instead of pulling you to him like usual, he does something he rarely does—he rests his head on your chest.

usually, it's you who rests on his chest, as it makes him feel like he's protecting you, even when unconscious. it allows you to feel vulnerable while he guards you (in the most non-sexist way, this man KNOWS not to underestimate a woman).

but this time, he lets himself be the one who is protected, the one who is vulnerable. & you never felt prouder than when he does this, trusting you—not that he already doesn't—to witness a side of him where it's him who is asking for protection.

it's quiet for a moment. the only sound is your heartbeat, steady & slow beneath his ear.

& holy hell, jason almost melts on the spot as your arms wrap around him, fingers threading into his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp.

it's ridiculous how good this feels.

"you okay?" you murmur sleepily.

jason just hums, nuzzling further into you, like he can bury himself in your warmth & stay there forever.

your fingers continue tracing lines through his hair, slow and gentle, & every once in a while, you press a soft kiss to the top of his head. he shudders a shaky breath, some of the tension in his muscles; disburden.

rough nights are normal for him. he's used to them. but this? this—you, your warmth, your heartbeat steady against his ear—this is not normal. it's… something else. something better. and gods, he loves it.

"bad night?" you ask after a while.

jason sighs against your skin. "something like that."

you hum softly, rubbing slow circles into his back. "wanna talk about it?"

"not really."

you nod, "fine." you don't push, don't ask for details. you just keep holding him, keep running your fingers through his hair, & somehow, that's better than anything else you could say.

& jason?

jason lets himself sink into it.

because he doesn't get this often. he doesn't do this often. letting someone hold him, letting himself be held—it makes him feel vulnerable in a way that still freaks him out. but right now, he just doesn't care.

right now, he just wants you.

& you want him to realize that he can experience this as much as he wants. you will make him realize that he's always welcome.

"you know," you murmur, voice teasing now, "for someone so big & "scary", you make a pretty good teddy bear."

jason groans, tucking his face further into your chest. "don't start."

you laugh, & he can feel your laugh vibrate beneath his cheek.

"just saying," you say, your fingers brushing through his hair again. "the red hood, gotham's biggest badass, currently snuggled up in a pastel colored bed, cuddling a stuffed rabbit—"

"i am not cuddling the damn rabbit."

you tilt your head a little, gazing down at him with a smug little grin. "jay. you literally are."

jason scowls, shifting slightly, &—goddammit. sure enough, mr. bugs bunny is half-squished beneath his arm. he glares at it like it personally offended him.

you snicker. "guess that makes him your new best friend."

jason lets out the heaviest sigh of his life. "i hate this."

"you love this."

"no."

"you love me," you sing-song, dragging your fingers through his hair again, making him shiver.

jason groans dramatically. "yeah, yeah. that, i do."

you giggle, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. "then you’re just gonna have to accept the fact that you & mr. bugs bunny are besties now."

jason huffs, but instead of responding, he just pulls you even closer, tucking his face into your neck.

you smile & wrap your arms tighter around him.

& then neither of you say anything.

gotham is cold & dark & loud. so dull. with so many bloodshed. so many crime. but in this ridiculously pastel bed, in the fairy lights & pastel blankets, all pressed against the one person that makes him feel like he has a place—everything's warm.

everything's quiet.

he is safe. you are safe.

& jason, for once in his goddamn life—

lets himself rest. in the arms of the woman he cherishes.

call it what you want, but at long last, the knight who has silently stood watch over his beloved princess falls onto his sword, surrendering himself into the softness of sleep. he allows her warmth to be the one protecting him. trusting her to guard him as well. & she, his guardian, holds him with such care, in safety, & one day, the norm will be reversed.

© minorlyatfault

[hyunjincanraptoo]

Limited edition- H.HJ

This is my present to beautiful @jehhskz. Happy birthday, Je!!! I hope you have a happy day, full of love and joy and surrounded by the most wonderful things. I wish you a lot of health, success and many more years of life. I truly love yapping about skz with you. Lova ya 🎂😚💜

Word count: 1.4k

No warnings

Alexa, play Apocalypse by Cigarettes After Sex

Hyunjin comes back from Japan the night before your birthday, tossing his suitcase aside like it means nothing compared to seeing you again.

“I brought you something”, he says, pulling a small gift bag from his hoodie pocket with a dramatic little wink, “Happy early birthday, baby”. 

You peer inside to find six delicate tubes of lip balm in soft pastel colors, each labeled in delicate Japanese script. 

You arch a brow, “You got me… lip balm?”

“I got you flavored lip balm”, he says proudly,  “Limited edition. Special just like you”.

You laugh, touched and amused at the same time, “Are you calling me dry lipped?”

“I’m calling you kissable”, he teases, and then adds with a wink, “And  now conveniently flavored”.

You scoff, but you’re already unscrewing the cap of the first one. 

Hyunjin settles beside you on the couch, impossibly close, “Let’s test them. You want me to tell you how they taste?”

 “No”, he says, lips curving into mischief,  “I want you to put them on… and I will tell you”

You roll your eyes, but your pulse jumps a little, “Fine”

You apply the first one— a soft pink shade tube labeled Peach Mochi. And then, you press your finger lightly to your lips, brushing it against his bottom lip. He flinches slightly, caught off guard.

“That’s cheating”,  he says pouting,  “I need the real thing”.

You look at him, “Then come and get it”.

His lips brush yours before you can say anything else. Soft and careful at first— just testing. Then deeper and slower, his thumb grazing your jaw as he pulls you closer.

When he pulls back, he licks his lips and exhales a little laugh, “Tastes like sunshine”, he murmurs. “Like… waking up to you in the morning. When you are bare faced and your hair is a bird nest. It’s warm. Soft. The kind of kiss that makes me want to stay in bed forever”

Your chest tightens just a little. He is always so… poetic, breathtaking.

You reach for the next one— something pale lavender named Lavender Milk. You apply it carefully this time, but before you can lift your hand to his lips again, he catches your wrist.

“No hands”, he says, “Only lips”.

You lean in, and he meets you halfway. This kiss is gentler this time. You feel his hand settle on your hip, squeezing it a little. He doesn’t speak at first, just keeps the tip of his nose pressed to yours, breathing you in. 

“That one feels like kissing you when you’re sad”, he says quietly, “Like I’d do anything to calm you down. Just the two of us, in a quiet room with your head on my chest. Safe”.

You feel your throat go dry, “You’re too good at this.”

He just smiles and nudges the third tube toward you— a coral rose labeled Strawberry Stardust. You swipe it on, and this time, you don’t even wait. You pull him in and press your lips to his. He kisses you back eagerly, mouth parting just enough to catch your lower lip.

When he pulls back, he’s grinning, “That one? That’s the kind of kiss we share when we’re laughing too hard to breathe”, he says. “Like kissing you in the kitchen while we’re cooking, or in the rain because we missed the umbrella. It’s… bold, electric”.

You can’t stop the blush that blooms on your cheeks as his words hit your ears.

The next one is darker, a deep red— Black Cherry. You twist off the cap and swipe it on slowly, already dizzy from the attention in his eyes. When your lips touch this time, there’s no teasing. Just heat. The kiss is deeper. His hand slides up to the back of your neck, keeping you closer.

“That…”, he breathes against your lips, “Tastes like kissing you when I miss you so bad it hurts. Like late nights, long distance phone calls, and me thinking about you until I fall asleep. The desperation of not having you for a long time”.

He kisses you again, proving what he just said.

You don’t even realize your fingers are shaking when you reach for the next balm— a cool baby blue named Vanilla Frosting. You try to act unbothered after the last one, but he sees through it. He’s already leaning in before you can think twice. 

This kiss is cool at first, then warm. The contrast of the icy balm melting into something slow and smooth. He holds your face in both hands this time.

“It’s soft”, he says after, his voice husky. “Melts before you even notice it. Like kissing you in the middle of something chaotic and somehow, you’re the only calm part. Like the first time we kissed. When I wasn’t sure if I should. When I was terrified and nervous and falling all at once. But your kiss calmed me down. It reassured me that I was in the right place, at the right time— with the right person”.

Your lips part, your eyes fill with water. He kisses you again. You sigh into him, eyes closing gently. But there’s one balm left— Velvet Honey, wrapped in a light yellow tube.

The moment you both touch lips, Hyunjin’s whole face softens. He tugs you into his lap like you’re delicate, like you’d break at any time. Like he has all the time in the world to taste you.

"This one’s cozy” he whispers, “Like kissing when we’re wrapped in blankets and half asleep. Like the tenderness between dreaming and waking. A sweet, lazy, forever kind of love.”

He leans his forehead against yours to rest but you take his lips on your— soft and unflavored this time.

“Which one was your favorite?”, you whisper. 

He laughs against your skin, “None of them”.

 You blink, “What?” 

“They were all missing one thing”, he tilts your chin up, “You. Just you. No flavor, no gloss. Just your taste”.

And when he kisses you again— bare lips on bare lips— you finally understand what he meant. 

After the last kiss, Hyunjin doesn’t pull away. He stays close, as his thumb runs absently across your cheekbone, like he’s memorizing you all over again.

Then he murmurs, almost too low to hear, “You figured it out yet, baby?”

Your brows furrow, “Figured what out?”

He shifts just enough to look at you fully. “They weren’t just birthday gifts”, he says. “They were kind of my way of saying I missed you”.

You tilt your head lightly.

“I didn’t know how to say it in a way that could hold all the weight of what I felt inside”, he continues, eyes dropping for a second. “You know how tour stuff always ends up swallowing me whole. But after spending the whole day smiling for cameras and talking in interviews, every night I’d be in a hotel room thinking about you. And the kisses and cuddles I wasn’t getting”

You glance down at the lip balms again:

Peach Mochi: for the sleepy mornings.

Lavender Milk: for when you cry and he holds you.

Strawberry Stardust:  for the reckless moments.

Black Cherry: for the ache of distance.

Vanilla Frosting: for being each other’s safe place.

Velvet Honey: for the homecoming.

Your throat tightens with a sudden wave of emotion. “They’re all my favorite”, you say, “Because they’re all about us”.

You lean forward and kiss him again. But not for a taste test, not for fun, just because you have to. Because the kind of love you share builds up in your chest until it spills out.

He kisses you back with a hum and pulls you, guiding you gently until you’re curled up against him on the couch with your legs tangled and your cheek resting over his heart.

And in that silence, you feel it— the truth of all the little things he couldn’t say but showed. “I missed you too”, you whisper, fingers gently tracing circles against his waistline, “So much”. 

He presses his lips to the crown of your head.“Then let me stay like this. As long as you’ll let me. I don’t need anything else. Just home… just you”.

You hum against his chest, barely awake now, the soft sweetness of his lips still lingering on yours. You fall asleep like that, wrapped in the quiet kind of love— the one that doesn’t need big gestures or loud words, just a few flavored kisses and the boy who, by coming home from tour, brought your sense of home back to you.

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Taglist: @hyyunjinnn, @jehhskz, @mbioooo0000, @nightmarenyxx, @rozsdascsaptelep, @thatonegirlonhere

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[hismourningflower]

「 50 ways to say goodbye | kiss (don't tell!) event 」 lyney & thoma x gn!reader | fluff, established relationships | event entry. ↳ hey @meidnightrain lovey !! i'm your secret admirer this year !! i originally planned to do way more characters but i'm limiting myself to two per post so i don't get overwhelmed. you're an absolute pleasure to know and i hope 2024 treats you so well !!

the jade's guidelines | genshin masterlist | kiss (don't tell!) masterlist

LYNEY never likes to say goodbye. it's his least favourite time of his day, whether it be the morning when he presses a chaste kiss to your sleepy face before he leaves for his day of work; magician or fatuus, or whether it be the evening when you promised to help your friend clean up work at the palais mermonia, ushering you out of the door to a location you know will be burying you in the smell of musty paperwork and potential papercuts that linger on your skin.

whatever his day entails he wishes that it would include you by his side permanently. it continues this way routinely, lithe fingers knit together with yours in a reluctance to ever let you go - unashamedly, it was a habit he wouldn't even swallow down in front of his siblings. lynette and freminet can only sigh after all, who would want to part their brother from his key to happiness?

he likes his habits, his routines; the one in particular he'll never get rid of is those beautiful rainbow roses he can conjure up before your very own eyes, amazed and dazzling as they drink in the pastel colours of every flower he holds before you in his gloved hands. in return, you'd taken to dry pressing every single faithful flower in an act of love. the day that lyney had found out, he'd pressed a kiss to your cheek and emphasised that you could use all the dried petals on your wedding day.

his siblings have to take a moment to cringe at their brother’s antics but they know fully well they’ll never be able to pry him from you. he gets too anxious without you at his side, even if he knows exactly where you are, he can’t shake off that mild separation anxiety that stems from his past, from his job that he holds as a secret like a guillotine over his head.

he hates goodbyes but no matter what, your cheerful smile when he appears within your line of sight again reminds him exactly why he keeps pushing through his day so that he can return you and the home you provide for him - the thing he’s always wanted in his life.

THOMA is a busy man! you knew that when you'd fell head over heels for the tall ginger male, his arms full of heavy wooden boxes as he moved something for the young master of the kamisato clan. he was a diligent worker and never failed to smile whenever the opportunity arose - what wasn't there to fall in love with? but as a minorly recognised workaholic, thoma is rarely able spend a day without uttering goodbye to you.

but before he leaves out the front door, his steps gentle and his hands never slamming it shut behind him, he makes food. whether he's cooked up breakfast to leave on your nightstand for when you finally wake up completely or he wrapped up leftovers from his own lunch - he'd never admit it but he always makes too much of his lunch specifically for you. of course, you'd never admit to him either about how a smile etches onto your face when you spot the food he leaves for you, even as you scold him for the actions you know he'll never stop.

next to the steaming plate of food, there'll always be a slightly crumpled piece of paper, his familiar scrawl scattered on the lines in the forms of i love yous, instructions for keeping warm and another recipe he'd had tucked up his sleeve. for the well-known fixer of inazuma and the housekeeper of the kamisato estate, he's oddly poetic with his words, with every word written with the utmost of love.

no matter how much you scold him lightly, pressing light kisses to his calloused skin, he'll never change his ways. in between all the rushing around and working off his feet, you're the calm in a storm for thoma. he comes home knowing that he has your warmth curled up on a cough in front of a fireplace, a crocheted blanket draped over your legs as you wait for him. there's dinner boiling in the kitchen, the scents of mixed spices and numerous other ingredients making the house smell more homely than usual.

goodbyes are difficult and lingering but he knows that at the end of the day, he gets to wrap his arms around you once more and finally relax.

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

© thexianzhoujade 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

[jaxteller87]

Mirror

A few days after my meltdown, I stepped into the bedroom and stopped dead in my tracks like a confused deer staring down headlights.

The full-length mirror from our bathroom now stood against the far wall, angled just enough to catch the pastel glow of the bedside lamp.

I folded my arms. “Are we gonna have sex in front of this thing again?” I asked, arching a brow at Jax.

He smirked, eyes twinkling with something that told me he was up to no good. “No,” he said simply, a smug little smile playing on his lips.

‘Yeah, right.’

The last time we pulled the mirror into the bedroom, I thought it’d be fun. And it was— until Jax started whispering all that sweet, poetic bullshit about how beautiful I was, making me self-conscious as hell. I’d shut him up the only way I knew how— by flipping the script, turning him to face the glass instead, and making him watch as I took control. That had wiped the grin off his face real quick.

I shook my head, amused but suspicious. “So, if we’re not about to have sex in front of it… what’s the deal?”

Jax just grinned, that lazy, easy confidence of his making me more curious.

That night, after my shower, I went back into the bedroom wearing just my underwear— because that’s all he’d left out for me. No nightshirt. No oversized hoodie to hide in. Just the bare minimum.

Jax was in the middle of placing those fake LED candles around the room, shirtless, just in his boxers. His golden hair was damp from his own shower, a few strands curling at the ends. He turned to me with that damn smile again, the one that made it impossible to stay suspicious of him.

“What are you up to, babe?”

“Come sit with me,” he said, patting the floor in front of the mirror.

I hesitated. “If this is some kind of Jedi mind trick to get me naked, I swear—”

“Just sit that beautiful ass down,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

I half-expected him to smack my ass as I lowered myself onto the floor in front of him, but he didn’t. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me from behind, pulling me back against his chest. His warmth, his scent, the steady rhythm of his breathing— it was all so familiar, so safe.

“What do you see?” he asked, nodding toward the mirror.

I sighed, already knowing where this was going.

“Jax, come on,” I muttered, shaking my head.

“Humor me.”

I glanced at my reflection and forced myself to really look.

“I see… me,” I said flatly. “Ugly. And even uglier after these last two surgeries.”

Jax clicked his tongue disapprovingly. “You know what I see?”

I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess— perfection?”

“Nah. Perfection is boring. He leaves no room for growth or experiences to mold someone into what they want or were meant to be.” He smirked, pressing a playful kiss to my shoulder. “But what I DO see are two lips that I love kissing every damn day.”

He turned my face slightly, kissing me gently before whispering, “And I love everything that comes out of that mouth.”

“Well, remember that next time I give you a honey-do list,” I teased, kissing his forehead.

He chuckled, his hands drifting lower, fingers tracing my sides. “I see two beautiful breasts…” He squeezed them lightly, making me gasp. “The perfect pillows. Best place for a nap.”

I covered my mouth to hide my giggles. I really loved this man.

“I love you, Papa,” I whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

Jax’s hands drifted lower, palms smoothing over my stomach. I stiffened slightly— this was the part of me I hated the most. The part of me that wore the most scars.

“And this beautiful belly…” his voice softened. “Where do I even start?”

I swallowed hard, watching his fingers trace the marks that mapped my body.

“These scars show me where to touch, where to kiss… and more importantly, where to nibble,” he whispered against my neck.

I shivered. He was right. There were certain places— certain marks— that made me unravel with just the right touch.

“Amber, you’re beautiful. I wish you could see what I see.”

I blinked rapidly as my vision blurred.

Jax noticed immediately. “No, no, don’t cry. That wasn’t the plan.”

“Jax…” My voice wavered. “I wish I could see what you see. But my brain doesn’t work that way.”

“Hey, come here.” He turned me in his lap, pulling me close.

I buried my face in his neck, inhaling him, grounding myself in him. “Sorry for ruining the moment.”

“You didn’t ruin anything,” he murmured, his lips pressing against my temple. “But I almost forgot one.”

He turned us back toward the mirror and brushed my hair aside, fingertips ghosting over the long scar that ran down my back. “This one’s my favorite,” he said simply.

I let out a shaky breath.

“I love you, my angel,” he whispered.

We lay back together, Jax on his back, me sprawled across his chest. For a while, we just breathed in the quiet.

Then, finally, I spoke.

“A few weeks ago, when you asked if I was okay… I was. But then I put that dress on, and when I saw my scar in the mirror…” I hesitated. My trembling voice was barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t.”

Jax sighed, running his fingers through my hair. “I believe you.”

I knew he had a lot going on inside that beautiful head of his, but at times, it was comforting to know that he could stow it all away and help me deal with my own demons. 

I closed my eyes, letting his heartbeat lull me into calm. I didn’t believe in magic, but the way Jax saw me… the way he loved me… it was the closest thing to it.

[hummingbird24220]

Chapter Forty-One: “I’m Not In Love With You People, You’re Just Convenient”

You awoke from your not-quite-nap to the distant sounds of Luffy yelling, Usopp cackling, and Sanji humming something vaguely romantic under his breath while prepping dinner.

You cracked one eye open to see Zoro nearby on the deck, leaning against a post with his arms crossed and head tilted back, catching sun like a damn shirtless statue carved by stubborn demons and bad decisions.

Unfortunately, he noticed you looking. "Nap time’s over, huh?"

"Technically, I didn't even get a nap," you muttered, stretching. "Just layered harassment disguised as affection."

"You’re on the wrong ship if you think that’s gonna change."

You groaned. "Don’t remind me."

Sanji appeared out of nowhere with a fresh drink, pressing it into your hand. “Here, mon amour, to cool your temper and soothe your golden heart.”

You blinked up at him. “Why are you this poetic about juice?”

He placed a hand to his chest. “Because you deserve poetry.”

Zoro gagged in the background. “Drink the damn juice and move on.”

Nami strolled by, glancing at you with her usual smirk. “So, did you finally decide which of these idiots you’re dating or what?”

You sat up immediately, nearly spilling your drink. "I AM NOT DATING ANYONE."

Chopper poked his head up from behind a crate. “But if you were…?”

“NO!”

Robin, appearing like some elegant ghost with perfect timing, sipped her tea and added, “You do seem… emotionally entangled.”

You stood up like a scandalized noblewoman. “I am not emotionally entangled! I am emotionally inconvenienced!”

Sanji looked personally wounded. “I thought what we had was special…”

Zoro shrugged. “Kinda tracks.”

Luffy dropped from the crow’s nest with a grin. “I think you love us!”

You pointed dramatically at all of them. “I’m not in love with you people, you’re just convenient!”

The deck went silent.

Zoro raised a brow.

 Sanji blinked slowly.

Robin’s smile widened.

Luffy gasped.

Nami coughed to stifle a laugh.

Chopper looked like he just discovered a new species

Franky sloooooowly raised his arms in his signature pose.

Usopp popped out from a barrel and yelled, “THAT’S SOMETHING A TSUNDERE WOULD SAY!”

You froze.

“…No further questions.”

You sat down. Slowly. Carefully. As if nothing had happened.

Zoro let out a single, smug laugh. “Convenient, huh?”

Sanji looked ready to throw roses. “Then let me be your most convenient man.”

You buried your face in your hands. “I should’ve joined a different pirate crew.”

Luffy threw an arm around your shoulders. “Too late! You’re stuck with us!”

“Unfortunately.”

"Forever!"

You groaned. But you didn’t pull away.

Not even a little.

The Sunny had docked on a quiet island with rolling hills, pastel-painted buildings, and the kind of peaceful breeze that implied trouble was on vacation today.

It was weird. Too quiet. Naturally, you were suspicious.

Sanji, however, was in paradise, having already been invited by local aunties to cook in their festival kitchens. Zoro had wandered off to find the highest roof to nap on. Luffy was already halfway through someone’s fruit stand.

You were just walking along the sunny path, minding your business—until the kids found you.

A soccer ball rolled to your feet, and the moment you stopped it with your boot, ten kids materialized out of nowhere like a summoning circle had been completed.

“Whoa! You’re strong! Wanna play with us?!” “Are you a pirate?!” “Can you throw someone through a house?!” “Can you throw ME through a house?!”

You blinked. "…Okay, first of all, I only throw consenting adults through buildings."

One of the kids immediately shouted, “I CONSENT!”

You turned around to leave. "I am not going to jail for you tiny people."

But they had latched onto you, dragging you toward the playground with the strength of a thousand gremlins.

Somehow, in the next hour:

You were playing tag and were definitely not going easy on them.

You carried three of them at once like a living jungle gym.

You let one of them “defeat” you by climbing your back and declaring himself "King of the Tank."

They painted your cheeks with chalk and daisy petals like it was some sacred pirate ritual.

You had no idea where Zoro and Sanji were.

Until—

“Oi. You look ridiculous.”

You turned around to see Zoro standing nearby, arms crossed, mouth twitching like he was trying very hard not to laugh.

You glared. “Say one word about this and I will launch you into the sun.”

One of the kids tugged on Zoro’s pants. “Are you her boyfriend?!”

You choked on your own spit. Zoro blinked, then gave you a slow, evil smirk. “…Convenient, right?”

You hurled a chalk-covered rock at him.

Sanji showed up half an hour later with pastries in hand and the look of a man who had been kissed by kitchen gods.

“Oh, mon cœur, what is this—” Then he saw your face.

Eyes wide. Jaw slack.

He dropped the tray. “Are those flowers in your HAIR?!”

"Don’t say anything," you growled, still covered in chalk, a toddler clinging to your arm.

Sanji fell to his knees in front of you. “You are… the most adorable creature I’ve ever seen…”

You deadpan blinked. “Sanji. I will punt you into orbit.”

“I’d thank you.”

Zoro, now leaning on a post nearby, muttered, “Tch. She’s got fan clubs in every age group now.”

You threw your arms up, nearly launching a child in the process. “I didn’t ask for this!”

The kids, meanwhile, were fully invested in your pirate drama. One whispered, “This is better than comics.”

Eventually, the kids left with waves and hugs and sticky fingers. You sat back on a bench, completely wiped, daisy petals still in your hair.

Zoro sat next to you, one arm slung over the back of the bench. Sanji sat on your other side, quietly handing you a drink.

And for once, neither of them was trying to win. They were just… there.

You took a slow sip. “Y’know… you two might actually be my best friends.”

Zoro grunted. “Obviously.”

Sanji smiled softly. “Took you long enough to say it.”

You rolled your eyes, hiding the little smirk tugging at your lips. “Shut up, both of you.”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Tease Tidbit Tuesday

HI I'M EXCITED TODAY.

Okay. So. THANK YOU T @jeeyuns for the tag <3 Here is my first ever snippet from my upcoming Maddie and Eddie get stuck in an elevator before the Madney wedding fic, Why Not Take All of Me?

---

“You look good in that color,” Buck says, ill-advisedly, after a few beers, when everyone is ordering dessert. 

Eddie is in a soft, lavender button-up, not a color Buck thinks he’s ever seen him wear before. It could almost be blue in the wrong lighting, but not quite. If Buck was the kind of guy to wax poetic about the beautiful people he is absolutely not supposed to harbor secret love for, he might say that the color makes Eddie look like the point where the sea touches the sky in the horizon, glowing and pastel and warm enough to melt into. But, Buck totally isn’t that kind of guy. 

Eddie, beer glass pressed to his lips, jolts a little, startled by the compliment. His eyes widen and he looks down at his shirt. The material looks so soft. Buck just kind of wants to run his hands over it. Appropriately. For sure. 

“Uh, thanks,” he says, after swallowing the beer in his mouth. “It’s new.”

“I like it,” Buck says again, because apparently his inhibitions are fried.

Eddie smiles a little crooked. “Well, you’re looking alright yourself, there, Maid of Honor.”

Buck chuckles. Over his shirt, he has been adorned - thank you, Albert - in a bright pink Maid of Honor sash. Like it’s a twenty-something’s bachelorette party. But Maddie seemed to think it was hilarious so he hasn’t taken it off. 

“Hey, I know pink is my color,” Buck winks.

---

No pressure tagging @pantsaretherealheroes @aroeddiediaz @fionaswhvre @jamespearce9-1-1 @theotherbuckley

[lord-aldhelm]

WIP Wednesday

Another week, another tag game! Please share your last sentence; or, if you don’t have one, share a plot bunny or idea! (OR sketch for your artwork!)

No one tagged me this time! I am taking the lead lol!

This is from my S2 Aldflaed fic (still not titled yet lol), which is turning out to be a prequel for Springtime it seems:

It was very early dawn when the Devonshire fyrd returned to their camp. The sun had not yet risen, but the sky had turned a lighter shade of blue, and the horizon to the east glowed with a pale golden light.  The noise of the approaching men and horses in the distance startled Aethelflaed into wakefulness. The first thing she saw upon awakening was Aldhelm’s stoic face only a few inches from her own. He had apparently fallen asleep while guarding her sometime in the night. His bright green eyes met her icy blue ones for a brief moment before she was fully awake and aware of her surroundings. She tensed; she could feel the weight of his hand on her upper arm as he held her in place while she slept. She moved to back away but her movement was blocked by the log that was pressed against her back. She felt trapped, and started to reflexively panic when Aldhelm spoke.

And for the WIP for artworks; here are the rough sketches for the TLK fanarts I am currently working on:

Aldhelm will be in pastels, Constanine and Skade in colored pencils. I am also working on a cat drawing in pastels, and a cicada painting in acrylics, but didn't want to post these here.

No Pressure Tags:

@daethelflaed @gemini-mama @sihtricfedaraaahvicius @thenameswinter99 @whitedarkmoonflower

@poetic-fiasco @itbmojojoejo @garunsdottir @timetravelingpenguin1066 @thelettersfromnoone

@arcielee @st-eve-barnes @foxyanon @alexagirlie @holy3cake

[wordarttmn]

Omori observations 5

Pau

I kinda wish Berly was actually getting into battles with us, during the ball quest

it’s pretty weird how she just disappears while there

Artics

Still figuring out the controls (especially wrt follow-ups, the directions aren’t always intuitive)

Good thing i know where the ball is because not being able to explore would have been annoying

I really want to talk about the color palette. Everything that’s "ground" or "sand" or "wood" is heliotrope pink of all colors. And the green is light emerald. i’m using stabilo color names because those were the pens i had growing up, and from the moment i got my first box of pens at age 6, those two colors stood out to me. They looked a bit odd, like they didn’t belong. (as a result i used them a lot at the beginning, and had to replace these pens early) They were also rare colors at the time, i wouldn’t have had them in anything less than the 40-color box, and stabilo wasn’t using them for anything until at least 2017 and the pastel colors trend thingy.

Also i focus on that because that surprised me. I was trying to draw stuff from Omori and couldn’t find the right colors until i landed on these in march (the last ones i would have think of). Because i was interpreting the pink sand as "yellow" or at least orangeish, and the trees as a more natural green. Because real world experience of colors twists our brains like that.

In addition what also stands out is that headspace doesn’t use the color black at all. Lines and anything that should be black is either purple or dark blue. This is also something i did at 6 (partly because the black was on the pen box’s lower level and took more time to get to).

This makes Omori stand out a lot more of course.

Ortès

Berly re-merged into Omori. Will she let us explore at least?

I haven’t been to the left of the forest because of the berly quest.

This game does this thing where it introduces very early on mechanics you can’t use until much later, to encourage you to backtrack.

Berly won’t

I don’t really care to avoid enemies because i keep one-turning these bunnies.

Pujòu

i’ll check up on Berly later i have some exploring to do

Gonna pause the game soon though because i have to switch trains

Kinda poetically i’m pausing at the fictive train station and the real one at the same time.

Forest Chillin’. Our first upbeat remix of Trees… there will be a lot of these.

Will get up soon. Just… give me a bit.

Mood.

The neverending Es of Beeeeeeeee so you never know when to stop pressing and she starts speaking again.

All bees are female so i’m making the safe bet.

Somehow i still failed

Dacs

Spending my time talking to all of those npcs because this part of the game goes much faster when you know where you are going

Note to self: try to understand Darville’s backstory if it’s possible

Another thing i’ve seen already but won’t be able to access until much later.

I wonder what happens if you meet leafie while having killed 0 bunnies

This train is much wobblier than the previous one. I wonder if i really should be using my PC here. Though it’s heating much less at least.

Level 5 finally! Learnt Bread Slice.

Wise rock. Good thing i have clams.

Well about that -

Morcencs

Back at the foggy bridge. i’ll come home through the western path.

Find myself using pass to Hero way too often because it’s the best way to do a lot of damage before those enemies get the time to do anything

Heh

i’m starting to use stab and one shotting those lost sprout moles.

You get to read Omori’s opinion on every item..

AHA! Took me a while to find it.

When Omori is hurt everything gets a little deep fried

Time to learn how to headbutt! i’m surprised the next station is still so far away. I guess that’s the moors of Gascony for you

You got a BUTT CERTIFICATE and a CONCUSSION

17%. I’ve been playing for over two hours, and my pc risks shutting down before i reach Otherworld and/or Biganòs. I’ll continue tomorrow!

[pitchdarkhook]

mun questions!!

9. when you look at a new blog, what is it that makes you press the follow button? is it the muse, the aesthetics, the writing–?

10. what genre do you most enjoy, whether in roleplay, or fiction as a whole? (fantasy, period, superhero, etc.)

munday. | accepting.

When you look at a new blog, what is it that makes you press the follow button? is it the muse, the aesthetics, the writing–?

Writing is the most important to me. If I'm following you, it means I really like your style of writing and the way you portray your characters. I have only one braincell and if I cannot understand your writing then I won't follow. My bar is pretty low on this and I understand to some degree of poetic references and prose? But if I read a paragraph and it's full of words that are like pulled out from a thesaurus or something. Less is sometimes more. If I don't understand what you're putting out, I don't really think I can write with you.

Also, like... aesthetics. And I think we all already know this. If I can't see shit, I'm not interacting. It's simple as that. Especially with colours. Like please.... please for the love of all things good and holy and asscheeks, look at ur colour contrasts. Pastel on pastel? what the fuck. Bright on bright?? what the fuck. please, i didn't get on this site to lose my eyeballs.........

what genre do you most enjoy, whether in roleplay, or fiction as a whole? (fantasy, period, superhero, etc.)

Answering with a different genre because I like doing these >:) I love writing fantasy. Whether its dark, gothic or something like magic realism? I love them all. Magic realism is fun though, because real world + other elements coming into play proves for a lot of creativity. And I love that!

[your-own-worst-enemy]

pink satin, lace gloves, pearl earrings, handwritten love letters, pressed flowers, ballet slippers, antique mirrors, ribbon-tied journals, delicate teacups, warm candlelight, soft piano melodies, silk robes, dried roses, velvet chaise lounges, faded postcards, ivory stationery, golden lockets, perfumed envelopes, starry balconies, whispered secrets, embroidered handkerchiefs, floral wallpaper, braided hair, love-worn books, sugar-dusted pastries, ornate picture frames, celestial maps, heart-shaped lockets, vintage perfume bottles, lace-trimmed dresses, warm blush tones, gentle rain against windows, tulle skirts, honeyed whispers, fairytale endings, dainty china plates, corset laces, golden hour light, enchanted gardens, feather quills, delicate calligraphy, pastel macarons, slow waltzes, soft-focus memories, flickering chandeliers, moonlit picnics, silk ribbons, antique lace, wisteria vines, fluttering curtains, glass slippers, gilded edges, poetic confessions, watercolor sunsets, dreamy silhouettes, rosy cheeks, faded love notes, soft-spoken poetry, butterfly kisses, carousel rides, vintage music boxes, cascading ruffles, warm vanilla, cloud-like duvets, a lover’s touch, midnight serenades, lilac skies, perfumed wrist kisses, timeless romance.

[johanna-tagada]

Meeting October 17th - November 8th 2020 Solo exhibition at Pon Ding in Taipei, Taiwan. Click here for more info & here for further images. Selected publications and pieces by Poetic Pastel Press available on the occasion. For all inquiries in relation to artworks please contact Pon Ding.

[poeticpastelpress]

[lvdbbooks]

2019年8月1日

【新入荷・新本】

Journal du Thé - Contemporary Tea Culture Chapter 2, Poetic Pastel Press, 2019

Colour. 112 pages. English texts. Advertising free. Format 21 x 28 cm. FSC certified paper. Soft cover / Glue biding. Printed in Germany, Spring 2019.

価格：3,456円（税込み）

/

アーティストのジョアンナ・タガダとグラフィックデザイナーのティルマン・S・ウェンデルシュタインが共同で出版、「現代の茶文化」を探求する雑誌『Journal du Thé（ジャーナル・デュ ・テ）』第2号。塩川いづみやSHOKKIら日本のアーティストも多数掲載されています。

「わたしたちにとって、お茶とは、人びとの連帯や団欒を象徴するものです（For us, tea is a symbol of togetherness.）」

/

Journal du Thé (JdT) invites the reader to explore contemporary tea culture. Created and edited by Johanna Tagada and Tilmann S. Wendelstein in 2018, Journal du Théwonders what is it that makes tea into this force which lets us slow down and grants serene moments to our lives. It is said, that what makes a teapot a teapot is the empty space inside. Likewise this publication sets out to explore space – in this case the space surrounding a cup of tea. With a curious and playful eye, Journal du Théinvestigates the palette of cultures and feelings contained within tea practices and their power to overcome borders. For us, tea is a symbol of togetherness.

Water and the quality of transparency are recurring themes in this new chapter.

Chapter 2 features Takashi Homma, Yuy Tezuka, Tezuka Architects, Godai Sahara, Ichikawa San, My Cup of Tea London, SHOKKI, a Vietnamese tea house in rural France, Jochen Hotz, an essay on water and Japanese tea gardens, Leaves & Flowers, Mimi Jung, organic tea plantations of Ukiha, Nieves, Johanna Tagada, a diary of tea in Honk Kong, Momoko Mizutani, a conversation between Cécile Daladier and Nicolas Soulier, Seoyoon Kim, a special piece on botanical composition, Audrey Fondecave, an intimate journal of tea in Morocco, Olivia Fiddes, a manga, Kadish Morris, an essay on a feminist arts journal, tea and sound, David Edren, Jatinder Singh Durhailay and Simon Gooch.

With contributions by Takeshi Hayatsu, Tamsin Clark, Jatinder Singh Durhailay, Izumi Shiokawa, Yashima Ide, Henriette Noermark , Cécile Daladier, Nicolas Soulier, Sarah Gissinger, Eléonore Grignon, Yukari Tanihara, Akihiro Kumagaya, Tilmann S. Wendelstein and Johanna Tagada.

Designed by Studio 75W and published by Poetic Pastel Press.

https://www.journalduthe.net/

[fairlyabookie]

Song in Moonlight (Chapter 4)

Synopsis: A haunting voice fills the air with sultry lyrics, a playful piano accompanying the act. Beautiful and flawless can describe the act, yet this isn't enough, thought the singer, as all eyes train on him and his beautiful self.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Part 4

“Did you hear? The Queen of Singing is taking a break!” 

“A break? That’s quite uncharacteristic coming from Vil Schonheit himself! He must be working on something big! A grand performance, perhaps!” 

“Enough with that! He has been singing for years! Maybe this is a call for his retirement.” 

“Vil Scheonheit retiring, out of people!” 

Rumors and whispers bubble from their lips, speculations of the star’s wellbeing the gossip of the town. Wild exaggerations in the form of a lover’s scandal or a mistress’ betrayal came forth, replacing the mundane truth with flavorful mistruths. Such people don’t understand the truth, no less understand that their speculations are nothing else but fodders for their conversations. 

Upon the solace of his home, Vil Schoenheit lounges in the comfort of his sunroom, drafts upon drafts of songs littered on a coffee table by his right, a cup of warm chamomile steaming by his left. His violet eyes scan a sun kissed floral garden, with blooms forming a palette of pastels and bright hues. 

“Vil, your lunch.”  

A low voice rumbles from the mansion, a diligent Gilbert with a tray of freshly cooked lunch and more warm tea. 

“Thank you, Gilbert.” 

The singer bids as the butler fills a teacup to the brim and places a platter of greens and berries, slices of tofu and soybeans thinly coated with honey. 

“For dinner, you’ll be having soybean milk with a serving of hearty mushroom and kale bolognese.” 

“I see. I’ll be expecting a guest today. Please ensure their arrival and have them come to my room.” 

“Duly noted, Vil.” 

“Thank you, Gilbert.” 

The singer, left to his thoughts once more, retreats to the sea of drafts by his side. Poetic lyrics fill the pages, unfinished thoughts, sentiments Vil had yet conveyed. He spared one glance to the lyrics, but nothing came to mind. How can I make a good song now that I’m on break..? 

Anxieties plagued his mind, each worry worse than the next. I can’t do it, I can’t do it! My songs are not good enough. It must be perfect! The urge to pick up the quill and rewrite on every single draft was poignant - Vil could easily fabricate whispers of love, sorrowful operas of heartbreak, and even rhymes of yearning, but now, he was simply staring at nonsense, his quill dripping ink on paper. He urged himself to think of anything, but nothing came out - only the anxiety of not reaching his listeners’ expectations. 

“You need a break, Vil.” 

[Reader]’s advice echoes in the depths of his mind, reverberating and clear as the tolling of a bell. The singer grumbles, partaking a sip of tea to ease his troubled mind. A break is all I need. Another voice comes forth from the chaos, the calm in the midst of a storm. 

A break is all I need. 

He mumbles to himself, quelling the roaring demons of anxiety with deep breaths. The songs can wait later - a mind cleanse and some meditation would do the trick. No, I must write. 

There it was again, the voice of a workaholic and the perfectionist striving to appeal to everyone. A heavy weight pressed onto the singer’s chest, a poison blossoming at his bosom. He can’t work like this, a clamor of voices overpowering each other.    

“Vil, a guest by the name of [Reader] is here.” 

A couple raps on the door, followed by Gilbert’s baritone voice. Vil glimpses two silhouettes from the corner of his eye before partaking a sip of tea. 

“Thank you, Gilbert. Please let them in here and serve them lunch. They must be starving.” 

“Of course, Vil.” 

The butler leaves, leaving [Reader] with Vil. 

“Vil, you look terrible.” 

[Reader] murmurs, concern etching their features. The singer suppressed every urge to frown - of course, he looked terrible. He had spent just a day racking his head for new lyrics and melodies, but nothing was not working. A headache blooms between his eyes, hours and hours of thinking pounding against his skull. 

“You need not tell me, [Reader]. Please be seated. I invited you here with the intention of discussing my aesthetics when I emerge from my hiatus.” 

A quick glimpse to the scattered papers by the table was enough for [Reader]. They swallow a pang of nervousness before speaking. 

“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself..” 

“What of it, [Reader]? Is it wrong to prepare ahead of time?” 

[Reader]’s demeanor faltered, but only for a while. 

“Should you be resting than working on your projects?” 

Vil clicks his tongue, thoroughly annoyed. 

“Resting? Resting? I don’t think that’s an option, [Reader],” 

Another headache blooms between his eyes, more surging thoughts plaguing his mind. But [Reader] stood their ground with a firm tone. 

“Vil, we’ve been working together since you hired me months ago, but I know how much work you’ve invested in your songs.. I…” 

Someone has to tell him directly how hard he has been working, how he sorely needs a break from working tirelessly in the industry. It’s clear that he is burnt out. 

“Before I became your makeup artist, I was your admirer, someone who enjoyed your performances, from the way you captivated the audience with your voice and fashion, to the emotional lyrics you’ve written so skillfully. I don’t know if you’ve received genuine compliments on your work, but I do enjoy your work, Vil. But..” 

[Reader] glimpses over at Vil for any change of demeanor. Violet eyes lock on in a watchful gaze. They shyly drop their gaze, staring at the mess of papers by the coffee table. 

“A break is a break. Please give yourself, your mind, and your body a break. I’m sure a proper rest would do wonders to your creativity.” 

I’m going to get fired, am I? [Reader] had crossed the line way too many times, a bad habit when they’ve worked closely with previous employees before. [Reader] spared one more glance at the singer before letting their gaze drop to the papers. Yet, he doesn’t notice, his eyes fixated on the landscape before him. 

“I’ve been wanting to take a break..” 

He starts, allowing a sigh from his lips. 

“I keep on telling myself, ‘a break wouldn’t hurt, right?’ Yet, there is a voice that keeps telling me to keep working, to produce more songs.. ‘It’s not perfect enough,’ The voice says as I try to work on these songs. ‘More songs, more perfection. More performances, more perfection.’” 

Silence reigned as Vil attempts to recover bits of his demeanor, blinking away what appeared to be tears tinging the corners of his eyes. 

“I take a drive around, only to notice how much time I’ve wasted taking that break, and go back to work. Enjoying breaks is what I want to do, even if it means that I’m not being productive.” 

“Does this mean that you’re struggling to catch a break?” 

Vil nods. 

“How about we go out for a drive right now?” 

[Reader] suggests, letting a small smile betray their kindness. Perhaps, a start and some assurance is what Vil needed in the first place. 

Previous Part | Next Part

[n0wornever]

First Touch - Luke Patterson x Reader

Luke x reader - it’s the scene where Julie talks to Luke before the Orpheum show but instead it’s the reader planning to tell Luke how she feels before he “passes over”

(gif is not mine)

She knew she’d regret the decision as soon as she made it. 

But as she paced back in forth in my room, hands tingling, she knew that there was no way that I could see his face again that night. After Luke had lied to her face for weeks about their fate, Julie was the one who had to come into her room last night and tell her exactly what would happen. The words clung onto her chest, making it hard to breathe as they nibbled at the surface. What really hurt was the fact that the boys didn't have the guts to tell her themselves.

“So you’re telling me that they have to leave no matter what?” 

Julie nodded, placing her hand on the girl’s thigh. She could feel that there were tears already brimming in her eyes, but when she looked over to Julie’s glossy reflection, she completely lost control. 

“Why didn’t they tell me? Why did you all keep this a secret?” 

She could feel her voice raise in intensity as her mouth spat the question, causing Julie’s shoulders to tense. She grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently to soothe the aggression she just caused. This was not her fault Y/N, remember that. Julie’s shoulders fell back down as she began to to speak again.

“Luke told them not to. He said you’d be better off finding out later,” Julie’s thumb rubbed against the skin by my knee, a calming technique she’d picked up from our mother. “But I couldn’t hold it in anymore, you deserve to know.” 

I pointed her face to the ceiling, hoping that the ceiling fan above me could do its best to dry the tears flattened against the surface of my face. I had always thought that Luke had cared about me, maybe not to the level that I cared about him, but enough to be let in on his disappearing act. Luke had no reason to hide this from her. 

“Why would he want to keep this from me?” she finally asked, wiping a fresh tear from my face. “Wouldn’t he want me to say goodbye?”

Julie sighed, rocking their hands back and forth. Y/N had always told her that her silence was wide enough to draw fear from even the strongest person. It swelled with intention, and hesitation. The girl cleared her throat before repeating the question. Julie chewed on her bottom lip before finally speaking up.

“It’s complicated Y/N, you should ask him yourself.” 

Of course she’d encourage healthy conversation. She groaned as she fell onto her back on the bed below her. Julie followed suit, nestling her head in the crook of her sister’s neck, snuggling to her side. 

Now it was the night of The Orpheum show and she still hadn’t tried to find Luke throughout the week. In fact, she instead avoided rehearsals all together. Every afternoon Julie would knock on the door and ask her the same question. 

“Are you doing it today?” 

She’d shake my head, pushing my glasses back onto the bridge of her nose with a sigh. Julie would lean in the doorway with wide eyes, but Y/N would just shake my head before returning back to her notebook. As the door closed, she’d finally let herself breath evenly again.

She was writing to him. 

Two people can play this avoidance game, so she decided that she was going to stoop as low as he did and avoid confronting him in person. Instead, she hatched a plan to leave him a note in the pocket of his flannel before he left for him to read wherever he was. There was so much that she had to say, she just wanted to make sure she got it right. More importantly, she wanted to wait until the last moment so that he had to sit with it.

Yes. It was harsh, but as she sat there with boiling tears streaming down her cheeks she couldn’t just sulk with the feeling any longer. She had been the vulnerable one this whole time. Never pushing him when it came to talking about his parents, but opening up to him about her mother. Not forcing him to give her hints about new music, but brushing away his constant need to climb into her room weekly to peek into her lyric notebook. 

She understood why his walls were up, and he understood that he did the stupid things he did because he cared about her. But this, this was the last straw. She could not simply let him walk away from her forever without letting him know that his actions caused her pain. 

The idea of explaining the connection of what she felt when she was with him seemed exhaustive. It was months and months of moments that had spiraled out of my control until I had fallen completely into him. So I decided to start from the beginning, but to keep it short. The letter began with the moment that I had stumbled on Julie talking to herself in the garage. 

Her pen hovered over her own name at the bottom of the page for a moment. She moved the utensil up to the top of the the scribbled handwriting with clear purpose. She began to scratch out the first line of text but paused again as the ink hit the paper. Dropping the grey tube onto the surface below, she brought her hand up to the top of the crease and tore out the page. She folded into a perfect square before taking a deep breath. 

As the pressed the seam one last time, she heard her father call her down the stairs for dinner. She leaned back to lift the pillow up off of the top of her bed, placing the piece of paper on the pastel yellow sheets below before setting the it back down. She sighed once more before lifting herself off the best and making her way to the door. 

As soon as the girl turned the corner, Luke poofed into the room. He looked around for any sign of her, but the girl was nowhere to be found. Giving up, he fell onto her bed, bouncing everything in around in his vicinity. The pillow below his head was obviously one that Y/N used regularly, his head falling closer to the surface of the mattress than he’d like. 

Lifting his head off of the feathered material, moving to a seated position. He leaned backward, grabbing the square with both hands and raising it up. His eyes fell from the mint cover to a small square back on the bed. Luke threw the pillow to the left, hands reaching for his new object of interest. He looked to the left and right before unraveling the note. 

His eyes soared across each line with ease. The skin on his bottom lip tearing away from his mouth as he dug into it. His gaze lingered on a particular word at the end. 

Loving.

His first thought was to lash out at Julie for betraying their promise, but it was shortly replaced by his need to get to Y/N. His fingers gripped the paper tightly at his chest as he took a deep breath. As he sat still, he began to hear footsteps in the distance. Jumping in place, Luke frantically worked to get the paper folded back down to its original square shape. He replaced the pillow and then rose to a standing position. With a snap of his fingers, Luke was out of the room without a word. 

Julie spun into the room, humming to herself as she walked toward the bed. Scrunching her brow in confusion, she leaned her head out the door.  

“Where did you say your glasses went?” She yelled loudly down to her sister.

“They should be on my bed!” Y/N yelled back in annoyance.

Julie rolled her eyes as she turned onto her heels and re-entered the room. She couldn’t see the clear frames anywhere on the soft comforter. As she inched closer, she began to lift things out of the way to make her search easier. As she lifted the pillow on the righthand side, a small piece of paper flew at her chest. Dropping the soft rectangle onto the bed, she leaned down to the floor to pick it up.

She unfolded it slowly and carefully. As it unraveled, she began to read the words on the page. Her eyes fell left to right hastily as she got increasingly angry. She locked her jaw as her gaze fell onto the line that said ‘you are a coward, Lucas Patterson.’ She had to admit, her sister had a talent for writing something brash and harsh in the most poetic way imaginable. 

“Hey did you find,” Julie’s hands collapsed around the paper at the sound of the voice. “What are you doing.” 

Turning to face her awaiting punishment, she saw that her sister’s face was already redder than the fireplace in their living room. Her hands were balled at her hips as she began to march toward the younger girl loudly. Julie arm swung around her back to hold the paper out of reach as her sister entered her personal bubble.

“I asked you to find my glasses, not to snoop through my things.”

Julie straightened her torso, raising an eyebrow as she looked at the older girl with shaking shoulders. She knew her sister could knock her flat out in a minute, but she had to speak her mind before it was trampled to the ground. 

“And I asked you to talk to Luke in person,” She brought the paper back out to her chest. “This, this is cowardly Y/N.” 

Her sister was visible vibrating with anger at this point. Y/N let out an anguished grunt, squeezing her fingers against her palm. But within a second, Julie heard the sound of crying come from the other side of the room. She rushed over to her sister’s side, catching her falling shoulders in her arms. She walked the girl over to the bed, sitting next to her on the edge. 

Julie rubbed her hand against Y/N’s knee, soothing her with light singing as she settled her tears. Finally raising her eyes back up to meet Julie’s, Y/N chewed helplessly at her bottom lip. 

“This whole time Jules, this whole time I’ve waited for him to be honest and truthful with me.” She sighed as a hand grazed against her raw cheek. “And he couldn’t even do it to say goodbye. I don’t even know what the point there is in talking to him. I know I’ll never get the truth.”

Julie stayed silent for a moment, listening to her sister’s sharp breaths. Her hand tapped against her skin a few times to gain her attention. Y/N’s bloodshot eyes met hers again.

“I know. I know that it’s been difficult,” Julie said looking right into her eyes. “Luke isn’t an easy person to talk to. But I cannot stand here and let you wallow forever without the possibility of speaking your mind. I know how heavily that weighs on you. Sure, you cannot control what he says, but I feel like you DESERVE to speak your mind to his face and breath easier at night.”

Y/N nodded, but she didn’t speak. What could she possibly say at this point. She knew Julie was right, but her anxiety weighed her body down like a cinderblock sat straight on her chest. The racing thoughts were cut off by her father yelling for Julie from the first floor. 

“It’s not too late for you to come to the show tonight,” Julie reminded her. 

“Maybe,” Y/N replied softly, keeping her eyes toward the window.

She heard the boxspring creak as Julie got up from the bed, and the door swing shut as she walked out of the room before she looked to her right. She couldn’t cry again. There’d been too many tears that night already. Instead, she rolled onto her bed, staring at the ceiling with the note to her chest. 

****

She woke up in a cold sweat. Leaning over to her left she saw that the clock said 8:30 p.m. She was too late. She couldn’t put the note in his pocket before he left, and she couldn’t say the words to his face either. 

He was gone. 

Y/N sighed to herself as she got up out of bed and leaned forward to turn on the lamp. Looking out the window, she stared at the garage with wide eyes. If she couldn’t say goodbye to him in person, she’d at least say it out loud, hoping, praying that maybe he’d hear it out there somewhere. 

She threw on her jean jacket before walking toward the door. Closing it behind her carefully, she raced down the stairs and out the back door. The sound of crickets and nearby sprinklers were the only noise to fill the air as she walked the short distance to the practice space.

As she entered the dingy, dark space she flipped on the lightswitch. As the soft yellow hue filled the room, she brought her hand out to her back pocket. Bringing the now deformed note into her hands, she quickly untangled it. She cleared her throat before beginning to speak. The shake in her throat note waiting long to appear.

“Luke,

The moment I met you, I thought that I’d absolutely hate you. My sister made me sit on the couch as called all three of you to appear. I remember meeting those bright green eyes and knowing exactly what they were capable of. But as the smile grew across your face, I knew I was a wasn’t a match for them.

You could have made it easy for me. Left it as a simply, fleeting crush entirely based on looks. However, you had to go and make me feel your presence. After the performance, Julie expected you all to disappear out of sight for me, but after the last note fell from my sister’s lips....you stayed.

I knew at that moment that we’d have a problem. You had the ability to be there at a moment’s notice. You, being as inquisitive as always, found your way up to my room every night. You, lacking the ability to be subtle, would spend that time drilling me with questions. You forced me to know you.

You were no longer a figment of my sister’s grief, you were a permanent structure in mine.

I didn’t ask you to listen to the lyrics I’d written the last time I had to say goodbye. I didn’t ask you to run to my side before my tears had dried over some stupid test or audition. You brought yourself there every single time.

I cannot believe that you would leave without telling me. I cannot believe that you’d choose to never see me again instead. You’re a coward, Lucas Patterson. A spineless coward.

I’ll never forgive you for making me feel. I’ll never forgive you for making me dream again. I’ll never forgive you for ripping that all away from me at a moment’s notice.

But I’ll never regret loving you.

- Y/N”

The sound of her name on her own tongue felt almost as painful as the knot lodged in her throat to hold back her tears. She refolded the paper, eyes staying forward, set on the darkness that surrounded her. She waited another moment before turning around. 

Her walk back to the house was cut short by a hoarse voice exposing itself to the light.

“Y/N?”

She stopped cold in her tracks, turning around on her tiptoes. There he stood in front of her, swollen and pale as ever. Her anger turned right to worry as she took several steps toward him with wide eyes. She leaned her head to the side, shaking it back and forth.

“What- how are you,” She scrunched her nose in confusion. “How are you here?”

“The Orpheum,” He began, already losing the race with his breath. “Wasn’t our unfinished business. So we came here to wait it out until sunrise. We didn’t want to worry Julie.” 

“Should I even be surprised that you’re side-stepping yet another conversation?” 

Luke bit down on his bottom lip, arm reaching out to touch her for a moment before his brain reminded him that he couldn’t reach her even if he wanted to. She took a step back, crossing her arms at her chest.

“The nerve you have, Luke Patterson,” She rolled her eyes at him. “To not even have the guts to properly say goodbye to Julie. She’s the one who brought back your love for music. She’s the one who put herself on the line for you with out dad, our friends and everyone else. And you repay her by LYING TO HER? I’m not even upset about what you did to me anymore.”

“Y/N,” His voice strained, his eyes boring into her. “I never meant to hurt anyone.”

“Well you did.” 

Luke ran his hands through his hair, sighing. As his head rose back up, he held his stomach in his hand as he made his way toward her. 

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I’ve never had anyone who’s put me first. I’ve always forced their in front of my own,” He started, a small smile on my face. “What was I supposed to do with a stubbornly perfect girl who forced me to give in?” 

Y/N held her gaze to the sky, tightening her hands around herself. His eyes stayed on her as he took a few small steps forward, standing right in front of her. 

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that I was leaving,” His words bringing her watering eyes back to his face. “I just knew I couldn’t take staring at that exact look in your eyes.” 

He shook his head at her, tears streaming from his face now. “I love you, so much, Y/N. I never want you to hurt because of me. I was selfish and cruel, and I’m so sorry that I didn’t even think of the consequences. Again. I’m an idiot and I’m selfish but I am, so in love with you and I can’t think straight.”

Y/N’s lips parted as she gasped at those last words. Y/N fell back a bit in shock, tripping over her own feet. Luke rushed toward her, arms wrapping around her waist before she could hit the ground. Silence filled her air as she tried to understand what was happening.

Her brought her back up to a standing position, bringing one hand up to her face. His fingers grazed harshly against her cheek as he pulled her into him. He heard her open her mouth to speak, but crashed his lips against hers before she could get a word out. 

The room filled with color as their lips moved together harmoniously. Y/N was the first to pull back first, eyes falling around his features for a moment before her hand reached out to touch his face.

“I feel stronger,” Luke said in a gruff voice. 

“What just happened?” Y/N asked just above a whisper. 

Luke tightened his grip around her hips, pulling her closer to him. He shook his head rapidly before letting out a giggle. 

“I don’t know, but I just want to do that again.

His lips fell onto hers at once, Y/N melting into his touch instantly. They moved in sync for a moment before pulling away. Luke leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers. 

Y/N heard grumbling coming from the corner of the room. Turning to her left, she saw Alex and Reggie stumbling toward them. Alex held a pinched expression as he leaned against the piano.

“We don’t have to make out with her too, do we?” 

Y/N leaned against Luke’s chest in a fit of laughter, feeling him join her as his chin rested on her head. 

.

.

.

Tag list: @xplrreylo @lovesanimals , @anythingandeverythingfandom , @crybabyddl  @themaddies-obx , @lukeys-giggle , @bumbleberry-pie @kiss-themoongoodbye  @marinettepotterandplagg , @lolychu , @bathtimejish , @dasexydevitt13 @musicconversedance​ , @txrii  @bestdressedandstressed @daisiesforlacey  @epikskool​  @bookfrog247​ @carleywhittaker​ @princessvader15​ @charliesmountains​ @spooky-season-bitch​  @kcd15​  @meangirlsx​ @itz-jas​ @parkeret​ @writerinlearning​ @calamitykaty​ @whatever-happens-imma-stand-tall​ @teenwaywardasgardian​ @dream-a-little-bigger-x​ @tenaciousperfectionunknown​ @thesweetestsinner​  @kinda-really-lost​

[artist-degas]

Winding River, Edgar Degas, 1890, Minneapolis Institute of Art: Prints and Drawings

S-shaped path in an abstracted landscape; greens; pinks in foreground, LLQ; rust-oranges in spots scattered throughout; pinkish-orange sky Winding River is simultaneously a landscape and an abstraction. Colorful and poetic, it recalls Impressionism but was certainly not painted directly from nature. Rather, Edgar Degas relied on imagination and perhaps also memory, loosely basing this monotype on a Japanese color print made in 1856 by Utagawa Hiroshige, whose work Degas collected. As with many of the nearly fifty landscape monotypes he produced from 1890 onward, Degas began this work by painting in dilute oils on a smooth copper plate, then used a printing press to transfer the image to paper. Continuing to experiment, he turned to drawing and augmented the picture with pastel crayon. Size: 11 5/8 x 15 9/16 in. (29.5 x 39.5 cm) (sheet) 12 1/2 x 16 1/4 in. (31.7 x 41.3 cm) (mount) 21 1/4 x 25 1/8 x 1 7/8 in. (53.98 x 63.82 x 4.76 cm) (outer frame) Medium: Oil monotype and pastel on heavy paper; laid down on paper-wrapped millboard

https://collections.artsmia.org/art/107049/