#sometimes a song reaches directly into your soul and speaks to all the parts of you you normally try to forget

[future-crab]

Why don't you listen to Laura Jane Grace talk about Pretty Girls (The Mover) and maybe you'll calm down

[insolitus-academy]

♚ // Face Claim

Full name Face Claim: Hwang Hyunjin

Group/Band/Occupation: Stray Kids

Nationality: South Korean

Faceclaim age: 22

♚ // Character ; Basic information

Quote: “The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it.”

Full name character: Shiloh Yoram

Nickname: Mun refers to him as Shi

Realm of birth (if earth, nationality): Heaven

Age: Unknown (appears to be in his early twenties)

Date of Birth: Unknown (sometime around the 19th century A.D.)

Gender: Male

Preferred Pronouns: He/him/his

Race: Angel

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

What is the level of Korean and how did they learn to speak it (For non-Korean characters from other realms & other earth-countries): Native like, due to his power.

♚ // Character ; Appearance

Skin Color: Pale

Eye color: Blue

Scars: None

Piercings: Multiple fake piercings that he changes all the time

Tattoos: None

Hair color: Blonde

Abnormalities: His fair complexion has a radiant touch to it, highly visible in sunlight. Its intensity tends to vary depending on the context, usually proximity to unholy places or engagement into sinful behaviours causing it to fade.

Horns/ wings/ etc.: Rich double wings and a luminous halo that can only be perceived by other supernatural beings and devout human believers.

Transformed form: None

♚ // Character ; Personality

Six personality traits: Vain, captivating, ambiguous, blasé, intelligent, zealous

Likes: Americano coffee, the scent of petrichor, silk textiles, snakes (especially albino), white lilies

Dislikes: Untidy spaces, the sound of trumpets, being interrupted, routine, being coerced in any sense

Manias: Shiloh cannot stand overly cluttered and untidy spaces, so he makes sure to take extra steps in keeping his home neat.

Phobias: None

Animal: Weasel

Religion: Questioning it.

Favorite song: Måneskin - I wanna be your slave

Vice: Pride

Virtue: Diligence

Personality description:

Shiloh has a certain indifference to him, that of someone who has seen more than enough, yet all this passivity towards the world was turned into a high subjectivity, one that certainly resided within him from the very beginning. Shiloh is concerned about himself, hardly ever sparing a moment for another creature’s sorrow, which could conflict with his nature. This angel is no good, and has long ceased claiming to be so. He’s quite individualistic, making himself a priority above all. Regardless, Shiloh is not difficult to be around, although at first he might come off as reserved, as he is still foolishly refusing himself many desires. He is the kind that takes one step ahead and two backwards while testing waters, until finally taking a leap into whatever it is that sparkles his interest.

With quite an opinion of himself, the angel might come off as standoffish or arrogant, and this part of him only worsened the longer he mingled amongst humans. Shiloh is rather zealous and passionate, so once he has dedicated himself to something or someone, the extents of his devotion can reach heights that might even threaten his well-being, or the well-being of the person in question. There is a whole blaze that burns inside of him, and only time would tell what can happen once unleashed. Otherwise, he leads a rather calm and very comfortable life for now, as he’s put his knowledge to use for a greater good – his own greater good. He remains quite unfazed by most issues, even those that concern him directly, not dwelling too much upon risks and consequences. All in all, he is avid for new experiences as he questions his origins and so-called true nature.

♚ // Character ; Powers

Magical Powers:

Destiny knowledge – in virtue of his role as a guardian, Shiloh has access to an individual’s life, past, present and future all being revealed to him. Although he could alter outcomes, he is bound not to interfere so that the Creator’s plan would be carried out. It is, however, limited to the soul he is assigned to assist, or if otherwise summoned by the most skilled to grant spiritual guidance and protection.

Cosmic awareness – to a certain extent, Shiloh knows of all creatures and realms. In some cases, he possesses more in-depth knowledge, especially if it’s about beings he’s had direct contact with (such as demons). In most other cases he only has the basics concerning powers, spells, symbolism, artifacts and such. However, this does not apply to individuals, but rather to the class itself. He cannot know, upon simply encountering another being, what powers and weaknesses they have.

Peaceful passing – as the name suggests, Shiloh has the ability to grant someone a more peaceful passing, if he so sees fit. He can alleviate the agony of souls tormented by sin. In virtue of this power, Shiloh can contact reapers and negotiate the passing of a soul with them, if he is called to do so through special prayers when someone has a difficult passing.

Flight – self-explanatory, Shiloh can travel by flying.

Non-magical Powers:

Playing the harp and the flute, quite skilled at sculpting (he loves to make all sorts of clay figures).

Weaknesses:

Dark spawn – Due to his ambiguity, Shiloh is quite weak to the cunning tongues of dark spawn when it concerns his being. He is not necessarily easy to manipulate, but rather quite repressed in his passions, thus making him more prone to betray his faith.

Hubris – Everything about Shiloh’s personality and interests recalls an awful lot of those of fallen angels. His vanity and pride put him constantly on a fine line, yet so far he’s never overtly challenged his Creator. Nevertheless, he yearns for knowledge and power.

Spells and enchanted objects – There are certain spells or objects that can prevent Shiloh from interacting with a human’s soul. If cast or placed upon the body of the deceased, Shiloh wouldn’t be able to assist them through the soul’s passing. In similar fashion, one individual could employ such magic to cast him off as their guardian.

♚ // Character ; The Villager

Job/Occupation: Psychic

Lives in: Vighulir

Lives in: Sunna Apartments 1d

♚ // Character ; The Past

Date of Birth: Unknown (sometime around the 19th century A.D.)

Date of Death: N/A

Crime Record: Pristine so far.

Has your character attended Insolitus Academy in the past?

Yes

Background:

Frightful and dubious even to his own kind, with traits and tendencies that reminisced of the one whose name shall not be spoken, Shiloh has found himself incessantly in the midst of schemes and conspiracies. Cherished by his Creator, for most of his existence Shiloh has been assigned the role of guiding the souls of humans through the twenty aerial toll-houses, alongside their guardian angel. These peregrinations between Earth and Heaven left a significant impression upon him, little by little the seeds of spite and envy finding way inside his being. Countless were the times when Shiloh had to bite his tongue while passing from toll house to toll house with a double heart, not deeming the soul in his companionship fit for ascension. But the clench of his teeth and the remarks he’d oftentimes make about those spirits didn’t go unnoticed, bringing about a change that greatly displeased the angel.

Shiloh was a bit too orthodox, no pun intended, and highly righteous, following the will of his Creator to the letter, always diligent and quick to fulfill any assigned task. With such exemplary behaviour, he soon earned Their favour. Whenever off duty, the angel would pass time by playing the harp or the flute, two instruments he mastered to such heights that it made brows furrow and whispers go over parts of the Heavenly Kingdom, carrying concern and outright fright amongst those who had witnessed the Fall. Graced with beauty that even his kind would praise, the angel became the object of many’s suspicion, not only his aura shining over him, but also a sort of premonition, as if he was the one that would repeat a dreadful incident. With time passing, signs became difficult to ignore, and as Shiloh gave voice to his thoughts regarding his Creator’s mercy, distress took over parts of the kingdom. As if at any moment he could rise and lay claim upon the Throne.

Such thought never crossed the angel’s conscious, however. His spite lain elsewhere. aware of the many sins of humans, Shiloh couldn’t fathom sharing the same plane of existence as souls tainted by evil. They were not worthy of being in his presence, first and foremost, nor in the presence of his Creator. Why the latter chose to grant them such privilege was beyond him – it was unfair, too. And once They got wind of Shiloh’s complaints, a council has been held, for the signs were only becoming harder and harder to ignore. As they debated Shiloh’s fate, an unexpected guest paid them visit, one that made of the angel the object of a twisted bet. The hall shivered in fear as many saw in that gamble a prophecy to be fulfilled. Shiloh received his new condition with great offense, lamenting his ill fate to his Creator and accusing Them as the sole and unique responsible for such misery – the first act of overt defiance. The first time Shiloh cursed Their name under his breath.

Repurposed as a guardian angel and thus compelled to be in close proximity with the earthly world, Shiloh was to prove the strength of his devotion and the power of his will. Whether or not he would keep by his Creator’s side or renegade Their name was the object of said bet, many being certain of the latter outcome. Disguised as a humbling experience, the angel took it as a great offense and a damnation to misery. Humans’ life, however, proved to be far more interesting to him from certain points of view, and it didn’t take long before Shiloh began experiencing some of the fleshly urges, yet his faith was strong, unshakable. No temptation was too great for him to resist. All was to change when assigned the last human he’s assisted before his arrival at Insolitus, an intelligent, ambitious and charismatic woman that captivated him with her endeavours. Through her, Shiloh has seen how an earthling can acquire and use the knowledge of stars and cards as to offer others spiritual guidance. All that he knew, she did too, and he could only witness in awe the accuracy of her readings. However, she was fated a tragic end, one that Shiloh couldn’t possibly lead her to. After countless hours of inner conflict, the angel took the decision to disobey his Creator and interfered with her destiny, an act of defiance that would certainly ensure him a grim punishment.

With her passing and the menace of penalty looming over his head, the angel chose not to ascend back to Heaven, instead immersing himself completely into the world of humans. In her memory, and taking advantage of his own knowledge, Shiloh followed the same path, offering reading sessions and spiritual guidance through other means than those his Creator favoured. It didn’t take long before he’s made a name for himself amongst enthusiasts, for reasons more than obvious, and once tainted by earthly affairs, the angel began charging quite hefty amounts for his services. Yet the Watchers were observing his every move, and soon it became clear he wouldn’t be able to freely roam across the human realm without repercussions. To avoid being under their gaze, Shiloh chose to refuge himself at Insolitus, where he set up the same business in the comfort of his apartment, now carefully choosing his clientele as not to encounter any inconveniences.

However, the kind of temptations awaiting behind the gates of the academy proved to be greater than Shiloh’s holiness, his weaknesses only becoming more powerful, up to the point where they consumed his spirit entirely. An easy prey, the angel succumbed to the very desires that hung over his head like a guillotine, at the hand of a creature he grew to adore more than his own Creator. Without realizing, and still oblivious to this day, Shiloh forged his own false idol in an ardent quest to reach the heights of the mightiest. Blinded by promises and luxuries many could only dream of, he followed the Archdemon into the depths of the academy. Those were the days of pure bliss and joy, as the archdemon lavished him with his heart’s utmost desires, seemingly encouraging his pursuits, praising his perseverance, keeping him company and offering him solace in his darkest moments of despair. But those times proved to be too good to last and, against his will, without understanding his fault, Shiloh was forced back among the other creatures inhabiting Insolitus, left to his own means at his most vulnerable for, in truth, the angel no longer knew what do to with himself without Minwoo’s guidance. 

♚ // Roleplayer

Time zone: gmt+2/+3

OOC! Triggers: VERY explicit depictions of vomit. 

Themes/genres you like writing the most?: Drama, angst, fluff. 

[silver-weasel]

Diving (Deku x Reader)

Pairing : Deku x fem!reader (aged-up characters)

Rating : E, 18+

Tags : smut • fem!reader (she/her) • best friends to lovers / childhood friends to lovers • quirkless AU • p*rn with feelings (like. a lot of them) • public sex (more or less) • switching • hair pulling? • pining • Deku being flustered and an absolute angel what’s new • Reader being a teasing brat • It’s all soft and fluffy, I’m as vanilla as you can get 🤷‍♀️ • Happy birthday to the bestest boyyy I love him so much it hurts

Word count : 10 600 (Holy sh—)

A/N : Thank you @hoe-doroki my beloved and savior for beta-ing <3

Written for @rat-zuki​’s collab in honor of our favorite birthday boy, The Deku Agenda Escapes no One. Thank you so much for letting me join! (go check out the other amazing writers and artists!)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

The ground grinds repeatedly under your hiking shoes, some pebbles being kicked forward on your way. You’re way too deep in the forest to hear any cars passing by and during the two hours you’ve been here you haven’t run into anyone. The place seems empty, the only souls breathing the forest’s thick air being you, Izuku and the birds chirping all around you.

The afternoon is coming to an end, the sun sinking down on its way to hide behind the mountains. The remains of its soft light are filtering through the dense leaves all around and above you. You’re surrounded by green, lush and immeasurable greenery, every plant merging into another.

You’ve left the marked paths, now wandering deep in the richest, boundless part of a forest you both know like the back of your hand after roaming it all over innumerable times. All over, except for this part, in which you’re setting foot for the first time today. Your many previous hiking sessions were shortened by your questionable sense of organization, always arriving too late to explore further into the unknown.

Leaves brush against your knees with every single step you take as you follow Izuku on his heels. He’s moving at a steady pace, his hands holding tight the straps of his yellow backpack that he’s had for as long as you can remember. He’s always so organized, has everything you two could eventually need and generally never do. Two huge flasks of water, an entire meal he calls ‘little snacks’, with sandwiches, fruits, protein bars, even hard-boiled eggs. A first-aid kit with disinfectant, bandages, scissors and painkillers. Hell, you’re even wondering if he has any pads for you in there, in case of an unexpected period. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did.

You giggle lightly when you see him stumble for the sixth time since you got here; he can’t seem to keep his curious eyes from drifting up and around, looking in every direction, probably retaining every detail and logging it in some impressive mental database of his. And he’s commenting on every little thing he sees too; he makes you notice things you never would have if it weren’t for his candid interest in everything.

“Oh! Look at that bird!” he exclaims, pointing at a branch over your heads. “Do you see it, right there, with the red mark!”

You turn your gaze to where he’s pointing and see a little bird, very cute, but so tiny you’re wondering how one could spot it without specifically looking for it. That’s probably what you like most about Izuku: his attention to detail. That’s the thing—nothing is too small for him, everything is worthy of interest. His eyes always light up with such curiosity, this child-like wonder and it was always one of your favorite things to witness growing up.

When he came over to your house at age six, he was always running around with some bug on his forearm, calling your name, yelling, “Look at this!”

Most of the time, it was a snail or a ladybug, and that always managed to catch your interest. Sometimes, it was a spider or a beetle, and he had you screaming in horror more than once, running to your mother’s legs with weeping eyes. Those times, he always watched you go with wide, sad eyes and a wobbly lip, because, “I would never hurt her, Mom! I swear I didn’t want to scare her!”

“Oh, yeah, I see it! It’s so cute!”

And it is cute, the way his huge green eyes go even rounder in amazement. You treasure these hikes for providing occasions to witness this. But as much as you wish this moment could last forever, the sun is beginning to set, you probably shouldn’t go deeper in the forest at sundown.

“We should probably head back to the car, Izuku. It’s gonna be dark soon.”

“Come on, it’s still so light—there’s no rush!” His lips crook a bit into an impish smile. “Scared that a bear is coming to get you?”

“There aren’t any bears here—we’ve been coming for five years.”

“Because if it’s the bears you’re afraid of,” he begins, ignoring you on purpose, “you know I’ll protect you, right?” he says, sticking out his chest like he’s some superhero.

“Against a bear? Right.”

“You’re underestimating me? That’s just mean.”

You chuckle at his antics, shooting him a look of yours that says, ‘Come on, please?’.

His eyes soften a bit, but he’s used to that look; it’s been years since it worked on him as well as you’d like it to.

“We can just keep going this way, then we’ll make a loop and head back to the car directly! It’ll be even shorter this way.”

“Alright, let’s do that,” you agree, and the smile it elicits from him makes something tingle deep in your stomach.

You move forward again, sinking deeper within the forest. It’s becoming harder and harder to walk, brambly branches and huge leaves blocking your way more and more with every step.

You’re a bit ahead of him when you catch sight of a sparkle behind the bushes. Just a glimpse of light, but you’re positive you saw it. Is there water here? You never really looked at a map of the place before—you just always went wherever you felt like and used the same tracks on the way back. You hurry up a bit, curious eyes fixed on that glimmer of light.

Soon enough the dense greenery comes to an end, and you’re finally out of the bushes, finding your way into a little clearing. You’re standing, speechless, in front of a pond: it’s about forty feet wide, catching the last rays of sunshine in a dazzling reflection. The water is surrounded by gigantic trees big enough to be home to an entire niche of biodiversity, and a half-sandy, half-stony shore with reeds rising from the water on both sides.

It’s all calm and quiet and massive trees, branches pouring, cascading above still water. The air feels cool, filled with a pure smell of dew and spring even though it’s the end of a hot day of July.

Izuku is close behind you and lets out a very cute, “Whoa,” ditching his backpack on the ground next to you in the middle of the cove. The both of you just stand there for a moment in complete silence, aside from the birds chirping. Izuku breaks it first:

“How come we’ve never seen this before? This place is amazing.” He sounds distant as he speaks, soaking up his surroundings like he always does.

“I guess you never know everything about anything,” you say mindlessly, without detaching your gaze of the wonderful view ahead.

He’s standing close to you, very close. You’re only noticing now that you’re coming down from the high of your discovery. Your arms are brushing, you can feel his body heat from how close you two are. It wouldn’t be the first time; you’re no stranger to being physically close to Izuku. You’ve been playing together since you were able to put one foot in front of the other. And you wish you could say it feels any different right now, but that would be a lie. Being close to him always felt the same. Always felt like the only easy thing in your life. The only constant.

Yet it’s not enough. No matter how close, it’s never enough, it never was. You hate yourself for feeling that way; you’ve never been the greedy, unsatisfied type. You have everything with Izuku. Well, almost everything.

But right now this place—this very quiet, beautiful place with no one in sight is doing things to your fertile imagination. Despite the sun just beginning to set, the summer air still remains thick with heat. You find yourself staring in the abyss of that water, admiring the masterpiece of a reflection on the surface, a painting of leaves and clouds and blue sky. It calls you, sings an irresistible song of fresh water on sweaty skin and strong, freckled arms wrapped around you.

You don’t know if the slight, insignificant detail that you would have to undress in order to dive into that water—since you didn’t bring a swimsuit—is a better reason to do it or to refrain from doing so.

You’ve lost count of how many moments you’ve shared with him just like this one. So many chances for you to take. You never have.

Back to the original issue: can you see yourself walk out of that clearing the way you always do? Can you see yourself going home, adding this missed chance to your growing collection of lost memories, of hands within your reach that you chose not to take?

The answer pops in your mind, crystal clear for the first time since you met him.

You drop your bag on the ground, turning to Izuku with a delighted expression stretching your features. The look on your face reminds him of one he’d seen on you as a kid, bouncing on the balls of your feet in front of the ice cream truck. At this moment he just knows you’ve got some stupid shenanigan in mind, like you always do. Once again, he isn’t wrong.

“Wanna take a dip?” You’re squinting at him from his side, a mischievous smile lighting up your face.

“I-I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” he stutters.

It’s been a long time since he last stuttered in front of you. He got rid of it years ago, but it still resurfaces sometimes in front of intimidating strangers or in a socially uncomfortable situation. Never in front of you, though.

“Me neither,” you answer plainly with that same impish smile, and his eyes go round at your implications.

“Wait, you can’t be—Oh my God—”

His heart does a great flip in his chest when he catches you taking the hem of your shirt up over your head. In less than five seconds, you’ve got him scorching hot, feverish and suddenly he can’t tell right from left.

His reflex is to bury his face in his hands. He respects you too much to take a peek, but you’re making things very difficult for him. He can hear you move towards the water, can hear the thump of your forgotten shoes hitting the ground one after the other, can hear the soft pad of your naked feet on the rocks.

“For the love of God, please, put it back on…” 

“What? Look at this view, it would be a shame not to make the most of it!”

He’s not looking at the view right now, he can’t let himself. He knows very well he won’t be able to focus on the trees when you’re standing pretty much naked—although he’s not sure to what extent—in front of him. You could be entirely naked right now and he wouldn’t be able to tell, his burning face still hidden in his shaking hands. His voice comes out muffled when he stammers, “I-It’s starting to get late, we really should get back to the car…”

“What, you’re scared of the bears?”

He can’t see you, but he knows you’re sporting that smug grin of yours, the one he first saw when you showed him your impressive collection of Pokémon cards on your preschool’s playground. You’ll have to take a lingering silence for an answer.

“Izuku, come on. I don’t bite.”

He’s not entirely sure the sight of you won’t gnaw him to the bone, won’t melt his entire body down and leave him a hot mess. He won’t be a man anymore, just a walking flame fueled by the heavenly sight of you. No, he can’t let himself fall into that. Obviously you don’t know what you’re doing to him.

Nevertheless, you’re probably the most stubborn person he knows. And he’s friends with Katsuki Bakugou, for God’s sake. He won’t be able to get out of this as easily as he wants, especially as he hears the delicate noise of water splitting at your feet as you enter the little pond.

He slowly moves his hands off of his face. You must have your back turned to him, so maybe he can drift his eyes off somewhere—

You are in front of him, thigh deep in the water now. In nothing but your panties. Your white, flower-patterned lace panties that are doing a very bad job at covering your backside. He lets out a long, pained whine, standing in the middle of the little shore with his arms dangling down his sides, not sure what to do with them.

“Why didn’t you at least keep your bra on?” His voice comes out way more wobbly than he intended to.

You turn a little so you can look at him, and it takes every little bit of strength he’s got left to look you in the eye. But as you’re turning around, the smooth curve of your breast starts showing, and God, is that your nipple?

He wants a giant hole to swallow him right now. He wants some forest creature to come for him right this instant, anything to keep him away from you, keep him from doing things he might regret. To punish him for having such thoughts about you, because you trust him, you’re so oblivious, so innocent, and he’s so weak against this inner monster that’s eating him away.

With a little frown, you deliver the answer like it’s self-evident as you kneel into the water, the surface just above your chest:

“I didn’t want it to get wet.”

“But you’re okay with your panties getting wet?”

The realization of what he just said is slow but surely comes. And when it does, he wishes even harder to get erased from the surface of this planet he’s already lucky enough to share with you. There is a long silence, and all he can hear for a few seconds are the birds chirping and the violent pounding of his heart against his ribcage, straining to get out.

You turn back around to look at him, dumbstruck. 

“I’m more than okay with that—”

“Please forget I just said that,” he cuts you off. He’s not sure he can bear to hear more of this.

“I’m never forgetting you said that. It’s pure gold,” you scoff.

He can only answer with a drawn-out whine. He doesn’t have any choice in this, does he?

When you dive in the water, he takes both his shaking hands to the hem of his shirt and starts undressing.

What the fuck am I doing?

The water is so pure you can see underwater as clear as day: the few rocks at the bottom, the little silvery fish all around you, and the last rays of sunlight permeating through the calm surface above your head. The water feels a bit cold on your naked skin since the sunlight and summer heat must only hit the clearing at certain hours of the day. Still, the cold water isn’t enough to clear your foggy mind.

What was I thinking?

You’ve always been a bashful person, why is it changing all of a sudden? Maybe it’s the devastating effect Izuku has on you.

You try to calm down a bit, taking a deep breath. So, you’re pretty much naked in front of him. Well, it definitely wouldn’t be the first time, and it (probably) won’t be the last. Now you just have to go through with your stupid idea. It’s no big deal, it’s only Izuku. Only Izuku.

Only Izuku.

Fuck.

You finally surface, not only because you can’t hide underwater forever, but also because, surprisingly, you’re not a fish, you have to actually breathe.

You push your dripping hair to the back of your head, still careful to keep your breasts under the water. Izuku’s already in to his hips when you turn around to look at him, your vision still blurry from the water trickling all over your face. He’s merciless, standing like that, only the elastic of his boxers peeking out of the water. You’re a bit surprised by the plain, black color. You were expecting something along the lines of blue, yellow and red. Izuku is full of surprises.

But nevermind the color of his underwear—what you find just above is mesmerizing. Your indiscreet, incorrigible gaze can’t help following the thin trail of hair tracing up to his navel, then the stunning lines of his abs, partly hidden behind his freckled forearms shyly crossed over them. The freckles spread up his powerful arms, gently sunkissed, scattering all over his broad shoulders.

Is he actually hiding, though? Doesn’t he know he looks like he was carved by the gods themselves?

“Have you done this before?”

The sound of his voice startles you a bit. Ah, right. You were shamelessly staring. It takes you a couple of seconds to force your distracted mind back into focus. “Done what?”

“Skinny dipping?”

“No, it’s my first time. It looks like it’s yours too.” His big, bright eyes drift around like they don’t know where to look. It’s really cute.

“It is,” he admits, now kneeling into the water as well. “I would’ve thought you were used to this.” You arch a single eyebrow in an amused frown.

“What, do I look like I have a professional degree in skinny dipping?”

“No, it’s just…You look confident, it just seemed like it.”

Confident? You’re nowhere near confident—you’re terrified. You try to keep your cool, but it’s probably the first time you’re putting on an act in front of Izuku.

“Well, you’re not so bad at it yourself.” You don’t miss the little blush coating his cheeks at that. “Also, I’m not exactly naked.”

“You’re not exactly dressed either, that’s a...v-very small piece of clothing.” He’s blushing a bit harder, looking away.

“Oh, seems like you paid some attention to my piece of clothing then, good to know.”

Now he’s quite simply scarlet. A very cute, very hot, freckled tomato. He’s so easily flustered, it only makes you want to tease him some more.

“Were your legendary All Might boxers in the dirty hamper? That’s a shame. I’m a bit disappointed,” you say in a mockingly innocent voice.

He doesn’t retort, simply stands there on his knees, shooting you an unreadable look and a little pout. After a few seconds, you open your mouth to continue, only to be startled by a strong splash hitting you in the face.

When you snap out of your shock, hair and face dripping all over your shoulders, you look up at him with what must be the scariest look of betrayal. Or the most ridiculous, apparently, since he starts laughing, louder and louder, and can’t seem to stop.

“Oh, you’re pretty pleased with yourself right now, aren’t you?” You can’t help but chuckle while talking, his laugh is so contagious.

“I am, yeah!” he manages to articulate, only starting to calm down.

As the calm of the forest returns, you watch his eyes go back to their usual round shape bit by bit, his face relaxing again. His smile causes butterflies to fly up and around in a whirlwind deep into your belly. You chuckle a bit at the feeling, almost embarrassed by how he’s making you feel like you’re in some dumb, cliche rom-com movie. On the outside, you must look a bit like a maniac, but he’s a nice guy, so he simply asks, “What is it?”

And before you can overthink yourself out of it, you’re hurling yourself at him. He barely has the chance to stutter a weak, “Wait!” before you’re putting all your weight on him, sinking his head deep in the water. Izuku may well be a nice guy, but you know he isn’t going to let you get away with this, so you’re not surprised when you’re dragged underwater by your legs. He lets go immediately, a bit abruptly, even, like it burnt his hands to touch you.

You both emerge from the water soon, and it takes you a second to get rid of the water blurring your vision, but then it hits you. How tantalizingly close you are to each other now, your bodies an inch away from touching. You’re both on your knees, enveloped in the coolness of crystal clear water and the reflections of the canopy of leaves above your heads. A spark of electricity makes you freeze on the spot; you’re so close to him your breasts slightly brush against his chest.

After a little eternity, you find the courage to look up at his face. He looks mindblowing, really. Despite the two decades you spent together, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen the pure, astonishing details of his freckles from this close. You would remember it, you definitely would. It’s a spectacular view, one of those visual memories that comes back to hit you in flashes. His nose and cheekbones are covered in them, drawing a mesmerizing pattern, more complex than the Milky Way itself. They’re an uncrackable equation, like a weird quirk of nature that you’ll never understand but don’t question anyway. They spread a little more scattered, but still very present, up to his forehead and down to his delicate jaw.

And his eyes—you could just drown in them. There’s this bright, blinding light there that feels like laying in the grass and looking up at the sunlight coating the leaves of this tree, the one you grew up near and always played under.

You swear you didn’t move, neither did he, and still you manage to get even closer to him. Now it’s you against the inexorable attraction that pulls you towards him like a fierce magnet. And it’s a losing battle, you think, as you’re both entering each other’s personal space like you share just one.

There’s nothing friendly about the way he can’t look you in the eye, seemingly too obsessed with your lips. You drop your gaze to his and find them calling for you. It’s been so long, now the thought of kissing Izuku seems unfamiliar despite being ever-present in your imagination for so many years. Like repeating a word so much it ends up becoming a series of meaningless sounds to your confused mind.

He’s the one who finally closes the distance, his lips landing on yours so softly you can barely feel them. He doesn’t move, simply content with the contact. You’re both eight years old again for a minute. The kiss feels like the little peck a kid would finally give to his crush in the middle of their school’s playground before running away to his friends.

Time seems to stop for God knows how long, and after what feels like no time and forever all at once, his lips move hesitantly against yours, bringing you back to reality. Right then, it all crashes on you like a tremendous wave. The distant echo of your mothers’ voices from the kitchen and the stupid cartoons they made you watch so they could talk for ten more minutes. The games alone together because no one wanted to play with you two weirdos. The piggyback rides, the dumb jokes, the video games (you always won). The neverending texting sessions at night because one of you couldn’t sleep. The fights that never lasted long enough to see the next sunrise because you both are way too weak for each other. All those stupid places that wouldn’t have looked half as breathtaking if it weren’t for him.

His lips are soft but roughly bitten. Hot and wet from the water and maybe from something else. He doesn’t taste like anything other than home, and that’s more than enough for you. His hands went up to cup your face at some point, but you’re too drowned in all the feelings coming up to the surface to pay attention to anything other than his soft mouth pressing on yours, more and more, opening up—

And it’s already over. You only notice that you’ve closed your eyes when you open them again when you don’t feel anything against your mouth other than the summer air. When your mind manages to regain any sense of function, the blurry focus of your gaze settles on his eyes. Wide open. Pupils eating up the dazzling viridian that puts the forest to shame. And a terrified expression in them.

He’s looking at you like he hurt you. His lips should still be on yours, kissing and sucking, not frozen like they are right now, obviously trying to express something painful as a few weak sounds pass their barrier before he finally manages to speak:

“Oh—Oh my God, I-I’m s—”

You don’t let him finish his stupid sentence. You don’t think twice before you take his face in your hands and lean in to kiss him again, with shameless intent this time. No more pretending—you’ve been waiting long enough for this and apparently, so has he.

It’s nothing gentle this time when your mouths crash against each other, teeth clashing and lips bruising under the weight of twenty years. You hold to his face like a lifeline, fingers sinking just a bit into his cheekbones, the tip of your nails getting caught in the knots of his dripping hair just above his ears. It’s messy, your noses rubbing before he angles his face better. One of his hands loops around your waist in a tight grip, forcing your chest to crush against his, the other burying in your hair at the base of your skull.

The feeling is electrifying, indescribable. It’s nothing like the pale, miserable depiction of your imagination. It’s discovering life in color when all you’ve always known was black and white.

The water is cool, but his body scorches against yours, burns your skin in the most exquisite way. The kiss is desperate on both parts, but neither of you is confident. His lips suck on yours with tentative motions, and you respond in kind the best you can. They are hungry, starving for flesh but don’t know how to hunt.

Your hands are gripping more and more of his hair, pulling harder, sending waves of heat all the way down his groin, and he’s not sure he can hide the bulge growing there for much longer.

He has to be sure, he has to be absolutely certain you want this as much as he does, because once he starts, he may not be able to stop. But you feel so good, all pressed against him. Your skin feels so soft under his hand at the small of your back he has to dig his nails in the skin of your waist so he doesn’t cross a line. But the curve just above your ass is begging for him to grip at the tender flesh and squeeze, fill his hands with it. He’s been dreaming about this for so long.

No, he can’t just hurl himself at you like a hunting wolf the first chance he gets—what kind of friend does that?

It takes him every bit of focus he has left to break the kiss, to part away from you. You have to discuss this, he can’t just throw away twenty years of friendship! Now you’re looking up at him with puppy eyes saying, ‘Why won’t you play with me?’ He breathes out a shaky sigh, and begins:

“Um, look. Believe me when I say I’ve wanted this for a very, very long time, and I love you so, so much. As a friend, I mean.” He sees you frown at this, catches a glint of something he doesn’t like in your eyes, then panics. “No, no, no, I mean, a-as a friend, but also more than that, o-obviously. But I don’t know what you want, you might be...d-disappointed, or...um—” His face starts heating up like it hasn’t in ages. He takes another breath, tries to clear up the muddled mess happening in his head. “Look, I just want the best for you, but you look...good, very good, and you’re making things very difficult for me, doing...this—”

“Izuku.” The deafening hubbub filling his mind falls suddenly silent, your voice a comforting, steady rock for him to cling to when his mind is storming out of control.

“Yeah?”

You get even closer to him, since he gradually set some distance while mumbling his anxious thoughts out again. You cup his face in your hands, a gentle, featherlight touch, and look up at him with determination in your eyes. You pull his head down a bit to settle on yours, your foreheads and noses connected, never breaking eye contact. Your lips graze over his, both your breaths mixing there, your voice a quiet whisper as you speak again. “Do you want me?”

Out of the jittery mess of his mind, the answer comes out like evidence, plain and simple: “Yes.”

“Then shut up and kiss me.”

You take action immediately, kissing him once again and this time he doesn’t hesitate to put his—still rather shaky—hands on you. The feeling of you is addicting, pushing his insecurities further in the back of his mind. He starts at your waist, running his thumbs there, feeling the goosebumps rising on your skin. They wander up your spine, counting every single bump of your bones, all the way to your nape. Then dragging them back down to settle on your hips, his fingers digging in the soft flesh. The little sigh you breathe on his lips causes an impressive amount of blood to run straight to his dick. 

Your mouth is distracting, dizzying, sucking on his bottom lip, nipping playfully. His tongue slides over your lips, then against your own when you open up immediately for him. You’re pressing against him even more, your breasts rubbing against his naked chest and he swears you’re going to be the death of him. You’re hanging from his shoulders by now, your arms circling his neck, still gripping a handful of green hair, pulling. You have to stop doing this—he might cum right away. He doesn’t say it aloud, only lets a moan escape him into your mouth.

He wanted this, wanted this for so long, and now that it’s real, it’s beyond everything he could have imagined. The heat of your skin, the weight on his shoulders as you cling to him, your breath in his mouth, your little sighs.

He’s only now noticing that his hands have gone to reach their destination with a mind of their own. They’re on your ass underwater, feeling the white, wet lace, the sole cloth on your entire body—that thing is just there to tempt him. He’s unsure if you like what he’s doing until you release a whimper, louder this time, enough to send a vibration against his mouth (and straight to his cock at the same time).

Suddenly, he wants to taste a lot more of you. You’re all open up to him for the first time—he has to. He trails a series of open-mouthed kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jaw, savoring every little sigh escaping your lips, then to your neck, dragging his tongue up the column of your throat.

The water is fresh all over you, and he doesn’t miss the shivers running up and down your skin at the contact of the twilight breeze. He needs to warm you up, needs to make you feel good, needs everything to be perfect for you. With his hands still on your ass, he trails lower down to your collarbone, allowing some occasional nips on the way that have you shaking. He freezes, looking up at you from there.

“Is this okay?”

The answer comes out breathy, a little desperate: “Yes, yes, please!” It sends a wave of heat all over him, the way you like what he’s doing to you, the way he’s making you feel good.

He’s not experienced or anything, only had a few hookups a couple of times, so he’s not very confident in his capacities, aside from running his hands all over you because that’s how his instincts are manifesting. You know him better than anyone—of course you would know how lost he could be in this kind of situation. But he also knows you’re not much more experienced than him, and that thought is comforting.

He’s experienced in one thing, though. He feels like the worst, filthiest person on the planet for this, but it’s astonishing the number of times he jerked off to the thought of what’s happening right now. How many times did he fuck his hand in the shower thinking about the water trickling down your skin, about licking it off your breasts all the way up to your neck.

So he does what he’s been dying to do for years. your breasts are just above the surface, so he sits on his heels and licks down your chest. When his tongue finally reaches your nipple, giving it a tentative lick, you let out a gasp, encouraging him to get bolder. And he does, closing his mouth on it like it’s the sweetest lollipop; it’s all cold and hard and raised from the water, but it warms up really quickly against the furnace of his mouth. His right hand leaves your ass to cup the neglected other, running his thumb against the bud, squeezing the flesh. That’s when you reach out to bury a hand in his hair, and pull again. God, you can pull on his hair all day and night like this; he’ll never get enough.

His left hand, still on your ass, rises up to the small of your back, feeling you arching more and more, pushing against his mouth. A harder nip has you gasping and he lets his hands run all over you, wandering without direction. It’s messy and urgent; he can’t help it—you feel so good, so soft under his hands. He’s like a kid getting to open his Christmas gifts in the morning after an endless, sleepless night waiting for Santa.

You trail your hand down his chest and his abdomen, a gentle reminder that the power he holds right now could slip through his fingers any moment. He’s willing to give it to you, especially since he doesn’t really know what to do next.

Like you just read his mind, you take his hands in yours, stopping their chaotic race. He’s feeling himself flush a bit—was he going too fast for you? Did he scare you? Or did he just let himself become overwhelmed by his feelings and it didn’t feel good for you? His eyes are looking down directly at your naked chest, he realizes he never took a proper look at them, too busy throwing himself to taste them. They look just as good as they taste, as beautiful as the rest of you.

Tentatively, he raises his eyes to find your reassuring gaze and fond smile. You lead his hands down slowly, setting them on your hips, over the criminal lace fabric preserving your modesty. Your foreheads connect again, but you never break eye contact. Lacing your fingers together, you guide his thumbs into the elastic on both sides, and now that he gets what you’re trying to do, his mind just stops.

Your voice is barely a whisper, a mesmerizing caress on his lips when you speak again. “I think I’ve waited long enough, Zuku.”

Your tone is fond, but you sound so desperate, it’s unbearably cute. His mind fogs up, the smoke of your words filling his skull and he wants to drive you as mad as you drive him. Sure, you’ve waited a lot, but so has he. He isn’t going to rush this, not if he has any say in it.

He slides your panties down your thighs underwater inch by inch. It’s even too slow for him; right now he just wants to rip the stupid piece of lace off of you and fuck you and him both stupid in the water, hard and fast. But even more than that, he wants to take his time with you, wants to take you apart piece by piece. And the testy whine it elicits from you makes it all so worth it.

You shift a bit so he can take your underwear completely off and, in a second, it lays abandoned on the sandy ground of the shore. Just knowing you’re now completely naked in front of him, it sends boiling desire flowing through every single vein in his body. He can’t see that part of you yet, the water darkening along with the sky clouding his view beneath the surface, but nightfall can’t do anything about Izuku’s wild imagination. He’s dizzy, feeling himself slowly falling into a half-conscious daze, but you anchor him right where you are, bringing him back to the reality of your arms hooked around his neck.

He rests his hands on your hips, dragging his fingertips down the soft flesh of them. The idea of touching you down there is making his head spin, he can’t wait any longer.

“Can I—”

“Yes, I want your fingers inside me,” you say before driving your lips back against his.

Without further ado, one of them goes straight to your core, making you jump a bit, breaking the kiss just for a second. He runs his index between your folds, feeling hot slick already coming out of you despite the fresh water around. His touch is light, slow, hesitant as it glides up and down, testing the waters. He’s getting a bit further, putting a bit more pressure with every stroke and earning a few pleased sighs from your heavenly mouth.

He expected a sudden reaction as soon as he found your clit, but that doesn’t mean he was prepared for the drawn-out moan coming out of your gorgeous lips, wet from his mouth and from your dip earlier. He wants to hear that again, every day for the rest of his life. He drags his thumb over it, again and again, slow at first, but then quicker and quicker, and your voice grows louder with every speed-up of his finger.

Your hands go frantic over him, running up his chest and down his abs in repeated motions that feel a lot like it’s lust driving your limbs much more than your mind. You stopped kissing him at some point, your mouth too busy expressing every ounce of pleasure you felt to focus on such basic motions. Your face is buried in his neck, your hot breath crushing against his skin.

He presses his index inside, but he’s so focused on what he’s doing, trying not to hurt you, that he doesn’t notice the shift of your own hand leaning down until he feels it cupping the painful bulge in his boxers. His eyes go wide with a gasp, and when he looks at you, you already have a playful, but intense, gaze piercing right through him.

“Did you think I was gonna let you play all on your own, Zuku?” Your fingers graze over the soaked fabric, down his entire length and to his balls, throwing gasoline on the fire that’s been consuming him for ages. “Don’t be selfish,” you whisper directly in his ear as your hands slip his underwear down his thighs.

As soon as the piece of cloth gets to join your forgotten panties on the shore, you wrap your pretty hand around him. And when you start stroking, his eyes roll so hard he swears he can see the inside of his skull. It feels better than he ever could have imagined; it’s blistering, astonishing. The only idea his brain can manage to work out right now is that he wants you to feel just as good.

He only notices now that his fingers stopped moving, and they go right back to a steady pace, but it’s a matter of seconds before he drives another finger into you. Soon, you’re both fucking the life out of each other with your hands. You’re sucking and nipping at his ear, and every single moan he draws out of you ends up turning against him, breaking into the defenses he built year after year by your side. He’s simply fucking into your hand now. He can’t help it, you feel so good. He doesn’t even want to think about what it’s going to feel like to fuck into your tight little cunt, he might cum hard just from the thought of it.

The spongy spot he finds inside you feels like he just struck gold. It’s glorious, the sounds you make right now, higher, louder. You’re tightening around his fingers, but it’s okay—you can crush them for all he cares. He wants you to moan higher for him, wants you to keep riding his fingers like your life depends on it.

“Izuku, ah—I’m close, I’m so close, please…”

“I got you, baby. I got you, shit—”

He quickens the pace again, feels like his fingers are gonna fall off his hand the moment he gets them out of you, but fuck, what his princess wants, his princess is gonna get. Your orgasms shatter the both of you to pieces, and in the bliss of his high, he can hear some birds flying away, scared by the harmonious, but probably very loud, song of your combined moans.

While his cum strikes out by ropes into the water, his clouded mind can only think about one thing.

He needs more of you.

You can barely stand on your knees, worn out from cumming the hardest you have in your entire life. You actually have to lean on Izuku so you don’t fall into the water head first like some boneless ragdoll. You just let your forehead rest on his shoulder and count the freckles there, splattered in a fascinating work of abstraction.

But apparently, he has other plans. You’re swiftly lifted up and out of the water, huge scarred hands firmly holding the back of your thighs that immediately come to circle his waist.

“Oh, nice. I don’t mind getting carried around like a baby. Where are we going?”

“Not far,” he says with a little grin, walking out of the water. “Do you think you’ll be able to walk?” His voice holds a sarcastic tone, one you’re not used to hearing out of Izuku’s angel mouth.

“I think I can manage, yeah.”

He drops you to stand on your legs, and immediately goes for his backpack. The sun has just set, its last rays of light filling the pink sky over your heads. You can still easily make out everything around you, and Izuku’s body is no exception.

You’re watching him with a raised eyebrow, letting your shameless gaze follow every curve you couldn’t see underwater. The day he started exercising in high school was the day you knew it was over for you. It was the day you couldn’t deny what you felt anymore, you couldn’t deny your best friend was everything you needed, and everything you wished for. The physical factor was only a—very pleasant— addition to the list of things that made you fall hard for Izuku Midoriya.

Your eyes linger over his impressive figure, staring at the dimples at the small of his back. You always knew they were here, but you never allowed yourself to look at them, to imagine how they would grow repeatedly hollow with every thrust of his hips into you.

He finally digs out what he was looking for: a plaid picnic blanket, because of course he would have one in there. He’s wearing a little victorious smile when he stands and turns around to spread it on a grassy spot that looks a lot more comfortable than the hard ground. He turns back to you but averts his gaze to the side, hardly looking directly at you for more than a second at a time. The heat of his gaze tracing your curves through quick glances pools deep in your core. 

“You know you can look, right?” You sure aren’t refraining from doing so after all.

His face reaches its usual redness—hasn’t he learned anything from making you cum like crazy with just his fingers? It’s cute nonetheless; Izuku will never change.

He doesn’t answer your rhetorical question, only gives you a shy command in that tentative, very cute voice of his.

“Could you lay down on this for me?”

You saw this coming, but still, you’re a bit surprised he’s asking you that out loud. You gladly oblige with your legs pressed together, slightly bent. It’s another golden opportunity to tease him a bit:. “This isn’t exactly the right use for this blanket. Aren’t we supposed to eat on this?”

He smiles at the ground while kneeling at your feet.

“Maybe that’s exactly what I’m planning to do.”

Your sly smile fades away. His tone is a contradictory mix of shyness and determination, so it’s a bit confusing but also unbearably hot—you swear an astounding wave of heat is crashing through your deepest parts, untouched, just from some words and a funny tone. You rub your thighs together before he grabs and parts them to slip himself between them.

He crawls over you and leans down to kiss you, a bit more confident than earlier. His hips are pressing between your legs, where you can feel his hardness best.

He’s rutting more and more against you as the kiss intensifies. You could think it’d be a lot less exciting now that you know he’s going to eat you out, there’d be no suspense. Wrong. The little shit apparently likes to tease you to death, because he left your lips to kiss your face, nip at your neck, suck at your ears. Dragging his devilish hands everywhere, pressing harder each time you get louder. An especially heavy whine makes him buck hard, his mouth back against yours.

“The more impatient you get, the slower it’s gonna be,” he murmurs against your lips, and starts to make his way down to where you want him, kissing every inch of you, clouding your mind with desire. It’s way too much and still not enough; it’s maddening. When he finally reaches down, you’re on the verge of a second orgasm like you hadn’t just come down a few minutes ago.

He’s holding your thighs apart in a firm grip. Just the touch of his fingers burns your skin deliciously, and the look he’s giving you from between your legs...his eyes are clouded, half-lidded, looking at the part of you he’s never gotten to see before. It feels like he’s been looking forever and just a second at the same time.

He finally dips into you, leaving butterfly kisses all over your inner thighs, punctuated by little nips, nuzzling the soft skin. He’s not looking you in the eye anymore, his gaze lingering all over your body—all over except for your face. You can make out a slight blush on his cheeks despite the dimness all around. You know him better than anyone, so you immediately recognize what’s going on in his mind just from the slightest hint in his eyes. He looks like he’s fighting a battle against himself, his shyness against his hunger. And you know who you’re both rooting for.

He finally gives in, and it takes your breath away. A single, slight lick on your clit and you’re gone. And the next ones, more and more intense, more and more hungry, push you further to tumble over your edge. He grunts into your heat, multiple times. Moans like he’s the one squirming under your mouth.

His hands hold a firm grip on your hips, squeezing the flesh and keeping you in place—he doesn’t even give you an inch to move. You can only take and take and take. But you still have the luxury of your free hands, and they rush to bury in the knots of his messy wet curls, your nails dragging, scratching his scalp.

His lips close on your clit and suck just a bit, and before you can refrain, you pull on his hair, hard. He gasps, and the moment you think you hurt him, he breathes his loudest moan, right into you. You’re filled with the vibrations—they spread all over your body, have you throwing your head back, trembling from head to toe.

The louder you are, the hungrier he gets, filling you with his insatiable tongue. You have to look at him right now. And you expected quite a show, but you certainly weren't prepared to see this—him rutting against the ground like an animal. You realize he’s getting off just from your taste, just from eating you out. His hips roll repeatedly, making you salivate just to the thought of those same hips bucking into yours, fucking you into oblivion. And the more he ruts, the louder he gets.

Now if he wants to moan, you’re going to give him a good reason to. 

You hint for him to face you with a light tug on his hair. As soon as he’s back up, he dives in to kiss you. You don’t let him. In a second he’s on his back with you seated on his hips.

“What did I say about letting you play on your own, hm?”

The ‘deer caught in headlights’ look is so cute on him. And the rest is a marvel to look at. You’re straddling him and he has no other choice than to let you devour him with your eyes—not that he couldn’t bounce you off of him with just a thrust of his hips, but he already would have if he wanted to. You let your gaze wander mindlessly over him—it’s surreal. There’s no way he’s actually under you, waiting for you to please him back with his mouth and jaw still shining with your juices. It has to be a dream—it’s always been after all.

You shift so you’re straddling his parted thighs. You can finally take a look at him. The whole thing, that is. His cock is resting against his lower stomach, hard and swollen and thick. It’s a pretty, bright pink, shining with pre-cum at the tip. Your mouth waters just at the sight of it.

He’s looking down at you, his face as flushed as his dick, that usual blush still exquisitely coating his freckles. You take him in your hand, dive in to give a lick to the tip and his head falls back down with a whimper. You let your tongue drag over the whole length on the underside, and your lips close around the tip in a wet smooch. His hips jerk up a bit, startling you.

You finally take him whole in your mouth, and you can feel his whole body tensing under you. You start bobbing up and down, going a bit further each time, earning a series of shameless moans because this boy is loud. You expected him to express himself during sex since he’s such a mumbler—and frankly, it was always one of your biggest fantasies, hearing him come undone because of you, lose any sense of shame and self-restriction when he’s such a anxious person otherwise.

But you could’ve thought about it every night and day and still never be ready for this. It’s sinful. His hand goes to grab your hair just like you did to him, and now you get why he liked it so much. The feel of his nails scratching your scalp is electrifying, soothing and destructive at the same time.

Your tongue hits a precise spot just under the tip and he jerks up again, nearly screams, “Fuck—yes, right there, please—d-do that again!”

And you do, you can only oblige—he asked so nicely. Your lips go up and down, over and over, your tongue grazing this spot with a bit more pressure every single time. You squint over him, and what you find there is a mess. Trying so hard not to buck into your mouth but failing miserably. Sounding like he’s at Heaven’s gate.

“Easy, Zuku. You’re gonna scare the birds away,” you chuckle against him, your lips brushing the tip, dripping with your saliva and pre-cum.

“Do I need to remind you…how loud you were for me earlier?” He’s looking back down at you as he speaks, a tremble in his voice telltale of his approaching climax. “You sounded...so good, baby, I swear...wanna hear you again, wanna make you scream, just for me, fuck—”

You can feel yourself soaking the blanket, can feel the slick trickle down your folds and stain the plaid cotton. Is he aware of what he’s doing? Or is he just saying whatever is going through his chaotic mind? In any case it has you starving. So you let go of his cock and, before he can protest, crawl back to his face and kiss him desperately. Tasting both of your fluids in a mindblowing mix.

You pull back just enough to be able to speak, because you need him to understand you loud and clear when you say:  “Please, Izuku, I need you inside me, I’ve waited so long. Please.”

“Okay, okay, fuck—” He cuts himself off, his eyes slightly drooping like a sad puppy. “I-I don’t have any condoms.”

“You mean you probably have pads in there for me but no condoms?” you say with your eyebrows raised, your mocking tone hinting at a teasing remark, far from criticism.

He frowns in confusion. “How do you know I have pads in there?”

“So the legend turns out to be true. After all these years—”

“Shut up, you’re impossible,” he chuckles heatlessly, resting his hands on your back.

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill,” you assure him with a soft tone.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m on the pill, yeah.”

He rolls his eyes, then clarifies, a hint of hesitation clear in his voice.

“No I mean...you’re sure you wanna do this?” He marks a brief pause, takes a short breath. “With me?”

You don’t even think before answering, it slips your mouth like it’s not even your own words: “I don’t want it with anyone else.”

There’s a silence.

“Fuck, that sounds cheesy,” you scoff, looking away.

“It does, but we’re both cheesy idiots, apparently.”

You look back at him. His smile is so fond, so loving; it melts your heart in the best way.

“I wanna be your cheesy idiot,” you say against his mouth, looking right into his eyes, willing to fall in them.

“You always have been,” he nearly whispers. It fills your stomach with familiar warmth, intense and overwhelming, comforting.

There’s a bittersweet taste in your mouth, one of regret and lost time and God, we’re idiots.

Now it’s about time you make up for it all.

You look down at him, rolling your hips against him, dripping all over his cock, coating him in your juices.

“I think I asked you something, didn’t I?”

A whimper escapes him at the feeling. His hips buck up slightly, hands gripping at your back. When you do it again, you don’t get the chance to see his reaction; you’re on your back again, him towering over you, his thigh between your legs.

He’s looking at you with something in his eyes you don’t recognize, but the tone he speaks with has your entire body quaking.

“And you’re gonna get it, sweetheart.”

He holds himself over his left forearm, his hand thumbing at your cheek while the other strokes the whole length of your thigh. Your noses are brushing, your breaths crashing together. Your hands hold tight to his nape, playing with the short hair mindlessly as you’re waiting to be filled, finally.

You feel the stretch instantly. You try to focus on those mesmerizing emerald gems he calls eyes. They look right through your soul, eating you up and you barely feel the pain. He’s taking it slow, inch by inch, giving you all the time you need, caressing your cheek with a tender stroke of his thumb.

“Relax for me, baby.”

Izuku’s voice is a soothing sound over the incessant chirping of the grasshoppers. It was always one of your favorite things to hear, its every tone another blessing to your ears. It’s loving when he asks if you’re okay, comforting when he whispers sweet nothings to you as you cry on his shoulder, heartening when he’s going on about anything he’s passionate about.

He’s kissing every part of skin he has access to, over your face, your jaw, your neck. You feel yourself relaxing around him, and roll your hips up to give him the hint.

When he starts moving it’s still slow and careful. He doesn’t break eye contact, so you can see his every reaction, and he can see all yours. His hand is still playing with your hair, even as his pace speeds up with every second. The weight of him over you feels amazing, it holds him close against you, countless parts of you both rubbing together: your chests, your stomachs, your thighs. He doesn’t even have a lot of space to move. But getting to touch and get touched by him like this, it's incredible. You always had him so close to you, always right there and still so out of reach.

You still need more; you’re insatiable. You need to see him come undone under you, because of you. You push him to roll on his back, and you end up straddling him, setting the pace yourself. You start bouncing up and down on his cock, taking balance on the hard planes of his abs. He immediately reaches up to grab your hips, guiding you along.

His face tenses up, frowning, his nose wrinkling, his lips parted just to let out a series of breathy sighs. He looks wrecked and dizzy and stunning. He’s keeping his eyes open, fixed up on you, specifically on your breasts, bouncing with your every motion. And you can feel his gaze on your skin just as much as you feel his hands gripping harder at the flesh below your hips.

“Eyes up here, Zuku,” you coo with two fingers pointed at your eyes.

He doesn’t answer, only sits up easily and wraps his arms around your waist.

“You look so amazing, you have no idea what you do to me,” he says with a trembling voice, filled with bliss.

Your heart misses a beat at his words, they fill you with warmth and comfort because he definitely doesn’t have any idea what he’s doing to you. He delves his face into your neck, kissing and nuzzling, his breath coming shorter and shorter, crashing against your skin and his hands running all over you. The sound of his hoarse voice resonates through the forest and through your soul, echoing an enchanting song.

With little effort, he puts you back under him so he can pound into you with full force, and your legs immediately come up to wrap around his waist, pulling him deeper. Your hands grab his hair, tugging to see if you get the same reaction as earlier, and it doesn’t miss: he lets out a groan right into your ear, speeding up his pace again.

The sky is dark now, and all you can hear are his moans and yours and the slap of your hips coming together repeatedly. Your head is thrown back when he grabs you by the hair, forcing you to turn your head and face him.

“Look at me. I wanna see you.”

“Izuku, I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby. Let go for me, come on.”

Just the feel of his hand trailing down your stomach awakens something in you, this familiar pressure growing tight in your belly. And when his fingers reach your clit, a couple of strokes are enough to have you screaming his name, tightening around him, and pulling him towards his climax with you. His thrusts come franticly as you milk him dry, clawing desperately at his back, panting in his mouth as he leaned down to kiss you through both your climaxes.

As soon as he comes down, he rolls over on his side, still laying close to you, an arm thrown over you. You both take a minute to catch your breaths and, weirdly enough, you don’t hear anything aside from your panting. You really must have scared the birds away. Izuku breaks the silence first.

“Do you wanna...sleep at my place?”

He’s looking over at you and, despite the sky getting dark, you can easily imagine the blush coating his cheeks right now, like he didn’t make you scream his name, drunk on his cock two minutes ago.

You can’t repress your fond smile at his proposition.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

You take a minute to gather your clothes from all over the place and get dressed, then grab your bag to tug it over your shoulder.

“You got everything?”

Izuku is waiting for you just outside the trees. You take a quick look around, making sure you haven’t forgotten anything, and turn around without a second look at the place.

Because although it was your first time setting foot here, it definitely won’t be the last; you will come back here with Izuku every chance you get, making it your shared secret, your own little wonderland.

You gladly take the hand he’s offering, making him blush a little harder, and you head straight back into the forest together.

You walk side by side as a comfortable silence settles, only disturbed by the grasshoppers’ incessant, boisterous chirping. The sky is utterly dark now, you can make out a few stars shining above the dense trees. You walk at a steady pace, but Izuku is going a bit faster with every step. Soon enough, he’s walking a bit ahead of you, still holding your hand. Another golden occasion to tease his eagerness.

“Are we in a hurry, Zuku?”

In the dark of the night, you struggle to make out the look on his face as he turns around to look at you. A second later, he’s running, and with your hand firmly held in his, you can’t do much but try to follow along. You giggle as you run, and it quickly grows into a belly-deep laughter. He’s fast, doesn’t get tired, but you follow him anyway, probably as eager as he is. You have to zig-zag so you don’t run straight into the massive trees standing in your way.

You get to the car in no time, but you’re both out of breath when you finally get in your respective seats, ready to go home.

Izuku doesn’t even wait to catch his breath before he starts the car, the engine roaring loudly in the silence of the night, probably scaring the birds away for the upteenth time that night. You catch his happy grin in the headlights glow before he heads back into the road.

You have a feeling the night is not over; you’ve only got twenty years to make up for after all.

[demigodreading]

Saving Mini Benson Pt:1

Request: From @youngjusticeimaginesus​:  Hi, I was wondering If maybe you'd be willing to do a oneshot where Olivia's daughter gets kidnapped by Lewis instead of Olivia?

Summary: That’s right my favorite peoples... This is going to be a two part mini series because there was no way everything that I needed to say could be done in a one-shot! I won’t go into much because I don’t want to give it away but please note THIS PART IS A DOOZY! The next one may be worse but still this arc made me cry in the show and I cried writing this

Characters: Olivia Benson, Fin Tutuola, Amanda Rollins, Nick Amaro, William Lewis, Donald Cragen, Reader

Relationships: Olivia Benson x Daughter! Reader

Warnings: MAJOR Violence, Guns, Cigarette Burns, Episode Spoilers, Alcohol, Smoking Weed, Mentions of Shootings, Death, William Lewis, Mentions of torture... (I Think that covers it but if it doesn’t please let me know)

Word Count: 2320 (Like I said.. there was no way this was gonna be just a oneshot.)

And with that all being said: Let’s jump into it.

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Olivia and her daughter rarely fought but when they did neither one wanted to admit the other one was right. Olivia loved and hated her daughter for being so similar to her. Even now as she watched the miniature version of herself stalk the interview room the exact same way she would send her heart racing. Usually the similarities would result in a smile but not today. Today Olivia’s vision was a deep red as she confronted her daughter.

“Y/N you were caught smoking weed underneath the bleachers during class! So not only did you break one rule you broke two!” Olivia shouted, folding her arms.

“Wow glad that you know how to count,” Y/N mumbled looking out the window.

“What did you just say to me?”

“Look mom I just don’t get what the big deal is? It was one joint. One class!” Y/N retorted, throwing her hands up, “I am a straight A student who has a full ride scholarship to Harvard.”

“Yes, because Barba stuck his neck out on the line for you and put in a glowing recommendation,” Olivia spat, “What you did was careless. You could have ruined everything that was given to you.”

“You know for once in your life could you ever be fucking proud of me! I do everything that I can do to make you proud and yet at the end of the day I am never fucking good enough for you.”

“That’s not…” Olivia went to argue but was interrupted by Cragen opening the door.

“Olivia we got a problem. I need you right now,” He said, then shut the door without waiting for an answer.

“Just go save another poor unfortunate soul mom. Don’t worry about your daughter.  I’ll pick up my own pieces like I always do,” Y/N said, wiping tears from her face as she grabbed her coat.

Y/N stormed from the room before Olivia could stop her. She made her way through the precinct eyes trained to the floor as her mother’s voice rang out, “You better head straight home Y/N!  We are not done having this conversation and you are grounded!”

Choosing not to say anything, Y/N merely raised her hand in the air flipping her mother off before the doors shut with a loud slam behind her. Tears made dark spots on the concrete as Y/N made her way back to their apartment. Even the noises of the constant car honks and people screaming couldn’t drown out the voices in her head today. Failure. Waste of space. Stupid. No one. Unwanted. Unloved. 

It was the repeated song that kept her feet moving forward until she finally placed her key in the lock. She threw her bag by the kitchen island and threw her keys on the counter. She was about to turn on the living room light when a noise caught her attention. 

“Hello? Hello?”

As she turned the corner her vision was filled with the sight of a gun pointed right at her temple. A smirk crossed William Lewis’ face as he looked at Y/N, “Ah welcome home Little Benson. I was hoping that it would be your mother who was walking through the door but I guess you will have to do.”

Y/N went to scream but instead Lewis jammed the gun against her throat, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you. One small slip of my finger and your mom will be left with a new kind of art all over her walls.”

Y/N let a single tear roll down her face before Lewis’ gun made contact with her skull and the whole world went black.

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Olivia had already tried to call Y/N twice but it kept going straight to voicemail. The last known location had been their apartment so at least she had the sense to head straight home. The guilt in Olivia’s stomach was insurmountable. Watching her daughter explain that she never felt like she lived up to her standards. Olivia had promised herself when she had Y/N she would never end up like her mother. Yet there she was shaming her child for one mistake. Y/N was more than just a good kid, she was excellent. She was smart, beautiful, humorous, kind, and so much more. She was everything Olivia could have ever hoped for. Knowing that her daughter thought she wasn’t proud was the worst pain she could have.

After the third call Olivia finally decided to leave a voicemail, “Y/N I know you are mad but I need you to know something. I am proud of you and will always be proud of you. You are the best daughter and the most amazing human. I was rough on you early. Please let’s talk through this. I’ll be home soon with your favorite Chinese. Just don’t do anything stupid? I love you.”

When she hung up the phone she placed her head in her hands and let out a large sigh. Fin placed a reassuring hand on her back, “Liv, it is going to be okay. She is just being a teenager.”

“No Fin, you should have seen her. It was like I was physically taking her heart out and ripping it in front of her. I should have never said those things. I didn’t mean any of them… I was just upset.”

“She knows, they always know.”

Olivia merely shook her head and began to gather her things to head home. She walked out of the precinct without a goodbye and headed down the street to Y/N’s favorite Chinese place. They knew what she was going to order as soon as she walked in the door asking where Y/N was. Liv pushed off their question and scrolled through her phone as she waited for the food. Y/N’s phone was still off giving Olivia an eerie feeling as she finished the walk to the apartment. 

Once inside she noticed Y/N’s bag on the floor and her keys on the counter. There was a sudden rush of cold air that made her notice the window that was open to the fire escape. She shut it quickly and then moved to Y/N’s room. The door was still open with everything the way she had left it that morning. Once her calls were unanswered Olivia opened the window again crawling onto the fire escape. Sometimes Y/N would go to the roof to watch the sun slowly crawl behind the buildings.When she reached the top however she was met with an unsettling emptiness. 

Olivia reached for her phone to call the only person who was able to calm her anxiety lately, “Amaro, Y/N isn’t here. I can’t find her. What if something happened to her?”

“She probably just went to a friend’s house to get away,” Amaro replied stirring the contents of his drink, “She will be back in the morning just to relax. Sleep off the anger and come back with a clear head tomorrow.”

Liv pondered this suggestion over and over deciding what she should do. When the silence became too long Amaro interjected again, “Liv, I’m serious. You two had the biggest blow out that I have seen in awhile. Give her time to be mad at you and think. If you smother her she might only push further away from you.” She thanked her partner for the advice and then shoved her phone back in her pocket taking a sweep of the roof once again. Finally she slowly made her way back to the apartment shutting the window with a slam before locking it. Olivia wandered over to the kitchen moving the cereal that covered the top of the fridge to get to her secret cupboard. From the opening she pulled a large bottle of her favorite red wine. She popped the cork and decided to forgo a cup taking a long swig directly from the green glass. A large sigh escaped her lips as she plopped down on the couch going over the events of the day in her head.

As the contents of the bottle slowly drained till there was nothing else Olivia realized her fears were all coming true. She was becoming her mother. A woman she never once wanted to be. Three empty bottles later she finally curled under Y/N’s sheets crying into her pillow until she finally was able to fall asleep.

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The next morning when Y/N did not return and her phone was still shut down all bets were off. Olivia was furious but more importantly she was terrified. Something was horribly wrong. Her morning was spent talking to Y/N’s two best friends and searching their houses for her. When that search was unsuccessful Olivia went to the school hoping Y/N had gone there. However, she had been absent all day and there hadn’t even been a call to excuse her from the day. 

When the morning bled into the afternoon Olivia was running around the city to all of Y/N’s usual hangout spots. The search of the library told her that Y/N hadn’t been there in over a week. The local bakery hadn’t seen her in three days. The coffee shop where Y/N always bought Olivia’s coffee when she came to see her at work had seen her two mornings ago but nothing since then. Even the old lady that had Y/N over twice a week to help her with errands and chores around the house hadn’t seen her. 

It was dark by the time that Olivia fell into her desk chair at the precinct. With her head in her hands she let the tears fall. A whole day was gone and there was still no sign of her daughter. If she had been kidnapped they were running out of time and losing it quickly. The longer she was out there the longer the person had to get away with whatever they wanted.

The squad huddled around in Cragen’s office looking at Olivia curled over her desk. Rollins was the first one to speak, “I bet you Lewis has something to do with this.”

“And what makes you think that?” Amaro asked, “There are plenty of people who could have a vendetta against Liv.”

“It’s just a feeling.”

“Yeah well have you ever considered the idea that maybe Y/N just ran away,” Amaro retorted.

Fin, Cragen, and Amanda all turned towards Amaro, shocked. Cragen was the first one to speak, “I know you haven’t been here long Amaro but this isn’t Y/N. Something is horribly wrong and we are going to figure out what is going on. Fin and Amanda go check out Lewis’ usual hiding spots. I’ll take Liv through her apartment once again to see if we missed anything.”

“And me cap?”

“Amaro… you stay here and set up a tip line,” Cragen responded curtly and then they all disappeared to find where Y/N had disappeared to.

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Y/N woke with a jolt as she felt cold water splash her face. She was met with Lewis staring only a couple inches away from her face. He grinned and grabbed Y/N’s chin as she tried to look away, “Well well there. Looks like someone is finally awake. Feeling thirsty?”

Y/N nodded her head yes waiting to scream as he curled his fingers around the edge of the duct tape. As he was about to pull it away he jammed a gun against Y/N’s throat, “Make any noise and I will shove this gun straight down your throat.”

Finally when he pulled the tape away Y/N spit right in his face, “Just shoot me already if you are going to threaten me with it.”

“And miss out on all of our fun Mini Benson. I think not. There is plenty that I want to do to you before then.”

Y/N began to panic as Lewis lit another cigarette. She remembered the way the others had burned against her chest and sides. She had lost count after twenty perfect circle burns and after the second pistol whip to the face she had passed out a second time, She couldn’t go through all of that again.

“My mom knows I am missing and she will be out looking for me. Just let me go and she will never have to know that you did it. Please,” YN begged.

“What is she going to think about that bruise on your face? Or the marks on your skin? I can’t let you go… plus I know that you both fought before you came home. I bet you that she thinks you just ran away and are leaving her,” Lewis chuckled.

“How.. how did you know that we fought?

“This lovely voicemail your mother left you,” Lewis said, placing your phone against your ear.

Tears began to run down Y/N’s face as she heard the apology her mother had sent her. Damnit! Why did I have to fight with her? We could have avoided all of this. Is the mantra that ran through her head as Lewis slammed the phone against her head and threw it at the wall.

“She isn’t coming for you,” Lewis snickered.

“Please… just let me go. I will do anything.”

Lewis pulled his gun and placed it against Y/N’s scalp, “You are still bargaining with me? Really. We are way past that baby.”

“I am the daughter of an NYPD detective. A decorated well known detective. My mother, her partner, her squad, the entire department will hunt you down. You think that you’ve put people through hell. It will rain back down on you.”

“You know what… let it rain,” Lewis said and then hit Y/N once again making her world go black for a third time. 

[no-shxt-sherl]

late night banter

AN I’ve started writing this short imagine a few months ago and finally found the motivation to finish it. I hope you like it.

Summary Corpse’s significant other had a bad day that lead to a spa-session with lots of fluff.

Warnings fluff. lots of fluff (i think)

______________________________________________________________

The days in quarantine seem to be longer than normal. It’s like time is no longer passing in its regular pace. I’ve been up and about all day and work just hasn’t been treating me well today. On my way home I decided that I would treat myself today and call it a selfcare-day. Making some final purchases on my way, my face began to light up a bit more as I neared the all familiar apartment complex. As I was walking into our shared apartment, I could already hear my boyfriend talking in the next room. He is playing video games with his friends and I usually make it a habit to not disturb them. I’m just dropping my bag on the counter and kick of my shoes. Feeling more at ease, I go into the kitchen to make me some tea and to check my socials for anything new going on.

After a few minutes, my tea is ready to serve.

“Babe, is that you?”, he shouts.

“Yeah, it’s me, Bubs!”, I shout back over my right shoulder.

I slightly grin when I hear his soothing voice. That man is my kryptonite, my comfort person. As I’m putting sugar in my tea, I feel two strong arms wrap around my waist from behind. He nuzzles his face into the crook of my neck and I simply lay my head back against his and close my eyes.

“I missed ya”, he speaks into my neck while embracing me tighter. I place my hands on his and begin to draw small circles.

“I missed you more, bubs”, I answered with my eyes still closed.

We stayed in this position for a few minutes and my mood was getting better and better. His hugs work like a stress reliever. I can literally feel the weight falling off my shoulders as I fully relax into his touch.

Feeling stripped of the negative energy that surrounded me before, I turn around in his embrace and sling my arms around his neck. Still smiling, I look into his eyes and admire his beautiful features. I reach one of my hands into his slightly curly hair and pull him down to me, so that our lips connect in a sweet movement. He rearranges his hands on my waist to my lower back and pulls me into him even more. Smiling into the kiss, he begins to shower me with sweet little pecks to my lips and the rest of my face. With an even bigger smile on my face, I welcome the swarm of butterflies back into my stomach and try to playfully escape his lips’ attack. It is sheer unbelievable how I still feel the same as when we first met. He is just meant to be with me and I with him.

“Is your game already over?”, I ask him as I lay my head back to look into his eyes again.

“No, we’re having a pee break just now”, he says still holding me tight.

“You should go back then before they’re wondering where you have wandered off to, bubs”

“Don’t worry about them. They’ll survive. You’re more important”, he answers while taking my face into his hands and planting another kiss on my forehead. I close my eyes and smile into his soft touch. Lifting my own hands up, I place them on his. With my eyes still closed, I grab his hands and bring them down between us. I look at him again and see the worry in his eyes. He was starting to get anxious. With my thumbs, I draw small circles on the back of his hands while holding up our eye contact, trying to reassure him.

“Don’t worry about me. I was going to the bathroom anyways to have a little selfcare-session. Just go back to your game. I’ll be okay. I promise”

I reach up to give him one more kiss to convince him to just go back to his friends and then try to walk away from him. As I was about to turn my back to him, he reaches for my hands and kisses my knuckles. He might not be the best with words, but I know exactly that he is trying to tell me with his actions that he is here for me. I give him an appreciative smile and let go of his hands.

I don’t know how much time has passed since I’ve entered the bathroom, but I took my sweet ass time in the shower and finally dressed myself in fresh and comfy clothes. With my music on full volume, I didn’t notice him standing in the doorway of the bathroom, watching me while I was putting on my face mask to continue my spa-like evening. I was in my own zone and completely gave myself to my music, meaning hips were swaying and my own music video choreography was getting performed. My mood entirely shifted to the better.

Just as I was getting to my favourite part of the current song, a low chuckle caught my attention. I turned around and saw him leaning against the doorframe of our bathroom door with his phone in his hand, its camera focused on me. As I got a look at his face behind the phone, I saw him smile. I love his smile. It took a while for him to fully open up to me and give me an honest to God, almost child-like smile. First time I made him laugh, like laugh for real, I knew he was it. He is my human, my other half.

“Bubs, stop!”, I said, laughing and blocking my face from the camera’s view. He just chuckled again and put away his phone.

“This will be a nice addition to my little collection”

Not knowing what to answer to that I just playfully stuck out my tongue at him which made him smile once again.

“You can be quite childish sometime”, he said while still leaning in the doorway.

“I don’t know what you mean by that”, I said playing dumbfounded while slowly making my way over to him. He didn’t see it coming. As I was finally standing in front of him, I grabbed his head and rubbed my cheek against his. He started to laugh and tried to half-heartedly squirm out of my grip. When he noticed that I won’t let go of him, he started to tickle me. Both of us were just a laughing mess at this point.

I surrendered after a few minutes of his sweet torture and squirmed out of his touch to get a good look at my work. My face mask smeared all over his face as I had planned. He looked ridiculous with light blue stripes of facemask all over his face. I laughed at his dishevelled state.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, bubs. Was that me?” I made fun of him. He just looked at me amused.

“I guess now that it’s already on, we can both get a face mask together” I said all smile-y and innocent, as I turned away from him to grab the container with the facemask in it.

“You could have just asked me to join you, baby” he whispered in my ear as he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I looked up into the mirror in front of us and saw how he smiled at me.

I turned around in his embrace and planted a small kiss on his nose. He scrunched his nose in reaction to my gesture. He looks cute that way. Corpse returned my affection with a small peck to my lips. My heart skips a small beat as we just look at each other in silence. I love him so much. I’ve never felt so at ease with another person in my whole life. He has my heart, my soul, my everything.

“Let’s get our spa night started. My face mask won’t put itself on, babe” he said while bumping his nose against mine. I grinned and started to spread the face mask evenly on his face. Tracing his features and taking in his whole face, as I do so often. He is beautiful.

As I finished putting on the facemask on both our faces and started cleaning up the bathroom, I could still feel his gaze on me. I turned to look at him and raised my eyebrow questioningly. He just smiled back at me.

“I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you with me. I was always convinced that everything in my life is just temporarily - love, friendship, fame – but for once, I feel like this is gonna be permanent. You will be permanent in my life. I never wanna lose you”

I was used to his sudden outbursts of affection but this confession did catch me off-guard. It’s not like we never said that we loved each other. We made each other understand through other non-verbal methods. We know about our mutual feelings, but we’re taking it slow because we both get overwhelmed too easily. I know about his fears and insecurities and he knows about mine. Nonetheless, we never directly talked about our future. I felt my heart grow bigger with every ongoing second. I want this - us - to be permanent as well. He is my home and I wanna be his.

“I love you”

[hamliet]

Mercurius and the Emerald Tablet

What did Isaac Newton (yes, that Isaac Newton) spend his time translating?

The Emerald Tablet is a medieval (well, it’s traditionally considered ancient but that can’t be verified and it’s probably not) tablet that contains the secrets to alchemy. It’s the very foundation of western alchemy. The tablet itself is really... cryptic and full of very important-sounding phrases that may not mean much. However, its role in history and the legend behind it are much more important than its gobbledygook. 

So, would CRWBY really be aware of this esoteric text? Would they really reference it? Undoubtedly yes; they have directly. One of Volume 7′s episodes is literally called “As Above, So Below” which is a famous paraphrased quote of the Emerald Tablet. The original text reads:

That which is above is like to that which is below, and that which is below is like to that which is above.

Basically it means that things that occur in the macrocosm are mirrored in the microcosm, but we don’t have to get in to all of that. I’m just tossing it out there to point out that CRWBY is indeed aware of what they’re doing.

Instead, I’d like to talk about the two characters who are very clear references to the Emerald Tablet: Emerald Sustrai, and Mercury Black.

The legendary author of this tablet (aka mythically its the author but in reality probs not) is Hermes Trismegistus, who is a syncretization of Hermes/Mercury (the Greco-Roman god) and Thoth, the Egyptian god of wisdom.

Emerald’s name is a clear allusion to the tablet, as is Mercury’s to the author. I'd argue that Emerald’s somewhat Egyptian design also suggests she might be a stand-in for Thoth. Mercurius is portrayed as both a thief and a loyal companion, as fire and water, flighty and steadfast, as opposites in every way, essentially. Lyndy Abraham describes him as a force “both creative and destructive.” Carl Jung writes that:

He is the hermaphrodite that was in the beginning, that splits into the classical brother-sister duality and is reunited in the coniunctio, to appear once again at the end in the radiant form of the lumen novum, the stone.

Don’t read this too literally or predictively--the “hermaphrodite” (please forgive my use of the term) is actually a figure known as Rebis. While, in literature, Rebis is sometimes depicted as a sibling-esque relationship when platonic, it’s more often a romantic couple who take on the characteristics of one another. So, Emerald and Mercury could be platonic and sibling-esque or could end up romantic and the point is still the same: their most important narrative relationship is with each other, and they need to reconcile and take on each others’ characteristics, work together. 

They are currently separated, which as Jung comments has to happen as part of the work, and will reunite eventually (and yes, Mercury will be redeemed and work with Emerald again, which quite possibly means working with RWBY JNOR). Their song is literally called “I Am the One” which ties into how they are very much two sides of the same coin. Their unity is the end of both of their arcs. 

Jung also writes that: 

When the alchemist speaks of Mercurius, on the face of it he means quicksilver (mercury), but inwardly he means the world-creating spirit concealed or imprisoned in matter. 

By world-creating spirit he means anima mundi, the concept of a world soul or in eastern traditions, qi, that connects everyone. In RWBY it seems to be linked to a physical concept, which I like because it merges the corporeal and spiritual, in “Dust.” 

So why am I rambling about this? Because Emerald and Mercury are symbolic of Dust, of anima mundi, of their world itself. 

I wouldn’t so much say they are referencing the Jung quote (I think that’s reading too much into it) but there is an element of basic alchemical thought present here that is reflected in Emerald and Mercury: the dichotomy between physical and spiritual, or of the corporeal and soul. However, on the whole RWBY seems to thwart this by implying the physical and the soul are intrinsically linked: the soul can be used physically in a semblance, and Dust seems like a literal physical embodiment of the concept of a world soul. 

Both Mercury and Emerald feel trapped, as Tyrion calls them out on: 

Mercury: you may not like it here without Cinder, but I think I’m right where I’m supposed to be!

Tyrion (laughing): Oh yes, ‘the world is mean, and I’m a big bad man now just like the others’

Mercury: How long have you been listening? 

Tyrion: All you ever learned was pain and violence and now you’re too afraid to leave it! ... I’m going to tell you both a little secret. Your question is all wrong. What you want from this? Children, please. If you’re not loving what you’re doing then you’re in the wrong field. 

Emerald: So what? Are you saying we should just leave?

Tyrion: Oh no, you can’t do that.

Mercury: Then what did you come here for? 

Emerald and Mercury are imprisoned by their physical circumstances. Emerald has started to break free, but the binds that remain are more mental and spiritual. Mercury is still very much a physical prisoner. 

Mercury and Emerald have done terrible things, surely, but they also never really had much of a chance with how they’ve been raised, or more accurately not raised. 

If you can’t reach out and save the lost children, how do you hope to save the world? Almost every character of import is in fact a lost child; it’s a motif for a reason. As nice as it would be able to be (or not) to categorize people as good/bad, evil or not, that’s not the world of RWBY (or our world honestly). But Emerald and Mercury are still alive and have the potential to unlock something that could save the world. How? 

There’s a third person who is mentally and physically a prisoner. They have the power to give Cinder life with a confrontation and set her free. I’m not saying it’s their responsibility so please don’t come for me; I’m just saying that’s likely a narrative function their character arcs are going to have. 

Mythologically, Thoth/Mercury considered to be the one who kills Argus, which is not only a place name in RWBY’s world, but a reference to silver eyes and perhaps to Cinder’s arc. I’m not intending to give the impression I think Emerald and Mercury will kill Cinder (they will not) because it’s an inspiration not a 1:1 retelling. But I do think Emerald and Mercury’s eventual confrontation with Cinder, which has to happen, will serve for them symbolically the way Yang’s confrontation with Raven served: to metaphorically kill and give a wake-up call so that Cinder can actually progress instead of wallowing in destructiveness. 

And frankly, I think it’s highly likely Cinder is majorly important to making the ultimate choice that will save the world in the end. 

[ectoentity]

Continuous

Danny Phantom ficlet, Daemon AU (check this for which daemon is attached to whom.) This ficlet is entirely from the POV of Danny’s Daemon Stella.

---

“Where do you go?” Constans asked one day, while their humans were caught up in a discussion. He tried to act disinterested, looking aside and languidly grooming himself, but the set of his ears betrayed his curiosity.

“Con! You can’t just ask that!” Ismene whispered. She held her tiny paws up to her mouth as if it would keep anyone from hearing them. It was adorable, and completely unnecessary.

Stella couldn’t roll her eyes – one of the few things she hated about being an owl – so instead she preened a wing feather diligently before speaking. It was a distraction and it annoyed Con, so it was a win-win. “I go inside his head,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Con made a weird face, like he was smelling something strange. Cats were so expressive. They tried to act aloof, but they couldn’t help emoting. “You mean you share a body?”

Stella kept preening. It wasn’t an attempt to cover her nerves, really. She was just teasing Con. “He’s still mostly in control of it,” she admitted. “I can only really do things when it’s an emergency.”

Cons shuddered and went back to grooming himself thoroughly. Isme shook her head and lowered her paws.

“What constitutes an emergency?” Isme asked.

Stella fixed the sugar glider with an intense stare. She was an owl. It was the only kind she could give. “Anything where I can move us away and fight back.”

Unfortunately, Con backed up Isme. “Are you sure it’s you performing those actions?” he asked.

Her feathers were fluffing up of their own accord. That was very annoying and definitely didn’t mean anything about their mental state. Stella checked in on Danny. He was glancing over at her, but didn’t seem to be upset about anything. She shook her head. Nothing was wrong.

“I want to move, and we move,” she said. “I usually don’t try to do anything like that unless we’re in a fight. It’s his body.”

“If you’re there, too, why couldn’t it be your body?” Con asked. He was looking directly at Stella, tracking her eyes. It was far too direct to be an innocent question. Stella wished she could huff. Con-and-Sam always asked questions like that – questions that poked at norms that were soul-deep as much as they were customary. They had a point, sometimes. Customary norms could be bypassed, when you were a ghost.

“Do you want to be there when your human is a ghost?” she asked instead, trying to bypass Constans’s question. “A voice in her mind, with no form to stabilize you?”

For a brief moment, Con’s tail puffed up like a cattail. Sam reached over to pet and soothe him, but the damage was done.

“I’m just curious,” he said, voice faltering.

“We know what curiosity does to cats,” Isme teased. Then she yawned. “It’s way too bright. Stella, I don’t know how you do it.” Then she scurried back into Tucker’s sleeve to sleep the rest of the day away.

Stella fluffed up her feathers again and then shook herself. It was as close to a frustrated shrug as she could get. She didn’t like being awake during the day, but she dealt with it. Same way she dealt with their parents being obsessed with ghosts, and the late nights of ghost hunting, and Jazz-and-Jasper being overbearing, and--

And maybe she should pay attention to her physical surroundings sometimes. Halfway through her thought, she froze. Not physically. Nothing could freeze a daemon physically; they were made out of consciousness, after all. But the arrival of a ghost could certainly freeze her to her core.

“I’ve got to go,” both Stella and her human said. She flitted to his shoulder. He ran out of the store. Ember was down the street. 

That’s when they changed. Stella went from being her own person to being one with Danny, seeing from his eyes and feeling what he felt. It was frustrating and it was perfect. They moved in sync; they both wanted the same thing.

Please let me punch her, Stella begged as soon as they were one.

Get in line, Danny returned. But he was only joking; she could tell.

They flew into her orbit. Ember teased them. They traded a few lines with her. Before they were even done, Stella noticed a few weird notes in Ember’s song. Bet this is gonna be the part where she attacks us?

Would I ever doubt you? Danny teased.

The notes got even weirder. Stella wanted to shake off her feathers, but she didn’t have them. All she had was Danny, and his hair was standing on edge.

The song’s bridge, Stella realized. She would have gasped if she had had lungs. We have to stop this NOW.

They aimed-

And dove.

[thepictureofsdr]

matthew come down

this is a rewrite of an old post but i need to get this out so here

tw /// mentions of suicide , suicidal thoughts , mental health

ok so i’ll set the scene for what i imagine, the main characters like the merry thieves, cordelia, lucie, maybe anna, looking up at matthew standing on the edge of a roof as the song suggests.i imagine this as an animatic, so not 100% realistic, you’ll see what i mean.

i added a bit more from other hc’s, its a little long w the lyrics so its all under the cut :)

~~~~~~~~~

verse 1

Achilles come down, won’t you,

Get up off the roof

You’re scaring us, Some of us love you

Achilles, it’s not much but there’s proof

this doesnt have much meaning, it can be whomever you want to imagine, maybe multiple people, maybe thomas, lucie, cordelia, thomas, maybe all of them, whatever.

~~~~~

verse 2

Remember the pact of our youth.

Where you go I’m going, So jump and I’m jumping

Since there is no me without you

ok now this verse is james,

“Remember the pact of our youth. Where you go, I’m going, So jump and I’m jumping, Since there is no me without you”

this sounds almost like the parabatai oath, a pact made in youth, to follow where the other goes. this is james’s attempt to get him to come down. he’s telling matthew that he’s not broken, reminding matthew of their bond, reminding him that he’s loved and wanted no matter what 

~~~~~

Hurt and grieve but don’t suffer alone

Engage with the pain as a motive

How the most dangerous thing is to love

How you will heal and you’ll rise above

this works as a continuation of james, an attempt to empathise and comfort and show love, maybe he finds out about matthew’s love for cordelia and the end of the verse is a comment on that, or matthew has a bout of struggle with his sexuality. take your pick. and once again, a promise of healing and moving on.

~~~~~

verse 3

Jump now, You are absent of cause, Or excuse

So self-indulgent, And self-referential, No audience could ever want you

You crave the applause, Yet hate the attention, Then miss it, your act is a ruse It is empty, Achilles

So end it all now, It’s a pointless resistance, For you

now this is matthew’s own brain, his mental pain, alcoholism, trauma, his self hatred, all of it talking, pretty simple. it’s the dark part of his mind telling him to jump and to end it all.

this is where my animatic vision comes in, i imagine this happening as matthew seeing a replica of himself like a ghost or a shadow with a cruel smile saying this to the real matthew’s face.

~~~~~

verse 4

Just put down the bottle, Don’t listen to what you’ve consumed

It’s chaos, confusion, And wholly unworthy, Of feeding and it’s wholly untrue

You may feel no purpose, Nor a point for existing

It’s all just conjecture and gloom

And there may not be meaning, So find one and seize it

Do not waste your self on this roof

Hear those bells ring deep in the soul, Chiming away for a moment

Feel your breath course frankly below,See life as a worthy opponent

Today of all days

See, How the most dangerous thing is to love, How you will heal and you’ll rise above

Crowned by an overture bold and beyond, Ah, it’s more courageous to overcome

here comes alastair. i imagine him running up because he somehow found out what was happening, of course they all hate him at the moment and maybe they try to shove him away knowing how math feels about alastair, but he pushes through anyway and begins to talk to matthew.

alastair knows all too well the effects of alcohol and he knows math has a problem so he begins by addressing that. then he moves on to letting math know he understands those feelings of self hatred and depression, he can empathize. he lets matthew know it can get better, you can create a meaning for your life, you can overcome this. once again another mention of love, maybe a sexuality mention?

alastairs whole story is about self hatred and self forgivness and learning to move on from the past and self acceptence. alastair continues to push people away in cog2 because he’s continuing to punish himself and hold onto that self hatred, he knows what matthew is going through

~~~~~

You want the acclaim

The mother of mothers (it’s not worth it Achilles)

[whole verse of inner thoughts vs achilles]

I gave you my thoughts

Be done with this now

And jump off the roof

i imagine this as the main lyrics being spoken once again by that dark twin of matthew and the parentheses being spoken by the characters still on the ground talking up to him, and then matthew speaking directly to the shadow, as alastair runs up the stairs of the building.

~~~~

Can you hear me Achilles?

I’m talking to you  

Achilles come down

alastair reaches the roof and he’s speaking directly to matthew, his last effort to convince matthew, hand outstretched, allowing matthew to step off the ledge down to him on the solid roof. and on the last line matthew does step down and collapses into alastair. he may hate alastair but he’s too tired to keep that up for the moment.

~~~~~

Throw yourself into the unknown

With pace and a fury defiant

Clothe yourself in beauty untold

And see life as a means to a triumph

Today of all days

See,

How the most dangerous thing is to love

How you will heal and you’ll rise above

Crowned by an overture bold and beyond

Ah, it’s more courageous to overcome

alastair comforts matthew one last time, matthew may hate him but alastair is the only one who can truly understand what’s going through his mind and that’s basically all i imagine for this song in the context of the last hours.

~~~~~

from this post

“and later, they ask alastair how he knew what to say to get matthew to step down, and alastair just sadly looks at thomas and asks if he remembers a night at the academy where they stargazed together. thomas of course says yes, and alastair simply responds “remember, when you first came up, you asked me why i was so close to edge? no one stands that close just to try to see the stars behind a cloud.”

alastair knew what to say to get matthew to step down, because he knows what it’s like to be the one on the roof

~~~~~

from this post

“he just wants everything to stop and he can’t breathe and the tears keep falling and he has no one to talk to he has no one to fall back on and sometimes the edge of the roof looks sweeter than the hell behind him but he remembers cordelias smile and he takes a deep breath and swears he’ll become the devil himself before he leaves her at the mercy of the truth of their father alone.”

~~~~~~

yes it’s two different scenarios, but alastair spent a while at the academy it’s not exactly unlikely that he would feel that way more than once :(

[thefloorisbalaclava]

pragma - part seventeen

Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: morning smut and a sensitive topic

A/N: Just wanted to give a little heads up that pregnancy and the inability to get pregnant is discussed in this chapter. I know in the movie Frankie mentions having a kid but I’m gonna do my own thing!

Summary: You open up to Frankie about something important and worry that he may not be happy with you after but you’re his world and he makes sure you know it.

pragma masterlist

You can feel the warmth from the sun shining through the window. You can feel the soft sheets against your bare skin. But there’s something else. You’re barely awake but the familiar feeling of Frankie’s lips trail down your stomach and you smile. Your eyes are still closed as he moves lower, kissing your thigh before dipping between your legs. For just a moment you thought it was a dream but when you felt his tongue, you knew it was real. Frankie felt like waking you up in a special way this morning.

When you finally opened your eyes and reached down to run your fingers through his hair, he pulled away for a moment. “Good morning, dulzura.” The way he smiled then licked his lips made you bite yours.

“Oh, it’s good indeed.” You moaned as he lapped at you slowly. One hand gripped the sheets and the other pulled at his hair which he always seemed to love. “Good god Frankie…” He groaned against you which caused a delicious vibration. “Shit!”

He pulled away and kissed your thigh. “I love waking you up,” he said with a smile. “You make the prettiest sounds.”

“Francisco…I swear to god you better not fucking leave me ever again.”

He chuckled. “Nunca.” It was enough that he was waking you up this way, but now he was speaking Spanish while between your legs, his lips and chin glistening, and he had never looked sexier. Those sleepy, brown eyes and that rakish smirk just about did you in.

“You look downright handsome like this,” you told him.

“Between your legs?” he asked but you never got a chance to answer. He went back to work—kissing, licking, and whatever else he was doing that felt so damn good.

“Francisco!”

His eyes fluttered shut and he groaned against you at the sound of his name. That seemed to spur him on even more. He opened his eyes to look directly at as his tongue moved around you and inside you. It was like he was dying of thirst and you were his only source of nourishment. And when you came, he lapped it up and savored you, staying between your legs for as long as he could before you had to beg him to stop.

“Jesus…” you breathed, running your fingers through his hair weakly.

“Just Frankie, baby,” he joked before kissing your thigh and finally moving from between your legs.

“Well, that was a nice treat.” You ran your hand over his chest as he laid there looking proud of himself. “But I think…” Your hand moves lower and his breath hitches. “…I should return the favor.”

He swallowed hard then looked down at your hand. “You don’t have to.”

“Oh, but Francisco…” You climbed on top of him. “I want to.”

His hands went straight to your hips, fingers tickling you lightly making you giggle. “You are so goddamn beautiful first thing in the morning.”

“Only first thing in the morning?” you asked, leaning down to kiss him.

“All the fucking time, cariño. All the time.”

“Mmm.” You kissed him, cupping his face. “Ooo I feel stubble.” Truth be told, you had already felt it when he was between your legs.

“Am I letting it grow back?” he asked.

“Yup.” You kissed him again, reaching down to line him up with you. As you slid onto him, he gasped and his face twisted in pleasure.

“Easy, baby. Fuck…easy.” He grunted as you sat up straight and put your hands on his chest as he filled you completely. “Jesus,” he whispered.

“It’s just me, baby,” you teased, using his own words against him with smile.

You loved making love first thing in the morning. It was slow and patient. There was no rush. Frankie’s hands were gentle as they always were with you, but they were especially so right now. Even as he reached around to squeeze your ass, they were gentle. He gave you a soft smile as he sat up to wrap his arms around you.

“You’re perfect,” he said quietly, head resting against your breasts as you rocked your hips on him.

“No. You’re perfect.” You tugged his hair and he looked up at you. “Perfecto.”

He bit his lip as he began moving his hips with yours, slow and gentle. Having him inside you was a spiritual thing—you were connected body and soul, ascending to the heavens. Your gazes were locked on each other and you could see your life in his eyes, full of passion and joy and love.

You rested your forehead against his and closed your eyes. He took one of your hands and held onto it as you moved slightly faster, never wanting it to end. He looked at you in awe as you threw your head back and said his name.

“Francisco,” you gasped.

Hearing him say your name made you smile. His voice was like a song and he was singing just for you. And now he threw his head back and sang the loveliest song for—a mixture of your name, praise, and a few words in Spanish that you were sure were curses. He groaned as he flattened his palms against your back and held you steady so he could thrust up into you as he finished.

His head rested against your breasts for a while before he looked up at you and smiled sleepily.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi handsome.”

He eventually laid down and you rolled off of him carefully. “I need a cigarette,” he breathed.

“You smoke now?” you asked.

“No,” he chuckled, rolling out of bed to walk to the bathroom and clean up. When he walked out, he was carrying another washcloth just for you. Cleaning you up was one of his favorite things to do. He took his time, making sure he didn’t miss a thing, then got rid of the rag.

Climbing back into bed, he worked himself between your legs, but only to lay his head on your breasts and have you hold him.

“Are you…have you ever thought about…” He stammered a few times then got quiet.

“What is it?” You played with his hair and he sighed.

“Well, we’ve been together…a lot…and each time I…well, you know but nothing ever happens.” It was like he was speaking in code.

“What?”

He turned his head to look at you, resting his chin against your chest. “Are you worried about…getting pregnant?”

Your hand dropped from his head and you looked away. “No.”

“So…you’re on the pill?” he asked.

“No.”

Frankie furrowed his brow in concern and confusion. “Then…”

“I don’t think I can have kids, Frankie.” Saying it out loud hurt more than you thought it would. You were grateful for it with your ex-husband but now it devastated you. “Sorry.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?”

You pushed him off of you gently and rolled onto your side so he couldn’t see your face. “You were asking me because you want kids, right? You want a family…and I probably can’t give you one.”

“We don’t need kids to be a family. You know that, right?”

You turned away again. “You say that now but you’ll change your mind.”

“Never. I’m here for you. That’s it. We don’t have to have that traditional bullshit...white picket fence or whatever the fuck. Just us two. That’s what’s important.”

“You sure you won’t leave me for your ex?” you asked.

“What? Why the hell would you even ask that?” He sat up and turned you onto your back so he could look at your face.

You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I want you. You’re the only one for me. We both tried going our separate ways but somehow still found a way back to each other. That’s gotta mean something, right?” He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. “I mean…you want me, right?” His voice sounded so small, so broken.

“Of course I do.” You sat up and held his hand. “And now that I have you I never wanna let go.”

“You’re stuck with me,” he said, wiping his eyes.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I’m sorry I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have brought up the baby stuff…” He looked down, embarrassed, but you lifted his head up again.

“Sometimes we’re gonna have to talk about some tough things. It’s part of being with someone and being in love. I’m sorry I reacted the way I did. I’m sorry for doubting you.”

“You’re my favorite person, you know that?” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close.

“I better be,” you giggled and he kissed you.

*

After a shower, you both decided to go for a walk to enjoy the beautiful weather. Frankie held your hand the entire time unless he was walking ahead to point out and show you something.

“We should go on a camping trip,” he suggested.

“I haven’t been camping since I was a Girl Scout.”

“You were a Girl Scout?” He laughed as you punched his arm. “Seriously, we should. I know some great spots.”

“I’d go anywhere and do anything with you, Francisco.”

“Skydiving?”

“Except for that. Do you remember how I was during that little helicopter ride? And you think I’d be willing to jump out of a fucking plane?” You scoffed and shook your head.

“I’d do it,” he said.

“You were spec ops, Frankie. You were probably jumping out of helicopters and planes all the time.”

“I was just a pilot.”

“Hm…is the government gonna set off the little chip in your head and kill you if you tell me more?” you quipped.

“You watch too many movies.” He stopped to take in the view on the bridge you were walking over. You sat up on the little stone wall as he rested on his forearms, staring at the river below. You took the hat from his head and put it on yours.

“I love your hat hair.”

He made a face then moved to stand between your legs. “Don’t make fun of me.” He held you tightly.

“I’m serious. I really like it. It’s adorable.”

“If you say so.”

You sat there holding him for a while, listening to the river flow below. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, and Frankie was in your arms. A perfect day. He mumbled something into your shirt.

“What did you say?”

“I said I love you. Te quiero mucho.” He looked up at you. “Can I have my hat back now?”

“Okay…but you gotta kiss me first."

He did and you wanted it to last forever. His hands made their way under your shirt and you had to stop him.

“Frankie, we’re in public.”

“Yeah but no one’s coming.”

“Uh oh…Frankie the frisky flyboy is back.” You both laughed then you hopped down from the wall.

He took his hat from your head and put it back on. “I used the word frisky once and you’re never gonna let me live it down, are you?”

“Nope.” You walked ahead of him but he caught up and grabbed your hand then kissed it.

“So…are we going on that camping trip?” he asked.

“Sure, why not?”

*

Frankie talked about the trip the entire walk back home and you loved it. Seeing him so animated, so excited about something made you happy.

“You’re adorable,” you said as you walked through the door and kicked your shoes off.

“I am pretty cute, huh?”

“The cutest. And all mine.” You jumped into his arms and he carried you to the couch to set you down. He took his hat off and knelt in front of you, putting his head on your lap. “You wanna know something else?”

“Hm?” His eyes were already closing.

“You’re my favorite person.”

He smiled and finally got off the floor to lay out on the couch and put his head back on your lap. “You make me so happy.” Curling up, he closed his eyes again and drifted off to sleep.

“You make me happy too, Frankie.”

[eighteen]

Tags: @cable-kenobi @saltywintersoldat @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @pedrosdoll @psychobillybunny @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @keeper0fthestars @mrsparknuts @thinemineours @huliabitch @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @lavenderl3mons @mrscrain-x7 @fioccodineveautunnale @gooddaykate @themilkface @tiffdawg @ms-dont-care @mus1caln0tes @awesomefandomsunited @seawhisperer @virtualxjournality @badassbaker @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol​ @lokiaddicted @forever-rogue @sloantravels @javier-djarin @jawabear​

[groovybaybee]

Greener - I

cw: mentions of abuse (not this chapter and nothing too intense but better safe than sorry) also alcohol consumption

(6k)

Spago, 7pm, reservation under my name, have fun saucy xxx 

Oh, Lucy. Lovely, wonderful, maddening Lucy. Not only would she select my date for the evening, she, of course, would make a decision about when and where.

 In all honesty, I do not mind. I would gladly allow that girl to run my life, she pretty much has made all the big decisions for me anyway. Lucy had been the one who forced me to enter our school’s talent show and sing in public for the first time. I lost hard, unable to compete with Anthony Piaz’s flaming diabolo tricks, but I was grateful to her, nonetheless. Lucy was also the one who made me move out to Los Angeles with her, telling me we needed to be with the stars if we wanted to be like them. It might sound cheesy, but that girl can be very persuasive when she wants to be. Since we were teenagers, she told me all about how we were going to make it big, I would be a singer and she would produce all my music.

 Lucy has always been a dreamer, but she is the most dedicated and ambitious person I know, plotting out every detail of every day to make sure she could get to where she wanted to be. Her and I had understood that we could not just rock up in America and instantly start working for record labels. We would spend hours in her room, writing and producing songs every weekend, sending them to local and national radio stations, record labels, anyone we could think of.

 Then one day, the universe fell into place. Our song, Penny, started to gain some traction. I will never forget the day we heard our song played on the radio for the first time. I never could forget it with the video of the two of us screaming and crying and laughing and hugging being sent to my phone every time I get frustrated.

 ‘They never gave up, and neither will we’

 Luce has always been good like that, putting things in perspective when I start spiralling out.

 Truthfully, Lucy has always been a bit of a hero to me. The voice of reason, even when I did not want to hear it. I trust her with my life. So, when I was offered a contract with a record label, I had insisted that she aid in the production, knowing that once the world could see her talent there would be no stopping her. And there never has been. Though we still work together on projects and tracks wherever we can, both of us have been blessed with opportunities to work with some of our idols in the music industry. However, it still feels the most special when it is just her and me working together.

 Knowing that she always has my best interests at heart, agreeing to be set up on a blind date by her was easy. It was only afterwards that the doubts had started to creep in. Of course, Lucy knows me well, probably better than anyone, and so her choice of date for me would undoubtedly be my type. I know that they will be charming and funny and most likely have a smile that makes me want to swat them directly in the face for being so cute. However, it would be impossible for her to know the other person so well, so me showing up may not be what they had hoped for.

 They could want to meet someone girly, polished, calm. While I can be those things sometimes, pretending to be anyone but myself would only lead down an unfortunate and embarrassing path in the long run. This self-assuredness, in theory, is lovely, but does not stop the nagging feeling in my stomach that whoever I am meeting at the restaurant will not be pleased to see me.

 Trying my best to shake this thought, I get ready for my date. Landing on a simple black dress (knowing my tendencies to spill anything in my grasp), partnering it with a silver chain necklace, a few matching rings, and some thickly heeled silver boots. I put on a touch of makeup, style my hair, and spritz myself with perfume before grabbing a coat, stuffing the pockets with my necessities, and getting in the Uber I had pre-emptively ordered. I am going to be early but that suits me just fine.

 Arriving at the restaurant, nestled beside Rodeo Drive, I thank the driver and exit the car. Spago is far too fancy for me to feel fully comfortable, a small part of myself always believing that my life is some sort of coma dream and one day I would wake up back home, older and having done nothing with my life. Despite my instinct to run and feign illness, I enter the restaurant and tell the matre d’ Lucy’s name. He gives me a pleasant smile and leads me through the bustling restaurant to an empty table on the patio outside. Thanking him, I seat myself at the table beside a sheltered, freestanding fireplace, taking a second to appreciate the warmth of the toasting embers against the slight breeze of the evening under the dwindling sun.

 Looking out to the chair across from me, panic and excitement swirl around in my stomach. Wondering what they will be like and whether we will get on has me desperately searching around the quiet outside space for anyone who works here to urge them for a glass of wine. I manage to locate someone, but the thought instantly leaves my mind when I notice a person trailing behind them. They head straight in my direction and my head snaps back to the table, trying not to have their first impression of me be my crazy wine-hungry eyes. I take a deep breath, and a second to remember Lucy’s message: ‘have fun’.

 Turning to meet my date as they stop at our table, a smile slips across my lips without my telling it to. Yep, Lucy definitely knows me. The man in front of me is the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, but with an added dash of unreservedness, dressed in a black dress shirt, the collar of which pokes out over a baby blue suit jacket, trousers matching. My eyes land on his hand, ringed fingers clutching a bouquet of yellow roses. I cannot deny it, the sight sends a little zip of happiness through my body. Travelling upwards, I land on his face. And pause.

 If this is a very elaborate prank, I have to give it up to Lucy. This is incredible. I remember her telling me that she was working with him on a track for his second album, but I would not have thought they were close enough to discuss love lives. If so, surely she would have snapped him up for herself. The amount of conversations we had spent discussing our celebrity crushes and he always popped up on both of our lists. There is no way this is happening. This just proves that I am, in fact, comatose.

 “Hi,” he speaks with a tentative smile.

 On the off chance that I am not in a simulation, I stand up and greet him, still unable to form words as he presses a kiss to each of my cheeks.

 “Lucy said you liked yellow,” he says almost sounding nervous, looking down at the bunch of flowers in his hand.

 “I do,” I say softly, shaking my head to bring me back to reality while he is looking away from me. “They’re, uh, they’re beautiful.”

 He hands me the flowers and my brain almost completely malfunctions, unable to comprehend that I am sat, on a date, with a man I have been fawning over from afar for over a year. Sure, I have always known of him, but something about him kicking off his solo career and dressing differently, acting differently, it was all just incredibly attractive. Something so sexy about his confidence. An opinion I had expressed to Lucy many times in varying degrees of enthusiasm, her use of the word ‘saucy’ in her text to me suddenly making a lot more sense.

 “Thank you, really,” I say, looking up from the flowers to him, a full head taller than me. “Sorry, I’m being weird, Lucy just… is full of surprises,” I admit, meeting his gaze as he observes me cautiously. He must think I am crazy, or incredibly rude, most likely both.

 “I’m Violet,” I quickly introduce myself and gesture for us to sit. He does, with a relieved smile which I mirror.

 “Harry,” he says gently.

 Duh.

 Harry Styles. I am on a date with Harry Styles. The man I had admitted to wanting to let ‘break my heart and sex me back together’. Not one of my best lines, I will agree. And he is even better looking in person. His hair is kind of messy in a very put-together kind of way. His eyes are deep and their hold on me is strong. And his lips kink up at the edges, pulling joy out to his cheeks as he watches me, almost assessing me.

 “Yeah, I’m actually a fan of your music,” I admit shyly, hoping that he finds it endearing rather than psychotic.

 “Likewise. To be honest, I can’t believe I’m sat here with you,” he speaks deeply.

 This has to be a prank. No way on Earth did Harry Styles, Harry Styles, just say that to me.

 “I didn’t realise you and Lucy were so close,” I confess, allowing my confusion and curiosity to spill out of my mouth at lightning speed.

 “Oh, yeah, first day we met it was like instant sibling rivalry, you know? Straight away bullying each other,” Harry explains with a low, breathy chuckle. God, even his laugh is sexy.

 I will admit to being relieved to hear that their feelings for one another were strictly platonic, not wanting to step on Lucy’s toes even if she had been the one to set us up. Something about hearing this new information allows my most recent conversations with her to make a lot more sense, her being the one to let me explain in detail all the disgusting things I would let this man do to me while she just laughed. That sly devil.

 “How long have you two known each other?” he asks, sipping at the glass of water on his side of the table.

 “Oh, since we were kids, think our souls are melded at this point,” I tell him, earning a captivated smile that reaches up to his eyes. “Do you do this thing a lot?” I ask, fascinated as to how I ended up in this situation. When he looks at me blankly, I hurriedly add, “Blind dates?”

 “Not really, only one other time and it was… interesting,” he says, eyes glazing over as his mind flashes back.

 “Me neither,” I start, bringing his attention back to the present in hopes to prevent him from reliving whatever terrible memory I had just triggered, “I do have a very important question for you though,”

 “What’s that?” he asks with a grin that matches the one creeping on to my face.

 “Are you a wine person?” I ask, faking sincerity.

 “Oh, yeah,” he nods, laughing at my intensity.

 “Good, ten points to you,” I smirk as we both glance down at the drinks menus, after a moment of reflection I speak up, “Want to just get the cheapest? Don’t think my palette could tell the difference.”

 Harry lets out a small laugh and agrees happily, ordering a bottle of chardonnay for the two of us when the waiter circles around to us. My mind begins to spiral as I watch Harry pour us each a glass, wondering how I ended up here, what I think of him, what he thinks of me. Brain almost about to short-circuit[AH1] , I cheers my glass with his and take a long sip of white wine, desperate for a touch of Dutch courage.

 We sit in a comfortable silence for a few moments, eyes locked as we drink in our surroundings, allowing the madness of the evening to sink in for our brains to process. There is a gentle smirk on each of our faces, enjoying the mischief of our mutual friend.

 “I really loved the album by the way,” I confess to him, only to be rewarded with a bright and grateful smile.

 “Thank you,” he says softly, an excited buzz coming from him as he shifts in his seat to lean his elbows on the table, chin resting on his interlaced knuckles. “I listen to The Lady Grey Project at least once a week,” he admits, and if I look closely (which I do) I can see a light rosy flush appearing on his cheeks.

 At this point I reckon a rhinoceros could stampede into the restaurant and I would not bat an eyelid. Of course, he listens to my album regularly, this is a dream, in all honesty I am just shocked he does not have a tattoo of my face on his body somewhere. I say a silent prayer that I will be allowed to remain in whatever simulation I am in.

 “You’re too kind,” I smirk, having to use my wine glass to hide as much of my blushing face from him.

 “Can I ask where the Lady Grey name came from?” he asks curious about my stage-name, watching intently as I swallow and place my glass down. “Sorry if I’m being too nosy by the way, tell me to fuck off if you want,” he says, causing a light laugh to tumble from my lips.

 He watches me with a soft gaze that makes me want to melt into a puddle underneath the table. Does he like me? No, he is probably just being polite.

 Calm down crazy.

 “Um, well, Lucy and I used to spend days in her room making music, and all we would eat was Cadbury’s Fingers and all we drank was Lady Grey tea, it was kind of our fuel you know? And then it just kind of stuck, and we used to joke about who Lady Grey was and I don’t know, I sort of idolised the character we created,” I explain as best I can.

 “So, you became her?” Harry asks softly, his smile never faltering once while I spoke.

 “Yeah, Lady Grey and Lucy Hind were going to take on the world together,” I say, looking down at the tablecloth, a slight feeling of embarrassment for oversharing my childhood dreams. It probably seemed so silly to him.

 “And you are,” is all he says.

 When I look up at him, his eyes are so gentle and comforting, and staring into them feels like stepping into a warm bath.

 The waiter arrives back to our table to take our orders, preventing me from drooling over how idyllic this date is becoming. Harry apologises for the two of us, neither having even looked at the food menu yet, and asks for another minute. Eventually, we order our food and the conversation continues to flow easily, finding out about each other’s passions for not only music, but art in general, both discovering that the other loves to draw and paint despite having very minimal talent for it.

 We talk about what we are working on, both giddy at gaining secret information about the other’s new projects. He whispers to me that he has a new album coming out at the end of the year, in return I tell him I have a small tour happening in a few months, a few intimate venues across the country. He tells me he would love to come to a show. I mentally let out a scream.

 We discuss our hometowns throughout the main course, both hailing from the north of England, giggling over the surprising culture shock of living in LA. Conversation moves to talking about our families and still feeling homesick.

 “I’ve been writing about home a lot recently,” I admit, finishing my second glass of wine, “I miss the colour green so much,” I laugh honestly, missing the miles and miles of fields and trees I could see from my family home.

 “I get that completely,” he says, refilling my glass without me even having to ask, “I miss my little village and knowing everyone there. LA can feel a bit lonely at times,”

 There is a pregnant pause, silence falling over the two of us as I give him a small nod, understanding wholly the feeling of moving across the world. It is scary and isolating and you really have to push through and commit to your work to ensure it was all worthwhile. However, that does not leave much room for forging any kind of relationship other than professional. Harry is right, it can be very lonely sometimes.

 I find myself watching him, eyes a little bit softened by the wine and the evening light. Seeing his face flicker under the crackling firelight feels like I am seeing him for the first time, as though his features are completely new to me and I get to meet a whole new person. He really is breath-taking. Something about getting to know him allows me to see his personality in his physicality; patient eyes and dimples that deepen every time I nearly knock over my glass and insist that I am not drunk, that this is just how I am. Finding myself smiling while I watch him, I remind myself to act like a normal human being and sip at my wine.

 But he watches me right back.

 When desert rolls around, both of us are too full to appreciate anything fancy, sadly deciding to call it a night. After insisting that we split the bill, threatening to get his bank account details somehow and send him a direct deposit, we leave the table.

 “Man, I shouldn’t have worn this dress, looks like I’m smuggling a watermelon,” I say, rubbing my bloated belly slightly as we walk through the restaurant, now significantly emptier than when I had arrived nearly three hours earlier.

 “I like it,” Harry tells me, biting back a smirk, “Wrote a song about watermelons, actually,”

 “Really? You’ll have to let me hear it sometime,” I say, thanking him as he holds the door open for me to walk through.

 “Do you, uh, do you need a lift home?” Harry asks once we are outside, wrapping our jackets a little tighter around ourselves in the early autumn air. I pause to look at him and assess the sincerity of his offer. When he looks at me with nothing but kindness and caution, I nod, finding his trepidation incredibly endearing.

 “That would be great, thank you,” I say softly, failing to mention that I would say yes to any offer he made so long as it meant I could spend longer getting to know him.

 “Cool!” he says with so much enthusiasm that I have to bite down on my bottom lip to keep from smiling too big, utterly smitten with him. Harry clears his throat and pulls out his phone, calling his driver to come and pick us up. “He’ll be five minutes,” his voice is back to its low rumble when he turns to me, a light flush spread across his cheekbones. I pretend not to notice, instead fixing my attention to the roses in my hand.

 “I’ve had a really nice time,” I tell him, hoping that in showing some vulnerability it will ease his embarrassment. It works. As I look up at him, he meets my gaze and smiles down at me gently.

 “Me too. I think you’re really cool to be around,” he says tenderly, taking a step closer to me so that he is less than an arm’s length away. “More than exceeded my expectations for tonight,” he teases.

 “I think part of me still thinks this is a prank,” I admit, breathing a laugh as I find myself gravitating closer to Harry, silently praying that he will kiss me.

 “I know, I was listening to Penny on the way here to keep me sane,” his voice has dropped to just above a whisper, his face less than a foot from mine.

 “As if,” I laugh incredulously, finding myself stepping back slightly so I do not deafen him.

 “I was!” he defends with a chuckle, “I love that song,”

 “Sorry,” I breathe, “I just didn’t think anyone really listened to it, except maybe my parents,”

 “It was the first song of yours I ever heard,” he says, closing the gap between us again, “Thought how talented you were, even wanted to cover it.”

 Back into the simulation you go.

 “Wanna make sweet music together?” I tease, my voice a little low and breathy as the space between us rapidly reduces.

 Harry exhales a chuckle, eyes flitting between my own and my lips.

 He is fully going to kiss you.

 Or at least he would, if that had not been the moment Harry’s driver decides to pull up to the curb, startling us both. Gaze fixed to the ground to hide my certainly bright pink cheeks, I shuffle into the car when Harry opens the door for me, sliding in shortly afterwards.

 “Where to?” Harry asks, clearing his throat slightly.

 I tell him my address, watching as he and his driver share a small nod before we set off.

 The first few minutes of the ride are, I will admit, awkward. The only sound to be heard is the crinkling of the paper surrounding my flowers, my hands fidgeting nervously.

 He was going to kiss me. He totally would have kissed me if we were alone for just one more moment.

 An assertive person would kiss him now.

 Would he want that? Would I want that? For our first kiss to be in the back of his car as we drove through my neighbourhood. I’m not so sure. Harry feels special, like he deserves a bit more romance than that.

 I continue to fiddle with the paper in my lap.

 “What’s your favourite flower?” I ask curiously, eyes fixating on the bright yellow petals.

 “Quite like apple blossoms,” he tells me. His voice is soft, and I can tell his head is turned to look directly at me.

 “See, I never would have guessed that.” I confess. Upon hearing him breathe a laugh, I follow it up with a mirrored tone, “What? You’re a mysterious dude.”

 “Very mysterious,” he jokes as I look back up at him. There is a warmth in his eyes as they shimmer with laughter. It is almost as though the small amount of time focussing on something other than him has erased all memory of his face. Suddenly, excitement courses through my body. His stupid, happy face making my stomach squeeze itself.

 “A real enigma,” I smirk after gathering myself.

 There is silence again in the car, our eyes softly locked on the other’s, even as we pull up beside my house.

 “This is me,” my voice is barely louder than a whisper.

 “I’ll walk you,” Harry says, our gaze still unmoved.

 For a moment, my mind drifts to Harry’s driver. I wonder what he makes of us sitting in the back of his car despite reaching our destination. Perhaps he thinks it is sweet, two kids still so nervous enough around one another that we both refuse to make a move. Maybe he thinks we are crazy and should just get out of the car like normal people would.

 I nod my head slightly, more so trying to encourage myself to get moving rather than Harry. In all honesty, I would love little more than to just sit here and look at him, to feel whatever tension there is between us for a moment longer. But I steal myself away from that thought and open the car door.

 Harry, ever the gentleman, sees me to my front door. It is a little old-fashioned but incredibly charming, nonetheless. I turn to face him once we reach the doorstep, craning my neck a little to meet his eyes.

 My gaze lingers a moment on his lips, and I wonder if I should kiss him. Or would he not like that? He seems like he would not be opposed to a woman making the first move, but he is also the type to open doors and walk people to their homes. What if he wants to be the one to initiate? I doubt he would find me kissing him to be emasculating, but what if he recoiled at the thought? Maybe I shouldn’t kiss him. Maybe I should invite him inside. I will admit, the idea of ending the night with him sounds idyllic, but what if that gives the wrong impression. What if he is the type of guy who cares about a woman’s sexual habits? I never would have him pegged for that sort of person, but you never know.

 Nerves and paranoia form a whirlpool in my brain, sucking me in until I am so overwhelmed that all I can physically do is stare at him, trying not to allow my eyes to widen too far in fear of looking like a maniac.

 He looks down at me with a gentle gaze, his right hand lifting and fingertips gently grazing the side of my left hand. His thumb brushes across my wrists, his eyes flitting across my face until I am convinced that he has stopped on my lips. The palpable energy from outside the restaurant returns.

 “Can I—” Harry starts but I interrupt him.

 “Yes,” I say hurriedly, my heart beating a little louder in my chest at the thought of his lips against mine.

 Thank goodness he’s making the first move. If it were up to you, you would be standing here for days.

 “Great,” he smiles broadly, quickly retracting his hand from mine and reaching into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, “Lets make music sometime.”

 Harry hands me his unlocked phone.

 You absolute fucking idiot, V.

 I quickly input my phone number and hand it back to him with a small smile.

 “Great,” he grins, part of me hating how adorable he is, the majority simply hating how dim-witted I am.

 He wasn’t trying to kiss you.

 “Hang out again soon?” he asks brightly.

 I just nod and return a polite smile. He beams down at me before bidding me goodnight and walking back to his car.

 As quick as physically possible, I unlock my front door, dash inside and shut the door behind me.

 Idiot, idiot, idiot.

 I sink to the floor, back pressed to the door. He wants to work together. While that notion alone would have had me fainting before tonight, I cannot help but feel a little disheartened to have misread the situation.

 He didn’t want to kiss you.

 My mind quickly scans through the whole evening, wonder at which event I began to misinterpret the signals. Maybe he was going to give me a hug outside the restaurant. Maybe he actually was going to kiss me, but then I laughed in his face and stepped away from him. Did I put him off me that quickly?

 Pulling myself off the floor, I put the flowers in a mug of water, telling myself I will deal with them tomorrow once I am over the embarrassment.

 * * *

 I barely sleep, tossing and turning and reliving every stupid detail and mistake I undoubtedly made.

 “You absolute cow!” I shout with a laugh when I spot Lucy walking towards me.

 She just laughs along with me, a slight bashful blush arising in her cheeks as she steps closer to me.

 I had text her when I got home last night, asking her to meet me first thing and she had agreed. Meeting at the dog park between our houses had been my idea, desperate to see her new Dalmatian puppy, Pip. I had arrived early, pre-emptively getting Lucy and I lattes, knowing fully well that no matter what time I got there I would still beat her by at least ten minutes.

 “Thanks, gorgeous,” Lucy greets, taking the coffee I had extended to her.

 “Hello, sweetpea,” I say in a higher pitch than my natural tone, crouching to welcome the excited dog. Pip wags her tail aggressively, desperately trying to lick my face. I giggle as my face scrunches at all the attention she is giving me, “I know, I know, it’s been a whole two days since I saw you, how could I neglect you like that?”

 “She pissed on my shoes. Right little dickhead,” Lucy muses as I stand up, giving the pup one last scratch behind the ears. My eyes drop to her feet as we begin to walk through the park. “Not these ones, idiot,” she laughs.

 “Don’t call me an idiot, I have a bone to pick with you,” I reply, trying my very hardest to chastise her but just giggling through it, faking sincerity always having been difficult for me, “What was it you told me? ‘Its just a date, no biggie’?”

 “Something like that,” she mumbles, feigning shame but smirking as she looks at the ground.

 “Harry Styles,” I mock, “Harry fucking Styles. You could have warned me, mate! I thought about him in the shower before dinner, thought I must have slipped and bumped my head when he rocked up,”

 Lucy laughs as continue through the park, walking out on to the open expanse of the field. Pip excitedly yaps at the dogs playing in the distance, a little too young to join them just yet. We walk in bemused silence for a moment until we find a bench and take seat on it, sipping intermittently at our cooled down coffees.

 “How was it then? Complete disaster or did you hold it together?” Lucy asks.

 “Well, I thought I was holding it together, we were even kind of flirty,” I begin. Remembering last night stirs up excitement in my stomach, contrasting my skin crawling with embarrassment, “But he never kissed me. He walked me to my door, got me to give him my number and left,”

 Luce nods, letting me give her the gist of the previous night, not pushing for more information as I bounce one of my legs anxiously. “He got your number though?” She offers, always looking on the bright side.

 “Yeah, because he wants to make music together,” I say, a small smirk interrupting my words.

 “Make music or make music?” She teases, wiggling her eyebrows dramatically.

 “I don’t know!” I laugh, giving her a gentle push when she keeps leaning closer to me and putting her creepy moving eyebrows in my eyeline, “We complimented each other and stuff, and it became a bit of a joke but now I’m worried he was serious and I just made a fool out of myself… I did have half a bottle of wine,” my tone more serious now.

 “One, you’re a delight when you drink. Two, I bet Harry was such a fucking flirt, ‘Oh yeah, baby, lets make symphonies with our bodies’,” I cannot help but crack a smile at her, surprisingly accurate, impression, “And three, even if you did misread things, it sounds like he would be up for working with you, and if I remember correctly, you said you’d give your left kidney to sing a duet with him,”

 “I’m never drinking sambuca again,” I mutter, shuddering at the memory of that night, drunkenly screaming as Sweet Creature played over the speakers of the bar.

 “I say text him,” Lucy shrugs as if the solution is so obvious that she cannot understand why the two of us are even having this conversation.

 “Ah,” I breath, “That’s another thing. I was a bit distracted by the whole ‘not wanting to kiss me’ thing that I forgot to ask for his number.”

 “Idiot,” Lucy giggles, picking up Pip as she paws at her leg and setting her between the two of us on the bench, allowing me better access to pet her freely, “I’ll text it you,”

 “I can’t text him out of the blue, won’t that look psycho?” I stress.

 “No,” Lucy says, again so plainly it is as though she cannot believe she is explaining something so simple, “Pretty sure Harry likes confident people anyway.”

 “Why would he want to date me then?” I mumble, eyes fixed on Pip’s as her mouth hangs open, tongue rolling out happily as she gets attention from the both of us.

 “Maybe because you can throw it back like no one I’ve ever seen,” Lucy teases.

 “Fucking hate sambuca,” I grumble half-heartedly.

 The text from Lucy arrives on my phone a few hours later, just as I step out of the shower. I have to wipe a few droplets of water from the screen before it allows me to unlock it.

 Don’t puss out x

 Underneath is what I can only assume is Harry’s number. I stare at the white screen for a while, contemplating whether or not to text him. Should I? Luce said he liked confidence, and I wanted him to like me, or at least not think of me as some blob of flesh he sat through dinner with. What would I say? What possible message could I send that did not make me sound like a creep?

 Hey it’s Violet. Lucy gave me your number, promise I didn’t ask for it

 No, that sounds rude.

 Hi, it’s Violet from last night. Lucy gave me your number, hope you don’t mind. I’d love to make sweet music with you

 He could read that two ways. Either he would read it as me just wanting to work together, or that I wanted to see him with no clothes on. Neither option appeal despite both being shamefully accurate.

 The condensation on my bathroom mirror has almost vanished by the time I set my phone back down. Desperate to go about my day without worrying, I head across the landing and into my bedroom.

 Despite having lived here for well over a year, the Los Angeles heat never fails to stifle me, even as autumn creeps into view. The humidity seeps into my bare skin as I flop back on my bed, urgently searching for a reason to get back up and be proactive with the work I need to get done today. That in itself should be reason enough, but the temperature in my room seems to counter any sensible thoughts in my brain. So, I let my eyes close for a moment.

 However, Lucy’s words keep circling around in my mind.

 ‘Don’t puss out’

 That is what I always do. Deciding to grow a backbone, I stand up and march back into the bathroom to pick up my phone. I quickly unlock it, ignoring the notifications on my lock screen, assuming its just my manager prompting me to get my act together. I quickly copy the phone number from Lucy and make a contact for Harry, set on typing a message to him and pressing send before I can overthink how keen I will most likely come across.

 You are keen.

 Selecting his contact, my phone takes me to a chat with him, however, it is not blank like I had expected. Instead, there is a white bubble of text, a smaller bubble beneath it, both timestamped seven minutes ago.

 I know films and tv shows always say you should wait at least three days before messaging but I reckon it’s all bollocks. I had a really good time last night and would love to hang out again. I understand if this seems a bit eager so I’ll leave it up to you. Whatever you fancy I’m up for – Harry

 Also I don’t know why I signed that off like it’s an email but I’m going to stick with it so I seem confident – Harry

II

[boreum-dal]

cardcaptor sakura: boy band au #1

so, a while back, in the midst of a DEEP dive into BTS, @swingsdown​ and i brainstormed a stupidly indulgent CCS boy band AU which i’ve written in bits and pieces over the last few months for fun. i don’t plan to do much with it, but i thought it’d be fun to post little bits of it here as it gets written.

below is the rundown: 

touya, yukito, eriol, syaoran, and yamazaki make up japan’s hottest boy group, CLOW, a group that has smashed regional and global records, amassed a cult-like legion of fans, and reached new peaks of success with every comeback they stage. beyond good looks, catchy music, and charming personalities, the group captures the hearts of fans with what appears to be genuine brotherhood and love for each other both on- and off-camera. but just when it looks like they can’t fly any higher, yukito, the glue of the group, abruptly leaves, and everything is at risk of falling apart. 

these are non-chronological vignettes of the band’s time together, both while yukito is with them and after he leaves as they try to stage a return to the music world. 

[see below for descriptions of the boys’ roles in the band, etc. + first vignette]

navigation:

[intro & post-yukito #1] [post-yukito #2] [post-yukito #3]| [during yukito #1]

-touya: rapper/singer, 26, group leader, trainee for longest (6 years--15 to 21) because he didn’t have any proper musical training when he auditioned; wanted to become a musician to help make ends meet for his family. best rapper, ok singer, worst dancer. Is friendly enough for an idol but a little stoic but has lots of fans because he’s very good looking

-yamazaki: rapper/singer, 24, exceptionally good dancer and ok rapper, relatively terrible singer but had to take vocal lessons to improve after yukito left to help fill the gap; never fights with anyone, chaotic energy at almost all times, known for his smiley eyes; known for weirdly high iq

-eriol: singer, 22, classically trained/very good vocalist, TERRIBLE rapper, pretty good dancer, calmest/most polite out of the group, best “face of the group,” known for classic good looks, comes from rich family, bff/roomies with syaoran

-syaoran: singer, 22, second best vocalist behind eriol, not good rapper, pretty good dancer, sometimes gets called “mini touya” because they’re both a little surly and look alike (and is popular despite stoicism/attitude bc he’s cute), hardest on himself and known to be a perfectionist, bff/roomies with eriol, auditioned through global casting in hong kong, had to learn japanese, english, and korean in training

-their fans unironically call themselves “CLOWn.” 

-this is modeled much more after kpop boy groups/the kpop system in general, which i know is quite different from the jpop scene. 

====

[post-yukito #1]

Syaoran watched, holding his breath, as the cameraman counted down with his fingers from three for their cue. At zero, he bowed in perfect unison with his bandmates, rising back up with a practiced smile. Yukito had taught him that the eyes mattered the most--if they don’t crinkle a little, people won’t think it’s genuine, he’d said. Syaoran squeezed the muscles around his cheeks just a little bit tighter and swallowed back bile. He felt Yamazaki squeeze his elbow to his left, and realizing how tense his shoulders were, he took in a breath and tried to force himself to relax.

“Hello, we’re CLOW,” he chorused with the group, and he threw up a v-sign with his fingers, maintaining the fake-genuine smile. Yukito would have been to his right if he’d been here, and he tried not to think about how painfully naked his right shoulder felt. They’d been preparing for this for months, and even so, everything about this situation suddenly felt horribly wrong.

“Hi, CLOW!” the host, a chipper young woman with bright blue hair and purple contact lenses who’d recently made her solo debut a few months ago, exclaimed, turning briefly to them before facing the camera again. 

Syaoran briefly recalled the first time they’d been on this particular concert pre-show; it had been three weeks into their debut, and he’d been so nervous that he could hardly see straight. The interviewer then had been a young man, a fellow idol singer doing a three-month stint as the host for the show, and when the host had held the mic up to Syaoran’s face, he’d been totally speechless, his voice shot from nerves. His whole group--Eriol in particular--had given him hell about it for weeks afterward. Even Yukito, in all his sweet earnestness, had given him some good-natured ribbing about it. Only Touya had refrained, for one reason or another. 

“Today is a very exciting day--your first comeback in over six months with your new single, LOVETORN!” the host said, turning towards Touya. “Tell us, how are you feeling?”

Touya leaned into the mic, facing the camera and wearing a convincingly charming grin. “It feels amazing. We are so happy to be able to provide new music for our fans, who have been so loving and wonderful while we’ve been on our break. We only hope that our fans love the single with as much love as we poured into making it.”

“Well, within twenty-four hours of the music video’s release on YouTube, it already hit 70 million views, so I think we can say with certainty that your fans love the single!” the host chirped. “Can you tell us what the meaning behind this song is?”

Syaoran was relieved the mic did not go to him for this question; he’d have had a difficult time not rolling his eyes. The meaning was pretty clear, he thought. It was a song about wanting someone back. Touya and the producers had decided to capitalize off of the most painful moment in the band’s four-year history by writing a fucking song about the departure of the one member that had truly held the team together. 

Eriol, predictably, was a little more diplomatic in his response, for better or for worse. “Yes, it’s about the pain of being apart from your loved one for a prolonged period of time and life not being the same without them,” he said into the mic. He pushed up his glasses. “In our case, it’s about us being separated from our beloved CLOWNs for so long and wanting desperately to be reunited. And here we are today.”

The host smiled. “Such a sad song, but you’re all so happy to be here! How are you going to emote something so painful onstage?”

It was Syaoran’s turn to speak. All eyes were on him now, and taking an imperceptible half-second to compose himself, he turned on his megawatt smile once more. “It’s quite simple, really. We’ll just think about the times that inspired us to write this song in the first place. All the hardships, all the heartache--we’ll bring it all back onstage. And to that end,” he said, looking directly into the camera, “we’ve missed you very much.”

He hoped Yukito was watching, even though he knew he wasn’t. 

“That is lovely, and we can’t wait to see you perform. Yamazaki, would you like to kick off the performance?”

Yamazaki stuck his face into the camera with a wide grin. “Absolutely. You’re watching Music Centre, and get ready for CLOW’s comeback with our new single, LOVETORN, in three, two, one!”

“Cut!” The director shouted, and the cameras stopped rolling. “Great job, everyone. I love when we get everything we need in one take--after all that time away, you really are true professionals.”

The group bowed, murmuring thanks, and shuffled backstage toward the dressing rooms. 

“Good job, everyone,” Yoshiyuki Terada, the group’s manager, called, looking up from an iPad. “Take ten and then we’ll meet back here--you’re due onstage after this next performance.”

Syaoran made it into the dressing room first, and immediately, he grabbed his headphones out of the pocket of his hoodie hanging from the door and shoved them into his ears. The last thing he wanted to do right now was reflect with the band on that painful interview--not right before they had to go outside and bear their souls to the world for a four-minute performance. Just as he sat down on one of the sofas, though, he felt one of the earbuds being plucked out of his ear. 

He looked up indignantly to see Touya holding the earbud, who was staring down at him with his lips drawn into a disapproving frown. “Quick team meeting.”

Syaoran scowled, but he turned around and leaned the front of his torso against the back of the sofa to face the rest of the group. 

“Okay, guys,” Touya said, leaning against the vanity and crossing his arms. “First live performance of our comeback. How are we feeling?”

“Pretty good, now that the interview’s over,” Eriol said with a sigh. He reached down toward the floor to stretch his legs. “That was the hardest part for me.”

Yamazaki nodded. “Now that we don’t have to talk, I feel fine. It’s just a matter of doing what we’ve been practicing for the last two months now. It’s all muscle memory from here!”

Touya glanced at Syaoran next. Syaoran glared at him for a moment, but then he met Eriol’s softer gaze, and he deflated a little. “I’m--I’ll be fine. I’m not nervous.”

Touya pursed his lips. “You know that’s not what I’m asking.”

“I know.” Syaoran swallowed. “But I don’t know what else I can say.”

Touya regarded him in silence for a moment, and Syaoran knew without looking that Eriol and Yamazaki were watching the exchange with bated breath. Much to Syaoran’s relief, Touya let out a sigh and shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s do a good job out there tonight. No mistakes. The choreography on this is a little different from what we’re used to, so everyone needs to be in the exact right place at the exact right time.”

Of course it’s different. We’re missing a fifth body.

“How about you, Touya? How are you feeling?” Yamazaki asked, fiddling with the zipper on one of his many pant pockets. 

Touya exhaled softly, and for the first time all night, he raised the corners of his lips in a small smile. “I’m okay. This feels right.”

It didn’t, though, Syaoran thought. Nothing felt right. But his bandmates were clearly so excited to be performing again, Yukito or no, and he wasn’t going to ruin that for them just because he didn’t feel ready. 

“All right, guys, bring it in,” Touya said, holding out his hand. Eriol, Yamazaki, and Syaoran joined. “On three, CLOW. One, two, three--”

“CLOW!” the four of them chimed, and Syaoran followed Touya out of the dressing room and back toward the stage.

[flootzavut]

It suddenly hit me one of the things I love so so much about The Horror and the Wild; I feel about this album in a way I haven't felt since I was a teenager. That giddy, new album feeling where every song feels like it's speaking directly to you, where you feel seen and understood for forty five minutes, where it makes your heart sing and you want to dance and cry and throw your hands in the air. Where you find out new things about yourself just by listening to it.

Sometimes a song here and there will take me back to that feeling, but an album in its entirety hasn't hit me like this since I was a teenager - and for reference, it's been over twenty years since I was a teenager. (I think I got a bit of this from Love Run, maybe that's why I couldn't stop listening to it.) That's a long ass time.

Maybe I need more from music to feel that way now, when I'm older and more jaded and less of a bag of angsty hormones, I don't know, all I know is that I haven't felt like this in decades, and I missed it, and I'm glad I have it back.

When I was a teenager, new music was like a doorway into something new. This album feels like I'm being shown something I had forgotten existed. That feeling that a new album has reached into your soul and showed you something new is a feeling I haven't had in so long, I didn't even know I missed it. I feel like part of me has woken up that I didn't know was asleep. (This realisation is making me cry, so I hope I'm making some kind of sense.)

Joey, Madeleine, and everyone: Thank you. Again. This album is a fucking miracle to me. That's not hyperbole, that's just the truth.

[flipomatic]

Internship Chapter 20: Day 17 - Amity

First Chapter Previous Chapter

_________________________________________________________

A group of four young witches were all walking together, all headed to the same destination. They were going to see a bard troupe perform, to see what the Bard Coven was like.

It still felt strange for Amity to be hanging out with Willow, even after what happened with grudgby, but it wasn’t a bad sort of strange. She was mostly excited to spend time with Luz and her friends and to go visit another coven. The group was a traveling troupe that worked for the Bard Coven, though they weren’t that well known.

Amity first heard about them from Luz, who brought a flyer for the upcoming show to school. As far as she knew, Gus and Willow learned about them the same way. Regardless, the four of them were on their way to see the group perform. “Where did you hear about this troupe?” Amity asked Luz as they walked.

Luz was leading the group from the front, with Gus and Willow right behind her and Amity in the rear. She spun to walk backwards as she answered the question. “Eda told me about them.” She masterfully hopped backwards over a large crack in the sidewalk. “She said she knows the pianist.”

“I wonder if they’ll let us backstage.” Gus already had his flags out, ready to wave them with the music.

Willow shrugged, but didn’t look hopeful. “Maybe.” She said. Amity didn’t comment on the idea.

“Either way, it’s gonna be great!” Luz spun back to face forward, pumping one fist in the air.

“Yeah!” Gus echoed her motion, raising his flags high to the sky.

The conversation flowed easily as they walked.

“Oh!” Luz seemed to remember something, likely something she had forgotten. “I’m supposed to ask, Gus, have you heard anything about Lilith’s job being filled?” She just looked over her shoulder as she spoke, rather than turning around like before.

That question interested Amity too; she didn’t know the answer but she was very curious. Edric hadn’t been able to provide an answer to this question either.

“Umm.” Gus scratched the back of his head. “I don’t think I have. I can ask my dad, but I don’t think anything’s changed.” So that was a no then. It was unusual to leave the coven leader spot open for this long.

“Okay thanks!” Luz didn’t seem bothered by it. She switched topics easily, to something she had learned in school that day.

A couple minutes later and they reached the stage for the performance. It was set up in the market, with signs advertising the performers around it.

The stage was built tall, at least a foot over the heads of the young witches. It had a set of stairs leading up to it and a large curtain hiding the stage, keeping the instruments and performers out of sight.

For the crowd, it seemed to be standing room only. About 50 witches were already there, waiting for the performance to start. Amity and her friends joined them, getting a decent spot about halfway back from the stage.

“Have you ever tried bard magic?” Luz had settled next to Amity, directly to her left. In the tight crowd, their hands were dangerously close. Luz’s face as well, which was turned towards Amity to ask the question, was warming Amity’s cheeks with its proximity.

Amity tried to keep her cool as she shook her head. “I haven’t.” She admitted, thinking back to when she chose the abomination track. Though there were many tracks available, bard was not one on her parents’ pre-approved list. “Have you?”

Luz’s eyes were glimmering. “No but I really want to. I played the recorder in 5th grade, but it was so boring and not magical.” She stuck her tongue out in a mock vomiting gesture. “I wonder if I can even do bard magic.”

“Right,” Amity mused, trying to bring her left hand up to her chin. She bumped Luz’s along the way, sending a shock through her whole body. She recovered quickly,  forcing her hand up to complete the gesture. “Y-your glyphs might be difficult with music.” Amity’s face burned with embarrassment; it must’ve been bright red.

“Maybe if I drew them on the instrument.” Luz, bless her oblivious soul, didn’t seem to notice that their hands bumped. “Or taped them to it, that could work.”

“You should try it.” Amity suggested.

Luz opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Willow, who was standing on her other side.

“Shh, it’s starting.”

Both girls looked up towards the stage, where the curtain was being pulled back. The stage was then lit up with a few magical lights as three witches walked out onto it. These were the same witches that had been on the posters around the venue. They were each carrying instruments. One had a violin, the next a guitar, and the third a keyboard.

Each member took a position on the stage and set up their instrument. The keyboard, as it turned out, was set up to float in place. It looked cool to Amity, who had only experienced pianos that were firmly anchored to the ground. She glanced over at Luz, who was staring with wide eyes at the floating instrument.

The witches exchanged a look with the others, then began to play. The music was upbeat and lively as it spread over the crowd. It was a nice song; Amity enjoyed listening to it.

The violinist took the lead, playing a melodic line above the other two. As they played, the air overhead started to change. Large images that looked like music notes appeared and floated away from the stage. Amity watched them in wonder as they spun to the beat of the song.

She wondered if they were part of the bard magic, or if they were illusions. She’d seen her siblings make very similar looking images, but they didn’t move the way these did.

As the song continued, the music notes changed colors as well. It was pretty entertaining to watch.

When the song ended, the group quickly started another one. This one was slower, so the music notes changed to other shapes.

Amity looked away from them to watch the performers, specifically the violinist. She was smiling out at the audience, radiating energy. Even though Amity knew playing the violin was difficult, this witch made it look effortless.

As the second song wrapped up, Luz cheered loudly next to her. Amity cheered too and clapped for the group.

They took a minute to introduce themselves, and each showed off some of their music skills. The guitarist played a small solo, with visible sound waves radiating from the strings. The pianist followed after him with his fingers gliding smoothly over the strings. The violinist was last, but certainly not least. She played by herself for only a moment, but it was enough to send chills down Amity’s spine.

With their introductions done, they started their next song. This one was even faster than the first, with new visual elements on stage.

Amity couldn’t tear her eyes away as she watched the whole performance. She loved every minute of their playing, especially the violinist, and was glad she had come to see them.

She didn’t notice Luz stealing a glance her way, every once in a while, since she was so focused on the music.

When the final song ended, the performers bowed for the audience. Amity clapped for them, along with the rest of the crowd. They waved goodbye and then pulled the curtain back into place.

With that, the show was over. Amity felt a twinge of disappointment; she’d really enjoyed it. She turned to follow Luz, Gus, and Willow away from the crowded area, as many witches were trying to leave.

They were able to find a spot between a couple market stalls to stand in, away from the bustling path.

“They were very good.” Willow commented with a smile.

Gus had stowed his flags, likely after finding the crowd too tight to wave them. “The first song was my favorite.”

“I liked them all.” Amity contributed to the conversation, finding her spot in to fit in.

Luz was grinning, in very much her usual way. “I love the pianist, he was so cool when he was like, bah dah bah.” Luz mimicked playing the piano, moving her hands up and down in an exaggerated fashion.

“This was fun, we should do it again sometime.” Willow was speaking to the group, but her eyes were locked on Amity. A gesture, an extended hand of sorts, one Amity still didn’t think she deserved.

Amity nodded without a word.

“Absolutely we will!” Luz gave a high energy response.

Willow nodded slightly. “I’m glad. I have to head home now, there’s homework to be done.” She waved in a small gesture. Luz’s returned it with a much higher level of enthusiasm.

“I have to go too.” Gus cut in. “See you tomorrow!” He waved as well, and once Luz and Amity said goodbye the pair walked away into the market.

That left just Luz and Amity, still standing between the market stalls.

“During the show, I had an idea.” Luz immediately jumped into a new conversation topic. “We should try some instruments.”

Amity agreed, that was a good idea. It was hard to know if she was actually interested in the bard coven without trying out some bard magic. There was a problem though. “That sounds good, but how would we do that?”

Luz was still smiling, her brown eyes glimmering even in the shadows. “There’s an instrument shop in the market, I bet they’d let us.” Oh, so she had a place in mind. That did sound like a solid plan.

“Lead the way.” Amity couldn’t help but smile.

Luz did just that, stepping out from between the stalls to head across the market. Amity walked next to her, keeping an eye peeled for their destination. The crowds were considerably thinner than before, as most of the witches who came to see the performance had time to leave.

After a few minutes of walking, Amity spotted the instrument stand. It stood out for having a large number of instruments on display. There were brass instruments, woodwinds, strings, and even some keyboards. There was a sign overhead that said, ‘you break it, you bought it’.

Luz skipped over to it when she saw it, Amity right alongside her.

“Good afternoon.” The stall owner greeted them, “Please be careful with the instruments.” He gestured up at the sign, making sure they had seen it.

“We will be!” Luz said as she took a violin off the wall. “Want to try this one?” She asked Amity, moving to hand it to her.

Amity was floored, jaw dropping open slightly. How had Luz known? She hadn’t said anything about the violinist after the show.

After a moment of staring, Amity snapped herself out of it and accepted the violin. Luz reached back to the wall to get a bow, which she also handed to her.

Now that she was holding it, Amity was reminded how far out of her depth she was. She wasn’t even sure how to hold the instrument properly, let alone play it.

But Luz’s expectant eyes were on her, and besides this was what they came her to do. She held the neck of the violin in her left hand, lifting it to her shoulder like she saw the performer do. Amity then clutched the bow tightly in her right hand, bringing it to the strings.

She slowly tried to pull it across, making a faint noise in the process. Amity lifted the bow to reset it and try again, this time making what could almost be considered a sound. It would be fun to learn this instrument, but she was probably too old to start doing it now. That was a disappointing thought.

“You’re a natural!” Luz gave her wholly undeserved complements. Amity gave the bow one last pull, before bringing the instrument off her shoulder slowly.

“I don’t think so.” Amity said, handing it back to Luz who put it back on the wall.

Next, Luz took a small horn off the wall. It looked to be some kind of trumpet. She brought it to her lips without a care for who else had done so.

The sound that came out was somewhere between a goose and an elephant. It was loud and way too close to Amity’s ears for comfort. Amity resisted the urge to cover them, as it only lasted a moment.

Luz lowered the instrument when she finished, and burst out laughing. Her laughter was a much more appealing sound than the horn had been.

The stand owner was less amused. “Please don’t disturb the market.” He said firmly, insisting that Luz put the horn back.

“Sorry.” She was still half laughing while she did as instructed. Luz then looked at more of the instruments, but didn’t pick them up. She stopped at one box, looking intently at it.

“Do you want to learn one?” Amity asked, joining her at a box of small flute like instruments.

“Yup.” Luz selected one of the instruments, lifting it to her mouth to try. It made a tinny sound, not one that Amity had heard before. Luz’s face lit up in a grin when she finished. “I’ll take this.” She said to the stand owner, and asked what the price was.

It was surprisingly reasonable, so Luz bought it on the spot.

Amity looked around for a few more minutes, but she knew she wasn’t going to buy an instrument. She and Luz soon left the stall, walking through the market. While they walked, Luz played her new instrument.

“This is just like a kazoo!” Luz said as she examined it, bringing it close to her eyes.

“What’s a kazoo?” Amity had never heard of them; it must’ve been a human object.

“Err.” Luz’s smile dipped as she tried to think of an explanation. “You like, hum into it, and it makes cool sounds.”

“Sounds fun.” Maybe that was an instrument Amity would be able to play.

“It is!” Luz lifted her instrument towards the sky. “When I get good at this, I’ll figure out how to cast bard magic. It’s gonna be great!”

Amity believed her.

The two soon parted ways, each heading to their respective homes.

Amity wondered what Eda would think about the instrument, and how long it would last in the owl house before being in danger of destruction.

Next Chapter

[rosesisupposes]

Other Half

hi i was haunted with the idea of subverting a soulmate trope after a chat with @potestessemagishomosexualitatis and it evolved in like a day on discord so here y’all go!

relationships: brotherly prinxiety, QPR moceit, romantic royality, implied/eventual anxceit

content tags: musician roman, techie/sound-guy Virgil, deaf Patton, QPRs, amatonormativity, soulmates & lack thereof, happy ending

word count: 2,847

read on ao3

Roman has half a soulmark, waiting to make skin contact with his Soulmate to finally be completed.

His brother, not so much.

Context: In this world, soulmates have half a symbol somewhere on their skin, each with one half. When soulmates have skin contact for the first time, both marks complete. The amatonormativity (prioritizing romantic love) is very strong, despite the fact that soulmates have frequently been platonic, not just romantic. It’s still a rather progressive idea, similar to gay marriage, and the traditions and stories are all centered around that romantic ideal. In that vein, some people have thirds or fourth of a mark would need to contact all their soulmates to have a complete mark. Marks are very much for One Person (or, occasionally, Two or Three Specific People), and so not everyone meets their mate. Not everyone has the means. They could be anywhere in the world! But unfortunately, there's still an idea that even if you're with a partner, you'd leave them if you met your soulmate, and that other relationship are just settling.

⁂

Enter two brothers.

Roman goes starry-eyed over stories of meet-cutes and surprise soulmates. He wants to know if he'll feel it, as his mark completes. Someday, when he meets his Someone™️!!!

And then his brother, Virgil.

Virgil... doesn't have a mark. He's not sure he's heard of that before. He has some freckles, but those fade with the seasons. Soulmarks don't fade.

Roman has half a circle, and it either has petals or rays around it. A flower or a sun, he thinks. It's right on his bicep, so he frequently goes sleeveless, and greets new people by taking both their hands in his every time. Just in case.

Lots of people do that- but it makes Virgil uncomfortable. Even if he knows he'll never be the one to trigger someone's mark, he hates knowing that's what everyone expects. He'd rather keep his hands to himself. He wears his big baggy hoodie to avoid the expectant stares of people looking for his mark, and avoids skin contact as much as he can.

They grow up in a family without a ton of resources, so neither can afford to take the 'Soul Year' some teens do where they travel before going into higher education. But Roman's determined that his career will help him meet hundreds, no, thousands of people, and he will find his soulmate!

Virgil really doesn't love the whole soulmate thing, the obsession with it, the constant reminder that he doesn’t have one and will never have one. But he does love his brother.

He tries, sometimes, to temper Roman's excitement just to make sure it doesn't hurt too much if he never finds The One. But mostly he just listens as Roman waxes poetic about his hypothetical love.

Roman, for several years, went silent, assuming Virgil wouldn't want to hear it. But Virgil has just kinda accepted it, you know? He's basically like everyone who never ends up meeting their mate, except he gets to skip the years of doubt and worry that their mate might suddenly appear at any time. He knows from the get-go. He’ll never have to look back with regret or sorrow, never have to worry about disrupted relationships, never need to mourn that his hypothetical mate might have died before he could meet them. It’s fine, really.

Roman becomes a singer and songwriter, and acts on the side. Virgil does his cover art and helps him with the sound-mixing. They're a great team - and they always have been.

Virgil makes friends with the roadies and techies, happy to leave Roman in the spotlight. He dates, sometimes. It's easier when they go on tour- a short international stay means no promises, no uncomfortable conversations about the future, no intrusive knowledge of a partner's Someone™️ out there.

After years of touring, Roman is internationally known and recognized. But he's also starting to lose hope.

He's lost count of all the meet-and-greets he's been to, how many hands he's grabbed from the stage into the crowd. He makes sure to at least high-five every roadie and tech, every opening act or announcer. His songs range from fantastical to domestic, from sweet and bubbly to sorrowful and yearning, and he loves creating, he does. But he knows there's someone out there for him, and he wants to meet them so, so badly.

They're in Paris for a show, and Virgil and Roman are strolling along the Seine. It's Spring, Roman's favorite time of year, and all the trees are in bloom. It looks like something out of a Hallmark movie.

Roman sighs heavily.

Virgil bumps him with an elbow. "Hey, no moping. That's my aesthetic, no stealing."

"Vee, what if I don't ever meet them?"

"Ro-"

"I know I should keep hoping, but- I've touched so many people and still haven't found them, what if I never will?"

"Then you'll be like most of us, Ro. Find love & companionship the new way: with hard work and dating apps."

Roman nods, but sighs again. "I just... really wanna, Vee." His voice is small, like a pouting kid. 

"I know. I hope you do."

They keep walking, but Roman's practically shuffling. On the one hand, he is a fucking drama queen.

On the other hand, Virgil wants him to feel better. 

Rolling his eyes, Virgil orders ice cream from a vendor in clumsy but serviceable French and presents Roman with his sprinkle-covered cone. Just like he knew it would, it perks him up immediately.

"Chocolate! My favorite!!"

"How are you possibly older than me. You are five."

"I just have childlike wonder, not a well of ennui!"

"Fuckin' dork."

"Edgy poser."

"Prima donna."

"Nerd."

Distracted, Roman walks straight into a man looking off at the river. He stumbles and trips and they both fall.

"Oh goodness gracious, forgive me, excusez moi, je suis desole! Pardonnez-moi!" he rattles off.

The man smiles, and his hands dance. Virgil realizes he's signing. Sorry, I didn't see you there!

 Luckily, Virgil understands it - he’s taken classes in ASL, just for kicks.

Roman knows very little sign, but he learned a couple of phrases. Sorry!

Virgil adds, It was our fault, we weren't watching.

Virgil recognizes the starry-eyed look on his brother's face. It's yet another Infatuation At First Sight, where he throws his whole heart into hoping. 

"Vee, Vee, ask him his name please?" he says, smiling for all he's worth at the curly-haired man in front of him.

Before Virgil gets a chance, he sees the man's eyes flick up and past them, and he breaks into a sunny smile. (Virgil might actually understand his brother's infatuation, for once)

Another person comes over, holding two ice creams. Virgil does a slight double-take. Like him, this newcomer chooses not to show very much skin. But they've covered even their hands. Ice cream somehow looks funny in a gloved hand.

Handing one to the first man, they start signing with one hand, far faster than he can follow. He catches a couple of signs he recognizes - gestures to himself & Roman, are you okay, something that either is we're late or shoo.

The first man is still smiling, though, and whatever he says must be okay, because the newcomer turns to them. They speak with a lilting accent, something not quite Parisian. "Please forgive my barging in- I can't exactly call for Patton from across the walkway.  My name is Dante. And you are?"

"I'm Roman, and this is Virgil, and it is wonderful to meet you!"

Virgil signs along with his brother's words, and sees Patton's eyes crinkle happily as he greets them both.

Roman has clearly also noticed Dante's gloves, but turns to Patton. With a slight bit of hesitation, he speaks and signs at once, "May I shake your hand?"

Virgil is sure he's not imagining the minute pursing of Dante's lips, but Patton's nodding and reaching out and so is Roman.

Roman is clearly holding his breath, and Virgil is too, both braced for opposite outcomes. But Patton's small, tan hand is wrapped in Roman's larger one and both sets of eyes are huge. 

Virgil's eyes flick to Roman's bicep, exposed as always, the white mark a stark contrast to his dark skin, looking like a sun or maybe a flower and-

"Holy shit-" Virgil breathes.

Roman, however, is not looking at his arm. He's staring directly into Patton's dark eyes with a smile that looks confused and elated all at once, and their hands haven't parted. 

Patton's eyes are just a huge, even huger thanks to his glasses.

"It's you," Roman says, wonder in his voice. Patton seems to read his lips, because he smiles somehow even bigger than before and signs It's you! back.

And sure enough, the mark on Roman's arm is a full circle, a full sun or flower, and Virgil's head is reeling.

Virgil's not sure what to say- the two soulmates seem content to keep staring and smiling and holding hands. But Virgil's just... nervous. Soulmate or not, this ‘Patton’ is a stranger, but Roman looks like he might never move from his side. Fuck, they can't even communicate both ways, Roman knows practically no sign and he just used up the only full sentence he’s ever learned.

He looks nervously at Patton's companion. Dante is staring too, seemingly unaware of the ice cream dripping down their glove.

Dante starts to sign something, realizes Patton can't see them, reaches out to tap Patton on the shoulder, then stops before they can touch, hand falling to their side. They look down and finally notice their ice cream, and blanch, pulling out napkins to clean their glove before it stains.

Virgil digs into his knapsack and pulls out a wet wipe and offers it. "This might help more."

Dante looks up, staring at Virgil without a shred of comprehension until Virgil waves the wipe once more. They take it with a quiet, "Merci."

They turn away, wiping off their glove and tossing the rest of their ice cream into the trash. They wiggle their fingers, clearly uncomfortable with the damp fabric. 

Virgil shifts awkwardly. He should say something, but what do you even say in this situation? He has no idea what their relation is to Pat- oh fuck, what if they were dating and Roman's just swooped in and ruined it?

In his tried-and-true method of awkward small talk with new roadies in new cities, he says, in French, "So, Paris, yeah? Know any good cafes near here?"

Dante shakes themself a bit and turns to look at Virgil. "Ah, yes. There's a patisserie just on the next block. Shall we relocate them and stop blocking the tourists?"

Virgil nods and looks over at his brother. He weighs his options of interruption, and decides on flicking Roman in the temple.

"Ow! Fuck! Vee!?!"

"You're blocking traffic, dumbass."

"I'm having a moment."

"Well come have a mocha. You can keep having your moment and I can have coffee. C'mon." 

He sees Dante signing to Patton too, explaining the plan but much more politely. Roman and Patton continue holding hands, but follow them down the block.

They get Roman and Patton sitting at a table in a picturesque cafe, and walk to the bar to order. Virgil orders his go-to of a double shot and gets Roman his mocha. Dante orders themself a latte and a vanilla cappuccino for Patton. Sitting at the bar waiting, Virgil looks over.

"So. That lunkhead over there is my brother."

Dante nods. "And Patton is my. Well. You might not know what it means, so don't immediately freak out, okay? But it's called a queerplatonic partner."

Virgil can feel the nervousness melt away. "Oh, phew. Yeah, I know what it means. So Roman's not homewrecking by being a discovered soulmate?"

"Well. I certainly hope not. But I know not everyone really, uh. Gets it. Especially with the soulmate sh- stuff. Things."

Virgil grins. "You were about to say soulmate shit, weren't you."

"...No."

"You're a terrible liar."

Dante winks. "I might surprise you."

Virgil raises an eyebrow. "Oh that's how we're gonna play it?"

"I don't play, monsieur. I just win."

"Okay then, here's a test. Why the gloves?"

Dante automatically goes to adjust them, and looks up at Virgil. Their eyes drift down to his hoodie and back up. "I think you know exactly why."

"You don't have-?"

"Nope. I don't have one either."

"I thought I was-"

"The only one?"

"Apparently not."

Virgil looks over at Patton, sitting with Roman. They don't seem to be even attempting to talk still, just staring and holding hands.

"With the QPP- are you aromantic? Do you think that's why?" He gestures vaguely at their whole body, but he’s never been quite as elegant in his gestures as Roman is.

Dante opens their mouth to speak, but stops, and sighs. "That's what I've been saying. It was easier, to say maybe this was for a purpose. And I do love Patton with all my platonic heart and I will kill your brother if he hurts him."

"The feeling’s mutual."

"But, no. I'm not fully aro. I still have romantic attraction and all that, I've just been guaranteed that even if I want it, I'll always be someone's secondary love so. Might as well lean in, right? Make the system work somewhat in my favor?"

Virgil opens his mouth to respond, to object, when the barista calls out their drinks, and then they're carefully carrying full mugs across the cafe and finding a table next to the couple.

Patton appears to be teaching Roman how to sign his name. Roman is even managing to pay attention.

"I get that, uh, reluctance. The playing-it-safe thing," Virgil says quietly, so only Dante can hear. "We travel a lot. That's a good excuse to avoid the whole fucking system. No conversations about who'll leave who when the mark shows up, because I'll be leaving in a month, tops. And people looking for hookups barely poke you to check for the mark before just... getting on with life. No expectations, no holding their breath or unrealistic disappointment."

Dante smiles weakly. "Well, good to know for when I need to start dating. I think I'm about to have a lot more free time."

"Until Roman needs to travel on again. We're here for three full weeks, but-"

"What is it you do, that you both travel so much?"

"You know Sun Prince, the singer?"

"Yeah?"

"You're looking at him," Virgil says wryly, tipping his head in Roman's direction.

Dante's eyes go wide. "Oh, that's why he looks familiar."

"So Patton probably didn’t recognize him either?"

"Nah, he tends to like EDM and electronic things the most, for the bassline. Clubbing with a deaf partner is great - the priority is just feeling the music, and we don't have to yell to hear each other."

Virgil and Dante continue to chat quietly on casual topics, but Virgil's leg is bouncing. He wants to ask the bigger questions, but it feel like prying. It's none of his business, really, right? 

But it's Roman's happiness on the line. And Virgil will do anything and everything to protect his brother. Even if it means awkwardness.

"So, uh. Did y'all have the Conversation™️ before now?"

Dante raises a questioning eyebrow in response.

"The 'what happens if he meets his soulmate' conversation. Don't tell me Pat's the only one you've ever dated?"

Dante blinks in a way that implies that were they a lesser being, they might have blushed. "Actually, he is. But yes, we've had that conversation. I'll never get in the way of Pat's romantic love and his soulmate… destiny, ou comme tu veux. I just want to still have a part in his life."

They're tugging at their gloves again, even though their face remains smooth. Virgil recognizes a nervous tic when he sees one. And god does he recognize the sentiment.

Not that any of his past partners had ever wanted to stick around in return. Why would they? He wasn't their soulmate. They hadn't decided to "settle" yet.

"I can't speak for him, but- I think Roman will be open to that," Virgil offers. "He loves performing, so we'll probably still be traveling a fair amount. But I mean. I think he'd understand that you two are a unit the same way me and him are. Like, yeah, we're brothers, but we've been each other's lifeline our whole lives, and that's not about to change. Even if he's finally found his Other Half."

Dante looks up gratefully. "I can tell you love him. And- I hope you're right."

"I should be. If Roman's a dick about it, I'll smack him upside the head."

That surprises a laugh out of Dante. They finally pull off their glove entirely, shaking it out and letting it dry on the table. "I won't interfere with them, you'll encourage Roman to not interfere with us. Do we have a deal, then?"

They offer their bare hand to shake. For once, Virgil doesn't hesitate, but takes it immediately.

Skin hits skin. Virgil finds an agreeable little shudder running down his spine as he appreciates for the first time how attractive this person is. Elegant chestnut curls, heterochromatic eyes that are dancing with delight, and disarming smile. 

Dante winks as they withdraw their hand. "What, not going to check for your completed mark now, just in case?"

Virgil grins back. "No, but I can help you look for yours later, if you want."

"Is that a proposition? Monsieur, goodness, you move fast," Dante replies, fluttering their eyelashes.

Virgil shrugs. "It could be one. You know, we're clearly gonna be around each other a lot. They found each other the old fashioned way. Maybe we could try something a bit... less traditional."

Dante smiles. "I'd like that a lot, Virgil. Should we break into cloud nine over there and ask them about the future now?"

Virgil nods. Soulmark or not, the future's looking pretty good.

tag list: @residentanchor @royally-anxious @jemthebookworm @arandompasserby  @sparkly-rainbow-salt ​@thelowlysatsuma @adorably-angsty @max-is-tired @almostoveranalyzed @hawthornshadow @mariniacipher and obligatory royality tag @notveryglittery and anxceit tag @vintage-squid

[dongiovannaswife]

Ghost of you; Bruno Buccellati.

Side note; thank you for 700 followers! I really love you all and appreciate your love and support a lot. I've made awesome friends here and I hope we keep having fun! 💞 here's this little piece, take it please uwu.

 Summary: “too young, too dumb to know things like love... But I know better now.” Destiny. A word; a reality, cruel, bloody, ruthless. Horrible, but inevitable. Sometimes, memories are the only thing we have left, and while we learn to live with the pain, we must relish on them, as a form to let the soul get over it. Time doesn't matter, as long as our heart heals. Sometimes, a ghost doesn't have to be scaring, it can be a simple memory and a grieving mind acting.

Warnings; death mentions, grieving, post VA, overall sad, I guess. Sensitive topics.

Song; ghost of you - 5SOS.

 The sunlight wakes her up, making her open her eyes slowly. Moving slowly to turn around, the empty spot in bed, were she can't sleep yet, brings up the reality. His pillow lays perfectly still, the lipstick stain from that time when she applied a decent amount of makeup on him while he was asleep starts to fade, as hope once did. Soon, the lipstick stain will join the last drop of hope.

(Y/n) holds his pillow close to her chest, trying to find his perfume, but the only smell is the soap, not his fancy perfume.

And it feels displeasing, like the world laughs on her face. It fuels the desperate part of her that still wants to find him in the kitchen, drinking his morning tea. Honey, not sugar, she remembers clearly. But once in the kitchen, his cup is still there, were he left it; clean, spoon balanced graciously, and visible through the cupboard glass door's.

The frown on her face drops with her lip trembling, still refusing to eat, Mista's words sound in her head, but doesn't reach her will; "You have to eat, (y/n). You need to live for him, he would have want you to be alive, you know? If anything, he would have want you to keep going."

How can I live without him?

Sitting in the couch, her gaze suddenly flicks to the middle of the living room. And something brightens her features.

It looks like a blurry image, but it is clear enough to see the edges were each figure ends up, despite being two bodies pressed up together, moving slowly from side to side. There's no music, but humming and there's suddenly a song fitting; no song could be this powerful and hold so much meaning, like the song their songs compose while beating together in rhythm.

The figures hold each other close, the smaller figure leaning on the other, arms around its middle.

 Everything has a start and an eventual ending.

 «He won't come back. » They said that shots of truth can either awake someone, but kill another. Figuratively, her hope just died completely. And no one was really to blame, or perhaps there was someone, but she couldn't really tell with the wave of sadness and the lump on her throat making it hard to breath. (Y/n) reaches for the telephone, dialing Giorno's personal number and once the blond answers, he doesn't really have the chance to ask whatever he wanted when she's already speaking, rushed and breathy, tired and miserable.

"I miss him. I miss his eyes, his smile, I miss his voice. Why did he leave me?"

"(Y/n)—"

"I love him, wasn't that enough for him to... To stay?" At this point, tears run down her cheeks, falling on her lap, shaking shoulders and impossibility to breathe again making it the double of hard. It feels as if she's drowning in feelings; and then, it clicks. The realization of what she just said, the reason as to why it hurts so much.

She loves him.

"(Y/n)," Giorno's voice sounds at the other side, the young don sounds worried; in fact, it's not Don Giovanna the one speaking, it's Giorno. The difference is big, and it's not easy to meet the real person behind that title. "Do you want me to send Mista there? Do you want to stay at the headquarters? You don't have to be alone."

Trying to calm her breathing, the words are still mixed together; a bit hard to understand, but not impossible. "No, I'm— I just needed to say this to someone."

Giorno doesn't have to look at her to know she's lying. Her voice says it all. Still, he lets her be, understanding her feelings. After all, no one is still over it yet. It's been weeks after the events and both the organization and the people directly related to the changes are going through hard moments.

"I understand. Keep talking, then. Get it all out." He asks, a gentle ring on his voice.

"I didn't get to tell him."

For a moment, the line goes silent.

"Do you want to tell him?" Giorno sounds deep in thought and she almost can see why Bruno had so much faith on him, although she's not sure yet about the way those two got to work together suddenly, not with the explanation already on her mind.

"... Yes."

"We could go to the place he is and... You could talk to him. If you want, only."

Seconds pass, but they feel like hours. Thick with stress.

"Okay."

•••

It's during the sunset when the Ford Lincoln pulls aside the cemetery and as the two bodyguards descend to make sure the two of them are safe, (Y/n) looks over the blond, who's looking at her already, but despite his eyes fixed on her, he still seems lost, like his mind is not there.

"I'll be here, you two need privacy."

(Y/n) nods, getting out of the car and shyly walking to the grave —besides another one she already knew— and kneeling besides the stone, it takes her a bit to properly talk.

"I miss you, Bruno." She starts, looking at her hands. Blurry vision making it hard to see the bracelet he gave her during her birthday, "I think I won't be able to dance like I did with you. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I love you." And then, there's no possible way of seeing when her tears start falling, soaking her dress. "And I'm so sorry I didn't tell you before. I just— I just haven't realized."

Minutes after the sun completely disappears, her whisper coaxes a more intimate last goodbye.

"I don't know if you loved me too, but I know I do love you."

Suddenly, a soft wave of air with a faint smell resembling the one of the sea and the feel of a pair of familiar arms surround her.

[erasingworlds]

a soul’s mate

( BARBATOS x JULIA )

Multiple side ships will be mentioned throughout, mainly Belphie x Usako. Please enjoy!

-----

Being able to read auras came in handy very, very often. For example, often in the Devildom would a demon see Julia wandering about, and seeing how she was blind given the white cane she used to help guide her, demons would quickly view her as an easy target. So, they would approach her, waiting for the right time to snatch her up and slice her open to extract her soul. When that time came...

She would either put up a magical barrier just to protect herself and continue on her way, or turn around and beat the demon with her surprisingly durable cane, using the shape of their aura to have a good estimate of where their head was usually and aim for that. Really, it depended on her mood which treatment she gave. Oh, but if she was in a really good mood and some demon decided to try and ruin it, this witch would make sure to get something of theirs and use that to curse them because how dare they mess with her happy day?

Every aura was different in some way, the shape and movement of every aura showing their mood, and helped to give her insight on their personality. The colors in their aura also helped her differentiate human, from demon, to angel, to anything else, while the energy radiating from it told her how powerful they were. The most interesting part, though, was the core of their auras. Their souls... well, if that really was what the majority considered a soul she wasn’t sure, but she liked to call it that at least. 

Their soul told her about their morals, their thoughts, the depths of who they were. Everything revolved around it. The stronger souls seemed to even have these unique symbols in the middle of them, like the Avatars of Sins.

Speaking of them... man getting Usako and Belphie together was going to be a pain.

A fun thing she learned from when she was young and lived with her aunt and uncle were these things called a soul’s mate (to her, calling someone a soulmate really referred to the person, so to differentiate from the souls she could actually see, she would specify being able to see a soul’s true mate). Whenever someone had an interest in another, their aura would flicker and wave in the direction of said person, but a soul’s mate was something else. That was where, whenever the two people came into contact, their core, the soul itself, would draw a bit closer, but being unable to leave the center, would instead change its hue slightly, glowing in its center the core color of their mate. It was one of the few things she could say she saw and would immediately feel giddy witnessing.

Surprisingly enough, when she got to the Royal Academy of Diavolo (RAD), many of her human companions that were part of the exchange program with her had their soul’s mate here, with the Avatar of Sins. Man, did her friends really catch themselves some powerful boyfriends.

One by one, when she began noticing the change in their hues to reflect the person they had just accidentally brushed hands with, pat the other’s head playfully, hug, any physical contact, she decided to try and nudge them together, wanting her friends to be happy with the one they truly belonged with.

But, for the love of Lord Diavolo were Usako and Belphie a pain to get together.

“Usako, it is clear you two belong together. I do not understand why refrain from confessing,” the green haired witch huffed, keeping her chin up and arms out to the side as her friend helped her put on the uniform. Usually she got away with just dressing in a long sleeve, dark teal dress and a black cardigan, but apparently Lucifer wanted them all to be dressed properly in their uniforms as they were going to have a meeting with Diavolo? She had no idea, nor did she entirely care about the fact Diavolo had wanted to meet with all of them, but what she wanted answers for was why this stupid uniform was so complicated with buttons and beads and belts.

Thankfully she had friends who took pity on the girl and rather than letting her walk out with the jacket upside down, not even properly buttoned, she was taken back to her room to help get changed. “I don’t know for sure though, Julia! What if that was some, hoax? Or maybe I was just seeing things,” Usako sighed.

Julia couldn’t help but roll her eyes at this. “You have checked this string trick of yours numerous times, and even I have seen how your souls interact with one another,” she retorted, finally putting her arms down when Usako said she finished with the belt. “What more proof do you need?”

“Being able to see the string on myself...?” Usako seemed to have an interesting ability, as well, despite not being a descendant of a witch - at least, not that either of them knew about. She could see thin threads of red connecting soulmates to each other, and while she couldn’t necessarily see them be attached, the string would tug and move in the same direction as the other’s hand, as though reaching out to each other. While Usako couldn’t see her own string, she one day saw Belphie’s string follow her own hand.

Before Julia could say anything else, Usako began lightly nudging at her. Her voice held a playful tone as she asked back, “What about you, hm~? How about, rather than meddling in everyone else’s love life, you go and make yours a reality?”

“It is may be mutual attraction, but our souls are not mates,” Julia sighed, though she did feel her cheeks tingle as a blush rose to her face. “And unlike you, I do know. Barbatos has offered me his hand once before when I fell, and when we touched, his core did not change.”

“Oh, c’mon! Let me check for you! You’ll just need to touch hands again when I’m around so I can see!”

“Barbatos has mentioned he is not a very touchy person before when you tried insisting we hold hands before, so I do not believe that will happen any time soon.”

Usako pouted, about to pester her again, before hearing Mammon call from down the hall, “Yo! We gonna be late, get it movin’!”

--

“Belphie, I can tell you are not asleep,” Julia huffed, poking the avatar of sloth sitting next to her with her cane. Their History class was now a study hall due to the teacher being absent, so everyone was doing whatever they pleased. Well, almost everyone. Belphie wanted sleep, but Julia said no. “Belphegor.”

She suddenly felt her cane get yanked from her grasp, a low growl quickly following up with, “Poke me again and you’re going to need a new seeing stick.”

“White cane.”

"Whatever,” he grumbled, folding the cane in half before placing it back on her desk, then laying back down to try and sleep.

“... Okay, but here me out--”

“I swear you can be more annoying than Horizon and Solomon when they start belching songs,” Belphie finally groaned, turning his head to face Julia, though was still down resting on the pillow on his desk. “I already told you, no. Stop playing matchmaker with me.”

“If you truly love someone, I do not see why you should refrain yourself from confessing.”

“Because she doesn’t like me, she... she likes--”

“I have already told you she no longer does.” She remembered how Usako told her she originally had a crush on the avatar of gluttony before Sen and Beel got together, but how that attraction and interest was no longer really present (besides finding him hot when he was shirtless... but apparently everyone agreed on that, even Asmodeus, and that was his brother).

This was infuriating, and she wanted to just flat out say to Belphie that Usako admitted to her about having an interest, and how she saw how their souls reacted to each other and that Usako even saw their strings react... but that was out of the line for her. Since she could see such personal feelings, she didn’t like directly telling someone another’s emotions... but she was real close to breaking that exception. Julia technically already did with Usako, but that was different since Usako could see the strings anyways.

Actually, yeah, screw it.

“Belphie, you are speaking to someone who can read everyone’s emotions. Do you truly believe I would be encouraging you to confess so desperately if I knew it would end in pain?” she tried to reason, her voice a bit lower, sounding hurt.

She saw how the edges of Belphie’s aura spiked, startled at her tone and words. He remained silent for a moment, as though assessing her to see if she was serious, before sighing. “You better not be lying...”

“Finally!” Throwing her hands up, the human girl cheered, which was rather out of character for her. She normally was much more quiet and reserved, even when she was teasing someone else.

Belphie simply shook his head at her actions, though couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “Now shut up and let me sleep.”

“Actually, no, I believe you are behind in some assignments, so you should work on though.”

“I actually hate you.”

--

“You seem to be in a good mood,” a voice called from behind her. 

Hearing the other, she nodded, but rather than elaborating, noted, “I am surprised you are not with Lord Diavolo.”

Barbatos sighed. “He ran off to talk with Lucifer about what we will be discussing about later at the meeting,” the demon explained, before gesturing to the space next to her on the bench. “May I?” The blind girl raised an eyebrow, pausing before she took another bite from her sandwich, missing the slight gesture. “Oh, my apologies, may I sit next to you?”

Understanding now what he meant, she nodded, before continuing to eat her lunch. She liked to escape the cafeteria and eat out in the garden area sometimes. Usually, some of the others would come and join her, but it seems everyone was taking this lunch break to meet up with their significant other. Belphie said he was going to talk to Usako during lunch, but demanded she stay far away and not peak at their auras, so she was respecting that. Julia did enjoy whenever she had time to be alone, seeing her friend group was rather big, meaning she was almost always bound to be around some of them (usually as the third wheel, but that gave her plenty of chances to tease them so she was fine with it). Since it was Barbatos, though, she didn’t mind this kind of company.

They remained silent for a little as they ate, simply enjoying the other’s company and relaxing blissfully, not hearing constant yelling or orders or complaints or fighting or obnoxious loud laughter. It was peaceful, and made Julia feel warm inside.

Once done eating, Barbatos broke the silence, questioning, “What is it that has you in such a good mood? You normally don’t swing your legs while sitting down.”

Oh. Julia didn’t even realize she was doing that. Her legs were barely swinging, to begin with, though it was true, she normally kept perfectly still and sat properly. “I finally convinced Belphie to do something that I have been begging him to do.”

Hm? She thought she saw a small spark of orange by the rim of his core, but when she did a double take, it was gone. “Belphegor? What did you need him to do?”

“Ah, that is a private matter.” There was that spark again. Jealousy. Julia had to refrain from smiling a bit. Of course, wit her abilities, she wasn’t oblivious to when someone was attracted to her. She knew Barbatos had an interest in her, just like she in him, but... she was not his soul mate. There would be no point in starting a relationship that wouldn’t last - at least, that was how she felt. Didn’t stop her from finding satisfaction at the sight of him getting jealous over her, though. “It is something only he could do. If it was not, I would most likely go to you first, seeing as I trust you the most.”

The way his aura waved indicated to her he was pleased with what she said. “I’m glad you can put such faith in me.”

“Oh, how was your double date with Lucifer and Lia, by the way?”

“Why do you...” he sighed, knowing there was no point in protesting. Similar to Lucifer, he also often got teased by everyone about having a thing for Diavolo, even more now that Lucifer found himself a girlfriend. “If ever possible, please stop Lia from suggesting anymore human world cartoons to our Lord. He wants to a pet platypus now and I can’t find a green one.”

“... Can you not just use a spell to make it green?”

“Why is that your first question rather than why he wants a platypus? That should be the stranger point.”

Julia just giggled. 

They continued talking for the remainder of their break, mainly addressing the craziness they have to go through on a daily basis. At times, she would see the occasional demon walk by, seeing a sliver of shock and curiosity rise within them that was directed at Barbatos and her. No surprise, seeing as Barbatos was normally glued to Diavolo’s hip. After the sixth person, Julia mentioned it to Barbatos, who just shrugged it off.

“Should you not be getting back to Lord Diavolo?” she questioned with a slight frown. While she wanted to continue talking to him, she didn’t want to take him away from his duties.

It surprised her when he declined, “He’s probably still speaking with Lucifer. Even if he wasn’t... I don’t always need to be right by him.” Those were words she never expected him to say, and there wasn’t even any hesitation in his aura when he spoke. She was just about to comment on that, before he added, “Besides, I would prefer to spend my free time with you.”

Okay, she did not expect that. His aura hadn’t even been hinting that he was about to say such sweet words directed towards her. It didn’t flick back or inch closer to her until just after he spoke. Okay, whoa, that really caught her off guard. She felt heat rise to her face, eyes widening and mouth slightly open, before quickly shutting it. Nope, she spoke with logic, and there was currently no logic going through her mind at the moment. In her surprise, she accidentally kicked her white cane a bit, which had been to her other side next to her. Julia didn’t even realize until she heard the soft clatter to the ground.

“Hm, oh, excuse me.” Why was Barbatos getting up to get it for her? He was sitting at her other side. She should get it herself, she kicked it! Wait, calm down, he is a gentleman and works as a butler, so this is just instinctual for him.

She bit her lower lip a bit and willed her cheeks to cool down. Ugh, she didn’t know how she looked when flustered, but she was sure it was foolish. Distracted with that thought, she didn’t pay too much attention to when he handed back to her the cane. Instead, she quickly said thanks as she accepted it back, their hands touching just momentarily since she reached a bit too far accidentally when taking it.

That was when she saw something from the corner of her eye.

“Wait, what?” she accidentally slipped out, quickly looking back up to Barbatos’s core. It had gone back to its normal turquoise with little lime green edges that outlined both his soul, and the symbol in the middle.

He was about to question what she meant, only to be taken by surprise as Julia quickly used her other hand to grab his as she placed her cane down to the side - which ended up rolling off the bench and onto the floor again, but she didn’t care. Standing as well now - way too close, not that she really noticed or cared, though it did take Barbatos off guard - she held his bare hand in hers, her gaze directed right at his chest.

“Um, is there something the matter?” he questioned slightly nervously, unsure if he should take a step back to give her space. He felt himself getting even more flustered when she brought one of her hands to his chest and rested it there, and while his face didn’t entirely show it anyways, he wouldn’t be surprised if Julia saw it in his aura. “Juliana?”

“Y-Your... your hand feels different,” the witch muttered, her thumb softly stroking his palm. “It... is very rough. You should moisturize.” Now she was sputtering randomness.

He just blinked at the comment. “I usually remove my gloves when eating. I’m sorry if my hand... doesn’t feel pleasant?”

His questioning words and concerned tone brought her back to reality, releasing him and watching the plum purple mist fade from his soul. “No, I like the feel of your hand,” she complimented without thinking.

“Pardon me for the suddenness, but, can I be your girlfriend?”