#there would be nag windows though: hi there. would you like to watch an ad for a bonus? [yes] [no] [stop asking]

[rainbowtvz]

need to make one of those cash grab ad filled mobile games or something for a quick buck

[ariascoven]

⟡ COZY & SPOOKY | A. HARKNESS

PAIRING :: agatha harkness x reader

CONTENT / WARNINGS :: established relationship, agatha is reader’s wife. domestic & fluff. soft agatha. gender neutral reader. petnames (dear, honey, love & cinnamon). agatha is weird and doesn't like hocus pocus — movie of the century 🤷‍♀️

WORD COUNT :: 2k

A/N :: happy halloween, witches <3 just a bit of soft wife agatha for the soul. also, i never meant for it to be this long, jesus christ. sorry? or you're welcome. i don't really like this, i dunno

MY MASTERLIST

The soft rain poured outside and you watched as the raindrops raced their way down the kitchen window’s glass. You could hear the sound of your wife and son playing and laughing together in the next room, a soft smile playing on your lips as you finished making hot chocolate for your Halloween movie night, adding cream to Nichola’s cup and cinnamon to Agatha’s, just the way they liked it. “Honey, could you come help me carry the food?” You call out, your head poking out of the kitchen door. You watch as your wife nods, planting a quick kiss on your child’s forehead and ascending from the couch. She gives you a quick peck on the lips as she slips into the kitchen, grabbing the popcorn and the chips. “You're not going to make me watch that ridiculous excuse of a witch movie, are you, dear?” She raises an eyebrow at you, her tone a mixture of annoyance and affection.

Your hands move to your hips, mouth hanging open in the purest form of offense. “If you're talking about Hocus Pocus, yes, I will. And it is not ridiculous! It's a Halloween classic that made history. Be more respectful.” She laughs with amusement at your words, shaking her head. You're pouting, bottom lip sticking out in a childish manner. She uses it to her advantage, tugging it between her teeth playfully and making you gasp. “I’ve never seen you defend your own wife the way you defend that movie. But fine, just because Nicky likes it. But just so you know-!” You sigh, carrying the hot chocolate and marshmallows to the living room and ignoring your witchy wife blabbering about how Hocus Pocus is a terrible stereotype of witches and that they do not use brooms — even though you know she used to, centuries ago. You give Nicholas a hug as you sit down, pulling him onto your lap and ruffling his hair. “Ready for movie night, baby?” You ask softly. He nods enthusiastically and you smile at his happiness.

“Hey, that's my spot!” Agatha’s voice invades the room as she walks in, offense etched into her features as she refers to your lap. Nicholas laughs and his tongue sticks out of his mouth as he hugs you tightly in order to make Agatha jealous. “Oh, young man, you don't want to see me mad!” She says playfully, organizing the food on the small table in front of the TV and dragging it closer to the couch so Nicholas could reach it with more ease. The two of you spent the entire morning decorating the whole house while Nicholas was asleep; fairy lights everywhere, paper bats glued onto the walls, a few skeletons around the rooms and small witch hats here and there — definitely your idea, Agatha hated them. Your wife would never reveal the upsetting truth about the disappearance of maybe two or three of the miniature hats; she got rid of them, muttering something about ‘ridiculous stereotypes’ before throwing them in the trash and covering it with an empty package of whatever snack she found.

Agatha plops down onto the couch next to you with a contented sigh, her arm snaking around your shoulders as she gives you a sweet kiss on the forehead, then on Nicky‘s. She rubs your arm covered by your pumpkin sweater and nuzzles your neck, inhaling your scent before pulling back, snatching the remote from the armrest and turning on the TV. “I’m assuming we're watching Pocus Hocus.” She nagged, her voice dripping with sarcasm and disdain, saying the wrong movie title on purpose to piss you off. It works, she notices, when she whips her head to the side and finds you with narrowed eyes. You hear your child giggle on your lap, shaking his head exaggeratedly. “No, mama! It's Hocus Pocus! Not Pocus Hocus!”

With a smile, you watch your wife feigning offense and confusion, a hand flying to her chest dramatically. “What? Are you playing tricks on me, young man? It's obviously Pocus Hocus!” You blink in surprise at how quickly Agatha snatched little Nicholas from your lap, laying him down on the couch and tickling his most sensitive spots, causing the child to kick and wave his arms around in a failed attempt to stop his mother’s actions. The sound of laughter fills the room, your heart swelling with love towards your little family. You take the opportunity to press play on the movie and adjust the volume, your own legs bouncing with excitement — even though you watch this movie every October 31st. You hear an excited gasp escape Nicholas’ lips as he hears the movie starting, breaking free from the witch’s cruel torture. He rests his head on your lap, his legs comfortably resting on top of Agatha’s. A smile tugs at the corner of your wife’s mouth as she reaches over to caress your son’s wild curls, pooling around his head like a halo. “Little angel.” She mutters, not loud enough for him to hear, curious eyes glued onto the image on the television.

Without a word, your head falls to the side, resting on Agatha’s shoulder, soft hair grazing against her cheek. The three of you spend the entirety of the movie in the same position, occasionally reaching over to grab something from the snack table that you prepared with much love. Nicholas laughs as he throws a popcorn inside of Agatha’s mouth, cheering when she catches it with perfection, pretending to wave and blow kisses towards the non-existing audience. You feel lucky. Lucky that you found the woman of your dreams, terribly lucky that she chose you. In a world where she could choose to build a family with a powerful witch like her, she chose you instead; the awkward neighbor next door with big, curious eyes that kept stealing adoring glances towards her. The only person who never judged her after discovering she was a witch or the things she has done in the past. The person that made her feel at home.

After a quick bathroom break, you start up a second Halloween movie. You would be lying if you said you paid attention to the name or even to whatever was happening in the story, head tipping forward as you fought against the sleep that threatened to wash over you. It seems you lost the battle, being awakened by Agatha’s voice against your ear, her hands gently shaking you. “Honey, Nicky fell asleep. I’ll get him to bed, you stay right here, alright?” She mumbles quietly getting up from the couch. You feel the weight being lifted from your lap as she picks up your son’s sleeping form, cradling him lovingly in her arms. You rub your tired eyes with the back of your hand as a yawn leaves your lips while you wait for her to come back, legs being lazily thrown over the couch’s armrest. Your eyes flutter close once more, feeling yourself falling asleep again. Until you feel something poking your cheek, turning your head to glance at Agatha standing over you. She smiles and pinches your cheek. “Sleeping Beauty #1 is tucked in. Now, come here, it's time for Sleeping Beauty #2.”

You let out a whine as you feel yourself being lifted from the couch by her strong arms, your own wrapping around her neck as you nuzzle against it and shower the warm skin with kisses. She chuckles, making her way upstairs carrying you like it's nothing. She kicks the bedroom door open and slips inside, repeating the gesture to shut it closed. You whine when you notice she ignores the existence of your cozy, perfect bed, going towards the bathroom instead. “Nuh uh, no complaining. Let's get you a bath, okay? Then you can sleep.” An annoyed grunt leaves your mouth, but you don't say anything, allowing her to sit you down on top of the toilet seat. With heavy eyes, you watch as she gets the water started, humming a song that you're sure she just made up. Like a child, you put your arms up, delicate hands slipping your sweater off. She tugs at the waistband of your pants and you lift your hips, a pout lingering on your lips at how carefully she undresses you. She keeps a hand on your lower back as you get into the bathtub filled with bubbles to ensure you don't slip.

The water splashes as you kick your feet like a child would, a sigh escaping your lips. Agatha sits down on the edge of the bathtub, hands massaging your shoulders. You groan, feeling your body relax under your lover’s skilled touch. “If I wasn't so tired, I'd ask you to wash my hair. Your hands are so damn good.” You breathed out, eyes narrowing at the teasing chuckle that immediately leaves Agatha’s lips. “Pervert.” “I didn't say a thing.” She quickly responds to your insult, putting her hands up defensively. A comfortable silence washes over the bathroom as she keeps massaging your shoulders and neck. As you yawn exaggeratedly, she dips a finger into the water, noting the temperature is turning cold. “We should get you to bed now, love.” No matter how long you've been together, whenever she spoke in that soft tone of hers you simply melted. And she melted too, a soft smile playing on her lips as she notices your adoring gaze.

Quickly getting you out of the tub, she sits you down onto the toilet seat once more to dry you with her purple towel. “Is this gonna make me smell like you?” You question cheekily with a raised brow. She chuckles lightly, planting a kiss on your cheek. “It might. Is that good or bad?” Instructing you to put your arms up, she dresses you with care; in her clothes, of course. You look down at yourself, your body now protected from the cold air by Agatha’s long, black pajamas. “Good.” You mutter as you wiggle your feet after she finishes putting on the pair of white socks. “You know I have my own clothes, right?” You tease. Your yelp is loud as she throws you over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes, your hands clumsily reaching to grip the back of her shirt. She throws you onto the bed, making you frown playfully. “But you look so much better in mine.”

You turn on your side, curling up. Agatha throws the covers on top of you, kissing your nose. You hear the brunette walking into the bathroom, assuming she's changing into more comfortable clothes. Eyebrows furrow when you notice she's brushing her teeth. Reluctantly slipping out of the warm bed, you sauntered to the bathroom, standing next to your wife and grabbing your own toothbrush. She watches with a raised brow. “Need to brush my teeth too, or else they are gonna get all gross and you won't love me anymore.” She looks amused at your words, an arm wrapping around you as you brush your teeth together. “You could have stayed in bed, dear. I’d just wake you up by shoving toothpaste and a brush in your face first thing in the morning.” She whines when you nudge her with your elbow painfully.

When you're done, you leave Agatha behind and rush to the comfort of your bed, jumping on it like a child and giggling. “Be careful.” You hear her say, glancing back to find her leaning against the doorframe while drying her hands. Turning your back to her with a huff, you miss the way she shakes her head in amusement and throws the hand towel on top of the sink — which would definitely earn her a scolding in the morning. She shuffles into bed behind you, hugging you and kissing your neck a few times. You hum in contentment, pushing back against her. “Goodnight, cinnamon. I love you.” She speaks against your ear, making you shiver. Cinnamon. That's a new one, you think. You barely have time to mutter a response before drifting off to sleep, melting into her arms.

[bluetimeombre]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Notice

Sometimes, even the big bad wolf needs his calm, in his case, it's you.

[finally I got the request out for introverted reader. I to love this idea, I do genuinly believe Logan would just love someone he could relax with after all the pain he's been through- like him and Kayla in Wolverine which we don't talk about enough. I hope you enjoy, I tried to get it out quicker but i'm working on other little thing for Hugh and Logan, so keep your eyes out. No warnings for this, accept fluff and a little angst cause i'm a sucker for it.]

Logan couldn't pin point the moment he noticed you but once he had, there was no going back.

Everything- everyone- in the mansion was hard to handle. All 100% all the time. Storm, the Professor, even Jean grated him enough of the times. With their insistence he join the team, with the nagging, the missions, the danger rooms, the blah blah blah.

So when he was out for a run, blowing the steam Scott had given him that morning, and he spotted you surrounded by students, huddled by a tree, he paused. He very almost ran into a kid as he did, squinting at you as you practically glowed in the sun.

Was that your mutation? To glow? To capture his attention?

You were showing the kids something, and they all listened, enamoured. As he would be, with your smile, your ... calm.

You caught him staring and faltered. He only crossed his arms over his chest and watched as you tried to continue teaching. Eventually, you set the class on some task and Logan slowly made his way to you.

"Hello Logan," you greeted.

He didn't know why it surprised him you knew his name, you must have been here longer than he had for you to teach. He watched you as you watched the children, noticing how you pulled at the sleeves of your jumper down over your hands. "What are they doin'?" he asked, gesturing to the kids.

"Just learning about life," you mumbled. That was your mutation, a connection the nature, to the trees and the very life that hummed under you.

So very different to him, who took life with the swipe of his claws.

"I'll er, see you," you added before walking away from him.

Logan couldn't shake you for the rest of the day. He walked by your class room later, saying hello to you. He never had before. That night, he found he couldn't sleep and he walked by your bedroom which just so happened to be on his way. The door was open ajar and you were no where to be seen.

You were down in the kitchen, sitting in an armchair by the window with a book in your lap and a steaming how cup of coffee next to you. He approached quietly, watching from the doorway as you were bathed in moonlight.

Eventually, as you went to grab your hot coffee, you spotted him. "Logan?" you spilled a bit over your hand, seething and putting it down. "Sorry, I- I didn't see you there."

He smirked. "Kinda the idea."

He ducked under a counter and pulled out a beer from his secret stash. He took some kitchen roll as he did before walking over to you, gesturing down to the empty chair across from you.

You nodded and he sat, taking the cap of the beer with his teeth and spitting it on the floor. "We don't have beer here," you said.

Logan raised a brow. "No? huh," he took a swig, watching you. "Here." he put his beer next to your coffee and takes your hand, wiping away the coffee.

"I'm ok," you mumble, though letting him dab it away.

"Just making sure, bub," he said, glancing up at you. You'd closed the book but kept a finger where he'd interrupted. "What are you reading?"

You seemed shocked that he asked as you have to think for a moment. "Oh just um, a book."

"A book, huh?" he hummed.

"A book," you repeated.

"What's it about?" he asked, leaning back and taking his beer again.

You shake your head, curling into yourself. "It's just about... art history. Read it?"

He smirked. "I don't read."

You nod, pursing your lips and adjusting the book in your lap. Your head, turned down.

He watched your for a second. He saw your eyes turn around the page but you didn't seem to be taking it in. He sipped his beer and tried to think of another way to start a conversation with you. Not that the silence wasn't welcome, it was after all the noise of the day, but he wanted to hear your voice. He wanted to know your voice even when he knew nothing else. "Wanna know how I snuck beer in this place?"

You glanced up at him, closing your book again. "Do I want to know?"

"Well, it's a neat little trick," he said, spinning the bottle around.

"And if Charles's comes snooping?" you ask.

He shrugs. "Then there's plenty of kids for me to blame it on," he said. "C'mon, you telling me you're not a rule breaker?"

You laugh at the very idea. "No. No, i'm not."

"Why not? Afraid you might get a taste for it?" he teased.

You blushed and he found delight in that.

Most nights, that how it went. In the day he was dealing with everyone's bullshit and at night he'd find you in your chair, reading or what you called crocheting. You even tried to teach him once but in a fit of anger that he couldn't get it, his claws slashed out and tore it.

Logan apologised but to his delight you laughed only.

In the day he always sort you out, or watched from afar as you taught, or sat in the sun. You never participated in danger room sessions. But you were no less a friend to Ororo or Jean, sometimes he'd catch you outside with Scott, talking and laughing and he found he'd never wanted to rip Summer's head from him more.

"I didn't know you and Summer's were... close," he said one night the two of you were in the kitchen. You were hunched over paper, drawing whatever you could see in the dark garden while he fixed himself up a sandwich.

"We've worked together for years," you said, "we were in the same classes together too."

"And you don't find him a pain in the ass?" he asked.

You chuckled. "Not as much as you, Logan, I expect."

Logan hummed a laugh and came over to you, offering you half the sandwich.

You peered at him and he insisted. “I’m not hungry.”

“You barley ate anything at lunch, c’mon, it’s my speciality.”

In the night, the two of you ate in silence, simply enjoying each others company.

Logan was simply fine admiring you for half the night. "Why don't you talk much?"

You glance is way, pulling your sweater back down. "I just don't have much to say."

"C'mon, i'm sure you do," he said. "Seems like everyone always has something to say round here.”

“I don’t have anything useful to contribute,” you shrug, taking a bite of what he made for you.

Something like pride filled him. He didn’t know that doing the plain old domestic stuff could mean so much to him, because when it was only him, he never cared, but you, god, there was no limit to what he felt for you. “That’s not true,” he said, leaning over closer to you. “Wanna hear every thought that pops into that pretty little head.”

You glance his way, blushing. You swallow your food and wipe away the crumbs. “And why is that, Logan?”

He frowned at the question. “Because it’s you. I-I like you, bub. Better than anyone else in this place,” he said. This place wasn’t descriptive enough for him. “I like you most in the whole world.”

After that little confession that had you stunned, Logan was all over you. Most the days when he has nothing to do he followed you around like a puppy, even chose to help out in classes just to be close to you.

It was worth every second, just to hear your voice and see you get passionate.

Slowly, you started to note this and finally opened up to him more. You’d talk about the books you were reading or invite him to your favourite spots in the garden. You’d even tried to crochet for him.

It was peace, and in his life time of war, Logan never thought he’d deserve it.

But peace never lasted long for him.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

The mission was supposed to be a quick and done deal: investigate the factory and rescue any mutants stuck, but he hadn’t accounted for the mutant who poisoned his mind.

He was in the pale corridors of the facility before his mind took him to the mansion. It was wrecked, holes in walls and windows shattered. There was blood splattered like a painting. Slowly, he wondered the corridors, every step a tremble.

There were children, lying in blood, as well as Storm, Jean, Scott, but then, there was you.

Logan screamed. Logan yelled, he fell to his knees and crawled the rest of the way there. To you. His skin was was soaking in your blood, his hands clawing to get to you, to bring in your body to his. He cried out, nuzzilng his face in your neck.

It didn't feel like a dream, it felt painfully real. It wasn't until there was a searing pain in the back of his head that his eyesight blurred and the blood was gone, so were you.

"It wasn't real, Logan," said Scott, pulling him up. "It was just a dream. It wasn't real."

Logan couldn't register who was pulling him up, or who was talking to him. As his vision cleared, he looked for you and all he knew was that he couldn't find you. "Y-Y/N?"

"She's at home, Logan, c'mon." Scott managed to assort the rest of the team and get them to the jet before flying at a never before seen speed to get back to the mansion.

Logan's knee jittered as he remembered your voice. As he remembered your smile and the way you blushed whenever he looked at you long enough. The soft brush of your touch and the scent your hair carried in the wind. He tried to remember it all, as if when he returns, you won't be there.

Before the jet had even landed, as the sun rose over the school, Logan was jumping out and stalking into the place. He tried not to run, not to give into the urgency.

He went to your bedroom first, but you weren't there. Your sheets were tossed aside and it was empty. So was your classroom.

The sweat started rolling down as he looked around. It was so early, nobody else was up but he was sure with his heavy steps and ragged breaths, he was waking everyone up.

"Y/N? no, no, no," he mumbled. He eventually made it out, taking deep gulps of air and searching the grounds.

You stood with your back to him, a blanket wrapped around you and bathing in the soft light.

"Y/N?"

By the time you'd turned around, Logan was already catapulting into you, sweeping you from your feet and bringing you into his chest. His hand tangled in your hair, breathing you in.

"Logan?" you mumbled, arms awkwardly coming around him. "Everything alright?"

His head shook. "I thought... I thought you-" he found the strength to pull away from you, taking in every detail like he'd never see you again. "I missed you, bub."

There was accusation in your eyes but you didn't voice them. Instead, your knuckles brushed his cheek, smoothing away the lines of stress.

That night, with his head in your lap, you read to him. And Logan knew, nothing would ever happen to you.

He would make sure of it.

taglist (thank you! let me know if you want to be added for more hugh and logan or removed): @oatmilkriver, @angstdaddy, @chronicallybubbly, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @th3mrskory

[blueparadis]

╰┈➤ ADELAIDE ✦ SAE ITOSHI.

⟣ ──┈ · · · + synopsis ➢ Sae rarely watches any movie or TV show for the second time so he has come up with a solution. Why don't you cockwarm him as he sits for the rewatch, hmm?

+

⟣ ──┈ · · · + cw ➣ fem!reader x sae itoshi, roommate au, relationship history ( fwb➝ established relationship ) relationship dynamics, fluff, angst and smut, cockwarming, nipple stimulation, edge play, very subtle tones of s&m, sub/dom dynamics, switch!reader, sae is little obsessive behaviour and fantasies about the reader, mention of safeword ( neither party uses it); 1,3k word count. | blog navigation + koct’23 masterlist. | 

The curtains dance along the windows as a gust of wind enters the living room.  The afternoon sun is utterly bright despite the torrential rain at dawn; but it is Saturday, so you could definitely enjoy the privilege of an air conditioner along with emptying a tub full of ice cream of your favorite flavour. You could definitely enjoy such other privileges if Sae did not suggest the idea of watching a movie together, in this living room where he sits with you on the couch having you on his lap and his cock inside you. Unlike the most Saturdays, he is home today and hence, you could not say no to him. 

The posture is not at all uncomfortable. In fact, he has one of his arms wrapped around your waist as you watch the movie with rapt attention. Although, Sae is facing toward to the television he is not much interested since he claims he has seen the movie already. The notebook. You have watched it too. In fact, you are the one who introduced him to ‘The Notebook’, and ever since he has been nagging to watch it with you like a child asking for a limited edition toy. And when you asked him why he suggested a movie that he has already watched, he simply came up with this brilliant idea of having his cock inside as you watch the movie to make it more interesting. 

At first, you gave him a look saying, “you can just watch it again with me.” but he instantly responded smiling ear to ear, “I would rather watch you.”  That was so cliche and cheesy that it makes you cringe yet it has been a while you have not seen this side of him. When your eyebrows knitted against each other, he added, “Please.” avoiding eye contact. 

The first time when you suggested him to watch ‘The Notebook’ after his so-called girlfriend ditched him he landed a trail of awful words saying how he hates such plain romance. ‘Vanilla’ he would call it, which according to him is not his type. Technically, it is. He hates simplicity. Nothing is more boring than going by the book. But he still watched it. And after that, you two started watching tv shows and movies together. Of course, both of you took turns to pick. Now, he likes simplicity but only when it is you.

That is how you ended up watching ‘The Notebook’ again, as his hands slipped under your dress every other minute. With an annoyed huff, you are just pushing his muscular-toned arms back to the valley of your waist every time they become curious. The first twenty to forty minutes was enough for him to pull you into his lap, his fingers playing with your pussy spreading and relaxing you so that he can slide his cock at ease. He is fully clothed but his hands have reached up to the laces of your long camisole quite a number of times. He knows you are not wearing a bra underneath. You hate it. Even though having a guy as a roommate you could not care less. 

Sae mumbles into your ear as he pulls your body towards himself, rolling his hips a little and pushing the tip of his cock more inside you. “Babe…” he murmured, grazing his nose below your neck and placing a soft open-mouthed kiss. You do not faze, nor say anything. How could you? You are having a hard time keeping your moans to yourself. His needy gestures are not helping either. His hand slips again under your dress, this time he inclines your body a little so as to continue his trail of kisses. “Babe. . .” he whines again, followed by a low short-lived gasp.

“What is it, Sae?” you ask, pausing the movie. There are still forty minutes left. 

Did you really have to pause it? The fact that some corny romance that you have already watched has more of your attention than him is already making him go nuts. He wishes he could just roll you down on the couch and fuck you till your tears run down your cheeks, while the movie plays in the background. He has imagined it so many times. “can i fuck you?” He blurts out.

You know he is just playing with you, somewhat bluffing to see your reactions. After all, he is never the one to admit defeat so easily. “It was your idea, Sae” You exclaim as he tries to distract you by running his hands up your arms and then stopping at your shoulder blades, inserting a finger underneath the lace to play with it. You try to adjust yourself a little so that his cockhead does not nudge your sweet spot every time he moves but he is a lot stronger than his friends claim. 

“Such a bad idea, don’t you think?”

Your eyebrows pinch, cheeks puff in and out as you resume the movie. “Just forty more minutes.” You glance at him through the corner of your eyes and find him smirking. He is looking at your boobs as you realise how much is turned on, how much you want this,want him and how much can you take any more of this. Sae glances you before sticking his tongue out licking your pebbled nipple once. You can neither tell him to stop nor ask for more because both will have him tasting the victory by fucking you before the movie ends. Sae checks your face in between his slow teaseful sucks and licks. 

Your face contorts as he blows some air out onto your nipple making you realise that he has wetted enough to let the cloth stick on to your skin. He moves you to adjust a little to do the same with your lonely nipple making you swallow hard feeling his cock leak inside you. It hits your sweet spot with so much precision that it is almost tempting to bounce on his cock and ask him to fuck you. At this point, he would actually. You just needed to say the word. “thirty more minutes babe,”

“After that,” he slaps your ass cheeks harshly over the skimpy dress. Just once but that one slap has you arching like a bow with your head bent backward. You blink open your eyes huffing with the wide intake of breath feeling tears blurring the design painted on the celling. “I’m going to fuck you. Hard.” 

You looked at him, a little concerned because never with you he has done this. Safeword was at the tip of your tongue and your heart at the back of your throat yet you saw him leaning towards you resting his head against your chest and releasing a strong exhale.

 “I know. So, you better last these last forty minutes.” You voiced out tartly. You could feel him wince, evident from a distorted groan.

You do not remember seeing his arms travel far down your waist and now as your breaths are slowly becoming even, he has both of your arms arching at the back holding them by the wrist making them immobile. He kisses your collarbone whispering, “Sorry, force of habit. You ‘okay love?”

tagging~@tteokdoroki @saenora @semisgroupie @orchid3a @seirinz.

[shoalweedhence]

You were out my League

Warnings: Reader with self-confidence issues

Pairing: Eddie Munson x GN Reader

Content Tag: Hurt/Comfort & Fluff

Word Count: 1543

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just as you turn the page of the book lying in your lap, you feel the covers beneath you shift slightly. Glancing away from the page, you watch as Eddie, eyes closed and fully immersed in his own world, bobs his head to the music you can faintly hear as it filters through his headphones. Your eyes lower down to his fidgeting hand, fingers splayed on the bed -his bed- as they tap along to the melody. The rings adorning his knuckles glint in the afternoon sunlight streaming through his open window. The warm air caresses your face, guiding you like a soft hand tilting your chin back up. You look at your boyfriend’s concentrated features, his eyebrows knitting, the edge of his nose pinching, the corners of his mouth moving almost imperceptibly in a downward motion.

You could lose yourself for hours at the sight of him -actually, you already had, many times before, and did not plan on stopping anytime soon, partly because you enjoyed looking at him very much, and partly because you thought that, maybe, if you looked at him just long enough, the answer to a seemingly life-long question you had would finally be answered.

Because, seriously, how *had* you managed to go out with him? 

You had been told many times that you should not question it. ‘If he’s happy with you and you’re happy with him, don’t overthink it’ your friends of the Hellfire Club had been quick to reassure you, both wanting you to be happy as well as rooting for their leader to finally have some more positives in his life. 

You wanted to not overthink, of course, and you did your best to not let your mind wander whenever Eddie did something kind for you; that one time he agreed to give you a lift back home because your car was getting fixed, the way he would hold your hands -whenever the Hoosier weather decided to cool for two days in the year- and bring them up to his face, blowing a warm breath on them, the way he would bring you food to share and a movie to watch when things were tough, the way he was patient and considerate, but just persistent enough to have you explain what your limits were in this relationship… he would just drop anything he was doing in a heartbeat if it was for you. Had you ever done anything like that for him?

Ultimately, though, the voice at the back of your head would just not stop nagging you, and you learned to live with this constant headache.

You jumped a little when you felt something warm touch your hand. You looked down hastily, noticing a ringed hand covering yours before your eyes flitted back up towards Eddie’s.

“What is it?” He asked, taking off his headphones with his free hand.

“What do you mean?” You answered after a pause, your throat feeling stuffy, as if it was full of cotton, since you had not talked for a while.

“You were staring,” he said, and as your eyes averted his from embarrassment. “I don’t mind, it’s just,” he added quickly, shifting his position on the bed so he was facing you, both of his hands playing with yours, “sometimes you get that look in your eyes, and it seems like you’re not having happy thoughts…” 

Of course he had noticed. One more reason to get him a trophy for best boyfriend on the planet, you thought.

But despite how elated your heart felt, singing his praises for how well he was able to read you, now, you also felt quite vulnerable. He was your partner, and a wonderful one at that, and you knew you could trust him -seriously, you could not imagine yourself with someone you did not fully trust, and Eddie met that criteria with remarkable skill. 

Still, you wondered if he might take it badly. After all, if you told him you did not feel you deserved his love, did that imply that you thought he might expect something from you which you were not aware of? Did you think he was manipulating you? Were you the one leading him on, hiding what you were really thinking? Did you even trust that anyone could love you?

“You don’t have to tell me,” Eddie said when he saw you spiralling down into your thoughts, “but I want to be here for you, and I will listen if there’s anything you want to tell me.”

The sound of his voice, deep and slightly gravely as he kept it low with a confidential tone, brought you back to reality. The feeling of his calloused fingertips tracing abstract patterns on the back of your palm now registering through your unfocused senses. As you looked back up at him, meeting his curious and concerned eyes you felt the shackles of your heart slacken.

“I just…” You trailed off, searching his soulful eyes for a hint of irritation, but instead finding bucket loads of compassion, “you are so out of my league.”

You were expecting a laugh, and he did smile a bit, but instead, he tilted his head to the side.

“Why do you think that?”

You inhaled, feeling the contents of the inside of your heart make their way up your throat, and as soon as you opened your mouth, you felt any hope of restraint dissolve.

“Well, you’re incredible, in every possible way. You’re strong, impossibly kind, extremely skilled at anything you set your mind to, you are so panoptically passionate, you’re funny, you’re unfathomably dependable and you never let your friends down, you’re goofy, and I mean this with all the love in my heart, you can sense when people need cheering up and you just cheer them up by, I don’t know, some kind of Eddie magic,” you gestured with your free hand as if you held a wand, earning a chuckle from Eddie, “you’re just so amazing, I don’t think I deserve-”

You stopped yourself before the sentence could fully leave your lips, swallowing back the last word with difficulty. When you spoke again, your voice was quieter:

“And then you go around and do the sweetest things for me, the most touching gestures and you’re so thoughtful…”

You sighed, taking a few seconds to steady your breathing as your soliloquy left your lungs empty. You looked at the book in your lap, the words incoherently blurring together, the sentences stringing themselves in one long incomprehensible line. Your eyes moved away from the paper, getting distracted by the bigger palms having captured your own. 

“You don’t think you deserve that?” Eddie asked calmly.

You looked up at him, his brown eyes shifting with an emotion you found impossible to decipher. You nodded.

Eddie smiled sadly, “Sweetheart, you’re like the perfect opposite of a Hobbit.”

If it were not for the whiplash you had just been victim to, your heart melting at the nickname he gave you, followed by the name of a fictional race you were not necessarily certain you wanted to be associated with, you surely would have answered more eloquently. Instead, only a ‘huh’ escaped your lips.

“You’re exactly like Bilbo’s evil doppelgänger,” Eddie continued, nodding to himself.

“...I’m not following.”

“Anytime something bad happens during his journey, what does Bilbo Baggins do? He ruminates -which you’re quite good at doing too, that’s maybe your one similarity- but he looks out onto the unjust world that took him out of his cozy, warm and delightful Hobbit hole and he vents his frustration outwards. You, my dear, do the opposite. Anytime something good happens to you, and yes, I will speak of myself as a positive in your life, that string of compliments you gave me is going to serve as an ego boost for years to come, you start questioning it, thinking back on all the negative you’ve ever experienced and wondering if you do deserve that good.” One of Eddie’s hands left yours and he cupped your cheek, “be more like Bilbo. Take credit for the good things when they happen and be frustrated at the world when things go wrong, not the other way around.”

You closed your eyes, fighting back the tears that were threatening to spill and leaned into his touch. 

“Come here,” Eddie whispered, pulling you into his chest as he rested his head on top of yours.

Closing your eyes, you focused on his strong heartbeat that you could feel pulsating at regular intervals against your back. There was also his scent, which you could now take full inhales of as you stood closer to him, though the smell of weed was the most intense one. Your fingers idly played with the pins and patches on his jean jacket, tracing the designs that you knew by heart.

After a few moments, you turned your head just a bit, looking up at him. You bit your lip as your smile threatened to morph into laughter at the joke formulating in your head.

“If I become more like Bilbo I might just grow long curly hairs on my feet, though.”

The echo of Eddie’s laugh reverberated against your back as his chest shook.

“I’d still love you.”

[improbable-outset]

📂 𝐈𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐂𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐨𝐧-𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

↳ 📂 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

{{Part 2}}

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Memory loss, heavy angst

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Miguel grapples with the complex emotions surrounding your memory loss and the events that caused it. Jess offers advice that paves the way to the challenge he faces ahead.

𝐀/𝐍: Header from @bloodandthestars

The first rays of Neuva York’s sunlight beamed through the slits of the window, casting a warm hue across the room. The distant sound of the city was slowly coming to life through the window with occasional car honking and pedestrians murmuring. Miguel couldn’t help but squinted at the sudden bright light that almost burnt his sockets, still sensitive to direct sunlight due to his genetic alteration. With his large hands, he shielded his vision as he sat up, the bed squeaked as he moved.

“Lyla, darken the windows. The sun is killing my eyes.” He demanded in a hushed voice so he wouldn’t wake you. Lyla’s digital presence appeared on his shoulder as a golden holographic projection.

“Good morning boss, windows are darken now.” The bedroom was now bathed in a comfortable semi-darkness but still had it’s comfortable warmth from the suns heat, with Lyla’s soothing voice filling the room. “You’ve got several priority calls waiting for you from HQ. Shall I connect you now?” She added.

Miguel was hesitant for a moment before his gaze fell on your peaceful sleeping form, completely obvious to what’s going on around you. To him you looked like a cherished masterpiece, serene and vulnerable, that he feared might slip away from his fingers. It already felt like you’ve disappeared from him even though you were physically here. It had only been a day since you were discharged from the hospital but it still felt like a perpetual dream for Miguel.

He couldn’t help the apprehension he was feeling as he watched you sleep, knowing that you could no longer recall the life you shared together and memories and milestones you’ve reached as husband and wife. It was a complex situation that he couldn’t quite put into words.

“In a bit.” He replied to Lyla finally, his voice woven with reluctance. His fingers brushed lightly against your cheek as he watched the gentle rhythm of your chest rising and falling as you slept.

Being the sophisticated AI that she is, Lyla quickly understood the reason behind Miguel’s hesitancy when her digital gaze shifted to the bed.

“I see. Take your time Miguel, your wife is lucky that you’re here.” She said. He could tell there was a hint of urgency hidden in her voice but was grateful she didn’t push him further. He was fully aware of the duties he needed to fulfill back in HQ but right now being with you felt like a higher priority especially during these trying times. It was the first morning in a year that he woke up next to you in your shared bed, so he wanted to make the most of it before he had to go.

Miguel continued to stoke your cheeks and ear. He knew he should be grateful that you just about made it alive and things didn’t turn out horribly wrong. But he still couldn’t shake off the nagging fear that you’d wake up and realise the extent of what had been taking from both of you.

For a fleeting moment, he was torn between his heroic responsibilities and his role as a devoted husband. The conflict raged in his mind like a battle between love and duty. With a heavy heart, he leaned in and kissed your brow and lingered there for a moment longer.

“I’ll be back mi vida. I promise.” He whispered before he reluctantly tore himself away from your side.

He couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you alone, not when you needed him the most. He didn’t want to imagine how you would feel when you woke up to an empty bed without him and in a home that you couldn’t even remember. But duty calls, as it always did, and he couldn’t neglect them especially with the multiverse hanging in its balance.

He stripped away his night outfit and engaged his digital Spider-Man suit with his watch. With a final glance at your sleeping form, Miguel left the room with the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him and the tightening feeling in his chest. He had to navigate this new reality carefully for both of your sakes.

~

Miguel was usually renowned for keeping a tight lid on his feelings, a skill he’s mastered from leading a diverse group of Spider People over the years through thick and thin.

He rarely lets his vulnerable emotions surface, except for the occasional burst of temper when the multiverse was at stake or being tampered with by anomalies.

However, with his utmost perfectionism and the cool exterior, there was always going to be wavering cracks in his cold emotional armour. Most of the Spider Team wouldn’t notice, but Jessica Drew had a knack for picking up the hairline fractures in his stoic facade.

“I heard your wife woke up from her coma” Jess commented. Miguel was in his familiar digital suit, scanning every monitor surrounding him that showed an insight of different dimensions with his back to her.

Words and rumours spread throughout the Spider-Society like wildfire, whether he liked it or not, so he wasn’t surprised by the slightest that Jess picked up on the news. Miguel sighed, shoulders visibly tensing at the mention of his wife.

“She has,” he admitted. “But she doesn’t remember anything, about me or about our marriage.” Even without spider senses, Miguel could still sense Jess drawing herself close on the platform as she probed him further.

“Does she remember about the accident?” She asked.

His eyes were still glued to the holograms in front of him but he could tell that Jess was studying his subtle body language. “No, nothing at all.”

“Have you told her?” Miguel remained silent with an icy sensation running down his spine. He’d been dreading to hear that question, despite knowing it was inevitably going to be brought up. Unfortunately for him, his silence spoke volume. “Miguel…” Jess continued, she was standing beside him now, the marigold glow of the monitors reflecting on her goggles. “You’re gonna need to tell her eventually. Keeping secrets won’t help either of you. Sooner or later, she will find out.”

As much as he hated to admit it, Jess was right. It was one of the reasons she was recruited to the Spider-Society and was part of his inner circle. Even though she possessed a sympathetic nature, she was still firm and strict when she needed to be. The perfect maternal mentor and role model.

Miguel stayed silent for a moment, allowing the weight of Jess’ words to sink in. Despite the fact that she had a valid point, the fear of your reaction and the pain it might bring held him back. Will you forgive him? Will you even look at him the same? His mind swirled the further he thought about it.

He couldn’t bring himself to even imagine how you would react— he couldn’t bear to see you hurt, especially if it was caused by him. The blank expression you gave him the moment you opened your eyes from your coma was already unbearable enough.

He longed for those eyes to look up at him with admiration and love. He missed those moments where you would surprise him mid-duty and how your laugh would echo in the HQ building. Will he ever hear your melodious laughs again?

You were just rebuilding your trust with him and he didn’t want to shatter that fragile connection you had by bringing up the night of the incident that caused this whole mess. But the truth will come out and by then, Miguel will have no control over the situation. He had to tread through this with you carefully if he wanted a sensible outcome.

Finally, he turned to look at her with a deep sigh. “I know Jess, it’s just…it’s complicated. I don’t want to hurt her or put anything on her more than she can handle.” His voice faltered and he couldn’t uphold the cold demeanour any longer.

“I understand, Miguel. But sometimes the truth, no matter how painful, is the only way forward. I know you’ll figure it out. And I’ll be here for both of you when you do.” Miguel's shoulders relaxed a little as he willingly allowed himself to take her word for it.

As a married woman herself, she has had her own relationship experience and struggles so it was easy to trust her.

Before the incident, you and Jess were pretty close. Whenever she was off the clock, you would always spend hours chatting, sharing stories and offering each other advice on relationships and family. She was like a sister to you and was always readily available whenever you wanted fo vent. She even gave advice about motherhood when you and Miguel were discussing about having a baby in the future.

Miguel hoped that despite your memory loss, the deep and unique friendship you shared with Jess could eventually be rekindled.

His eyes drift back to the multiple screens, swiping his fingers over the golden holograms that displayed data from each dimension. Part of him wondered about an alternate dimension, one where you hadn’t suffered from memory loss and the accident never happened— a dimension where you were a content family.

But he knew he couldn’t change his timeline no matter how desperately he wanted to. The memory of witnessing the collapse of Gabriella’s demension after he disrupted the canon event by replacing his deceased variant replayed in his memory. After watching Gabi dissolve into nothingness, he carried that burden and had worked tooth and nail making sure nothing like that ever happened again.

Now, he had been granted the second chance in rebuilding a new family with you. But the parallel between your memory loss and Gabriella’s disappearance triggered a painful relapse of his grief, yet this time, there was a tinge of hope. Unlike Gabi’s dissolution, you remained tangible and he could still hold you him his arms. There was still a chance to recover what was lost.

“Thank you Jess…” he murmured with genuine gratitude in his tone, “It really means a lot.”

Miguel’s attention shifted back to the holograms, his thoughts still lingering about the complexity of the situation while Jess quietly left him to his thoughts.

[sunsetsentiments]

okay so i love you i'm sorry by gracie abrams is totally about jason and piper from piper's pov. HERE'S WHY,, it's a long one lol

"I told the truth, oh, but you didn't like it, you went home." // "That's just the way life goes, I like to slam doors closed. Trust me, I know it's always about me."

piper is the one who broke up with jason,, and from the burning maze, we know she saw it as an inevitable event. internally, she has been struggling with figuring out who she is outside the perils of demigod life,, and if she's living the life she wants or the one hera/aphrodite wanted for her. basically, she's dealing with the confusion and exhaustion as a result of all the life-changing events of hoo.

while i have comments about the way rick wrote and explained this break-up (again,, topic for another day),, it's clear that piper needed time away from everything to deal with her turmoil, and it's this that drives her to end things with jason. she needed to search for clarity, and she couldn't with him around when his presence in her life only added to her confusion. so she slammed the door closed and thought that it was for the best, and i can imagine jason responding as maturely as he could while still showing signs of heartbreak. all piper could do was let it happen.

"Thankful you don't send someone to kill me."

piper being absolutely relieved and guilty about the way jason responded to her decision 😭

"Two summers from now, we'll have been talking, but not all that often, we're cool now." // "Wistfully lean out my window and watch the sun set on the lake. I might not feel real, but it's okay."

these lyrics capture the kind of relationship piper and jason had - because romantic drama aside,, piper considers him to be her best friend ("more than annabeth"), and even when they were on shaky terms,, they were still able to communicate and understand each other well as noted by apollo. so yeah,, they'd definitely continue being friends even after a break-up. and it's nice and weird and comforting all at once. because the old piper wouldn't have expected things to happen this way,, but the present piper is glad that they can still be in each other's lives.

if only they had enough time to work things out though. because here comes the tragic part 😭

"You were the best but you were the worst, as sick as it sounds, I loved you first. I was a dick, it is what it is, a habit to kick, the age-old curse."

no bc in my head,, this whole bridge is piper's thought process as she deals with losing jason post-burning maze.

he was the best - literally, not only one of the most powerful and reliable demigods, but also the most supportive boyfriend she could ask for - but also the worst,, bc sometimes she felt like she didn't know him,, sometimes he was distant and too inside his own head,, sometimes she wasn't sure if they were meant to be together or not,, and that uncertainty and doubt nagged at her, and it's exactly why she breaks up with him later. but was it really the right decision, or did she let her insecurities control her? and if the latter was true,, then she broke both of their hearts for nothing,, which ultimately led to their strained relationship, and they would neve have full closure bc of what caligula did.

in piper's head,, she might start to think that she made a mess that didn't have to happen,, and the crazy part is she let it happen even though she was the one who loved him and had feelings for him first,, whether they started as an illusion or not.

so how could she possibly let all this happen? we know piper has struggled with a low self esteem since before, and she might look back to past actions that were rash in retrospect,, like stealing cars to get her father's attention. so piper might mistakenly spiral into thinking that everything is her fault bc she was lacking as a person,, and that bc she didn't beat her age-old habits, they haunted her like a curse.

"I tend to laugh whenever I'm sad, I stare at the crash, it actually works. Making amends, this shit never ends, I'm wrong again, wrong again."

piper tried to accept the break-up and losing jason as best as she could. she tried to play down the emotional weight of the break-up in the burning maze bc she felt as though she thought it through,, and at the end of toa, she's obviously trying to move on. these methods seem to work for her on the outside,, but that doesn't mean the grief and confusion has gone away.

the pain and the memories might keep coming back,, and piper might have to grapple with the possibility that she was wrong this whole time, again leading her to believe it was all her fault. in short,, she's confused and devasted and has no idea what the truth is anymore (which is why a book fleshing out her and leo's grief would be SO good).

"I wanna speak in code, hope that I don't, won't make it about me." // "I love you, I'm sorry."

the last chorus of the song beautifully reflects piper's confusion and longing, wishing that maybe she did things a little differently, wishing that maybe she and jason had a different ending.

but the thing is, in spite of all that happened and the confusion she's facing now,, the one thing that never changed was that she loved him, and it's both because of this and in spite of this that she did what she had done, and why she's feeling all these mixed emotions now.

"i love you, i'm sorry" is so powerful coming from piper considering the first time she told him 'i love you' in mark of athena,, and also bc of the whole i'm sorry part. she's sorry about breaking his heart. sorry if she ever made him doubt himself, if he was good enough, if it was his fault. sorry about never properly reconciling. sorry about not being enough to save him. sorry about being unable to say goodbye. sorry about never seeing him one last time.

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Hihi! Hope you're doing well.

I just wanna ask some headcanons where Marnie dumps Lewis in favor of Marlon (the better guy she deserves), because I feel bad for her man. And Lewis is too sketchy and weird and Marnie deserves someone who loves her <3

Also, I hope I'm not clogging up your asks. I know how full asks blogs inboxes can get, I just wanna say take your time answering them and don't stress.

Stay hydrated! (Seriously, we're roasting over here in the equator).

Hewwo, dear anon :3 And don't worry about it, you're not clogging up my inbox! Thanks for the wishes, and I hope you're escaping the heat too (we have +20⁰C at the moment, but summer is coming soon and it will be unbearably hot 🥲). Have a good day! 💕

_________________________________________

Yoba witness, Marnie had the patience of a saint and could understand many things. She waited and endured. She waited. And waited some more. And then some more, more, and some more, truly believing Lewis' words of true love for her.

But to be honest.... it wasn't how she'd envisioned "true love".

Hiding in the shadows, pretending nothing was going on between them (even though rumors of their relationship were flying around the Pelican Town)? Watching the mayor come through her window at night so they wouldn't be caught by the locals during the day? Lying to her own niece and nephew that they've heard nothing and there's no one else in the house but the three of them? Justify the dates with business meetings at her ranch?

How long will this last? How much longer do they have to hide each other for fear of "public judgment" (when really everyone has known everything for a long time and they don't give a damn!)

It's spring now - the time of flowers and love, and Marnie has to stand apart from it all. Immersed in sad thoughts of wasted youth and wishing in the past that she could find the one person she would be happy with. Really happy with.

Marnie calculates how much chance she, an old nag, has of finding someone, and sighs conciliatingly, realizing the dire result. Lewis had good qualities and flaws, like every human being, but why he acted like he really are embarrassed by her presence? And why was she herself afraid to say everything she thought about it? Why can't she-

"You look beautiful today, Marnie."

Those words brought her out of the fog of confused thoughts and bad memories. She didn’t realize that she was now at one of the most beautiful festivals in the Stardew Valley - the Flower Dance.

"Huh?...."

Marlon, whose compliment had helped Marnie out of her trance, was a little worried that he'd said the wrong thing. "Are you alright?"

"Uh, yeah...," Marnie added a little uncertainly. "Just... I got a little dizzy from the smell of the flowers." Marlon's emerald eye was perceptive, but still didn't probe his old friend further. 'You look beautiful today, Marnie...' it had been so long since she'd heard those words....

Why should she keep waiting...?

"Say...," Marnie began cautiously, turning her head toward Marlon, "would you like to dance with me?"

Normally the old adventurer's face was stingy with emotion, but Marnie's question caught him off guard. "Are you sure? I haven't danced in over twenty years..." "Neither have I." Marnie was more sure of her own words than ever. "And don't worry, I don't remember much of the moves either. But who knows what will happen tomorrow? Maybe tonight will be the last chance to have some fun?" Why is she lashing out at him? Why is she even trying? How silly of her-

Marlon stood in front of her and extended his hand to her, asking her to dance. "Then I ask for your hand, and let's go have some fun. Just like old times."

To the smooth music, gathering surprised but approving glances from the other dancers and one indignant glance from Lewis, Marnie held Marlon's hands, letting her forget all her problems and troubles. It was as if time itself had stopped. Just him, her, and their dance.

[scorchieart]

Happy, Wholesome Yves Headcanons

Because my week was full of baking sweets and pretty pink flowers, you all deserve some wholesome Evie vibes as well 🌸🌸🌸

Ask any prince to rank his favorite brothers and Yves will consistently appear in the top 3.

Tell Yves this and he’ll turn pinker than his freshly-baked peach berry pie.

Yves started a personal vegetable garden in the palace when he was first learning to cook so that he could have extra ingredients in case his recipes flop. They rarely flop. So he distributes most of his crop among families in his territory.

The palace cats patrol the garden and scare off thieving vermin.

Once, Licht couldn’t attend Yves’s tea party because of a conflict with his training schedule, so Nokto stepped in pretending to be him. Yves immediately figured out the switch, but didn’t mention anything.

Whenever any of the princes falls ill, Yves makes his specialty chicken soup and personally delivers it. His faction members have his nagging “I’m not leaving until you finish the entire bowl!” speech memorized, but Yves typically leaves the tray with a get-well letter and a knock at Chevalier and Clavis’s doors.

Whenever Yves falls ill, Sariel and Licht take turns standing guard at his door to make sure no undesirable pranksters decide to strike. 

There are never any incidents. But the others pitch in to make or purchase Yves’s favorite sweets and stop by to check on him.

When Luke first arrived at the palace, Yves hoped to impress him with homemade honey treats. It only took two days to win him over completely. Two more days and the town was entirely out of honey.

Even though he isn’t a fan of the cold, Yves never misses the first snowfall of the season. He curls up by the window with a thick blanket, a large pot of tea, and a warm crumble cake and watches children pulling their parents into the streets to play in the fresh snow. 

Growing up, Yves used to give apprentice and trainee cooks and tailors advice discretely from behind curtains and columns. Nowadays, artists and specialists travel from across the continent to seek guidance and approval at the hand of the fifth prince.

Requests from these visitors became so numerous that Yves fell behind on his official duties. To control demand, the first of May was designated a national festival for anyone to display their talents, from cooking and fashion to art and music, and Yves would spend the day meeting with each participant and giving reviews and feedback. 

Tagging:@atelieredux @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight @ladyofcrowsx @otomefoxystar

If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message.

[bluejay-writes]

MysticTober 2024 Day 8/9: His Muse

You can read this over on Ao3 if you’d prefer.

Rating: T

Prompt: Jihyun x MC / Painting || Fate / Lie

WordCount: 8028

Summary: Jihyun needs a muse for his new painting collection. Author's Notes: So, Day 8 got away from me and became both that and day 9. Sorry it's a day late... but not sorry it's over 8000 words.

Hen knocked on the studio door, then stood and fidgeted nervously with the strings of her hoodie. She’d replied to this advertisement on the Art Department’s bulletin board for a model, specifically one who could stand for long periods of time without moving. Honestly, she was pretty sure that most people these days just took reference photos and painted from that, but if some student wanted to pay her an exorbitant-seeming amount of money to stand in one place with her clothes on (the ad had been very specific that while there would be an outfit provided, it was modest), she wasn’t about to complain.

Her friends had been on her case about applying. She’d always wanted to be a model, but she wasn’t model material. She was in that nebulous middle-point, Far too big to be a classic fashion model, but still too small to be an acceptable plus-size model. And she didn’t hate her body by any means. So she let them nag her into it. She’d sent what the flier asked for. Her name (preferred, even, not even her wallet name) and then a headshot and a full body shot. She’d tried to be as confident as she could while her friends took photos for her, but even now, having landed the job, she was nervous.

What if he was a creep? Art students could be anyone really, and…

The door opened to reveal a man in wire-frame glasses with teal hair and eyes and a warm smile. Wait a minute… 

“V?!” Hen had studied his pictures for one of her photography classes, they’d done a unit on current artists, and…

He chuckled looking chagrined. “Call me Jihyun, please.” He led her inside and shut the studio door again before continuing. “V did photos. I’m… well, I’ve moved on from that and I’m pursuing painting, which has been my passion far longer, though I didn’t have the guts to change mediums until recently.”

“Oh.” Hen said, just as awkwardly as she felt. “I didn’t mean to be rude, I…”

“Not rude.” Jihyun interrupted. “I was V. I am still, technically, that same man. I simply am using my given name now.” 

He sighed, and shook himself loose from whatever thought seemed to be plaguing him. “We got off on the wrong foot.” He held out his hand for her to shake. “Hi, I’m Jihyun Kim, the artist who will be painting you for the next few hours.”

She took his hand with a grin and a firm shake. “I’m Hen. And I’m very good at standing still.”

The outfit that he’d chosen for her to wear was very fantasy. Flowing skirts, a corseted belt over a lightweight top. She felt like a peasant girl in a magic world, and she loved it. He’d positioned her standing at a window, and she’d gotten to people-watch campus while he painted her. She’d expected a need to be quiet or mostly still, but he told her to go ahead and fidget if she needed to, and kept her engaged in a number of different light topics as he worked, almost as though he was trying to keep her entertained.

Eventually, as the light was waning, Jihyun stood. “Alright, that’s time. Thank you so much for all of your help today.” He smiled. “Do you need assistance with the belt or anything else getting back out of the costume?”

Hen waved him off. “Nah, I’m good. Give me two shakes and I’ll be out of your hair.”

Once she was back to her normal self, she was sad to see that Jihyun had already closed up his work, so that she couldn’t see it. He immediately spotted her looking, however.

“I’ll show you when it’s done. I was intending to invite you to whatever gallery it shows in, of course, as the model.”

Hen grinned. “It would be my honor!”

Jihyun handed her the envelope containing her payment, all smiles. “Honestly, Miss Hen, you’re an amazing model. May I call on you again for another piece? Same terms, but the next one likely won’t be standing.”

Hen nodded, she’d had a great time, and the pay was definitely worth it. “I’d love to.” She said, honestly. “I enjoyed today!”

Jihyun nodded, and they parted ways. Hen couldn’t help but smile, her friends were going to be so surprised when she told them she might even get a callback.

The second time that Hen stood as a model for Jihyun had her sitting on a bench in an awkward position. It was uncomfortable at first, but she made it work. Eventually, Jihyun admitted to her that the piece involved the woman sitting in a tree, but he couldn’t justify making her sit somewhere ostensibly dangerous for hours on end, so he’d made the bench setup like the branch he had in mind. Once he explained that to her, she found it much easier to settle into a pose that was actually useful for him.

She may have caught him grumbling to himself about wasting less time if he could just trust her more. She didn’t blame him, of course, Artists were often secretive, and she knew it was hard to trust someone you didn’t really know. Goodness knows she’d only met this man twice and definitely didn’t trust him with anything personal, so she didn’t blame him. Not even a little.

When the time was up and Jihyun started cleaning up, Hen realized she was stiff as she changed back out of the costume. 

“Hey, Jihyun, do you mind if I do some stretches on the floor here before I head out? I’m a little bit stiff.”

“Ah. Go right ahead. Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. Your stiffness is the consequence of my art, after all.

Hen sank to the ground, grateful that she’d worn leggings today instead of jeans. She worked her way through some yoga poses, careful of the fact that she didn’t have a mat of any variety, only realizing she was humming as she finished the last of the stretches because of Jihyun’s quiet chuckle.

“I’m glad you’re so comfortable in my studio.” He said, chuckling. 

Hen blushed even as she nodded. “You make it easy, Jihyun. This is by far the highlight of my week.”

“Even with the odd held poses?” He was surprised.

“Even so.” Hen nodded. “I’d be honored if you wanted to call me in again.”

Jihyun smiled so brightly at that, Hen couldn’t help but smile in return.

The next sitting was more stereotypical, and Hen couldn’t hold back her giggles as Jihyun helped her pose in a very Ancient Grecian looking gauzy dress while half-laying on a chaise lounge.

“What is it?”

“It’s just… if you told someone they were going to model for a painting, they’d probably imagine something like this.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Yes, I suppose it might be. I hope that the outcome of the painting far exceeds my pedestrian posing layouts.

“I’m certain it will.” Hen had no doubts that the man had an impressive artistic eye - his photographs were stunning enough that she’d written an entire paper on them her freshman semester of college. Sure, her major had nothing to do with art, but one didn’t see one of V’s photos and not know the man was gifted. “If nothing else, Jihyun, it’s fine to have one simpler piece in a collection.”

He chuckled, and Hen settled in to hold her position. It was surprisingly comfortable, and she knew it wasn’t going to be too difficult, especially because he was good about giving her breaks.

For the first time in their sessions, Jihyun was quiet and focused on the painting, which gave Hen time to think about everything going on in her classes, in life, in that book she was reading… eventually she started to feel sleepy. She knew she should say something, get up and take a walk, get some water, anything so that she didn’t cause a problem for Jihyun.

Instead, she found herself drifting off to sleep while watching him paint with the most blissfully calm look on his face that she’d ever seen on another human being.

What felt like a blink and also an eternity later, Hen woke to the soft shake of a shoulder, Jihyun crouched down next to her.

“Hey, Miss Hen.”

She startled, coming to consciousness all at once. “Oh, no, Jihyun! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep!”

“It’s alright, you held the pose I needed, and you just looked so happy I couldn’t bear to wake you. Good dreams, I hope?”

Hen shook her head, holding a hand to her chest to will her heart to calm down from its momentary panic. “No dreams. One minute I was watching you paint, and the next you were waking me up. I feel insanely well rested though. Probably going to be up late tonight.” She chuckled.

“Hm, I should have been responsible and woken you.” He sighed, but continued before Hen could argue. “Would you let me take you to dinner as an apology?”

“What time is it?” Hen asked, sitting up properly so she could stretch the sleep out of her bones.

“Just about six.” Jihyun said, backing up to give her space.

“I could do dinner, I don’t have any other plans.” She said, and the smile that bloomed across his face warmed her soul. Yeah, she’d do a lot just to see that smile more.

Dinner was lovely. They went to a little hole-in-the-wall bibimbap restaurant that seemed to know Jihyun well, but wasn’t so expensive as to make Hen feel out of place. It was even on an easy bus route home again, so she wasn’t even particularly going out of her way, either.

They chatted over dinner about this and that, nothing important, the same calm, cheerful kinds of conversations that they usually had while he was painting. That just cemented for Hen that Jihyun was just like that and he wasn’t just chatting to keep her from getting bored. It made her wonder why he wasn’t chatty during their session today, but by the time they got to a break in conversation where she might have asked, she’d already forgotten.

When the bill came, Hen snatched it away before Jihyun could pick it up, and handed the whole bill to their waitress - a granny who she suspected was simply the owner of the place - with a smile. The granny even turned a look on Jihyun like she was surprised he was letting her pay. Jihyun looked stunned. “Hen, you don’t need to buy my dinner.”

“But I want to.” She smiled. “We’re friends, now, right?”

Jihyun smiled in that way that made her feel alight, and she blushed and fidgeted with her hoodie strings. By the time she realized it, the granny had gone and come back… and she was only paying for her half of dinner. Jihyun smirked at her, and Hen wondered if she’d been played. As they packed up to leave, Jihyun’s phone started ringing, and his face took on an ominous look.

“Sorry, you head on home, I have to take this… and it might be awhile.”

Hen nodded and waved, waving again to the granny on her way out.

That had been a fun dinner. She hoped his phone call wasn’t too painful.

It had been a few months since Hen sat for Jihyun, and almost as long since she’d heard from the man. She’d thought it was Fate when they met and hit it off that well, even just professionally, but then he’d disappeared. Hen tried to convince herself that it was fine, but at this point even she would admit she was moping. She really enjoyed his company, and couldn’t help but feel like she’d done something wrong. Had accepting his dinner invitation been too forward? But she’d even paid for her own meal… Hen had been worrying about this, of course, for weeks now, with only her coursework to keep her mind occupied and off of her presumed faux pas, whatever it might be. And unfortunately, winter break had just started so she had an entire month to mope about and worry about a problem with no guarantee of resolution.

At least she had her favorite coffee shop to curl up and read in. She usually got tea, but today she splurged on an extra sugary coffee drink, and the woman behind the counter chuckled. “Am I celebrating with you or commiserating, Hen?”

“Ugh.” Hen grumbled. 

“Commiserating it is!” The woman behind the counter quietly put an extra pump of caramel into the drink - Hen didn’t comment, not sure if it was intentional, but she wasn’t going to turn down more caramel goodness.

An hour or so later, Hen’s reading was interrupted by someone sitting down across from her. She ignored them for a moment, but when they didn’t move she put her bookmark in and looked up, only to let out a surprised squeak as she realized the person sitting there was none other than Jihyun, patiently waiting for her to pause.

Before she could say anything, the woman behind the counter appeared and set a coffee down in front of him. “Don’t scare away my regulars, Jihyun.” She said sternly, then returned behind the counter.

Before Hen could say anything, Jihyun immediately spoke up.

“I’m so glad that I found you.” He winced. “I threw my phone in the ocean in a fit of temper. Did you know that there is such a thing as backing up your contacts? I… did not do this thing. And as such, I had to simply hope to run into you. It took some time.”

He slid a brand new phone across the table to her. “My friend set it up so I can’t do that again, even if I do something as stupid as throwing my phone into the ocean again. May I have your number again?”

Hen sighed, and immediately added herself as a contact. “So you’re saying you didn’t respond to my texts not because you were upset with me, but because you didn’t know who they were from?” She looked over at her phone as the message she sent herself pinged in as an unknown number.

Jihyun had the grace to look embarrassed. “I needed a new number.”

“Did something happen?” Hen added his new number to her contacts, and changed the old one to read “Davy Jones’ Locker”, just in case some fish tried to text her later.

Jihyun sighed. “The unreasonable unbelievable drama that is my life simply continues to happen.” He took a sip of his drink and sighed happily. Jaehee could really make a mean latte.

Hen chuckled. “Everyone’s got some weird rats in their closet, I swear. I’m glad you reappeared, I was worried.”

“You were?” His eyes lit up for a moment, but then dimmed. “I’m sorry, Miss Hen. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“Hey, it’s fine, you reappeared before I could mope myself into a corner.”

“Why would you be moping?” Jihyun was clearly confused.

“Well, I mean, I bullied my way into paying for my own dinner and then you disappeared. I was sure I’d said something stupid, or maybe that I shouldn’t have gone to dinner.”

“God, no, Hen. That dinner was one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time, I just had to leave for a trip the next morning…”

“His not wanting you to pay is just some misplaced chivalry.” The counter lady said, stopping by to leave a to-go cup refill of Hen’s coffee. “This one’s on the house. For celebrating this time, and for putting up with him.” She winked, and Jihyun looked scandalized.

“Jaehee! Are you buying my… are you buying Hen’s loyalty with coffee now?”

The woman - Jaehee apparently - cackled. “Yes.” The look she was wearing told Hen that she had no idea what their relationship was, and was assuming all kinds of things that Hen didn’t want to have to be the one to dissuade her from.

“Listen…” Jihyun took a deep breath. “Between the trip and needing to find you back, I’m way behind on painting work, and the gallery’s already booked. You wouldn’t happen to be… staying in town for winter break? I could book you… a lot… if you had time.” He looked like he expected her to say no, like he was already letting himself down before she could.

“I’m so game.” she said, laughing awkwardly. “I have, well, nothing going on for the next month until classes start up again.”

“No family events, or friend things, or…” Jihyun looked surprised. 

“Nope. Just lil ol me and my TBR.”

“TBR?”

“To Be Read. All the books I haven’t read this past semester because of classwork.”

Jihyun laughed at his own expense. “I should have known what that was. Fair, fair. Um.” He took a deep breath. “So, I can’t use my campus studio during break. Would you be okay coming to my apartment? It’s safe, I promise, and if you don’t feel safe you can leave, I won’t be upset.” Hen nodded, but winked at him before calling out to Jaehee behind the counter. “Hey Jaehee, can I trust this guy?”

Jihyun paled as though he had no idea what Jaehee would say.

“With your life.” Jaehee responded, without a pause. “But if you need an emergency text check-in hit me up before you leave.” Something relaxed in Jihyun, and Hen wondered if he’d let her give him a hug, but the moment was lost when he stood and bussed her empty mug.

Jihyun’s apartment was the 79th floor of an 80-floor high rise building. The entire 79th floor. Well, apparently his apartment was half of it and the other half was studio space, but still. She went directly to the windows and looked out over downtown, her eyes shining when she looked back at him.

“Jihyun, we should have done that first painting here…. this is such a great view!!” The painter smiled. “I’m glad you think that, actually… because I was hoping to do a triptych of that one, and so I’d need you to stand for two more at windows, and, well…”

He looks so nervous! Hen thought, and smiled, shaking her head and then nodding.

“Listen, Jihyun. I will sit for you to paint as often as you need me this month, as long as I don’t starve to death, and get to sleep properly.”

“That’s a low bar. I’m still going to pay you. Same rates. Also, since we’re not on campus I’m covering at least one meal a sitting. No arguments or pulling what you did at Yu’s!”

Hen blushed. “I still think it was only fair.”

Jihyun laughed, and walked over to a closet. “So, this closet has the outfits for the other…” he winced. “Four paintings I have in mind.”

“That’s only like one a week, do you have other obligations? We both already know I don’t.”

Jihyun chuckled. “Well, I can get the part of the work I need you modeling for done in our usual 6-hour blocks, so we could do those, say… every other day? That should give me plenty of time for finishing work on all of them and still be able to get them to the gallery on time.”

“Do you want to start today, since I’m here?”

Jihyun looked at the clock. “Only if you let me buy lunch and take you to dinner after.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Kim.” He raised an eyebrow, and she relented. “Yes, okay, okay. I want to see your gallery look good. I don’t know why you’re not the one begging here.”

Jihyun blinked. “I… really should be, shouldn’t I? You’re too good to me, Miss Hen.”

“Just call me Hen. It’s already a nickname.”

“It is? No wonder I couldn’t find you.”

Hen laughed so hard she sat down abruptly on the floor. “Jihyun Kim. You seriously thought my given name was Hen. Like a chicken.”

“Yes. Why would I assume otherwise?”

Hen just made flustered hand motions while she laughed at him.

“It’s Henrietta.” She said, once she could breathe properly. “Henrietta Chatham.”

“I like Hen better.” Jihyun said through a pout.

“Me too! That’s why I introduce myself that way! If you start calling me Miss Henrietta, I’ll quit.”

“Please don’t.” Jihyun said, helping her up off the floor. “Hen.”

She blushed at their proximity, and turned toward the closet so he wouldn’t notice. “So, which outfit first?”

Jihyun pulled out an outfit that was leggings and a leotard and a cropped leather jacket. “Cyberpunk? Or 80s Workout?” She asked, and as usual he gave her a shrug. No insight from the artist. No hints. No spoilers. She would get to see the paintings at the gallery opening with everyone else, and no sooner.

Hen was changing back into her regular clothes when she heard a knock at the door. Grateful that this wasn’t her house and thus she was spared from needing to rush to get clothes on and the inevitable falling over that would come with it, Hen simply continued at her leisurely undressing and redressing pace… which also meant she was able to eavesdrop on the conversation.

“Ah, good evening, Jihyun.” A warm baritone that matched V’s friendly tenor practically sang into the apartment.

“Jumin. Good to see you well. What can I help you with?”

“Miss Kang told me you found your muse.”

“I did. At Jaehee’s coffee shop, no less. I owe her.”

Muse? Does he consider me his Muse?? Hen felt her cheeks heat as she considered what that meant, if it meant anything. She hurried a little bit faster to get herself put back together.

“Well, I suppose you shouldn’t have any problems getting five more pieces done in time for the gallery opening, assuming she’s amenable to sitting for more paintings?”

She heard Jihyun laugh as she opened the bathroom door and made her way over to the costume closet without even glancing at the door.

“I’d say she is, we already got one session in today.” His volume changed as he turned and called out to her. “Hen, come over here when you’re done there, would you?”

She turned, surprised to see that Jihyun’s guest was in a three-piece suit, albeit one decorated with white cat fur.

“Hi.” She said, holding out a hand. “I’m Hen.”

He shook her hand, professional to a T. “Jumin Han.” Then, he turned back to Jihyun. “You should tell Luciel you’ve found her so he stops sending photos of random chickens to the chat and asking if they’re her. He’s been at it for approximately two hours now.”

Hen couldn’t help it, she burst out laughing. “Seriously?! Will you show me? We can pick which chicken looks most like me.”

JIhyun smiled that smile she loved so much. “We can look over dinner.” He turned to Jumin. “Would you like to join us? We’re going out for barbecue.”

Jumin shook his head. “Elizabeth is waiting for me. But thank you. Maybe next time.”

They watched as he turned and went back to the elevator and rode it…up. “He lives above you?” Hen asked, as they waited for the elevator to return for them to take it down instead.

“Yes.” Jihyun said with a smile. “We were childhood friends, Jumin and I.”

“And now?”

“Still friends. Less so children.”

Hen giggled, and tried to keep herself from thinking of this dinner as a date. It was just.. a work dinner.

The rest of the week flew by, and before Hen knew it she was back on her own, her sittings were all done and now she had all the free time in the world to get her reading done, but she couldn’t stop thinking of Jihyun. She hadn’t really been being honest with herself about him, it seemed, but now that she had some time to think clearly, it was plain as day. She was in love with the painter. He made her smile and laugh in a way no one else had. None of her previous partners even held a candle to the way he made her feel.

Sure, she might be his muse, not that he’d said as much to her even after she’d heard Jumin say it, but regardless… that was an art thing, not a personal thing. And now that this collection was done, other than the gallery opening he’d wanted her to come to, she may not ever see him again. Hen sighed, and like clockwork, her phone started ringing. Who called these days? Oh. It was Jihyun!

“Hey Jihyun!”

“Hi… I have… a selfish request.”

“Shoot.”

“I need your help. I’m trying to get all the finishing work done and for the life of me I cannot focus. I thought maybe getting someone to body double for me would help, but all of my friends are normal boring adults with day jobs. Jumin offered his cat, but she’s white and a mischief and I do not think that would be a good idea around all the paint…”

“Jihyun. Slow down. Calm down, it’s okay. What do you actually need from me?”

“Come and sit here and hang out? You can bring your books. I know you were eyeing that oversized chair, I’ll clear it out so you can relax. Maybe… get coffee from Jaehee’s on the way? I’ll pay you back, I swear, I… Hell, I’ll even pay your sitting fee just to chill with me for the day.”

“Jihyun! That’s not how friendship works! You don’t need to pay me to hang out with you. But you can take me to dinner. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

“Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Peppermint! Bye!” She hung up to the sound of his laughter, and if she wasn’t about to walk through his door with two coffees and a tote bag full of paperbacks to devour, she’d hate to end the call. Yeah. She had it bad.

Hen knocked on Jihyun’s door in the most inelegant fashion possible: with her forehead. She’d considered kicking it, but that would have sloshed the coffees too much.

Of course, Jihyun opened by her third knock, and instead she stumbled forward a step when her head met air.

“Were you knocking with your head?”

“Shhh.”

“Nooo. Your poor face.”

“I said shhhhh.” She allowed him to take his coffee, and laughed when she spotted the oversized chair in her usual posing space. “I’m modeling my dumb reading faces for you today.”

“I told you I’d pay your sitting fee.” He winked at her when she blustered, and instead she blushed. “What? You’re going to be sitting!”

“You. Are a brat.”

“That’s what they tell me.”

“What, your RFA Friends?” She said, thinking back to the chatroom entirely full of chicken photos.

“Only ones I’ve got.”

“You’ve got me!” Hen argued, and Jihyun turned a look on her that she couldn’t decipher, not even paired with the radiant smile.

“You’re different. You’re my Muse, Hen.”

“Well, you’re my… artist… i guess.. there’s not a good word for that. I’m sticking with friend.” She grinned at him, and he laughed. 

“Well, get to reading, Muse, I better get myself actually working so you didn’t come here for no reason.”

Hen settled and then realized the scale of the canvas he was currently working on. 

“Damn, Jihyun, that’s huge. Is it the centerpiece?”

“It is!”

“And you still won’t let me sneak a peek?”

“Of course not! and ruin the effect of the collection as a whole on opening night? Never.”

“I’m still invited to that?”

“Of course. You’re my muse. You’re my plus one.”

Hen saw the chance and had to ask… to save herself heartbreak down the road.

“What, no boyfriend? I was sure you and Jumin had--”

“No.” He cut her off. “I’m single, Hen. Have been since… well. Everything.”

“You’ll have to tell me about that someday, you know? I hate walking into landmines that just hurt your feelings.”

“You’re right. I should. Maybe over dinner?”

They spent the day in quiet companionship. Every now and again Hen would laugh at something that happened in her book, or absolutely have to read part of something to Jihyun because it was just written way too well.

They took a break for lunch, Jihyun had ordered sandwiches while she was still wrapped up in the most recent book.

“Your reading speed is ridiculous.”

“Jihyun. I’m in law school. Of course it’s ridiculous.”

“…I keep forgetting that. You’re so nice.”

“Sometimes lawyers are nice.”

“My lived experience begs to differ.”

“Hm.” Time to change the subject so that he could get back to work and not just spill everything now. “You’re going to tell me about that over dinner you said. Any ideas where you want to take me?”

Jihyun blinked for a moment, and then shrugged. “I was thinking Sushi?”

“I do not know if I am dressed well enough to go out for sushi, but…”

“I was thinking about a local place that has all you can eat sushi. No dress code. Plenty of time to sit and talk about difficult subjects in an informal environment.”

“Oh. Well then. You will be surprised at how much sushi I can eat.”

“With my friends, I don’t get surprised by much anymore.”

“And since then, she’s been in Alaska, at an inpatient rehabilitation center.”

“Jesus. That was… you? We discussed the situation in one of my classes while it was ongoing.” 

“Yes, I’m not surprised, it was a clusterfuck.”

Hen reached her hand out across the table to take Jihyun’s, heedless of how forward she was being. The man needed comfort.

“That’s a lot of stress, Jihyun.”

Jihyun sighed, but didn’t move his hand out from under hers, a choice that Hen chose to take as a positive sign.

“It was, but it’s over. Now I can move on and be better. To myself. To my friends.”

They paused to eat more of the sushi in front of them, when something he said suddenly connected for Hen.

“You said she’s in Alaska… is that when you ‘lost’ your phone?”

Jihyun chuckled. “When I threw it into the ocean. Yeah. We were still engaged when she was sentenced, and I hadn’t woken up at the hospital yet, so they put me down as one of her guardians. She was demanding to see me since I was on her paperwork… I had to go there in person to get my name removed.”

“Oh because that was safe and healthy for your trauma…” Hen muttered grumpily.

Jihyun nodded. “Exactly. Anyway, once I left, she started texting me begging me to come back, and… I just… I needed to be free of her. Of all that. I’d managed to put myself back together in the two years since and I couldn’t go back to that mental place. So I chucked my phone off of the side of the ferry. ‘Oops’. My only regret is losing your contact information in the process. Why did we never email?”

Hen shook her head with a low chuckle. “Hubris. I don’t know. I’m just glad you found me back. I was really worried I’d done something to upset you.”

“Well, I do wish you’d let me buy you dinner. Grandma Yu teases me to this day about ruining that date.”

Date? Hen must have thought about it for a minute too long, because Jihyun was rushing past the statement like he’d never made it.

“You’re not buying dinner tonight. This is my gift in return for you sharing your day with me.”

Hen nodded. “The chat with the chickens - that was those friends?”

“The very same.”

“I hope I get to meet them someday.”

“They’ll be at the gallery. Maybe… don’t wear feathers.”

Hen laughed so hard she aspirated her tea. “Jihyun!! What should I wear?!”

Leaving the restaurant, Hen realized this would be a perfect time to tell Jihyun how she felt. He deserved to know. She deserved to be let down in a nice quiet parking lot, not in front of however many people at the gallery showing. And since that was the last time she was likely to see him, well, she chose now.

“Jihyun, I…”

He reached out and held a finger to her lips, stopping her from talking.

“I know what you’re going to say. Can you wait until after you see the paintings? Please?”

Hen blinked. He wanted her to wait to confess until after the gallery? That was exactly the opposite of what she wanted.

What she was thinking must have shown on her face.

“I promise I will hear you out. I will give you privacy if you want it. But I need you to see… what I see… first.”

Hen sighed and nodded, and only then did he move his finger.

As her bus pulled up to the stop, Jihyun smiled at her. “See you at the gallery.”

“Yeah.” she forced a smile onto her face. “See you Saturday.”

The entire ride home, Hen let the tears silently track down her cheeks. He was going to turn her down, she knew it. He’d known she was going to confess. How many people had fallen for him while modeling? How many women had he turned down? Had he known since he came back from Alaska? Had he known before she did?

He’d had probably the worst relationship experience on the planet, there was no way he’d be interested in trying something. It wasn’t even that there was anything wrong with her, just that with everything he’d been through…

Hen sighed. She was thinking in circles. She should have known better than to fall for anyone. It’s not like her dating history was stellar either. She wiped the tears from her face as her bus arrived at her stop and she started walking home. She would be the best possible muse at this gallery opening. The belle of the ball. Maybe they could stay friends, if she didn’t make a complete mess of everything. She’d like that.

Hen had gone all-out for the gallery opening. She’d secretly talked to Jaehee at the cafe about what the dress code would actually be like, so she wouldn’t embarrass anyone, and the woman had actually volunteered to go shopping with her. Hen turned her down, but they exchanged numbers so Hen could send photos if she needed advice. She felt like she needed to do this herself.

Eventually she found what she needed. A navy blue and black jacquard dress, with an off-the shoulder sweetheart neckline and a subtle high low hem, from knees to tea length. The neckline showed a lot of skin, but a shawl would temper it, especially with her hair in loose curls over one shoulder.

Hair and makeup were easy. She knew how to put on a flawless face, it was practically a requirment with law school. Her favorite jewelry - understated sapphire earrings and a matching pendant on silver chain - finished the look. With a pair of short black suede ankle boots, a cashmere shawl, and her wool coat, she was prepared for a gallery opening in mid-January. Hopefully Jaehee hadn’t steered her wrong. She wouldn’t know what to do if she were dressed improperly. Both overdressed and underdressed were a possibility here, and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t nervous.

“You’ve really outdone yourself, Jihyun, these pieces are magnificent.”

Hen stepped into the gallery, slightly early for the actual opening, but Jihyun had requested her to be early to meet his friends. The entrance to the room was slightly raised, and had an unimpeded view of the collection. She could hear people talking, but she had eyes only for the art on display. She recognized all of the pieces along the edges from her sittings. First the triptych, Three pieces, one looking left out a window toward a historical setting, one looking right out a window in a cyberpunk-esque future setting (she knew that’s what that outfit was!), and the third looking straight out a window into a modern wartorn landscape.

“I see why you wouldn’t show us any of them early.”

The one where she’d been posing on the bench like it was a tree seemed to be robin hood? Or maybe hunger games? Either way, very stealthy, she loved the look of it. Opposite that was the grecian chaise lounge scene… he’d actually painted her asleep?! Jihyun! She internally scolded him. He could have just asked her to pretend to be asleep. Brat.

“Imagine if he hadn’t found his muse back!”

Her favorite so far had been the hardest pose to hold for the time he’d needed - a sword-weilding maiden from chinese folklore. It actually showed her in three distinct poses, as though in motion, and she stared at it for a long time. The last had her crumpled on the floor in front of a grave, hair in her face, soaked by rain. She’d remembered that - he’d asked her if she’d be willing to go stand in the shower in the giant pile of organza. She’d gotten the entire studio wet. It had been a riot.

“You did five of these just this month? You’re a madman, V… I mean Jihyun.”

But it wasn’t until she focused on the centerpiece - the only one she hadn’t posed for - that she realzied that none of the women in the paintings were actually her. She’d posed for them, but they had different hairstyles, different facial features, like she was playing characters instead of being herself.

“Jihyun, this collection is radiant. If it’s this good, then your muse must be exquisite.”

The centerpiece was actually a painting of her, done the last day she’d been in his studio, sitting ridiculously sideways in that oversized chair engrossed in her book, but instead of it being in his studio it was in a vast library. She couldn’t help but laugh when she realized how many hints he’d tried to give her that she was in fact sitting for another painting. He’d clearly wanted her to be herself. God she loved him.

She looked down, then, to where Jihyun was standing surrounded by a small group of people… all of whom were looking up at her. Of them, she recognized Jaehee from the coffee shop and Jumin his upstairs neighbor / childhood friend. There were also two gingers who could be twins, a girl with long brown fringe and even longer hair, a blonde with dark roots, and a … was that Zen?! Huh. He wasn’t kidding about the eclectic group of friends he had.

Jihyun held out a hand to beckon her over, and she made her way down the stairs and over to the group. Jihyun took her around the group; Jaehee, the owner/operator of the coffee shop she frequented. Jumin, his best friend from childhood and Director of C&R International. Saeyoung and Saeran, the computer-savvy twins. MC, the insightful party planner. Yoosung, the newly-minted Veterinarian. Zen, also known as Hyun, the actor.

“And I’m the model.” She shook her head. “I mean law student.” She smirked at Jihyun who laughed. She didn’t miss the surprised looks from his friends at the sound of his laugh. She was right. This man needed to smile and laugh more. If she could give that to him, she would gladly — no, that was a lie - she would accept simply being his friend. “You sell yourself short.” Jihyun said, a soft smile flickering into place. “This is Hen. My muse. My friend. I hope you can all get along well.”

“Don’t worry, Jihyun. We’ll take care of your girl when you inevitably get pulled away by boring rich guys.” One of the twins - Saeyoung, she thought, gold eyes - said with a smirk. 

After the introductions, the RFA scattered around the room as other patrons of the arts started to filter in, the official start time having passed. Jihyun held his arm out for her like a proper gentleman. “You look absolutely stunning tonight, Hen.” He said with that smile she loved so much.

“Thank you.” She felt her cheeks heat and willed herself to calm down. This was his show. “I didn’t want to make you look bad. Not after you made me look so good.” She gestured to the biggest piece of art in the room, and he had the grace to look embarrassed.

“I should have been up front and asked for your permission, but I wanted to paint you naturally, not posing. I’m sorry I lied to you, Hen.”

Hen shook her head. “You didn’t lie to me, Jihyun. You left so many crumbs, I could have assembled an entire loaf of bread from how much you were afraid to surprise me with this. Hell, you even offered to pay me a sitting fee just to hang out with you. The fact that I was still surprised is more on me than it is on you!”

“I’m still going to pay you for that.”

Hen smirked. They’d had this back and forth so many times, she couldn’t help but kick it up a notch.

“You could pay me back with a kiss.” She said, raising an eyebrow at him.

Jihyun not only sputtered trying to respond to her in any fashion, he even stopped walking.

Hen turned to apologize to him, just in time to see Jihyun school his features and hold his arm out properly again. Great, now you’ve done it, Hen. If he wasn’t going to turn you down before, he definitely is now.

Moments later, a group of men walked up and started talking to Jihyun about his works, and Hen tuned in so that she could respond to any questions asked of her. There weren’t any, of course, she was arm candy and most of them probably hadn’t even noticed that she was the woman pictured in the art.

Eventually, the event was in full swing, and Jihyun went up to the landing to talk about the art a bit. He told a story about a woman who loved to read more than anything, and her trips of imagination through storybooks. He talked about how the collection was about escapism through fiction, and how the modern world has made even fictional war more glamorous than our day-to-day slog through capitalism. 

He introduced her to the assembled patrons as his muse, the beautiful law student who deigned to stand, sit and otherwise pose for long hours just so that he might put some paint on canvas. There was nothing in his description about their friendship, or the bond they’d formed, simply a focus on a beautiful woman who inspired his art. He even kept her name out of it, kept her away from being associated with his art in any way but visually.

Hen was more certain than ever that this would be the last night she would see Jihyun. Maybe she wouldn’t tell him how she felt. Maybe it would be better to pretend that she wasn’t feeling any of this. After his talk, Jihyun passed her off to Saeyoung to walk through the gallery while he was accosted by too many people all at once, just as they’d predicted. 

Hen looked around for the rest of his friends, and couldn’t help but notice MC snuggled up to the other twin. “Those two are cute together.” She said discreetly, and Saeyoung laughed. 

“They are. They’ve been dating for a few years now.”

“Aww, that’s just too sweet.”

“You mean like you and Jihyun?”

Hen laughed bitterly. “I wish.”

“Oh come on, Hen, I’ve only known you for a few hours and—“

“I didn’t realize I was that obvious.” She chuckled ruefully at her own hubris. “He stopped me from confessing, Saeyoung. I don’t stand a chance with someone like him.”

Saeyoung sighed. “I think you’re selling yourself short. You’re good for him, Hen. I haven’t heard him laugh like that in… a very long time.”

Saeyoung’s words stuck with Hen the rest of the night, even as she was bounced between the other members of the RFA. Just as she was thinking she’d hit her limit for socialization for one night, and thought she might try to find Jihyun to say goodbye before heading out, the man found her himself, a hand at her elbow leading her away from the crowd.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get much time together tonight.” He said, turning her to face him, his hands gently circling her, keeping her close enough that their quiet voices wouldn’t carry.

“All those hours with me in your studio, I’m sure you had more than enough of me.”

“Never!” He said with a laugh. “What you were going to say the other night…”

Hen blushed, and bit her lip. Her confidence was gone. Her willingess to have her heart trampled had gone with it. “Jihyun, I…”

“Hen, I’m in love with you.” Jihyun interrupted, and Hen was suddenly very aware of how he was shaking.

“You…”

“I know, it’s inappropriate. I tried to be good, but I couldn’t have you end everything before you at least got to see the gallery and—“

Hen reached out and put her finger against his lips to silence him. “Jihyun. Me too.”

His eyes went wide, but she didn’t move her finger, and he didn’t attempt to say anything.

“I was so sure you were going to turn me down when I tried to confess after sushi.” She moved her hand away then, anxiously twisting her fingers together.

“Wait, you meant—“

She nodded, cursing the tears beading up in her eyes. “And then when you kept me out of your speech except the fact that I was standing there, I..”

“I wanted to keep your bright future from being tainted by my questionable past, is all.”

“We’re idiots, aren’t we? ”

He nodded. “Complete idiots, but at least we’re together.”

“We have got to learn to communicate better. No more throwing phones in the ocean.”

They shared a laugh, and Hen knew, then, that everything was finally going to be alright.

“Hey, let’s get out of here.” Jihyun said, that smile she loved so much lighting his face. “Jumin can handle the cleanup and closing.” He looked over her shoulder and she felt him shake with silent laughter.

Hen followed his line of sight to where Jumin was standing with Saeyoung, the former nodding discreetly while the latter made hand motions as if shooing them away. She giggled. “Okay, Jihyun Kim, I will allow you to drive me home.”

The ride home was silent, but it was a calm introspective kind of silence, rather than an anxious uncomfortable one. Hen, of course, was warring with herself internally about what she wanted to do with her night. She was reminded, as they pulled into her parking area, that she didn’t have to make these choices alone anymore.

“Do you want to come up for tea?” Hen asked quietly, fidgeting with the ends of her shawl in lieu of her usual sweatshirt strings.

“I would love to.” Jihyun said, just as softly.

She led him through the building to her lofty third-floor apartment, where she stepped out of her shoes and set about getting tea started. She set the mugs on the counter and opened the tea cabinet. When she turned to ask Jihyun what kind of tea he wanted, he was right behind her, and she startled. 

“Oh, hello there.” She said with an awkward giggle.

“Hi, Hen.” He said, leaning into her space. “May I kiss you?”

She nodded even as she felt the blush on her cheeks, and moments later his lips were on hers, and her arms were looped around his neck, holding him close. When they broke for air, they both laughed before moving toward each other again.

“What about the tea?” She asked, softly, afraid to break the spell.

“I… don’t need tea.” 

[foundtherightwords]

Winter Light - Chapter 2

Pairing:Tom Grant (Make Up) x OFC

Summary: Vanessa, a young cancer patient, arrives at a remote holiday park in Cornwall to wait out the rest of her days, but after a chance meeting with a park employee named Tom who's nursing a broken heart, Vanessa realizes life may not be done with her yet.

Warnings: slow burn, mostly fluff with some angst (main character has cancer, so can't do without angst altogether), swearing, serious illness (cancer), discussion of death/grief

A/N: for some reason I clearly remembered there were window boxes outside of Jade's caravan, but I just watched the movie again and saw she only had some potted plants. Oh well. Somebody could've added them after she left (this takes place about a year after the events in "Make Up").

Chapter 1

A Welcomed Distraction

Vanessa told Shirley that her plan had changed unexpectedly and asked to rent her caravan long-term. Shirley seemed delighted to accommodate her, though Vanessa still had the nagging thought that those beady eyes saw more than she let on.

Vanessa took advantage of the strong signal inside the office to send off a few texts. "Have arrived safely, everything OK, phone signals patchy but will try to stay in touch, love you, Ness." That would keep them off her back for a while. She then asked how she could get to the nearby town for some supplies. "One of the staff can drive you," Shirley told her.

A few days later, Tom knocked on her door. "Shirley said you needed a lift into town," he said, holding up a set of keys.

Vanessa followed him down the path toward an old black truck with a bug-splattered windscreen, its bed full of odds and ends. "Yours?" she asked.

"It's Kai's. I'm picking up a few things for him."

Vanessa wondered why Kai couldn't have driven her himself, though she didn't say so. She had seen Kai around, an intimidating hulk with a craggy, unfriendly face and a ferocious German shepherd by his side. She wouldn't have liked a drive with him.

Tom followed the same route the cab took when it drove her to the park, and he was just as silent as the driver. Though it wasn't as awkward, the silence between them was heavy with so many things unsaid. This boy had seen her at her lowest; she had told him things she never told anybody else; it was hard now to come back from that and get to know each other normally. As Vanessa stared at the windscreen, she suddenly heard herself say, "Do you know windscreens are cleaner now because of insecticides?"

"What?" Tom didn't take his eyes off the road, but from his tone, it seemed he thought she was an alien of some kind.

"It's true. More insecticides, fewer bugs, cleaner windscreens."

"Isn't that good?"

"Not necessarily. Insecticides kill useful bugs too."

"Like bugs, do you?"

Vanessa shrugged. "I'm not passionate about them or anything, but I don't understand the hate for them either. I think they're neat."

"Wait 'til you've swallowed a mouthful and see how neat you think they are then," Tom said, and Vanessa chuckled with relief. The ice seemed to have been successfully broken. "You settling in all right?" he asked after a while.

"Still afraid I'm going to run away? I've put down a deposit, I'm not going to lose that."

This time he did glance at her, perhaps to see if she was serious or not. Vanessa put her poker face on. Tom's mouth twitched wryly.

"Maybe you can fix up the caravan a bit, that'll convince me," he said.

"Alas, home décor has never been my forte."

"I'll help."

She decided to play along. "Got lots of experience, have you? How long have you been working at the park anyway?"

"Three years. Maintenance, mostly, but reckon I could do some painting and decorating if necessary."

That surprised Vanessa. He looked around her age, in his late teens or early twenties at the most. That meant he must've started working here when he was still in school. "Used to come down every summer," he said when she mentioned it. "I wasn't going to come back this year, but Shirley called, saying they were short-staffed."

"Why weren't you coming back?" Vanessa asked, not noticing that Tom had suddenly shut his mouth hard.

He didn't answer. The silence had returned, more tense than before. Once again Vanessa wondered if it had anything to do with the mysterious Jade.

Tom dropped her off at the town center and agreed to meet her again in two hours. Vanessa went shopping, refilled her prescriptions, and even found a new book. She was flipping through it on a bench in the town square, trying to find some warmth from the late autumn sun that refused to shine, when Tom came back.

"Sorry I'm a bit late," he said. "Got you these." His arms were full of an assortment of flowering and leafy plants.

"What are they?" She only recognized the ivy.

"Ivy, heather, cyclamens, Christmas roses," he nodded at each pot. "For your window boxes."

So he had noticed the dead plants. Vanessa looked wistfully at the silvery green ivy, the purple heather, the crimson cyclamens, and the pure white Christmas roses. The colors were so vibrant after the uniform grays and browns of the sea and the sand, they almost blinded her.

"They're beautiful, but... I might not be around that long," she said. A slightly uncomfortable flicker in his eyes, but again, he didn't remark on it.

"You agreed to fix up the van. I'm holding you to that," he said. When Vanessa still hesitated, he added, "The bloke at the garden center said they'll do well in the cold and don't need much looking after. Consider them a house-warming gift." He pressed the pots into her arms. The soft petals brushed against her cheeks. She couldn't help but smile at him. He smiled back, and suddenly it was like the sun had come out after all.

***

Despite her initial hesitation, Vanessa soon found the plants a welcomed distraction. They gave her something to do, something to look forward to, a reason to get out of bed in the morning after a night full of pain and morphine. She took her time cleaning out the window boxes, filling them with the potting mix Tom also got her from the garden center, and arranging the plants into the most pleasing combinations. Sometimes, while she worked, she didn't even notice the pain.

Tom himself was becoming a welcomed distraction as well. He often walked past her caravan on his way to work in the morning or coming back from work in the evening. He never stopped, only nodded at her or said a quick hello, but Vanessa had the suspicion that he was checking up on her. She didn't have a chance to confirm her suspicion until one morning, after a particular bad night, she was stirred from her morphine-induced stupor by a persistent banging on her door. She dragged herself out of bed and opened the door, to find Tom on the other side.

"Oh thank Christ," he said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Thought you were..." He noticed her ashen face and the way she gripped the door frame. "You OK?"

"Overslept my beauty sleep," Vanessa mumbled.

"Looks like you need more of it," he said, quickly stepping inside and guiding her to the sofa, where she collapsed.

"How dare you." She tried to laugh, but only a dry croaking sound emerged.

"Sure you're all right?"

"Mmm." It took too much effort to nod. "Just need to stay off my feet a bit."

"Can I get you anything?"

"Some medical-grade marijuana would be nice," she said, half joking.

"Marijuana I can get. Don't know about medical-grade though."

Vanessa opened an eye and peeked at Tom to make sure he wasn't winding her up. He looked solemn as a judge. She gave a weak chuckle. "Better not risk it, then." The pain was manageable now, only the sleepless night was taking its toll on her. Tom still hovered over her. "You'll be late for work."

"You shouldn't be alone." He didn't add "when you die", but Vanessa understood it. She glanced at him. He was looking at the floor, chewing his lips, trying to hide his concern. She felt a little annoyed, and then felt guilty for feeling annoyed. She was sure her caravan wasn't on his usual route to work, yet he went out of his way every day just to say hi to her, to make sure she was all right. Her heart melted a little at that.

"I'm not going to die today, if that's what you're worrying about," she said, burying her head in a cushion. He mumbled an uncertain "Okay," then she heard the soft click of the door as he left.

He came back that evening, bringing a steaming pot. "Made you some stew."

Vanessa, who had been so nauseous that she could only manage to nibble a few crackers, eyed the pot warily. "What's in it?"

"Snips, snails, and puppy dog tails," Tom said. When Vanessa raised her brow quizzically at him, he grinned. "My mum used to say that when I was being fussy. It's just potatoes and veg and beef." Then he added apologetically, "Do you eat meat? Sorry, forgot to ask."

"I do," she said. She got a whiff of the pot and suddenly was ravenous. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound fussy. It smells delicious. Thank you."

Tom ladled the stew into a bowl.

The first spoonful sent warmth throughout her body, almost drowning out the nagging, ever-present pain in her bones. "You made this?" she asked, scooping up another.

"Don't sound so surprised," Tom snapped back with a laugh.

"Where'd you learn how to cook?"

"Single working mum. I had to cook if me and my little sister wanted to eat." Vanessa was quiet, thinking of her own spoiled childhood. Her mother hadn't even allowed her in the kitchen, let alone cook.

She had almost finished the bowl before remembering to ask Tom, "You're not eating?"

"Nah, it's for you. It'll keep in the fridge. If you don't mind eating stew for several days, that is."

"I don't mind," she said, touched by his thoughtfulness.

But she didn't actually have to eat stew for several days. Tom kept coming back with more hot food until Vanessa insisted on paying him, at least for the ingredients. He seemed reluctant at first, but when she refused to let him cook for her anymore, he relented. And that became their routine. In the morning, Tom would pass by her caravan, and Vanessa would wave at him from the window or the front door, where she was working on the window boxes. In the evening, he would drop in and cook for both of them. His dishes were nothing fancy, and some of his food combinations sounded downright bizarre (who had ever heard of a spaghetti sandwich?) but for Vanessa, who had been living on canned soups and crackers since she arrived at the park, what he could do with a bit of mince, a can of tomato, and some herbs and spices was nothing short of a Michelin-starred restaurant meal.

She felt bad about letting Tom do all the work while she lounged around, but the kitchen was so tiny and her pain-ridden legs were so clumsy that the one time she tried to help, she ended up sloshing a pot of boiling potatoes over Tom's hands.

"You're such a menace," Tom laughed, as Vanessa, in a barrage of apologies, held his hands under the cold tap. "Back to the sofa with you."

"But I wanted to help," Vanessa said, trying to ignore the way their fingers were intertwined.

"Fine, entertain me then. That counts as helping."

She reluctantly disentangled her hand from his and returned to the sofa. Putting on some music seemed too lazy, so she picked up the book she had left on the table. "How about I read you something?" she asked. Tom shrugged, and she flipped through the book until something caught her eyes.

"OK. This one's appropriate:

The timeless waves, bright, sifting, broken glass, Came dazzling around, into the rocks, Came glinting, sifting from the Americas.

To possess Aran. Or did Aran rush to throw wide arms of rock around a tide That yielded with an ebb, with a soft crash?

Did sea define the land or land the sea? Each drew new meaning from the waves' collision. Sea broke on land to full identity.

Well, kind of. We're in Cornwall, not the Aran."

"That's beautiful," Tom said, pausing his cooking to listen. "What is it?"

"A poem, by Seamus Heaney. You know him?"

Tom shook his head. "Not much time for poetry in Derby. Sounds lovely though."

Vanessa bent her head down, glad that Tom had his back to her so he couldn't see her quickly heating cheeks. She had picked the poem because it was about the sea. She didn't think about how it was a love poem as well. How stupid of her. It was right there in the title, "Lovers on Aran". Hopefully Tom had simply appreciated the beautiful words and not thought much about their deeper meaning.

"He's one of my favorite poets," she said, to get her mind off her blunder. "I was going to uni to study poetry, but then I got diagnosed and... that was the end of that."

"I thought about going to uni too. Maybe in Derby, so I can stay close to mum and Clare. Was saving up for it, actually," Tom said as he took the shepherd's pie off the hob. The caravan had no oven, but that didn't stop him. Vanessa hadn't even known that you could make shepherd's pie without an oven.

"What happened?"

"Nothing," Tom shrugged. "Just didn't see a point to it."

Vanessa had noticed that Tom tended to become cross whenever their conversation veered toward the future. It was as if he didn't want to think too far ahead, wishing to live in the present only. That she could certainly understand. She just didn't understand why he would feel that way. Most of the time she would let it go and change the subject. That day, however, she felt like challenging him.

"So what, you're going to faff around here, doing maintenance work for the rest of your life?" she asked.

"What's wrong with that?" Tom was getting defensive now; the faint scar on his forehead, which he told Vanessa was from a childhood accident, turned bright red.

"Nothing. But you have choices. You can plan..."

"Thing about planning is, something always happens to ruin it. You of all people should know that."

Vanessa's face fell. "Cheap shot," she mumbled. She was only gratified to see that Tom also seemed to realize he'd said the wrong thing. He put his fork down and reached across the table for her hand, patting it.

"Sorry."

Vanessa continued to glower at him, trying not to show how good his warm hand felt over hers. "OK, you're forgiven," finally she said. "But only because how good this shepherd's pie is."

They didn't talk much about the future after that. Instead, talked about their childhood, about Tom coming down to Cornwall every summer and Vanessa growing up in Surrey, and their schooldays, which, when you were just out of school, seemed like yesterday and yet so far away at the same time. Vanessa didn't talk about her family, but she liked to listen to Tom talk about his dad, a builder who died of a heart attack when Tom was nine, his mum, and his little sister, Clare, born after their dad died, whom Tom seemed to dote on.

"Do you miss him, your dad?" Vanessa asked.

"Sometimes." Tom's voice was steady, but he was misty-eyed.

"It must've been hard, him dying so sudden like that."

"Yeah. Mum never gets over it, really. I don't think she even minds him dying much, just that we never got to say goodbye."

Vanessa's thought wandered to her own family.

"Wish I could tell my family that."

"What?"

"That it's OK to say goodbye."

Tom gave her a long look. "Why couldn't you?"

"There's no point. They wouldn't listen. I was born into the most dramatic family in all of Great Britain," Vanessa said with a mirthless laugh.

And, as if the floodgates had opened up, she told him everything about her family. How they had always been overprotective of her, because she was the youngest. Her brother and sister were much older - Miles by twelve years and Julie by nine - and both had left home when she was young, so her parents treated her almost like an only child. She had always felt guilty about it. It had only gotten worse after her diagnosis. Her mum quit all her hobbies and dragged Vanessa to every treatment center she could find. Julie, who was working in Manchester, took a job closer to Surrey so she could help out. They were walking on eggshells around her, alternating between sorrowful tears and a forced cheerfulness that she found even worse than the sorrow. Things had come to a head at Miles's wedding back in June. Vanessa had fainted in the middle of the ceremony and had to be taken to the ICU. Miles and his wife, Becca, had to put their honeymoon on hold because it had seemed touch and go for a while. They had been very gracious about it, but Vanessa couldn't forgive herself. "After that, I decided to leave," she told Tom. "I don't want my illness and my death to take over their lives."

What she didn't say was that everything her family did was a constant reminder of her impending death, and she couldn't take it. That was why she'd run away. But she couldn't admit it, let alone tell Tom that. Not after she'd put up such a front about not being afraid to die, like a child who kept telling herself there was no boogeyman under the bed.

"Maybe you could still try telling them," Tom said. "Again. Louder. Can't expect people to read your mind."

Vanessa looked at him curiously. When she first met him, he just seemed like a lad, albeit a cute one, but with not much depth. Yet here he was, pointing things out in such a simple, straightforward way that she couldn't help but to see the truth in them.

Despite such heavy talk, though, the thought of death was almost absent from Vanessa's mind during those cozy evenings. The pain was still there, but it was only a faint throb, easily ignored. It only came back when Tom left, but the smile he gave her as he said goodbye was enough for her to face it.

Chapter 3

[parkerdoesparkour]

-Rigid Movements and Sappy Lines w/ Sebek Zigvolt-

Sebek studies in preparation for being Titania’s plus one at a party.

Sebek prepared for every aspect of his life, including Kalim’s party he’d been invited to as Titania’s plus one. He studied testimonies from previous events in Scarabia, how upbeat and lively they all were, so he wouldn’t embarrass himself in front of the prefect. He even went as far as going to Lilia for advice on what he should talk to Titania about, other than Lord Malleus of course.

“Tell her she looks beautiful,” Lilia said. “Or anything romantic, really. Compliment her dancing and ask about her day. Be a gentleman.”

Sebek was more than capable of being a gentleman. Though, when he actually found himself in the fray of the party, all of Lilia’s advice flew out of his head faster than Grim out of an open window during history class. 

They didn’t arrive together due to his guard duty keeping him until the last possible minute. He found Titania rather quickly in the fray, and the moment he laid eyes on her, his brain sputtered to a halt. She looked beautiful under the light of Scarabia and the way her face lit up when she saw him had his heart in flips. 

She made her way to him, and he shouted the first thing that came to mind. “You’re beautiful!”

Titania looked surprised and Sebek thought he should flee while he still could as his face flushed a bright red. But then she smiled and said, “Thank you, Seb.” She looked him up and down and added, “You look very handsome as well.” 

Sebek glowed on the inside. On the outside, he cleared his throat and tried to start again. “I hope you had a pleasant afternoon.”

She nodded, guiding him towards the refreshments table. “It was fun. Vil helped me get ready. I did miss you, though,” she laughed. “Maybe next time our schedules will align better and we can eat together beforehand.”

Sebek nodded vigorously, a plan already formulating in his mind. “I assure you, next time I will be better. My heart aches to be away from you, even more a minute.” That was a line he was rather proud of, having borrowed it from a romance novel Lilia lent him. Titania giggled. 

“Is that right?” she grinned. He nodded, and after helping himself to some punch, he took Titania out on the dance floor. He did his best to follow her lead, moving around to the upbeat tunes he’d practiced dancing to, when all of a sudden the universe threw him such a curveball he was going to have to speak to the manager about this. 

A slow song came on and as he watched the people around him pair up, he realized he was NOT prepared for this. He knew the basics of a waltz because he wasn’t going to embarrass Lord Malleus by not knowing, but he wasn’t sure if it would save him from having Titania laugh at his clumsy movements.

She must have noticed him suddenly tensing because she paused too and said, “You want to take a break?”

He could feign thirst and wait until the songs switched back but a small voice in the back of his head nagged him. He didn’t get many opportunities to spend this much time with his crush, and he wasn’t one to waste time over fear. He held his hand out, prayed Titania didn’t see it shaking, and asked. “Will you honor me with a dance?”

She grinned wider than he’d ever seen and took his hand without hesitation. “I’d love to. I’ll admit, though, that I’m not very good at slower dancing.”

Sebek relaxed even as they clumsily made their way through the motions of a box dance. “Neither am I. But, I’m happy to dance like this with you.”

She stepped on his toe and she mumbled a curse. “I am too,” she said. She kept her eyes down as she focused on getting the movements right. “I was really happy you said you’d come with me.”

“Was Grim busy?” Sebek joked. He meant it in a lighthearted way: it was no secret Grim seemed to always be Titania’s date to school events. But he was surprised when she shook her head. She looked up at him and then averted her eyes sideways. 

“I wanted to go with you,” she said. “If you were busy, I wouldn’t have come.”

“Why?”

“Because,” she paused, “because I like you, Sebek.”

“Well, I would hope so,” he frowned. They narrowly missed colliding with another couple dancing nearby. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

He could hear the exasperation and embarrassment mixed into her voice as she spoke. “I like you in a romantic way. Like, this-is-a-date kind of way.” Now, it was Sebek’s turn to step on Titania’s foot. “Ow,” she said, though she was smiling and there wasn’t any pain in her tone. Sebek remained silent and she looked back down at their feet. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I wanted you to have fun tonight.”

“I am having fun,” he said. Then, “Can I kiss you?”

Titania tripped and nearly crashed into him but he caught her by her upper arms and helped steady her. “Yes, please,” she squeaked. He bent down at the same time she stood on her tiptoes and they ended up crashing their foreheads together. “Ouch,” she laughed.

“How embarrassing,” Sebek muttered. Titania laughed and pulled him into a kiss.

[feeder86]

The Feeders’ Formalities

“Good morning, Chris,” Troy smiled, seeing his new neigbor trotting down the path to his car. The poor guy’s work pants looked tight and uncomfortable, while his shirt buttons appeared especially strained. “You’re heading out to the office early!”

Chris scratched the back of his head awkwardly. Straight guys never knew how to behave around Troy. It was one of the most amusing parts of being one of the Feeders; that inescapable attraction that people felt for him. “Um… yeah,” Chris mumbled. “I just thought I’d head to the gym before work. Maybe pick up some breakfast on the way.”

Troy grinned. Technically, the appetite stimulant he’d secretly given to Chris was no longer supposed to be used. His leader had banned it since the Formula had been created. But old habits die hard and Troy couldn’t help but enjoy watching the slow descent of a man into pure gluttony. “Ah! What a good idea!” he beamed back, slipping his arm over Chris’ shoulders and guiding him down to his car. “There’s this great little donut place down by the quarry,” he explained, giving further directions and smirking as he heard Chris’ mouth water at the mere mention of those sugary treats.

The man’s piggish eyes lit up. “Yeah, I know the one you mean,” he nodded enthusiastically.

“Now is the perfect time to stop by. The donuts are so fresh and tasty when they first open. The cream inside…” he moaned in false ecstasy, “…they’re just perfect!”

Troy removed his arm from the guy’s shoulders as they both stood at Chris’ car. Chris looked at his watch. “I’m sure I can make it before work. I’ll have to leave the gym until this evening though.”

“You won’t have time for the gym this morning, no,” Troy agreed, taking a good look at how the guy’s fat little tummy was starting to push out so nicely. Tomorrow, he would be even fatter. “How’s your wife?” he asked playfully. “Still nagging you to go on that diet?”

Chris nodded and looked down sadly at his little paunch. “It’s all she ever seems to go on about,” he sighed, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

“That’s a shame. Personally, I like a man with a good appetite,” Troy grinned flirtatiously back. He winked and then patted the guy’s chubby rear in a playfully boyish manner. He watched Chris blush, make his excuses and leave for what would certainly be a very fattening breakfast. “Bye-bye, little piggy!” Troy whispered as he waved, watching Chris’ car disappear down the street. He couldn’t help but chuckle and looked back to Chris’ house. Inside, the guy’s wife watched suspiciously from the window. “Good morning, Jenny!” he waved, offering his most devilish smile. Over the coming months, the poor girl was going to watch that fine, athletic specimen she had married, transform into one of the greediest and fattest men she would ever have laid eyes on. Troy couldn’t wait to see it all unfold.

Back inside, Troy was making the finishing touches to his cookies. Freshly baked and smelling simply delicious, he added the most important ingredient of all: The Feeders’ Formula. One dose and whoever took it would begin to transform into an over four hundred pound mass of blubber in precisely four hours. It was their leader’s greatest magical triumph. Three doses, and the effect delay was broken, fattening them instantly. It was the most wildly erotic and entertaining thing to see in action. Even after all this time and all the hundreds of men Troy had dosed with it, he still got butterflies of excitement as he looked forward to feeding it to two new victims today. 

Troy still used appetite stimulants on guys like Chris because he liked seeing how they played out. There was more fun and amusement to be found in the unknown. How it worked on one guy could be very different to how it overpowered another. That was why Troy’s preferred option for feeding the Formula was to give not one dose, but two! Two doses was where the fun really lay. He checked his watch, timing it down to the second and deviously splashed the two doses on the cookies he planned to give to the men who were just pulling up on his driveway.

“Good morning,” Troy beamed as the two guys knocked on the door. He could see from the look of them that this was going to be a very entertaining morning for him. The older guy was clearly in charge, tall and incredibly muscular; with years of construction work giving him a strong, masculine, probably 230lb physique that most men would have aspired to have. 

The younger one was handsome too, in his own way: tall, slim and athletic, but not especially muscular. He must have been nineteen, twenty at most, with a surly self-confidence that came of being young and attractive to the opposite sex.

“Your landlord sent us to take a look at your roof,” the older guy said, after introducing himself as Rick. “We shouldn’t be long,” he smiled, coming inside.

The younger guy, who was introduced as Sam, followed on behind, and was the first one to sniff with pleasure at the scent of the fresh baking. The Feeders’ Formula could be hidden in anything: a glass of water, a mug of coffee. But the Feeders had more style than that. There were formalities which had to be preserved. The formula needed to be something tempting and delicious. That was where the thrill lay.

“I’m making these for my neigbor next door,” Troy lied, picturing Chris’ wife watching him from the window only ten minutes earlier. “Poor thing! She’s having a tough time with her husband at the moment. But I do hope you will try one and let me know what you think.”

Young Sam leapt straight to the plate and took his, without even a word of thanks. Rick made an effort at rejecting the it, but swiftly gave in with only a little more encouragement, beginning to nibble away at it as he looked around the large double storey home.  “Do you know where the leak is coming from?” he asked Troy, determined to get started. 

Troy took them into the bathroom and pointed vaguely at the ceiling, where the supposed leak could be. He’d made it all up; phoning up pretending to be a landlord and getting these guys sent down here as soon as possible. As expected, the two men split up. Sam was sent to collect the ladders and head up onto the roof, while Rick would get his tools out to measure the damp from inside. 

All the while, Troy kept a keen eye on Sam. Younger and of a slighter build, the formula would no doubt take him first. His keen nose twitched, picking up the scent of the sweat leaching from his body; the first sign of action. Troy amused himself while the two men went in search of the roof damage that would be creating the made-up leak. The wait, the anticipation; this was the best part of all!

“I’ve brought you a fresh glass of lemonade,” Troy called up the ladder to young Sam. He could see the guy’s small, pert butt looking cute and attractive in the well-fitting work pants. Then, as he descended the ladder, the waistband of his designer underwear came into view and the narrowness of the boy’s waist could be truly seen. But, thirty minutes in and already Sam had quite a sweat on him, gratefully taking what he was given. His body was succumbing, that much was clear. He wouldn’t even have another ten minutes if Troy’s nose was anything to go by.

“Thanks,” the boy smiled, taking his cool drink and wiping his sweaty brow. “It’s a hot one today, huh?”

Troy looked up at the grey skies but nodded in agreement nonetheless. The sweat was making Sam’s t-shirt cling to his slim body. There were abs under there, Troy was completely sure of it. 

After draining the glass, the boy burped quickly and loudly; his eyes popping with surprise at how off-guard his lack of control had caught him. Pathetic, Troy thought to himself, checking his watch; thirty four minutes and already Sam’s slim body was giving in to it. The boy’s stomach gargled and he rubbed his middle as if he still had a bit of gas.

“Are you okay?” Troy asked, always finding it hard to keep from laughing at this point.

Sam released another bit of gas, but nodded to try and keep his composure. He looked at Troy, as if seeing him for the first time; captivated by him, just like every other person in the world. “So… um, this is a pretty nice place you’ve got here,” he offered, sounding a little flirtatious.

Troy smiled and looked around his back yard and nodded in agreement. “It’s a nice, private garden. No prying eyes gazing in when I’m up to no good out here…”

A bead of sweat rolled down from Sam’s forehead and flew down his nose, dripping onto the floor. The boy rubbed at it self-consciously and his breathing quickened, either out of lust for Troy, or his body sensing that something was wrong. “Um, you… you get up to no good quite a lot?” he asked, trying to sound teasing and cheeky, despite how strange he must have felt.

“Constantly!” Troy grinned, taking a step closer and grabbing at the corner of Sam’s t-shirt. “It’s a pretty hot day already, huh?” he commented. “So why don’t you take your shirt off for me?”

Sam’s eyes widened with the realisation that this was actually happening. He was being flirted with by the hottest being he had ever encountered. He nodded obediently and then ripped the wet t-shirt up, over his body.

“Very nice!” Troy nodded, sliding his hand onto Sam’s torso. They guy had a nice, mildly built chest and below that, a slowly bloating middle; as if he was half-way through a Thanksgiving feast. There was a depth developing in his belly button that would only become more extreme as the seconds ticked by. Troy pulled the guy into a kiss; gentle at first and then went back in for something harder and more passionate. He reached down and felt Sam’s crotch; hard as a rock down there. 

With his two hands, Troy unbuttoned Sam’s pants, before Sam took over and did the rest. In a horny stupour, he kicked off his boots keenly and undressed himself with the utmost urgency. By the time they kissed next, Sam was entirely naked, but for his stylish underwear which Troy made short work of, pushing them down, despite the sweaty friction of Sam’s butt. 

The boy moaned with pleasure from the kissing and spontaneous passion. But as he went to begin removing Troy’s clothes in turn, the feeder simply stopped kissing him and took a step back.

“What’s the matter?” Sam asked, trying to conceal a burp he could feel needing release.

“Just give it a few more seconds…” Troy replied cooly, monitoring Sam’s body with expertise. There it was, the slight sway beginning in the hips and the vacant expression on Sam’s face. He burped loud and long, without even trying to conceal it; as if he was no longer even aware that he was doing it. By the time it was done, the boy leaned over and grabbed at his stomach, groaning in pain as the formula undoubtedly began its rapid work. 

Troy laughed wickedly as the rapid swaying of Sam’s body kept him from being able to control or even register his own body. With each back and forth, his stomach seemed to fill with more and more fat, beginning to ripple within about five seconds. Sam’s chest was filling up too; his nipples starting to point and jiggle.

 Fascinated, Troy stepped around Sam to get a look at the rear. He exhaled in delight to see the two butt cheeks swelling before his eyes, roundening out into full, fat-filled glutes that widened his whole frame, despite failing to keep a pace with the love handles that were forming above. He couldn’t resist reaching out and tapping the chubby butt to admire the softness. “Oh, what a good boy!” he cheered patronisingly. “Just look at yourself! It’s fantastic!”

Troy was almost surprised by how much Sam’s gut has pushed out by the time he returned to face him. Round and ball-like, developing rapidly. He smiled at the overwhelmed guy, chuckling as he saw how altered his face was becoming. The clean-shaven look had suited him earlier; now it drastically failed to conceal how much fat was forming under his chin and working to puff up his face, making his eyes look so much smaller in his head.

Just like always, the formula only seemed to speed up at this point. It completely controlled him, evidenced by how floppy and malleable his body seemed. His stomach visibly swelled like an inflating balloon, adding inches and inches to his newly spherical shape. Sam’s feet seemed to almost dance beneath him as he naturally tried to stay upright, despite the new shape throwing him incredibly off-balance. Troy grabbed a handful of the blubber, delighting in how it felt; so soft and warm; there was nothing like the feel of fresh fat. And, despite the building fat in Sam’s groin, his erection still stood ridiculously firm and upright through it all. The clothes still gathered around his feet would never fit him now. Even the underwear, which had been off him for less than half a minute, looked incredibly small and doll-like in comparison to the monstrously fat man than towered above them. 

Troy would stay until the very end, even as the formula’s work started to slow. He wouldn’t miss a single second of the transformation. The hot, athletic stud that had once been Sam, was now anything but. Fat, lardy and blubbery, Troy was proud to see him approaching what would easily be four hundred delicious pounds; not bad considering his average height. There was nothing left to show that he had once been so fit and toned; just another of the many hundreds of men that Troy had transformed into a blubber-filled fat boy. It was the ultimate satisfaction. 

Yet, there was still another man inside, just waiting to succumb very soon now…

The other worker, Rick, didn’t seem in the slightest way affected when Troy went back in. The man looked up at him, then down again. “Sorry, I thought you were Sam. How long does it take a guy to check a roof?” he scoffed with irritation. 

“I’ve just spoken to him. He wasn;t feeling well. He got a friend to pick him up and take him home,” Troy lied.

“What?!” Rick blasted in disbelief. “He just took off?”

“I take it he’s not been working with you long?” Troy replied in a tone that tried to sympathise with Rick’s disappointment in his employee. “These young guys today, they just don’t give a shit about work, do they? Don’t worry, though, I put your ladder back in your truck to save it from going missing.”

“He didn’t even put the ladder away?” Rick complained, looking more annoyed than ever. “He’s my girlfriend’s stepbrother, but I knew I shouldn’t have given him a shot. Excuse me,” he called, making to step out of the room. “I’m going to have to cancel a few jobs this afternoon. There’s no way I can do them all without help.”

Troy admired the man’s tight, muscular butt as he walked away and wondered how many women he could have lured into bed with him, just from that one handsome feature alone. His height was impressive too, as well as his naturally broad shoulders and strong build. 

Checking his watch, Troy could see that an hour had already gone by since the formula had been administered. However, Rick was yet to show any signs of its presence in his system. The anticipation was almost too much to bear.

Observing from the upstairs window, Troy watched Rick making numerous phone calls on his cell phone, pacing up and down the drive with one hand on his hip. He loved toying with people like this. It gave him a thrill like no other to play with such a beautiful guy and make him dance to his own tune; like a puppet on a string. The formula was inside him right now, coursing through his veins. There was nothing that could save him.

It was another fifty minutes before Rick came back inside, looking a little less frustrated than he’d been earlier, having shuffled his day around to accommodate the lack of Sam. “Sorry about that,” he said, almost cheerfully. “Typical! Sam’s not even answering his cell phone! I’ve just been up on your roof quickly and I can’t seem to find any obvious signs of damage. This leak is a bit of a mystery. I’m not sure how much help I can be, without pulling off some of the plaster to see if there is anything behind it.”

“Do whatever you need to,” Troy smiled back, surprised that there was still no sign of anything coming from Rick; no sweats, no gas, not a single confirmation that the formula was beginning to take him down. But it would. Of that, there could be no doubt.

Rick set to work, trashing the bathroom ceiling in search of the pretend leak. Troy couldn’t help but be impressed. It had now been over two hours since the formula had been taken and the large, muscular guy was still soldiering on. But for the curiosity of seeing how long the guy could hold out, Troy was almost tempted to feed him another dose and set things off immediately. The sexual thrill of waiting for it was making it hard to still still. He set off to his spare room, picking out the largest clothes that he could find: tent like underwear and enormous sweat shorts with a mass of material that was really just a t-shirt. Meanwhile, the obvious guy worked away, only a few feet away.

Two hours and twenty-five minutes in, that was when it happened. Troy’s supernaturally keen nose picked up the first scent of sweat coming from the bathroom. It was something all of the guys under the formula developed and had a special, subtle smell that only occurred when the formula was beginning to tighten its grip. The fun would soon be beginning…

“Wow, you know how to make a mess!” Troy chuckled as he entered the bathroom. Despite having laid out a sheet to protect the flooring, dust and plasterboard covered the floor and an ugly wound was getting larger and larger in the ceiling.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Rick nodded, stepping down from his ladder to be polite. “Now that the area is exposed, we should hopefully be able to see where the leak is coming from. There are no pipes under here though. It’s still a mystery why it’s happening.”

“You look like you could do with a drink,” Troy nodded at him, seeing the slight shine of sweat on the man’s face; making his t-shirt start to stick to his muscular body, showing off what a large, strapping and handsome guy he was.

Rick wiped his brow and nodded back. “Yeah, it’s pretty hot in here,” he agreed. “A glass of water would be great, thanks.”

Resisting the urge to spike the water with a final dose of the formula to speed things along, Rick went back in, carrying the drink. He timed it perfectly, pretending to trip on a wayward piece of plasterboard which had crept over the plastic sheeting. The water leapt from the glass, drenching his own chest and making him gasp in false surprise. Standing there, he chuckled at himself and handed over the now only half-full glass of water.

“I’m so sorry,” Rick shot out in remorse. “I should have made sure it was tidier than this!” He took the glass and put it immediately down on his tool box, grabbing a towel from the rail and handing it to Troy.

“Don’t worry about it,” Troy smiled back. “I’m just a bit accident prone,” he smiled, patting himself down. He lifted his t-shirt clean off, revealing his beautifully toned and perfect body beneath. He watched keenly as Rick’s eyes widened at the sight of it. No man, no matter who they were, could ever resist him.

Rick caught himself staring and he looked away for a second, just like any straight guy would. However, in almost no time at all his eyes seemed to drag him back.

“It’s only water,” Troy stated cheerfully, holding up the t-shirt. “Not as if it’s going to stain or anything. I usually wear this one at the gym anyway,” he lied.

“Yeah… I can tell that you work out,” Rick mumbled awkwardly, clearly confused by how aroused he was feeling.

Troy smiled, as if delighted that Rick had noticed. “I work pretty hard,” he nodded, flexing his bicep. “I’m trying my best to get guns like yours,” he complimented Rick back.

Rick blushed and shuffled a little awkwardly, a smile spreading on his face, despite himself.

“Yeah. Like you said,” Rick replied, “I work hard too.”

Troy reached his hand out and smoothed it over the top of Rick’s arm. The man didn’t protest and even flexed it for Troy, staring into his eyes as the feeder admired his body. “I kind of wish I’d spilled the water on your shirt instead now,” he joked.

 Rick was more relaxed now. He seemed to understand the situation better and was less hesitant to let himself go. He lifted off his shirt and smiled pleasantly, allowing one of his big hands to slide onto Troy’s hip. There was no doubt about it now; things were getting steamy.

Troy slid his hand over Rick’s massive, muscular chest. It was obvious that the big man was the dominant type. He enjoyed the admiration and slipped his other large hand behind Troy’s head, as if to ensure that he kept looking at his powerful body. It was obviously something he had done with countless women over the years. “You’re so sexy…” Troy played along, making Rick grunt with approval, before pulling him in for a kiss. He was good at it too; seeming to know how to make it last with passion.

 But, there it was again, that uptick in sweat slowly leeching off the hunk’s body. Troy could smell it all the while as the strong guy pushed him up against the wall and kissed him deeper; his hardness pressing violently into Troy’s hip as he excitedly ground himself against the feeder. In no time at all, pants were being pulled down and a trail of clothes took them into the bedroom.

The sight would have been incredible for anyone to behold; two extremely handsome and muscular guys kissing and touching each other as they fell onto the bed; moaning with pleasure as their hands swept over each other's body. It would have been a dream for almost anyone to have a guy like Rick lavishing them with attention; his perfect, large and imposing frame, gorgeous face and quietly dominant moves. But, despite the appearance of having lost himself to the lust, Troy’s grin never moved from his face. He could smell the formula building and couldn’t shift the excited butterflies in his stomach as he waited for Rick to finally lose the battle he didn’t even know he was fighting.

“You’re so beautiful,” Rick whispered between kisses. “I swear, I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

Troy chuckled. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard someone say something like that, and this soon-to-be disgusting fat boy was certainly not going to be the last.

“I bet you’ve had hundreds of guys wanting to whisk you away and never let you go.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but he stopped himself, placing his fist up against his mouth to conceal an emerging burp.

Once again, Troy laughed. “You think you’re falling for me, do you, handsome?” Troy asked teasingly.

Rick sighed in complete awe of him. “I think you’re the most perfect man I’ve ever met!”

“You’ve impressed me too,” Troy nodded in agreement, reaching over his shoulder to pick up his cell phone on the side table. “Two hours and forty minutes. That’s almost a new record for two doses,” he laughed. “You’re no ordinary man…”

Rick shifted his head to the side, as if Troy had just said something adorable. “What do you mean?” he smiled.

Delighting in the confusion, Troy kissed the man deeply, allowing more seconds to tick by. When their lips parted, he simply grinned back at the poor man, before allowing his face to soften and a look of mock concern to fill his face. “Are you okay?” he asked sweetly. “You look a bit… under the weather…”

Rick wiped his large hand over his forehead, recognising for the first time how much of a sweat had built on his brow. He blinked a little, as if his vision was going hazy. “I’m all right,” he tried. “I’m just so head over heels in love right now…” he smiled, leaning in for one more kiss.

Troy pulled away and laughed, his voice sounding completely saturated in mockery. “Awh, I know you are! All the piggies just can’t help themselves around me!” He gazed down at Rick’s erection, standing firmer and more erect than he had probably ever had it in his life. “You’re going to be such a good fat boy for me, aren’t you?”

Sensing the tone, Rick didn’t smile as he had before. “Troy, what’s this about?” he asked, concerned. “What’s going on?”

Troy bounced to his feet and tapped on Rick’s naked butt for him to get up too. The guy followed him, like a lost puppy dog, as Patick guided him to exactly where he wanted. “You know, I always think a big mirror is essential in a room like this. Wouldn’t you agree?” he asked Rick.

But Rick didn’t seem to have heard. He winced a little and rubbed a hand over his chiselled abs, as if in slight discomfort. 

“Are you ready, Fartty?” Troy laughed, his eyes filling with a mad excitement. “Here we go!”

Sucking in great gulps of air, Rick’s massive, muscular chest heaved up and down. Troy sensed Rick’s heartbeat race and saw his eyes fill with fear as he doubled over slightly.

“What’s going on?” Rick demanded; shouting now. He groaned loudly and the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes became deep caverns as he winced more, trying to push back whatever he could feel inside of himself.

“I’m turning you into a fat boy!” Troy laughed victoriously. “A big… fat… blubbery, pig of a man! Just as I did to pathetic little Sammy boy!”

Once again, Rick didn’t appear to be listening. He raised his arm up to his head and leaned into the mirror, groaning and fighting something with all his might; the muscles all up his back flexing and pulsing as he did so.

It was such a delight to see the men doing this; trying to exert some sort of control over the formula. 

Rick groaned, biting his teeth together sharply, but with each quick intake of breath, the formula took advantage and tightened its hold on him. Slowly, very slowly, it began its work, bloating the strapping guy just a little, every time his long growls paused.

“Oh…Rick! Look!” Troy marvelled as he gazed at the hopeless sight from behind. “It looks like your big, fat ass is on its way!” he laughed. It was a subtle change; very subtle. But Troy was an expert at these things, and it was obvious to him that Rick’s beautifully muscular rear was packing on more mass. He knew that Rick had heard him, for his groans became even more vocal and his determination to fight appeared even greater. “Love handles next…” Troy predicted, almost shouting into Rick’s ear to make him lose concentration. Then, right on cue, the softening of the man’s back was happening right in front of his eyes.

Rick tried to suck in the oxygen he needed to repel the formula. Most of the fighters gave up by now; realising how futile it was to resist. Not Rick, though. Another record he seemed determined to break.

Troy looked at the reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t the best angle with Rick bent forwards as he was, but it was clear that the muscular stomach was gone, building with fat around the belly button; swelling painfully slowly. Troy reached a finger in and pushed against the budding softness, laughing as he did so. “You know, you may want to lay off the fast food,” Troy teased. “You’re getting quite the little pot belly…”

Rick needed a longer breath, inhaling deeply for the first time. That was when the formula seized him completely. Troy could hear him trying to groan and get back the control he had once had, but it seemed futile. His groans were short and panicked as the realisation hit him; he was losing. He lifted his head and allowed his eyes to stare at his reflection. A few seconds was all the formula had needed to round out a little ball-like panuch underneath his muscular chest. And it was growing too, swelling and expanding right there in front of his eyes. “What the f…” he tried to mumble, breathing hard as his hips began to sway ever so slightly.

“Oh, YES!” Troy cheered at the sight! “Come on, Rick!” he laughed.”This is when the real fun happens!” He grabbed either side of Rick’s hips, guiding them deeper into their gentle rocking as the formula ripped through his body.

The fat was spreading. The shaking of the hips made that all the more obvious as it began to ripple around Rick’s waist and swell his backside, building up into his back. Troy saw the man adjusting his stance and the handsome man leaned back into him slightly, as if finding it hard to stay upright. It made it easier to see the fat as it developed in Rick’s chest, softening his pecs and eventually pointing his nipples and they rocked and jiggled out of their previous shape.

“Ata, boy! That’s it!” Troy cooed, bracing him from behind as Rick leaned in even more into his shoulder, closing his eyes as if enjoying the sensation at last. His stomach swelled, inflating like a balloon as it pushed out. Overjoyed, the feeder kissed Rick on the side of his face, as that too filled with fat and the puffy cheeks became more and more apparent. Rick’s moans were different now. As he surrendered, he seemed to find the deep pleasure in the sensation. His hardness, which had never once faltered, seemed too difficult for Rick to resist holding as he felt his body transforming.

Troy could feel the skin resting against his chest softening as Rick’s muscular arms grew to new inconceivable sizes, swollen with the fat that wrapped all around the man’s chest and into his back. He could feel the fattening ass swelling into him and could see in the reflection in the mirror just how hilariously thick and wide Rick’s thighs had grown.

Rick opened his eyes for a peek at himself, but seemed unable to keep his eyes focused, his eyeball drifting back into his head as he moaned in even more pleasure. He had to let go of his erection as he found it increasingly difficult to hold in the current position; his gut and chest had swelled so much that a full hand grip could not be so easily achieved. He tried to grab at it again, seizing it now between two outstretched fingers, stimulating the tip by stroking up and down the increasingly smaller shaft that had not been swallowed up by the incredibly aggressive fat that was filling his groin.

Rick’s head fell back completely onto Troy’s shoulder. Most men would have fallen over with the weight the feeder was having to support, but there was a supernatural strength to Troy that could not be undermined so easily. Rick’s head turned, his eyes closed and his mouth gaping open; desperate to be kissed. Troy stared at him, chuckling softly; hardly recognising the wide face of this bloated man, with enormous fat cheeks and a double chin that framed his entire head. Even his lips looked plush and fattened, and Troy turned a little to kiss him deeper than ever before, as the now repulsively obese man fattened further and further into the obscene extremes Troy enjoyed most of all.

Troy could feel Rick’s tongue filling his mouth as the fat man came, gasping and moaning; squirting on the underside of his drooping belly. The swaying finally came to an end and the true extent of the transformation at last became apparent. 

It had been some time since Troy had seen a man grow to this sort of size! Poor Rick, Troy thought, slapping and rubbing the enormous gut as they kissed for the last time.. All that time with the formula building in his system had probably done the pig no favours! His life really would never be the same again…

“I’ve had some construction work done and need part of my bathroom ceiling to be repaired,” Troy barked down the phone. “I need it done as soon as possible.” He sighed as he heard the same old excuses that he was well used to by now. “No, next Tuesday won’t do. I need it done NOW! I’m prepared to pay three times what you would usually charge for this sort of work.”

A grin spread across Troy’s face. Money always did the talking for him. Like moths to a flame, the men came to him in search of it.

“Eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Yes, that’s much more agreeable for me,” he smiled. “Thank you very much for fitting me in,” he said charmingly. “And there’ll be two of you?” he asked with interest. “Yes, I’m very much looking forward to meeting you too…”

[emmet-appreciation]

Mun donut just wanted an excuse to ramble about Emmet’s dialogue. And also I guess tips for those who might have a hard time writing Emmet

I’ve been musing Emmet for upwards of two years now, and while I am certainly far from the best portrayal of him (seriously, some of you guys are so cool), I think it’d be beneficial to at least have one post analyzing his speech patterns on here. 

If anyone is interested in seeing me list references and overanalyze Emmet’s speech patterns, I’ll have it all under the cut :)

// I’m making too many edits to this so I’ll just list the changes at the end of the post Last edit: 19.07.2022

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To preface, Emmet is very clearly autistic. Please keep that in mind while portraying him and make sure you aren’t falling into ableist stereotypes.  There are many wonderful autistic (as well as other wonderfully neurodivergent) people in this community, so I’d suggest looking to them for advice or guidance (though, you should make sure they are alright with sharing, of course! Please do not nag people who do not want to talk.)

I also highly suggest reading this post outlining some of the ableist characterizations in the submas community and why they are harmful. Please try to commit its messages to memory, they are CRUCIAL!! For those of you hesitant to read such a long post, I’ll also include a shorter list of the posts’ relevant points here as well:

Emmet’s “simple” speech and smiley demeanor have made infantilizing characterizations an easy pitfall for some to fall through. Autistic and neurodivergent people have been infantilized as a form of ableism, so please ensure you steer clear of that!

Seeing Emmet express strong negative emotions in an unhealthy way can be a harmful or insensitive characterization if taken to an unrealistic or extreme point.

Before proceeding with writing, ask yourself why you’ve decided to portray Emmet in a certain way, and if that “reason” perpetrates narratives that may be harmful to neurodivergent (as well as mentally ill) communities.

Now, with that out of the way, I’ll actually start this ramble haha.

Let’s Talk References!

There are quite a few places that you can turn to for references, but my go-to source is Bulbapedia! It’s one of the most reliable sources we have in the Pokemon community, too, so if you want canonical lore about anything, you can go here as well! If you have not consulted Emmet’s quote page, bookmarked it, or left it sitting on your browser window for the rest of eternity then I suggest you take a minute to do at least one of those :>.

There are also multitudes of resources for you to stream official content online, which has been compiled in this neat little masterpost. It includes links to find things from Pokemon BW and BW2, Pokemon Masters, the Pokemon Anime, and Pokemon Special. I highly suggest scrolling all the way down to the reblog portion- @/mala-sadas linked an awesome website that host Pokemon Special Scans- not to mention a whole bunch of spinoff mangas. There shouldn’t be any ads either :>

Any sort of canonical information would be ideal to use as reference, though I personally would advise against using the anime. It’s entertaining to watch, but there is much more nuance to be found in his other portrayals.

Unfortunately I haven’t read that much fanfiction lately, but heart hungry like a fire (cw cursing, only a sprinkle of angst) definitely has my favourite interpretation of Emmet :).  Other than that, try reading fanfiction where the submas are portrayed similarly to how you’d like to portray them! 

Keeping his autism in mind also, I’d also like to direct you to @/1863-project’s posts on Emmet (if you have not heard of her, please visit her blog! She’s a very nice and funny person and is always happy to inform people about submas, trains, and autism :>). She’s made many a post about autistic submas and the important ones are linked on her pinned post, but I’ll link some of helpful ones down here as well:

Emmet from Pokemon Gen V is Autistic, Fight Me - This highlights the specific Autistic traits that Emmet exhibits (Scripting, Stiff Dialogue, etc) and gives possible reasoning as well. Cool, huh?

A Verrrry Short Look At A Verbal Tic - crying why is the title so good for this one?? But yeah it’s just a brief overview of Emmet’s “verrrrrrrry” verbal tic

A Few Lists of Train Terminologies - Many people seem to struggle with Ingo and Emmet’s train lingo so I think it’s worthy to add here as well. (The last two links are probably more relevant for the purposes of this post, though)

Man, I totally forgot to link a particularly fun ramble made by my friend @/kotekie!! I’ve talked about it here before but it deserves a spot on this post:

Ingo, Emmet, Dialogue, and Truth and Ideals - A ramble about how Ingo and Emmet’s dialogue actually ties into the Truth/Ideal theme that BW/2 has going on. Reading this can give you a certain mindset to frame their dialogue in, so I highly recommend checking it out!

Analysis Time!

Arceus, you thought I would’ve already gotten here by now, right? This is just me rambling about things I’ve noticed specifically about Emmet’s dialogue and what I try to apply when I go in-character with him.

Let’s start with his dialogue after he beats you on the Super Multi train:

First of all: AW,, HE IS SO ENDEARING I AM GOING TO CRY- 

Second! This is a clear example of one of the trademark aspects of his speech: short and choppy sentences. His ideas tend to spread out among multiple different sentences. For example, the “I won against you. But this is not the end.” bit could be combined to form a single sentence, but Emmet tends to stop his sentences after one idea / clause (making them very short).  Thanks to this, his speech is extremely direct. What he says, he means. There is verrrrry little extraneous details added. In short: keep his dialogue short, and to the point.

It’s a very striking quality that very few Pokemon characters have, and it’s most definitely the reason why I latched onto his character over three years ago.

He also will occasionally emphasize a certain point with a shorter sentence (sometimes with a repeated word) afterward, such as here:

and here:

and here: 

also here:

and also his semi-rare use of “yup/yep!”:

But wait! There’s more :>

We see that he has two main scripts in the games- one for himself:

and one for Subway procedure:

Looking through the things he says throughout the games, it seems he uses the first one to introduce himself (naturally), though it’s not unusual for him to start his sentences with “I am Emmet.” This has made way for some portrayals to make him refer to himself in the third person, which I think is pretty neat (though he hasn’t really done that in canon).

The subway procedure script replaces the self script when he is battling someone he’s already battled before, like we can see in his pre Super Multi-Train battle dialogue:

At this point, he’s already infodumped about himself so he goes to the next best thing: subway procedure :)! He also tends to use this script when he’s with Ingo, as Ingo mainly does the introduction for the two of them and gives Emmet the space to chime in when he needs to.

I’ve also noticed that during moments of strong emotion he does tend to drop the choppy sentences thing and use more commas, as we see in his dialogue after being beaten in the Super Multi-Train:

Three commas! Three! This is also the longest sentence he has in the BW/2 games (and is probably comparable to the length of his sentences in Pokemon Masters- where his dialogue is notably more relaxed).  I think this is meant to convey how fast he’s speaking, as he's too excited pause in-between sentences as he normally does. 

Since I’ve also went through the hassle of linking individual manga chapters, I’d also like to analyze some of their appearances in the manga as well! (Note that I’m not using an official translation, so the specifics wording you see here may vary from other translations that exist on the internet!)

Here, when they introduce themselves, Emmet doesn’t use “I’m” or “I am” before he says his name, which could possibly a nod towards his tendency to speak in shorter sentences? Hm.

Once they start watching White test out the Battle Subway, we can see Emmet getting rather impatient and excited to see her get better at battling- interrupting Ingo and also bluntly stating his opinion on her skills. Though, this iteration of Emmet is a lot more mischievous than other canonical media (which makes sense- the manga did make a lot of characters sassier, haha).

We can also see that his usual “choppy” speech pattern has been downplayed in the manga, though Emmet’s blunt and excitable personality shines through brightly!

I’m only putting this here because this is peak sibling dynamic. Specifically using Ingo’s words to tease him is absolutely HILARIOUS to me, and one of the reasons why manga Emmet is my favourite Emmet.

Is that it? Yeah I think that’s it. Feel free to chime in with your own opinions and thoughts and criticisms if you’d like!

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Edit History:

- Clearly, I wrote this while being kinda tired. I fixed up some of the weird wording haha - Added a new reference from @/1863-project, it was made after the post was created and it’s very useful I promise!! - The links to the manga stopped working so I updated it with a new streaming site, hopefully with actually working links now. Also added a ramble from my good friend @/kotekie because I think it shows the functionality of Emmet’s speech in contextualization to BW/2’s themes as well as contrasting it to Ingo’s.  - Added in the “Please Be Careful About How You Portray The Submas” post in the beginning. It seemed kind of odd to say “don’t be ableist” without giving some concrete ways to help avoid that. - Changed my sad links to the manga on a site with nsfw ads to just one- the Submas Official Masterlist post :), including the addition from @/mala-sadas because I just adore jb2448.info.

[darkazraels]

          ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Azriel x pregnant! reader (part two)

part one

word count: 1391

For a month after your encounter with the High Lady, it became the norm for you to spot one of the Court members lingering across the street, outside one of the many stores on the same street as your's. None had approached you in that time, but it still made you feel anxious to walk home after work. It was Morrigan more often than not, and Cassian (who made his presence known by waving at you through the window but never actually entering). You must have seen the High Lord twice at least, and the High Lady a couple more times than that.

After that month, however, it had stopped. It was a good job too, as your growing bump was becoming something that was increasingly hard to hide. Well, it was practically impossible to hide now. At thirty one weeks, your belly was round before you, and you knew with the rate at which it grew, you wouldn't be able to see your own feet soon. It was quite a queasy thought to have.

Maria - one of your shop workers and seamstresses - had been the one you had approached with the hopes she would step in as manager as you were away on maternity (for a raise of course). The dark skinned fae had agreed readily, a smile so bright on her face that it nearly blinded you. She had worked for you the longest out of your current workers in store, nearly five decades actually. As fae lived so long, changing professions was not uncommon, and you knew that eventually Maria would want to move to something else, so perhaps this would be good experience for her. Maria had also been excited at the prospect of seeing a tiny baby at business meetings you would eventually have to attend again.

Working had become increasingly harder for you as they grew, your feet swollen and body aching all over as you lugged through the day. And with the added stresses of Azriel on your mind, you just wanted to curl up into a ball and cry more often than not. For your own sanity, you had cut your own workload down significantly in preparation for when you'd be out of work for at least three months. Knowing how much you struggled now, you had little doubt that you would be out for longer than that. So far, you had planned a total of three months with no meetings and no in shop work time. Meetings had been changed and rescheduled, and quite a lot of work had been slowed down.

You slumped into the black velvet armchair in the dimly lit break room, lifting your feet onto the stool carefully. A hand placed over your belly, you felt the little being thump against it gently. A smile spread across your tired face at the feel of them. "I know, I know. I'm stressed out. I know you don't like that," you mumbled, leaning your head back against the plush pillow, sighing contentedly.

There was still so much to do so much to prepare for still. The nursery wasn't even half completed yet, your house hadn't been baby-proofed at all, and there was still so much to buy —

Your eyes snapped open, staring up at the dark green ceiling, heart speeding up. The familiar tugging you felt whenever your lover was near nagged within your chest. It appeared that the shadowsinger had finally returned.

You sat up straight in the chair, awkwardly shuffling your legs to the ground, heart beginning to beat faster in your chest. Shit, did he even know? Of course he did, that had most likely been the reason he had left. Or had he truly not known and had just had enough of you?

"Y/N," he spoke, already stood in the doorway, looking ashamed in the least. He was earlier than Feyre had said by two weeks, though you hadn't believed he would seek you out after his return.

You pushed yourself up from the plush chair to give yourself some even footing against the Illyrian, though he still towered above you. "Azriel. I wasn't expecting you."

He pursed his lips and nodded, staring at the bump. He didn't particularly seem surprised by the roundness of it, perhaps only a little startled at the size. But you could tell by the shame in his hazel eyes that he had known.

"I'm sorry," he said, meeting your intense gaze.

You shook you head, a frown creasing your features, "sorry? You just walked away when I needed you the most. And I thought you loved me."

"I do, I was just being a coward and I didn't know what else to do."

You scoffed at him. "You should have stayed, Azriel. We've been together for decades. Years of commitment down the drain just because you were scared of being a father."

"I know."

"Did walking away help at all?" you pressed on, despite the discomfort evident on his face. This confrontation was one which you had to have, he couldn't just come walking back in only to back out again.

He shook his head, "no, it didn't. I was stupid."

"You were. We've worked through hardships before, why couldn't you just talk to me about it before making any rash decisions?" you looked up at him expectantly. Of course you understood the reasons for his abandonment, but it still wasn't enough to prove to you that it was a good enough reason for him to never come back to you. And it wasn't enough to prove he would be a terrible parent as he had apparently convinced himself he would be if he was involved. Apparently that had given him a good enough reason to leave you. Did he not truly love you enough if that was all it took?

"I don't want to hurt them. I don't want to hurt you. But I did. I know that now," he stated, looking down to his feet through the swirling darkness surrounding him, that now nearly swallowed him, yet still reached out to be closer to you.

"And you didn't know that then?" you asked him pointedly.

"I did. I just thought it would hurt less than me doing something wrong and messing up them up for good."

"I know that your father wasn't a good person," you stepped closer to him, close enough to touch him, "and I know that you are nothing like him. So do you. But you still walked out. Did you think not being there would be better than making mistakes, by what... not being good enough?"

You blinked back you tears, bottom lip jutting out slightly, he met your gaze again, "it was stupid. I don't want our child to feel abandoned, like they're worthless and that I don't care about them."

"Then you need to be able to prove it. Can you do that? Or is it too much to ask of you?" it was a gentle question, but the words hit him hard.

"I want to be there," he admitted.

You felt relieved to hear those words, but it did not change the fact that he had still left. What if he would go on to do it again? It wasn't just you that you had to think about anymore, it was the life you were bringing into this cruel world. No matter how much you loved him, how much he had hurt you too, you had to put your child first.

"Then you will be. But you can't go back and fourth."

"I won't. I'll make sure to be there, I'll make sure to give them everything that I can," he promised, sincerity lacing his gruff voice.

"We should talk more about this when I've finished. Can you be at mine at eight?"

Work still had to be done, and it would be best to discuss this more thoroughly in a private environment. There was no doubt that you would be tired at that time, but you could not put this conversation off as you feared that if you did that for too long, it would never end up happening.

He nodded his head, "see you soon Y/N."

You watched as he retreated from the room, heading back through the shop he had entered through.

"You too, Azriel."

          ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

@mis-lil-red

[getouswh0re]

TOKYO REVENGERS REACTIONS:

❤︎ forever is a long time, but I won’t mind spending it by your side ❤︎

an; how Tokyo Revengers characters realise they have fallen in love with you; warnings: none, slight angst, fluff, slight manga spoilers

characters; mikey, draken, chifuyu, baji

For as long as you could reminisce, MIKEY and you have been thick as thieves, doing all sorts of shenanigans (with most of them being his idea of course) and enjoying the time of your youth together. How you wish good times could stay like this forever; just the two of you running through the labyrinth of streets without having a single worry about what the future has to offer, the thrumming of footsteps echoing against the asphalt pavements as chime-like chortles reverberate in remnants of the dwindling sunset.

The two of you have been through ups and downs throughout the years, yet you and him would always seek for solace in each other’s company. The one incident, though, which brought both of your hearts closer than ever — was Emma’s passing. In the dingy bedroom, it was the first time you saw Mikey’s walls collapsing as he leaned into your chest, raw cries laced with heart-wrenching pain reverberating through the solemn midnight air. It broke your heart to witness the tough blonde in such a state of despair; he had lost way too many people already, and the light that was long lost in his hollow eyes now bore semblance to an impenetrable void — devoid of life, and the will to live.

“Hey, y/n ...” A meek croak cut through the lingering silence. “What does it feel like to be left alone ... before you get to realise all of the people you’ve loved is gone?”

Hearing that, your eyes were glassed with a layer of tears that was threatening to overflow. Nonetheless, you held it back, leaning forward as you pulled the blonde into your arms and gave him a tender hug.

“I know how it feels, Mikey ... it’s painful, you’re left alone, you want the agony to stop ... but you’ll not be shouldering this on your own. I’m here for you ... when you need me, okay? So please ... don’t bottle up all of these feelings by yourself. We’ll share the suffering and live on. Promise?”

People came and go in his life, yet the only one who stayed with Sano Manjiro until the very end was none other than you — his first love.

DRAKEN’S instincts have always been spot-on, and this is the same just like any other time — the only thing special is you being in the picture. From the day you become acquainted with the gang’s vice commander, Ryuguji finds himself gravitating bit by bit towards you. He would look forward to seeing you at every meeting, feeling his heart sink whenever you can’t hang out with him, Mikey and the others; initially the blonde only thinks that it is nothing more than a measly feeling — friends would look forward to hanging out with each other, right?

But it is soon proven to be wrong when an unintentional comment from him reveals his feelings towards you to everyone.

“Where is y/n? It feels a bit different today —“

As if everything is in slow motion, his friends swivel their heads around — stares burning into the back of his skull with their jaws dropped.

“Dude, you’re totally into y/n huh.”

Oh shit.

Before the blonde realises, everyone starts to bombard him with questions; not that they aren’t happy for him who finally manages to find the one, but rather — how do polar opposites like you and Ryuguji attract one another.

“Dude, you’ve totally found the right one!”

“Man I feel jealous that you have your eyes on them first! I would’ve shoot my shot if I were you.”

“If you don’t man up and confess, don’t blame me for stealing y/n off their feet —“

“Hold on!” A yell from him is all it takes to make the gang quiet. “How do you guys know it’s love? I mean it can be anything —“

“Just how dense can you be, idiot?” The others chime in unison.

Someone save him, boy is hopeless sometimes.

To pinpoint how he has fallen in love with you would be immensely difficult for CHIFUYU, there are way too many moments where he just finds himself diving headfirst into love! But if he has to choose the exact instant which kindled the flames of adoration, it would be every little bits about you which make him lovestruck.

He loves how your gaze softens at the sight of pets running around every time you come and visit him at the pet store he works at, cooing over how endearing you look as your eyes crinkle when kids wave to you on the streets, admiring your patience and kindness towards everyone you meet — the list goes on and on. Falling in love with you (to him) feels like a typical romance troupe which he has read ad nauseam in shoujo mangas, yet experiencing it firsthand is definitely a first for him.

And of all the attributes he loves about you, the one which makes Chifuyu ascertain his feelings is how you could see the good in people whom you hold dear to your heart — him included.

The sky fades into a myriad of pomegranate pink and indigo as the two of you hang out at the park after the gang meeting has ended, each of you eating an ice cream. With you finishing yours first, you turn over to look at the blonde, only to discover that he has some smudged on his cheeks. Seeing this reminds you of your childhood years together where Chifuyu also had ice cream smeared over his face — the nostalgia of it making giggles roll off your tongue, earning a perplexed look from the vice captain of the first division.

“What are you laughing at y/n??” It only make you laugh harder as his whining reaches your ears.

“Nothing! It just reminds me of how we used to hang out at the same spot when we were younger, also eating ice cream whilst watching the sunset. You also had ice cream all over your face back then. I can still remember that cute ass look on your face ~”

“Come on, it’s in the past! Stop mentioning it y/n, I’m going to die from embarrassment before long. You better attend my funeral —“

“Cute and dramatic as ever Fuyu.” You give him a tap on the nose. “But you know what? I feel so glad that fate brought me to this adorable kid with ice cream all over his face back in the days, and I’m grateful for having you in my life Chifuyu.”

Poor boy almost suffers from a heart attack.

BAJI adores your duality; whether it is watching you coo over street cats or casually firing comebacks at his occasionally snarky remarks, he embraces both sides of your personality, thinking it is what makes you unique to him. Other than that, the teen finds himself drawn towards you for another reason. Being the motherly figure of Baji and his friends, you would always make sure they take care of themselves, chiding them gently whenever they neglect their health; it is something in which he values a lot — he might be known as one of the toughest fighters in the gang, but Baji is also a teenager at heart.

Whenever he needs to vent, you would be there to lend an ear; every time he falls ill, you would rush to his house with warm chicken soup and all the necessary medications to take care of him until he feels better (despite him telling you that he is capable of taking care of himself, which he isn’t). Occasionally Baji would show up outside your bedroom window bartered and bruised, and you would put aside the things you are doing at that moment to dress his wounds, giving him a nag on how he should prioritise his safety over anything else.

You are like a pseudo parental figure to Baji — his solace and anchor whenever life doesn’t go as what he expects; he could never ask for more from you, but deep down — the teen knows that people would eventually drift apart someday.

And a part of him wished this would last forever, that he could let down his walls and be the middle school Baji that yearns to be taken care of by nobody other than you.

The longer he’s spent time around you, the more the queer sensation in his gut stirs. Baji could feel his heartbeat becoming frenzied each time he is hanging out with you, and his usual confident facade would drop as the teen stutters over words. And being rather dense at the beginning, nothing dawned upon him until Mikey and the rest almost have to withhold the urge of bonking Baji in the head for not realising how he’s fallen head over heels for you, did he realise all of this is love after all.