#to put silly pins if she wants (might include pins might not...... have to consider.....)

[macroglossus]

one of the gift ideas my best friend gave me for her christmas present was a Tote Bag because i always use tote bags and she thought it might be nice to have one of her own. when asked about design she said "you know me you know what i like". i do know her and i do know what she likes mostly but there are a few issues:

-she does not typically carry purses and instead favors either small crossbody bags or backpacks. however a tote bag implies a certain size and i'm unsure a.) whether she'd be dissatisfied with a normal sized tote bag because it's much bigger than she's used to carrying or b.) whether she'd be dissatisfied with a smaller tote bag because she was expecting a normal sized one for toting around objects (as the name would in fact suggest)

-some of the things she likes privately she would not like on a very visible every day bag, for example overblown metaphors about pomegranates et cetera. or cats or things like that. there can of course be elements of cheesiness but to a degree where it comes off as self aware/ironic not fully just "i can't control myshelf bookshelf image" (Not that there's Anything Wrong With That it just is a requirement). the issue is that because i spend most of my time with her privately i'm not always aware of where this distinction lies

-i want to get her something sturdy/not dogshit quality so she can use it regularly and w/o having to worry about the straps ripping off, and i want it to have functional inner pockets. however: a.) she's vegetarian considering going vegan so no leather and b.) environmental concerns with faux leather. however most of the tote bags i see in a style i think she'd actually like are either made of one of those materials or of dogshit quality. there is one i've been considering but it's made of denim and i'm worried about the jurse accusations

-if i buy a plain totebag and paint a design on it she will accept it and say she loves it and she probably will be very touched by the gesture. however it will not serve the utilitarian function she intends for the bag and therefore derails the intended purpose and makes it more about like. the Thought that Counts. which i don't want

-i am genuinely willing to spend a solid amount of money on this but i am concerned that in fact i will get it wrong even if i land on something that somehow fits these requirements and then she'll feel bad because the bag is not to her taste but she'll have to use it anyway because she loves me and she doesn't want me to feel bad about not Understanding Her (WORST CASE SCENARIO)

[lostbutterflyutau]

Reflections

Note: This "missing scene," like all my Furuba fics, takes place in my headcanon in which all canon events still occur, but my OC is part of the story and things change a bit after the OG ending. Because I still consider it free real estate.

I'll explain various plot elements as needed. For this one, all you really need to know is that my OC plays a major role and it might help to read about her (HERE).

Also, this is my first time in a while writing for this fandom and participating in a fandom event, so hoping it goes alright.

(Didn't have time to give it to my beta before posting, so I apologise for any silly mistakes).

**** Prompt: Missing Scene

Timeline: Chapter 132/Season 3, Episode 12 (Before the Meeting) **** “You have really long eyelashes,” Shima complimented, gently brushing mascara over them.  

“Is that a good thing?” Akito asked, doing her best to keep still even as she spoke.

Shima already had to re-apply her eyeliner twice due to her not being used to the feeling and accidentally smearing it. But Akito couldn’t help it. She’d never had makeup put on her before. It was strange, just like her ensemble. And everything else that had happened in the past few weeks.

Even just a few months ago, she would have never thought of being friends with people like Tohru and Shima. In fact, Shima’s hair still irritated her at times, which she seemed to pick up on given how it was tied back now, or maybe that was just to keep it out of her face. Akito wasn’t sure, but also knew that it didn’t matter. She was just grateful for the help from both her new friend and the maids that had helped her dress.

“It is. They’re pretty.” Shima sat back, put the wand in the tube. “Now you just need some lipstick.”  

Akito didn’t respond, only watched as Shima turned to the small bag sitting at her side and pulled three tubes from it. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to such words being directed at her and wanted to protest, but she knew it was fruitless. Shima wasn’t one to backpedal on her words. She and Shigure had that in common. Besides, there were much more important things at hand.

While she didn’t say anything, Shima could tell from the look on Akito’s face that she felt awkward, which was more than understandable. Dressing up this way – hell, just being a girl in general –  was still a foreign concept to her. And, on top of that, she was about to go and reveal that fact – and more – to her former Zodiac.

Unfortunately, it was one of those rare occurrences where she was at a loss for what to say. As much as she hated admitting it, anything having to do with the inner circle was outside her understanding. Always had been. She’d been foolish enough to think she understood once, but recent events proved that she never really had. It was something she was still coming around to even as she decided to look ahead instead of behind her. So many things had happened and today was going to be the official start of a new path for all of them, including Akito.

“Definitely this one,” She decided, twisting open one of the tubes.

“What is that?” Akito asked, looking over the applicator in Shima’s hand. Though she knew very little about makeup, it still didn’t look like any lipstick she’d seen before.

“Liquid lipstick,” Shima explained, gently slid her hand underneath Akito’s chin and tipped her head up.

She applied the colour delicately, smiled at the finished result before putting the makeup aside and pulling out the headband holding Akito’s hair back, watching as her fringe fell into place. She then swept up the flowers and pins, moved over to the side to complete the final touch.

For a moment, neither spoke, unsure of what to say. Navigating this friendship was new for both of them, and Akito wasn’t sure what she could or couldn’t say or if Shima would even understand the weight on her heart. The one that she wasn’t sure she was even allowed to have after everything. But, on the other end, there was any one else she could talk to aside from Tohru, but she wasn’t here. Shima was. And being the sister of one previously possessed, she’d lived with the cloud of the curse much longer, albeit in a different way.

Finally, she took in a breath, decided to take her chance.  

“Shima?”

“Hm?” Shima murmured. It was the most she could muster with the pins in her mouth.

“Do you think this is even worth it?

Shima didn’t answer. Not right away. Instead, she kept her focus on the task at hand, contemplating her response as her hands worked. Despite having a vague idea of what Akito was asking, she still decided to ask as she pulled the final pin out of her mouth,

“Depends. What exactly is ‘it?’”

Akito flicked her eyes down to her hands, fiddled with the end of one of her sleeves. “This whole thing, I suppose. They have to know what happened. And after everything, would they even listen to what I have to say?”

Cautiously, Shima reached over, placed a hand over hers. “I think they will. Especially after you come in like this. Remind me. What did Gure say when he gave this to you?”

Keeping her eyes down, Akito recalled, “He said it was both a parting and a welcome gift. That I was leaving behind the person everyone wanted me to be and becoming a new me. Whoever that is.”  

Shima smiled. She knew the answer. Had it stuck in her head since Akito told her a few days prior. But she needed her to say it, hoping that if she did, she would start to believe his words.

“In other words, it’s an external representation of the internal.”

 At that, Akito finally looked up, her expression telling Shima that while she probably got the gist of what she meant, she still didn’t appreciate her use of writer speak.

“They can’t see the change in your heart,” Shima explained. “At least not yet. But by doing this, you can show them that you’re taking the first big step to becoming your authentic self.”

“But even with the ‘external,’ will they believe me?”

“I can’t speak for them, but I like to think that they would. Even if it takes time.” She shifted then, and despite knowing it was a risk, moved to wrap her arms around the smaller woman.

“And if it helps, I believe you.”  

Though it wasn’t the first time and far less shocking than the time Arisa Uotani had hugged her, Akito still wasn’t sure what to make of her affection. Reassuring, but not pitiful, just like her words. Shima knew she didn’t need anyone’s pity. Not anymore. So, as she reached up and gently squeezed Shima’s arm, Akito chose to believe she only wanted to let her know she was there. That there was one more person in her corner.

“Akito?” Another voice interrupted as the door slid open, the maid first blinking at the unusual sight before shaking it off and continuing as Shima returned to her previous position.  “Are you ready?”  

Akito sighed to herself. There was no turning back now. It didn’t matter if she was ready. The time had come to take the first step into a life that was truly her own and begin her atonement. Whether anyone would accept it or not, especially without the pull of the curse, was another question, but one she had to face.

It had never been a matter of whether she could do this. It was something she had to do. For them. And to a lesser degree, herself. And even after today, there would still be a long road ahead. One without the eternity she had been previously promised. A world full of strangers.  

“Hey.”

A faint whisper caught her attention and it, along with a gentle touch, brought her back to reality. She turned, saw in Shima’s eyes nothing but warmth and support – underserved, she thought, but earnest.

“You got this.”   

It was such a small, simple declaration, but something about it eased the tension stirring up inside her, making way for a wave of relief she hadn’t felt before now. While it didn’t shake off all her nerves, the thought that maybe the world wasn’t completely full of strangers and that she had a few people – including Shima – on her side was enough to make her finally stand.

Releasing another deep sigh, Akito took a step forward, the movement as firm as her reply.

“Ready as I’ll ever be."

[the1975attheirverybest]

Ok I'm done being sappy and I'm gonna start being slutty. I've had this enduring thought about Matty that I thought I would share with you. I just want him to be smoking weed next to me and I tell him I've never smoked before, and I get kinda shy because I've lived a pretty sheltered life (religious upbringing goes crazy). Basically one thing leads to another and he has me pinned against the wall, and he's trying to shotgun smoke into my mouth. He's playfully teasing me for being a square and it's really hot and ughhhhhhhh. I don't know why I want him to tease me, but I do. Something about him holding me still so I have to breathe it in (all consensual of course) and then teasing me during it. Sorry if this is weird, it has just been on my mind since black tank top night. That. night. changed. me.

-🦝

Bestie, I think black tank top Matty awakened so many humans’ sexualitiessss. I mean, myself included, and I’ve been a whore long before that.

BUT YES YES SHOTGUNNING SMOKE FROM MATTY IS A DREAM WE ALL SHARE!!!

He’d be walking around the house, in just comfy clothes, his baggy tee and some joggers. His curly hair is all over the place and he keeps running his hands through it. He lights one joint after another. And he’s just doing casual stuff with you and chatting and stuff. Then, he sees you eyeing the blunt.

“You want some?” He offers it to you without a second thought.

Your hand twitches, you almost take it cuz wouldn’t that be fun? But then your rational side kicks in. All these years of avoiding doing stuff like this makes it feel like an insane decision, though you know that others might think it’s dumb.

Matty watches the gears turn in your head, a bit puzzled.

“It’s okay, if you want it. I’ve got plenty more in the drawer over there.” He urges you, thinking that your hesitation is out of selflessness.

You blush and look away, biting your lower lip, and you just shake your head “no.”

“What’s the matter? Why not? Are you one of those ‘won’t put my lips on it cuz someone’s lips have already touched it’ kinda people? Cuz my lips have touched yours a million times, baby.”

You’re a bit embarrassed at this point, cuz he’s coming but with all sorts of reasons that don’t even consider your truth. So, you just blurt it out. “I’ve…never smoked weed before, okay?”

“I’m sorry, WHAT?!”

“Don’t make me say it again…” you roll your eyes.

“Not even once? Like at school or uni or something?”

“Mom always said weed was a gateway to harder drugs…so, no.”

“Wish I could disagree with your mom, but- you know my whole thing.” He laughs and gesticulates vaguely.

“No, I know she’s wrong. I just, you know. Never had the guts to act on this knowledge.”

“Well, then, you absolutely must take this one. Go on. Try it!” He offers it to you again. But you’re kind of overwhelmed and unsure.

A cheeky grin appears on his face. He’s absolutely delighted by all this. “I’m corrupting your innocence.”

“I’m far from innocent!”

“Okay, miss ‘I’ve never smoked a joint in my life’”

You can’t argue. It gets you all flustered. You want to take it from him, but you feel self-conscious and silly.

“Oh my god! You’re being such a princess. Here-“ he puts the joint between his lips and takes a long drag, keeping his lips sealed and holding the smoke in, his hands on your waist push you against the wall, holding you in place, as his lips crash against yours. He blows the smoke into your mouth.

The taste hits you. It’s new, and weird, and you’re not sure how to react. Plus, the firmness of his hold and swift actions has you a bit distracted.

“How’s that?” He laughs.

“Ummm…” you take a minute to take it all in.

“It’s not a riddle, you don’t have to think about it!”

“Think I like it?” You whisper shyly, a smile tugging at your lips.

“It’s okay honey, you can say it. Your mom and the devil can’t hear us here.”

You swat his chest, embarrassed.

“Well, if you liked it, let me show you this- open your mouth for me.”

He sticks one end of the joint in your mouth, between your teeth, the other in his. He takes a puff, blowing directly into your mouth. This one’s more intense. The smoke in your mouth stronger. Your eyes shoot open and it makes him laugh teasingly.

“So innocent. I had no idea you were such a good girl. Honestly, it’s kinda hot. C’mere.” He moves the joint out of the way to kiss you.

[yoondoze]

make a wish | jjk

jeongguk doesn’t know it, but his wish came true.

pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader

word count: 3.5k

genre: angst, best friend!au

warnings: mentions of sex, language

a/n: uhh been in a jeongguk mood recently, so i’m riding it out through writing angsty drabbles :’) this is lowkey unedited so shh

You’re sick of sharing birthdays with Jeon Jeongguk. 

Yeah, your perfectly timed entrance into this world on the same date was the basis of your friendship, but every year? It made sense when you were kids and had to invite the entire class to your parties since everyone had the same friends. But now you’re sixteen, and things are different. 

While the two of you have always been close friends, what with growing up around the block together and spending the dog days of summer crossing between the sandbox and the pool with one another, you also have put together your own separate friend groups at school. And now that all of them are here together, it’s an awkward intermingling of teenagers that don’t have much in common, other than that they all suddenly forget who they’re here for when they see an attractive person their same age. 

The only good thing about it is that Jeongguk invited his cute guy friends. Not here for you, per se, but the attention is all the same. Especially when it’s coming from Park Jimin. The way he wished you a happy birthday earlier was the most charming thing you’ve ever seen to date.

Jeongguk, bowl cut and all, is having the time of his life. The fact that its his 16th birthday doesn’t matter as much as the fact that it’s his birthday. He doesn’t feel much different like he thought he might. Maybe it is because every cool YA protagonist he ever idolized was saving the world at 16. By now, he’s decided that all the romanticized versions of teenage lives he’s been sold on up to this very moment is a scam. Nonetheless, he’s a simple boy. He’s just enjoying the time bowling with his friends.

 ...Until the moment he lays eyes on you.

The alley is dark, and though it obscures your features, he knows you well enough to see you’re upset. Your friends are barely hanging out with you, seeming to have left you behind for his friends, who coincidentally left him behind for yours. He also knows you compromised for this party. You wanted painting, envisaging a lovely evening with your companions, seated behind easels and letting your creativity flow onto a canvas. You were eight hours older and therefore the one in charge of making the decisions - it was a no-brainer, in your eyes.

But Jeongguk, never one to give in, insisted on bowling. Your parents were forcing a shared party again this year, and with how you eventually accepted that Jeongguk would throw a fit if he had to paint on his birthday, you reluctantly agreed under the obligatory condition that he invited his friend Jimin.

Who he was starting to hate, by the way. You gave more attention to the kid you were crushing on from history instead of the best friend you’d grown up with your entire life. Every time he saw you stare longingly at some stupid boy that was as mature as a cucumber, he wanted to scream that the real pickle was standing right in front of you!

Give him a break. It’s the only analogy his sixteen year old mind can think of. 

The caring boy he is, he walks over to where you sit solemnly by yourself. All you’ve been doing for the past five minutes is tapping your feet to the overplayed pop music flooding the joint and continuously picking at your fingers - an unquestionably fantastic time. He shoves out his hand for you to take, which you willingly do in hopes for a cure for your boredom, and he drags you over to his lane. The way you roll your eyes at his enthusiasm only makes him like you more. That’s because it’s always accompanied by a fond smile, and he loves to see your dimples.

He’d never tell you, though. He’d definitely never tell his mom, because he knows she’d get too eager and tell your mom, and then she’d tell you. His mom has been rooting for the two of you since day one. She always was saying things like, “I’m not letting you date anyone unless it’s Y/N,” or, “I can’t wait until you and Y/N go to prom!” 

At one point he wondered if he actually liked you or if it was the result of his mom’s wishes manifesting into real life after such diligence. He has since then accepted his feelings as his own, but won’t deny how the ideas sometimes made his cheeks flush.

In the time since the party has started, your “friends” have disappeared to the bathroom twice. His friends are over getting snacks without him, but it doesn’t upset him anymore. He didn’t really want their company anyway. It’s just the two of you, how it’s always been, and how he wanted it from the start.

“Watch, watch, okay?” He says, excitement dripping off every syllable. He figures he can maybe lift your mood if his is high enough to share some with you.

“Okay, I’m watching!” you exclaim. Jeongguk swells as he watches your cheeks bounce.

He seats you behind the machine and hurries to pick up a fourteen-pound ball swirled with blue and purple.

Now that he actually has to do it, Jeongguk’s heart races just a little bit. He just doesn’t want to embarrass himself, that’s all. His skills have improved from practice and the bowling team at school and it would suck if he screwed up. Especially considering that the reason he was so certain about a bowling party was so he’d have the chance to show off to you. But then he thinks it might make you laugh if he embarrasses himself, so his reassurance is that it’ll be a win either way.

He takes a deep breath. He draws back skillfully and with four purposeful steps, his right foot slips behind him and his arm swings fluidly toward his target. The ball hits the waxed floor rolling. The tension in his body is stiff as it heads right toward the pins, and boom! All ten fall in a domino effect, the rough clattering echoing in the alley. A perfect strike. 

His fists pump into the air as his chest fills with pride. He spins on his heels, eyes sparkling as he hopes to find a smile on your face when he gets there -

But you’re not even paying attention. His ecstatic expression falls as quickly as his spirit does. Your head is turned from him, and when he follows your gaze, it lands on none other than fucking Park Jimin. There’s a subtle smile resting on your lips as you focus on his mindless laughter as opposed to Jeongguk’s imposing strike. Jimin is standing at the controls of a claw machine, working the joystick as his friends direct him to grab some stupid inflatable basketball the size of his palm. If it were Jeongguk, he’d go for the plush bear in the machine over and get it for you in one try.

“C’mon guys!” Your mom yells, breaking you from your infatuated stare. “Cake!”

The boys give up on their escapade and the girls magically apparate back from their fifteen minute long bathroom break. Thrilled jeers and whoops sound from everyone now filtering into the party room, somehow more excited about it than the birthday boy and girl themselves.

As you get up from your seat, you meet Jeongguk’s eyes with a quick raise of your brows, oblivious to the fact you just obliterated his heart without saying a single word. Then he’s trailing behind you, brushing his hair from his face with a sigh while everyone gathers around the table and lets you take your place at the head.

Amidst the singing and the cheers from your peers, Jeongguk can’t stop himself from glancing over to you. Right away, he knows the smiles you’re tossing out to your friends are forced. He regrets having this party in the first place. He hates seeing you disappointed and upset. He’ll choose painting any day if it means you won’t be like this.

You, on the other hand, are trying to get a peek of Jimin at every second possible. You can make out his voice among the others while singing. It’s just happy birthday, but his voice is actually really pretty, so you jot it down to reference in your next day dream.

“Make a wish!” 

He thinks hard, imagining everything he could want at this point in his life. The spot for team captain, to ace his next Chemistry test, for a new bike. But wishing for something like that seems silly when he already knows what he really wants. 

A big breath of air - “special for your 16th!” - and the two of you are blowing out the candles. One is all it takes for each of the waving flames to flicker out.

Jeongguk wishes that you’ll like him back.

You wish that Jimin will like you back.

☆☆☆ 

In retrospect, maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to shift your relationship with Jeongguk into something more than platonic friends. At this point, he’d call it friends with benefits. You’d call it getting your heart ripped out every time he dialed your number. Even worse, it was undeniably voluntary.

It was an awkward start. Both of you got drunk one night in his apartment, sitting on the cold tile of the kitchen floor, started asking heavy, slurred questions, and maybe admitted, “yeah, I’d fuck you,” on a whim. And then maybe you did just that.

It was supposed to be a one-time event. A weird moment in your timeline of friendship that you’d agree on forgetting. Something that you both would pretend never happened so things wouldn’t change.

However, Jeongguk’s life had been a roller coaster recently. He moved to the city with the intention of freedom only for things to get more complicated. His career was struggling, his girlfriend broke up with him, his friends barely spoke to him anymore. 

So it was just you and him again, like it had always been. You were the only one who still visited, who still called, who still cared. That’s what friends are for. Help when times are rough and be there when needed. That’s your part of the deal. 

Sex isn’t always included in said deal, but it is this time around. 

It’s not much different. You come over for a regular movie night like you used to, but sometimes it ends up in his bedroom, that’s all. To him, anyway. You’re not sure how he hasn’t caught on yet. He’s so preoccupied that he probably chalks your racing pulse up to being horny, or interprets the emotion in your kisses as neediness. The way you hold onto him or say his name as pleasure.

It’s that endless love you have for him taking its many forms. It’s dropping off extra meals to stick in the fridge and checking in to make sure he isn’t beating himself up to the point where he can’t get out of bed. It’s also letting him fuck you when he needs to feel something. 

He’s just in a rut. He just needs some time to get his life together and figure shit out. And from there it’ll be peaches and cream. When his life is on the upturn, he’ll realize you’re the one who’s always been there and who always will be, and then he’ll fall in love with you too. You’re not scared, you’re just helping your best friend through a tough time. But then he’s panting, rolling off you to take a shower right after.

It stings every time. Even when you think it will be different.

At the end of the day, if it makes him feel better, you’ll endure it a thousand times over. On a bright side that’s not all that bright, for the moments you spend intertwined, you can at least pretend he’s yours. You can imagine it’s just another hot night shared in your apartment as you live out your dreamy domestic couple’s life. It sometimes seems that way with how much you take care of him, but he’d never see it as anything more than platonic.

Jeongguk knows you love him, of course, but he doesn’t know the extent it reaches. He doesn't know that your heart shatters every time he gives you a kiss on the cheek and says he loves you. He doesn’t know that when you say it back, you don’t mean just as friends. He doesn’t know you’d drop everything and run if he asked you to. You didn’t even know it for a while. Because falling in love with Jeongguk is slow and comes day by day without realizing, until suddenly you’re stuck neck deep without an inkling in your mind of trying to escape. It’s a gentle, spellbinding bloom you wouldn’t trade for the world.

From this view on his bed, you can see a glimpse of his figure behind the foggy glass of his upright shower. You tug your t-shirt back on for some modesty as if it still matters, swallowing down the tightening in your throat. If he feels your eyes lingering on him, he doesn’t show it. For whatever reason, watching him wash his face in small circles makes your stomach sink inexplicably.

Jeongguk at the fresh age of twenty-one is a lot different than Jeongguk at sixteen. Gone is the bowl cut, in comes long wavy hair that hangs in front of his face, always seeming to fall perfectly to frame his features. His shoulders broadened along with his horizons. His personality hasn’t changed, but it’s easy to think it has with the dark cloud that seems to follow him wherever he walks nowadays. You never realized how cute his dimples were until they started showing less and less.

You toy with the idea of maybe just confessing tonight. Get it off your chest once and for all. It would save you a lot of heartbreak, but you can already picture yourself sputtering it out for tense silence to fill the air, and for you to walk out and never come back. You can’t decide if it’s really worth risking when he’s the only thing you’ve got. There are a myriad of directions your life could take, but you wouldn’t want a single one without him in it, even if it crushes you.

A deep sigh escapes you. It’s your birthday today - shouldn’t you be enjoying it instead of being so morally torn?

How is it that you had him so close for so many years yet still missed your chance?

The memory of wishing for Jimin’s returned affection as a teenager resurfaces and makes you wince. While he did end up liking you back, it was a mess of a relationship that left you moping back to Jeongguk after just a few months. It should have been obvious back then that it was him all along.

He was always right in front of you, doting on you, leaving his everlasting mark on your life without even meaning to. Charming and humble and telling jokes to make you laugh rather than to make you think he was funny, being kind out of the purity of his character rather than to be rewarded. Apologizing to ants when he had to kill them and then sulking the rest of the night, learning to braid your hair while watching movies, listening to your every rant and ramble with the utmost attention as if it was the only thing that mattered to him.

Then it hits you that it’s not just about you and never was. It’s Jeongguk’s birthday today, too. You wished it to each other when you walked through the door, but that’s not a celebration, and neither is sex. You’re reminded that your job is to be a friend regardless of how you feel because you know he’d do the same, and good friends wouldn’t spend your special day wallowing in their own self-pity.

With renewed vigor, you’re pushing yourself off the bed and padding out to his sorry excuse for a kitchen. There’s barely enough space to move around comfortably and you can’t imagine how he does it on a daily basis. The view beyond the counter-top and out the balcony connected to the living room is beautiful, though. It’s miles upon miles of shining lights and skyscrapers that embrace the velvet dusk of the sky. That’s broke city living, you suppose. You flick on the light, dim but just enough to see. 

His cabinets are an absolute mess. There’s no organization to it at all, no method to the madness. It’s blatant even from the unsteady view on your tippy toes. You catch sight of some peanut butter, bags of chips, packets of ramen, a box of cinnamon frosted pop tarts…

You almost lose your balance as you shift everything around, but the feeling of joy when you see that signature box is indescribable. It’s exactly what you need. 

The blue and white packaging of the Hostess CupCakes has been opened, and considering it was sitting at the back of the top shelf, probably forgotten about. However, you’re sure it’ll be enough for him.

You find the lighter fairly easily, pulling open all the drawers out and rummaging through them. As expected, there’s no organization either. Measuring cups and pens in one, scissors and a single oven mitt in another. It’s the third and final drawer you tug open to find something to possibly substitute what you’re looking for.

Not that you expected him to have birthday candles lying around, but you didn’t think you’d be using an old red crayon in ones place. It’ll make do. It has to, considering that the noise of Jeongguk shutting off the shower is already reverberating off the walls. It won’t be much of a surprise if he walks out here and asks what you’re doing before you can even finish.

With delicate fingers, you press the end of the crayon into the cake just enough for it to stay upright. The lighter takes a couple tries, as does getting the wax to melt down enough to reach the paper, but eventually a small glowing flame takes shape. Flickering orange and everything you need it to be. You can’t put your finger on why your eyes start to tear up when you look at it, but then Jeongguk is calling your name.

“One sec! Just sit down,” you say loudly, ready to shout at him to stay back if you hear a creaky foot step coming your way.

“...Why?”

“Just do it!”

“Alright, alright.” He surrenders, the weariness coating his tongue one that you hope you can wash away within the next few seconds. “I am sitting.”

Hands as stable as an anchor, you slide the cupcake into your palms and walk carefully so as to not put out the dwarfed blaze. You turn your back to push open the door with and glide into the room with an atypical but much appreciated vivacity.

His eyes widen and an open mouthed smile tweaks at his lips as he perches at the edge of the bed. The flame is already halfway down the paper, but he seems impressed with your extempore candle. It’s the only source of light in the room, and his face underneath the gentle glimmer is a sight that you know you’ll lock away forever to look back on with adoration.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you...” you begin to sing, not bothered with the worry of embarrassment. Your lawless, flimsy tone elicits a bubbly laugh from Jeongguk. Suddenly, the bright Gguk you grew up beside returns, the one you love more than ever.

“Happy birthday dear Jeongguk-”

His voice harmonizes with yours, but he sings your name instead of his. He doesn’t even have to try for it to rattle you to your core. Your name off his tongue is by far the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

“Happy birthday to you.”

You extend your arms out so he can take in the makeshift festivity for all it is. His damp side-swept bangs reflect the pale gleam like black gossamer, and his eyes swimming with sentimentality.

“Make a wish,” you say, suppressing the wild flutter of your heart.

Jeongguk cups his hands under yours, pushing them back until the cupcake is equidistant to the both of you.

He says it firmly, not to be argued with. “No, together.”

You pretend to wipe the sweat from your forehead, thinking of what you might want this year. A job opportunity, to win the lottery, an easier semester at school. You don’t have to ponder for long. How could you, when what you really want has been sitting patiently at the forefront of your mind for almost a year?

Jeongguk sighs. If he could have anything in the world right now, what would it be?

In unison, you suck in a deep breath and close your eyes. You blow with all your might, extinguishing the flame together in one as the room falls dark again.

You wish that Jeongguk will like you back.

Jeongguk just wishes that life will get easier.

[thestarsoutofyourwindow]

 11th Doctor x Reader - “If you don’t hold me now I think might just fall apart.”

Authors note: I tried my best to keep this in character- so if this is lacking in a story, that’s because I was a little hesitant to write a climax just in case I got it a little off. The gif isn’t mine, obviously. Crickets, this took a long time, so you BeTTeR aPPreCiaTe It. Just kidding, but I hope you enjoy it, even a little bit!

Now, it’s five am so I better go write some fifth Doctor now :)))

Feel free to tell me if i could improve anything or what you liked or whatever!

Word count: 1,719

Includes: Slight (?) angst, mentioning of being left by the Doctor (just prep yourself)

Requested by: @yourneighbourhoodclown, it won't let me tag them for some reason, so we will have to pretend.

“Where's your adventurous spirit!?" The Doctor giggles, pulling a lever on the TARDIS console, the entire ship convulsing as she dematerializes. His attention wavered between looking at you and the TARDIS.

"Urgh, god knows with all the-" Another lurch cut you off. "Focus on driving before you get us killed."

"Make me," He shouted over to you, running his fingers through his hair, with a smile that could only be described as a shit-eating grin.

Your stomach and eyes rolled in synchronization as the TARDIS jerked about, "I won't get half the chance. You'd think you'd get used to being thrown around in this- BOX- Urg. It doesn't help you're not a very good driver."

"Oi! I am too!" The Doctors scowled for a few moments, but you were to distracted with how your stomach swirled. Yet again the moment was interrupted by you being thrown into the railing.

"Of course you are, dear." You taunted him.

"Oh, this is gonna be a rough one-!" The Doctor cackled, smiling up at TARDIS console.

"Just like you to show your 'adventurous spirit'." You mocked, rolling your eyes and jabbing your elbow into his side. He glanced at you and furrowed his eyebrows; just as the rain started to pour down on you two. You had found yourselves in a seemingly endless forest, engulfed in an unsettling atmosphere. You just so happened to materialize in a clearing with a convenient dirt pathway littered with branches and bushes, which appeared to lead to some curiosity-sparking warm lights, bare pinpricks in the distance.

You knew the Doctor would want to investigate. You weren't particularly bothered, as long as you had the Doctor by your side.

"Oi you," The Doctor grinned at that, glancing at you then back out to the vast forest, then turned to look at you. "Umbrella?" You asked. He smirked and he pulled one of those large umbrellas, that people have to carry around like a staff or walking stick, yes one of those, out of his pocket. He played with the umbrella-like a sword, thrusting the umbrella and mocking a few blocks. You put your hand on his shoulder and he paused, looking over at you.

"Right, yes-" The Doctor opened the umbrella, which was a lot bigger than most umbrellas, swinging it up and resting it on his shoulder. He held his arm out for you, inviting you under the umbrella with a wink. You stepped under the umbrella, and he draped his arm over your shoulders as the both of you started the brisk walk towards the alluring lights.

Upon reaching the Cabin, which was more like a small mansion -still massive for the one person who lived there yet almost exclusively in the library, you met an old woman with a quaint affinity with voodoo and witchcraft (not the horrible sort though, she seemed quite friendly, if a little odd).

"You know, it doesn't help that every wall here is painted with get out." The Doctor stated, gesturing to the wall with a slight nod.

"I'm sorry?" The old, witch-like woman asks. The Doctor gestured to the wall, his face squished up, his eyes searching yours for confirmation.

"You don't see that?" He tensed, pulling out the sonic from his jacket and scanning the wall, and then you and the woman. He checked it and you could almost pin the moment his jaw went slack.

"Y-you have been marked-" The old witch sputtered. Your blood ran cold when you heard that. The Doctor, who was standing just next to you, brushed his fingers against yours, seemingly in search of contact- comfort. You curl your fingers around his, not taking your eyes off the woman.

"What do you mean marked?" You ask, after a few too many moments of silence. The woman seemed to snap out of a trance and

turns around, rushing back to her library nook.

"He- he is doomed. The Beast himself has left his mark."

"You keep saying that, but what does that mean, ma'am?" You only asked out of concern. You gave the Doctors hand a squish of comfort. It wasn't uncommon for the Doctor to hold hands with you, so you didn't consider that to be particularly weird

"Your husband here-" The lady starts, shakily flipping through the book she had picked up.

"Oh no, we're not even-" You shake your head.

"He spoke of, writing- on the walls. That's always the first step. He will be contaminated by the beast- you and me, we're in danger."

"Of course it had to be me..." the Doctor mutters, staring into nowhere. You could nearly see his fear, the smallest hint of anticipation in his eyes. This will be... something.

"What's going to happen to me?" He asked.

"It will take your mind, turn it against you, and twist you to madness. You will then kill us." The woman shook her head, looking out of the window with a solemn pout. "It has happened before and it will happen again. If you will excuse me, I need to protect the rest of this planet." She scurried off, a little satchel being yanked off a counter, knocking a few candles and unburnt sage sticks and other oddities, some less recognizable.

"Wait, no don't-" The Doctor called after her, but she had already left. "Urgh."

As soon as she had left, you briskly walked over to where she was stood, investigating the book she was flipping through so religiously, all the while handing in hand with the Doctor. You moved your hand from his so you could flip the pages of the book, but his hand only grabbed at your sleeve.

"Basically, uh..." You mutter, whilst consulting the page of the apparently gospel book, "Give me a heads up if start to feel any murderous tendencies." You chuckled flatly.

Let's say, the two of you weren't particularly keen on remembering what happened. Or talking about it. But you could tell something was weighing down on him. You could also bet on your life what it might be.

The two of you were standing in the medbay, just a few hours after you had found your ways back to the TARDIS. Your  "escape" wasn't something you were proud of. Both of you had tried, and succeeded in a way, to forget about it as best you could. The unforgettable part was, of course, the fact that, after being hooked up to a machine that literally connected you to satan themself. The Doctor said that "that was a very silly idea and to never do that again, also you might have slowed your ageing by like, 10000% but that's here or there you were literally connected to satan are you good". Well maybe not that exactly but that's the general point.

That was almost too convenient, you thought to yourself. Almost like you were in a romantic fanfiction or something stupid like that. There's nobody better to look after an old time lord like a human that might never age or die if you were careful enough.

The two of you are still in the medbay, and you were just putting a plaster/band-aid on the side of The Doctors' chin when he broke the silence with a classic:

"I- I could've killed you." The doctor states, staring into nothing. "Me! The Doctor... You're my best friend and I could've-"

"Hey. Shhh." You whisper, caressing his cheek with your hand, placing your other hand on his shoulder. "It's alright. I'm alright, and most importantly, you're okay too."

The Doctor's eyes tear up. You tilt his head up and look him in the eye. Oh god, how those big sad eyes make your heart wrench. Despite that, you gave your best reassuring smile. "I'm here. I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere."

A raspy sob forces its way out of his throat and his entire body leans into yours. "Hold me." He whimpered into your shoulder. "if you don't hold me now," the doctor sniffles and takes a deep breath, "I think I might just fall apart."

You do just that.

You hold him close, and you don't let go. You have to lean forward a little because the Doctor is sat on a bed, but you don't mind that, you're more focused on rubbing circles on his back and running your fingers through his hair. He tugs you towards him- and you're stood very awkwardly, but you still hug him back; you feel the hot tears practically burning into your shirt.

"It's alright, isn't it?" You ask. The Doctor nods his head frantically in response. "Exactly. It's a-okay. Bad times happen and it's hard to forgive yourself, but always try to remember that I'm here, Doctor. If you can't forgive yourself, I'll forgive you. As much as you might hate it, you're stuck with me now, Doctor." You finish playfully, ruffling his hair again, and going back to curling it around your fingers.

He mumbles something to you through tears, but you don’t quite believe what you heard.

“I love you.” The Doctor sniffles again. “I’m so sorry, but I love you. I know you won’t- you couldn’t ever love me back, not in this way but- I can’t lose you.” He sobs again, his grip tightening on you.

“I love you too.”

Well. For the rest of your years, no matter how many that is, the two of you, no matter what happens, no matter how many people leave, there would always be a constant for the two of you in each other's arms.

In any other circumstance, you’d be thrilled. But right now, you’re terrified. You didn’t want to lose him either, but you knew it wouldn’t be above him to leave you being on earth, in order to ‘protect’ you. Which you and I know, it bloody well wouldn’t. But what you heard next settled your nerves, yet upset you.

“Please... please don’t leave me. Please, please, please, please, please...” The Doctor keeps repeating that, over and over like a broken record.

“I won’t I promise, on anything and everything. Like I said, you’re stuck with me and I love you so, and now I know you love me too I’m not exactly about to bugger off now am I?”

He really thought you’d leave him.

You wouldn't concider it. Not even for a second.

[embyrinitalics]

Calamiversary: Link’s POV I

So keep in mind when I wrote these scenes that Calamitous was still written in third, so flipping to first felt super edgy. 😂 I did read recently that using first with very flawed/troubled characters is more interesting, and I think that’s evident in these. Like, it’s way more interesting than listening to Zelda in the main fic lol.

Also, I wrote these before all the big revisions, so the scenes probably won’t line up in the dialogue the way they used to. STILL, these exercises helped me get to know Link better as a character, and hopefully you’ll get a kick out of them too (in all their unedited glory 🤦🏻‍♀️)!

There’s a lot of these scenes so I’m breaking it up into two posts. Below the cut is about 1.9k words worth. OK BAI.

  Awakening

I breathe deep of familiar air as I reform from the smoke and light pouring out of the fissure. It’s cold and sweet, carried down into the valley from distant plateaus. My blood pounds hotter at the recognition of it, and I steel myself to ignore the allure it holds. I know death will be my only release now.

My heightened senses register four incoming attacks with a thrill, and I regain my focus, choking out the desire to crush them with my bare hands. I rebuff their assaults one at a time, reining my power with some effort. Part of me revels in how easily I cast them aside, how breakable they are—the part of me that I must never feed, but that’s too dangerous to ignore entirely.

Then I see her: power ebbing off her in waves, her body emitting pulses of brilliant light. I want to bask in the splendor of her, so different and yet so familiar. I crush that longing, letting the monster in me react in case I’m not strong enough to do it alone. In an instant I’m facing her, holding her at bay with a power she was never meant to overcome. I can taste her fear as she registers my resistance, heady and intoxicating.

I reach for the source of her light and smother it.

  Applean Woods

I take her to Applean, knowing the others won’t be able to follow for some time, and wait for her to regain her strength. She’s spattered in firelight, her expression placid, and she looks so much like the Zelda I knew—too much like her. I know she isn’t the same woman, but I feel the same draw, the same devotion to her. I know I have to protect her no matter the cost to myself. It almost makes the thought of what’s coming bearable.

I stroke her cheek without thinking, and she surges to life, sending power and light flailing in all directions. The monster in me roars in response, so powerfully I nearly falter. I force myself to tame it first, afraid of what I might do to her if I don’t. She’s strong, but she’s also scared and disoriented. Overpowering her isn’t difficult.

“Don’t do that again,” I growl after I have her pinned to my chest. I can feel her pulse, rapid and bright, rushing beneath her skin, appealing to my two halves for two different reasons. I deny us both, dropping her to her hands and knees and moving to reignite the fire she put out.

“What do you want with me?” she demands, and she reminds me again of a woman who’s been dead for 10,000 years. “I won’t cooperate.”

Definitely too much like her.

“I’ll accomplish what I set out to do alone, if I must,” I insist, but I know the odds of plunging the Sword into my own chest and managing to contain and outlive the Calamity on my own are marginal at best. “Though it would be easier with a second set of hands.”

She’s confused, of course. She obviously has no idea what I am. In a way, that makes it easier; in a way, that makes it harder.

“I don’t—”

“Is the Sword in the Great Hyrule Forest?” I interrupt, suddenly in a hurry to get this over with.

“What?”

“The Sword,” I repeat, trying not to think of everything finding it will mean for me. “The Blade of Evil’s Bane. Does it still rest in the Lost Woods?”

“You wish to destroy it,” she accuses me quietly. Silly girl.

“I don’t know that such a thing is even possible,” I wonder aloud, intrigued by the idea. But that’s beside the point. It has to be in the Woods, because the hero’s spirit could hardly be reborn if it’s still alive in me. “It has no wielder.”

“No. You didn’t leave us a choice.”

I smirk in spite of myself. She’s right about that, more than she knows. “I suppose not.”

“You still haven’t answered me. I demand to know why you’ve brought me here.”

So, so much like her.

“You’re hardly in a position to be making demands, Your Highness,” I point out, and her cheeks flush a bit, betraying that streak of temper I know too well. I leave my seat by the fire and crouch near her, appealing to her love of her kingdom. It’s stronger in her than her love for anything else, as I am painfully aware. “If you do as I say, you will destroy me. With any luck, the pall of the Calamity will never fall over Hyrule again. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

She considers my proposal fleetingly, and even though I know the reply is coming, that it’s deserved, that it’s better this way, it still hurts to hear it out loud. “I can’t trust you.”

“I’m not asking for your trust,” I scoff. How could I ever ask for her trust, when I don’t trust myself? When a single lapse on her part or mine could cost us everything, including her own life? No. Trust is out of the question. “Only your obedience.”

That accursed stubbornness of hers rears its pretty little head, her lip turning down just a bit. “If I don’t trust you—”

I can’t allow her to even suggest that I can earn it, for either of our sakes. I reach out, brushing her soft lips, the smooth line of her jaw, the swell of her cheekbone, knowing what my touch, harboring the evil of the Calamity, must be doing to her. I’ve felt it myself once, countless lifetimes ago, as the Calamity entered my body. I know I feel like that now, because she feels so unnaturally warm on my sensitive fingertips, so full of life and light it nearly burns.

“Does this feel like the touch of someone you can trust?” I ask rhetorically, and I feel her tremble under my hands. “That icy, numbing sensation of evil, trapped in this skin, grating on your nerves and pulling the warmth from your body and putting knots in your stomach, that urge to recoil that you can’t quite obey—that is the warning from the gods.” I can taste her fear growing, tantalizing and seductive, as I sweep the pad of my thumb along her full bottom lip, and I know I’m doing the right thing. She needs to fear me, as I fear myself. “You cannot trust me.”

  The Lost Woods

I could feel the mist, uninhibited, stroking the skin at the nape of my neck, and I bristled. The hallucinations would be quick on its heels. She had already been feeling the effects; a small gasp or a sudden change in her pace betrayed the way the woods were starting to torment her. But it was going to get much worse, and there was nothing I could do to protect either of us.

I’d already seen her—a ghost of who she once was, untouchable, ethereal, drifting through the trees like a specter. She’d been alight in moonglow, wraithlike, hauntingly graceful. But not now. Now she was fleshly, a healthy flush of color in her cheeks, looking so real. So vulnerable. Her eyes met mine, and I saw the recognition in them. Then they widened with fear, and she was pulled away into a distant darkness before she could make a sound.

I closed my eyes, trying to still my galloping heart. I turned slowly to check on Zelda—the real Zelda, the one who was alive right now—but the mist had separated us, and I cursed under my breath.

I heard a scream, and I closed my eyes again reflexively, fear coiling in my throat. I swallowed, trying to wet it. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to look, to be plagued by whatever vision the woods had in store for me. I wanted to pray, I wanted to ask the Goddesses to spare me this. But they wouldn’t listen to a prayer from the Calamity.

I couldn’t just stand there with my eyes closed and hope that Zelda would stumble across me. She would lose herself here without me to guide her. So I opened my eyes.

Another scream tore out of her, and I recoiled from the grisly scene, blood and adrenaline pounding through me. The worst part was the way the monster in me reacted—that submerged, suppressed part of me that was enticed by it, that wanted to look closer. That smiled.

It was me. I was crouched over her, animalistic, tearing at the gaping wound I’d opened across her torso with my teeth, too numerous and sharpened to a hundred razor-sharp points.

I was eating her alive.

She screamed again as I ripped into her, her body lurching as I wrenched at the cavity. And she just wouldn’t die. Her clothes were drenched in so much crimson and torn to shreds, and her face was contorted in anguish and terror. I tore into her again and again, her broken figure jerking and lifting as I pulled at her.

My conflicted nature came to the fore. Part of me was in agony. Part of me was laughing. Like a dam, distressed and buckling under the weight of rising floodwaters, something in me broke open.

With a snarl, I let my power pour out of me, giving it free rein in a way that I was too fearful to before. In that moment I didn’t care if the woods burst into flames, or if I drowned Hyrule with my hate. I just reacted.

I was just lost.

The mist barreled away from me in a great dome, letting the sunlight in. The vision was gone. I could breathe. In the clarity that followed I felt for Zelda’s presence and sent my power cascading towards her, opening a canyon through the fog. She spotted me as the sunlight washed over her, and she ran towards me, her expression full of relief. She’s so stupid. So am I.

She fisted her hands in my tunic, catching her breath as the mist encircled us again. I wanted to pull her into my arms. I wanted to hold her close and protect her from this place. I wanted to tell her everything I’ve seen and everything I am and beg her to take pity on me and put an end to this because I just couldn’t go on anymore—Goddesses, I couldn’t do this anymore.

But I was barely in control. My power was still flying through my veins, threatening to burst out of me at any moment and do incomprehensible damage. My heart was still pounding. I cautiously put my hands on her shoulders, hoping the contact would calm me a little. It did; her warmth under my hands grounded me, helping me shunt reality into the forefront of my mind and block the visions out.

“I don’t have as much courage as I thought,” she whispered.

She had no idea what she was saying. She was so, so brave, so young but so capable, standing on the brink of her power with all the potential in the world. She was beautiful and wonderful, and she was going to be an amazing queen someday. She embodied everything I loved about my Zelda.

I almost told her. I was almost that weak. But then I swallowed it and told her the truth instead.

“Neither do I.”

[gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights]

Summary:  Marinette had replayed the video enough times. She'd know Adrien's voice saying those three words anywhere. (Set the same day as the episode Felix.  Reveal Fic.  Rated T for kissing, ignores Chat Blanc mostly because my heart can’t take the angst right now.)

~~~

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

“I lo—”

Tikki’s tiny butt sat on the video’s pause button, freezing Adrien’s lips in a perfect o.  

“Marinette, you need to get ahold of yourself.”

Marinette was sure her complexion matched her kwami’s as she dropped her face onto her desk.  “I knoooooow.”

She was being ridiculous.  More ridiculous than usual, anyway.  But something about those words did more than just make her stomach flutter—it felt familiar, though it was probably just from her daydreams.  If he’d told her he loved her before, there was no way she’d forget it.

Her thumb instinctively moved to replay the last five seconds again.  Tikki flew into the small space between her and the phone screen, catching the digit between her arms.

“This is an intervention,” she said in her most authoritative voice.  Considering it was still two octaves higher than the average humans, it shouldn’t have had much effect, but Marinette hated disappointing Tikki.  She was her friend, the only one she could be completely honest with.

And Tikki was pretty good about being honest with her, too.  If the kwami thought Marinette needed an intervention, she was probably right.

“Fine.” Marinette spun in her desk chair, intending to pull out some butcher paper and start drafting a pattern in the few hours before patrol tonight.  It wasn’t likely that Hawkmoth would akumatize two people in one day—or four, considering it had been three for the price of one thanks to Felix’s stunt—but Chat had sounded a little desperate when he asked if they could still meet up.  She hoped he hadn’t planned another impromptu date.  She didn’t know if she could handle that after finding out that yet another one of her plans to confess to Adrien had fallen through, this time through no fault of her own.

Would he have said I love you back to her if it weren’t for his cousin’s interference?  They’d gotten so much closer lately, but…

“I’m not good with jokes.  The girl I’m in love with doesn’t like them, either.”

That she didn’t need a recording to replay.  It was embedded in her memory, like a deep splinter she couldn’t dig out.

He might say he loved her, as a friend.  But beyond that?  She was just setting herself up for disaster.

“Marinette?” Tikki asked.  “Do you need some help with the paper?”

She shook her head, almost whacking it on the desk leg as she scrambled for her supply box beneath.  “No, I got it. You can grab the measuring tape, though.”

She was finally going to mock up the pattern for an airy sundress she’d spent the last week sketching out. Nothing would take her mind off of her troubling love life like the single-minded focus of a personal project.

It worked a little too well, though.  Between drafting each piece, cutting the paper, pinning it to the cheap test fabric, cutting the fabric, pinning the pieces to each other—she barely managed to stop herself from starting the actual sewing when Tikki held up her phone.

On top of a group selfie of her, Adrien, Alya, and Nino, the clock showed 9:29.  Patrol started at 9:30

“Ack!  I’m going to be late!”  She jabbed herself at least ten times getting her pins all back in the pincushion.  Everything else could wait, but she didn’t want to swing in and catch one in her foot later.

“Tikki, spots on!”

By the time she swung across town to the Eiffel Tower, her bugphone read 9:35.  Record time, but still late. So where was…?

“Little kitty on a roof, all alone without his lady…”

The familiar tune was more downcast than Marinette was used to.  Sure enough, when she swung up a few crossbars to Chat Noir’s perch, she caught a flash of his forlorn expression before his usual grin took over.

“Hey there, Bugaboo,” his voice chirped as chipper as ever.  Had she been imagining his earlier mood?  Or maybe he’d just been worried she wouldn’t make it.  Silly kitty.  Regardless of whether or not she returned his feelings, she’d vowed to never stand him up again if she could help it.

“Any trouble on the way over?”  He asked.

“Only with myself,” she admitted, rubbing the still-stinging pads of her fingers.  She probably should’ve put some ointment on them before transforming; the suit irritated the little pricks further.  “Civilian me is still as much of a mess as ever.”

She’d hoped that by dropping non-identifying clues on how much she struggled in her daily life, Chat Noir would see through the perfect illusion he had of her and come to his senses.  Honestly, she should’ve known better.  It hadn’t worked the first ten times she’d tried, and now it only brought a wider smile to his face.

(That wasn’t why she did it, of course.  Even if it warmed her more than she wanted to admit, she only had feelings for one green-eyed blond.)

“The only mess you make is a mess of my heart, my lady,” he said with a wink that had her rolling her eyes.

“How do you even come up with those lines?” She asked with a stifled laugh—at how bad it was, not because he was actually funny. “The internet?”

“I’m paw-fended,” he gasped, claws spread in front of his mouth dramatically.  “I’ll have you know that everything I say is a one-hundred-percent Chat Noir original.”

“Of course.  I should’ve known.  Who else could drop that kind of cheese so seriously?”

“Only because I am serious, Bugaboo,” he reminded her.  As if she could forget.  Bantering back and forth with him was so easy; she hoped she wasn’t accidentally leading him on.  He deserved better than that.

He smiled as he bumped his shoulder against hers.  His voice bared his sincerity as he said, “Hate on my puns all you want.  It won’t change the fact that I love you.”

I love you.

Electricity shot up Marinette’s spine.  No.  No, it couldn’t be— 

I love you.

She’d replayed those words at least a hundred times (two hundred and fifty-three, but who was counting?) in the past day.  She’d memorized his exact inflection, the way he spoke from his heart, even if it was about all their friends and not her alone.  She would recognize his voice saying those three words anywhere.

Anywhere.  Including coming from her ridiculous, pun-loving partner.

“Ladybug?”  Chat scooted away from her, his fingertips digging into the backs of his hands.  “I’m sorry, I—I know you don’t feel the same way, you don’t have to—”

“Adrien?”

He nearly toppled off of the tower. Marinette caught him by the shoulder, holding him in place before he could lose his balance again, or run away, or—she didn’t know what he’d do.  She really should’ve thought this through.  They were supposed to keep their identities secret!  It wasn’t his fault, of course; she imagined if he’d called her Marinette while she was in the suit she would’ve had a much worse heart attack— 

“Who—who’s Adrien?”  Chat forced a grin.

“Oh, no.  You’re not getting out of this that easy.”  She fell deeper into Ladybug mode, still not letting her brain process that—that holy crap this was ADRIEN, Adrien who had just confessed his love to her—to her—!

“Ladybug, please, please don’t freak out, I’m sorry.” It was his turn to grip her shoulders as she tried to breathe.  His acidic green eyes were blown wide, the miraculous transformation hiding his normal soft chartreuse irises.  Still, how could she not have noticed?  It was him it was him it was him and she couldn’t unhear it, couldn’t separate his apologetic voice now from their time at the wax museum when she had almost kissed him and no, now that was even doubly embarrassing because it was CHAT, she’d almost kissed CHAT NOIR— 

“I’m not freaking out!  Why would you think I’m freaking out?”

Her eye twitched.  Her heart just about escaped her ribcage at the soft look of concern her partner was giving her.  Oh, this was bad.  This was very, very bad.

“I know you didn’t want to find out, and I… how did you find out?”  He asked hesitantly.  His hand left her shoulder to rub the back of his neck, and she barely restrained herself from tugging it back.  Or better yet, climbing into his lap and hoping he’d enfold her in his arms.

Bad.  Very, very bad.

“I… well, you see—haha look at the time!”  She sprang up and glanced at her obviously-watchless wrist.  “Looks like we’re too late to patrol tonight.  Oops!  Sorry Ad—Chat!  I’ll have to love you—SEE you later!  Bug out!”

“Ladybug!”  He scrambled to his feet, reaching for her arm before she could grab her yo-yo.  He was Chat and he was Adrien and he was touching her and even through both their suits she felt herself burning.  No, no, she could not be weird with her partner.  Not after she’d turned him down over and over and— 

Part of her wanted to cry.  But Chat—Adrien—had already beaten her to it.

“Please, LB.  Please, don’t go. if you have something against Adrien you can tell me, o-or you can not, but please just… don’t leave me.”  He swallowed hard, his voice thick with the tears already pooling around the lip of his mask.  “Not tonight.”

Tonight.  Today.  The anniversary of Adrien’s mother’s disappearance.

The anniversary of Chat’s mother’s disappearance.

“Oh,” she breathed, feeling like the worst partner—the worst friend in the whole world. She pulled him close, shoving all other traitorous feelings and desires aside, and focused on comforting him.  “I’m so sorry, kitty.  I’m not going anywhere, I just—panicked, that’s all.”

He laughed hollowly.  The sound curdled in her stomach, a sick parody of the cheery sound that usually rang from him.  But he had every right to sound that way, after what he’d been through. His mom was gone and she knew his home life was a wreck and he had so many of his father’s expectations dragging on him, and moonlighting as a superhero on top of that— 

How had he ended up being the carefree one out of their duo?

“You panicked because I broke the number one rule.  I gave myself away somehow.”

“No, chaton.  It’s not your fault.”  She rubbed soothing circles into the small of his back, trying to ignore how she could feel the toned muscles through the leather.  (His suit was much worse for her sanity knowing it was Adrien in it.)  “It’s my fault.  One hundred percent definitely my fault.”

He pulled back enough to stare at her, his head tilted sideways like he really was just an overgrown curious kitty, and her transformation from Ladybug into a puddle-bug seemed all too likely.

“I still don’t know how you did it.  Is this one of those ‘lucky charm’ connections only your brilliant mind can make?”

Marinette giggled into his shoulder, because maintaining eye contact was beyond her physical limit right now.  “Chat, the only brilliant thing about me is how brilliantly stupid I’ve been.”

“I’m still not following, my lady.”  His voice was still a little rough, but no longer dripping with desperation.

She kept up the soothing pattern on his back, just in case.

“I… er…”  There was no good way to say, oh, I recognized your voice because I’ve been listening to you tell me you love me all afternoon, only you weren’t even saying it to me and actually I’m a massive creep and you probably don’t want to be friends with me anymore, let alone be my partner and— 

“Shh, shh, breathe.”

—And now he was comforting her again.  It took her back to the first time they’d met—well, the first time Ladybug met Chat Noir.  She’d been so useless, and he’d been so ready to assure her that she could handle it.  From then on she’d somehow begun to take charge, but without that first push—without him—she’d never have gotten here.

And maybe… maybe leaning on him again wouldn’t be so bad.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her forehead resting against his chest.  He held her tight but refrained from any other soothing motions.  Of course he wouldn’t.  She’d brushed off too many of his physically affectionate gestures before.

“You have nothing to apologize for.”  It was a testament to how serious he was that he didn’t slip in a paw-pun there.  Honestly, she wished he had; she could’ve used the laugh right now.  “I trust you.  I always wanted you to be the first to know my identity, anyway.”

“Chat, I have everything to apologize for.”

She could hardly explain why without giving away her own identity, but she knew it was only a matter of time.  She’d rather have this conversation now than after she’d made a fool of herself—scratch that, she was already making a fool of herself, but it could be worse.  She could accidentally call him Chat in class.  She could boop his nose like she sometimes did as Ladybug.  Or someone could catch her doodling their wedding outfits in her notebook. She was really going to have to stop that, or Alya would wonder why she’d suddenly decided she wanted a “ladynoir” themed ensemble.

Great.  Five minutes into finding out Chat was Adrien, and she was still daydreaming about marrying him!  Get a grip, Marinette!  She hadn’t been this bad around Adrien in months, but connecting him with Chat had short-circuited her brain.  

“I’m not… I’m not like this, as myself.”  She pulled back and gestured down to all of her.  “And I don’t know that you’d still like me if you knew.  You never seemed to before.”

“Are you saying I know you?  Civilian you?”

He didn’t sound surprised.  Had she given herself away, too?  Her spastic reaction earlier did scream “Marinette.”  It wasn’t how she’d dreamed of revealing herself to her partner, but since when did her dreams regarding Adrien ever pan out?

“Yes.  You do.”  She hoped her voice sounded more confident than she felt.  Sure, she was thrilled (and confused and mortified) that Adrien was Chat Noir, but would he feel the same about her identity?

“Can I… can I guess who you are?”  Adrien-Noir asked, his voice fragile as glass.  His hands shook against her back. “If you don’t want me to, I get it, really.  But I… I think I know.  There’s no one else you could be.”

She pulled back, her eyebrows drawn in confusion beneath her mask.  “You’re that certain?  I was so—nevermind. I want to hear it.” Explaining how careful she was to mislead him would only confirm his suspicions, if he was even right.  For all she knew, he thought she was some stranger he knew from fencing or one of his other extracurricular activities.

One of his sly Chat-grins spread across his face.  Normally that would have her worried, but it was a relief to fall back into a familiar pattern.  

(Though how close he leaned in to her ear was new.  And was likely to make her burst like fireworks if she so much as breathed.)

“I love you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Fire spread through every inch of her.  She jolted in Adrien’s arms, cracking her head against his jaw and making him yelp.

“Sorry!  Oh my—are you kayo—okay?”  She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming.  Adrien said he loved her!  Marinette her!  And then she probably broke his jaw or something—!

“I’m fine—a-at least I think I am, if I was right?  About you being Marinette?”  He rubbed his jaw and smiled hopefully at her.  Yep, she was definitely going to be a puddle-bug.  He’d be scooping her off the side of the Eiffel Tower in a bucket.

She swallowed the giddy laugh bubbling up in her.  “I bet it would be really embarrassing if you weren’t.”

He laughed and scooped her up in a hug that lifted her feet from the metal beam.  “Marinette!  I knew it!”

Pressed close to him, she barely resisted the urge to wrap her legs around his waist and kiss his lips.  He was Adrien and Chat and him, and he was holding her and he loved her!  

The laugh finally escaped, breathless and smitten, as she laced her fingers behind his neck.

“You did.  Somehow.  I was so careful too—you have no idea how hard it is to split yourself and use that many miraculouses at once.  The illusion was perfect though.”  She frowned as she thought back on their fight with Kwamibuster.  “How did you find out?”

“I asked you first.”  He smirked. It was a face he made all the time, it had no right to be so cute now.  It was a just a curve of his lips, of Adrien’s lips—

“If I kissed you, do you think you’d forget about it?”

She slapped her hands over her mouth.  Had she—had she really said that?  To Adrien!?  

“Actually if you could just forget I said that too—”

“Not a chance, Buginette.”

She hadn’t thought his grin could get any wider, but she’d been wrong.  He held her tight, her toes barely brushing the ground. Still, she could escape if she wanted to.   

(She didn’t want to.)

“Chaaaat…”

“Thanks to Oblivio, I forgot the last time you kissed me.  There’s no way I’m forgetting again.”

She flushed as she remembered the picture Alya had taken of them.  Of course, it made sense now—she must have somehow learned Chat’s identity while they were under Oblivio’s influence.  How long had that fight taken?  Did she have a shorter or longer reveal-to-kiss timeframe this time? 

And then the full force of it hit her.  He wanted to kiss her.

Adrien.  Wanted to kiss.  Her.

She lost what little coherent thought she had left as she dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him to her.  Their lips collided roughly, and she felt him gasp before he melted into her.  

From there, it was all a blur.  Some distant part of her mind might have registered how she ended up with her legs wrapped around his hips, how he stumbled back into a crossbeam, how he held her so tightly she might’ve been crushed outside of the suit.  But all of that was faded against the single-minded desire to drown him in the love and desire and everything that she’d kept bottled tight for the past year.

She had no idea how long it was before he pulled back and breathlessly said her name.  “Marinette.”  Those three syllables in that voice had her losing her mind.  She was about to claim his lips again when he turned his head, making her miss and kiss his cheek.  Well.  That wasn’t so bad, either.  She peppered the side of his face, up to the edge of his mask, and he laughed.

“Marinette.  LB.  You can’t hide behind kisses forever.”

“Watch me.”

A kiss to the shell of his ear.  His nose. The sliver of his neck that wasn’t covered by his suit— she felt his legs wobble a little at that one.

“...I stand corrected.”

She giggled at the completely smitten look on his face.  She’d put that there.  Of course, Chat had looked at Ladybug that way before, but the fact that it was also Adrien beaming at her, knowing she was Marinette… All the puzzle pieces finally fit together, grooves sliding into place just as perfectly as she fit in his arms.

“Two can play at that game, Bugaboo.”

Oh.  Oh.  Sure, they’d practically been making out seconds ago, but the soft kisses he now littered across her jaw somehow felt even more intimate.  Their first kiss had been desperate.  These were slower, like he had all the time in the world—and they did.

He wasn’t going anywhere.  He loved her.

She practically groaned in disappointment when he finally lowered her back to the ground.  

Adrien just laughed.  “I had no idea you were so clingy, Princess.”

“I’m not clingy,” she pouted, stepping back from him to prove it.  “But if you think I am, fine.  See if you get any more kisses.”

Three whole coherent sentences.  Wow. After kissing Adrien, she expected to be a stuttering mess, but she was actually finding it easier to channel her Ladybug confidence.  Maybe it was the fact that for the first time, she knew he was as crazy about her too.

“Hey, hey, I never said that was a bad thing.”  He squeezed her tight again, a slight purr rumbling in his chest before he coughed.  

“I think we all know who’s the clingy one, anyway.”  She said, scratching the spot behind his ear until she coaxed another purr from him.  Bad idea.  She couldn’t spend all her time with her lips locked to his.

“Whatever you say, Marinette.”  His tail curled around her.  “So… as mind-meltingly amazing as kissing you was, I think I still remember a certain question I had.”

How she found out his identity.  Right. This had to be the biggest whiplash for him—her literally turning him down last week just to turn around and practically jump him. (Not that he was complaining, obviously.)

She bit her lip.  Lying to him would be impossible, even if she wanted to.  She’d promised a long time ago that she would never lie to him… except for when she had to hide her identity, but that was because Master Fu would want to reclaim their miraculouses if they revealed themselves.

...Which they just had.  Her gut twisted at that realization, which had been lost in her earlier excitement.  But Fu couldn’t just take their miraculouses, right? He was training her to be the Guardian.  Plus, after their fight with Feast, Marinette hoped he would know better.  

She was Ladybug.  Adrien was Chat Noir.  No one else could replace them—not to Paris, and not each other.  

She could deal with Fu.  But dealing with Adrien knowing just how obsessed she was?  That was a different terror entirely.

“Fine,” she sighed.  “It’s really, really embarrassing though.  You’re… probably going to think I’m a creep, honestly.”

Adrien blinked when she glanced up at him through her eyelashes, not daring to watch him directly.  “I won’t judge you, I paw-mise.”

She dropped her head in her hands and stifled a giggle.  At least they were back to puns.  She never thought she’d be grateful for that, but it eased her nervousness.

“You know how you, uh, sent a video to our class today?  To reply to the videos you never saw?”

“Yeah?  What about it?”

“Well… err…���  She was sure her face was challenging the shade of her suit, but he just blinked innocently.  “I may have… singled out the part… where you said, um…”

He was still waiting patiently.

“I took the part where you said ‘I love you’ and replayed it two hundred and fifty-three times.”

She wanted to shove her fist in her mouth.  She wasn’t going to lie, but she didn’t have to be that honest!

Chat stared.  Blinked.

...And doubled over laughing.

Well, this was it.  At least she’d gotten to kiss him once, right?  Hopefully he could forget this enough for them to still work together, because she’d never forgive herself if she ruined their partnership and Hawkmoth got their miraculouses because of it— 

“You—I can’t believe it.”  His arms had fallen while he laughed, but now he pulled her in again, practically crushing her to his chest.  “And here I thought I was the crazy one.”

“Please kill me,” she groaned.

“Never.”  He said with a kiss to her temple that shot lightning across her skin.  “I’m keeping you forever, Bugaboo.  No takebacks.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense.” She paused, searched his eyes for any trace of hesitance.  If anything, he looked giddier than ever.  “You’re not mad?  Or… weirded out?”

“Marinette, I play with action figures of us.  Sometimes they kiss.  I really have no room to talk.”

She gaped up at him.  The image of Adrien making toy versions of themselves kiss—okay, she had to cackle too, because it was too insane to process otherwise. They really were made for each other.

“You do have to promise me one thing, though,” he said, his voice sobering.

“What?” She asked before her brain could start catastrophizing again.

“You have to let me say I love you at least two hundred fifty-four times.  I can’t be beat out by a video of myself.”

He—he was serious.  Right when she was thinking it was impossible to love him any more, he said things like that.

“That’s a lot of times.”

“I guess I’d better get started then, huh?”

She punched his arm lightly and ignored how much she really really wanted to let him do just that. (Maybe with a few more kisses sprinkled between.) 

“Not yet, chaton.  You still have to tell me how you recognized me.”

“Technically I don’t think you finished,” he pointed out, to which she rolled her eyes.

“I’d heard you say ‘I love you’ so many times, I recognized your voice.  That’s all.”

“I would’ve told you I loved you as Adrien a long time ago if it would’ve made you see it.”  He chuckled.  “I wish I had a story like that.  I didn’t know for sure, I just thought… well, Marinette and Ladybug are the two most amazing girls I know, and… I think I hoped it was you more than anything.”

The soft grin on his face threatened to send her melting again.  He’d wanted her to be the girl he loved.  Of course his epiphany had come over something so sweet, rather than her completely embarrassing story.  

“That still doesn’t explain how you saw through me being Multimouse and Ladybug,” she said.  “You really do think with your heart more than your head, don’t you?”

“One of us has to.”  He winked, and she hid a lovestruck smile.  She couldn’t give him the satisfaction of melting at everything he did.  He was still her silly kitty, after all.  “I know it looked impossible, but if anyone could pull off the impossible, it’s you.”

She could pull off the impossible, which right now included resisting the urge to kiss him senseless again.

“You’re the one who’s impossible,” she said with a flick to his bell.  

“And you can pull me off anytime,” he blurted before covering his mouth.  “Uh.”

“Adrien, that doesn’t even make sense,” she said for the second time in the past five minutes.

His face flushed.  “I can’t be at the top of my flirting game all the time.  I’m still trying to wrap my head around everything, to be honest.  The cheesy pick up lines are kind of a coping mechanism.  Not that I’m upset, I’m not!  I’m so, so happy—It’s just—it’s a lot.”

“It is a lot,” she agreed, slipping out of his embrace to sit on the cold metal of the tower.  “Come on, sit with me.  Paris can take care of itself for one night.”

He grinned and plopped down beside her, hesitating only a moment before enfolding her in his arms.

“Thank you.  This means the world to me.”  He kissed the top of her head.  “Today was… well, you know. A year ago today my mom disappeared. I’m doing alright, much better than Father is, but still...”  He slumped against her, his chin resting on her shoulder, their cheeks brushing.  “It’s why I wanted to be with you tonight.  And then everything else—well, it’s better than I could’ve imagined.”

She was afraid it had been too much for him, dealing with their identities at such a sensitive time, but he did look much more relaxed now.  Despite his cousin’s earlier interference, she had managed to help him anyway.  That was the most important thing.

“I’m glad I could help.  I actually tried to tell you in the video Felix deleted… but I love you, Adrien.  And I’ll always be here if you need me.” 

He turned his face so their foreheads rested against each other, filling her vision with his bright green eyes.  The hopeful glow in them could’ve put all of Paris’s lights to shame.

“You love me?”

His breath ghosted over her lips, mingled with her laugh.  She’d said it.  She’d finally said it.

“Of course, minou.  What, did you think I kissed you because we’re just friends?”

“That happened?”  He blinked in fake innocence.  “I don’t know, I think Oblivio might have hit me while you weren’t looking.  You might have to kiss me again.”

She rolled her eyes, but she could only do the impossible for so long.  Their noses bumped as she kissed him long and soft and slow.  Could she ever get used to this?  Each kiss left her soaring higher than the last.

They broke apart giggling and flushed before Chat shyly asked a question.

“Did you mean it when you said you’ll always be here if I need you?  I can be a very needy kitty.”  His voice was all Chat Noir, but his face was the soft, open expression she was used to seeing from Adrien.  

He was worried about that?  But then, there were so few other people in his life who were just there, she realized.  No wonder he had coveted attention from Ladybug for so long.

“Always, Adrien,” she said softly.  “I know I can’t fix everything. Especially about your mom.”  She cupped his face in her hands.  “But being here?  That’s easy.  Never feel bad about needing that.”

“That’s all I want,” he breathed.  “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

He wrapped her in his arms again, and she hugged him back just as tightly.

“Me too, kitty.  Me too.”

[catchlalune]

Original artwork here

a/n: Hello starbursts! Happy Juneteenth and I hope everyone is staying safe and still quarantining! This fic is very different from my usual works so I need to preface this in my authors note that all of the characters in the story are pretty awful. If you find yourself in any of these situations PLEASE seek help. I wrote this to highlight these issues and you should think of it much like a modern day Romeo and Juliette story (and what I mean by that is that everyone in that story was incredibly dense and really could’ve solved a lot of their issues by talking and working through things together.) Thank you to @skzctnightnight​ and @pockpop​ for actually helping me maintain my motivation for finishing writing in an actual day. (also tagging @jejublr​ )

Word Count: 3.6k 

Pairings: Lucas x Reader

Genre: Angst, CEO! Au, Arranged Marriage 

Warnings: unhealthy relationships, smut, abusive relationship (this is not between the reader and Lucas), this again is to highlight how awful people can be this is an extremely toxic scenario so please don’t read if you will be triggered. Also not proofread yet but I plan on fixing it later

This is not in any way, shape, or form meant to say that I believe Lucas is like this in the slightest. I am using his likeness to portray a completely fictional character and that is all. 

The entirety of the two years she has spent with Lucas culminates to the two of them in this moment. The sinful sounds the two of them make as skin slaps on skin. The feel of him inside her. Everything is hot and wet and passionate. As passionate as the kisses they’ve always shared. As hot as the sun on their skin as they sit and laugh in the sun, Lucas’ parents included. As wet as the rain as it pours outside, slapping on the pavement in hard droplets. 

They say that if it rains on your wedding day it means the relationship is meant to last forever. But what does it mean when it happens on a day of goodbyes? Are you fated to never say hello again? 

Whatever it means does not matter much to the two of them. Lucas is too busy coaxing his cock in and out of her to think of much other than their combined pleasure. They draw this out for as long as they possibly can. They know what will happen when they finish. But still Lucas must bring her to the apex of her pleasure, circling her throbbing bud as he stoaks the fire inside her belly. Her toes tingle, eyes shut tight and breathing ragged. Her fingers pinch and rub at her nipples until she's shaking. 

She comes undone with a sweet groan, gripping him until he releases into the condom. 

They lay there in the darkness of the night, the only illumination being the red of the alarm clock on Lucas’ bedside table. Glaringly it tells them the time but they ignore it as it looks in on them. It judges silently as the time reaches hours close enough for the sun to claw its way above civilization. They grasp for each other in the post-coituous haze. It does not matter, no matter how tightly they cling.

“I want to stay like this forever.” His whispers sound like music to her ears, the song of a siren. 

She does not answer him, anything she wants to say is caught in her throat. The memories that flood her mind hurt her before his words even can. Distinctly she remembers his mother telling her about the arranged marriage proposal from before he was even a child. Lucas doesn’t even know, she hadn’t even known up until two weeks ago. Their two year relationship had suddenly been reduced to nothing by those words. And his mother had been so casual about it, telling her as they searched for Lucas’ birthday present as if it was nothing more than an afterthought. ‘And  by the way, you will never be able to have my son. Not completely.’ 

She doesn’t realize the sobs that wrack her until Lucas pulls her close. He coos at her about how she always gets so emotional after sex. He jokes, tries to lighten the mood but nothing will quiet her mind. Not really. She knows that their graduation tomorrow means the end of this, of them. She knows she should at least tell him why, but she can’t bring herself to say the words. 

Instead she lets him hum the both of them to sleep, Lucas feeling bad about not being able to cure her of whatever ails her. She speaks to him after a brief period of rest, words hardly above the sound of the rustling of sheets. 

“Maybe we could’ve been, in another world.”

By the time he wakes the sun is just rising over the horizon, alarm clock blaring, and the bed cold. He doesn’t have to wait long to find out she is no longer with him. Some part of him feels the dread, knows something must’ve been wrong but he tries to brush it off. He does a good job of it too until he realizes he can’t reach her. Her number automatically disconnects, her things are no longer at her dorm room, and he doesn’t even catch a glimpse of her at graduation. When it is time for her to walk the stage there is a pregnant pause and the name of the graduate. He can’t imagine what must have happened to make her miss her own college graduation but he can’t even find the time to worry. Not when his parents are there and tell him the truth. 

---

“If I have to listen to another man tell me about how to run my own business I just might shoot myself in the foot.” 

Already the span of time has reached six long years. Leaving him was a decision she did not pride herself on. Some nights ended with dreams, ghosts of memories too long passed. Echoes of a time she felt safe, felt confident. Now she stands in the lobby of a convention center trying to figure out which panel would aggravate her the least. Two more long days she would have to deal with the misogyny, usually her patience wouldn’t be so thin but she hasn’t been able to sleep very well recently. She wakes up with the feel and taste of him on her. She feels dirty.

“I agree, we can do it together.” The woman-- who she hadn’t noticed-- smiles at her so brightly it makes her a bit uncomfortable. She was very pretty, the image of most men’s dreams probably. Perfectly manicured nails, long pin-straight hair, skin a milky complexion, lips a shade of pink that was not too bold and not too flirty. The woman also wears a dress she vaguely remembers seeing in a high fashion magazine not too long ago whilst waiting at the doctor's office-- in another word: expensive. She feels a bit embarrassed to have said that so loud where others could obviously hear her. It was obvious she was being watched, she was a woman in a man's world she was always being watched. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t worry about it. Your secret is safe with me!” The woman takes a moment to wink at her, she shifts on her feet still feeling a bit awkward. “My name’s Jaeun, you’re the CEO of Xuxi’s Publishing Group, correct? I’ve been trying to find you all day.” 

Jaeun launches into a story about how she’d stumbled upon her company and relaxes her enough for the two of them to have a conversation about things other than business. It had been such a long time since she had a friend and talking to Jaeun was extremely easy. Maybe it was the way she seemed so bright and bubbly, or even the way she navigated conversations with a natural grace. Whatever it was, Jaeun quickly became a staple in her life for the next two days. 

And then it all comes crashing down on her, just like the rain on that night it rains the last day of the convention. It comes down so hard it resonates within the convention center. But that’s not what she’s focused on. Jaeun had offered for her to meet her husband and his parents excitedly yesterday after talking to her about the lack of business prospects. It was supposed to be relaxed and informal but she was on absolute high alert. 

The years were kind to him in a way that she considered unfair. He was even more beautiful than the night she left him. 

“There you are! This is my husband Lucas. I showed him your business proposal and he wants to have a meeting for a merger.” 

--

It’s no more than a few days after the convention that he shows up on her doorstep in business casual attire that puts hers to shame. She’s not even sure if it was actually smart for them to be left alone together but she swallows the lump in her throat and lets in him. She offers him a plate of food that she made for their lunch but he declines. He does the same to her offer for water and coffee as well. He’s been there all of five minutes and already her palms are sweating. She almost feels silly as he tells her that she can eat, always feeling like the one taking instead of giving. 

"Do you really like her as a friend?" A strange conversation for him to start, but he needed to vet her nonetheless. 

"Yes." There is no doubt in her words, they are hard and come out leaving no room for doubt.

"Do you love and cherish her?"

"Of course I do, it's been so long since finding a friend like her." She fiddles with her fork wondering why this was being asked to her and not the other way around. 

"You know I think she loves you too. I don't know about cherish, that's a good change word. It's just that her mom is so skeptical of everyone, it's better that she doesn't get too close." 

"I know, but it doesn't change my answer. "

There's a brief pause between them before he speaks again, a small smile on his face. 

"I almost wish I was in an arranged marriage with you. I think it would be easy to fall in love. Should I just end it with her? You know I could." He says it with such conviction it makes her heart flutter. 

"Don't say things like that. Jaeun really likes you, she really wants to make it work." It almost sickened her how easy it was for him to just say those words to her. Maybe it was easy for him, but what about her friend? She was groomed her whole life for him. The way he would easily throw her away for another makes her resolve to forget the butterflies in her stomach that much stronger. 

"Let's get down to business now shall we? You came here to talk about a merger." She looks at him with her eyes and jaw set and he knows. He knows he is going to fall into her head first and drown. He knows that she is so loyal to her morals and her friendship that she would willingly let any sparks for him fizzle out and die. He knows it, and yet the beating of his heart only gets faster. 

"Let's."

She is exactly how he remembers her. And the way he remembers her is very intimate. If he closes his eyes he can faintly feel the way her body would meld perfectly against him. Lips laying kisses across the expanse of his visage. The smell of her, fresh and sweet; the smell of citrus and a hint of honey with jasmine blooms. He can still feel the way their hearts beat at each others ribcage, trying to find a way out and meld together. But they never did, and they never will. 

It has already been two weeks since their meeting and business between them is going off without a hitch. But of course that's all that is going on between them, business. She is just as intelligent and bright as she always has been and it seems if only she had been dealt a luckier hand in life her business would've surpassed his years ago. He shouldn't be but she makes it so easy to remember their summer tryst. She makes it so easy to remember how he cares for her. 

Even at the company dinner she makes it easy, she glides through the room as if on air. Her pantsuit hugs her body in all the right places. He takes note of how it makes her stand out, of the power she exudes just by making a not so orthodox outfit choice. Of course some of the men would think she was a hardass because of it, but when she saunters away with a pretty brunette and stay in the bathroom longer than socially acceptable they begin to think other things. Of course even if these things are true it's none of their business and he tells them just that. Reminding them of the company rules against harassment and intimidation. 

This doesn't stop him from waiting for her though. After another ten minutes the brunette slipping out from the bathroom a satiated look on her face Lucas is waiting. He keeps his eyes trained on the bathroom door but when he feels it's been too long he doesn't wait anymore. It is a company wide policy that most bathrooms be gender neutral and luckily this was one such one. He makes his way quietly into the single toilet, he tells himself it's just to make sure that she's okay. But when he sees the way she looks he can't help but ask her. 

"Did you have fun?" It's an innocent enough question but the implications of it are anything but innocent. 

"Are you mad?" She doesn't even startle at his presence, as if she knew he would be looking for her. It takes him a second to really be able to answer her. He thinks about it long and hard.

"I can't be mad, because I was the one that let you slip away from me." He regards her with a soft wisftfulness that makes both their hearts ache. It hurts to look at her lipstick smudged and hair disheveled when he wasn't the one who's done it. He wonders if the woman she's just hooked up with knows. 

"If I had held you longer, maybe you wouldn't have slipped out of the bed that night. We could've woken up to each other we could've-" 

"You know that's not true. Don't even pretend for a second your parents would've given up your arranged marriage." 

"We don't know that, we could've been more persistent! We could've begged." His eyes are alight, wild with all of the things he might have done to stay with her had he known it would hurt him this much. 

"No, it wouldn't have changed anything. Just like every other rich person the only thing you and your whole family value is money and power. It doesn't matter how much they liked me." The words come out of her mouth as sharp as razor blades and they cut. They cut so deep and so hot it almost makes him dizzy. He knows she doesn't mean it, she's just upset because he'd almost caused her friendship to fall through. He deserves it but just because it was true about his parents doesn't mean it was for him. 

"You don't understand how much I love you." He steps forward, tears threatening to pour down his beautiful face. She will regret her next words for the rest of her life. But she must say them even if they aren't true, even if they hinder her from happiness. 

"I understand, but it's that my understanding does not matter. Jaeun loves you." Her words echo through different times and spaces it seems. They beat at the two of them brutally. They make it hard to breathe. 

"Do you love me?" He steps closer, words falling from his lips like water from a faucet. They begin to flood the room with their intensity, the water is at their shins. She steps back. 

"Jaeun loves you." A shake of her head and the room is flooded higher, the water at their hips now. He takes another step forward. 

"Do you love me?" The words are at their chests now and she shakes her head again, tears mirroring the ones steaming down his face. 

"Jaeun loves you." He stops when she is almost against the wall but doesn't proceed forward. 

"Do you love Jaeun?" 

"I do, with all that is in me. She's been my only friend through all of this. I can't betray her." The words are at their throats now, they choke her so that her speech is airy and labored. They press at her chest. He knew that he would drown in her, he just didn't realize he would never be saved. 

"But loving me, you already have." He steps away and she can already breathe better when her senses aren't so full of him. 

"I never said-" 

"You didn't have to." The smile he gives her is preposterously solemn for such a wide showcase of his teeth. 

"Jaeun loves you." She whispers back to him, head bowed and eyes looking at the shiny leather of his shoes. 

"I know, but I love you. " He turns away from her and begins his exit and subsequently his descent into madness. Every step he takes from her causes her to fall just a bit closer to the floor, by the time he is gone she is already on her knees gasping for air. 

Jaeun waits for him outside the room with an eerily stoic face. He knows she has heard everything but he doesn't care, he hopes she wants a divorce but to his surprise she offers him her usual smile. Normally he'd think it was full of charm but her words...her very words tell him she was simply a snake all along. 

"Let's go home, I'll help you forget about her." 

They were so caught up in the turmoil of their relationship they hadn't even seen the signs. The seeds that Jaeun had sowed. And now, they played right into her hand. But for her sake, he'd do everything to make sure she wouldn't find out.

"I don't need or want whatever it is you're offering me. What I want is for you to get the fuck away from me." His words come out scathing, he puts every bit of malice he can into each and every letter. But it just makes Jaeun laugh, she then fixes him with a look so sinister it almost makes him shiver. 

"Don't be silly. The second the two of you got together there was already a due date on your relationship. You were never meant to be forever, there was a deadline and it ended exactly when I decided it to. Really it's your fault for ever getting involved with her in the first place." She ends it with a sneer marring her pretty features and so loud he hushes her fearing that his lover might hear. 

"Is it really my fault?" The thought seems ludicrous to him but all Jaeun needs is that inch of doubt in his voice to take it a full mile. 

"Of course it is baby, you're just as awful as I am. But it's okay, I forgive you." He lets her pull him away after that, head so clouded with her words he can barely manage to walk correctly. It was true, he knew he was getting an arranged marriage and his parents knew but still he…

He would make sure that she'd be happy anyway he could even if it meant being in a relationship with Jaeun. 

The years spread between them like a desert, sands of time speeding up and slowing down in frequent intervals that they can't change though sometimes they wish they could. Lucas' marriage to Jaeun is nothing more than a facade and his deserves an Oscar for his performance every time she comes around. Sometimes he wonders why Jaeun keeps her if she doesn't really see her as a friend but then remembers that Jaeun is cruel and enjoys watching the two of them pine. Whenever he kisses Jaeun he feels her lips ghosting across his own. Whenever he touches Jaeun he feels her skin soft and supple. Whenever he fucks Jaeun he really wishes he could make love to her. And whenever he sees their daughter though he loves her to death, he wishes her mother was another woman. He especially wishes it when she comes around to babysit. 

Jaeun takes her cruelty to a whole new degree when she begins to ask her "friend" to babysit for her. 'She's just so tired and Lucas is always so busy.' And it isn't entirely a lie, but Lucas had long since been working from home just to be able to catch a glimpse of her in passing. He didn't think his heart could ache more but it does the moment he hears it. He watches from around the corner to the kitchen, peering in and spying like a shadow.

"Mommy can we have chicken for lunch?" His daughter had just begun to learn how to enunciate her words better. Four years old and Jaeun had hardly stepped in to care for the child, she wasn't a mother any more than she was a wife this much was evident from their daughters words. 

"I'm not your mommy darling, you can call me auntie though." She bends down to pat Jisoo on the head. Eyes tender with a longing she could not put into words. 

"But you act like a mommy, can't you be my mommy? Can we please have chicken?" The four year old pouts up at her, Lucas nearly swoons. Everyone knows that it's true, even the maid and butler agreed she was a much better fit for Jaeun at motherhood. But secrets should never be uttered aloud. 

"We can have chicken Jisoo, but you can't keep calling me that. At least not in front of everyone." Jisoo lights up at the prospect of some kind of compromise. 

"Does that mean I can still call you mommy?" She hushes the child and leans in close to her. Lucas has to strain to hear the words that come from her. 

"Yes, but only when we're alone and you have to be very quiet. It'll be our little secret, promise?" She holds out her pinky for Jisoo to wrap her smaller one around. 

Lucas returns to his office with a smile on his face, something he'd not worn in such a long time the staff gave him strange looks, whispers of rumors beginning. It made no difference to him, he'd just been so happy to keep their secret safe. A secret made for two. 

[sushiandstarlight]

Cookies: Chapter 16

This chapter includes yesterday’s prompt “evergreen” and today’s prompt “lights.”

Previous Story: Of All The Beds In All The Hotels In All The World

Chapter 1-3 / Chapter 4 / Chapters 5 & 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 

Read this chapter on AO3

Rated: G, light teen for suggestion, nothing explicit

It took some amount of time to get downstairs, what with the way Crowley pinned his angel to the bed. And then Aziraphale's wandering hands in the shower. And the way they wound up snogging each other senseless at the top of the stairs, almost winding up at the bottom by way of running afoul of gravity. By the time they made their entrance into the kitchen, hands linked, they were pink in the face and couldn't stop smiling at one another.

That was, until Aziraphale saw the pies lined up on the kitchen island: apple crumble, cherry lattice with sparkling sugar on top, and mince were all present but also accompanied by blackberry and peach. Aziraphale drew close and hovered over the pies, cooing about how beautiful they were. He reached out to touch one, but Edie smacked his hand with a spatula.

“Ow!” he yelped, yanking back his hand.

“They are for dinner tomorrow night,” Edie sounded deathly serious.

“Oh, alright, but they are beautiful,” Aziraphale sat on one of the barstools, continuing to admire them. Crowley recognized the rapt attention, remembering how Aziraphale had looked at him in the shower. He took a quick mental turn from that image before he was overwhelmed with the urge to grab the angel's wrist and drag him back to their bedroom.

“What have we got here, then?” Crowley sauntered to the counter, also admiring the pies. They were a thing of beauty. Gladys and Edie clearly had talent. Edie pointed out each type with the spatula and Crowley crowed, “you missed a couple, Angel. Off your game.”

“I was a bit distracted,” Aziraphale hmphed. Crowley approached his stool and spun it around to face him.

“You can only smell some pies over my mouth-watering aroma, then?”

“Or maybe you still smell like butter and sugar. It's distracting.”

“I've bathed!”

“I know, I helped!”

Crowley felt his face go crimson. He looked over at the ladies only to find them looking suddenly very busy facing the opposite counter.

“Maybe I'll be rubbing down with butter and sugar every day for you when we get home,” Crowley pressed his forehead to Aziraphale's and smirked at him.

“Oh, that would be a terrible mess on my sheets.”

“Tell me, in this vision are they tartan?”

“...yes.”

“No loss there.”

“Hey!”

“That's okay, Angel,” Crowley wagged his eyebrows at him, “they're tartan in my vision, too.”

Aziraphale smiled and wiggled happily on the stool.

“Alright, that's enough mushiness near the pies, you're going to melt the pastry,” Edie swatted Crowley with a tea towel.

“Fine, fine. We'll move it along,” Crowley made a motion towards the sun room and set off for it. Aziraphale lingered, smiling bashfully at Edie and Gladys.

“You don't really mind, do you?” Aziraphale stood to leave.

“Nah,” Gladys winked at him and handed him a tiny mince pie, “Run along, now.”

Aziraphale smiled broadly and left, catching up with Crowley.

“Pssh, really?” Crowley had spotted the pie.

“Told you she likes me,” Aziraphale's smile was smug now.

“I think you're the favorite.”

“Do you want a piece.”

“Nah, I would rather watch you eat it.”

“I still don't understand what you get out of watching me eat,” Aziraphale sat on the loveseat, peering up at him. Crowley hadn't actually meant to say that out loud.

“Well,” he shrugged, going for casual, “I like to watch you take pleasure in things. I like knowing you're enjoying yourself.” He sprawled on the other side of the loveseat, managing to take up most of the room while Aziraphale sat up properly. He rested his head on the back of the sofa and waited, watching Aziraphale with a lazy smile on his face.

“Could you...” Aziraphale trailed off, looking away.

“Naw, now don't do that,” Crowley nudged the angel's knee with his own, “Whatever you want.”

“Oh, that's a list,” he looked back at Crowley, “I wondered if you might tip your glasses down while you watch me. I like watching you, too. Your eyes... they're so expressive.”

“Didn't know you liked 'em,” Crowley pulled his shades down his nose part way and peered at Aziraphale.

“I do. I like that you take them off when we're alone.”

“I've got nothing to hide from you,” Crowley watched as he took a small bit of the pie and hummed happily, “Except for Christmas.”

“Yes, I suppose that makes two of us.”

“Tomorrow, no secrets then.”

“Yes, I will feel better not keeping it from you.”

Crowley grunted, watching him take another bite and let out another hum, wiggling on the part of the cushion that Crowley wasn't currently sprawled over. Crowley kept watching him even as he finished, patting the sides of his lips with a napkin and brushing invisible crumbs off his trousers.

“It was one thing,” Crowley cleared his throat, but it did nothing to get rid of the gravelly sound his voice had dipped into, “before I knew what you sounded like when you... you know. Those little sounds you make, Angel, they would keep me up at night after our dinner dates. But, now I know...” He shifted in his seat, glancing at the door and pushing up his glasses.

“Maybe a little dessert is in order.”

“Dessert,” Crowley blinked, confused, “But you just had pie.”

“It really does devil with your brains, doesn't it?”

“What?”

Aziraphale stood and made for the door, leaving the confused demon still on the sofa as he turned and went up the stairs.

“You dummy,” Edie poked her head around the door frame, from out of nowhere, “he wants you for dessert! You best get up there.”

He should have been mortified, but instead he just smiled at her and hoped he'd willed down the color that wanted to rush to his cheeks.

She high-fived him as he ran past her.

-

After supper it was decided that they would all go out and have a look at the lights that Aziraphale had been diligently hanging outside the inn. Crowley was happy enough to look at them, but still reluctant on account of the weather. The snow had continued to fall and it was ankle-deep now. He shivered as he peered out the the front door.

“You're not going out like that!” Gladys was behind him, shoving a long black coat into his hands, “You'll catch your death. I insist.” She watched him as he put it on and buttoned it and then wrapped a red and green scarf around his neck enough times that his chin was nearly lost inside it. And then she handed him mittens.

“Really? Where on this planet did you find men's sized mittens?”

“I made them.”

“What? Why?”

“For you! You always look cold. You make me cold just looking at you sometimes.”

He put on the green mittens, even though they made him feel silly. Pretty much instantly his hands felt warmer, but he wasn't about to tell her that. One look from her, told him she already knew, though.

“See, I thought you might take better care of yourself if doing so meant using a meaningful gift.”

Crowley clutched his hands to his chest and leaned in to her, whispering, “I'll treasure them, really.”

“Don't much care for treasuring, I'll be happy knowing you're using them.”

Aziraphale bustled by them in a cream-colored overcoat. He also had knitted mittens, but they were white with faux fur around the wrists. He pulled on a matching hat and stood by the door.

“Are we ready to go have a look?” Aziraphale craned to look past Gladys, “Where's Edie.”

“I'm coming, I'm coming!” Edie appeared from the kitchen with a tray of hot chocolates and passed them out. “No need to stand around out there freezing our buns off without something to keep us properly warm.”

“Finally, someone's speaking sense.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” she handed him his cocoa and patted his cheek- her hand was still warm from holding the cup- “if I'm the one speaking sense, we're in loads of trouble.”

Aziraphale opened the door and led them out into the parking lot. There wasn't a strong wind, but enough that it nipped sharply at Crowley's ears as he followed behind the others. He burrowed his face down into the scarf.

“Alright, turn back... now,” Aziraphale walked around and stood behind them as they turned back to the inn. They gasped and smiled and turned one at a time to congratulate him: The whole front of the inn was outlined in white lights, gently fading off and on at random. The walls were outlined in red and draped with net lights the same color. All the bushes were strewn with red and green lights.

Crowley was staring hard at the white lights, trying to discern a pattern to their tranquil flashing when he felt something warm and fuzzy slide over his ears. He jumped, reaching up to find earmuffs.

“Wha-”

“Consider it an early Christmas present,” Aziraphale hugged him from behind. There were too many layers to feel the angel's warmth and Crowley felt the pity of it. Still, his ears had stopped stinging.

“Thanks,” he leaned back and kissed the angel's chilly cheek and shivered dramatically, “The lights are beautiful.”

Gladys appeared in front of them and clutched both of their chins.

“You boys have made this Christmas so special, you know that right? We couldn't have done all of this without you.” She was looking at them very earnestly from beneath the low brim of her knit cap. It had a giant pompom on top that was wiggling with the light breeze.

“I think we're thoroughly enjoying our stay,” Aziraphale's voice sounded a little pinched.

“I think we'll all enjoy our stay more inside,” Crowley burrowed up to his sunglasses into the scarf around his neck, “Not that the lights aren't pretty.”

They went back inside, still sipping their cocoa.

“By the way,” Gladys said as she unbuttoned her coat and hung it on one of the hooks by the door, “I got a call from the group holding the bake sale. All the baskets sold.”

“Oh, what marvelous news!” Aziraphale clapped his hands together happily.

“Someone, one person, bought all of them.”

“Wow, that's a lot of cookies for one person...” Crowley grumbled.

“And then donated the cookies to the orphans...” Gladys was eyeing them suspiciously.

“Don't look at me! I've been here the whole time,” Crowley squawked.

“I do wish I had thought of it, but I confess that I didn't,” Aziraphale looked honestly contrite.

“Whoever did it, it was an unexpected kindness,” Edie was still eyeing Crowley who shrugged at her.

“Anyway,” Gladys threw up her hands, giving up on having an answer tonight, “We all better get to bed. Santa's coming tonight! But he won't visit until we're all in our beds. Goodnight, boys.”

“Goodnight, Gladys. Edie.” Aziraphale nodded to them and they watched the two wander off down the hall.

“You,” Aziraphale turned to Crowley, “You bought all the cookies, didn't you?”

“Yeah.”

“That was a wonderful thing to do.”

“Nah, it was alright.”

“The children will love them.”

“Come on now.”

“I think,” Crowley found himself being pressed against the nearest flat surface- the wall, thankfully next to the coat hooks,- and kissed sweetly, “You should be rewarded for your good deed.”

“Is it a good deed if there's a reward?”

“Sure, if the reward was unexpected,” Aziraphale practically dragged him up the stairs. As if he was going to protest.

Chapter 17 is now up!

[texanredrose]

Managing Expectations

Listen, I know I’m behind on the prompts, it’s been a helluva everything, okay? --- Weiss opened her eyes, noting the weak rays of light filtering in past the blackout curtains illuminating the carpet beneath their bedroom window. Absently, she cursed herself for waking up this early on a day when she could sleep in, the alarm clock beside the bed reading just before seven o’clock in the morning. Halfway through sophomore year, one would think her body would recognize which days she had to awaken before the sun rose and which days she could sleep a little longer, but one would be surprisingly wrong.

With a sigh, she debated getting out of bed and starting her day. She could rarely fall back asleep once sufficiently roused, so trying to fall back asleep seemed futile.

Then, the arm loosely curled around her waist shifted slightly, and Weiss turned her head enough to see her girlfriend cuddled up behind her, still sound asleep. In contrast, Blake had two distinct modes: she could either sleep like the dead or awaken at a pin drop. It would be impossible to tell which so-called mode she was in if not for the way her ears behaved. When she slept lightly, they were always somewhat erect, twitching at sounds; when she slept heavily, they tended to relax and lay to the sides of her head. Right now, one ear was curled up against the pillow, almost lost among midnight black tresses, while the other drooped back lazily.

A heavy sleep. Perfect.

Carefully, Weiss turned, wrapping an arm around her girlfriend’s waist and snuggling into the Faunus’ chest. Sometimes, she couldn’t believe the unexpected turn her life had taken. When she first spoke to Blake last year, the best she could’ve hoped for was a tentative friendship. It had taken her weeks to summon the courage to actually approach Blake, and months longer before she began to actually believe the Faunus wasn’t simply putting up with her existence for convenience’s sake. When they actually started dating midway through the year, they surprised everyone- but most of all, themselves.

Or, at least, that’s how Weiss felt, still unsure if she could really believe that this would last. They both had stubborn streaks, and they had their ideals, and while those matched up for the most part there were still some rough spots. Areas where misconceptions held for far too long made enlightenment seem like a threat- they’d worked past some but there were bound to be others.

It scared her, sometimes, because between the potential outcomes, the ones that in some way involved her losing Blake as a girlfriend hurt far worse than anything else- more than even losing the chance to own her family’s company, the culmination of her life’s work. To be that devoted to someone… she didn’t have a frame of reference for it. Not even her sister Winter- whose tenure in the military had made already jagged edged sharp and somewhat callous- exhibited that much blind loyalty, more than willing to make sacrifices or betray her superiors in order to adhere to her personal moral code.

Worst of all, she hadn’t summoned the strength to voice that. She told Blake she loved her often but that somehow didn’t seem like… enough. Then again, she always had those doubts whispering in the back of her mind- they were attending University, they were too young to consider anything long term, they were too different, Blake would never want to be directly tied to someone of the Schnee name, she was deluding herself thinking of this as more than a fling- and they stole her voice whenever she tried to broach the subject.

They often talked about the future, about reform and activism and using the weight of the names they were born to for a greater good. But they never spoke about it in terms of each other. Did Blake’s future include her at all? As more than a friend? As nothing more than an ex? Where did she stand?

Gradually, the whirlwind of thoughts building up in her mind calmed as she permitted herself a wistful daydream, imagining herself and Blake, married and attending a fundraiser. Blake wore the purple coat Ghira had shown them during their trip to Menagerie, the one his daughter would wear when she inevitably took his place as Chieftain. Weiss wore complimenting colors, with gold hoop earrings like Kali wore, and her family’s sigil etched across her back, stepping away briefly to check on how her company was doing before rejoining her wife.

It seemed idyllic and silly, that everything might work out, that they could claim their birthrights while side-by-side and achieve a happily ever after. There would no doubt be barrier after barrier, obstacle after obstacle, and the reality of that didn’t make Weiss balk. It made her relish the challenge.

All too suddenly, she became aware of fingers carding through her hair, looking up to see Blake’s half-lidded eyes watching her, her lips quirked into a small grin.

“You’re thinking too hard again.”

Weiss opted to break eye contact, resting her forehead against the Faunus’ collarbone. “I didn’t intend to wake you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I doubt that.”

Blake hummed, continuing the soothing motion of threading her fingers through the woman’s hair. “What were you thinking about?”

“Do you really want to know?” Half the time when her girlfriend asked, Weiss was midway through an essay on business practices, and opted not to delve even further into the ridiculous ethical gymnastics used to justify certain processes.

“Yeah. I do.”

Again, her voice faltered but she somehow forced the words out. “I was thinking about the future. You as the Chieftain of Menagerie and me as the CEO of the SDC.” She paused there, her courage almost giving out, but instead doubled down and relied on her stubbornness to carry her through the rest of the conversation. “I was thinking about how busy our schedules would be considering our chosen career paths, being married and all. It would be challenging.”

Weiss held her breath, waiting for the words to register- waiting for the gasp of surprise, the fingers moving through her hair stopping suddenly, the realization to sink in, and the scramble for an answer.

It never came.

Instead, Blake hummed while her fingers continued moving in a soothing motion. “It would be. It’s been hard thus far, what with differing courses and requirements… but we’ve made it work because we wanted this bad enough. As long as we want it, we’ll find a way.” Then, the Faunus bent her head and placed a soft kiss against white locks. “Have you thought about the wedding at all? I assume you’d want to wear the white dress but I’m torn between a dress or a tux.”

“You’d look good in both,” she replied automatically, as she struggled to parse the first part of her girlfriend’s response. “So, wait- you… you’ve thought about this, too?”

“Yeah. I have.” Weiss lifted her head to look at Blake, seeing excitement and fear and happiness and apprehension all vying for dominance in amber eyes. “I’ve thought about it and I’ve thought about how silly it is and I’ve decided that… I don’t care. It’s something I want to think about and something I want to believe is possible. It’s a future that I… really want and I think that’s what matters.”

“I want it, too.” She leaned up, kissing her girlfriend, and feeling the way the Faunus relaxed, as if she’d been worried about Weiss reaction- and, in hindsight, she really should’ve expected it, because of course they’d both be scared and worried and biting their tongue instead of speaking their mind. They’d need to keep working on that. “I love you, Blake.”

“I love you too, Weiss.” Then she smiled, her ears perking up. “And I’m glad I can look forward to a future with you.”

“Me too.”

CRASH!

Both of them jolted, sitting up in their bed and staring at the bedroom door in bewilderment as their housemates began shouting.

“YANG XIAO LONG, YOU GET BACK HERE, I’M GOING TO SKIN YOU ALIVE!” Ruby shouted at her sister, her threat barely audible over two peels of laughter about an octave apart. “SUN WUKONG, YOU KEEP LAUGHING, YOU’RE JOINING HER!”

Another crash preceded the laughter abruptly cutting off, which could only mean one thing: whatever prank the girlfriend and boyfriend duo had planned for Ruby had also caught another target- this one, unintended.

“Yang. Sun.” Although not nearly as loud, the gravity in Pyrrha’s voice somehow allowed it to carry throughout the house. “You have until the count of three. One.”

“Shit shit shit!” Yang’s voice got a bit fainter as she likely ran towards the garage.

“Two.”

“Babe, wait for me!” Sun called as he likely followed his girlfriend.

“Three!”

“Get ‘em, Pyrrha!” Ruby started laughing as the sound of pounding footsteps and slamming doors, plus the roar of Yang’s bike, quickly turned the calm early morning into a symphony of ridiculousness.

Weiss huffed. “Can’t we have one day without those four causing a racket?”

“It was your idea to let them stay here.” Her girlfriend pointed out with an amused grin.

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, that was technically true. “In my defense, I was trying to be gracious.”

“You were trying to make sure we could sleep together.”

At the end of their freshman year, the two sets of roommates had decided to rent a house just off campus for the four of them, reasoning it would be cheaper to share the living space- especially as Weiss had managed to get the whole rent and utilities paid by her ‘allowance’. Of course, the house they settled on only had three bedrooms, which Weiss had reasoned at the time would be fine, as she and Blake could simply share a room, since they were dating. Ruby immediately pointed out that both she and her sister had partners of their own, and it wouldn’t be fair if they couldn’t have ‘sleepovers’ while Weiss and Blake shared a bed.

In hindsight, all six of them living in the house- while mostly a good arrangement that worked for everyone- came with some rather specific drawbacks, such as the out-of-control prank wars.

“Still.” She supplied the weak rebuttal.

Blake simply shrugged. “Well, if I moved out-“

“Oh no you don’t; we were just talking about wedding plans, so don’t try to pull the ‘if we break up, you could-‘ line of thought with me!”

As her girlfriend laughed, Weiss couldn’t help but smile, too. Yes, she would prefer to go at least a few days without another prank sending the whole household into a whirlwind of activity, but if that was the price to pay, then so be it. It would take some concerted effort to convince her to break up with Blake at this rate, and she doubted anyone could be stubborn enough to change her mind.

She never expected this to be the result of talking to Blake in the library last year but, in hindsight, it proved to be the best decision she’d ever made. --- Does anyone else remember that one random college AU from, like, three years ago? Me neither.

[dontgotothenetherworld]

white elephant

ok so i know it’s pretty much canon that like all beetlejuice characters are canon (and i therefore apologize for my previous xmas fic) but i had this really cute idea, and it doesn’t have to be xmas in particular, it can be a general gift giving thing.

(you should google the rules if you really want to know how it’s played, bc i’m not very good at explaining it.)

1393 words

delia was the one who suggested the family do white elephant in the first place. she partly did it because with all the new people added to her family, she didn’t think she could find a meaningful gift for everyone. also, it’d be fun!

once delia explained the rules, an evil grin spread across beetlejuice’s face.

lydia quickly jumped in, “nothing gross, beej!”

the smile fell. “what do you mean by gross?” he asked slowly.

“if you can imagine those two,” she pointed at the maitlands, “being grossed out, it’s gross.”

“hey!” the maitlands, said, in unison, both equally offended.

“what? you’re the ones who are the most easily grossed out, so it’s a safe guideline to go by. i’m doing you a favor!”

the maitlands grumbled, but lydia was right.

“oo! and to make it more fun, we should guess who bought what!” charles suggested.

“that is a brilliant idea sweetie, but i don’t think lydia and beetlejuice can wrap presents, so it’d be kinda obvious.” delia replied.

“to be fair, i don’t know how to wrap presents either.” said charles.

“i think we should try it a normal way this year, and maybe next year we can try your idea.”

“fair enough.”

as soon as beetlejuice confirmed the conversation was over, he popped out of the house. honestly, who knows where he went. honestly, i’m picturing one of those montages from cartoons where the character goes across a bunch of contrasting landscapes.

lydia went straight to depths of amazon and etsy. she was looking for the weirdest thing the internet had to offer. ok maybe not the depths, she was kinda lazy, but it wasn’t the first page at least.

adam literally just googled “gag gifts” and clicked on the first few links he found.

delia decided to, uh, diy a gift. she was planning on making a really shitty diy, and pretend that she was really proud of it. yes it was a bit emotionally manipulating, but it was the spirit of the game.

charles went to target. he thought his gift was hilarious, but i’m not sure if everyone else has his sense of humor.

barbara debated what she should do. should she make something? should she get like a silly board game or something? what was it that lydia liked...? memes! barbara was going to get a meme gift!

when the white elephant exchange finally arrived, everyone had their gift to present, and were excited to begin.

as delia passed around the hat with the numbers in it, lydia attempted to figure out which gift she wanted to open.

there were three really small gifts, including hers, and one huge, poorly wrapped one. what the hell had beetlejuice gotten?

“i got number one!” charles exclaimed when he opened his slip of paper. he grabbed lydia’s gift, which was put in a little green bag. 

“i see you didn’t try to wrap this.” everyone glanced at beetlejuice’s gift, including beetlejuice.

he threw the tissue paper onto the floor, and carefully lifted the item inside. it was a little crochet baby yoda. made even smaller in charles’ hands.

“i’m stealing that.” said barbara at the same time beetlejuice said, “give me the babey, charles.”

“what number do you have?” beetlejuice asked barbara.

“two.”

“ha! i have three!”

charles handed over the baby yoda to barbara and considered his options again. he picked up both adam and barbara’s and shook them lightly, trying to figure out which one he should pick.

“just pick one already!” lydia yelled impatiently.

“alright, alright.” he picked up adam’s gift. he took the little ribbon that was on the box, and placed it on delia’s forehead. it fell off immediately.

charles let out one of those dad chuckles when he saw what was inside. light saber chopsticks. “i might need to figure out how to use chopsticks now.”

“might.” said lydia, contemplatively.

charles hugged his chopsticks to his chest.

beetlejuice faced barbara and wordlessly held out his hand. she sighed and dropped the baby yoda into his open palm.

she picked up delia’s gift, “this should be a safe one to choose, right?”

“yup!” delia replied, a liar’s smile on her face.

barbara smiled and ripped the wrapping paper off. “omg! it’s a box!” she joked. cut to small laughs from adam, delia, and charles. she ripped the tape off, and lifted the gift out of the box. it was a shit delia had made, made of strips of other shirts. there were strips of graphic tees, sweaters, cheetah print, and neon. it was absolutely hideous, exactly as delia had planned.

“i hope you like it! i put a lot of time into making it!” delia tried her best not to laugh.

barbara’s smile faltered, “i love it!” she lied, not wanting to make delia feel bad.

everyone else looked awkwardly at each other, was this a joke...?

delia couldn’t help herself anymore, she burst out in laughter, “don’t worry honey, i meant for it to look bad.”

barbara let out a sigh of relief. “good, because this is horrible.”

“or high fashion.” beetlejuice commented. lydia nodded.

“okay, my turn!” delia jumped up and walked over to beetlejuice’s gift. she tried to pick it up to bring it back to where she was sitting, but it was far heavier than she was expecting. and far heavier than she could lift.

she glanced at beetlejuice with a concerned look on her face.

“go ahead, open it!” beeteljuice enthused.

she ripped the wrapping paper. “what the hell?” she gazed upon a window. a stained glass window, depicting a sunset, or sunrise, over a lake.

“beetlejuice... where did you get this?”

“nevermind that, do you like it?”

“uh... yes?” delia said.

“i love it!” screamed lydia. she looked at her number, “and i think i’m ‘bout to steal it!” she waddled over to the window.

“lydia, it’s my turn.” adam said.

lydia stopped for a second, as if she was loading. “oops. but if you steal this, i’m gonna steal it from you, so... choose wisely.” she waddled back to her seat.

“since it’s my turn,” he looked pointedly at lydia, “i would like that baby yoda, please.”

“adam, i mean this sincerely,” he handed adam the doll, “fuck you.”

adam blew him a kiss.

beetlejuice sighed and considered his remaining options. there was barbara’s gift, or charles’ gift. barbara’s was a really really tiny box, charles put his in a small bag.

“this better be good.” he picked up charles’ bag.

he greedily pulled the tissue paper out of the bag, and grabbed his gift. “socks?” beetlejuice asked, “plain white socks?”

charles began laughing a contagious laughter. although they weren’t quite sure why it was funny, everyone else began to laugh as well.

lydia finally stopped laughing first, and she stood up. “attention, everyone, it’s my turn. attention, it’s my turn.” she strode over to the stained glass window.

“you don’t want to open mine?” barbara attempted to guilt lydia into opening it.

it worked.

lydia sat, cross legged, in the middle of everyone as she ripped the wrapping paper off. and she ripped the wrapping paper off. and she ripped the wrapping paper off. and she ripped the wrapping paper off. “how small is this thing?” asked lydia as she took the fourth layer off. 

“small.” said barbara, helpfully.

lydia finally peeled off the fifth, and final layer to reveal a little box. she took the top of the box open to reveal a pepe pin.

“omg barbara, i love it.” she pinned the frog onto the collar of her all black outfit.

adam stood up, with his baby yoda clutched in his fist, “well i guess this game is over! it was loads of fun, i’ll see y’all later!” he began to walk off.

“hold on, there, adam. the first person gets to go again.” charles explained.

adam turned to find charles’ outstretched palm. “give me the child.” charles whispered.

“goddammit.” he dropped the doll. “wait, i can’t have my own gift.”

“fair enough, i guess you can steal from someone else.” said delia.

adam looked at all the gifts. he didn’t particularly want any of it.

“adam, i’m begging you, take these socks. i want the light sabers, please.” said beetlejuice.

“twist my arm.” adam said. he handed beetlejuice the chopsticks, and took the socks.

@meangirlsx @meangirlmurphy

this was so fun to write omfg i’m sorry if it’s hard to follow

[laylacooke]

A New Hope || Lucas & Layla

timing: Sometime last week (5/17- 5/22) parties: @lucastheunlucky & @laylacooke summary: Luke invites Layla over for blanket tents, snacks, and Disney movies.  warnings: Prepare yo-self for this cuteness! ♥

Luke felt terrible about not really introducing himself to Layla before, even if he had literally just got out of the hospital and had a lot on his mind after his attack. But Luke was an extremely caring person and sent her a text inviting her over to his apartment which was equipped to the nines with security to keep them safe. Luke had a plan for tonight, equal parts to combat his boredom and, also, as a peace offering to a calm night for the other. On the couch, he had a short stack of clean lines, clothesline, pins, and various objects to aid in his vision of camping indoors. When he heard the buzz from downstairs he ran over and rang her in, opening his door he waited for her to come up. Offering a crooked smile at seeing her. “Are you picky with snacks? Cause guess what--” he let her into his apartment. “We literally have twenty different kinds.” He laughed. 

Layla had been hesitant about answering Luke’s text. The wolf pack meeting hadn’t exactly been what she had expected, and while she had stayed in her own corner most of the night, it seemed like no one had cared to reach out, and with Salva being there, had only made things worse. But she had played fault in such a bad experience, and in hopes of showing one of her fellow wolves that she wasn’t as bad as she seemed, she had decided to accept his offer. As soon as he opened the door, Layla let a small smile drift over her sad features, “Hey, and uh...if you’ve got any vegan options...if not, it’s totally cool.” She eased inside upon being invited in. Luke’s apartment was homely, and it felt like a safe space to be in. Something she could imagine having someday, if she could ever get her life in order, “Cute place.” Walking over towards a nearby wall, she stood quietly waiting for his lead.

“I mean junk food, so hopefully that’s okay,” he chuckled, showing the actual pile of snacks like Lucas had robbed a few vending machines. “I never get to eat bad, so it’s a treat.” Lucas poured them some drinks, offering lemonade, water, or iced tea. “So, first impressions weren’t the best, but listen-- I’m sorry. I couldn’t entirely focus on anything else. The nice thing about having a few of us around means we can all take care of each other now. Rotate, take when we need too, give when we can. It will balance out.” Lucas seemed sure of it, coming from a place where his family always felt like a pack before they left.

“No, it’s perfectly fine. I’m sure there’s something.” Layla looked at the pile of snacks. It was a lot, but it had been kind of him offering up all the treats for them to share. “I think, since being with Ari, Celeste, and Ulfric, it’s the first time, in a long time, that I’ve been able to eat good. What do you think you’ll eat first?” She looked back to the pile spotting some almonds and sunflower seeds. She had found her snacks. “I’ll go with water. Thanks.” She moved over towards the pile and pulled out a few packs of nuts and seeds. Listening to him talk about the pack, she could see how much of a family they were. She had hoped to eventually navigate her way in, but right now, she had felt like the outsider of the bunch. “And you don’t have to apologize. I know I wasn’t very friendly. I just still sorta feel like the outsider and being around a bunch of people makes me nervous, especially when I don’t know most of them, and one of them is a complete douche.” She paused, “Salva’s the douche...to clarify…”

Lucas chuckled, grabbing three different bags of chips, and plopping right on the floor in the living room. “Well, this is new for everyone. I’m not used to even existing for people to care about. I only just got my brother back. So, it’s alright to feel weird--” he paused, realizing he used the same description word Regan always used. “Not weird,” he corrected. “Just, different. Change is always going to be a ride.” He felt a little affection over her explain who the douche was at the get together. “Everyone has a variety of experiences to shape them. Sometimes the ones who are the meanest, and the loudest are the ones who are the loneliest in the group. We’re all a bit messed up, we gotta make do. Try to live. I hope that for you too.” Lucas sighed a little, trying to believe his own words, which would be a challenge, but he was determined. “So, think we can make a tent in here without further injuring ourselves?” 

If Layla was going to make the most of hanging out and getting to know Lucas, she knew she needed to lighten up. Her mind had been so clouded with darkness lately that it was hard to be happy and cheerful, even during Ariana’s adventures in pie making. But she was tired of being sad. Tired of feeling alone. And tired of just being. Without second guessing herself, the young wolf took a seat on the floor next to Lucas, “I get everybody’s going through their own drama. Throwing a moody baby wolf at everyone is probably the last thing on anyone’s mind, especially since there’s talk of...murdering a man?” She still wasn’t entirely sure what that was about, and did she really want to know? Looking to the stack of sheets and stuff needed to make a tent, Layla pondered the idea, before looking down to her red cast. “You know what?” She looked back to Lucas, “If someone can get a group of furry, full moon worshiping dogs together in one room, how hard could it be to put up a tent on our own?” It couldn’t be that hard, right?

“No murdering,” Lucas lied. “And you don’t have to worry about this particular hunter, ever. But, I’m here for you in the capacity I can be, alright.” He bumped her shoulder. “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing.” A cheesy smile spread easily on Lucas, looking up at the banister leading to his loft bed. “Maybe, we can connect it there first with ties? That way we know for sure one corner will be pretty secure.” Luke said all this in between chips. “Climbing that ladder has been a feat, let me go up and you can try to feed them to me.” Rolling up, he made his way up to the loft, using only one arm to hull up and balance on it. This is probably why Miles wanted him at his cabin. “Okay, I can sorta reach you, heh. Can you get the sheet up?”

She didn’t know if he was lying or not, but she also didn’t want to get wrapped up in anything. Layla had already found herself in enough trouble. The shoulder bump brought a soft smile to her face and made her feel accepted, “Thanks. I know you don’t really know me, but the same goes for you too.” Looking up to the banister and back to Lucas, she nodded, “Yeah, we’ll make this work.” Getting up, she watched as he maneuvered up to the loft. Layla grabbed the blanket off the couch and carefully climbed up the latter, so she could pass it over to him, “What do you need next?” This was going to be a task at hand, especially considering how weak she had been, but she wanted this. She needed something fun and silly.

Lucas took the blanket and tied a knot on the bottom of the banister, letting the rest hang down. “Let’s maybe knot a few on the other end by you? That way we can drape it over some chairs or something? Luke pondered cutely, poking his cheek and pursing his lips, “yeah, maybe, the sheet instead of another blanket so it’s not too heavy. You got that?” He asked, securing a few more knots on the banister so when they pulled on it or it had more weight, it wouldn’t unravel. “Also, I haven’t done this since I was like, nine, have you ever built a blanket tent before? I have three siblings, including Miles, and we’d always do stuff like this. But I’m having a blank moment remembering them.” 

Layla did as he had requested making sure the knots, she tied, were good and secured. Ironically enough, one of the survivalist techniques her parents had drilled into her mind were various types of knots, and those skills were coming out as they worked on the blanket tent, “How does that look? I can tie it a different way, if you need me to.” She hadn’t really realized it, until he had said something about making blanket tents as a kid; something she had never actually experienced being an only child to werewolf hunters. But what she had learned how to do was set up tents, start fires, and basically survive in the wild if it didn’t involve hunting or killing things. Face fading into a blank stare at this realization, she replied to Lucas, “Yeah, I wouldn’t know. I can set up a real tent and teach you how to survive in the wild, until the cows come home, but typical childhood things, you might have to google, unless you like tea parties and The Little Mermaid…” She blinked a few times before looking over to him with a sad smile.  

“No, shit-- that looks awesome, knew I called the right person, hehe,” he gave a cheesy grin, finishing up his work and jumping down the ladder to land gracefully on the ground. He stood up, tugging on the blankets, and sheets, opening them up little and seeing how far they would spread open. “I get that, some families don’t always give you everything you might need. This stupid shit? Playing? It’s so important to do, keeps you happy, reminds you of simple things like laughter. I’ll make sure you get lots of playtime in now and do fun stuff. I always have ideas.” He pet the back of her head affectionately, a motion that Lucas did with everyone to show he cared about them. It was always with a little scratching of his nails, and a rub with his thumb before he walked away. “I personally always like The Emperor's New Groove. Heh, just thinking about ‘LLLAMA FACEEEE-- ahh haha, get’s me rolling every time.” Luke started pushing the couch closer to the sheets with his shoulder and grabbing some chairs so they can lift the other end up.  

She smiled when she noticed the cheesy grin, he had given her. At least her hunting techniques had paid off somehow, and, in the best way, because no one would get hurt, “I might have to take a picture of this when we’re finished. Show Ari my first blanket tent.” It was weird to think she could still play at eighteen, but the thought comforted her, especially knowing that Lucas was just as willing to keep her young at heart. Feeling him pet the back of her head had startled her slightly, but when she felt the affection, the teenager closed her eyes for the briefest of moments taking in the ease of the situation and cherishing the opportunity he had given her to just be a kid. When the moment had passed, she turned her attention back on Lucas, “Do you know how to walk the Llama, Llama?” Layla could feel herself letting her guard down; a feeling she had long since forgotten. Realizing what he was doing, the red-head moved to help him, “This is gonna be pretty awesome when we’re done with it. Thanks for inviting me, Luke.” She looked over at him with kindness in her eyes as she continued to help.

“Okay. It’s settled. We watch The Little Mermaid then The Emperor's New Groove tonight. And if it gets too late, another night,” Luke said easily, together the chairs secured the bottom half of the blanket canopy and stepping back it looked a bit of a mess in the loft space, but under it with the cushions off the couch and spare pillows and snack— it was pretty neat. He plopped on his back and stared up, his arm resting on his chest and enjoyed it for a moment. “You’re welcome,” he said with quiet delivery. “Squeeze in, let’s take one ugly selfie to mark our success—“he pulled out his phone and angled it badly. He was already laughing but tried to squish his chin and make a silly, bad face for the picture. 

“Deal.” This was one of the best moments Layla had had since coming to White Crest. Everything with Ariana and Celeste had been special, but this was different. She felt like it was just a normal moment of not trying to fit in or act the way a werewolf should. She was genuinely starting to feel good about herself and the moment she was having with Luke. Finding her place under the tent, she settled in. Laughing and shaking her head, she gave into his request, and made the funniest face she could think of. “Can you send that to me?” She grabbed a pack of sunflower seeds and laid back down onto one of the pillows staring up at the top of the tent, “How are you feeling?”

“Mhmm--” he texted her quickly and showed that it was now in fact her picture for when she called. Lucas actually giggled a little, finding it quite amusing with their silly faces. He rolled up and sat crossed legged. “I’m still pretty tired, but that’s understandable. I don’t know if people told you about that, but you need to be eating well to heal up well. Or, that’s what my mom used to say. Calories, sugars, good fats, all needed and what not to speed up the process.” Lucas knew that question could mean the other half of that same coin involving him, so he added. “I’m hanging on--” he chuckled a little. “I’m way tougher than I let people know about. It’s my secret power. Being able to get back up even if it’s hard and hurts.” He opened a new box of treats and pulled out some fruit roll ups. “Hmm, have you tested your strength much yet?” 

Layla couldn’t help but laugh when she had seen what Lucas had done with the picture. It was the first one she had taken since coming to White Crest, and it was one she would cherish. Even though she hadn’t really known him when Ari had clued her in on what had happened, she had still felt bad. She hated seeing people in pain or hurting. It’s why she had made the world’s worst hunter, “I’ve been told. I just haven’t really felt like eating lately. Ari’s been making me Beyond Burgers, and I like the veggie burritos from Veggie Tables, but my appetite just isn’t there. I’m glad to hear that you’re doing a little better though, and I’m sorry I haven’t been much help in terms of...whatever is supposed to happen. It must be a nice power to have, but don’t forget to take care of yourself.” She poured a few sunflower seeds out of the packet she had grabbed earlier and popped them in her mouth, “I punched a tree…” She held up her hand with the cast, “Does that count?” The tree seemed to have won though, but she had left a rut in it the size of her fist.

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’ dramatically, but Luke showed in his expression that he really did understand it. He’s been there. Being a teenager once with hormones and the change happening, he’d hit things until they were dented, and he was left bleeding. “Miles and I are pretty good on regimen things. You saw my brother, right? We got strength training on lock. If you want to learn your limits, you call on us. I’m working with Simon too, we’re going to be a strong ass pack, right? We gotta show off our muscles, hehe,” he chuckled while rolling the fruit roll up into a ball. “Also, you don’t always have to be the one giving help ya know? It’s okay. It will always balance out if your heart is there for it.” 

“I used to do some things back when life wasn’t all...Who am I kidding, it’s always been fucked up. Are you guys meeting up at a gym or something? Maybe once this thing is off my arm…” She held up the hand and arm that was dressed in a brace and shook it, “I can join you, and learn how to take out my rage in a healthier manner.” She ate a few more seeds, “I’ve got a little muscle.” Layla sat down the pack of sunflower seeds and flexed her tiny little muscle with a sheepish grin spreading across her face. It wasn’t much, but she was proud of it. Picking her snack back up, she resumed eating, speaking in between bites, “I know. I guess I just feel like if I suppress my problems enough and help other people, what I’m feeling will eventually just go away. Out of sight, out of mind sorta deal.” She knew it wasn’t healthy, but that’s where her head and her heart currently remained.

“I hear that all the time from others. It doesn’t go away. Sucks big time, I know,” Lucas didn’t want them to fall into bad thoughts together. It was easy for him to feel awful enough to contemplate the worst of things. “We’ll show you. It will forever be difficult for you though. Just know that and own it. You will get better; I can’t imagine you getting worse.” He laughed a little, to keep the mood light. “But all our training is outdoors. We climb rocks and run in the woods. Push boulders and jump from big heights. It's the best form of training. You will find something primal about it. Or I hope so.” He rolled on the side and pulled his laptop over and scrolled through Disney + in hopes the Little Mermaid was on there. “Come on, let’s chill.” He yanked a soft blanket over and a big pillow.

She appreciated his honesty. The last thing Layla had needed was for everything to be sugar coated, “Thanks for being honest. I really do appreciate it. And believe it or not, I can take a hit. Outdoor training sounds great actually, and I’m kinda looking forward to just the release of it all.” She finished off her sunflower seeds and chased them with a drink of water. Finding a cozy spot next to Lucas, she settled in. Whether it was The Little Mermaid, Emperor’s New Groove, or whatever, she was just glad to be doing something normal. Something that didn’t make her feel like it was fight or flight, and as she looked over at Lucas, Layla took in every part of this moment, so she could look back on it, when she felt sad the next time.

[euphoriacrossing]

So while I sit here trying to get normal balloon spawns...

I may as well write a blog. I am using a guide post on how to catch normal balloon spawns to try and get more cherry blossom recipes. Well I am only half using it.. I am camping on the beach waiting for normal balloon spawns instead of going there every 0/5 ending minute. I'll share the guide on here after this if I remember, but I already got one new cherry blossom recipe just by camping on the side of the beach that balloon spawns are coming from and ignoring the bunny day balloons, so I think this could work, too.

Anyway, now story mode is over, but I still have so, so much to do that it's not even funny. I am making it my main priority to save miles up to buy all the different paths and stuff. I think I have three left to buy so roughly 6,000 miles to earn. But saving miles means making less bells as Nook mile trips are where I made the most, I think. And now I can't take them because I have no miles/am saving miles and so I don't have the bells to pay off my house or to build a new bridge or any of the things I am saving for. But in part the fact it is harder to save bells just makes it feel like I have more to do and that is comforting in a way. I want the appeal of this game to last forever but I know my brain doesn't work like that. Still for now it's the best distraction I have and I'm grateful for it.

Having the ability to make paths is tough because it's just another million decisions to make and hope I get it right or can redo it better or whatever, so that Euphoria becomes the island I dreamed it could be. Right now I have a lot of dirt paths and I think they look okay. But I plan on redoing them someday with either custom paths or maybe just the arched tile ones... I like that path style. Still I started when I just had dirt so I just kind of kept going that way.

It looks alright, I think, especially at the entrance. I haven't finished a lot of the paths on either the right (residential) side or the left (wooded area/orchard) but I have mostly finished the center which is shops and such.

(So far I've gotten a normal balloon spawn every 5 minutes! So it works to just hang around the beach and then look for the spawns at every 0 and 5 ending minute. Edit: Aw, nope just didn't get that last one... I am probably doing something wrong then. Oops Edit2: Definitely doing something wrong. Didn't get a spawn again. Oh well I'll check the guide again once I finish this post. I am also watching for wishing stars so it won't be a total waste.. though I haven't seen any of those either. Last edit: Guide said spawns don't happen every time AND I just got another regular balloon, so maybe I'm fine? I hope I am not just wasting time.)

I am moving most of the houses before I do the paths on that side which is ANOTHER expense for sure, but after seeing a couple of my friend's islands, I knew I could make the houses probably a bit straighter and I decided I want them not quite as closer together as I want everyone to be able to have a yard. One of my friends has houses that are PIN straight and have little yards to them. I don't think I can accomplish that. But I do think I can space them out far enough to fence them in and have little yards.

So I started with the last to move in which was Marina. I put her in a space both by the beach, and by my house because even though she just moved in we're absolute besties. No but honestly, I love her. She sings like everywhere she goes and it's adorable.

I would move Beau next but I think he might stay close to where he is. Unfortunately if I have to move him a little bit I first have to move his house out of the way and then move it back because you can't move buildings just a tad, you have to find a whole new spot. This is why I had to move the whole museum to a new spot as it was slightly out of line and i couldn't just move it to where it lined up. I wish i had known this when i put things there. I didn't take care placing anything because I knew it could be moved. I only ASSUMED it could be moved a small amount as well especially since I assumed correctly that you were paying for it. But no, so oh well, now I have to come up with new spots for things, that's fine. Luckily both Nook's Cranny and the Able Sisters I got in perfect alignment with resident services like I wanted to so they're all on one straight path.

Anyway, I hope I can get it looking like i want it to. I thought that decorating it how I wanted would be the hardest because I still need to find all the furniture. But the paths might give that a run for it's money when we talk about difficulty level if you include trying to get all the houses in the right position and such.

But as hard as I've been "working" (it's definitely still fun or I wouldn't do it) I have found plenty of time for play as well. Yesterday morning I visited a friend for her KK Slider concert. I luckily have a good group of friends from a discord I'm part of and a lot of them are from other countries so they experience stuff before I do and things like that. So a bunch of us visited her for her KK concert and we did some of that...

And then things got a little wild...

Lol, it was fun. I thought for a second about the state of the world but I didn't panic thankfully. I just saw a bunch of us coming together from across the globe, some of us in quaratine, almost all of us at least ADVISED not to go out unless necessary. The world is a scary place right now, but the fact we could still come together from across the globe to be silly and enjoy a game together makes me feel like everything might be alright. I mean, it would still be cool even if these things weren't going on, but the fact they are abd socialization is becoming more difficult than ever, it's cool to see an alternate means of that in action.

I can't believe I took no pictures of her super straight houses, ugh, if I go again, I will have to, they are literally perfect.

And the weirdest thing about all of this to me is how included i feel in all of this. We're all on a small AC discord together and it seems like a lot of them have maybe known each other a while. But unlike a lot of other places it doesn't feel cliquey to me. I've always been welcome to come to their islands, and they have always been very courteous when any of them have come to mine. They act as happy to see me as they do anyone else. And I've only known them a short time so it would usually feel strange to call them "friends" but it doesn't. Now obviously they could feel differently but if they do they don't show it. I am incredibly grateful to have found them. I really couldn't ask for a better group of people to play with.

I actually was invited from this tumblr. Likely after I made some kind of post about not feeling like I belonged in the AC community or something similarly emo and whiny, I'm sure. So I am surprised I was invited at all, but I am so thankful I was. It was just what i was looking for in the AC community.

(Yes! I learned cherry blossom umbrella! Balloon hunting is going fairly well considering I only had like two of the cherry blossom DIYs total before I started and now in about an hour I've doubled that.)

I do have some facebook friends and such I have play AC with, and I am also grateful for them as well of course. It has brought us closer together and I am thankful for that. I have one friend who we constantly send each other gifts like if we accidentally got two of something or a DIY we already have or just if we think something is cool, it's really fun. I enjoy mail as much in game as I do in real life.

But yeah, I was nervous when this game first came out that I would be stuck playing just with my sister. And don't get me wrong I love playing the game with her, we always have a good time. But sometimes you need socialization beyond your own family and I really saw this as my one chance to connect since I'm not very social, I am very anxious, and I just struggle with these things. I may have been right about it being my best chance at connection because I can hide a lot of the awkwardness in game. Very thankfully though, I found people who accept what I can't hide in game. And who accept me. For some reason that's just been really hard to do. Every community I am a part of I feel like an outsider until now. But yeah, I am looking forward to a continued friendship with these people and continuing to enjoy the game moving forward.

I guess I've rambled enough. I still need to get more balloons, but I can't write here forever. Though... I frequently do write far too much here and I wonder if it get read. If it doesn't I don't blame ya. But yeah. I will leave you with this adorable pic I took while Marina was singing... you can't really tell she was singing, but still, she's adorable either way.

(And don't you love this dress? I have it in I think 4 different colors, I just love it.)

[renywrites]

Galra AU Shidge... Not sure if that counts as a prompt but I can't think of anything to add to it

Hi! Let me say that I am so sorry that this took so, so long - but I really hope you enjoy this!

*

Ask to be Unbroken

The day Pidge met Takashi Shirogane was easily one of the worst days of her life.

It was the day after her entire family — the entire town — had been killed. She was the last, hidden away in the blood and carnage and wreckage, waiting for death to come on swift wings and take her like it had taken everything else. Ash and soot clung to her bloodied, matted fur. The smell of smoke and death was heavy on her tongue, in her nose. Whatever wounds she had were caked with blood and dirt and she could feel infection and fever seeping into her body with each hour that passed.

The Galra Empire had arisen. Her town was not the first town in opposition, though they might have been the last. The people Pidge had grown up with, the people who she had loved — they had stood up when the Emperor had begun killing innocent outsiders and turning a blind eye to the wicked magic his wife had grown fond of. She had watched her father and the other men in the town gather around her kitchen table, pouring over notes and maps and hastily thrown together battle plans.

She had sat in the hallway with her older brother, huge ears trembling as she listened as intently as she could. She had been there, constructing weapons and helping enhance ships when her father had finally given in to her insistent pleas to help their revolution. She had watched families lose sons, daughters, brothers, mothers, and fathers. She had watched bond-mates get ripped away from their beloved as the war raged and the Emperor’s wiles grew and his humanity dwindled and then evaporated.

And just hours ago, she had watches troops of the Galra horde kill families in cold blood and set the town alight in flame. She had watched her family get murdered, narrowly avoiding death herself. She had only survived because her older brother, Matthew, had pushed her into a cupboard and told her to be silent for once, Katie, and she had listened. Matthew had been dead at her feet when she’d pushed the door open.

Now it was only her in the ash and soot and blood that was left of what had been her home. Only her and countless piles of bone and fur that had once been her family and her friends.

Pidge didn’t know how long she sat there among the death and rubble. After her tears had run out and exhaustion had set in, she had sat down in the middle of what had once been the main road, staring into the horizon and wishing for death.

What came, however, was not death. Instead, a beat up ship with a worn looking Rebellion insignia painted on the side kicked up a dust storm in the near distance, disturbing the morbid silence. Four figures stepped out after the engines had cut, and Pidge watched with distant interest as they surveyed the area around them.

There wasn’t much left for them here. Just blood and dust and bones and… and Pidge. But she wasn’t much more, either. She closed her eyes, hoping maybe this was all a terrible, terrible dream and she would wake with Matt pulling her ears and laughing in her face, and her mother at the stove, and her father tinkering away in the yard.

When she did open her eyes, it wasn’t to Matt. It was to an unfamiliar voice, accompanied by grey eyes and fluffy ears poking out a tuft of white fur. She realized distantly that it was a male Galra, and that he was speaking to her. She blinked dust from hazy green eyes, reaching up to adjust the broken spectacles that she’d taken from her brother’s body.

“There’s nothing for you here.” She found herself speaking, her voice unrecognizable even to her own ears.

Those grey eyes she was looking into brighten a bit into something hopeful, and she has to close her eyes. There was no hope here, not anymore. Hope had died with the rest of her family.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” The Galra asked, his voice a soothing timbre.

An ugly smile twisted her face, her eyes opening to narrow slits. “Leave me to die with the rest of them.” She hissed, her ears pinned back. Her body was trembling.

“I think that would be a terrible way to die,” he said, his voice low and soothing and conversational, like they weren’t sitting in the prime example of the genocide the Emperor was capable of. She hated it. She wanted him to feel her pain. She wanted him to hurt, to feel the fire burning in her lungs and the stiff knots in her belly and the trembling exhaustion in her body.

“Besides,” the Galra continues, oblivious to her anguish. “I think your friends would want you to continue their fight, don’t you think?”

Something in Pidge wanted to snap back, wanted to spit poison at his feet, rake her claws against his face. But the exhaustion won out the grief and she sagged forward, pressing her fingers to her face and letting out an ugly sob, one that made some part of her want to lean into this man and beg for comfort.

“Come with me.” His voice gave way to something pleading, and she doesn’t stop him when he cups her elbows. “Let’s make them pay for their deaths.”

Pidge looked up at him, her vision blurry, and took a breath. “What’s your name?”

He smiled, standing up and guiding her with him. “My name is Shiro.”

*

Pidge was taken to some sort of rebellion base after the Galra — Shiro — had coaxed her to join him and his crew.

She had heard her father talk of this place, once or twice, when she had snuck out of her room after bedtime to listen to the meetings. Somehow, it was nothing and also everything she had imagined. For one thing, there were many more people than she dreamed. Along with that, there were no maps and strategies planned by the light of the lamp — instead there were entire meeting rooms and holoscreens dedicated to that.There were differences, though. Many of the people looked to be close to her age. They functioned less like a military and more like a city, including the apartments and different shops.

Pidge didn’t get to see much of it at first. She was whisked away to the medical bay almost immediately after they had set foot in the hangar. Everything was so bright and clean, and she realized just how filthy she was when they pushed her into a private shower and gave her some sort of thin hospital gown.

Getting her brother’s blood out of her fur was easily one of the hardest things Pidge had ever made herself do. In some odd way, it felt like betrayal.

After she’d been scrubbed and poked and prodded, she was given a room close to the med bay, where they could monitor her. The room itself was lonelier than the dying city had been.

When Pidge was finally left alone to her own thoughts and devices, one thought took precedence over every other, and it was unwanted in the worst sort of way.

I am alive and my family is not.

What a cruel fate — outliving your parents and your older brother. Afraid of what was to come, Pidge bowed her head and cried for every lost life she had left behind.

*

Shiro was persistent in the worst way possible.

Every day, he showed up to accompany Pidge places; to the cafeteria, to the library, to the med bay, to her own room. At first, she’d done her damndest to ignore him. It was humiliating enough to have been found in the state she had been, but it was even worse to have to look at him and remember that he was also the one who had taken her away from the death she had wanted to die.

Nonetheless, he was adamant on staying around her. It became difficult to ignore the person who held doors for you or introduced you to people or put you in social situations where not talking was considered rude instead of necessary. Pidge was pushed from cold silence to grudging conversation in a matter of days.

(She tried to convince herself it wasn’t because when he smiled as she picked up the conversation to take it somewhere, he looked a little like her brother when he had found a flaw in a textbook. Gleeful and excited.)

But it didn’t stop there! Oh, no. He’d gone and introduced her to his crew, too, which meant now they came around more often. Tiptoe though they might around her, because she was still ticking like a bomb waiting to go off. Pidge became unwilling acquaintances with three more people.

Keith was Shiro’s younger brother, a hotheaded young Galra who shot off at the mouth and had a temper that often got him in trouble and in dangerous situations. He was the opposite of Shiro in so many ways, right down to his constant frown, that Pidge wondered if they could really be siblings at all. She and Matt had often been mistaken for twins, despite their three year age difference.

His mate, and partner in crime, was an Altean named Lance. He was just as mouthy, although his snark was more sass and often more playful in nature. He and his mate, Keith, often bickered, but Pidge deduced that it was how they showed their affection.

Her favorite by far was the Balmeran named Hunk. He was brilliant, whip-smart and one of the kindest people she had ever met. Although it was hard to get close to him, because they ran on the same wavelength that she and her brother had — and that was just too painful for now.

Pidge often found herself hanging with variations of the group — but Shiro was the only constant, like her solid shadow, a calming force beside her. It was overwhelming to be near such an easy version of family.

She tried to tough it out and be with them. She did. But after the second time they were all together, it became too much.

The trigger was sudden and unbidden. Lance and Keith had paused in their bickering to gaze lovingly at each other, caught up in some silly argument over what they wanted to eat for dinner. Hunk was talking, or trying to talk, mechanics with Pidge, and Shiro was sitting at her side, watching like an approving parent.

It was all too much. Too familiar. She could hear the screams echoing in her ears, could taste the blood and ash on her tongue. Her brother had let her borrow his book on Altean mechanics the night before it all happened. That same book had crumbled away to dust at her feet when she’d stumbled to crouch at her mother’s side.

Pidge stood with an audible, wet sort of gasp. Everyone stopped, but not her mind. No, her mind was filled with death and decay and the sickening sort of guilt that came with being the only one out of hundreds to survive.

“Pidge?” Hunk asked, trailing off. Lance and Keith look away from one another and over to her.

It’s all so much.

The overwhelming urge to flee hits her, and she stumbles in the direction where her room was, where she could hide and scream and beat her fists on the wall until her claws broke and she could bleed. Just like all of them had.

She presses her hands to her ears. They’re all up on their feet before she can make them stop, make them stay, make them leave her alone. All of them are speaking, all of them are asking things of her — all of them, except for Shiro.

A hand comes up to rest on her shoulder, and it’s like all of the rest of the world goes quiet.

“Pidge,” Shiro said, and she can feel herself fracturing.

“I can’t.” She gasped.

She expects to be asked to explain herself. She expects there to be more words, but she can’t put words to the feeling of ash and blood and flame clogging her throat. She can’t make them understand the guilt that she wears like a second skin.

But then she’s being lifted up into strong arms. For a moment, she struggles, but then Shiro is nuzzling her ears and it’s so familiar that she relaxes with a wet sob into his chest. After that, the tears that have become plentiful in these few days return in full force.

Pidge is carried back to her room, but Shiro doesn’t put her down. Instead, he climbed his way into her bed, nestling her smaller body close to his and holding her the way a lover might. Her ugly sobbing turned to weeping, giving way to weak exhaustion.

“You will not feel this way forever.” His voice was close to her ear, making it flick back to brush against his cheek.

Good, she thought, because I am broken and if I break anymore I will turn to dust.

“You aren’t alone, Pidge. You will never be alone.”

“How aren’t I alone?” She argued, her gaze clouded with liquid anguish. “I have lost everything. Everything. I have no family, no home. I’d say I’m pretty alone.”

The male Galra was quiet for a time, rubbing his cheek against her ear. His silence was not malicious; simply thoughtful.

“I am here.” He offered after she had settled back into the horrible spiral of death and dead and dying and guilt.

“What?” Pidge was bewildered.

“I am here,” Shiro said again. She could feel his smile, soft and timid, against her head. “I will not leave you.”

“You cannot stop death, Shiro.” She said, resigned.

“No,” he agreed, pulling back a bit. His fingers caught just under her chin and she found herself looking up into the same grey eyes that had pulled her from her stupor the first time. “But I can promise to be here for as long as I can.”

Let me in, his gaze screamed, stealing the breath from her lungs. Let me show you how I will stay.

She didn’t want to. All of her instincts warned her to push him away, to turn him to the door and order him out. It was logic now. Get too close to people and it would kill you to watch them die. She had already died a hundred times over — one more would fracture her beyond repair.

But another part of her was drawn to his soft reassurance and his willingness to help her heal.

Put me back together, that part of her begged. Put me back together and ask me to be unbroken.

“You promise?” Her words are whispered, afraid to be loud in case someone heard and came to rip them away again.

Shiro’s smile is the soft sheets of her childhood bed. His eyes are the grey of the dusk in the summer in her village. His closeness is the balm to every ache that had seeped into her bones and weighed her down. “I promise.”

Pidge had never believed anything more in her life.

[revengeisalwaysanoption]

I don’t know if you’re taking prompts, but I think it would be funny to read something about The Boy Squad and Niccolò playing truth or dare, spin the bottle or something like that. And another one: Marti trying to hide his hickeys from The boys, because Niccolò simply loves his neck 🤷🏻‍♀️😂 (btw I love your writing!)

Thanks! I’m sorry it took me so long, but I finally have it. Hope it doesn’t disappoint too much…

******************************

Nobody thought Martino could actually pull this off.

‘You’ve got the worst poker face in the world, zì.’ Giovanni reminded him, sure that Niccolò would know something was up as soon as he opened the door. That might be true, but Gio was definitely underestimating how good his best friend could be at sidetracking Nico. He wouldn’t even remember his own name, once he was done with him…

‘If you manage not to give it away tonight, and that’s a big if… you want me to believe that you’re gonna tell him that you’re busy and that you really can’t stay, when morning comes?’ Elia rolled his eyes, disbelief written all over his face. The plan could work, because it wasn’t something you’d ever expect from Martino… but it was hard to imagine this boy would really let Niccolò spend most of the next day alone.

‘Aren’t you gonna feel guilty about keep a secret from him?’ Luca asked, genuinely surprised by this new – stealthy – side of Martino. ‘I feel bad already… so maybe you better text me the details at the last minute. I can’t promise I won’t say something I shouldn’t, if he asks me…’ 

Yeah, he had taken that into account. Maybe he should have told Luchino that there wasn’t anything to feel sorry, or guilty, about. That as soon as Ni would find the first clue inside the ukulele, he’d know he has been sent on a treasure hunt. He wouldn’t really care that asking for help from his friends could be considered cheating – let it be known that he still is the Greatest Fucking Cheater Ever Existed – but he’d try not to involve them just because it’s their game…Marti should have told Luchino, sure. But it implied talking about the handwritten notes, the flipbook, the antidote, the giraffes… About things that he didn’t feel like to share that with anyone, because they were just theirs.Contrary to everybody’s expectations, indeed, Martino managed to surprise Niccolò.He had him running and cycling all over the city – including their school terrace, were Chicco Rodi and Rocco Martucci were waiting for him – to collect clues on where to find him… Which ended up being the most obvious place, if only Niccolò had taken a moment to stop and think: in that same swimming pool where they first kissed, without any Renato to interrupt them now.He let him think that they were going home to make up for lost time, alone… And then got a bit frantic when Niccolò turned on the light and looked at him and then at their friends, like he couldn’t believe his eyes…Was it too much? Was he overwhelmed?

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!”Trust Luchì to break the ice and hug Niccolò so tight that he couldn’t help but hug him back and start laughing.

Silvia came to the rescue, handing out slices of cake to everyone. It was barely more edible than the one she had prepared for the first meeting at Radio Osvaldo but he ate it with such gusto that one would think it was the best thing he had ever tasted.

He was gifted with pictures and embarrassing stories of his boyfriend’s first year in high school by Eva, shared travelling tips with Eleonora and went off on a rant about the upcoming maturità with Edoardo and Federico. If there was one good thing that came out from Covitti being a jerk, in the end, it was that it showed Incanti and Canegallo could be pretty decent people. Who wouldn’t side with the homophobic asshole out of fear of being called gay themselves, as most other boys at school seemed to do.

Who would break a bottle on someone’s head, if it came down to it, before their friend could be seriously harmed.

He discussed about some stickers and pins he had designed for Pride this year with Filippo, and explained to a very intrigued Luchino what pansexuality was with Sava’s help.

They were both very kind and patient and answered each one of his inappropriate questions, and Filippo even went far as shutting down Martino’s groans when Luca said “So, bi and pans do have something in common: they could both pass off as straight if they wanted, right?” with a “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Uh?”

“I mean… I remember you thinking being ace was equal to being celibate, until what… Last week? Didn’t you say they were ‘straight-passing’ too, Rose?”

“I’m still learning, okay?” Martino mumbled, pouting. Both Niccolò and Filippo were older than him, so of course they knew more about this stuff!

“We know you are.” Niccolò conceded, walking over to his boyfriend to kiss him on the lips. “So am I. So is Filippo. So is everyone here in my house, today.”

“What they’re saying is just that we can all learn something from each other, Marti! That’s why I like to ask questions, you know? I like to learn…”

“Yeah, but it’s not their responsibility to educate you, Luchì.” Elia butted in, getting an impressed look from Filippo – not that he gave a damn about that, not in slightest. “I hate to be the one who breaks the news to you, bro, but the Internet is for more than just porn.”

Sana cornered him in the kitchen, half an hour later, to stress that they all agreed his house was the best place to have this party because he could kick them all out whenever he pleased.

“You didn’t ask for this, and you shouldn’t feel like you have to entertain your guests, you know?” She casted a glance to their friends, who were now in the middle of a ridiculous game Federica had suggested. “Don’t let us overstay our welcome, okay?”

So he doesn’t. It’s like being aware that he has a way out, that he can call this off whenever he wants - and they won’t hold it against him, they won’t be thinking “What’s got into Fares, now? – is enough to put his mind at ease. Having Martino by his side, soothing his nerves and grounding him with the lightest of touches upon his shoulders, helps a lot too.

As the birthday boy he also gets to have the last word on the party games, vetoing strip poker and spin-the-bottle. They were fun when he had been in middle school, and he can still hear his old friends cheering when the bottle pointed to the girl he had been crushing on for weeks – he can’t even remember her name, now, how pathetic is that? – but a trip down the memory lane is the last thing he needs, tonight.

“Truth or dare?” Eva suggests, as both Giovanni and Martino roll their eyes.

They would rather be humiliated at another round of beer pong against her and Silvia, than play that.

“Maybe later.” He says, laughing at the ‘yes, please’ looks from the girls and the ‘thanks, but no thanks’ glares from the boys. “I’m not drunk enough for that yet…”

It’s nice of Martino not to freak out, turning the suggestion down on his behalf because it would be too ‘dangerous’ (dares do tend to escalate quickly, when he is involved). It’s such a welcome change that he wants to savor it, honor it by throwing in his own proposal.

“What about ‘Never have I ever?’”

A drinking game that favors the youngest and most inexperienced among them, doesn’t force anyone to embarrass themselves – they set the ground rule that not drinking doesn’t necessarily mean you never did what has just been mentioned, but that you don’t feel letting people know anything about it.

It was either that or demanding his guests not to get too personal, which can’t really be expected when some are already so inebriated that they are having giggle fits playing peek-a-boo with each other (and Edoardo and Eleonora have no right to make such a silly picture look so endearing, haven’t they?).

The first rounds are rather tame. No one has ever been to Japan, apart from the Savas. No one ever tried to eat insects, apart from Luchino. Some admit to stealing candies when they were younger, some others reveal they went skinny dipping after seeing it on TV. It doesn’t feel as thrilling or liberating as TV shows made it look, though.

Sana plays dirty by asking about porn, to which everybody has to take a drink.

“Never have I ever had sex with a girl.” Luca says, knowing that for once he’ll get the upper hand on half of the Contrabbandieri and the boys from Villa. Well, isn’t this interesting.

Fede, Sana and Eva do not drink but Eleonora does. She grins at her brother, who looks at her with such fondness that Niccolò almost feel like he’s intruding.

Elia is pondering whether to drink or not, but in the end he surprises everyone by leaving it untouched.

Before anyone else can react to that, however, Martino grabs his beer and chugs it down.

“What? When?” Giovanni sounds more outraged than Niccolò could ever bring himself to be. He doesn’t really mind what Martino did in the past, he’d rather revel in the fact that he chose to be with him in the present.

Gio immediately backtracks, when he notices that Marti is still staring at the bottom of his glass.

‘Sex’ is a broad definition, indeed, and who is he to say ‘no, if it isn’t penetrative it doesn’t count’ ?

“I’m sorry. Forget I even asked, it’s none of my business.” He drinks one more of his shots, saying that it’s his penalty for breaking the rules. “We did agree that we shouldn’t ask questions about why is drinking or not, didn’t we? My bad.” He shrugs, as Martino mouths an ‘Apologies accepted thanks.’

“Never have I ever kissed a boy.” Sana admits, diverting the attention to herself.

Elia and Gio drink at the same time, and then rush to say “No! It wasn’t him! Ew, he’s like a brother to me!”

The more they deny it, the less they sound believable, so they just drop it and look at Niccolò expectantly.

“Never have I ever used make up to hide hickeys.” He says, proudly, earning a punch in the shoulder from his boyfriend. Who is now down to 3 beers, not quite being the ‘boring gay’ most assume him to be.

“That’s because I’m considerate enough not to leave you looking like you were mauled or something.” Martino mumbles, ignoring the knowing smirks from his friends. They were well aware of how much Niccolò liked his neck, and hadn’t been fooled by the disappearance of scarves and turtlenecks.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did. I love when you claim me as yours.” Niccolò whispers, brushing his nose against Martino’s and then nuzzling his cheek.

“You do?” It’s just the two of them in the room, now, as he cups Nico’s face in both his hands and sighs contentedly when the other boy nods and kisses his fingers.

“Guys! Please! Either stop it or get a room!” Someone hollers, breaking the spell.

“Never have I ever eaten ass.” Filippo states, just to see everyone squirm. It’s way too personal, too intimate, for anyone to dare and drink.

“Hey! No cheating!” Elia complains, getting up to point his finger right into Filippo’s chest. “You are a cheat and a liar. You’re out. And so am I, ‘cause this is getting old and boring and if we don’t get out soon those two will start fucking in front of our eyes.”

“And you know he’s lying because…?” Eva insists, intrigued by this new turn of events.

“TOO MUCH INFORMATION, GUYS!!” Giovanni shakes his head, covering his ears. “If we’re playing truth or dare, now, please leave those things where they belong. In the bedroom.”

“Getting a taste of your own medicine, Gio?” Nice to know that not even a heavy make out session with Niccolò would stop Martino from passing up the opportunity to tease him. “That’s fine by me. I’ve heard more than I ever asked for, already. Things I’d rather forget, thank you.” And if Elia wants to come clean about being with Filippo, it shouldn’t happen through a stupid party game.

Niccolò dares most people to eat what he cooked, of course.

Luca dares him to see who can fold himself faster into the biggest suitcase he owns – and loses, but he beams when Silvia kisses his cheek and tells him that he just needs to work on his flexibility, but that it was a valiant attempt nonetheless.

Edoardo goes for ‘truth’, of course, knowing that Ele would love that. It would be easy to take advantage of it by asking what if he ever felt ashamed of himself, or to whether or not he ever fell in love before meeting Eleonora. They are all better than that, after all they’ve been through.

“What’s the most idiotic thing you ever spent your money on?”

“Marco’s eighteenth?”

“How can you say that when you’ve got a horse?” Federico reminds him, slapping his neck.

“Hey, I happen to like horse riding. You know that. I’d rather spend a thousand euros on Furia than 10 on Covitti. What about you, Nico?”

“Louboutins.” It didn’t feel stupid, at the time. When she got those shoes, though, she told him he was crazy to waste so much money on shoes. She did appreciate the gesture, but it was imperative that he returned them as soon as possible.

He doesn’t quite know how Martino would react if he got him an expensive gift. Better than Maddalena, that’s for sure, but… Well, there’s no point in speculating: he’s gonna find out in July, when they’ll leave for their romantic getaway in Paris, isn’t he?

Martino dodges dares for a while, going for ‘truth’ even when it means confessing that:

a) Nico and him aren’t big on pet names (“Have you ever heard yourself when you start going ‘oh, you idiot’ ‘shut up, jerk’ ‘you wish, asshole’ ‘wanna a piece of this, wanker‘ ‘you know I do, dickhead’?” Giovanni points out “ ‘cause you ‘insults’ are totally pet names, guys)

b) he had a crush on Gio, though it never compared to what he feels for Niccolò – “you’re giving us all cavities, Marti, have you got no shame?”.

Eventually, though, those fuckers get him to sing a duet with Nico. Of course they choose Vattene Amore and sing along when they get to the ‘ci chiederemo come mai il mondo sa tutto di noi… magari ti chiamerò trottolino amoroso e dudu-dadadà e il tuo nome sarà il nome di ogni città…’ part, filming everything with their smartphones.

By the end of the night, no one is sober enough to walk home. Let alone drive.

The girls set up a blanket fort in the living room, claiming that they cannot kick Niccolò out of his bed and wouldn’t feel comfortable sleeping in his parents’ bed. He argues that they are gonna regret that in the morning, when their back is gonna remind them why it’s not a good idea to doze off on the floor.

Edoardo and his friends insist that they can run on caffeine alone and they are more than happy to crash on a chair. Whatever.

Niccolò is too high on the love he got from everyone tonight, to care about logistics.

So what if he has to share his bed with four other guys. Who cares if they constantly complain that he’s bony, that he snores and has got cold feet – “seriously, Marti, now I get why you always so tired on Mondays…” Luchino whines, trying to smother himself with a pillow and put an end to his misery “how can anyone get any rest, with him in their bed?” – or if it’s such a tight fit that they all have to lay on their sides and nobody has got room to turn in their sleep?

It’s still the best birthday he ever got.

[fifty-first-worstidea]

More Stupidity for the Family and You to Enjoy

Stupid headcanons for Susie (She’s a queen and doesn’t deserve how much I overdo her character. I swear I’ll do headcannons for the other Stabby-Stabby Kids)

-Susie's last name is now officially Carter and I’ve got no regrets for that temporary joke on YouTube

-That means The Doctor has to take care of his kid again

-In the fog she can get her braces off at any time, and it’s probably because her dad’s quite literally a doc. She’ll do it sometime soon

-Susie wants tattooes all the way down her right arm. She plans to earn them by killing survivors

-She's known as the Christmas Gremlin by the rest of the Stabby Canadian gang due to her behavior shift around “the most wonderful time of the year.” From inconvenient convenient mistletoe placement that gets her death glares from Frank and Joe to devious pranks involving a spooky Santa mask, toilet paper, and silly string, Sue’s got something up her worn out sleeve just waiting to be put into action. This has gotten her into a lot of trouble with her mother

-Speaking of mums, Susie stopped using the terms mom and mommy and started referring to Elizabeth Carter as “mother” since she was 9 years old. It’ll be explained a bit later

-Susie wasn’t planned. She wasn’t even considered before Elizabeth got pregnant with her. She doesn’t like talking about her conception and only Julie knows what’s up with it

-Sue's got a few items in her hoodie pocket besides her ruler shive; this includes caffiene tablets, a mirror shard, pepper spray, and a can of pink spray paint

-If you call her Sue or Snoozie and you aren't part of The Legion she'll dream of pulling out all your teeth while your family watches. She might also express signs of being mildly uncomfortable or annoyed by calling her by a nickname

-Susie's worst habit is staying awake and going on extra trials even though her friends specifically said not to

-She's the one who made the friendship bracelets, mischief list, and got the smiley pins for The Legion to wear. She thinks that the pins are great

-Based on the fact that the add-ons I assume are affiliated with her increase frenzy movement spped, I think she's the fasest runner in the gang

-She's got a pug named Peanut. She calls him Sweetpea

-Susie legit got a facemask that says Snoozie on it and she loves it

-All three of her friends are her biggest idols. She thinks Julie is a queen, Joe is a godsend, and Frank is quite possibly the best leader in history. While her friends tell her they're just rebellious teenagers, Susie's sticking to her claim that thy're important people

-Did I mention she's stubborn? She won't back down if she knows something is true, and this makes for a surprising shift in her personality

-In some branches Susie has DID and often switches between four personas, which would be Blue, Pink, Gold, and Silver. They could potentially be explained in detail if needed for the context of a story

-She's got a 90's/Steampunk aesthetic that she wants to try out, but now that she's stuck murdering people she's kinda bummed out about it

-Susie's gonna snuggle somebody if they’re warm. She often wants to place her VERY COLD hands on their neck because she doesn't enjoy iceberge hands and she just says that she can't help it

-With Joe being a human radiator, you can imagine how close she is with the tall and soft guy

-Snoozie still has the two stuffed animals that Julie got her. And she still snuggles with them when going to bed. Helps give her hands something to do instead of just hugging herself all the time

-She would rather take care of herself instead of people taking care of her. She isn’t looking to be rescued by a knight in shining armor (or shining piercings- she’s got a thing for guys with piercings), and she’d rather be the hero who saves a damsel in distress than just a helpless girl. Whenever she needs help with something she would rather spend 20 minutes trying to figure it out than ask for assistance. 

-It makes her feel extremely guilty when somebody does something for her, but if she makes a contribution to something she feels accomplished. This was something Frank took advantage of to make Susie push her absolute limits

-I’ve got a silly headcanon where Susie becomes friends with David and they work out and get b u f f together

-If she met the survivors and didn’t attack them they’d probably gush over her softness and idk I think they’d all be good friends with her

-The Huntress wants Susie to be her child and she used to be a little bit afraid about the way Anna offered to teach her hatchet-throwing. She quickly learned, however, that she’s got a knack for it and Anna is ecstatic about this fact

-She's got a habit for fiddling with her hair, but she tries to restrain herself in the presence of dudes because she hates giving people the wrong vibes (FOR THE LAST TIME CODY SHE DOESN’T LIKE YOU DAMMIT)

-People have been trying to make fun of her for just about 8-9 years. Julie swears that one day she's gonna kick all of their asses

-Sue's got a major daddy/mommy kink sorry folks I don’t make the rules

-Susie is the only Legion member who learned (and remembered) how to read clocks

-She's somewhat profficient in lock-picking, Sometimes, when the Stabby Gang need to get into a closed store with a locked entrance, they send her up first. She's also talented at scouting out places, climbing fences, anything that a Level 1 Crook does but she's actually a Level 45 Black Market Assassin in teenager form

-Susie is the Legion member who has the most morbid thoughts in her head, and the most bloodlust as well. There are few killers who can match her sadistic and masochistic behaviors

-Her favorite color is beige, her favorite animals are dogs, cats, and snakes, and her favorite song (based on the fact she's from the 90's) would quite literally be "Running Through The 90's." If she was a 2019 kid, however, her favorite song would be "Natural." (You know, the Imagine Dragons song? Classified as Alternatve Rock? I think she listens to dubstep and alternative rock)

-2019 Susie would be a fucking memelord but she has no clue what Fortnite is. Let it stay that way

-She once played the Tuba, but it was really difficult for her to walk around with it until 7th grade. Now she plays the piano, freestyles beats with pencils and such, and takes guitar lessons from Joe

-Is it too late to mention that Susie's Bisexual-Panromantic?

-She's got hersef wrapped up in twenty blankets every night because Ormond is coLD

-Sue drives a motorcycle

-And finally, Christmas Gremlin's not allowed to use profanities until she's 18 years old

Many stupid headcanons for my baby. Thanks. Have a great day