#what an insane dynamic.......... literally read the book just because of them romance who MESSED UP PLATONIC RELATIONSHIPS are my jam

[nadiasna7]

Always the fool with the slowest heart But I know you'll take me with you

[star-spangledstud]

Better Than Me (2/2)

Part one is here!

Summary: You really are better than them. 

Pairing: Steve Rogers x (female!)Reader.

Word Count: 3000-ish.

Warnings: Angst. Fluff.

It was ridiculous. So ridiculous that it bordered near downright insane. Absolutely fucking ridiculous. Impractical, stupid and completely, utterly ridiculous. Beautiful, sparkly and downright amazing, but ridiculous. You fucking loved it.

The baby pink, bejeweled handgun sat inside a pink velvet box on your lap. The bow, which was also pink, of course, was lying at your feet, which were clad in bedazzled silver Louboutins. Gems of all colors on the rainbow covered it on all sides, from the barrel to the handgrip and along the safety pin.

You gazed up at Tony, who wore an amused expression on his face, before glancing over at Pepper. She had her hand over her mouth in embarrassment, clearly horrified by Tony’s gift choice. The card read that it was from both of them. Clearly, that wasn’t the case. 

“Happy birthday, kid.” He said with a smirk that nearly extended from ear to ear.

“I don’t even want to know how much you spent on that,” Pepper muttered, shaking her head while you took the thing out of the pink and white polka-dotted tissue paper.

The others sighed audibly when you smiled, annoyed that Tony’s gift overshadowed theirs yet again. To be fair, they’d all expected it, but all of them secretly hoped any one of their gifts would be your favorite. 

“I love it,” you said, twirling the weapon around in your hand, “and I agree with Pepper, I can’t even imagine how much you spent on this thing...”

“You’ll make it work,” he mused, “Two million dollars, by the way, and you could just thank me.”

Your breath caught in your throat and for a moment, you were sure Pepper was going to faint. Natasha shook her head, watching the scene unfold in horror. It was the ugliest thing she had ever seen. Wanda, who seemed to share none of her feelings, had created a monster out of you.

“Thanks, Tony,” you blew him a kiss, unable to get up from your seat at the dinner table that was covered in white roses in silver vases and wine that came from expensive bottles.

“It’s very pretty,” the witch said, “Can I hold it?” 

“Please,” you shoved it into her hands, “by all means.” 

“You’re insane, Tony,” you said as you took the gift Bruce had gotten for you from his outstretched hands with a smile, “Absolutely fucking nuts, but I love you for it.”

Your eyes went around the room, finding Steve at the end of the table of which you sat at the head. You were the birthday girl, after all, the pink satin sash draped around you said so in large, cursive letters and so it was your turn to have the most important seat of the house. It was a ridiculous ordeal, he thought so anyway, but you were smiling and chatting and enjoying the company of your friends and it was good to see. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened and knew very well he was to blame. 

He was the one who pushed you away, even though it was for your own good.

You took Thor’s gift just as the waiter began to serve your first course, and since he was seated closest to you, you thanked him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Steve’s gift came last. You didn’t expect anything from him given the circumstances.

Four hours, six courses and many glasses of wine and Asgardian mead later, you found yourself back in your room. Gifts given to you by your fellow team members were sprawled out on your bed, ranging from a pair of silk pajamas with glittery Ugg slippers to match from Wanda to Starbucks and Sephora gift cards from Sam and everything in between. Chocolate covered strawberries in a glittery box, two romance novels, a bottle of beautifully aged red wine from Asgard and a peach-toned Dior lipstick, all tokens of appreciation given to you by the people you cared about the most. 

Despite the hardships that you faced the previous year and the social distancing that occurred during that time, you couldn’t deny how good it felt to be with the team again. You’d changed a lot in a year, grown to be a different person than the one you were before. It wasn’t necessarily a good or a bad thing in your mind, it just happened naturally.  

You sat down beside the velvet box, eyes automatically flying towards the item on your far left. A drawing of you, sitting on a terrace, staring out into the sunny skyline with a cup of coffee in your hand. It was an old drawing by the looks of it because your hair was much shorter and a different shade and your clothing was far plainer than it was now; black jeans and a white t-shirt. A signature that read SR sat in the bottom right corner in messy, doctor-like handwriting. It made your toes curl. 

Of course, he was the one with the overly personal gift. You didn’t know whether it was because he simply had no fucking clue what 21st-century women liked to receive for their birthdays or whether he’d purposely done it to make you remember the day it was drawn, but the latter happened and now, you were sitting on your bed with prickling eyes and goosebumps that lined your skin.

You remembered that day very vividly. You’d only been an Avenger for three months and were struggling to adjust to the fact that you had to suddenly follow orders. Before joining the team, you’d worked alone, hired by people with deep pockets and dark intentions. You made your own rules. 

The first time Steve had taken you out for coffee he kind to offer you advice. At first, you thought it felt a little like he was trying to be the human resource manager with the way he talked to you, you continued to meet up every Saturday afternoon and as the weeks passed, something in the dynamic changed.  He loosened up, got rid of his Captain America persona and instead became Steve. You didn’t know what caused the change, but it was good, allowed you to actually get to know the man behind the suit and vice versa. 

That particular day was a good one, It was a sunny day in spring, not too hot and not too cold, with a soft breeze that carried the scent of fresh flowers across the terrace. You’d ordered a latte, Steve liked it black. You weren’t talking, but instead, a comfortable silence hung between you. You’d brought a book just like you always did and read it while occasionally eyeing the people that passed you by. Steve, whose cheeks had become fiery red out of the blue, pulled out a leather-bound sketchbook and began to draw.

You never asked him what he was drawing, even when he stored away his pencils and shoved the book back inside his tote did you not bother to pry. Not even when you became so close you’d sometimes fall asleep together on the couch, did you not ask. 

You knew now, but they didn’t say ignorance is bliss without reason.

You began to mindlessly pick at three layers of lavender toned sparkling nail polish, pulling at it as it came off your fingers with far too much ease. You’d paid the lady $60 for your manicure three days prior and now, you were ripping it off. With a deep sigh, you pushed yourself up, gripping the back of your heels so you could slip them off with ease. You’d probably never wear them again. 

You slowly began to clean up the mess, discarded packaging, boxes, and gift bags and placing them in the corner of your room near the door. You put everything away except for the drawing, which you couldn’t decide what to do with. Why was it such a big deal to you, anyway? You hardly spoke to Steve anymore and if you did, it was during pre- and post-mission briefings. Maybe that’s why it made you feel so strange. it didn’t feel right, such a personal, intimate gift after how far the two of you had drifted apart. 

He hadn’t asked you about Netflix in four months and you hadn’t offered your expertise on which shows and movies were the best. You didn’t bring him coffee anymore but instead, he made his own, never leaving enough in the pot for you to make a cup as well. The message he sent you was loud and clear and in return, you were an open book. 

He’d grumble when a stranger was seated at the breakfast table on Sundays courtesy of your hospitality, avert his eyes when they tried to kiss you openly (which you refused). The pang in his chest would hit him when he saw Ubers out front whose engines were running to carry you to your dates in high-end restaurants and fancy bars. He wasn’t jealous, he kept telling himself. He was just worried about your safety when you disappeared into the night with strange men. Men that weren’t him, ironically. 

He should’ve seen you when you were right in front of him. When you were there, literally waiting for him to make a move on you, begging him with your mannerisms and your looks, your glances, and smiles even when his jokes weren’t funny. He knew damn well you would make an amazing couple, that you could take on the entire fucking world as a duo, but he was too scared to put it on the line, too scared of what might happen once the bad guys caught a whiff of your relationship. They’d already tried to destroy Bucky and Jesus Christ, they nearly succeeded. He couldn’t handle the thought of losing you to an organization like HYDRA, or worse. He never told you this. You had no idea. You were convinced he didn’t want you because of your flaws. Because of who you were. 

You got over it, shut out the thought of ever holding hands with Steve in public, the thoughts of ever feeling his lips softly pressing against your plump cheeks and his body weighing down on top of you while his voice vibrated against your ear and neck. You managed to forget about him, managed to exchange the memories and fantasies of him for diamond necklaces, silk blazers, and expensive shoes. You traded him in for strangers with big bank accounts driving nice cars wearing expensive suits. They managed to fill the void he created by pushing you away. 

So yeah, the gift bothered you. It was too nice, too sweet, so sweet you had to struggle to stay stoic when thanking him earlier. You literally had to stop yourself from smiling too big, from allowing tears of gratitude and happiness to completely ruin your make-up. if things had been different, you would have done those things. They weren’t. He didn’t want you and now he was being nice. It didn’t make sense. 

Just as you were about to change into a different outfit for the evening, your phone vibrated. You picked it up off your nightstand and opened it. It was a text message, but not from the guy who would be knocking on the front door in the coming hour.

I didn’t get a chance to personally wish you a happy birthday. Can we talk? -S

You gripped the device so hard you nearly crushed the screen. Six months ago, a message like this would’ve had you crying on your bathroom floor for four hours. Now, it just made you angry. So angry, that you picked your studded Louboutin off the floor and chucked it at the wall. The heel broke off against the concrete, but you didn’t notice. You weren’t going to wear them again anyway.  

Your fingers typed furiously, breathing coming out in shallow huffs. Images of the girls he’d brought back to Tony’s party’s flashed before your eyes while your fingers went faster than your brain could keep up with. 

Roof. Omw. 

Whether he understood the abbreviation ‘omw’ or not, you didn’t take the time to guess. You left your room without changing into the other dress or putting on new shoes. The elevator went up agonizingly slowly, but it was too late to go back and take the stairs. The buttons were pushed and the door closed. 

He was standing by the edge, leaning against the railing with his arms crossed over his chest. In contrast to you, he had changed his attire, leaving the light blue button-down he was wearing earlier for a plain white t-shirt and black sweatpants. He looked down at your feet, noticed how your polished toes were bare and opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again when he caught the expression on your face. You weren’t surprised to find him there first. Hell, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d come up there running. Apparently, though, he did know what ‘omw’ meant.

“What the hell is this?” You asked, waving your phone in front of his face, “what do you think you’re doing?” 

“What do you mean?” He asked, voice wavering. 

“What do I mean? What...,” you snorted, “What do you mean?! The gift, the talking? We shouldn’t be here.” 

“But why?” He knew why but chose to ignore the sensical part of his brain that told him he shouldn’t be doing this.

You lifted your arms, a deep breath leaving you while you considered what to say. You wanted to come up with an excuse, tell him you were busy or that you’d lost sight of not just him, but the entire team, but fuck it, lying wouldn’t get you anywhere. It had never gotten you anywhere before.  

“Because I have to get over you.” 

He was silent, taking in your words. They stung, even though he already knew the truth they carried. 

“I couldn’t have you constantly hanging around me anymore. I couldn’t stand seeing those girls hanging off your arm at those stupid parties and I sure as hell didn’t want to hear how fun they were and how great and wonderful and how amazing, and-”

He stepped forward, gripping your arms. The sudden contact made blood rush to your head, making you nauseous and dizzy simultaneously. 

 “I spent so much time wondering why they were better than me,” you mumbled, “I still haven’t figured it out.” 

“They aren’t better than you,” he replied softly, “they don’t even compare to you.” 

You looked up, eyes large and glossy and so goddamn pretty with that champagne eyeshadow and winged liner and Steve thought he was going to lose his mind then and there.

“I had to let you go because I’m afraid,” he admitted, “terrified of what might happen if anyone tries to get to you because of me.” 

“Steve,” you tried, but couldn’t find words. 

All this time, you thought he didn’t like you. That he wasn’t interested in you, didn’t want anything from you but a friendship at most. You’d taught yourself to ignore your constant desire for him because it would never be reciprocated.

“When you distanced yourself from me, I knew I’d messed up, but it was too late. I’d dug a hole for myself and there was nothing I could do to get back out,” he snorted, “I needed those girls as a distraction, but none of them are as good as you.” 

He smiled sadly, taking your hands in his larger, calloused palms and began to rub circles on your knuckles. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “I’ve been stupid and an ass and I don’t deserve to even be in the same room as you. I fucked up, Y/N.”

The skin on the back of his neck was soft when you clasped your fingers around it, muscles tensing up when you began to pull him down to meet you. Without heels on, you’d lost a significant amount of height on him, causing him to tower over you. On a hot day, he could be your personal parasol, shielding you from the sun with his entire body.

“Idiot,” you mumbled before his mouth found yours. 

He kissed you, hands gripping your waist out of fear that if he were to let go, he’d wake up in his bed alone. But it wasn’t a dream, he knew it because the soft feeling of your glossy lips against his own was unlike anything he’d ever felt. 

“Idiot,” you said again when you took a moment to breathe. 

“I am,” he kissed you again, the sweet taste of Chardonnay and that night’s dessert - creme brulee and vanilla ice cream - still lingering on your tongue, sending his senses in complete overdrive. 

“I don’t want to stay away from you anymore,” he said finally, “I’d never let anyone hurt you.” 

You smiled, heart ready to explode from the sudden burst of happiness you experienced for the first time in a long time. Maybe Wanda was right all along. 

“Steve, I can defend myself. You know that, right?” You mused.

“I’ll kill them if they try.” 

He captured your lips with his again. The scent of his cologne, oud, and pine, nearly caused your knees to buckle from under you. You didn’t even realize the goosebumps that lined your skin, or the fact that the date you were supposed to meet up with had already bailed on you. It didn’t matter, because you finally had Steve where you wanted him. It only took for the two of you to drift apart almost completely for you to realize that you could never truly get away from one another. 

You placed your head on top of his chest, allowing his body heat to warm you up in a hug that engulfed you. It was nice, the feeling of his chest rising and falling slowly while you watched the city’s skyline in the dark. The want for it had been suppressed for so long you almost forgot what it felt like. 

“Steve?” You asked, peeking up at him through false eyelashes and three layers of waterproof mascara. 

“Hmm?”

“Your gift was my favorite.”

Yeah, all of those bitches definitely weren’t better than you. 

[glassprism]

Since you're also in other fandoms, are there any ships/pairings you like? Who's your favourite pairing in POTO? Who are your favourite characters (from POTO to all your other fandoms) and why? Ooh, here's a rather unusual one: who's your favourite side character (name one for all your fandoms!) and why?

Yeah, definitely! Though whether some can be counted as actual “ships” is debatable, as you’ll see in a bit.

For Phantom, my favorite “ship” is the love triangle - E/C/R. Not in a polyamorous, threesome way, but one where I love the dynamics of the characters, the way they affect one another, the ways Erik and Raoul are similar and different. So it’s not quite a “ship” in a traditional sense where I want characters to end up with each other, but more in the sense that I like to explore and analyze them.

As for other “ships” or pairings, I’m just going to list, like, every fandom or random-ass thing I’ve ever loved in semi-chronological order (time to go back to my middle school fandoms!). Under the cut for length.

Harry Potter: Sirius Black and Harry Potter. I adored the godfather-godson bond between the two (absolutely no romance; I clicked on an mpreg fic of the two when I was but a wee lass of twelve and it scarred me): how Harry was the last living reminder of Sirius’s best friend, whose death he still feels responsible for; how Sirius is the parental figure Harry wanted, how they were never able to be happy god damn it Rowling. (You can imagine how much my eleven year old self cried when I read the fifth book. Oh boy, the tears.)

Star Wars: Vader and Luke. Again, totally familial, father-son relationship only. (Speaking of scarring experiences, I once stumbled on a romance fic between the two, where yes, both of them were still father and son, and I have that summary etched into my brain permanently.) The way Vader obsessively hunts down Luke, the first emotional connection he has had with a person in literal decades! The way Luke has just ached all his life for a father figure, to the point where he will take a homicidal Sith lord if that’s who he is! How he never gives up on trying to redeem him! How Luke is right. Loud screeching.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Will Turner and Bootstrap Bill and Will Turner and Henry Turner. More sad father-son dynamics (you may be noticing a pattern here). Repeat what I said with the Star Wars relationships, only with more pirates and less homicide. (And way more parental abandonment guilt.)

Halloween: Michael Myers and Laurie Strode,  remake universe. Yet again, no romance, just a severely messed-up brother-sister relationship. I can’t begin to tell you why I like the horrific relationship between a serial killer and the little sister he was so obsessed with he ruined her life, completely traumatized her, and ended up leading to her death, but I do. Maybe it’s the dark obsession aspect of it, that in the midst of all his murders, there’s still one person Michael Myers longs to have a connection with, the baby sister who represented total innocence in his mind. Maybe it’s the “what could have been” aspect too, as Laurie never recognizes him or realizes their connection until it’s far too late. Maybe I need to re-examine my life choices. I’ll figure it out someday.

Bat Boy The Musical: Bat Boy/Shelley. Yes, this is a romance; yes, they are half-brother and half-sister, yes, you can get on me about this, but in my defense how about you watch the musical and NOT come out of it shipping these two against all your better instincts.

POTO: E/C/R, as stated above and for all those reasons. Oh, and you know what - The Phantom and Gustave from Love Never Dies. Can’t get away from those father-son ships. I actually care about that relationship than E/C or R/C in LND (maybe because both E/C and R/C suck in the sequel so what else am I going to latch onto).

Batman: Listed here, but my heart really lies with three ships. Jaytim is the first: it’s the whole “angry woobie destroyer of worlds who hates everyone meets seemingly well-adjusted and cheerful individual who is secretly hiding their own issues” dynamic. Bane/Talia from The Dark Knight Rises is the second. Doesn’t matter if it’s familial, friendship, protector and protectee, or romantic, I eat it up, and to be fair, it’s never explicitly stated what the relationship is in the movie. All we know is that the two grew up together in a hellhole prison, probably dependent on and solely trusting only one another, and that bond continues even after they leave, and not even death will make them leave one another. Finally, we have Jason Todd/therapy from the Arkham games. Because the poor guy needs it.

MCU: STEVE/BUCKY (aka Stucky). This ship (again, could be friendship or romantic) dominated my thoughts for four years. Steve’s fish-out-of-water status! Bucky’s horrific imprisonment under Hydra. The way the two find each other after and the angst. The fact that Steve refuses to kill Bucky and, even after seventy years, succeeds in breakthing through to him because their connection runs that deep. The fact that Marvel just ruined this relationship so now I have to rely on fanfic. Oh yes, and I also slowly fell into the Kastle ship (Frank Castle aka The Punisher and Karen Page). Another “hardened killer with sad backstory who connects to idealistic young woman with hidden darkness” dynamic.

Terminator: T-800 aka “Uncle Bob” and John Connor. Returning to sad father-son dynamics, I have this from Terminator 2. A robot learning emotions! A boy learning to take his place as a leader and all-loving hero. The bond they form, partially because the T-800 will do nothing else but protect John and partially because John has no father-figure of his own, so his robot bodyguard will do. THE ENDING.

ASOIAF/GOT: I actually have very few ships from here other than Arya/Gendry (and only when they’re older) and, weirdly, Theon/Sansa from the show. The Gendrya ship is just cute, it may well be the most wholesome ship on here, while Theonsa has shades of Stucky in it, I suppose, given that Theon has been tortured so badly he can barely remember his own name, until Sansa turns up and reminds him enough that he breaks out of it to help her.

Favorite characters from each of those:

Harry Potter: My favorite characters from here are probably more side characters, so I’ll just say Hermione Granger. Her focus on academics, fear of failure, and conviction that the library holds all the answers, felt all too reminiscent of myself.

Star Wars: Darth Vader,  no contest whatsoever. Cool mask, cool cape, cool lightsaber, and the absolute worst life one can imagine.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Interestingly, Will Turner. Yeah, I guess Jack Sparrow is cool and Elizabeth is absolutely awesome to watch and has the greatest change in the series, but oh-so-serious Will, with his deep loyalties and slow slide into moral ambiguity because of those loyalties, fascinates me.

Halloween: Laurie Strode, all versions. My favorite final girl, my survivor of trauma (except in the remake, where, well, she doesn’t survive). Also, her daughter in the Thorn trilogy, Jamie Lloyd, the most tragic little girl to walk across a horror movie screen.

Bat Boy The Musical: Ah, wow, haven’t thought about this. I guess Bat Boy and Shelley, more by default than anything.

POTO: Christine Daae, no contest. Love her character, love her arc, love her songs, love her costumes.

Batman: Listed here.

MCU: Bucky Barnes (unless he counts as a side character), but I also love Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, Karen Page, Elektra Natchios... and I’ll leave it at that.

Terminator: John Connor. (There’s a reason I haven’t watched Dark Fate yet... or ever.)

ASOIAF/GOT: Three of them! Daenerys Targaryen, who I love because she tries so hard to rule well, who is so observant and cognizant of the things going on around her. Then Sansa Stark, who makes such astounding growth, who retains her empathy and compassion throughout, who is capable of startling perception and insight which most others underestimate. And finally, Cersei Lannister. She’s terrible. I love her.

And favorite side characters from each of those:

Harry Potter: Sirius Black may well have been my first fictional crush. But Remus Lupin is the kind of person (and teacher) I aspire to be.

Batman: I swear, depending on the comic series or movie, everyone is a side character. I’ll just link to my old ask again.

Star Wars: Batman syndrome all over again; every character in Star Wars might be a side character elsewhere, and every side character gets to be the main character of their own comic, book, movie, etc. Erm... I really liked Rose from the sequel trilogy and Chirrut Imwe from Rogue One. I find Mara Jade from the Legends universe fun to read. WAIT I GOT IT - Queen Amidala’s handmaidens from Episode I (Sabe, Rabe, Eirtae, Yane, Sache). Highly trained in both politics, decorum, and weaponry, able to be utterly nondescript or the Queen’s decoy at the drop of a hat? I love.

Pirates of the Caribbean: Hmm... you know what, I thought Syrena the mermaid was pretty cute.

Halloween: Rachel Carruthers! Your typical girl-next-door but well done and with a touching relationship with her foster sister. I will die mad about her death in the fifth movie.

Bat Boy The Musical: Uh.... I’ll get back to you on this...

POTO: Carlotta is super fun.

MCU: Oh heck, Dottie Underwood. (My taste in female characters goes like this: a) intelligent and observant, 2) sweet and compassionate, 3) batsh*t insane. She’s the third.)

Terminator: Not sure how much of a side character she is, but Kate Connor. Wife and second-in-command to John Connor, able to heal wounds and kick butt depending on what the movie requires.

ASOIAF/GOT: I’ll probably think of someone else, but you know what? Queen Rhaenys Targaryen, younger sister and wife to Aegon the Conqueror, whom he wed out of desire. Playful, spirited, loved to fly, sponsored musicians, initiated reforms for the smallfolk, what’s not to love? (Apart from one possibility of her death... but we don’t talk about that.)

[justalittlelitnerd]

Pretty Reckless by L.J. Shen

This book really surprised me not only because of the characters, but the writing itself was truly beautiful. In my own personal experience with romance novels they’re not always the best written and I think that has more to do with the industry and the genre and the lack of support romance novels and their authors get than a lack of talent on the writer’s part. Most romance novels are self-published with whatever resources or connections the author has in terms of editorial work which in the end just means the final result is *typically* (note: not always obviously) a little rougher than say if it went through the traditional publishing process where an agent works with the author for months to fine-tune the story before it goes to an editor who will then work for months to fine-tune the writing and on and on until it’s finally published. 

Sorry that was a long tangent just to say that I’ve gotten into a habit of skimming romance books because I’m in it for the characters and the romance and the HEA more than the writing itself (honestly characters and their relationships are far more important to me than writing), but I found myself taking my time with this book because there were so many beautiful lines that I wanted to savor. 

Basically, Daria Followhill and Penn Scully meet at age 14 when both their lives are falling apart in very different ways. Daria is teeming with the jealousy only a fourteen-year-old girl who feels her mother loves another girl more than her can feel and she finds herself in possession of a letter that would change everything. Penn enters, unaware of the letter’s contents or the effect it will have on his family, and in an attempt to win Daria’s attention he trashes the letter, leaves her with a piece of sea glass, her first kiss, and a promise of more. But the letter contained his sister’s future and when she thinks she didn’t get in she runs away from Penn and their abusive family, never to be seen again. 

Fast forward four years to Penn’s 18th birthday and it’s clear that a lot has changed, but there’s still an undeniable pull between the two. When Penn’s mother dies and his step-father kicks him out, Daria’s mom (who feels residual guilt over his sister’s disappearance) offers him a place to stay and he makes it his mission to make Daria pay for the role she played in what happened. But Daria’s already paid and is still paying. What neither of them expected was love. Or the return of a ghost.

*TRIGGER WARNING* in general there’s quite a bit of violence, mentions of rape/assault, and an abusive relationship between the principal and Daria which started when she was 14. 

All in all if you like classic enemies-to-lovers, fated romance, complicated family dynamics, tough guys with soft hearts, and dark elements with your romance than this book is probably worth a shot.     

Keep reading for the quotes!

Boys can smell heartbreak from across a continent. Even at fourteen. Even in the middle of an innocent summer afternoon. We girls have an invisible string behind our belly button, and only certain guys can tug at it. This boy…he will snap it if I let him.

He studies me with quiet interest as though I’m a painting, not a person. My heart is rioting all over, and the dumbest thought crosses my mind. Ever notice how the heart is literally caged by the ribs? That’s insane. As if our body knows it can break so easily, it needs to be protected.

My voice hardens around the words. Like tin. I’m desperate. I have no lead. I want to rip the world apart to find her, but the world is not mine to destroy. The world just continues turning at the same pace, because kids like Via and me? We disappear all the time, and no one notices.

His scent messes with my head. I want to reach out and caress his face. Kiss his wounds better. Beg for forgiveness. Curse him. Push him away. Cry on his shoulder for what we’ve done. For how it ended. For what we became afterward. Because I’m full of crap, and he is totally empty. We ruined ourselves the day of our first kiss.

She stares at me with the same wild gaze that made me give her the sea glass four years ago. As though I’m the most fascinating creature in the world. I want to pocket that look and save it for the next time the world lets me down. Which should be in the next twenty minutes.

Normally, he’d drag my ass out and give me a piece of his mind. Not today. He and I both know he can’t be that much of a hypocrite. If he saw someone hitting on Luna, he would rip them to shreds and dump whatever’s left of them on the side of the road. I’ve seen him screw people up for less than looking at her. The only problem is, Penn is not my Luna. We don’t have some long, elaborate, angsty childhood friendship that’s dancing on the edge of more.

“And miss out on all this delicious teenage angst?” I murmur, mesmerized by how beautifully she fits under my palm. As though she was born to have my hands on her. “It’s practically Netflix for free.”

“You’re Saturn,” she whispers. “Made of iron-nickel and surrounded by protective rings of ice and rock.” “How do you know that?” I smile, and I know the smile is warm. I know it’s fucking up something in her chest, and even though I shouldn’t, I like it. After all these years, I still want to ruin her. Then put her back together. Then do it again and again and a-fucking-gain.

He stops, cupping my face in his hands. His eyes twinkle, but maybe I see what I want to see. I didn’t mean to save him all my firsts. But it happened, and a part of me is glad that it did. Because he was the first boy to give me a gift. The first boy to kiss me. To want to become my friend not because I was popular, but because I was me. He was the first boy who noticed the injured animal behind the camouflage of hostility and tried to give it water and shelter.

Luckily, I have a lot of experience when it comes to fakeness. My personality is basically one hundred percent recyclable plastic. The only person who can still scrape a bit of authenticity from me is her brother.

The Scullys are too smart to fall for this type of Riverdale nonsense.

She is wrong. I can look at her face all fucking day. I wish it were a legit job so I could make money doing it. I would put in all the extra hours and become a billionaire within a year. (The math doesn’t add up, by the way, so don’t try to do it.)

My world, however, is narrow-pathed and dingy. I don’t believe in fairy tales. I think Shakespeare got it right. When two people try to go against the grain, they get fucked up. End of story.

“It’s not like that,” I say hurriedly. If I have to tell him what’s going on with Prichard, I will. I’m not proud of it, but pride is a very slippery slope where love is involved. Marx. Love. I don’t use the L word lightly. I don’t go around telling people I love pizza or chocolate or Riverdale. I like those things. Love, I save for the important stuff. But I am hopelessly, tragically in love with Penn Scully. That’s why I can’t really hate his sister. Not entirely, anyway. She is an extension of him, and he has my heart.

Love. Four letters can’t cover what I feel for Daria Followhill. They seem too trivial, too small, too overused.

And love IS humbling, I know now because I want to punch myself in the face for being the smug bastard who assumed he’d just walk out of this shit unscathed. The tin man didn’t ask for a heart—but got one anyway. I love you, Daria Followhill, and I think you love me, too. In fact, I think we fell at the same time. You, like rain, in drizzles, over the weeks. Me, like the fucking sky above my head, all at once, crashing without the faintest chance of stopping.

My mouth goes dry, and I shake my head slowly. She takes a step closer and folds my shirt under her palm so that the hole in my chest looks like it’s closing in when, in reality, it opens up like a shark’s jaw. “Everything I touch is tainted, Penn. Everything I want turns to ash. I spent the entire semester trying to be yours, but you’ve never once claimed my heart. I’m sending you to Adriana’s arms, not because I don’t care, but because I do. So much. Maybe too much. Because I screwed up so many relationships, the only way for us to heal is if I take myself out of the equation.” You are the fucking equation, I want to yell in her face. The riddle and the answer and the numbers within it. You’re math. You make sense.

“You were never a drizzle, Penn Scully. When I fell for you, you came beating down, and I felt you everywhere. You were hail.”

“I’ve loved you in secret, and I’ve loved you openly in front of both our worlds, and if you think I’ll stop loving you if you put an ocean between us, you’re dead wrong.”

I want her to tell me that I’m not the only one here feeling like every breath is a fucking nail jammed straight into my lungs. If this is what love feels like, it’s complete bullshit. I want my money back because Shakespeare was right all along. True love truly sucks ass.

I’ll go wherever Daria goes. Even if it’s straight to hell.

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world. You know that, right?” No, I don’t, and I’m trying to tell myself not to get my hopes up because they are slamming their little fists against the door of my brain’s basement, wanting to gush out.

Last time we spoke to each other, she promised not to leave, but she did. I’m not taking any chances. She might as well file a restraining order because I’m not letting her out of my sight.

[claire-de-macarune]

Get ready kids because somebody called for all the Hayley Kiyoko asks

sleepover: have you ever liked a friend as more than a friend? did you tell them? if it was in the past, do you wish that you told them?

Ugghhhh yea. I’ve told some and not others. The current one is rough because she’s straight (?) and we talked about her boy problems and i just wanted her to be happy, so i worked some fairy gaymother magic and now they’re dating which is… yeah.

I just kinda sucked it up and made a playlist into which i deposit all my sad gay pining. It’s about three hours long and Sleepover is the first track.

curious: do you drink? what’s your favourite drink? what drink isn’t your thing?

I am a connoisseur of fine juices. ;)

I’m a big smoothie girl, so a mango smoothie bubble tea is probably my fave. I like sodas or bitter things, for the most part. I’m a wine mom type and definitely think that it will be my alcohol go-to once I’m of age,

girls like girls: what’s your sexuality? how did you discover it? or have you just always known?

I’m a lesbean. :)

My first crush was Daphne from Scooby-Doo (i’ve given you that information, now use it wisely. by which i mean, don’t use it. please god.), so that was a landmark. I kind of always subconsciously know, but growing up I didn’t actually know what being LGBT+ was because my parents never made a big deal about it. We have straight friends, we have gay friends, so I wasn’t aware that sexuality and discourse around it was even a thing until I was around twelve. 

feelings: how do you think others perceive you? how do you perceive yourself? 

People find me intimidating because I’m confident, intentional, verbose, and organized. That’s how I like it.

I alternate between between our class emotional support animal and class cryptid, and it’s the most fun thing ever. I am both mom and monster muahahaha

gravel to tempo: have you come out to anyone? if yes, who was the first person you told? if no, do you want to? who would you tell first?

I don’t actually remember first coming out to anyone in particular. There was one time when my group of friends (3 other girls) and i were having a sleepover and they were all like, “we’re bi” and i was like “what’s that” and they were like “we like girls too” and i was like “cool. i mean, personally i think boys suck and look like potatoes carved by a toddler and when i entertain the notion of kissing or marrying one i would literally rather eat sandpaper for the rest of my life, but cool” and they were like “how are you so comfortable with this? a lesbian GOD!” and i just went with it.

(for the record, it wasn’t a trendy thing and they were really scared and all felt really gross about it bc their religious families taught them that being gay was wrong and didn’t talk about bisexuality at all so i went out and did some research and came back and assured them that everything they were feelign was valid and okay and we were really safe spaces for each other in that shitty middle school time when everything is just awful. nothing but love and respect for my first priestesses and bi babes!)

pretty girl: who was the most recent crush you had? do you still like them? did you tell them/do you want to tell them?

(see sleepover. this song is also on the playlist.)

what i need: who are your favourite gay artists? what are your favourite gay songs?

Well, Hayley Kiyoko (obviously), Janelle Monae, and King Princess are the big ones. I’m always open to hearing more! Honorable mentions to “Know Your Name” by Mary Lambert, “Crimson and Clover” by Joan Jett, and the soundtrack of Fun Home (even though it’s got some problematic things with predatory gays) because I cry every time I listen to it, especially on “Changing My Major”, “Days and Days and Days”, and fuckin “Telephone Wire” (“Come to the Fun Home” is a whole bop. Only gay in that I, a certified gay, enjoy it.)

ease my mind: what makes you feel at peace? what is your perfect future like? what do you do at the end of a long day to unwind?

Reading, writing (in theory lol), drawing, and singing relax me (dance too, but I’m not allowed to do it anymore cuz I’m broken). I also recently started teaching myself the guitar.

I don’t really have a set perfect future, but honestly, I’d take one in which we avoid nuclear winter, world war III, and climate change. The more I think about growing up, the more skeptical I become about whether I’ll actually get to do it and that’s insanely scary.

let it be: who was your worst heartbreak? have you ever been in love? do you even believe in love?

TW: suicide

One of my best friends (⅓ of my nervous bi darlings) ended her life almost two years ago. So that fuckin’ messed me up.

I don’t know. Usually, I’d say I think I’m kind of young to really even know how, but that’s not quite true. I guess I’ll say that I have loved but I haven’t yet been in love. Theoretically speaking, there’s so much of my life ahead of me that the probability of having that experience so early, especially with a limited romantic pool (being a queer poc in the south), is low.

And I’ve just recently fallen in love with myself, thus heightening my standards. I’ve been awful about getting into relationships in the past because i was afraid of saying no and hurting that person’s feelings, but lately i value my own happiness above the appeasement of others to my detriment. I just feel like I’m still learning and getting comfortable in that space, and the opportunity hasn’t really presented itself yet. But i think that it’s possible, someday. I’m a hopeful hopeless romantic.

cliff’s edge: what’s on your bucket list? where would like to travel? what makes your heart race?

I want to try everything at least once. I want to learn how to be the truest, most fully-realized version of myself I can. I don’t have a set list of life, I just hope it will be some kind of spectacular.

I want to see the world. Everywhere. But beyond that, I want to be a part of it. I want to be a true global citizen, experience a life past myself every day. I dream of having the freedom to continuously explore and grow in hopes of doing some good, internally or externally, along the way.

he’ll never love you: were you ever in denial about your sexuality? were you ever in denial of a crush? do you like to talk about your crushes to your friends?

Not denial, per se, I just didn’t know what was going on. It was a pretty straightforward, comfortable call once I had the information I needed.

I’m able to employ logic in most situations and strip myself of an unwanted crush using that, but most i’m aware of and suffer in silence.

Yesss. I’m bad at making those kinds of decisions by myself and having people who genuinely care ask me questions or even just talk to me about it helps me process. Often, this results in being teased about said crush, but I don’t mind.

wanna be missed: how dependent or independent are you in a relationship? do you like a lot of space, or a lot of intimacy? how do you feel about electronic (vs face to face) communication?

Ummm, I kinda tend to lead, just because that’s what I’m accustomed to. It’s a role I fill because everyone else avoids it in the other arenas of my life, so I’ve mostly been independent and directing in my relationships. This last one actually threw me for a loop because the dynamic was flipped; they were so sweet and thoughtful and proactive in romancing me i didn’t really know what to do with myself. I’ve gotten over the initial shock (now, what, 5? 6 months later?) and found that I liked that too.

I like a healthy balance of distance and closeness. Fun fact: my love languages are quality time and physical touch, so when i’m with someone i pretty much just want to cuddle with them all the time. I don’t know, it really depends on the person and the relationship and whatever is going on with me individually.

I’m cool with digital communication, but i’m also a granny when it comes to technology so I can have a little trouble with more nuanced text/social media culture. Also, my phone is always on silent (not even vibrate, because i’m wacky like that) so if you want an immediate answer, face-to-face is better. Also the physical touch thing, also that way i can read expressions better.

Bonus: i can also hold your hand and kiss your cute face!

under the blue/take me in: are you happy where you are right now? if you could change one thing about your life, what would it be? what’s your favourite aspect of yourself?

I mean, I’d rather not be in constant debilitating pain, I (apparently) have some tangling with anxiety i need to do, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera. I’m a lot better than I have been, and I’m grateful for that. I don’t know if true happiness is a consistent, determinable state, but I take what I can get.

I don’t think there’s one big thing I would change. It’s more like a handful of small things. But if I had to choose, I’d fix whatever is wrong with my spine/neck/whatever. I feel like I’m on the cusp of my life finally beginning and I’m trapped by something as trivial as my body. It’s exhausting and I really need it to be over. It feels selfish, but I could do the most good for myself and others if I could put this behind me.

Favorite aspect of myself? That’s like asking me to pick a favorite book! Or child! Impossible: that’s a trick question. Sure, she’s a batshit, messy bitch, but I love myself. She and I are in it for the long run. ;)

palace: who is your favourite memory? what’s your favourite story with/about them? why don’t you two speak anymore?

The first girl I ever loved is mostly a memory now. It’s hard to pick a favorite story about her, but our first kiss story is pretty soft and gay, kind of like something out of a fairytale or a tropey fic, so I guess I’ll say that.

We had just finished seventh grade. 

Some background: That April, we went to D.C. for our annual class trip. There were ten of us and only four girls, so we all shared a hotel room (and they were roommates!) We split the beds (we’d all known each other for seven years, it was just like sharing with a sister) and stayed up super late, intermittently playing truth or dare and talking about life. She and I philosophized into the early morning (there was only one bed!!), she told me she liked me, and I fell asleep before I could do anything about it. Apparently, we ended up cuddling, because when I woke up, i was warm because she’d wrapped around me (and drooled down my collarbone, but whatever).

Okay, so, every spring, after graduation, our school had a picnic at the park down by a shallow length of the river where the kids would swim after lunch. We hadn’t done anything about our feelings yet, and I was leaving for another school. She took me around the bend in the river and we swam into the basin there. She wasn’t as strong a swimmer as I was, so she put her arms around my neck, and I held us both up in water deeper than both of us were tall. She said she was going to miss me, and then she kissed me. For a while.

Then, we saw a snake and frantically flailed to shore, laughing until our lungs hurt.

We don’t talk anymore because she became mentally unstable soon after that, and it wasn’t safe for either of us to continue interacting. I’ve seen her a few times since, but I don’t anticipate that we’ll ever be that close again, and that’s okay.

mercy/gatekeeper: what was a difficult time in your life? what did you do/what are you doing to get through it? who has been the most helpful?

&

molecules: have you ever lost anyone close to you? if yes, how did it feel at the time and how does it feel now to talk about them? do you fear death?

TW: suicide

One of my childhood best friends killed herself in the first month of our freshman year. It was totally out of the blue, and the timing was absolutely horrible. I was just getting everything I wanted, I was having the time of my life and then everything just stopped in its tracks. Except it didn’t. The world kept turning and she was gone and I had lab reports due and she was gone and there were play rehearsal and holidays and deadlines and life incessantly barreling forward and she was gone. I woke every morning with a pit in my stomach, I didn’t sleep, I didn’t eat. It was like something had been cut open inside me and life was just pouring out behind me but I couldn’t feel any of it. And no one else around me seemed to care. Every day I felt like I was dying. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t breathe, and everyone else had a smile on their face and laughed like it was nothing and complained about stubbing toes and bad grades and fighting with their parents.

I don’t really know how I got through it. I mean, I went to therapy, but it didn’t really help. I couldn’t talk to people about it, even when I wanted to. I couldn’t cry for the longest time. I wrote about it some. I left her voicemails. I raged through glass recycling. I guess I just trudged on, dragged myself onward because stopping wasn’t an option. Because if I did, even for a moment, I wouldn’t have enough strength to start again.

I’m better now, I guess. I can talk about it and her and I feel mostly human most days, but it’s still a presence in my life I wish I could escape. I still don’t know where they buried her.

I do not fear death.

one bad night: do you like casual or serious relationships? have you ever done anything illegal, wrong, or stupid for the sake of love?

Hoo boy, I’m bad at casual relationships. I get too attached (*feelings plays in the background*), and it becomes serious. Oddly enough, it doesn’t really scare people away. The older I get the further I’ll probably get from playful dalliances, but every once in a while, as the stakes are low, I’m down for just having fun and enjoying someone’s company.

palm dreams: do you like parties or quiet nights in? would you want to/did you stay in your hometown after moving out? what’s your ideal saturday night like?

I am an introverted smol, and big parties make me nervous. I can handle and even enjoy the odd bash here and there, but too many too often wears me out. Smaller groups are better, but my favorite size is a book or maybe one other human.

Nooooooo, man, I am going to college out of state, far away, and I am not moving back here. I love my city dearly, but I need to find my own corner of the sky. :)

I love a night at the theatre, preceded by a quiet dinner with a couple close friends and followed by something sweet, some tea, and reading a good book with my feline.