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slasherhaven · 4 years

Note

All slashers reaction to their s/o being a stripper or pole dancer? That line of work is so stigmatized I feel they'd all be weirded out but when they see the fuckin CASH, the hundreds their s/o would make in ONE NIGHT damn

The Slashers Reactions to Their S/O being a Stripper:

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas is...torn.

The Hewitts are a pretty conservative, stuck in the ways, kinda people. Thomas being the most open to difference out of all of them.

He loves you but all he knows about the job is the stigma behind it.

But he’s not going to leave you because of it, please explain it to him.

With some explanation, debunking some stigmas and stereotypes, explaining that it is just your job, he comes around to it.

Alright, you’re still you and you’re loyal to him. That’s all that matters. He’s sorry for judging you at first...

Luda May is unsure about it, worried that you’re not as dedicated to Tommy as you say you are. Just prove her wrong. You love that man and that has nothing to do with your job.

Hoyt has definitely made a comment or two about it, always receiving a warning glare from Thomas. Don’t worry, he’ll defend you!

Luda May starts to come around to it because it’s so obvious that you only have an interested in Thomas...plus the money doesn’t hurt. That’s more cash than they’ve seen in a long time...you could be an actual godsend.

Michael Myers

Does not care what you do for a living.

Is a little unsure about how he feels about other people getting to see you in a state of undress but comes around to the idea more when you explain that they aren’t allowed to touch you.

Good, because that’s just for him!

Michael doesn’t care all that much about money but he’s still impressed by how much you can make in one night alone.

Other than that? Pretty unbothered.

Does enjoy your private dances though, he cannot deny that.

And you know when he’ll want one because you’ll go into your bedroom and find his selected outfit laying on the bed for you.

Jason Voorhees

You do...what for a living?

Jason is definitely going to have some issues with it.

We all know how he feels about anything sexual. It’s something he’s uncomfortable with and views as inherently wrong.

But he does love you...

And you’re nothing like he would expect somebody in that line of work to be.

He probably has a lot of preconceived notions about your work that you need to work through.

Just be patient with him, help him see that there is nothing wrong with what you do or the people who do it.

He’ll get there eventually because he loves you, it’s just going to take a while.

Brahms Heelshire

Uh-huh...uh-huh...no, yeah he’s listening- do you have the attire at home or do you have to keep it at the establishment. No, no, he understands. Can he see what you wear while you work? He is taking this seriously, Y/n!

Admittedly Brahms is going to take an issue with it.

Not with the job itself. Just his own jealousy.

You’re meant to be with him and he doesn’t like the idea of other people getting to see you like that.

But they can’t touch you? Well...that’s good...you mean they can look but can’t touch? Only he gets to touch you?

Okay, you’re winning him over.

Give him his own private dance and he’s sold.

Bo Sinclair

Will probably look down on the choice of job before you tell him what you do for a living. Then he’ll be forced to reconsider his preconceived beliefs.

Bo tends to look down on everyone for one reason or another, he supposes strippers were easy targets to do so.

But the more he thinks about it, the less it actually bothers him.

He really doesn’t mind if he gets his own private dances.

Plus that money is very convincing. It’s not like the brothers have any real income and it can be difficult to keep a good stock of supplies. With you around, that shouldn’t be a problem anymore.

Will pick out your outfit for that shift.

Sometimes it’s just because he wants to see you were a particular set, other times he just likes the idea of you dancing in the outfit he chose.

Kind of like a reminder to the two of you that you might be dancing for those people but you are his, and you come home to him at the end of the day.

Vincent Sinclair

Any negative thoughts Vincent has is more due to jealousy and insecurity rather than how he thinks of you.

He sees you as a person, not as your job. So he won’t judge. He really doesn’t think he has any right to judge considering his ‘work’.

He loves you and doesn’t care what you do.

Sometimes he just wonders why you would want...him...

Just lots of reassurance, cuddles, and kisses should get him feeling better again!

Honestly just likes watching you dance. Not even in a sexual way (though he can’t help how his body reacts to your seductive movements) just in admiration and adoration.

You’re stunning and the way you move is hypnotising.

He can see why you get paid so well!

He doesn’t care about the money all that much. It’s Bo that takes advantage of that.

Will likely have various sketches of you wearing your different outfits that you wear for work. You like to ask for his opinion on them and he’s happy to give you an enthusiastic thumbs up and nod of the head.

Lester Sinclair

Is honestly just happy that you’re with him.

You’re a stripper, you dance for people who would kill to be with you or even touch you, and yet you come home to him.

That’s fine by him!

Might get a little insecure about it but is super easy to cheer up.

Usually Lester just ignores Bo’s comment but if he says anything about your work (probably just to annoy either of you, he doesn’t really care) your man will defend you!

May actually be addicted to your private dances, the ones that he knows are just for him.

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba is never going to judge you for your work, even if it’s something he doesn’t completely understand or is stigmatised. He knows you’re a good, wonderful person who he loves dearly. And you love him back! That’s all that matters to him.

The only problem might be his own insecurities but you can tell when it’s bothering him and are quick to put things right. Showing him plenty of love to remind him that he is the only man for you.

Will sometimes pick out an outfit for you to wear for your next shift. He wasn’t to be supportive!

Loves when you buy new stuff and decide to put on a little bit of a show to show him them, asking for his opinion. He loves them all!

Is always a little flustered afterward so give that boy some love!

He doesn’t care about the money but the rest of the family (mostly Drayton) try to leech off of it. You’re family now, your money is their money. Sharing and all that!

Billy Lenz

Isn’t too sure how he feels about this news...

But put on the brand new set you got for work, give him his own little private dance, dedicate the night to him and he’ll be okay with it.

As long as you don’t give your customers the same treatment, you’re perfectly fine!

Will help you pick out your set for your next shift but don’t expect him to not get handsy. He can’t help himself!

Money isn’t something Billy cares about. It’s not like he goes shopping or anything. But at least you can buy quality things for him to borrow without asking sooooooo...

Asa Emory (The Collector)

Admittedly, Asa is not a fan.

It’s not that he’s judging you or looking down on you for what you do. Looking down on somebody for that alone is nonsensical, there are worse things you could do. He should know.

However, dating a stripper wasn’t something he had seen for himself.

He’s a possessive man so he doesn’t like the idea of somebody eying up his partner at all, especially if he isn’t there.

But one night he visits the club, sits right in front of the stage and you focus all your attention on him.

He admits that you’re mesmerising to watch, maybe he should look into getting you a new outfit. Perhaps a more lacy number?

He’s never going to be a fan of your career choice and will likely try to convince you to quit, telling you that you don’t even need to work. He can support you both.

But all those private dances definitely sweeten the deal for him.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Strippers don’t usually capture Jesse’s attention for too long and he wouldn’t purposely go to a club for the reason of seeing them but sometimes his work takes him to places like this.

You likely worked in a more high end establishment, more wealthy patrons.

Either way, something about you just got his attention. The way you moved or maybe it was the way you looked at him, the bat of your lashes or the smile on your lips. But you drew him in.

Sure daddy Chromeskull!!

Would likely pay for a private dance and when he finds himself even more enthralled with you, he would make you another offer. Paying you for more than just dances, come home with him, not even for sex (though that is very much on the table), just come to his home and look pretty, that’s all he’s paying you for if that’s all you want to do.

If you’re reluctant to accept the generous offer, he will win you over with generous tips and gifts. New lingerie, jewellery, fragrances. He’s determined and convincing, you have to give him that.

If you’re only stripping for the cash, you’re likely going to stop doing it all together. Jesse is paying you more than you ever earned at that place. Plus it’s a really nice house, you’re living in luxury.

Otis Driftwood

It’s likely how you met in the first place. He visited the club you were dancing in and you both just hit it off.

It doesn’t bother him at all.

Will kill anyone who speak bad about your work and will kill anyone who touches you when that is clearly against the rules.

He likes visiting you while you’re working. ‘Paying’ for a private dance that always turns into more.

He actually likes watching the other patrons watching you, knowing that they didn’t even have a chance. You only had eyes for him and he knew it, so their stares didn’t bother him.

Especially when he was there to take you home after your shift, getting to rub it in everyone’s faces as he pulls you into a kiss before escorting you out of the club.

He’s very proud to show you off at all times.

Baby Firefly

Probably met you in the club. Probably shamelessly flirted with you while you were on the job. And, well, you couldn’t help but give her a discount.

Doesn’t care about your work in the slightest.

But will happily help you spend that pay check!

You pole dance? Show her! Teach her! It’s a fun date idea!

She’s not great, too impatient to get any real technique, but she’s having fun and that’s the point!

Loves for you to do little fashion shows in your new work outfits. Even offers to do your hair and makeup for you before a shift!

Baby is super proud of what you do and the money you make. She has absolutely no problem with having other people know what you do for a job. And anyone has anything bad to say about it? Well, they’re just her next target!

Yautja (Predator)

He’s going to need an explanation.

Okay. So what he’s hearing is that you dance for money in various stages of undress?

Not a problem!

Yautja don’t have the same sense of prudishness or nudity that some humans seem too.

But he’s still a little possessive of his little mate. So as long as these customers aren’t touching you or think they have any right too, he’s okay with it.

You do it for good pay, to support yourself, there’s no shame in that at all.

Your explanation might need a little demonstration. Give your alien mate a private dance just for how accepting and understanding his is! It’s his reward!

Turns out, he’s a big fan of your dancing.

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obeiii-mee · 4 years

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Hi there! If its okay, could i ask for headcannons of the brothers finding out MC is an Artist? Something like, finding there sketchbook or napkins w doodles on them jfjdjs Or maybe they catch MC glancing at them alot while trying to draw them? hfjd Ty!! Your writing is really good~

Of course it’s OK! I’ve always liked the idea of MC having a really interesting hobby and teaching the brothers about it. I feel like all the brothers would be very supportive of them, even if they all had various reactions to their hobby but I really love writing wholesome moments like that. Sorry this took longer to come out, I made them really long to make up for it!

Also thank you. Your compliment means a lot :)

————————————-

The Brothers’ reactions to MC being an artist:

Lucifer:

-Well if you’re going to glance at him every two minutes, he’s bound to notice

-I mean, you’re pretty damn obvious

-Lucifer got pretty used to you whipping out your sketchbook whenever you could

-So for you to start doodling in his office while he worked wasn’t exactly unheard of

-He caught you staring at him before looking back down at your drawing, continuing your series of furious scribbles

-Now you piqued his interest

-“You seem very focused there love. What are you drawing?”

-Scared the crap out of you because he rarely ever talks when he’s working

-You were reluctant to show him but Lucifer has his insisting face on

-When you passed him the sketchbook, he momentarily froze

-Your drawing was so detailed and full of emotion, capturing him slumped over his desk, exhausted but determined to finish the work he’s been assigned

-He was so surprised and stunned, for a second, he forgot to breathe

-“It’s not exactly one of my best drawings yet but-“

-“You never fail to impress me MC.”

-He suspected you were drawing him but he wasn’t expecting this much effort to be put into it

-He would definitely keep all your drawings of him

-Loves all your work but secretly adores your sketches of him best

-Lucifer would occasionally look over your shoulder while you sketch, taking a peek at what you’re drawing and smile to himself

-He’s never felt this much pride for someone else before

Mammon:

-Was pissed you would rather spend time with an object rather than him

-It annoyed him at first because he couldn’t tell if you were listening to him or not while you had your nose stuck in your sketchbook

-Basically, he was jealous of a sketchbook

-You can’t do that Mammon, that’s Levi’s thing

-So one day he decided to see what the fuck was so great about that giant notebook you always have with you

-He turned your entire room upside down searching for the damn thing before finding it

-He flipped through it and I’m sure the entire House of Lamentation could hear his gasp

-You drew him for pages and pages in all sorts of positions and styles and he was a flustered tomato going through them

-You willingly drew him? The scum of a demon who could never do anything right unless it involved money? You put your time and effort into these sketches and doodles despite him being condescending and a dick at times?

-Excuse me but this man is already head over heels in love with you, you can’t keep giving him reasons to fall for you

-He was so engrossed into your work that he didn’t notice you behind him

-“Mammon why is there a mess in my room-“

-“HOLY SHI-AHHH!!!”

-Too embarrassed to even think of an excuse for going through your shit

-“Ah those...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have drawn you without your permission Mammon-“

-“Are ya kiddin’ me? MC, I feel insulted that you didn’t tell me about this sooner. Can...Can I keep some of ‘em??”

-Now he insists that you draw him as often as possible and would even pose for you (he loves the attention let’s be real)

-He wants to see all of your drawings and will endlessly support you

-Thought about using your skill as a way to make money because art can be very expensive

-But in the end, he dropped the idea

-Why would he sell something so precious to him??

Levi:

-He probably has a sketchbook too

-You guys draw Ruri-chan together in your own styles

-Levi always insists that you’re much better at drawing than him tho

-Your talent makes him a little jealous but at the same time he’s fascinated

-Was so surprised when he found out you were into sketching

-Levi was even more surprised when you showed him all the drawings you’ve worked on for your favourite anime and video game characters

-OK but how come you’re so perfect? Not only are you a lovely person that is willing to watch anime with him without insulting his opinions but you can draw? W...h...a...t...?

-He requests several sketches of ‘The Tale of the Seven Lords’ characters and will actually tape them to his wall

-Some of them are right on his Ruri-chan shelf

-“Hey normie, do you...do you mind teaching me how to draw? I want to learn.”

-Is 100% determined to learn how to properly sketch from you

-You started drawing him as well, usually while he games

-You better stop, he’ll have a nosebleed if you keep being so nice to him!

-Draw him as an anime character and he will start fangirling

-“Phew. OK I’m finished.”

-“What did you draw?”

-“Hentai.”

-“This. Is. A. Masterpiece.”

-Will proudly show your work to his brothers (usually the same drawing more than five times)

-What did an otaku like him do to deserve you??

Satan:

-He found out you were an artist fairly quickly

-I meant he found tissues with doodles you left behind everywhere

-He kept all of them

-It was so refreshing for him to see you so invested in your drawings the same way he is in his reading

-You’re still under the impression you’re being sneaky by drawing him while he has his nose in his books

-You ended up finally gathering enough courage to show him one of your portraits of him

-He had a reaction similar to Lucifer’s really

-Praise!

-He made your drawing into a bookmark

-Idk how but he did

-You leave him a few doodles of you and him being all lovey dovey and he absolutely adores them

-Will lose his marbles if anyone says anything remotely negative about your style or talent

-Draw him fluffy animals pls he will literally have them framed and fixed up in his room

-Also if you draw any of his brothers (specifically Lucifer let’s be real) in a silly way he will actually start snorting with laughter

-You sketch him pretty damn often and he can’t really complain

-It’s really peaceful when you two are in the library and you’re working on your doodling while he reads aloud to you

-Buys you equipment like pens and pencils and even sketchbooks when he knows you’re running out

-He’s really delighted when you come over to show him your drawings

-Once he caught you staring at a cat as you started sketching it

-He actually didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much

Asmo:

-Noisy little fucker that he is and in need of drama, he looked through your sketchbook

-Thought it was a diary at first but nope

-Imagine his surprise when he found pages upon pages of drawings of his brothers and him

-Except his weren’t really a surprise

-He’s gorgeous of course you would want to draw him

-But oh my God, do you realise how much he values art??

-I know he looks as if he only thinks about sex but he definitely has a thing for creativity and art like painting and photography

-“MC darliiiing~? Why didn’t you tell me you can draw?”

-He actually shrieks at how well you’ve captured his beauty

-He insists that they look like actual pictures of him

-Takes several pictures of all of them and posts them on DevilGram

-A bit salty when you drawing anything else but him

-However, he can’t deny that you’re one of the most talented individuals he ever met

-He comes up to you every day and lractically begs you to draw him

-One time you came in your room to find him naked and asking you to draw him

-Is actually kinda good at drawing himself

-Specifically people

-He has enough experience exploring the human body so he surprisingly enough, knows a thing or two when it comes to body proportions

-“MC draw me like one of your french girls~”

-I’m sorry I had to do that

-He also likes the attention he’s getting when he poses for you

-He may think he’s the most beautiful being in all three realms but he definitely thinks you’re the second

-So he often offers to draw you too

-He likes having cozy chats with you while you draw

Beel:

-You left your sketchbook behind in the kitchen with him

-Mammon needed your assistance to get down from where Lucifer hanged him after one of his failed money schemes

-He knocked a glass of milk nearby it and had a panic attack for a minute

-Legitimately thought he ruined the whole thing

-Was actually about ready to cry because he knew how important your sketchbook was to you

-Looked through it just to make sure there were no splotches or anything

-To say he was relieved when he realised it was fine would be an understatement

-He was kinda drawn to your sketches, most of them carefully drawn and expressive, even some of the ones you scribbled out

-One specific drawing caught his eye though

-You drew him and Belphie together, with his twin brother’s head resting on his shoulder while Beel ate

-He was mesmerised by your talent and by your thoughtfulness

-Beel felt bad about it but he kept looking through your sketches, enchanted by everything in it

-You drew him and his brothers several times

-It’s safe to say the discovery of your drawings brightened his day

-Gave back your sketchbook later

-He apologised for going through it without your permission more than he needed to

-You had to accept his apology because he looked like a kicked puppy

-Feels very honoured whenever you let him look at your work

-Is more than happy to pose for you!

-But that might be a bit of a problem seeing as he tends to move around a lot

-“Whoa, that looks just like me! The food I’m eating looks really realistic too...which is making me hungry. Let’s go to Hell’s Kitchen, you can finish this there!”

-Supportive bean

-You gave him a family sketch of him and all of his brothers once

-Normally, he only likes gifts he can eat

-But he treasures that drawing more than food at times

-“This...this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me! Thank you MC! But uh, someone’s missing in this drawing.”

-“Ah shit, who did I miss?”

-“You.”

-If anything ever happens to Beel or his happiness I swear to Lord Diavolo-

Belphie:

-OK but you left your notebook just sitting there right next to him???

-How do you expect him not to look through it?

-Belphie doesn’t care much for privacy

-And he doesn’t exactly have morals either

-He didn’t even know you were into drawing

-Which to be fair, wasn’t scandalous considering he sleeps 20 hours a day

-But he wants to be more involved in your interests so that’s why he took initiative with your sketchbook

-Idk what he was expecting but definitely not a sketch of him staring back at him

-His heart skipped a beat but I don’t even know if demons have hearts

-The cheeky little shit took pictures and may or may not have made on your drawings of him his wallpaper

-Most of the drawings were of him sleeping, surprising...absolutely no one

-“So that’s what you’re up to whenever I go to sleep huh? So cute~”

-But besides all that, he is really touched

-I mean, if there’s anyone undeserving of your love and respect is the piece of shit of who tried to kill you

-Yet here you are, continuously showering him with affection and now this

-Probably spent hours looking at your sketchbook while you were at R.A.D

-Didn’t say anything to you when you came back except handing your notebook back to you

-Though he was less of a smartass and more affectionate for the rest of the day

-Next morning, you took the liberty of waking up before him and sketching him again

-He grabbed your arm halfway through your doodling and grinned at you from under the covers

-“Drawing me again huh? You won’t mind me doing this while you’re at it then right?”

-Now he’s sleeping in your lap

-Whenever you show him your work, he makes a small approving noise but he’s seriously impressed

-Draw Lucifer or Lord Diavolo in any offensive manner and he will actually start giggling

-Gets all huffy puffy when you draw his brothers instead of him (we all know Beel is the exception)

-I may have a thing for Belphegour

Al~

#obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me imagines #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #⭐️ requests #☂️ demon brothers #🕯 general

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foreverlostindreams · 3 years

Text

So many questions

“Tony that's not what happened!” Why was he the only one pointing that out again? They all would be free to go, so much faster, if he wasn’t the only one correcting all the crazy exaggerations the man was making. “Oh come on old man, why do you have to be so boring?” Tony wasted no time shooting back, while turning around to him “We spend nearly a week following every step of the plan Fury and his little friends here developed and now I can’t point out its flaws for two minut - what's that on your arm? Did you get a tattoo to fit in with the young kids?” Talk about turning around the conversation, if he didn’t expect some kind of distraction from the man, he would have gotten a whiplash. “Tony, can we just get this over with?” “Who is changing topics now?” “What are you even talking about?” “Your arm! You think I’m joking?” he gripped sayed arm and held it up into his view and everyone else's looks followed. Just in that moment new scribbles started appearing on his skin “Oh you just turned a lot less boring, star spangled banner” Tony concluded.

A few more inappropriate comments from Tony, questions from everyone and an intermission from Bruce, who led him away to deescalate the whole situation. Steve was storming a few steps ahead of the doctor right to his lab. “I was born nearly a hundred years ago, I should not be here. How can a soulmate connection start now?” he asked his most pressing question“Soulmates links cannot be concluded under any kind of logic, Captain. Some people have it, some don’t. Sometimes they show up early, sometimes later in life, sometimes it never does. And it might have started earlier for you as well, a lot of people draw and scribble a lot on their skin in childhood and teenage years. Hoping of course that they would get a reaction, if this was a person fitting your age now, not counting your - um time-out, that would have been approximately fifteen to five years ago, when you were - hm unable to notice it or return that favour.” Banner concluded. “But I shouldn't be alive! That person would have lived without a soulmate!” Steve seemed furious at that thought as Bruce noticed not without smiling a little. “Like I said, not everybody has a soulmate Captain. There were a lot more in your time but now, less and less people in each generation have one. Science is still trying to find out reasons for that, but not having one doesn’t mean people lead an unhappy life. Your person probably still believes themself one of those people.” he pointed out. “Let's also not get started on the discussion of what higher power or fate could be behind this, that would explain knowing you would wake up again in time, to be a part of this person's life.”

“So what is the Text?” Banner asked, when they were finally in the lab “Kiyosaki, rdpd, 2014” Steve read aloud, not grasping any kind of meaning from it “Jarvis?” “Rdpd is most commonly used as an abbreviation for the book Rich dad, poor dad by Robert T. Kiyosaki advised as lecture in most colleges for courses of finances.” “So a college student” Barner concluded “if we assume that he or she must be in a lecture right now, we can cross off all colleges that do not teach a fitting course or are in a fitting time zone. How many would that be, Jarvis?” “There are 5300 Colleges in the United states, in your chosen parameters are 1134 of those.” Steve's head was swimming, was this how he was supposed to find out about his soulmate? He could still just reply with a pen on his skin and hope to not scare off the person on the other end. But as Banner had mentioned, he had been quiet for years, what if his person had built a good life for themselves without him? Had he a right to just barge in? Being his soulmate would come with a lot of safety problems and needed changes for that person, would he want that?

Banner noticed his wandering mind. “If you want, I can continue searching without you.” he offered “If we find something, I will write it down for you and put it in an envelope. Then you can decide when you want to know. But Shield would need to know, there are certain protocols and measures for every soulmate of shield agents, if they know about us or not.” “Are there more out there, who don’t know, their soulmate is not answering, because he or she is a special agent?” “Unfortunately, yes. Like I said, I am not the biggest believer in fate, but I do believe, since soulmates exist, you would not be connected to somebody unable to handle you and your life. And making that decision for the both of you is quite the choice.” He very quickly noticed that he stuck his finger directly where it hurts and paddled back “Still, it is your life and your soulmate Captain, I am just a scientist, not a guru for the best life decisions. I mean, I turn green every once in a while.”

“Captain, Mr. Stark is calling a spontaneous meeting right now” Friday alerted him about a week of him wrecking his brain about the decision without a conclusion later. “Do we have a mission?” he asked, looking up from his sketches, ready to take off in seconds, only to relax when the AI denied. “It seems Mr. Stark has a visitor, he is excited to introduce to everyone.” Steve knew what was going on, before he even stood up, the white envelope Bruce handed him four days ago burned in the back of his mind and his anger boiled up the whole way to Tony's favourite of the meeting rooms in the compound.

“You had no right!” he pressed out in between his teeth the second he saw the man, trying to calm his need to scream at him. “I know you people who are as old as dirt feel like you have time, but you don’t so I was doing you a favor really capsicle.” he answered totally unbothered by his anger as always. “I would like to take this moment to say ‘ I had nothing to do with this, he hacked my user’ “ Bruce piped up and threw Steve a look full of apologie and pity. Nats look on the other hand was on Tony the whole time and made pretty clear that she as well had not known about this beforehand and was also not in favor with his doing. “Well we always knew he was an ass, but who would have thought, he was this overreaching.” she commented, voice full of poison. “Oh come on, as if you all were not interested who on earth could be the perfect match for our golden boy here.” he argued back “Being curious has nothing to do with what you did!” Even Pepper argued for Steve's side and while Tony threw his hands dramatically in the air, Steve realised something else.

“So you all have seen her already” “Finally you're focussing on the important things here, capsicle. Your soulmate is quite the view and from what her grades can say about intelligence, she -” “Will. You. Shut. Up!” Pepper finally hit him. “This has nothing to do with you or your opinions, you shouldn’t even be here.” and as if speaking those words out loud made her realise, she repeated “We all shouldn’t in fact.” She straintend her jacket, threw her soulmate another angry look and was back to business, hurrying everyone along, before Steve could vocalise his gratitude.

Finally alone he took a couple of deep breaths, before he felt like mostly himself again only to realise, he didn’t even know with what explanation Tony invited her here. Did she know, or was it all hidden behind some kind of white lie? How was he supposed to go about this? How not to offend her if she knew and he seemed to taken aback and how not to overwhelm her, if she didn’t know? When he entered the room it was without a plan, but knowing letting her wait any longer would definitely be insulting.

When their eyes met, he could not stop himself from agreeing with Tony, she was quite beautiful. “Hi, I’m Steve.” he clumsily started. “I’m sorry you had to wait - and also for anything else my friends or colleagues might have said to you.” he added after a second thought. She grinned back at him “I’m Y/N and don’t worry, I know the type. If my friends would have managed to figure out it was you, they would have stormed in here years ago.” Steve felt floored at her ease with the whole situation. “We are quite well equipped against intrusion” he heard himself say, before his mind even caught up. She laughed at that. “Against equipped fighters maybe, but the ways determined college students find? I don’t think anyone can plan for all those random and stupid ideas.” Steve felt himself starting to grin back at her, without really planning to. She was amazing. “Would you like to go to dinner with me? I fear we have quite a few cameras in here and a lot of noisy people.” he proposed, somewhere in the back of his mind still trying to figure out how to best keep her safe, while all the rest of him just seemed too busy admiring her. “I would love to. I have heard quite a few stories about you, that I need clarification on and even more questions.” And for the first time, Steve couldn’t wait to answer all of them and ask even more himself.

#steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x fem #steve rogers soulmate #soulmate au #avergers soulmate au #steve rogers one shot #tony stark #bruce banner #pepper potts #first meeting

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lovelivingmydreams · 3 years

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A story by heroes and villains

Book 2: secrets revealed Virgil Anker: trust and caution

Masterlist book 1

It's not easy to know who to trust and who to be wary off. But Virgil better learn soon.

When Virgil got back to the new house, he took a shower and sat himself on the couch in his pj’s. He was listening to his ‘winding down’ playlist. He was grinning to himself. Someone else was wearing his design. Sure he’d made Janus a shirt way back in freshmen year, but he barely wore it outside the house. This would be seen by tons of people. And it looked so good! He couldn’t wait till Monday. He could imagine Roman’s reaction. Would there be pictures in the papers? On the news? He just might buy a paper so he could keep a clipping to look back on later. Thinking about gushing over the costume with Roman at school made him think about seeing Janus again. J had skipped school after what happened in the hallway, leading to him having detention all of last week. He hadn’t even so much as looked at Virgil since. Not in a, “I am mad and ignoring you way,”. He looked ashamed. Scared. That was what made it so hard for Virgil to stick to his plan. Janus looked so hurt and lost and ashamed. And during lunch, he was nowhere to be found. Virgil needed to talk to Picani about this tomorrow. It would be a busy session. He contemplated where things had gone wrong for the millionth time for a while until he heard the door and looked up to see his fathers enter the room. “You’re back!” he greeted as he sat up. “So I gotta know, who’s your fourth guy?” he wondered casually. His dad just looked at him confused. “What do you mean?” “For your poker nights,” he clarified with a chuckle. Imagining Patton or uncle Thomas playing poker was kind of funny. It seemed so out of character for them. Still he couldn’t imagine what else would take all three of them getting together like this. Thomas had taught musical theatre classes, back when he was still a professor, and now he was the dean. Then again, Virgil wasn’t certain his uncle was always present. Tonight might just have been one time he happened to be there. But Patton definitely had been part of this project as much as Logan was. The past six months at the very least, but most likely from the start. “No cardgames I’m afraid kiddo. We’ll tell you about the project once it’s finished. It’s all confidential for now I’m afraid,” Patton told him gently. Virgil looked long and hard at Patton. He wasn’t lying. And confidential stuff made a lot of sense. He shrugged, letting it go. Even if his first guess was right after all and his dad was doing some kind of superhero stuff as BrainStorm, if Patton was there to help him Virgil felt assured that they’d be safe. Though he wouldn’t know how Patton, or Thomas, got wrapped up with anything involving a former super villain. “Okay, keep your secrets,” he sighed as he stretched. “Night Pat, night Lo,” he bid before heading upstairs. “Goodnight Virgil, I love you.” Virgil looked back at his dad when he heard that. “Love you to dad,” he replied with a smile. “Love you three kiddo!” Patton added, making Virgil laugh. “Love ya Pat.” And with that he went upstairs to his room. His new room was bigger than the one in his old house. But he didn’t care much about that. His old room had memories. He missed it honestly. He started to worry that he’d been too quick to say that he wanted to move out. No matter how nice the new house was, and how conveniently it was positioned, it would never quite be like the one he’d known most of his life. He let himself drop on his bed. It was pointless to think about that now. At this point, another family had probably moved into their old home. They’d brought their own furniture. Probably painted over the walls. Erasing the little doodles he’d made when he was little and bored. Before his mind could go any farther down that path, he heard a buzzing. Roman sent him a text. “Greetings! I just got back. Sorry for not checking in earlier. Could not be helped. Did you get home alright?” Virgil chuckled and texted back. “LOL. You worry too much. Hope you had a fun night.” Virgil certainly did. Just thinking about it made him impatient. Oh why not? Before he could second guess himself, he pressed call. “Virgil?” Roman sounded surprised, but Virgil was already way to giddy about his news. “I had to tell you now. I saw him!” he whispered. “Who? And why are we whispering?” Roman asked, mimicking his volume. “I’m supposed to be asleep,” he admitted, earning himself a chuckle. “Ok… Who did you see?” Roman asked. “Dream Prince!” expecting the logical next question he edited his story a little. “I went for a walk and I guess he was doing patrol in my neighborhood, I caught a glimpse of him,” well, that was an understatement. But he couldn’t tell Roman everything. Not yet. He’d lectured Prince about being cautious just today. He trusted Roman. But anyone could overhear them at any time. “He was wearing my costume! You were right! I can’t wait to get a good look at it in action!” Again. “You think someone got a picture? I didn’t have a chance. God I should’ve taken a picture so I could show you!” Though he wasn’t sure if he could’ve managed to get a believable citizens picture of him. He doubted Prince could be photographed if he didn’t want to be. “I’m sure I’ll see your work plastered around the front pages Monday. Pretty sure you missed out on the Saturday edition. But the news stations might talk about it.” Virgil’s cheeks hurt from smiling. “You sure you don’t want your name attached to it?” Virgil considered that for a moment. It would be kind of cool, he supposed. But he was trying not to draw any attention to his civilian self so long as he did the vigilante gig. Asides from that, he didn’t want anyone to be able to claim any of his future successes were due to his connection to a superhero, or have expectations based on this one work. “Yeah… I just… I know I should want the credit. But, just in case he becomes like this big time hero,” which seemed very likely to Virgil. His powers were pretty amazing and he had the personality to make it big. “I don’t want my possible career to be defined before it starts, you know what I mean?” He hoped he did, because he was starting to get confused by his own phrasing. “Maybe I’ll come forth with the original sketch when I’m like, 30, to prove it was me if it still matters by then,” he concluded. “Sounds like a smart plan. I’m going to let you go. I do need my beauty sleep after all.” Oh, he made it too easy. “You said it, not me,” he chuckled. “Night Princey.” “Buenas noches. Mi querido amigo,” Roman replied dramatically. Virgil rolled his eyes. Though he smiled as he realized Roman just called him ‘dear friend’. Trying to hide the way that warmed his chest he let out a groan. “Bon nuit,” he huffed in retaliation before hanging up. Janus had taught him a bit of French over the years. And just like that his thoughts returned to his old friend. Janus had been well behaved the past week. He hadn’t gotten in a single fight. Maybe he should try and show that he noticed. Just saying ‘hi’ wouldn’t be that bad right? Show that he meant it when he said he wanted to get back to being friends, real friends, at some point. With thoughts of a happy ending for everyone, Virgil fell asleep. The next morning he woke up early. He made sure to be quiet as he got ready for the day. Once downstairs he turned on the tv. And sure enough, the local station was talking about Dream Prince. A professional picture of him leaping across the street from one rooftop to another serving as background. The anchors were talking about his heroic deeds of last night, ranging from walking a girl home to taking down those criminals ‘single handedly’. “No one can deny it. This young hero finds no feat too great or too small, and he does it with style. Looks like he’s settled on a look.” They thought his costume had style! Virgil was vibrating with excitement. He couldn’t sit still. He had to do something with all this energy. He started on breakfast. Bacon, eggs… It had been a while since he’d felt up to making a big breakfast and been the first to wake up. Patton was as much of an early riser as he and Logan. Which meant he hadn’t had Virgil’s secret omelet recipe yet. He was bouncing on his feet as the two anchors were analyzing the costume in as much detail as they could. They found the heels a bold choice and the mask an elegant way to incorporate a crown. When Virgil heard his dads move about upstairs he turned the news off and set the table. Patton really liked the eggs. That or he really wanted Virgil to think so. Three servings made him think that it wasn’t pretend though. After breakfast, uncle Thomas picked him up for their trip to the zoo. Virgil had been looking forward to it. It felt forever ago since he last spent some one on one time with his honorary uncle. “That’s a nice one. You really got the eyes down well,” he complemented as Virgil finished a sketch of a koala. “Thanks,” Virgil said, pretty happy with the result as well. “You are really talented. Guess it runs in the family. I remember your dad scribbling away in his poetry notebook all the time.” Virgil looked at his uncle with wide eyes. “You knew my father?” he asked perplexed. Thomas frowned down at him for a moment before his eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, no. I never personally met your birthfather. I meant Logan,” he clarified. Virgil was a little disappointed. For a second he’d hoped to learn a little more about his birthparents. But if Thomas had been talking about Logan… “My dad wrote poetry?” Thomas chuckled. “Yeah. He was pretty good. Though he’d disagree. He felt more comfortable using his sharp tongue on the debate team. He won us some prizes,” he recalled. Virgil took this in. He had wondered what his dad was like at his age before. Now was a good time to ask more. “So poetry and debate team… Guess that is why you two became friends, huh?” he asked. Thomas shook his head a little awkwardly. “Not exactly. With my social anxiety I probably wouldn’t have approached him if my mom hadn’t told me about his mom losing custody…” “What!?” Virgil gasped. He never knew that. Thomas cringed realizing he had maybe said to much. He looked down at Virgil. “Your grandparents weren’t parents of the year. Not abusive, but… neglectful I suppose. Logan never talked about it, so I don’t know the details. Just what little ” “He was in the system?” Virgil asked with a shiver. He’d heard about the system. He was glad he never had to experience it. “No, like for you there was someone ready to take him in right away,” Thomas told him. Virgil wanted to ask who had adopted his dad. But he had an idea… And he kind of didn’t want to hear he was wrong. He wanted it to be his parents. It would explain why Logan had such a hard time talking about them, but had so much love and respect for them when he did. “What was it like rooming with him? Was he secretly a slob in college?” he asked hopefully. Thomas relaxed and started talking about a few college stories, though he quickly veered into high school and early parenthood stories. At the end of the day Virgil had a good handful of animal sketches, an idea for his art project for the semester and Thomas dropped him off at Picani’s office. “Hello Virgil. How are you today? I heard you had a good scare earlier this week.” Virgil let out a deep sigh, sat down and started his story. Leaving Picani’s office a little bit later than planned, he felt a lot better. Or, well ‘better’ never had been the right word. He’d realized that sometime during the camp. After talking about Picani about what bothered him, he was still bothered by it. But he understood things more clearly. He felt less confused and had an idea of what to do about it. Picani never told him everything would be okay. He helped him understand what was wrong and how to either steer it in a better direction, or learn to live with it. He now felt less uncertain about wanting to give Janus a sign that there was still hope for them, even after what happened last week. He felt less guilty over indulging the people asking him out even though Roman was still very much on his mind. He even felt better about getting more information than he should’ve from uncle Thomas. It had been a relief talking about his theory that his dad had been in his parent’s custody for at least four years and that that was, maybe, the reason why he took him in when they passed. And the fact that he had at least one set of grandparents that might be still alive. He wasn’t going to ask about them though. If they held bad memories for his dad, he didn’t think he wanted to know them. It was very low on his list of priorities. The fact that his dad never mentioned them told him enough. The whole scare with the ceiling lamp was discussed and Picani left it alone when Virgil said that he didn’t want to waste too much time on it. “I’m home!” he announced as he came through the door. He heard Patton call a greeting from the kitchen and saw his dad come from the living room to meet him in the doorway. “Dad!” he called out eagerly as he gave his father a hug. “Virgil? Not that I do not appreciate you seem excited to see me. But is there a particular reason?” There were a few honestly. Knowing a bit more about how he ended up being raised by the smartest, most patient man he’d ever met had him excited. On top of that knowing what his dad was like at his age made him feel closer to him. He decided to focus on the latter. He’d turn sixteen soon. If Logan hadn’t initiated the conversation by then, he would. He could be patient for another month. “Uncle Thomas told me about your teen years. I didn’t know you were on the debate team!” he told him. He could imagine his dad thriving in that environment though. Maybe they should check out the debate team this year in between Roman’s play and Virgil’s art exhibit. Logan gave Virgil a small smile, a bit of pride in his eyes. It was rare for Virgil to see his dad proud of himself. He liked it. “Well, yes. It was a bit of a hobby of mine, as well as an attempt to get better at socializing,” Logan said modestly. Virgil picked up on the operative word in that sentence. ‘Attempt’. “You were a socially awkward nerd,” he concluded with a chuckle. He was so used to being nothing like his dad. Finding flaws and similarities to himself in the man he’d idolized as long as he could remember, it was strangely exhilarating. Logan, however seemed to misunderstand what had Virgil so thrilled. “Hey, that’s a complement! I’m a socially awkward artsy kid. Sounds like I’m your son after all!” he clarified. That reminded him though. “Speaking off. Uncle Thomas told me you wrote poetry back in the day.” “Really!?” Patton exclaimed from the kitchen. Logan was blushing. Scrambling for a way out of the conversation it seemed. “I… Experimenting with different forms of self-expression is a natural part of discovering one’s identity as a teenager. It was a phase. I would like to forget about it.” Virgil was about to argue against it, but Patton beat him to it. “Aw, but poetry is so romantic,” he pouted. And Virgil could see the way that affected his dad. Well, their date nights were about to get ten times more sappy. Hopefully going for the heart, and his ego, would work out just as well for Virgil. “That’s too bad. I thought I could make a project around your old work for art class,” he sighed disappointedly. And just like that his dad’s firm posture melted away. “I’ll see if I can find some of my old notebooks. Just ask my consent before you pick one.” Virgil couldn’t resist hugging him again. “Thanks dad. You won’t regret it. I promise.” He felt his father put his arms around him gently. A wordless “you’re welcome”. Virgil was feeling very chatty during dinner and so told his parents all about his day. They had to go to the university again tonight. Since Virgil was planning on meeting up with Prince and not sure if he’d be out all night or just long enough to talk to the guy, he bid them both a good night now. Just in case he’d be too tired to wait for them to get home once he got back. As soon as they were out the door Virgil dug in his closet for his face mask, something he wore when he was feeling sick and didn’t want to infect others. And his shades. He was going to take a chance on Prince today. He made sure he had his evidence at the ready. He’d updated it earlier that week and last night he hadn’t learned anything new. He decided to go with the same look as yesterday so Prince would recognize him more easily. He made his way to the street and vanished in the alleys. After a few minutes he found the rooftop they’d used as their rendezvous point last night. Hopefully Prince wouldn’t make him wait too long. He lowered the intensity of his cloak to be more easily spotted should someone be looking for him. Suddenly he heard a sound behind him. “Good evening my shadowy friend,” the grand voice of Dream Prince drifted through the air. Virgil turned around, his coat flaring out with the movement. “Hey there highness,” he greeted as he tossed him the evidence bag. Clear of any fingerprints or DNA as far as he could manage it, as usual. Prince studied it for a moment. “Is this…?” he sounded surprised. “A show of good will. I thought about it…” not enough. Maybe he was biased because he reminded him of Roman. Or because he’d seen him during his training wheel days. Maybe he didn’t want to be alone anymore. “You seem alright. I’ll… I’ll have your back. If you have mine.” They could help each other. Grow stronger together. Weren’t heroes always at their strongest once they learned to work together? “You do know that if I hand this in, they’ll know I made contact?” This guy. Virgil chuckled, finding this strangely endearing. “You mean you haven’t told them yet?” Prince’s posture straightened almost defiantly. “You didn’t say you were alright with that!” Was he actually insulted by the idea of reporting back to his people without Virgil’s permission? Guess he’d read him right. Good to know. “Okay. Well, consider this my permission. If I don’t want to be found, I’ll disappear Prince.” He’d find a way to avoid Prince if it was necessary. “Tell the chief all communication with me goes through you. If you don’t mind.” Because Virgil didn’t trust the chief enough to go anywhere near her. Prince nodded as he reached for his ear. “I am currently debriefing Phantom. I’ll let you know when I’m done here. Tell chief I’ll stop by with a package. Radio silence until further notice.” Virgil couldn’t stop himself from letting out a chuckle. This guy. He really needed to be more careful. “You ever thought I might be a bad guy? You shouldn’t cut off your back up like that in front of me.” Had they taught him nothing at the GTH? “You’ve had plenty chances to take me out,” Prince pointed out, much to Virgil’s surprise. “You could have let those goons get me the first time you saw me. You could have attacked me while I was busy with those guys yesterday. And who knows how many times over the summer. And on top of that. Who says my communicator is my only way of contacting back up?” Okay, so maybe Prince knew what he was doing after all. “Fair enough. So what now?” He had no idea what would come after this. He just knew that Prince reached out, and he’d accepted. The ball was back in Prince’s court. “Now… I warn you about the collector.” That sounded very serious. He almost wanted to get out before he could get involved, but a gut feeling told him that this was important. He eyed the edge of the roof. Well might as well get comfortable. “I feel like this is a sitting down kind of conversation.” Once they both sat down, Virgil put on his sunglasses and dropped his cloak completely. It was symbolic or whatever. Letting his guard down in a visible way. He turned to the prince expectantly, a little annoyed at how the dark glasses limited his vision. Prince took in a deep breath and started his story. “The collector is an old enemy of Manifestor. He recruits Gifted, and those he thinks deserve to be gifted for some kind of revolution. You and I are probably his kind of people. Young, full of potential. All that stuff creeps like that love to go on about.” Virgil’s eyes widened. That did sound bad. He was suddenly very glad he had not confided in anyone about his powers so far. Who knew if the Chief was on the Collector’s payroll? Or maybe Picani was being spied on. “So we should be careful, you and I. I want to help you out,” Prince told him as he offered him two small objects. A stone and lip balm? “These can help you hide your identity without having to use your… Do you have a name for it?” Prince wondered. Virgil wasn’t sure if he could disguise his voice. But if he did, he was not going to risk Prince being someone from school who might recognize his voice. “Cloak,” he replied before dropping his guard again. “Cloak… Cool,” Prince nodded as he showed the black stone. “So this, is a voice modulator. I adjusted it to fit your tempest voice as best as I could.” Virgil couldn’t help laughing. Tempest voice? That sounded so cool honestly. But man was it dramatic. “You clearly have not heard it,” Prince pointed out and he had a point. He sounded normal to himself. “What’s with the lipstick?” he asked. “This will paint your hair black faster than any hair dye. It’s also a very good hair gel and it washes out right away,” Virgil bit his lip as Prince offered him the items. He was not used to being helped. Not as ‘Phantom’ at least. He still struggled with it as Virgil. Letting Roman help him with his English assignment yesterday had been hard. But he had to let people help him. He had to take a leap of faith here. So he took the items and got up to try them out. “No peeking!” he warned, though he would keep his cloak up. It was more to test if Prince would be tempted to go against his wishes. He didn’t. Virgil placed the modulator on his throat where Prince had his red stone and applied the balm to his hair. He spread it out and took a moment to decide on the style he wanted to go with. He tried for windblown, though he wasn’t sure if he did it right without a mirror. “Okay, let’s try this,” he said testing out his new voice. Wow, if that was what he really sounded like then Tempest voice might just have been the most accurate description. He looked back at Prince who was getting up and waling over to him. “Okay. So… what’s the plan?” he asked, curious what Prince was expecting out of this collaboration. “Well… We could try and meet up here regularly. We might not always patrol at the same time, and you might be busy. But I could… If you are okay with it… I could help you coordinate with the cops. Like you kinda suggested earlier. Or we could like, do some patrolling together? Keep each other company…” Oh, that was cute. Prince could be insecure. Virgil was starting to think he was unshakable. “It might be nice talking someone who gets it you know? You’re my age right?” he wondered. Nice try. Very subtle. “I mean… I guess, but I’m not sure how old you are exactly,” he shrugged casually. He wasn’t going to give anything away that easily. “Fair point.” Or maybe there hadn’t been an ulterior motive. He was getting paranoid. “Anyway… What do you want?” Virgil thought about that for a moment. He hadn’t expected to be asked for his opinion. “I mean… Debriefings sound cool,” he said casually. “I’d like to patrol with you, but my parkour is no match to that walking on air trick you got…” He was kind of jealous of that one if he was honest. “I was thinking of hanging around the clubbing district at the end of the night and making sure some party goers get home safe. I’ll see you around there when you’re done?” This talk was fun and all, but Prince should probably check in with his team soon. And Virgil needed to think about things for a minute. “That sounds like a good idea,” Prince agreed as he gave him a bow. “Until then. Know that the GTA’s resources are now at your disposal through me. So if you want to get a proper suit or other fun toys, you need only ask.” And with that Virgil’s new ally sprinted of into the night. A real suit huh? Virgil shook his head. He’d have to think on that some more. For now, he had work to do.

Hero au

@cirishere @hestianerd1 @moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @alias290 @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali @selenechris @theblackveilinreverse

#sanders sides #ts sides #hero au #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #prinxiety #logicality

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ootori-sibs · 3 years

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Kyoya's second shot

Episode nineteen: Kyoya's sense of self!

Tw: assault, self harm, self hate

“Thanks for waiting for me, Kyoya.” Tamaki looked so tired, toying with his own hair nervously. He kept glancing down the hallway, clearly upset at having been yelled at. Kyoya couldn’t blame him, he hated being yelled at as well. Unfortunately Kyoya couldn’t comfort him as he wasn’t supposed to be aware, so he gave a soft half-smile and stepped forward.

“How did it go? Who was it?”

At that, Tamaki promptly burst into tears, clinging to Kyoya tightly, “she kissed me! She kissed me and then Haruhi yelled at me and- and…” he just started to wail at that point, clinging to Kyoya even tighter. Kyoya hated emotions and he had absolutely no idea how to deal with this, especially when the other hosts came out to see what all the noise was about.

“It’s alright, maybe she’s not really angry at you?” Kyoya remembered that when he was tiny and people still cared about him, how his older siblings would just pick him up whenever he was upset, not much else, just lift him up. Sadly, Kyoya wasn’t strong enough to pick Tamaki up, he was struggling to even hold him up as Tamaki cried.

The hosts helped Tamaki into the room, the twins asked what happened but Kyoya ignored them, cradling Tamaki to the best of his ability. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Tamaki…” to anyone hearing, he was whispering condolences to his friend, but for Kyoya, the statement was so much more. Kyoya felt incredibly guilty, that's why plan b had been a last resort, Kyoya hadn’t wanted to hurt Tamaki this much. He’d made Tamaki cry and he felt absolutely horrid and filthy about it.

After a while, Haruhi returned to the club room, looking furious. She sat down, clearly seething. The hosts swarmed her, asking what had happened, why was Tamaki crying? Haruhi told them that Sieka had kissed Tamaki, and that she had told Haruhi that he’d willingly gone to meet her. Tamaki couldn’t deny this, but honestly he wasn’t even trying, he was too busy crying. The hosts were clearly torn on who’s side to take, as Haruhi had clearly been wronged but Tamaki had clearly also been wronged, and he was the one crying about it.

“The letter wasn’t signed, he only went because he wanted to know who it was and why they’d write that kind of letter when the entire school is fully aware that he’s with you.” Kyoya glared daggers at her, knowing that it was a risky move, but he genuinely didn't care at this point, how dare she yell at Tamaki, "you're being selfish to think you were the only one hurt by that happening, look at him. Take a good look at that man and tell me you're angry at him, go ahead, we all know you don't love him so you have no right to scream at him for being assaulted!"

He'd stood up at that point, towering over Haruhi, who looked shocked and even guilty. The other hosts were shocked, but there were murmurs of agreement, then Honey spoke up, "Kyo-chan has a point… it really wasn't Tama-chan's fault."

Haruhi sighed, and took a step backwards, hand over her face, "god… I know, I know, I'm sor-"

"If you knew, then why would you scream at him?" Kyoya crossed his arms, moving his head slightly so the light stopped hiding his eyes and the other hosts could see the tears in his own eyes, "I'm getting to the end of my tether with you, Haruhi, if you hurt my friend again I swear-"

"Kyo-chan, calm down."

Kyoya tensed up, glancing back at him, then to Tamaki, the tears freeing themselves and spilling down his cheeks. He huffed and stormed out of the room, not wanting the others to see him cry. Once again his own guilt consumed him, he wondered if he was even allowed to feel guilty, wasn't he too evil for that at this point? He just went to sit in the library, cursing himself for leaving his laptop in the clubroom. He took out his notebook and a pen, entering a quick entry.

12:30 -I snapped at Haruhi, she’s angry at Tamaki, tamaki hasn’t done anything wrong. Sieka kissed him, it wasn’t like he wanted it. Although I suppose she’s supposed to get angry.

Kyoya wasn’t a fan of sketching with pen, but he didn’t have any pencils on hand. So he really had no choice, he didn’t even know what he was drawing, all he knew was that there were no construction lines in said drawing. It seemed to be a figure, surrounded by others, all eyes on the centre, a devil, an evil entity with no care for the pain behind him. Was this how Kyoya saw himself? Or was this just a thoughtless doodle? Even Kyoya didn't know.

Back in class, Tamaki quietly informed Kyoya that Haruhi wouldn't be joining them for the sleepover, or any of the after-session meetings for the week. Kyoya was fine with this, but expressed guilt for having snapped at her the way he did, glancing away from Tamaki as he did so. Tamaki seemed upset by this, putting a gentle hand on Kyoya's shoulder, "Kyoya… it's ok, I understand you're angry at her, you have every right to be. In fact, I'm happy that you're looking out for me, I don't know what I'd do without you."

He couldn't get those words out of his mind, what would Tamaki do without him… oh that was wonderful, to think Tamaki needed him, to think Tamaki appreciated him… it made Kyoya's heart swell. He simply adored the idea of Tamaki needing him, of course Tamaki needed him; who else was going to protect him from Haruhi? At first, Kyoya had thought he was the villain, he was willing to be the villain and just go full throttle into it… but as things progressed, he began to think that the villain was actually Haruhi. She didn't love Tamaki, she yelled at him, she was willing to brag about not loving him… she was so cruel, poor Tamaki didn't deserve that kind of treatment.

It was ok though, Kyoya would protect him. Kyoya wasn't willing to let his darling best friend get hurt, crush or no crush. The fact that Tamaki recognised and approved of Kyoya's defence of him, it made Kyoya so very very happy. He carried his newfound pride really well, standing up a little straighter and carrying himself better. The difference was visible but no one asked about it, probably because they were too scared. It had been a while since Kyoya seemed so together.

The rest of the day went by wonderfully, with nothing going wrong. Kyoya was quite happy, although the other hosts seemed a little hung up about the day's events. Whilst hosting, Haruhi kept glancing towards Tamaki, but Tamaki didn't even glance back at her, and that was the best feeling for Kyoya, he was finally getting his way. Haruhi was finally getting what she deserved, she should never have hurt Tamaki like that. It was her own fault.

By the end of the day, Tamaki was still being loud and excitable, but there was an underlying level of pain there. Kyoya did his best to keep Tamaki's mind away from Haruhi, even going so far as to suggest that Tamaki come over to his place for a little while. Obviously Tamaki was excited at the idea, and they were very quickly sitting in the limo, with Tamaki babbling on about all the fun things they could do once they got there. Kyoya didn't say much, just stared at him from behind his glasses, enjoying the sound of Tamaki's voice.

He couldn't help but to wonder how it was for Sieka, how did it feel to kiss Tamaki? Kyoya knew Tamaki wore lipgloss, he couldn't remember what flavour Tamaki had said it was though, so he wasn't sure how it would taste but he knew it would be good. Tamaki hadn't wanted to kiss Sieka, so he likely didn't cooperate with her, but Kyoya couldn't help but imagine how amazing a kiss that was precipitated would be, the way Tamaki moved would be felt through every breath, life and love flourishing on his tongue as the world melted away… just the idea was enough to drive Kyoya mad.

That evening was wonderful, they listened to music and did homework together. Kyoya found it easier to bring himself to do things when Tamaki was there, he wasn't sure if it was the aura of energy or the pressure to look good in front of his crush. The reason didn't really matter, but the main point was that Kyoya was enjoying spending some time with Tamaki. After around two hours, or maybe an hour and a half, Tamaki spoke up with something that caught Kyoya off guard.

"Have you been hurting yourself lately?"

Oh, Kyoya hadn't been expecting that. He suddenly felt unsure, had he? He struggled to recall, the entirety of last week had been a blur for him really, so he wasn't sure what was what. “Well my bodyguards took my razors so…” that was before getting grounded wasn’t it? For some reason Kyoya knew he remembered sitting on the bathroom floor at some point that week and- “the scissors,” his words took the both of them off-guard, Tamaki glanced up from where he had been gazing at the cup of tea in his hands.

“What?”

“I took the twins' fabric shears... “ Kyoya paused for a moment, realising that his victory of memory was not going to be as much of a victory in Tamaki’s eyes, and that he’d just confessed to more self harm. “I…” the weight of what he’d just told the blonde dawned on him and he remembered how he’d promised to never let Tamaki see him like that again, “I’m sorry…”

He hadn’t been expecting to be sweeped up in a big hug and given small kisses on the top of his head, Tamaki had shouted something in french and continued to murmur french words to him softly as Kyoya just sat there in his arms. It was wonderful and though Kyoya was shaking he still felt tingles on his skin every time it brushed against Tamaki’s own. Only when the air was still and Kyoya had stopped crying- he had been crying? Only when there was silence did Tamaki speak words that Kyoya understood, pressing their foreheads together, “never apologize for that, ok? It wasn’t me you hurt, I’m just upset because I care about you and don’t want to see you hurt. The person you’re hurting is yourself, but I think that person doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment. You're hurting my best friend, Kyoya, can you promise me you’ll stop hurting my best friend? I know you’re in pain, I know that’s why you caused more, and I’m trying to help you, okay? But I can’t help if you don’t let me, please tell me if there's something I can do to make you feel better, is there?”

Kyoya didn’t want to move, making the barest little nod possible, but Tamaki understood and smiled. He didn’t want to speak as he spoke, hearing his voice and how pained and weak he sounded, it was awful… “can you stay with me tonight..? I don't want to be alone…"

Surprisingly, Tamaki agreed, and he even set up a blanket and pillow fort for them to sit in. Kyoya could be distracted from his all consuming guilt for a moment or two when Tamaki pulled him in close and wrapped a blanket around the both of them, he was so warm… it was hard to think in a situation like that. With every slow breath and chuckle that made Tamaki's chest shift just a little, with every little blue or gold sparkle in his violet eyes that seemed like the stars in the sky, with every little hum that left his lips and floated in the air giving off warmth, Kyoya fell just a little more in love.

Love was a funny thing; Kyoya had always thought it was stupid, just a chemical reaction, but the more he thought about it, the more he realised that he was actually a very romantic person. There was nothing Kyoya wanted more than to simply be help by someone who saw him, someone who understood who he was and who he wanted to be. That was what made this so much worse, the fact that Kyoya was now a horrible person made him scared for Tamaki to see him for what he was. He would never be seen, he could never be loved… not like this.

The thing that brought Kyoya hope, however, was the fact that Tamaki had always been one to look through a person, to see the person they wanted to be. He'd always encouraged Kyoya to be the person Kyoya had always dreamed to be, but now that dream was unclear; constantly shifting and changing, Kyoya didn’t know who he wanted to be anymore, it was so strained and fuzzy for him. The idea of the true self was slipping from his grasp as he made each step towards what he wanted, narrowly avoiding his doom at the hands of his own psyche. It was beginning to grow too much for even him to handle, but he didn’t trust himself to even try to do anything about it, what if he hurt people more?

A song, a lullaby in a tongue too foreign for Kyoya to understand, but familiar enough for him to name it. Tamaki ran his fingers through the villain’s hair, grounding Kyoya as he let the words wrap like a blanket. He was singing softly, Kyoya couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard tamaki sing- had he ever? The sound was wonderful, something to make him relax. Kyoya was a beast in that moment, an animal, he didn't trust himself to speak nor move, only laying, shivering in the blonde’s arms. Kyoya thought back to how he’d hurt everything, the people he’d cared for. He silently prayed for forgiveness, not to any god- Kyoya wasn’t a man of faith, but he had faith in his friends, he hoped when the truth came undone, they’d see through his actions to see who he was inside.

He made a promise, to them and to himself; there would be no pain caused nor received all week, they all deserved a reprieve. Kyoya knew he had a large amount of control over the pain his friends were experiencing, but as he caught a glimpse of the sadness in Tamaki’s eyes, he prayed Haruhi would allow them all to rest.

#kyoya ootori #ouran high school host club #tamaki souh #tamakyo #haruhi fujioka #Seika Ayanokoji

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fe-semi-decent-scenarios · 4 years

Text

How they act around their crush: GD edition

[This one’s for @glass-grapes. I saw your submission and am completely psyched that you love my blog! I know that I’ve only recently had it kick-off with a few posts, but I have been wanting to start one of these since January. Hope this is to your liking! (p.s I didn’t know if I should do pre or post time skip, so I did a little dabbling into both]

Claude:

We all know Claude here is both a go-getter and a tease

If he finds you interesting then there’s no reason for him to hide it. A battle of wits never hurt anyone, and boy do you two fight well

He is s a s s y. If you’re chatting with some other students he might stick his nose into the conversation to toy with you. It’s all in good fun, right? Just a little mini-game on his way to achieving bigger things

That’s what he tells himself

Some days he finds you a bit too alluring, and can’t help being self conscious of the other people around

Fiddles with his braid when you throw him for a loop

Will pay extra special attention to you in battle, and makes excuses to the prof. for why you should be near him. He really is a snake

Post-Timeskip he hides his bias even more. Not enough to fool his close comrades, but enough to avoid you receiving any extra attention from the enemy

Sometimes slips items in your room to distract from the stress. Tea, a new blanket, etc.

During the five year gap he keeps track of your whereabouts. After Garreg Mache fell he decided that his dream would take priority as planned, but also believed that one day you would be at his side

Wasn’t surprised at all to see you at the reunion, but that familiar urge to tug his hair returned too

Judith and Nader have already heard about you prior to your meeting. Much to his dismay they view his buried feelings as open range comedy

Lorenz:

We all know how Lorenz acts when he finds someone of interest. The guy is a huge flirt which causes the professor wayyy too much stress

He’s not as in-tune with his sense of romance as you would think. In the early stages he’ll treat you the same as all the other ladies: a potential partner for house Gloucester.

Date offerings, frilly words, gifts, acts of kindness. Ah tis but the duty of a noble, yes?

No.

One day he lets that stubborn side of his personality slip out, and you come back at him with just as much fire. He becomes so angered after it, but somehow hearing the words from you hurt more than if someone else were to say them

That’s when he knows that he’s in deep, and from then on he treats you more gently. He’ll watch his tongue around other women, and sets his sights on only you. His mannerisms are the same as before, but now he tries to learn more about you as a person vs. just the cold hard statistics

He’s a blusher. He has a naturally light pigmentation so it shows.

After the time-skip he’ll watch you like a hawke. Do you like his new hair cut? Surly it’s an improvement from before sorry bro it’s not

Sets his dignity aside to request that you be given a hexlock shield during battle, or placed near him. Claude won’t let him live it down

Ignatz:

He m i g h t avoid you, but please don’t take it the wrong way. That’s just how he is, you know?

Young Ignatz isn’t that confident in himself. You’re...well ‘you’. And he’s...well, ‘him’

Oddly enough he confides in HIlda of all people. It originally began with wanting to see if she was still on stable duty with him, but ended up with him working and her talking

When you’re nearby he chooses not to speak unless spoken to. If you didn’t know his tells he’d come off cold, but one look at his hands wringing together just proves he was nervous

Byleth puts you two on cooking duty together: que panic. He legit grovels at their feet to pick someone else. They don’t, and that evening he sketches a wonderful picture of you sifting through different seasonings

On your birthday he struggles to give you the gift he prepared. It ends up with Lionie giving you it while he watches from afar.

When you’re older he is much more verbal with his opinions

More often than not he lets those honey-coated words slip out, which usually end up with him excusing himself quickly

Invites you to join him during downtime at least once a week. Every day could be his last, and goddess forbid yours. He wants to spend time with you even if he isn’t the most graceful companion never mind that he’s a smooth-talking mofo

Raphael:

If there’s one thing Raphael is good at, it’s showing that he cares

The boy is a giant muscular teddybear. He will carry your things, he will spar with you, he will eat anything you cook without complaint, and he will hug you; hard.

Unlike everyone else he’s pretty open with his feelings. Life is short, you know?

If you make him particularly bashful he’ll laugh loudly. More so to cover up his own embarrassment than because he finds the situation actually humorous

Adopts this habit of constantly asking if you need anything. The guy loves to dote on people, and lookie here you’re the perfect target

Remembers all important dates like a pro. On your birthday he drops a gift right on your desk first thing in the morning

Goddess forbid anyone gives you trouble. Without the smile on his face he looks the murder type, and the guy uses it to his advantage. He will happily escort you anywhere you need to go

Once his sister is settled he might honestly stick with you during that five year gap. He’s made his feelings painfully obvious, and you haven’t chased him off. Why not stick around?

Hilda:

Yo she’s clingy

She knows you have to be a catch and a half to steal her heart, so who knows who else that you’ve smooth talked

Just like everyone else she’ll still get you to do her bidding...but, maybe a smidge less

She feels guilty, but won’t show it

Hilda will do all in her power to not let the news reach her family. The last thing she needs is Holst sending her more letters, or worse: showing up at the monastery

Y’all she will don her best perfume for you. She will push all her work onto Cyril and drag you to have lunch with her. This is normal Hilda behavior so she has no reason to be shy

Will flirt openly and proudly. If you recuperate she’ll go gossip to Marianne about how you’re ‘totally smitten’ with her

Post-skip she’s not much different. Most of her time is spent doing what she can for the cause, but when you see each other she’s more bold.

Like always she doesn’t like to have expectations pushed onto her. She does have one for herself though, and it’s to stay by your side.

Marianne:

During the academy years she tends to admire from afar

Her favorite memories are of when the professor signed you both up for choir practice. She loves your voice, and it was a time where there wasn’t any pressure for conversation

As time passes she’ll become less adverse to talking. Quiet greetings will be whispered when you cross paths, and occasionally you two have lunch together

Marianne is not as reserved as people assume her to be. She’s just had a rough time, and if you take things slow with her then she’ll gradually have a stronger presence in your life. She hopes that this comes true for you two

Eye contact hasn’t always been her forte. She does try to maintain it with you though

Her feelings remain at a stalemate through most of the academy days. Only when she bypass’ some more personal-issues does she let her emotions go free

About halfway through the war period she changes. Her stance is more vertical, and she becomes the one to take initiative in your relationship

She’ll still blush upon any physical contact, and in some cases she’ll lose her breath when you talk. Don’t take the momentary silence as a bad thing, she’s okay.

Occasionally she’ll be restless and unable to sleep, worrying about the future she now has in her grasp. You might find her scouring for a cup of chamomile late in the night

Lysithea:

She’ll deny herself immediately. For Lysithea the future is an anomaly. One of which that no amount of studying or research can uncover.

It’s painfully obvious that there’s a spark between you two. Anyone can see it, and Hilda has pestered her many times regarding confessing

If the situation was a bit different, she would. Lysithea is no push over, but she also doesn’t want to invest time into something that will bear no fruition

She keeps her cool around you for the most part...or at least until you’re out of hearing distance

Then she completely loses composure. Did someone say clammy hands? Because hers get slicker than lorenz’s hair gel

Leads to stress eating, not gonna lie. There are many late night trips to the mess hall, and many angry cooks over the missing sweets

Times are different post-timeskip though. She’s a bit more reluctant to let these feelings go

Occasionally there’s some open flirting on her part. If you recuperate then it becomes more frequent and less forced. The sassy banter between you two becomes the deer’s free entertainment

Leonie:

She’s commonly been viewed as ‘one of the guys,’ for her personality. So she’s very insecure about getting friend zoned

It’s not like she was actively searching for romance. It just happened, you know? One day something just struck a chord

She never took the time to picture sharing a life with someone. Most of her life has been spent worrying about her village, or working hard to attain some kind of recognition from the Captian

For a split second she considers going to Byleth for some advice. Now isn’t the time for school-girl crushes. Now is the time to be forging a path to the future

Decides to completely ignore the ache she feels when you’re nearby. Just...lets it go.

She’ll put hella distance between you two. The only time she’ll initiate contact is during sparring

After the timeskip she stays this way too. Well, until HIlda calls her out on her bullsh*t (if you haven’t noticed from all these. Hilda is a perceptive little cookie)

Just like anyone she’ll go through the moral dilemma of deciding to confess or not. She instead chooses to just let her feelings do as they please, and if something happens then it happens

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dontcallmecarrie · 4 years

Text

Of Regrets and Lukewarm Tea

Ivan slammed the phone into its cradle, and rubbed at his temples to curtail his headache before it became more than a minor nuisance because the last thing they needed was a distraction.

He’d never thought he would live to see the day that he’d miss Siberia, but damn if it didn’t get close sometimes.

Funny thing is, he’d walked into this with his eyes open.

From the get-go, he’d known this was a terrible idea— known this could only possibly end in chaos and disaster— but he’d agreed anyway.

He’d expected the blackmail and illicit favors and bribery. He’d been ready for the shameless bribery, and the shadowy network that had somehow managed to get him a plane ticket despite being on half a dozen no-fly lists. Had been ready to deal with the worst of the worst, when it came to taking on the likes of Howard Stark.

What he hadn’t expected was...everything else.

“Thanks for having me over.” The son of the man who had ruined his life slid into the chair across from his, not remarking on the dingy walls of his apartment, or the chipped mug in his hands, or the ominous groan of the pipes as the evening went on. “Now, let’s get down to business because I’ll be honest, this is going to be a doozy.”

“I assumed this was why you targeted me.”

“It sounds so sinister when you say it like that, Ivan– can I call you Ivan? I’m sorry, I just assumed—”

“Sure.” Considering everything, it was only prudent. What with their shared goal, and all.

“Okay, great. Okay, here’s the plan: we’re giving you the life his heir would have had, and rubbing it in his face at every opportunity because the best revenge is living well and this is the perfect chance to put an old wrong to right. How’s it sound?”

Ivan leaned back for a moment, and looked at his associate consideringly. At the sharp cut of his smile, and the gleam in his eyes. Then, he finally smiled back.

“Tell me more.”

“We’re giving you the ultimate origin story, man, you’re going to love it.”

“Has anyone told you you have a flair for the dramatic?”

Tony made a mock-offended gasp. “Okay, rude, I was just about to—”

Ivan rolled his eyes, and sipped at his now-lukewarm tea.

“How bad would it look for Howard if some rando were to walk up to an embassy and prove he’d stolen and discredited the hard work of a Soviet defector?”

Ivan was no slouch when it came to engineering: his father had taught him well when sober, and even his drunken rambling had sometimes been useful.

As such, it was not hard for him to learn the schematics of the miniaturized arc reactor, even if most of them were hastily sketched out on old napkins and scratch paper with less-than-helpful annotations. It wasn’t easy either— more than once, he’d found himself shooting dubious glances at his ally, simply because how many laws of thermodynamics had he broken?— but it wasn’t the staggering impossibility it had first seemed to be.

And if he also sometimes found himself laughing at the irony of the fact that he was being given the credit for something that would have revolutionized academia on a silver platter, and who it was that was giving it to him? Well, Tony had been off “seeing the sights” and the ashes of their notes would never tell. Nor would the rudimentary prototype slowly taking shape on his bench, or the slightly-more-polished version that he was comparing it to.

Even if he had Questions as to the circumstances surrounding its creation— really, Tony could only mention hostage situations and “if you see this one blond creep who doesn’t seem to shut up about rings, run” so many times before he got curious— but by the end of it, he had a shining circle that could very nearly fit in the palm of his hand, made entirely out of scavenged parts and theoretically capable of powering his shitty apartment for a month.

Had a miniaturized arc reactor, something that used the very technology that had damned his father, and knew it inside and out, knew the theory by heart, and—

Ivan laughed.

“Step one, check.”

“How involved do you want to be?”

“Pardon?”

“If you want, you can...just live the cushy life from here on out, take credit for whatever comes your way. It’d be easy: go to galas or whatever fancy shindig you want, flip off Howard whenever you run into each other, the works. If you want, this can be it.”

Ivan frowned. “There’s a ‘but’ in there, isn’t there.”

“You’re going to be our face, Ivan—”

“Call me Vanya.” Ivan cut in, and tried not to flush at the way Tony startled for a moment because damn it that meant he knew about diminutives and sure maybe it was a bit personal but he was helping him but he didn’t want to make this a big deal and—

“Vanya, then.” Tony continued, with a slight smile that broadened as he went on. “Janus Enterprises is going to provide all the cover Juno needs to operate. Just being its face is already more than enough from you, but...if you want, you can be more active.”

“Oh?”

“For... special circumstances. Emergencies, heavy lifting, whatever. I mention this because there’s already one on the roster.” Tony’s smile shifted to a smirk, and Ivan had a feeling he knew where this was going even before Tony rapped his knuckles against the briefcase he’d taken to carrying around.

“Why are you so dramatic.”

“Hey!”

Ivan Vanko was a sensible person. He knew his limits, knew what he wanted in life and didn’t tend to regret or second-guess his decisions.

Right now, however, he was seriously questioning his life choices.

He would not deny Tony was a friend, certainly much less stressful to deal with than Juno herself, but.

He was also such a brat.

(Ivan very carefully didn’t think about how sometimes he thought врат instead of brat, because he could only deal with one headache at a time thank you very much)

...anyway.

“How is it that you get yourself into these scrapes?” Ivan snapped into the receiver even as he stared at the newspaper headline and the grainy photographs splashed beneath.

“It’s not like I go looking for them!”

“I just had to deal with another audit, I do not need the attention—”

“How big a distraction do you want?”

Ivan put the phone down on his desk, leaned back, and slowly counted to ten. First in Russian, then in English. Then, backwards, because he still had the strong urge to strangle something and the person responsible was currently several hundred miles away.

Ugh.

Why had he agreed to this, again?

Less than six hours later, he was reminded.

Specifically, Howard’s face when the announcement of Janus Enterprises’ support for refugees and survivors of domestic violence went out, courtesy of its brand-new September Foundation.

Another day, another disaster and moments like these, Ivan was incredibly grateful he wasn’t the one running point because he did not envy the cleanup.

Then he saw the damage reports and news coverage, and. Well.

“Iron Man? Really?”

“Honestly, I think it has a nice ring to it.”

Ivan pinched the bridge of his nose, and bit back a groan.

One of the more intriguing aspects of this whole mission was that for all that it was primarily a cover, Janus Enterprises was still very much a company.

Actually— if he hadn’t known any better, Ivan would have thought it was entirely legitimate.

All the paperwork was in place, all the i’s were dotted and the t’s were crossed, there were honest-to-goodness company newsletters and the only thing that might have hinted at a potentially unscrupulous dealings was how terrifyingly efficient everything was.

Ivan had his suspicions as to who was behind this, but he didn’t ask because unlike some idiots, he had a sense of self-preservation.

This was a terrible idea.

A no-good, very bad, scraping-the-bottom-of-the-barrel idea that he sorely regretted even considering, and yet.

Ivan glowered at his shiny new mobile phone, desperately trying to put off the inevitable because he had common sense and—

The latest crash came through loud and clear on the receiver.

“Brat, I thought you said you had this handled?”

“Looks like our intel’s off, backup incoming and—” another explosion went off, followed by the crack of a gunshot and mostly indistinct swearing before it happened.

“—I’m grounded. Too much firepower, I’m not sure I—”

Iron Man was their heaviest hitter.

Tony was his idiot of a best friend, who regularly bit off more than he could chew and then acted like everything was under control even if he was on fire and if Ivan lost him because of his stubbornness and some asshole Neo-Nazis—

Damn it.

Ivan pinched the bridge of his nose, and made his way to the back of his workshop.

The area where he kept his ‘thought exercise’ prototypes, the ones that typically didn’t see the light of day because he was usually either drunk or half-asleep when he made them and he was so going to regret this.

“Hold your position, Iron Man. Backup en route.”

Drunk-him had some very questionable tastes. In this case, however, Ivan couldn’t help but admit that the whips looked cool.

A bitch and a half to actually use, sure, but everyone in the base ran away screaming when they caught sight of him, so. Whatever.

Also? He’d admit that even if this was more the brat’s thing than his, he was starting to see the appeal.

“So...Whiplash, huh?”

"Shut up and drink your tea before it gets cold.”

#By Dawn's Early Light #BDEL #My writing #My fic

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nayialovecat · 3 years

Text

SATIM Contest no 2 - RESULTS!

Time to announce the results!

Even though there was relatively little work coming in, choosing a winner was still quite difficult. In the end I decided to award the main prize to one entrant and also distinction award to two others. I probably should first say what distinction awards I gave - to build the tension and then announce the winner, but…pff.

First, however, a few words about what was assessed. As I said at the very beginning, I was counting on your creativity and ingenuity, but I still wanted the reality of SATIM to be preserved. I absolutely didn't judge the syntax and grammar (in the case of literary works) or such nonsense as "drawing workshop" (in the case of drawing works).

Therefore, the assessment covered: + creativity, + how well the author reflected the reality of SATIM, + how many emotions this work evoked in me, + and what were the emotions.

Let me remind you... the task of the participants was to imagine out what happened with Searcher from that "Gift from the Prophet" strip.

Well, not extending...

The main prize is awarded to... drums here...

Sur-un-fil (tumblr) for her short story "Karma is a bitch".

(Now sorry, but I'll make spoiler of the story a bit... if you want to read the Sun-un-fil's story yourself first, stop reading at this point or skip the next paragraph. The same will be for the other works.)

What was amazing about this work? Well, first of all, Searcher (hereafter named Fifteen) did indeed show ingenuity in avoiding being eaten. A very good description of the inner experiences and characters' dialogues. Perfect depiction of Sammy (he was so wonderfully haughty and stunned by the whole situation). Maybe Bendy's reaction towards the end was too... scared? I would have expected Bendy to be more "meh, this ain't worth the trouble," but still good. Apart from that, I don't have any remarks about the SATIM reality. This story is dynamic, witty and inventive, and the ending reminds me a bit of my own strip, or rather a bonus to this one from the second series called "Deal with Demon" (which is funny 'cause originally this strip was supposed to be in place, which now has the "Gift from Prophet" strip - you really can't fool fate, lol).

The first distinction award goes to...

SoberCupcake (deviantArt) for her drawing entitled "Fate of A Searcher".

Well, Searcher cannot be denied ingenuity - it's not easy in two minutes to come up with something that will make Bendy gag instead of salivate when he sees you. This drawing also reminds me a bit of the "Deal with Demon" strip - now I want to show it to you and put it in a sketch version, but no, I'll be strong... You can wait. We'll get to it the normal way... Anyway, the very well-preserved reality of SATIM. It made me laugh.

The second distinction award goes to...

YangireNeko (deviantArt) for her untitled short story (I have allowed myself to be tentatively titled "Hide and Seek").

I appreciate very much such little subtleties from SATIM, like Bendy's hiding the ink stains, but at times I felt some tension here. I mean, Searcher didn't know certain things that he literally should have known, and the rules of the game were changed a bit from the original strip. Nevertheless… as Sammy always says, the Searchers are useless drones, let's put it down to the hero's stupidity. But the end simply captivated me. I think I have some fetish, but I just love the scenes where Bendy eats someone. By the way, thank you for referring to the description under the original strip, I'm always happy when I see someone reading this.

So now I am waiting for my winners' descriptions, what do they want drawn as a prize ^ ^

Sur-un-fil receives the main prize and therefore a colour drawing. For distinction awards, I provide for cleansed linearts. Both type of rewards operate on the same principles, that is, let me remind you: + no 18+, + I do not draw characters that I don't know (what I know you can ask in any way: via e-mail, private message, chat, etc.), + if I have to draw your OC, please provide links to information/drawings with it or send these information/drawings via chat, e-mail or private message, + the background can be, but not complicated, + there can be more than one character, + and, of course, I don't wish any content that would offend anyone (for example: racism).

If your prize is to be a fanart, I undertake to draw it in my own style or original style (although then I don't guarantee 100% fidelity to the original).

I would like to thank everyone for their participation, I congratulate the winners on their greatful victories and I can't wait to start drawing your prizes!

#SATIM #contest #BATIM #Bendy and the Ink Machine #Sammy and the Ink Machine #results #congratulations to all winners!

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fockinglevendcliche · 4 years

Text

Title: It’s just a jacket.

Square Filled: Sharing clothes

Ship: Robbe IJzermans / Sander Driesen

Trigger Warnings (if applicable): None

Created for @skamevents

Had to give this one a try as well. Don’t expect this to be totally canon. It’s just a little thing, but I hope you enjoy this!! 😊

—-

Robbe said goodbye to his friends, heading out of school. Behind him, the boys were still shouting provocations, laughing loudly. Robbe just raised his hand, giving them the middle finger before going through the front door. He didn’t understand what was going on with them. Their constant jokes had continued since Robbe had arrived that morning at school. And they just couldn’t shut up about it. And all of that because of a jacket. A damn jacket. Robbe just shook his head, leaving it behind. It wasn’t worth it.

Besides, he was in a hurry to get back home, back to the comfort of his boyfriend’s arms who was probably still sleeping in his bed.

It had been hard for Robbe to leave his house this morning. Even more, when Sander continued to drag him by his hand back to the bed, gently grabbing him around his waist, holding him in his warm arms. And it didn’t help that Robbe didn’t feel like leaving him either, especially when Sander was being so needy.

Luckily for him, the blond boy had stayed up late finishing a sketch of one of his drawings, so he fell asleep again quickly, giving Robbe a way out to escape his strong grip. After that, Robbe had hurried as fast as he could, even if it didn’t help him get to his first lesson in time.

At least, for Robbe’s own happiness, it was Wednesday. And that meant he’d get out of classes earlier, and since Sander’s classes had been canceled for that day, he’d be able to spend the rest of the day with his boyfriend, just relaxing in the quiet of his room. And that’s why Robbe was in a hurry. Well, that and the fact that he wanted to get away from his friends as soon as possible. Even more, when they still hadn’t stopped with the loud laughter.

Robbe passed the front door, being immediately confronted with the image of his boyfriend, just standing there in front of him, with the biggest smile on his face as he faced the brunet back. Robbe was ready to open his mouth when Sander quickly approached him, placing his hands on his waist, pulling him for a quick, brief kiss.

“What are you doing here?” Robbe asked as soon as Sander separated his lips from his, “You didn’t have classes today, you could have slept some more.“

"I wanted to come pick you up,” Sander replied, adding with his head tilted a little to the side, “Guess who had to come here with only a shirt, in this cold?"

The brunet looked at him shyly, his eyes wide open. Robbe really thought Sander would still be sleeping in his bed when he got home. And that’s why he took his black leather jacket that morning. Sander wouldn’t need it anyway. Robbe could just wear it and put it back in the same place as soon as he got home. He didn’t think the older boy would come pick him up from school. Besides, Robbe didn’t want him to know why he’d brought his jacket. Of course, they often shared clothes between them, it was nothing unusual. When they would spend the night at each other’s house, when they would both go out on freezing nights and Sander always had to pass this same jacket over Robbe’s shoulders, even if he insisted every time that he wasn’t that cold. But never to school. And especially, when Robbe had only done it so that he wouldn’t miss Sander so much, his smell filling up his whole body. And that sounded ridiculous, even in Robbe’s mind. They’d seen each other just that morning after spending the whole night together. And as soon as Robbe finished his classes, he’d go right back to Sander. It wasn’t like they didn’t see each other all the time. But even so, Robbe couldn’t deny the way he needed him. Even if most days they just spent a few short hours away from each other. He loved having Sander around all the time, no matter how cheesy that sounded.

Robbe stared at Sander again, asking in a soft tone of voice, "I’m sorry. Are you upset with me?"

The blond boy finally let out a playful smile, pulling Robbe back into his arms, leaving a small kiss on his cheek.

"Why would I be upset?"

Robbe shrugged his shoulders quickly, passing his arms around Sander’s neck, hugging him back, "I don’t know. I probably shouldn’t pick up your stuff without telling you."

"Robbe, what–,” the blond boy interrupted himself, bringing his hand that was resting on Robbe’s waist to his face, stroking his cheek gently with his thumb, “You know you can always pick up my stuff,” he stopped talking, bringing his lips slowly to the brunet’s ear, whispering softly, “Besides, you look really good in my clothes."

Robbe stared at Sander with his big doe-eyes, smiling at him innocently, "You think so? Jens said it didn’t look good on me."

A provocative smile popped into Robbe’s lips as soon as he mentioned Jens. Ever since he’d admitted to Sander liking his best friend in the past, the blond boy had started staring at Jens with a defiant look every time he and Robbe were too close to each other. Not in a possessive way, Sander wasn’t like that. Just a look that sort of told Jens that he didn’t stand a chance anyway.

Sander cleared his throat, strinking back with confidence, "Good. I didn't really want anyone else checking on you."

Robbe just giggled. Even though he didn’t admit it, he liked it when Sander acted protectively with him.

The brunet let his hands go up from Sander’s neck to his face, touching his lower lip gently with his fingers. Robbe immediately felt the blond boy’s cold skin against his warm, making his own body shiver.

"You’re cold,” Robbe said, covering Sander’s cheeks with his hands, trying to warm him up as best he could, “You could have just taken one of my jackets."

Sander just shook his head repeatedly, a laugh slipping out of his mouth.

"Oh right,” Robbe added, teasing him, “it wouldn’t go well with your… whole look."

The brunet smiled to himself, proud of his own comment.

"Whatever,” Sander said, changing the subject quickly, “Why did you even bring this jacket? It’s really cold, you could have just brought my hoodie, it’d have kept you warmer."

Robbe stared at him shyly. He knew Sander was right. That jacket didn’t really warm him in the least. But it smelled like Sander and that was all Robbe needed. He couldn’t even care about the cold at all. But he knew that the older boy was persistent. And he couldn’t escape that question, even if he wanted to.

"Because you didn’t wear the hoodie yesterday,” the words came out hurriedly from Robbe’s lips, “But you wore this jacket."

Robbe didn’t lose the way Sander looked at him with a confused expression on his face, waiting for the brunet to say something more. Something that would make sense.

Robbe sighed heavily, adding, "This smells like you."

He tilted his head up to face the familiar pair of green eyes, being confronted by Sander’s gaze fixed on his. His eyes no longer looked confused. In reality, they were filled with warmth and… desire.

Robbe shifted his weight from one foot to another, nervously. Fuck, they were right in front of his school. Sander needed to stop looking at him that way. At least, while they were standing there.

"Can we go now?” Robbe asked, feeling the heat that was already beginning to appear on his cheeks. He didn’t need to look at himself to know that his face must already be flushed.

Lucky for him, Sander took one of his hands to Robbe’s, intertwining their fingers together, starting to drag the brunet out of there.

“Yeah, let’s go home."

Robbe felt his chest immediately filling with so much love. Home. Because it was true. Home was where any one of them was.

#skambingo #skamevents #wtfock #robbe x sander #sharing clothes

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berkblockman · 4 years

Text

It’s a match // Bill Hader x reader

Pairing: Bill Hader x reader Word count: 1555 Warnings: None, I think Request: Hello! I enjoy your work so much and was wondering if I could request Fred Armisen and Natasha Lyonne trying time set up Bill with a friend of theres who’s also a single parent and recently divorced? If not, I totally understand and appreciate you taking the time to read this. (a/n): Thank you for the request! My dumbass hadn’t realized Fred and Natasha were together until I got this and omg, I ship them so much 🥰 Anyway, sorry this took me a bit longer than usual, it has been a busy couple of days but I hope I have more time now on holidays 😄

When Natasha Lyonne invited you over to have dinner at her place, you were a little surprised, to be honest. It felt kind of weird, not because the two of you didn’t get along - you absolutely loved working with her and you constantly praised her for the way she brought to life the scenes you wrote – but until that moment your relationship had been mainly professional.

You had been working as a scriptwriter for Orange Is The New Black since season 4, and seeing that the show was coming to an end, you thought that maybe Natasha had invited you over as some kind of farewell. Either way, you were actually looking forward to it. Since your 5-year-old daughter was born, you didn’t go out as much as you would want to, and not even after you got divorced, nearly a year ago, you had enjoyed a night out. You thought that it would be nice to simply spend one evening with some adult company, for a change.

So, after leaving your daughter at your ex-husband’s place, you made your way to the direction Natasha had sent you. You were a bit late because of how hard it had been to convince your little girl to stay with her father, but you hoped that Natasha would understand and that the bottle of wine you brought with you served as an apology. You were approximately 20 minutes late when you knocked on her door.

“Y/N!” She greeted you with a smile when she saw you. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming!”

“I’m so sorry, I had to take my daughter to my ex’s.” You greeted her back, handing her the bottle you brought with you. “I hope this will make up for it.”

“Don’t worry, come in.”

Taking the bottle from you, she guided you through the long hallway to the living room, where two men were sitting at the table. Everything seemed to be ready for dinner.

“Let me introduce you.” Natasha said as the two men got up so they could greet you. You were sure you had seen them before. “This are my partner Fred and our friend Bill.”

“Nice to meet you both.” You smiled, awkwardly shaking both of their hands and sitting at the table, right in front of Bill. After hearing their names, you found out why they looked so familiar. You remembered seeing them in a few sketches during their SNL days.

It was obvious that you were feeling shy as you tried to join their little chat. You could have expected that Natasha’s partner would be there, but you definitely weren’t expecting anyone else. Not that it bothered you, in fact, Bill seemed a pretty nice guy, but you felt a little out of place. Everyone there knew each other except for you.

Soon, the four of you started to eat as you kept talking and joking around. They were all quite friendly, and luckily, it didn’t take long for you to start feeling comfortable around them. Also, you couldn’t help but notice how easily it was to make Bill laugh and how warmly sweet the sound of it was. As you were still enjoying the first dish, you began to notice how the conversation was focused on you.

“Y/N is an amazing writer.” Natasha praised you. “She has written some of the funniest episodes in the show. And some heartbreaking ones too.”

You immediately blushed as she kept talking about what she thought were your ‘highlights’. Shyly and being way too humble, you kept saying that it wasn’t such a big deal, but Fred, and specially Bill, laughed when Natasha told them about her favorites scenes you had written.

“Bill is a writer too.” Everyone in that room had experience writing scripts, but Fred brought up Bill’s name, making him become the center of attention. “He has his own show on HBO. He created, directed, wrote and starred on it.”

“Wow, really?” You asked, clearly impressed. “What is it about?”

“Well, it’s about a hitman who wants to become an actor.” The blue-eyed man said, giggling slightly. “It’s called Barry, me and my friend Alec came out with the idea.”

“It sounds interesting, I’ll have to watch it sometime.” A smile appeared on your face as you watched the way he explained it.

By the time you could realize, the only ones involved in the conversation were Bill and you. Natasha and Fred had silently agreed to step aside when they noticed the chemistry between the two of you. It wasn’t that obvious for you at first, but when you casually mentioned your divorce, Bill put two and two together and realized what was going on.

What seemed to be an innocent dinner was just an excuse to set the both up. Maybe if he had known what their friends’ true intentions were, he wouldn’t have accepted the invitation in the first place, but he had to admit they had made an impressive job. Even though he would have refused to go on a blind date, he was now having a great time with you. You were interesting, funny and really sweet, not to mention he also found you attractive. He was glad he had the chance to meet you, but he didn’t think the match Natasha and Fred had made would last.

There was no denying he liked you, but it was still too soon to tell if something would work out between you. He hadn’t contemplated the idea of getting into a relationship after divorcing, all of that seemed way too new for him. And most importantly, he had no idea of whether you liked him back or no, so he didn’t want to set his hopes high. In conclusion, he was afraid of starting something new with you and it failing. But yet again, it was too soon to tell.

He tried to ignore his thoughts and kept talking with you as if nothing happened. Until that moment, it had been an incredibly pleasant evening and he didn’t want to ruin that now.

The hours passed, and after finishing dinner and spending some time hanging around, you decided it was time to go home. You knew you would have to wake up early next morning to go get your daughter and you wanted to get some good rest before facing your sweet little monster again. After thanking Natasha and Fred for the evening, you said goodbye and walked with Bill to the parking lot, were both of your rides were.

When you were finally alone, he reunited enough courage to share his thoughts with you.

“I’m sorry if things got awkward at any point.” He said as he walked side by side with you. “I didn’t know they would be trying to set us up…”

“Were they trying to set us up?” You asked in what seemed to be confusion. In that moment, Bill immediately regretted opening his mouth at all. What if it was all in his head and nothing was actually happening? He was starting to feel like a fool when you laughed and spoke again. “I was joking. I realized when both Fred and Natasha left us alone for 20 minutes while they supposedly prepared dessert.” Feeling more relaxed, Bill laughed along with you.

“I hope things weren’t too awkward…” He insisted, still a bit embarrassed.

“They weren’t. At least, not for me” You quickly clarified but were immediately taken aback by the thought that maybe he was the one feeling that way. “Did you feel awkward?”

“No, not at all.” His voice assured you. Silence took over as you arrived to your car.

“I actually had a really good time.” You finally confessed as you looked down. It had been so long since the last time you had faced a situation like this one that you weren’t really sure of what to do.

“Me too.” He gave you a cute smile, causing you to smile back.

“Maybe we can repeat it again some time.” You proposed, hoping he would be okay with it.

“As in a date?” The question left his lips before he could formulate it correctly. For a moment, he felt that he was going too fast, but it was too late to regret it now.

“Well, maybe not like a date-date.” You laughed, trying to calm down. “Maybe like a ‘let’s get to know each other first and then see where this goes’ kind of date.”

Bill looked at you for a few seconds, considering the situation. He wasn’t expecting you to ask him out, but he couldn’t deny the idea of it was appealing. A smile formed again on his lips.

“Sure, that would be nice.” He accepted and you exchanged phone numbers.

“It was really nice meeting you.” You started to say goodbye.

“You too.” Still smiling at you, he showed you his phone, where your number was now. “Talk to you soon.”

You waved at him one last time as he walked away and you got inside your car. You just couldn’t erase the smile from your face as you watched his number on your phone. Maybe it wouldn’t work out, it was too soon to tell, but you were excited to see how things would go.

#Bill Hader #Bill Hader x reader #Bill Hader imagine #bill hader x you #Bill Hader one shot #Bill Hader fluff #Bill Hader thirst #Request

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creatingnikki · 4 years

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Dearest Cat,

How has your experience as a 23-year-old been? I’m a month in – exactly – and I think it’s going pretty well. Of course, it’s not like I see any instant growth or changes but I see little new patterns and my stance growing stronger in things that matter, and it’s all been building for the last few years. It’s nice to see it getting finally materialised in actions, however.

I’m sorry about your breakup. I’ve never been in a long-term ‘official’ relationship but I have been in relationships that have fucked with my mind while breaking my heart so I know how it can significantly affect you for a while to come. And take it from someone who tried the long-distance thing for 6 months, it’s never worth it and it never works out anyway.

I have been, quite uncomfortably and amusingly, been watching a lot of Daniel Sloss stand up comedy and I literally just heard him talk about something I think you should hear too:

“When I was seven years old, my dad said something to me that to this day is the reason I will die alone. Very happily, I may add. But I was seven years old, I didn’t know what life was. I didn’t know what existence was, how the fuck would I know? So I thought I’d ask my dad ’cause he can fix a computer, so he must know. So I was like, “Dad, what do we all do? What’s the meaning of life? Why are we all here? What what the fuck?” And my dad loves his kids, so he wants to explain to his son in a way that he’ll understand, but unfortunately, his son’s a fuckhead. So he has to explain it in a way that a fuckhead will understand, and he accidentally did it perfectly, and it’s stuck with me since then.

This is what he said, right? I’m seven years old. He goes, “All right, buddy. Just imagine that your life, my life, everyone else’s individual life. Imagine all of our lives are like our own individual jigsaw puzzles. As we’re going through life, we’re just slowly piecing it together, bit by bit, based on experiences and lessons that we’ve learned until we get the best picture, but the thing is everyone has also lost the box for their jigsaw. So none of us know what the image we’re trying to make is, we’re just confidently fucking guessing. So the best way to do a jigsaw, when you don’t have the image to work off, is to start from the outside, the sides and the four corners. Family. Friends. Hobbies/interests. Job.

Now obviously, as you go through life, some of these bits are subject to change. Sometimes you’ll make new friends, and you’ll lose contact with old so you gotta move this corner around a bit. Sometimes you’ll get a job. That means you can’t have certain hobbies. You gotta decide then, “Do I want more me time or do I want more work time?” You gotta move the stuff around. Sometimes you’ll have a family member that dies, and they’ll leave a big hole in your life. In that moment you’ll have to find a way to fill that void, otherwise you’ll be incomplete forever. ”

Now, that made perfect sense to me, because I was seven years old. I fucking loved jigsaws. So I was like, “All right, okay. So once you’ve got the stuff on the outside, what’s the main bit of the image? What we are all working towards?” And he goes, “Well, that’s That’s the partner piece. You and this perfect person who you’ve never met before to come out of nowhere, fit your life perfectly, complete you and make you whole for the first time in your life, much like your mother did for me. ” Seven. Seven years old. I wish you just said, “Ice cream!” And we could have fucked off.

And even though what he said sounds sweet and whatever, what it manifested in my seven-year-old brain was this, “If you are not with someone, you are broken. If you are not with someone, you are incomplete. If you are not with someone, you are not whole. ”

And that’s not just something my dad made me feel, that’s something that we as a society have made every single child born in the last 40 years feel. Every Disney princess has a prince, every prince has a princess, every television show or movie always has a character in it that doesn’t want to be in a relationship. They’re happy with who they are. But then by the end of the series, guess what. They were wrong! They were wrong for wanting to be alone, what a fucking idiot. Everyone needs someone, yeah. They were just a toasty little marshmallow, weren’t they? It’s all to do with love.

Divorce, an entirely common thing that there is nothing wrong with. When you’re growing up and your friends’ parents get divorced, you’re told to not talk about it or mention it to them because it’s taboo, and it is taboo is because every relationship on the outside is perfect, because none of us are willing to admit that none of us know what the fuck we’re doing. And when you raise children in that world, where everything points towards love and everything’s perfect on the outside, when you’ve raised them for 18 fucking years, when we become an adult for the first time in our late teens and our early 20s, we’re so terrified.

We’re so trying to be an adult that some of us will take the wrong person, the wrong jigsaw piece and just fucking jam them into our jigsaws anyway, denying that they clearly don’t fit. Oh, we’ll move pieces out the way, I don’t need this hobby, I don’t need this opinion. Mom who? The bitch with the tits. What’s she done for me recently? I’m gonna force this fucking person into our lives because we’d much rather have something than nothing. Then five years later, you’re stood looking at a jigsaw you don’t recognize, being like, “Ah! There’s a fucking cunt in the middle of this.”

Maybe you do meet the perfect person. Maybe you meet them, you go out. They make you laugh. You make them laugh. They’ve got a stupid laugh, but you fucking love it. They like what you like. They like your idiosyncrasies. It’s great. It’s perfect. Oh, my God, they’ve completed you. For three months. Every relationship is perfect for three months. And here’s why. ‘Cause after three months, that’s when you realize that nobody else is a jigsaw piece.

Everyone else on this planet is as deep and as complex and individual as you are, which means they too have spent the last 20 or so years of their life working on their own jigsaw puzzle, in the same way that you’ve been working on yours. You can’t suddenly expect them to give up everything they’ve come to achieve to suddenly fit into yours in the same way that you’d be pissed off if they asked you to sacrifice everything you’ve done, suddenly come fit into theirs, but now, because you like each other and because you’re interested in each other, now you have to make a jigsaw together. And we all know how fucking annoying that is. But you do it ’cause you’re in love and you’re interested, and maybe for the first couple years, it’s great. It’s like, “Oh, my God, you love this bit of me. I love this bit of you. Oh, my God, we got the same thing, yeah!”

But time does not equal success. You can spend five or more years with someone, and only then, after all the fun you had, be looking at the jigsaw and realize you’re both working towards very different images. Only then realize that you want different things. And in that moment, you have a very, very difficult question to ask yourself. One. Do I admit the last five years of my life have been a waste? Two. Do I waste the rest of my life? 55% of marriages end in divorce. 99. 0% of relationships that started before they are 30 end. If those were the stats for surgery, none of us would fucking risk it. But because it’s love and we’re stupid, we just lie on the operating table like, “Maybe this time I won’t die inside. ” My generation has become so obsessed with starting the rest of their lives that they’re willing to give up the one they are currently living. We have romanticized the idea of romance, and it is cancerous. People are more in love with the idea of love than the person they are with.”

You should definitely watch his whole special on Netflix. That guy makes you uncomfortable. But he also makes you laugh. And sometimes, like in his above sketch, he makes you really think.

I think he has said all I would want to tell you about your break up – and I hope it’s helpful because I spent 30 minutes trying to find its transcript haha. And I don’t know what his conclusion really is, I still have the rest of the show to watch, but I think….I think love will come to us when it has to. Until then we just have to live our lives with joy and love for ourselves anyway.

Your meaning of love…I described something similar when I spent 13th Feb – the night before Valentine’s Day making my profile on Hinge. And that’s the thing that most people don’t understand – while 90% people I know first care about the physical appearance of the person, I care about whether we connect and have a spark. Whether we can make each other laugh and kinda just be at the same level/frequency. As you said…Connection of minds and souls and knowing each other to your core. Interestingly, there’s something that hit me like a fucking truck a few months ago and I scribbled it down before it had the chance to move on and leave me confused:

All this. Writing in your journal, underlining sentences in books, taking pictures you’ll never put up on social media or show anyone. All this is your consistent and earnest effort to try to communicate and connect with your past self and get to know your future self and coordinate between the three dimensions of who you were, are and will be. It’s all for you. By you. No one else needs to validate you. Or understand you. Or question you. It’s not their place, it never was.

You need to realize the person your past self was trying to become. The person your future self will need to be. You need to have patience when you can’t figure it out. When you feel betrayed. Because no matter how lacking you may be, you will never have any malicious intentions. You’ll not be flaky, you’ll not be weak, you’ll not throw yourself under the bus. Writing letters to yourself, making playlists so meticulously to capture every season, every mood and continuing despite being uncertain and confused…it’s all you reaching out to yourself.

And I think…it’s when we’re earnestly and constantly trying to connect with ourselves when we come across a person who does the same…we will easily and naturally connect with them, their energy.

I realize that due to the Jigsaw sketch by Daniel Sloss this letter has gotten pretty lengthy. But I still want to talk to you for some more. I hope you’re with me and have connected with my words up until now

About the work friends and how they were there for you and made you feel…isn’t that one of the most comforting, lovely and reliving things? Kinda unexpected too, no? I remember last year, a random lunch on a random workday, I looked around at these 4 smart, brilliant, kind and strong women – my co-workers and friends – at the round lunch table talking about meaningful things – personal and worldly – as we always did and just thinking – wow, finally, I finally belong! I’ve always been a very one-to-one person when it came to friends and was never part of a group (other than groups that feel absolutely uncomfortable and unwelcomed) that was so accepting, loving, sensitive and sincere. And smart! Gosh, so damn smart!

Soon after, each of us left that company – horrible management – and it’s been a year now. We are in touch but of course, it’s never going to be the same as before. And that’s okay. Just thinking of those times and them is enough to make me feel as loved and accepted as I did back in those days. And that’s what I want to tell you – you will come across such people who will truly care about you and help you nurture yourself but their life will overlap with yours just for a while. As a child, this would make me sad and angry! Now, it only makes me super grateful and mindful about being present in the moment that is now, in the life I am living right now. And I hope you can too

So, Cat, I don’t know how many months you have of being 23 but I hope they are all, as well as the coming years, full of connecting with yourself, with people that genuinely care about your well-being and growth and with everything that brings you joy and peace.

Lots of love,

Nikki

I wrote this letter for Nura basis some questions they answered. You can read the questions and their answers here.

Guys - I have received 29 people’s responses for The Love Project - 29 days of love letters. So I won’t be accepting anymore, however, you can read other letters here.

I may do this again later in the year and if you would want to receive a love letter from me then, you can drop in your email ID here xoxo

#the love project #29 days of love letters #letter 12 #love letters #february 2020 #happy february #valentine's day #let me write you love letters #creatingnikki #love #heartbreak #break up #daniel sloss

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galadrieljones · 4 years

Text

That he may hold me by the hand: chapter 7

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Albert Mason

Rating: Mature (Adult Themes and Situations, Violence, and Sexual Content)

Summary: After saving Albert from stumbling off a cliff in the Heartlands, Arthur invites him to Valentine for a drink. What ensues after that is a quiet love story, in which both men find themselves completely undone.

Masterpost | AO3 | Epigraph

Chapter 7: Nature. Romance. They ain’t the same.

Some days later, Arthur waited in the saloon with his journal and a beer, sketching the sunny windows of the place and a couple of the women sitting in them, like birds with their feathers and casting shadows. It was close to lunch time. With so much protected rest, he was feeling somewhat on the mend now, better all the time, and in truth, some parts of his consciousness had already begun to vacate his former life. Albert had sent one of the girls out to the doctor in town to pick up a supply of epsom salts, which Arthur soaked in a couple times a day. It was weird and the stuff made his skin feel tight and dry, but it helped. It really did. And he had been drawing so much, he could weirdly feel himself improving his art, which was a fucked-up sensation of massive proportion that he rarely felt privy to at all in his day-to-day.

Safety is an addictive drug. Arthur felt clean and fed and even in his moods. He rarely left the hotel. Albert went out quite often on his business with the gallery. They still had plans to visit the orchids in the Roanoke Valley as soon as Arthur’s riding chops returned, and his ribs improved. He estimated another week or so should do it. John and Mary Beth both knew exactly where he was and though he had not told them as much, he got the sense they knew the truth. It did not register with him in any nervous sense. He hoped they knew, even as he wondered what they thought of him.

Arthur yielded so little in his life to those who thought they knew him. He wasn't sure why anymore. He just wanted for solace. He still heard the ringing in his ears sometimes, that which Colm O'Driscoll had put there, clapping his ears, breaking his bones. He'd been shot before, but only once had he been forced to cauterize his own wound in a darkened cellar with a taper candle. Sometimes he thought about how this one and single instant seemed to sum up his whole life. He tried not to dwell in that place for long though, as it was nonsense and self-pity. There were those who had it worse than him. There were those who loved him and who long had. And there was Albert Mason.

Sitting there that day, he was waiting for Albert to return from a meeting with the gallery-owner who had picked up a number of his photos to exhibit. The opening would be in a couple weeks time. The bartender came over for a little while to talk to him while shining up a glass, and one of the saloon girls brought him some food. He ate and read and sketched. At some point, he was getting ready to head upstairs, but suddenly then, he was no longer alone. Josiah Trelawny had appeared, sitting down across from him in all of his canny glory, mustache sculpted to its intimidating degree, one leg crossed over the other, looking quietly ecstatic.

“Mr. Morgan,” he said.

“Mr. Trelawny,” said Arthur, closing his journal. He held out his hand for a shake. “What the hell are you doing here.”

"I should wager the same to you. A sight for sore eyes you are, dear boy. Any sighting of Arthur Morgan in the wild is rare indeed.”

“I think you’re trying to flatter me,” said Arthur, “but you know I can’t always tell.”

“Only flattery with you, my friend,” said Josiah. He smiled and leaned. “Bandying about the high saloon of St. Denis, I see? Are you here for the gambling?”

Arthur chuckled. “No sir,” he said. “Or, not today at least.”

“You know we haven’t seen you around Clemens Point in a while,” he said. “Most are ignorant to your absence as usual, but considering the state of you last we saw, there’s some concern in the camp as to whether or not you’re okay.”

“I’m just fine.”

“I see that now.”

“How are you?” said Arthur. “You here visiting your wife?”

“Yes, I am,” said Josiah, softening. “Her bed is very warm, and her arms are very long. They go all the way around me, and I am no small man. She's a tall woman, my wife."

"I did not know that."

"Well, now you do. And after my run-in with those ingrate bounty hunters a couple months back, I am in the market for comfortable sleeping with tall women who love me.”

“Yeah, I know that sort of feeling,” said Arthur, looking down at his hands. "Quite well."

This seemed to interest Josiah. He straightened off the back of the chair and leaned forward with his hands folded neatly on the table. “Mr. Morgan.”

“What?”

“Excuse me for prying,” he said, “but may I be so bold as to inquire…are you seeing someone?”

Somewhere across the bar, a woman threw her drink in the face of a man, spat on his shoes, and stormed out the double-doors. The music stopped momentarily while the man stood in disbelief, dripping from his beard, but then it started up again moments later, and the room resumed its mid-day debauchery as if nothing had happened at all.

“Am I what?” said Arthur.

“Have you taken a lover?" said Josiah. "In St. Denis. You've got a kept look about you at the moment.”

"Oh,” said Arthur, smiling. “Kept, huh?”

"Indeed,” said Josiah. He lowered his voice then, smiling in secret. “It’s not Mary, is it? I know she was here, in the city.”

Arthur found this amusing. “No. No, it ain't Mary.”

“Then who is she?”

Arthur smiled, kind of nonplussed. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat. He looked around. The saloon was about half-full. There was a poker game going on over by the window. He leaned against the table and felt a little silly. It seemed silly to recall it out loud. “He’s a…nature photographer. He’s in town on business, and I met him some months back over in West Elizabeth, randomly. It was…maybe a week or so before that time we busted Sean free from them bounty hunters over in Blackwater. He hails from Philadelphia originally, and he’s quite decent.”

Josiah had not blinked. He was staring. Then he blinked many times in a row as if accomplishing his bearings and processing what he had just heard. “Why, Mr. Morgan,” he said. “I had no idea you kept the company of gentlemen. I’m so very sorry for my assumption.”

Arthur waved him off. “No reason to apologize,” he said. “Truth be told, you were right in your assumptions, until now. This entire thing has taken me by complete surprise. Both me and him, I reckon.”

“Does anyone else know?” said Josiah. “About why it is you’ve been so absent from our camp?”

“Not really,” said Arthur. “Or, well, Mary Beth, maybe. John. They might've guessed by now. I can’t be sure. I’ve never told anyone outright, not till now. It ain’t that I’m ashamed. It’s just that—it’s a relationship that is away from all that. It don’t belong to nobody but me. I ain’t had that so much in my life, Josiah, and I ain’t eager to share.”

“I understand. This information is safe with me, Arthur.”

“Yeah, I know. Thank you.”

One of the saloon girls came over then, took their orders. Josiah ordered a glass of bourbon. Arthur just ordered a bottle of beer. “You know, I’ve dallianced with men in the past,” said Josiah, examining his nails. “Before I met my wife of course. I chose her, but there was a time when I was more or less in the wind.”

“Seriously?” said Arthur.

“Oh, yes. Love is love, dear boy. Sometimes, it just takes the shape we least expect.”

Arthur grinned at this, holding his beer with both hands. “I suppose you’re right. I just never thought of it like that.”

“Until now,” said Josiah.

“Yes,” said Arthur. “Until now.”

The saloon girl came over with their drinks. Josiah paid for them both and tipped her generously. “To you,” said Josiah, to Arthur. They toasted and drank. Josiah took out a deck of cards, which he proceeded to shuffle. He showed Arthur a new magic trick he had invented, and told him that he was planning a visit to the orphanage in town that very day, to do a magic show.

"That is mighty generous of you, Mr. Trelawny.”

“Well, I try to do my part.” He wiped his forehead with a handkerchief, as if nervous.

That is when Albert arrived and approached the table, smiling in his gracious manner. He said hello to Arthur, and Arthur stood upon his arrival until Albert urged him to sit back down. Josiah did not move.

“Mr. Mason,” he said, fully surprised. They shook hands. “Fancy seeing you here again. Are you back for the cards? You know beginner’s luck only applies once, my dear boy. You’ll need skill if you’re to rake once more, and skill takes practice.”

Albert laughed at this, visibly blushed. “No, sir,” he said. “I’m afraid my days as a card shark have passed. I’d prefer to go out on a high note.”

“Very smart,” said Josiah. He then glanced to Arthur. “Mr. Mason, meet my dear friend, Arthur Morgan.”

Arthur looked down at the cards on the table, smiling at them, and then back to Albert, and then to Josiah.

Albert removed his hat from his head. “Yes, we’ve met,” he said. “Though I didn’t know the two of you knew one another.”

“I beg your pardon,” said Josiah.

“Mr. Trelawny and I go way back,” said Arthur to Albert. “A decade or more if I ain’t mistaken.”

“Good heavens,” said Albert. “It is quite the coincidence then.”

Josiah was staring, at the two of them, seeming to come into a slow but certain realization. He looked at Albert. “Mr. Mason, you wouldn’t happen to be a nature photographer, would you?”

“Why, yes,” said Albert. “I am. Why do you ask?”

Josiah gazed at Arthur. “No reason.” He smiled. “Well, I should be on my way,” he said. He got up, placed his hat atop his head. “Mr. Mason, it was wonderful seeing you again. Stay sharp. And Mr. Morgan, it is always a pleasure with you. I’m glad to see that you’re healing.”

“Yeah, don’t get too excited.”

“I certainly will,” he said. “I’ll let slip to Dutch, too, that you’re on a job of high esteem.”

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you anyway.”

“Adieu, good sirs,” he said, and then he bowed and went away.

When they were alone but for the sounds of the room and the horses outside on the cobblestone, Albert stood for a moment, full of social grace. He then set his hat on the table and his valise on the floor, and he sat down across from Arthur. They kept their hands tucked into their laps for a while, and then Arthur folded his on the table. They looked down at the table cloth and then up at one another. Arthur took a deep breath. "Good afternoon, Mr. Mason,” he said.

Albert fumbled for words. He felt himself blushing to an ungentlemanly degree. He then looked up at Arthur and said, “You look good today. Your color. I'm sorry I missed you this morning.”

“Don't worry about it,” said Arthur. He took a breath. “So, Josiah—that’s the magician who taught you cards is it.”

“Yes, sir. It certainly is a strange bit of happenstance.”

Arthur found this amusing. “Yeah, I should've figured.” He took a drink of his beer, straightened his pencil, set his journal aside. “How was your meeting?”

“It was good,” said Albert, loosening up a little. He exhaled. “They’re very happy with my work, which is both exciting but also entirely confounding. I hope you’ll accompany me to the opening.”

This seemed to catch Arthur undone. He was flattered. “Sure,” he said, nodding. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Splendid,” said Albert, watching him. The eyes, their blue. He got lost. Arthur paid his tab from earlier, tucked his journal into his pocket. Then he picked up Albert’s valise. They went upstairs.

It was this day that marked the end of a time in which Albert could say that Arthur had not been inside him. His strength returned with enough rest and stability, Arthur bent Albert to the bed, removed his clothes and his composure completely. The lid gone to the petroleum jelly, he went so slow as to induce some kind of physical, emotional ecstasy. Agonizing. They made a beautiful mess of one another, ordered lunch, and took a very long bath and did not again emerge from the second floor of the saloon until after nine-pm.

When they went back downstairs, they bought a bottle of wine. It was so strange, as it seemed their world had become small, a diorama of what it had been before. They had become city men, indoor men, just for a little while. For Albert, this sort of thing was old hat, but for Arthur, it was new. They shared the wine with the bartender who talked them into a few impromptu hands of blackjack, and of course, Arthur won every time, almost to an embarrassing degree. It did not even seem to register, how easy it was for him. His intelligence escaped him, past the decades of pain he hid away beneath his quiet armor. And he was just so good at these sorts of things, thought Albert. His gunslinger.

That night, they lay in Albert’s bed, a little wine drunk and high. One of the bar girls had shared with them her bounty of hash cigarettes, and they took to it dreamily, paid her triple. Arthur was drawing something—some sort of tree. Perhaps a tupelo. Hanging from its branches were all of these dreamcatchers. Albert watched, and then he read sometimes, this tremendous novel of awful cynicism called McTeague. It was brand new and terribly unromantic. Almost Darwinian. He had only just picked it up that very day. He read parts of it out loud to Arthur who laughed it off.

“Of course the huge, idiotic brute named McTeague is gonna get the girl in a book like that,” he said, shading his picture with the flat edge of the pencil. “Of course. That ain’t nice, that sort of Realism. You go reading long enough, she’ll probably end up dead, the girl. I’ll bet he kills her. For money, convenience, something stupid like that. Fortune favors the angry, Albert. You want for that which is simple enough, and you go to it, angry enough, you’ll get it, no matter how many folks’ lives you end in the process, including your own. That’s just evil in a world that don’t care. I know all about that.”

“Have you read this already?” said Albert.

“No,” said Arthur. “But I know what kind of book that is. I can just tell.” He finished his drawing, and he closed his journal. He looked at Albert, got quiet and he took his hand. “I don’t want that life no more,” he said. "I mean it."

Albert kissed him, soft. He still knew very little of what Arthur did, only who Arthur was. To him. He said, “Let me be good to you. You’ve always been good to me.”

“Good to you, sure,” said Arthur. “But good for you?”

“You let me be the judge of that.”

Arthur smiled. “Okay, Mr. Mason.”

There was a knock on the door then. A pounding, eager and loud, startling them both. Albert looked at his watch. It was after midnight. “Who could that be?”

They got up, dressed in their night clothes. Arthur removed himself to the sitting room, on his guard. Albert answered the door. It was John Marston.

“John?” he said. “What’s the matter? Is everything all right?”

“No,” he said. He looked disheveled and had a long, bloody cut on his hand which he had wrapped in a stained linen handkerchief. “I'm sorry to disturb. I truly am, but is Arthur here?”

“Yes. Please come in.” Albert stepped aside.

Arthur knotted his hair off his face. John came in, looking terrified, like absolute shit. “John,” said Arthur. "What's going on?"

“It’s Jack,” said John.

“What about Jack?”

“He’s missing,” said John. He looked away, as if in shame. He dropped his head into his hands. "Got kidnapped."

“Kidnapped?”

“Kieran said he didn’t think nothing of it—they was outside camp,” said John.

"Who was?"

“Braithwaites. He came back to report on them, and he said something, but it was too late. Abbie is—she ain’t doing good, Arthur.” He was near on crying. Arthur went to him. He placed his hand on John’s shoulder, leaned in to study his busted up face, his eyes, steadied him hard. “It’s all coming home,” said John, shaking his head. “It’s all coming home, brother. Sean is dead.”

“What?”

“There was an ambush in Rhodes,” John continued. “He got blown away. Now, Jack. I’m sorry. I—I wouldn’t’ve come. I know you got—” He looked at Albert, who was watching the carpet on the floor between. He appeared to be fraught, concerned, but he did not meet John’s eyes. He maintained his distance and waited in silence. John looked back to Arthur. “I need you,” he said, laid bare. "Will you help me?"

Arthur said, “You wait downstairs. I will be right there.”

Tornadoes always hit in the dullest part of the afternoon, in the humidity of summer when suddenly a cool wind blows through, and you look up, and there’s green in the sky.

“Who is Jack?” said Albert as Arthur dressed. “Is that John’s son?”

“Yes,” said Arthur. "He's just a kid. He's little."

“My god.”

“I will be back as soon as I can.”

“I have money, Arthur. If there’s a ransom, or—”

But Arthur cut him off, buckling his holster. It was the first time he’d even lifted it from the ground in a week. “It ain’t about money, Mr. Mason,” he said, very cavalier. He kissed him. “I assure you. It’s like I said before, evil in a world that don’t care. But know that I am grateful for the offer. I am.”

Albert held back. He wasn’t sure why. Truth be told, he was terrified, but he was afraid to communicate this to Arthur now. He saw him to the door and held it inside. “Be safe, dear friend,” he said, holding himself upright against the frame. “Please be safe.”

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #arthur morgan #albert mason #arthur x albert #arthur morgan x albert mason #albthur #that he may hold #thank you for your patience <3

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vanaera · 5 years

Text

Mikrokosmos

[Moodboard made by the wonderful @bluesxde] Synopsis | There are three times in Jungkook's life where he has fallen in love with you and most of the time, they are more than what they appear to be (Or the three times Jungkook learned what falling in love felt like because of you). Pairing | Jungkook x Reader Genre | Fluff, drama, some angst (surprise hons!) Wordcount | 7.8k Warning | Mentions of bullying A/N | Some parts in this installment have references of the garden talk Jungkook and the OC had when he was 17 (read “The Sprout”) and the Lee Taeyong Incident (mentioned in “Melodies in a Distance”). You can view these stories first before reading this, although this fic can be read as a standalone (though reading the garden talk would give you a better view of the concerns Jungkook was holding, hence, it will explain the depth this installment will give to the whole series).

Read more football!jk drabbles in The Prince and His Rose!

Some things do not seem what they appear to be. A frown appears to be a sign of discontentment but can actually be an intuited expression in unprecedented incidents. Smiles do not always mean satisfaction and pleasure but can also be a forged sign of strength and invulnerability. Likewise, a home does not automatically signify an establishment composed of four walls and a roof. It can be a hobby, a memory, or even a person. Despite being bound by the sense making of people and the laws of the world, every bit in this universe is more than what they are. Each represents the special and significant intersection of the world and its phenomena that can only happen once and never again. And just like how you told him that the universe the people live in are more than what it is, Jungkook came to realize that his affections for you are more than what they seem to be.

The first time Jungkook encountered this knowledge, it was through your story about the star prince.

“Did you know, the Star Prince lived in a kingdom called Constellatia?” you close your giant storybook, a sewn stack of papers Jungkook learned was just filled with your random sketches, and grinned at him. Broken teeth and all.

Jungkook scrunches his nose. “That name sounds just like normal constellation. It sounds lame.”

“No, it's not!” you huff behind him and Jungkook feels your presence behind him when a sprinkle of sand lands on his castle.

“Oops. Sorry,” you mutter and Jungkook, your ever-stubborn seven-year-old neighbor that moved in beside your home six months ago, clicks his tongue. He turns his back to you and decides to build another castle.

You seem unbothered by it as you plopped beside him. You’re already used to your neighbor turning his back to you that you started to see this as an endearing quality about him.

Jungkook has always been this aloof since he moved in with his mother. He doesn’t speak to anyone at school, not even to you! Sure, it was unsettling to know that a kid like you does not care for wonderful stories and playdates and prefers to play alone but as your mother told you, you shouldn’t give up and Jungkook just needs time to warm up. And yeah, you learned that friendship takes time to bloom as after a few months of your constant befriending tactics, Jungkook for the very first time, met you halfway with a shy “You already know I’m Jungkook, right? So…yeah, can you...can you tell me about the story you told at school yesterday again?”

Anyway, you started blabbering again. “You see, the Constellatia is the universe we see. The stars up above us at nights belong to the Star Prince’s kingdom.”

Jungkook still has his back turned to you and you pout. You made your voice louder. “The Star Prince is really cool, no? He lives in a world full of stars! How amazing can that be?”

Jungkook hums as he piles another bucket of sand.

Seeing his disinterest, you realize it’s time to bring out your big guns. “You know, I found that the cosmos are not what they seem to be.”

This time, you successfully caught your neighbor’s attention. Jungkook halts on his third bucket of sand and looks at you, suspicious. “How did you know?”

You find yourself smiling. You knew this will work. “Well...I saw the 'cosmos' on the TV. It showed some pretty pink and purplish waves of skies and I've never seen anything prettier than that in my whole life,” you glance at Jungkook and after assuring he's interested, you smile wider. “And I figured that my toys are not what they usually are, I thought then that the cosmos are more than what they really are.”

Jungkook tilts his head. “What do you mean you found your toys 'not what they usually are'“?

“I found out that they're actually alive! Mom even assured me that they really are living and breathing! She said they just come to life when people are asleep because they are afraid of capitalism?” your eyes wander to the right and after recalling that your mother used the same term, you affirmed it with a grin. “Yeah, capitalism.”

When you see Jungkook scrunching up his forehead, you shrug. “Don't ask me. I don't know what capitalism is. My mom just said so, but I bet it must be really bad because it prevents us from having an animated conversation with our toys.”

You may have not actually narrated the story of the Star Prince to Jungkook, he came home with a story on the tips of his tongue and an excited jump in his steps. Although the effect of your cosmos thingy and the toys turned out to be something you didn't expect when Jungkook informed you the next day that his mother scolded him for knowing something adults should only deal with.

“She even told me I'll get plenty of white hair if I continue talking about it. Don't bring it up again, okay?,” Jungkook looks into your eyes. “My Jeon Effect will be in danger.”

“Okay, I promise,” you give him a small smile and raised your pinky for him to interlock with his own. He locks it and presses his lips on his thumb.

“Promise sealed. For the sake of the Jeon Effect.”

“Yeah, for the Jeon Effect!”

“Oh!” Jungkook sputters, almost jolting as he remembers your unfinished story yesterday. “What about the Star Prince again?”

You cross your arms and wiggle your eyebrows. “I thought you weren't interested yesterday?”

Jungkook instantly finds his cheeks and ears heating up. “I uh–um I–”

“He lives in a kingdom called Constellatia,” you chuckle at the way his eyes widen.

“And?”

“That's it. I'm still doing my umm research? Yeah, research about it, so that's what I only know as of now.” Seeing his shoulders deflate, you immediately reassure him, “But! You'll be the first person to know of him once I figured out his story!”

“Promise?” Jungkook holds out his pinky but what he said seems to just pass through your right ear and out of the other.

“Don't you think we're doing too much pinky swears?”

“There's no such thing as too much pinky swears–do you promise or not?”

“Fine, fine, okay, I promise,” you lock your fingers again and press a soft kiss on your thumbs.

The both of you went home with fingers interlocked, eventhough it was only two months ago that Jungkook told you he hated any kind of skinship because it's corny. He didn't mind the dampness of your sweaty hand that afternoon, so you relished the warmth of his hand with a big, goofy smile.

The story of the Star Prince was brought up again a year later, coinciding with your neighbor's birthday, and therefore, was told in a pillowfort the both of you made in his bedroom.

“His hair is made of stardust and starlights?” Jungkook aks and you nod, opening your flashlight.

“Yeah, the Star Prince's hair glows so much that when he feels happy or excited,” you press a button on your flashlight, turning the scope of the light much bigger than before, “his whole body can emit light that can enshroud the whole room around him just like this.”

Jungkook's jaw drops in amazement when he sees how gigantic the light of your flashlight shined on his wall that it almost mimicked a spotlight.

Happy with your neighbor's reaction, you continue, “Because of these instances that makes him burn up with so much light, his kingdom Constellatia can easily provide the sun enough shine to light up every planet in our galaxy for a few years. On the usual basis, his optimism provides enough daylight to our world. When fortunate enough, his light crosses to the dark realm which allows the Midnight Princess–who balances the light he casts with darkness and also his destined bride–to pull up the moon and use the stars the Star Prince created to draw constellations on her skies.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Jungkook says, eyes shimmering and for a moment's second you thought the glow in his eyes can rival the “spotlight” you created on his wall. However, it soon diminishes and you're left staring at his honey brown eyes again when he pulls his lips into a small frown. “But, how can the prince and princess meet if they're separated by two realms? Of course they have to meet face-to-face to fall in love, right?”

“That's where you're wrong, Kook. You don't need to physically meet to fall in love.”

Jungkook just looks at you more confused than ever.

“You see, the eyes are not the only ones which can see,” you reach out to him and Jungkook freezes in his spot as you place your palm flat against his chest. “Your heart can see, too. Far more than what your eyes could.” You giggle, “See? You're nervous. I can't see it on your face but I can feel how fast your heartbeats are.”

Jungkook lets out a squeak and before your eyes can see the reds that must have colored his cheeks, he swats your hand away. You laugh and he feels his cheeks become hotter. “Wh-what? I-I'm not nervous.”

“But you didn't deny that your heartbeats are really, really fast, Kook.” When he didn't reply, you let out a chuckle.

“Anyway, as I told you, you need not to physically meet to fall in love. The constellations the Midnight Princess lays on her skies manages to dwell a little longer on daybreak just enough for the Star Prince to have a glimpse on. Most of them have messages, others just artworks of the princess, nevertheless, it warms the heart of the Star Prince. In return, the Star Prince creates more stars for her to use and paint on the skies, each containing a secret message that unravels once the princess touches it. Some of them express the Star Prince’s admiration for the princess’ artworks, but most of them tell how much love he feels for her.” You smile at him, “Remember the star we saw yesterday at the playground which our teacher pointed out wasn't actually a star but a planet?”

Jungkook nods.

“That’s Venus. The joy the Star Prince felt when the Midnight Princess returned his feelings made him shine so much that the planet Venus caught tons of his starlight enough for her to shine like a star even in broad daylight up ‘til evening to carry the message ‘You’re utterly beautiful’ for the princess.” You turn to Jungkook, “See, Kook? Essential entities like love are invisible to the eye and can only be seen with the heart. And with that, here’s another gift of mine for your birthday.”

You turned off your flashlight and immediately, the two of you are surrounded by darkness.

“Look above you, Kook.”

Jungkook raises his head and his mouth opens in wonder, “Whoa.” Above him were thousands of constellations, lining up every corner of his room with glowing stardust and starlight. Some were red, orange, and pink, the others in blue, purple, and green, while almost all of them are yellow. Most of them even look like they’re glittering gold. They fill up every space in his room and for a moment, Jungkook feels he isn’t in his room but in the outer space–in the Constellatia you painted for him and you, a secret world only both of you know.

The stars you placed on the ceiling with the help of his mother that morning when Jungkook is playing outside are only glow-in-the-dark sticky stars you bought with your mother in Walmart. However, they looked so much more than what they really are when they are spread above you, blanketing the both of you in comfort and wonder no other world can do.

As if taking the words straight from your mouth, Jungkook gasps in wonder, “This…this is beautiful.”

“Yeah, it really is,” you feel your smile growing into a grin. “It’s the masterpiece the Midnight Princess created when she and the Star Prince finally met in the first eclipse a thousand years ago.” You turn towards Jungkook again and he looks at you with surprise when you place a soft peck against his cheeks. “Happy 8th birthday, Kook.”

You came home that night with your end of the metal-and-strings phone he crafted (“so we can you know…call each other whenever we feel like it,” Jungkook mused while running a hand through his hair) along with a new milestone in your friendship with your neighbor.

When Jungkook’s mother came to bid him goodnight, she found him smiling in his sleep for the very first time. That same night, you found yourself dreaming about one single sentence over and over again:

“Y/N, you know…you’re my very first friend.”

The second time Jungkook encountered your view of things being more than what they seem to be, it was because you followed him when he ran away from home.

Teenage years have done Jungkook no good. A complete 180 turnover from his peaceful childhood, the seventeen-year-old him was not someone he could ever be proud of. He lost hope on his dreams, he never had any plans for his future, fucked up everything he built his life on, he traded your friendship for some twisted kind of brothership with Lee Taeyong and the other hotshot kids, and he even got into constant fights with his mom about his growing bad reputation in school. Sure, he asked for forgiveness from his mom and you when he woke up from his horrible mindset after the Lee Taeyong Incident which involved you six months ago, but it's not enough. It will never be enough. So Jungkook decides he'll stop fucking up everyone's lives by leaving everything he’s ever known. He've already caused everyone he loves enough damage to last their lifetimes.

However, all of his plans started to go downhill the moment he spot the beanie he gifted to you three years ago on some hunched up gal in the bus. The seconds seem to fast after that–he jumped off on the next stop, started sprinting for God knows where, and now you're here running with your breath leaving you as you try to keep up with him.

“Jungkook, stop!”

"Y/N! Just go home!" Jungkook yells over his shoulder before he faces forward again, biting his lips in frustration. He wills his legs to fasten his pace. He’s already a city away from home and only now when he stepped down the bus stop did he know you’ve fucking followed him. Why the hell did you follow him? How come you’ve known his plan of running away? Do you actually think you can convince him to come home, when what–after he just screamed at his mom that she can never help him with his feelings of un-usefulness? When he knows he’ll never lead a meaningful life even if he tried? When he knew that everyone’s right–he’s just a scum dragging down everyone around him and it took him one stupid year to realize that they’re true? When he’s hurt everyone he loves, even you, far worse than what he intended? Jungkook chokes down a grunt and pulls the straps of his backpack tighter. He’s not coming back. Looking behind will only hold him back and he didn’t need that as much as you don’t need him and he’ll be fine with that–

“Jungkook, can you fucking stop and look at me, just for once!”

Jungkook pays no heed and continues running but when the absence of footsteps pounding on the pavement behind him dawns on him, every limb in his body ceases into a staggering stop.

Even if you didn’t follow him, Jungkook simultaneously feels sick and relieved to know that you’ll never leave him alone.

“Jungkook–”

“What were you thinking?! You knew I would fucking do this and you even thought of fucking following me–Why did you even follow me?!”

“I–uh–I–“

“It’s fucking midnight, Y/N–”

“Do I look like I fucking care?!” you scream and under the pale glow of the streetlight did Jungkook notice the streams of tears cascading down on your pale face. “You just bolted out of your home with no qualms of turning back. What do you want me to do? Wait until you’ve finally really left for good? I can’t fucking do that! You’re my fucking bestfriend, for Christ’s sake!”

Jungkook remains unmoving in his spot and you found this enough of a reason to take a step forward. “Don’t pretend that I don’t fucking know why you’re doing this. Yes, rumors about you and your bad reputation about your constant fights have spread like wildfire in high school. Yes, you’ve hurt your mom even if she’s the only family member who have stuck by your side. And goddamn sure as hell you’ve also hurt me when you figured my weirdness and nerdy-ness is out of place with your pursuit of so-called manliness. You’ve pushed me away, turned blind eye to my bullies, and even joined Lee Taeyong and others in their bullshits. But are they enough to fucking change how I see you? Hell-fucking no! You’re still the shy seven-year-old boy I met when I was four–the one who I took time knowing and befriending through letters pasted under your desk in preschool. You’re still my friend who would do anything it takes to make his mom smile because he loves her so much. Remember the tons of thank you cards you send to her monthly up ’til now?”

Jungkook nods, his huge backpack dropping to the ground, but he doesn’t look up to meet your eyes.

“If that’s not a sign of how much you love your mom, I don’t know what else, Kook. Yes, your father fucked up real bad with your mom, but don’t you dare think you’re anything like him. Yes, you have your flaws, but unlike him, you learn from them and you try your best to right them. You always made it up to your mom whenever you fight. You always told her you’re sorry, you clean the house, try to do better in school. You told Jimin to help me with Taeyong even when you’re far away in the city with your team for your teambuilding camp, remember? And you finally said your apologies from the shits you put me through the second you came back to town.” It was only now did you realize you’re only a couple of steps away from your bestfriend without him running farther away. You sniffle from your sobs, hopes still raised. “I know your mother will forgive you from the things you said which I know you didn’t really mean. I have already forgiven you, Kook, and you know that’s a big deal because you know how bitchy I am when I hold grudges,” your lips try to attempt a smile but you can’t will them to, “So why not give yourself a chance to forgive yourself?” You realize you’ve began sobbing again as you continue, “Remember what I told you in the sandbox when you were seven? That things aren’t really what they appear to be? Tha-that-that they are more than what they seem to be? That shit I made up when I was four is still true until now, you know. I figured that people are more than what they seem to be. Tha-that we can create beautiful things much larger than ourselves–that we can become our own worlds we create for ourselves. And with that,” you look at his eyes for the first time, warm brown and homey like the first time you met him. “You are more than what your flaws make you to be,” your voice flattens in a heavy sigh and you push away your fringe to wipe away your tears.

You raise your arms to encircle around his frame, not fully enclosed enough to keep him to stay in your arms, but not loose enough for him to easily slip away. “I-if you still want to run away, then put down my arms and I assure you I’ll never be in your way again. B-but if you choose to come home with me, you know I’d gladly take you back in my arms again.” You know how volatile your situation is right now–that it’s possible you’ll never see your bestfriend ever again–but you still wanted him to have a choice, to freely believe that he is more than his mistakes and regrets, that he still has so much to become. He’s still unmoving and you close your eyes, unknowingly whispering, “Please stay.”

Seconds do not need to drag too long as the moment your wish fills the empty street, you feel Jungkook immediately engulfing you in a tight hug with his tears wetting the sleeves of your jacket as he continuously mutter “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

"You know I’ve never been those first benchers, Y/N, right?” he chokes on his sobs but he continues, “I never had grades worth to be proud of. I’m just always there–doing whatever insignificant, fucking everyone’s lives, just being a nobody. Trying to prove something I cannot prove from the start. It hurts to know you aren’t good in anything, you know? It pains to know you have no dreams for yourself.”

“But you have,” you interrupt him.

“I have?”

“Yes you do,” you look up at him and hugged him tighter. “People say it’s okay to not have any dreams but I dare to disagree. Not all dreams can be grand, you know. They can be little things like growing up a dog, finishing a day’s work, living ‘til you make it to another day–they’re small things but ironically big. Remember the number systems we studied in Algebra?”

Jungkook huffs. “Yes but why you bringing up Math, Y/N? You know I’m a shithead in that–”

“Shush,” you chuckle, “I know, I know. I’m not good in that either. But do you remember the infinity the numbers held? Thousands and hundreds of numbers can go on and on. Decimals go on and on but they’re much smaller than those thousands–sometimes even insignificant, especially when we’re talking about bucks and dough. However, they also hold an infinity, Jungkook. Small things can have immeasurable value. Small worlds of their own, small universes of their own, they are more than what they appear to be. And knowing you, Kook, I know you want to make your mom happy. That’s more than enough to be a dream. That’s more than enough to be a reason to motivate you to keep living.”

Jungkook nods and he sinks further in your embrace. “But you know I still want to find my passion, Y/N, right?”

“You’ll find it, Jungkook. I know you can. If you need help, I’ll be here by your side.”

“Thank you, Y/N. Thank you so much.”

A moment of silence passes before Jungkook breaks it again. He sighs, “I'm sorry for-for doing all these. It's dumb, I know."

"It is,” you pat his back, “But it’s okay, we’ll get over them eventually. Part of growing up.”

"I'm sorry I've always been a shitty friend. I can't forgive myself for what Taeyong and the others did to you."

"It's okay. You've already apologized and I've long forgiven you."

“I'm sorry I’m not yet someone you could be proud of."

"Don't say that. You know I've always loved you being my friend. It's all I could ever ask for."

"I-I just thought I’m becoming too much like my dad–fucking up mom’s life, fucking up other’s lives, never doing anything right. I’m afraid to be the source of my mom’s sadness again so–so I figured if I left her, she’ll do and feel much better.”

“Do you think she’ll actually feel better if her one and only knight in shining armor leaves her?”

Jungkook shakes his head. “No.”

He could feel you smiling against his jacket. “You already know the answer, Kook, so stop comparing yourself with your dad. You’re not fucking up anyone’s lives here.” You pull yourself away to look at him again, “Oh and I’m sorry too for talking too many shits about your dad. It might have been too painful for you.”

“It’s okay,” Jungkook pulls you and presses your head against his chest again. “I got over him already. He’s just plain horrible to me. He deserve all those shits.”

“Okay, if you say so.”

Jungkook hums and he feels you flutter your eyes close as you sink again in his embrace. He relishes the feeling of your warmth he has missed for long months. He shifts in his place to have his arms in level with your head and before you could ask what’s wrong, he caresses your hair and whispers against your head, “Can we stay like this for a while? I kinda missed my little peanut otor-nim.”

He could feel your smile grow into a grin. “Of course, Kook. I missed my StarKook, too.”

The last buses have long been gone on the streets, the night much darker than the one in your hometown, but the stars that twinkle above the two of you have never burned this bright. You knew this midnight can easily outshine the million ones you’ve had in your whole lifetime.

In the morning, you and Jungkook went home. He went straight to his mom to ask for forgiveness and he’s never been happier in his life to feel his own voice reverberating again on his end of your metal-can-and-strings phone.

"Hi, Y/N. I-I'm back. Thank you for bringing me home."

The following day, Jungkook finds himself in a green field two blocks away from his home and a football shoved under his nose.

“What’s this?”

“A football.”

Jungkook scoffs. “yeah, no shit, Y/N.” You open your mouth and before you can utter some witty comeback, Jungkook cuts right to the chase. “Why are we here anyway?”

You raise your eyebrows at him, lips tugged into a smirk. “I thought we’re going to find your passion?”

“In here?” Jungkook gawks, “We’re no longer kids to be playing, Y/N.”

“Oh but we, are!” you grin and you start running ahead of him. “You already know my passion is to write, Kook! And when I write, I feel like a child! Children have this thing of knowing what they want. They find it easier to be happy than adults. But remember, we adults have been children before. We only need to really open our hearts to remember what it felt like. We can do paintings tomorrow, miniature sculptures the next day, visit the planetarium on the other day; but for now, let’s do football. It was our favorite game when we were toddlers, remember?” You turn back to him and spread out your arms. “So what do you say, Kook? Play football with me?”

“Fine with me,” Jungkook hollers and he kicks the ball so far he could already see losing your breath running for it. The rustle of the grass felt too new in his ears as the greens bend to the loud crunches of his shoes. He could be running close behind you but he could tell you’re already sporting a large grin growing on your face.

You giggle, nearing the spot where the ball has stopped. “We haven’t set our goalposts yet!”

“Worry about it later! Just worry how you’ll catch up with me with your cute ass legs!”

“You’re really asking for it huh? Here you go!” you kick the ball farther away, but not as far as your bestfriend did–just a couple of five large steps Jungkook knows he can easily make. “Argh! Damn my short legs! Hey, Kook, wait for me!”

Jungkook laughs and before he knew it, you two have become children again getting acquainted in the sandbox where the story of the Star Prince originated. Unheeding to the the noise of the city, to the stares of other people, the both of you let the green field become your own world, your own universe filled with countless wonders of lights and stars just like the utopic Constellatia you created for you and him. However, this time, the stars don’t reside in Constellatia, but in yours and Jungkook’s eyes.

When you went home, he told you he wanted to play football again and for the following weeks, you led him to countless green fields to play with you. It wasn’t until the next month came did he find his passion for the sport. You came home muddy and messy but Jungkook returned with a newfound dream and a song in his heart he never heard before. You don’t need to place your hand flat on his chest for him to know his heart started to tune itself to the melody of your name.

The third time Jungkook was reminded again of the philosophy the four-year-old you have created, it finally had a name. Unknowingly, the things you said no longer involved the universes in general, but instead him and you, and the things he started to feel for you.

“’Microcosm, from the Greek words micros kosmos. To have humankind be regarded as the epitome of the universe’,” Jungkook looks at you, smirking. “Wow, you’re doing real good with our project for our literature class. How come you can easily define these words without using a dictionary? I mean,” he scrambles for his own paper, “look at mine: ‘Microcosm means small cosmos.’ I struggled for like twenty minutes just for this four-worded shit!”

“It sounds fine to me,” you shrug.

“No, not for me. Yours still look the best.”

“I still think yours is okay,” you lay your back down on the mat Jungkook has spread on the grass. “Leonardo da Vinci once said ‘simplicity is the ultimate sophistication.’”

Jungkook chuckles and follows suit, hands supporting his head as a pillow, his eyes set straight towards the night sky.

University ended early today, which granted you and him to spend the rest of your free time biking and chilling. Of course it was Jungkook who did all the biking with you sitting behind him on the makeshift seat he added behind his on his bicycle. You’re still learning how to ride a bike and Jungkook would rather cut his arm than let you on a bike again so soon as the last time you did, you almost crashed into a speeding car. Nevertheless, the night was fun. You had dinner in Mark’s, stopped by an arcade, bought keychains for each other at a street event you passed by (a pink bunny for Jungkook and a blue sleepy cat for you), and now you’re here, stretched out on the mat you packed, staring at the stars while you compare your notes in your class.

Glancing at you, now talking about another piece you’re writing, Jungkook wonders how he’s been too lucky lately. He was able to snag the same class with you in Comparative Literature even if it wasn’t even offered in his program in Computer Science just so he can have one common class with you. Hell, he still can’t believe how he managed to get in this prestigious college with a sports scholarship just so he can be by your side as long as his chances could let him. He first thought it would be pretty weird not to have you by his side when you practically grew up together. However, now, the heat that creeps in his chest, cheeks, and ears that makes his fingers tingly and his feet jumpy whenever he’s with you, he’s no longer sure if his initial reason to study in this college was still the same as the one he now holds in his heart. If there’s proof, it had to be his stubbornness to tell you that he actually just applied in Comparative Literature to see your sappy face (that weirdly started becoming too pretty in his eyes) and the sparkle of your eyes. They said when people talk about their passion and dreams, there’s some otherworldly light and shine you can see in their eyes that makes them glow with so much beauty and God was your beauty utterly astounding when he saw those stars in your eyes in that class for the very first time. He hopes that he also looks that attractive to you when he talks about football even if he’s practically showered in sweat and mud– wait, what–

“Jungkook,” at the sound of your voice, Jungkook whips his head to you, warmth searing in his chest and his ears. You seem unknowing to the thunderous beats in his ribcaged heart as you say, “I…what do you think about sending my story about the Star Prince to a publishing company? I know I just wrote, like, two chapters about him and his adventures, and of course I’m still not sure about them but I think they would be nice enough for a debut work, right?”

Jungkook turns to you on his side. You follow suit and as soon as your gazes interlocked, Jungkook felt the need to look a little bit away from the hazels of your eyes before he stutters on his own words. “I-I think it would be great, Y/N. I mean, the Constellatia was a pretty awesome world and I bet other kids would also like to hear about it just like how I did back then and still do now.”

You shift closer to him and Jungkook gulps. “You sure? You’re not just sucking up to me just because I helped you with our define-it-yourself project?”

“Wh-what are you saying? Of course not. I know you’re good and I’m not lying when I say so.” Jungkook bites the corner of his lips. “When are you sending the copy to the publisher?”

“I’m planning to send the online copy tomorrow and the hardcopy on the other day. It would have been better if I could give them the hardcopy tomorrow, too, so by the time my birthday comes,” you giggle, “I can have their feedback as a surprise birthday present. But I think it would be impossible to do since finding a ride to the city is hard and–

“I’ll drive you tomorrow there.”

“With your bike?” you scrunch your forehead, “won’t it be too hard for you to drive that long with another person adding weight to the back?”

Jungkook doesn’t know what the hell he’s spewing out right now but he feels it’s right to just let them out. “But I want to. So you can have their feedback soon as you said. And you know I can,” he smirks, “I have the Jeon Effect by my side.”

“Oh, fucking stop with that!” you laugh, playfully punching his shoulder, and Jungkook chortles as he makes faces at you. When the hysterics tone down, you brought his attention back, “But no, seriously, are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I want to do that.”

True to his word, Jungkook drove you to the publishing company the next day. You submitted your work, your bestfriend treated you in a café (“Early birthday gift so I won’t bother to remember the date again and again–” “Damn you, Kook!” “Just kidding, sappy face!” “Don’t call me that!”), and went back to your dormitories with a smile on your faces and your hearts warm enough to keep you from the cold of the night.

Jungkook believed in mutual exchanges. He believed in order for a relationship– whatever form they are–needs some giving and taking. These instances provide the knowledge of assurance: assurance that the promises uttered will be kept, assurance that you mean good and nothing else, assurance that one is not alone in this connection. Such things are needed because it provides solace to a disturbed mind and soul, like some new batteries for a flashlight stored in the emergency kit. All his life, Jungkook felt it was you who kept on giving and giving in your friendship and he felt guilty for not being able to do anything for you in return. Night upon night, he wishes to his lucky stars to give him at least one shot to let him return the favor and day after day, his wish gets delayed. So when his chance came when the stars aligned in your birthday, Jungkook, for the first time in a long while, didn’t know what to do.

“What do you mean she hasn’t turned up in her night classes?” Jungkok’s voice sounded hoarse and exasperated as the worry wears on him in beady cold sweats on his forehead.

“I told you, man” Jimin says on the other line, “Y/N’s not here. I asked Hoseok hyung and Seokjin hyung who were in her communication class before the one I’m taking with her right now and they also said she was nowhere in sight.”

“Fuck.” Jungkook curses in his breath and immediately changes his training shoes into the sneakers he wore earlier that day, phone still lodged between his ear and shoulder.

“You alright, man?” He could hear Jimin’s own worried voice on the other end but he can’t will himself to focus on his friend as he crams his training clothes in his gym bag, along with his birthday gift for you.

At the lack of response, Jimin decides to give some assurance. “I will keep looking around for her, too, and I’ll let you know immediately.”

“Thanks, man,” Jungkook manages to mutter and by the time he ends the call, he’s already sprinting away from the football field, leaving Taehyung and his teammates perplexed and shouting for him to come back.

Times like this, Jungkook thanks himself for having enough knowledge about you that you share in bits and chunks that can easily help him in piecing things together. That’s why at the twentieth minute mark of running around the campus, Jungkook isn’t surprised to find you sitting on the abandoned swings of the park behind your dorm you two always frequent. What he didn’t expect to find though were the fat tears running down from your swollen eyes.

Jungkook immediately rushes to your side, falling on his knees in front of you from the sudden skid he did on a downslope but the pain didn’t bother him as he cups your face in his large hands. “He-hey, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

You shake your head, “I-it’s nothing. I-it’s stupid.” You try to tear your gaze away from him to wipe your tears but Jungkook beats you to it when the rough pads of his thumbs wipe them away for you.

“It’s not nothing when you’re crying about it, especially when it’s your birthday.”

At the mention of your birthday, you cry harder and Jungkoook bites his lips as he hugs you, running his hand soothingly on your back, breathing in even breaths for you to follow to calm down. He can wait until you’re ready to talk.

Jungkook remembers why his mother meant when she told him that when he cries, it also breaks her heart. He’s always seen you smiling whenever you’re with him that when he sees you crying, it becomes too painful to bear. It hurts much more when he knows the times he’s seen you cried like this was because of his stupidity and insensitiveness. He closes his eyes to shake those memories away as he hugs you tighter. It’s different now. He swore to himself he’ll never make you cry again.

It takes a few more minutes for you to calm down. When your breathing finally evens out, Jungkook feels you pulling away to look at him. You don’t meet his eyes but the squeeze of your hand on his own reassures him you’re ready to talk.

“The-the manuscript we sent was rejected.”

Jungkook’s eyes widens. “Wha-what?”

“The publishing company thought that my idea of a universe created by one single prince for his princess is ridiculous. The-they said tha-that it would have at least an once of chance of getting published if I didn’t lack so much in my writing skills. I-I really tried my best, Jungkook, and I also expected rejection bu-but I didn’t imagine it will hurt this bad.” You start tearing up again and Jungkook instantly opens his arms to let you fall in his embrace again.

“I-I thought I really had my shot, you know,” you try to stifle your cries in Jungkook’s shoulder, “But you know what, maybe they’re right. I’m not that good, Kook. Not even close.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” Jungkook pulls away to look at you. He wipes the fresh tears that have fallen and tucks your fringes that have stuck on your tear-stained cheeks away from your face. “It’s just the first time we tried to send a copy for publishing. And yes, rejection is highly probable but this doesn’t mean you have to stop. It always happens! Look at me! I was rejected in the football tryout in our last year in high school, but did that stop me from continuing football? No. No one can tell me what to do with my life and my dreams, except me. No one can bring down the Jeon Effect, you know?” Jungkook tries a smile and when he sees your lips curve a little, relief slowly creeps to soothe the tightness in his chest. “Not only in football, I was also rejected in the drama club! The people there told me I got no experience with the sound and light controls but did that hindered me from doing just that? No. I tried for another application in the second semester and they got me as a trainee but at least, I’ve got better chances now.” Jungkook rubs his neck, “I know this probably really rubs off on me, like I’m probably the King of Rejections right now, but you get what I mean right?”

You nod and when he sees you wiping your tears with a smile growing on your tired face, Jungkook feels like he could straight up go to paradise.

“Maybe that publishing company isn’t ready for you yet and that’s okay because we will keep trying and working hard, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So don’t cry anymore, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Here, I got you your birthday gift.” Jungkook rummages through his gym bag and before you can have a clear view of what he’s pulled out, you could already feel his gift’s warmth on your chest.

“I knitted you a scarf; scarlet red like your favorite color. I kinda wanted to put more effort in your birthday this year so yeah,” Jungkook finishes the loop around your neck, “I made you this. Hope you like it.”

“This…” you trail off, eyes still in wonder of the fabric, “wow it feels so soft. I can’t imagine you actually made this.”

“Believe me I did,” Jungkook chuckles. “You know you’re the only one who I’ll spend this much effort in making gifts.”

“R-really?”

Jungkook smiles. “Yeah.”

The night dwindles further into midnight yet the two of you didn’t mind. The bitter cries and sobs were now replaced with laughter and wonderful stories. Jungkook told you the first escape from training he did tonight and you told him the classes you skipped classes today for the very first time. Jungkook talked about the gingerbread man story he wants to animate for his class and you brought nostalgia to the both of you as you narrated the story of the Golden Prince and his Rose just like how you first told it to him. All of it have been a blur of solace, happiness, and innocence in Jungkook’s mind. However, Jungkook felt the whole world stop when you looked at him through his eyes and said one sentence that changed everything about you, him, and his feelings for you that don’t seem to be the way they appear.

“I remember the night sky I saw in my childhood whenever I look at you.”

Jungkook stills, throat dry, eyes wide. “I-I-Why?”

You chuckle, “Because you always remind me of everything we’ve been through a-and everything we can be.”

Jungkook slept that night running your words in his head over and over again. The warmth that have constantly resided in his chest ever since you’ve taken him to the green fields have now turned into a widespread wildfire, waking up every nerve in his body and lighting them up as if he is made of every bit of starlight and stardust in the universe.

Jungkook felt the need to lay his palm against his chest to feel id his heart is still actually intact or has it already gone with the wind with his brain cells who kept on singing the syllables of your name. Little did he know, this will just be just the start of his own pursuit to match the gravitational forces of attraction between your universe and his, not as the Golden Prince, but as Jeon Jungkook–your childhood bestfriend and your little prince.

Epilogue

1. Falling in love is similar to the feeling of belongingness. To be in love, is to become a friend.

2. Falling in love needs self-discovery andself-development. To be in love is to love yourself.

3. Falling in love feels like owning a whole other dimension you've never heard of with another person. To be in love is to be brave enough for the fall, all risks and benefits be disregarded.

Jungkook bites the cap of his ballpen. Yeah, this is enough of a storyboard for the animation for his project.

On the table beside his notebook for his major Computer Science and his letter from the Korea Football Association, is a pink envelope with a golden crown. Peering from it is a cream-colored paper with his illustration of your golden prince and a red rose.

"Dear princess,

By now, the sprout I have sent you last year’s Valentines must have bloomed. Sunflowers symbolize longevity of love, adoration, and joy (I researched about this, you know ;D). They’ve always known how to find the light and all throughout my life, I’ve always been motivated by your light and the light of the worlds you created for your readers, for you and me. I know this is getting cheesy but I figured they’re enough to carry the message and the weight of my feeling for you and I hope, these flowers have made you happy.

On the side note, please enjoy this film I created of how I came to love you, just as much as how I enjoyed falling in love with you.

Love from a faraway land,

Jeon Jungkook, your little prince.

P.S. By the time you finish reading this, I’m probably behind you now with a bunch of roses and a cheesy eyecandy outfit trying to ask you out for a date. I hope you say yes”

A/N pt. 2 | HI HONS! I MISSED YOU ALL! I know I’ve been off the site quite for long so I this is my way of making it up to you guys! Lately, I’ve been struggling with writing and when my uni announced a week-long break, all my lucky stars aligned to help me sleep more, write more, and enjoy more. I worked on this fic for like a whole week after weeks of inactivity, so please send me what you think about it! (Seriously, I need this, hons. I need to know if I’ve improved or not. *Lowkey me trying to get some compliments and love too because balancing my life between being a content creator and a uni student can be quite hard and some love can really do wonders for me, you know? Hehe)

Thank you for the support you’ve all been giving me! I love you, hons!

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youllallriseintheink · 4 years

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Moving On

This takes place chronologically after the events of another one of my stories, called “Breaking the Time Loop.” I think it’s understandable without having read it, though. I hope everyone enjoys it.

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For twenty three years, Sammy Lawrence had longed for everything he had now. Freedom. His old body. The whole, open, colourful world for him to live in. Even his relationship with Susie Campbell had been given back to him. In his daydreams, Sammy had fantasized about publishing the music he’d written in his years of captivity, becoming involved with a church, marrying, and never coming back to that horrible studio or performing demonic arts again.

Less had changed than he expected. Until he was finally free, he had never realized just how attached he was to the churches he already had within the studio, and the people he’d helped there. And so, every day after work, he’d head into the sketch dimension. The portal to it had found a new home in the closet in the bathroom of his brother’s apartment, where he and Susie were staying until they found their own place to stay. Joey had been perfectly willing to help him move it: there was no more closure to be had from the sketch dimension, and a part of Joey was honestly just happy that someone from the dimension was moving on and helping to salvage the souls of the damned.

Within the dimension, Alice Angel was hard at work sending the souls of Sammy’s cult to heaven. A necessary part of that was separating a soul from the hive mind that lost one’s tended to become when left unattended.

There was nothing functionally wrong with separating them out as needed like Alice was doing. The souls, spread out across dozens of bodies, simply wouldn’t be aware of themselves. A few of them, Sammy knew, had never even attempted to separate due to what could only be described as a very weak will to live. The only problem was that Sammy didn’t like seeing his people melt away into a languid hive. That was why he reopened the Church of Unity and returned to it whenever necessary, playing audio logs for anyone who had forgotten who they were.

There was a good deal less to do at the Church of Unity now that Alice was at work- nothing helps one’s will to live like not being hunted by a demon and the concrete promise of escape. And of course, now that Bendy had given life back to every person he could, the Church of the Ink Demon was permanently closed. The only other “work” he had as a pastor was in encouraging the occasional lost one who was afraid to give himself over to Alice. As a result, Sammy had a lot of time to spend hanging out with the important people in his life. He and Jack were still best friends, and would Sammy often played music with him. Jack also joined Sammy, Tom, and Alice for games of cards. He generally wouldn’t leave the sketch dimension until ten or eleven at night, when his body’s need for sleep forced him to.

At first, Susie stayed up for him. Though, his social batteries were usually drained by that point, so he typically just showered off and went to bed after that, careful to remove every drop of ink from himself and the floor. Susie hated seeing ink in any quantity greater than what would come out of a pen, and she hated when Sammy talked about what was going on in the sketch dimension. Thing was, that was pretty much Sammy’s whole life. Eventually, she stopped staying up for him, making him agree to have dinner with her and his brother each night before disappearing into the sketch dimension instead.

Over dinners, he mostly let Susie talk. She’d always been the type to enjoy talking about her day and the like. As of late, she’d been talking about new technologies and other little things that had changed between the forties and the sixties that she wanted Sammy to see. His response was always the same: “we’ll do it on the weekend.” As of late, she’d been doing a lot of complaining about him not becoming more involved in “the real world.”

Sammy hated that. The people of his cult were real. Real and important to him. If Susie didn’t want to listen to why that was (and she didn’t. She didn’t want to hear a word about the sketch dimension) she’d just have to accept it blind.

Despite some bitterness towards her, Sammy did feel bad about neglecting to make a life outside the sketch dimension, especially as Susie began to lose interest in him. And that wasn’t the only problem with living most of his life there. The other problem was that the people that made up his life were disappearing before his eyes.

Sammy had always known that that would happen eventually, of course. And he knew that his people were going to a better place, and that there was no way for them to live in a physical body again. Still, when someone he had known was there one day and gone from him the next, he couldn’t help but think of it as their death. Like people he knew were dying on a regular, steady basis and the studio just kept getting emptier.

Alice was the only one he could talk to about that. He didn’t even want Susie to know about it. So, when his memories of some ascended lost one were keeping him up at night, he’d leave and head for somewhere where no one could bother him. Oftentimes to his old sanctuary. From his time in captivity, he was used to hearing lost ones cry at night. He was even used to being one of them.

Susie noticed that Sammy’s mood had taken a turn, and was even aware of him leaving at night, but she didn’t know what to do about it. He denied that it was even happening, until a particular event pushed her to act.

It had all started when Sammy had come to Alice and Tom’s place, as he had many times before, only to be greeted by a strange, sketchy, black-and-white man. The man was tall, burly, and completely unsurprised by Sammy’s shock. “Like my new look? Oh calm down, Sammy. It’s Tom. Come in.”

“How...?”

“You see, Sammy,” Alice explained, “I decided to get one of the harder cases over with. The searcher that you’d isolated in that cage because she’d gone entirely insane. Well, after a few hours I realized that there was no fixing her. I should have known. She couldn’t even even speak, the poor thing. So I did what I did for Norman’s soul and just blanked it out and let Tom use it to change form. Boris here might be fine as a mute dog, but Tom isn’t!”

“Oh. Uh, congratulations, Tom. You look great!” Sammy replied, though he was much more concerned with his favourite blob with a hat. “She was so insane she couldn’t talk, you say?”

“Oh, Sammy. I promise you that Jack is going to be fine. I don’t know why he’s always stayed a searcher, but you know that none of them can talk. His soul seems pretty normal from what I can see.” From the corner where he was stroking Boris the wolf, Jack nodded in agreement.

“Alright, good to hear,” Sammy had said. That night, though, he laid awake, pondering his friend’s mortality, and the promise he’d made to his church to do everything in his power to save them. And it just seemed so unfair that he should get to live, just because he happened to have kept a bit of his own hair.

Sammy sat up in bed. That was it. The only way to bring him back was to get some physical remains of his. If that tiny, inky bundle of hair was enough for Bendy to do his magic, then anything ought to do.

Sammy retrieved a phone book from the drawer, taking a glance at the clock, which read 2:36. This was insane, and Sammy knew it was insane. Nonetheless, he flipped through the pages until he came upon the name “Fain.” It made most sense to just start at the top of the list and work his way down. He dialed the first number, the noise painfully loud against the silence of the night.

“Hello,” came a sleepy, female voice. Sammy had to wonder what he’d been thinking, doing this at this hour. Yet, it felt too late to back out now.

“Yes, hello. Do you have a relative named Jack Fain?”

“Uh, let me think... yeah. An uncle, I think.”

“Is he dead?”

“What?

“Sorry, I mean, uh...”

“Who is this?”

There was a silence.

“I’m hanging up-“

“Wait! I’m a geneticist from uh, New York University! We have reason to believe that he had a rare but harmless genetic abnormality that we’d like to study. Do you have anything that might have his DNA?”

“Oh, okay. I’m sorry, no. You might have a better chance with one of his adoptive kids, but I doubt anyone has anything. He went missing a long time ago. Can I give you one of their numbers?”

“I’d love that.”

Within the next ten minutes, Sammy had been on the line with all three of Jack’s adoptive kids, and was no closer to securing Jack’s DNA. He hung the phone back up and slumped to the floor, defeated and ready to cry. His sheep might be going to a better place, but he was still losing them, and he wasn’t sure how much more he could take. Susie and Sammy’s brother watched in silence from the hall. Susie beckoned his brother over.

“What should we do?” she whispered.

“I don’t think we can get through to him,” he replied.

“I think I know someone who can.”

Susie left the man’s side and left for the entrance to the sketch dimension. Even just poking her head through the door and seeing the sepia-toned studio on the other side made her heart pick up the pace. Slowly, she forced herself in, and pulled the door shut behind her. She checked it to make sure that it was in fact unlocked. Alright, she could do this. She’d done it before-done it for years. And it wasn’t as though the ink demon was here this time.

“Relentless forward momentum, Susie. Just do it, and don’t look back.”

Susie made her way through the studio, found an axe, slaughtered a few butcher gang trios, and found the elevator.

Relentless forward momentum. Don’t think, just do. There were plenty of artifacts of her past to trigger her memories, but she refused to take any of it in.

After a trip through Bendyland, she came to an ink river and stopped dead. Allison would be on the other side of this. Come on. Relentless forward momentum. It’s not gonna melt you. After some serious hesitation, Susie got in, waded through as quickly as she could, and found herself at Alice’s door. She gave it a few hard knocks.

“Who is it...?” Alice asked sleepily.

“It’s Susie Campbell.”

Confused, Alice got up and opened the door. Sure enough, Susie was there. “Susie! What brings you here?”

“It’s about Sammy. He’s not adjusting to the real world and I don’t think he would listen to anyone else. I want to give him an intervention, but could use you to soften him up. What do you say?”

Alice hesitated. Susie was getting desperate. “This is the last time he’ll ever get to spend with these people, Susie. I’ve seen into his soul, and you have no idea how much his people matter to him and how good his time here was. Have you ever considered just letting him grieve?”

Tears pricked at Susie’s eyes. “I wish I could see how he’s grown. But all he wants to do is come here. And talk about here. And I don’t wanna ever think about here again. All the ways I was hurt, and hurt other people... I just wanna forget it all and he won’t let me. Alice, if nothing happens, I’m going to have to leave him for my own sake so that I can move on. And I’m worried about how he’ll take that. He’s already crying almost every night, and tonight he was lying to people on the phone and acting like a fool in the middle of the night because he doesn’t want to lose Jack. I don’t wanna put a break up on him on top of that. What should I do, Alice?”

Alice looked to Susie with pity. At this point tears were flowing down the smaller woman’s face. “I guess you should at least warn him,” she sighed. “About the breakup, that is. I guess I can try talking to him. I’m biased, Susie. I don’t know what there is to value out there. I only know about in here. But I’ll try.”

“Okay,” Susie choked out.

“Can I walk you to the elevator? You look like you swam here.”

“There’s an elevator?”

“Yep. The lost ones made it.”

That explained why Susie didn’t know about it. Why would the lost ones share their knowledge with a monstress who wanted to vivisect them for their hearts? But, Susie didn’t have to think about that. A few minutes, and she’d be out of this inky hell.

—-

Sammy was overjoyed that Susie was finally allowing him to bring Allison and Tom out of the sketch dimension. He had something very important to tell them. After, of course, showing them around a little.

Allison in particular was awestruck as they walked downtown together. “There’s so much colour. Oh my gosh, what’s this one called?” Allison asked, pointing to a woman’s dress.

“Indigo. And the belt’s colour is called red,” Sammy said. Showing Allison around like this made him feel like a hero. Suddenly, Allison tore off to a cart selling flowers. By the time he’d caught up with her, she was face-deep in them.

“Oh, Sammy... you told me there were a lot of different kinds of these things, but... I never thought there would be this many.”

“Wanna buy some?”

If it were possible, Alice’s face lit up even more. Sammy bought her some small indigo flowers.

Soon, they were at the park they’d intended to go to. “So,” Alice began, voice somber, “I have something to tell you.”

“Really? Me, too.”

“You first.”

“Okay. So, I know you don’t really know yet what you’re going to do once you’re on the outside, and I’ve been thinking that you and Bendy could make a great team for curing mental illnesses like schizophrenia or dementia. Just kill them, manipulate the soul, and have Bendy bring them back to life. Easy, and it would probably bring in a lot of money.”

Alice looked at him like he was crazy. “Don’t the people out here have more reservations about death than us?”

“Oh, right. But, they also have reservations about torturing themselves with mental illness. I think a lot of people would still take it.”

“I don’t know, Sammy. I kind of want to find out who I am when I’m not killing people and manipulating souls. I don’t expect you to get it, but choosing who someone is supposed to be without their input is stressful. I’m not sure I can even do anything about dementia- it’s more a physical thing. And just... look around,” Allison gestured at the park. “It’s beautiful. Tom and I want to come out here and try something new. Anyhow, do you know if Bendy would be up to it?”

Sammy looked pensively to the grass. “No. Can I call him now?”

“Sure.”

So, that’s what Sammy did. Bendy picked up.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Bendy. It’s Sammy Lawrence.

“Hi, Sammy! To what do ah owe the honour?”

“This is... mostly hypothetical, but I was wondering if you’d be up to joining in a little project with Allison. It would involve moving across states to live with her, but I can imagine no greater use of your gifts.”

Bendy was silent a moment. Then, he heard Bendy call out, “Dad! It’s Sammy! He wants me to move in with Alice!”

“What?” Henry grunted before taking the phone and chasing Bendy off to play. “Sammy, hi! How are you adjusting to the real world?”

“Good...”

“Good. Now look, I’m sorry, but Bendy relocating now is not a good idea.”

Sammy was surprised with the strength of his reaction. “But why? You don’t even know what my plan is.”

“Because, Sammy,” Henry said patiently, “Bendy is a child. It doesn’t matter what the plan was. He needs his parental figures.”

“No he isn’t,” Sammy retorted, “He’s a powerful, 20-something-year-old demon that can control ink and raise the dead.”

“Yeah, but he spent several of those years locked and chained in an empty room, and spent the rest of them wandering around in a pocket dimension attempting to steal a soul. And right now, he wouldn’t want to be separated from me for two days, let alone to move to another state with Tom and Allison. Mentally, he’s just a child with abandonment issues. I don’t know what I’m going to do with him long-term, Sammy. Right now we’re going to try putting him in school. He’ll probably be ready for something like what you’re talking about one day. But right now, we honestly just want to move on.”

“Oh. Okay,” Sammy said. Then he hung up.

“What did he say?” Alice asked.

“They want to move on.”

Alice nodded. “That’s the thing I needed to tell you. Susie is worried about you. She thinks you have to move on.”

Sammy hid his head in his hands. A ton of thoughts, most of them nasty, brewed. He counted to ten and said, “Susie doesn’t realize how important my cult is to me. She doesn’t want to talk about anything.”

“She’s traumatized.”

Sammy strained to keep the anger out of his voice and the tears out of his eyes. “Why couldn’t you have just fixed that when you had the chance? It hurts us. You fixed that other guy.”

Alice sighed. “That’s different, Sammy. Depression is basically the brain not producing enough of a couple chemicals. To use the writing metaphor, it’s a matter of correcting a couple grammatical errors. With Susie, it would be like rewriting the plot, or deleting sentences. Susie’s trauma is about her memories, and her interpretation of them. Unless it were necessary, I couldn’t just... delete soul-deep memories. I could have planted thoughts in her head so that she wouldn’t be so affected by them, but after doing so much of that already for her identity issues and aggression, I just wanted to keep it low-interference wherever I could. And maybe that was a mistake. There isn’t a manual for this, y’know. I have to make choices and then live with them.”

“Oh. Okay,” Sammy replied, resigned. “If I can ask, what’s the biggest thing you did to me?”

“I made your thinking less black and white. That’s about it.”

“Okay.”

Sammy sat in silence a while, head on his knees. “What are you going to do when you can come out?” Sammy asked. “Who will you stay with?

“Presumably Tom and I will just live in the sketch dimension until we can afford a real place.”

“Okay. I was just thinking about letting the sketch dimension go for Susie’s sake. The thing is, I don’t want to leave you to learn about the world alone-“

Alice grabbed Sammy’s hand. His perfect, creamy white hand. This was someone pure. Someone who wouldn’t be stared at by every man woman and child out here. “Sammy. Look at yourself. You belong out here. With people. I wouldn’t want to hold you back.”

“You wouldn’t be. Alice, I’m not the person I was going into the sketch dimension, and I wouldn’t want to be. I want to discover who I am now and how I could fit in to this world, too. That’s what Susie doesn’t seem to get- even when my cult is gone, I don’t want things to go back to the way they were. We could figure out our new lives together. Tom, too.”

Alice would have blushed if she were physically capable of it. She also laughed a little, which confused Sammy. “What?”

“Oh, nothing. It just that I was supposed to get you to see the light and leave the sketch dimension behind. It seems like I’ve done pretty much the opposite. I’m gonna warn you, though: Susie and your brother are waiting for you to come back to the apartment so they can do a little intervention for you.”

The two came back to the apartment together, where Susie and Sammy’s brother were waiting. They had a serious talk together about what Sammy could be doing to handle loss better, and Sammy listened. He also explained his side of the story and what he’d planned with Allison. Susie was devastated, but also relieved when she and Sammy broke up. After the intervention was finished, Susie called her sister, and was moved out within a week.

—-

It was a little over a year later, and Sammy was rowing across a lake with Allison and Tom, where they planned on having a picnic to celebrate the anniversary of Tom and Alice’s entry into the real world. Sammy was happy that he’d chosen to be a part of it.

had found their place in a little town that housed the greatest hospice in New York State. The people out here had gotten used to having two sketchy, black and white people around. It had taken time, though. Sammy had gotten a job at the hospice fairly easily, but it took him a while to convince his boss to give Allison a chance. It had turned out to be a good place for them both to use their skills, including ones Sammy had developed during his time as an ink creature. It was far from a secular hospice, so Sammy could even use spirituality to comfort some of the patients. Alice occasionally took a soul home and fixed it up enough to land it in heaven, which she found to be a good balance between using her power and being more than it. Tom was also happy working as a lumberjack. Even aside from work though, it was a nice town, though- small, tight-knit, out in nature, had a nice church.

Not all of their transition was easy. It was very hard for Tom and Allison to discover that just because they’d been together when their were no other options, didn’t mean that their love would survive once they were free to make other choices. Alice and Sammy had had feelings for each other on some level since the moment they’d met, and became a couple pretty much the second that they were both single at the same time. The trio remained friends, though, with Tom living fairly close by and visiting often.

Sammy had readjusted some of his unused music for the modern age and had released them to some success. Susie had called him to congratulate him as soon as she saw a record with his name on it for sale. They exchanged stories about how they were doing. Susie was doing well. She was back in voice acting and was getting fairly good roles, and she was engaged now. That had been a couple months ago, and they hadn’t talked since. That was okay. Sammy had moved on. At their own pace, everyone had.

---

Do you guys think Sammy made the right choice? When I started writing this, I was thinking I’d end it with Sammy giving the portal to the sketch dimension to Henry, forcing himself to move on, and eventually marrying Susie.

#Bendy and the Ink Machine #breaking the time loop #my fanfiction #sammy lawrence #Allison Angel #susie campbell #sammy x allison angel

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aliceslantern · 4 years

Text

Serendipity, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 1

ser·en·dip·i·ty | n -- the occurrence of an unplanned fortunate discovery.

It's all fun and games until someone gets pregnant.

Modern AU, Zemyx, Ienzo is afab trans

Read it on FF.net/on AO3

---

Ienzo hated parties.

No; "hate" was a strong word. As an eternal introvert, parties took a lot from him, and required several days' of mental preparation. But it was not always avoidable.

And anyway, he did want to go to this party. It wasn't often a childhood friend got their own gallery show, after all. There would be art and wine and probably intellectual conversation--something as designed for Ienzo as possible other than the social interaction. He sighed. All Naminé had said about the dress code was to "wear black" and the only thing he had since his unfortunate rebellious goth phase was a slightly-too-tight turtleneck that made him acutely aware of the fact that he was not in shape.

There was no point caring about his appearance. Who did he have to impress? If he cared, he'd actually do something about the hair growing directly into his eyes.

Ienzo was early. The city streets were narrow, and he needed a parking space. He walked slowly to the door of the gallery, trying to gather himself and smile. Naminé was already inside, of course, talking to one of the curators and adjusting the tilt of the frame just slightly. A few people were milling about, picking at the crudités that had been left out. He should've been later. Easier to blend in.

Well. No point backing out now. Once she turned away from the curator, she spotted him and smiled. "You made it," she said. "I thought someone was going to have to drag you." She leaned in for a hug.

"Congratulations," he said earnestly. "I do hope everything is for sale? I'd love to support you."

She waved a hand vaguely. "I'm just so in shock, to be honest. First time I haven't had to pay to be featured anywhere, never mind possibly making a profit. It does look so odd, right? To think most of this lived behind my couch until yesterday afternoon."

"Well, it's very much deserved," he said honestly. "It's about time someone noticed your talent."

She blushed. "Do you want any wine? Any snacks? It's all offered by them, so don't be shy."

He sighed. "That would be prudent, wouldn't it?"

By the time she'd walked him over, a handful of other people had entered the gallery, all of them wanting to congratulate the artist. Alone in her flowy white dress, she looked very much like a spec in the darkness. Pretty, free, glowing from the attention.

Ienzo spent a half hour or so wandering the gallery, with its exposed brick walls. It was nice, to have the excuse not to talk. She'd done a series based on portraiture and memory, something he forgot entirely until he was looking at a (thankfully small) charcoal sketch of his own face. Naminé had a bad habit of drawing anything not nailed down, and asking permission later.

"Hey, that's you!" a man said. Ienzo looked up.

He was blonde, his undercut gelled on the top. His black shirt was wrinkled and French-tucked. Ienzo knew this person was familiar, but wasn't sure how. Small town?

"Well--yes," he said. "I forgot I consented to sharing this."

The man reached up almost to touch the sketch. "She's talented, isn't she," he said, positively glowing with pride. "Oh! I'm not a creep, I'm her brother." A wry laugh. "Demyx. Hi." He offered his hand.

"...Ienzo. Pleasure." His hands were rough, callused.

"Oh, I know," he said breezily. Then, at Ienzo's blank look, "you're her friend. She talks about you."

"I'm sorry--all the years I've known her and she's never shown me a photo of you."

He laughed. "Our family is… weird," he said slowly. "It doesn't surprise me."

"...I see," Ienzo said. He wondered if it would be rude to go get more wine. "I suppose… every family has its quirks."

He nodded once. There was something in his teal eyes that contradicted the friendliness of his expression, something sharp and aware. Something that--to his chagrin--Ienzo found fascinating. But why?

"Are there any of you?" he asked lamely.

Demyx laughed again, that awkward, staccato sound. "Yes," he said. "It's--ah, over here." He rested a hand on Ienzo's shoulder and pointed him to another painting. Ienzo wouldn't have known it was a portrait unless he was told; blue green swirls and a flash of blonde showed an abstracted version of a person. "I almost drowned when she was little," he admitted. "I think she took it to heart."

"...I see." Ienzo looked over through his bangs at this man. He saw, very quickly when Demyx thought he wasn't looking, the man give him a once-over.

Ah.

He couldn't deny that he also found him attractive, despite the man being most definitely not his type (with that hair?). It was the look in his eye. The something more. "So what do you do?" Ienzo asked.

"Well, I'm also kind of an artist," he said. "A musician."

Figured. "...I see," he said politely. Well. No matter dwelling on a passing attraction.

"But for my day job I teach," he added, wrinkling his nose. "Music. At the college."

Ienzo's eyebrows shot up. (His heart fluttered.) "You're a professor ?"

Demyx snorted. "I don't look it, right? But I can prove it." He took out a beat-up wallet and brandished a faculty ID. "Read it and weep."

"You just look so--young," Ienzo said lamely.

Demyx shrugged. "It was sort of a happy accident," he admitted. "I was finishing my master's and the guy they hired to teach theory I and guitar crapped out. They offered me the job for a semester, and, well, I guess they liked me enough to stop looking." He grinned. "I tend to thrive under the radar. Want more wine?"

Ienzo's heart was racing. "Yes. Please."

---

They ended up talking for hours. Long enough for the gallery to close, for Naminé to waggle her eyebrows at him when she saw them sitting together. Long enough for Demyx to ask him to get another drink. Ienzo wasn't sure if it were his tipsiness, but this conversation didn't exhaust him the way previous dates so often did. It wasn't until the bartender was asking for last call did he realize how late it was--that, and he was in no shape to drive home. "Oh, goodness," he said. "I'm afraid I got carried away."

"Like how?"

"Like--I came out expecting to spend two very proper hours admiring my friend's art. Here we are."

Demyx smiled. "I don't know why she was hiding you," he said. "I've had… a lot of fun."

"Me too," he said earnestly.

"Would you want to go on an actual date sometime?"

He smiled. He was tired enough not to psych himself out. "Absolutely." He sighed. "Though I'm afraid I'm in no condition to take myself home."

"You could crash at mine," Demyx suggested. Then, seeing Ienzo's expression, "on the couch! Not what I meant at all." He chuckled. "Or I can call you an Uber."

"Is it far?"

"A couple of blocks. Think you can make it?"

"I'm not that drunk--just shouldn't drive."

He followed him out of the bar. It was very late, the moon hanging high in the sky, making everything quiet and silver. Demyx slid his hand into Ienzo's. He felt a little thrill, trying to recall the last time he'd enjoyed being touched so. His own attempts at dating hadn't exactly been fortuitous. Rarely did he ever meet anyone on an app that inspired real chemistry.

"I love this time of night," Ienzo said.

"Me too," Demyx said. "Nobody has expectations--the world is asleep. So calm. I come up with my best stuff at night. It's like I can breathe."

He bobbed his head. "I do sometimes have trouble with that. The annoying grind of mundanity. Easy to lose yourself."

"Yeah." He smiled sadly. "Well, here we are. Second floor."

It was a relatively new apartment building. The stairwell smelled like Pledge and dust. When Demyx unlocked the door, a small gray cat meowed indignantly.

“That’s just Janice,” Demyx said. “Come on. Be nice,” he added to the cat.

It sniffed Ienzo’s hand and nuzzled him. Blearily, Ienzo took in the apartment. It definitely seemed to belong to a bachelor--the furniture was plain and shabby, and the “couch” was a futon. The coffee table was a pair of milk crates with a board over it. There were some band posters on the wall. Thankfully the place seemed clean. It actually had good bones; the appliances seemed relatively new, the cabinets real wood.

“I’ll get you some blankets,” Demyx said. “Bathroom’s through there if you need. I might have a new toothbrush somewhere--”

“Don’t worry about it,” Ienzo said. “I’d hate to trouble you. Really.”

He blinked wearily. “Alright. Hang tight.” He came back with two blankets and a pillow. “Wifi password’s on the router.”

“Thanks again.”

He smiled. “Of course. Hope you sleep well.”

Ienzo was too exhausted to do much more than curl up on the lumpy futon. His tipsiness was good to him, and he drifted off.

---

Ienzo woke up to gold sunlight coming in through the blinds. There was something warm by his feet; he sat up slowly and saw the cat curled at the foot of the futon.

So. This had all happened.

Ienzo rolled onto his back and watched the light play on the ceiling. It had been a long while since he’d had so much fun on a date. It felt almost… odd. He’d told himself he was too busy to date, too set in what he wanted. But honestly? If he had seen Demyx on one of his apps, he probably wouldn’t have given him a second glance.

He heard movement from the other room. The other man was still in pajamas, his hair mussed and loose around his face. “You sleep okay?”

“Like a rock--then again, I always do when I’m drunk.” He sighed. “Thanks again.”

He smiled. “Don’t mention it. Better than you trying to get yourself home. Though I have to admit, it’s rare Janice cuddles up to a guest.” He leaned over to pet the cat, giving Ienzo a peek of his (surprisingly toned?) chest under the collar of his T-shirt. “Coffee? Tea?”

“I’d hate to be any trouble--”

Demyx rolled his eyes. “Which is it?”

“Whichever you’re having, I guess.”

He was handed a mug of black coffee. “I never asked what you do,” Demyx said. “We talked about so much stuff other than our actual lives.”

“I’m a librarian,” he said. “I work mostly in the research department.”

“Do you like it?” He sat on the other end of the futon.

“I love books, and I love research,” he said honestly. “It’s the best of both of those things. Sure, sometimes I have to help certain… characters with questionable projects, but it’s worth it to have so many resources.”

He cocked his head. “What do you research?”

“What don’t I research?” Ienzo asked, with a sigh. “Whatever strikes my fancy at the moment, I suppose, but I have a soft spot for linguistics and psychology. And gothic literature, but as my father is fond of telling me, that won’t pay the bills.” He rolled his eyes. “The joys of capitalism.”

Demyx laughed. “Sounds like he’s fun at parties.”

Ienzo smiled. “Oh, incredibly,” he said sarcastically. “But he… means well. Very doting.”

“Are you two close?”

“Closer than we were when I was a child,” Ienzo admitted. “His husband came ready-made with a child, and that transition wasn’t necessarily easy.” He wasn’t sure why he was saying all this. “You are… astoundingly easy to talk to.”

“Thanks, I’ll be here all week.” He looked into his mug, the glint in his eyes becoming sad. “I don’t remember my parents much,” he said.

“Naminé never brings them up.”

“They were… not so into childrearing,” he added, with a shrug. “Especially when I got older… there’d be food in the fridge, checks in the mail, but for the most part they sort of did their own thing. They call, once every few months, to see if we’re still alive, but that’s about it."

“So you were kind of on your own,” Ienzo said.

“Eh, I try not to get too hung up on it,” Demyx said. “No point, right?”

“I suppose not.” The coffee was strong, warming the pale shadow of his mild hangover.

He drummed his fingers on the edge of the mug. “So about that date,” Demyx said. “The library’s closed on weekends, right? How about today?”

Ienzo felt his face warm. Normally he’d need more warning, more time to mentally prepare himself, and to groom. But something about Demyx’s nature made that not matter. “Sure. Why not?”

They spent most of a day wandering around town, grabbing meals when appropriate, talking. Walking around the park, talking. Ienzo didn’t know how many words he’d been holding inside until they were coming out. It felt so good to hold Demyx’s hand, or to feel it on the small of his back. Something about it was so familiar. So… comfortable.

He didn’t believe in love at first sight. And it wasn’t love, not yet; but rather an intoxicating slurry of attraction and interest. Something that could… become. Perhaps this was why when Demyx asked him if he’d like to come up for “a cup of coffee” at the end of the day, he said yes.

And to be fair, there was coffee; they just didn’t drink much of it.

Ienzo found himself making out with him on that horrible lumpy futon. He wasn’t averse to casual sex, had done it multiple times, but typically when actually dating he didn’t immediately hop into bed with that person right out of the gate. With Demyx, he was absolutely breaking all of his own rules--seeing a creative, not making an extra effort with his appearance, not taking the time to fully process things before moving forward. But oddly, the rush of this made that all not matter.

Ienzo was sitting in his lap. He wasn’t sure if this made it better or worse, but Demyx was a very good kisser, especially compared to his last failed date. Ienzo’s mind stubbornly did not wander as it was normally wont to in these situations. Demyx’s hair was deceptively soft as he tangled his hands in it. Too soon, Demyx broke away. “This isn’t too fast for you, is it?” he asked breathlessly.

“No. Not at all.”

“Good. I just… I don’t know, I don’t usually do this.”

“What, instead of taking your time seducing me?”

He giggled. “Well, kind of.”

“I don’t usually either,” Ienzo admitted, kissing his jaw, his throat. Demyx was pressing up against him, the strangeness of hardness against denim. Despite himself, he felt his heart skip, this time with an anxiety. They’d talked about so many things, but not so much about one of the most important. He took a breath; and broke another one of his rules. “I… have to tell you something.” He swallowed.

“What?” Demyx touched his face. “Are you a virgin or something?”

“No, but it… might change things?”

“You’re shaking,” Demyx said. “What is it?”

He hated that he constantly had to explain himself. “I’m… trans. Transgender?” He shut his eyes. “I wouldn’t blame you if you want to cut things where they are.”

His expression was hard to read. “Oh.”

“I should’ve said something sooner.”

His hand was so warm through Ienzo’s shirt. “No. Thanks for telling me. It doesn’t change anything. I mean. It changes things, but it doesn’t change things. You know?”

He wasn’t sure whether or not to be relieved. “Oh?”

Demyx blushed and bit his lip. “I’ve never been with… a person with those parts. I’d… kind of thought, when I didn’t feel anything between your legs… I just thought I was doing a bad job.” He laughed awkwardly.

“That’s not it at all. I have a… packer I wear, but sometimes I can’t be fussed, honestly.” He could feel his face burning. “But it isn’t… difficult, if you’d be comfortable with that.”

His hand was shaking a little; Ienzo could feel it. “I’d be willing to try.”

“I could… show you, if you like,” he said slowly, unable to make eye contact. “Some other time… or now, whichever.”

Demyx kissed him, and for a moment they were lost in each other before he broke away. “I could try now.”

His heart skipped again. “Okay.”

“Come on.”

Demyx led him deeper into the apartment. Ienzo could barely take in the details, a combination of nerves and excitement making him feel vaguely dizzy. He thought he could smell incense, clean laundry, instruments on stands, a record player. Most of his focus was on the queen-sized bed. When was the last time he felt such genuine lust during a hookup, instead of mere curiosity? It was almost unfamiliar, making him shake and quieting the ever-present noise inside of his head. Demyx kissed him again, deeply, his tongue flicking against Ienzo’s before reaching for the hem of his turtleneck. He took him in with something like reverence before leaning down to kiss his collarbone, sending a fizz through his body. Ienzo reached up to take off Demyx’s own shirt, only able to look at him for a moment before he was eased onto the bed.

His thoughts were muddy, murky, and yet he was so inside of his own body. He struggled to unbutton Demyx’s jeans and felt him working at Ienzo’s, slipping them off. The nerves returned, making him acutely aware of the dampness between his legs, the insistent throb of his clit. He wondered if he might combust, and if that would be so awful.

Demyx broke away from the kiss. “Can I see it?” he asked.

“Yes--just--”

Demyx helped him out of his underwear. He was infinitely glad he was meticulous with his own personal grooming. He had not honestly thought this day would end with him getting laid. It felt a little awkward, to part his legs. Demyx ran his hand along the inside of Ienzo’s thigh, making him shudder. “Oh,” he said softly.

“I don’t believe this is the first one you’ve seen,” he said, attempting a drollness and a coolness he did not feel. “Not at all.”

“True, but… not in real life,” Demyx admitted. “But you’re so… god, you’re beautiful.”

He snorted. “Hardly.”

“Really.” He leaned down to kiss him. Ienzo tried to take off Demyx’s own underwear, his dick already straining against them.

The skin of it was warm against his palm. At least Ienzo knew he was competent at this. Demyx moaned against his shoulder.

“Before you… really go at it,” he said, with difficulty. “First tell me how to--”

A blush made him hotter. “Right. Ah--” He’d never had to explain this to any of his partners. “There’s a… little nub, the--”

“The clit?”

Thank god he knew that much. “Yes, just… that’s the most important bit.”

“Can I… can I touch you?” His expression was so tender. There was no way this was all real, Ienzo thought. There had to be a catch.

“Yes.”

He felt Demyx’s callused hand slide down his body, bringing with it a rush. After a moment where he seemed to struggle to find the nerve, he eased his hand over it, almost making Ienzo spasm. Demyx felt at it for a moment before he found the clit. “This?”

He swallowed. “That’s it. The… testosterone makes it… like that.”

“As long as I can make you feel good.” He kissed him again and began to stroke it, rolling it between his fingers. The feel of the calluses made Ienzo gasp aloud. “Is that bad?”

“No, no, it’s…” He could barely speak. “It’s very good.” With a trembling hand he fumbled to find Demyx’s dick, trying to move in rhythm with him. Hearing him struggle for breath only turned Ienzo on more. He could already feel the sensation building along his body, hot and electric. “If you want, you could… you could go inside me.”

Demyx looked up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Just--do you have a condom?”

His breath hitched. “Sure. Of course.” He dug in a bedside drawer that Ienzo honestly hadn’t noticed. He could feel his knees shaking. “Do you need lube?”

How had Demyx not felt how wet he was? “No.” Ienzo took the packet from him and eased it over his dick.

He laughed. “You might have to help me.” He guided the tip of it into him with one hand and gasped, his eyes closing. “It’s different.”

“In a bad way?”

“No.” He pressed into him a little more. “God, no. That doesn’t hurt you?”

“Doesn’t require as much preparation,” Ienzo explained. He opened his legs a little more, letting them rest against Demyx’s hips, for a moment just taking in the feel of his dick. It was more substantial than the hands or toys he’d taken over the past few months.

Demyx moaned. “You feel so good.”

“I could… say the same. Just kind of… slow and deep.”

He started to move against Ienzo. His skin was tingling, the warmth and weight of Demyx’s body combined with the thrusting bringing him again closer to that edge. The grind of Demyx’s hips brushed against Ienzo’s clit, forcing a small noise from him. He felt as though he were losing control--another rule broken--but found, in the moment, he didn’t care. Ienzo tangled his hands in that blonde hair and kissed him, finding a rhythm with him, smooth and gentle, a steadily growing heat blocking out anything else.

“Maybe a little faster?” he asked in a voice that wasn’t quite his.

Demyx made another noise and obliged him, moving harder. Ienzo could feel every bit of it, his body getting so sensitive the more excited he got. “Fuck,” Demyx said to his shoulder. He pressed his lips against his shoulder, his chest. “I--”

He let himself get lost in his body, his trembling thighs, the little waves of feeling starting to break over him in earnest, building smoothly towards that finish. “I’m really--”

Demyx’s hand reached down into the tangle of their bodies to find his clit again, and it was this more than anything that forced him over the edge.

It overtook him so fully and completely that for a moment he wasn’t sure where he was, a hot and demanding pleasure holding everything out at arm’s length. He couldn’t stop shaking. He could feel, on some level, Demyx thrust into him once or twice more before he seemed to finish too, his dick twitching a little inside of him.

Ienzo came back slowly, seeing the ceiling first, his hands trembling, his skin borderline raw. Demyx eased out of him, making him shudder, and threw away the condom. “Are you okay?” Ienzo heard.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m still--coming down.”

“...Me too.” Demyx settled next to him on the bed, breathing hard. “Do you cuddle?”

Another rule that would be broken. At this point why bother keeping track? “Yes.” If anything, the arms around his waist helped. “I’m not sure I believe that was your first time.”

He laughed. “What, because I paid attention to you for five seconds? What idiots have you been sleeping with?”

“...Idiots, indeed.” He found himself relaxing in this strange bed. He’d almost forgotten that sex with another person could be satisfying instead of mere physical upkeep. “I do believe that’s the best I’ve had for some time.”

Demyx brushed his cheek. “Fuck, me too. I just… where did you come from, Ienzo?”

“Here. Planet Earth.” He smiled. “Though I… haven’t experienced something so instant in a long while. Maybe ever.”

“Me either.” He kissed him, and for a moment Ienzo used that to ground himself. “I know it’s been… like, a day and a half. But I really like you.”

The smile was involuntary. “Maybe it’s against my better judgement… but I like you too.”

#serendipity #ienzo #demyx #zemyx #ienzo is afab trans #unplanned pregnancy

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