#but they will go through every obstacle together as always. they are the most sincere most trusting most loving couple i know

[fierte-verte]

Being Steve's Neighbor + Rival-to-Lover Would Include... (Part 1)

Part 2/ Part 3/ Part 4

Pre-1981

growing up in hawkin's wealthy neighborhood, you were warranted an easy childhood: nice clothes, parents who skillfully mastered the laissez-faire attitude, and opportunities to pursue everything from ballet to athletics

you had a knack for maneuvering around obstacles, taking to hurdles like a fish to water

hawkins middle school had never seen a faster pair of legs, that was, until your neighbor decided to dip his musty toes in the sport

steve harrington was the nightmare of all opponents: arrogant and crude but unfairly blessed with exceptional motor skills

you hated his guts with a burning passion, the way he'd carelessly flick his sweat-drenched towel around, fancy running shoes digging into the ground to make obnoxious sounds

not to mention his ego, so honest-to-god swollen that it couldn't handle being bested by a girl

"hey princess, why don't you go ahead and quit already? save yourself the humiliation"

"like when your parents never show up at any of our meets?"

few in town knew how dysfunctional the picture-perfect Harringtons were, but as their neighbor you had witnessed first hand how little steve's parents cared about him

the ugly truth was a fatal sore spot with steve, and the results were deadly each time you weaponized it

clear brown eyes would darken into a muddy blur, fists clenched so tight you'd see crescent marks on flesh when they unfurled

you always almost felt sorry at the sight of his crumbling expression, frustration and loneliness marring a twelve year-old's face

walking off silently in opposite directions was the only form of truce you two knew

you'd never admit to looking back twice, but under the setting sun there was never a more forlorn shape than his shadow

steve and you were always neck and neck in training, but your rivalry also extended beyond the track and school

on weekends, the little asshole loved to lounge in his pool, blasting the radio at an ungodly volume while you tried to read in the garden next door

"harrington! do you mind? some of us actually have a brain we'd like to enrich once in a while!"

"what? can't hear you over this totally tubular song!"

if your parents were at home to shout over the fence for you, he'd turn the music down in a heartbeat, apology laced with faux sincerity

"sorry mr. and mrs. y/l/n! i didn't know y/n was reading"— you could just hear his shit-eating grin

your parents might've found him cheeky, likeable even, but your protective dachshund Gracie knew better

watching steve squirm as she gave him the stink eye on her daily walk was a great source of satisfaction

"(y/l/n)! get your sausage dog to stop glaring at me"

joint-house dinners for thanksgiving were the worst; the harringtons, knowing nothing about their son, would insist that you and steve sit together at the table

he was relentless with his antics; swapping your salt and sugar, flicking peas into your mashed potatoes whenever the adults weren't looking, "accidentally" using your salad fork and then proceeding to lick it clean in the most revolting manner possible—

needless to say, you would be seething before dessert every time

the look on his face whenever you stamped his pristine sneakers under the table, however, always lasted you through the rest of dinner

1981

when high school rolled around, steve was still unpleasant as ever— though he seemed to have turned his attention away from track, spending it on basketball and swimming instead

you befriended the spunky robin buckley on your first day, both of you late to algebra with mr. mundy

bright as a button, and never one to tell lies, robin was quick to earn your trust

she also learnt your disdain for a certain neighbor in no time

"i'm telling you rob, it's all farrah fawcett and no brain in that head"

to your utter horror, and her amusement, you and steve end up getting paired for ms. jones' chemistry project

"na-cl-uh? what the hell is na-cl-uh?"

"jesus harrington, it's NaCl— sodium chloride"

steve would've loved to roll his eyes and mutter an indiscreet nerd, but he knew damn well you were his grade's saving grace

halfway through freshman year, steve had officially quit track, unable to juggle three sports and his father's crushing expectations

to everyone's surprise, you were livid at the news, storming up to his lunch table one day with a flabbergasted robin in tow

he'd taken one glance at your furious face before ducking behind tommy h for protection— coward, as if that stick of a boy could even land a punch

"why’d you quit?"

he just stared at you, doe eyes comically wide and mouth hanging open with a disgustingly half-chewed hot dog inside

"what's it to you, princess? thought you'd be glad to get rid of your strongest competition"

robin gave you a gentle nudge, seemingly in agreement with steve's statement— now quite true in hindsight

would life be easier if you didn't have steve "the hair" harrington breathing down your neck at every training? yes

but did the idea of steve throwing away his potential, when you know he's got what it takes to win state, national even, sting like hell? also yes

anyone who has a problem with it can sue you, but it still didn't take away the fact that, for some absurd reason, you'd had higher hopes for the insufferable jerk

the unreal confrontation that day ended with you stalking away from the table, simultaneously mortified and disappointed

steve had laughed it off with tommy h and the rest of his underlings, but his eyes never once left your retreating back, curious and astonished

that summer, you focused half of your time on training and hanging out at robin's house, with the other half spent babysitting kids around town

will byers was one of them— soft-spoken, imaginative, and extremely perceptive, he was your favorite gremlin of them all

you'd watch him when joyce and jonathan were out late on their work shifts, always ending up in castle byers because will didn't like staying in the house without them

you'd sit comfortably surrounded by quilts and pillows, chin propped on folded knees as he talked about the party and their latest campaign

he missed his dad sometimes, you could tell, despite the man's sleaziness and self-served character

you hated seeing the sad frown form between will's eyebrows, too familiar and jarring on a little boy's face

"hey kid— you think i'd make a good clerk?"

"cleric," he'd correct, exasperated but grateful for the momentary distraction

1982

sophmore year rolled by quickly; you did well in hurdles and picked up pole vaulting, started learning russian with robin, and grew an unhealthy obsession with rob lowe when the outsiders came out

you'd coax robin into watching it with you at sleepovers, rewinding the tape over and over again with the window open until steve chucked something through it from his room across

"if i have to hear rob lowe ask about his dx shirt one more time—"

he'd argue that you're addicted, but it's more a religion, really

already used to your bickering, robin would snort, swallow her mouthful of popcorn, and toss whatever steve had thrown in into a blue basket labelled "environmental pollutant"

it's mainly filled with socks, marbles, forgotten toy cars, and a few crumpled up pages of playboy that was excellent blackmail material

for three weeks, you sat next to laurie hills in english, listening to her go on and on about steve's hair, his "manly" hands, how much of a gentleman he was to her

not much, you thought to yourself, if the sight of amy pline climbing through his window on a friday night was any indication

he'd catch your squinted eyes through the window, having the audacity to look the slightest embarrased at having gotten caught

he always covered it up with a half-baked smug grin, however, and you'd tell laurie she was better off without him every time she came to class late, poorly hidden tear streaks peeking through fresh powder

the somewhat civilized hostility between you and steve continued on until late march, when you came home one day to find gracie missing, the front door swung open ominously

overcome with panic, you looked up and down the street before spotting steve on his porch, nursing what seemed to be a sore cheek

"harrington! have you seen gracie?"

startled at your voice and already cranky from being slapped, steve couldn't help but react harshly

"in case you haven't noticed, (y/l/n), i'm not exactly in the state to keep an eye out for deranged canines”

the worry in your stomach swelled, along with fury at steve's nonchalance— you'd thought he would at least offer a helping hand in looking, knowing how much gracie meant to you after your grandfather's death

"you know, steve, despite what your blockhead friends tell you, you don't actually have to be an ass all the time"

if the tears threatening to spill from your eyes didn't do the trick, hearing the rare sound of his name from your mouth definitely jolted steve from his grouchy spell

"hey, i'm sorry, i didn't—"

"forget it, steve, i don't want to beg for your help. i shouldn't have to"

you hurried away from the harrington house, scurrying around the area in search of a black and tan blob

it began to pour soon after, the rain soaking you to a tee; unable to see anything in the weather, you began to tread back home reluctantly

if there ever was a stranger sight, it'd be steve harrington standing on the steps of your house, equally drenched and holding something in his bunched up jacket

upon walking closer, you realized it was gracie, fur damp and shaking slightly in steve's arms

"i-uh-found her on mirkwood, scared and everything behind a dumpster"

he watched as you cooed and whispered soothingly at gracie, fingers reaching out to rub behind her ears— all the while ignoring the heavy thumping in his own chest

"i'm-uh-sorry, for earlier, laurie came over and we started fighting—"

"i know, steve, i sit next to her in english," you offered a wobbly, pained smile as the olive branch, only to have steve see it as another stick tossed to the fire

"oh? so that's how it is? class bell rings and a gossip parade starts like it's the fourth?" the sudden souring of his tone caused you to tense, ready to revert back to the usual jibes and digs

"what in the— steve, i'm not the bad guy in your relationship. it's not like laurie is clueless about your conquests, you know, since amy pline can't keep her mouth shut about you even if her life depended on it—"

"so you tell her to break up with me, steve harrington, the big bad neighbor”

"oh please!" you could hear the rush of blood from your ears to cheeks, "you look at anyone remotely interested like a goddamn piece of meat, and you chew and spit them out so carelessly, like you're above all us peasants, who have to pick up your mess just because you can't keep it in your pants—"

"oh ok, i'm smelling some big-time jealously here. you're mad i don't pay you enough attention, princess? that i don't grovel at your feet like aaron marvey and the rest of the track team?"

that's it, you think to yourself in sheer bewilderment, steve harrington's officially out of his goddamn mind

plucking gracie from his arms, your hands gentle despite the rage, you swerved around steve to unlock your front door, entire body trembling in shock

such wishful thinking, that eight years of knowing each other could, if even for a minute, somehow place you in his good graces

there was no hiding how upset you were, so you spun around, looked straight into his eyes and whispered, "have a good rest of your day, king steve— i’d say i hope to see you later but i don’t"

leaning against the door as it slammed shut, you felt the prickle of fresh tears in your eyes— why were you crying? and of all people, because of steve harrington?

gracie, the rain, messing up your pace more than usual in training today— that had to be it, not your stupid neighbor who didn't know the definition of humility until it slapped him across the face, who suddenly decided to soak his 40-dollar Gazelles looking for a dog whom he didn't even like (not to mention before insulting her owner in every way possible)

jesus, what was wrong with him? and what was wrong with you? you never cared about what steve harrington thought— this weird, antagonistic dynamic worked just fine for you both all these years

with that thought, you hugged gracie closer to your chest, the sounds of your sniffling muffled by her coat

"hey-sweetheart-it'll be alright"

whether the words were for gracie or yourself, no one knew— not even steve, who stood outside your door the entire night, fist half-raised against the wood

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington hc #steve #stranger things hc #stranger things #joe keery #stranger things x reader

[asena-graywolf]

Don’t Judge Him

Hinata and you have known each other for a long time. When you started high school, you and your family moved to Hinata's neighborhood and your houses were very close to each other. You used to go to school together every morning and come back together in the evening. Sometimes Hinata would get you on her bike and take you around the neighborhood and then drive you home

He was a kind and sweet boy. You enjoyed spending time with him. But when you realized his love for volleyball, you realized for the first time that you felt something other than friendship for him. Yet you ignored and ignored

Why would you fall in love with someone shorter than you, childish?

Of course that was your initial thought.

Yes, Hinata was ambitious. He was stubborn. He was pushing his limits. Most importantly, he did not see his short stature as an obstacle. At lunch one day, she shared her story with you until she joined Karasuno High's volleyball team.

How he overwhelmed his friends to constantly pass him in middle school, how he got into the girls' team as a one-man team even though there was no boys' team, he picked up a team at the last moment in his first match, and most importantly, when he lost to Kageyama's team, he made a big vow to beat him.

The fact that he loved volleyball so passionately affected you deeply. An after school invited you to training and you watched the training match that day. It was your first time seeing Hinata play, but you involuntarily felt as if she was performing artistic moves to impress you.

His quick reflexes and blindfolded ball were really impressive. If he had any intention of impressing you, he had already done so.

You did a lot of activities together at school and outside of school. So much so that the people at school began to suspect that there was something between you.

The girls in the class always kept asking questions whenever they saw you alone.

“Hey Y/N. Don't get me wrong, but what's wrong with you and Shoyo?”

“Are you dating with Shoyo?”

“You two seem too close. Are you really just friends?"

Usually, you answered questions that you were just friends and neighbors. But your answers didn't seem to convince them very much. Others were convinced and then used sarcastic remarks for Hinata.

“You are doing well. I don't think it suits him. He's not even handsome. If you ask me, I'd say try your luck at Kageyama"

The nasty comments about Hinata bothered you. You knew him best and you spent the most time with him. So no one knew better than you how loving and sincere Hinata was. Also, while he wasn't handsome to them, he was both cute and handsome to you. What mattered to you was the beauty of her heart and only you could see it.

It went on like this for a long time. Your heart aches every time your friends hate Hinata. You even defended Hinata against them a few times. What would they know about the special bond between the two of you?

Every time you experience this, you think long and hard about it when you go home and lie on your bed. Later, Hinata began to occupy every corner of his mind. You couldn't get it out of your mind and you were both afraid and weak to describe this feeling inside you.

One evening, when you were thinking of Hinata lying on the bed and your day again, the clouds of dreams in your mind were dissipated by the vibrating of your phone. The phone screen said the message was from Hinata.

“Hey… are you asleep?”

"No."

“I didn't sleep either. I can't sleep…”

"Why is that?"

“How can I say… I've been wanting to talk to you about this for a while anyway”

As if an electrical current were suddenly sent through you, your body started and your heart rate quickened. Was he going to tell you he loved you? Even though you didn't think it was likely, did you have the slightest chance?

“Sure, let's talk”

He seemed to be writing on Whatsapp for minutes, but he could not send it. Five minutes later, the long message he wrote landed on your phone.

“Now I have liked someone for a long time. But she is not aware of it. Because I never showed it to her, I always treated her like a friend. It was impossible for her to understand that I had feelings for her. Now I'm sure of my feelings. I don't want to spoil our friendship either, but I can't resist my feelings. I love her so much. What do you think I should do?"

Even though she didn't say who she was, you thought it was possible that the person she loved might be someone else. You felt like crying, but you couldn't cry. You felt your chest tighten slightly. You didn't want to write anything. Even though your fingers went to the keyboard to type, it didn't feel like it. Hinata seemed insistent. Then he sent another message

“Please Y/N…I need your help.”

You reluctantly replied to your message

“How long have you been in love?”

“It is a long time. It wasn't love at first sight, but then I realized that I think about it every second when I go home every night, lying in bed, studying, reading, taking a shower. It was nothing but love. Would she get mad at me if I wanted to spoil our friendship?"

Hinata's feelings were not alien at all. It was as if the heart was against the heart. You felt the same emotions. But was it really you that he loved?

“Do you mind if I know who your crush is?”

“I trust you, but I still can't say your name. It's better for me to keep it hidden. What are you saying? Should I tell him? I don't have the courage either but…I wanted to ask you in case you know maybe"

You tried to suppress a bit of bitterness you felt, albeit vaguely.

“I don't know either, Hinata. I've never told anyone I love you before"

"Are you serious? You're beautiful girl. I thought it must have been someone you loved. Or your lover"

"It didn't happen"

"So is it now?"

That question gave you good reason to rely on the little hope in it.

"Yes there is. What a coincidence isn't it?"

"Wow! Who is this lucky person?”

You gave the same answer as Hinata

"I can not say. Secret. His name is hidden in me. Whenever I close my eyes, his face comes to life in my eyes. His beautiful smile warms me like the sun. Whenever I'm happy or sad, I always call his name. He is my everything."

“So you love it that much. OK, don't tell me. Eventually I will find out who your secret crush is"

“Of course you can learn”

“You see. If you say it, I'll say it too. Maybe one day, if not now. Is it possible?"

"Ok it's possible. I have to sleep now. See you later. Goodnight"

If the person he loved was with someone else, why was he a little insistent about telling you? Still, you didn't want to get too hopeful. But at the same time, you gave ear to his hope.

You really loved him. This love sprouted inside of you when you least expected it.

Hinata suddenly became your whole world. So much so that you couldn't even imagine anyone else but him. If even Japan's most handsome actor wanted to date you, you would refuse without batting an eye and run to your Hinata.

No one else cared about him. He was the first and only for you

It never mattered to you that he was shorter than you, acted boyish, wasn't muscular and sexy like most girls liked.

A few days later, after school, your middle school friends invited you to the cafe. You haven't seen them in a long time and you wanted to meet them to restore the past.

But you also made a contract with Hinata. After meeting your friends, you were to meet him at the park. You would hang out and have some fun. However, Hinata had something else planned. That's why he invited you to the park. You would learn that later

You met your friends from middle school at the cafe. You mentioned your favorite drinks. You chatted, laughed, had fun. You mentioned funny middle school memories.

Then it came to handsome boys. Everyone was talking about the boy they liked at school or talking about a celebrity they admired. Last time they asked you

“Well Y/N. Is there anyone you like? I heard there are some very handsome guys on Karasuno's volleyball team."

Your lips curled slightly.

"Actually… the person I like is exactly one of Karasuno's volleyball team"

All of them paid close attention to what they were going to say. Your statement shocked them when they were waiting for your crush to be Kageyama Tobio, Tsukishima Kei or Asahi Azumane

“Hinata Shoyo. Volleyball is his greatest love. He's a little shy but extremely lively. I love your endless energy and stubborn heart. He never sees his short stature as an obstacle. He's always pushing the limits and he's proud of it. I'm proud of him too. I wish he loved me too"

With each sentence of yours, the excited facial expressions of your friends changed with the speed of light.

“Is it Hinata? Do you have his picture?"

"Certainly"

You showed me a few pictures on your phone. This included a selfie you took together.

They started laughing as soon as they saw the photos.

"Oh is that really?"

“This is the child”

“Not sexy”

“Not even handsome”

“It is no different than a stunted tree.”

“Officially a ground dwarf”

"He can't even protect you"

“How distasteful you are. Couldn't you find a hotter and more handsome man?"

You were at the end of your patience and stood up with your last fist banging on the table.

“THAT’S ENOUGH! WHAT DO YOU KNOW FROM LOVE!! YOU LIKE PEOPLE WITH BEAUTIFUL LOOK BUT HELLOW! JUDGING IT WITHOUT KNOWING IT… It's not nice! You don't know him! You don't even know he has a heart of gold! He is my world! You just fall in love with the looks! I bet you've never been in love with a person's heart!”

“Calm down Y/N. We're sorry if we knew you'd be this pissed off..."

You took your money out of your wallet and left it on the table.

“It is the fault that you do not know! Take it! You pay my bill! You are shallow people! What do you understand from the heart, what a thing! Never judge him again! Don't laugh at him! NEVER!"

You left the cafe as you said your last word. You couldn't digest the condescending words said to Hinata and started to walk away crying

It wasn't the first time that the man you loved was talked about like this, and it was getting harder now. Finally, your patience ran out.

You loved him with all your heart.

You remembered that you had promised to meet at the park that you had decided to tell her, even if the person she loved was someone else. No one could turn you away from your decision now. You couldn't hold it inside any longer

You came to the park he said and you sat on the bench and waited. It was slowly getting dark. Half an hour later, a bicycle approached him.

"HEY! Hello Y/N! I hope I didn't make you wait too long"

Despite Hinata happily welcoming you, you weren't there at all. Because the insulting and condescending words said to Hinata were still floating in his mind.

He knew right away that he was in a bad mood.

He got off his bike and sat next to her. put his hand on her shoulder

“Y/N…Are you okay?”

Even though you tried to hide your tears, you couldn't do it

"What happened?"

"Ignorant people! They don't know what love is! Fools!” you jumped up

Hinata still couldn't understand what happened to you

"Who?"

“My stupid middle school friends! They mocked the boy who I love! They laughed at him! I'm incredibly annoyed that they're unknowingly judging him! To hell with them!”

You kicked the crushed Coke can on the floor

"You're right. They don't understand by heart… they said I didn't stand a chance against you either."

You were shocked as soon as you heard. You turned your head towards Hinata and stiffened where you were.

"W-What?"

Hinata got up from her bench and approached you. She wiped her tears with her fingers

“You heard it. You're the girl I love Y/N."

"How so? The person you mentioned…”

You still couldn't believe what you were hearing. It was like you were in a dream. You were afraid of waking up at any moment

“Of course it was you Y/N. Tell me, who could it be but you?"

“I thing…”

He put his hands on his face and made his eyes look into hers

“Say something y/n. Do you love me?"

You grabbed her hands on her face and hugged her tightly, showing that the answer was yes.

"What does that mean now?"

His face was buried in his neck. You've hugged before, but you've never been this close. You heard the smell of coconut and vanilla mixture for the first time.

“Shut up Hinata! Just hug me"

He did what you said. He held you tight in his arms

“I love you Hinata. You were the one I loved all this time. If you said that you love someone else here today, I would say that I love you again"

"Do not talk like that! There was no way it was anyone else. I would never look at anyone else in your presence."

He caressed the back of your head and hugged you tight

“I love you y/n.”

“I love you Hinata”

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu x imagines #haikyuu x reader #hinata shoyo #hinata shoyo x reader #hinata shoyo x you #hq x y/n #hq x reader #hinata shoyo x y/n #haikyu x reader #hinata shōyō #hinata x y/n #hinata shouyou

[pamouche]

.

#today's challenge: don't cry #but i read all your thoughts about sobbe and the fact that tomorrow will be the end #about how they helped us so much during a great period of our lives and how they taught us so much about what true love really is... #and it hurts more than anything else #i'm shaking and nauseous just thinking about seeing them for the last time tomorrow no matter how many minutes. how many seconds #i'm already not feeling well today so what's going to happen to tomorrow? #i don't want to believe it. I'm not prepared. and I never will be #they are a big and beautiful part of my life and they will always be in my heart #it's amazing how this young couple has become such an important part of my life that I can't live without them now #i don't know how I did it before I 'met' them but now it's just unimaginable #i want to know what they are going to be like in the future. i want to see them in their domestic life #i want to know if they are going to live in a nice house or an apartment. how many children are they going to have together? maybe pets? #i want to see them happy for the rest of my life. married later on because i know they will be #i want to see their evolution physically but also mentally. and i just want to be proud of them (and i am right now) #and proud of the person they are going to be as adults. because i know everything they have been through and will go through again #but they will go through every obstacle together as always. they are the most sincere most trusting most loving couple i know #i want to see all the signs of affection they have for each other: their soft kisses. their cuddles. their hands holding each other.. #i want to hear their voices every day. their voices that leave me with a silly grin on my face all day long #i want to hear their little nicknames for each other. their i love you's. i want to hear Sander teasing Robbe again (he'll never stop) #i want to hear Robbe's giggles. i want to see their eyes shine so brightly when they look at each other #because they have such an intense and growing bond of love. i want to see them celebrate their happy two three... years anniversary #and their respective birthdays. i want to see their dates. i want to see them pass by the symbolic places of their love #i want to see them pass by the place where their locks are and maybe take their children and tell them about their beautiful love story #i want to see everything about them. everything about their daily life as an established couple #my thoughts aren't organized but what's new?

[harfanfare]

How to win a heart of Jamil Viper?

1.   Don’t be a typical hero(ine).

Contrary to the popular romance trope, tripping over the air to land on a certain cool-looking boy, and dropping all carried things, wouldn’t make Jamil fall for you. Instead, just falling because of you and sharply crashing with a floor would make him rather cautious around you and keeping a distance whether he has anything in his hands.

Believe him or not, he doesn’t need another ditsy and erratic person around him—like a certain leader from a certain dorm, who happens to create a mess anytime, anywhere.

So, let someone else be the protagonist of the story.

In that situation, you may be a side character that gets its way through obstacles and classic borders of story scheme and is much more interesting than the main persona.

That’s how you get his attention.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

2.   Be a help.

Oh, a person that would help him with his chores means to him much more than gold. Sometimes.

“Can I help you anyhow?” you asked when Jamil was going to the kitchen after a daily training with the rest of the dorm. He lifted his eyebrow, waiting for further explanation. “I mean with cleaning or something.”

Jamil glanced at you, not sure about your intentions.

Who would like to do something to help without having something in return? With only your will? No, it doesn’t work well in the same sentence.

But some help would be great. So, he just needs to keep sure that he won’t fall into any trap for letting you help, yes?

“Sure,” he said casually, not letting his face nor voice reveal any of his thoughts he run into. “[Name], right? Could you bring and clean the dishes from longue?”

And you helped. You really helped him a lot, staying over two hours till everything was shimmering with cleanliness and your abrupt desire to clean something and be more useful, burned out.

“Thank you for your help,” Jamil said, after correcting the last cushion in the Scarabia’s longue. You flashed him a smile. “But why, if I can ask, did you offer it in the first place?”

He got a quick response in form of a shrug.

“I... don’t really know,” you admitted, glancing at him. “...But you don’t complain, no?”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

3.   Be his dish taster.

“The way to a one's heart is through his stomach.”

“Try it,” Jamil handed you a spoon filled with some kind of stew. You consentaneously your opened mouth and drank all content of the spoon. Your mouth filled with many flavours and you couldn’t be sure if you ever ate that good combination in your life. “How was that?”

“Excellent as always.”

You said it all sincerely and maybe would have asked for seconds, if not the fact that Jamil already turned his back to you and got back to pots. He took another spoon and tried the dish himself, clicked his tongue and added more salt.

Once again, he turned to you and handed you a spoon.

“And how was that now?”

“Excellent as always,” you chuckled as he frowned at you.

“Don’t you think that you should add more words to your dictionary? You say the same thing on every dish,” once he said that you finished drying the last plate and preparing silverware for today’s fiesta.

“Don’t you think that I won’t be able to eat anything at the party when I will eat enough of your cooking now to write a poem about each of your culinary masterpieces?” Jamil chuckled slightly at your words.

“So, you don’t want any more?” he teased, but inside he was really flushed. Praises or cajolery, it all makes his heart skip a beat.

Finally, there was someone who appreciated all work he’s done.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

4.   Distract Kalim from him.

“You really shouldn’t go there,” you said, your voice as serious as you could keep it. “I mean, what if there is a monster who wants to kidnap you?”

Kalim cocked his head a little, considering your words. After a while, he nodded, fully convinced by your argument.

“You’re right,” he said. “I will warn others about this..!”

Kalim turned on his heel and spotted some people returning from morning classes. He ran to them, greeting them and walking with them as he tried to introduce the situation.

Still not believing Kalim fall for your words, you were standing alone in the centre of the corridor, a bit dumbstruck to discover the excuse Jamil came up with work.

“...Are you sure, you don’t want to tell him that some student’s from other dorm are here?” you asked as if saying to yourself your thoughts aloud.

But there was someone, someone who was hiding behind a big potted palm. He only gave you thumbs up as a preventative measure if there was still a chance that Kalim didn’t just dash through the halls to talk with some dorm students.

Jamil only looked at you and mouthed “No. Party. Today.” and quietly shifted to the corner, where the wall hid him and he could finally get up.

Mission accomplished.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

5.   Get rid of bugs for him.

“[Name],” Jamil called out to you, bursting through the door to your room. He looked very pale and panic was staying still in his eyes. “Would you be so kind to... deal with an intruder?”

You frowned a little before biting back a sigh. At first, you were concerned. Even Kalim getting in a serious mess didn’t make him react that seriously. But then you remembered that there was one thing that could make Jamil call you out of nowhere, acting like in an emergency. Emergency only in eyes of few.

Bugs.

Jamil never admitted to you that he is scared of them, but every time you brought up the topis, he snapped his fingers at it, saying that insects just aren’t his favourite kind of animal.

“Hmm~ Maybe after I finish this chapter,” you said, conspicuously turning a page of the book you were reading and with all your will trying not to smile nor to look at the wincing expression Jamil was wearing.

“[Name],” he said, his voice shaking with anger or frustration. “Go there right now or I will make sure you won’t get today’s dinner.”

...No dinner?

“Yes, mum,” you said putting the textbook aside and getting up from the comfortable couch.

Of all people, Jamil is probably the only one—well, maybe also Trey—that could make those words sound dangerous. Like, no dinner made by the best chef in Scarabia? It would be pure agony.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6.   Have competitions.

“Aren’t you a little too good in this game?” you asked, regretfully placing pieces of the game back to the initial places.

He gave you a smile that slowly turned into a smirk, as you groaned at the next round you have lost. You flopped on the big pillow, all your will to play destroyed, as you sank between really cosy material.

“I told you I won’t give you a head start,” Jamil said, his steady voice mixed with amusement. “You even told me that you don’t want me to go easy on you before the game started.”

“Too bad,” you clicked your tongue at his response. “I was sure that after watching you play with Kalim, I remembered your tactics.”

You’ve watched at least eight rounds of Jamil and Kalim playing this game, and when it was coming to end, you were almost sure you understood and remembered the technique he was using in certain situations.

But, to your disappointment, it looked like he – even without using any of his tricky cards in his sleeve – was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, because, after three moves, you knew that probably all three were wrong when the opponent was Jamil.

“You gained nothing by it. Of course, I lost to him or... there would be a trouble,” he exclaimed. “You are different.”

“Oh, thank you. I can lose but he can’t, huh?” you frowned at him as he almost choked on the surprise he felt by hearing your response.

“...Yeah, that’s it. Just it.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

7.   Have study sessions together.

“One class had a test before us,” you said scrolling through your class chat group. “They said that there wasn’t any question about these dates.”

Jamil scribbled down years of the most important magic wars, from time to time looking at you who were listing some test exercises and feeling somehow unmotivated to even properly open a history book.

Your notebook was lying in front of you, today’s lesson topic on the top of the page and many detailed doodles on its margin.

Once again... what was the unit you are having an exam about?

“It doesn’t mean, we won’t get a question about that,” Jamil tried to convince you, sliding textbook your way. “Now, read that aloud, while I prepare notes.”

You blinked twice as if woken up from daydreaming. Were you daydreaming?

“Are you sure..? I mean, all I will do is reading. Wouldn’t you rather want us to read it silently and then share our notes after this?”

“Don’t think about it much. I really like your voice,” he said it so thoughtlessly you weren’t sure if said it as an unarguable fact or just his smooth talker abilities were showing off, “and gave me your notes for the last exam so we’re even. And you won’t do any good notes when you’re sulking over this exam like that.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

8.   Remind him to take breaks.

“You won’t get out of here,” you exclaimed spreading your arms as shielding a door from him. “Not a chance.”

Jamil stood a feet next to you, grimace stretching on his lips as he knew what’s coming up.

“I have to go, [Name].”

He tried to get through you, lightly removing you of his way. He wasn’t a fan of using force on anyone, and he was a hater of using force on you.

Much more than a speakable argument, you were pushing each other closer or further from the door, having a staring contest and reciting all the things he had done in the past two days; except for his daily duties and with the upcoming birthday party of few students of Scarabia who happen to have a celebration in the same day, the number of tasks he was given was overwhelming.

“Stop it!” you protested, trying to push him back. “I am seriously worried about you! Please... take a break.”

Every time he was coming closer to the exit, you stepped back, blocking his way, bumping into him and having to try again.

“You know I have a lot of work to do,” he said, finally stepping back and giving you a break from trying to separate him from the door. “I can’t just give up all my duties, even if I would love a break.”

“I can do it for you,” you quickly offered. “But please, now, go to sleep and don’t you dare touch anything related to school or cleaning.”

...What a weird request.

When was the last time anyone told him to take a break?

He doesn’t remember.

But now, he can say it was recently, all thanks to you.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

9.   Promise.

It was really hard for him once all his hard work to keep a high position within the dorm students suddenly dropped after his overblot accident.

“[Name]...”

However, the thing he regretted the most was hurting you. Taking the whole dorm under his unique magic spell, the hypnosis also affected you, making you another servant of his. Even you weren’t the one he ordered a lot, you felt betrayed that even the friendship you two developed didn’t stop him from overblotting.

And if he knew that you would avoid him like fire after the accident, he would probably hesitate a lot.

His throat tightened as he saw you one day in the corridor, looking somehow lonely and tired. He dashed to you, beseeching you to talk to him.

“Sorry for asking, but, Jamil, you don’t hate me, right?” you asked with a pain in your voice. You couldn’t even look at his face, feeling the incomprehensible weight in your gaze. “I mean... Do you only act in front of me friendly? ...Like... with Kalim..?”

“No, no, no,” he protested quickly, making it almost sound like a plea. He gently grabbed your hands, praying that you won’t harshly jerk them back because of him. “I don’t hate you. I really like you. I mean every word I said to you.”

The feeling of release struck you like thunder, you took a big breath, your eyes watering. You slowly reached for his touch, finally ending in a hug.

Jamil ran his fingers through your hair, smelling a familiar, reassuring scent of yours. After a while, he whispered a question.

“So... could you please not avoid me anymore? I know it will be hard to bring up the same relationship we had, but... could you give me a second chance?”

“Okay. But under one condition,” you said, slightly backing off from him. Before he could wonder about the term you would require from him, you finished your thought. “You must be honest with me. I... don’t know what will I do if it all turned to be a play...”

“I will,” he replied, putting his whole heart in these two words. “I will always be honest with you. And won’t ever use my unique magic on you.”

You looked up at him, a small smile starting to rise and heart-throbbing more wilder with his words. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

10.            Make him confess.

“What are you doing this weekend?”

Jamil appeared in front of you, almost like popping out of nowhere, as you were done with today’s lessons and slowly heading to your dorm. He caught up with you, changing his pace to match yours.

“I have no plans. I will be probably sleeping or something,” you answered honestly, shrugging and reminding yourself that you should finally hang out with some people from your class to make sure your social life isn’t all over dead.

You were walking in quietly before Jamil broke silence and spoke up again.

“Would you like to go somewhere?” he asked his voice only giving a hint of nervousness—it was nothing compared to the stress he felt inside. It was just a “yes or no” question, he knew that he will meet in future many amazing people like you and shouldn’t be stressed, but having someone so dear to him being asked for a meeting where he will try to finally out find his feeling... it is stressful.

“Hehe~ what, are you asking me on the date?” you teased, but much more than mocking, you were hoping for an answer. For the honest answer, he promised you.

“...And what if I am?” he asked, his voice a bit hushed, but steady.

You felt how heat was coming all the way up to your cheeks, although you tried your best not to let anything more, as if a blush wasn’t obvious enough, know how excited and spellbound you are.

“Then, your wish is my command.”

#.......i don't know how to feel about this #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #twst jamil #twst jamil x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland jamil x reader #twisted wonderland

[qm-vox]

So You Want To Play A Fairest

(Portrait of Erin Peters by cantankerousAquarius. The character originally appeared in Night Horrors: Grim Fears, published by White Wolf; catch my take on her in New Avalon)

Previous Articles: So You Want To Play A Beast, So You Want To Play A Wizened, So You Want To Play An Elemental, So You Want To Play An Ogre, & So You Want To Play A Darkling

You ever wonder, flipping through a Monster Manual for D&D, or a Bestiary for Pathfinder, why nymphs and hags are both always, always, women? It’s older than you know. Dig into the sordid history of tabletops and you’ll find sylphs that Gary Gygax wrote, Chaotic charmers who use mind control to reproduce with non-sylph men; you’ll find the legacy of the matriarchal drow, who follow a mad goddess, and you’ll find the medusae, whose sexual dimorphism is so complete that their men are beautiful and can turn stone into people.

Dredge deeper and you’ll find the tales that Gygax and his wretched ilk based such creatures off of.

You ever wonder why we assign such powerful Gender to creatures of beauty and horror?

Fairest don’t. They know, every time they wake up from a nightmare that is also a wet dream. They know, every time they get hit on at the bar and have to decide how they’re playing this. They know, every time they look in a mirror and see not their own face, but the ten thousand horrors that made it beautiful.

If you are very patient, and lucky, and kind, they might tell you why.

If you aren’t, they may show you.

This article draws primarily on Changeling: the Lost and Winter Masques, as well as Swords at Dawn and Night Horrors: Grim Fears. Other sources, when used, will be cited. It requires Content Warnings for sexual violence, sexual slavery, abuse, gaslighting, addiction, substance abuse, self-harm, self-image problems, mentions of fascists & fascist ideology, and just, so very much incel bullshit.

Bonus Material Part Two: The Seeming Part

The end of this article, just past the customary Sample Fairest, will include some additional material intended to help you select a Seeming for your character and otherwise build them up as one of the Lost, much as So You Want To Run A Spring Court included material for Courts as a topic.

Take Me To Wonderland - Fairest Overview

Fairest is the fourth Seeming presented in Changeling: the Lost and possibly the most confused about its own identity. Its sections in Winter Masques present depths and nuance that are completely absent in core, essentially making Winter Masques required reading for Fairest players in a way that no other book is - especially since Fairest keep getting written in a particular way alluded to in the Ogre article, which I will expand on later in this article. Fairest is numerically well-represented in canon and popular in the fanbase, home to many memorable character concepts, but its bones with folklore and tradition are weaker than it fronts as.

Ogres and Darklings claim an innate relationship to physical violence; so too do the Fairest claim a relationship to violence. The violence of Perception and its dark twin, Judgement; of Rumor and its mad dog, Prejudice, the violence of Lies and their merciless master, Truth. Fairest, alone among the Lost, have casual access to the resources of a society that refuses to service or acknowledge Changelings, and with access to that society comes both opportunity and temptation. To be Fairest is to wield power that many other Lost cannot, but the opportunity that power offers is a lie; a Fairest can smile until her face breaks like a mirror, but she’ll never be “sane” enough for the masses to see her as anything but a useful pet.

Life’s Lush Lips - Homecoming As A Fairest

Fairest can make the dubious claim of having the least clear memories of Arcadia amongst all the Lost, with Darklings and Beasts jockeying for second place. This isn’t to say that the experiences Fairest have are necessarily more intense or more inherently traumatic than that of other Lost, but rather that the abuse Fairest suffer is so emotional, so targeted at their perception of their selves and their situations and their self-image, that the memories which do form are inevitably colored by those emotions, coloring the dreams they have of Arcadia with both the emotional resonances they had at the time and with their later attempts to grapple with their own trauma and transformation. For many Fairest, who cannot trust even their strongest memory dreams, attempts to understand their own Durance must rely either on the word of their Keepers (and Faeries lie, oh, how they lie), or on reverse-engineering their own behavior to try and conceive of a trauma that could cause it.

Inevitably, however, some things are seared into their minds. For almost all Fairest, their Keeper is high on the list of things they remember with absolute clarity. Other facts, shattered and scattered, vary more widely. Erin Peters remembers stretched years kept in a cold, dark room lit only by her own hatred; every detail of her cell is scorched onto the back of her eyes, but the otherworldly balls her Keeper took her to blur together like food coloring in syrup. The slaves of the Candle Countess have terrible nightmares of the choices they were confronted with, the decision, offered over and over again, to become complicit in the Countess’s cruelty or to be victimized by it. Metallic Flowering from the Shining City struggle not to use drugs to mimic the rush of pleasure they’ve grown used to receiving for performing their jobs well; they also scream in terror if people touch them. A Draconic and a Shadowsoul both remember being used for the sexual pleasure of alien horrors; the one dreams of coiled scales and terrible teeth, the other a lifetime of lurking in an alien maze, tasked to perform the duties of a living trap for the “wicked” and “unwary” who had not yet shed the last vestiges of kindness.

There are no “wild” Fairest. For worse and worse still, to be Fairest is to have been defined by the inescapable and all-consuming attentions of your abuser, and it is this more than anything that other Lost so often fail to understand about the Fairest. Their Keepers heap them with reward and punishment, manipulating the Fairest with honeyed praise, godly wrath, gaslighting, neglect, withholding food, wondrous rewards, drugs from beyond the realms of earthly pleasure, and other hooks and crooks designed to make the Fairest dependent upon their abuser. It is hideously effective, and the first obstacle, maybe even the mightiest, that a Fairest faces to their escape is the simple horror and joy of being alone again. Their masters will try other tricks to keep them in place - tempting them with pleasures, horrific punishments, oh-so-sincere apologies - but before a Fairest can escape into the Hedge she must face, in her mind’s eye, the lonely flight back to the Iron Lands.

The memories that draw Fairest home often have parallels to their experiences in Arcadia. A slave in the Shining City bites into an otherworldly pastry and recalls her grandmother’s pie in its place; the bride of the Demon Lover, curled up under the sheets, thinks about the broken smile of the boyfriend she left behind at home. A Dancer remembers the roller rink where he fell in love with skating, while across the endless tides of the Fairest of Lands, a Shadowsoul holds on like grim death to years of work at haunted houses, scaring kids for fun and for Halloween. Fairest, so famous for their skill at words, struggle to articulate to other Lost why this should be so. Darklings assume it’s because these memories are less intense than Arcadia, and that the Fairest are fleeing to safety. Beasts get it a bit more right by thinking that these memories taste like home. The truth of the matter is that those memories have an intrinsic and nameless meaning; the highs and lows of Arcadia are divine, flawless, absolute, and therefore worthless. They are the proclamations of merciless gods. What draws the Fairest home, more than pain and pleasure they can have on their own terms, is the understanding that those gestures - for weal or for woe or for anything else besides - were made because someone cared about them, personally. Once they fully internalize that their abuser views them as disposable, the Fairest comes home to someone who won’t.

Three Kiths And Flowering Is One And A Half Of Them - Fairest Kiths

Yeah we’re about to be like that about it.

All Fairest can excel in the social arena; their Blessing can be used to flare almost every social roll in the game, and Fairest can never be caught off-guard in a social context (they suffer no untrained penalties to social rolls). With the sole exception of Empathy (usually rolled with Wits) and sometimes Streetwise, there’s no time a Fairest can’t fall back on their words and expect to win through or at least buy time. This is, as you might imagine, a godsend when it comes to attempts to pass in mortal society; Fairest can usually front, charm, bluff, or Manners(tm) their way through things like renting an apartment, nailing a job interview, asking their roommate to do the FUCKING DISHES, or getting stopped by a cop, but both the books and the fanbase miss something here. While Fairest are superb at active social events, they’re no better at keeping a lid on themselves (Composure-based rolls) than mortals are - and given both the nature of their trauma and the fact that they are, you know, Lost, Fairest have a lot more to keep a lid on day-to-day than the human society they’re trying to blend into. Thankfully, Fairest are pretty good at being able to politely leave a situation and go somewhere else to scream, shout, cry, or have a psychotic break, as appropriate.

Of course, Fairest can’t make something from nothing. As discussed in So You Want To Play An Ogre, you can’t win a social game someone else refuses to sit down to, and social rolls shouldn’t be mind control. All the Glamour in the world can’t make your roommate do the FUCKING DISHES if they’re deep in the throes of executive dysfunction, nor can it make the cashier at Walgreens fail to card you for wine when their computer literally won’t advance without an ID. People who are keyed up about honeyed words or whose own trauma came at the hands of manipulators and abusers might refuse to play that game on the terms the Fairest is setting, which makes it hard to, as it were, turn this problem into a nail. Lurking down this path as well is the specter of becoming like the masters who made you this way; if you get used to saying what will get people to listen to you, eventually you start seeing people as enrichment puzzles that dispense the things you want. Madness waits down that road, and it waits for Fairest with a giant spiked bat, thanks to their Seeming Curse.

There’s no pretty way to say this so I won’t: Fairest are always on the verge of losing their minds. Their curse hits them with a flat penalty to all rolls against losing Clarity, which means that Fairest lose Clarity faster than other Lost and they do so more consistently. This necessitates a balancing act with avoiding becoming heartless manipulators; Fairest must engage in control-seeking behavior in order to stay mentally well, must be able to trust and rely on people close to them, structure their lives, and anticipate important changes or they end up on the fast way down. Other Lost often don’t understand this need or the Fairest curse to begin with, and so Fairest end up in unofficial support groups for one another, similar to those run by Darklings except no one will admit it’s a support group even at gunpoint. Woe fucking betide the friend or life partner who gets between a Fairest and her “book club”, “girls’ night”, “D&D campaign”, or other excuse for this vital community support.

Fairest Kiths are...bad. They’re bad. This is the part of the article where I’m supposed to talk about thematics and symbolism and metaphor, and I cannot do that here, because they are bad. Fairest has three viable Kiths that are actual Fairest Kiths, one that’s a Beast Kith who got lost and wound up here by fucking mistake, and a pile of garbage bigger than my self-esteem problems. I’m almost tempted to only talk about those four Kiths and save myself the time but I suppose I should show the work like I’ve done for all the other Seemings, so here we fuckin’ go I guess.

Flowering - This is it. This is the Fairest Kith. If you want to roll any other kind of Fairest you must first pass the trial of justifying why you’re not playing Flowering. In theory, Flowering draws its mythic heritage from nymphs and dryads, charming flower sprites, Knights of Flowers, and the like, but in practice Flowering’s only mechanical effect is 9-again on Persuasion, Socialize, and Subterfuge with no qualification or requirement, which doesn’t just make you better at everything Fairest is good at, it makes you better when you spend Glamour to flare it too. Want to represent a biobahn sith’s hypnotic dance? Flowering works. Want to create a vampiric Fairest with a sultry voice? Here comes Flowering. The siren at the bar who smells like sea air and gunpowder? Flowering. Everything is Flowering. Even the things that aren’t Flowering are Flowering because all Fairest Kiths have a social focus, which is Flowering’s undisputed arena of mastery.

Bright One - In theory, Bright Ones represent beings of light in the vein of Victorian fey (which...ugh...Victorians), but their Goblin Illumination is, how you say, useless, only becoming vaguely useful for a total of 2 Glamour as a passive defense that took you 2 turns to set up. Anything you want to represent here can be found in Flowering and with Elements or Communion (Light).

Dancer - You know how Flowering gives you bonuses on all social rolls? Would you like those same bonuses but on 1 less skill and only on rolls that “involve physical grace”? No? Run Flowering here and give your character a Dance specialty in one or more skills.

Draconic - One of the game’s premier melee options and a Beast Kith who took a wrong turn and ended up getting a free makeover intended for someone else. Draconic in theory represents Fairest as dragons, monster girls, demons, and in general at their most physical, but that idea sorta...falls down a bit? Draconic’s bonuses are all about Brawl and all the sample Draconics are swordsmen, which might suggest to the discerning reader that someone in the office wasn’t reading their own fucking game. Draconic Fairest don’t make bad melee boys if you invest in Lethal Mien, but honestly this is Dual Kith bait; slap it on your Hunterheart or your Razorhand and go apeshit.

Muse - Close but no cigar. In theory Muses are, well, muses; figures of inspiration, mentorship, teaching, creative fire. Their Kith Blessing is strong but requires access to mortals, which is complicated and roundabout on the best of days. If you have an idea that you think is Muse-shaped, use Playmate instead.

Flamesiren - Behold, we enter the realm of Okay(tm). Flamesirens are what Bright Ones wanted to be, and their hypnotic aura is actually a pretty neat tool; with cunning you can make it a one-sided penalty, and even if you don’t it’s an interesting method of de-escalating a social or combat situation by subjecting everyone to the tar pit that is your presence. If your concept involves light and color and you’re resistant to Flowering, Flamesiren will do more than nothing.

Polychromatic - Polychromatics don’t have a lot of roots in mythology; their modern inspirations are, well, Manic Pixie Dream Girls. But they get a shout-out here for being the only Fairest Kith who can muster up decent emotional defenses; not only can they magically boost their Composure rolls (and non-Composure rolls to resist magical and mundane emotional attacks for that matter), but others get a flat penalty to Empathy rolls against them, which makes them talented dissemblers. You’re still probably better off with Flowering - in a world of passive Kith Blessings, Polychromatic’s is extra passive - but I can see this Kith passing muster, and even being worth the two dots to Dual Kith in-house.

Shadowsoul - This one’s insane. Ostensibly Fairest Does Darkling, Shadowsouls get their Wyrd to Intimidate rolls which could be the whole Kith on its own and still be worth the slot, but in addition to that they get 9-again on Subterfuge (matching Flowering and Darklings there) and access to Contracts of Darkness, one of the most powerful in the game line, as an Affinity Contract. Is your Fairest spooky? Would you like them to be spooky? Here’s your one-stop shop.

Telluric - This is a Kith made of ribbon bonuses. In theory related to stars and celestial light, Telluric’s bonuses to rolls “with precise timing” isn’t...really worth considering. Run ‘em as Flamesiren and move on.

Treasured - In theory also able to muster emotional defenses, Treasured are Fairest who are literally made into works of art. They’re Okay(tm) but in their niche are beaten out by Polychromatic with a better effect for less resources.

Playmate - The last Real Fairest Kith(tm), Playmate appears in Night Horrors: Grim Fears where White Wolf tries to sell it as Peter Pan, but its powerful team-oriented bonuses mean that Playmates are useful anywhere Muse is wanted and more places besides. The front woman of an indie rock band could be a Playmate; so too could be an idealized baseball captain, the director at your local theater, the middle manager of a sinister conspiracy, or the night shift lead at a research lab. Do people do a thing in teams? Playmate does that thing.

And She Had Huge Titties, I Mean Massive Badondadonks, Absolutely Enormous Bazoggahoggas - Lost’s Canon Fairest

Remember when I said we had to get back to this after So You Want To Play An Ogre? Now we’re getting back to this. I’m not gonna re-state my caveats from that article and I’m not really gonna go back over the bit about So White Wolf Was Run By Fucking Nazis because, in all honesty, I do not have the fucking time to restate all of that in new words. Give thanks that OPP got out alive and let’s get right down to it.

Fairest have a very consistent characterization in canon that is only really challenged in Winter Masques; the narrative put forth in Lost is that Fairest, being attractive, have an uncomplicated power which privileges their lives. Which is a rather bloodless way to describe how White Wolf kept writing and publishing Fairest as heartless abusers and manipulators getting their jollies and emotional needs met by casually destroying their fellow survivors, manipulating them through sex appeal, outright lies, cattiness, cruelty, and betrayal. Much as simply queering Ogre does not help Ogre in and of itself, queering Fairest only takes you from incel and Nazi propaganda about women into...incel and Nazi propaganda about twinks, femmes, & in general anyone with the temerity to be found attractive by straight white people.

I’m not bitter, you’re bitter.

So what do you do at your table, with your Fairest concept? Lemme open up by saying that like, Fairest qua Fairest is perfectly solid, and if it wasn’t there wouldn’t be an article here; Fairest has a lot to say for itself about feminized violence, about your personhood being reduced to a product for the consumption of others, about emotional abuse & neglect, gaslighting, and sexual assault, but the conclusion White Wolf arrives at (”Fairest have unalloyed power over mortal and Lost society and they abuse that power”) is super fucking obtuse and betrays a serious lack of concern for what the Fairest undergo. It ignores the way a Fairest’s ordeals will force her to confront her relationship to her own gender and alter her willingness and ability to be consumed, disconnect her from her former society while also isolating her from her new one, and these questions are important for you if you’re looking to play a ‘classic’ Fairest.

But that leaves some hanging questions. Male Fairest face the almost inescapable fate of “failing” maleness on patriarchal terms; even the most strapping, broad-chested, athletic Adonis of a Fairest has become a man of layered words and reflexive empathy, whose Manly Stoicism(tm) is a cracking facade at best and entirely abandoned in a more typical circumstance. Men who become Fairest thus face a second journey after their escape from Arcadia; confronting what being men means to them and building their gender identity back up from the rubble it’s become. The temptation to accept success on society’s terms is always going to be present, and it’s always going to be offered like it’s possible, but it’s a losing game for these Fairest; they simply cannot be the men that other men demand they become.

Now, the discerning and loyal reader is surely about to ask, hey Vox, where’s the butch Fairest I was promised back in the Ogre article, to which I respond WE’RE GETTING THERE but I gotta use this as a bridge to talk about something that cuts across Fairest of all genders, be they cis or trans. Lost 1e makes a lot of hay out of the idea that Fairest “are rarely conventionally attractive”, and core even provides some interesting written concepts for that...which make it into exactly none of the art. Every published Fairest is conventionally attractive for various definitions of conventional, be it as a supermodel or a waif, but that leaves the question of Fairest who genuinely are not - and, tragically, Fairest who were not, and were then made into someone more easily consumed by their Durance. You know what I’m about to say, and I know you know I’m about to say it, but I’m gonna say it anyway: all bodies are beautiful, but Fairest know well that beauty and attraction aren’t the same, and neither are beauty and happiness. All Fairest, from the roundest bear to the most wide-eyed waif, are the products of Keepers who valued their bodies in that state, and that idea is going to haunt them day in and day out for the rest of their extended lives. There is no such thing as a Fairest with an uncomplicated relationship to their body, and that White Wolf seems to think that an uncomplicated relationship is their default state is...disgusting, frankly.

Which brings us, at long last, to butch Fairest (also bear Fairest but I’m gonna stick with the one set of terms or I’m going to go mad and this will never be published), who have a complicated journey ahead of them. On the one hand, the assertion of control and ownership over their own bodies, their own identities, cannot be overstated. On the other hand, elements of those bodies are going to be completely out of their control; a nascent butch Fairest may well hit the gym to get swole only to discover that she literally, physically cannot, that she has been Assigned Dex Build At Durance. Hauling your corpse out of Arcadia with an extremely feminine appearance shaped by your Keeper might complicate attempts to present in a more masculine manner or even just to appear androgynous, and those complications can be discouraging. For those that stick to it, this journey will take them two places; one is the bared-teeth, bloody-knuckled assertion that this life is theirs and you can have it if you can fucking take it, and the other is into the ranks of the Freehold’s retained warriors, usually in Summer or Autumn, though a vibrant representation of Spring knights will make it seem as if Spring has more butch Fairest than it actually does. These Fairest are aware, or will become aware, of how much of their job involves de-escalating or pre-empting violence; a focus on Physical stats or skills is not necessarily common, but hyper-specialization therein likely is. A butch Fairest is a lot more likely to have, say, Brawl 4 (Multiple Opponents) and no other Physical skills than she is to have Brawl, Weaponry, Athletics, and Stealth, in part or in whole because her first weapon of choice is going to be an Intimidate roll.

At every turn you’re able to, challenge White Wolf’s narrative about Fairest by asking yourself what your Fairest wants, why they’re this way, what they’re frightened of, and how the way they behave relates back to these. They’re not products; they’re people, just as hurt and Lost as the rest of their peers.

Princesses And Pastries - Fairest In The Courts

Fairest have a complex relationship to the society of their fellow Lost. On the one hand, they have the same need for community, support, companionship, understanding, honesty, and material aid as all Lost; a Fairest is not magically proof against being homeless, against starving, against the dangers of existing in the modern world without things like a photo ID or car insurance, and Freeholds provide all of these things. On the other hand, the thing most Fairest fear most, even if they can’t articulate that fear, is their own power - social influence, emotional trust and betrayal, status, political power, and authority. Fairest are all too aware that being good at this game does not make them immune to it - after all, that’s the lesson they learned at the hands of their Keepers.

What follows from this is a complex dance of interactions that each Fairest in some ways has to feel like she’s managing on her own, even if she’s not (and she rarely is; those support groups exist for a reason). If you give a Fairest a doughnut in a social setting, she will lick that doughnut even if she doesn’t intend to eat it right away, solely to hear someone else say something along the lines of “well it’s yours now”. As Fairest filter into Freehold society and take up social roles at all levels of power - officers, messengers, ‘ambassadors’ to mortal society, secretaries, pledge-smiths, teachers, monarchs - their responsibilities and rewards become their doughnut. That Fairest make a big deal out of both their job and the benefits that come with it is rarely, as other Lost sometimes think, about aggrandizement or reveling in power for its own sake; it’s about the sheer relief and assurance of hearing someone say, to the Fairest’s face, that this is her doughnut and no one is going to take it from her.

Younger Fairest tend to flit between two or three Courts; their initial selection may be based entirely on friendships, Vibes, or a gut-check decision based on an initial pitch by that Court, and Fairest can go quite far even in a Court that doesn’t quite actually fit their needs. Eventually, though, those Fairest who survive their youth will gravitate towards a Court whose ideals speak to them, even if its current social order isn’t living up to those ideals. If they’re going to be condemned to live as exiles in the world of their birth, the Fairest can at least be the person she wants to be, god damn it. Fairest aren’t any more or less vulnerable to a toxic Court environment than other Lost, but they’re good at detecting it beforehand. Unfortunately they’re also good at telling themselves they can change it.

Spring - Though early Spring joiners are of course rare in general, Fairest are among those Lost who more commonly choose Spring as a first Court. Spring’s highly social focus and chaotic internal organization is almost tailor-made for the skill set of your average Fairest, but therein too lies a sense of threat; for many Fairest, Spring can remind them of their Durance, and their joining of the Court is as much motivated by fear of a powerful cultural body as it is by any genuine Desire, maybe even more so. Many such Fairest end up caught in Spring’s middle-road trap, spinning their wheels without recovering or worsening more or less until they finally die, but when Autumn can sniff out the fearful ones it puts a lot of work into cooperating with Spring to get them out and where they can be helped.

Summer - More Fairest dabble with Summer for dreams of glory, or because they want to believe in Summer’s apolitical sales pitch, than ultimately stick with Summer. Those that do stay often serve as officers, as the Sun’s Tongue or the Arrayer of Distant Thunder, and as Court sorcerers. Fairest skilled in Contracts of Separation can make for surprising Jaegers, hounding their prey down more like a private investigator or a serial killer than a traditional hunter, but while striking this is fairly rare. Fairest who stick with Summer are those who are looking for its high ideals and are often among those rare Summer Courtiers who can competently articulate both those ideals and their pitfalls without falling prey to cynicism and bitterness.

Autumn - For those Fairest who hurt others to feel safe, Autumn is waiting. The Leaden Mirror can be attractive to young Fairest because it’s easy to perceive Autumn as atomized, defined by personal relationships rather than webs of political influence, but when the Fairest discovers those webs the existence of Option Two: Resort To Violence as an acceptable tool to the Ashen Court is perversely reassuring rather than threatening. The image of the Fairest as a witch, tempting and threatening, clings to them in Autumn but it’s honestly not their most common role; Autumn employs its Fairest as rumor-mongers, the Other Woman who seems a little too familiar with your husband, therapists & counselors, oneiromancers, and ambassadors to Hedge communities. The work Autumn does is harsh on Clarity, and Fairest are especially vulnerable to that harshness, but if the Court invests the time in helping its Fairest members, the self-awareness and self-confidence it offers can be a godsend that no other Court can give them.

Winter - As the Court which is actually selling what Fairest think Autumn has - to wit, the ability to simply say “no” to all social interactions with no justification required - Winter has a strong undercurrent of Fairest membership at all tiers of its power. Fairest often end up directly involved in Winter’s money-making enterprises, and flourish as Squires and Armigers with their fingers on the pulse of the Court’s morale. Winter’s hands-off approach displays a tremendous amount of trust in its Fairest from their perspective, and the demeanor of the Coldest Court - Winter’s indifferent equality - has a potent, merciless appeal. The trap of drowning in Sorrow sucks more than a few Fairest under, but if their peers can be there for them there’s always a way back out.

This Is Not A Pipe - Fairest And Lost’s Themes

My many thanks to Izzie M for her extensive help on this section. I’m not sure I’d have been able to grapple it down, emotionally or intellectually, otherwise.

Fairest go through some intense shit, and the shit they go through can never fully be addressed, never fully be recovered from. It’s no mistake that Fairest, like Wizened, are among those Lost likely to never fully gain resolution with or from their Keeper, and this is because they embody the dark truth that no matter how much progress you make, how much you heal, your trauma has changed who you are as a person and you will be dealing with it until you die. But, as alluded to extensively above in the discussion of Fairest and gender, Fairest also embody the way in which society will attempt to stamp you, mold you, turn you into a product to be consumed or an archetype to be placed into its churning machine, and its attempts to reshape who and what you are and can be are, in themselves, a form of trauma and abuse.

Fairest deal a lot in expectations. They’re expected to be perfect victims, they’re expected to be happy (because they’re beautiful and attractive, because they can front as Doing Okay, because they have a form of access to ‘normal’ society), they’re expected to want romance and sex (since everyone else wants those things out of them), to perform emotional labor, to be available, intimate, understanding, to keep up appearances. Fairest escape the chains of their Keeper only to be clapped in the chains that extend into the eyes and minds of their peers, and they cannot move without hearing the clink of them.

Fairest are primed to represent victims of ongoing emotional abuse and neglect; sex slaves and victims of child abuse might find themselves in Fairest, as might husbands or wives of abusive partners (and boy, re-living my bullshit there was a bonus prize I didn’t want to receive for writing this article), children pushed to over-achieve (here overlapping with Elemental) until they break, pastor’s daughters and cult kids (here overlapping with Beast), and others. However, Fairest also hit their thematic stride when talking about trauma from a society that will not give you an exit. A trans person is first punished by society for “failing” to perform their assigned gender, then made to perform their new one to expectations that they cannot set, do not control, and do not consent to; such a person might easily be Fairest, as might a man breaking under the expectations of Maleness, a college student losing their mind in finals week with no one to help, or even more ‘ordinary’ sex workers expected to perform emotional and physical labor for a society that rewards their work with violence and dehumanization.

Fairest are people with complex internal worlds and they damn well know it, but the temptations to let others define them are numerous; society promises all manner of rewards for being who and what it wants you to be, for wanting the things it tells you to want, for being the kind of person who wants and does those things. To be Fairest is to know at any time you can start faking it and receive those rewards insofar as they’re actually on the table, but it is also to know, every second of every day that you’re performing that role, that it is fake. If you can’t find a community with which you can be genuine...well. You can always get more hurt, and in this way Fairest also bring another theme of Lost into focus: that the Lost owe compassion and understanding to their fellow victims, because failure to care can only hurt both them and everyone in their blast zone.

Feet Pics For Legos - Coping As A Fairest

Fairest are among those Lost who are most concerned with their day-to-day social interactions and safety rather than their immediate, very physical environmental safety. They are perhaps the Seeming most likely to live in a group setting (in an apartment with roommates or romantic partners, in a house shared between multiple households, splitting the bills in a condo, with their parents), and are definitely the Seeming most comfortable with the idea of living with mortals who aren’t ensorcelled. Indeed, Fairest don’t tend to do well living alone; even a Fairest who wants or needs a private place to be, choosing to keep a home in which others cannot lay a claim, will likely crash at friends’ places, sleep over at the Freehold commons on some pretext or another, stay the night with a lover, or otherwise have a place to flop down while surrounded by other people. Having other people - their greatest reality check - around the place helps keep the Fairest centered in the real reality, better able to pick apart the mortal from the Wyrd from their own unrelated hallucinations, and a Fairest who is isolated - or who is permitted to isolate herself - quickly begins to dissociate and may soon be incapable of caring for herself until someone can get her back into the present.

Those invited over as guests to a Fairest’s home may note a lot of concern for those she lives with. She likely schedules the event well in advance, is clear about the boundaries of those she lives with (”That’s Brenda’s room, the door stays shut.”) and in general treats her communal home with a lot of respect and love. Respecting these boundaries and in turn having her own respected is very validating for the Fairest and is vital to be able to feel safe and at ease in her own home, and impressing their importance on guests further reinforces that this is, as it were, her doughnut. While not dismissive of their own literal physical safety per se, a Fairest’s anxieties rarely center around her body being violently attacked by strangers. For those that do have such anxieties, they may choose to solve that problem by simple expedient of rooming or living with someone large and scary.

Another detail of note which is touched on in Winter Masques is that Fairest tend to seek out life’s little pleasures. Though they are not necessarily wealthier than other Lost, how a Fairest chooses to spend her money tends to follow particular patterns. Rare is the Fairest who doesn’t have clothing they like, a phone that works, a wallet or purse that can actually hold all of their stuff, and in this regard most Fairest without a special interest in fashion as a hobby in and of itself will have an aesthetic that is self-expressive but serviceable and hard-wearing, but any place the Fairest haunts, frequents, or lives in will get little touches everywhere. Fairest spend the little bits of extra money for good toilet paper, soft soaps that won’t hurt the skin, good shower supplies, high-quality razors, boots that won’t wear through - and they spend their serious money on their hobbies and preferences. A Fairest with a passion for cooking scrimps and saves to get a fully-stocked kitchen; a Fairest who likes building and connecting invests in Legos or Hot Wheels and creates elaborate environments for them. A gamer Fairest has headphones that can vibrate your constipation away and a fiber optic connection to ensure that lag will not stand between her and your doom. The reasons for this are manifold, and Lost’s canon writing suggests that Fairest seek pleasure to alleviate a desire to return to Arcadia. This is, to put it mildly, a stupid assertion; rather, the Fairest provides her own pleasures in part because it is one of the most emotionally clear ways to lick the doughnut, and in part because it reminds her that she can be happy under her own power, can seek pleasure, stimulation, engagement, without placing herself at another’s mercy - ironically making it easier to go out every day and do exactly that as a member of her various societies.

As a Fairest settles in she tends to look for “her” people, and quite often they’re good at compartmentalizing this, wearing different hats and having different feelings about those hats without feeling fake or distressed about the bare fact of that. She’ll have her personal friends and family, like her housemates, her girlfriend, maybe her mortal family, her neighbors, and then folks like her Motley (which are like her personal friends and family, but In The Know), her fellow Fairest and the Freehold broadly, her work friends and fellow hobbyists. A Fairest who does, say, sex work, thinks of herself as a Sex Worker and understands herself in the context of that broader social group. It can be a lot! Many Lost barely have a handle on being a member of both the Freehold and a Court, and the way Fairest flit to and fro between many communities, slipping seamlessly from one role to another, can be exhausting to watch - but by doing so the Fairest also builds bonds between those communities, highlights their common needs and interests, draws them together over their similarities and strengths. Darklings and Wizened get a lot of the work on the ground done, but it’s often a Fairest in the role of whistleblower, figurehead, and champion all at once.

After all, this, too, is her doughnut.

Example Fairest - Clara Belltower, Spring Playmate

Clara Belltower is a mime.

Well, no, not exactly. Clara Belltower is a self-employed porn actress, erotic script writer, and director, whose primary thing is mimes, clowns, and more broadly circuses and performance venues. She came back from Arcadia eight years back fleeing life as her Keeper’s Stepford Wife, and ran face-first into the money issues that haunt the Lost in general. What started out as a practical choice in new career - and an attempt to find and express an identity not created for her by her abuser - became a creative passion that has stayed strong with Clara and propelled her to status in the Spring Court, which retains her keen eye for decoration, direction, and theatricality in service to its high rituals and revels. Clara’s livestreams and online presence are also a convenient avenue for the Freehold to launder its less legal revenue streams, which has endeared Spring’s “silent siren” to the Winter Court and cemented her as a mover and shaker.

Clara’s ambitions reach beyond erotic miming, as talented as she is at both creating and purveying such. She has her eyes on four different strip clubs in Freehold territory alone whose owners and operators need to fucking go, and she wants Winter’s help making it happen; further, she wants the Freehold to take over operation of those establishments for the benefit of the workers. Clara’s vision is popular in Spring and has its supporters in Summer too, but the Declining Seasons have been cool on the concept, citing a need to maintain subtlety and avoid entanglements with the mortal world that might invite the eye of, say, the IRS - or mire the Freehold in a protracted war with local police departments. Clara’s passion burns with a righteous simplicity, envisioning a Freehold that is active in improving the city around it - if the cops want to throw down, bring it on! Her influence over Winter means the Coldest Court cannot simply dismiss her desires, but neither is it willing to go to war. Something is going to have to give, soon.

This concludes the Fairest portion of the article. Some additional thoughts on Seeming follow.

Bombing Your Own Position - Choosing Your Seeming

So it’s been six articles and I’ve talked about the ways various Seemings can represent responses to the things which traumatize us; neurodivergences for which society abuses us, the machinery of capitalism, violence, prison, and more. But how do you go about choosing your character’s Seeming? The obvious choice is to make a character that puts a lot of yourself at the table; to seek out a Seeming that reflects your own traumas, your own issues, your own anxieties and struggles, and then grapple with them in this fictional context. But RPGs can be an emotionally challenging medium, and you may well not want to deal with your own bullshit during your magic trauma fairy game. That’s valid!

Now, the second obvious piece of advice is to think about your proposed character’s themes and traumas and then select a Seeming from there, but this can get complicated. Many Lost players feel as if they need two Seemings, and to those players I say: no the fuck you do not. But it is true that people are messy and do not fully resolve, that the broad spectrum of the world of sorrow and loss is not easy to fit into 6 discrete categories whose creation was often managed by, not to keep repeating this point, fucking Nazis. I have found in my experience that it can be helpful, when you’re torn between two Seemings or you have a character you’re sure is this Seeming even though they look like or could be that one, to ask yourself why the character is not the other option. Why is this alluring and sensual Darkling not a Fairest, what makes this brutal and violent Wizened not an Ogre? This question naturally leads to others about their abuse and their reaction to it, and can start your momentum for writing your concept out.

As an addition, while I’ve spoken of various Seemings as being well-equipped to represent specific traumas, they don’t own those traumas. Elementals are metaphorically autistic, but there’s nothing stopping you from running an autistic Fairest or an autistic Beast instead. Rather, those Seemings outlined as being “for” or “about” certain traumas are those whose selection will make those traumas thematically central, cause you to return to them as a topic over and over by virtue of being who and what they are. Real people have complicated problems which intersect with one another, spawning new problems that are more strange than the sum of their parts, and it’s both valid and interesting to write your Lost that way - just keep in mind that it’ll still be complicated at the table too.

Van Helsing Hate Crimes - Seeming Politics

White Wolf spent a lot of time waffling back and forth on whether or not Seemings represent distinct cultural and political identities in a given Freehold, drifting towards ‘yes’ when the writers thought about the way Blessings and Curses create consistent, measurable differences between Lost of various Seemings, and towards ‘no’ generally whenever they were asked to actually outline a Lost society such as a sample Freehold or Entitlement. Some Entitlements are locked to specific Seemings, often times with little thought as to why, while other times Seeming-based power blocs are alluded to as worldbuilding elements (such as in Lords of Summer) without much in the way of supporting detail. Why should these things happen, when, how, what does the buildup of this violent fracture in a Freehold society look like?

On the whole, I have taken the stance in these articles and in my own worldbuilding that some amount of fantastical prejudice exists amongst the Lost, but that the systems of oppression have not taken root. Maybe it’s idealistic of me to view the Lost as unwilling or unable to produce internally racist power structures that create an underclass for the benefit of an appointed elite, but in general I feel as if Freeholds are too small, each individual member too precious by simple dint of being a living being in a physical body, for this kind of evil to flourish. That said, you may have also noticed that I identified two Seemings - Darklings and Fairest - as explicitly self-uniting and in some senses self-governing on the basis of common traumas that they often cannot fully explain to outsiders, and indeed community with people that understand your bullshit without you having to say it aloud - that is, those who share a Seeming with you - can be invaluable to all Lost. Ultimately, however, I want to advise against looking at Seemings the way that, say, Vampire: the Requiem looks at Clans, and instead to treat them as reactions to trauma rather than a kind of alternate racial identity.

Next up: So You Need To Write A Fetch

#Changeling: The Lost #rpg #fairest #trauma #abuse #seemings #violence

[bts-hyperfixation]

Why Not Then? 18+

Here it is in all it s 4327 words.... This one kind of got away from me.

angst/fluff/smut 

I hope you like it!

Warnings: unprotected sex

pic found here

Tonight’s the night. At least that’s what you were telling yourself. Senior prom. It’s now or never. Tonight is the night you are going to tell Jungkook how you really feel about him. He has to feel the same way, you are inseparable. There is no doubt in your mind that the only obstacle in the way is fear, not wanting to ruin the friendship you had worked so hard to build. The doorbell sounds through your house and you take a deep breath. For the hundredth time that day you look in the mirror. Curls frame your face, makeup done to perfection, and the seafoam A-line dress you had chosen made you feel like a queen. Your mother calls you downstairs, you can hear your father making polite conversation with your date as they wait for you. Another reason you are so sure Jungkook feels the same, he is your date. He could’ve had any other girl in school, but he asked you.

The moment you descend from the top of the stairs is like a movie. His goofy little bunny smile lights up his face when he sees you. You try as elegantly as possible to parade down the stairs, using one hand to lift the hemline of your dress, as the other glides along the bannister. You take your time. Eyeing him up as you go, the tuxedo was such a stark difference to his usual gym shorts. He was stunning. His short dark hair quaffed and gelled. Everything was going to go as planned tonight. You could just feel it.

“You look beautiful as ever” he laughs taking your hand and spinning you. You can’t help giggling.

“Not too bad yourself.” You pull on the lapels of his jacket. He bats you away a straightens himself back up just as the flash goes off on your mother’s camera. She arranges the two of you in to ten different poses before letting you leave. Jungkook had driven his beat-up convertible to pick you up. To anyone else that car would be an eyesore, but he loved it, and so did you. So many nights spent just talking and looking up at the stars, cuddled up under an old picnic blanket. To you it was a pumpkin carriage.

He opens your door for you and helps to fold your skirt so it wouldn’t rip in the limited space. He runs to the other side and jumps over the door and into his seat. Your parents wave you off as you pull away. It’s a short drive to the school. 10 minutes at most. He parks like a pro, doing that thing that guys do when they reverse into a space. The twisting just so you can see more of their neck and watch how their arms flex around the back of your headrest. You start to climb out of the seat when suddenly he is in front of you, hand extended to help you. It’s hard not to laugh at how hard he is trying to be a proper gentleman tonight.

“Come on Y/N-ah, the night of our dreams awaits.” He quotes the prom theme. The unbelievably cringy and cliched ‘night of our dreams’. Walking through the doors, it was still blatantly obvious you were in the school gym, but the prom committee at least tried their best. Tacky streamers in blues and silvers, star themed props, a solar system themed photo booth. Its clear they had to use some of the previous year’s decorations, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The butterflies were building in your stomach. Anxious and excited about where your confession could take you.

All of your other friends are already here, dancing to the catchy pop music blaring over the sound system. The path to them is crowded with other sweating high-schoolers, so Jungkook decides just the two of you should go and take photos. He pulls you towards the photo booths, lining up with the other groups and couples waiting their turns. It hasn’t escaped your notice that he is still holding on to your hand. Tight.

“Don’t you want to go dance with the others?” you gesture towards those in the middle of the floor, laughing as one of the boys loses his balance mimicking a slut drop.

“No, I want to take some stupid pictures with my best friend and date for the evening.” He winks at you, a move that should come off as light -hearted and cringy. Instead it feels like he has shot you in the heart. The response you come back with shocks you.

“Just because you’re in love with me.” You accompany the remark by sticking your tongue out at him. He grabs your chin and makes you look him directly in the eyes. Your heart beats double time. It looks like he is going to kiss you. Before his face gets close enough to yours, he ruins it.

“You wish Y/N.” he laughs it off, but you see it as your chance. Now or never, tonight’s the night…

“Actually…” and then it’s your turn for pictures. You don’t get a chance to get the rest of the sentence out. Whether he heard or not you don’t know but now he is excitedly rummaging around a box of props. He pulls out a silver feather boa and oversized-blue sunglasses for you, finding a matching set for himself. It’s a strip of four photos. One smile, one where he jabs you in the ribs, one with silly faces, and one where you kiss him… only on the cheek. Not enough to throw yourself in the deep end, just enough to gauge his reaction.

His ears turn bright red and he stammers about going to find the others as you exit the booth. It has to be a good sign if you make him flustered, right? The next hour is spent ruining all the work that had gone into this evening. Hair stuck to sweaty foreheads, makeup creasing around the eyes, lipstick wiped on the backs of hands. When the live band comes onto play, you and your friends head outside for air. It’s nice feeling the wind, a slight chill in the late hour. Most of your friends can’t hack it for too long, choosing to return to the dance floor in time for the party tracks to come on. Eventually it leaves just you and him. You hear the opening chords of the cha cha slide start up inside and decide now is a good a time as ever, more than eager to avoid the choreographed dance portion of the evening.

“Can I talk to you?” you reach for his hand. He turns to look at you properly and sees the serious look on your face, his brows furrowing to match.

“What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing’s wrong, just come with me.” He lets you drag him away from the gym. You head toward the school greenhouse, no one is going to come looking for you there.

“This is weirdly private Y/N, are you sure everything is okay?” he feels your forehead as if he is worried you have suddenly fallen ill.

“I’ve been trying to tell you this for the longest time and I can’t not anymore, it’s time.” He opens his mouth to speak again, the confusion evident in his eyes. You raise a finger to his lip to stop him. “I’m in love with you.” The words escape more like vomit than a statement. It feels so freeing to get the words out. You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face. Finally admitting how you feel is an amazing feeling. Until you take in the way he is looking at you. You might as well have grown a second head. Your about to speak again when he turns on his heel and makes a run for it.

He walks briskly away from the concealed shed and back inside of the school. You don’t know if you should laugh or cry. Of all the responses you thought you’d get; abandonment was not one of them. It takes you a moment to snap out of the shock he had left you in. you follow the trail he took back into the main hall. Spotting him even through the crowd, people parted as he passed them. He beelines straight through the gym and though the doors into the main corridors. When you make it into the hallway, he is at the other end about to disappear around a corner.

“Stop running away from me!” you yell a little too loud, other lingering students stop and stare at you on their ways back from the bathroom. Unfortunately, you can’t bring yourself to care. Jungkook faulters for a moment before continuing. “Jeon Jungkook! I said stop.” You kick off your heels and run in the direction he disappeared. You nearly run full force into his chest as you turn the corner not expecting him to be there.

“Why?” his voice is small and harsh, not the usual bubbly tone he always has for you.

“Why what?” your more than a little annoyed that you had to chase him only for him to ask you a question.

“Why do you love me?” it’s not the question you thought he’d ask. Why now? How long? What’s your ring size? Those were the questions you had been prepared for. Not why do you love him. you thought that was obvious. “Seriously, why do you think your in love with me?” that stung ‘think’ he doesn’t believe you. Thinks its some silly girly crush you have.

“I love you because you’re you. You’re my best friend, you make me happy when no one else does, my heart hurts when I don’t see you for more than a day.” You reach for his hands, trying your best to convey your sincerity. He flinches in response. Pulls way back out of your reach.

“I don’t feel the same way.” Now it really does feel like someone has stabbed you. Run you straight through with a sword. Your stomach twists so hard you might throw up. This wasn’t an option. In all the ways you had imagine your prom night going, this hadn’t crossed your mind. You taste the tears at the corners of your lips before you realise your crying. “You can’t just spring something like this on someone Y/N! we were having such a great night, why did you have to do this.” He is not only rejecting you, he is blaming you for having feelings. It’s all too much.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is barely above a whisper. The lump in your throat makes it hard for you to speak at all. “I just thought…”

“You thought wrong.” His response is so fast, cutting off every chance you might’ve had to put a band aid over the situation. Maybe held it together until the night was over. Now there is no chance of that.

“I’m sorry.” You try again but he just rolls his eyes. Instead of making you sadder, this reaction makes you angry. How dare he. How dare he just dismiss you like you never meant anything to him. Like you weren’t even a friend.

“I should take you home.” He gestures towards a nearby exit. He doesn’t reach for your hand to guide you like he would’ve any other point in the night. You shake you head and walk back in the direction you came, picking up your shoes as you passed them. You walked straight out of the front gates and all the way home. That was the last conversation you’d have with Jungkook for a long time.

Graduation came and went. He tried to talk to you a few times in person, but you just walked away. Still seething at the way he reacted.  He texted you constantly, left voicemails until you blocked his number. Your other friends never found out exactly what happened. They pieced bits together from what the two of you were able to talk about but never the full picture. When he started coming to your house to apologise you decided it was time to move on and headed to college early.

You were in town for a wedding. One of your high school friends had managed to meet the love of their life while away at college and asked you to come. It was a nice excuse to visit your parents. You didn’t come home as often as you would’ve liked. The town felt a little haunted after you finished school, so you tried hard to avoid it. Especially at times like this.

You were standing in your childhood bedroom, dressed to the nines once more. This time knowing that Jungkook was not going to be waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. But he might be at the wedding. Getting over the boy you had never really been with was more of a challenge than you could’ve ever imagined. It took you almost the entire first year away to truly get some peace on the situation. You even started to understand his point of view. He was just an 18-year-old boy trying to enjoy one of the last nights he’d get with his friends. The you had gone and dumped a whole load of new information on him. It wasn’t fair of you, just as much as it wasn’t fair of him. Truthfully, a little part of you would always wonder what if. What if he had felt the same way, would people be coming home for your wedding instead? Or would it have fizzled out long distance?

You are pulled out of your thoughts by your phone signalling the arrival of your uber. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed you clutch and headed out, eerily reminiscent of that night.

Five years later.

The wedding is at a fancy hotel on the other side of town. You are escorted by the ushers into the main room. you quickly scan the area for him. You don’t even know if he is coming but you don’t want to be caught off guard. Coming up empty you thank the groom’s men and find a seat in the back of the bride’s section where you can survey the room.

It feels ridiculous being so on guard around the person that used to mean the world to you. Your eyes meet as soon as he walks through the door. He seems genuinely surprised to see you there. He tries a weak smile and lifts his hand to wave in your direction, but you put your head down, choosing to focus on the intricacies of the program instead. 4 hymns and a sermon. For a nonchurch wedding it sure seemed religious. You roll your eyes and settle in for a long one. You watch out of the corner of your eye as he skulks away. Sitting a few rows in front of you. You allow yourself the luxury of looking at him now that he can’t look back. His hair is a lot longer now. The suit he has chosen definitely fits a lot better than his prom tux. His shoulders are nicely outlined, strong and broad. It’s a nice visual.

The wedding seems to happen around you. Old friends come over to catch up. Vows are exchanged everyone is shuffled into a banquet hall. All the while you are watching Jungkook out of the corner of your eye. Seeing him go through the motions just as you are. Three tables away. Clearly your friend has been smart enough to think that through when creating two singles tables in her seating plan.

The night wore on. Speeches were made, drinks were spilt. More than one groom’s man ripped his trousers on the dance floor. You were getting some air in the gardens when he found you.

“You look beautiful as ever.” His voice is soft, but it still makes you jump, not expecting him to approach you at all.

“Thanks.” You move to brush passed him, eager to put some space between you. Very Much not wanting to exchange awkward pleasantries with the man that, after today, you were sure still owned your heart. He steps back into your path, and makes you meet his eyes. It hurts all over again. Every feeling you had that night rushes back, every bit of progress you’d made since then erased in a matter of seconds.

“Can we talk? Please?” he sounds almost as desperate to talk to you as you are to leave.

“Talk about what Jungkook? It’s been years, just let it lie.”

“Exactly it’s been years and I know how I feel about you now, know how I felt about you then… please just let me explain myself.” He pleads with you. You stand firm, half of you longing to hear him out, the other half wanting to run the way he had.

“Why should I let you talk now? You didn’t let me talk then.” You can hear the venom dripping in your tone but can’t bring yourself to adjust your voice.

“I was a kid back then Y/N, and I was scared I was going to lose you” he chuckles darkly “I guess I did that anyway.” He grabs for your hand, this time you get to pull away from him. None of this is fair, where was this person when you needed him five years ago? He sighs at your reaction. “Look I was terrified okay? I didn’t know how I felt about you. I just knew everything was changing and I didn’t want us to change. But I know who I am and what I want now, and that’s you.” He closes the distance you had put between you in one stride. His mouth heavy on yours trying to prove a point.

You can’t bring yourself to pull away this time. Instead melting into his embrace. Letting yourself indulge in the boy that was all you ever wanted.

“Why now? Why not then?” you ask when he finally pulls away.

“Because you wouldn’t speak to me until now. I wanted to tell you the day after, but you wouldn’t talk to me. And you were right to do so. I was such an asshole to you about it. Let me make it up to you.” He peppers your face with kisses.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have cut you off like that. I was scared too.” He holds you tight cradling you into his chest. You stand there for a while. Taking in everything about him that you’d missed. The smell of fresh cotton, the warmth he always radiated. All of it.

“I have a room upstairs if you want to go. Maybe we could watch a movie?” you pull away to look straight up at him. he must have realised what it sounded like then because his mouth formed an o and his eyes widened. “Wait no, I really did mean a movie.” He tries to backtrack.

“What if you didn’t mean a movie?” as soon as your meaning sinks in, he is sprinting away. This time with you in tow, struggling to keep up. Eventually he decides you are slowing him down. He lifts you bridal style into the nearest elevator. He refuses to put you down, even though you are forced into a standstill. As soon as the door dings, he is through them. Balancing you and opening the door isn’t even a challenge as he bursts through into the luxurious hotel room. He throws you unceremoniously on to the bed before discarding his jacket on the floor. You watch, propped up on your elbows, as he loosens his tie and kicks off his shoes before helping you with yours. He runs his hand up the back of your calf, rolling down the stockings you’d worn in an effort to avoid tights.

His hair falls into his eyes as he meets your gaze, and you can’t take the teasing anymore. Grabbing him by the collar, you pull him on top of you. Your lips finding his, unwilling to let go until your lungs hurt. He has one arm by your head, supporting some of his weight while the other trails down your waist. He drags his fingertips along your thigh as he moves your hemline. With your skirt out of the way his hand moves in between you bodies finding its way to your clothed pussy.

“I’ve wanted to taste you for so long… can I?” he kisses down your neck as he asks, leaving you barely able to respond. You just about manage to squeak out your approval. He wastes no time, biting into the soft flesh of your thighs as he wraps his hands around your panties. They are disposed of quickly, likely ruined by the slick you can feel pooling between your legs. He licks along your slit, barely delving between your folds. The tip of his tongue flicking at your clit briefly before he goes back and starts the motion again. Each time he gets close to your clit he brushes it slightly, so you shiver with anticipation, but he waits until you are practically panting to go any further. His right hand joins his talented tongue. Two fingers slipping inside of you. The slight stretch burns so good. His mouth moves up, biting gingerly at the sensitive nub he had been teasing for so long. Your thighs clamp involuntarily around his head. He wraps his free arm around your leg, driving you apart to give him better access. His tongue comes back into play drawing little shapes on your clit as he sucks down. He curls his fingers in just the right way to have you coming undone underneath him. Biting your lips to keep yourself quiet. He swats at your thigh until your teeth let go, forcing your moans out into the open. When you stop writhing, he lets your leg go and wipes his face with the back of his hand.

Sitting back on his feet he won’t stop looking at you weird. Its an expression you can’t ever remember him making before, and that worries you.

“What? Why are you looking at me? Were the noises too weird? I tried to keep them in…” he pulls you up to him by the wrists and kisses you before answering.

“I love you… please shut up. Your moans are the sexiest thing I think I have ever heard. Now I just really want to get you out of the rest of your clothes. He reaches around to unzip your dress, fumbling for a moment until you take pity and take it off yourself. His shirt is already unbuttoned by the time the fabric is over your head. You help him to push the sleeves off his arms, taking great pleasure in rubbing your hands across his toned arms. You marvel at the amount of muscle he has gained for a moment before he drags you back to him, falling onto his back so you straddle him.

You make quick work of the clothing on his lower half. Perhaps a little too keen to see what you were working with. He does not disappoint. His cock is above average in length, immediately evident as it slaps against his stomach when released from it’s confines. You shuffle back for a moment to admire the full image. His hair falls haphazardly around his head, lips swollen from the kisses. Perfectly chiselled abs leading into an arrow to what you can only describe as the motherlode. Everything about this moment was worth the wait. But you refused to wait any longer. You stroke your hand softly along his shaft, pumping a few times before moving to sit yourself on top. You sink down slowly at first, having to take extra precaution to not hurt yourself. His eyes pinch shut and his nose crinkles as a little whimper escapes his mouth. You slap his chest.

“If I’m not allowed to stay quiet, neither are you.” He nods enthusiastically and opens one eye just as you reach the base of his dick.

“Fuck.” His voice low and breathy. Sounds more like he just ran a marathon than had a girl sit on him. As you feel more comfortable, you start to wriggle your hips, not thrusting away, just enough friction to tease him like he did you. You don’t get away with it for quite as long though. His hands are on your hips and you are powerless to stop him as he makes you bounce, meeting each thrust with one of his own. Soon it’s not enough for him. Too worked up to relinquish any control. He flips you quickly, now on your knees. He barely gives you time to orientate yourself before driving into you from behind. Fast, sloppy thrusts used to reach his own end. He snakes one arm underneath you. Skilled fingers finding your clit, playing with you until you tighten around him. making it difficult for him to keep going.

Soon he spills over, cumming deep inside of you. Holding onto you with all he has. Instead of pulling out, he falls over with you in his arms. Cuddling into the back of you as he comes down. You wiggle experimentally on his softening cock, earning you a growl. You giggle at his oversensitivity and try to get free as painlessly as possible.

“Don’t go” he is whiny when he is tired, it’s so endearing. He makes a grabby hand at you as you clamber of the side of the bed

“I’m only going to the bathroom; I’ll be right back.” You kiss him on the cheek as you round the bed.

“Good because I never want to be without you, ever again.” he admits as you walk into the bathroom.

February request - open

Masterlist

#purplearmynet #bts fic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #jjk smut #jungkook smut #jeongkook smut #jeongguk smut #feb 21 #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #kpop smut #kpop fic #jeon jungkook x y/n #100

[vanserraseris]

END OF PART V - This part sort of just gives a little insight into the Vanserra family dynamics, and they’re kind of a mess. The brothers probably aren’t as shit as they are supposed to be, though, but they’re still pretty bad. There are a few mentions of child abuse, Beron is literally the worst. It got a little longer than I’d first planned, but I hope you enjoy it (and big thanks to everyone who is reading)!!!

ahhhh i love it sm. love the brothers. fuck beron

Prince of Ashes. Part V.

masterlist.

Eris’s eyes snapped open, the incessant banging coming from the front of his cottage startling him out of a dreamless sleep. Despite having just woken up, Eris’s movements as he reached for the dagger he always kept on his nightstand were quick, controlled. Even in the dark of the room, Eris could see that there were no intruders. Not many people knew of his personal cottage, but that didn’t mean Eris never worried about being killed in his sleep while there.

“What is that?” Eris had nearly forgotten about Lucien. His youngest brother seemed to have fallen asleep curled up on the large cushioned chair by the stone fireplace again instead of going to the smaller room he’d claimed as his own. Eris didn’t know why, but when he took Lucien to his cottage, Lucien often preferred sleeping on one of the chairs in Eris’s bedroom. Lucien’s red hair was a mess and his shirt was wrinkled as he sat up, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms.

Eris grabbed the pair of old brown boots he had by the foot of his bed, wondering who in the hells was capable of getting past the wards he’d had Lagos put around his personal home. “Don’t worry, it’s just the door,” Eris answered, irritation lacing each word in the hopes that Lucien wouldn’t think anything was amiss. 

Lucien didn’t seem worried in the slightest as he yawned before he asked, “Is Micah back? He left a bunch of scrolls on the table.”

“Micah has a key.” All three of his friends had a key, and the only other person he could think of that would be coming to see him so late at night was Rufus, but Rufus could easily winnow through the wards. 

Eris snarled softly when he saw the wrinkles on his own shirt, briefly considering whether or not he should just put another one on, but decided not to when the banging started once more.

It was probably Beron. Eris figured he had absolutely nothing to worry about, his father was most likely just angry with him, and that was nothing new. Or perhaps Beron had come for Lucien. Eris ran a hand through his hair, his other hand still clutching his dagger as he tried to decide if it was Lucien his father wanted, what he might do. With a few large steps, Eris made his way across the room. He crouched down in front of Lucien’s chair, holding the dagger out to him, “Take this.”

Lucien straightened, suddenly looking a lot more troubled, but he didn’t reach out to take the dagger. “What’s happening?” 

“Nothing,” Eris desperately hoped it was nothing. “Rufus probably just got drunk and forgot how to winnow again.” 

“Eris,” russett eyes wide, Lucien grabbed onto the loose sleeve of Eris’s shirt, “Where are you going?”

“To open the door,” Eris flashed his brother a small smile, hoping that it would be enough to convince him that everything was alright. “Take this and stay here.” Lucien knew how to use a blade, most Autumn court children did. 

Lucien was just a little older than half a decade, but despite his age, he knew all too well how dangerous the Autumn Court was, how cutthroat. Lucien took a deep breath, eyes now on the dagger in Eris’s outstretched hand.

The hilt of the dagger was ornate, golden, and fashioned to look like the head of a snake, green jewels that acted as the snake’s eyes glittered brightly as Lucien curled his small fingers around the weapon. Eris brought his now empty hand up to ruffle Lucien’s hair, “I’ll be back,” he promised. 

Lucien nodded once, pulling his knees up to his chest, a look of pure determination on his young features as he watched Eris stand to his full height.

Eris regretted that he’d left all of his hounds at the kennel in the Forest House I’m his rush to leave. He’d have preferred at least Enya, his oldest hound and the alpha of the pack, to have watched over Lucien. Eris no longer had a weapon, but his magic would most likely be enough, so with one final glance at Lucien, Eris tore out of the room. As Eris walked with fast steps down the hall, the bronze sconces that lined the walls flared to life behind him.

The banging on the door hadn’t gotten any louder or any more frantic, and as Eris approached it, he lifted his nose in the air, taking a deep breath. The familiar scent of red apples lingered in the small foyer - not father - but it did nothing to ease Eris’s worries. His features schooled into a practiced look of irritation, Eris pulled the latch on the door, unlocking it before he yanked it open, “Cato.”

His brother smiled. To anyone else, it might have looked sincere, “Eris.” When Eris didn’t move to the side, Cato made a face that looked genuinely confused, his brows raising in a look of mock puzzlement, “Not going to invite me in?” 

Eris didn’t move, he was taller than Cato, and while they were both lean, Eris’s shoulders were broader. He effectively blocked the entrance to his home as he asked, “Why are you here, Cato?”

His younger brother frowned, “Can’t I come say hello to my older brother?” He tilted his head a fraction, russett eyes widening slightly. “I only have one, you know.” Perhaps that was why Cato and Eris never really got along. Eris was the only obstacle to Cato’s place as High Lord, and they had never spent much time together while Cato was growing up - Eris had been sent to a war camp right after he’d been born.

They had almost no relationship, and yet, they still managed to fight over the smallest of things. Eris supposed that their non-existent brotherly bond meant that there would be no regret for Cato when he would inevitably end Eris’s life. Sending Eris away had been smart on Beron’s part, he’d practically ensured that his two eldest sons were always at each other’s throats. 

Eris growled, “No. No, you cannot come say hello, especially not at the crack of dawn.”

“Did I wake little Lucien?” Cato’s voice dripped with such a convincing act of concern. Even Eris could admit that Cato was the best fucking courtier in all of Prythian, a snake in the grass in every sense. 

“You woke me,” Eris spat. 

Cato was no longer acting the part of the concerned younger brother as he practically shoved past Eris, “Don’t worry, I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

Eris bit the inside of his cheek so hard he drew blood. Slowly, Eris shut the door, mumbling a frustrated, “I doubt it,” under his breath. 

When Eris finally turned to face Cato, he looked closely at his greatest rival. Not a single one of Cato’s deadly throwing knives was in sight, but that didn’t mean none were there. Cato’s eyes looked tired - troubled - and if Eris didn’t know any better, he'd have guessed that he looked a bit nervous.

He was holding himself up a little too straight, the sleeve of his shirt sloppily peaked out of his jacket, and a muscle in his jaw was working. Wonderful, Eris thought, Cato had finally decided to kill him. Eris took a breath, controlling his flames, getting ready for a fight. 

“I know you favour the runt, Eris.” 

Eris blinked. His brows furrowing slightly as he shook his head, “Cato—”

Cato raised a hand, “I don’t know why, but father’s given us orders to make his life as miserable as possible - probably to piss you off as much as because he’s just a horrible old bastard - and I’m not going to go against a direct order from the High Lord.” 

Eris froze, “And you’ve come to tell me this because?” 

Cato flashed him an adder’s grin, “I’m in a benevolent mood.”

Eris eyed him. Eris didn’t know if Cato had ever done him any favours, at least not in the last century. He sometimes wondered if Cato and him could have been close, knowing very well that it was much too late now. The resentment Cato had for his only older brother had been ingrained in his very young and impressionable mind by their father. Eris would be lying if he said he didn’t resent Cato as well.

Cato’s grin, faltered, turned into a frown, a seemingly real and true emotion Eris didn’t think he’d ever seen on his younger brother’s face. “It is an act I’ve done in good faith,” Cato wasn’t meeting Eris’s gaze, “Owain, Maddox, and Priam got the lecture, too.” Cato tugged on the cuff of his jacket sleeve, “I’m sure Rufus would have gotten the lecture if he’d been at the house, waste of father’s breath if you ask me - he only ever listens to you.”

Cato had gone out of his way to warn Eris, and while Eris was grateful, he couldn’t very well let almost all of his brothers turn on Lucien just because Beron had ordered it. “I’m going to say it once, Cato, don’t you dare lay a hand on him.” 

Cato huffed a laugh, flames in his eyes, “I don’t follow your orders, brother, and if you're asking me, I’d say the little runt would benefit from having the rest of us beat on him as well.”

Eris wasn’t usually one for any sort of physical violence, but he was blinded by rage as he lunged at Cato, grabbing him roughly by the collar and shoving him back up against the wall. Eris snarled, teeth bared, “Don’t touch him.” 

“I wasn’t being entirely serious,” Cato rolled his eyes, “But it’s fucking nice to know your weakness, Eris.”

Of course Cato would use their youngest brother against him. “I think all of us would benefit if I cut out that silver tongue.” Eris didn’t mean it, but it worked in Eris’s favour if Cato feared him just a bit. 

Cato grinned again. “I’d be very careful, Eris, I’m not in the mood to gut you tonight, ” Eris hadn’t felt the point of the knife pressed up against his side until Cato applied just a little more pressure, “I’d hate to get blood all over my good jacket, but I’ll do it if I have to.”

Eris snarled, pressing Cato harder up against the wall, “You always manage to make my blood fucking boil, you know.” 

“The feeling is mutual.” Eris thought he felt Cato’s knife cut through his shirt.

With one final growl, Eris loosened his hold on Cato’s jacket. He took a few small steps back, running a hand through his long hair.

Cato adjusted his jacket with one hand, in the other, he twirled the knife between his fingers, the simple silver blade flashing. “Be honest with me, Eris, just this once.” Eris would have asked him what the hell he was talking about, but Cato didn’t wait for a response before he asked, “What’s so very special about Lucien?” 

Eris couldn’t actually tell him about the oath he’d taken, wouldn’t risk Cato using that against him, so he simply sneered, “Absolutely nothing.”

Cato scoffed, “I know you dislike it when precious little Lucien gets a beating, but I think you’re overreacting. Father’s hands aren’t as painful as the whips he was using on us at Lucien’s age.” 

Eris set his jaw, opting to give his brother some of the honesty he’d asked for. “I want to protect him from that - maybe then he won’t end up like the rest of us.” Eris made a vague gesture with his hand.

There seemed to be a sort of understanding between the both of them when Cato met his eyes once more, a strange sort of openness that Eris couldn’t really read. Cato sounded a bit defeated as he spoke, “You cannot protect him forever.” 

Eris knew he couldn’t, the vow he’d taken haunted him some nights, but that didn’t mean he wanted Cato to point it out. “I can try,” Eris snapped.

“I appreciate the honesty, truly, but let me tell you something, brother. Your efforts will have been for nothing if the outcome is no good.” Cato shook his head, “I reckon no one - not mother, not Rufus, definitely not Lucien - no one will remember that you tried.” His lip curled over his teeth at the last word like he was disgusted by it. “Father’s got it out for little Lucien, I don’t know why, so try and protect him if you must, but when it all goes to shit, just remember I warned you.”

Eris couldn’t even begin to guess why their father was acting this way so suddenly, but he dipped his chin at his brother. “Thank you, Cato,” Eris said with as much sincerity as he was able. Eris wasn’t very used to thanking anyone, and he didn’t think that Cato was very used to hearing any thanks, either. Eris could practically hear his father’s voice, see the sneer on Beron’s face, as he’d hissed at a young Eris that sons of Autumn never gave thanks.

Cauldron boil me, Eris thought, he was going fucking soft. 

Cato’s russett eyes widened at the words before his genuine look of surprise was replaced by a scowl, the masks were back, it seemed. “You won’t be thanking me when I steal your crown, brother.” 

“If you are feeling benevolent when you decide to kill me,” Cato flinched, but Eris continued, choosing to ignore it, “Do me a favour and make it quick.” The silence that dragged between them as they stared at each other was uncomfortable.

They looked so alike, very much like their mother. Long red hair, sharp cheekbones, elegant brows, the only difference was the russet colour of Cato’s eyes and the much softer lines of his face. 

With a shake of his head, Cato moved past Eris, ensuring that their shoulders hit. He threw open the door, the heat of the room leaving as he stood in the doorway for a moment, as though he wanted to say something.

Cato stepped over the threshold of the door, the first few rays of the sun peaking over the horizon. “And not like you asked for my advice,” Cato picked at a thread on the sleeve of his shirt, turning to face Eris once more, “But you should stop spoiling the little runt, you’ll make him as useless as Rufus. And father is growing impatient with you and I’d rather not be dragged out of my duties to watch your flogging.”

Eris nodded once absently, his mind reeling, but nothing except irritation showed on his face. Perhaps Beron had learned in truth that Lucien was not his son. Perhaps Beron was no longer questioning the blood that ran through Lucien’s veins. Perhaps Eris would not be able to protect him, and Eris would rather tear out his own throat than let Beron harm his youngest brother. He’d made a vow, after all - he found he had to remind himself that was the only reason why.

Before he winnowed away, Cato called back to his older brother, “Be careful, Eris.” It could have been a warning or a threat, but Eris was choosing to believe that Cato might have actually been a bit worried for his well being. 

Eris shut the door, turning and leaning against it with his eyes closed. He slowly slid to the floor, breathing in through his nose, wrapping his hands around his knees. He hadn’t felt this helpless since he was a child.

Eris felt dizzy as he thought about how he would have to find a way to get his father to pay even less attention to Lucien, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it. He was also trying not to think too much about Cato. Cato had fucking warned him. The brother who he competed against, constantly fought with, never trusted - had warned him. Cato was young and ruthless and cruel, just as Eris was, and Eris knew they were more alike than they were different.

They were two-sides of the same tarnished coin. Eris took another breath, he didn’t like thinking about his brothers too much, it made his chest ache. Eris thumped his head a couple times on the door behind him. Perhaps if he hit it a little harder he’d knock some sense into himself. Eris could feel flames dancing on the tips of his fingers. He’d gotten much too emotional, all his actions driven by that stupid oath, and he’d lost his edge. 

“Eris?”

Eris opened his eyes at the sound of Lucien’s worried voice. He was sure he hadn’t managed to control his magic, and he knew that there were wild flames flaring in his eyes. Eris was almost certain Lucien would flinch away from him, away from that all-too familiar and dangerous fire, a fire that reminded most people of his father. “I thought I told you to stay put.” 

Lucien was no longer holding the dagger Eris had given him, but he took a small step towards where Eris sat. “Are you alright?”

In the light, Eris could clearly see just how terrible Lucien looked after Beron’s beating. It had taken all of Eris’s strength not to go after his father, and just like a coward, he’d done nothing but winnow Lucien away from that cauldron-damned house. Eris hadn’t been there to see Lucien’s punishment - he didn’t even know what Lucien might have been punished for - but Beron’s marks were all over his little brother.

Eris could barely look at the black eye, at the split skin near Lucien’s eyebrow, at the dark bruise on his cheekbone. Eris knew there were more bruises he couldn’t see. 

“I’m fine.” Eris lied, willing the flames in his eyes to vanish. 

Lucien took a few more small, slow steps towards Eris, like he was approaching a wounded animal. It must have been a shock for Lucien to see Eris in this way, but Eris was tired, and he didn’t think he had it in him to act alright even for Lucien’s sake.

Lucien sat right next to Eris, leaning up against the door, mirroring the way Eris was sitting. Eris knew he should perhaps be offering Lucien words of comfort, but he didn’t know what to say. 

Lucien was the first to break the silence. “It’s light.” 

“What?” Eris turned his head to face Lucien, confused. 

Lucien looked up at him with a small smile, “What can fill a room, but takes up no space. Your riddle.” 

Eris raised an auburn brow, “I’m going to have to start giving you harder ones.”

“I’ll solve those ones, too.” 

Eris felt the corner of his mouth tilt up just a fraction, “I bet you will.” 

Lucien turned away from Eris, moving so that he was leaning up against Eris’s side. “Don’t worry too much about whatever’s bothering you,” Lucien muttered, “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.” 

Eris took comfort in knowing that at least Lucien believed in him, and he figured that Lucien was probably right 

Eris would figure something out, he always did.

#eris vanserra #fanfic #autumn court #beron vanserra #lucien vanserra #lady vanserra #the lady of the autumn court #helion #helion x lady of autumn #helion x lady vanserra #fanfiction #vanserra brothers #acotar #sjm #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #sarah j maas #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames

[juniorgman187]

The Bones (Reid Series) Part 2

Summary: After doing an even deeper dive on Valerie’s past, Spencer finally meets her, but his invasiveness isn’t the worst part ... the worst part is he might actually like her. 

Playlist: “The Bones” by Maren Morris & Hozier  (BONUS: song includes major foreshadowing) Category: Series, Fluff, Soft Angst, Eventual smut and *NSFW content Pairing: Spencer Reid POV x Fem!OC - Valerie Content Warning: invasion of privacy, allusions to Maeve’s death, arrhythmia Word Count: 3.4k

Part 1 |

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

After firmly deciding not to weave Penelope into my tangled web, I was met with the arduous burden of conducting my own research. 

Firstly, I would need a computer - yeah ... a computer. That’s how far I was willing to go for this pursuit. I once vowed never to fall victim to modern technology’s clutches, and yet here I was, doing my research on a public library’s computer. To my credit, I hadn’t gone out and bought one, I was merely using my resources.

With the need for a device out of the way, all that was left was the knowledge of what to look for. But that didn’t pose a problem either.

Funny enough, with as many rules and restrictions as there are regarding patient privacy and confidentiality, all it took was matching dates of news stories with hospital records to complete my research. I was fairly certain I was only scratching the surface of information about Valerie as opposed to the sea of things I could’ve uncovered if I asked for Garcia’s help, but there are only so many lines a person can cross in one week. 

This was my limit.

Call me naive, but I was actually quite surprised with just how expansive the internet is. To an almost relentless degree, I would open an article and it would lead me to ten more about the same topic. It was this never ending rabbit hole that seemed to spiral on forever. I kept digging deeper and deeper until I could no longer dig. 

I’d officially hit rock bottom. 

It took me a grand total of just two hours to unearth all the ‘dirt’ I could on a young Valerie Bishop. 

Local 16-year-old Wins Nevada’s Statewide Art Contest! Published by Henderson Press. 

Valerie, just a sophomore in high school at the time, was donning what any experimental teen girl would’ve worn in the early 2000s - bootcut jeans and a sequin blouse over top of a plain camisole. And if I zoomed in close enough, I could spot the evidence of a sparkly blue shadow coating her eyelids. Surprisingly, though, that wasn’t the first thing I noticed. 

It was that smile. That tooth-achingly sweet smile. 

Though I never got the chance to see Maeve truly smile, that’s what I imagined it would look like. 

The photographer must’ve caught her midway through a laugh, at least that’s what the image of her slightly open-mouthed grin told me. Meanwhile, her two tiny hands were clenching her overbearingly large trophy while her artwork stood behind her as the background.

It didn’t take me long to figure out why her painting won. Simply put, there was no need to see anyone else’s art to know that they couldn’t possibly compete with hers. 

Hers was an abstract rendition of what I believe to be a forest of some sort. The detail is what I was most drawn to. It would’ve been unbelievable on its own but the fact that she was 16 when she painted it? That’s what was unbelievable to me. 

If that’s how talented she was at that age, I could only imagine how much more talented she became with time. However, I lost the chance to investigate the current state of her skill before a related article from The Cleveland Gazette about Valerie succeeded this one. 

From Award-Winning Artist to Henderson’s Hero

Read my interview with 17-year-old Valerie Bishop to find out more about her struggle with arrhythmia and how she turned her pain into a project! 

By Kelli Gallagher from the Cleveland Gazette. 

Gallagher: Thank you so much for letting me interview you, Valerie. 

Bishop: Of course! I’m happy to. 

Gallagher: You’ve become somewhat of a hero in Henderson, Nevada, haven’t you?

Bishop: I wouldn’t call myself a hero ... but if everyone else wants to - I’m fine with that. (laughs)

Gallagher: Don’t be so modest! I mean, what you’ve done is so incredible, and you’re only what? Seventeen?

Bishop: Yes, ma’am. I just turned seventeen this past August. 

Gallagher: Wow, I can’t believe how young you are and yet you’ve already accomplished so much. I saw that you won a statewide art contest last year. Tell me more about that. 

Bishop: That’s a funny story actually. My Grandma Sheila was the one who entered me in that contest. I didn’t even know about it until I won it. She’s always surprising me, though. In fact, she’s the one that surprised me with my first ever art supplies, when I was about eight or so. They were these super expensive oil paints, and I knew she couldn’t afford them, so I told her we should return them and get something cheaper, but she said, “Nonsense. When the bones are good the rest don’t matter. A house don’t fall when the bones are good.” That was kind of her saying. 

A house don’t fall when the bones are good. 

The bones. 

Gallagher: I’m interested to know more about your relationship with your grandma. If I’m remembering correctly, she was also diagnosed with arrhythmia a while back too, right?

Bishop: Yes, she was, but that’s never slowed her down. And as for our relationship, my grandma and I have always been close, but arrhythmia, in a weird way, has brought us even closer. She has always been my biggest supporter and the fact that we’re both on this journey together makes her my biggest supporter even more so. 

Gallagher: Absolutely. Now, I also heard that you’ve started a fundraising program to possibly start a gallery and studio in Virginia Beach. If you don’t mind me asking, why Virginia Beach? Is there any special significance? 

Bishop: Actually, that’s where my grandma met my grandpa, and they got married and started a family there, too. So if Grandma Sheila hadn’t been there to meet him, she wouldn’t have had my mom, and that would mean I wouldn’t have been here either. I like to think Virginia Beach is where it all started. In a way, it’s where my bones are. That solid foundation in Virginia gave me everything I have today.

Gallagher: That is just incredible. I’m so glad to see your fundraising project is thriving, but I can’t imagine any of this has been particularly easy for you. You were diagnosed right around the time your senior year was starting right?

Bishop: Yes ma’am. 

Gallagher: So what brought you from Henderson to Cleveland?

Bishop: Well, actually, I didn’t want to move, especially not before I graduated, but Cleveland has the best cardiovascular hospital in the country and my health is far more important than graduating in the same state I grew up in. So when my parents were willing to move me and my sister out here, I saw it as a privilege rather than something to be sad about. 

Gallagher: I am so inspired by you, Valerie.

Bishop: (laughs) Really, why?

Gallagher: Despite everything that’d been thrown at you, you are still so grateful. I hope you never lose that. 

Bishop: I promise you I won’t.

Gallagher: So one last thing before I go, what is one hope you have for your future self?

Bishop: I hope, future self, that your ‘bones’ are still strong.

Gallagher: Beautiful. Thank you so much again for doing this, Valerie. I sincerely hope you reach your goal and you get to open up that gallery and studio in Virginia Beach. 

At the bottom of the article, there was a footnote from Kelli Gallagher. 

Exactly 10 years later, Bishop was able to move to Virginia Beach and open up her gallery and studio. 

By the end of the article, I felt a genuine sense of pride for Valerie, and I know I had virtually no right to know these things about her, but I could still be proud of her for them right?

I would never fully get my answer to this question before I crossed the final boundary. 

After exhausting all that I could gather from the internet without Penelope’s assistance, the only thing left for me to do was actually meet her in person. However, this would prove to be a bigger obstacle that it seemed. I decided to delay the daunting task until the next day. A decision partially influenced by the phrase, ‘sleep on it.’ I prayed I’d gain clarity on what to do when I woke up the next morning, but even with a night’s rest, I was still undecided as I drove to Virginia Beach once more.

To sit in my car that was conveniently parked right in front of the gallery was a poor choice. Because with every passing second, the temptation to walk in grew, but the fear of regret dampened those impulses. The more I thought about it, the more I psyched myself out. Between my two choices, to freeze or to fight, I should’ve taken the third - to flee. But I was here now and I couldn’t leave empty-handed for a second time. 

After a moment’s indecision, adrenaline coursed through my veins to give me the courage to get out of my car. When I felt an outdoor breeze blow over me, I knew there was no going back now. Right when I walked in, the little bell above the door rang, solidifying that I was officially crossing the threshold, and whether I liked it or not, she was going to see me after hearing me walk in.

“I’ll be right with you!” A small voice called out from somewhere in the back. She was hidden from my immediate sight, and somehow that made it so much worse. It was now I that was waiting for her, instead of her unknowingly waiting for me. 

As though I were prey getting ready to escape a predator, I stayed put by the door. It gave me a full view of the entire place anyway. 

Scoping out my surroundings, I spotted the paintings that were carefully measured and placed on the walls, almost to perfection. I had no time to notice anything more before the person in the back walked out. 

Immediately when I saw her, I knew.

“You’re … not Valerie.” I couldn’t help sounding so disappointed but luckily, the woman that came out took no offense to my observation. 

“No, I’m not,” She laughed. “But I can get her for you-”

“No wait!” I uselessly leapt forward to stop her from saying, “Vee! There’s someone out here to see you!” But that’s precisely what she did anyway. Evidently oblivious of my previous protests, she politely smiled back at me. “She’ll be right out.” 

For the second time that day, I waited with bated breath, anxiously anticipating the arrival of Valerie. And I was almost too focused on subduing the pounding of my heart to realize that she was actually walking out of the back right now. 

“Hi, sorry about that!” A new voice chirped. 

Valerie. 

The moment I laid eyes on her, it became clear to me that the pictures in her files hardly did her justice. Nothing could compare to the real sight of her. I was only able to catch the profile of her face when I saw her in the cafe, but in her entirety, I began to wax nostalgic. Though her face and hair and body had transformed into that of a grown woman’s features, I could still identify the same tooth-achingly sweet smile that a younger Valerie once wore on the front page of the Henderson Press. She was no beast to conquer, she was just a girl, smiling at me in that same gentle way. 

Her expression just as well showed no indication of recognition, not that she would recognize me, considering my letter was anonymous and unless she pulled the same stunt I did, she wouldn’t ever recognize who I was. 

“I’m Val,” She made her greeting to me while untying her dirtied waist apron, and it was merely the action that caused my gaze to fall to her hips, but when she shed the apron, I was still staring. There was something sort of mesmerizing about the way they swayed as she approached. It wasn’t until they stopped swaying completely that I realized they did so because there was no more distance to advance - she was already right there in front of me, patiently watching me stare. 

“Val?” I blinked hard to revert my gaze while also playing into the part that I had no idea who she was. 

“Mhm. Short for Valerie,” She confirmed happily. “Like the Amy Winehouse song.” 

This time, I genuinely didn’t know what she was referring to, and my confused countenance prompted her to clarify, “You don’t know that song?” 

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, she began to playfully sing, “Well, sometimes I go out by myself and I look across the water ...” 

While she watched my face and waited for the recitation of the song to jog my memory, I was just as much studying her face. I could tell she was only kidding when she sang, evidenced by the laugh that followed her rendition, but it sounded so unironically good that I had to question what other talents she possessed. 

“Um, I was actually thinking more like Valerie, the martyred medieval saint, whose name stood for strength and health.” No sooner than the words spilled from my mouth did I recognize the freudian slip - the simultaneous coincidence and confession. The coincidence was that, now, with Maeve’s heart beating in her chest, she lived up to her name - she was newly strong and healthy. But I worried, she would see the correlation I drew between her name and her successful transplant and would realize that I knew more about her than I let on. Did I just give away too much?

“Sorry, I didn’t catch your name earlier. What was it?” Her casual dismissiveness of my previous statement did nothing to ease my worries. Was she beginning to piece everything together?

“Oh, right!” I said dumbly. “S-Spencer. I’m Spencer.” I was such a blubbering bundle of nerves that I actually reached out to shake her hand - a stranger’s hand. 

“Nice to meet you, Spencer,” She softly laughed, which was hopefully not out of the enjoyment of seeing me squirm. “What can I do for you?” 

A loaded question, don’t you think? What can you do for me, Valerie? Well, for one thing, you could’ve answered my letter, but to say something as bold as that would require me to admit the real reason I was here, and how could I do that without mentioning how I found you in the first place?

“Um ...” Whose birthday is the soonest? “My friend Emily’s birthday is coming up and I was wondering if I could possibly buy a painting from you as a birthday present.” 

There was the faintest perceptible skepticism in her expression, but that could’ve just been my paranoia talking because in the next breath, she didn’t suggest a proclivity to my deceit. “Yeah, of course! Do you know what her favorite medium is? Or her favorite artist? Or her favorite style of art?” 

For every addition to the question, I wordlessly shook my head no. Was my lie already unraveling? Could she see right through me?

“No worries. If you want, you can walk around the gallery and tell me if you see anything you think she’d like.” She made her offer to me sweetly, then disappeared into the back room again. I tried to follow her with my eyes for as long as I could, but from where I was standing, I couldn’t see very far into it. I wandered a little further into the center of the gallery to possibly catch a glimpse of what was occupying her time back there, but when I heard the chattering of two voices, Valerie and the other woman, coming from the same general direction, I realized I was completely alone in this part of the studio.

With no one around to bear witness but these portraits, I could’ve easily slipped out and made my escape, and I might’ve even done it had it not been for the unmistakable gravitational pull forcing me to stay here and walk about the room. 

Making my way throughout the gallery, I would pause every now and then when a painting would stand out to me, which was often, considering each picture was impressive. 

But there was one painting in particular that piqued my interest. It made me feel something I’d never felt before. 

It wasn’t special by any means. By rights, I shouldn’t have even noticed it, for it wasn’t the largest painting, nor the smallest one - it wasn’t even the most average painting. But it felt exceptionally ... Valerie. I had no doubt in my mind that she painted this one - in fact, I had a good bet that she painted most of these portraits, if not all of them - but this one. There was just something about it that I couldn’t put my finger on. 

“So,” A draft was created from where Valerie swiftly and unexpectedly joined me at my side. “What do you think?” 

“Um, there’s definitely something,” I struggled to find the word. “appealing about this one.” Almost as soon as the word came out of my mouth, I knew it was only a matter of time before she called out the inadequacy of my answer. 

“Appealing?” She repeated in mockery. “That’s the best you got? Come on, you’ve been standing here for like ten minutes. There must be something about it you like.” 

“I’m not sure.” I honestly admitted with a shrug.

“There’s no wrong answer.” She assured me, but I found that hard to believe. 

“So if I said I see a grizzly bear attacking a UFO, that wouldn’t be wrong?”

“Nope,” She popped the p. “If that’s how you interpret it then that’s how you interpret it. Just because someone else sees it differently, doesn’t mean you’re wrong.” It would’ve sounded like complete bullshit or nauseatingly cheesy coming out of someone else’s mouth, but her delivery felt so genuine. It actually moved me. 

As she said this, she turned her head in my direction to look up at me, causing her shoulder to brush my upper arm, sending a wave of goosebumps all over my body. 

She was so close. 

But I was so unbothered by her proximity that I didn’t even notice exactly how close she really was. If someone else had invaded my personal space like that, I would’ve moved in the opposite direction just on instinct, but I didn’t even think to do that with Valerie. I was so comfortable with her being there. 

But was that just because a part of her was once Maeve’s? Was the entire foundation of my likening to Valerie built upon that single attribute?

Was that my bones?

“Um,” I began fidgeting with my hands to self-soothe. “I like it. I don’t know why. But I like it. How’s that for an answer?”

There was a pause before her response that compelled me to look at her, but when I did so, she was already looking at me. “I’ll take it,” She nodded. “It’s the biggest compliment to me if my art can make you feel something.”

Was it the art that made me feel something ... or you?

“I’ll tell you what,” She walked over to grab something from the front desk. She came back with a small piece of cardstock. “I’m going to an art exhibition next weekend. Why don’t you come with me and see if you can’t find something for Emily there?”

She handed me the paper, which was actually her business card. “You don’t have to have an answer for me today, but call me when you do.” She seemed to think that was the end of the conversation, but I still had more questions. 

“You’re inviting me?” was the first question that came to mind, albeit the dumbest one.

“Yeah, you can be my plus one.”

I gulped to dislodge the lump in my throat. “Like-like your date?” 

She furrowed her brows with mild confusion. “Um ... sure, if that’s what you wanna call it,” which was the last thing she said to me before vanishing within the back room again. 

I peered back down at the card and tapped it gently on the palm on my hand as though to register its presence really being there. 

For all intents and purposes, this card was meaningless. But to me, it was the formal consenting - nay, invitation - to reach out to her again. She was willingly extending this line of contact to me. 

No more public library computers. No more files. No more ‘research.’ Just her number - a way to reach her without veering off my moral compass. 

Despite this, I still had no clue whether or not I was going to accept her offer.

All that I did know was that I wanted to see her again. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

PART 3 COMING SOON!

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[forbiddcnsirvn]

instagram » devilserpent uploaded a new photo.

devilserpent  This holiday might remain one of the most ridiculous things that I’ve heard, but I suppose I could still take this opportunity to flaunt this handsome piece of hunk that I call my husband. This is our first Valentine’s together as a wedded couple, yes? Which holds significance, and I’m not always the best with words or corny lines, but I can say with the utmost sincerity in my heart and soul that I’m delighted that everything has unfurled like this. We got ups and downs, but no matter the shit and obstacles that we had to go through, it’s always a relief for me to know that I could always turn back to you. Of course, I know that I can be an insufferable pain in the ass, but you put up with me, and through all of those difficulties, it’s only been you that I keep longing to meet at the end of the tunnel. We might not have everything handed on a silver platter, but that’s what makes us, well, us. We go through shit and we fight and bicker, but at the end of the day, there’s no one else that I would want to come home to - to blossom a family with and to entrust with children that I didn’t even know I had even desired back then. I have absolutely no qualms about reminding you everyday, how much you mean to me. You’ve peppered the bleak life that I had with adrenaline, troubles, but most importantly this little thing called love that perhaps had softened me and allowed me to be in-touch with my affections. You’re the strongest fucking person I know, and the children, despite all of our chagrin, look up to you. Your soul might be tormented, but every single piece of you deserves to be adored; your tenderness, your rough edges, your vulnerabilities and weaknesses.  I know things have not been easy, but I’m still here eager to spend every second of my life with you. You’re a treasure with coarse brims, and yet these days, I can never imagine a life where I don’t find myself seeking and loving you. I love you and miss you always, babe. Here’s to another year together, and for the ceaseless end of our union. Come lie with me when you’re home, I think our growing trio are missing you quite a lot. Or perhaps, that’s just an excuse for me to cuddle, / @devilsprxphct

#s: your name against teeth like the secret you whisper to a storm & in the taste of it only a hurricane would find sympathy ( cy & evren ) #&& SOCIAL MEDIA #q.

[jonroxton]

can you talk about chlark beyond chloe? personally i think it's weird that the writers kept adding kisses and weird romantic moments without any pay off. i don't know much about the fandom back then but i think the writers were baiting fans since clark/chloe seems to be the second most popular ship after clex. second i personally think chloe would never be happy with clark or anyone tbh and she doesn't seem like the type of person who would have kids so the finale was weird to me.

this got looooong :)

0. it WAS weird, and the choice to never not once go for it with them was to the story's detriment. I'll get into it a little later on in this post.

Re: shipping in sv fandom. there was definitely drama (clana was HUGE when the show was airing and every ship was basically derailed by it lol) but I stayed in my clois lane with a small circle of fandom friends much like I do now. a good measure of clois fans were fans of lois and clark from other mediums, come to sv just for lois and clark, myself included. we were pretty insulated as a fandom even back then. I do remember seeing more Chlark after the S5 finale (when Chloe kisses him goodbye), but those dropped off after Jimmy was introduced right away in S6. The most drama I encountered was with Chloisers: Chloe fans who believed wholeheartedly that Chloe was Lois. They hated SV!Lois and were convinced she would die so Chloe could take her name and job and place by Clark's side, thus a Chlark endgame. this was a popular theory amongst that fandom even into s9, when the clois ball started to roll for true.

bait and switch

a lot of Chlark is rooted in this notion that chloe WOULD be the best thing for Clark, the ideal Lois, the true best friend, the human hand guiding him through Earth's troubles. she would be could be the BEST possible lois archetype for Clark. it's not a wrong interpretation. she was specifically written as a lois-and-lana-proxy (teenage lana is a reporter in some AUs and even some as an adult as a tv correspondent) and she's given many lois-ish traits (tenacious, secretly crushing on clark and in denial), but this interpretation is deeply flawed. first, because lois does eventually enter into the picture and she has her own defining traits that, when compared to chloe, make chloe seem much shallower than realized. secondly, within the complete context of the story, her position in the greater narrative is not as ~the one who got away, the way it did very early on in S1-S4, but one who clark tolerates.

they're friends because clark is forgiving and chloe has staying power. their friendship is riddled with insecurities and unknowns the characters create for themselves. their dynamic is defined by conflict, not resolutions. this is not made easy by the fact that chloe is such a strangely written character, but ultimately she is positioned as a counter to clark achieving his happiness. not a thematic narrative foil but an obstacle clark eventually relents to.

2. and it has been so from the get-go

S1 is the best season for them and the single season which actually considers Clark's side in this dynamic. everything about them later on can be explained with how they are in this season. and that's the problem. when they're 14 it's nice teen angst drama and works perfectly to establish the dynamic. when they're 24 it's at best a pattern, at worst regression. we expect certain behaviors, dismiss them too, when it's children, at least I do. clark and chloe never move beyond the dynamic they establish in s1 and early s2. in essence, clark and chloe remain children around each other. they have many discussions in the later seasons that make at least one appear petulant.

so S1 clark has just been told the greatest secret of his existence and he imprints on lana hard that same night (right AFTER jonathan tells him, he meets lana at the graveyard and talks to her for the first time EVER, a lot of childhood imprinting going on in SV). all of s1 follows clark's heartache over lana, watching her from afar and figuring out a way to be near her. this pain is exacerbated by the fact that he believes he caused her her greatest grief: the death of her parents via the meteor shower which he arrived in.

here the first beat of the chlark dynamic is established: chloe's job and passion – the wall of weird and her pursuing the meteor infected oddities of SV - directly affects clark in a negative way (he's suicidal for much of s1-s3). so her crush on him is countered with her unknowingly causing him great grief. om top of that: clark becomes part of this passion of hers and she eventually begins to pursue him as a story to be uncovered, very superman yes. here tho, it causes nothing but strife for them and paints chloe in an awful light (and clark too, highlighting his refusal to open up). I personally enjoy this aspect of them in s1. bc they're so young I give em a free pass and it's a good conflict playing around with old superman tropes, but it makes for a fraught friendship.

3. the second beat

is that neither chloe's crush on clark, nor his asking her to stop pursuing his truth, do anything to stay her. her tenaciousness becomes intrusiveness and inconsideration (many of her accomplishments irt the daily planet are directly bc she betrays clark). she simply will not listen to her friend and does not believe his livelihood and autonomy is worth losing a story over. this is literally the opposite of comics/live action lois lane, who in various versions drops the clark reveal story to protect him. this passion turns vindictive pretty early for chloe, who eventually pursues stories about clark out of jealousy and entitlement (against lana also).

4. the third beat

is that clark doesn't ever see chloe as romantic prospect except this time in s1. the tornado trapping lana pulls him away from any solidifying of the clark/chloe dynamic, and that's that. but we know clark was willing to go for it in early s2 when he apologizes to chloe about running off on her. it's chloe who decides not to go on with the relationship. clark is visibly confused, but also 15 so he can't see that chloe is putting on a brave front to protect herself from clark running off again. I liked this too as it's another play on superman tropes, but my sympathy for them stops here.

5. and stays here

these beats are the entirety of this dynamic. everything about chlark can be distilled down to their childhood. it's why I don't hate them completely, bc I have a lot of love for kids who hurt in such a way and that time is never easy. in s8 (I think its s8) when we get a flashback to when they meet as kids (more imprinting!). little tenacious cute chloe kisses insecure clark bc of the funny awkward tension, acknowledging it, and then immediately takes it back because they're better as friends. (also they’re like 11 lol)

every single romantic moment with them is undercut either by chloe herself, or by the presence of other storylines/romances the writers wanted to pursue. the lack of integrity in chloe and the lack of interest in clark, regardless of how sincere their connection or how messed up, is a central part of their dynamic that needs to be reconciled with their friendship. and its exhausting bc there is never a point they are ever truly comfortable around each other.

6. to a fault

knowing the secret doesn't change chloe's methods. it doesn't make chloe clark's great confidante. if anything, it complicates matters for both because their relationship then becomes about the greater good and clark's great destiny. everything chloe does becomes about that, which in theory sounds awesome, but is executed much the same way as s1!chlark: by reiterating behaviors that highlight the negative aspects of that loyalty and the negative aspects of their characters.

the single time they do actively examine what this loyalty means and how chloe's hero complex complicates things for chlark is with s8 and davis. she protects davis with the skills of subterfuge and secrecy she developed as clark's friend. and it costs her jimmy and a lot of her personal integrity as a character. tho ironically it makes chloe the strongest she's been as a character. this is the first time clark is forced to view chloe as an enemy and he never quite recovers from discovering the dark depths she’s willing to go to. 

it's an arc dealing with the established beats: how far chloe is willing to go for a kryptonian (very far), how much she's willing to do for him (A LOT and all of it illegal), and what it costs her (jimmy). it deals with her jealousy (always second choice) and her motivations (uncovering the truth). this great want that she struggled with for years is turned on its head and examined, revealing just how weird and dark her hero complex is because obviously davis is not clark. davis/chloe served to highlight more than any other arc how it's really too bad that clark never saw her that way, because she has so much love to give and when channeled, it's a great force. only it's a great force for evil. clark has to confront that it’s not just lex but his other closest friend who is willing to go so far. they backtrack hard in s9 and s10 but they keep this underlying wariness in clark towards Chloe throughout. it’s not anything new, but it’s no longer subtext that clark doesn’t fully trust chloe.

7. And that's the rub

in the end. chloe and clark have many storylines they're in together and chloe's important.... to develop clark and as a counter to clark. clark never instigates anything, not once, for 9 years! when the show did give us Moments TM, clark is reacting, not actively making choices to connect to her. if anything, clark is incredibly awkward about chloe when they become intimate. he doesn't seem to know what to do with her crushing on him (the elevator scene is a great one to show just how awkward chloe makes him feel). more than that. clark never tells her his secret. and later on, chloe doesn't tell him half the crazy wild shit she does to protect him bc she knows he would disapprove. I still hold that the only reason they work is bc clark is a forgiving character and would give her chance after chance after chance. that's the watsonian explanation, but the doylist explanation is that the writers just never cared to explore them beyond this point.

8. and what was beyond that point?

they would've been a great counter to lexana in S6 and early clana (clark finally having a gf who knows). it’s playing the clark/Chloe as a straight lois/clark proxy before actually pursuing lois and clark. it could’ve been the precursor to davis and caused an even more personal conflict! the kiss at the end of s5 was their chance. they could've written chlark devolving much the same way lexana did in s6 (or not). but again. the writers never went that far and clearly never wanted to. it kept chlark forever in this stage of childhood friendship always on the brink of collapsing, tittering either way. it's also tough to speculate bc clark's just not into her. in fact he becomes more and more wary of her, to the point where he believes she can do horrible things, and he's right. the stories continually make their methods complete opposite.

they go out of their way to show chloe realizing how happy clark is with lois. and even play a joke on the fandom by literally turning her into lois and seeing the sparks between her friends. it's almost... cruel but it does serve to show how clark is when he's smitten and he's never looked at chloe that way except during the dance when they were kids. other unrequited dynamics have at least some spark from the desired, but nil from clark. clark is into chloe in late s1, but she shuts him down, and when he seems to be into her again (damn that s5 kiss was a good one lol), she shuts him down again. it's just a weird writing choice all around, and that they kept nuggets of it throughout the show is the thing I cringe at most whenever I rewatch.

9. bait and switch 2

with hindsight it is definitely ship baiting and that sucks for that dynamic bc without it their friendship would’ve been the stronger, or at least not full of so much negativity. all it did was remind everyone that chloe’s been duped since she was a kid and that clark is both stupid and strange for never noticing and letting her get away with shit just bc she’s the most loyal. I don’t ship them and even I get frustrated lol

#mystuff #smallville #superman #anti chlark #sayruq #my meta

[sneezefiction]

falling for you

Tsukishima Kei x reader - Scenario

a/n: ok so, trying to portray fluff with Tsukki was a challenge characteristically, but i’ll be damned if i don’t try. lemme know who i should try next~ i’m open for requests :)

warnings: slight cursing, mentions blood/wounds (nothing angsty)

wc: 1680

---

Tsukishima never intended to get to know you.

He had actually been avoiding you for quite some time.

You see, you got under his skin in the most irritating ways.

It wasn’t like how he loathed Hinata or Kageyama. Or his annoyance with incredibly slow grocery clerks. It wasn’t even similar to the exhaustive irritations he experienced toward the end of a full volleyball match.

Yes, these things are problematic, but Tsukishima can handle almost any obstacle.

You see, his cold, calculated presence soaks in every detail of life for the purpose of learning how to dismantle an issue. He resassesses, maneuver, and overcomes. There’s a reason the boy is so good at blocking. 

However of all the problems he could have... this one is the worst.

Previously, he had everything he possibly could, under his control.

But when you came along? Oh, he had absolutely no experience with handling this level of meddling.

Because it isn’t even your fault.

You just somehow manage to interrupt all of his patterns and sneak your way into a majority of his thoughts. 

Every. Single. Day.

So it isn’t a surprise that Tsukki, a master of mental strength and strategy, would be enraged by his inability to pin down his feelings for you.

For example, last week, you accidentally bumped into his arm, stumbling a bit. Tsukki grabbed your arm before you could hit the floor, but as his hand meets your skin he feels as though he’s taken a fall of his own.

His heart fluttered.

And when you immediately turned to him, apologizing and thanking him sweetly and sincerely, his whole mind went numb.

You make him feel confused. Uncertain. And… real.

But that doesn’t mean he likes those feelings. No, he doesn’t, Tsukishima tries to convince himself.

So why is it you that he pictures your figure whenever he closes his eyes? Or that your laugh echos through his head after someone tells you a cheesy joke from across the classroom? Or how whenever you call his name, he can’t help but temper his irate disposition?

You’ve got him spinning in circles and it’s driving him wild.

Because Tsukishima doesn’t want to need anyone. Not a friend. Not A lover. And he definitely isn’t in the market for another disappointment.

However, as much as he tries to avoid you, your touch, your smile, he can’t seem to stop running into you. He can’t bury his feelings for you, as much as he wishes he could.

Even though he’s tried to find reasons to hate, laugh at, or ridicule you, he simply can’t. Because the reason you are so bothersome and so obnoxious has nothing to do with you. It has everything to do with his inability to cope with how relentlessly wonderful you are in his eyes.

---

Your walk home conveniently crosses with Tsukki’s own path and every so often he’s out of volleyball practice just in time to run into you. An increasing occurrence over the past couple of months.

Tsukishima may not realize or want to admit it, but he treasures the rare moments where he’ll walk in sync with you. His stride subconsciously copies yours, slowing him down significantly, and somehow it’s okay.

You, harboring your own feelings toward the blonde, always try to make small talk or ramble about your day, doing your best to find some type of common ground with the tall boy next to you. 

He finds himself responding to you again.

He’s tried for so long to not get involved, but over the past few days, he can’t help but let his thoughts flow. You make him uncomfortably comfortable, if that’s at all possible.

His snarky comments are (currently) nonexistent. His abrasive nature, moderated.

I mean, of course he’s dripping with sarcasm, but Tsukki wouldn’t change that part of himself for anyone.

Today something seemed to have clicked between you two, likely due to Tsukishima briefly relinquishing his stubbornness and fear of connection. It’s infrequent, but with your consistency, he’s finding himself far more capable of seeing outside of his past.

As the conversation picks up speed, so do your feet. The pebbled path you walk doesn’t help you keep your footing, so you find yourself unsteady and sliding every once in a while. 

Suddenly, your feet are out from under you, and similarly to the week before, you plummet to the earth. 

You’re not quite as fortunate this time, because as quickly as Tsukki swoops down to catch you, your hands and knees are already covered in dirt, sand, and bits of rock. Scraped and bleeding, you do your best to calm yourself down and assess the situation… so you turn to Tsukki.

Poor boy looks so awkward, unsure of what to say, but still attempting to keep his cool demeanor.

“Are you okay?” He asks, crouching down to meet your eyes. As masked as it is, you see a flicker of concern in his expression.

He takes your hand in his, trying not to let his feelings intervene with your pain, and studies the tears in your skin.

“I- I’m okay,” You stammer, partially from the pain, but mostly from his gentle touch.

“Okay… let me see if I have anything that’ll help.” Turning toward his bag.

It aches and the grimace on your face shows just how nasty the gash on your knee really is. 

He gently lets your hand down, taking out tissues from his backpack and uses one to wipe off your knee while you use another to apply pressure to your hands. 

The air is very still, almost as though it chose to pause for this moment. 

“Hm, the weather actually is nicer down here for you short kids. I’m envious.” Tsukki jokes, breaking the tense silence.

“Haha, very funny. Maybe if you ever fall down, I’ll actually be able to catch you, since I’m already down here.” You retort playfully.

“Okay captain sassy, whatever you say.” He shoots back, “Now how ‘bout we see if you can actually stand up.”

He offers you his hand once again, the feeling making your heart race and his face go blank.

You attempt to straighten out your legs entirely, moving a foot forward, but find yourself in extreme discomfort.

Tsukki notices and without skipping a beat, suggests,

“Well, I can… y’know, carry you?” He turns his head, the lightest dusting of pink touching his cheeks.

You, still using his hand for support, look down, your face becoming red.

“I think that may be the, uhm, best option. It hurts a lot.” 

He silently stoops down, placing his arms under your knees and behind your back, making sure to not agitate the wound any further.

The walk continues in a nervous, but intimately close manner. Neither of your eyes knowing what to focus on.

So you decide to fixate on him for a moment, 

“I’m sorry about all this… I should’ve watched my step.” You express, “But… I’ve really enjoyed our walk together.” You crack a warm smile.

Tsukki returns your gaze, pulse jumping slightly, his honey-brown hued irises capturing your soft (e/c) eyes,

“Yeah, dumbass. You should’ve at least remembered how big of a clutz you are.” He smirks.

“But I guess this was nice… not so much the falling part…” He takes a moment to consider his next few words, breathing a little deeper.

“But these walks, speaking with you…” He averts his gaze,

“Just you, actually, y/n.” If your blush wasn’t already apparent, it was clear now.

He’s approaching your house as he finishes his sentence, but it feels as you’re both walking through time and space. A small galaxy opening up just for the two of you.

Reality stops in moments like these, Tsukki notes.

And it doesn’t feel… bad.

It feels right. Nice, even.

Before making it up to your front door, you reach your soft hand toward Tsukishima’s forcibly stoic face.

While outwardly, he’s kept his composure, his insides are producing so many SOS signals, it’s not even funny.

You lean forward, hand resting on his jaw, and place a short kiss to his cheek.

Leaning back, you catch a look of adoration in his eyes. Something he has no idea he’s physically showing right now.

He takes this chance to capture your soft lips in a kiss.

He hasn’t really done this before, but Tsukki gets how a kiss should work.

What didn’t cross his methodical, logic-based brain was just how good it would feel. Like a cloud, back-lit by golden sunlight, or a perfect chord progression to the most touching ballad.

It’s imperfect, but it’s electric.

Your lips melded with his so well, every second melting away his icier emotions. It began to introduce him to a new reason for life and a new meaning to love.

He eventually sets you down in front of your door.

But he has your hand lightly held in his, careful not to disturb the scrapes.

A huge grin spreads through your face, eyes lit up.

And he now knows why he can’t stop thinking about you. You really are a necessary part of his life. Worthy of breaking routines. Special enough to stop his flow and grumpily facetime you. Important enough to reshape himself to account for your existence.

With this final realization, Tsukki goes to his next line of action.

“So, are you free Friday?” He inquires.

“Actually, yeah! Can we go see that new dinosaur movie? I’m kind of obsessed with it.”

“Well, damn. This is gonna be even better than I expected.” He smirks, leaving you confused, but smiling at his response.

No, he wasn’t going to tell you about his discoveries from that day.

At least not in great detail.

But, thanks to this… to you, Tsukishima is learning to open himself up again. To take chances on himself and others. A process that is never too early to begin.

All it took was helping you back onto your feet to get you into his arms.

Something that both literally and relationally makes a whole lot of sense for some reason, Tsukki concludes.

#lmao my titles are so cheesy #the fic isn't tho #just fluffy and sweet #tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #haikyuu!! #haikyu #haikyuu fluff #tsukishima fluff #hq fanfic #hq #hq imagines #hq scenarios #tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima oneshot #tsukki #sneezefiction

[caxsthetic]

Through The Storm

Kita Shinsuke x F!Reader

Unfurling: He should have chase whatever dream and things that he wanted. Because it was better to die trying—than keep living in the wonder of another possibility.

Pt. 2 ⇚ Epilogue

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *. GRAND MASTERLIST .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You didn't dare close your eyes, as what you saw was the light grey strands of hair, with a black tip at the end that reminded you of a vintage pen that was dipped with ink. When darkness engulfed your vision, there was only a pair of brown eyes, staring deep into your soul.

If you turned your back and told him the truth, where would you stand right now? If only you stayed and waited for his response, would it be his name that you carry the last name to? Would you belong to him, instead of your best friend?

You eyed your reflection on the mirror which covered the entire side of the wall. Swallowing a huge lump when your mind wandered once again to another possibility of life that you had abandoned. It made you sick, stomach churned with guilt and shame that was too excruciating for you to bear.

How delightful life would be if you were honest, if everyone could just spill what was exactly inside their mind—or in this case, their heart. Your breath sounded laboured, like you have been running for a thousand miles without taking a break.

But yes, for the past years, you had been running. Running away from the reality about who it was that you actually love. Every time you thought it was enough, he came back, stood right beside you as if you were just running around in place.

Love, who said that this feeling was the greatest invention that humankind had discovered? It was so unpredictable, uncontrolled, you couldn't choose who you ended up falling in love to.

The only thing that you could do was try, to get the love that you wanted. To grasp someone that had your mind, body, and soul—or die trying. Because if not, it would haunt you for the rest of your life.

You gasped a little when the lady's maid tightened the dress, making it a little bit hard for you to breathe. And it didn't help you at all with how you already felt suffocated by your own feelings.

White. A shade of colour that meant purity and innocence, wrapping perfectly around your figure. But with the way you had been lying in front of everyone, nothing in you radiated good news. And you really wanted to just tear the perfect dress into pieces, wanting to show everyone that everything was just a facade.

Sometimes you felt like you were some kind of monster, some kind of storm. The only thing that you could do was either wrecking the once serene life, or turned everything that you passed by into a dust.

But no one noticed that, except maybe him.

"Do you like someone?" You choked on the carton drink that you got from the vending machine, didn't expect your classmate to blurt the question to you. After all, both of you were just hanging out on the rooftop, getting away from all the prying eyes and meddlesome squeal of his fangirl.

He was frantic when you coughed like that, like you could die at any moment. His large hand immediately patted your back to calm you down, with dark grey orbs lingering with worry as he looked at the pained expression on your face.

It was soothing, the warm touch of your best friend. His palms going up and down your back, so gentle as if he had the most fragile creature on his grasp. In his eyes, you were. Since the first time you knocked on the door of his house with a basket of food on your hand, he was sold.

Through his silvery orbs, you were some kind of angel that the deity bestowed upon him. With a gentle smile that you threw for everyone, a witty remark that you jabbed on his brother—from the very first minute he knew you, he was sure that you were the one.

"Osamu..." Your eyes peered on him, sending the poor boy a glare to get some apology or explanation after what he said. But he just raised one of his eyebrows from confusion, "What with the sudden question, you doofus!" You punched his arms playfully, making him winched—dramatizing of course, not too different from his twin brother.

"Jeez, you are abrasive as fuck." He tried to sound so hurt, pouting at you as he caressed his own arms to soothe the 'pain' that you caused.

"And you are one dramatic bitch."

Bantering with Miya Osamu has probably become your daily life. When you were with him, everything felt like your life would be perfect. As if knowing that he would always be there with you boosts your confidence as you tried to be the best version of yourself.

You didn't answer his question and just laid your head on his shoulder. He didn't mind at all, even if Atsumu teased him day by day about how the two of you looked like an old couple, he was actually okay with the mockery that he received.

The breeze touched your exposed skin, making a shiver run down your spine. As much as you love the privacy that you got by escaping here, sometimes you just wanted the wind to dwindle down.

But then again, times go by and every time the wind impaled your skin and made you shivered, someone would take off his blazer and place it on your torso. Even if you just showed the tiniest bit of frostbite, he would make sure that you were not going to feel any kind of cold in a matter of seconds.

"Thank you, Osamu." You smiled at him, fingers fiddling on the sleeve of his blazer.

"You are welcome." He relaxed once again, letting you get closer to him like before.

He noticed this habit of yours. How you always looked down and your digits played with any fabric that first touched your skin; meaning that you were thinking of something—or perhaps you were just nervous.

The opposite hitter always gave you a space. He never demanded anything from you as he just gave, and possibly waiting for you to give back. But never once he pestered you over something that you wouldn't say or you wouldn't do.

He would wait, because he knew when you were ready, words would pour freely from your lips.

"I confessed to someone yesterday." But that was not the statement that he wanted to hear.

Because yesterday, you were only together with him at lunch, teasing each other like usual. Because yesterday, you didn't go home with him and his twin after practice. Because yesterday, you excused yourself to talk with his captain to talk about the club.

Because yesterday, he wasn't the one you confessed your love to.

And he still remembered how your eyes glimmered every time you subconsciously gazed towards the captain of the team.

"Yeah?" But he was your best friend, "How did it go?" So he needed to be supportive towards you, even if it would destroy himself in the process.

He expected you to sound all lovey dovey, maybe being excited for the practice today because you couldn't wait to meet the one that you oh-so-love that much. He prepared himself to see you everyday with his captain, being a power couple. After all, who in their right mind would turn their back on you?

But after seconds filled with silence, the only thing that came out from your lips was just a sob. Started with you biting your lips, heads hanging low with tears dropping to your lap, then you let out a soft cry. One that broke his heart because never once he thought he would see you like this.

You were someone that never let anything get in the way of your happiness. Every problem that you got, you made sure with time you could face it. Every obstacle that came in your way, a smile always slipped on your face as you searched for a way out.

So when you were here beside him, letting out a painful cry with hands clenching on your uniform, he wanted to just rip his heart apart because the sight was too much for him. Someone as beautiful, as lovely, as wonderful as you, shouldn't burn with agony like this.

God, He closed his eyes as he pulled you to his embrace, letting your tears to seep on his shirt, Let Kita-san love her, please. He didn't want to see you like this, so in pain. If it took him heartbreak just to see you smile like usual, it would all be worth it, I promise I would be okay by just being on the sideline.

His fingers slipped in between the strands of your hair, caressing it gently as he wanted to make sure that you know. He wanted you to know that no matter what happened he would always be there for you, even if he never said it out loud.

"I am sorry," His low voice sounded so sincere, "I didn't mean to make you remember." He subconsciously leaned towards the crown of your head, kissing it softly as he could feel himself trembling a little.

"It's not your fault." You pulled away, wiping the tears that kept cascading down your cheek, "I did something stupid anyway." Snorting, you try to coat the pain you had, turning it into a joke instead, "Like, goodness. Confessing? Me, confessing? I should have known that it would ruin everything."

You were just a storm after all, nothing in your way could be great once it involved someone else.

"What do you mean ruin everything?"

"Oh come on, Osamu." You rolled your eyes, chuckling bitterly from his question, "I can't confess right, I ran away before he could say anything. What if he actually said yes? But me being a stupid ass decided to just turn my back on him. What if he-"

"He would have chased you." Your best friend answered your question as if he knew what was right inside the captain's mind, "If he truly had a feeling for you, he would chase you." It was not like he said it out of the blue, because that was the truth.

When you confessed to someone and they liked you back, they would do anything to let you know that the feelings were mutual. It was as simple as that, because if he was in the shoes of his captain, he would grab your hand and smash his lips on yours.

But he was not Kita, and Kita was not him.

Some people could be a coward—sometimes without themselves even realising it.

"If he truly had a feeling for you, he would chase you." You kept reminding yourself with the same statement that your best friend—now fiancé—said to you from all those years ago. Every time you start to think about the possibility of the unknown, you always chant those words like a mantra.

Your voice resonating through the entire room, accompanying you once all the lady's maid left you alone after they were done with your dress. Right now as you walked around to each corner of the room, you didn't know anymore was it the dress that made you feel suffocated, or the jitters that struck your core.

Every now and then, your mind always brought you back to that fateful night. The night where everything changed between you and the light grey haired man that you adore so much.

You always had hope, that one day when he looked at you, he would tell you the one thing that you wanted to hear the most. Every morning since that night, you woke up and you prayed to the universe, begging for him to look at you and gave you a response.

That was what you needed, an answer. An answer from the words that you blurt. But even after days went by, even after your best friend confessed the hidden feelings that were long buried, Kita Shinsuke never turned his face on you.

It was the sense of uncertainty that made you go crazy. Since high school years you never settle your feelings as your mind and heart always roamed upon him. Over and over like a disease that always came back even when you already drank a medicine.

You sat at the crook of the window, letting the sun from the outside hit your skin. Your fingers fix the folds on your dress, wanting to make sure that it wouldn't look crumpled as you walked down the aisle.

Do you really want to, though? It hit you again, Do you really want to walk down the aisle to him? The doubt, the different kind of love that you had for your fiancé.

At this point, you really wanted to cry. Never once in your life you thought you would be such a catastrophe to someone that not under any condition gave you something less. Miya Osamu always presented you with all the finer things in life, putting your happiness on top of him. And you? You could not even give him one thing that he asked from you.

Love. One pure love only for him.

No matter how many times you wanted to forget about the first love of yours, no matter how many kisses that you had shared with anyone else, no matter how many times you intertwined your soul with your fiancé—you always came back, asking the universe about the undiscovered route of your life.

"Hello?" You covered your mouth when the beeping of the call turned into his voice, "(L/n), are you there?" What the fuck are you doing?

Your hands were trembling by now, eyes widened as your body moved by itself. One minute you fixed the folds on your dress, another and you had your phone on your hand, a call connected to the one person that your heart always yearned for, "(L/n)?"

"Kita-san..." You muttered his name, so slowly since you were still hesitant.

"Yes?" His voice sounded so gentle. Even with how low his voice was, you always felt like you were engulfed in a soft blanket, "Are you alright?" What is that? Why did he ask you the question as if he threw it to himself.

You licked your lips, debating to answer him with which scenario. It was easy for you to create a new scenario in your life, ask him where he was, maybe teasing him a little here and there. Having a casual conversation as if every time you talked to him it didn't feel like you swallowed some thorns.

But you were done lying to yourself.

"No," Your palm went up and down your arms, trying to gather some warm, "I am not alright, Kita-san." The rays of sunshine that touched your skin couldn't even save you from the coldness that you felt right now.

"Do you need something?" His voice lingered with worry right now, and somehow you could see how he scrunched up his eyebrows right now, "Should I call Osamu?"

"Don't!" He was a little bit taken aback by your outburst, so he decided to keep silent, waiting for you to calm down, "Where are you, Kita-san? Are you alone?"

You knew that he must have wanted to just hang up the call, because he had feelings about where this conversation would lead to. Then again he was curious, wondering what was your intention by calling him out of the blue like this. Wondering what he could possibly get by continuing this call.

If it was him in the past, he would hang up immediately. Since he could taste the wreckage that might come since his name rolled down from your lips.

"I am at the restroom right now." He wouldn't have any second chance, he knew that, "And yes, I am alone." But he couldn't help but keep hoping, no matter how many times it already crashed and burned in front of his eyes.

"Alright," You breathed out the words and leaned your back on the window, "May I talk to you for a second?" No, he knew where this was going, he wouldn't let the same thing happen again.

"Yes?" But just like all those years ago, his voice betrayed him once again, "You can talk to me." So he decided to succumb on the storm, "Seconds, hours, days. You can talk to me as long as you want." After all, he was a changed man, he was braver now.

You snickered a little from his words. He was a lot more talkative now compared to the high school days that you shared with him, and it made you smile. Because this was a conversation that you wanted to have with him for a long time.

"It wouldn't be long though." You sighed, wondering how he looked right now, "I just wanted to ask and said a couple of things." He must have looked so majestic, maybe wearing a black suit, a contrast to your fiancé's.

"Alright. What is the question?"

He was nervous, as he waited for you to utter any syllable that could make him feel at ease. While you on the other hand, you still hesitate, as you were afraid that this question would reopen some old wound.

"Why do you distance yourself even more after that night?" His breath hitched from the question, "And why you acted like... Like you were disgusted by me, Kita-san?"

You could hear his soft breath through the phone which was being held once you were done blurting the questions.

"Because I am just a coward," He muttered slowly, clenching his hand into a fist, "I never disgusted by you, (L/n). I am the one who felt disgusted with myself from putting you in such predicament."

"What do you mean by a coward?" You stood up, trying to calm yourself down by circling the room, "You were not. From all these years I had known you, you were everything but a coward."

"I am a loser then." After all, he did lose you. "I just wanted you to know that it was all on me." He should have turned around and faced you. "So anything that you had in mind right now—no, you have done nothing wrong."

He sat on the luxurious chair that was being put in the middle of the restroom, one hand tapping on his knee. It was just minutes before the ceremony began, and yet here he was; having a heart to heart conversation with someone that would have the same last name as his underclassmen that he cared so much for.

"Shinsuke, are you there?" He could hear a knock from the outside, the familiar voice of his best friend muffled a little, "Osamu was looking for you."

"You go first, I am fixing my suit." It made him frown, lying, "I will be there in five minutes." But he needed to stall the moment, he had to listen to whatever you wanted to say to him.

It was scary what love could do to him, to the both of you. He didn't know whether you were still there on the other side of the screen, or were you already gone but forgot to hang up the call. There was no voice that he could hear, not even how your breath fanned the microphone like before.

"(L/n), if you still have something that you wanted to say to me, you need to say it now." He didn't mean to do that, to enforce you like this, "Are you still there?" But if he didn't hear anything from you now, he knew you would haunt him evermore, "I-"

"I love you."

You breathed out the words, the one that you were supposed to blurt on that fateful night. It was the three words that could change everything, "I love you, Kita-san." You repeated, again and again like a broken record.

The reflection on the mirror in front of him showed how ghostly he looked, face turned into a whiter shade of pale as he listened to you. It was not fair for him, to hear you confess such things while you were going to walk down the aisle to someone else that was not him.

Tears started to prickle at the corner of his eyes, debating about the words that he should say once you stopped reciting those words that he wanted to hear since years ago. Since that time when he saw how your hands were taken by another.

"Why are you telling me this now?" He swallowed a huge lump, he needed to remember that you were not his. You were just a storm, and a storm only came to wreck and then leave. It wouldn't be forever—at least that was what he wanted to believe.

"I just need to..." You dabbed the tears on the corner of your eyes with a tissue, softly so your makeup wouldn't be ruined, "I need to say it, Kita-san. I am always in love with you, but—"

"I know,"

"You know."

You let out a small chuckle, one that tasted so bitter as you tried to smile in between the wrenching pain that you felt right now. What was it actually that you try to achieve here—by confessing the love that would never bloom?

Kita Shinsuke was your storm, visioned as someone with a cold persona. The first time you saw him, your mind went blank as if it was taken away from you. Even when your face touched the ground, what flickered in your mind that momentous morning was him; wondering who that magnificent being with light silvery hair was.

Silent engulfed the call, as two souls that crave for another knew there was no future for them, "I am sorry, Kita-san. I—"

"Will you call me by my name?"

"What?"

"My first name." It was an unexpected request, "Call me by my name." Please.

He always wondered how his name would sound if it came from your lips. Those delicate lips that shaped into a gentle smile for almost every second passed, as if it was how the deity designed you by default.

"Shinsuke..."

He shouldn't, he should not have asked. Because now it made him crave for more; more of you, more of your time.

"This may sound selfish. But one more time, please—"

"Shinsuke," Your voice wavered a little as tears ruined the makeup on your face, "Shin." But he didn't expect you to call him that, "Shinsuke. Shin." Sounded so beautiful, as if he was in nirvana and an angel whispered his name.

He wanted more, that was what he needed to hear from you since years ago. Regret started to corrupt his soul once again. If it took all the money in this world to get a time machine, he would achieve it.

If back then he turned himself to see you, chasing you down the street and grabbed your hand. Telling you what you were doing to him; all the longing feelings, one that he didn't quite understand that time—he was sure, that you would be his by now.

But what in the past maybe should just stay in the past,

"Thank you,"

Someone knocked on the door of the dressing room, informing you that it was almost time. Ah, having a 'pleasant' conversation with someone surely made the time turn so fast.

In one way or another, telling him what was inside your heart for years made you feel lighter. Like finally, after unlocking the love that you clutch deep inside your heart, letting it go seems like the best decision in life.

"You are welcome," You draw in the deep air around you, "I love you. Goodbye." And for the first time in forever, you could breathe without a knife in your heart.

"Goodbye," He whispered softly, letting the tears cascading down his cheek one more time. He could see your smile on the other line—pleased even if you never got a proper answer for all of your confession. Then you hung up; leaving him there with words that better left unsaid, "I love you."

You clutched your phone in your hand, orbs never left the screen as his name still displayed on the tiny surface. Shaking your head, you decided to open up your gallery, scrolling through hundreds of pictures of you and your fiancé.

Then you stopped when you reached one particular photograph.

With one last smile, scrutinizing every little detail that the old picture portrayed, you muttered a little farewell—and erased the portrait that you always came back to before.

Because it's time; to let go of the past.

"Samu, why did you have this?" You helped your fiancé to clean up some of his stuff from his childhood house. And in the middle of it, you found some old photographs from his high school days. Lots of them were just a group picture with the entire team, some were memories of you and him that you two shared, but one random picture popped out.

That one picture you thought you wouldn't see anymore.

"Oh, that's Kita-san," The black haired man popped behind you. His answer made you roll your eyes.

"I know who the heck is that, Samu." You really wanted to just flick his forehead at the moment, somehow you wonder how could you end up with someone as oblivious as him, "I am the one who captured it after all."

"Oh, sorry," He snickered when he saw how annoyed you looked, "I think it was from when you gave it to 'Tsumu and Suna, guess it slipped on my box."

You nodded at this and gazed back to the photograph in your hand. His smile was soft, the smile that you wished you saw a lot when he was still the captain of Inarizaki Volleyball Boys Club. Your finger traced the printed picture softly, as if you really touched his skin, "Take your time."

Getting lost in some old memoir, you didn't realise as Osamu never once left your side. His dark grey orbs scanned your face, and he could see how you were still longing for the light grey haired man. The pain inside your eyes, the yearning, even if it overlapped with your feelings towards himself—the love that you had for his old captain, was still there.

"What do you mean?"

"I can wait forever, take your time."

Your fiancé leaned his body close to you, resting his velvety lips on your forehead. He knew too well how much it torture you too, to had one chapter in your life that was still unfinished. To know that it was still incomplete, and yet you continued to live.

And just like what he promised himself to, he would always be there for you. Even if he was just on the sideline, then by all means he would wait for you to bring him to your main path of life. Maybe someday, it would be just him that you needed.

Classics, pieces of music notes were gently intertwined to become such a masterpiece. The pianist started to move their bewitched fingers once the bride stood on the starting runway, ready to walk to an astonishing future that may come.

You looked so beautiful in his eyes, just like any other time in his life he had seen you. The same messy hair that flowed by the wind all those years ago, was now brushed gently as the sleek white veil rested on the crown of your head, down to cover all the strands in your hair.

Every time you move your feet, it feels like it brought you closer to a lighter life that you had been wanting to have. Your gaze filled with wonder, belief, and a little bit of nervousness. He couldn't blame you, since there was no practice wedding, it was not something that humans could prepare for.

If it was him, maybe he would ask if you wanted a Japanese Traditional Wedding, that would feel so perfect. But then again as he saw you walking down the aisle, he didn't care what kind of wedding, who were all the guests, or where the two of you shared the vow—as long as it was you, then he could call it perfect.

He sat beside his grandmother who always had a smile on her face. It pained him, as he remembered how she said she looked forward to his wedding already; worse because she had been wanting it since he was still a high schooler.

But then again, he didn't know if he wanted to have a wedding anymore. For whom the only person who he wanted to have their hand on marriage with, was now standing in front of him, with his underclassmen that he cared so much for.

He couldn't hear any of the words that spilled from the marriage officiant as it sounded like a murmur. When happiness was supposed to fill the entire space, he felt like all of his senses were being taken away from him.

But when your lips parted to shared the vow that you had prepared, when your ring finger now adorned with the delicate platinum band, he could feel his heart beats a thousand times faster,

"Should anyone present know of any reason that this couple should not be joined in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace."

His lips were dry by now, sweats trickling down his back even though the temperature was low. He wanted to stand up, to speak, to let out the words that were left unsaid before.

But then a gentle, wrinkled palm rested on top of his hand, and the gesture was enough to make him calm down in an instance.

He looked down towards his grandmother. A reassurance smile emerged on her face, as if after all this time, she knew what exactly battling inside his soul. It would be alright, Shin. Her soft voice could be heard, even if she never actually parted her lips.

It would be alright. Maybe someday, it would be alright for him.

After hours his lips only shaped into a thin line, now he could finally have the power to change it into a smile. With a little nod that he gave towards the figure who knew him like the back of her hand, he looked back towards you.

Your gaze met his, for a split second he knew you were saying one last farewell. And unlike that one time he first saw you with your perfect man, it was now real. Today, this second, it would be the last time you gave him a gaze filled with love.

"Maybe in another life." "Another lifetime."

And in this exact moment as you shared a kiss with the man that always had his eyes on you, the one man that somehow he knew would be the person you spend forever with. He promised that in another lifetime, when the two of you crosspath once again—

He would turned back towards your direction and chase you,

The storm that he wished he never ran away from.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*     ༶• ┈┈ ⛧ ┈ ♛ ♛ ┈ ⛧ ┈┈ •༶     *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tagged Lovelies:

@muffins-puffins​​ @vlovers-world​​ @blacckdiamondposts​​ @for-ests​​ @atsunflower​​ @miyatsunami​​ @iwaixiumi​​ @hihiq​​ @the-fandom-ness​​ @quirksandbreaths​​ @rintarhoe​​ @verbluehte​​ @simp4tsukkii​​ @ladyalicevii​​ @evermorehaikyuu​​ @clowninfortodoroki​​ @koutaroulovebot​​ @fitriiaw​​ @mistypoison​​ @aquariarose​​ @greenleaf-fantasy​​ @t-amajiki​​ @kuraomi​​ @haikyuuwithadashofart​​ @starbybokuto​​ @shiningstar-byulxx​​ @nerdyphantomlady​​ @raequii​​ @sugawsites​

#kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke #haikyuu #kita shinsuke imagine #kita shinsuke scenario #kita shinsuke fluff #kita shinsuke angst #shinsuke kita #shinsuke kita x reader #shinsuke kita imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!

[effymaybe]

hello, author! deathbyjenlisa on wattpad has this prompt: future post-disbandment au where they live in a tiny little apartment in the middle of nowhere in Paris together with their cats and dogs, and they own like a flower shop or something. and finally, FINALLY doing a vlive together where they announce their relationship to the world. (may we have this piece from u? u r one of the best rpf writers i know. thank u in advance!)

deathbyjenlisa on wattpad I love you and I’m SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG I KNOW SUCK also here it goes!

Warnings: Fluffy fluffity fluff

Jennie closes her eyes as the faint afternoon sun caresses her glowing skin throughout the window.

She breathes slowly, content. Inside the just-conveniently-sized apartment, the atmosphere is still nice and warm despite the first bites of winter cooling down the air of the city.

The brunette is enjoying of a pleasant break after a few hours of frankly successful designing, and her previous artistic buzz has left place to a nice, tickly feeling still twitching in the pad of her fingers.

She sighs just as a fluffy warmth gazes against her legs earnestly.

“Hello, Lily. Miss mommy already?”

The cat looks up at her almost as if in agreement. Jennie leans down to pet her behind her ears, just as she likes it the most.

“I miss her, too. Maybe Jisoo is right. We might be a little bit needy”.

Lily keeps purring under Jennie’s soft hand, clearly happy with the attention she is given. The brunette smiles to herself. She figures that the kitten would actually hesitate if she had to choose between her two moms.

Thankfully, she doesn’t have to.

“Okay, baby. Let’s get you an afternoon treat, yeah? Don’t tell the others”.

Lily’s silent vow of trust is pointless, really. As soon as Jennie shakes the so-secret pack of treats hidden at the very bottom of the kitchen counter, the whole feline family plus an equally excited Kuma enter the room with bright eyes and a grumbling stomach.

The brunette is unfazed. She’s been dealing with this routine for almost three years already, and despite she likes to complain to her girlfriend about her unmeasured need for adopting cats, she wouldn’t change the daily, often overcrowded cuddles for anything in the word.

“There”, she mumbles, filling her pets’ plates with practiced patience, “so that you know that I can be the cool mom, too”.

She stands straight again, glancing at the different furs engaging in their eating. A giddy feeling starts to bloom in her heart suddenly, a sense of happiness mixed with a now unfamiliar pang of uncertainty that weakens her limbs.

They are definitely taking a gigantic step today.

A very much needed, absolutely wanted step.

She runs her fingers through her rich chocolate hair, glancing around with a critical, designer eye as she moves to the living room. It’s small, really, like the rest of the place, but so fantastically decorated –according to a proud Lisa staring at a flattered but shy Jennie- that it often features a big bunch of house décor Instagram accounts.

The brunette puts her hands on her hips.

It’s beautiful. She loves her house. She loves the size, the shape, the colors, the fact that she can have a modest yet quite impressive sight of the Eiffel tower only by opening the French door to the balcony. She loves the city, the accent, the passion. She loves the people, who have taken her and her family wholeheartedly, without questions. She loves her sons and her daughter and she loves, loves, loves her girlfriend with every beat buzzing in her chest.

What she does not love so much right now are those yellowish pillows, that-

“Hello, love”.

An instant smile plasters itself in Jennie’s expression. Steady arms circle her waist tenderly, and plump lips kiss the column of her neck in a tender motion.

“Mmm, hi”.

God, she really behaves like a teenager whenever her girlfriend is around.

“Brought you flowers, baby”, she hears against her ear, and just then she glances down to catch the sight of daisies and red tulips contrasting against each other in a big, gorgeous bouquet.

“Thank you”, she mumbles back, taking the gift with pointed care, “but you are going to empty our shop if you keep taking flowers”.

Lisa chuckles lowly, pure affection dancing in her eyes.

“You know I always order extra just for you”.

The tallest girl lets her girlfriend spin around in her arms. Her expression softens even further at the sight of sharp, stunning features. Lisa’s right hand naturally drifts up to grasp Jennie’s nape in an unconscious attempt to keep her close.

It’s not that Jennie would like to leave, anyway. The shortest girl leans up, gleeful, and her girlfriend meets her in the middle to wrap her up in a soft, welcoming kiss. They spend a few delightful seconds just like that, enjoying each other. It’s unlikely, Jennie thinks sometimes, to adore someone with such strength month after month, year after year. And their love has changed, actually.

It has gotten better. Stronger.

So it’s time to take the next big step.

“I’m ready”, Jennie murmurs against Lisa’s lips, and feels a smile shaping against her own mouth.

“Okay”. The tallest brunette takes a step back to take in her girlfriend’s figure, feeling a soft warmth spreading in her chest. “You look amazing. I love the shirt. It’s a pity they’ll only get to see a half of you”.

Jennie chuckles a breathless thank you, pulling fully away from her lover to look for a standee where to place her phone. In the meantime, Lisa takes her time to greet the rest of her wide family, already full and half-asleep on their respective beds. When she comes back to the living room, her girlfriend is already sitting cross-legged on the wide, greyish couch, figuring out the best angle to gather the afternoon light. On top of the coffee table lies the bouquet she got from the small flower shop they decided to put up mainly as a hobby after their successful careers as Blackpink members.

Lisa can’t help the grin that stretches across her face.

She’s just so, so happy.

“Baby”, she murmurs, moving slowly to sit beside the brunette.

Jennie looks at her and tilts her head in a sign of attention.

“I love you so much”.

Lisa’s unprompted sincerity is rewarded with a gummy smile and a soft peck.

“I love you, too, beautiful”.

A message travels across their joined gazes. A renewed vow of loyalty, love, and support. It’s their way to letting each other know that they are ready, no stepping back. The time and their own effort have prompted the building of a bond that lasts beyond obstacles, beyond fear.

When Jennie presses the screen to start the live, they are both leaning comfortably against each other.

“Hi”, the shortest brunette mumbles after a few seconds. Against her skin, the soft vibration of Lisa’s muffled laughter makes her blush in a rush of shy joy. “This is Jennie”.

The tallest girl grins at her girlfriend’s soft tone. “And Lisa”, she adds cheerfully. “We are here… to talk…”

Jennie’s right hand moves unconsciously to caress her lover’s arm up and down, just as she does each time a bitter hint of anxiety threatens to deprive her from fresh air. In exchange, as a caring reflex, Lisa embraces her narrow shoulders with her arm, keeping the brunette’s body flushed against her own.

“…to talk about us… We’ve seen some theories on the internet since… well, even before Blackpink stopped making… official music”, Jennie adds, eyeing the rising number of viewers at the corner of the screen.

It’s amazing. It’s been years already, and their fans are as many and as supportive as they were before.

“By the way, we might have a surprise coming soon!”, Lisa intervenes, and watches with silent amusement as her girlfriend crunches her nose just slightly besides her.

“Lili, no spoilers!”, Jennie complains only half-heartedly, melting inwards as the tallest brunette pouts just slightly.

“Mmh, sorry, babe”, she hears against her ear then, and all her fake annoyance disappears as soon as it started.

She turns around, keeping up with her admonishing from just to see her girlfriend pouting deeper, and her wish is immediately granted. They look at each other for a moment, their expressions turning into soft, dizzy smiles dripping pure adoration, and it takes both of them a moment to realize that there are about a million people watching them interact at the moment.

“So, huh, us!”, Jennie states, turning towards the camera once again. “Us… so… where do we even start”, she giggles, somehow lost. There is so much to tell. So many tears, so many victories.

“Well… to answer the basics… yes, we are girlfriends”, Lisa speaks then, loud and clear, smiling brightly, almost as if illuminated by her own love.

Jennie feels a burst of pride striking against her heart. She knows that her lover is being so, so brave.

“Girlfriends”, the shortest brunette affirms, and her sharp stare meets Lisa’s open doe eyes. “As in dating, hand-holding, kissing girlfriends, not the best-friends-forever type”.

The tallest girl chuckles brightly, both because rambling Jennie is funny and adorable and also because the tension of the moment makes her chest feel tickly.

Well, it’s there now.

The world knows that Jennie is her girlfriend.

The sudden, pleasing thought of their truth being outwardly spoken makes her feel lighter, elevated as she stares at Jennie with an expression that even herself knows that screams whipped.

It doesn’t matter, really, because her lover’s eyes distillates a feeling of the same fashion.

They tear their gazes apart from each other only when the enrapturing sensation starts to die down in a soft giddiness. They glance at the appearing messages almost with fear, but sunned smiles bright up their features when they read –mostly- comments both congratulating them and asking a billion questions about their relationship.

“’Oh my god this is so shocking… who would say that two rich, adult women choosing to live together raising each other’s’ pets would be dating!’. Well, thanks for the sarcasm, Lisa’shoe… also, careful with that username”, Jennie murmurs. She rolls her eyes in feign annoyance, but her dopey grin stays in place. At her side, still embracing her shoulders in a protective side-hug, Lisa chuckles again, so visibly content, shining, that the shortest girl has to make an effort not to stare at her throughout the mirrored screen.

“Oh, ‘when did you start dating?’ I don’t think we can say exactly when, but...” Jennie begins, her eyes falling on her girlfriend as if searching for help.

“Some years after all the… shipping started, actually. It took us some time…”

“It took you some time if I remember correctly...”, Jennie plays, her sharp expression both softening and growing more electric.

Lisa smiles, all teeth and happiness, and gives in the need of squeezing her girlfriend against her just a little bit tighter.

“But I’ve always liked you! You know it!”, she complains, a slight whine tangling in her voice.

“Of course! I’m amazing!”, Jennie bites back, brushing her long hair past her shoulders in a mocking gesture.

“You are”, Lisa murmurs, staring deep into chocolate without a care in the world, and the sincerity in her words makes Jennie’s pulse speed up crazily.

She leans in for a soft, quick peck, unable to stop herself, and is greeted by such an elated expression when she pulls away that she has to kiss her girlfriend once more, just to steady her soaring heart.

She’s so, so ridiculously in love.

“Charmer”, she mumbles, blushing deeply, and turns around to read another thousands of totally-freaking-out-because-of-their-cuteness messages. “Thank you guys. Really. This truly means a lot for us... The girls know, of course”, she chuckles, “They knew before us, probably. Yes, we are working on something. Nope, no spoilers!”, she winks.

Lisa reads the comments as well, absent-mindedly tangling her long fingers in her girlfriend’s soft chocolate locks, perfectly warm in the familiarity of their home.

“Yes, we are still in Paris. We love it here. The flower business is going well”, she grins, “Yes, I am the best girlfriend ever, right, babe?”

Jennie raises a single eyebrow, but gives in anyways.

“Maybe. You are the only one I’ve ever had”, she teases, gifting her girlfriend a slight shrug.

“And the only you will have!”, Lisa answers back, a playful growl playing with her deep voice in a way that makes Jennie’s stomach tingle in a quite particular way.

“Likewise, Manoban. Ah, yes, our parents know. Lisa’s parents were supportive since day one. My mom… well, it took her some time. Now she calls her whenever she needs anything. Can you believe it?”

They continue the late afternoon like that, leaning against the comfort of each other, answering some of the million questions people over the world have about their relationship.

They knew it will be like that. The sheer support, however, left them truly stunned. They were told so many times that what they were doing was wrong, immoral, dangerous, that the almost absolute acceptance of the people that surrounds them hit them like a soft, fluffy pillow in a dizzy night.

When Jennie finally turns off the live –promising to make another one soon, and yes, to give away more details, and maybe to talk about the possibility of a wedding-, the hint of the pale moonlight is already creeping past their open windows.

Jennie and Lisa stare at each other with twinning grins playing in their lips.

“So, we just did that”, the brunette mumbles.

The apartment is almost silent. Their pets are still sleeping. Only the faint sound of the never-asleep city tangles with the mute electricity of the aftermath of their bravery.

Lisa’s bright eyes darken suddenly, urged by a rush of passionate love.

“We did that. And it went really, really well”.

Jennie smiles openly, her gums nicely on display. The tallest girl feels her heart growing three sizes against her chest. Her hands lock on her girlfriend’s waist, tugging, begging her to find a way to be even closer to her body, downing in affection.

The shortest girl does not disappoint. She moves to sit down on her lap.

“Baby, we did it”, she murmurs again, in a happy awe.

Lisa starts to giggle, and the soft sounds are mirrored by her lover.

“You were incredible”, she mumbles, then, locking her stare with her girlfriend’s once again. A strong feeling, an unspoken declaration moves through them, sparkling. With the corner of her eyes, unfocused as she favors the marvelous sight of her girlfriend’s face, Lisa can see the lights of their phones going off –probably some messages from their friends and family- but the girls stay put in their delightful bubble, nevertheless.

“So did you, love. Can you believe it?”, Jennie begins, letting her feelings pour out, both soft and heavy in her words, “Now they know that you are mine and I’m yours.”

Lisa swoons.

That’s something they’ve talked about. The need to be with each other freely, to shout out their hidden love at the top of their lungs, proud, shattering.

Lisa leans up for a deep, toe-curling kiss. When Jennie pulls out to draw in a happy breath, the tallest girl turns both their phones off.

The rest of their lives can wait. Right then, however, Jennie and Lisa are set to celebrate their thorough love in the way they like it the most.

#jenlisa #jenlisa scenarios #blackpink scenarios #blackpink fanfic

[dvixiecups]

"Why are we doing this again?" Ranpo whined from his nest in the back seat, his cheeks stuffed with food.

"Boss asked us to attend this meeting while he went to a more important one," Jun'ichirou explained for quite possibly the 20th time since they had been in the car.

"You can just ignore him, you know," Akiko reminded, also for the 20th time.

"As much as I like our little routine, I'm bored!" Ranpo annouced, throwing a balled up chip bag to the front seat.

Akiko slammed it down with her gloved hand, the car swerving as she took her attention from the road. Jun'ichirou lunged for the wheel in a desperate attempt to steady the car while Akiko turned around to address Ranpo face to face. Fortunately, they were on a desolate straight stretch of the highway, perfect for in-car-disputes.

"I can't sit here for another 5 hours listening to you complain!" She picked up the pile of trash on the dashboard, ignoring Jun'ichirou's reach, "Do you know how fucking difficult it is to drive and deal with this?"

Anger didn't reach her tone, it was a petty thing to be mad about and the only real reason she was persuing it was out of boredom. Driving on a plain road in a plain car listening to plain people was not her ideal Saturday, and the sheer plainess of it all was causing her to doze off every so often.

"Do you know how hard it is to sit here and do nothing? I'm practically falling asleep! And your driving is awful, you're gonna make me throw up all my snacks," a hint of sincerity touched his tone, he was bored and he did also feel quite nauseous, but Akiko was actually a surprisingly good driver.

"Fine then."

Akiko nudged her passengers hands off the wheel, sharply turning the car onto the shoulder while slamming down onto the brake.

Ranpo, who had been unbuckled, flew out of his seat, face smashing against the back of Jun'ichirou's chair.

"You drive," Akiko challenged, stepping out of the car and walking around to open Ranpo's door.

Pulling himself off the floor infront of the seat, Ranpo agreed to the challenge presented. He had run out of snacks which left the detective nothing to distract himself from the soft vibrations of the car and the dizzying blur of the outside world.

Once everyone was settled in their new seats, Akiko horizontal across the backseat with her arms as pillows already falling asleep and Ranpo adjusting the seat for his height, the gang took off.

"I didn't know you could drive," Jun'ichirou commented, genuinly surprised at the smooth ride.

"Neither did I," Ranpo laughed.

Jun'ichirou's eyes widened in fear as he turned to assess Ranpo's smiling face for any sign of a joke. There was none.

"You do have your liscense, right?"

Ranpo didn't respond, just kept smiling. Anxiety pulling at him, Jun'ichirou sank down in the car seat, suddenly regretting having agreed to attend this meeting. In response to this, Ranpo turned up the radio and rolled down the front two windows.

"Now this!" He shouted over the wind, "Is a car ride."

The fresh air billowing in and harmony's filling the car distracted Ranpo from the sour feeling in his stomach. It was truly nice, the sweet air danced around the car, whipping through Ranpo's hair and taking his hat to the back seat. Plastic rustled around the car as the air threatened to take the trash out the window, leaving the passengers to scramble to stuff all the wrappers into one shopping bag.

Once all that was finished, a distinct calm fell over the car, blanketing the trio in a comfortable stillness, the sound of wind and the radio blending in with the background as if they had always been there and always will be. Everyone appreciated this environment, everyone but Ranpo.

With nothing to distract himself but the winding stretch of road ahead, he began to feel his nausea swell. His smile quickly fade, though the attitude change went unnoticed by the two napping people in the car. Ranpo wanted to wake them up and ask them what to do, but fear glued his lips together. White knuckles gripped the steering wheel as the detective tried to think of a plan to dull the awful sharp feeling in his gut.

His best option, he decided, was to pull over. But where? They were driving along a cliffside, one side a towering rock and the other a steep drop. So that was a no. His other option was to stop in the middle of the road. But that wasn't possible. Two cars where on lined up behind the three, and judging by how close they were to Ranpo's vehicle, they would not appreciate a sudden stop. Which brings him to his third option. Open his mouth and ask for help. If he manages to say it quick enough then maybe his co-workers could do something about it.

But he couldn't waste his breath on trying to get them awake, and the road was too treacherous from him to safely shake Jun'ichirou awake. So he decided to blast the radio.

This worked very well, both passengers awoke with a startle, eyes searching for danger and relaxing when they found none. Satisfied with himself, Ranpo turned down the volume.

"What's going on?" Akiko questioned, poking her head between the two front seats.

"I don't feel good," Ranpo pouted, his shoulder's rising with a hiccup to punctuate his statement.

"Are you bored?" Jun'ichirou asked.

"No!" Ranpo's voice ended with a high pitched whine, "I feel like how I did when we ate at that one place."

Despite his intense vagueness, Akiko knew what he was talking about. Her eyes widened in realization as her hands scrambled for the shopping bag from earlier.

"How long have you felt like this? Will you be fine until we can pull over," Jun'ichirou wondered, his hands also searching for the shopping bag.

Ranpo didn't open his mouth, he couldn't anymore.

"Found it!" Akiko announced, dumping all the trash out of the plastic grocery bag before tossing it onto Ranpo's lap.

"What's he supposed to do with that? He's driving!"

"Then hold it for him! Unless you wanna clean up after him."

Out of the two options Akiko had presented him, Jun'ichirou opted for the latter. It was difficult to properly grab and open the bag when given the obstacles of Ranpo's arms and his absurd sleeves, but after twenty-ish seconds the mouth of the bag was under Ranpo's chin.

"I can't hold this position for long," Jun'ichirou informed.

"Give him a break! This isn't the most comfortable thing for him either," Akiko defended.

Just as Ranpo's chest clenched with a gag, the road opened up to allow for a passing lane. The cars following behind quickly sped ahead and Ranpo slammed on the brakes.

"You can't just stop in the middle of the road!" Jun'ichirou gasped, his arms coming back to his side.

"There's a passing lane, plus this is an emergency."

Ranpo ignored their conversation as he flung open the car door and leaned over as far as his seatbelt would allow. Akiko unbuckled aswell, reaching her hand around to rub the detectives back.

Gags mercilessly took over Ranpo's body, the mixture of sweets in his stomach swirling with a sour anger. He let out a low moan, the faint taste of sugar coating the coppery saliva which flooded his mouth. Spitting out the disgusting liquid, Ranpo began to feel heat rise up his throat. His hands struggled to unclip his seatbelt to allow him freedom from the suffocating vehicle.

Once outside, he braced himself agaisnt the open door, bent over at the waist and spitting out saliva as it formed.

One final gag sent an explosion of butterflies into his ribcage and an explosion of half digested sweets from his mouth. Jun'ichirou groaned from his position and turned away from the sight as Ranpo gagged once more, bringing up an even bigger wave.

Tears sprang to his eyes as exertion drained his body. After one final wave, thinner than the second but thicker than the first, Ranpo sank back into the car. Sniffing, he wiped his face with his sleeve before curling up on the seat.

"I don't feel good," he stated, face buried in his knees.

"Ohh, I'm sorry," Akiko comforted, brushing her finger's through Ranpo's hair as sympathy heavily laced her tone.

Ranpo's back shaked as he queitly cried, the pain in his stomach suddenly becoming too much for him. Dissatisfied with her position, Akiko stepped out of the car and stood next to the drivers seat, being careful to avoid the mess on the floor.

Leaning in, she softly wrapped her arms around Ranpo, her hand rubbing up and down his side.

"Do you want to go in the backseat now?" She asked after a minute.

Ranpo nodded, allowing himself to be led out of the car. Vertigo slammed against him quickly as the sun rushed into his eyes. Doubling over, he gagged up a mouthful of sick, prompting Akiko to rub his back.

"Should we turn around?" Jun'ichirou asked, concern tainting his tone.

"We can't, we're more than halfway there. We'll just need to find a hotel or someplace we can leave him while us two attend."

Jun'ichirou nodded, "I can drive the rest of the way if you wanna sit back there with him."

Akiko smiled softly and gave a nod of her own, guiding Ranpo into the backseat before sliding in after him.

"Watch your step," she advised as Jun'ichirou stepped around the car.

"Let's hope this isn't something that will last a while," he thought out loud, handing the plastic bag in the front seat back to Akiko.

#tw: vomit #sick ranpo edogawa #vomit tw #bungou stray dogs sickfic

[brockadoodles]

the 1 - t. jost

AN: Y’all wanted the folklore stuff back so, even though I never finished the series (i will, eventually), here’s one to start you off with :) 

Word Count: 2325

Warnings: None. 

But we were something don’t you think so? Roaring twenties, tossing pennies in the pool And if my wishes came true It would’ve been you

You grew up in the house across the street from Tyson Jost, and for years he was always just the goofy kid who you would sometimes play street hockey with after school. You would make fun of his unruly brown curls, and he would in turn tell you that your goaltending skills were terrible. As you both got older, your friendship grew. You found yourselves sneaking into each other's rooms late at night, staying up talking about anything and everything with each other. 

When you were 16, you shared an incredibly awkward first kiss. That kiss shortly became more kisses with each other. The kisses progressed into more firsts as you grew to realize that the goofy kid from across the street had become the most important person in your life. An epiphany that your families were not surprised about. 

You slowly became even more inseparable than you already were, forming an attachment to one and other that most young teenagers feel when they think they’re in love. You spent weekends going to Tyson’s hockey games, wearing his jersey proudly; he spent weekdays after practices with you, content smiles almost always on both of your faces as you lounged around each other. 

The thing about your first love is that it's an idea that is built up all around us, whether it’s in a coming of age film or a melodic song whose lyrics seem to fit so perfectly with your own story, or whether it’s the experience of someone around you. You grow up thinking about how one day you’re going to find the perfect person to share life with, and it doesn’t matter what anyone says otherwise. You grow up hearing that your first love will be wild, and crazy, and intense, but you’re taught to enjoy it while it lasts because it never does. You and Tyson were naive to think that you would be the exception.

“I love you.” You blurted out, eyes widening in shock at your admission. Your heart beating loudly in your chest, the words hanging loosely in the air as you waited for Tyson to reply. You were surprised as the three words left your mouth but you also thought that you knew how you felt, and there was something relieving about telling him. The weight of it was becoming too much, and maybe if Tyson wasn’t there yet, that would be okay. 

“You do?” He looked at you, searching your eyes for any sense of regret over the three heavy words. When he didn’t find any, he pulled you close. Tyson wrapped his arms around you securely, instantly calming your nerves. He looked at you for a moment, wondering how he could feel so much for someone else, not truly understanding the implications of his feelings.  

“I love you, too.” He sincerely spoke, leaning in to kiss you softly. 

He didn’t understand at the time that when you’re seventeen, the intensity you feel for someone isn’t usually built for longevity. Perhaps if either of you understood the evanescence of a first love, the three words wouldn’t have been spoken at all. 

-------

 The streets of downtown St. Albert were covered in a thick blanket of snow, white twinkly lights on the various trees, a glistening contrast to the dark wintery sky. You hadn’t been back for Christmas in two years. When you moved to Vancouver for a fresh start after the breakup, your parents always came to you for the holidays, making the argument that spending them in rainy Vancouver was a lot better than snowy St. Albert. You knew that it wasn’t the lack of snow, but it was them trying to spare you from reliving the last Christmas that you hadn’t been able to shake.

“I think it’s just time.” Tyson smiled sadly at you, feeling his own heart break as he spoke. 

Your eyes glassed over as you nodded in agreement. You felt like you were frantically trying to save your heart before it dropped to the floor, shattered and ruined. You knew that he was right, the distance simply not working anymore, no matter how hard you both wanted it to. 

He reached out, his thumb grazing over your cheek to wipe the tears that were now falling. The two of you sitting there in silence, as you both desperately tried to put off the finality of the conversation as long as possible. Knowing you were losing Tyson was like trying to save yourself from drowning, each gasping breath pulling your further and further down beneath the surface. 

“I wish it was different.” He whispered, wiping his own eyes as he watched you turn to leave. Fresh snow falling around the two of you as you stood on his balcony, Christmas lights being the only source of light around you. 

“Me too.” You nodded in agreement, taking one final look at him before turning back inside, making your way out of the house like you had done so many times before, this time only to most likely never come back. 

-------

You glanced at the bakery, seeing the lights in the back illuminated, a couple of employees working on what you could only assume were tomorrow’s pastries. You made note how everything looked just the same, as if no time had passed at all. A realization of just how homesick you had been the last few years while you’d been away.

For a long time you avoided St. Albert, the memories burning a hole softly in your heart, and the thought of coming back filled the hole with uneasiness at the idea of being somewhere that had so many memories of someone who meant so much for a time. You were now years removed from the breakup and you finally felt a new perspective. You were able to think of home without feeling melancholic about Tyson. When you truly allowed yourself to think about it, you missed Christmas in St. Albert. It was home, and that was exactly what you needed now. 

You continued walking down the street, carefully stepping to avoid the slick patches in the sidewalk. You shivered a bit and rubbed your gloved hands together, pulling your arms closer to your body, spotting the general store just a few feet ahead. You walked into the store, instantly feeling the warmth from the heaters on your face. You looked around, heading straight to the wine aisle to pick up what your mom had asked you to get for Christmas Eve. 

You found your way through the aisles with ease, everything in the same spots they had been in the last time you were there. A wave of nostalgia passed through you as you made your way through the store. You thought back to the summers you and Tyson spent together, always coming to the general store for what he called “the absolute lake day essential pack” each time you planned on going out to the lake. 

You smiled to yourself as you passed by the various snacks and drinks. Tyson invading your thoughts once more.  

“Tyson, we’re going to be gone for a few hours. I think you might be overdoing it.” You laughed as he tossed item after item into the shopping cart.

“I am truly offended. Babe, this is the absolute lake day essential pack. No item can be forgotten.” He wrapped an arm around you and placed a sloppy kiss to your cheek. 

The lake day essential pack became a tradition for every lake trip, even though you never actually finished everything that you bought. Instead, spending most of the day in the water, laughing with each other.      

-------

You didn’t know that he was back in town, the two of you losing touch years ago. Your thoughts used to be consumed with how it would feel to see him again. By all definitions of the term, Tyson was your first love. The kind of fleeting, youthful, wreckless, wild love that you grasped onto for as long as you could. There was a time when you thought he was the one, that all of the obstacles you would have to face to be together would work out in the end. You spent those years imagining what it would be like to marry him, picturing how you’d feel walking down the aisle, seeing him there. 

“Do you think it’ll be this beautiful when we get married?” Tyson squeezed your hand, looking at you softly. You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, looking toward the archway where in just a few moments your cousin would be getting married. White lilies and pastel pink dahlias framing the light stained wooden archway. 

You looked into his eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity in them. His hand holding yours firmly. You didn’t get the chance to answer his question, instead hearing the beginnings of the wedding march. As you watched your cousin walk down the aisle, you couldn’t help but make subtle glances at the groom. He was watching your cousin, eyes watering as he took in her beauty. You subconsciously leaned into Tyson more and he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. You didn’t know how to describe the feeling, but you knew that one day that would be him up there, waiting for you. 

--------

You walked out of the general store and braced yourself for the cold once more, reasoning with yourself that it was only a few blocks to your parents house and once you were there you could spend the rest of the evening watching old Christmas movies and sipping on the extra wine you just bought. 

You started making your way back down the path you came in from, taking in your surroundings as you passed by the various shops. You rounded the corner, passing by the old diner. You thought back to all of the times you and Tyson would be found there, late at night in the same corner booth you always sat in, the faux leather seats probably even more frayed with holes than they were all those years ago.

“Who’s going to come sit in this ugly booth with me now that you’re leaving?” You asked, feeling the weight of Tyson leaving the following day for his first training camp in Colorado. You were incredibly proud of him for accomplishing his dream, but that didn’t stop the worries of what the future would hold for the two of you now that the reality of it all was setting in. 

Tyson smiled sadly at you, wishing he could stop the hurt that he was causing. His whole life he had dreamed of playing in the NHL, spending years training and practicing. He didn’t expect to be sad about leaving St. Albert, until he fell in love with you. 

“It’s not forever, I’ll be back for Christmas.” He said, feeling certain in that moment that his words were true, that he would be back for Christmas with you. If only he knew that the next time he was home, your relationship would have fallen apart in just a matter of months, the young love forced to confront the truth that what you had wasn’t going to be the same after this moment. 

---------

You could see him clearly, standing outside the diner the two of you once called “your place.” He was laughing wholeheartedly at what the beautiful girl he was with was saying, his arm wrapped loosely around her as they talked. Time felt like it was slowing down, and you were stuck in a moment, feeling something about your relationship with him that you didn’t realize you needed. You felt an eerie sense of calm, knowing that he was happy. That was all you ever wanted for him, and while it used to hurt knowing it wouldn’t be with you, you were looking at him and the past so clearly. Tyson wasn’t meant to be your forever, and that was okay. He was a memory, a moment in time, that you could look back on adoringly. 

You had been living in Vancouver for just under a year, finally finding a core group of friends and settling into your new life. The wounds from your breakup still felt fresh, and you knew Tyson was out in Colorado, having adventures on his own. 

You desperately wanted to move on, find your own place in the world without waking up everyday, mind racing with thoughts of him. Your friends tried to help you move on, even going as far as to set you up with various other boys. You went on a few dates here and there, never feeling like you could fully open up to someone the way you had with Tyson.

You compared every boy you ever met to Tyson, he was a country away but he still had a grasp on your heart that you didn’t know how to get back. You often wondered if he thought of you still. Maybe if you knew that he did, and if one of you made an attempt at reconciliation, things would turn out dramatically different for you both. 

Tyson turned, spotting you from where he was standing. He smiled, nodding slightly at you before turning back to the woman he was with. His expression was comforting, familiar and kind. You knew in that moment he experienced the same feelings you just had, recognizing the slight realization he had as he looked at you briefly. You were strangers who happened to love a past version of each other. 

But that’s the thing about a first love right? The transitory feeling, ignoring just how naive you were to think it would last. If one thing had been different, things might have been different today. It could have been you by his side. 

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost fic #tyson jost story #avs imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic

[captainjanegay]

Kasia’s Festival of Fondness - Holiday Edition ♥

It's super late on Christmas Eve (which is the most important day of holiday celebrations in Poland, just a fun fact dnsjjs) or early af on Christmas Day, depends how you look at it dhsjsj and I'm kinda in a food coma and having a beer with my brother. I've been thinking about doing this for a while and there's no time to share some love and affection than the Christmas times. So bear with my sappy self for a while, would ya?

This year sucked a lot. It's been the weirdest time all of us had to go through, it was filled with anxiety and worry and isolation. So now, more than ever, I'm so thankful to have so many incredible people in my life. People I've never actually met in my life but who make me so incredibly happy and brighten up every single one of my days. People who live miles and miles away but are somehow one of the closest ones to me. People whom I love deeply and meeting them was the best thing that happened to me. People who are going to get an incredibly sappy shoutout from me right now and will have to read through all my late-night, slightly-drunk but oh-so-sincere rambling. In no particular order, here we go:

@steverrogers

My sweetest Becky. I will forever cherish the day we first talked because it was a start of something beautiful. I love talking to you, you're such an amazing and interesting person, so smart and beautiful inside and out, so funny and supportive. Not one day passes without you making me smile by whatever lovely thing you say to me, by popping up on my dash or by popping up in my thoughts all of sudden (which happens a lot). You're so caring and sweet and 12 out of 10 times I don't know how to handle your sweetness. I love being able to help you with learning polish (and the fact that you're doing this is just so??? I'm in awe, this language is hell dhsjsj). I could talk to you for for hours or just sit in silence with you for hours and I'll look forward to the day you come to kidnap me :') I love you endlessly 💜✨💚

@hbalbat

I've said that already and I'm gonna say this again and again - you're such a ray of sunshine in the life of every person that has you in their life, Helena. You're so sweet and loving and you care so deeply about all your friends here. It's so amazing to see and being on the receiving end of your love and affection?? It's unreal 💚 I love hearing about your day or about your likes, dislikes or struggles. Even when the world feels overwhelming, you are always able to get up and face it and you're so much stronger than you let yourself believe. You're such a talented, artistic soul and I love you endlessly. You brought a smile to my face so many times and you were able to do this even when I was feeling so low and I'll forever be thankful for your bright and wonderful presence in my life. I love you so much, my sweet pumpkin.

@its-tortle

Luisa, my heart 💚 You are amazing and I'm in awe of you. You're such a beautiful force of energy, love and kindness and I'm always so incredibly happy when this force is directed towards me. You're such an incredible writer and every time you compliment my work I'm like "??? You say this is good but have you actually read your own writing?? How is this possible??". Your comments on my works make me cry real tears. And the card you've sent me? It's so sweet and I'll keep it forever, having something that you've actually held and wrote just for me is so great 💚 You have such a huge and loving heart and being your friend is an incredible privilege that I'll be grateful forever. Thank you for being so supportive and caring, you deserve all the good things in life and I love you to the moon and back 🥺💚

@buckybees

My loveliest Bee, you're so incredibly talented and both your fanarts and fanfics always makes me smile so much? You have the greatest ideas and I'm in awe of how creative and amazing your mind is. You are also so sweet and talking to you is always an absolute pleasure. And the fact that you're part polish makes me so happy? As you've once said, it's like we have this special connection and it's so amazing 💚 You're so nice and supportive and my heart always goes !!!! when you pop up in my notifs :') Having you as a friend makes me so happy and I can't wait for your card (even if it comes in July I'm gonna cry the happiest tears, just thinking that you've sent me one makes me so happy :')) 💚 you make me so happy and I love you loads 💚

@anna-wa

My lovely Anna 💚 I'm so so happy you're still puttin up with me even despite my fandom change and ironically (or not) I think we're now talking more than ever? And it makes me so happy? You're such an amazing person and I love hearing your thoughts and opinions. And you're also so caring and amazing. I've said this a milion times already but the day you've pointed out I probably have ADHD was life-changing and it really helped my mental well-being so much 🥺 You're amazing, talented and the best friend one could dream off. I love you so much and I hope only good things happen to you because you deserve all the happiness and softness the universe has to offer 💚 I love you a whole lot 💚✨

@farfromthstars

My sweet, amazing Pia 💚 you're one of my oldest friends on here and even though we don't talk as much as we used to you're in my thoughts a lot. You've always been nothing but amazing to me and I'll forever be in awe of all the kindness and affection I've gotten from you. I've became obsessed with so many things because (or thanks to, it depends dnsjjs) of you and I love how many of our interests align. I'm so proud of you and you're all of my all-time fave authors, you're so talented :') You're like an older sister I always wanted to have dhsjsj 💚 I love you so much and as messy as the 1d fandom can be, I'll forever be grateful that it brought us together :')

@ziallerslouve

Annika, my sweetheart! 💚 We don't talk as much as we used to but you're still one of my favourite people on here. I love that we can go for months without talking or interacting in any way but then we just go back to where we were and just catch up without any awkwardness (and for my weird af communication skills - or lack of thereof - it's the most comforting thing? 🥺). We have so much in common and I love that you always get me so well 💚 You're so great and it's so amazing to have you as a friend 💚

@mysterious-marvel

Milly, my sweetest! Every time I see you on my dash it puts the biggest smile on my face! You're so talented and sweet and I love and cherish every single interaction we have 💚 You're so supportive and incredible and beautiful inside and out, I'm so happy I've joined the marvel fandom and was able to meet you 💚

@metalbvcky

Mandy, you precious soul! 💚 We didn't talk as much but I love you so much? You're so sweet and kind and you always brighten up my dash. And the fact that you decided to organise a secret Santa event to brighten up this hell of a year is just so amazing! You have a huge and beautiful heart and I adore you so much. Also I'm soooo excited to read "Mercury in Retrograde"?? It sounds so incredible and since you're an amazing writer I know I'll love it :')

@sexiestvampirevictim

Lidia, you're an ethereal creature and I still don't know what have I done for you to bless my life with your presence. I love you so much and your continuing support means everything to me 💚 You're wonderful and amazing and nobody gets my uni struggles as well as you do fjsjsj you always make sure that I won't bury myself in a hole of uni-related self-hatred and I really wish things could be better for you but knowing that I'm not alone is really reassuring :') 💚 you're an unstoppable force and you can conquer the world (and you should tbh, it would be such an incredible place if you did) and I love you as much an many there are stars in the sky

@christmascap

Lauren, my love! I'm still in awe that you're following me, you're like the cool, popular mutual I've had and always admired from afar but then you started talking to me and I'm not sure what to do now? You're so talented and your edits and ficlets are so heartbreakingly good. I can't understand why they don't get more attention because there just so beautiful and everyone should see them. And you're such a warm and kind person, you're always so sweet to your followers and I bet you're so much fun to be around irl :') I know that no matter what obstacles the world throws your way, you're able to overcome them all. I love you loads and while I'm still kinda nervous while talking you (I don't even know why!! You're such a sweetheart! 💚) I wanted you to know that I adore you so much 💚💚

@hufflepufsh

Huffy, my little angel! You're also one of my favourite friends on here and even if were basically in completely different fandoms rn, I'm so thankful that you're in my life! We can go without talking for ages and they we just pop up into each others Inbox and declare our undying love and I think it's beautiful?? You're so amazing and we've known each other for so long and you're like a constant in my life and every time I see you on my dash it makes me so happy, even if I have no idea what you're blogging about dhsjsj I lava you and I'll give you everything 💚💚

@lepetitcomte

.

My most wonderful Mum 💚 I love you and I'd die for you. I suck at maintaining conversations but I think about you a lot. And I mean like a lot. I always send good vibes your way and when you feel a random warmness in your heart it's my vibes finally making it across the ocean. You're so incredibly smart and you've always been so supportive and kind and wonderful to me. Even when we don't talk I'm eternally grateful you're a part of my life. You've gotta piece of my heart and being your daughter is an honour I have no idea how I deserved 💚

.

Also a huge shout-out to @hawkeyeandthewintersoldier @ywecanthavenicethingsanymore @hannah-stagram @ceilingventclintbarton @lifeishell @reedstorm @justice-for-plums @samrhodey for being literal angels and brightening my dash with their presence and brightening my life with every single interaction we've ever had :') 💚💚

I'm probably forgetting so many people and I'm so sorry for that. It's been so long since I've started writing it in my notes and my brain power is getting low fjsjsj I love and cherish every single mutual and every single follower I have no matter if we ever interacted or not. You all make me so happy and you make my days so much more bearable. The unbelievable amount of love and support I've gotten from you warms my heart and it's going to make me burst one day :') thank you for putting up with me through this post and through every single day, I'm in awe you still follow this mess of a blog and continue to give me your affection and love. I love you endlessly 💚💚💚

#i hope i'm making sense #pls excuse me if i don't djakj #the most important point is that #i love you #so so much #you make me so incredibly happy #meeting you was the best that happened to me this year #and for those of you that were stuck with me for ages - how dhajkjda #i'm so happy to have you in my life #sorry not sorry for the sappiest of all the sappy posts #kas chats