#currently got neither of those lmao

[keeps-ache]

brrrba pa pa da de do ♩

[miraclewoozi]

DO YOU DREAM OF ME? - c.hs

the first time you kiss your soulmate, you’ll open your eyes to a world of colour. the problem? vernon hates the thought that he might pull away from you and still see in monochrome.  or, five times he wanted to plant one on you, and the one time you beat him to it. 

pairing ; vernon x gn!reader.  content ; all the tropes. 5 times fic. soulmate au. slight college au if you squint. f2l. fluff, some angst. pining. one (1) hint of suggestiveness if u squint. MINORS STILL DO NOT HAVE MY CONSENT TO INTERACT.  content notes ; mentions of reader having a(n unnamed) partner & thereafter, going through a breakup due to said partner cheating. reader is maybe implied to be shorter than him but hopefully not too obviously or frequently. alcohol is mentioned & is a key theme in scene #3. pov switch for the final part (necessary for logistical reasons.) PLEASE let me know if i've forgotten anything. w/c ; 9.6k note ; welcome to thee most self indulgent fic ever lmao. i hope u enjoy this slight break away from what i usually post here (as if my entire brand isn’t writing losers in love. ANYWAY) -- this was very fun and a little bit special for me! <3

“What was your first kiss like?”

Initially, Vernon swears he just didn’t hear you right. It’s dark up here, where you’re hiding away from a party on the roof of his university accommodation and he’s starting to get tired. There’s some sort of siren wailing away in the distance to his left, and on the street below, a gaggle of freshmen are cackling as they walk past the building. His ear closest to you is currently listening to your favourite song. 

All the signs suggest that he simply got it wrong. 

But he doesn’t know if he believes those signs, especially not seeing as when he looks over at you, you’re staring pointedly up at the stars overhead. He doesn’t doubt that you’re giving yourself an ache in your neck in the process, too.

“Hmm?” He asks, taking out the earphone that connects him to you. The other one is still nestled away in your ear and he reaches to gently pull it away. “What was that?”

You still don’t look at him, but you do repeat yourself. Quietly. “What… was your first kiss like?”

“Oh.” 

He was right. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” you hurry to say, hugging his jacket tighter around yourself to block out the cold air that blows across the rooftop. He shrugged it off and told you to take it the very moment your teeth started chattering — almost an hour ago now. His arms are bare, shoulders and biceps only covered by a t-shirt so thin it’s practically sheer, but he isn’t cold. He’s always run hotter than most. “Sorry.”

He nudges you with his knee, silently telling you that you don’t need to apologise. He doesn’t mind — you just caught him off guard; Vernon hasn’t given this any thought in a long time, and he has to really put his mind to coming up with an answer. It was forever ago — when he was eleven or twelve, maybe, with his first ever girlfriend. They dated for a whole two and a half weeks. He doesn’t know if it really counts: the kiss was a dare, after all. 

“Kinda…” He starts, trying to follow the line of your sight, wondering if he can find the exact stars you’re looking at. “She’d just put this weird lipgloss on. It was real tingly. And like, neither of us knew what we were doing? So it… got everywhere. I think I ended up swallowing some, I don’t know. My mouth felt weird after. Thought I was having an allergic reaction.”

You laugh softly at him. “I think that would put me off for the rest of my life,” you say. 

“It almost did,” he chuckles. You hum at him and lean back on your elbows, leaving Vernon more than a little bit confused. He readjusts his hold on his knees, bringing them closer to his chest as he tilts his head down at you in your new position. 

“…why?” He asks, just as you close your eyes and take a deep inhale of the cool air. 

You just shrug. “I guess I just… wondered.”

He nods, and it’s his turn to fall short of a response, but that’s okay. You’ve known each other for too long for these silences to feel uncomfortable. He grew up with you. In fact, he’s reasonably sure he’s told you this story before. He must have done. 

Then he realises, maybe he hasn’t. Because he doesn’t know the story behind yours, and maybe that’s just a line the two of you never came to crossing. He knows he told his other friends, back then, because he was the last one in his circle to have a first kiss and he felt like it made him more grown-up, or something. Naturally, he left out the more embarrassing details. But maybe you just told your other friends who weren’t him, and went on with your life. Maybe yours was just… normal. 

Either way, he’s interested now. And there’s no time to ask like the present. 

“What was yours like?” He asks, fiddling with the strap on his wristwatch. You don’t answer straight away; he doesn’t think anything of it, because neither did he, but when he’s still waiting for you to speak a small eternity later, he prompts you again. “Hey, it can't have been worse than mine.”

You snort. 

“You’ll laugh at me,” you say, shaking your head. Vernon furrows his brows and drops his legs flat, twisting to one side to look at you. 

He doesn’t know where you’d get that idea from, but he’s… almost a bit offended by it?

“No I won’t,” he tells you softly. Maybe at first, he might’ve laughed with you, if your story happened to be as dumb as his own. But not at you. Never at. Not when he’s been the butt of the joke in too many friendship circles, for about as long as he can remember. 

You take a shallow breath, pursing your lips. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not…” you start to say, before you clear your throat and try again, this time heading in a different direction. “I don’t know. It’s dumb, I guess.”

“Don’t make me come down there,” Vernon threatens playfully, poking you in your side. You squirm, giggling despite yourself, despite the serenity of the sanctuary you two have found, despite the fact that you, too, were on the edge of falling asleep before your question came out of nowhere.  

He pokes you again, and again, and then starts to tickle your ribs instead. You squeal, swatting his hands away to no avail and you move to sit up, grabbing him by the forearms to physically make him stop. The grin on Vernon’s face is wide and heart-shaped. A warm feeling spreads through him: it has everything to do with the sweet sounds of your slowly dissolving laughter. 

You sit cross-legged across from each other like this for a moment or two. Your knees are touching. Your hands move down his arms until you’re holding him firmly by the wrists. Your eyes lock together: his crease with the sheer force of his boyish smile, while yours are narrowed, daring him to try and wiggle free and attack you again. 

He doesn’t, but for the first time ever, he’s struck with the urge to do something maybe more scary. 

The urge to just… lean in to you. 

It makes his heart do a backflip, in a way that it hasn’t done since he had his last crush. His head goes empty, and he forgets what he was even asking you before: the only thoughts he can muster are ones regarding what your lips taste like, whether they’re half as soft as they look, if you’d lightly touch his shoulder or his arm or his chest or his cheek—

Do you smile when you kiss?, he wonders. Do you sigh? Do you—

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” you answer, looking away now and letting go of him. He’s gone so loose in the moments since you grabbed hold of him that when you’re not supporting their weight, his arms fall like two cinder blocks onto his knees. 

True to his word, he doesn’t laugh. He’s surprised by your revelation, sure, but in no way humoured; actually, he feels a little saddened by it, for a reason he can’t put his finger to. He ends up not saying anything, just biting the inside of his cheek; he wants to ask why, but knows maybe that’s a bit of a dick move, and if it’s something you’re sensitive about he doesn’t want to risk hurting you.

But he’s watched people fawn over you for years, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever been short of attention from those who have thought you were attractive. So it can’t be that you’ve been lacking in chances? Surely?

“I thought… maybe I should save it,” you go on to explain. Your hands keep busy by playing with a thread at the cuff of his jacket sleeve, wrapping it around one finger until the skin beneath it pinches before you unravel it again. 

“Save it?” He asks. You nod your head.

“For when I thought I’d found them.” You pause, swallowing hard. “Like I said, it’s s—.”

“No it’s not,” Vernon says abruptly, shaking his head. He holds onto you now, one hand slipping around your back until it rests on the shoulder furthest away from him. You scoff. He squeezes you into his side. “Hey. It’s not stupid.”

He doesn’t like how this admission has, somehow, made his desire to kiss you stronger. He hates that he feels even more drawn to you, a magnet finally finding its opposing pole. It freaks him out a little. He’s never wanted to kiss anyone this badly. 

Red button theory, he tells himself to try and get back on the straight and narrow. If you hadn’t said anything, none of this would be happening.

“It’s romantic,” he says finally, swiping his thumb in small motions over the top of your shoulder. You nod, mumbling a ‘thank you’ (for what, he isn’t sure), and shiver. Vernon doesn’t know if that’s because of his proximity to you or because you’re finally starting to feel the cold. Either way, he takes the initiative to stand up and holds a hand out for you to take so he can tug you to your feet too. You get up with a little hop. 

It’s… devastatingly cute.

“Where are we going?” You ask, brushing off your jeans before shoving your hands into the jacket’s pockets. He’s already on the retreat, walking backwards towards the door that took you up here.

“To get food,” he tells you, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “That party was dead, anyway.”

It doesn’t cross his mind again until your twenty-first birthday. 

He’s not your soulmate. He couldn’t be. The thought he had on the roof that autumnal night was little more than a passing fantasy; besides, he doesn’t have a thing for you. He doesn’t want to kiss you, or date you, or have you be his soulmate. The reason you work so well together is because you’re just friends; he thinks you’d drive each other crazy if things ever went romantic between you. You bicker with him for sport. He drowns away hours at a time with his headphones clamped over his ears and forgets to answer your texts. It would be a nightmare. 

Not that he’s ever thought about all that. Not actively, or even passively. Not when he should be listening to college lectures instead, for example. Not awake, nor in his dreams. He hasn’t. Not once. 

He swears. 

“You can save it ‘til tomorrow, if you want.”

Vernon bounces his leg nervously, fidgeting with the edge of your comforter as you sit on the floor in front of him, styling your hair for your party. He arrived half an hour ago while you were still waltzing around in your bathrobe, holding a small, neatly wrapped box in both of his hands. It’s several degrees too warm in your bedroom. He feels a bead of sweat roll down his back as you grumble what seems to be a threat at a strand that won’t cooperate. Thankfully, you don’t seem to notice his discomfort. (If you do, he’s grateful that you don’t say anything.)

“But it’s my birthday today,” you pouted, taking the box from him. “Let me finish getting ready, then I’ll open it. Come on.”

His wrist still aches with the pressure you held onto him with as you dragged him up the stairs. Your parents are away for the weekend and the house is all yours, so there’s a speaker blasting your favourite playlist full volume on your nightstand and there’s nobody to tell you to turn it down. He flits his attention between his phone and watching you, but he can’t fully concentrate on either; he’s too nervous that maybe you won’t like his gift, and he’s never been the type to splash out on birthday presents before but this… well, it burned a hole in his wallet, that’s for sure. 

“Okay. Wait here,” you tell him as you push up off the floor, limping on the leg that had started to fall asleep thanks to the way you were sitting. 

“All right,” he says back. As if he’d go anywhere, anyway. 

You grab a hanger from inside your closet and scurry off down the hall to the bathroom. For the first time, Vernon feels like he can actually breathe. He drops his phone onto the comforter between his crossed legs and cradles his head in his hands, telling himself that he needs to get it together. You’ve never not liked anything he’s given you, and you’ve known him now for more birthdays than you haven’t. 

Your friends said you’d love it. So did your mother, with a sparkle in her eye as she held it delicately in her fingers. He has nothing to worry about. It’s only you.

And yet—

“You’ll be honest if it looks bad?” You call from the other side of the door, interrupting how his lips move wordlessly in an endless mantra of self-reassurances. 

Vernon snaps his head up and he clears his throat, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eye sockets. “Aren’t I always?” He answers.

You click your tongue, evidently disagreeing, but you pull the handle and take a step into the room anyway. When you see him, he looks exactly as he did when you left, no trace of his anxieties anywhere to be seen on his face or otherwise. 

When he sees you, he feels like the world could end any moment and he’d be okay with that. 

His mouth runs dry and his eyes seem to be stuck open, unblinking, fixated on you in your all black outfit as you stand still as a statue with your hands behind your back. You cough quietly, waiting for some kind of a response other than a dumb stare, but it doesn’t come. 

Eight seconds later… still nothing. 

“Do you hate it?” you fret, because Vernon is a very good hype-man and you’ve never known him struggle to find something positive to say. “All right, uh— okay—”

“No!” He rushes, almost shouting in his urgency to assure you that that’s not the case at all. He scrambles up to his feet, taking a breath, and pushes a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, and he kind of hates how his fingers catch on a tangle even though he brushed it meticulously before he left his apartment. You keep telling him it looks good, though, so he hasn’t been to get it cut. “God, no. I’m sorry. You look amazing.”

It doesn’t sound like much to the untrained ear, but the warmth of his compliments comes less in the words he says and more in the sincerity he says them with. Your face softens, and Vernon can see the way the thoughts of changing into something else fizzle out behind your eyes. He takes a backwards step to try and tempt you further into your own bedroom, and you move in tandem with him, closing that space and coming better into the light. 

“Wow,” he says, swallowing hard and looking you up and down. “I-… wow.”

It’s your turn to clam up, now. You look down at the floor, kicking at the carpet with your toes. “Shut up,” you say. “I’m not...”

“Yes, you are,” he protests, leaving no room for argument as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t know who you’re trying to impress but… yeah, it’s gonna work.”

You walk past him with a scoff, barging against his shoulder on your way; he dramatically staggers to the side, rubbing at the impact site, laughing. When he faces you again, you’ve picked the gift up from the end of your bed and are moving to sit on the mattress yourself. Your eyes flicker between Vernon and the empty space in front of you. He takes the hint, settling back down with one foot tucked beneath him, the other still planted on your rug. 

His heart shoots back up into his throat and he stares down at the box, licking over his lips and frowning at how dry they feel. He glances away, lifting a hand to his mouth, running his fingertips over his lips. What would they feel like pressed against yours? He thinks, and then he cringes again. 

You misread his reaction and hesitate with your finger pressed underneath a strip of tape, tilting your head at him. “What’s going to jump out at me when I open this?” 

“Nothing,” he says, rolling his eyes at you. “What do you take me for?”

“The kind of guy who puts glitter in birthday cards because he thinks it’s funny,” you retort, earning a click of his tongue. 

“That was one time!”

“One time too many.”

“I swear,” he laughs, tight shoulders easing, both hands falling to his lap. “No sparkles, no loud noises, nothing jumpy. Cross my heart.“

You eye him a little suspiciously but eventually tug your finger beneath the wrapping and make the first rip in the paper, allowing you to tear into the gift after keeping Vernon on edge for almost an hour and a half. You peel it away and it falls to the bedsheets, in your hands now a small, square box not too dissimilar a shade to your comforter. You look from it, to him, and he thinks you notice how his cheeks are a little darker than they were before. 

He nods at you once and you slowly pull it open. On a plush, velvety bedding sits an elegant, dainty bracelet. A small gemstone is set in the metal of the bar in the middle of the chain. You skim a thumb over it, your breath held.

“Vernon,” you murmur, tearing your eyes away from the bracelet to look at him. Now, even the tips of his ears have grown flushed, but you’re kind enough not to comment on it to avoid spoiling the moment you’re in. “This is…”

“The lady in the store said it was your birthstone,” he says, twiddling his thumbs. “I mean… I’m really just taking her word for it, ‘cause they all look the same to me, but—”

He’s interrupted as all of your weight topples against him, arms thrown around his neck in a hug. He hesitates a moment before he wraps his own around your waist, drops his head to your shoulder and he smiles wider than he thinks he ever has. “Happy Birthday,” he says, dragging his thumb up and down over your hip. 

“Silly,” you scold him playfully, still pressing wholly against him and showing no signs of moving. Your voice sounds thick, a little like you’re tearing up, so Vernon squeezes you tighter. 

“I know you are,” he chuckles. “But what am I?”

You swallow hard, finally now pulling away from the hug but sitting entirely too close for comfort, one knee pressing into the outside of his thigh. 

Your surprise attack has left him dishevelled. With a quiet apology, your fingers innocently try to smooth everything back into place, but Vernon doesn’t hear you say you’re sorry. His pulse, thundering in his ears, drowns it out while also skipping a beat with each little touch. You’re not looking into his eyes as you shyly put him back to rights, too busy working to tame his — at the best of times — unruly hair. 

He’s looking into yours though, and he can’t stop. 

Your eyes, which dart all over to find strands out of place, so your hands can move them to where they ought to sit and lay them down flat. Your eyes, that drop down the length of his throat as you realign the neck of his t-shirt over his broad shoulders. 

Your eyes: the ones crinkled at the corners as you pick the bracelet back up from your bed and admire it under your bedroom light. Your eyes, landing on his, finally, in a silent plea for help. 

“The best?” you answer, now, extending your wrist to ask him to put it on you. He takes the chain from your fingers and unclasps it, slipping it beneath your hand and holding it in place. 

“I know you are,” he says again, but it’s quieter now as he concentrates on trying to reconnect the two pieces. “But what am I?”

When he successfully fastens your gift onto your arm, he looks up to see your watery eyes still staring down at it. He decides this is the time to reveal part two of the surprise. Pulling up the sleeve of his t-shirt, he reveals his own wrist to you, and you now see there’s a matching chain hanging off it. A little stone set in the metal. His stone, presumably. You choke out a laugh around your tears, shaking your head. 

“You got us friendship bracelets,” you giggle, holding your hand next to his and admiring them together. Your skin touches and he feels butterflies erupt in his stomach, which he hasn’t felt around you since…

He nods, breathing a chuckle too. “Yeah,” he says. His heart is pounding. “I guess I did. Is… that okay?”

“I love them,” you insist, leaning forward to affectionately press your lips to his cheek. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

Your doorbell sounds downstairs and Vernon’s words die in his throat. Maybe that’s for the best, though; he’s got so much nervous energy rising up inside him and he’s scared it might accidentally force up something he’ll regret saying. You spring off the bed again, fussing in the mirror, and he watches you rush out the bedroom warbling about how you’re not ready for anyone to be here yet. It’s too early. What’s going on? Who is it?

He shifts his legs so both his feet are planted on the floor, letting out a breath he doesn’t remember sucking in. 

I love them. Thank you, you said. 

It’s perfect. 

He groans when he stands up, too, tugging his sleeve back down as he starts to follow after you.

“I know you are,” he mumbles under his breath, hearing your relieved laughter at it just being the FedEx man on your doorstep. It makes him feel warm. Everywhere. “But what am I?”

Five hours later, Vernon is seeing double. 

He has Seungkwan’s hands massaging the tops of his shoulders and there are two Juns sitting across from him at your dining table. He remembers feeling fine around 9pm, distinctly: like nothing he drank was having any kind of effect on him. Like he could walk home on his hands — like he was invincible. Now, after spending exactly five minutes out in the fresh air, he’s blinking four times for every breath he takes and his friends’ voices keep phasing in and out of focus.

“But what if they’re not?” Vernon stresses for the eighth time, fingers clumsily peeling at the label on his bottle.

“And what if they are?” Jun tries. Again. Also, for the eighth time, because apparently when Vernon gets tipsy, his skull gets really really thick and nothing in the world can penetrate it. “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

Vernon shakes his head, sitting back so heavily that his chair tips and he sends Seungkwan stumbling into the wall behind them. His friend gives up trying to rub the stupid out of him and settles into the chair at Vernon’s side instead. 

“I don’t know-…”

“If you’re about to say you don’t know what you’ll do if it isn’t them, I’m putting you in an Uber and sending you home.” Seungkwan claps his hand down onto Vernon’s knee for good measure. “It’s not even been a day.”

Vernon groans, threading his fingers into his hair and tipping his head back. “It hasn’t, though,” he whines. “What if it’s been like this since… and I just kept ignoring…”

Jun and Seungkwan exchange a look. An exhausted one. They both know Vernon turns into a complete baby when he’s had a drink and can just about manage a trip to the bathroom without somebody holding his hand, but neither of them have seen him like this before. Neither of them want to see him like this ever again.

Hell, neither of them want to be dealing with him like this right now.

“You’ll never know if you don’t try,” Jun’s (remarkably) calm voice repeats as he pushes up from his seat and glances towards the doorway. His ears lock onto a voice just beyond it, and in an instant, the older man recognises his chance at an exit. He casts an apologetic glance at Seungkwan, who has resorted to rubbing Vernon’s earlobes to try and get him to stop stressing, and he dips out before either of them can argue. 

On his way, though, he throws in a sly little remark. One that raises Vernon’s– and Seungkwan’s– blood pressure to a level that would get them prescribed a week of strict bed rest.

“Besides – everyone can see the two of you were practically made for each other.”

Vernon whips around to face Seungkwan with shock written into every line of his face. It paints perfect full-signal WiFi creases on his forehead; it makes his jaw hang loose. 

“I– what?” Vernon splutters, shooting a hand to the back of his head. Seungkwan hasn’t taken his eyes off the doorway since Jun slipped through it. Vernon doesn’t notice the fact that his older friend’s full genetic line is currently being cursed out. “What does he mean?”

“You don’t have to do anything tonight,” Seungkwan tries, now acutely aware of the fact that Jun has just given Vernon a nudge he should never have. There’s a fine line between bolstering a friend and straight-up causing chaos. This could get messy. Seungkwan doesn’t like messy.

But… It's too late. 

Before Seungkwan can wrangle him back into his seat, Vernon has broken away from the table and is on the hunt for you. Seungkwan follows behind, doing his best to summon Vernon back, but he can’t. He’s on a mission now. And maybe that mission involves giving in to the thing that eats away at his brain when he should be waist-deep in music theory assignments. Maybe that mission is to finally, after two years, know what it feels like to kiss you. He’s going to find you, so help him God. He has to. 

And yes. He does. He finds you, eventually. As soon as he reaches the top of the staircase, there you are. 

Being pressed into the wood of your bedroom door, wrapped up in the arms of some pretentious looking art student in an oversized button-down and baggy, ripped jeans. Your mouth is covered by theirs, your fingers are threaded through those glossy fucking locks, both of you are laughing breathlessly as you drop one hand and it fumbles blindly to reach for the doorknob. 

Vernon spins away, turning his back as he hears the door click. At this exact moment, Seungkwan comes stumbling up the stairs too and plants his forehead into Vernon’s sternum. 

But his good friend’s skull is not the only thing Vernon is struck with, not the only thing knocking the wind out of him. 

Simultaneously, he’s swept up with the sobering realisations that either this guy is your soulmate, or you’re not the same person you were when you were nineteen. 

It’s eleven o’clock and two years later when he hears your secret knock on his apartment door. 

Maybe it’s luck. Maybe it’s fate. He only took his noise cancelling headphones off a few minutes ago before he washed up and settled into bed; his head has hardly even had time to make a dent in the pillows. But whichever force is at play, the thing that matters is that he hears you and he knows it’s you, straight away. He doesn’t remember how it started, exactly. He thinks it might have been while he was in his exam-season hermit stage in his first year of university and refused to come to the door unless it was something important. 

You’ve been knocking the same way for years now though, and he slides out of bed with creased brows at how desperate your fist sounds as it pounds against the wood. He pulls on an old t-shirt and perhaps the loosest fitting pair of shorts anyone’s ever owned, at least making himself decent before he answers. He’s still tying the drawstring when he gets to the door.

When he looks through the peep-hole to make sure he’s right, you’re drying your eyes on the back of your sweatshirt sleeve. You’re shivering quite violently, and you’ve got a bag on your shoulder that’s weighing you down on one side. Vernon’s heart sinks. He unbolts the door, pulling it open just as you lift your hand to knock again; your knuckles punch the air between you as your eyes land on him, and your bottom lip wobbles in despair. 

You fall into his chest with a sob. Tears start to soak their way through his shirt until it clings to the skin underneath. 

“Hey,” he soothes you, locking his arms so tight around you that there’s a strong chance they’re the only thing holding you upright. 

“I didn’t— know where else to go—” you choke out, your arm trapped between your chest and his as he rests his head on top of yours and pats your back softly. “I’m s-”

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, tilting his chin down to press a soft kiss to the top of your head. “It’s okay. I’m here. You can always come to me.”

He holds you until your shakes start to subside, trying to talk you through whatever this is with soft reassurances and gentle shushing sounds. When you pull back from him, Vernon guides you into his apartment, flicking on the lamp in his living room so he can see to settle you down on his couch. He throws a blanket over your legs before he sits down himself, pulling your hand into his lap and holding it between both of his own, his thumb moving absently over your knuckles. You’re still crying, but when you shuffle against the seat to be a little more comfortable and finally turn to face him, he finds his voice long enough to ask you what happened. 

“He kissed— kissed someone else,” you tell him, sniffling and shaking your head. 

His blood reaches boiling point in what must be record time and he knows he accidentally starts to grip your hand tighter, but he can’t stop. 

“He what?”

Vernon knows this guy wasn’t your soulmate. You told him, a few days after your birthday. You said everything was still black and white when you pulled back from the first of — what you spared no detail in explaining was — many, many, many kisses with him that evening. But you didn’t care. Not then, and not for the whole time you’ve been together. 

He asked you about it once. About four months in (when he figured things were starting to get serious), late at night, if it bothered you. Whether you were going to keep seeing him. If you still thought about finding your soulmate. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forget what your replying message said. 

I mean, sure, I’m curious. But maybe I don’t need to see in colour. I think being in love is enough :)

So… you were in love. 

With someone who wasn’t him. 

He didn’t speak to anyone — not even you — for two whole days after that. He felt like he’d gone ten rounds with a peak-form George Foreman. He felt like he’d never be able to get rid of the pit that had developed in the depths of his gut. He couldn’t sleep, he could barely eat, he couldn’t focus: it was the worst he’d ever felt.  And, well… Vernon knew it was immature. He knew he was acting like a child. If he could’ve shaken it off, the way he’s always done with so many of the things in his life that have bothered him, he’d have loved to. But he couldn’t.

Besides. Only about four people noticed his silence, anyway. You weren’t one of them; your boyfriend was keeping you plenty busy.

“He went to a club and got completely wasted and he— he—” you say, squeezing his hand even tighter than he’s holding yours. “But-… he says he-…” Hiccup. “Everything. Straight away — his…”

You don’t need to say it out loud; if anything, he’s a little disgusted with himself that he didn’t figure this out sooner. “His soulmate,” Vernon ruefully finishes for you. He groans the words out, feeling rotten to his core. “I’m so sorry…”

Your shoulders start to shake and he wastes no time in pulling you sideways against him, both his arms locked around you again, just like before. 

“It’s so stupid,” you cry, laughing emptily. His stomach turns; he hates this. Your anguish is an assault on his eardrums, especially when he’s got you so close, but he tries so hard not to flinch, not to move away. You need him, no matter how agonised it makes him feel. “I knew he wasn’t mine, but I thought-…”

Your voice fades away to nothing. You shake your head.

“You thought he was happy the same way you were,” he finishes again. You just nod, sobbing harder. “That's not—… stop saying the way you feel is stupid.”

Vernon doesn’t understand how that loser could ever not have been happy with you. How could he dream about going out in search of something more? Hell, Vernon doesn’t think there’s a soul alive better than you — how could anyone stand to just throw you away?

He wonders briefly if you can hear his heartbeat, thundering in his chest with the rage he feels all the way into his bones. You’ve always told him that you admire how chilled out, how collected he is, but Vernon has never felt less calm in his entire life. It’s only as he acknowledges that he has no right to feel like this, that he takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to bring his fever down. You mimic him, trying to do the same, and by the time his pulse starts to settle, you’re back to just sniffling against his shoulder. 

“Stay the night here,” he tells you. It isn’t a suggestion, or really even a request. It’s an order. There’s no room for negotiation. “We’ll go get your things in the morning. I’ll be right there with you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but Vernon gets there before you do. Before you can protest the offers he’s made. Before you can ask him if he’s sure. He knows you, a little too well: he knows these are the words that are going to come out of your mouth next. “I’m with you, okay? Always.”

You sit back from him with a quiet chuckle, wiping your eyes again on your damp sleeve. “I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you,” you murmur. “You’re the best— the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He just rolls his eyes at you and shakes his head, standing up from the couch. (I know you are, he thinks. This isn’t the time for jokes, though.) He wishes you knew what you mean to him; how, in his eyes, you deserve the world, presented to you on a shining silver platter. Wishes you knew that he’d give it to you if thought he could carry it. 

“Go wash up,” he says, ignoring the ache in his chest at the way your watery lashes flutter when you look up at him. “I’ll find you something to sleep in.”

He locates a spare toothbrush from a travelling kit he’s never used and sets a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants on the heated towel rail, leaving you alone in the bathroom to go about your business. You emerge some fifteen minutes later to find Vernon perched on the edge of his bed, scrolling through an app on his phone. He can’t help but swallow at the way his clothes fit you. How the steam from your shower clings to your skin, casts a heavenly haze around you. He hopes it isn’t obvious. This is about more than his dumb little crush. 

“Were you asleep?” You ask him, nodding towards his comforter, still pushed back on one side. He turns to glance over his shoulder, following the line of your sight, before he looks back at you and shakes his head. 

“Not even close,” he says. “I’d just got into bed when you got here.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth and nod. Vernon doesn't think you look totally convinced, but he can’t force you to believe him, even if it is the truth. 

It’s unspoken but accepted that you'll sleep in the bed with him; he’s never let you stay on his couch when you spend the night, and you never agree to displacing him even though he always tries to insist he doesn’t mind. You’ve been friends for enough time now that it’ll never be weird to crawl beneath the sheets with him, anyway. At first, he didn’t really like sharing (he’s a bit… particular with how he sleeps, after all), but he got used to your weight on the mattress beside him quite quickly and makes a point to say he always sleeps better with you. 

He hasn’t curled up next to you for the night in over two years. It’s awful, that that’s what he thinks about now as he turns off the lights and you settle down, shuffling under the comforter until he slides in next to you in the dark and you can lay your head on his chest. He knows it’s selfish. He thinks it probably makes him a bad person, too. 

“Do you think—” you start to say, cut off by a long, vocal yawn. Your breath feels so warm through his t-shirt. “If you fall out of love with them… do the colours go away?”

With his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling he can’t even see, Vernon feels his heart shatter beneath the soft cushion of your cheek. He’s suddenly grateful he’s still fully clothed, as if the cotton barrier is the only thing stopping you from getting scratched by the splinters beneath his skin. He wonders if you hear it. It would be an easier explanation for why he doesn’t say anything than whatever his mouth could come up with, that’s for sure. 

“I don’t know,” he says after a few seconds too long. The arm wrapped around your shoulders slips down to your waist and he squeezes you. Briefly, he wonders if it can force your broken pieces back together. 

Vernon knows he would never do this to you. He’d never hurt you this way. Out of everyone he’s ever met, he thinks you’re the sweetest, the kindest, the most thoughtful of them all. The last person he’d ever wish a heartbreak upon. He even used to joke that he’d go to war with anyone who dared to try. 

But now he’s seeing it happen? He feels as if he really could. 

“I just hope you never have to find out,” he follows up, blinking back the thoughts that start to bubble away as your breaths slow down. 

He wrapped a band-aid around your finger when you got a papercut once and you asked him, then, if he would kiss it better. 

When you bumped your head in the playground, the same. 

He’d kiss it all better now too, if he could. He’d show you how you deserve to be loved. 

And he doesn’t just think it, anymore; Vernon knows that this makes him a terrible person. 

“I hope you don’t, either,” you mumble back. “... and I hope we find them soon.”

He’s so proud of you.

Okay, it never took much. He’s been proud of you for every good grade you’ve ever achieved, every doctor's appointment you booked for yourself, every trip to the dentist you stressed over. He’s been proud of you for finishing projects you were struggling with. Proud of you for learning new recipes. For every milestone, personal or professional, it’s the first thing he makes sure to say. 

[ hey, look at u go!!! proud of u :) ]

Now? He’s seen you crawl from rock bottom to the top of the world. It hasn’t been easy. There have been hurdles and barriers and sometimes, sixty foot high walls you’ve had to climb up and over, but you’ve done it. You’re thriving. Every time he looks at you, these days, if you’re not wearing a smile there are at least traces of one in your eyes, on your face, in your voice. Happiness suits you, and he’s so, so proud of you for getting here. 

He knows you’re doing better, because between Christmas and New Year, you asked him if he wanted to come to a party with you. At first, he wasn’t sure; the holidays left his wallet feeling a little light and he’s been on a really good streak of not drinking anything lately, but when you promised that you’d stay sober too, he kind of couldn’t say no. 

[ i just wanna see in the new year with my favourite person ever <3 ]

[ ha. flattery will get u everywhere ]

So here he finds himself, out in the backyard of somebody he’s never met, a can of Coke in one hand and your gloved fingers holding tightly onto the other. You dragged him outside at five minutes to midnight and — though he doesn’t know why — you decided you didn’t want to let go. Vernon certainly wasn’t going to be the one to make you. Your warmth down his left side is settling the slight unease he’s felt all evening while also making him feel tipsier than he’s ever been under the influence of any amount of soju; he thinks maybe this should scare him, but he’s just… so glad he came.

With sixty seconds until the clock strikes twelve, somebody stands up on top of the picnic table in the yard and starts to try and coordinate a countdown. With forty-five, Vernon squeezes your hand, butterflies where his stomach ought to be. With thirty, he takes a long drain of his drink, finishing it as if it’ll give him some courage, maybe, or… he doesn’t know. Zero sugar, zero caffeine — there’s no logic behind his process, just a lot of bubbles and artificially sweetened syrup. All the same, he crushes the can against his thigh and slips it into his pocket to throw away later. That alone relieves a bit of his adrenaline. 

Not enough, but some. 

With ten seconds remaining, the first shout drowns out the white noise in his ears, the chaos of his thoughts. 10. He joins them. So do you. 9. 8. Your voice is the loudest, the most excited sounding. You want this year to be over. You want the rest of your life to begin. 

7. 6. 5.

The crackers are set. Flames dance at the end of the garden on fire lighters, ready to send rockets shooting into the sky. 

Some people here are going to see them as they truly are. Brilliant and vibrant and colourful against the black canvas of the midnight sky. Vernon won’t. Neither will you. But what was it you said to him once?

4. 3.

Maybe I don’t need to see in colour. 

2.

For the first time, he thinks he agrees. The feeling of loving you, even if he never knows green from red, blue from orange? He doesn’t care. He has you. He loves you. That’s enough. 

1.

Happy New Year. 

As if dawn has broken early, the world becomes impossibly bright, pyrotechnics bursting not only over your own heads but everywhere, as far as his eyes can see. After the first few, he permits himself a glance over at your face: there are tears running down it, and his heart stutters, but then he hears you laugh. Brightly, wetly, more resonant than any of the booms and crackles and cheers he can feel all the way down to his toes. 

For whatever reason, Vernon starts laughing with you. 

You pull him closer into a bone-crushing hug and blink your damp lashes against the side of his neck. “Thank you for being here with me,” you say to him, practically shouting to be heard. “I love you so much.”

“I’m always gonna be with you,” he says as you pull back a little. Your arms are still around him. The chain of the bracelet he bought you all those years ago is bitterly cold against the back of his neck. He can’t feel his fingers anymore, all he knows is that they’re resting on the curve of your spine. He thinks he can see something in the way you look at him, so softly and tenderly and yet, in the twitch of your brow… 

Like you’re searching for something that might not be there. 

He knows his gaze moves in a perfect triangle — from your left eye, to your slightly parted, wind-chapped lips, to your right. He knows he stops breathing. He swears you do, too. Something builds — a spark catches, an energy festers, egged on by the curious murmurs of the people around you. 

You could do it, his brain tells him. 

So what if he’s a few minutes late for it to be traditional? Does it really matter? 

But he’s reminded, again, this time with a whizz and a boom and a crackle, that you aren’t his to have this way. His storybook moment fizzles out, the final firework bursting into sparkles overhead. He sees every one of your perfect features brighten in wonder as you tilt your head back to look up at it. Sees it beautifully reflected in your glassy eyes. He has about enough time to commit the image to memory before you clear your throat and finally step away from him, losing all touch for the first time since you came outside. 

One of your friends comes and pulls you into an embrace, before passing you along to someone else, and then someone else again. He loses you in the crowd that rushes to get back in the warm, but he makes no effort to move with them. He just stays out in the dark for a while with his own thoughts for company, shoving his frigid hands into the pockets of his jeans.

He’s happy, though. It’s like you said. 

Being in love is enough.

“There’s just one more thing,” you say as the waitress returns with your bank card and a receipt. Vernon slides you a look as he stands, picking up his jacket from the back of the chair he’s been sitting in. 

He shakes his head at you. “Whatever it is, it better not be edible,” he laughs. “I think this is the most full I’ve ever been.”

In other words, you’ve done enough already. Stop spending money on me. Please. Thankfully, your final surprise is in-keeping with his unspoken rule. 

His birthday rolled around way too quickly. The start of the year has been so chaotically busy; you swear, you’ve hardly seen him since he dropped you off home after the party. You moved out of your parents’ house for the second time a few weeks ago and settling in, unpacking boxes, sorting through clothes and belongings and trinkets has taken you much longer than you care to admit. You’ve been busy at work, too. So has he. Your social calendars have barely lined up at all. 

But you were determined to make plenty of time for him on his birthday. 

To Vernon, this has always just been another day. He’s never cared too much about big celebrations: as long as he can spend some time with people he cares about, he’s happy, and this year he’s managed exactly that. He saw his family this morning, had some friends drop by his apartment later in the day, and now, he’s with you. 

You’ve never been great at the laid-back approach, though. Not with him. How could you be, when he does so much for you, always without even batting an eye? When he deserves to be doted on, and adored, and thoroughly spoiled? It’s the same every year. You make a fuss, he playfully scolds you for it; you and he are creatures of habit. It’ll probably never change. 

This year, you invited him to your new place to open the gifts you’d bought him: the new speaker he kept saying he couldn’t justify buying, a record he looked at in the store a few months ago but never bought, a sweatshirt to replace the one you stole off him on New Years Eve. Some candies he likes. Then, after he finally stopped pouting and sighing that you really didn’t need to go to all this effort, you took him out for dinner, making a reservation for two at his favourite restaurant. 

The pouting continued. 

Only up until your appetisers came out, though. The moment your food was placed down in front of you, his eyes doubled in size and his lips became a little too busy to stay pursed. Your own dinner almost went cold with how fondly you sat and watched him. This year, you even spared Vernon the embarrassment of having the restaurant staff sing at the side of your table. 

All right, you have an ulterior motive, but… it’s the thought that counts, right? 

He holds the door open for you now as you thank the waitress who served you one last time and without him lowering his arm, you step into place beneath it. Tucked up into Vernon’s side, you’re as happy as you’ve ever been. Nervous, too, but… you have a good feeling. 

“Where to?” He asks as you fall into step together. 

“This way.”

You emerge from the shelter of the canopy outside the restaurant’s front door and immediately feel the cool tickle of a snowflake landing on your cheek. They started to fall while you were eating and Vernon couldn’t stop watching through the window, small specks that grew over the hour into big clumps that tumbled towards the ground. He’s always loved the snow, and there’s no real destination for this gift, anyway. You guide him to the left and watch as peace takes its rightful home on his beautiful features. 

“We’ve walked in a perfect square three times now,” Vernon says after a little while of meandering about in the dark, making comfortable small talk and laughing as the champagne bubbles in your stomachs continue to fizz away. “Where are we supposed to be going?”

You wondered how long it was going to take him to notice, or even if he was going to realise at all. Looking up and down the street you’re on, you stop in your tracks, standing beneath the same flickering street lamp that you’ve passed twice already. Your footprints trail both behind and in front of you, neither quite covered yet by the snowfall. You break into a laugh when you notice that the convenience store on your left has closed since the last time you came down this road. 

“I can get a map open, if…” Vernon starts, reaching into his pocket. You stop him, stepping out from under his arm and wrapping your hand around his wrist instead.

“I might’ve told a little white lie,” you confess, 

He halts with his phone only half pulled out, pushing it into his hip for fear of it falling if either of you let go. “What do you mean?” He asks. 

You know he’s probably thinking back to your earlier conversations, trying to figure out which part exactly is the mistruth you’re now admitting to. But whether he gets there on his own or not, he waits for you to answer. 

“I had it with me this whole time,” you explain, readjusting your hold on his covered forearm. His eyes dart downwards, looking at the site of contact, but he quickly lifts them back up to your face. “I was just… waiting for… ”

“What are you talking about?” Vernon asks. 

“Close your eyes.”

You know.

Unfortunately for your best friend, as hush-hush as he’s managed to be all this time, the same can’t be said for the other person he entrusts all his secrets to. A few weeks ago, when you’d called Seungkwan to coordinate timings for Vernon’s birthday plans, he’d accidentally let something slip. It was your suggestion of taking Vernon to dinner that did the trick. 

“Oh, he’s going to love that,” Seungkwan had gushed. You could hear the breadth of his smile down the phone and felt yourself growing hot at the compliment.

“You really think so?”

“Pfft. You could take him to the Eiffel Tower or to a drive-through KFC, and he’d still have hearts in his eyes – because it’s you.”

Of course, he attempted to do some damage control immediately after. Make out that he meant it in strictly platonic terms. But once the idea planted itself in your head, it sort of… made sense. You mulled it over for a couple of days but when you finally asked Seungkwan, deathly serious, if he really thought you stood a chance with Vernon?

He practically screamed ‘yes’ down the phone. 

“The last time you asked me to do this, you killed me at laser-tag,” Vernon says, narrowing his eyes. He surely doesn’t think you’re hiding a plastic gun underneath the coat he literally just watched you don, but he doesn’t do as you ask and you suck your front teeth at him.

“Luckily for you, I left all my weapons at home,” you counter. “Come on, please. Just… trust me.”

“Said that last time, too,” he snickers. But, to his merit, he finally does it. He takes in a breath and follows your instruction. “I swear to God…”

Selfishly, you take a moment to bask in how handsome he really is. His eyes twitch underneath his lids and snowflakes cling to his lashes, moving with them. It’s in his hair, too. On his shoulders. Melting on his cheeks, leaving small wet spots on his face. One lands perfectly on the tip of his nose. You would immortalise this moment, if you could.

It made sense, when you found out, because thinking back? Nobody has ever loved you how Vernon does. He shows it in so many ways – he sends you the songs that he hears and thinks you’ll like, the pretty photographs that he takes when he’s away for work, some variant of a ‘good morning’ text, almost every day. He massages your shoulders, lets you fall asleep on his lap, follows you around like an obedient puppy when you have errands to run just so you don’t have to do them on your own. 

He tries, and often fails, to cook you breakfast when you stay over. He brings you coffees, or lunch. He looks at you like you’re the moon and the stars. People have teased for years that you could be psychically connected. That you were cosmically united. That it was fate for Vernon to move into the house down the street from you when you were nine. To be the only other child your age on the block. 

Two people, perfect for one another, lives intertwined eternally by fate. Or, in other words…

“Are you…?” He asks, breaking the quiet that has only been filled with your cloud-forming breaths. 

“Give me a second,” you breathe. There’s no doubt in your mind.

You lean forward to kiss him softly, free hand settling against the side of his neck. In the February chill, Vernon freezes, no part of his body reacting to you except for his lips. Though they twitch in a gasp, they press back against yours as if he isn’t even thinking about doing it. As if it’s instinctual. As if he was always supposed to kiss you – as if he’s your…

There it all is, when you finally pull away.

Brown eyes, framed by fluttering lashes that untangle from one another to finally see you, too. Brown, you know, because when you asked your mother to tell you about Vernon’s colours when you were younger, that was the only one she told you, saying everything else might change when he got older. Warm, brown eyes. Glistening with every blink, blink, blink of the bulb above you. Pupils slowly dilating, drowning the colours out of view. You see his lids shoot wide as he realises, as he glances left and right, as he takes this new world in for the first time, too. 

“I knew it,” you say on a stuttered breath, so overwhelmed you could cry. “My soulmate.”

A brilliant smile threatens to split Vernon’s features in two as he cups your cheeks and pulls you back to him, kissing you again, and again, and again. 

“I know you are,” he says against your lips, his bare thumbs pink and cold as they press into your skin. And, before you can kiss him quiet – “but what ‘m I?”

thank u so much for reading, i really hope you enjoyed this. as always, your likes/reblogs/comments and feedback are always deeply appreciated.<3

[gilverrwrites]

Something cute and smutty with either Tim Drake or Roy ?

AND: What about a one bed trope for Tim pls??

Dream a little dream of me

Tim Drake/Reader, ≈1.8K AN: I don't know if theres such a phrases as 'porn first, questions later' but thats what this is lmao. I'm glad theres an audience for Tim, cause as much as I love the other Robins (wink wink Dick), as a bisexual 90s kid, Tim really is my Robin, ya know? CWs: Somnophilia (but not really), dry humping, intercrural sex/thigh job, hand job, Petnames: Baby, sweetheart Tropes: One bed, friends to lovers, porn with feelings. GN!Reader

Sleeping beside you is neither new nor unusual for Tim. You’d been close friends for years, he’d crashed in your bed after many a patrol, you’d had film or study nights at the manor which always ended with you hogging his bed sheets, and in more recent years you’d huddled together on the cramped mattress he called a bed in the lower deck of his boat on multiple occasions. It had always been so natural and innocent, so why was this hotel bed any different? Well, because his budding, inappropriate crush on you had grown in the time since you’d last shared a comforter; Tim had been having not-so-innocent dreams about you.

Dreams where he got to touch, tease, and taste every inch of your exposed skin until you’re a babbling, pleading mess. Dreams where he silenced your breathy cries and begs by telling you to “be good baby”, spreading your legs, and running the tip of his cock along your entrance. Where you look at him with those big, dreamy eyes of yours right up until it’s too much, until he’s bottomed out inside of you and you can’t help but throw your head back, calling out his name as you dig your nails into his back.

“That feels... so… good.” The sound of your voice calls out to him, but your dream self is in no position to be speaking so coherently.

Wait, dream?

His mind is fuzzy as he wakes, still heavy with sleep, part of his brain tries desperately to clutch onto the fleeting imagery in his head until he realises two very important things;  

1. Your body is pressed against his. You’re turned away from him, but he can still feel your warmth, the pressure of your back to his chest, your ass to his… crotch. 2. His ‘crotch’ is rock hard.

Despite all instinct telling him to immediately pull away, he waits. Concerned his sudden movement might cause you to stir, he slows himself. Forcing his body to hold back so he can remove himself in increments. Just a little bit, and then a bit more, and more? He swears he’s doing it, swears he’s at least half a foot away from where he’d been upon waking, but you’re still pushing against him, still rolling your hips.

“Tim~”

It’s at this moment Tim has a third, pivotal realisation.

3. You’re grinding on him.

The sound of Tim’s low voice whispering your name against the shell of your ear slowly coaxs you awake. Every warm breath against your skin sends a rush of heat to your already aching sex. You’d been having such a peaceful, steamy dream in which your best friend, and secret crush; Tim had been tenderly rocking his cock into you from behind. As you take in the hotel room and the hotness of Tim’s body spooning into you, you can’t tell if you’re awake or still dreaming.

“Can you feel that?” His hushed voice pierces the quietness of the room and you’re not sure what he’s talking about until he surges forward, further pressing the hardness of his clothes cock into the curve of your ass.

“Yes.” You murmur, only intending to answer his question but your sleeply lust-ridden psyche keeps talking. “Don’t stop, I like it.”

“Yeah?” He’s so grateful you’re not looking at him in that moment, otherwise, you’d see the undeniable redness currently rushing to his cheeks. Even in the dark of the night, he’s sure it’s glowing through. “I think we’ve been humping each other in our sleep.”

“I’m sorry.” The fear of his rejection is immediately thrown out when you feel his lips on your pulse point, but you have to ask anyway. “Do you want to stop?”

“No, no, god no.” He trails soft kisses along the side of your neck, each one growing sloppier until he finds and fixates on your jaw for far too short a time. “You have no idea how many times I’ve fantasised about this. About you. I want you so bad.”

“I want you too, Tim.” A million and one thoughts run through his head in that moment. How much time had the two of you wasted skirting around the subject? What does this mean for your future and your friendship? The only thing he doesn’t think of as he absent-mindedly ruts against you is the one you ask. “Do you have any protection?”

“I have my Red Robin suit in my case.” It’s a dumb joke he can’t help but make, you laugh anyway and he thinks he might love you for it.

“No, but that’s okay. We can make this work.” You hear the snap of your waistband hitting your hip before you feel it. Tim had playfully pulled it taught before letting go to pull down his boxers. Getting the point, you take his cue, shimmying out of your own underwear just in time for Tim to reattach himself to your back and press his open mouth to your shoulder. “Spread your legs baby.”

As you do, Tim slides his cock between them. You wish you’d turned the light on so you could get a better look, but no force on earth could pry you away from him now. Understanding his plan, you don’t wait to be told to close your legs again, engulfing his length with the soft skin of your inner thighs and slowly beginning to rock your hips.

Tim reached over your body, grazing his deft fingers around your waist and across your stomach. A whine escapes your lips as he dips lower to rub along the length of your arousal, his cock twitches between your legs. Knowing it's so close makes you feel empty, makes you ache to feel him deep inside you, makes the tension in your core coil even more.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re dripping.” He can hear the wonderment in his own voice as he glides his thumb around you. In response you clench your thighs even harder around his cock, making him groan into your neck.

It isn’t long before your grinding hard and fast around his dick, gripping his arm as you get lost in the moment. The combined sensations feels so good, and you can’t get enough.

Neither can Tim. He could never have dreamed that the reality would feel so good. He’s in awe of the way your body moves, of the pornographic noises you’re making for him. He can barely focus. He wants to hold on longer, wants to bask in your warmth and scent for as long as possible but your merciless rhythm and the feel of your thighs around his throbbing cock has him chasing his climax way too soon.

“Are you close?” He sputters. You answer with a string of incomprehensible whimpers and a weak nod. He isn’t even in you, and you’re already drunk on your best friend. You’d be ashamed if you had the capacity to care in that moment. “Come with me?”

It’s a question, not a command. This is a partnership, he wants you to feel connected, not controlled and that has your toes curling.

Simultaneously your thrusting becomes strained, and more erratic as his pumping grows faster, and sloppier, both of you getting lost in your highs but still determined to ride out the other, filling the room with deep, ragged breaths until you’re shuddering in his arms, savouring every last remnants of pleasure. The way his strong hands cup your body has you feeling safe in your post-orgasm euphoria.

It isn’t until you feel the moisture of your combined cum seeping into the fabric below you that you remember there’s a world outside of you and him. You sit up simultaneously, Tim reaches for the bedside lamp and is stunned by the sight of your sweat-sheened skin and heavy eyes when he turns back. Completely unaware that you’re thinking the same thing about his flushed cheeks and fluffy bedhead.

You gesture to the puddle you’re currently half-sat in and joke; “The hotel cleaners are going to hate us.”

Before you can exit the bed, Tim is on his feet and rushing to the ensuite. He returns a moment later with a roll of tissues and a damp cloth. You’ve rolled over, face down on his side of the bed in an attempt not to spread the fluids even more and he gets to work wiping the cum from your leg in slow, circular motions. It shouldn’t take this long, you both know it, he’s just enjoying the moment.

“That was really…” You’d wanted to fill the silence, but now you’re not sure how to finish, you don’t want to scare him away with your excitement, but you want him to know how good he made you feel. “Really wow.”

“Really wow.” He repeats with a teasing snicker, dodging when you reach out to playfully smack his shoulder. “What? What? It was wow.”

He’s teasing. With a 147 IQ, he knows a better word than wow, but he’s choosing to repeat yours, tone and all. It’s not like he hasn’t messed with you before, and you’ve always been able to dish it back, but now feels different. Now is different.

“So, I take it we’re not just friends anymore?” You ask as he climbs over you to work on the wet patch. Eventually, he finds a position kneeling at the bottom of the bed, and you roll over once more, now seated and positioned to watch him.

“Um, no.” He coughs, not to clear his throat but to prolong his time to think of an answer. Your gaze is making him nervous. He doesn’t know what you want him to say, doesn’t want to come on too strong and ruin your friendship, but he also doesn’t want to seem too lax, to make you think he’s just using you or that he’s not interested in something more than friendship. “Friends definitely don’t do that.”

“So, what are we?” You push, not missing the way his adams-apple bobs as he swallows back his nerves.

“I don’t know.” His chest immediately grows tight at the hurt look that spreads across your face. Fuck it, now or never. “But whatever we are, I’m yours.”

Your expression doesn’t immediately change, and he worries he’s misread your reaction. Assumed that you want him the way he wants you.

“If you want me that is.” He continues, trying to save face.

“Of course, I want you, Tim.” He hadn’t realised how tense the conversation was making him until he heard those magic words. In seconds you’re face to face with him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him close to offer your body as comfort. You’ve always been able to read and react to him so well, like you were programmed for him. “You can be mine, if I can be yours.”

Then he feels your lips pucker against his hairline, and despite having climaxed between your legs only minutes earlier, he’s suddenly more nervous than he’s ever been. Gently, you drag your lips down his face, leaving kisses along his brow line, his cheekbones, and his jowls until you're inches from his own lips.

Your eyes dart back and forth between his own eyes and his mouth, he licks his lips in preparation for yours and then you’re on him, lips locked, tangled in each other’s arms.

There’s a drying stain waiting to be cleaned, and a long day ahead of you both tomorrow, but right now none of that matters.

[anthonys237thfreckle]

‘Promise’ - Javier ‘Javi’ x Kate Carter & F! reader (angst!)

someone asked for a part two and I realized how good of an idea that was lmao. I need indirect ways to incorporate my past experiences into my fics anyway.

part one

prompt: you made a promise to distance yourself from Javi and Kate

TW: mentions of smoking, some detailed mention of self harm, suicidal thoughts, mentions of nausea, disordered eating, breakdowns, smoking, angst :(

Do NOT proceed if the triggers mentioned above upset you greatly. You have been warned.

I made a promise

To distance myself

Once Tyler dropped you off to the train station, you smiled and waved until you couldn’t see his truck anymore. You wanted to hang onto any last string of familiarity for as long as you could.

Especially since your life would change completely - for better or worse.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to calm down your trembling body.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

5 things you see - the train station, the crumbling yellow bricks, the jolly red-white-blue american flag, your luggage, and the people. Lots of people.

4 things you hear - the people, obviously, the cicadas crying, the heavy bell ringing inside, the honking of cars for you to get out of their way.

3 things you smell - the heat - somehow, the smell of smoke from cars, and the thick air.

2 things you feel - terrified. hurt.

1 thing you taste - bitterness.

Shaking your head, you take another deep breath. Eyes dead set on the mission in front of you, you marched into the train station, bought a ticket to Oklahoma City, and settled down inside.

But now was the hardest part; waiting. What made it harder was you didn’t want to think about anything that happened yesterday. So, putting your headphones on, you made a playlist with none of the songs that reminded you of Javi or any of the ones he recommended to you. Essentially, you just listened to 3 songs in total, over and over again, but the knowledge you knew what was coming next was comforting, something you couldn’t apply to your current situation.

Took a flight, through aurora skies

Honestly, I didn't think about

How we didn't say goodbye

Just see you very soon

You woke up when the train jolted to a stop - you had fallen asleep, waking up to hear the opening notes of some song you were listening to earlier. Looking out the window, you reached Oklahoma City. With a sigh of relief and trepidation, you got your bags and headed out of the station, hailed a taxi to the airport. Booking a last minute flight back home to LA, you made your way to the gate. Setting your bag down, you sat in a char near the huge windows. Deciding it wasn’t close enough, you sat on the little raised platform attached to the window and leaned your head against it like you saw so many children do.

The boarding call was announced, and everyone sat up groggily. It all went by pretty quickly. Standing in line, getting your boarding pass stamped and your passport checked, finding you seat, putting your bag away and sitting down. Taxi and take off was a blur; luckily you got a window seat, and stared out at the pink clouds, tinted by the setting sun, a peach tone.

Peachy, just like your favourite pie.

You groaned, covering your eyes and rubbing them as your mind started to think about Oklahoma. About Javi, and the last time he saw you. And the last thing he said to you. It wasn’t even a proper goodbye, but you couldn’t blame him because he didn’t know it was goodbye.

And honestly, neither did you.

But you made yourself a promise - to distance yourself.

Those last words of his echoed in your mind.

“I- Okay, alright. Take care, (Y/N)”

It hurts to be something

It's worse to be nothing with you

You half expected a text from Javi - it had been around 24 hours since you last saw him. Since you told him you had a ‘family emergency’ to take care of. Who wouldn’t expect a little ‘you doing okay?’ or ‘safe travels’ when someone saw you break down in the middle of a field, distressed as hell? Sure, you and Javi weren’t dating, sure you both drifted apart ever since Kate got closer with him instead, but were you two not even friends anymore?

Did you mean nothing to him?

This wasn’t the first time he ghosted you - after the EF5 tornado, he didn’t say a word to you. But it was understandable why - everyone was hurting, and maybe he couldn’t bring himself to talk to you. In Oklahoma, the only times he’d talk to you is when you started a conversation, otherwise you could sit silently and he’d happily talk with Kate, leaving you be. It was never him starting anything.

And Kate. Did she figure out you liked Javi? Is that why she didn’t text you? Did she feel guilty? Part of you wanted her to feel guilty, but the other part of you didn’t want to be pitied. Part of you wanted to go back, but this - this was best for you right now. Nobody could tell you otherwise.

Instead, you got a text from Tyler.

‘hey there cowgirl - how you getting along?’

You chuckled - ‘cowgirl’ was probably the worst way to describe yourself. Instead, you typed down a response, your heart a little less heavy.

‘hey, Tyler. thanks for asking. means a lot’

He was typing, the three dots appearing on screen

‘of course. lemme know if you need anything at all okay? stay safe out there’

You sent him an affirmative text, thankful to actually have a friend who cared enough to check in on you, helping you out without questioning anything, having only known you for a week.

So I didn't call you

For sixteen long days

You found comfort in some form of familiarity in your life; back home in LA, everything looked duller, more still. Like the whole world knew about your heartbreak and was mourning, or mocking you. You tried to plunge into work, distracting yourself but sometimes, you’d just stare at your work, screen or paper, and just zone out. Your was brain still trying to process everything, and you were losing a lot over it - sleep, peace, overall joy, your will to wake up, and more.

It felt like after the EF5 tornado but worse because you knew somewhere in Oklahoma, Kate was with Javi, both of them happier than ever. It felt worse because you could never have him anymore. He was gone. And someone got to see him every day, sometimes wake up next to him, sometimes stay up all night with him. You felt like you were gonna be sick.

For a fortnight, all you could eat was cheese, bread, and grapes. It was the only thing you could keep down.

It was so hard not to text Javi. After you had just left, it’s like you were isolated for 5 years, given a taste of him, then forcing yourself to stay away. It was something you chose to do, not something you were forced to live with.

But you won’t call him. No matter how long the days felt they were dragging by.

And I should get a cigarette

For so much restraint

Walking by a drugstore to entertain yourself, you entered the establishment with an electronic ding notifying your presence. Strolling through the ailes, you picked up Sourhead Extremes (so in case you wanted to call Javi, you’d have to go through a gustatory agony first) and some nail polish, just to look pretty. Walking to the cashier, you mindlessly threw in a pack of cigarettes onto the counter, before putting them back in a jerky motion.

“What the hell…” you murmured to yourself, ashamed of what you were about to do. Buy cigarettes - to smoke.

Walking out of the store briskly, you speed-walked home; chiding yourself for almost ‘rewarding’ your no contact mission by smoking, you realized how truly pathetic you were.

“God, what is wrong with me…” you muttered, keeping your head down, watching the wet streets reflect the light of the sun and your dark sorrow.

No matter how long I resist temptation

I will always lose,

Eventually you did buy the cigarettes. You went home, lounging in your bed, a pretty china plate acting like an ashtray for you. Legs up in the air, swinging occasionally, eyes half lidded from the light high, you felt the chalky smoke fill your lungs, watching it come out in little clouds of grey air.

You felt in control for the first time since leaving Oklahoma - the cigarette sitting pretty between your red tinted fingers and lips. You smiled softly, satisfied by finally scoring a small win. You didn’t tell Tyler that you smoked. He’d say it’s a horrible habit you should give up.

Obviously it was more of a lose - giving into an impulse, and now you were at risk of falling deeper into addiction. You weren’t in control, you never really were.

But why would you make yourself feel worse when you were on the literal brink of crumbling?

Although, you didn’t get addicted. After the high wore off, you felt disgusted, throwing out the pack of almost full cigarettes. You wouldn’t tell Tyler, of course.

It hurts to be something

It’s worse to be nothing with you

Two weeks went by, and though you pretended everything was okay, it really wasn’t. You didn’t know if you missed Javi or not, but you really didn’t want to.

You don’t know if you want to see the face you loved so much, the face that lights up when he sees Kate, the face that Kate holds, kisses, caresses.. the face that she admires alongside you.

You wanted to get over him, you really did, but you cared so much about him. You didn’t want to stop caring about him, when loving him felt so… lovely.

But it hurt so much.

You barely got any sleep this past fortnight. Having a reverie about the man who daydreamed about another woman. The things you wished he did to you, he did to Kate. He was hers. So assured, so confident. No doubt in that.

For a fortnight, there you were, stripped of any text backs from him.

You were starting to think you just wanted his attention, which you dont know if you wanted anymore, knowing his attention belonged to Kate. Why would you care so much about him texting you?

But then again, weren’t you two friends?

I’ve done the math

There’s no solution

We’ll never last

Why can’t I let go of this?

Right now, you, broken, needed comfort. May it be fake hope again. Nobody was there to stop you anyway, so in your free time, you started to think of the ways Kate and Javi would have problems with each other.

‘She’s too arrogant sometimes, and he’s really down to earth’

‘She can’t communicate her feelings!’

‘Kate’s one to settle, Javi isn’t’

Of course, you knew it was wrong. Of course it was a bitchy thing to think. But who were you to care right now?

You were hurt, and you needed to feel better to even try and start to get a grip on reality. you didn’t want to rip of the band aid yet.

Not yet.

Even worse, your mind started thinking of ways you and Javi could get together; Kate could leave him in the dark again, she could get into a fight with him…

But nothing made sense - she wouldn’t leave when she looked at him that way… and any fights would be cleared quickly with Javi’s forgiving nature.

He would do anything for her.

All in all, you realized how shitty you were being, and texted Tyler, saying you couldn’t hide from Javi - couldn’t hide from the pain that haunted you. The bright lights of LA looked dull. The sun felt like a false light.

Your world was falling apart, how could the sun be shining when your world was falling apart?

‘Just walk around. Wear something that makes you feel good. Grab some good lunch downtown. Spoil yourself. Act like a damn tourist, I don’t care. Just do anything that reminds you that there’s more to life than Javi’ he wrote.

So I broke my promise

I called you last night

I shouldn’t have, I wouldn’t have

If it weren’t for the sight of a boy who

Looked just like you standing out on Melrose Avenue…

It hurts to be something

It’s worse to be nothing, with you.

Three days later, you sat on the roof of a building. The sun was setting, you looked at the streets below. People were walking - their dogs, their toddlers, and whatnot.

You were so disappointed with yourself. Closing your eyes, you thought back to everything that happened yesterday.

Following Tyler’s advice, you woke up ready to face the day.

Waking up bright and early, you went for a run, saw some pretty things on the way. You found it insane how easy it was to overlook the small things in life.

Coming home, you made breakfast; oatmeal with bananas, almond butter and chocolate chips. You savoured every bite with a smile.

You hopped into the shower, using your favourite body wash. Putting on an outfit, doing your hair and makeup, slipping on your shoes, you left the house, ready to explore the city…

All was going well until sunset.

—

You were walking along the streets of LA, acting like you’d never seen anything like it before. A coffee in hand, you walked confidently down the path, turning a corner to browse a bookstore on Melrose Avenue, when someone caught your eye.

A boy, waiting for the light signal to turn green, who looked exactly like Javi.

You froze.

Suddenly, you didn’t want coffee any more. You didn’t want anything right now but to go home.

—

You rushed home, trying so hard to control your breathing, then stumbling desperately to your room. As soon as your face crashed against the pillows, the soft, gentle fabric a perfect medium to absorb the tears now flowing down your face. You sobbed, curled into a still-bedazzled ball on your bed, hugging yourself, contracting into a fibonacci.

Reaching for your purse, you pulled out your phone, scrolling through your contacts. Through the wet and blurry lens of your tears, you scrolled into the alphabet until you reached the ‘J’ section. The first name was Javi.

Pressing on his name, then the ‘call’ button, you held it to your ear, taking shuddering breaths as you tried calming yourself down. The your phone cooed like a pigeon, signalling his phone, somewhere in Oklahoma, was ringing.

You were clean. Clean for a little over 2 weeks. Clean from his voice ringing in your ears, new words exchanged and whatnot.

But as you held your phone in your hand, crying, watching it reach Javi’s phone, waiting for him to answer, it all felt like a relapse.

Like the feeling of the cool blade on your skin, slicing through, leaving an angry red river in its wake.

The sick, high feeling you get from it - the ecstasy, watching you destroy yourself, finding beauty in the rubble.

Some part of you, the logical part of you was screaming to press the red button. To leave Javi alone. It wasn’t fair for you to reach out first, right? Why would you make a fool out of yourself by calling him? You’re not that desperate for him, are you?

But the hurt, emotional, desperate part of you didn’t, daring him to answer. Just to remind him of your existence. Just this once.

Still fighting the internal battle, you delved deeper into why he didn’t call you yet.

Did Kate tell him everything? Did she finally find out? Did she realize at all about how hurt you were?

The anger only just started to hit you, claiming your brain as a new population to be corrupted, a new host for the parasite, a new fruit to rot.

You were mad. You didn’t know at who. But you decided you were mad at Kate. For dating him. You knew it was wrong to be mad, because you had no claim over Javi, but you were too deep into your anger to actually think of a better way to cope. Suddenly, you were so mad at Kate. So, so mad. Part of you wanted to tear your house down, scream like a mad woman, but you didn’t. Your dwindling self control kept you in check.

Then came the sadness. You were so mad at Kate, but she was so happy right now. She didn’t care or know how your felt right now. how hurt you felt right now. She had Javi. Her Javi. And they were both happy - oh so happy, oh so blissfully unaware of how you felt right now.

They were happy - they were perfectly fine without you. Because they didn’t need you as a friend, not like they did in college - maybe they didn’t back then either, because they had each other. That’s all they needed. Each other was all they needed.

You were so deep into the crevices of your mind, drowning in both pain and relief, you almost didn’t hear your name drenched in Javi’s voice coming from the speaker.

‘(Y/N)?’

—

follow + stay tuned for part three!!

[blitzxiiru]

U talked about people giving u scar ideas (in my case even more scar ideas).

P.S.: I LOVED the picture of Leo you drew with electricity scars! They looked very cool! I like how you did, at least with that picture, made them glow, just to make them stand out a bit more; looked awesome. Also, Leo looked hella feral in that picture, and I am ALWAYS here for feral Leo, lol.

And I just saw some clips and amvs (one of those clips being from TMNT clips tumblr) where Shredder almost crushed Leo to death and also threw him very far, hitting a car. I would link it, but tumblr hates me, and doesn't let me (at least currently) link stuff anymore in asks (maybe the Tumblr Gods will let me do so again someday...).

And then later on, in a different scene, he started trying to crush Leo's throat with his clawed hands (man, Shredder, haven't you already done enough damage to Leo's throat and/or windpipe, like sheesh, man!).

Also, since someone mentioned April (you drew her so pretty! And I liked the scars you gave her), Casey defin. would have SOME scars too. Like, for sure some head ones, pretty sure that dude got some and/or a lot of head injuries in that show and/or just scars from being such a brawler.

Also, Raph and Karai are brain worm/brain worms scars buddies! I say that, but that is sad as hell, poor Raph and Karai. I could see them bonding over it though. And Leo and Mikey just worrying about them when they talk about it (Donnie would too, but like, Leo is very much an overprotective sibling and would worry about and/or dote on his siblings/family/close friends, and Mikey worries about his big bros a lot, and knows when they are upset) sometimes.

we fr giving these boys more scars as if they don’t have enough of it already HHAHAHHAHA

thank you!!! i had a hell of a time time drawing that piece btw, it was super fun to draw feral leo. he really deserves to let off some steam.

i think i remember that scene, there was actually a recreation of it during that halloween episode in season 5 if i recall correctly?? poor boy got his arms crushed twice, by the SAME damn person..

shdgsjbdjsbd thank you again <33 april and casey was great to draw too, dude you have no idea how much i needed to touch up on drawing actual people since being hooked on tmnt bc i went literal weeks drawing turtles instead of humans LMAO thank god for muscle memory or else i would’ve forgotten completely. and, yes, absolutely! casey would def have some head injuries, and more centring around his arms and hands too. he’s buddies with mikey, since they both get head injuries so frequently.

karai and raph would tease each other about their brainworm scars lmao, they’d compare which one is nastier and neither would back down until the others have to mediate the two idiots into a draw. this happens everytime they meet btw

hope you enjoy my little doodles about these senarios :)

[shutupheathersorryheatherr]

"Birthday days"

Summery: a short Beomgyu x reader fic in celebration of his birthday! you two start celebrating a day early and its adorable and heartwarming-- the love between you two really shows. The type of love you give each other— whole heartedly and true. The playfulness and newness you too still have… all these things are all that matters approx: fifteen minute read

warningz/ info: kissing, established relationship, some cursing here and there, talking of food. reader gives beomgyu a bit of tough love and he loves it. reader is gn! and they cuddle. think thats about it! lemme know if I missed anything as always!

A/n: ok I know (or at least I hope) that beomgyu doesn’t see this but happy birthday you talented-in-literally-everything man! i think this is my first birthday fic but ugh he deserves the title lmao because in the words of that one song from destiny's child: I WANNA CARE FOR UUUU MAKE YOU DINNER AND DESSERT PUT YOUR DEWRAG ONNNN

~this is simply a piece of fiction. My imagination onto “paper.” This is in no way is mean to be taken as an actual and real representation of anyone.~

•••••••••••••••••••••••••

You snort out a genuine laugh as he presses his nose into your neck. and he feels as if he was made to make you do so and to hear it. whatever you two were talking about before slips your mind as you ease into a comfortable silence with him. as talkative as the man currently breathing onto your neck is, it wasn't something you got often.

The silence is quickly filled, though, when he pokes his slimy little tongue out to lick your neck. You shrink back and laugh out a scream. "ah!" you laugh, "ew beomgyu! thats disgust-- get off--" he hums, arms trapping you to him, reveling in your body warmth as he was only in boxers and a sleep shirt. this was supposed to be a very special but normal none the less night before his birthday... full love, kisses, and good food. but of course neither of you could hold fast to that. you knew it from the beginning anyways

Thats when it happens-- he nips at your neck and you nearly squeal. "Beomgyu!" he doesn't say anything. then he goes for your collarbone. not enough to leave a mark but enough to get you smiling at him, his hair brushing your cheek as he pins you to him, legs tangled with his even though you two are standing. "Lemme go, Beomgyu!"

"I don't know a Beomgyu! I'll let you go if you say the right name and address me correctly!" you roll your eyes and scratch up his back. he shivers in the best way possible as you smile. "Can you let me go now... beom?" he huffs into your ear, but releases his grip a bit none the less. "... I'll except it..." you peel yourself away from him to look him in his pretty deep brown eyes. "what else would you have liked, you big baby?" you tease. he was so spoiled, but he was right, you barely ever call him by his actual name anymore. at least not in private. it soon shifting into terms of endearment. and even before you were together, you always had some sort of nickname or term to address him with.

"Baby would've been nice...." he fake sulks, "love, darling, honey, handsome, your treasure, light in your life. anything, really." you glance over at the clock. "Sure” you roll your eyes, “anything. we need to try to get to sleep, baby." he pouts, and all you feel like doing is kissing those lips until both of yours are numb. but he only grips you tighter at your bedrooms door, halfway in the hallway.

"Nope! I wanna hug hola bit more. and dont be so mean! its my birthday after all."

You smile into his hair as he finds his face nuzzled back into your neck. "Not for another five minutes its not." you chuckled. you two were joking, of course. you always liked to start celebrating each others birthdays as early as can be. and this time it just so happened to be at tonights dinner.

"Fine fine," he grins, "can I hug you all I want once it hits midnight?" he bargains. you playfully scoff. "I would barely consider this hugging." he puffs out warm air onto your neck and kisses the places he wiped at before, adding on your throat to peck. "But youve got yourself a deal."

You climb into bed, Beomgyu following you closely behind. You pull he covers up to your chin, settling into your designated spot as he does the to his (basically meaning wherever was right next to you) You turn to him, fully expected one of his teasing facing at you under the dim light, ready to do your nightly sleepy talk. he surprises you with his quick seriousness though.

"Happy anniversary." he pecks your lips, truly never being able to stay away from them for long.

It had been a full year since you'd confessed your true feelings for him on guess what? the night before his birthday. you hadn't planned on in much, but you knew you wanted to do it when the time felt right and had wanted to for a while. you were sure he had a thing for you too-- the way the air with him was always thick and slow moving as molasses told you quite enough. the little gremlin actually whined when you'd brought it up. "I was gonna say it your next birthday!" you simply laughed at him at the time. "well, you were taking too long." then it started what had to have been your first "argument" as a couple-- who was gonna take who out first.

"What about I take you out..." you remember him crawling closer to you on the floor, now in between you legs, "tomorrow, hm?" you chuckled. "dude!" you put a hand to your head and massaged your temples, so this was how it was gonna be? you just had to pick him? "its your birthday tomorrow!" He gets this dumb look on his face, eyes wide. "oh.... " "yeah 'oh'!" you shout at him, "its supposed to be about you!" "it can be about you too...! about us!"

He then tells you hes gonna confess to you your next birthday to make up for it. your first "argument" as a couple was interesting. and when you tell him that his face turns a shade red enough to challenge any tomato. "we're a couple?" he blinks, small smile hidden behind his lips. "you wanna be?" he lets his smile bloom in full and nods his head so fast you wonder how the boy isn't dizzy.

But what makes you dizzy is how long ago that all was. it felt like just yesterday you had kissed him for the first time, caught in between not letting go and and curling into yourself like a turtle to hide your beaming smile. you still felt the giddiness of it all as if this was your first week together. hm, you think, some things might never change. and to be honest, you were ok with that if it was this.

You two felt comfortable, haven fallen into a good routine like youve been together for ages. and sometimes it did feel like that even though it had only been a year. because of how god damn close you were before then. so close that sometimes you'd get teased that you looked like a couple. but even with all this, there was never a dull moment. somehow you two made everything into a new experience. a new good memory. it was never boring, even laying with him here in silence.

Oh... wait... in silence! you suddenly remembered that you hadn't responded to him yet, just staring at him. once you focus more on his face hes got his eyebrow raised and a knowing smile on his face, shaking his head slightly. "happy anniversary, my love." and you dont give him even a second to complain and whine about why you didnt call him that sooner before you scoot closer to him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and swinging a leg over his hips. you glance at the time quickly. yup "And happy birthday."

You didn’t know what it was, or maybe you did because you loved him. But nonetheless the you the strongest magnetic pull towards him. Never before have you felt the way you do now. You think you’ll remember this night forever. Next to you, already half asleep, beomgyus thinking the same thing. And that no mater where you two were in life you’d have each other to just be happy with. Cause that’s the feeling among other wonderful ones that you brought each other— unbridled happiness.

And you two stay like this, until your breathing slowly matches and you drift into what was probably the same dream about the year before.... only slightly interrupted with a bear with a party hat but we won't talk about that.

=

The next morning and youve rushed around enough, making everything just right for your adoring boyfriend for the entire next five to seven business days. it was quite a bit of preparation, especially since you didnt wanna bang shit around and wake him up, but you feel accomplished none the less, hoping he'll like it.

Youve prepare quite the spread of his favorite breakfast items, all cooked and seasoned to perfection. as youre admiring your work, you hear a groan from the bedroom, beomgyu opening the door you shut gently earlier. hes rubbing his eyes and pouting, such a cute sight that all you wanna do so litter him with kisses. "What'r you doin?" he stands there, swaying back and forth because of the morning cold that's hit him. "I woke up and you weren't there. I wanted to hold you." hes a bit groggy but his senses are slowly coming to him and a wide smile graces his face, tops of his cheeks poking under his eyes.

You jog over to him, hands at your sides. and grab him by the shoulders, turning him in front of you and leading him to the breakfast table. he stops you and puts his hands on your shoulders, mimicking you, sly smile on his face. you stop in your tracks. "im sorry I wasn't there when--" "its ok and I thank you. but come to bed after we enjoy? just for another ten minutes. I didnt realize how much I missed morning cuddles with you." his eyes were more open now, he was more alert, but having him say that just put both of you into relaxation mode. "sure thing, baby." you smile at him. fuck he was so cute it didnt even make sense.

His sock clad feel pitter padder on the floor and you plop him down and he protests. "y-you you made all this?" he sounds a mixture of surprised and touched, though what else was he to expect? he knew you'd try to make this day the best ever-- even from the start. "this is too much. thank you but--" you put an eating utensil in his hand. "just try it please." he takes a bite of the thing closest to him., then another, than another. he makes a couple sounds of enjoyment then turns to you. "why'd you do all this?"

"I wanted you to love it! duh! im gonna make this day perfect for you and you better not expect anything less!" you yell and he chuckles. it was funny, just like the years past, especially last year, here you were, yelling sweet lovely things at him. tough love that made him gooey on the inside... and outside most of the time. he Stands up so quickly you barely have time to say that he better go sit down before his breakfast gets cold and to go enjoy his food.

He puts a firm but very gentle hand on where your neck and head meet thumb rubbing circles on your lower cheek. looks deep into your eyes then kisses you. "I love it, baby. thank you, really. it's all too much. come sit and enjoy it with me." he never fails to amaze you with how he can go from this goofball to something that makes your knees weaker than anything else he does, wanting to melt into him.

You sit next to him as always, knees touching in a way that somehow made two grown peoples hearts flutter like it was the first time. he sets down his utensil next to his plate, knowing better than to set down your hand and distract you from your food. he leans closer to you and kisses your cheek, an act so small and innocent but meaning so so so much to express his love and gratitude. you smile and he kisses closer to the apple of your cheek again, and again, and again.

Now hes barely leaving your skin before he goes in for another one, nose bumping into you and yeah, maybe the window is open but he doesn't really care if the neighbors are out. each little kiss on your cheek makes a small sound that makes you smile even wider. and here you two are, his birthday but you both are giddy as he keeps pecking your cheek over, over, and over. the food can wait another minute, the expressions of love an adoration are all that matters.

~end~

thanks for reading! If you liked it please leave some love like comments and or reblogging!

taglist: @itz-yerin

[blue-thief]

Do you think kiis would just speak English to each other to communicate or at least try to learn each other’s first language

( I know Isagi’s English in canon isn’t the best and we don’t even know if Kaiser speaks and understands English but I’m guessing he probably does)

They can’t rely on those earbuds forever

oohhh good question!

once the NEL league is over, they'll be separated for a while, so neither of them will be really focused on trying to learn each other's languages (besides, at this point in time, they'll still hate each other lol).

during that time, isagi would probably have time to properly develop his english.

meanwhile, kaiser probably does know english, or at least enough to carry a basic conversation. idk if it's explicitly required if you want to be a pro athlete, but it is expected you know english. if kaiser knew from a young age he wanted to be a pro, he probably would have taken up learning english early on.

the reason why isagi's english currently sucks is because english education in japan sucks ass 💀 i heard it focuses mostly on pure memorization rather than learning the actual structure and rules of the language. the itoshi brothers probably had to get private tutors to become as fluent as they currently are lmao

even if kaiser didn't learn english as a kid (because honestly i even question if he went to school at all 😭😭), going from german to english is wayy easier than going from japanese to english.

anyway that was a long-ass way of saying "they would speak to each other in english at first". cuz yeah i agree, i doubt the mikage corporation would let the NEL players hold onto the translators once bltv ends.

i DO think they would eventually try to learn each other's languages though. i wrote a bunch of headcanons of how that would look like a while back, but i can't find it anymore bc tumblr's search function fucking sucks 😭😭

on one hand, they could start learning each other's languages after they start dating to show appreciation for each other's cultures and to impress each other's families....

OR it's because they wanted to learn how to insult them in the most personal way possible BEFORE they got together.

imagine they're just having a normal bickering session in english when all of a sudden isagi pulls out the most eloquent, earth-shattering insult he can muster in perfect german. kaiser would be fucking flabbergasted and he'd pull out duolingo later that night just so he can return the favour

a few months down the line, everyone watches in horror and amazement as this japanese guy screams at a german in perfect german while the other bites back in perfect japanese.

they'd get so used to arguing and insulting each other in the other's native language that once they DO start dating, it's just normal for isagi to speak to kaiser in german and for kaiser to speak to isagi in japanese lmaoo

[artxeevee]

So! I’ve been quietly working on another Kirby oc that I have from last year, but I never gotten to making a proper reference sheet for her. Now I finally finished and her name is Moxie! Also a lil Moxie with an artist ability as a bonus!

I’ll even have some background info under the cut, lmao!

Background

Born close by to a planet forming disk that has excesses of water vapor for the tear star to absorb alongside the accumulation of wishes to those who are lonely and the magical residue of the universe, she was born as she ended up crash-landed into the ocean where a couple on their boat ride made a wish for a child, as they ended up saving her from drowning. She then lived on a planet named Coral Core, where it was originally a refugee hotspot for people to hide from the events of Void Termina, as it eventually became the sort of vacation planet with few islands populated of different species and the likes. This all took place after with the Void Termina situation and eventually pre-Nightmare war as another event.

However due to the makeup to her biology, she’s able to breathe underwater as an infant and to an adult currently to this day. But neither the couple (which soon became her parents) didn’t know this nor did she, so it’s a fun surprise to the all of them.

Having a peaceful life on the planet, eventually when she has gotten to in her early young adult stage, she did joined the GSA which needed star warriors and those who cared to stoping Nightmare causing destruction to other planets and or turning the innocents into monsters.

During that time, eventually Meta Knight came along on joining the GSA, thanks to her mentor (who come to be another father figure to her) saved him from Nightmare. Being told from her mentor that she needs to gain his trust because of the hostility he has over the members of the GSA, she complied to being his first friend, even through… those first few times did started out difficult. What came afterwards did became more than breaks and spars, it eventually turned to them steadily opening up to each other and eventually falling in love as a couple. It did got to the point where they got married hence why she has the ring. She didn’t pushed him as she was patient. She was there when he was in his vulnerable moments and in turn, it was the same for her when she lost their mentor. She loved everything about him from all of his perfections and imperfections, even that she knows more than well enough, that he is not a monster to her eyes. So, stars help her if anyone says otherwise about him that she will absolutely be enraged.

However, when the war during Nightmare gotten worse, she fought as much as she can against the opposing enemies, but she eventually fell in battle when she gotten fatally stabbed by the opposing monster (hence the cracks on her mask and the scar she has). In the last of her strength, she took the opposing enemy with her to stab her with her bow to plunge it at them to kill them off. Though… “fell” is one way to put it. A certain butterfly came along to say that it wasn’t her time yet to get a second chance in life, in which she ended up waking up in one of the few GSA bases off planet. Shock and confused, the first thing she asked was, “where’s Meta? Where’s Stardust?” (Stardust is a nickname that she affectionately calls him exclusively). Only to find out that they couldn’t find them and it might be chalked off to him being “dead” and it devastated her.

Many years have passed and the GSA are in hiding in order to rebuild their strengths and steadily grow their numbers in secret through missions of any other survivors who fled and thought the army is gone, Moxie was assigned to stop by to the planet named Popstar as she gotten reports of two Star warriors are in Dreamland as she would head to there. But what she didn’t expect is that Meta was there on patrol when she landed and came out of her starship.

And boy, did they really took a moment to reunite through tight embrace, loving hand in loving hand to not wanting to let each other go in fear it’s all a dream… and quiet words spoke they both thought one another is gone. But they’re together again and now, she’s apart of a found family consisted of not only her husband but also Kirby, Sword and Blade Knight.

Personality

Her personality is caring and energetic puffball, even sometimes flirtatious! By being flirtatious on getting a rise at someone (also at enemies to agitate them)c which can make her smug about it too. She is eager to make friends and will absolutely make teases and jests when she’s close with them. This also includes on fun and special nicknames on what she can think of for them by symbolism or abbreviations. She is also starting to be a mom-friend thanks to Kirby.

She is also calculative (so think Penelope of the particular Odyssey or Epic the musical), as she would be level-headed to think of plans on helping others to safety or what sort of fakeout tactic she makes to throw her enemies off guard. She can even tell on the actual message of what someone is saying. As for example, if someone wants to talk to her about their problems by disguising as wanting to hang out for some grub, she will acknowledge it on agreeing and taking them to a spot where it’s only between them so they’re free to talk what’s been troubling them.

She likes to be productive as she still wants to keep herself active! Even though, residents of Popstar are notoriously lazy, she does her job on patrolling around the castle. It’s not a bad thing on being lazy though as she does have hobbies which are, she sometimes chill with a book to read, fishing, swimming/diving, bird watching to look into different birds for fun (she will be also eager to hear on bird facts, lmao!), and or paint as she actually come to love as a child (even if it’s from a funny prank experience put on her to be chaotic).

Behind all the sweetness from the knight, she can be ruthless if someone were to hurt the people she loves and cares about. Even a little bit aggressive that she can be a menacing powerhouse whether it’s through magic and or weapons she has in her experienced disposal. She does not take much hesitation on causing payback if it meant her loved ones are safe.

Powers/Abilities

She has three abilities as she is within the puffball species! Mainly it’s water ability that she has grown used to over time alongside with Wing and Archer! It’s kind of basically water-bending at this point as she can make tidal waves, vortexes, make a game of turning orbs (heh) of water into flying fishes, and conjures swords out of water for it. If she is near by bodies of water, she will take advantage of her surroundings to use it to attack someone.

Funny thing about the Archer ability, she ended up being soul bonded to the weapon when she was diving in her home planet as a child. She came across an ancient underwater temple and got curious to taking a look, which resulted to obtaining the bow in the first place when she showed her parents what she found. Now she can be able to summoned it at will and combined it with her water ability to create arrows out of water, when she pulls on the string.

As for Wing ability, she can be able to use her feathers to pluck them out to use as ammo for her bow, based on what the reference sheet says! That or she can use them as a knife because they are surprisingly sharp if plucked out but soft when touching her wings. Her wings can regenerate a bit of a faster rate, but it still can be annoying sometimes for her

She does have a sword though, thanks to her training from the GSA as well as her mentor from the GSA. She has it in tow with her, in case she were to get exhausted from her magic usage or can’t summoned her bow to fight someone. So during her focused training on specifically with the sword, she does have enough of the skills from her mentor to be taught how to make sword beams and the likes.

If you got this far to the end, thank you for reading me yap about her. There is still more, but this is the condense version of Moxie I can say. XD She has been on my mind for some time now and I was kind of hesitant, because this is the first time that there is an OC x canon aspect on her backstory’s, but also it was relevant to her reference sheet. At the same time, I also just wanted to share her to the world, so Moxie is my beloved orb bean that rotate rent free.

[sspextkr]

🍊 orange juice - sejanus/gn!reader

you turn oranges to orange juice. some ed based hurt/comfort from your boyfriend, mostly plotless i just needed to get something off of my chest

🍊 word count: 799

🍊 trigger warnings: eating disorders, emetophobia, very self indulgent lmao

🍊 a/n: inspired by that one melanie martinez song. sorry if this sucks your boy is going through it

it's hard. really hard. it's a struggle that not many can understand unless they've been through it or are currently going through it themselves. it's not just as simple as not eating or wanting to be thin, it runs so much deeper. hell, it hurts deeper, too.

your entire life revolves around it- planning out your next meal, whether you'll eat or skip, the amount of calories you'll consume, how you'll dispose of the food or if you'll even make it at all– a constant battle plan for a war you can't remember the reason for starting.some don't get it or refuse to acknowledge it. so what if you lose a little weight? you're still technically healthy, so there's no real problem. everyone goes through periods where they're not hungry.

it's stupid, you think, but the very thing that makes you want to break down is the same thing that brings you comfort— food. or, more specifically, the food your boyfriend, sejanus, brings you. you didn't have to tell him anything. he was able to catch on rather quickly and has been making accommodations for you, like making sure you always have your safe foods or a shoulder to cry on. he doesn't understand, nor will he ever, but at least he's trying.

today was one of the harder days. you sat outside the school on the front steps, fidgeting nervously with your fingers as sejanus peeled an orange for you, one of your safe snacks he had packed along with his own lunch. not being around a bunch of other people did help to ease the anxiety a bit, but it didn't eradicate the whole problem.

sejanus passed you the peeled orange with a smile, already having cracked it into a few pieces. “i'll take the first bite if you want.” you only nodded.

your boyfriend grabbed one of the slices before biting into it. “mm.. y'know, my ma has been growing these for as long as i can remember.” he said with a wistful smile. “she wanted to grow the biggest garden panem had ever seen.. so, she started with oranges, since they were my pa's favorite.”

“oh?” you asked, biting into the corner of one of the orange slices. tangy, yet comforting.

“mhm.” sejanus ate another slice. “she's grown a lot more, of course.. apples and lemons, we've gotten a few strawberry bushes now, too. dunno where she's finding all the land for it, but.. it makes her happy.” the brunette turned to you. “how’s that orange treating you?”

“‘s good.” you mumbled, still nibbling away at it. “reminds me of the orange juice we used to drink on your porch.. with your mother's blueberry muffins.” hunger hit you like a wave, yet you refused to give in.

“i miss those days.. we should have more like them. maybe go on a picnic in the park some day.”

“maybe..”

you had gone over the amount you planned on during lunch, eating not only an entire orange but half of the sandwich you packed the previous night for show. you took your guilt out on your throat when you had the chance, trying to make up for it. how could you lose control so easily?

when you stumbled into your sixth period a few minutes late, sejanus’ eyes automatically caught your own, and you weren't able to shield the disappointment in your eyes. neither was he. it wasn't entirely disappointment, more so worry, a look that said i know you're better than this. and the truth is, you knew you were. recovery was a game you played. some days you could eat and others you couldn't. you'd eat eventually, but for now? running on empty was just what you needed.

“you were doing so good,” sejanus murmured when you got a moment alone. “why now?”

“it's– it's not that simple. i can't give you the answer you're looking for.”

“honey, i don't care about what i want right now.” he took your hands, rubbing his thumbs over your knuckles. “tell me anything and i'll listen, i'm here for you. speak in a language you can understand.. i'll keep up.”

“but i don't understand.” you said in a defeated tone. “i don't understand why i'm like this or why i can't stop..”

“then let me help you. please?” sejanus pleaded, bringing your hands up to his mouth and kissing the top of each. “let me do what i can. i don't want to lose you.”

you could only nod, reduced to tears– tears of frustration, of anguish, tears of burnt out hope. sejanus’ heart nearly shattered when he saw this, and he dropped your hands only to pull you into an embrace.

“i love you.” he whispered. “you're gonna get through this. i'll make sure of it.”

[uhohbestie]

TAMN Outline

Since we're so close to the end of TAMN, I just wanted to share what Lock and my outline looks like, especially because neither of us ever used outlines for writing fic before this LOL

The only reason we have one for TAMN is because we were determined to finish this thing within a year of starting it and really wanted to post a chapter a week. Realistically, between work and irl and different timezones, there was no WAY we'd be able to keep up with a weekly posting schedule OR our self-imposed deadline if we were writing on the fly, so an outline was a good way to keep us on track.

(Details under the cut 'cause this got long af lmao)

SO FIRST OF ALL. We have quick chapter markers to refer to just to keep track of where we're at. The obvious ones are as follows:

🐈 Scar POV Chapters 🦜 Grian POV Chapters 🧟‍♂️ Some sort of significant zombie encounter that chapter 💦 Smut

I took this screenshot a WHILE back so Chapter 12 was actually split into 2 chapters, as was Chapter 14. So while the two emojis in Chapter 14 were meant to signify both Scar and Grian's POVs in that chapter, we ultimately just split it into a separate Scar chapter and a separate Grian chapter.

As for the other markers, this is what they mean at a glance:

✔️ Chapter is written ✔️✔️ Chapter has been edited by one person ✅ Chapter edited by both of us; Ready to Post 💯 Chapter has been posted to AO3

The last one isn't in the screenshot above, but is another one we use. And, ofc, if it doesn't have any of those markers beside it, it means the chapter hasn't been written yet.

Other than that, every chapter heading has not only the chapter number, but a reminder of where Scarian are, the time of day that chapter starts at, and how long of a walk/drive to their next destination remains. Plus, the very first point is always the current date and the weather (in Celsius 🍁) for the day. It looks something like this:

For a short chapter like Ch. 6 where not too much happens, the outline is just a handful of points. Also, we put a strike through things we skipped as we wrote when we felt they no longer fit the mood we were going for. (Basically, the outline is here as a guide and we adjust as needed for full creative freedom.)

Now the LINKS at the bottom lead to ANOTHER document where Lock and I's original conversations are sorted, in case we need to reference back to something we don't remember. That looks like something like this:

So when you click the link, there's a pop up that will take you directly to the original conversation about it located in another doc.

Basically, Lock and I had talked about TAMN for months before every writing it, so when I suggested making an outline, Lock was like "yeah, we basically have a skeleton already with how much we've talked about it". So what we did was, I copy-pasted EVERY conversation we had about TAMN into a Google Doc, and then Lock went through and SUMMARISED EVERYTHING in each conversation into The Main Points. After that, I went and put them into chronological order in a new doc which then became the outline we use today! 💫

Thus, when you click on a link from the outline, you get taken to the conversation summary, and if you scroll down past the summary you get to the actual conversation itself, minus our usernames/formatting/timestamps to make it easier to read at a glance:

And then, ofc, the further along we got in the fic, the more complicated the plot and the chapters got. So instead of short and sweet outlines with a link or two to old conversations, we had to come up with a lot of in between events that still somehow added to the plot and moved the story along to the main points we wanted to hit.

This was actually what took me the longest during outlining, and poor Lock kept going "JUST LEAVE IT BLANK, WE'LL FIGURE IT OUT AS WE GO" but I really wanted to have SOMETHING down just to give us a springboard to launch off of, because we had no idea if we'd have time WHILE writing to come up with anything.

(This continues on for more pages since we combined two chapters into one here, but this is the gist of what the outlines turned into per chapter as we got later and later in the fic LOL)

Turned out to be the right call, because it's saved our asses more than once when on a time-crunch! That said, there were a couple chapters where we DID in fact go "idk about what's in the outline, what if we do this instead?" and then do that because it Felt Right. So again, the outline was super helpful but not a hard and fast rule. (Though Lock and I had our fair share of "WHY DIDN'T YOU WRITE WHAT WAS IN THE OUTLINE"/"I FORGOR" moments that have been fun every step of the way 😂)

AAAND, I THINK THAT'S IT! THAT'S OUR OUTLINE! 🎉

Just wanted to make a post for it to document because it was such a novel experience, hahaha! Like I said earlier, neither Lock nor I ever used outlines before, even when writing fics together for other fandoms :')

I've got two completed longfics under my belt from before TAMN in my last fandom and I wrote those completely on the fly as well. Worked out just fine, but like. It took me 2-4 YEARS to finish the fics, and they were both MUCH shorter than TAMN is. 😅 Nothing wrong with that obviously, but it was a lot of fun to try something new and it felt incredible to be able to have a new chapter ready to go each week! ;w; 💜

We're almost done writing the fic and honestly idk what we're gonna do with all this free time once we've wrapped it up... time to come up with a new longfic ig LMAO

IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR, HOORAY! 🎊

Here's a little bonus for you--

From the time I went to a gun range and shot both a rifle (near the head) and a shotgun (the spray by the stomach) and took notes so that we could use it in our fic JHGFDSKJHDF THE CRAZY RESEARCH WE'VE BOTH DONE FOR TAMN I STG 😂😂😂😂😂

[akkivee]

my hypster magazine finally came in the mail lmao and man the special feature talking about how the world is coping without mics is very interesting??? like:

crime as a whole is at an all time high

within ikebukuro, the police are doing fck all about it so the bb have volunteered their services to making the civilians feel safe

ichiro’s been a mediator within more casual disputes, expressing his desire to talk things thru if possible, jiro’s got his whole high school as a neighbourhood watch and saburo’s set up a huge surveillance system to keep watch

in yokohama, the sea port has been particularly targeted and the report says the police and yakuza have teamed up to protect the flow of commerce. katengumi has stepped up to protect the territory and rio is keeping watch via satellite images and drones

in shibuya, dice complains of disruptions in gambling dens and the lack of real gambling has dulled his senses lol. he’s trying to compensate by making his own gambling game lol and he hasn’t been able to pay his phone bill due to lack of funds so he hasn’t been able to talk to ramuda or gentaro

curiously, neither of those two were mentioned in the article, save for dice using the section to try to reach out to them

in shinjuku, the day is desolate and the night scene is busier than ever. doppo’s company has been particularly hit by logistics nightmares as they’re haemorrhaging money due to lost medical equipment. (doppo’s boss has been accusing him of stealing funds and doppo claps back asking what exactly has he been managing currently lol)

shinjuku central hospital has been at full capacity with patients due to the inability to fend off armed criminals. fragrance has seen a significant uptick in patrons

in osaka, businesses have taken a sharp turn towards maliciousness, with scams at an all time high. sasara and rosho advise not to go out at night alone, and rosho, as a teacher, further explains that adults have a duty to protect minors, especially as a person who has been affected by scams in the past. neither sasara nor rosho have heard from rei in a long while, stating dh is on hiatus because of it

in nagoya, petty crimes are up because there seems to be a restlessness amongst them without the mics giving the populace the power to stand out. hitoya himself watched a dude climb up nagoya castle literally for the memes. the court of law has been barren as of late so nobody is being tried for crimes but he believes justice will prevail in due time

kuukou and jyushi have taken up patrolling nagoya in order to persuade others into not doing crimes and all three of them still practice rap battling together

[thegreymoon]

The Story of Minglan

I probably won't be able to pull off a whole episode tonight but I. Must. Know 😭😭

***

The way she keeps begging her worthless father for even a crumb of acknowledgement that he had any feelings whatsoever for her poor mother, smh.

***

Oh, fuck you.

All he ever thinks of is his dick and his pride. I don't think he has ever truly loved anyone except for himself.

***

Oh, baby 😢

Why are you even still expecting anything from his worthless, selfish ass?

***

YES. SEE HIM FOR WHAT HE IS.

He deserves neither your love nor respect. Please stop crying because of him!

***

Ugh, this evildoer.

Don't worry, I have no doubt you'll eventually get yours too! 😡

***

Who?

What are the names of those two princes again? Yan and Yong?

***

I am suuuuuuper confused.

Are Consort Yong and Duchess Ying the same person?

(Also, finally! These Yan and Yong people appear! I have been trying so hard to remember these names because this drama keeps hinting they will be important.)

***

No, not the same, because Consort Yong is a princess, not a duchess, smh. Then what are they both wearing pink for? A little consideration for us face-blind people would have been nice!

***

So.... let me see if I've got this straight.

The Princes Yong and Yan are the current Emperor's brothers?

***

Oh, wait, I just realized that this toxic gossip is Yanran's shitty younger sister!

I didn't recognise her in fine clothes, lol.

What the hell is her problem? She's still mad about being beaten at a game of polo?

***

Jesus Christ. Now she has the attention of these witches on her.

This is all Qi Heng's shitty doing. I hate him more than I can express 🤬🤬

And it's not just Minglan, these Imperial fuckers can ruin her entire family too!

***

LOL, who's the little whore?

Is there a single woman in this drama who doesn't have a problem with mistresses, concubines, serving maids and prostitutes? 😅

***

NOOOOOO, DON'T GO MEET WITH HIM!! 😭

AND THIS CREEPY WITCH SAW!! 😭😭

***

STUPID. STUPID. STUPID.

Minglan, where did you lose your brain??

***

WHO GIVES A FUCK ABOUT YOUR MISERABLE BODY

YOUR EVIL MOTHER BEAT A WOMAN TO DEATH BECAUSE OF YOU. FUCK YOU AND FUCK HER AND FUCK YOUR ENTIRE HOUSE

***

There is no chance this will not pulverize both her reputation and that of her entire house.

First of all, the Emperor would never offend his parents by granting this marriage and second, the scandal of it will do soooooo much damage to her and her family. Just imagine how pissed off his parents will be, in addition to every other snooty noble who is very much going to take her trying to marry above her means as a personal insult. Sheng Hong has neither the power nor the mental capacity to deal with the fallout of that.

***

LMAO, where did his stupid ass come from? 🤣🤣

He's like a jack-in-the-box, always popping up, it seems.

***

LOL, bribe him with the cake to keep him quiet 🤣🤣

***

Yes! Finally, somebody is speaking some common sense!

All her stupid maids to is enable her because they think it's sooooo romantic 🙄🙄

***

Yes, baby! Here for you and your petty goals! 🤗

***

Oh, nooooooo 😬😬

Of course Buwei gets blamed. Of course!

[velvetsainz]

babes i have two questions

1. how did exams go? 2. part two corsica i need it

xoxo ily

omg omg hi!!

exams — i got my shit rocked, literally passed by the skin of my teeth. despite doing over a thousand practice questions, i just eeked it out. but hey—we passed! that's all that matters! i still have to write 2 papers for the rotation by the end of the week, but hopefully neither should take more than an evening to do. thank you for asking 🤍

corsica — GET IN LINE BABES (no fr tho the next part should be out in the next few days as it is currently in process!!) buuuuuut b/c i am a benevolent dictator, here's a little preview 🤭:

(ft. google docs hating the use of french lmao)

also, a peek behind the curtain:

those tan lines??? YOUR HONOR, HE'S A LITTLE SLUUUUT literally my inspiration for this set of fics that's it just him being a goddamn slut and me being feral for it

i am but a simple woman 😌✨

[greyplainsttrpg]

5e Villain Arc 3

Sorry for the delay on this. I was working as a bartender for CNN during the RNC here in Milwaukee. Those were like 12 hour days that go well into the early morning, and those consecutive shifts are hard on me. I now have enough brain-space to continue my 5e villain arc.

This is about the Beast Master Ranger, and why it is emblematic of larger problems in 5e.

The Beast Master is truly horrific. At 3rd level, you get a friendo (so long as they are not larger than a medium creature). ONE friendo. Just one. You are a master of exactly one beast. Wow. Truly, I have mastered taming animals. It would be a real shame if this archetype was undermined by a few, easily accessible elements in the game.

So, what does this friendo do? Well, you can tell it to move anywhere within your movement for free "(no action required)". Side-point, if ONLY we had a key word for actions that can be done without costing either your "action" or "bonus action." A "free action," perchance? Image from SRD. Remember what they took from us.

Back on track with the point. Cool, I can send my friendo anywhere within its movement. Once it gets there, what can it do? Oh. I can use MY action to make it either Attack, Dash, Disengage, Dodge, or Help? MY action. The friendo uses MY action to do a shittier version of what I could do. Don't worry, once I get Extra Attack, I can still use AN attack on my turn if the friendo also attacks (not if it does anything else, however). It gets up to 4 times Ranger Level in Hit Points, also known as Wizard HP without a constitution modifier and no spellcasting.

At 7th Level, I can make my pig do two things (again, with my action) SO LONG AS NEITHER OF THEM ARE ATTACK. Now, I can disengage AND dash. Wow. Incredible.

At 11th Level, the beast FINALLY gets an extra Attack. However, again, I must stress--what the hell? MY ACTION?

At 15th Level, if I cast a buffing spell on myself, the friendo also gets it. Cool. Why is this not a 3rd or 7th level feature?

Summary of archetype finished, what the hell were they thinking? How is this class significantly better than just using animal handling on a war dog or a trained bear? Oh wait, young adventurer, Animal Handling does not do what you expect.

This skill is so limited and specific, it nearly never comes up during play. Animal Handling, very specifically, does not let you train animals. The only way to train animals, or should I say AN animal, is through the Beast Master Ranger Archetype. Big lmao. I looked up "Animal Handling" into my web browser search engine to see what GMs think about this skill. I got this result which I find to be indicative and very funny. This was the first result besides listing of Skills, word per word, from the book, so assumedly this might be what the average player encounters if they look up this skill. I mean no ill will to this person, but may I suggest maybe playing a different game?

They capitulate that the rules do not allow you to tame or train animals. However, they suggest that "most GMs allow it anyways." And internet funny people let me do it? Don't you want to be like cool internet funny people? But most GMs should not allow it because that directly interferes with the Beast Master Ranger. It is like, literally, the only thing they can do.

This is a prime example of 5e being ridiculous. On the one hand, they don't want to give martials super-human powers because "that's not realistic." Usually, people point to magic and say "well that's not realistic either." True, but I find a more compelling argument to be that 5e consistently limits what you can do that IS literally possible. Such as training animals.

Side note: Did you know that the current pigeon is a domesticated animal (and then let outside without supervision, thus a feral species)? Like, the pigeon as we generally experience it is not a natural creature. That's why they are such "assholes" and take up space so boldly on city streets. They are not assholes. We bred them to be comfortable around people. They are just not intimidated by people like other animals because we bred that out of them. Very funny.

Pigeons are impossible in the framework of D&D 5e, because it is literally impossible to domesticate more than a single animal at a time, and only level 3 Rangers can even attempt to perform animal husbandry with a single animal. Cops can train their dogs to pretend to smell weed in my car, and cops do not have a high wisdom score, nor are they at least level 3 rangers (but park rangers with rescue dogs might be). Dogs are impossible. How are there dogs in D&D 5e. Are there just enough Beast Master Rangers that they can manage to breed wolves over hundreds or thousands of years to be best friends with us? Pigs? Impossible. Cows? Impossible. Chickens? Impossible. None of these animals can be tamed or trained in any capacity. You can just calm them down (if they are already domesticated, despite this being fundamentally impossible, rules as written) or read their intentions (hopefully their intentions are "I want my progenitors to be domesticated animals, please").

Not only can martials not do super-hero feats, they also can't do basic, normal things. I know that rangers are not strictly "martial" characters, but their spells are... not great.

Ranger spells that effect yourself that can also meaningfully help the beast (like, that it can actually use the effect):

Jump (niche),

Longstrider (by 15th level, not great)

Speak with Animals (I gues the animal can now speak with animals? that's funny)

Barkskin (you will not benefit from this, but considering how shit your friendo is, it might be worth doing?)

Darkvision (niche, because there's a good chance both you and your friendo can see pretty well in the dark)

Find Traps (unironically, the best spell of its level to slap onto a friendo)

Lesser Restoration (if both you and the friendo need this spell, then you save a level 2 spell slot, and there was much rejoicing)

Locate Animals or Plants (not a good spell, not helped by a friendo considering range is 5 miles)

Pass Without Trace (you have two nodes of this, maybe? That can be useful within the range that you can control the friendo?)

Protection from Poison (niche + better resolved with a potion + same problem as Lesser Restoration + L + ratio)

Nondetection (lmao, now your dog or whatever isn't giving off psychic traces--cool)

Protection from Energy (actually usable. First spell since Longstrider that has a consistent use-case, btw)

Speak with Plants (lmao)

Water Breathing (Demon Slayer is cringe)

Water Walk (niche)

Freedom of Movement (has uses, not as consistent as Barkskin or Protection from Energy)

Locate Creature (same problem as Locate Animals or Plants)

Stoneskin (now we're talking. only consistently useful spell since Protection from Energy, btw)

Commune with Nature (this technically applies to your friendo, however there is no additional effect, except that if somebody cast Speak with Animals, then they could get that information out of the friendo instead of you, for whatever reason)

Tree Stride (this could be useful, actually)

This leaves us with around 6 spells you would consistently consider casting for the benefit of your friendo: Longstrider, Barkskin, Find Traps, Protection from Energy, Stoneskin, and Tree Stride. A couple of spells will see occasional use: Jump, Pass without Trace, Water Breathing, Water Walking, and Freedom of Movement. The rest are terrible. Is this really worth waiting until 15th level?

The key issue here, and why the class is so horrible (to the point of dooming the world to no domesticated animals) is the author's perception of action-economy cheating. All game developers need to consider their action economy when designing their game. I feel that WotC design D&D's action economy with similar consideration to Magic: The Gathering. I am no master of Magic: The Gathering. I tend not to like playing it, personally, but it's a fine enough game (for clarification). Cards in Magic that allow the Player to "mana-cheat" are generally considered to be good. There is a scale to this, of course, but it is a generally powerful effect. WotC seem to perceive action economy similar to how they perceive mana (from my experience playing both games). A Character's level and features are akin to their Mana, and the thing that they are doing similar to the text of a card. Some cards, such as the Bear, are honest cards with attack and health. They are like characters who are not specialized to do that action with various proficiency. Think of a Wizard making a melee attack: that's a bear. Other cards are 3/3 with upside (apparently Mayhem Devil is good? idk enough about Magic: The Gathering to care). Those are characters are specialized in that action. Think of the Paladin using smite, and compare that to the wizard. Then there is mana-cheating, basically being able to play more cards then you are "supposed to" during the turn-number/land on field (which could be considered akin to character level). If the Beast Master Ranger could perform an action and command their beast to make an action, that would be considered akin to mana cheating. The Ranger is cheating the action economy by getting "extra attack" (with downside of the extra attack sucking ass because it comes from a 1/4 at max HD creature) before level 5. "THAT WOULD BE TOO POWERFUL!" Squawked Chris Perkins, perched on his stand, hunched over the WotC writers as he ruffles his wings (for some reason, idk, this is the imagery that came to mind lol). Meanwhile, the Moon Druid could turn into a bear... last level... and get a multi-attack from being a bear. And the effect of Longstrider from being a bear. Plus a bunch of extra health from being a bear. Plus extra strength from being a bear.

I just. I just don't understand. Like, I literally understand what they were thinking, I believe, but I cannot manifest into my brain why they considered an extra attack or action from a 1/4 hd creature to be "unfair."

Side-note: how is the beast companion capable of taking the "help" action? Like, how? What can it do? How is it helping with Dexterity (Stealth), or Dexterity (Slight of Hand)? I can see Help as a contextual option based on the kind of animal and what they are being asked to do, but I feel there are better ways to address this (this will come up later).

The most tragic thing about the Beast Master Ranger is that their special gimmick is largely outclassed by the spell, Find Familiar. Not only is this spell better than the Beast Master Features in several ways (as the level three version, but also into the future for a while), but anyone can access it at Level 4, with upside. If you take the Magic Initiate Feat, you can choose Find Familiar as your Spell AND you get two Wizard cantrips. That's pretty good. Any human can be better than the beast master at Level 1 with their bonus feat.

The major benefit of Find Familiar is that the familiar can act independently of your character. There are other upsides:

You can communicate telepathically, which I do not think you can do as a Beast Master Ranger.

If it dies, it simply rematerializes if you cast this again. You do not have to go find another animal (which can be a serious obstacle).

You can unsummon it, unlike the Beast Master's Companion. In any environment that is not the wilderness, the familiar is simply less awkward to maintain.

The Familiar can CHANGE ITS FORM by casting the spell again.

You can send touch spells to another character via the familiar. This is MUCH better than sharing a spell that effects the user with the animal companion ("in many cases"), and it comes PRE-BUILT INTO THE SPELL. This is not a 15th level feature of the familiar. You get this right out of the box. What the shit? Was the writer of this spell not aware of how particularly cruel this mechanic is to the Beast Master Ranger? It is actually so funny.

"Well, if you're so smart, how what would YOU do to fix it?" a 5e defender might say. I have two fixes to this.

Remove it. Just remove the archetype from the game. It should never have been published. It is bad. Replace it with something better.

Okay, so let's say that the Ranger has a number of "Points" to spend equal to their Ranger Class. These points can be spent on a number of Beast Companions, giving them special traits (like bonus to attack or damage, being proficient in skills, bonus to AC, etc). The Ranger can use their action to make all their companions take actions. There would be limits to this that make sense. For example, say at Level 3, the maximum CR a companion can be is 1/4, but at 7th level this increases to 1/2, at 11th to 3/4, and 15th to 1. I don't know how much each CR monster would cost in terms of Points (2 points per 1/4 CR seems reasonable, but that would require testing), and I don't off-hand know what the various elements you could attach to the beasts are. This basic framework, however, would make you truly feel like a master of beasts. This way, Wisdom (Animal Handling) can also be a real skill that does what you would expect it to do. Training a beast to do certain actions is not nearly as powerful as turning a bunch of friendos into awesome and versatile little fellows.

Okay. That's it for this post. Beast Master Ranger sucks because Wizards of the Coats genuinely does not understand or respect their action economy. That's the TL;DR of it all.

-trans rights -free Palestine -WotC sucks -buy my book

Next Villain Arc:

Previous Villain Arc:

[spookyserenades]

So I was rereading the early chapters the other day (as one does) and I’ve been sent into a spiral of questions and curiosity (forgive me Dana).

I was wondering if Y/N’s hybrid friend from her childhood, Keaon? (I think that was how his name was written) I was wondering if he might make a physical appearance in the future. Maybe around when Hoseok confesses? Since they’re both fox hybrids (and I can’t imagine Hoseok would take kindly to another fox hybrid being around.)

That got thinking about how the hybrids would react to another adult hybrid being around, specifically a male. Because the only hybrids (I can think of) that have been in close contact (around the boys) are Daisy and Hannah. Daisy’s a child and Hannah is an old female friend of Jin’s (and I think only Jin was around when Y/N met her). Now, that was before Y/N was publicly in a relationship with any of the boys (i think?), so it may be different, but even when Y/N met Hannah, Jin didn’t want Y/N to smell like her.

It’s obvious that the hybrids don’t enjoy having to share her with each other so I can’t imagine they’d be happy to have another male hybrid around her.

Currently, only Yoongi and Jin are aware of her feelings for all of them (plus Yoongi and Y/N are mates) so I wonder if they’d be on the more relaxed side, or if that would make them more protective.

With Tae avoiding Y/N right now (please Dana let him be the next one to confess, I’m not sure how much longer I can take this torture) I don’t think he’d be as outwardly protective as the others. But if he does know how Y/N feels about him and the others (Dana I’m begging!) I can definitely see him not being okay with another hybrid around.

And with Namjoons increasing protectiveness over Y/N I can’t imagine he’d be very happy either.

For the others I feel it could go either way on how outwardly protective they may be (at least right now).

That’s all, I’m super excited for the next chapter Dana! (Please be Tae next, please)

LMAO AS ONE DOES 💀 I've been meaning to reread the whole entire thing again!! But I'm super excited to answer any questions you have about the earlier chapters, it's been a while! 💜

YES Keaon! I do plan on having him make an appearance at some point, likely after the next confession is done and the current Tae angst arc comes to a close. Keaon was a childhood friend and neighbor, so there is some history there. I think that will not only end up making Hoseok jealous (to his surprise, too, Mr. Suave) but the others as well. I mean hell, they already have to share Y/N with one another, one more hybrid might stir the pot aggressively.

Which leads perfectly into your next question! Oh yeah, they'd all be massively jealous if a hybrid outside of themselves got too comfortable with Y/N. ESPECIALLY Yoonjin at the present moment, considering they have claimed Y/N as their romantic interest. Yess you're right, I don't think they'd be particularly jealous of Daisy being closer to Y/N because she's the child of Y/N's good friend. That said, they'd all probably want to cling to her after she'd hang out with Daisy to get rid of her scent instinctively. As for Hannah, Seokjin mentioned wanting to get rid of Hannah's scent on Y/N after they returned home from lunch-- so yeepppp he was totally jealous and territorial.

Those two are examples of female hybrids that Y/N either knows well (Daisy) or one of the boys know, so there's probably minor jealousy. You're definitely right; if she came home from a random place smelling like a unknown male hybrid, many of them would go bananas. VERY clingy, questioning why she smells like that, etc. 👀

I think Yoongi and Seokjin are the types to be quietly possessive. Neither would be happy if she came home smelling like a rando dude hybrid, but they wouldn't make a huge stink about it-- like perhaps Jeongguk or Taehyung would, in the future when they're romantically involved. I think Yoonjin would 100% formally scent her after, though, to completely remove the stranger's scent.

Not sure if you read the latest update, but it's implied that Taehyung has put 2 and 2 together and realized Y/N has feelings for all of them 👁👄👁 I miightttt have to disagree with you about protective Tae! I predict him being one of the most protective ones, in an outward sense (rather than the quiet Yoonjin protection). Taehyung, Namjoon and Jeongguk are who I predict will be (endearingly?) overprotective of Y/N. I think if Y/N accidentally brushed up against let's say a male hybrid in the grocery store, Taehyung would shit a brick and Y/N would have to drag his ass out of that building 💀 IRL Taehyung has expressed that he's the possessive, jealous type (the perilla leaf debate lmao) so this is also how I'm coming to this conclusion. Namkook has also displayed similar traits IRL 😉 ehehehe hot

AHHH I hope I answered these okay, thank you for giving me food for thought! If you read chapter 19, I also hope you enjoyed it 💜 Much love to you 💕

[dead-lights]

beware of greg!

continuing this save

I finally got rid of the noble vampires (after friggin bloodvein ate morgyn's witch bestie) only for this guy to show up to raid the fridge. like i just looked up and he was there.

take into account - i have both simple living and off the grid enabled on this lot, so it's actually been really hard to manage food for the humans. morgyn and their witch bestie lorena are constantly starving and they're all so broke that they can't always afford to buy food at school. they really couldn't spare that bowl of stew.

the lot is also haunted, hence guidry, spooky, gets hit by earthquakes, volcanoes, has gremlins, and wild foxes. i wanted them to suffer ok and they absolutely are

yeah you walk away

lilith was not particularly impressed by those garbage werewolf books caleb keeps fishing out of the lake (yes, my attempt at light pacific northwest grunge for her lmao, i wanted to use this set for the household bc it felt right for moonwood mill)

i just like her in gay haircuts ok.

caleb gets a space shirt bc he always hogs the telescope when he visits my sims' lots. morgyn's witch friend lorena always wears black, and her daughter audrey always wears pink. also audrey is a mermaid. morgyn's outfit is supposed to resemble their canon turtleneck/red coat.

caleb and morgyn did homework together in matching shirts despite the fact that i don't remember assigning that outfit to morgyn...

caleb seems unimpressed by the view (they're currently mad at each other because they both expected to be asked to summer prom, with the result that neither of them asked and they both stayed home). Keep in mind, they already went to spring prom together.

oddly enough, morgyn is listed as having a crush on caleb but not the reverse, but caleb is the only one who gets all the whims and moodlets related to that. ahhh, EA glitchiness

morgyn and caleb are kinda unique in that, across save files, if i have them in the same household they will invariably get romantically involved, whether i intervene or not. i did not intervene in this case. when i first started playing RoM and vampires (i got them at the same time) i had two siblings from the same household trying to romance them (bc i wanted one sibling to become a spellcaster and the other to become a vampire). if they were invited over at the same time they'd ignore my sims and hang out with each other to the extent that i was having trouble romancing them, at which point i started a new save and embraced the cagyn life.

incidentally, the closest parallel i have to that is the sim (valeria) who failed to romance morgyn. For whatever reason, if I let her interact with Rory, sparks fly. If I make her a werewolf, i very quickly get a fated mate notification just from talking. i accidentally made peace between the two werewolf factions once because Valeria was a member of the moonwood collective, she had a (non-romantic) conversation with rory, they discovered they were fated mates, and they started dating.

caleb tried to paint left-handed while holding encyclopedia vampirica for whatever reason - he has zero points in painting, so maybe he just doesn't know better :P

caleb had an emotional breakdown about morgyn (despite not being the one with a crush supposedly????) and ended up missing class because he was too busy sobbing in the bathroom, despite his ability to rapidly fly upstairs to get there on time. he doesn't even have the sadboi vampire weakness yet... oh honey, the worst is still to come.

i don't think guidry, the ghost of geoffrey landgraab, and lilith are exactly helping morgyn and lorena learn new potions, but Morgyn's outgoing trait means their social bar drops SO FAST like oh my god so i'm sure they appreciate the company.

as has been the case with most of my saves, Caleb is actually really good with children. which is good, because lorena is constantly starving/exhausted/bored and needs a lot of help taking care of the baby. currently caleb & lilith are handling most of the childcare because lorena can't friggin sleep bc of the haunted house nonsense.

additionally: we've had a few visits from Temperence at this point. So far, the best strategy I've had is for Caleb to mesmerize her, and keep her under until she's ready to leave so she can't harass people.