#i wonder if people would come if i put books outside in a little painted shelf with a plaque on it and kept it stocked

[yoshistory]

i wonder if i would be like. allowed. to set up a little free library outside my apartment

[i984]

Sweet Words Make a Lovely Shade | Part 1

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader.

|Warnings|: Ooc! Wednesday Addams, mentions of gore, Wednesday being uncharacteristically tame, reader likes to test boundaries, Wednesday gives bone-breaking hugs, no beta; we die like my brain cells.

|Summary|: You test your luck by putting Wednesday Addams in a compliment jail. 

|Word count|: 2.7k words

|A/n|: I ended up not changing a thing. I took some liberty with your request 💡anon, hope you still enjoy it! | Part 2 is available in my masterlist.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Love  

It does wonders for a person. 

And for you? Well, it makes you spew the utmost revolting, foolish, and absurd things out of your mouth—Wednesday's words, not yours. You think it's her way of saying she likes the compliments you practically shower her with. 

At first, you didn't even realize you were doing it. You could be sitting next to the raven-haired girl in class, having some lunch together, reading books in the library, or on your occasional walks around town, and you only have one single recurring thought that you can't seem to get out of your mind; 

Wednesday Addams—your precious sadistic little girlfriend—is so pretty.  

And not to be shallow or anything; after all, you like her for many different things. Her intelligence, wittiness, and her I-don't-give-a-fuck attitude. Her obsession with everything macabre, the monochromic-colored outfits that perfectly suit her, and the way she uses words you can't even begin to comprehend half the time. 

But then there's the way her hair has that lustrous glow, and then the rare grin she cracks when it's just the two of you, the constant little pout in her lips, and don't even start about her plump dark burgundy lips; Oh, you wanna kiss her-  

"-so bad," you mumbled out absent-mindedly, and Wednesday slowly looked up from her double cap—mouth gaping slightly at the suddenness of your words—her eyes blinking rapidly at you.  

"Oh- no no no I was just thinking and I got distracted because your lips look SO pretty!" Your voice was louder than you had intended for it to be, and you quickly covered your mouth—a pointless act as the slip-up had already been done. 

Wednesday only spared you a sharp glare before standing up from your shared sofa booth, already heading towards the Cafe entrance. Before you can even explain yourself, she had already bolted out, leaving you and her double cap behind. 

You know that Wednesday is not big on PDAs; soft kisses and gentle touches are reserved for private quarters. And even then, you can tell that her moves are calculated—afraid of doing too much that she'd find herself in a compromising position. 

But you didn't miss the darkening of her freckle-painted cheeks as she snuck a peek at your figure from outside Weathervane, and that's when you realized; 

Oh.  

Well, this is gonna be fun. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You walk to your dorm room with a dopey grin on your face, recounting the things that happened earlier.  

You've figured it all out. Wednesday might act like she isn't affected by other people's words and opinions about her—and in most cases, this is true—except when it comes from you.  

She caught you wearing a hoodie of hers? Now you have three more in your closet. You respond a beat late to some disputable thing she mentions? She immediately apologized for being insensitive and asked your take on the subject. You told her that she looked good in that checkered sweater? Now she wears the piece of garment all the time. Ask her to binge-watch all 10 seasons of My Little Pony with you? It would give her nightmares for weeks, yes, but absolutely.  

You quickly realize that you're one of the few people lucky enough to have Wednesday tolerate you to a certain degree. So you do the obvious—run after Wednesday after leaving some money on the table, and then shout at the top of your lungs, "I LIKE YOUR LIPS WEDNESDAY ADDAMS"  

You swear to God, you've never seen someone bolt out of your view so quickly. She didn't even spare a single disapproving glance at you—on normal occasions she would—but now, as people stop in their tracks to see who your words are pointed to, she's gone, nowhere to be seen.  

It's cute, how much she's affected by your words. And that's why, as you open your dorm room door, you walk straight to your thinking desk past a figure, planning to come up with new ways to fluster your girlfriend. 

Wait. Past a figure? 

You turn your head to see Wednesday Addams standing still, looking daggers at you, and you know things are about to go down.  

You smile coyly at her while taking a seat. The raven-haired girl's gaze trails your every movement. She looks almost predatory in this state. Like she's about to tear you apart to shreds. 

You hold your head high as you speak, "Is something wrong, Wens?" A pet name. You've heard Wednesday made it clear time and time again to Enid that she was against pet names. And you've never called her one before. But you're willing to gamble your life this time just to see how far she would tolerate you. 

So you maintain your perfect facade, and it was all worth it as you see Wednesday's eyes widen at the morbidity of your words—the good kind, you'd assume—and you saw her mouth open and close a couple of times, trying to say something deprecating and failing acutely.  

She stands awkwardly like that for a moment; her hands making little gestures as if she was trying to make a point while maintaining her look of utter disbelief at your behavior. 

You figured if you didn't egg on her a little more, she wouldn't let her guard down, so you decided to turn your back on her and pulled out a book to read. 

"What are you doing?" You can hear the stress in her words. You can picture her look right now; her jaw clenched, teeth gritted, brows furrowed in dismay. 

"I'm reading a book, as you can see with those pretty brown eyes of yours." You flipped a few pages, eyes tracing along the shape of letters and words, not really paying any mind to the actual content. 

"All right then," exasperation is evident in her voice, and you have to fight yourself from snickering at the situation. 

You've always been very careful around Wednesday, trying not to agitate her into giving you snarky comments—she still gives them nonetheless, and you find it amusing as time goes by—but curiously, she's not giving you any at the moment. And if you are to guess, it's probably because she physically can't bash you for your words. Not when she's fighting for her life with feelings she refuses to acknowledge most of the time. 

You hear her footsteps grow distant—she's heading for the door, you figured—and you don't even bother to look up as you say, "Come back soon, tesoro,"  

The sound of footsteps ceased. 

"Are you really going to keep doing this?" You can tell by Wednesday's voice that she is trying so hard not to burst at your display—you were never like this after all—from rage or the compliments, you don't know. But you figure you'll find out if you pick the right words. 

"Keep doing what, Wens?" You spin in your chair to her, your voice dripping with honey, with faux innocence. You can see her face turn colors into one of carnation, her lips thinning into a line as she tears her gaze apart from you. 

"You. Know. What." Wednesday strains every word, her tone is low as if to intimidate you, but you know the ball is in your court. 

"What? Telling you how pretty your lips are? In front of a lot of people? 

"Yes, exactly-" 

"And that I wanna kiss those lips of yours so badly? Dark plump lips like yours are my favorite, by the way," you look at her in the eyes as you speak, and you let your gaze trail down her face, and Wednesday fidgets with the hem of her top. 

"Oh wait, actually, you are my favorite." 

Wednesday glares at you—an act that usually works with Enid and everyone else when she wants to avoid certain conversations—but you are unfazed. You have her exactly where you want right now, and judging by the absence of a knife in her hand, you're going to assume that she's more than okay with what you're doing.  

"But wait. Oh. Is this about the fact that I know you blushed so hard when I complimented you? Every single time, did you notice that?" You stood up from your seat, throwing the book atop your desk.  

"I know you like it, Wens," you smirked, the nickname easily sliding out your tongue the more you said it, "I know you like me."  

"Oh, you are so full of yourself-" 

"You know what else I like? The way your pout grows bigger—as we're speaking right now, yes," and you see her face growing a scowl as you take a step closer towards her, "and now you're clenching your jaw slightly, god, you look so cute doing that."  

"I do not look cute, and if you cut my words off-" 

"Do you know that your micro facial expressions are probably the most adorable thing I ever get to witness?" 

"-again, I will cut your tongue and force-feed it to you."  

You ignore your girlfriend's words, continuing the torture you've devised for her. "No, not probably. Definitely the most adorable thing ever."  

A broad grin sprouted on your face, the one Wednesday always calls 'the idiotic grin' but you know she secretly likes it, and you can't be happier right now. You're experiencing a power trip; adrenaline rushing through you to continue your teasing despite the possibility of being mute in the future. 

"And that? Right there. Just now. The way you just announce dangerous threats? And sometimes about people's demise? Now, that is attractive."  

Wednesday decided that she's had enough of your antics. Her hand reaches for the doorknob, and you trail after her out of your dormitory. 

"Do not follow me," Wednesday hushed, and you walk beside her trying to catch up as she seems to speed up her pace.  

"I'm not following you, we just happen to be walking in the same direction- Oh, hi Bianca!" You see the girl waving back at you as you both walk through the quad; Wednesday did not acknowledge Bianca's presence as usual. 

"Oh yeah, that reminds me. Remember when you totally beat the shit out of Bianca in that oral test last week? That is also incredibly attractive."  

Wednesday seemed to pay no mind as you continued your horrible strings of compliments, except for the fact that she's practically running through the corridors right now, embarrassed of being caught blushing by any of her peers. 

You know that at this point, you're threading a thin line between her turning into putty at your words or her leading you to a grave site, ready to smash your head with a rock once you get there. 

Well, she's heading towards Ophelia Hall now, so it's safe to say you won't be visiting the realms of the dead today. 

"It would be wise for you to quit whatever skulduggery you're doing if you don't want me to slice your head off at fencing class-," 

You raise your hand in mock defeat at her words, and you can see Wednesday's knuckles turn white in a fist as she continued her words, "-which will start in a couple of hours. So, leave me-" 

"Oh yeah, that got me thinking of how good you look when fencing. I mean, there's a reason why I never ever spar with you during class."  

"Yes, and it is your remarkable ineptitude in the sport." 

You shoot her a look of false hurt at her words, "How dare you- Well. I mean yes, but also have you seen yourself?" You speak out of breath, your legs slowly catching up with Wednesday's pace.  

"Yes, of course. I've been staring at a mirror in the middle of my sparring," Wednesday rolls her eyes at you, "and that's why I've been on a losing-" at this, you can see Wednesday practically seethe in anger as she chokes the word out, "-streak against Bianca Barclay."  

"No, silly, it's because I would be in complete awe," you decided not to comment further on the sore issue, opting to clear out the tension with—yes you guessed it—more compliments.  

"I mean, the all-black outfit? Your menacing strikes and your calculated steps, not to mention your disheveled hair and the concentrated look on your face?" You clasp your hand in front of your chest, eyes looking up dreamily at the memory, while the girl beside you scoffed in irritation. 

You're now at Ophelia Hall, and Wednesday continues her brisk walk toward her shared dorm room. You don't have much time left if you want to break her composed demeanor. 

"And yes, if I sparred with you, the exact situation you mentioned earlier would've happened. My head sliced off the very first second into the spar." 

"And I'd assume you wouldn't want that. So don't make me do it." 

"Quite the contrary, I wouldn't mind. I bet dying by such skillful hands would be an amazing experience." 

You can see the door now. Wednesday knows this as well. If she gets inside and locks you out, maybe you'll shut up and spare her from the torture that makes her gut feel like it's ripping her apart from the inside. 

"What do you think of adding my head as a mount on your room's wall? I'm sure Thing would appreciate the addition of another dismembered body part in the room." 

If Wednesday wasn't agitated before, she definitely is now. As she opens the door to her dorm room and turns her body to you, you can see that not only are her cheeks of blossoming color, the tips of her nose and ears are as well! It's as if this is the first time blood has rushed to her face, and you'd argue that she looks dangerously magnificent like this; face sneering but eyes unable to maintain eye contact with you. 

She spared you only a short pointed glare, before closing the door to your face. You can hear her voice ring moments later, "Stop pestering me on my writing time or I will take you up on that offer. If you decide to omit my warning, make sure you say something adequate, as I will personally make sure it will be written on your gravestone as your last words."  

Her threats have never felt so empty, not with her obviously shaky voice—not when you know she's staring at her typing paper blankly right now, unable to type a single word as you can't hear any clacking sound of the machine's keys. 

The gears in your mind turn at an insane speed, and with the bravado only you possess, you belt your next words for the whole dormitory to hear,  

"I AM CRAZY FOR YOU, WEDNESDAY ADDAMS!" 

There was only silence. Then, you hear the rapid clickety-clack of your girlfriend's shoes, and you jump backward when Wednesday yanked the door open. 

This is it, you thought.  

You had been too cocky, thinking that you could get away with harassing the raven-haired girl—if compliments can be considered harassment, that is—and now you're going to pay the price. In the most gruesome way imaginable, if you know anything about your girlfriend. 

Wednesday storms at you, and before you can even try to escape, you feel her arms wrapped strongly around your figure in a death grip. She's about to tackle you to death, and you brace yourself for the upcoming impact- 

-that never comes? Her arms just stay there, her head buried against your chest, and you are at a loss for words. 

It's unfair, how easily she makes you feel flustered. You've been trying to get a reaction out of her all this time, and she barely cracks. But now as she hugs you, you practically melt into her embrace; your mischievous agenda is long forgotten. 

When you regain your senses, you take a breath— about to comment on the situation before she cuts you off with a; 

"Shut up. I hate you."  

You smirk at her words before sighing in contentment, eyes closing as you soak in the rare moment, "I love you too." 

"But I will never shut up about this- OW-" 

Wednesday left you rolling on the floor in pain after landing a punch in your guts. 

"Now, you will."

[mik0rin]

the ways i love you

“love manifests in many ways: the flowers that bloom after the may rain, the poems that new poets create, the gentle streams used to wash one’s hands, and the sweet filling of a freshly baked pastry. love exists in every open field, dark alleyway, and dusty crevice of the universe. And most importantly it lives in the hearts of people; in the heart of a man whose soul only yearns for you.”

alternatively: Geto Suguru isn’t the most verbal person, his emotions don’t come out in a string of words or paragraphs scratched on crumpled notebook paper. His voice is a private one, reserved for when he feels the necessity to speak, and sometimes that’s what gets him in trouble. It makes him look like he doesn’t care but that couldn’t be further from the truth; in fact, he cares too much, so much so it’s difficult to put into words. Suguru wonders if that will push you away one day, but he fails to realize that verbal expression is not the only way to say “I love you.” Sometimes it’s the little things. So here are a few ways in which Geto Suguru loves you.

geto suguru x black fem reader‎‎ ‎ genre: pure fluff, romance warnings: cussing, mentions of alcohol consumption word count: 5,301

a/n: this isn’t in chronological order, so it skips around from the time in college and being adults in the workforce. and it moves around from different parts of the relationship !!

zippers and laces

Autumn always hosts a shy sun and chilly wind, and you watch the leaves fall like snowflakes off the tree right outside your bedroom window. You hear your boyfriend walk through the living room and grab his keys off the hook in the foyer. There’s a rustle of nylon as he slides on his coat and bends down to tie his shoes. You quicken your pace, applying your mascara with one hand and lipgloss with the other because you know soon to follow would be:

“Are you ready, baby?”

“Coming out now!” You reply, grabbing your coat off the back of your vanity chair and sliding an arm in as you exit the bedroom.

Geto hears the soft tinkle of the multiple bracelets that adorn your wrists and his attention is all on you (when was it ever not?). And no matter how often he sees you, his reaction is always the same; his eyes soften and light up all at once, his hands itch to be in yours, and his heart beats in the same rhythm as your voice.

You cross those few meters to meet him in the entryway and pull a pair of sneakers off the shoe rack. You drop them with a gentle thud and slip your feet into them and before you can bend over to tie your laces, your sweet boyfriend is already on his knees and tying them into cute little floppy bunny ears. And when he stands back up to his full height, he’s pulling you in close by the lapels of your coat and zipping you all the way up, making sure to pull your twists out of the confines of your collar. A grateful smile paints your lips and Suguru’s hands move from the collar of your puffer to caress your cheeks. With a grin so delicate- that if you were to blink you would’ve missed it, he sighs in complete adoration,

“My pretty girl.” And then he’s opening the front door of your shared apartment.

bedtimes and bookmarks

It’s a hot summer night and the cool silk sheets felt like absolute heaven on your bare legs. Soft yet rapid clicks of the keyboard echo throughout the bedroom and the faint turning of novel pages come from your end. Suguru was finishing up a report from his job because he would rather work overtime at home in your presence than be subjected to staying in that hellish (a very heavy exaggeration) office.

Sleep was tempting you like the devil in the Garden of Eden but you refused to succumb to it, if it wasn’t in the arms of your beloved boyfriend. You set your book down and walk over to him, slinking your arms around his neck and pressing a tender kiss to his cheek.

“When are you gonna be done?” There’s a slight whine in your voice and Geto has to fight the urge to abandon everything and take you to bed.

“I still have a bit more, angel. If you’re tired, just go to bed without me.”

A huff leaves your full lips as you pull away and the long-haired man turns his head just in time to see the pout that graces them.

“You know I can’t do that,” You tell him, “It’s impossible for me to sleep without you.”

You settle back into bed and continue reading the page you left off on. Suguru fights the smile that grows on his lips because he knows if you even have the tiniest inkling that you were going to win this battle, you would pull out all the stops.

And Geto might be a champion in all other aspects of his life but he has a continuous losing streak when it comes to you.

The man turns in the desk chair to face you and you peek at him over your thick novel with pleading eyes.

“I have about an hour left and then I’ll be done.”

A total lie.

He had at least two more hours to go but he couldn’t say no to you, especially when you so sweetly made that earlier declaration.

You beam triumphantly, “I’ll just read my book and wait patiently then.”

Thirty minutes barely pass before deep breaths reach Suguru’s ears. He saves his work and shuts off the computer before making his way to you. Your book lays face down, luckily still open on the page you last read. Geto begins to search for your favorite bookmark very quietly so as not to disturb you. He finds it wedged between the mattress and wall, he pulls it out slowly. When it comes free he looks at its fraying edges and peeling laminate; it’s a photo strip from your third date and he remembers how nervous he felt when you sat right in his lap in that cramped space and made him do silly poses with you. That’s when Geto Suguru realized he is completely and utterly weak when it comes to you.

Your boyfriend slides the bookmark in between the pages, closes the book, and sets it on the nightstand. He lifts the covers on his side of the bed and lays next to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and he doesn’t even have to pull you in. It was instinct to you even in your deep slumber, your body craves to be close to his like two magnets finding their way to each other.

“Thought you couldn’t sleep without me?” He whispers into your neck and you shift in your sleep, mumbling the most adorable “Sugu.” A blush peppers his cheeks in the darkness of your bedroom and he slides his hand into yours, intertwining your fingers. And as he falls asleep, he prays you two see each other in the land of dreams.

puppies and pamper

The hot water loosens your muscles one by one and you watch the sun start to kiss the earth goodbye. You turn around, shifting your position in Suguru’s loving grip, your bare chest now pressing against his. You whisper “Sugu?” and he looks at you with expectant eyes, waiting for the rest of your sentence.

“We should walk around since we have some time before dinner.”

His large hands caress your lower back as he nods a yes. And after another ten minutes, you’re stepping out of the open-air bath. The warm spring breeze blows over your wet skin as you wrap the towel around your body and walk back into your room. Both of you lotion your skin before putting on your Yukatas and exiting the room.

The sky's a perfect balance of day and night, and the wind rustles through the fabric of your robes. You and Geto walk side by side, occasionally commenting on how pretty the cherry blossoms are. Maybe it was the mood set by the events prior or the affection that always exists between the two of you, but there is something so tender and warm about being next to each other, bodies just barely touching and eyes meeting ever so often.

Older couples pass by you, cooing at how sweet young-love is, and Suguru can’t help but feel over the moon at the fact that the love between the two of you is so evident. As more people comment on how cute the both of you are, he spots a bridge that overlooks a small pond. The weakening sunlight and budding moonlight create picture-perfect lighting and he wants to see you under it, that way he could burn the image into his mind forever.

The dark-eyed man grabs your hand and points toward the bridge, “Let's go.”

You hum in agreement and let him gently tug you along, happy to see his subtle excitement. You don’t know what he’s thinking but his determination is oh-so-cute. The two of you walk a grand total of fifteen steps before something catches your eye: an older woman with the most adorable puppy. Your hand slips out of Geto’s almost immediately as your attention shifts to the small dog.

You’re now walking in the opposite direction, approaching the woman and her dog with a shy smile. Your boyfriend is very used to the way your attention diverts when you see a cute animal and he finds it endearing that your heart welcomes them all the same.

“Can I pet your dog?”

The older woman returns your smile with a small one of her own and nods her head yes.

“She’s a little shy, so she might not let you pet her.”

You let out a little “That’s okay” as you crouch down in front of the fluffy puppy and put your hand out for her to smell. Contrary to what the owner said, the dog is more than happy to see you.

“Hey, cutie,” You giggle, as you scratch a spot behind her ears and she all but melts in your arms. “What’s her name?”

"Sora," the woman's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "She's not usually this energetic around strangers. She must really love you."

You rub the puppy’s belly and tell her, “I love you too, Sora. Sugu doesn’t want us to get pets right now but I’m sure he would fall in love if we had such a sweet baby like you.”

“I guess that’s who’s waiting for you.” The woman gestures behind you and there Geto stands, watching you with honeyed eyes.

“Go, go” You motion to him, letting him know that you’ll meet him at the bridge. You turn back to play with the dog a bit more and when you feel like you’ve held up the poor woman long enough, you thank her and say goodbye to Sora.

Geto hadn’t moved, he didn’t walk to the bridge without you as you told him to and his expression hadn’t changed either. When he realizes that you were returning to him, he starts back on his previous path as you trail behind him. The man walks forward a few steps before stopping, his arm is now outstretched behind him waiting for your palm to connect with his. Your cool hand makes contact with his and he starts moving again. You’re beyond thankful that he waited for you and you display it with a squeeze of his hand and he responds back with two squeezes of his own.

Your shoes make a hollow click on the metal floor of the bridge, your hand gripping the railing as you watch the moon's reflections ripple in the dark water. You’ve gotten used to your boyfriend’s intense staring but somehow you’re always inclined to ask,

“What?” You turn to look at him, and Suguru knows that he was right about coming here. Your eyes glitter like jewels as you return his gaze and it's as if you’re illuminated by magic, everything about you just seems to glow at that moment.

“Nothing.” He mutters.

There were two beats of silence before he speaks again.

“Do you really want a puppy?”

juice and jewelry

The study table hosts the usual college student materials: lecture notes, concerning amounts of empty coffee cups, and the sleepy heads of a few students. This is your usual routine, cram the night before the exam and pray for the best. It’s nearing the group’s sixth hour of studying and anyone within a fifteen-mile radius could feel the dread and fading determination radiating from every single one of you. You glance over at your boyfriend, his hoodie sitting on his head and his glasses slightly sliding down the bridge of his nose as he looks over the same lecture slides. And as you look around the table, everyone else seems to be losing much-needed energy.

You stand up, grab your purse and make a small announcement, “I’m going to the corner store, y’all want anything?”

The simple question suddenly breathes life into everyone as they recite their orders and offer up their humble gratitude. You type all of it into your phone and start to make your way to the 7-11 across the street. Suguru trails behind you, never wanting to be more than two feet away from you especially when the night envelopes everything like a dark wool blanket. You can feel the comfortable weight of his arm on your shoulders and the two of you walk that short distance to the store.

The fluorescent lights and jingling bell greet you as you walk in, and you waste no time picking up the things everyone requested and the small basket that rests in the crook of your elbow starts to fill up.

“Pink lemonade or mango green tea?” Suguru asks as he slips your favorite sandwich into the basket.

You look at him as if you’re fighting an internal battle of indecisiveness and he holds onto both as you approach the register. You stand behind him wrapping your arms around his waist as the poor cashier rings up an almost alarming amount of items. Once everything is in bags except for one of your drinks and one of Suguru’s, you start walking back.

The bags swing slightly from Geto’s arm as he opens the drink in his hand and switches it with the one in yours. You sip the drink and smile at the small gesture, he always does these things like it's second nature. He’s the sweetest boy you’ve ever dated and you hope it stays that way.

You walk back into the student center and dump the bag in the middle of the table, and watch everyone scramble to desperately pick up their items. You fall into casual conversation trying to stay away from any exam topics or anything schoolwork related.

You’re trying (to no avail) to get Shoko to quit smoking, it’s a common argument between the two of you. You tell her you don’t want your best friend to end up terminally ill, and she tells you that won’t ever happen. She always tries to reassure you that nothing will happen to her health and you always show her research that proves otherwise.

Somewhere between you showing Ieiri graphic images on Google and her trying to turn off your phone, a warm hand grazes the back of your neck. If not for the familiar smell of vetiver and iris, you would have a few strong words for the person randomly touching you. But, you continue talking about the dangers of tobacco and nicotine, as you feel your necklaces being gently removed from your neck.

Geto had noticed it from the moment you walked into the convenience store. The multiple array of necklaces you chose to wear today wove themselves into a tangled mess. So, he does what any good boyfriend would do: he untangles them. Everyone around him was deep in conversation and Gojou was teasing Nanami about his new budding crush, giving him the opportunity to fully focus and not be bothered by his best friend’s chattering.

Suguru hums the tune of a song that you’ve been playing on repeat for the last few days as he works through the various knots. He never understands why you always decide to wear so many, only for them to end up in a tangled mess and you in a teary one. He’s asked before and you responded with a,

“It’s called fashion, babe.” Like it was the most obvious thing in the world and he hasn’t said anything about it since.

The dark-haired man finally untangles the last necklace and arranges them flat on the table, trying his best to remember the order you had layered them in. Once he decides that the order of the necklaces matches what’s in his memory, he starts to put them back. It’s an easy task for him, taking him only about two minutes, thanks to you slightly turning and your braids already being held up by a sage green claw clip. He adjusts the pendants and gems in the front, flipping them over so they would be facing the right way. Suguru, however, fails to notice the fact that everyone is now whispering and most of their attention is on him. The boy only looks at you with almost glittering eyes like he’s very proud of his work.

And to show your never-ending appreciation, you lean forward and press a sweet kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you, my love.”

Geto smiles at the term of endearment and he opens his mouth to respond but is cut off by the sound of gagging.

“Disgusting. You can’t do all that coupley shit somewhere else?” Gojou scrunches up his face and covers his eyes with his sunglasses.

“Shut up, Satoru. You’re just jealous because your girlfriend dumped your sorry ass, again.” You spit back.

“I told you we’re on a break!”

“I really don't care what you told me. You got dumped, loser.”

Everyone tries their best to mask their laughter, except for Shoko who laughs out loud.

The white-haired man narrows his eyes at you and gears up to say something back, but the sound of his best friend clearing his throat stops him. You look at him with a triumphant smile, ecstatic you got the last word.

Satoru mutters a “Whatever,” under his breath and dramatically turns his chair away.

Your boyfriend finds your hand under the table and only looks at you with an amused expression. And for good measure, he kisses your temple which results in a disgruntled sound from Satoru and more laughter from everyone else.

seatbelts and safety

Frank Ocean’s Novacane blares from the car’s speakers and you pull down the sun visor, using its mirror to apply your lip liner. It was well past the sun’s time and the moon is what reigned over the sky now. You glance over at your date, practically drooling at him in his tailored suit and perfectly styled hair. He’s so fine it causes the car temperature to rise above its already rather toasty atmosphere. You shrug off your fur shawl, fold it up in your lap, and adjust the strap of your pink evening gown.

You and Suguru have barely started your relationship and you’re already dragging him to your internship events on such short notice. But, if you were the only one to show up without a date to a Cupid-themed benefit gala, it would be beyond embarrassing.

You turn towards him, your voice coming out half apologetic and half grateful. “Thank you so much for coming with me and for driving. I know this shit is last minute but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I’m your boyfriend, it’s fine.” Suguru waves off, but the blush that burns his cheeks at the word boyfriend betrays his rather cool attitude. And your eyes widen at that statement as well, the fact you’re his girlfriend is still incredibly fresh and sometimes you have to tell yourself it isn’t a dream.

“But still, you were visiting your family in Kyoto and-”

“It’s okay, don’t stress it.”

You want to say more but you decide to listen to him, because if he didn’t have a problem with it then there is no reason you should.

The tension in the car is palpable and there are so many words (compliments) that sit on the tip of Geto’s tongue but his nervousness is taking over his senses and the fact you look like an absolute dream, like a prayer that heals even the most rotten hearts, is not exactly helping either.

The car slows as you approach the red light and your boyfriend takes the opportunity to drink you in. And he wonders if you can feel him staring at you because if you did, you were doing a wonderful job at hiding it. All of your focus was on your phone and the hundreds of texts you were sending.

Geto thanks any god out there willing to listen for this unnaturally long redlight because it gives him extra time to appreciate his girlfriend’s beauty. But when his eyes drop down to the corset detailing on your waist, the boy notices the lack of seatbelt and he immediately unbuckles his own. There are still thirty minutes of driving before you reach your destination and he rather you stay safe for as long as possible.

So, he leans over and you slightly flinch at the sudden motion. His cologne surrounds you and his hair brushes up against your collarbone; you almost ask what he’s doing but when you hear the soft click of the seatbelt buckling into place, your question is answered. Suguru starts to settle back in his seat but not before stopping so his face was right in front of yours, your heart beats wildly against your chest and you can see his pupils dilate.

“You’re so beautiful, I don’t think I can describe it.” He whispers like he’s scared if the words were too loud it would ruin everything. But no matter the volume of his voice, your body burns at the compliment and you don’t know how to respond.

But before you can formulate your next thought, green tints the inside of the car, and the person behind honks their horn. Suguru quickly sits back down and puts his own seatbelt back on, but his hand still lingers on your thigh and pink still lingers on his ears, while a smile paints your lips.

rainstorms and relocation

Rain hits hard against the roofs of houses and drenches the trees and flowers. You peek out the store window, wondering how in the world the two of you were going to make it home. It had been 75° with sunny and clear skies when you had left the house three hours ago, so you had decided to leave the car behind and take advantage of the late spring day. But you know better than to ever leave the house without an umbrella, the only problem is that your umbrella is only for one person, and as much as you call your boyfriend your “other half,” that is obviously figuratively.

You hear footsteps approaching from behind you and a hand on the small of your back guides you toward the exit.

“I’m hungry, let's go.”

“It's raining.” You state.

Geto flashes you a look of amusement, the corner of his lips perking up at your extremely serious expression. “I see that, angel. Do you not have your umbrella?”

Your lips fall into a flat line, “I do, it's just way too small.”

“We’ll be alright.”

The two of you were not alright.

Somehow the rain starts to come down heavier as you walk out the doors of the furniture store and it beats against your poor umbrella, causing it to bend every so often. Suguru holds the umbrella, leaning it slightly to his right so that you are fully covered. However, that leaves his left shoulder completely unprotected and you don’t notice it until you’re waiting for the crosswalk signal to show the little green man.

“Suguru, your entire arm is wet!” You exclaim, trying to take control of the umbrella but he has a death grip on the handle.

“It doesn’t matter.” He says, ushering you forward as the crosswalk starts its countdown.

“I don’t wanna hear all that because of course, it matters. We can just buy a bigger umbrella.” You’re trying to reason with him but once Geto Suguru is a hundred percent sure about something, it’s almost impossible to change his mind. And he just so happens to be very determined about making sure you arrive home without ever feeling one spring rain droplet.

Your boyfriend shakes his head, “Our apartment is right there, there’s no point. And it’s good practice, we’re gonna be sharing a lot more than umbrellas now.”

Suguru is right.

And oh how you hate when he’s right. However, his correctness causes your heart to sing a sweet melody, only because you know tomorrow and every tomorrow after that your love will live in the same place, like how it’s meant to be.

cocktails and cotton pads

The front door swings open and Geto has to take a step back to avoid a broken nose. You flash him the sweetest drunken smile as your body collides with his. His arms wrap around your waist to keep you stable and a silent laugh falls from his lips. You were clutching onto him so tightly like you were afraid he would disappear.

“You should’ve come! I missed you.” Your voice was a little too loud and your consonants were turning into vowels.

Suguru starts to lead you into the bathroom, his heart smiling at your words. “You said it was ‘girls’ night,’ remember?”

“Oh… ” Your face scrunches up in thought as you try to remember, “I did say that! I said that, right?”

He gives you a slight nod, “You did.”

“Next time, it’ll be a Suguru Night.” You shove your left pinky in his face. “I promisssee”

Every night that you came home to him would be a Suguru Night in his eyes. He didn’t need you to promise anything special as long as you kept loving him as you did and he could keep loving you. But, he humors you nonetheless because he knows how seriously you take promises.

His pinkie wraps around yours and the pads of your thumbs touch. The two of you lock eyes and place a kiss on your touching thumbs.

“And it’s sealed.” You slur as your bare feet finally touch the cold tile floor.

Suguru sits you down on the toilet before turning around to open the medicine cabinet full of all your skincare products. He first grabs your fluffy pink headband and turns back towards you to put it on.

“I have to put this on, stay still.” It’s a very soft command, full of care and kindness.

Your boyfriend slides on the headband - effectively pushing your hair out of your face, then he gets to work. He’s memorized your skincare routine after watching you doing it night after night and so he starts with your oil cleanser, using it to take off all your makeup. He continues with the next steps and you sit in patient silence, your body humming with drunkenness and pure admiration.

When the dark-haired man turns around to grab one of your serums, it dawns on him that you have yet to speak. Usually, you would’ve told him all about your night, every tiny detail that you could possibly remember. But instead, you were staring at him, your lips curved into a small smile and your hands clasped together in your lap.

His eyebrows furrow in concern, “You okay, princess? You need water or somethin’?”

“I’m okay.” Your voice is barely above a whisper like you were holding something back. And in an instant, Suguru is right back in front of you, his warm hands on your exposed shoulders. You look at him, really look at him (even if he’s a bit blurry due to your lingering buzz) and you notice so many things.

His hair is still slightly wavy from the French braids you gave him last night, he smells of vetiver and iris, and his lips were coated in that pink-berry chapstick you bought him last week. Geto has always been and will always be the most attractive man you have ever seen but something about tonight makes you realize how pretty he is.

Suguru raises an eyebrow at how your eyes soften like ice cream on a hot summer afternoon. He’s praying this isn’t some prelude to you crying.

“Have I ever told you how pretty you are, Sugu?”

You have. Multiple times. He thinks. He flashes you the usual look of disbelief and begins to apply your moisturizer, giving you a face massage in the process.

“Mhmm.” He hums, entertaining you for the moment.

Your lips fall into a pout and you huff a “You never believe me. I wouldn’t be with you if you were ugly.”

“Good to know.” He shakes his head in amusement, you’re always so honest both drunk and sober.

“You know I was banned from talking about you tonight. Supposedly I talk about you ‘too fucking much.’ But my thing is, I have the best boyfriend in the world and I love him more than love itself, so why wouldn't I let everyone know how much I adore him? I would even tattoo ‘I love Geto Suguru’ on my ass.”

You pause for half a second and then you continue on, “Actually, no I wouldn’t. That’s tacky as hell. You know what I would do?”

Geto’s thumbs rub small circles into your cheeks, his tone giving away that he has no idea what you’re going to say next. “What would you do?”

“I’d take your last name, I think that’s way better than a tattoo.”

Geto goes silent but he swears his heartbeat is echoing off the bathroom walls and his inner thoughts have become outer ones. His hands leave your face and opt to grab your toothbrush instead. He puts the toothpaste on and runs it under water before handing it to you.

No matter how many times he hears your drunk babbling, everything you say still shocks him. He never doubts your love for him, however, the two of you are both private people when it comes to relationships. So the fact you talk about him that much is news to him, and something about you being so proud to have him as a boyfriend has him a little bit dizzy.

And the casual confession that you would marry him, that you would love to be his wife.

“I’m getting you water, I’ll be right back.”

“M’kay” Your voice is a bit muffled from the foam in your mouth.

Suguru takes a minute to catch his breath in the kitchen.

You are going to be the death of him.

How does he even respond to that? With an engagement ring he has yet to buy (it’s still sitting in his online cart waiting for Shoko’s approval)? Or maybe with a proclamation of his own, one that you will only half remember come morning time.

The dark-haired man walks back into your shared bedroom after collecting himself and catches sight of you pulling one of his graphic tees onto your body. You barely glance at him before settling into bed, fatigue now coating every single one of your features. All the drinking and dancing is finally catching up to you. Geto hands you the cup of water and you softly thank him before drinking it. He slides your bonnet on as you down the water. He wonders if you could feel his hands shaking due to his racing heart, or the way his breaths are heavier than usual.

But you don’t. The alcohol still clouding your sense of awareness and your laser-focused on trying to pull Suguru into bed. He wants nothing more than to lay next to you and rub your back until you fall asleep, but he’s now full of the sort of energy that is created by love - true love.

And you give up after a few tries, mumbling something that’s close to a “goodnight” and drifting off to sleep. Your boyfriend grabs one of your many lip balms off of your vanity and applies it to your lips before finally settling down next to you. Suguru’s back is against the headboard, one hand scrolling through his phone and the other one tracing shapes on your arm. He looks down at you, eyes shining with the kind of emotion that is only captured in two sentence quotes and letters from another time.

“What am I going to do with you?”

Then he phone pings with a text that says: “it’s perfect for her.”

a/n: hey yalllll, it’s been a hot minute but i hope you liked this (i lovedddd writing it) and i have two other wipes, luv y’all <3333 and let me know what you thought :))

[collecting-stories]

Treacherous - Remus Lupin

Request: i love you taylor swift song series!! i was wondering if you could possibly write a fic for treacherous using remus lupin:)) xoxo

Summary: After being left suddenly some months earlier the reader stumbles upon Remus in an old bookshop.

A/N: I made this more as Remus being the one sort of, cautious to trust the relationship and then kind of being pulled in because I thought it made for a nice story that way.

TS Anthology Series | Harry Potter Masterlist

...I hear the sound of my own voice, asking you to stay...

"So this is where you've been hiding?" you asked, fingers running over the edge of a cling-film wrapped fudge brownie. You picked it up off the tray of baked goods and set it atop the book you had laid on the counter. A pretty hardback edition of Dracula that you probably wouldn't even crack the spine on but that you would proudly display on your bookshelf. 

You hadn't come up to Tyne upon Wear looking for Remus, obviously. You hadn't heard from him in months and weren't even entirely sure where he had landed after leaving Hogwarts and then James summer cottage. It was an accident of nature, a fluke (though you could hear Peter in the back of your head saying that it was 'fate') that you were here for holiday and that you had walked into this bookstore. 

"I've not been hiding," Remus rebuffed, taking the book and the brownie, his fingers brushing yours. "Who told you that?"

You shrugged, "no one. I just assumed, I mean, this isn't exactly close to anyone." You knew Sirius had gotten a flat in London and Lily and James were talking about Godric's Hollow. Peter was in London too but you felt like you rarely saw him these days, though more than Remus. 

"My nan's from this area," he replied, eyes never straying from the till. He'd seen you outside the window, staring a book on display, partially obscured by the sign painted on the glass. Hiding seemed like a marvelous idea, ducking down behind the counter or slipping behind a bookcase. Marvelous but impractical, probably, at the very least unprofessional. And besides, he was too slow to act. He felt like he'd frozen in place the moment you appeared, as if someone had cast a petrificus totalus spell over him. Remus just stood there and then you turned your head to the side and looked through the window and saw him and smiled. 

When you came into the shop, Remus wasn't entirely sure if the bells he could hear ringing where the ones above the door or the ones in his own head. You hadn't said anything at first, just smiled and browsed around the front of the store, very obviously for show, before plucking a book off a shelf that Remus knew you owned, putting it on the counter for him to ring up. He'd expected you to hate him the next time you saw each other. Perhaps you would yell or give him the cold shoulder or, worst of all, he'd be gone so long that you would move on without him. But here you were and you didn't look upset at all. As if he hadn't disappeared, as if you believed him when he lied and said he wasn't hiding. 

"I don't think I knew that," you looked genuinely like you were trying to remember if he had ever mentioned his nan to you or where in Britain she lived. 

"What are you, uh...what are you doing here?" He asked, moving away from the topic of his family (always a rather delicate matter as you knew) and onto something more important, at least in his mind. You were here and you must've been here for a reason and he hadn't spoken to Lily or James or Sirius or Peter in months which meant that no one could have let on that he was here. No one knew, as far as he was aware, aside from himself and he wasn't advertising the information. 

"Oh, on holiday," you replied. "I was quite influenced by Sirius...or at least that awful monstrosity of his."

"The bike?" Remus asked, eyebrow raising in suspicion, "you've not bought one, have you?"

"No, god no. But I have come into possession of a lovely little green people-carrier. It's quite lovely and I've decided to drive it up the coast to Scotland. Trouble is, I always forget about the petrol until I get going," you explained, "I'm afraid I ran out of gas. A very friendly old man in a funny looking truck picked me up though, picked up the car as well! I believe he called it a tow. How marvelous really, a tow."

"So an empty tank brought you here?" He clarified. How truly like you to forget something so vital but also how like the universe to play such terrible tricks on him as this one. To have you strand yourself on the side of a road just kilometers from him and forced to be deposited into his town. "Where are you staying?"

"A cute little B&B. My room has floral wallpaper and a little tea kettle on a hot-plate. I've not used the hot-plate though the old lady explained it to me...seems very tricky if you ask me. I'd much rather just magic the pot." 

"I don't know of any....that is, I think the town is largely muggles." Remus replied.

"I gathered. Don't worry Remus, I haven't been waving my wand about everywhere I go." You laughed. You took the bag he pushed across the counter, your book and brownie inside. "I missed you quite a lot."

Graduation had felt wildly exciting. All that talk of future plans and goals had never been overshadowed, even when inklings of sadness had crept through at the thought of not seeing your friends every single day for months at a time. You would all be close, you were sure of it. James planned the summer holiday, an almost immediate trip to a summer cottage for a small (though large at the final head count) group of friends to avoid saying anything like goodbye to each other right away. 

The summer cottage had been lovely and you and Remus had only just begun dating each other before the holiday, still shy about each other in the way that new romances are. It had felt exciting, to be away with him. You'd been friends for so long, seven years, and then you were dating and suddenly it was like everything was new and you thought it would all last forever. But then you'd woken up on the last morning at the cottage and Remus was gone and you didn't see him again. Until this very moment, in a tiny bookshop in a little seaside village of muggles. 

"I'm sorry," Remus began to say but you shook your head, stopping him from saying anything more.

"No need to be sorry," you promised. You'd experienced a vast range of emotions in the days and weeks and months post Remus' departure. Ultimately though, you knew your friend well and knew that (despite Sirius always getting the credit for being the one most prone to dramatics) Remus could be very dramatic when he chose to be. Disappearing was not as surprising as you would have liked it to be when you actually thought about it and had resolved yourself to the knowledge that should he choose to, he would show up again. He couldn't stay disappeared forever. And you were mildly thrilled to know that you were right about that, though he was found out against his will, completely by accident. "You're not as unpredictable as you might think Remus."

"I wasn't trying to be unpredictable," he reasoned, "I just-"

"I know." You cut him off, "I've had ages to think out all your reasonings and arguments and I've reenacted them all with myself. I can't imagine you could argue your case any better than I already have," you explained. "Now, what time does this little shop close?"

"Why?"

"Because I just told you that I missed you and I'm certainly not planning on walking out the door and leaving and not seeing you again Remus. In this singular case I would use Peter's reasoning and say that this," you gestured between the two of you, "is certainly fate. I'm not one to ignore fate, should think you wouldn't want to either." 

Remus sighed, shoulders relaxing as though he were giving up a fight and probably, he was. "About an hour. I need to sweep up when I'm done. And there are a few books left to put away."

"Oh well, that's much too much work love, I simply can't wait that long." You joked, looking around the shop. You and he were the only ones in there. "Shall I browse around or can I have a stool?"

"I only have the one," he replied, side eyeing the stool that was placed beside him behind the counter. He wasn't sitting on it and hadn't in the entire time you'd been there. 

"Is it a prized possession?" You joked, "or am I just not allowed behind the till?"

Remus shrugged, "you are."

You came around the side of the counter, placing your bag down and sitting on the stool beside him. You fished the brownie back out of the bag and carefully removed the cling-film, "are you allowed a snack on the clock?"

"You don't really have to wait here," Remus said, taking the brownie piece from you and popping it into his mouth. 

You watched him for a moment, suddenly well aware how many 'little things' there were about him that you had missed. Minute details like the satisfied smile he always gave away without knowing when he ate something sweet. Or the way he brushed his thumb across the tips of his fingers, ridding his hand of invisible crumbs. 

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He asked, realizing that you were watching him, cheeks staining a lovely pink at the attention. 

"I am committing you to memory, in case you should disappear again."

"I didn't mean to leave you...I mean," he sighed, hands clasping together as he cracked a few of his knuckles. You noted a newer looking scar on the back of his left hand. Your boy was never careful with himself when he was alone. 

"Relationships as scary for everyone Remus," you replied. You had already been through all these conversations, you wanted to remind him. You knew what he would say. "Sometimes you just have to decide it's important enough to do the scary thing."

"How philosophical of you."

"No need to be mean to me," you replied, hearing the edge in his voice. 

He shook his head. Taking a box of books that was sitting behind the counter, Remus passed you and walked around the counter, out to the middle of the shop. You watched him disappear behind a bookcase, going to house some books and avoid further conversation on the topic of his leaving. You knew it was a sore subject for him (Remus was quite talented at making almost everything a sore subject for himself) but it wasn't easy for you either. He was the one who had left but you were the one who was left behind. 

"Do you love me?" You think aloud, turning in your stool to try and see Remus down an aisle. You can hear the soft rustle of books stop abruptly and then he appears, as tall as the case itself, eyes wide as he stares at you from behind the fringe that hangs in his face. He looks surprised, perhaps caught off-guard and you aren't really shocked. He'd told you plenty of times that he did, over and over for months from the week after you began dating until the early hours of the morning in James' summer cottage, hours before he left you. 

"What?"

"Do you love me?"

"Why would you ask me that?" Remus questioned, tongue darting out to lick his lips nervously. 

"Because I want to know the answer," you offered, "do you love me?"

"Of course I love you," he finally replied, frowning. 

"Well, it's hard to know Remus, you did leave after all."

"You said you weren't upset about that." He reasoned.

"No, I believe I said that I'd already given myself all your arguments. I considered that maybe you didn't love me and that was the reason. A clean break...I only considered it for a moment though, you wouldn't have left everyone like that if you didn't love just me," you explained, "so I thought about it and I decided that you did love me."

"Then why ask?"

You ignored his question, continuing your explanation instead, "you love me but you're ridiculously afraid of that."

The look he gave was particularly sour, as though he was trying to be mad but couldn't quite bring himself to stop being embarrassed at having been caught out long enough to succeed in being angry. "What's your point?"

"We've been friends since we were eleven, sitting beside each other on the train. And I've known about you since third year," you reminded him, "so what are you afraid of?"

"We all have our own lives now," Remus argued, as if that was actually a legitimate reason for leaving everyone behind, "you don't need to be burdened with-"

"You know I love you also," you said, cutting him off, "I hate when you say things like that. Burdened, as if I'm not actively choosing to sit here with you and ask that you give it another go."

"It's different out here. There is no shrieking shack. Sirius, James, Peter...they have their own lives. They can't be dropping everything whenever it's a full moon. We can't go on this way forever." 

"You may not, you said yourself that Dumbledore told you there was a potionist working on something for-"

"It wouldn't stop the transformation...if it works," Remus replied, "I just, wouldn't lose my mind. And you'll remember that Dumbledore said it would be extremely difficult to come by and even harder to make." He pointed out. 

You sighed, standing up from the stool and walking over to him, "always the pessimist. What are you afraid of?"

"I've told you," he took a step back, as if he were afraid that you might cage him in.

"Not really," you argued, "you've given me plenty of excuses though. I'm not afraid of you, Remus, and none of your friends would ever leave you alone with anything. You know that." 

"I can hardly find work. I've been here four months and missed countless days, if it did any real business I doubt they'd want me around. How can I contribute to any sort of relationship if I can't even work. Not to mention that afterward I'm," he glanced at the newer scare on his hand and you knew what he meant, he used to spend days after in the infirmary when you were at Hogwarts, "and I've a terrible temper, which I know you are aware of, and you were right before I was being mean, and I still haven't quit smoking and I have a terrible diet. Can hardly keep anything down these days, I'm always nervous. And I don't like to go out and I'm not very romantic and I have terrible insomnia-"

"I know all of these things about you Remus," you replied, cutting him off as he rambled. 

Remus sighed, setting the books in his hands down on the shelf and then, unsure of what to do with himself, reached for your hands (which you gave willingly). "I have very little control over most things in my life and I...as trifling as it sounds, I'm quite terrified of giving up control of my emotions," Remus admitted, "suppose that's what I'm afraid of after all, allowing myself to love you. God, I sound like some tragic muggle novel."

"You sound very honest, and not trifling at all," you replied, "you're allowed to be afraid Remus, but you've got to vocalize these things. Running off to a little corner of England alone isn't a very good solution. Don't punish yourself...or me for that matter."

"I know." 

"Besides," you mentioned, tugging his hands gently so that he moved closer to you, so close in fact that you had to tilt your head just slightly to look him in the eye, "you know me well enough to know I'll take supremely good care of all your parts, heart very much included."

He hummed, "good to know." He leaned ever closer, to give you a kiss and to relish in the sensation of being kissed by you, something he had not allowed himself to enjoy for months and now wondered how it was he had managed for even an hour. You were right, and he wasn't surprised by that fact at all. He had been afraid and could still feel the grip of that fear in the back of him mind, no matter how distracting (or reassuring) you managed to be. "I do love you," Remus admitted again, "very much. My leaving...it wasn't because of you, and I never meant to hurt you. I didn't...I didn't think I would."

"You didn't think I would be absolutely gutted?" 

"I suppose I was trying not to think too much about it at all," he replied, honestly. Remus wasn't nearly as daring as James could be, or Sirius for that matter, but he liked to think that in most aspects he was willing to take a risk. It was in the matter of giving himself to some that he found he struggled. If he gave too much away, what would be left of him at departure (and he was always expecting a departure). He'd given all of himself to his friendships, to James and Lily and Sirius and Peter. How could he risk anyone else being granted the ability to hurt him?

But then, you'd been more than willing to take that risk, wholly unafraid of one year or four years or ten years down the road. You weren't thinking in endings, only in right then. And right then you loved him (though probably tomorrow you would too. And in one year, four years, ten years). 

He kissed you again, because even the minutes between when he had just kissed you and right at the moment he did it again felt like it had been too long. He'd missed you terribly and he hadn't really let himself acknowledge it until he'd seen you through the window. 

"I do have to finish closing up," Remus admitted, pulling away from you. 

"Do you?"

"You can help," he replied, "stop distracting me."

"I'm not being distracting," you laughed, "if anything you're the one who's distracting." 

"How so?" He let go of you and moved back toward the box of books, beginning to sort through them. 

"How so?" You repeated the question, a tone of disbelief in your voice as you stared at him. "Well I would tell you but I doubt that you would believe me."

"Probably not," he admitted, knowing his proclivity for self-deprecation. 

You shook your head at him, looking about the small shop, "alright where's the broom then? I'll sweep up," you said, "no magic, I suppose?"

"No magic."

[dnickels]

"The house is a character" goes without saying, on Ghosts and other shows about people trapped in an old crumbling house that hates them (by God, is that Julian Fellowes' music?), but Ghosts makes good use of the house as a site of contention. It is a very old pile of bricks and masonry in disrepair, that's what it is, but it means to various people-- who live in, who live around it-- is a much thornier issue. Robin, who predates it by millennia, doesn't really give a shit, and to Allison and Mike by the end of the first episode its a huge liability they would bulldoze if given the chance. A windfall, an asset, a stone around their necks etc. But to the people who lived there it was/is a world unto itself. We get to see just how much history that place has, which is a meaningless thing to say, because any square foot of Earth outside of Antarctica has untold millennia of human history, but its a history that's real and alive and present because people remember it, and live out that remembering.

Who does it belong to? Legally to Allison and Mike, by the vagaries of fortune and inheritance law. But what does it mean to try and share the place where you live, currently, with centuries of past inhabitants? The show makes the issue literal but its an ideological struggle that happens constantly when it comes to preservation. People do have to live. Not every beautiful old building can be preserved as it was forever with no changes or updates, although it doesn't stop me from wincing when a new block of 5 over 1s goes up. If you wanted to talk about the long arc of the show, its from episode one where the Ghosts can only watch in horror as the wrecking crew comes in to the last (penultimate?) episode where they make a negotiated peace with the idea of change. (I haven't! Not a golf course! Allison noooo its so bad for the environmeeeeent etc).

I am a little surprised the blue plaque issue got such a brusque treatment-- I was wondering when the Coopers would come up against whatever local heritage society objects to them putting in modern plumbing, or tearing out the old lathe-and-plaster, to say nothing of the government agencies who hand out historic protections etc. But on the other hand, maybe the history of the house feels "more important" than it is because we, the audience, got to experience it so closely. Yes it was the site of a duel, a witch-burning, a murder, a WW2-era weapons development project, a plot to murder Queen Elizabeth-- but so were lots of places. It's not, in the grand scheme of things, an especially important house and yet it means so much! What do you mean, Cap doesn't get a blue plaque for having a very minor homefront position from 1939-1945! What do you mean Fanny doesn't get a memorial for being pushed out a window! Those are my friends!

There could have been a season-arc about someone outside the house trying to 'save' it, make it into a museum etc, but maybe that would be a more byzantine and thorny issue than the half-hour penis joke format would allow. I do still cringe whenever they sell off pieces of 'the collection', or destroy a painting etc, but the point is that its not a collection-- its furniture. People are still living on it, using it, etc. i do hope that any future plans (in the canon of the show) include some kind of way for people to learn about the ghosts' stories-- Allison could write one hell of a book, though how she would source it is a nightmare to think about. But maybe its for the best that the house doesn't become a stagnant museum that's locked up at night. If nothing else, the ghosts would get bored again.

[lumassen]

I'm hungry for densu content. Would you, please? >< please please please

Hello! I literally saw this ask earlier today and decided to sit just with a word document for an hour and see what we ended up with.

Here we have part one of a little 1930’s inspired drabble. The pacing isn’t my best, but I hope you like it!

——————

The drizzle outside was unpleasant, causing the cobbles to become slippery underfoot. Stefan quickened his pace, keeping his head low and his gaze beneath the brim of his hat as to not bump into anyone that he was familiar with. The letter he’d received in the morning post was tucked safely in the inside breast pocket of his jacket, his heartbeat beneath it steadily growing more unsteady as he approached his destination. It was 1931, Stockholm, and the lamplighter was already out - he was late.

Stefan had known from an early age that he wasn’t how he was supposed to be. He wasn’t interested in petticoats and garter belts and red painted lips, though beautiful as they were. Instead, Stefan was drawn to his own sex, destined to either live in sin or live a lie. For now, he chose the former, frequenting secret clubs and booking hotel rooms under false names, but it couldn’t last forever. Stefan didn’t work in service, nor did many anymore, especially after the war, and so he couldn’t blame the absence of a wife and family on his chosen career for much longer. Soon people would begin to wonder why he was without children and eventually put two and two together.

But Stefan was just 27, and still had some time left yet before he needed to think about settling down; time to spend with the one whom he truly loved.

The rain was beginning to come down heavier now, and Stefan narrowly avoided a puddle as he stepped out to cross the road as he reached the venue. He fussed with his trouser leg, pulling at the fabric to lift it above his ankle until another pair of feet came into his field of vision. He recognised the brogues, polished yet scuffed, and his head snapped up so that his eyes could land on their wearer.

There, leaning against the wall beside the entrance to the establishment, an old cotton traders, was Jens.

“Evenin’ Lundberg,” he said around the cigarette that hung from his lips, and Stefan tipped the brim of his hat in greeting, barely concealing the smile that spread across his usually stoic features.

He watched as Jens eyes darted over his shoulder and waited whilst he made sure that they weren’t being watched. When the coast was clear, Jens pushed himself up from were he was leaning and turned to rap on the door - two short and loud knocks followed by three taps of the forefinger. There was movement on the other side, and Stefan checked once more over his shoulder before following Jens inside.

‘Cottons’, as it was known amongst men of Stefans sort, was always comfortably busy, and Stefan returned nods and glances that were directed at him from other frequents. His hand had barely let go of his coat and hat from where he’d hung them up before Jens took hold of it in his, bringing it to his lips and leaving the gentlest of kisses on the back of it.

In these sorts of establishments, especially in the new era of 1930, displays of affection were commonplace. When Stefan first met Jens however, he wasn’t used to it, and would chide and berate him for acts such as this in front of others. But now, after spending 6 months apart, Stefan found that it wasn’t enough to satisfy the butterflies that swarmed within him.

Stepping forward, Stefan brought a calloused hand up to the side of Jens face, his fingers curling just beneath Jens’ jaw, and pulled him in for a kiss. The butterflies took flight, the murmur of voices in the room disappeared, and all that Stefan could think about was Jens.

”God, how I’ve missed you.” Jens mumbled against Stefans lips as he slipped his hand into his back pocket.

For a few moments they just stood within the others embrace, foreheads pressed against the others, their gazes’ steady, until the bartender called over.

“Hey Jens, come and boost the Swedish economy, we’ve missed having a Dane and his drinks tab in here.”

Taking a step back from Stefan, a wide grin broke out across Jens’ face as he turned toward the bar,

“Two of the usual then please, Magnus!” He called back, giving Stefan a wink before entwining their hands and pulling them in the direction of their pints.

By now, Stefan was used to Jens’ extravagance, though at times it still left him with a voice in the back of his head that told him that one day Jens would lose interest in him.

As a Royal correspondent for a major Danish newspaper, Jens was more than just a handsome face. He was educated, intelligent, and knew how to work a room. He would turn heads wherever he went, had wit and charm and an infectious laugh, low and hearty and full of soul. Jens could have whomever he wanted, and yet he still chose Stefan.

As if sensing Stefans insecurity, Jens brushed his hand lightly through Stefans hair,

“Hey, I didn’t sail across the Øresund strait for this y’know,” Jens said as he took a seat on a stool and motioned with a flicker of his eye toward the pint of beer in his hand,

”Well, not just this,” he smirked as he took a sip, and Stefan rolled his eyes.

Placing his other hand on Stefans knee as he slid onto the stool beside him, Jens lowered his voice,

”I really have missed you. I still keep your photograph on the nightstand.”

Somehow to Stefan, that felt more intimate than any kiss could, and when he turned to look at Jens he saw nothing but genuine affection within his eyes.

It had been nearly three years since Stefan and Jens had met. Jens, whom was on a business trip at the time, visited Åhléns department store to purchase new driving gloves. At first he was just another customer to Stefans counter, but when he noticed that Jens had returned for three days in a row, each time buying a different pair of gloves, Stefan began to realise that Jens lingered a little longer than patrons usually did.

After each encounter, Stefan would stare at the ceiling at night and wonder if he was reading too much into the way that Jens would touch his forearm ever so gently before asking to see something from within the cabinet, or how he would steal glances at him whilst he was taking the measurements of his hands. But on the fourth day, when Jens appeared at his counter with a single green carnation pinned to his lapel, Stefan could never forget how he felt within that moment.

”Jens, d’ya think,” Stefan began, then paused to draw in a breath.

Jens still held his hand on his leg, a comfortable grasp just beneath the beginning of his thigh.

”How much longer can this really go on?” He said through an exhale, and watched as Jens’ face fell.

“Come on Stef, let’s not ruin our first night together after so long.” He pleaded, his hand now gripping a little tighter.

But as much as Stefan wanted to remain blissfully unaware to the fact that at some point what he and Jens shared would inevitably come to an end, it was now getting to the point where he just couldn’t imagine his life carrying on without him - and he hadn’t realised just how much until he set eyes on him again this evening after their longest time apart.

Jens set his beer down, the glass still half full.

“Look, let's go to the hotel. Your booking is under Larsson. I’ll meet you there.” Jens said, a firm tone to his voice as he slid off the stool. He hesitated for a moment, and Stefan thought that he might say something else. But he instead just stooped to press a fleeting kiss on Stefans cheek before he took his leave, and Stefan was left with a tight coil within his chest; perhaps this was the beginning of the end.

——————

*Green carnations were a MLM symbol and queer coded, originating in France in around 1925

* I really tried my best to be as historically accurate as I could with this, but I wrote it in about an hour so my research was only brief. I apologise if anything is off.

* I will do a part two at some point, I just ran out of steam lol

[tboybuck]

I am always always thinking about different scenarios where Eddie could have gotten mixed up in The Mess (tm), and I just think that season 2 would have been great for that tw: reference to kidnapping and child murder

Hawkins has always been a weird fuckin’ place, even before the Byers kid went missing last year. Eddie’s never really been able to put his finger on what it is, but he sees it on the periphery of everything Hawkins touches. It’s not something you can see if you look at it head on, like a migraine aura or one of those floaty things you get in your eyes sometimes.

A couple of days after Halloween, though, Eddie plummets headfirst into the weird that makes the town of Hawkins churn.

He’s skipping school, because O’Donnell has it out for him, swear to god, and he’s flying up a back road on the outskirts of town when the weird comes striding out of the woods to his right. 

It’s a fucking kid, and he’s driving too fucking fast to be able to stop in time but he slams hard on the brakes of his van anyway. The back fishtails and the brakes screech and the air smells like burning rubber, but he comes to a halt, and he didn’t feel the sickening thump-thump that he’s been bracing for. His heart is in his fucking throat, his head pounding, hands sweating, and he is trembling from head to toe.

Eddie launches himself out of the driver’s seat. The kid - the girl, middle school aged, curly hair that falls just to her ears, flannel and jeans - is standing there with her hand out toward the van. She’s posed like a comic book superhero, feet planted, shoulders back, and… her nose is bleeding. The van’s grille is dented like… Eddie can’t even bring himself to think about it. It’s like she stopped the fuckin’ thing with her mind ro some shit.

He definitely needs to cool it on the weed.

Eddie scrambles for something to say, but all he can come up with is a choked out, “Holy shit, kid.”

And that’s how he ends up with ‘Jane’ in the passenger seat of his van. That’s not her real name. Eddie’s not sure how he knows it but he knows it. She says she’s going to see her mother, and Eddie’s not good with silence so he tries to ask her questions, make conversation. She does what she can, but her grasp of language isn’t… great, and Eddie finds himself trying to fill in the blanks and coming up short.

He thinks she must be a runaway who's finally grown tired of not being home. She’s clean, though, and she looks fed, but she looks like she doesn’t sleep all that much, and Eddie wonders what it was about her home life that made her run in the first place. And the further and further they get outside of Hawkins, the more he wonders how she ended up in his little town anyway.

“Hey, kid, uh,” Eddie begins, unsure how to even say what he’s thinking. “You’re not, like, a kidnapping victim or anything, are you? You didn’t escape from, like…” At the word escape, Jane draws in an anxious breath. 

Eddie hears about it in the news sometimes, about kids that are snatched and murdered and the awful, awful things people do to them. He remembers Adam Walsh in eighty one.

“Kid, are you safe?”

“I am safe,” says the girl, but she doesn’t seem so sure.

When they pull up in front of the little house, the last name Ives painted in swooping curls on the mailbox, Eddie puts the van in park and shuts it off.

“I should probably, uh, talk to an adult,” he says. “This is very weird, Jane, and I just want to make sure, uh…”

He doesn’t know what he wants to make sure. Make sure he’s not dropping this kid off into a death trap? Make sure there’s an actual human person behind the door of this house, and that that person isn’t some weirdo who wants to hurt the kid he almost ran over with his van? If she’s just a runaway, though, pulling up at home alongside an eighteen year old boy with long hair that smells like weed will just get the cops called on him.

“No,” Jane says when Eddie unbuckles his seatbelt. “It is okay. You do not have to come with me. Thank you for the ride.”

It might be the most she’s said at one time, the whole way over here. The urgency in her voice just makes Eddie even more anxious to leave her. 

“I really, really should. There’s some sketchy people out there, okay? I just need to make sure this is someplace safe for you.”

Why the fuck does he even care? She’s just some weird kid that he almost hit with his van on the outskirts of his very weird town. He might as well just drop her here and go, get the hell out of dodge and away from whatever brand of weird he’s just stumbled his way into.

But if he sees this kid’s face on the news in two days, Eddie will never fucking forgive himself.

“Wait here, then,” Jane says. “And once I go inside, you can go. This is a safe place. My mother is inside. Please.”

“Fine. Fine. Go ahead, then.”

She goes. She’s walking slow up to the house, like she’s nervous too, and it makes Eddie all the more uneasy about letting her walk away.

She knocks (at her own house?) and then there’s a woman behind the door. There’s no recognition in the woman’s expression, and she closes the door in Jane’s face again. And just as Eddie is about to get out of the van and go up there, Jane puts her arm out toward the door, just like she’d done with his van, and the door swings inward.

What. The fuck. 

He must be hallucinating. Right? The woman who answered the door before must have just opened it back up again. Right? Because that’s not possible. Magic isn’t real. This is real life. …Right?

Eddie sits there, trying to make sense of what he’s just seen, but he convinces himself he must have just been seeing things wrong. It must have been someone inside the house opening the door for Jane.

And if that's not the case? If this kid has magic fucking powers, if she can stop Eddie's van and open up the front door of a house she is clearly not welcome in, why shouldn't he want to fucking hightail it in the other direction? He's no hero. This isn't a Hellfire campaign. Maybe Jane isn't the one that's in danger, here. Maybe Jane is the dangerous one.

Eddie goes, but after about five minutes his paranoia and worry for this little kid gets the better of him, and he turns around.

He’s just gonna drive past, just circle the block to see if everything looks okay. One more time won’t hurt. Maybe he got a fucked up bag of weed, making him more paranoid than usual, but Hawkins is a weird goddamn place, and this doesn’t seem like your usual run of the mill kind of weird. It feels a little dark, a little sinister. 

That girl had a bloody nose when Eddie got out of his van. The grille did not look like that this morning when he left the trailer. (Did it?) The way she talks, the body language, the way she really stood there and faced down Eddie’s van with her hand out like she knew she would be able to stop it. It’s weird. And if nothing else, now Eddie’s a little bit fucking curious, okay? 

So he circles the block where the Ives house sits, and as he drives past, the fucking lights in the front room are flickering.

So he sits. And he waits. And it’s dark outside by the time the front door swings open again and fucking Jane comes striding out clutching a wad of cash in her fist. What the fuck. She spots Eddie and glares at him, but then she wrenches open the passenger side door and gets in.

“Drive,” she says, and Eddie does. “We’re going to Chicago.”

[cardinal-copia-popia]

What do you think the Papas we're like as children? Any HCs for those?

This was fun to think about, so thank you!

Primo - Primo was a very sickly child. Because he spent a lot of his time in bed, he had a lot of time to read, which is how he became so knowledgeable in all things arcane. And because he was bedridden, he dreamed of being outside, among nature. Any chance he got, he would go into the Abbey garden with his mother and help her tend to the plants. Being outside in the fresh air was what eventually helped him get well. He was serious, almost like Secondo, but with a thirst for knowledge. He would spend his leisure time outside with a book a few reading levels above that of his peers.

Secondo - I picture Secondo as being a very serious child. Perhaps on the shy side. He didn't get into trouble like Terzo did. Even though there was only a three-month age gap between them, people often thought Secondo was older by his overall demeanor (not to mention his height). This allowed him to fit in better with the older kids. He much preferred to stay inside and do things with his hands, like build and paint model cars and things like that.

Terzo - Terzo was a sweet boy. A handful, sure, with a knack for getting into trouble, but there was not a malicious bone in his body. He was very much an extrovert. He looked at the world with childlike wonder and was intent on having the most fun possible. He would get into trouble because of pranks and things, but it was always out of sheer fun and never malice. And he always wanted to please Primo, seeing as Primo was more of a father to him than Nihil. He kept up with his studies simply because Primo wanted and expected him to, even if Terzo might not have been the best student. Though, people on the outside might not realize some of his "acting out" was simply to mask the pain he felt from losing his mother when he was so young. That loss shaped him more than even he realizes sometimes.

Copia - Copia was a painfully shy child, at least around most people. It always seemed to him as soon as he started to have fun, the other children would begin to mock and tease him, which only made him withdraw further and further into his shell. So, instead, he played with his rats. He had more fun with them anyway. He would sing to them, perform for them, and tell them all of his hopes and dreams. His rats never judged him. Copia grew up thinking no one loved him and only really had Sister Imperator as a parent-like figure. When he got a little older, he became friends with Terzo, and Copia began looking up to him as a role model. Only then did he come out of his shell a little more. He was still shy and nervous, but being friends with Terzo put him in the spotlight a bit more than he would have been otherwise.

[abbeybutnottheroad]

Somewhere in Italy

(Part 1/2)

I heard Grapejuice and thought about drinking wine with Harry in Italy, because even though I adore winter, I had a sudden longing for summer.

In the story Harry IS famous BUT the reader doesn’t know he is.

Hope you like it.

Pairing: Y/N & Harry

AND be warned, there’s smut in the next part, which will be posted one of the next days

Word count: 5961

(Btw I DO NOT speak Italian, so I hope the few Italian translations are correct, otherwise I’m sorry)

The sun was shining down upon the grey pavement, making it almost unbearable to tread on with bare feet. That didn’t stop Y/N from doing it though. She found it one of the most joyous things in the summertime. Walking around, enjoying the outside without being constricted to wearing shoes. This way she got to feel the earth in all its forms beneath her. And it felt wonderful. If she could do it all year around, she would. Unfortunately, though, hypothermia is very real.

But right now, it was mid-July, the days were long and warm, the nights short and starry, and she was waltzing around in her own little world, exploring the town in Italy where she usually would go on vacation. The town was very small and consisting of all she loved about the Italian culture. Everything looked like it was painted with beautiful and artistically curved brush strokes, looking simultaneously random and carefully considered. It had narrow cobbled streets, with compact crooked houses, barely making room for each other. A palette with all the warm and bright colours you could imagine covering every surface.

It wasn’t an abnormality for Y/N to walk around in her own little world. In fact, she did it more than what was probably considered healthy. But in a place like this, she just couldn’t help it.

The first time she went here she had bought a little bookstore, not able to refuse the idyllic idea of owning such a precious little one-of-a-kind thing. It was only open for two months every summer, the two months she would be here of course. But sometimes during the small vacations as well, like if she for some reason didn’t spend Christmas with her family, or during spring break. The local people of the town were always glad to see her and greeted her with great joy whenever she was back. Some even brought her flowers she could put out in the little store; others brought her wine which she much enjoyed drinking in her little garden behind her house, that she rented out when she wasn’t occupying it herself.

Walking down along the promenade, Y/N was greatly occupied by the heavenly view of the sunset over the ocean. Her habit of daydreaming had seemingly made her unaware that something was wrong. It wasn’t until she could hear the bottom of her tote bag rip, dropping all the twenty-or-so books inside to the cobbled ground beneath, that the real world got her attention again. Too late, unfortunately. Y/N wasn’t usually one to curse, however she couldn’t help but let a hissed fuck fall from her lips. Looking defeatedly at the mess, she could do nothing else but bend down, picking the books up one by one, carefully examining them to see if any damage had been done. When she got to book number seven, it became more of a struggle to find how she was ever going to carry all of them home, seemingly an impossible task to balance all twenty books in her arms. She stood up and started to unfold a plan in her head about how she could do this in the most practical way, until a deep voice pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Hai bisogno di aiuto?”

She couldn’t help but let a shriek leave her at the unexpected sound, nearly dropping some of the books again. But the man that had suddenly appeared in front of her was quick to reach out both of his hands, stabilizing the books in her arms again.

“Grazie.” Y/N said as a reflex, only then looking up to see who had come to her rescue.

Before her stood a man. And a heavenly one at that. He was out running it seemed, his tall figure covered in a grey t-shirt with the sleeves bend up, showing off more of his strong arms, the left one painted with ink all over, the right one only containing a few drawings. Shorts showed off his legs, another tattoo peeking out from the fabric which stopped mid-thigh, and she couldn’t help but think how she really wanted to see the rest of that tattoo. Just out of pure curiosity, nothing else. To her despair, black, squared sunglasses were covering his eyes, but she was nonetheless convinced that his face was one made by the gods. A smile so charming that even though the Italian sun was burning hot, that smile would be the reason she finally melted if she looked at it long enough.

“Vuoi che ti aiuti? Uhm, Po-posso poartare alcuni dei li-libri per te?” The man stuttered in a half Italian, half - what sounded like a - British accent. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, and he looked at her waiting to see if she had completely understood what he said, hoping internally that he hadn’t accidentally said anything inappropriate. It had happened to him a few too many times.

Y/N couldn’t help but smile at his politeness. Though she didn’t want to put him through the misery of not knowing, that he could easily communicate with her in his native tongue, as he seemed to find his lack of finesse for the Italian language a bit embarrassing.

“Thank you so much for wanting to help me. I do speak English if you would rather prefer that?” Y/N asked, tilting her head the slightest bit. She watched as a slow smile erupted on his face, followed by a defeated chuckle.

“Is my Italian really that bad?”

“No, no don’t worry, everything you said was right,” Y/N quickly reassured him, “but a British accent is kind of hard to hide”

“Yeah, I can’t really run from that.” He chuckled again, scratching the back of his neck “You shouldn’t, I love British accents.” Y/N uttered before she could even think about what she was saying. Her eyes went big, and she could feel her face heating up the moment she realized what it had sounded like. God no, that was inappropriate. She didn’t want this stranger, who she had just met, thinking that she was coming on to him. Not so soon anyways. But his reaction was another than she’d expected. His eyes, like hers, had a moment of surprise, before his whole expression changed to a more cocky one, and a smirk formed on his lips.

“You do? Mmh, that’s good to know.”  

“I- I didn’t mean it like that, I just… uhm. I’m Y/N” she said. Instead of stuttering her way through an apology, a change of subject would do the situation good she thought.

“I’m Harry.” He replied, reaching out his hand for her to take. “It’s lovely to meet you. Do you need me to carry them somewhere for you?” he then asked, after letting go of her hand again, and gesturing down towards the ground where the rest of the books were laying, which Y/N momentarily had forgotten all about.

“You really don’t need to; I don’t want to bother you.” “You’re not bothering me, I’m offering.” He said so genuinely that Y/N couldn’t’ help but take him up on his kind offer. Anything else would be rude. And besides, his company didn’t seem all that bad so far.

“I guess you’re right. Yes, thank you so much. I live just down the street from here.”

Harry nodded, before bending down to pick up the 13 or so books with ease, stabilizing them in his arms. “Lead the way.”

The two of them walked side by side, down the beautiful promenade in silence for a couple of minutes, before curiosity got the best of Harry.

“What are you doing with this many books?” he asked, looking at the old hardbacks laying in his arms.

“I own a bookstore.” Y/N casually shrugged, not really thinking of it as an impressive thing. Harry did, though.

“No way! You do?” he exclaimed with excitement. “That is so cool.” He shook his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe it. He was very fond of books himself and thought he had quite the collection at home. But it was nothing compared to owning a bookstore.

“You think so?” Y/N asked. That wasn’t the reaction she had expected, usually people that weren’t from this little town thought it sounded lonely or boring, as if most bookstore owners were somewhat weird or antisocial and introverted people.

“Of course! Is it here? In this town?” Harry asked eagerly, now wanting nothing more than to see the place. He could only imagine what treasures the charming girl beside him had collected.

“Yes. It’s just at the other end of the promenade, down a little street, hidden away between two buildings.” Y/N explained, making Harry furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

“But shouldn’t I help you carry these to the store instead?” “I’ve closed it for today. I’m just taking these home to fix them, some of them have pages falling out and are very worn.” Y/N explained to which Harry nodded, silently disappointed that he wouldn’t be visiting the store today.

As they approached a small two-story building, painted in a light-yellow colour Y/N slowed down and turned to look at Harry. “This is me.” His eyes scanned over the building while smiling to himself, as he could imagine her living there. Cozy and small, all windows adorned with bouquets of flowers in every colour, the white curtains pulled to the side to let the sunlight in.

“You can come in if you want?” Y/N muttered unsure if he was in fact just being polite, or if he did take an interest in maybe getting to know her better, as she had taken an interest in him. Harry turned his eyes away from the building, looking at Y/N instead, a smile adorning his face as he proclaimed, “I would love to.”

Inside Y/N’s small house, it looked just as he had imagined. Nearly every surface of every wall was covered in some kind of art. Posters, paintings, sculptures, flowers, plants. A whole wall in the living room was dedicated solely to a bookcase, filled to the rim with books. Earthly and relaxing colours were all around, making the space seem much less messy, than you could otherwise imagine it would. Y/N stepped over to a small dresser, standing in the hallway leading to some stairs at the end. She carefully put the books down, and turned to look at Harry, who seemed lost in a trance, studying every inch of her small house.

“This is my living room, through there is the kitchen and a door out into the little garden I have. You can go out there if you want, I just need to get these books upstairs into my office.” She said, reaching out her hands to take the books he so politely still was holding.

“Let me help you with that, don’t want you to drop them all again.” he chuckled, clutching the books in his arms a bit tighter, so she couldn’t take them from him.

Y/N looked at him for a moment before a small smile formed on her face as she shook her head slightly. Figuring there was no point in arguing with him, as she was certain he wouldn’t give in.

Her sweet voice just barely reached his ears, as she shyly uttered a Thank you, before once again picking up the books and making her way up the stairs.

Harry obediently followed behind her, trying to be somewhat of a gentleman. Though it was hard, as her small sundress flickered a bit with every stair she climbed, giving him a better view of the soft, tanned thighs hidden beneath. Dirty thoughts overtook his mind, thoughts about what it would feel like to trace his fingers up her legs, he bet himself they would be soft. He thought about how he would leave goosebumps on her skin, as she would shiver at the pleasure of his touch. How he himself would get goosebumps just by the privilege of getting to touch her.

Feeling guilty, he shook his head cursing himself, as he tried to shake the thoughts off him.

“You’ve just met her you creep, Jesus.” He whispered to himself.

“Did you say something?” Y/N turned to look at him, as they’d both finally reached the top.

“No, nothing.” Harry quickly stammered, feeling heat rush to his cheeks at the embarrassment of nearly being caught.

“Alright” Y/N just grinned, willingly believing him.

After a few steps in the narrow hall they were now occupying, Y/N turned to her left, and used her elbow, opening the door into another room. The floorboards creaked slightly as she stepped further inside, laying the books on a dark-brown, mahogany desk, standing in front of a window, that Harry assumed overlooked her small garden, she had referred to earlier.

“You can just put them over here.” she said, standing behind the desk, while quickly organising the books into different piles.

Harry obeyed, carefully putting the books down, feeling a small relief in his arms as he had carried them around for quite a while now.

“So, this is your office?” he asked, looking around him. It resembled her living room a lot, though smaller. A little bookcase was stood against the wall opposite the door, adorning books that all had labels on the side of them. He walked a bit closer until he could see what the labels read. “Repaired”, “Needs new back,”, “Pages falling out”, “Needs new front,”, “Repaired”,” Repaired”, “Keep?” and so on.

“You really fix all these books yourself?” He asked, not having thought that he could’ve been more astonished by the girl that he only had met a mere hour ago.

“Yeah, I do. It’s kind of a hobby of mine, I guess.” Y/N quietly said, not seeming like she cared for bragging about any of her talents, even though Harry thought that bragging would be thoroughly acceptable in a situation like this.

“That’s really impressive, Y/N.”  

Her heart quickened its pace the slightest bit at his praising words, and she quickly looked down, investigating some of the books on her desk, so he couldn’t see her now rosy cheeks.

Looking further around the room, seeming in no hurry to leave at all, Harry noticed an old record player standing in the corner, and at least a 100 vinyl records, stacked beside it. Of course, he thought to himself, this girl is like taken straight out of the 70’s.

“Do you, do you want something? I have water, soda, wine, coffee?” Y/N asked, walking around her desk to stand in front of it.

“I would love-” Harry was just about to accept her offer, a cup of coffee and more time to talk with her seeming like the best evening he could think of, but his phone rang before he could finish his sentence. He quickly pulled it out of his pocket, muttering an “excuse me” before stepping out of the room to answer.

Y/N, who was now left alone for the first time since she met him, could finally gather her thoughts around the whole thing. She felt completely mesmerized by the ridiculously handsome man that was currently in her house. Rarely had she met someone so sincere and real, who she felt like she could listen to talk until the end of the world. At the same time, of course, she wanted to pounce him, in the truest sense of the word. Or she wanted him to pounce her, as she was much too shy to insinuate anything like that. It was like a fire awoke inside her whenever he merely looked at her. Caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t even notice when Harry appeared again, having finished his phone call.

“Y/N? Are you alright?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed as a worried expression was covering his face.

“Oh yeah, of course, sorry. I was just uhm… thinking. Is everything alright with you?” She asked referring to the call, eagerly turning the attention away from herself.

“Yeah, well no. Uhm. I really wish I could stay, but that was my friend who I’m here with. He’s managed to lock himself out of our house. Prober bonehead he is. So, I’ve got to go.” Harry explained, looking rather annoyed by the whole situation.

Y/N felt her heart drop a bit, at the thought of him leaving and only nodded her head slightly in understanding.

They made their way back downstairs, Y/N following behind him this time, all the way to her front door. Before he opened it, Harry turned around to face her, taking a step closer, so their chests were nearly touching. He looked down at the girl in front of him, wishing more than ever that it would be appropriate to kiss her goodbye.

It wouldn’t.

“I’m really sorry,” Harry said again. She could tell that he meant it, he really didn’t want to leave, as much as she didn’t want him to.

“It’s not your fault Harry. Thank you so much for your help, I don’t know how I would’ve made it home without you. I am in great debt to you.”

“Can I see you again sometime?” he uttered the words so quickly that she almost didn’t catch them. But when they finally sunk into her brain, she couldn’t help the butterflies swirling around in her stomach and the smile that appeared on her face. Y/N thought he’d never ask.

“Uhm wait here two seconds.” She said, holding a hand up in front of him, a silent gesture for him to stay put, before she ran off to the back of the house somewhere, leaving Harry a bit worried that she just wanted to avoid answering his question, and feeling like a dickhead. Of course, she wasn’t interested in seeing him again. She didn’t even know him. She was just being polite, he thought to himself. He just couldn’t help how he acted around her, it was like she-

before he could finish his thoughts, Y/N came jogging back, stopping to stand in front of him again, this time with a little piece of paper in her hand, which she shyly held out.

“What’s this?” he asked curiously, long fingers gripping for the little note, with something scribbled on it.   “It’s uhm… it’s the address to my store. You can come visit it. If you want to of course. I mean you don’t have to feel obligated to do it, I- “

“I’ll stop by tomorrow.” Harry interrupted, already longing for tomorrow to arrive. Y/N’s face lit up, losing all sign of the worry it held just seconds before.

“Really?”

“Of course, I can’t wait to see it.”

Once again, the sincerity behind his words nearly had her jumping him right then and there.

“It was lovely meeting you Y/N,” Harry then said, reaching out his hand for her to take just as when they’d met an hour earlier. But this time, he didn’t shake it. He slowly lifted her hand to his lips, before leaving a lingering kiss, making everything in her tingle.

She could feel it all the way down in her toes it seemed.

He reached behind him, opening the door to the outside world which had long been forgotten by the both of them.  

“Until tomorrow.” He grinned, turning around and leaving Y/N with nothing else to do than think about him.

🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

Y/N was daydreaming again, like so often before. This time it was about late-night conversations and adventures, road trips to the hidden away treasures of Italy and drinking wine. And one particular person kept appearing in these daydreams. Certain brown curls and green eyes, dimpled smile and tattooed arms, were nearly haunting her by now.

It was around 4pm and she had been waiting all day for Harry to visit. Each time the door to her store opened making the little bells above it chime, her heart dropped a little further into her stomach when she didn’t see the charming man she was longing for. Maybe he had changed his mind? Or maybe he had never intended to visit in the first place and had just been polite yesterday? Though a part of her didn’t want to believe that. She had seen his eyes as he had asked if he could see her again. Those hadn’t been the eyes of a deceiving man.

“Alright” Y/N whispered to herself, “If he isn’t here by 4.30, I’m closing up.” She then took a deep sigh and went into the back of the store to make herself a much-needed cup of coffee.

As she came back, she couldn’t help the small squeal that left her, when she saw that she wasn’t alone in the store, because leaning against the front desk was Harry.

Harry.

Y/N’s daydreaming images had not done him justice at all. He looked even better than her brain led her to remember.

He wasn’t wearing running clothes anymore but was instead clad in blue jeans and a simple white t-shirt, a pair of squared sunglasses lifted on his head, pushing some of his curls back.

A smile immediately covered Harry’s lips, as the woman he had spent all his time thinking about came into view. Another small, flowy sundress was covering her frame, and he partly cursed her, partly himself, for what those dresses did to him.

“Hello Love.”

“I… I didn’t think you’d show up.” Y/N said, and the tone in her voice nearly made Harrys heart break in two. She looked genuinely stunned that he was standing there, in the middle of her little store.

“Now, why would I be stupid enough, to let such a lovely girl as yourself down, huh?” Harry charmed with a smile that made Y/N question why she ever doubted him. And she internally scolded herself for voicing that concern. What a great way to start a conversation.

“So, what do you think?” She asked, mirroring his smile and gesturing around her shop.

Once again Harry found himself looking in awe around a place she owned. He took a few careful steps towards the bookshelves lined parallel to each other throughout the whole bookstore. There were about twenty of them, nearly floor to ceiling of old, well-kept books. He attentively slid his fingers over the wrinkled spines, telling him, that though they were taken care of, they had also been fully enjoyed in the hands of many curious minds over the years. Every title of what you would consider classic literature was found in here, both English and Italian.  

“Wow, this is, I mean… Wow.” He was astounded, turning around in the small space, careful not to miss a single thing. The bookcase she had in her living room, was nothing compared to this.

“Wow?” Y/N asked, as if trying the word on her tongue. “So, you do like it?”

“This is one of the coolest things I’ve ever seen” Harry muttered, though it sounded as if it was more to himself, than to her.

“You really think so?” Y/N couldn’t help the blush that crept onto her cheeks, and she thought to herself that it might as well stay there, since it seemed a habit of his to make her all flushed.   “Are you kidding? I think this just became my new favourite place.”

Y/N watched as he pulled a book out of the shelve, carefully turning it in his hands. He looked over it in adoration, flicking through a couple of pages, before putting it back again.

“Do you want something? Water, soda, a glass of wine?” She asked, pulling Harry out of the trance he appeared to be in.

He looked at her for a moment, as if the words hadn’t fully gotten to him yet before a smile erupted on his face. This time a phone call didn’t interrupt his answer.

“You have wine here?”

Y/N shrugged and chuckled with a sly smile, “We’re in Italy, of course I have wine.”

“I would love a glass then.”

“Red or white? Or pink?”

Harry pondered for a second before deciding, “Red, please”

Y/N went to the back of the store again and appeared soon after with two glasses in one hand and an opened bottle of wine in the other.

“Follow me.” She said, brushing past Harry, who bit his tongue to stop himself from declaring, that he without hesitation would follow her anywhere she’d like.

Y/N led them in between some of the bookshelves where a door, to Harry’s surprise, was hidden in the dark green wallpaper. It opened into a little storage room filled with boxes.

“These are all the books that I haven’t’ gotten to repairing yet. They’re all just laying here waiting for a new home.”

“How do you get all these books?” Harry asked, as they continued their way out of the storage room, through another door located across from the other.

“Some I go out and buy myself, some get send to me by people who want to give the books a new life. Sometimes people exchange a book they don’t want anymore, for a book they find here, it varies a lot actually.”

“That’s  really cool”

Y/N didn’t answer but instead stopped in her tracks and turned around to stand face to face with Harry. He tilted his head to the side as if confused.

She smiled at him and said, “I thought we could sit here”

For the first time since they’d stopped walking, Harry took his eyes off the girl in front of him and looked around the new location. She had let him to a little back porch at the other side of the bookstore. A narrow garden was in view in front of them, lining up to two other gardens on each side, belonging to the houses the bookstore was squished in between. The porch itself was filled with blankets and pillows, and one garden lounger with a small table beside it.

Not before long, they we both seated comfortably on the pillows, leaning up against the sliding doors with a generously filled glass of wine in their hands. It was an idyllic scene.

“How long have you had the store?” Harry asked, before taking the first sip of wine.  

Y/N contemplated for a while, before answering. “Two years this summer.” She nodded thoughtfully. She hadn’t even realized it had been that long.

“What made you move to Italy to run a bookstore?”

“Well, I haven’t moved here permanently, I’m usually only here during vacations, primarily summer. But I don’t know. I guess I got tired of the boring 9-5 life. I mean I’ve never wanted to work like that, never wanted to be a part of a workaholic world where I was just one in a million who got up at 6 every day and home at 5, just to think about work when I got home also and never really relaxing. I’ve never wanted to be one of those people who were too busy to live their own life. But suddenly I had become that person. I work for a publishing company, which I love, but I was always either working or thinking about working and well, I guess this was my way to escape that, sort of. A least for the periods of time I’m here.”

Harry listened carefully to the words that suddenly seemed to flow from her mouth. This was the most he’d ever heard her talk and he silently begged for her to never stop. He could sit and listen to her thoughts forever it seemed.

Y/N on the other hand felt like she’d talked too much, never really having been a fan of talking about herself.

“Why are you here?” She asked instead, turning the attention away from her own life. “I’m here on a vacation with one of my mates. His family is from Italy, and I happen to have a house here, so we thought we would make a trip out of it.”

“You have a house here as well?” Y/N asked in surprise. She couldn’t help the blossoming feeling erupting in her stomach, as she thought that meant they were destined to meet at some point, whether it be yesterday or a year from now. It was a comforting feeling to her. It was comforting to know, that he had always been right there within reach, but just out of sight.

“Yeah, I do, I’ve been in love with the town for a couple of years now also. I couldn’t help myself.”

“What do you do for a living, if I may ask?”

Harry observed her for a minute, while she patiently waited for his answer. And when he didn’t immediately reply she felt like she had said something wrong. He scanned her face a couple times more, before clearing his throat and finally responding.

“I’m a musician, nothing special really.”

The way he had answered seemed strange to her. He had muttered the words out, not necessarily sounding angry or sad. More so, he sounded tired.

“That’s wonderful. I would love to hear some of your music. You could play it to me sometime if you want? I promise I’m a good audience.” “Hmm, I bet you are.” He chuckled, a smile finally adorning his face again.

And so, there they sat, in the back garden of Y/N’s bookstore, cozy and content for a couple of hours, slowly watching the pink and orange colours overtaking the sky as the sun went down.

Though, an inevitable question seemed to have awaited in the back of Harry’s mind all evening. Now, a few glasses in, he finally felt like he had the courage to ask, or more so, the courage to hear the answer.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” The words left him carefully, apprehensively. Y/N looked him once over before responding nonchalantly.

“I’m engaged actually.”  

Harry choked on his wine as the words left her lips, and he turned to look at Y/N with wide eyes, only to see her nearly crying with laughter at his reaction. She was joking.

“God you’re a little minx, you know that? Nearly gave me a bloody heart attack.”

“I’m sorry,” Y/N uttered between erratic sounds of laughter, “I just couldn’t help it.” Trying to calm herself down, she put her hand up to cover her mouth.

Harry wished she hadn’t and felt an urge to reach out and remove her hand again.  He could listen to the sound of her laughter for the rest of his life and die a happy man. It was better than music. As her laughter died down, she turned to look at Harry again, to find him sitting utterly still with a small grin, already looking at her, as if wating for her to continue.

“I had one, he’s my ex-boyfriend now. I’ve come to realize while I’m here, that I am fleeing from him as well.” She explained.

Harry tilted his head with a curious look. “Why?”

“He wasn’t treating me very nicely I suppose.”

Harry tensed beside her. He barely dared ask, but he needed to know nonetheless, so he could figure out to which degree he should hunt this certain ex-boyfriend down and hurt him for ever treating a girl like her badly. How anyone could ever treat someone like her badly, was beyond him. Unfathomable. Y/N felt how his posture changed slightly and saw his hand clench around the glass.  

“Don’t worry,” she said, “he didn’t hit me or anything like that. It was more psychological, I guess. Slowly he just took the joy of what I liked doing away from me. When I would be reading or writing or even just working sometimes, he would scold me for being boring or antisocial. He always blamed me for never wanting to spend time with him, even though in hindsight, he was the one always away, out with friends or gaming on his computer. But, you know, slowly I started to believe him and stopped doing all those things. At the end of the relationship everything happened on his terms, and we only did stuff he liked you know? I lost myself. Then I kicked him out of my apartment, travelled here to get away and fell in love with the place. I bought this store as a promise to myself I would come back. And it’s just starting to feel like I’ve found myself again.”  

Y/N took a deep breath and a sip of wine, trying to calm her thoughts down from the apparent ramble she had gotten caught in. She realized then that she had never actually spoken to someone about this, about these feelings and thoughts that led to her leaving in the first place. The explanation she came up with to her parents, were only a few sentences of it’s just because I need a change, I need to try something new, to explore the world a little. Which wasn’t entirely false, but it wasn’t entirely the truth either.

She looked down into her near empty glass for a couple of seconds, before she felt a warm hand embracing hers, that was laying on the ground at her side.

Harry couldn’t help it any longer. He needed to touch her, to comfort her, and his hand had acted like it had a mind of its own.

A tingling sensation went through both their bodies. It felt right, and neither of them would have minded sitting there for the rest of the night, simply holding hands and listening to each other’s spontaneous thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N uttered, turning her hand a bit so she could grip around Harrys tighter.

“For what?”

“Oversharing, I guess.” She answered unsurely.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Harry replied in such a tone, that she couldn’t help but turn to look at him, meeting his eyes for the first time in a while.

A serious look was on his face. “Don’t ever feel like you’re oversharing. Not with me. I want to know everything. I asked because I wanted to know. Your thoughts and feelings are valid Y/N, I would love to hear about all of them.”

She smiled at his reassuring words, and a little while went by again where neither of them said anything before Harry broke the silence.

“What are you thinking?”

Y/N hummed. She felt a little wine drunk, but in a good way, in a comfortable way.

“I’m thinking it’s late, and I’m hungry.”

“We could go out and get dinner if you want?” Harry suggested, praying in his head that she would say yes. He wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her yet. At this point some part of him felt like he would never be.

As she seemed to ponder his suggestion, he made a new one, desperate to find a solution that would keep her with him. “Or we could go back to my place and make some dinner?”  

“That sounds lovely, but what about your roommate?”

“Ah, don’t worry about him. He’s not going to be home tonight.” Trying to hide the suggestive tone that easily could’ve appeared in his voice. He didn’t want to scare her off. But Y/N didn’t seem to mind as her eyes lit up and she grinned. “Even better.”  

Part 2

[peonierose]

Wildflower

Book: Open Heart

Pairing: Keiki Lahela (F!MC) x Koa Haulani (M!OC)

Words: 4,000+

Rating: Teen. A few curse words.

Summary: Keiki who still struggles with trusting guys and entering a new relationship after Dylan broke her heart, meets someone new. Will she give Koa a chance or will she let her fear of getting hurt win and therefore miss out on a great connection with Koa?

A/N: This is my submission for @springfeverpitch Thank you for giving us the chance to write amazing stories. So my base is 1st base. My word is lipgloss (it will be in color) and my sentence is "I thought you might like (blank), so I brought you some."

Sidenote: Thank you to these wonderful ladies without whom my story would’ve never be finished @annieruok94 💚 @txemrn 💚@socalwriterbee 💚 Thanks so much 💚

Two months ago…

Keiki

I was standing in front of a big oval mirror, putting on some lip gloss. The tube says coral crush. It’s my favorite.

My best friend Alexis, or Lexi for short, and I got ready at her place for a college party at the boy's fraternity house.

It’s the last party to ring in the semester finals.

Apparently there’s going to be plenty of hot guys and

»You should let go and get a groove on«

Lexis' words, not mine.

I chose a black satin halter-neck dress with a soft flaring skirt. It ended at the knees. I paired my dress with my favorite heeled ankle boots with pearl studs.

Making me a bit taller than my 5‘5 feet.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt this carefree and good. If my brother could see me now in my dress, I smiled.

Luna would just tell him to let me have fun, and he’d shake his head and yell ”Have fun, but please don’t get pregnant. I’m not ready to become an uncle yet.“

I love my brother, and now that we’ve repaired our relationship? He’s my rock. Any time I need advice, I can go to him.

I learned to trust him again and to forgave him, though we did come a long way to trusting each other once more.

It’s like Bryce said, ”Holding on to the past is painful. You should learn how to let go of the pain.“

I smiled at that. Because he’s right. Not that I’m going to tell him that. My brother's ego is already big enough, no need to inflate it even more.

I looked around Lexi's room for my little black and white striped purse. When I saw it, I took it and walked down the stairs, where Lexi was waiting for me.

”Looking good, Keiks.“ Lexi winks.

I rolled my eyes at her, and she laughed, snorted at the end.

She grinned at me and grabbed her car keys. When we’re inside the car, I wanted to put on a Britney Spears song.

But her next words stopped me.

”No Britney Spears songs. Last time we rode in the car together, you and Luna were singing Britney songs all the damn time. Please, no more Britney.“

I gasped.

”Really? I thought you liked her songs?“

”I lied. I didn’t want to say anything. Because you were having so much fun. But after listening to so many of her songs, I’ve gotta say it’s a no for me.“

I shook my head and grinned as I put on Shake it off by Taylor Swift.

Alexis laughed.

”That’s a song I approve of. This is why we’re best friends.“

I shook my head laughing.

The soft, salty breeze wafted through our hair and through the open sunroof of Lexi’s purple Jeep.

I lifted my hands up in the air as Alexis and I sang along to Taylor Swift's song – Shake it off.

A short drive later, we arrived at the party.

Alexis put the Jeep in park, turned off the ignition, and we got out.

Once outside, I stared at this huge beige painted house that sat on a freshly manicured lawn, surrounded by palm trees and hibiscus bushes. Making the night smell like a flower garden.

Several cars are already parked outside. People are milling on the lawn, drinking and laughing, when we arrived.

Looks like there wasn’t enough space to fit everyone.

Alexis and I exchanged a look and then just shrugged as we walked towards the entrance and almost got run over by a group of girls in neon bikinis.

Lexi and jumped out of the way.

So, this is what mayhem in the form of a college party looks like.

”Damn. Not what I expected.“ Lexi whistled.

I grinned as we got inside and saw people dancing everywhere on a makeshift dance floor.

One guy tried to grab my ass a mere second ago. I pushed his hand away. What a jerk.

If I wanted to be touched, I don’t want it to be some drunk person. Who won’t even remember tonight and is just trying to score.

”Lexi! Keiki!“ A redhead squealed. It’s Maren. She’s super nice. We've all hung out before. She’s followed by Trina, Malia and Ailani.

”So glad you guys came. It would’ve been a snooze fest without you.“

She gave me and Lexi a hug and then dragged us deeper into the crowd.

Lexi points to the stage where they’re setting up a karaoke station.

”Oh my god. A karaoke station! I’ll go and sign us up.“

I sighed and can’t even get a word out.

Maren and the others grin.

”Looks like it’s going to be karaoke night later,“ she grinned at all of us.

Lexi came back, grinning widely. Not revealing what song she chose. Making my nerves flutter in anticipation.

When it’s time for us to sing, my knees shook a little because I’m really not into big crowds. I never was.

A mic turned on and a tall guy with long black hair grinned at all of us. His blue eyes sparkled with joy.

”Alright. Alright. Looks like we’ve got our first round of beautiful ladies ready to sing a song. So, what are you going to serenade us with?“

He grinned at Lexi who winked at him.

”Shoutout to my Ex by Little Mix,“ she said.

”We’re singing what?“ I whispered loudly next to Lexi.

”Just relax. It’s a good song. Try to have a good time.“

”Lexi, I’m serious. Of all the songs you could’ve picked…“ I spluttered.

”Trust me Keiks, you need this cathartic moment.“ Lexi grinned softly at me.

My friends gave me an encouraging smile and nod. And some of my nerves settled a little.

As the first tunes came on I needed a second to get into the song, but once I did, all nerves just fell away, and I actually enjoyed myself together with my friends.

Koa

Frat parties aren’t really my scene. I prefer smaller gatherings to large ones.

I came because friends of mine tried to get me out of my funk.

Not only that, but I’ve been tired and restless lately, so they begged me to come to this party.

As my best friend Keanu pointed out earlier this morning

»Dude. Get out of your house. Stop studying. And just let loose, you need to get laid man.«

Subtle as always.

I chuckled to myself. I’m glad I have him by my side. He always knows when to kick my ass and get me out of my bubble.

So, here I am. At a party that’s already in full swing.

I squeezed all my 6‘2 feet through the crowd. As I tried to find some space where I can actually move around and not get elbowed in the ribs all the damn time.

As I get further into the crowd, I can see there’s a stage where some girls are singing karaoke.

About to walk away, I noticed one of the girls singing.

That dress! Flowing like a river and hugging all the right places.

Her brown hair flings back and forth as she’s singing a song by Little Mix?

My sister loves that band, that's how I even know the song.

I keep walking up to the front, so I’m closer to the stage. To have an unobstructed view of the girl who’s singing.

»I swear you'll never bring me down«

»Shout out to my ex, you're really« quite the man«

»You made my heart break and that made me who I am«

»Here's to my ex, hey, look at me now«

»Well, I'm I'm all the way up«

»I swear you'll never, you'll never bring me down«

The other girls are hugging each other as they sing what seem to be the last lines.

I don’t even notice the other girls. It’s as if they faded into the background.

Because I only have eyes for the brunette.

Who is she? And how come I haven’t seen her before on campus? Maybe because I live off-campus?

There’s something underneath that radiant smile of hers that is pulling me in.

Perhaps it’s the sadness with the last notes. It’s as if her brown eyes are saying, please don’t hurt my heart.

Because I can tell that this song means a lot more to her than to the other girls on stage.

I ask myself who hurt her like that? As if my heart pulls me closer to her only to say »You’re safe with me.«

Pulled out of my thoughts by my best friend's voice.

”So that was a good start. Thank you to Lexi, Keiki, Trina, Malia and Ailani for this wonderful performance. So, who’s up next?“ Keanu said, his brown eyes sparkled, and he pushed his black hair out of his face.

I grinned when I saw my best friend on stage.

He pointed to each girl on stage. Then he pointed to the girl I was looking at.

Keiki. The name rolled off my tongue. It’s a beautiful name and it fits her.

I smiles as I made my way through the crowd. I really needed to find an opportunity to ask her out. Even if it’s just to dance tonight. I know I’ll regret it if I don’t.

If life has taught me anything? It’s to take chances. Even if it doesn’t work out the way you wanted it to. At least you can say you gave it your all.

Keiki

I got off-stage, and I knew I look med like a sweaty mess. I'm so thirsty, I knew I would rather not touch the alcohol they had to offer. I’m in need of water.

”I’m going to get me some water. You want some?“

Lexi shook her head.

”I’m good.“

”Alright. I’ll be right back.“

I navigated myself through the crowd as I tried to locate the kitchen in this giant house. It’s more like a maze than a house.

Meanwhile, I moved around drunk people, which is a sport in and of itself.

When I got to the kitchen, I push med the white wooden door open. Thankfully, there’s no one in here.

When I shut the door to the kitchen, the noise of the party was a little muted. Which gave me time to catch my breath.

I’m about to grab a bottle of water out of the fridge, when I heard the door opened again.

I turned around and did a double take when I saw the guy who walked in.

Cold air from the fridge blasted onto my face, as I’m holding on to the fridge door.

The water bottle I grabbed almost slipped out of my hands.

Where the hell did this guy come from? I haven’t seen him around. I had to look up, since he’s at least 6‘2 feet tall.

I swear, he looks like a real version of Ken.

Blond hair, bright sea green eyes, chiseled jaw.

He wore ripped jeans and a stark white shirt that stood out on his tan skin.

While I still stood there like an idiot. Unmoving. Mouth wide open and stared at him, like I’ve never seen a guy before, I try to mentally slap myself and to get out of my funk.

”Hi.“ He said as he walked closer.

Up close, his eyes looked as colorful as the green Severum fish. The rich green hue of the fish reminded me of this guy's eyes.

We’ve had a whole chapter on fish close to the end of the semester, so that’s why it’s so fresh in my mind.

”Hey.“ I waved nervously. Trying to smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace.

Can you say first awkward conversation? Get it together, Keiki. You’ve seen guys before.

But holy shit, none of them are like him.

”Did you try to escape the crowd too?“

I grinned, licking my lips.

”That obvious?“ I played with a strand of my hair. A nervous habit of mine. I’m usually not like one of those giggly girls, but for some reason he brings that out in me.

He walked over and reached around me to grab a water bottle from the still open fridge, his arm slightly brushed against my shoulder.

I got goosebumps all over my body, not just because of the cold air but because of skin on skin contact.

His cologne wafted towards me. Reminding me of the fresh and clean ocean.

He took a water bottle for himself and closed the fridge with a snap, making me pay attention to his next words.

”It’s not that. I wondered why a gorgeous girl like you would hide in here.“

I scoffed.

”I’m not hiding. I was getting some water for myself.“

”Sure.“

He nodded slowly and took a sip of his water.

Damn. Why does everything he does look sexy? Why can’t he be unattractive? It’d be easier not to like him.

He grinned as if he caught me staring at him. I blushed and looked away.

”I’m Koa by the way.“

”I’m Keiki.“

”Yeah, I saw you on stage. Great voice.“

”Oh…thank you. I was so nervous, but eventually, I had a lot of fun.“

I grinned at him, and he grinned back, two dimples showing in his cheeks.

Oh my god! I love dimples. I can’t stop looking at him. Feeling a magical pull.

But I tried to be careful, I didn’t want to fall for a pretty face. Only to get hurt again.

My spine stiffened and I leaned on the kitchen counter next to the fridge.

Hopefully, he didn’t notice anything about my posture changing.

The water bottle, half drunk, dangled from his fingertips.

”Do we have some classes together?“

He asked me and I thought back to my schedule. But I can't think of any classes I shared with Koa. I shook my head.

”I don’t think so. What’s your major?“ I asked.

”Marine biology.“

”Ah got it. That’s why our paths haven’t crossed. I’m studying to become a vet.“

He raised his eyebrows and smiled.

”No way! Damn that’s cool. But it’s a lot right?“

I nodded and laughed.

”It’s okay. The first semester was tough. Although I’m actually ahead of my reading schedule. And its fun. My brother is a surgeon. Becoming a vet felt more like my calling.“

He smiled softly, and it transformed his whole face from a pretty boy to a gorgeous guy.

I’m left speechless for a few seconds.

I smiled slowly and Koa grinned back.

”Smart and beautiful. Dangerous combo.“

My smile faded.

”If you’re trying to score, try again.“

His grin fell.

Oh, shit. I shouldn’t have said that. As I’m trying to scramble for another reply, his next words hit me.

”I was serious. I don’t give out compliments if I don't mean them.“

I raised my eyebrows.

”I…wasn’t trying to insinuate anything. It’s just… I’ve…“

He moved closer, making me want to move away. But I’m not able to escape his eyes. Which are full of understanding.

”No need to explain. I get it. When you’re ready, you can tell me. I can wait.“

”When?“

”You didn’t think I’d not ask you out, did you?“

”I could’ve said no. I just met you.“

He grinned.

”Something tells me you’re far too curious not to at least see if you like me.“

”Hmm. You think you’ve got me all figured out, don’t you?“

”I don’t think I’ve got you figured out at all. I don’t judge or assume something about others. I let time be the judge. People sometimes need time before they’re ready to share certain things, and that’s okay.“

A slow smile spread on my face, but I tried to tone it down.

”Let that smile spread. I’d love to see it.“

I grinned.

”There it is. You shouldn’t be scared to let others see it.“

My stomach took this moment to grumble loudly.

Koa laughed.

”Looks like someone is hungry.“

I turned beet red.

”Yeah. I…uh…forgot to eat earlier…“

He shook his head.

”We can’t have that. Let’s see what this kitchen has to offer. Unless the guys have eaten everything. Which wouldn’t surprise me.“

”Do you live here?“

”Would you judge me if I said yes?“

He turned his head and grinned at me.

”I wouldn’t. I was just curious.“ I said defensively.

”Relax. I’m just messing with you, Keiki. My best friend Keanu lives here. I live off-campus. I visit him from time to time here. But he usually hangs out at my place.“

”What about you?“

”I live off-campus too. I live with my brother and his fiancé.“

I took off my heels and hopped on the counter. My feet dangled in the air.

”Sounds good. And you save money by not having to pay for your own place.“

He opened the cupboards and got out a couple of bags and put them on the counter.

”Looks like I found our dinner. We have a fine selection of chips. Sour cream and onion, bacon. And salt and vinegar. And my personal favorite, Hawaiian Hurricane popcorn.“

I looked at him and when I saw the colorful bag, I almost sighed. It’s my favorite snack.

”You’re kidding? I love Hawaiian Hurricane popcorn. I always add…“

”…spicy cheese dip.“

We said at the same time and then laughed.

”Oh my god, I thought I was the only one who eats it this way. Can we check if there’s any?“

”Way ahead of you,“ he said.

He stepped closer to me until his jeans grazed against my bare legs. Making me shiver.

He handed me a jar of spicy cheese dip.

”God, I haven’t eaten this in a while.“ I sighed in bliss.

”I used to eat this so much my parents had to hide it from me.“

”My brother who eats his gross oatmeal tells me how Hurricane popcorn and spicy cheese dip is gross?“

I grinned as I dipped my popcorn into the cheese.

He stopped eating for a second to stare at me.

”You’re mocking oatmeal? Oatmeal is actually good for you.“

When I just stared at him.

”To each their own.“ He winked at me.

”Good answer.“

We kept eating popcorn until the whole bag is empty.

”Damn that was good.“ He said and I nodded. Licking my lips.

My lip gloss is completely gone by the time we’re finished.

His eyes wandered to my lips. And I felt my heart racing in my chest. My breath caught in my throat.

He moved closer until he’s only inches away from my lips. I can feel his breath on mine.

”You’ve got something right here…“

He wiped away some cheese dip from the corner of my mouth and licked it away.

”Thanks,“ my voice came out breathless.

”You’re welcome.“ His voice is deeper than before.

He brushed a strand of my hair and put it behind my left ear.

I don’t know who leaned in first, but I gripped him by his shirt collar to pull him closer to me.

He put his hands on my legs, leaning towards me.

At first, it was a feather-light touch of our lips.

His lips are soft and warm against mine. He tasted faintly of salt and cheese from the Hurricane popcorn.

I pushed my hand through his soft hair, pulling him closer.

As he let his hand wander to my neck. Cradling it. Deepening the kiss in turn.

We were both reaching for each other. Wanting more. I’ve never felt this way before.

Needing him like my next gulp of water.

We both break apart for what seems like hours.

We both breathed heavier and just tried to gather our thoughts.

When the silence stretched on for too long, he put both of his hands on my cheek and gave me a soft kiss on my temple.

Feeling a warmth spread through my stomach. A sensation I haven’t encountered yet. It’s as if I’m coming home.

And that’s when the panic settled in.

As if he felt it, he put a finger on my still swollen lips.

”You don’t have to say anything.“

I kept staring at him.

”We’ll figure out what we feel when we’re ready.“

I nodded at him. Not able to utter a word about what just happened.

Suddenly, the door opened and both Koa and I jumped at the sound. Making me grip his bicep.

When I saw it’s Lexi, I breathed out.

I thought it might be a drunk person mistaking the kitchen for the bathroom.

I hopped off from the counter as Lexi came inside. She saw me and Koa still close together.

Me, still gripping his bicep, blushing furiously. I let my hand fall.

A big grin spread across Lexi’s face.

”Oops, looks like I’ve interrupted you guys.“

Koa and I stared everywhere, just not at each other. Too caught up in what happened mere seconds ago.

Alexis broke the silence.

”I’m Alexis. Keiki‘s best friend. We come as a package deal.“

Koa chuckled, totally caught off guard.

”Nice to meet you. I’m Koa.“

He winces. Lexi must’ve tightened her grip. I shook my head, not able to hide my grin.

”Just to tell you. If you hurt Keiki. I’ll hurt you where it really hurts,“ she smiled sweetly.

Koa coughed.

”Alright. But I think Keiki can take care of herself. She seems like a strong girl.“ He said with a strong sense of confidence.

Both Alexis and I raised our eyebrows. Alexis slowly grinned as she turns to me.

”I like him, Keiks. He’s not stupid. And he’s nice to look at. You’ve got that whole Ken vibe going.“

Koa turned to me, and I just shrugged, still not able to meet his gaze. So, I looked at a point over his shoulder.

”Hey, don’t look at me,“ I retorted. But then I gave in and looked at him.

He smiled and his aquamarine eyes danced with delight.

He’s about to leave, but then turned back and got out his phone.

”Mind if we swap phone numbers?“

Alexis put her arm around my shoulders.

”Of course she doesn’t mind.“ I elbowed her and she laughed.

”What she said. I don’t mind.“

I untangled myself from Alexis and Koa and I exchanged numbers.

He grinned and he’s out the door.

When he’s gone. I turned to Lexi and we both squealed and danced around.

When the door opens again, we turned around only to see Koa who grabbed his water bottle next to the fridge.

”Forgot this. Nice dance moves, by the way, Keiki.“ He winked at me.

Alexis and I pressed our lips together. When he’s gone again we sat down on the kitchen floor and I leaned my head on Lexi’s shoulder.

”Oh my god. See? I told you that you‘d meet a hot guy. You should listen to me more often.“

”Yeah. You were. I won’t make a habit out of telling you that you were right. Otherwise, your ego will get ginormous.“

Lexi laughed and pulled her knees closer together. I put my hand around her knees and she squeezed my hand.

”According to my sister and brother, my ego is already big enough. But thanks, I appreciate hearing I helped you out. And who knows, maybe you can thank me at your wedding for bringing you two together.“

I snorted.

”Let’s not jump ahead. Koa and I just met. I don’t want to plan so far ahead.“

She turned her head and looked at me as if she picked up on something in my voice.

”What’s wrong Kei? Are you scared?“

I put my hand against my stomach, leaned against the cupboard and hugged my knees.

Not wanting to admit that, the way Dylan ended our relationship over a text, still haunts me.

The pain lessened. But all the memories, kisses and hugs we shared? Yeah, it’s still there and sneaks up on me from time to time.

I try not to think too much about Dylan. I’ve moved on. Though, I’ve been hesitant to go out with anyone.

It’s been over two years since I moved to Honolulu with my brother and his fiancé, Luna.

I’ve gotten better, being surrounded by family. But every time I meet a guy I actually like? I get scared he’ll hurt me like Dylan did.

So, that’s why I’m so hesitant to let anyone in. However I want to try to be more open-minded to new relationships.

From what I’ve seen so far, Koa seems really nice. And his kisses are fantastic.

Alexis bumps my shoulder, making me come out of my thoughts.

”Look! Just try to get to know him. Koa is a nice guy. I’ve heard good things about him. And if there’s no connection, then you’ll find someone even better.“

”What would I do without you?“ I said.

Alexis winked at me as she got up and offered me her hand.

”You’d make bad fashion choices.“

I grabbed her hand and stood up.

”Excuse you? I have an excellent fashion sense. Thank you very much.“

She put her head to the side, and together we walked outside the kitchen and joined our friends.

Singing and dancing the night away.

Koa

I’m still in a daze over the kiss with Keiki. Damn, I’m screwed. It’s as if we were trying to brand each other with our kisses.

Not that I’m complaining. I will never forget the way she tasted. And I know I won’t be able to get her out of my mind.

Before walking out of the house, I looked around for my phone and then I cursed. I must’ve left it in the kitchen. As I entered the kitchen, a slow grin spread across my face.

I looked at the counter and saw my phone sitting next to the fridge. I rolled my eyes at my stupidity. Someone could’ve walked in and taken it.

Before I left the kitchen, a little coral orange tube caught my eye.

When I moved closer I could see it’s a tube of lip gloss. I turned the lip gloss around and the back said »Coral Crush«

I grinned and without having to guess, I know it belongs to Keiki. I put it into the back of my jeans pocket.

I’m going to give it back to her when we see each other next time.

Hoping against hope she’ll give me a chance to show her that whoever hurt her the way he did, I’m not him.

I walked out of the house with a lighter spring in my steps.

When I looked up I saw the stars glistened in the midnight sky, and the scent of the hibiscus bushes made me smile.

I’m damn happy to have met Keiki, I have this strange feeling that I’m in for a couple of surprises. And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.

A week later

Keiki

”Keiks? There’s a package for you,“ my brother said when he entered the kitchen.

I looked up from my phone.

”Thanks.“

I took it from him and when I opened it a small letter fluttered out, together with a tube of lip gloss.

I smiled as I saw my favorite lip gloss on the table.

I took the letter and read it, just to see who got me my favorite lip gloss.

Because I looked everywhere, but I must’ve lost it at the party.

Keiki,

you lost your lip gloss at the party. But since it was almost empty, I thought you might like a new tube of Coral Crush, so I brought you some.

Koa

I finish reading the letter and smile to myself. He spells trouble. But never did I want to be more in trouble than with Koa.

[bat-hoax]

I have been unemployed since Dec 2023.

I don't have any income since I lost my art business.

I tried applying for jobs, but nothing has hit me back yet.

I wonder if it's too late to figure out commissions and start from scratch.

Mentally, I am out of the red zone and my health has gotten to the point I can do simple things again before the fatigue sets in.

But my cats vet bills for urgent care came out of nowhere. She's okay now after the $400 bill but I'm just barely keeping myself afloat.

I lost control over a lot and lost all my social connections, both IRL and online.

It kinda feels shameful to come crawling back with my tail between my legs after everything didn't work out after my prolonged mental episode.

One person from my Facebook reached out to me to let me know they were going viral and successful with selling their art, but I was hurting at that time. It felt like salt in my wounds even though I was happy for them. When I was running my art business, I would have encouraged them and been so cheerful. I hate feeling that way.

I kinda wish things were like they were before. I was able to buy groceries, pay for my meds, and feel safety/security on knowing people cared about me.

Each painting I did allowed me to stay afloat like it was a little life preserve ring.

My days normally involve me sleeping all day and staying up all night filling out applications, cleaning up the apartment, and maybe going to the gym to walk and study for CompTIA. I figured I could get a basic help desk job if I got the entry level certification.

I don't have much human interaction, and I only see my partner twice a month since they travel.

I have been practicing talking to people when I go check the mail and trying to build up courage to take public transit back into the city so I can find community. I'm not ready yet. I'm still socially awkward but I really do need to get over myself and just do it already. I'm not going to make friends hiding in my bed 24/7.

I also have been making it a priority to step outside on the balcony and get at least 15 min of sun everyday. It has been effective.

At some point, I got tired of reading the self help books. At some point, you can't outthink a situation. You have to just take action.

I don't really expect anyone to see this. I forget about this Tumblr account often. It's the last thing existing with my old art name.

I am contemplating whether I should delete it or not. To put the final nail in the coffin and let it be done with.

[kenjakusbraincum]

the way i just binged all ur fics and drabbles.. scrolled through ur account 4 a while too 💀😭 UR SWAN LAKE FIC MADE ME COMBUST IN THE BEST WAY I HAVE THAT FEELING IN MY STOMACH WHERE LIKE UR ALL HAPPY AND GIDDY N SHIT hehe it made me lowkey wanna learn sm graceful thing

ugh i love sukuna 2 so much hes so 😝😫😫😫😫 like if he threatened 2 kidnap me and make me his whore or smt like... DONT THREATEN ME WITH A GOOD TIME?!!? i would fall to my knees if i saw him

also also do u think the Vows!Sukuna would bury his [dead] s/o? or would he js eat them 💀 like do u think he'd have a teensy tiny funeral for her with him and the burial of her? or like a pretty big-ish one with most of the servants/uraume? idk it crossedmy mind js now

ur writing is also so good.. i love the way u write sukuna 😫 hes even more hot ngl like a man of the arts!?! sign me tf UPPPPPPPP

wait also also imagine sukuna with a painter s/o!?! AAA THEY [I] WOULD PAINT HIM STUFF OMGGGG <333 THAT'D BE SO CUTE?? like imagine as a gift [like the reverance!s/o that gave him the crochet dollys] they made a painting of them worshipping him? [yk those religious paintings where they paint god what if the s/o painted him like that all god-like and shit FALFNAOGNOL] or painting the garden?? mayb a painting with the blood of his enemies LOL but ghfhhf that'd b so cute [i am a casual painter this was self indulgent bc i would absolutely do all of these things] like mayb they go outside js 2 pain 4 funsies [sukuna may indulge this but he'd get jealous like how when reverance!s/o picked up crocheting LMAO]

this is getting rlly long i luv u bestie [ur my bestie now]

Ahh I noticed all the notifications and omg THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! You left a sweet comment on everything, I'm so grateful for the dedication!! I'll get back to each one I promise 🥺🥺

I'm so happy you liked Swan lake so much!! It's one of my flop fics that ppl don't talk about as much, like I get double the comments for Vows and Reverence still every day, MONTHS after writing them and Swan lake is always kinda forgotten 😭 Which is a shame bc I really put my whole kenjakusbraincumussy into writing it, like I was writing it really intensively for days on end 😭

See I was thinking about how Vows Sukuna would've disposed of reader. I don't think he would eat them just bc at the point when they die there's really not much left to eat of them 😭 Maybe he'd keep one of their bones as a souvenir. Like a little rib of theirs maybe. I'm not sure if he would make a funeral, but if he did it definitely wouldn't have included many people, maybe just the servants that were really close to reader. I think he would cremate them with his fires, that would be a nice personal sendoff.

Sukuna being cultured and a man of the arts is just my favorite thing because it's so subversive. He's a big ass guy who also happens to look like a monster, is known only for his strengths in the battlefield and how funny is it to come into his house and see pretty paintings and statues and his personal little orchestra of musicians and dancers that keep him entertained when he's bored?? How funny is it to imagine him closing a book and being like that one was a banger.

ABOUT THE PAINTING S/O... I draw as a hobby and I absolutely think about this all the time 😭 But I must admit I've thought more about the other way around where Sukuna commissions an artist to paint reader so he can always remember their beauty even when their little human lifetime passes, so their face can always grace the hallways of his mansion and people who walk buy can wonder, who is this pretty person? Why are there so many paintings of them everywhere? AHHH Sukuna 💔💔

[autismguy55]

hello! i was wondering if you have any headcanons about the lotf boys before they crashed on the island? like their home life and other stuff.

i hope this question doesn't bother you! your art is amazing btw :)

it doesn’t bother me at all!!! i love talking about this book! :) my thoughts aren’t all together on it so this may be a little jumbled up but. yea :) gonna put this under the cut bc it’ll get long. also this is all just headcanon!

ralph - his mom died when he was young and his dad was in the navy, so he was in the custody of nannies and babysitters most of the time. legally, his guardian is his older brother (~10 years older) but his brother works a lot and generally does his own thing so ralph doesn’t see him often. ralph spent most of his time bored inside and is very well-read because of this, though he isn’t very good at wording his thoughts. his favorite book is the coral island (in the original manuscript he talked about it constantly - lol). we know he had ponies because of some flashbacks in the book, so he’s pretty good at horseback riding and generally enjoys the company of animals.

jack - catholicsaywhat? extremely religious. he could recite the bible backwards in his sleep. he prays his rosary until it leaves indents in his hands. he had a similar childhood to ralph with absent parents but it turned him into a bitter, bitter little thing. let’s face it he’s a teacher’s pet who bullies everyone when the teacher’s back is turned. i think he spent his formative years in dusty old libraries and sitting to get his portrait painted. he has a lot of pent up rage and violence in his heart. ummm… he’s a countertenor and actually a pretty good singer for his age. he likes to hit whistle notes and piss everyone off. i think he’s less one of those bullies who beats people up and more one of those kids who just makes you feel like shit thru words. also i think he’s tall as fuck lol giraffe headass

piggy - we know he’s an orphan and his aunt took care of him - i think we know the most about piggy’s backstory than any other boy in the book. he probably has a lot of cousins (his aunt’s kids) and has to share most of his stuff. he’s very smart, obviously, but he’s poor so he doesn’t go to a good school and relies a lot on the public library. i think he’d have pets. he seems like the kind of guy to have like, a hermit crab or a lizard or fish or something. he’s generally nice to people. definitely an atheist but his aunt makes him come to church every sunday. he has one teacher who he loves and looks forward to that class every single day. pretty cool guy i don’t have anything against him.

simon - coal mines for you gayboy. jokes aside he has a lot of younger siblings and doesn’t mind taking care of little kids. definitely into photography and painting! he often goes on “wanders” and doesn’t come back until it’s 10pm and he’s covered in sticks and leaves and carrying some random woodland creature (“i made a friend!”). he’s epileptic and undiagnosed because it’s the 50s. got sick a lot when he was younger because he spent so much time outside, but his immune system has hardened up since then. he likes to read books but only so he can do character analysis. would also probably write. doesn’t have a lot of friends but he’s generally well liked at school and adults in town love him because he’s so polite. yeha.

that’s about it off the top of my head but yeaa… if u want to know more for a specific character lmk

[realmythsmoved]

@flownintothesun continued from here

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐂𝐘 for Lucienne seems like a plot twist in a book — the one before the great adventure, where the hero is looking over the terrain and realizing just how big the world is, and how far they’ll have to travel in order to succeed. Of course, her definition of success is different from maman’s in that she doesn’t know just what she wants yet — but she knows what she doesn’t. For all of her life, everything has operated under the guise of a well-oiled machine — and even her studies have been so. Things that looked impressive, things that would educate her to take over the world one day in one sense or another. She doesn’t even know how to put her own interests into use because she’s been too busy furthering maman’s. It also makes her a bit awkward around a pretty girl — living in stories are one thing — but realizing that she could live her own in the real world another entirely.       Of course, that’s only an illusion as well. These trips are meant to culture her to the world surrounding her — they aren’t a permanent escape — but they are the only place that she can go to escape the Mafia. Well, mostly. She does have a security team that discreetly follows alongside her — usually two men, just in case she finds trouble. Luci finds that often men themselves are the trouble — though she wouldn’t dare speak that to maman after what had happened last time. Besides, she’s well into her adulthood now — she scarcely needs to tell her mother everything.        “Lucienne,” she says gently, extending a soft hand manicured with french tips that are black instead of white. Her accent about half-matches her name — every bit the bastard of both Italian and French as the girl herself. “Or, mostly they call me Luci.” Mostly because they find the pronunciation of her very-French name more trouble than it’s worth back in Florence, where she grew up. “It’s nice to meet you, Alanna,” her lips curve into a smile. The other woman’s hand is soft in hers — and despite herself, Luci’s heart gives a sharp pound for it. Back in Uni, and in her private school before that — it had been easy enough for her to get into trouble. But since coming back to Florence, she’s been under her mother’s scrutiny. Probably, maman wouldn’t care if it didn’t mean dooming the family line, and all of the other dramatics Caterina Agosti can come up with.        “Unfortunately I’m only visiting,” she responds with a genuine apologetic tone, letting go of Alanna’s hand to absently twirl one of her own long curls, “Are you free this weekend?” she asks with far more confidence than she actually feels. She doesn’t know how it works outside — she’s at a disadvantage. “It’s just,” she says, pausing in the right places with thoughtful consideration, “Adventures are more fun when someone is showing you the places they love. I think it’s a great way to explore a new city — it’s one of my favorite things about people,” she says with her eyes shining, “To see and understand what they’re passionate about. It’s a little like looking at a painting and understanding what the artist meant, rather than trying to decipher it on your own.”

Alanna senses some nervousness from the other woman. She hopes she hadn't said anything wrong. The stranger seems perfectly nice. So Alanna wouldn't want to upset her. She does know that she can be strange sometimes. Even her cousins sometimes don't understand her. But luckily they support her anyway. She's the type who would rather be writing and/or drawing than almost anything. However, Alanna doesn't know any other way to live. She absolutely adores creativity in all its forms. She always has.

Sometimes, she wonders what her father would think of her now. Sure, she doesn't need his negativity in her life. He hadn't accepted her sexuality and she doesn't need that. However, a part of her will probably always miss him. As much as she adores and appreciates her mother and her side of the family. Alanna does wish she could show her father her success sometimes. Just to show him how wrong he had been to not accept her. But Alanna knows that's probably just wishful thinking. Her father is not going to understand and accept her for who she actually is. So she'd rather things stay the way they are.

Alanna takes the other woman's hand and shakes it gently. "Nice to meet you, Lucienne. What a beautiful name." It truly is. In Alanna's opinion it's straight out of a novel. And a beautiful one too. "I love your nails." Alanna had never seen the tips black like that. It's unique, which makes her love it even more.

"Thank you. Glad you're happy to meet me too." Of course, it could just be politeness. But Alanna has a funny feeling that she's met a kindred spirit. Perhaps she's reading into it too much. But she hopes not. It would be nice to make a new friend. At the very least. One can never have too many friends, in Alanna's point of view.

"Ah, I see. Where are you visiting from?" She can't help but ask, intensely curious to hear where Lucienne is from. She had noticed an accent but hadn't been able to place it. Perhaps it's a combination of things. Some people have many ethnicities after all. Including Alanna herself. Her mother is Indian, while her father is English. Though she no longer has anything to do with her father or his side of the family, she understands about being a blend of cultures. Since Alanna herself is one as well.

"Oh, yes." She replies when asked if she's free that weekend. Alanna nods along to Lucienne's words. "I agree. It's great to see what places people enjoy. Though I will warn you, mine aren't exactly touristy for the most part." Alanna tends to frequent bookstores and cafes and sometimes a place that's both of the above. She will try to think of some interesting sights for them to see together, though. The last thing she'd want is to bore Lucienne.

"I tend to like things that are off the beaten path. Bookstores, cafes, museums, that sort of thing. I will try to find some interesting ones for you, though. Do you like to read, by the way?" If not, the two of them can skip the bookstores, though it would hurt Alanna's soul a bit. Especially ever since she got her book published, she's loved reading. She always had, but publishing a work of her own had only increased her love for it. And she thinks that makes sense. Now she feels a part of something she had only been observing from the outside. Her current work in progress is a graphic novel. So she's been reading quite a few of those, to see what she wants to borrow and what she'd like to change about the genre with her foray into it.

[themuffinman-taylorsversion]

debut tracks 1-5 review

TIM MCGRAW

as I was listening this time and really thinking about it, this song is so "rainy cloudy morning in a field of flowers near the lake". the music video really captured this, imo. also, is the letter real? if so, I would LOVE to read it.

I wonder what song she was referencing. and I do indeed think of Taylor when I think tim mcgraw.

as for the song itself, it feels like nostalgia. I think this is kind of a common theme on debut. I don't think it's really anything special.

score: 6/10

points for style, chorus, verses, instrumentals, vocals, pretty privilege

favorite lyric: he said the way my blue eyes shined put those Georgia stars to shame that night, I said "that's a lie"

PICTURE TO BURN

so many childhood memories of this song!! and you know what? it's still AMAZING

i wouldn't say the lyrics are superb in the traditional way, but they've got their own charm and I am HERE for it. this song also reminds me of the color orange (probably because fire) and it is the epitome of singing vengefully in a car

I also love the rage in her voice. and the pettiness in "there's nothing stopping me from going out with all o' your best friands" (I know it's spelled wrong but that's how she says it and this is my post soo)

(side note: my cat will NOT stop climbing on my keyboard. ughhhhh why)

score: 6/10

points for style, personal bias, chorus, verses, instrumentals, and vocals

favorite lyric: STUPID OLD pickup truck you never let me drive

TEARDROPS ON MY GUITAR

this song is also so nostalgic for me. and she sounds really nice on this song. she also writes so eloquently about a high school crush. like, debut is by no means her best work (lyrically) but wow does she still write very well.

I also think it's pretty funny that the cover for the holiday ep is from the tdomg music video (which is GORGEOUS, by the way)

and she really called drew out by name lol

score: 6/10

points for style, personal bias, chorus, instrumentals, vocals, pretty privilege

favorite lyric: he's the time taken up but there's never enough

A PLACE IN THIS WORLD

this one HITS for me and I honestly don't understand some of the hate it gets. her voice sounds a little shaky and stuff, but that's just debut for you.

anyways, I associate this one with I hate it here from ttpd. don't know why.

the lyric I feel really resonates me is "i'll be wrong, but life goes on". I really need to remember that sometimes.

also, wouldn't it be funny if this was the origin for those annoying "im literally just a girl" memes?

score: 4/10

points for style, personal bias, chorus, and instrumentals

fav lyric: I'll be strong, i'll be wrong. oh but life goes on

COLD AS YOU

i LOVE this one. Taylor at age 14-16 is really writing better than I do currently (speaking of which, you should go read my book on Wattpad called sockpuppet)

with the self promo out of the way (I'm sorry about that) I can go back to the song.

i associate this one closely with the outside, in that I used to get them mixed up A LOT. "you put up walls and paint them all a shade of grey" reminds me of dear john. like a lot. and, in turn, coney island

also, the lyric "but you wouldn't have told nobody if I died, died for you" relates to peace "all these people think love's for show, but I would die for you in secret" and I think that shows a lot of character growth.

on a completely different note, tayor sounds SO country on this song. she was really letting that twang out and if I don't hear that on the rerecording I might cry

she also sounds so upset and I love that in a song

score: 7/10

points for lyrics, style, personal bias, chorus, verses, instrumentals, vocals

fav lyric: "so you come away with a great little story//of a mess of a dreamer with the nerve to adore you" OR "so I start a fight cause I need to feel something//and you do what you want cause I'm not what you wanted" OR "no use defending words that you will never say"

[tsugarubecker]

Preview of a fic I’m working on! This is gonna be a long one. Just spat this out in a bit of a writing sprint, it will undoubtedly be edited later on. But for now, check it out if you’d like. TLDR it will eventually be the story of how Mike and Will wind up talking about The Painting. Chapter one is from El’s POV. Enjoy

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None of them have been doing much of anything useful since they got back to Hawkins.

There isn’t much to do at the moment, frankly. The Upside Down is spilling into Hawkins through massive, sickly, gas-retching gashes in the earth. Red and pulsating like lava. The spores get thicker every day. They stay in the house. All of them. The Wheelers’ house is big enough to house the whole party and all their family members, partners, and tag-alongs, thankfully.  

It’s been three weeks. Max hasn’t woken up.

Vecna also hasn’t made a move. El is grateful for that, at least. She’s recovering – physically, mentally, emotionally. She’s gained Hopper back. She’s lost her first big fight, causing her to wonder if Papa was right about her abilities.

She’s lost Max. Maybe for forever.

When she’s not putting on a mask and braving the spores outside to go out and see Max at the hospital, she’s at home. Mostly sleeping. Her body and mind are tired. She’s recovering, and she thinks – she hopes – Vecna must be doing the same. She’s grateful, at least, for the reprieve. She knows it can’t last long. Before long something is bound to shift – she just hopes she’s ready for it when it does.

When she’s not with Max or sleeping, she’s with Hopper or her brothers or Joyce. Sipping coffee, eating toast or eggos, talking quietly. Sometimes she’s with Dustin. Or Lucas, at the hospital. And every so often with Mike, although things have been awkward between them.

They haven’t exactly… Talked About It, yet.

And she knows they have to. She just can’t even begin to decipher what words to use to say what she needs to say. She can barely even tell, most days, what it is she needs to say. Let alone what she actually wants to say.

It’s easier to pretend she can’t see his eyes trying to catch hers across the hallway as she moves past, headed to the bedroom she’s sharing with Holly and Nancy for another long nap.  

But today is different. She couldn’t scoot by. He caught her off guard while she sipped coffee at noon with Hopper. She was peering over Hopper’s shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of the funnies when something moved in front of her eyes, blocking her view. Her eyes refocused. Comic books.

“Want to come read with me instead of trying to read over yer Dad’s shoulder?”

She looks up at Hopper. Catches his eye. She swears six different conversations fly between them as he raises his eyebrow at her. “...Yeah, go on, kid. I’m not gonna be done with this paper for a while.”

Trapped. She makes a subtle face at Hopper that Mike can’t see and resists the urge to roll her eyes. “Okay.” She gets up. Mike is standing there bouncing a little on his toes, looking nervous. “...Where are we going,” she asks.

“Oh! Uhh. To my bedroom, I guess. Lucas is at the hospital and Dustin is watching TV in the living room with his mom.”

Was the house cramped? Yeah. Did the people who didn’t live there sometimes venture back to their own homes? Yes. But none of them knew what would happen next. It was safer to stay together in case something happened very suddenly. It was safest to be close to El. She had a lot of complicated feelings about that, but she knew it was true. She had heard the adults discuss it, too. She knew they were right.

Her thoughts had wandered – she found herself following Mike to the bedroom he now shared with the other boys. Other than Will. Will had asked for the basement, with Jonathan.

Once upon a time she would have thought that was odd. Nowadays, she thought that Will not wanting to share Mike’s bedroom was one more mental check mark on a list she was silently keeping in her mind. What she knew of romantic feelings, she had learned from TV. When it clicked for her that she might have missed something big, a whole lot of things started to make a whole lot more sense. She had not shared these thoughts with anyone yet. But they were a big part of her avoidance of Mike and her avoidance, specifically, of any one-on-one time with him – let alone any real, honest conversations.

She came back to the present again. (She found this was happening a lot lately. But she figured she could give herself a break – a lot had happened recently. So no wonder her thoughts were all over the place.) Mike had climbed up onto his bed and propped himself up on an elbow to read. He held out a comic to her. “Come read with me?”

In spite of herself, El smiled. The idea of lying comfortably on a bed with someone, reading comic books, gave her a warm feeling of nostalgia that she couldn’t immediately place. Then she glanced down at the comic Mike was thrusting toward her.

Wonder Woman.

Oh, she realized. Oh, okay. That’s why.

Ignoring multiple signals from her body, including desires to cry, run out of the room, or smash something through a window, she forced herself to reach out and take the comic book. She climbed up onto the bed, lied down on her stomach, and started to read.