#it's the same author who wrote ''tonight you're mine!''

[konstantya]

Tfw you want to write fic for a hella obscure pulp story, but it isn’t even available online, so now you gotta figure out someway to get it online, so that any prospective readers will actually be able to have some fucking context. 😂😂😂

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ SUPEERR sorry for the late update! i went through a hellish week but I really wanted to go on with the story 😭 i wrote down the setting so the ending’s kinda set in stone, so buckle your seatbelts and prepare yourself for a ride.

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker [CAN THE OTHERS REDO THEIR NAMES I CANT FIND YALLS ACCOUNTS IM SCARED OF TAGGING THE WRONG PEOPLE IM SO SO SORRY IM NEW TO THIS]

⚠️ 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⚠️ PLOTTTTT. This chapter onward will mark the beginning of heavy themes. There will be mentions of death, manipulation, discussion of political issues, and profane language. Discretion is advised.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous chapter || Next chapter

And when the rain stopped, you two were back to the same scene, but with your hand on his sleeve.

You and Miles walked down the same Brooklyn road, your fingers pinching the corner of his jacket while he led your bike on with his free hand. Your shoes crunched against the autumn leaves, each step like a snapping twig, marking your each step.

Even at its darkest, Brooklyn never slept along with its sisters. The bright windows, the music playing from the underground bars, and the other couples maneuvering through the night like mice on the run. Still, everything seemed lazier and slower— and you didn’t know if it was just Miles or the atmosphere in general. Miles rambled on and on about his childhood show, going on about how his seven-year-old-self thought olives would be the greatest thing to snack on after seeing Jerry pine after it so much, and how after plopping it into his mouth changed the entire course of his life.

“Ever since then, I never ate another goddamn olive for the rest of my damn life.”

You laugh at his dramatics, at the way he shakes his head, but despite the dramatic way he moved, Miles never shook the arm your hand was clinging onto— you needed it more than his story-telling.

“I mean, olives do look like grapes, so I kinda understand the confusion.”

“That’s the biggest foul, really: that olives look like grapes.”

“It is kinda one hell of a foul. Mine’s the fact that raisins also look like grapes.”

And the image pops in his mind like a bubble. “… Jesus. Why the hell does everything look like grapes?”

“Ionno.” You shrug. “Same thing can be said about your head, though.”

He feigns offense, parting his mouth into an ‘o’ while leaning back. “Stop projecting your grapefruit-lookin’ ass.” Miles shoots back, earning a sharp swat from you. “Fucker, you’re the one built like a bamboo shoot.”

"You're the one talkin taller than your own height, you lil, dehydrated, un-sunned potted plant lookin' ass."

You gawk at the full-blown insult, earning nothing but a guffaw from Miles who shook his head.

"I'm just kidding, my girl, m'just kidding." He swiftly pulls you closer, pulling you in with his hand over your shoulders. "You know I'm just playin' with you, ma, you're the prettiest in my eyes." The way he sweetly coos tugs at your heartstrings, your tiny giggles muffled while he sways you around.

"Apology accepted," You snicker. "Riley Freeman.”

“… Future child bride.”

“Future enemy of the state.”

“Thas why you daddy don’t want’chu.”

“At least I got a daddy.”

And the squabble just went on and on.

Tiny jabs of flirting disguised as well-crafted insults, and subtle touches concealed as playful punches. The two of you were crazy in the sort of way that only the two of you can drive each other insane.

Ironically, you loved these sorts of moments with him— just two people simpering down the streets in good ol' New York. But in the back of your mind, there was still that lingering guilt that endlessly knocked against your psyche, begging you to tell the truth.

But the truth wasn’t the hotel, or the life you were living. The truth was a decaying matter locked in a finely decorated cage, where everyone could smell the stench, but they instead choose to ignore it all for the sake of preserving peace.

Miles would never do that. He wouldn’t turn around and shrug his shoulders just for the sake of preserving whatever peace or comfort New York had— he would absolutely fucking riot to disturb the comfortable.

But the thing was, all you had left was that peace, and the slightest piece of your dignity scrapped up like leftovers of a meal.

“Hey, ma.” Miles snaps you out of your thoughts, earning nothing but a small hum from you.

“… Do you know anythin ‘bout about parallel universes?”

You pause for a moment, processing that question like a printer— eyes slowly traveling to meet his as if to confirm if what you heard was correct. Miles shifts a bit, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“.. What?” You airily query, brows knitted together in confusion. He laughs at the way your mouth hung like a lost toddler. “Parallel universes? Ionno, I just heard ‘bout it from my dorm mate.” His fingers reach to scratch the nape of his neck. “Something ‘bout there being another version of us in another universe n shit like that— slight changes, maybe?”

“.. I’ve heard about it from my Physics professor, but I never really delved much into it.”

“Well, I’ve been thinkin a lot ‘bout it.”

Your nose scrunches. “But.. Why though?”

“Well,” The two of you start walking again, with the pace much slower. “It made me wonder if there’s another us in another universe.. Doin’ shit like this.” His hand gestured at the both of you, soon dropping by your side. “You n me, just walking and talking. I wonder if we also like each other in another universe.”

It sounded cheesy. Being lovers in more than one world.

But you liked the sound of it. Lovers.

“I probably hate you in every other universe.” You teasingly laughed while lightly pushing him away.

“Well, maybe there’s somethin’ special ‘bout me in this universe that made you fall for me.” He smoothly chimed, leaning a bit closer. You try to hold back a smile, but it still seeped in the corners of your lips.

“Ionno ‘bout that.”

His grin only widens. “You know you love me, ma.”

You stare a long stare.

I do.

“Shut up.” You mumble, pacing faster when Miles reaches out to hold your hand. “Maaaaaaaa.”

“What do you want, Miles?”

And he looks at you with those eyes of his. The kind that dragged you into this whole mess, the kind that made you crawling back in four days. Subtly, he leans down to your level, eyes in line with your own. Only then, so gently, he presses his lips against yours for a second.

"I wonder if that happens in every other universe too?"

You blink at the act, somewhat speechless.

“I’d be missin out on a lot if I don’t get to kiss you like this in every universe.”

You try to snap back at him, but you could no longer find anymore ammo to fire. Miles sets your brother’s bike aside, kicking the stand down just to take both of your hands— placing them over his shoulders.

"How about you? What do you think?" He suddenly asks. "Who would we be to each other in another world?"

There were a million thoughts blundering your mind, a sort of disarray you weren't used to— the thing was, you didn’t even know who the two of you were supposed to be to each other in this world. Everything seemed all blurry in the future, and you couldn’t even think of one for yourself.

But for once, you couldn’t help but think of what could be.

“Would you rather hear me romanticize, or would you rather hear me be realistic?” You asked of him.

Miles took a moment to think. “I think it’d be nice to hear what’chu think is romantic.”

You leaned in a bit towards his side. “You really think so? What if I end up soundin’ childish?”

Placing a gentle hand over your arm, he simply replied. “You’re young, ma. It’s okay to be a child.”

Turning more towards him, you begin to flit your fingers up toward his jaw. “Then…” Your eyes trailed away from his. “In another universe, we’re just us.” You mumble, your fingers tickling at the back of his neck.

“In another universe, I’ll be doing painting commissions at random shops to save up for Christmas. I’ll be working at that café we saw. You’ll be there, and we’ll meet up and I’ll be the one to ask for your number.” Your hand runs down his sleeve just to intertwine your fingers with his.

“What do you mean you? You can’t do nuthin, I’ll be the one asking for your number.”

Your gaze narrows. “It’s another world, Miles. We ain’t entirely sure if we’re going to be the same people.”

“You’ve got a point,” He piques. “But—“

“Let me finish.” You sigh, and immediately, he snaps his jaw shut. “… I don’t have to escape every night just to see you, nor do we have to meet exclusively every Friday and Saturday. We’ll see each other everyday, and you’ll go to my house— and my mom will make us food while going on and on about us dating, and my dad’s going to scold me to keep the door open just so he can keep an eye out on you.”

Suddenly, all the fantasies you’ve mentally illustrated for yourself every night to dwell upon came running out of your mouth.

“Maybe, I’ll have a few childhood scars, and I’ll paint my nails any color I like— I’ll get a new set monthly, and I’ll let you choose the color. We’ll walk to school together, and I’ll never miss any of your basketball games…. We’ll just be,”

Normal.

“Us.”

Realizing your rambling, you shift away a bit, somewhat embarrassed of all the stuff you’d blurted out. It’s like you could sense him trying to piece together what you’d just said. With a cautious hand, he wraps it around your waist before nuzzling his head into your hair.

"What's stopping us from being like that in this world too?"

You hold onto him a little tighter.

“… It’s getting colder these days, huh?”

Noticing your hesitance to break open, Miles decides to simply play along for now. “Yeah, it’s getting colder, ma, so you,” He softly pulls away, placing both of his hands over your cheeks. “You should start taking care of yourself or else you might start a whole new bubonic plague.”

“Why the fuck do you keep linking that to me?”

“Cause you’re a host of viral plague.”

“I’m not even sickly, damn it.” You say, while feeling an itch in your nose. “You’re just making shit up at thi— hACHOO!” You sneeze down to the ground, narrowly missing your sleeve. Miles takes a step back, shaking his head with a smile on his lips.

“… Maybe I should be a plague doctor for halloween, and you should be a medieval patient dying of the bubonic plague.”

He pictures you with comically large bags beneath your eyes, frail lips, and a white dress with its frock lost in the wind— and he’ll stand beside you, with the large black beak of the mask poking at your hair, with a large black cape flying behind his back.

“… Isn’t halloween this Saturday?” You think back with a frown. “I haven’t celebrated that in a long, long time.”

That was a lie. You’ve never celebrated halloween before.

“Huh?” He snaps in shock. “You don’t celebrate halloween?”

He watches you shrug. “It’s a kid’s thing.” Was what your Father always told you, in the same tone you were currently speaking.

“Awe man,” Miles mumbles. “… I thought you got the hint that we’re going trick or treating for our date.”

“Trick or treating?” That too, you also haven’t done. “I-Isn’t it dangerous? My mother said people would poison the candy and plant shit inside the chocolates.”

“What?” At that point, Miles was piecing together an image of your family with each passing story. “That almost never happens— who can afford poisoning children in this economy? Shit, might as well just use it on yourself with all the bills you have to pay.”

And there it goes again. The economy.

And it strikes you a bit. That guilt of being brought up pristinely uncomplicated. Privileged, as most would call it. Your problems were rather personal, never financial. Growing up, you’d been living lavishly in the comforts of your manor, never having to worry about tomorrow or next month or next year.

And, admittedly, it was unfair.

“… Miles, can I, um, discuss something with you?” You silently query, unconsciously matching your pace along with his. Miles only hums.

“Look. I don’t mean to get political, and I don’t want to sound privileged— but honestly speaking, I kinda am, and I can definitely recognize it.” You confess. “I wasn’t.. Raised in a home where we had to be conscious about money. My parents are well-off, in the way I’m sheltered as hell, but I’m not blind. I can see the city crumbling apart. My brother says that it’s all because people don’t wanna work anymore, and I never understood why.”

He raised his brows. “That’s… Well, I’m not gonna judge your brother from that alone,” Miles states, keeping in mind that he still wants to appeal to your family. “But honestly, that whole view is kinda whack. Listen, nena,” He takes a deep breath. “Imagine working your ass off nine to five— and you’re still getting paid the minimum wage. Rent is due, groceries are expensive, and you’re tired as hell, but it’s all not enough. You can’t even spend any of the money on yourself.”

“Well,” You pique. “… My father said that if the people would just stop buying irrelevant things and save up, they’d be able to live.”

Miles grimaces. “Do only the rich deserve happiness?”

Your head tilts. “Don’t they say that money can’t buy you happiness?”

He shook his head. “They say that because they’ve got the money.”

He spots the confused look on your face. Relatively, he takes your hand and further conveys. “Well, as you said, it’s a capitalist world. Only the wealthy say that because they don’t know what it’s like to be down here,” His hand points below. “In the slums, starving to damn death. Money can fix that shit. Money can fix all this, but they choose not to.”

Your mouth hung open.

“… I never thought of it that way.”

“Mhm.”

“My whole life, my parents have always chalked it up to hard work— but the city never sleeps, so it’s impossible that nobody here ain’t doing nothing.”

And it all processes through you. “Huh, it’s all.. New to me.” Naturally, your hand drags up to pluck the skin off your lips. “I never delved into that sort of issue before. My parents have always been kind of.. Sort of,”

“.. Elitist?”

“I was going to say stuck-up, but that makes so much more sense.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda seein’ it, not gonna lie.” His clicks his tongue. “Look, ion really talk ‘bout this sort of thing much, but I like discussing these sorts of things with you— ‘cuz it’s interesting seeing how open you are to these kinds of topics, even if you were raised like that.”

You turn your head to look at Miles, and your brow twitches ever so slightly at the pang of anxiety drumming at your chest.

“We’re… Really the opposites of each other, huh?”

He hums. “But in a way, we’re still kinda similar.”

“How so?” You ask, a bit dubious of the remark. You were all this, and he was all that. You doubted any sort of similarities you two had, but Miles holds your shaking hand.

“If you and I were solely made to be opposites, we’d be nemeses by now.”

And you ponder.

How long would it take before you start hating me?

How long would it take before I stop seeing that loving gaze of yours?

How long would it take before you discover the truth?

From afar, you could already spot the Gristedes building, as though it were the portal parting your world from his. You eventually take the bike back to yourself, dragging it by the handles. As the edge of the block materializes, you turn to look at the boy behind you.

“I’m gonna have to go ride back now.”

And when he draws closer, a flick of your mind takes the image of Miles’ exhausted face, assuming it’d be similar to what he’d look like once he recognizes the truth about you. You wonder if he feels it too— this strange air between the both of you, going past tension, and delving into something deeper and darker.

You’re so unsure. So afraid of how fragile this entire thing was.

“Ain’t I getting a kiss, nena?”

“You’re so needy.” You huff, opening your arms anyway. “If you get the bubonic plague, you’re gon’ be the one complaining all about it.”

“Yeah, yeah, nena, whatever you say— just gimme my kiss.”

And he penguin walks his way to you, leaning down like a kid in search of candy. Miles steps into your view, following wherever you turned— his hands making their own journey across your waistline. Your palms snake up his shoulders, heels faltering backward when he presses you up against a brick wall. Your hands fall down to grip his arms instead, head tilting ever so slightly before taking his lips.

He takes you like you were his favorite drink, digging his fingers into the side of your waist— his body melting like ice on a summer day. With his hand, he angles your chin much higher, while yours trail up his chest, parting your lips to gasp for air, only for Miles to steal it away from you.

And when you part, you’re left a heaving mess.

“Trick or treating on Saturday?” He asks again. “Please?”

“… I—“

“I’ll take a bite of every candy you’ll get just to make sure it ain’t poisoned.”

You laugh at his remark.

“Fine.”

It was strange, almost unfamiliar to you, to meet the gate of the manor at this time of night.

It had you questioning your choices, your rationality, and the soundness of your mind. Your mind wasn’t entirely sound to begin with, fortunately for you Miles liked that about you.

After bribing the security, tossing Antonne’s bike to the side, and creeping into the damn place, suddenly, you’re thrust back into the stillness of your family’s generational household.

The marble tiles, the limestone brick walls, and the grandeur steps that parted by the center were all normalcy to you— in spite of how you’d always deemed your family as ‘capable’ to Miles.

Instead of childhood photos and potted plants, you were greeted by the sight of marvelously carved statues and antique paintings. Rather than a home, it felt more like a museum to you— but in a way, it was also your fault for keeping everything too clean.

It’s unfair.

One day you’ll leave this very house and leave it under the care of Antonne who hardly bore any interest for managing things. Despite the way you’ve learned to force yourself to take interest in numerous fields of whatever-the-fuck, this manor was something you treasured along with the hotel. Your father was well aware of your passion, your skills in tidiness, and that was the reason why he appointed you as Antonne’s proxy initially, but you were greedy for more.

You were a little too greedy to want Miles and the life you’d desired for the longest time. You didn’t know what the future was like, and you’ve grown too sick of having everyone else decide your own future for you. This life of infinite spending and glamour was the only life you’d ever known, and you weren’t prepared to abandon it all. As your mother said, no one’s privileged enough to be born as wealthy as you, and you’d likely carry that sort of financial ignorant bliss to the grave.

But Miles didn’t have that.

His family didn’t have generational heirlooms worth thousands of dollars, nor did they have antique paintings bought from highly private auctions. His home only had two bedrooms, unlike your own which housed tens of them.

You and him were astronomically different in more ways than one.

One of these days, those differences might end up either empowering or deadly to one of you.

Step. Step. Step.

As you treaded up the staircase, your hand jolts away from the icy ivory-pillared railings, cussing a subtle “Fuck,” as you went on. In the dead of the night, the halls appeared eerier and darker— as though you could see your own ancestors walking past the red carpets with their frilly gowns and downcast looks of disappointment. Like you could see them shaking their heads just after seeing you there, wearing Miles’ hoodie.

A scandal capable of ruining the family name. As if Antonne wasn’t enough, you ended up falling for a boy you’d likely run away with had you ever gotten the chance.

Elopement. Dramatically cliché, and somehow it still exists in the twenty-first century— for the star-crossed lovers and the filthy rich. Or maybe you just have really bad taste in men… Or parents! Pick a struggle.

You carried your shoes along with your guilt while trudging down the corridor, knowing you’ll likely have to have someone secretive clean the mess up for you. Antonne’s room was in a separate hall, with Malachi’s closer to your own. Even then, like a mouse, you scurry in silence just so you wouldn’t get caught. When you finally reach your door, a thousand burdens escape from your shoulders, only to hear a faint click when you try to twist the handle.

Click. Click. Click. Click.

“Why won’t it fucking open?” You whisper to yourself. A few more Click Click Click Click Click’s and you manage to finally recognize that you’ve been locked out of your own damn room. You search through your clothes to find the key, only to realize that it’d been in the pockets of the hoodie you’ve left at Miles’ place. In your anxiety, you pull on the edge of your hair, cursing a million words.

I can’t wake up Malachi.

You place your hand over your mouth.

Your breaths begin to stagger, your exhaustion taking hold of you. You tug at your hair a little harder, as though your current goal was to rip your scalp out— and it hurt, it hurt like absolute hell, but nothing was up to par with the pain brought to you by your own mean mind.

But you think, and you think.

Then you lean back, take a breath, and sigh.

And the next thing you know, you’re stabbing through the lock with a knife.

Well, it was less of a stab, more like a saw to jam the bolt. It took a few several tries, but it did manage to unlock after a snap. You heave a sigh of relief, heading right in before gently closing it shut. Immediately off to rest your head against the flat of your door as a sort of celebration for your success.

“… Where have you been?”

You celebrated a little too soon, unfortunately.

Antonne stared at you from the sill of one of your opened windows, the gleam of the new dawn gleaming in pink and blue behind him, casting a long shadow that trailed past your fluffy carpet and dawned over your darkened face. Ever so slowly, he plucks the dying cigarette from his teeth, the intoxicating scent tugging at your nostrils. For once, Antonne’s taken you aback after the longest while. He looks similarly exhausted, with his unbuttoned dress shirt and disheveled hair, while also reasonably confused by your current appearance.

“I was out.” You shallowly answer, as if it weren’t too obvious. Antonne furrows his brows, only heightening the permanent arch he already endowed. At the sound of your words, he clicks his tongue and flicks the cigarette out the window.

“Was it that boy again?” He speaks a baritone lower, like something being dragged through gravel. His shoulders heightened as he rested his palms above the sill. You sense a sort of imposing façade.

“… Miles Morales?”

Your eyes flit open, ventriloquist-esque. Like a dummy brought to life to perform for the circus. At that moment, the two of you siblings began to notice the semblances mirroring your parents’ ways; the younger sister who weaponizes her own ignorance like her father, and the older brother who, like a dog, barks endlessly like their mother. Your body leans against the handle, placing all your weight down a single foot while preparing yourself for whatever Antonne’s spared to speak.

“… Fifteen years old, lives with his single mother, Rio Morales, who’s a nurse at Langone. He’s close with his uncle, Aaron Davis, and he keeps steady high marks at Visions Academy... And yet,” His gaze narrows distastefully. “Despite going to such an elite school, he continues on to live a shady life, having at least once or twice participated in vandalism, destruction of private property, and simple assault.”

Antonne eyes your reaction, but you only shrug.

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

He clears his throat.

“His father, Jefferson Davis, momentarily worked for father and applied for security three years ago.“ Antonne takes a step forward, the shadow over his face growing darker. “And on the opening night of Aureum, he signed up to take a shift at the evening party.”

Antonne stood eerily, and so did you. The tension a blur, cuttable with a single slice from the knife hidden behind you.

“Did you know about that too?”

“... What are you insinuating?”

Antonne yells out your name in a bellow, but you don’t flinch. Like a deer, round and wide, your eyes were hauntingly frozen, scrutinizing the way he heaved. He struggled to search for the words to describe you— crass, cruel, wicked, bitch. And it only mulled him downer seeing you look guiltless. With his hand, he drags you by the collar.

“You’re wearing the hoodie of a boy whose father died in the tragedy you’re fucking covering up.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

+17479256640 sent a picture || Just now

Aaron peers at the message at his phone, swiping it upwards, thinking it must’ve been some sort of scam or bot. He chugs down the final sip of his coffee, settling by the couch with a disgruntled moan. He rests his head by the armrest, placing his mug down by the table before him. As he stretches the ache off his limbs, another chime goes off from his phone.

He lazily plucks it from his side, wincing as the bright screen flashed him.

+17479256640 || Just now

This is your nephew, right?

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“Shh." You pull a finger over your lips, hushing him as though he were a child. Your other hand drafts away from the lock, and you toss the knife to the side. The loud, clacking way it fell made Antonne jump. And he sees you, and the way your lips curled into this amused smile.

At that smile alone, he falters, remembering so suddenly every detail about the mother you two shared. Every strand of her beautiful hair which you endowed, the darkening of her gaze when she was having fun, and the deriding way she looked at the people she deemed inferior.

I don’t need a knife to kill you, Antonne.

That look you had, a smile which he now recognized as a sneer, was what true hatred was.

“Antonne, maybe you’re forgetting that I’m not covering up just any fuck up, I’m covering up your fuck up.”

And when you took a single step forward, all of what was left of Antonne’s confidence crumbled.

“The building collapsed because you forced the workers to rush the process of the construction— and when the media got a hold of what was happening, you ran to Switzerland with Richard just to avoid the consequences, and all of who dealt with everything was me.” You dug an accusing finger into his shoulder. “I took care of everything in your place, and I sacrificed so much for it. But when you realized how I might take over your spot in the hotel, you came back after three whole years— going through every detail of me that you could find as a weakness. Well, let me tell you one thing, my dearest brother,”

You whisper over to his ear. “You can’t beat me at a game you’ve never fucking played before.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“What the fuck?”

Aaron sits right back up, clutching his phone with strength he never thought he had. Swiftly, he presses the notification— greeted with a photo of Miles and some girl walking down the streets with their hands clasped together. When the text bubble reappears, another photo surfaces with the girl’s face being much clearer. A sense of familiarity strikes him, and he couldn’t quite place what it was.

He zooms into the picture, fingers grasping the bottom of his chin while scourging through his memories.

His eyes trace the details of your hair, every curve and curl— your eyes, downcast and very attentive of Miles’ presence. So aware of him, it’s as though he was all that was left in the world. And he looked at you the same way. For a moment, it was like witnessing Rio and Jeff once more, with those gazes smiles.

‘Pretty. The kind of pretty who knows what she wants, and she can use her own face to get it. When you say something stupid, she’ll let you know that what you said was stupid with just her eyes alone— and it’ll shut me up, and I love it.’

Those were Miles’ exact words. For the last two months, you were all he ever really talked about. Seeing you now, Aaron couldn’t help but raise his brows at the sight of your hand intertwined with his nephew’s. He ought to be lying if he ever said that Miles was exaggerating— you were definitely a looker. And that was what unsettled him the most. He had this gut feeling he couldn’t shake, a burden gnawing at his stomach.

He soon drags his thumbs across the keyboard, typing out immediately.

Aaron Davis || Just now

who’s this?

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

“… What’s happened to you?”

It was genuine. And it wasn’t just curiosity, Antonne was seriously wondering with worry.

“What have you done to the sister I grew up with?”

The sister he grew up with?

Antonne could still remember, every aspect and smile you bore three years ago. And he remembered as though it’d all disappeared just yesterday. You were a smiley little girl— always a little too smart for her own good, and always a little too cheeky. But you were shy, and often kept to yourself. Even during those days, you often hid yourself in the shadows, crawling into the corner of every room you entered with a book in your hand.

He recognized you then. Now you were a complete stranger.

Your hand drops, and you shove your shoulder against Antonne’s. “Grew up with? You never grew up.” You trudge towards the window, closing it shut as soon as you got to the handle. “Meanwhile, I had to be an adult as soon as possible because if not me, then who? Mom’s not here, Dad’s a mess, Malachi’s ten years old, Montrell’s in London, and you ran away.” Your body sinks down to the floor. “When I’m with Miles, I feel… Sixteen, like how I should be.”

“… But if you’d just give me the job—“

“I’m not giving you shit.” You spat. “Not yet, at least, stop fucking rushing.”

Antonne stood, watching you sit by the sill, hand over your nightstand to reach out for your vape.

And the way it exits, so lividly and hatefully, like how mother would smoke after every silent dinner.

You were everything like her.

No matter how much you tried to erase yourself from your mother’s legacy, it didn’t help that you were the spitting image of her.

Even in the way you struggled, you were still your mother’s daughter.

“You.. Remind me of...” Mother. The comment slips after seeing her image overlap with your silhouette. You already knew the ending of the sentence as soon as it exited his lips. As the smoke trickles past your teeth, you look up.

“… You want me to do what she would’ve done?”

The way the moonlight pooled before you reminded him of how the glass shards glimmered around your mother after she’d wrecked her own room.

“You’re already doing what she did,” He murmurs. “Doing stupid shit for stupid ideals.”

You grab whatever you can off of the nightstand, throwing it right at Antonne who steps back from the impact of the book. As you heave, he stared hauntingly.

“You think you’re the only one trying so hard in life? I’m also doing my fucking best. You’re basing me off of a mistake I did when I was seventeen.” He took a step forward. “You weren’t the only one forced into adulthood. Instead of playing soccer and going out on first dates, dad made me run a hotel. Sure! I didn’t do half as great as you’re fucking doing, but once you fuck up, dad’s going to abandon you too.”

“I know that.” You shakily admit. “I know that no matter what I fucking do, the hotel’s going to end up in your hands, and all I’ve got is a shitty arranged marriage bound to go down the drain and a few many nights with too much wine and regrets ahead of me.” You rub your hands together for the sake of warmth, your voice growing shakier as it settles to break.

“But what I want, what I really want— I just want dad to look at me and think, ‘oh, maybe she can take hold at least a part of the conglomerate!’ instead of selling me off!”

It’s as though the Hotel was Antonne’s toy, and you’d been polishing it all these years with great care, knowing damn well he’d leave it off to rot.

But you never wanted that toy in the first place. You wanted your father to see you taking care of that toy, in hopes he’d gift you one that you could take care of for yourself.

“The reason why he’s not giving you any of it is b—“

“Because he doesn’t want the Fisks to use me after the marriage, I know.”

You run your fingers through your hair, tugging as though it were about to fall of your scalp.

“I’ve found… A way to escape it.”

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

+17479256640 || Just now

Do you recognize the girl beside him?

You replied || Just now

No.

His knee jumps along to the drumming of his chest. He thinks of Miles, wondering if he’d been kidnapped, coerced, or attacked. He knew the boy— he’s strong enough to fend for himself against many things. He’s well taught, he’s a genius and…

He’s a fucking fool for his lady. Just like his father.

God, who knew that the lone weakness of the Prowler was a sixteen-year-old with a pretty face?

Ding.

+17479256640 || Just now

Sent an attached file

ＣＬＩＣＫ.

Ding. Ding. Ding.

You and Antonne’s heads swerve at the sound of your phone’s ringing. Begrudgingly, you pushed yourself off of the floor, scrambling to get your phone. With another hit off of the pen, you answer the call.

“What is it?”

And in the background, you hear yelling— commands being thrown in chaos and panic. You look at the ID, finding out that it’s one of your father’s aides. With a hushed whisper and a jagged breath, he reports.

“The Warehouse is being raided, miss–“ A gunshot soars through the air, chillingly searing through a momentary silence. The man whimpers, his voice muffled by his hand. “Raided?” You repeat, voice coming to a hush. “Raided by who?”

And with his jaded breath, he answers.

“.. The Prowler.”

[mylittlesecrethaven]

Bsd Is Kinda A Genius Anime: Pt 6

Almost done with this series.

*sigh*

Maybe I'll stop staying up so late to make posts.

ANYWAY!

We're doing the guild this time!

So let's go!

(Also, there's apparently a member of the Guild that doesn't have an ability, so I'm not doing him. He's not an important character anyway. So I'm doing 10 characters. Oof that's a lot.)

Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald

Ability: The Great Fitzgerald

If this isn't the whitest name I've ever heard, I swear. Anyway, Francis's RLC was actually born into a wealthy family, and also had his own moments of financial crisis. Fits him to a T, huh? His RLC also wrote a ton about the highs and lows of the Roaring Twenties regarding financial security and all that. Francis's ability is based on "The Great Gatsby," but despite that, it's really his personality that the book affects. Both the character in "The Great Gatsby" and Francis are arrogant little fucks who got money from who knows where and use their money as their power. Also, Francis and his RLC both have a wife named Zelda. (I didn't mean to make this part sound like I hate Francis, but it came out that way for some reason.)

Edgar Allan Poe

Ability: Black Cat in a Rue Morgue

AGAHGAHAG IT'S POE'S TURN! HEHEHEHE~ (Can you tell who I favorite?) I'm gonna make his part the best! LET'S FUCKING GO! I also know a lot about Edgar Allen Poe, so let's see how little of the Fandom I need to use. Let's see.... I know that his ability is a mix of "The Black Cat" and "The Murders in the Rue Morgue." I've only read "The Black Cat" as of right now, (don't worry, I'll read the other one soon. I'm making it a mission to read all of Poe's RLC's books.) but given that Poe's ability doesn't link to anything besides pulling people into books, I'm not gonna look into it. I do know that Poe has a lot of references in his character that align with his RLC's books. The black cat and crow references are pretty obvious. It does say that Poe having Karl as a pet is a reference to a movie, but I wanna argue that by saying it's probably a reference to the theory that Poe's RLC died from rabies. (I can't let go of that theory, and I think it fits, and like Karl and any cat you'll ever meet, if I fits, I sits.)

Howard Phillips Lovecraft

Ability: Great Old One

While not as big of a fan of his RLC, his books and basic genre of books are a big inspiration of mine, so I'll try to make his part good, too. Although, I won't have to do a big deep dive into this guy's books either. Lovecraft's RLC's books usually revolved around extraterrestrial or mythical beings and "morbid phenomenon," as the Fandom states. Ever heard of Cthulhu? Think that type of stuff when you see any of Lovecraft's RLC's books. But yeah, you can see where Lovecraft gets his personality and "gift." He's strange, just like the books, and his ability is based off of Lovecraft's writings of the eldritch god Cthulhu, which if you don't know what that is, then that's exactly what it is. (You can also look it up I guess) That's also why Lovecraft's "gift" isn't really a gift and is kinda a mystery. It fits his RLC's vibe with all his gothic and confusing mystery and horror stories. You're not really supposed to understand them.

John Steinbeck

Ability: The Grapes of Wrath

I think the American authors have a tighter connection with their characters. Or maybe I'm just able to find connections easier. Anyway. Steinbeck is almost completely based on the main character from "The Grapes of Wrath." Both him and the main character were farmers and had the same family members. That's pretty much it. You can get the gist of his ability from the name. (I'm trying to avoid research tonight because it's late and I'm really sorry about that.) Also, Steinbeck's RLC wrote "Of Mice and Men"?! SERIOUSLY?! I've never read it, but I've heard it's really good, so I'm surprised.

Lucy Maud Montgomery

Ability: Anne of the Abyssal Red

what happened to anne's playroom? *shaking in my boots* Is that the actual name? Geez. It's terrifying. OH MY GOODNESS IT'S BASED ON "Anne of Green Gables," AND THAT'S THE NAME THE AUTHOR CHOSE FOR THE ABILITY!? Man, that's insane. So yeah, this just further proves my theory that all the Guild members are more based on the books. "Anne of Green Gables" (yes, I've read it) is basically about this orphan girl who gets sent to the wrong home, in Green Gables, but it ends up being her forever home after she soon settles in and everything. Now, the reason it's the wrong home is the brother and sister she was sent to lived on a farm and they wanted a boy, and instead they get this tiny 11 year old girl. I mean, it kinda makes sense for Lucy. She's an orphan and the Agency was kinda like the home she wasn't really supposed to go to but ended up staying in. The playroom though? I'm not sure. I can't remember too much else from the novel, so if somebody could inform me on a connection to the book and her gift, that'd be great.

Louisa May Alcott

Ability: Little Women

This is a really well known book, but I gotta say, I've never read it, so I guess I'm doing research. Hmmm.... I don't really see much in common? Looks like Louisa is the first to break pattern. "Little Women" is just a sorta semi-autobiographical about Louisa's RLC and her 3 (2? Maybe 4?) sisters growing up and coming into "woman-hood" as the website says. I'm not really sure what to pull from that for Louisa. I mean, one of the sisters was super shy, but it wasn't the sister that was based on Louisa's RLC, so.... Idk.

Margaret Mitchell

Ability: Gone With the Wind

Ok, I think the ability is pretty self-explanatory, and while I haven't read the book, I'd say the Fandom does a good job explaining it. So, "Gone With the Wind" is about a family post Civil War and mainly follows the rich little daughter's love affairs while the family falls into poverty. If that's wrong, blame the Fandom. So, I can see a few connections. Margaret wanted to earn some money to get back her family's pride (or whatever it is she said, I can't remember), which connects to the book's family falling into poverty. And she's southern like the characters in the book, I guess. Besides that, nothing much else to talk about.

Mark Twain

Ability: Tom Sawyer & Huck Finn

I've never read a "Mark Twain" book in my life, so let's see what research I have to do. Oh shit it's two stories? Fml. Uh... besides that, I don't see much connection between Mark and his RLC, so I guess we're just going on to the books, as has been the pattern for most of the Guild. Em.... not much from the books though. Ability wise, that is. I mean, the two characters from the books were friends, so I guess that kinda correlates to how Mark's ability beings work? Um... but..... besides that it kinda just connects to how cheerful and upbeat Mark acts, since both the books by his RLC are about boyhood. So.... yeah.

Nathaniel Hawthorne

Ability: The Scarlet Letter

Either I'm getting faster or I'm getting lazier. Whatever. Anyway, isn't this that weird movie that had a pseudo-sequel about the girl pretending to not be a virgin? (Idk if that's actually a pseudo-sequel, I'm just calling it that. I could be completely fucking wrong.) I'm kinda right? Ok, the priest thing fits since his RLC was in a very religious environment growing up. Also, I think the only reason his gift has to do with his blood is cause the A she puts on herself is red, so.... yeah. Simple connection. (Or I'm completely wrong.)

Alright! That was.... quick.... which makes me worry these aren't very good....

Lemme know if what I wrote was bad or not.

I've never gotten through them this quick.

Maybe since I knew most of them and didn't have to research much, it was easier?

Idk.

Whatever.

For the final part I'm doing the Rats in the House of the Dead, minus Fyodor cause I've already done him.

:3

[witch-hazels-musings]

hazel my lovely!!!

(this is gonna get long fair warning HAHA)

i started reading fanfics for genshin around feb of 2021 when my body decided it wanted to stop working and i was bedridden for a while, and that's how i came upon your account! i remember the very first thing i read from you was the liyue scenario in which the reader felt they weren't enough for the specific genshin character, and the way in which you wrote emotions and brought scenarios to life with your beautiful writing was what ultimately pushed me to start my account :) i remember lying in bed and giggling at your fluff or crying at your angst, you have such a way with words that i could never fully describe in detail but just know you've touched me and so many others in ways that of which can never be fully comprehended (in a very good way!)

i read your recent announcement post and for one thing it really struck a chord in me: as creators we give away parts of ourselves with everything we put out into the world and not many realize that. even if it's "just fan fiction", there's a lot that goes into the process: developing ideas, making sure you give justice to the characters, finding time to write AND balance your real life responsibilities. it can get really tough, but know that you deserve so much appreciation and love and recognition for what you do for the genshin tumblr community, and you will always have people to remind you that your work is amazing! :)

no one deserves to feel like an outlet for anyone's grievances, even if they're relevant to the content they produce. your interactions with other people are always so kind and full of genuine care and love, you deserve that same energy right back! (and i'm sure myself among many many others will give as much love right back to you!)

i know that many of your supporters would wait an eternity for a new post if it meant your mental stability and maintenance of your love for what you do here, you're amazing hazel and never forget it!! :) <3

I thought I didn't have any more tears to cry today, and here I am dripping because of your message --

I started back in February 21! and wow, you found me from the very first and, honestly, so personal collection of works, only to continue to read and work alongside of me, I feel privileged to be here with you now ( I was inspired by another author here and I hope they are doing great and have a lovely life! )

please know that I really do enjoy seeing someone bounce back from their struggles and while I'm happy to listen, there are some subjects I am not the right person to share with ( I do not wish to take the voice of another, and adding mine in will not assist with the root of the problem )

I had a pretty empty bucket this morning and from all your kindness it is filling back up - I hope to never make you wait too long but to know there are people who think so highly of me and my work, I mean words cannot really describe how reassuring that is -- you are so incredible and the things you make are lovely and I just .. i am so soft tonight

[nildespirandum]

In honor of the beautiful @joyfullymassivewhispers sending these questions to me, I'd like to ask you a few. If you feel so inclined, could you answer questions 2, 9, and 14 about something you're working on?

The Happy Fic Writer Ask Game

1. What part of the writing process is the most enjoyable?

2. Talk about a favorite comment you received.

3. Have you received any bookmark notes? Which is your favorite and why?

4. Which comment has had the most impact on your writing?

5. Have you had a writer you admire comment on your fic? What was that like?

6. Describe what you do and your feelings after posting a chapter. (For example: When do you usually post a fic/chapter update? How do you celebrate a posting? Are you the type to refresh constantly?, etc.)

7. What do you love most about being a fic writer for your fandom?

8. Talk about any friends/connections you've made as a fic writer.

9. What inspired you to write your first fic?

10. Why do you continue writing fics?

11. Who is your favorite character(s) to write about and why?

12. What is your favorite theme/subject matter/trope/ship to write about? Why?

13. Describe your writing style. If you were to participate in an anonymous fic writers guessing game (like The Masked Author), what writing habits do you have that would be a dead giveaway that it's you?

14. Share a snippet.

Look who finally has a working computer and is home long enough to answer this lovely Ask!  

Also, I know that @joyfullymassivewhispers requested I answer Nine and I believe Four, also during my no computer time, so hi @joyfullymassivewhispers, I have not forgotten.

9. What inspired you to write your first fic? 

There are two answers to this.  My first fic, was when I was in junior high and it was about a female Jedi who rode around on a space motorcycle - chopper-style - wore badass boots and was all around badass.  I wrote about her as a way to stay awake during a summer school session of pre-algebra and because there was no female Jedi representation at that point and I wanted a fucking lightsaber!  

This time around I started writing that first fic because one night I looked out of my living room window during a snow storm and imagined someone walking through it.  Someone that had to be Loki.  At about the same time a certain fic writer who you may know said something in answer to a comment of mine to the effect of “well if you are so mouthy about my stories when do we get to read yours?”  So its all your fault, @caffiend-queen

2. Talk about a favorite comment you received.

I have so many favorites because people leave me the most amazing comments, but one of the ones that blew me away was a comment on Rapacity.  I make very long, crazy playlists for any story I work on that is more than a few chapters, and keep adding to it.  One of the longest was/is for Rapacity, and one of the first songs I put on it was Venus in Furs by The Velvet Underground & Nico.  It and a few others are the core value songs for the whole fic, in a way that only makes sense to me.

About half way through the fic I got a comment on AO3 where the reader said that they knew it was crazy since there was nothing in the story that was directly related, but reading Rapacity always reminded them of Venus in Furs by The Velvet Underground.  To say it blew my mind that someone they could read that connection in the story and the writing is an understatement.  All of which proves to me that our inspirations are more important than we know.

14. Share a snippet.

I haven’t written in almost two weeks - which I am hoping to fix tonight - but here is a tiny bit from a chapter to come much  later in Love is Hel :

“Even from across the bar she could see Loki crossing his arms over his chest, and knew him well enough to know there was the slightest flair to his nostrils as he exhaled but that otherwise his expression was unchanging.

A few women, and few others for that matter, in the audience, sang along with the chorus - 

“Goodbye, I'll be leavin'

I see no sense in this cryin' and grievin'

We'll both live a lot longer if you live without me”

Over them all she could hear Claire.”

4. Which comment has had the most impact on your writing?

Again, this is a little like picking a favorite child... That said, there was a comment I received early on in the writing of Frost Queen that I think about a lot.  The reader had been leaving lovely comments sporadically on my fics for a while, and based on things they said I knew they were older.  Even older than I am, which is saying a thing when you are in fandom.

In this comment they mentioned that the were in their 80s, and that they had been part of the early days of fandom in the modern sense, and a fic reader since the 60s.  They said that they had stopped reading for a long time and only being interested in Loki and the Loki fandom had gotten them back into it, and that my stories, especially Frost Queen, were a great pleasure to them.  That they knew that at their age they didn’t know who long they might live and that having good, thoughtful fics to read was an important part of their last years.  

Whenever young, thoughtless fans criticize anyone over twenty one for daring to still be involved in this little corner of our vast world, for being creative or just enjoying ourselves here, I think of this amazing elder fan and laugh.  

[nachotrash]

And how do we rewrite the stars?

- a Sugawara X Reader -

Summary: in a world where you can hear your soulmate sing, there are two types; one, where your soulmate is in the same world as yours. And two, where they don't belong in yours. Almost all your friends found their soulmate, will you ever find yours?

Warnings: Swearing, Suga is probably very ooc because the author wrote this at 2AM, Dumb author can’t write angst so bear with me please, 

A/N: If only all mothers were like this 😔🖐. Also I’m sorry if this seems rushed and low-quality. My english vocabulary is getting worse and I wrote this in the middle of the night. Aaand I still have an event to finish (sorry lili)

Reblogs are appreciated!

Love is like that one song.

That one song which you really like but you can’t remember it.

That one damned song.

"Y/N! Y/N!" Chiyoko, one of your best friends ran up to you, eyes sparkling with excitement.

You chuckled, taking out your earbuds and rolling them up. "What's up?"

"You remember that music competition we participated in?" She asked, slightly panting from the running.

"Yeah, it's only been a week. Why?" You said, raising an eyebrow.

"The votes are in." She huffed. Your eyes widened, getting more curious by the second.

"And? And?!"

"We won, we're going to the quarterfinals!" Chiyoko exclaimed, jumping up and down from excitement.

“Alright!! LETS GOOOO” You yelled, fistbumping the air in victory. Some students turned around and looked at you, as if you’re crazy.

*TIMESKIP*

You were at your locker, trying to get all your books in your bag when someone came up to you. You groaned, realizing that it was one of your rivals from the music competition. 

“Aww, look here, it’s the weirdo who doesn’t have a soulmate!” She laughed, voiced laced with sarcasm. 

“What do you want.” You spat, looking her in the eyes.

“Oh, nothing much. Just checking if you have found your soulmate or not” She grinned, putting her hand on her waist. 

“Honestly, I don’t. But I do have an idea who it might be, or at least who it sounds like” You sighed, turning back to your locker. 

She grimaced, grabbing your arm and preventing you from getting your stuff. “Oh yeah? Well then, tell me.” 

You sighed again. Completely done with her bullshit. “His voice sounds like Sugawara. Y’know, that silver-haired 3rd-Year from Haikyuu” You said grinning .

“Of course I know who he is! But don’t tell me you think HE is the one! There is no way anyone like that will like you!” She snarled. Slamming your hand to the locker.

“I never said so, and who cares? It’s not like it’s any of YOUR buisness anyway.” You shrugged, pulling your hand back and closing your locker, ready to leave. “Now if you don’t mind, I have to go home”

“Stop lying! There is no way you have a soulmate like that!” She yelled, turning her back to you and storming off.

You sighed in annoyance. What’s her problem? Is she that pissed about you winning against her?

You started walking home. It was dark outside, and the sky was clear. So you could see the stars shining bright above your head.

Stupid asshole. You thought, kicking at the dirt. Getting so nosy just because of a voice.

You furrowed your eyebrows. He probably just sounds like Suga, Haikyuu is just a ficitonal world right? Jeez Y/N, stop giving yourself false hope. Suga is just a ficitonal character and there is no way he is real periodt. 

You sighed frustrated, grabbing your keys from your pockets and unlocking the door.

“Honey! Welcome home! How wa- Whoa! Why are you crying?” Your mother asked, her cheerful expression turning into a concerned one. 

“Wait- I am?” That’s when you realised there were wet streams running down your cheeks, dripping onto the floor. You quickly wiped them away and started walking up the stairs. “Mom, I’m feeling tired right now. I’m gonna rest for a bit” Your mom hummed back, telling you that she agrees.

Walking up the stairs, you suddenly felt really tired and annoyed. So you walked in your room, threw your bag on the ground, plopped your earbuds in, and started listening to some music.

MEANWHILE...

Practice just finished, and I was on my way home. Kageyama and Hinata were getting along better, and Kageyama even asked me for some advice for studying. 

“Hi Koushi, welcome back!” Mom’s voice rang through the hallway “You’re right on time! Dinner is ready”

I put my bag on the ground, walking to the kitchen and helping mom with the dishes. 

After we sat down and started eating, mom asked me the question.

“Koushi?”

“Hm?”

“So... Have you heard anything from your soulmate?”

“Well, this morning they were humming to a song, but that’s it” I said after swallowing a piece of tofu.

“Alright then, make sure to tell me when something happens!”

“Sure”

*30 minutes later*

I was rehearsing some of the english sentences for the upcoming test, when I heard humming. I recognised the voice immeadiately. It was my supposed ‘soulmate’s voice! 

There was something wrong with it. It sounded... hopeless? I’m not sure how to describe it. It kind of sounded as if they were on the verge of breaking down.

“Hold on a second. I know this song!” I thought to myself. I was sure that they needed help

Y/N’S POV

It was calming, just you and the music. Or at least, it would’ve been so if you weren’t fighting yourself about the events of a few hours ago.

It was silent. Until a voice suddely popped up in your head and started singing. 

You know I want you,

It's not a secret I try to hide

A small smile appeared on your face, hearing the fammiliar voice of your soulmate.

I know you want me

So don't keep saying our hands are tied

You claim it's not in the cards

And fate is pulling you miles away

And out of reach from me

But you're here in my heart

So who can stop me if I decide

That you're my destiny?

...

What if we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine

Nothing could keep us apart

You'd be the one I was meant to find

It's up to you, and it's up to me

No one can say what we get to be

So why don't we rewrite the stars?

Maybe the world could be ours

Tonight...

You sighed. Knowing fully well that it has a small chance of happening. So, you answered.

You think it's easy..

You think I don't wanna run to you

But there are mountains

And there are doors that we can't walk through

I know you're wondering why because we're able to be

Just you and me within these walls

But when we go outside, you're gonna wake up and see

That it was hopeless after all...

No one can rewrite the stars

How can you say you'll be mine?

Everything keeps us apart

And I'm not the one you were meant to find

It's not up to you

It's not up to me

When everyone tells us what we can be

How can we rewrite the stars?

Say that the world can be ours

Tonight...

All I want is to fly with you

All I want is to fall with you

So just give me all of you

It feels impossible

It's not impossible

Is it impossible?

Say that it's possible

How do we rewrite the stars?

Say you were made to be mine?

Nothing can keep us apart

'Cause you are the one I was meant to find

It's up to you

And it's up to me

No one can say what we get to be

And why don't we rewrite the stars?

Changing the world to be ours

At this point, you’re silently crying. To finish the song, you softly whispered the last four lines

You know I want you

It's not a secret I try to hide

But I can't have you

We're bound to break and my hands are tied

“Thank you..” you whispered, smiling softly

Author: Note to future self; Never use Lunar’s writing style again, it doesn’t mix with yours

Also part two?