#pretend it's the lighting changing her nail colour because I did my best

[deathdoesntkillyou]

[kumeko]

A/N: For the End of the Universe Zine, I wanted to explore a small story in a dystopian world

Summary: In a dystopian world, Keith took his small pleasures. His drives while dropping illegal goods. His ever-complaining mechanic and his low repair prices. The rare night with Shiro. He didn’t need more than that.

He definitely didn’t need Shiro’s dreams of saving everyone, of saving anyone.

…

…

…

…

“Jeez.” Hunk squatted down next to the dented motorcycle, his hand hovering over the metal like he didn’t know where to touch. Horrified, he looked up at Keith. “What’d you do this time?”

“Nothing unusual.” Keith shrugged, his hands in his leather jacket. Considering how fast he had driven to reach here, his black clothes stuck to his skin uncomfortably and he really wanted a shower. “You know how it is.”

“I don’t.” Hunk tied a dirty bandanna around his head. Keith was never sure if that was to protect his hair or if he just thought it looked cool; if it was the former, judging by the dirty overalls and grease stains on his face, it was a failed effort. “I thought transporters had to be careful.”

“Careful and quick,” Keith corrected, walking over to a side table. Pushing away the cigarette butts and bottle caps, he picked up a newspaper. Replicants Stage Coupscreamed the top headline. “And even then it’s hard to avoid the government dogs.”

Hunk tapped the side of the motorcycle and the pedal fell off with a loud clatter. Groaning, Hunk shot Keith a baleful glare. “Why? I give you a great bike and every single time you break it.”

“It’s either that or my life,” Keith pointed out. He flipped through the newspaper quickly, scanning headlines. Issues with the current president, interest rates rising again, a food shortage with no end. The same old fare, nothing at all unusual about the headlines. When Hunk didn’t say anything, he rolled up the paper with a sigh. “Sorry. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“…that’s what you always say,” Hunk grumbled, accepting the apology nonetheless. Pulling out his tool kit, he sat down next to the bike. “It’ll take a day or two to get in top condition.” Pointing a wrench at a grey box perched on a chair, he added, “Oh, and deliver that to Pidge while you wait.”

“Huh?” Keith crossed his arms. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re a transporter?” Hunk rolled his eyes. “It’ll be the easiest job you’ve had. Nothing dangerous inside, no one chasing you. Just do it.”

Keith raised a brow. “And how much are you paying me?”

“I’m fixing your bike.” He tapped the back threateningly with the wrench. “You wanna get stuck here forever?”

“Fair point.” Picking up the box, he almost dropped it in surprise. Considering his job, Keith was pretty strong but that would just barely help him with this package. “What do you have in here? It weighs a ton.”

“Spare parts, an engine to take a part, the usual things.” Already in work mode, Hunk absentmindedly waved him off. “Just get it to her today, she has a client.”

-x-

The streets were as dirty and crowded as ever, with throngs of people flowing to and from work. Or to and from the pleasure district, to be exact. Popup shops crowded every corner, offering anything from drugs to weapons to the latest stolen technology. Neon-coloured signs hung off various buildings, enticing pedestrians to enter.

Keith pushed his way forward, his gaze firmly fixed in front of him. He hadn’t missed any of this while he was on the road. There wasn’t really anything keeping him here, fixed to this city. Hunk was a great mechanic but they were a dime a dozen, one in every town. No, to be exact, every town was the same. The same grey, the same dirt, the sense of loneliness and loss.

A world in greyscale. The only time he saw colour was when he was racing down the highway, an illegal package in his satchel.

-x-

The bells chimed as he entered Pidge’s repair shop. A small space, squeezed into the very end of a depilated building, Keith had walked past it three times before spotting it. Inside, the white shelves were lined with the latest in limb replacements, fine technology that actually made it better to lose a body part than to have it.

“In the back,” Pidge called out cheerfully, followed by the sound of metal clicks. She was with a customer then.

“I swear your place gets smaller every time I come,” Keith said dryly. A lightbulb flickered as he made his way to the back room. Even the space between the shelves felt narrower than the last time he came.

“Or you’re just getting fatter,” Pidge shot back, a pleasing lilt to her voice. Someone was in a good mood today.

“Like that’s possible.” Keith snorted, waving a package as he entered Pidge’s unofficial clinic. “Hunk wanted you to have this.”

At one point, the room had probably been a manager’s room or something like that. Now there were curtains on windows and a long bed for the particularly strenuous limb repairs. Not that Pidge’s current operation seemed like one of those. Seated on a worn-out chair, she had her latest patient sitting across from her, his mechanical arm in her lap. A man with a streak of white hair. He glanced up and Keith almost forgot to breath.

Shiro.

Shiro was back.

“Must be the parts I ordered.” Still tinkering with the arm, Pidge glanced over her shoulder. “Just put it on the table, I’ll take a look after.”

“Sure.” Keith tore his eyes away from Shiro long enough to set the box down. Shiro was back. Trying not to sound overeager, he asked, “What happened to you?”

“The usual.” Shiro winced as Pidge tried to reconnect the arm. “There was a trap. We almost got caught.”

“And then your hand got caught instead,” Pidge chimed in, closing an eye as she examined her handiwork. “What’s this, the tenth replacement? There’s a reason you’re my best customer.”

“Eleventh,” Shiro corrected with a sheepish smile.

“Ugh. It’s a good thing I don’t paste my name on these babies, otherwise I’d be dead right now.” Pidge grimaced. Somehow, Keith didn’t think that would save her for too long. Her work was too advanced, too impressive, and all it’d take was a couple of questions to find out just who made the rebellion’s general’s arm.

Taking a deep breath, Keith finally turned around and gave Shiro a proper once over. Dressed in a tank top and sweat pants, it was easy to see that there were no injuries on him. There wasn’t any blood or bandages. A relief, considering it all. It was a rare time when Shiro got away with just a broken prosthetic. Noticing his stare, Shiro smiled. “We didn’t lose anyone, at least.”

That wasn’t what he was worried about. At all. Keith crossed his arms, his eyes roving over Shiro’s biceps, his well-defined chest, and trying not to remember what it felt like to have that body curled over his. To have those hands on him. “I didn’t think you did. There was nothing in the newspapers.”

“Yeah, I guess they’d mention it if they caught us.” Shiro lowered his gaze. “Especially if they caught Allura. The rebellion would be over in an instant.”

“Rebellion.” Pidge clicked her tongue, finally setting down her tools. “You’re making it sound better than just a rag-tag of people who still think they change something.”

“We can,” Shiro answered simply.

No, you can’t, Keith thought, and perhaps more so than the world they lived in, that was the real tragedy: hope.

-x-

This wasn’t love. This was sex, pure and simple. A raw need, a primal urge. A way to forget the present. A way to feel something other than despair.

Keith bit Shiro’s throat, feeling the resulting rumble tremor through this body. Shiro’s hand interlaced in his. His nails scratched on Shiro’s back. All he could smell was Shiro’s musky scent. All he could feel was Shiro’s touch. Nothing else existed—not the road, not the government, not the possibility of death.

“Keith,” Shiro moaned, but Keith didn’t say anything back. He refused to.

This wasn’t love and therefore, he didn’t have anything to lose.

-x-

Through the half-open blinds, neon lights spilled into Keith’s bedroom. It was a spartanly furnished room, consisting of just a bed and a table. And now, Shiro, who was lying face down in a pillow to block out the light. The pinks and oranges from the street signs painted Shiro’s pale back and Keith traced familiar patterns over the many scars that littered his partner’s skin. The one on his shoulder blade, from when he’d been thrown in prison for eight months. The one on his side, from when a gun had almost hit his stomach.

Propping his head up on his hand, Keith idly touched the scar on Shiro’s lower back. Hearing Shiro’s breathing change, Keith asked, “Why do you fight?”

For a long moment, he thought Shiro was going to pretend to be asleep. Instead, he finally turned over, the sheets tangling up around his legs as he stared up at Keith. His single white lock glowed in the dim light. “Because it’s the right thing to do.”

“There’s no right, not anymore. Not here.” Keith dismissed the argument entirely. That was old world crap. His nail scratched line left by a blade on Shiro’s chest.

“There’s always a right. Especially here, especially now,” Shiro countered, grabbing Keith’s hand. “If I don’t fight, then who will?”

“Someone else.” Keith lowered his eyes. They had this same discussion every time, this useless argument that never changed anything. Soon, Shiro would disappear again, off on some doomed rebellion plot or the other. Maybe he’d die this time, his picture plastered on the photos.

“There’s no one else.” Shiro tightened his grip, interlacing their hands. “Just us.”

And maybe that was true too. But Keith wouldn’t stay around to find out—if he was going to be left again, he might as well leave first. There was always something that had to be transported, some job that needed doing. He’d find one as soon as his bike was fixed.

Instead of answering, he pressed his lips on Shiro’s chest, his hand already reaching down. At least during sex, he didn’t have to think these useless thoughts.

-x-

“All done.” Hunk proudly wiped his greasy hands on a dirty towel and Keith wasn’t sure if his hands or the towel were dirtier than before. Holding onto the handlebars, he glared. “At least give it a few weeks before you break it.”

“No promises.” Prying the bike free, Keith gave it a once over. It looked almost new, except for the scratch on the side. “Impressive.”

“Of course it is! Who do you think you’re talking to?” Excited, Hunk tapped on the engine. “I also spruced up the engine a bit—it’ll go a little faster than before.”

“Nice.” Sling his leg over, Keith slipped onto the seat. Turning the key, the engine purred under him. “I’ll take it for a test spin.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll count the cash.” Hunk picked up the metal box Keith left by his workbench. “It’s all here, right?”

“Yep, paid in full.” Keith revved the engine and closed his eyes. Yeah, that sounded right. “Got a job lined up for tomorrow, so you finished just in time.”

“I finished exactly on time—I said I’d be done now!” Hunk rolled his eyes, popping open the box.

Pulling out of the garage, Keith felt his mood brighten. There was something about the open road, about the one thing, the one place where he wasn’t restricted. There was freedom in flying down the road, the wind in his hair, and nothing but an archaic vehicle to keep him safe. It was a simple happiness.

There weren’t too many of those anymore.

-x-

Shiro was still at his place when he returned, and that was an oddity. Keith had almost expected to find an empty bed, their usual arrangement. Instead, Shiro was brazenly sitting on his kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee.

“You’re here,” Keith said, more a statement than a question.

Shiro looked just as surprised as he felt. “I thought you left.”

“I had to grab some supplies.” Keith set his helmet on the table. Shiro was drinking from the wolf mug. His favourite mug. Did Shiro know that?

“Oh.” Shiro’s fingers curled around the table’s edges. “I was just about to leave.”

“It’s fine.” Keith entered his bedroom. It was funny. Shiro’s scent still lingered on his sheets. Picking up his first aid kit, he glanced back at the kitchen. At Shiro’s back, at the weariness in his shoulders.

It wasn’t that easy to be optimistic, was it. It wasn’t easy at all. His feet moved automatically and before he knew it, his hand was on Shiro’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Keith?” Shiro asked, looking up curiously.

“I’ll help,” Keith muttered. A pile of newspapers was stacked in the corner, remnants of him checking for any rebel news. Any sign that Shiro had died. He did that every time he arrived at a city and maybe it was time he stopped lying to himself. It wasn’t love but he would be heartbroken nonetheless if he just read about Shiro’s death and did nothing to stop it. Maybe he could show the futility of it all and drag Shiro out of the mess entirely.

“Keith…” Shiro smiled at him brightly and Keith swallowed.

It wasn’t love.

Maybe, if he said it enough times, his body would believe him.

[silverlightqueen]

My Love is Come to Me

silverlightqueen’s SKZ Scarefest

demonhunter!Changbin x demonprincess!reader - comedy, angst, gore and violence, reader is a total bad bitch and Changbin is just tired™️

Word Count: 2.6k+

Summary - y/n’s a troublemaker. Everyone who’s ever met her knows that well. However… y/n’s definition of trouble isn’t quite what you’d expect. But what’s the harm in messing with humans? Hurting them a little? Or hurting them a lot? It’s only a bit of fun, right? Changbin doesn’t seem to think so.

Warnings: explicit gory description, blood and weapons, violence, decapitation, murder, blackmail and betrayal, I think that’s it but please let me know if you noticed I missed something!

a/n: and here is the third instalment of my SKZ Scarefest! I really hope you enjoy it! please be sure to check out the previous parts (because I put a lot of effort in and one of them has two notes lmao) and keep an eye out for the coming parts too! thank you @silverlightprincess​ for proofreading, you’re the best and I love you! x

taglist: @kodzu-ken​ @cloudsgathering​ @silverlightprincess

silverlightqueen navigation

‘Which poor thing have they sent this time?’ I call tauntingly into the darkness when I hear footsteps echoing around the room. Only one chandelier is lit - the one above me – flickering sinisterly whilst the rest of the room remains hidden in the blanket of the dark. I don’t get a reply but the smile on my face doesn’t falter because I can hear the footsteps getting louder, my acute hearing giving me the ability to pinpoint exactly where they are. And just as I expect, a single boot appears out of the shadows, the light glinting off the pristine black leather. Another boot joins the first, and the person wearing them is illuminated only a few moments later, their face making my smile grow wider.

‘Changbin – the boss himself! It has been so long!’ I exclaim, leaning back in my seat and crossing one leg over the other, beaming at him. ‘Not long enough,’ he mutters with a roll of his eyes, tucking one hand into his pocket exasperatedly. He looks so handsome, as he always does, in his hunter uniform. The black t-shirt and black cargo trousers are perfectly fitted to his godly proportions, and he has a harness, with weapons tucked into it, tight around his waist, giving him an attractive V-shape. His biceps bulge against the sheaths he has fastened around them, and he has a gun strap diagonally across his torso, the butt of the gun visible over his shoulder. His hair is different now to the last time I saw him; he’s dyed it a light blond and has it parted at the side, the silky locks spread to reveal a slice of his forehead and one dark brown eyebrow.

‘Your hair is nice. This colour complements your skin,’ I murmur softly, and he looks up at me with a stony expression. ‘Will you not thank me for my kind words?’ I ask, hearing the edge in my voice, and I see his jaw clench in anger. I lift a hand up, a flame appearing in my palm, and I run my long stiletto shaped nails, blood red and sharpened to a lethal point, through the tip of it, the heat tickling my skin. ‘Thank me,’ I instruct, and he sighs in defeat, eyes watching the hellfire in my hand warily. ‘Thank you, y/n,’ he says through gritted teeth, and I grin, closing my hand on the flame and feeling it die against my skin.

‘Which pointless charade will it be today, Changbin? Shall I pretend to run and let you chase me for a little while? Or should I let you kill me to only come and haunt you again tomorrow? Maybe I should just leave?’ I pretend to ponder, enjoying this far too much. ‘You know what you should do? Go terrorise another realm,’ he spits out angrily, and I pretend to recoil back, holding a hand to where my heart would be if I had one in mock hurt. ‘Ouch. And here I was thinking you liked our… little chats,’ I pout, trying to look as sad as I can (it is hard when emotion is not something you feel), and he lets out an angry huff.

‘Cut the bullshit, y/n, I’m sick of this. Haven’t you got anything better to do?’ ‘Better than torturing helpless little humans? Better than listening to the desperate screams of my victims as I terrorise them before tearing them apart? Better than feeling full on fear? Not much in the world is better than that, Changbin. And you know it well yourself,’ I say with a little grin, and he doesn’t say anything, just staring at me unreadably, because he knows I’m right.

Not many know the origin of demon hunters, but I’m old enough to have been there when the first one was converted. A priest of one of the first civilisations on Earth created a spell to supress the demonic qualities of demons, and turn them into enhanced beings without the evil in them. By a clumsy mistake on my part, he managed to capture me and my love, who was too a demon, and locked me up whilst he performed the spell on my love. I had no belief that it would work, but how wrong I was, for the first thing my love did when he laid eyes on me after having the spell performed on him was lift a knife that my father had gifted him and plunge it into my chest. When I awoke, I was back in the 5th circle of Hell, weak and hurt, and my love, as he was, was lost forever.

‘Do you not miss the old days, Changbin? Chasing humans, petrifying them, feeding on their deliciously raw fear, striking our glorious wrath down upon them? Ruling the 5th circle side by side with me, as King and Queen?’ I ask, as I always do, and I can’t help but hope to hear a different answer than usual, as I always do. ‘No, y/n, I don’t miss it. I miss the days when I’d kill you and you’d actually die for longer than a few hours,’ he mutters angrily, and I sigh, not so much disappointed as… fed up.

His harsh words used to hurt, especially so soon after I used to hear nothing but love and devotion from him, and I would weep at his feet, begging for him to come back to me. The spell is reversible, you see, but demon hunters are almost entirely immune to temptation, and so there is nothing that will make them choose to change back. I used to follow him everywhere, desperate for him to come home with me as himself, and he would hurl hurtful words at me before brutally murdering me. I’d reawaken a few days later and sob as the pain of a broken heart engulfed me, only to seek him out again with renewed hope not long after.

It was only a century after pursuing him that the pain was too much to bear, and I took his knife from him – my father’s knife – to cut out my own heart and place it in his palm. When he hurled it away in disgust, I felt nothing, no hurt or pain or heartbreak, and it was liberating. The old love for him lingers on still, but it is faint, and his rejections inflict pain upon me no more.

‘Come,’ I command, and he doesn’t move a muscle, turning over Satan’s knife in his hands. ‘Don’t make me hurt you, because you know well that I will. My tenderness for you exists no longer, Changbin, and my patience wears thin quickly,’ I say gently, the threat in my words clear, and he sighs exasperatedly, boots thudding against the steps as he makes his way up towards me. I rise from the throne, moving aside and motioning for him to sit, and he fixes me with a look as if to say, ‘really?’ I don’t say anything, raising a brow, daring him to disobey me, and he looks away, sinking into the throne in defeat. He may be the original Demon Hunter, but there is not much in the world that is stronger than Satan’s daughter, a Princess of Hell.

I carefully make my way down the steps, the Queen’s heavy fur robes that are fastened across my collar dragging behind me, and I know his eyes are on my back, able to smell the intrigue rolling off him in waves. My red stilettos echo against the polished wooden floor, and with each step I take, the sound of Changbin’s gentle breaths becomes quieter and quieter, his steady heartbeat just out of my reach.

And then my ears pick up the clinking of metal, the rush of wind that follows a sudden movement, and the singing of a blade through the air. Just as I reach the door of the throne room, the knife reaches me, and I turn around, catching it with a quick hand, the sharp blade nicking my palm, blood slowly trickling down my wrist and tainting my skin. ‘It is not nice to throw things at people in the dark, Changbin. Especially sharp things,’ I say lightly, as though reprimanding a child, and I smile at the soft frustrated sigh he lets out. He cannot have possibly thought something with such little effort would have been anything other than futile – he knows it is not easy to kill me.

I raise the hand with the blade in it, lighting all of the chandeliers with that single movement, and I revel in seeing the way Changbin’s face changes when the room is thrown into light. ‘Did they not tell you what you were coming to deal with? Well, you should have known – we did this sort of thing together once. Especially at this time of the year, to mark the coming of All Hallows’ Eve,’ I say nonchalantly, leaning against the doorframe with a grin, and he looks up at me, disgust colouring his beautiful face. ‘You make me sick,’ he spits out, features twisting with anger, and my grin grows even wider.

My eyes scan over the room, admiring my work of art. Bodies are strewn across the room, the floor covered entirely in fresh blood, ruby red splashed across the majestic paintings that adorn the golden walls. The only part of the room empty of bodies is the red carpet beneath my feet, stained redder with blood, unrolled right up to the foot of the throne. A clear walkway for a King and Queen.

‘When will this end, y/n? You can’t keep doing this!’ he shouts, furious, and I just raise an eyebrow. ‘I can, and I will. You are the only one who can put a stop to this, so you know as well as I that the blood of these innocents is not on my hands. It is on yours, my love,’ I smile, and he shakes his head, face twisted with rage.

‘They said it was one dead body. Not this… barbaric massacre,’ he says, sounding bitter, and I roll my eyes. ‘Oh, you sound so sad, but for no good reason. You know not these humans, care not for them,’ I say, frustrated at his righteousness when, deep down, he is no better than I. ‘It’s basic human empathy, y/n!’ he shouts at me, and I let out a harsh laugh. ‘A human you are not! You are like me!’ I scream, my voice echoing around the circular room endlessly, ringing in my ears.

We’re both silent and after a few moments, I let out an annoyed huff. ‘I loathe shouting. It is so unladylike. I wish you would refrain from making me do so,’ I pout, lifting a hand to fix the Queen’s tiara atop my head. ‘I wish you would refrain from murdering dozens of innocent people,’ he says pointedly, and I roll my eyes. ‘Goodness, you are dramatic. They are not dead. Just injured or stunned. Only one is dead. That one,’ I say exasperatedly, pointing to the body that is speared on the massive sword hung on the wall, and Changbin looks around in horror. ‘They’re all alive?’ he asks, and I nod, a small smile curving my lips up. ‘Not for long,’ I grin, and his eyes meet mine, questioning and wary.

I bend over, grabbing the shoulder of the human closest to me, and I lift her up against me, pressing the blade to her neck. She’s only a young girl, no older than 16, with a mild injury to her arm. The only reason she’s unconscious is her fear. ‘Change back or I murder her. And then I shall murder the rest of them too,’ I smile, giving him the ultimatum I should have given him many centuries ago, and his face falls. ‘y/n, don’t-’ ‘Begging I would bother not with, nor bargaining. I have given you your choice. Now make it,’ I say, and he just stares at me, jaw clenched with fury.

‘Dither not, Changbin. Her time is running out,’ I taunt him, digging the knife into her skin, fresh blood blooming around the blade. One move of my arm, and the life will seep out of her. ‘y/n, please-’ ‘Three.’ ‘y/n, don’t do this. Please-’ ‘Two.’ ‘y/n, please!’ ‘One.’ ‘Fine, fine, I’ll do it!’ he shouts, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘So do it,’ I say, and he stares at me for a moment, helplessness and rage covering his features. His eyes slide shut quickly, as though they were forced close, and his face becomes a blank canvas, sparking hope in my chest. I didn’t really think he’d do it, and part of me still doesn’t.

But when he opens his eyes again a few moments later, and they glow ruby red, I know. I stare at him in disbelief, and he just stares back, the red in his eyes slowly fading. And then he smiles, a beautiful and terrible smile, and I can’t help but smile back, a smile of glorious victory. My love is come to me.

I force the knife through the girl’s neck, revelling in the loud crunch of her head coming apart from the rest of her, and I drop both her limp body and severed head to the floor, cleaning the blade on the royal robes. I step along the red carpet, making my way back towards him, and stop halfway, looking down at the King who lies pathetically at my feet. I reach down, pulling the crown from his head and the sceptre from his hand. I continue walking up towards Changbin, the man watching me with a devilish grin, leaning back in the throne as though it is his own, his big veiny hands adorned with rings resting on the red velvet arms on the chair.

When I reach him, he stands before me, and I place the crown atop his blond locks gently, handing him the sceptre which he takes with a strong hand. ‘My King, my love,’ I whisper, and his smile grows. ‘My Queen, my love,’ he replies, lifting my hand to his mouth and pressing a gentle kiss to my skin, his sinful brown eyes never leaving mine.

‘Your wound bleeds,’ he murmurs, lifting my hand to his face once more and pressing the cut on my palm to his mouth, cleaning away the blood with one swift motion of his tongue. And then he lifts his hand to my face, and swipes his finger across my cheek, cleaning away a splash of the human girl’s blood. The simple and tender touch ignites me, my love for him burning hot through my body. He holds his finger to his mouth, tongue darting out to taste the blood, and his eyes flutter shut as a low moan sounds in his throat, the sound sparking desire deep within me.

‘How I have missed the divine taste of human blood. Only slightly less than I have missed you, my love,’ he says softly, and a satisfied smile stretches across my face. ‘I feel that I may have missed you more,’ I reply, and he lets out a gentle scoff. ‘Impossible,’ he says lightly, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Show me how much you missed me,’ I challenge, and I see the competitive glint in his eyes appear again, though it is not a look I have been able to miss – it seems my Changbin and the other Changbin had a competitive streak in common. ‘How, my love? I shall do whatever you ask of me,’ he promises, and I grin, slipping past him to sink into the throne, looking out over the room with my chin lifted in a regal stance.

‘Kill them all, my King,’ I say simply, and his lips lift in an evil grin, his eyes glowing red with sin. ‘For you, my Queen – my love – gladly.’

[serensama]

To Release #1

To Release #1

Yoosung needs to let MC go.

Years ago, i had asked the amazing @promiscuous-jalapeno to write a HC for me when I was too scared to write my own and she did an amazing job- tore me right up it did. I asked her shortly thereafter if she minded if I tried to do it and she was kind enough to encourage me. Nearly 4 years and I’ve finally done it. 

Trigger warnings: Character death, mentions of cancer.

This is for my friend, my sister- Susana. I don’t know how to let you go. But one day I will. And one day I will see you again. Rest well until then dear one.

This is for my baby, my puppy Meiko- run free my little one. I know you’ll be waiting for me too. Keep Susana company and keep her safe until we catch up, okay? Good Boy.

-       Yoosung wasn’t an idiot, he knew she thought he was blind to what was happening- but you had to be completely void of brain activity to not notice it.

-       At first there were small differences.

-       The way she wore different clothes, or the way she wore her hair or even her makeup had changed.

-       She was ‘tired’ all the time and stayed late at work.

-       She even had mystery calls she would take away from him in another room, her voice fading in hushed tones as she made sure he would never hear a word she spoke.

-       But it was too late, he already knew.

-       All the signals were there and they were screaming at him even when she had never uttered a word to him.

-       In the extra care she put in her appearance, in the way she would avoid his touch and affection and in the guilt she bore in her eyes as she would look his way whenever she thought he didn’t notice.

-       He did notice. He always did.

-       Yoosung was hurt that after all they had been through, that she would treat him that way- omission was a type of lie, a type of betrayal and he thought they had promised never to lie to each other… even over something like this.

-       And yet… yet he was happy.

-       Though he had to be secretive about it; he wasn’t an idiot after all. This was something he had wanted to happen for the longest time. He had never admitted it to MC, but he had wanted this since she walked down the aisle all those years ago.  

-       He wanted nothing more than for MC to pregnant.

-       Yoosung chuckled to himself as he pretended not to hear his wife struggling in the bathroom with another bout of morning sickness. She had been trying so hard to make sure he never heard her, even going to the lengths of turning on the shower to mask any noise.

-       Readjusting himself on the couch with his morning newspaper, he waited patiently for MC to eventually patter out. He couldn’t believe himself, right at the start of all things where he was half convinced that she was cheating on him. Who could blame him for thinking about it, even for a second? MC had this power of drawing people to her and making everyone feel special- how could he even blame this possible other person for falling in love with her? Hadn’t he? Hell, he was sure almost everyone in the RFA was at some point in love with her.

He had even spoken to Saeyoung about it and was rewarded with nothing but snorts and an index finger pointed at him in derision.

“As if she would e-hahahaa, s-sorry sorry, ever cheat on you man. For someone so clever you really are dumb,” he said to him through peals of laughter. “MC would rather die than do something like that you. Why would you even think that? Why would you be talking to me rather than her? Dude, use your head it’s something else.”

“What do you know that I don’t?”

“I don’t know anything like that. All I do know is that MC is my best friend- don’t look at me like that, you’re my best friend too- and she is not a cheater. She’s probably just trying something different. Shaking things up y’know? I dunno maybe she’s feeling like she wants to change her style, maybe someone was mean to her at work and she wants to put them in her place with her makeup or hair? Maybe she’s working late because there are new deadlines she has to do and she comes home exhausted because she is in fact, exhausted. Or who knows, maybe she’s pregnant!”

-       He knew his friend had thrown that in for laughs or absurdity but it was anything but that for Yoosung. Maybe… maybe she was. All the signs were there. Wearing new clothes that were just that little bit bigger to hide her stomach, she looked amazing with her shorter hair and immaculate makeup, she didn’t want him to touch her that much and definitely not her stomach…of course.

-       Of course she was pregnant.

-       Cheating indeed. Maybe he was an idiot. MC would never do that to him.

-       Yoosung heard the sound of a flush and MC washing her hands as she attempted to clear her throat as inconspicuously as she could. She came out looking a bit pale but nonetheless as beautiful as she had ever been, her eyes lighting up when they found him on sofa.

-       “Morning honey,” she started, her voice raspy with the strain her throat was recently put under. He smiled up to her, silently praying today would be the day she would end this months’ long charade. “Did you already have breakfast? I can make something up for you if you’d like?”

“Won’t you be joining me?” he replied, folding his paper up and setting it aside, large blue eyes observing her every minute movement and expression. He watched as MC paused for a moment, her mind visibly racing for a quick reason to give him for her loss of appetite. “I mean- isn’t breakfast the most important meal of the day?”

“O-of course! I’m not really hungry though so maybe I’ll make myself some toast or maybe have a cup of coffee-”

“Is that really going to be enough?”

“What do you mean? I just told you I wasn’t very hungry-”

“Is that enough for the both of you?”

-       MC’s already pale face drained of all colour.

-       “What… Yoosung you’re not making sense.”

-       He stood up and walked towards his frozen wife and massaged his hands up and down her arms in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. “It’s okay MC, you don’t need to keep this up. I know. I know what you’ve been keeping from me.”

-       MC took a step back and took in a shuddering breath, her hand reaching of a nearby dining chair to steady her. Yoosung held onto her as her eyes widened and her whole body trembled, before completely slumping down onto the ground. He panicked as he quickly fell to his knees and quickly looked over his wife to see if she had injured herself, asking her if she was alright, if she was in any pain, what was happening-

“How did you find out?” she asked, her eyes looking forward, still and steadfast. Her hands clasped around the chair’s leg, knuckles white and flesh still shaking.

-       Yoosung let his palm glide over her silken hair and smiled kindly at her, waiting patiently for her to shift her attention to him. Slowly her eyes turned to him, round and glassy, irises almost pinpricks. “I’m not blind love.”

-       And then she cried.

-       Tears welled up along the rims of her eyes, sweeping down her cheeks and dripping off her chin. Soon her silence turned to a quiet weeping, Yoosung’s concern rising with her cries. Her haggard breathing turned to wails and in a blink of an eye her fingers were in the front of her t-shirt, twisted and pulling away from her chest- a wild look of desperation etched across her face. She began to rock back and forth ever so slightly as she too took rough and heaving breaths, MC could not hear a thing he was saying to her. Screaming at her. Pleading with her.

-       “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so.. I’m so so so sorry,” she chanted in between sobs, her hands finding purchase upon his forearms, nails biting crescent shaped lines into his skin. He let her leave the marks upon him as he did his best to calm her down from her frantic state. “It’s okay, MC it’s okay. Don’t work yourself up over this. Really it’s fine, I’m just glad that I know now- we can do this together right?” he asked in the most reassuring manner that he could. He hadn’t meant to guilt her into telling him or make her feel bad at all- he just wanted to be a part of it. MC shook her head and fisted her hands in his hair almost painfully as she peered up at him, his heart constricting tighter than he expected at her expression. This was meant to be a happy time, he wanted to be laughing and hugging not… not this… “I’m so sorry I didn’t… I didn’t tell you. I had wanted to do this on my own, until I was 100% sure-”

“We can go to the doctor and do the test-” “I’ve already done all the tests, I’m know already-” “Then you just wanted to pass the three month mark?”

“The what?” she asked, confusion crossing over her features for a second as she digested what he had just said. “The what? The three month what?”

“The first trimester. I know a lot of women don’t want to say anything until it passes in fear of the worst but… why are you looking at me like that?” he paused, staring back at his wife.

-       She had stopped crying. Stopped panicking. Stopped breathing. The strength in her digits all lost as her hands fell away to a dull thud on their carpeted floor beside them. “Yoosung. I’m not pregnant.” He sat back on his haunches and took a breath, just a moment to collect himself and his wayward thoughts. So if she wasn’t pregnant… “Then what, you’re cheating on me?” “W-what?” “If you’re not pregnant and you’re waiting for test results, what for? An STD test? Answer me. What the hell is happening here that you’re not telling me? I deserve to know!”

“I-”

“Tell me MC!” he begged, lunging forward and holding her against him, arms wrapped tightly around her smaller frame to comfort her and release whatever she was withholding from him. He wasn’t lying, he wanted to be in it together with her, whatever it was.

-       “I’m sick, Yoosung.”

-       He felt the air seep from his lungs as those three words echoed throughout the room and within the chambers of his heart.

-       “What do you mean? Like the flu?” he offered after what felt like an eternity of silence between them. Nothing. “MC Please tell me.” “… Cancer.”

-       He was sure the way his arms constricted around her was enough to break her bones but not a sound came from her and he just wanted to hold onto her as tightly as he could, maybe if he held her long enough and hard enough- none of what she said would be true. “But.. but the secrecy… the clothes and hair and… staying late a work… the secret calls? I just… I’m sorry I just don’t understand and-”

-       A small hand cupped the side of his face, her thumb tracing the softness of his cheek. MC lightly pressed on his jaw to tilt his face down to her and she offered the meekest of smiles, not an ounce of mirth to be found in the quirk of her mouth. “I wasn’t feeling well for a while so I went to the doctor a few months ago. After a few tests they found it…” she replied, her fingertips playing at the hair about his ears. “They told me that it was a good prognosis. That with some meds I would be fine, we caught it early enough. The meds left me tired and made me put on weight around my middle- I didn’t want you to touch me and ask me about it because I didn’t want you to worry. I’ve been wearing looser clothes to hide it, wearing more makeup because I’ve looked like shit… my hair started to thin so I cut it so it looked fuller so you couldn’t notice… all those times I stayed late at work I was seeing my oncologist and those phone calls was him… and I… I’m so so sorry Yoosung.”

-       Oncologist. It was real. Everything she was saying was real and she wasn’t pregnant. She wasn’t cheating. She was fighting for her life and she was doing it all alone and she was apologising to him. Of all the ludicrous things to do.

-       “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, voice tinged with pain as he tried his best not to cry, he wouldn’t cry, not yet.  MC shifted in his arms and sat back forcing herself to look him in the eye now that everything was out in the open. “Because I didn’t want to scare you, I thought I was strong enough to get through this without worrying you. They told me it was okay,” she responded pathetically with a shrug of her shoulders. “I thought it was okay. I thought I was going to be okay,” she whispered into her chest, her eyes fluttering closed as she took in another shaky breath.

-       This was too much. Everything she had said up to that point was teetering on the edge of ‘okay’… not that though.

“What do you mean… was?” “MC.” “What do you… answer me, don’t hold back now, why is it was?”

He looked on as she squeezed her eyes shut, pinching the bridge of her nose to will the tears to not come back. Her hand was still shaking. “He called again last night. I… it’s not good. It’s spread. It’s… I’m… there’s nothing they can-”

“No.”

“Yoosung-” “No.” “Please-” “No! NO! You do not get to finish that sentence. You will not finish that sentence. There is always something, we will find something. Saeyoung might be able to help research… maybe Jumin has a client with some experimental drugs or… don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?” “Like you’re okay with this!” he yelled as he stood up and started pacing the room. Suddenly he had too much energy, too many thoughts and he could scarcely keep up.

“I’m not okay with this Yoosung,” she said, eyes sad, body shrinking into herself, blocking him again. “That’s why I was fighting this so hard.”

“Stop saying that.”

“What?”

“Was. Stop saying was. We’re not done yet. You’re not gone. Stop saying it.”

-       MC opened her mouth to response but thought better of it. It wasn’t fair of her to ask him to accept it all at once not when he had to find out that way, so late… near the end of all things. “Okay. I’ll stop saying it.”

-       Yoosung nodded and sat back down, scooping her back into his arms and rested his cheek against the top of her head and just breathed in her scent. They sat there for hours as she recounted everything, letting her finally cry as she let him back in, together once more and trying to make a plan of what was to come; even when Yoosung could tell she was just agreeing to whatever he said to keep him from breaking down… he just held her tighter.

-       She had fallen asleep sitting on his lap, face buried in the side of his neck with his fingers running through her hair. Yoosung bit on his lip to silence his grunts of discomfort as he moved them both off the floor and onto the bed. She murmured in her sleep, dreaming soundly as she always did but he found no rest, no comfort. He counted each breath she took in and tried to find solace in every rise of her chest.

-       “Keep your pants on, I’m coming,” Saeyoung said with a long yawn. He dawdled towards his camera monitors to see if it was Saeran pounding at the front door because he had forgotten his keys for the third time that week, but after seeing a familiar brush of blonde hair instead bracing himself against his front door frame, he picked up his pace. Yoosung was always one to call before popping in and for him to come there with no prior warning and so late in the night, he knew something wasn’t right. He opened the door and was about to crack some smart ass comment when the sounds of a pained groan made him pause. Arms were thrown around him as the younger male threw himself at him, his smaller form convulsing, racked with deep gut wrenching gasps. He didn’t even need to ask. It was about MC, it always was. “She’s- she’s… I can’t lose her Hyung, not yet. I can’t.”

-       When MC woke her husband had a tray of food in his hands and what looked like a freshly picked vase of flowers to accompany her meal. He wasn’t ready for what was thrown his way yesterday but some greater power allowed him to have another day with her and he was going to make sure each second meant something; to either give her the strength to fight for more moments or gift her with memories she could have to depart with a smile on her face. He would give her this. He would give them this.

-       Yoosung rapidly understood why she had not told him in the past, why she had shouldered this all on her own. Sitting in the doctor’s office was jarring; it was cold and sterile no matter how many personal touches he had added to the room, it was still felt like a chamber of death. Dramatic? Maybe, but with the words that fell from his thin, pale lips he may as well have been carrying a scythe and hourglass. “I’m so sorry, I wish there was more we could do but at this stage the prognosis is the same. You may only have the next 6-8 months to live.”

-       The drive home was a blur, how he managed to get them back was a miracle as he didn’t even remember starting the car. All thought left him the second her fingers intertwined with his and she gave him a smile.

-       He lay in the bed that night, MC quietly snoring, her limbs thrown haphazardly onto him- her lips moving as if she spoke to someone in her dream. She gave a quick snort and another smile spread across her face.

-       How many more of these smiles will I have. How many more until it’s her last?

-       She grew weaker, quickly, frighteningly so. Her symptoms so severe he would find her clinging to the toilet for support, tears flowing from her eyes and hair plastered to her sweat slicked forehead. Eating was a struggle. She even muttered that blinking hurt in her sleep.

-       Still, she smiled, she smiled for him.

-       Her resilience, her heart, her ability to still shield him from the worst- he couldn’t believe her fortitude and mental strength, her absolute undying love for him.

-       So he did what he could for her, he would always smile back.

-       Even if it broke him.

-       Seven months and 8 days since they sat in the doctor’s office together, he came back from the market with all her favourite foods. It was so hard to get her to eat lately, only the most enticing of food would get her to open up her mouth for a bite or two. He would never complain though, he loved to make her food even if almost all of it couldn’t be eaten. He was happy just to be able to take care of her. How many more meals were left to share?

-       He had moved towards their bedroom when he heard MC’s voice, still sweet as ever but softer and coloured with such fragility that sometimes even her saying good morning to him was enough for him to have to turn away from her for a second to recollect himself for her.

-       Yoosung stopped, his hand on the door handle, not wanting to intrude if MC was on a call. She had been on quite a few recently- she hadn’t wanted to see her friends anymore, she hadn’t the energy to even try. He strained his ears to listen in to see who she was speaking to; she spoke a lot of Saeyoung of course but Jaehee had called more often and even Jumin would call her late at night when he knew she was up because she was in so much pain she couldn’t sleep. However there was no voice replying to her, only hers. Perhaps she was dreaming?

-       Yoosung slowly eased the door open and peered through the slight crack to find his wife sitting up on the bed with her phone on a tripod in front of her. She was recording herself- “- and I can never thank you enough for everything Yoosung.”

Recording herself for him. Recording her goodbye.

“I am still trying to forgive myself for not telling you sooner and I hope one day you will understand why I did what I did, as misguided as it was. I wanted to spare you the pain if I could. The worry. Maybe I was just scared and if I told you it would make it real. Pills and feeling sick didn’t make it real. Your fear and your tears… that… that made it real. I’m sorry. I know you’ll be looked after, everyone in the RFA has promised me they would. Jaehee said she’d come and look after the plants. Zen said he’d make sure that you’d stay healthy. Saeyoung and Saeran promised that you’d have some fun once in a while and Jumin and V would help you with the clinic and anything else you need. You are not alone my love, even if I’m… when I’m gone… you are not alone.”

She paused as she had lost her breath and her body shook with fatigue as she tried her best to regain herself. “I will always be with you and I want you to be happy you got that? I always want you to be happy. Let me leave this life knowing that I left you happy.”

-       He opened the door fully and MC whipped her head towards her husband, shock fading away as she flashed him a soft smile that reached her eyes, twinkling with unshed tears.

-       One more meal. Twenty three more smiles. And one more from him.

-       And she left.

-       With one last smile he could not return.

-       In time he knew he would be able to watch that video. In time he knew that he could smile again, but for now, he held her tighter and let himself finally, truly, cry.

[purplesurveys]

1240

Are you better at cooking dinners or making cakes/biscuits/sweets?  I can’t make any dish. I wonder when I’ll get my ass up and start learning...

Have you ever cut someone else’s hair?  I wouldn’t dare; I have no skills in that department at all.

Who was the last guest in your house and what were they staying for?  Angela and Hans came over so we can watch Sowoozoo. 

How many long term relationships have you been in?  One.

Do you sleep with all the lights out, or do you leave a lamp or even the television on?  My default is lights out, but sometimes I’ll fall asleep with my night lamp still on and that’s fine too.

Who is one person you have forgiven, but still have not “forgotten” what they have done?  I don’t really do forgiving.

Are you a fan of Lana Del Rey?  No. I’ve tried listening to her songs but I find them too slow for my liking.

Do you know your blood type?  It’s O but I keep forgetting what specific type.

Do you know your mother’s birthday?  Yes.

Have you got your period at the moment?  It’s on its last few days.

Have you ever been pregnant?  Nopes.

How old were you when you first went on a plane?  I was around 10 or 11, can’t remember exactly. But it was in 2009 and we headed to Boracay.

Have you ever had to take out a loan for anything?  No. OMG, adult activity I don’t quite understand just yet hfdhfkdjfhdf.

Are both of your blood parents still in your life?  Yeah they’re both grumbling right now just outside of my room because the power went out lmfao.

When was the last time you went apple picking?  I’ve never done this. Apples don’t grow here.

Someone asked you what you wanted, what would you say?  My pay for the last two weeks haha, but that’s not coming until Friday.

Have you ever been drunk at school or work?  No, I wouldn’t dare. I’m pretty unpredictable when I get drunk, so I’d rather stay safe haha. I’ve worked while tipsy, but it had been outside of work hours.

How many bedrooms are in your house?  4. One for each kid, then my parents’.

Are you smart about computers?  Nah.

Have you ever played Just Dance for Wii?  We didn’t have the game on our Wii, but I’ve played Just Dance before, just at other peoples’ houses.

Do you own a Xbox 360?  We were a Playstation household.

Would you ever do a sex tape for a million dollars?  Erm, sure, whatever.

So, do you need a nap?  I think I should be taking one for the sake of my health, but I won’t.

What would you rather be doing?  I stumbled upon a Facebook post of this newly-opened store in Greenhills that exclusively sells photocards and I wanna head the fuck over there rn with Angela. That store concept is practically unheard of so it’s a big deal and I wanna go there as I’m 100% sure the BTS ones would sell out pretty fast. But they heightened the stupid COVID protocols yet again and we have to stay at home, so there’s that.

What sport are you the best at?  Table tennis.

Do you have a little sister? What’s her name?  Yeah but she’s turning 21 this year, so little wouldn’t be accurate anymore. We call her Nina at home but everyone else calls her by her full first name, Janina.

Do you complain a lot?  I do complain a lot but I also do the thing that is causing the complaint right after so I can shut myself up lmao.

Would you rather go to an authentic haunted house or an ancient temple?  Both sound fun but I’ll probably take the temple. Yay for learning something new about culture!!

Do you like fruity or minty gum?  I don’t mind flavor when it comes to gum because they fade out anyway.

Are you looking forward to any day of this month?  My company set another mental health break day this upcoming August 27th, so I’ll be thinking about that day throughout the month.

Have you ever gotten detention?  We don’t have detention.

Is there a traumatic event that you’ve experienced that’s changed your life?  Sure.

Do you buy a majority of your clothes from a certain store, or do you just pick out items of clothing you could see yourself wearing, not caring about the store it came from? The latter. < Same. I can be brand-conscious sometimes, but generally if I find something cute, regardless from where I found it, I’d grab it.

Have any of the artists you’re fond of released new albums recently?  Technically yeah. It was a single album. 

Would you ever keep your favorite animal as a pet?  I already have two of them.

Ever cried so much you threw up?  Possibly.

Who is your best guy friend? Hans.

What do you two do when you hang out?  We usually eat out and have a drink or two.

What is a movie that you thought you would hate but you ended up loving?  Spotlight, just because it looked boring at first glance. It turned out to be very riveting and the screenplay was fascinating as well.

Do you even like horror movies?  Yes, but they’re best watched with other people.

Do you live in the country?  Nopes.

What is your favorite accent?  I don’t have one.

Have you ever had a boyfriend your parents didn’t like?  No.

Do you drink Pepsi or Coke?  I had the chance to try out Pepsi when we went to Taco Bell two weeks ago - it was my first time to have it and it was...actually pretty good??? The soda-hater in me was scandalized HAHAHA but it was good!!! I think I prefer Pepsi now.

What do you plan to do on your 21st birthday?  My 21st birthday started out terribly because Gabie’s family didn’t want her to hang out with me on a Sunday (the day my birthday fell on), so we were in an argument the whole day. Angela saved the day when she planned out an impromptu dinner + arcade date for me, and that was the only good part of the day, really. I’d rather forget the rest of it.

Do you have any person in your family with an addiction to beer?  I don’t think so.

Do you take a lot of pictures?  I’m starting to, now.

What kind of face wash do you use?  Good ol’ water.

Does drama always seem to follow you?  Not these days.

Does anybody in your family race?  Nope.

Are you closer to your mom or dad?  Dad, I guess. But I wouldn’t particularly call myself ‘close’ with either.

How much money did you used to get from the ”tooth fairy?”  I never received money from them.

How long do you want to live with your parents?  Maybe up until my mid-20s? Late-20s at the latest. I’m not exactly in the position to move out yet. The money I make at the moment would probably just be enough to cover rent, and just rent. I’d end up starving to death hahaha.

Do you have a laptop or desktop?  Laptop.

Do you like your parents?  Sure.

Do you secretly like someone?  I don’t.

Would you ever date your best male friend?  No. I also wouldn’t do that to Angela.

What are you currently listening to?  Moon by Jin! Such a comfort song.

Do you want to be single?  Yes.

Did you go out or stay in last night?  I stayed in and was knocked out pretty early since I had been up since 1 AM.

Have you pretended to like someone?  No. I don’t see why I would have to that.

How is your heart lately?  Just filled with nothing but Bangtan at this point haha. It’s doing well!

Are you wearing socks?  No. Socks bother me for the most part; they make my feet feel a bit suffocated.

What do people call you?  Robyn.

Do you get stressed out easily?  Yeah, I’m quite the overthinker.

Have you ever been taken to the emergency room in an ambulance?  No, I’ve never actually been inside an ambulance, whether it came for me or for another person.

What is wrong with you right now?  I should probably cut back on the vaping, for one.

Do you own something from Hot Topic?  No.

Would you rather sleep with someone else or alone?  It’s hard for me to sleep with someone else. Even when I had been in a relationship, I usually only got to fall asleep an hour or so after my partner already dozed off.

Do you still talk to the person you last made out with?  No, I cut ties at the start of the year and have been substantially better since then.

Have you ever seen your best friend cry?  I honestly don’t think so. I’m the bigger crybaby between us.

Did you get any compliments today?  My mom thanked me for covering for Cooper’s shots today since they ended up being quite costly.

Have you ever gone to a beach?  Yes, it’s one of my absolute favorite places to be.

What would you say if someone asked you to get high right now?  Pass up on the offer.

Do you believe that everything happens for a reason?  Yes.

Have you ever done volunteer work just because you wanted to?  I’ve never had the ample time to, so no. I’ve always wanted to volunteer at an animal shelter, though.

Do you have long nails?  They’re not dramatically long, but they have started to grow out.

Do you like the gender you are? I don't like or dislike it, honestly. I'm just neutral. < Same.

Do you generally look nice in photos?  I think this is the case these days, yeah. I’ve started feeling more confident and I think it’s able to translate in photos.

Have you ever had a stick insect as a pet?  No.

What colour are your father’s eyes?  Dark brown.

If I handed you a concert ticket right now, who would you want to be the performer?  BTS DUH

Name three facts about your family?  I come from a family of lawyers; many of us are big history buffs; and many are also fantastic cooks so I don’t know where that talent could have possibly gone when it come to my generation hah.

Would you ever get into a long distance relationship?  If I’ve reached a certain level of investment in the relationship, I could probably handle it. 

What’s the most thoughtful present you’ve ever received?  A Punk shirt and Petals For Armor physical CD from Andi this last Christmas.

What’s your favorite hot beverage? Hot chocolate. < Yessssss!

Did you ever play an instrument? If so what?  I don’t.

Would you rather carve pumpkins or wrap presents?  Carving pumpkins sounds fun, especially since I haven’t tried it before.

Do you think you’re important?  Idk. I don’t really like drawing attention to myself though, so that could probably answer your question.

What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received?  Andi wrote a letter for me to accompany the aforementioned Christmas gifts they gave, and it remains to be my favorite letter I’ve received. They essentially reminded and affirmed me that I’m stronger than I think I am, and that I’ve been through a lot and have grown a lot, and that that growth is seen by people around me.

Have you been diagnosed with any mental disorders?  No.

Have you ever moved to another state or country? If so, how did it feel to be new?  Just to different cities, but considering how tiny my country is, the move is quite insignificant lol.

Do you know how to properly eat food with chopsticks?  I’m 100% sure I don’t know how to properly hold chopsticks, but I have my own way and it works lol. Fake it til you make it.

Are you more of a leader or a follower? Definitely a follower, but I can step up in certain situations. < Same. I don’t mind leading, especially considering the control freak I can be lolol.

What was the first thing you ate today?  I haven’t eaten anything today. I skipped breakfast since I brought Cooper to the vet, and by the time I got back the dining table had already been cleared. It’s fine though, I don’t feel too hungry.

If you could spend the day, doing absolutely anything, with anyone, anywhere, what would it be like?  I’d be with Angela, Reena, and Hans at that insane new photocard store I talked about earlier. IDEALLY, we’d probably pick up a photocard or two if the ones we want aren’t sold out yet (lol a rarity), then we’d have some nachos and stuff right after and just talk about all things Bangtan lol with Hans cracking us up the whole time since he is just naturally hilarious.

If I were to ask you how you are doing, and you were only able to answer completely honestly, what would come out?  Content. Happy. I feel warm and loved and surrounded by the best people.

What is the one thing that you have been avoiding that you should do?  Learning how to cook is one.

Is there anything that you wish you could take back?  Not really.

What, in your mind, could make you truly happy?  Being in the purple ocean with my best friends.

If you could change one conversation in your life, what would you say differently? Would it have REALLY made any difference?  A part of me wishes my final face-to-face conversation with Gabie had been a more solid closure, just so we could finally put a hard stop to that chapter. But at that time I thought we would continue talking, so there had still been some stuff lingering in the air when we called it a day and parted ways. So in a sense we never really got closure when I finally cut ties, which the ESTJ in me remains to be nagged by, but I try not to be bothered by it anymore considering how much better I am doing right now. We didn’t know the future at the time, so it’s okay the way things turned out, ultimately.

When is the next time you’ll change your hairstyle? Will you color it?  I have no clue. It’s not really a priority.

Do people normally say you’re a fast typist, or are you rather slow?  I’m fast.

Have you ever been considered the ‘smartest person in school?’  Nah.

How many drugs are in your system?  Just caffeine.

What’s on your schedule for tomorrow? Werkwerkwerkwerk.

Do you currently have any bite marks/hickeys on your body?  Nopes.

Do you call anyone baby?  I don’t.

What’s your current mood?  I’m prety neutral. I wish I could be out right now, but stupid Covid and stupid quarantine. But I don’t really mind staying at home, either, so. I’m just so-so.

Do you think you are a good person?  I hope so.

What were you doing before filling out this survey?  I watched Sunday mass with my family.

How late did you stay up last night?  Around midnight.

When was the last time you cried really hard?  I cried just a few days ago because period hormones, but the last time I cried hard? I’m not sure. April maybe?

Is your hair longer than your shoulders?  LOL yes it’s soooooooo long already.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #423

“i won’t think about you when i’m older  /  ‘cuz we never really had our closure”

Are you better at cooking dinners or making cakes/biscuits/sweets? Neither. Have you ever cut someone else’s hair? No. Who was the last guest in your house and what were they staying for? My late grandmother's husband stayed overnight when he was driving from New York to Florida or the other way around, idr. How many long term relationships have you been in? Two. Do you sleep with all the lights out, or do you leave a lamp or even the television on? My snake's heat lamp stays on. Who is one person you have forgiven, but still have not “forgotten” what they have done? My dad. Are you a fan of Lana Del Rey? I don't think I've even heard one of her songs. Do you know your blood type? A-. Do you know your mother’s birthday? Yes. Have you got your period at the moment? I haven't had my period since I started TMS. It's honestly so fucking frustrating that it obviously had an effect on my body, but not my depression. I've officially finished TMS as of a few days ago and now I just feel so void of hope. Have you ever been pregnant? No. How old were you when you first went on a plane? Idr, I was a little kid. Have you ever had to take out a loan for anything? Not me personally, but my parents have for my education that I threw away. Are both of your blood parents still in your life? Yes. I don't see my dad a lot, but he's still in my life regardless. When was the last time you went apple picking? I’ve never been. Someone asked you what you wanted, what would you say? Happiness. Have you ever been drunk at school or work? I have not. How many bedrooms are in your house? Three. Are you smart about computers? Not really, no. Have you ever played Just Dance for Wii? Yes. My sister loved them, so we have a few. Do you own a Xbox 360? No. I'm a PlayStation girl. Would you ever do a sex tape for a million dollars? No. I'd be mortified. So, do you need a nap? I really should take one. I slept like... maybe three hours last night. I was up most of the night having a fucking life crisis. What would you rather be doing? Something fun. What sport are you the best at? I haven't touched any sort of sport since I was a teenager. Do you have a little sister? What’s her name? Yeah, Nicole. Do you complain a lot? Kind of, but I generally try to keep it in surveys nowadays. I'm just tired of shit. Would you rather go to an authentic haunted house or an ancient temple? Ohhh, tough pick, but I've gotta say the ancient temple. Do you like fruity or minty gum? Both, really. Are you looking forward to any day of this month? Well July is practically over, so I'll answer for August. I'm looking forward to my nephew's birthday. Have you ever gotten detention? A few times for getting too many morning tardies in high school. Is there a traumatic event that you’ve experienced that’s changed your life? Definitely. Do you buy a majority of your clothes from a certain store, or do you just pick out items of clothing you could see yourself wearing, not caring about the store it came from? The latter. Have any of the artists you’re fond of released new albums recently? Powerwolf did recently. Would you ever keep your favorite animal as a pet? I could write a college-length essay on why meerkats do not make good pets whatsoever. Do fucking not get one. I can barely fathom how it's legal in some countries. Ever cried so much you threw up? No, but I've gagged. Who is your best guy friend? Girt. What do you two do when you hang out? Mostly just watch TV and play board games. What is a movie that you thought you would hate but you ended up loving? I dunno, really. Do you even like horror movies? I love horror movies. Do you live in the country? I wish I still did. :/ Me and Mom hate hate hate living in these suburbs. What is your favorite accent? British. Have you ever had a boyfriend your parents didn’t like? No. Do you drink Pepsi or Coke? Coke. Pepsi is gross. What do you plan to do on your 21st birthday? I was literally in the psych hospital for my 21st birthday lmao. It's kind of a painful memory, but I also won't forget the love and kindness people showed me. I especially remember the friend I made there getting the lunch lady to literally go and buy me a slice of cake. Everyone also sang happy birthday to me and gaaaah I'm getting emotional. Do you have any person in your family with an addiction to beer? That was my dad's drink of choice when he drank. Do you take a lot of pictures? Unless I have my camera and am somewhere pretty, no. What kind of face wash do you use? Water, lol. Does drama always seem to follow you? Nah. Does anybody in your family race? No. Are you closer to your mom or dad? My mom. How much money did you used to get from the ”tooth fairy?” Uhhh... I want to say $2 or something? I might be way off, idr. How long do you want to live with your parents? I WISH I could have moved out with an s/o already, but that's just not how life's worked out. Do you have a laptop or desktop? I have a laptop. Do you like your parents? I love them. Do you secretly like someone? It's not a secret, no. Would you ever date your best male friend? Tried that once and it didn't work out. I liked him more as like a brother. What are you currently listening to? "Better Than Me" by Hinder. I really need to turn it off, but I can't make myself. Do you want to be single? I really wish I had a partner to love and motivate me to strive to do better, but I know it's better I'm single right now. I'd just relive the Jason situation, I'm sure. I'd just drag the person down and lose them. Did you go out or stay in last night? I'm almost always at my fucking house not doing shit, so. Have you pretended to like someone? No, that sounds pretty stupid... How is your heart lately? Hurting. A lot. Are you wearing socks? I hate wearing socks and I'm in bed anyway, so no. What do people call you? Britt, mostly. Do you get stressed out easily? VERY. Have you ever been taken to the emergency room in an ambulance? No. What is wrong with you right now? Where the hell to begin. Do you own something from Hot Topic? A lot. Would you rather sleep with someone else or alone? With someone, so long as the bed is big enough to comfortably fit two of us. Do you still talk to the person you last made out with? No. I'm certain he wants nothing to do with me. Have you ever seen your best friend cry? Sadly. Did you get any compliments today? Definitely not. I look and feel like a wreck right about now. There's nothing to praise me about. Have you ever gone to a beach? Many times. What would you say if someone asked you to get high right now? Unless it was an edible, no. I'd do almost anything to try and make me feel better right now, even if just for a little while, but I'm unwilling to smoke anything. Do you believe that everything happens for a reason? HELL no. Have you ever done volunteer work just because you wanted to? Honestly, no. Do you have long nails? No; I never do because I have an awful habit of picking at them. Do you like the gender you are? I don't like or dislike it, honestly. I'm just neutral. Do you generally look nice in photos? HA. Have you ever had a stick insect as a pet? No. What colour are your father’s eyes? They're dark brown. If I handed you a concert ticket right now, who would you want to be the performer? Ozzy, duh. Name three facts about your family? We're very, very spread out geographically, some of us (in other words, me) are emotionally distant, and uh... idk. Would you ever get into a long distance relationship? Only if it was a certain person, our lives were more on track, and we were making plans for either of us to move soon. What’s the most thoughtful present you’ve ever received? Probably this really long letter my mom wrote for me on my bday a couple years ago. What’s your favorite hot beverage? Hot chocolate. Did you ever play an instrument? If so what? I played the flute for many years, all through middle school and through much of high school. Would you rather carve pumpkins or wrap presents? Carve pumpkins, for sure. Do you think you’re important? I don't fucking know. Probably not. What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received? Idk. Have you been diagnosed with any mental disorders? *hands over thick book* Have you ever moved to another state or country? If so, how did it feel to be new? No. Do you know how to properly eat food with chopsticks? No. My hands are way, way too shaky to ever accomplish that. Are you more of a leader or a follower? Definitely a follower, but I can step up in certain situations. What was the first thing you ate today? Well, I was seriously depression-eating last night, way past midnight, and had a peanut butter sandwich. If you could spend the day, doing absolutely anything, with anyone, anywhere, what would it be like? LET'S NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT RIGHT NOW. If I were to ask you how you are doing, and you were only able to answer completely honestly, what would come out? "Falling apart." I've lost direction, motivation, strength, hope, just everything. What is the one thing that you have been avoiding that you should do? I need a fucking shower so bad that it's embarrassing. I just can't move. I have no energy, emotionally or physically. I just can't make myself do it. Is there anything that you wish you could take back? So, so badly. What, in your mind, could make you truly happy? Actually reaching goals. Losing weight. Healing my legs. Knowing with certainty that I wasn't emotionally abusive to Jason. Moving out of this town and back into the country. Financial stability. A job I thoroughly enjoy. I could go on, but let's not. If you could change one conversation in your life, what would you say differently? Would it have REALLY made any difference? God, let me take back shit I said in that fucking letter to you-know-who. It's so hard to believe I once thought it perfectly justified and realistic. When is the next time you’ll change your hairstyle? Will you color it? I don't have any plans of changing the style in the foreseeable future. I want to color it BADLY. To just SOMETHING. Do people normally say you’re a fast typist, or are you rather slow? I'm like, a lightning-fast typist. Have you ever been considered the ‘smartest person in school?’ No; my best friend in HS was, though. Her GPA was fucking insane. I was in the top percentile, though, so I was up there. What the hell happened to that girl. How many drugs are in your system? If we're including prescriptions, a whole hell of a lot. What’s on your schedule for tomorrow? Jack shit. Like usual. Do you currently have any bite marks/hickeys on your body? No. Do you call anyone baby? Excluding my pets, no. What’s your current mood? lol if you've gotten this far reading, you can make an educated guess. Do you think you are a good person? Bro I just don't know. What were you doing before filling out this survey? I was playing WoW. How late did you stay up last night? Like, 4:30 or so. When was the last time you cried really hard? I wanna say like a week ago? Is your hair longer than your shoulders? No. It still badly needs a trim, though.

[sopxhiea]

Blitz

 | “My resentment is beginning to outweigh my love.”

Alfie Solomons X Reader

The canvas was empty against the cold surface of the wood, the quiet music playing from the radio was the only noise around. The wet brushes around quietly dried down as the breeze coming from the small window filled the space with the chilly weather. The air was sharp, gentle but subtle in the way that it roamed around one’s soul.

She was quiet while staring at the empty walls. It was an early day for most of the city from what she could muster, noises of footsteps and cars outside filling her ear as a small sigh left her lips. It was cold inside, she didn’t mind. She needed the crisp air’s company to keep herself sane even if it meant that her nails would turn purple, they always did.

She sniffled, there was nothing but a light dress and a thick cardigan on her and somehow, she had thought it would be enough. She felt her fingertips numbing slowly, hurting at first even though the pain left its place for the feeling of nothing as it felt like her fingers were made of air. She didn’t move, feeling too incompetent and restless. This was nothing new but she wanted to savour the pain, remember this moment so if, in the future, a time came where she was more herself, she would have something to look back at.

It had been three weeks since he had disappeared. He didn’t say where he was going, she was sure he had either died or was close to becoming a ghost. She silently let out a prayer that if he ever came back as a ghost, he would stick around. He had broken up with her, telling her that it was necessary and he didn’t want to hurt her. She was his secret, a jewel he kept dear to his heart but he didn’t seem to have any second thoughts when he was calling everything off.

She had just stood there, speechless as her mind began wondering about how he could do this. She was more than sure he had a reason, she just didn’t know what it was. Anything, he could tell her anything and he knew this but he chose to keep it to himself. The fact that he had cancer and he was slowly dying, he kept this to himself. Ollie’s new girl and the new employees that were making a mess: he told her all of this in detail when he’d asked but when he was dying, he had just brushed it off and decided to never see her again.

In his mind, Alfie was right. This was him protecting her from any hurt. He had men protecting her and he always would have that, no matter if he was here or in a ground full of souls. Telling her would upset her at first but what he couldn’t muster is if she would break it off. His heart belonged to her and he wondered, if she would turn into a cold soul when he told her. He decided to turn into that cold soul himself, it was the safest way in his eyes.

Ever since the last time they’d seen each other, many things had changed. He had been shot and then brought back to life, he had abandoned cyril and had been staying at the place he found in Margate for the past three weeks. She had stopped painting, unable to bring herself to begin something that reminded her of the love of her life. She was his, heart and soul but he ceased to see the love sometimes, became insecure and filled his own head with misconceptions.

In all truth, she would be sad for a while but she wouldn’t drown herself in agony like Alfie thought she would. He knew her, way too well maybe but when it came to protecting her, his vision was clouded with the wrong scenarios of what could happen. She was the love of his life, he had promised to take care of her no matter what the day he had realised just how precious she was for him but now there he was, in a big yet empty house in Margate, no Cyril or his precious Y/N in sight.

She sighed, she was missing him more than she thought she would. Somedays, she regretted loving him this much but then the memories filled with his loud laughter and contagious joy came into her vision and she would regret saying such things to herself. She had stood there when he told her, storming off not too long after with no word coming out of her mouth simply because she thought that things made no sense. She hoped it was a joke, some sort of prank on her but it wasn’t when the stars started to appear and he still wasn’t home.

Long hours passed, neither of them moved from where they were sitting, miles apart but in the same daze. She wasn’t sad, that wasn’t what it was. She resented him a little, that resentment grew every time she would see one of his men guard her door and the feeling of betrayal made her chest feel heavy, he could be so cruel.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

(A month later)

The clouds slowly parted as time passed, the mixture of feeling tired and dazed could be read from her face as she sat on the chair right in front of the canvas. There was a wedding of a close friend that was coming up and she had decided to paint their portrait and an additional landscape as a gift, she wasn’t fully satisfied but it was good enough. It had been a week since she had restarted painting again and it didn’t feel too suffocating like it did before.

She was healing. It was a very slow and agonising process and it hurt to improve, to keep going but she managed it, little by little. What she missed to see despite improving on her own was the fact that he had been back a couple days ago. He was alive and well, except the scar decorating the side of his face but he seemed to be doing good despite the commodity. He meant to go to her of the first hour of his arrival but the courage never seemed to find him, it felt like he was a powerless teenager again.

Weeks passed, he would contemplate whether he should’ve gone to her house or her shop but the days seemed to pass relentlessly before he could make a decision. That day of the wedding, she was supposed to get ready with the bride as that was the request, she didn’t decline and soon found herself in a room filled with a dozen other ladies and roses around the space. It was a lovely day, calm and sunny as the bride walked in with the dress and Y/N heard people holding their breaths, she chuckled to herself.

There were many times she had thought of how she and Alfie would get married. She knew their religions weren’t compatible but she also knew they would make it work. She had dreamed of everyone coming a wedding in a big house, friends and family filling the spaces as she would stare at his loved one on that day, his eyes would only see her. She knew Alfie would’ve cried, privately if not in front of everyone and she could’ve made a day out of it.

But that wasn’t the case anymore.

A couple hours passed and she found herself in the reception, meddling with her cake as a couple girls spoke about the veil. She didn’t care and she could honestly care less but she kept up the eye contact, acting as if she really cared when in reality, she was just restless as always and a little in pain because of the heels she was wearing. About fifteen minutes later, the dancing started. She got up only to stand next to a wall for the next hour.

A couple gentlemen came up to her, offering their most charming smile and the best pick up line they were able to muster and all they got was the shake of her head and some kind yet insincere words. She decided to go for a walk, maybe have a cigar while she was at it. This was becoming as painful as she had thought it would be and she didn’t want to stand inside where every and each man reminded her of her past lover.

She was on the open field, the grass’ green colour mixing with the sky as it faded from a dark orange to blue, the ends of her dress were flying in the air but she didn’t care, she didn’t mind. The air was cold as usual, she was mad at herself for not bringing a coat but the cold outside somehow made the feeling of inner turmoil disappear for a while, it was only the breeze and her now.

She was standing next to a long tree, watching the sunset as he approached. The man getting married was a respectable friend of his but she didn’t know that, at least she pretended not to know it. She had heard about him being around and a part of her heart wanted this resentment to be over but she was still feeling betrayal in the wounded parts of her heart, she was reminded of the scars every time she tried to breathe.

She didn’t say anything as he walked closer, she recognised him from his footsteps: hard but unstable. She smiled to herself, a feeling of warmth coated her body when she smelled him around her body, the breeze and her own body were betraying her. She was supposed to forget him, never recall a memory but the wounds were still fresh, even though it had been over two months, it was still as hard as the first day for her to stop herself from anything at all.

“Y/N...” he said, his voice was hoarse and deep like usual. She hated how much she missed him, she hated how his voice made her heart feel so weak. She knew her heart was his, would always be but at times like these, she felt betrayed.

She looked at his face, handsome as ever. There was a couple new scars on the side of his face, she almost winced in pain just from seeing his beautiful face but kept it to herself. He was still the same man, with a little more knowledge and pain, but still her Alfie. She gave him a soft smile, he felt his heart melt but stopped himself from feeling anything, or tried.

“You came back...” she said, soft. Her voice was a melody to his ears, he had forgotten how much he enjoyed her voice. There was no betrayal in her voice, just a monotone melody.

“Yeah, I did.”he said, his eyes were apologetic. She didn’t care, the hurt she felt was surfacing.

“Are you alright?”she said, quietly but he heard her.

No matter the amount of hatred and resentment she felt in her heart, she still loved him. He was her dreams and hopes morphed into a human being, she would always love him. It didn’t matter that she felt her heart being thrown into a corner when she saw him, and with a new scar on the side of her face. He was still handsome regardless. This was also her heart betraying her brain.

He almost scoffed, why did she still care about him? He had broken her heart and disappeared all in the same day but all she did was to ask if he was okay because apparently, this was all she cared about. He thought that she looked beautiful as ever with the dress she was wearing, she still managed to take his breath away.

“I’m fine, yeah..” he murmured under his breath as their bodies faced each other under the sunset. “Been better though..” he softly said, the tone of his voice was enough to make her smile.

There was a man she came in with, James. He was a businessman from London, well known and quite the catch for some. He had asked Y/N out on many dates and she had accepted to come here with him, the loneliness wasn’t cured still but at least he would take her home that night. Alfie knew what was going on, from the way they danced inside and how James looked at her. She wasn’t dazed by him, simply a little entertained but not enough.

While she took a good look at his newly found scar, hands on his beard, he enjoyed the feeling of her soft hands while it lasted. He thought this maybe the time to talk to her, she was busy and the last time he wanted her to speak. it hadn’t gone so well and this time he wanted to hear her.

“Dove..” he said, her eyes flickered on his for a second before he continued speaking. “I’m sorry, yeah, It wasn’t right for me to leave that way.” he said, waiting a while as her hands left his face. She leaned back on the tree, eyes never leaving his as she took the time in. She sighed, she hoped her heart wouldn’t betray this time again.

“What happened?” she asked, simple and clear. She needed to know what actually happened so that she would calm the anger down in her heart.

“I......was sick,yeah.” he said, meeting her eyes of worry as she wondered. He had been sick?

She had realised his tired antics and a few new scars gathering around his chin but didn’t say anything. There was times when he would come home with open wounds and bleeding so she didn’t pay that much attention to it, she should have.

“Sick?” she whispered, she was afraid of what he was gonna say but she needed to know.

“They told me, right, that I have cancer of some sorts..” he said, casual and calm. She turned to face him, a wave of shock in her face.

She felt her blood boil this time. He was all he cared about and he hadn’t told her that he was dying, actively and slowly dying. Was it her fault? Maybe she had been too fragile to him and now he thought, if he told her, she would be too unstable. There were too many things going on in her head, so many thoughts filled with worry and anxiety for him.

She could’ve said anything, about how restless the nights had been and how worried she had been. She was angry, tired and confused. Why was he dying? Why was it him? She felt like she’d been left out of something, something important and maybe it was her fault, Had she been too careless?

“My resentment is beginning to outweigh my love.” she whispered.

It was the full truth. She loved him to death but being left out of something like this, she felt so betrayed, even more so than before. She didn’t blink, obvious anger in her eyes as Alfie stared at her, digesting what she had just said.

“I....I wish I didn’t love you so much..” she said softly, hands thrown up in the air while she waited for him to speak but he didn’t. He looked at her like a puppy, he hoped she’d take him back but a part of him also knew that train had left.

She still loved him, he said to himself. And she did, desperately and vulnerably. She loved him to a point where she would leave everything, everyone for him in a heartbeat. He looked at her, taking a step closer and taking her hands in his.

“Dove, I....” he said, not managing to get a word out and before she knew it, her hands were not in his anymore.

“Alfie..” oh how he missed his name coming out of her mouth. 

“I’m gonna go inside now, I will stay for a while and the nice gentlemen inside will take me home..” she said, close to his body as he pushed down the urge to kill the guy inside. “..tonight, you can come by my house. We will talk but for now...” she breathed out, feeling like she was doing a mistake but it didn’t matter. She wanted him back but slowly. She was gonna make him wait this time, it wasn’t going to be easy to let him in.

“I need to think....” she said slowly, letting his hands go and walking as she whispered to him one last time, “I’ll see you tonight.”

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If you want another part, lemme know!

[deeeelightfuldee]

Are you better at cooking dinners or making cakes/biscuits/sweets? baking definitely. I want to get more comfortable cooking.

Have you ever cut someone else’s hair? yes. I used to be pretty good at doing my brothers hair-- even the fading. But I’m sure I’ve forgotten it all by now.

Who was the last guest in your house and what were they staying for? probably my sister or my nephews.

How many long term relationships have you been in? blegh. not many. Whenever I’d know that it didnt have long term potential, id drop it. no sense dragging out the inevitable.

Do you sleep with all the lights out, or do you leave a lamp or even the television on? so for the longest time I kept my room super dark. I slept well. once miller died and kile broke my heart, I couldn’t sleep without the tv playing. I needed to hear something calming and voices talking so I wouldn’t be left with my thoughts. I still can’t turn it off.

Who is one person you have forgiven, but still have not “forgotten” what they have done? i think its easy to say “forgive and forget” but the reality is that once we have endured trauma we don’t easily forget. I think its kind of unrealistic. I’m trying to forgive kile but thats going to take.. i dont know how long. As for what it was... it was just betrayal.. lying. for six+ years. lots of laughing at me. 

Are you a fan of Lana Del Rey? I like some of her songs.

Do you know your blood type? o+

Do you know your mother’s birthday? Yes. its coming up. 

Have you ever been pregnant? I dont think so. I was really late after my assault but who knows.

How old were you when you first went on a plane? like 7ish

Have you ever had to take out a loan for anything? Yeah, student loans. 15k feels so daunting right now.

Are both of your blood parents still in your life? One is. My mom.

When was the last time you went apple picking? highschool maybe?

Someone asked you what you wanted, what would you say? money.. or a trip.

Have you ever been drunk at school or work? definitely not. 

How many bedrooms are in your house? four. 

Are you smart about computers? I know some stuff.

Have you ever played Just Dance for Wii? oh heck’n yeah

Do you own a Xbox 360? I had one from my brother for a little while but I traded it for the gamecube since Kile was going to send me one of the 15 he had lol. That didn’t end up happening, but its OK i really dont need more gaming.

Would you ever do a sex tape for a million dollars? oooooooo.. probably not.

So, do you need a nap? all day is full of naps to try and get over this.

What would you rather be doing? school

What sport are you the best at? maybe volleyball or swimming

Do you have a little sister? What’s her name? Nope, im the baby. 

Do you complain a lot? no, i try not to. I find complaining to be the most unattractive and yet common human trait and while there are definitely situations worthy of complaining, most of the time it just makes a situation worse than it actually was.

Would you rather go to an authentic haunted house or an ancient temple? temple

Do you like fruity or minty gum? definitely minty

Are you looking forward to any day of this month? i was really looking forward to Kile’s birthday on monday, but since we arent talking anymore then there is no joy in that. all the other special dates have been ruined by covid.

Have you ever gotten detention? Nope. homeschoolers and detention arent a thing. 

Is there a traumatic event that you’ve experienced that’s changed your life? oh sure. heartbreak, deaths, assaults, etc.

Do you buy a majority of your clothes from a certain store, or do you just pick out items of clothing you could see yourself wearing, not caring about the store it came from? no, i can’t be super picky because not every store carries clothing long enough for me.

Have any of the artists you’re fond of released new albums recently? i havent got a clue

Would you ever keep your favorite animal as a pet? I mean I’m very fond of cats & dogs

Ever cried so much you threw up? this is what happened the whole 2-3 weeks following finding out about Kile.

Who is your best guy friend? I suppose now that would be Nathan

What do you two do when you hang out? drives, game nights, get food/drinks, or just talk.

What is a movie that you thought you would hate but you ended up loving? Her

Do you even like horror movies? not particularly. I’ll watch them if someone else wants to but its not my preference.

Do you live in the country? i live in the suburbs i suppose.

What is your favorite accent? Some southern and British accents. <same ... i have no idea how I made the font like this.

Have you ever had a boyfriend your parents didn’t like? Not that I can think of.

Do you drink Pepsi or Coke? diet coke

What do you plan to do on your 21st birthday? my family celebrated during the day and then I think nathan took me out on the town

Do you have any person in your family with an addiction to beer? nope.

Do you take a lot of pictures? man. this question is hard. I used to love taking pictures of myself. I had much more self confidence and some of it was because kile LOVED my selfies -- or so he said. and I just had so much fun doing that. Since the heartbreak, I’ve maybe taken 10 selfies. I just don’t have any self confidence in my looks anymore. its so different now. most of my pictures now are of other people or scenery.

What kind of face wash do you use? cerave when I want to. otherwise i use water and a very particular type of fabric. 

Does drama always seem to follow you? No, i dont think so.

Does anybody in your family race? like cars? running? no.

Are you closer to your mom or dad? My mom.

How much money did you used to get from the ”tooth fairy?” I think i got it like 2x and it was a dollar.

Do you have a laptop or desktop? Laptop.

Do you like your parents? i love my mom.

Do you secretly like someone? No.

Would you ever date your best male friend? I don’t see any romantic feelings developing between nathan and I

What are you currently listening to? I have gilmore girls on.

Do you want to be single? oooof. Um. I am torn on this subject. On the one hand, i really am ready to be loved, held, protected, cared for, etc. I love the idea of building a life together with someone and us both protecting our unit. I miss supporting, cherishing, loving on someone. Yet on the other hand, im fine being single. I have so much insecurity about myself lately that I dk that anyone else needs to deal with that baggage. Idk

Did you go out or stay in last night? I stayed in. ill be staying in for some time.

Have you pretended to like someone? romantically, no. professionally, yes.

How is your heart lately? Sad. heavy. 

Are you wearing socks? not at the moment. 

What do people call you? Di, diana, dee, ana, di-nan-na, dine-uh, deenah.

Do you get stressed out easily? no, I really dont

Have you ever been taken to the emergency room in an ambulance? yes

What is wrong with you right now? im sick. im heartbroken.

Do you own something from Hot Topic? not that I know of. if I do, it’d be from like middle school. I never shopped there but people tended to give gifts from there.

Would you rather sleep with someone else or alone? Alone. maybe I havent found the right sort of person to share a bed with.

Do you still talk to the person you last made out with? No.

Have you ever seen your best friend cry? Yes, several times. 

Did you get any compliments today? No.

Have you ever gone to a beach? many many many times.

What would you say if someone asked you to get high right now? not my thing. at all.

Do you believe that everything happens for a reason? Yes.

Have you ever done volunteer work just because you wanted to? Yes.

Do you have long nails? they are healthy length. I want to grow them out a bit more. 

Do you like the gender you are? Yeah.

Do you generally look nice in photos? Not anymore

Have you ever had a stick insect as a pet? no haha

What colour are your father’s eyes? Blue.

If I handed you a concert ticket right now, who would you want to be the performer? uhhhhm, blue october

Would you ever get into a long distance relationship? maybe not anymore. 

What’s your favorite hot beverage? hot chocolate from dunkin

Did you ever play an instrument? If so what? i did. no comment.

Would you rather carve pumpkins or wrap presents? oooooohhhhhhhhh man i love both.

Do you think you’re important? I mean i offer some importance to this world but eh.

What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received? Hmm no idea.

Have you been diagnosed with any mental disorders? no

Have you ever moved to another state or country? If so, how did it feel to be new? No.

Do you know how to properly eat food with chopsticks? Nope.

What was the first thing you ate today? I haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday

If you could spend the day, doing absolutely anything, with anyone, anywhere, what would it be like? for the longest time it was to spend the day driving aimlessly and getting food and talking about everything and nothing with Kile. now, its just.. idunno. blank.

If I were to ask you how you are doing, and you were only able to answer completely honestly, what would come out? I’m not doing well.

What is the one thing that you have been avoiding that you should do? There’s a few things related to school.

Is there anything that you wish you could take back? not really, no.

What, in your mind, could make you truly happy? this whole covid nonsense going away, heartbreak to soothe, and my miller back.

If you could change one conversation in your life, what would you say differently? Would it have REALLY made any difference? i dont know. 

When is the next time you’ll change your hairstyle? Will you color it? I just changed it up so itll be a bit.

Do people normally say you’re a fast typist, or are you rather slow? Fast.

Have you ever been considered the ‘smartest person in school?’ yes. several times.

How many drugs are in your system? lol lots of meds rn to kick this. usually none.

What’s on your schedule for tomorrow? the same as today.

Do you currently have any bite marks/hickeys on your body? No. i dont like the idea of bite marks but hickeys were fun for a time. in not visible areas tho.

Do you call anyone baby? Not anymore.

What’s your current mood? Bleh.

What were you doing before filling out this survey? Watching gilmore girls

How late did you stay up last night? I took PM meds at i wanna say 8? maybe 7? I don’t remember.

When was the last time you cried really hard? its been a few weeks since ive cried about Kile. I’m in the numb stage.

Is your hair longer than your shoulders? hahahahahahah

[lovemesomesurveys]

Are you better at cooking dinners or making cakes/biscuits/sweets? Neither. I make ramen or something easy in the microwave or oven.

Have you ever cut someone else’s hair? Nooo. I would not mess up someone’s hair.

Who was the last guest in your house and what were they staying for? My aunt and cousin came over Saturday to hang out for a late birthday get together. We just played a few board games and ate.

How many long term relationships have you been in? Zero.

Do you sleep with all the lights out, or do you leave a lamp or even the television on? I sleep with the TV on, which I’ve done since I was a kid, but for some reason I’ve been leaving my floor lamp on lately, too. I just end up falling asleep without turning it off.

Who is one person you have forgiven, but still have not “forgotten” what they have done? That’s how it is with anyone; I forgive but don’t forget.

Are you a fan of Lana Del Rey? I like some of her songs.

Do you know your blood type? No.

Do you know your mother’s birthday? Yes.

Have you ever been pregnant? No.

How old were you when you first went on a plane? I was 16.

Have you ever had to take out a loan for anything? Yeah, student loans.

Are both of your blood parents still in your life? Yes, thankfully.

When was the last time you went apple picking? I’ve never done this. 

Someone asked you what you wanted, what would you say? A beach vacation.

Have you ever been drunk at school or work? No.

How many bedrooms are in your house? Two.

Are you smart about computers? I know some stuff.

Have you ever played Just Dance for Wii? No.

Do you own a Xbox 360? Nope.

Would you ever do a sex tape for a million dollars? No.

So, do you need a nap? It’s almost 830AM and I just got up like an hour ago, but yeah I could definitely go back to sleep. 

What would you rather be doing? Sleeping.

What sport are you the best at? None. Do you have a little sister? What’s her name? Nope.

Do you complain a lot? I feel like I do now. :/ I didn’t used to. 

Would you rather go to an authentic haunted house or an ancient temple? Neither.

Do you like fruity or minty gum? I only like minty flavored gum.

Are you looking forward to any day of this month? No.

Have you ever gotten detention? Nope.

Is there a traumatic event that you’ve experienced that’s changed your life? I’d say the one that made me a paraplegic. 

Do you buy a majority of your clothes from a certain store, or do you just pick out items of clothing you could see yourself wearing, not caring about the store it came from? Most of my clothes are from Boxlunch and Hot Topic.

Have any of the artists you’re fond of released new albums recently? Yeah.

Would you ever keep your favorite animal as a pet? I have a doggo. I would never have a giraffe for a pet for obvious reasons, though.

Ever cried so much you threw up? No, but felt like it.

Who is your best guy friend? I don’t have one.

What do you two do when you hang out? --

What is a movie that you thought you would hate but you ended up loving? Star Wars and the Marvel and DC movies. 

Do you even like horror movies? I love ‘em.

Do you live in the country? No.

What is your favorite accent? Some southern and British accents.

Have you ever had a boyfriend your parents didn’t like? No.

Do you drink Pepsi or Coke? I drink both.

What do you plan to do on your 21st birthday? I had a little get together at home with family and my best friend at the time on my actual 21st and then the next day my cousin, my best friend, and I went out of town for the weekend to one of my favorite places. We drank that night and then did touristy things and shopping the rest of the time.

Do you have any person in your family with an addiction to beer? Yes.

Do you take a lot of pictures? Not anymore.

What kind of face wash do you use? I don’t. :X

Does drama always seem to follow you? Not drama, but other issues.

Does anybody in your family race? No.

Are you closer to your mom or dad? My mom.

How much money did you used to get from the ”tooth fairy?” I think it was $5.

How long do you want to live with your parents? I have no plans to move out for the foreseeable future. It’s best for me to live at home and I’m perfectly fine with it.

Do you have a laptop or desktop? Laptop.

Do you like your parents? Yes, I love my parents.

Do you secretly like someone? No.

Would you ever date your best male friend? --

What are you currently listening to? I’m watching The Middle.

Do you want to be single? Yes.

Did you go out or stay in last night? I stayed in.

Have you pretended to like someone? No.

How is your heart lately? Sad.

Are you wearing socks? Yeah, I’m always wearing socks.

What do people call you? Stephanie, Steph, Sis.

Do you get stressed out easily? Yeppp.

Have you ever been taken to the emergency room in an ambulance? Yes.

What is wrong with you right now? At this moment I’m tired and hungry.

Do you own something from Hot Topic? I own a ton of things from Hot Topic.

Would you rather sleep with someone else or alone? Alone.

Do you still talk to the person you last made out with? No.

Have you ever seen your best friend cry? Yes, several times. :(

Did you get any compliments today? No.

Have you ever gone to a beach? Numerous times. I love the beach.

What would you say if someone asked you to get high right now? I’d say nah.

Do you believe that everything happens for a reason? Yes.

Have you ever done volunteer work just because you wanted to? Yes.

Do you have long nails? My nails are barely there at all.

Do you like the gender you are? Yeah.

Do you generally look nice in photos? No. Or ever I feel like.

Have you ever had a stick insect as a pet? Ew, no.

What colour are your father’s eyes? Blue.

If I handed you a concert ticket right now, who would you want to be the performer? Hmm. Would you ever get into a long distance relationship? Probably not.

What’s the most thoughtful present you’ve ever received? That’s hard to say.

What’s your favorite hot beverage? Coffee, duh.

Did you ever play an instrument? If so what? Piano and violin. 

Would you rather carve pumpkins or wrap presents? Wrap presents.

Do you think you’re important? Not at all.

What’s the best compliment you’ve ever received? Hmm.

Have you been diagnosed with any mental disorders? Yes.

Have you ever moved to another state or country? If so, how did it feel to be new? No.

Do you know how to properly eat food with chopsticks? Nope.

What was the first thing you ate today? I had my nightly bowl of ramen around 2AM.

If you could spend the day, doing absolutely anything, with anyone, anywhere, what would it be like? I’d spend it at the beach.

If I were to ask you how you are doing, and you were only able to answer completely honestly, what would come out? I’m not doing well.

What is the one thing that you have been avoiding that you should do? There’s a few things I should get taken care of but have put off for quite awhile.

Is there anything that you wish you could take back? Oh yes.

What, in your mind, could make you truly happy? Good health.

If you could change one conversation in your life, what would you say differently? Would it have REALLY made any difference? This is too deep for me right now.

When is the next time you’ll change your hairstyle? Will you color it? I don’t know. I cut it super short over a month ago and now I’m letting it grow it out a bit before I get it styled. 

Do people normally say you’re a fast typist, or are you rather slow? Fast.

Have you ever been considered the ‘smartest person in school?’ No.

How many drugs are in your system? Does my prescription pain med count?

What’s on your schedule for tomorrow? Nothing out of the ordinary.

Do you currently have any bite marks/hickeys on your body? No.

Do you call anyone baby? Nope.

What’s your current mood? Bleh.

What were you doing before filling out this survey? Watching The Middle.

How late did you stay up last night? I think I fell asleep around 4ish.

When was the last time you cried really hard? Recently. It’s not a rare occurrence. :/

Is your hair longer than your shoulders? Not anymore. :( Like I said, I cut it super short because I had to.

[softballum]

So here’s something no one ever asked for. I’ve never written fic in my life, but heres 2k words of my ramblings.

I thought about this all day yesterday and had an idea for a ‘fix it’ for after Monday 1st’s episode. I really thought Ben might actually confide in Callum but I guess not. 

Anyway, hope you enjoy if you do read it!!

I’ve Got You

He’s been squeezing his eyes shut for what feels like hours now. The rooms pitch black and for once its completely silent in and out of the flat. Callum can only hear his own anxious breathing and the faint mumblings of the buildings plumbing. The t-shirt he wears to bed offers him no comfort like normal. Its scratching the back of his neck, the stitches feel like they’re burning into his skin. He’d managed a few pints with the lads earlier and was content with how the night had gone. The alcohol would normally make him drowsy, make him yawn till his bones ached and he carried himself off to bed. Right now though, it's like he can feel it buzzing in his veins, angsty to get up from the horizontal position he’s in.

He can’t sleep if he knows Ben is supposed to be next to him. Sometimes he’ll briefly wake up in the small hours of the morning and brush his hand across the mattress. Just to feel Ben’s warm skin beneath his fingertips. Some days he still can’t believe that what he has with Ben is real, that he wants to spend the most vulnerable hours of his day, lying next Callum. He knows he’s overreacting. Ben had let Callum know he’d promised to put Lexi to bed tonight and spend some much needed, quality cuddling time with her. He’ll have let her stay up a little longer so he can read an extra few pages of Lexis favourite fantasy. Unique character voices and all. Or he’s sat having a cuppa with his Mum. Kathy fretting over him with extra cake she’d made for the cafe that morning, knows its Ben’s favourite. It’ll be as simple as that. Nothing for Callum to worry about. 

But he knew he got a weird vibe from Ben this morning, shooing him off like that. Ben didn’t want to be a hindrance to Callum making new mates and now he’s avoiding him. He goes to pick up his phone from the bedside table almost knocking it off completely. He squints when he unlocks the screen, the brightness edging on his irritation. He opens up his text conversation with Ben, the glasses wearing emoji in his contact grinning at him. He sees that Ben still hasn’t replied to his earlier message about when he’d be home. He contemplates sending another, starts tapping on the back space with a loud sigh.

“He doesn’t need you checking up on him, you idiot. You ain't his mother” he mutters to himself, scowling at the wall in front of him. But Callum just cares, cares with his whole chest and he hates the thought of Ben avoiding him. After Ben’s confessions and brash words in the middle of the square the other night, things have been a bit…off kilter between them, but it won’t stop Callum from caring about him. He knows Ben still has this hard exterior up and its only being built higher the more he believes he’s not worth Callum’s affections.

Callum jumps when he hears the flat door slam a moment later, startling him from his thoughts. He waits for the increasing volume of Bens feet up the stairs, but they don’t come. Callum lies on his back holding his breath. His eyes darting about the dark ceiling like it will give him the answers he’s looking for. After a few unnerving seconds, the heavy thumps of Ben’s boots make their way on to the landing. Callum open’s the bedroom door with a gentle touch not wanting Ben to think he’s been clock watching his arrival back to the flat.

“Ben…?” He says it so quietly, he struggles to hear it himself. “Ben.”

Ben sees the change in light of Callum walking closer to him out the corner of his eye. Whipping his head up to meet the creased expression on Callum’s face.

“Hi, you alright?” He signs as he speaks. “Lexi enjoy her story yeah?”.

It takes Ben a moment to put it together. He clears his throat, teetering on the edge of nervousness.

“Yeah, she’s great..yeah” he answers, still glancing at Callum’s hands in mid air.

“I text you earlier. Didn’t want to leave you on your lonesome too long if I was out. Didn’t think you’d still be at your Mum’s.” He makes sure Ben can see his mouth move with each word, but even he can feel himself rambling.

Ben’s staring, mouth just slightly agape in concentration but he’s not caught a word. He blinks harshly against the little light coming from the living room lamp. His head is bursting. The ringing in his ears is still ever present and it feels like it’s pushing down on him from above. The pressure is too much. His hands feel cold but his palms are clammy. They’re balled up into fists, shoved deeply into the pockets of his leather jacket. He can’t even feel the pain of his nails digging into the calloused flesh. Hands that not all that long ago were holding a gun, punching some thugs and driving the get away car for him and Phil. He can feel his breathing picking up, leather jacket sticking to the back of his neck, like a bad dream following you around. He knows he needs to put on a show now, best lying performance of his life. Show Callum that everything is as it should be. Take his hand and lead him to the bed they share and at least try and get some rest. He can do that. He can. He’s lied to Callum about dodgy jobs and his family life so many times already, hidden his darkest secrets from him time and time again, it should feel easy. Easier than this. He needs to get away, run to the bathroom or grab a glass of water from the kitchen. Anything to get out from under the careful gaze of Callum. If he’s not looking straight at him, maybe, just maybe he could get away with the facade. But he’s stuck to the floor, his boots suddenly weighing an absolute tonne. He feels nauseous now and the room is spinning, seconds away from being sick. Doesn’t know whether its because of his ears or if the need to lie to Callum for the umpteenth time that week, is finally catching up on him. It was different when it was about Keanu. He could just push and push and it worked, for a time. It’s different now though. He needs Callum, needs him so much even he doesn’t realise. He can’t just push him away anymore, he agreed to be better, but right now he can’t do better.

“Phone Ben? Did you get my text?” Callum’s thumb hovers over his other four fingers, motioning to him.

Ben blinks again. Swallows hard, his throat dry and scratching. Concentrate, he thinks.

“Uhh no sorry. Not picked it up for hours.” Another lie, good. He drags it out his jean pocket ready to chuck it on the kitchen counter, forget about it and got to sleep with his boyfriend and pretend this night never happened. His thumb knocks the lock button though, the screen lighting up the picture of Lexi as his background. There’s a text from his Dad.

“Remember. Not a word to Callum.”

He feels himself choke, throat constricting. His eyes sting and he’s breathing harshly through his nose. He’s squeezing his phone so tightly, the bone of his knuckles could simply tear through the skin on the back of his hand. He’s getting hotter and hotter now, the rage bubbling up underneath the surface. His muscles all cramping up at his frustration. The remaining adrenaline from earlier only adding to his impending outburst.

Callum swears everything is stuck in slow motion. He sees Ben’s eyes focus on his phone, reading the same line over and over again, quicker each time he scans over the screen. Then his expression changes. He’s never seen Ben like this. Vulnerable, upset, cocky, confrontational but not this, he’s never seen him like this. He hesitates to react, doesn’t know what Ben will do or say next. No idea what could have been on his phone to make him like this. Panic starts to set in.

A sharp moment later. Ben lets out an aggressive scream, all his emotions finally coming up to the surface for air. His throat feels like its bleeding but its no match for how his head feels. His phone suddenly rips out of his hand and makes a heavy thud against the fuchsia-coloured wall of the flat, narrowly missing a photo frame. It rattles to the floor, the screen smashed and blacked out. It’s how Ben feels, bashed about and empty underneath it all.

Callums shocked into action then and runs to him, socked feet padding over the length of the living room. Ben’s pacing now. All shadows and amber street light, seeping in from the curtains. His hands grab his ears like he’s trying to pull them off. Huffing through gritted teeth, droplets of spit gathering on his lips. Eyes red raw as he scrunches them as tight as possible, defiant not to let his tears spill over and down his cheeks. Callum grabs his elbows and Ben starts to sob, noises only a broken, young man could make when he can’t carry on anymore. His cries wrack his chest, desperate to get a breath in but his emotions pull him deeper. Callum’s eyes are darting all over Ben’s figure trying to work out what could possible have happened to him and why he’s crumbling in his hands.

“Ben. Its okay, I’m here. What is it? Whats wrong?” His subconscious is using his police and army training to keep his voice as level and calm as possible,  feeling anything but.

Ben continues to cry hysterically, his shallow breaths echoing in the small space of the flat.

“Ben, please? Please let me help you. Tell me. Whatever it is”

There’s silence for a split second and Callum thinks he’s imaging all this, but Ben’s body is still trembling under his hold.

“I can’t do this” Its barely a whisper and Callum wonders if Ben even realises he’s spoken out loud.

“You what?”

“I can’t do this Callum. I can’t. I can’t do it.” And shallowly, for a moment, Callum thinks he’s talking about them. But that’s not Ben, he wouldn’t be upset like this, he’d act the hard man and pretend he’s only being that way for the protection of Callum. No, this is different.

“You can’t do what Ben? Whats happened.” He trails his hands up to the back of Ben’s, still gripping on to his ears. He tries to gently prise them away from the sides of his head. If he can’t hear or look at Callum, he can’t communicate and Callum needs Ben to know he’s there for him.

Ben slowly glances up, still huffing in short pants. His face is blotchy red and wet from his cries.

His hair is all over place, in tufts from where he’s been grabbing at it in frustration. Callum thinks he hears his own heart shatter when he finally sees his face, Ben has never looked this broken before. Callum thinks if he lets go of the sides of his head now, he might just fall apart like fine china. This is not a Ben he’s ever seen.

“I can’t Callum” he repeats.

“Cant what Ben!?” Ben can see it from Callum’s expression what he’s asking him but that’s the only way he can tell.

“I can’t hear Callum.”

“What? I know you can’t hear Ben! What are you on about?” Ben concentrates on Callum’s lips through his blurred vision.

“No Callum.” He hiccups out a broken sob. The words are right on his tongue, but its like a bad taste in his mouth. He just wants to swallow and get rid of it, but what else can he say. He takes another second, the air between the two of them fully charged. Callum just stares at him in anticipation.

“I’m deaf. I can’t hear you. At all.”

The floodgates open then and Ben is back to harsh, violent cries. His lips curling in and his eyelashes soaked with thick tears. Callum holds on to him, his mouth hanging open in shock. Ben crashes into him, head straight into Callum’s chest, balling up the cotton of his t-shirt in his hands, holding on for dear life.

Callum just holds him. Wraps one arm around Ben’s back, the other cradling the back of his head, fingers brushing through the short hair there in an attempt to soothe his boyfriend. He stumbles a little with the sheer amount of weight Ben is pushing on him. Can feel his chest tighten too, his vision becoming blurred as a stray tear rolls its way down his flushed cheek. He’s scared, scared for Ben and what this means for him. But Ben’s strong, they’re strong and Callum will do anything to see him through his.

He dips his head so his mouth meets the crown of Ben’s hair. He presses a small kiss there, silent and soft.

“Shhhh.” He hushes. “I’ve got you Ben. I’ve got you.”

[hysteriium]

Expect the Unexpected

Gif not mine!

(A/N): Okay maybe this is really specific, but there’s this one scent that’s literally the best smell I’ve ever smelt in my entire life? It’s like an oceany scented candle - my description literally does not do it justice I made it sound gross - and omg idk why but I could literally just picture Arthur having something along the lines of this cologne?? But maybe I’m biased. Here it is if you wanna check it out but omg like I’m not even joking when I say it’s the best thing I’ve ever smelt (and I collect a shit load of candles).  

!! ALSO - FORGOT TO MENTION ‘C/n’ = child’s name !! lol 

Summary: I honestly don’t know what to write for this one?? AHAHAH

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Single mum!Reader

Word count: 8600k+ (I know, I know, shhhh). 

Warnings: 18+ SMUT STUFF! Fluff and swearing! 

////

When Arthur found himself in the slowly decaying, yet otherwise well taken care of backyard of one of his requestors, performing under the gloomy Gotham sky, never, would he have expected it to change his life. Especially for the better. No, never had he thought, for the better. 

Arthur fiddled with his wig, the tips of his fingers scurrying under the strip of white which crossed his forehead, adjusting it. The fake, frizzy green locks were no longer lopsided, and he continued his routine in front of the kids before him. Laughter filled his ears. The only merriment he was accustomed to, and on that same train of thought, welcomed. It was nothing like the devious cackles of those who made fun of him. 

No, the laughs before him were honest and kind; they appreciated him. Most touching of all, and similarly foreign to him, was the fact that they actually asked for his jokes. 

He often wondered where things went wrong. When exactly did children, who were, for the most part, good-natured and compassionate, turn into horrible people? Transforming into the very same type that treated him like a punching bag? How and why, did they soak up the resentment of the world like a sponge? 

He supposed it was during adolescence. 

Teenagers were mean. 

That much was evident from the purple blotches on his back, markings that were still yet to dissipate, and tender to touch. From such a horrible experience, at least he was able to draw one positive out of it. The positive being that his clown costume was ridiculous enough to hide his battered and bruised body. Away from prying eyes. 

Then again, it wasn't like anyone would have cared.  

Ultimately, he tried his best not to focus on the path his thoughts were leading him down. One of his biggest struggles was staying in the moment, and right now, with the crucial task of performing for a child's birthday, he needed to be grounded. To emphasise this, Arthur dug his nails into his palms. Painful enough to snap him out of his digression, lax enough to keep the blood rushing and undisturbed under tested skin.  

As Arthur was finishing up his act, the magic wand which he seemingly pulled out of nowhere - at least from the kids' perspectives, produced a collective awe. He waved it around, bouncing from toe to toe in his giant clown shoes, flicking it towards the birthday boy. Said child was a small, (h/c) haired boy with twinkling (e/c) eyes; his name, (C/n). 

(C/n) flinched when the wand was suddenly centimetres from his face. Though, he giggled when he saw the expression on the clown's profile. It feigned shock, a gasp leaving his apple-red painted mouth. The clown, which the child only knew as 'Carnival' retracted the stick, inspecting it with squinted eyes. Alongside this, his spare hand flew up to his face, scratching his chin in thought, looking as though he had never encountered such a complex dilemma in his entire life. 

Then, without warning, the wand fell. No longer as sturdy as a stick, it wilted like a dying flower. The clown panicked, watching as it wiggled around in his desperate hands like a worm. While all seemed gloomy for the fate of the magic item in his hands, the children were giggling gleefully, intrigued at what would happen next. It was times like these that made Arthur's job bearable; made life bearable.

All he wanted was to make people smile.

Arthur, pretending as though he was about to give up, engaged with the object in one last attempt, the flick of his wrist propelling the rod into the air. Much to the children's astonishment, the wand had straightened itself, snapping back to its previously sturdy arrangement, with no sign of its prior drooping. 

They had long since formed a circle around the colourful man, looking up in wonder, clapping for him.

Arthur then slipped the item back into his pocket, performing a victory clasp. He threw his interlocked hands over his shoulders and shook them in response to the applause. When the children hushed their amazement, Arthur stuck his pointer finger in the air, wordlessly requesting their attention. His eyes then shut tight as he concentrated. Whipping out the rod from his pocket once more, he gave it one final spin. 

The children waited.

Nothing happened. 

Arthur opened his eyes. Confused. It was difficult for him to process what happened next because it all happened so quickly. One second he was puzzled, the next he was rendered stunned, with a face submerged in flowers. First, he had heard it, the sprout, as a prominent 'whoosh' filled the air. Then he felt it; felt it tickling his nose. 

The flowers themselves were not real ones, but they were vivid; pinks, purples, greens and yellows sprouting from the wand's end. Trying to play it off as though it was planned all along, Arthur mimed a sneeze, shaking his head. 

With a sheepish grin, the clown pulled back. His face was now safe from the sinister touch of the vibrant, ticklish extensions, and he handed the hued bouquet to the birthday boy, hunching over to reach him. It wasn't hard to decipher what the boy was thinking. Unquestionably, a mixture of amusement and joy as laughter bubbled from his throat; his joviality a contagious song. 

And thus concluded Arthur's act. 

"You're so cool Carnival!" (C/n) hollered, waving the newly acquired flowers around. 

Arthur beamed down at the boy. 

"When I grow up, I want to be just like you!"

Arthur attempted to restrain the look of pain which crossed his animated features. 

No, kid. No, you don't. 

Not wanting to ignore the poor child, he shot (C/n) a forced smile and ruffled his (h/c) hair.

"No. One day, you're going to be even better." 

The child gawked up at him, hope dancing in his gem-like eyes, reflecting light. 

Thankfully, the moment didn't last long as Arthur's concentration was ripped from the depressing interaction. He had caught a glimpse of you, the parent, entering the backyard. You had tried to smoothly open the door, an attempt to reduce the obnoxious squeaking from the object, though your steady pace was futile. Despite the hesitant speed at which it was tugged, it was a protest that sustained. 

It was just another complaint to add to the shitty standard in Gotham; everything was half-assed. A primary disease which ate at the heart of the city, decaying and transforming it into the bleak, loveless and harsh mother it was. When you were one of Gotham's children, affection was seldom. No matter how hard you tried to impress the mother, to display your achievements, to show strength, to get back up when you fell, the mother remained emotionless. Perhaps, she kicked you down some more.

Gotham was her name, and tough love was her game. 

Arthur watched you, in all his costumed glory, and drunk in the way your hair was softly carried by the wind. How your skin was kissed by the suns rays; how you moved away from the shading of the roof, which protruded meters from the brick walls of the house, spotlighting your features. He honestly felt like he was in a movie, a movie that was set up for disaster - knowing his luck. He couldn't wait for the great mystery of how he was going to screw up, to unravel before his eyes. Could he even call it a mystery? He knew it was inevitable. A non-mysterious mystery? Expecting the unexpected except it was actually unexpected, though somehow, still expected?

Did that even make sense? He thought. 

His brain hurt.

What was he doing again? 

"Mum!" (C/n) shouted, rushing up to you, simultaneously breaking Arthur's buzzing thoughts as well as the one-sided staring contest he had engaged in. 

"Hey, there buckaroo!" you grabbed onto his small form and hoisted him up against your hip, "how's my big boy?" 

Arthur watched the heart-warming scene from afar, sorrow tugging at his heart. He couldn't help but flick through his memories, to try and find a time where his mother had been just as caring. Limited, but nonetheless there, he yearned for change; for his past to change. He'd been the man of the house for as long as he could remember. Even at a young age. With no father or even knowledge of him, he was forced to take care of his mother. And while he loved his mother, with all his heart, it was an arduous task to take care of yourself and your own needs when you were supporting someone else. 

"Good!" The child giggled in your arms, "Carnival is my favourite clown! Can we have him over every week?"

You couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"I don't know buddy, I-"

"Please, please, please, please, please?" (C/n) whined, looking up at you with large hopeful (e/c) eyes.  

"Run along and play, and maybe I'll talk to him," you tapped his nose, "that sound good?"  

The boy frantically nodded his head, and as you set him down, he bolted off to join his friends. When he was on the other side of the yard, you turned towards the party clown. 

"Sorry about that," you sheepishly grinned. 

Arthur didn't really know what to say, the scene before him had truly made his heartthrob. It was a warmth that left him with some strange mix of belonging and attachment. Never before had he felt so appreciated. He wanted to say something, be honest, express his gratitude. And so, he said the first thing that came to mind:

"It's fine." 

He wanted to kick himself. 

"It's kind of strange how much he likes you. He's never really open. He can be quite..."

"Shy," Arthur finished for you.  

When you gave him a quizzical look, he was quick to explain, "I-I, uh, I was the same." 

Your lips upturned into a soft smile.

"Well, (C/n) must've picked up on it. Kid's are good like that - sensitive to vibes. It means you've got a good heart." 

Arthur fidgeted, the words melting him. 

"Oh! Um, thank you for coming on such short notice…sorry, I never caught your name?" 

"A-Arthur." 

"Glad to know your name's not actually Carnival."

His eyes sparkled at your joke, his amusement filling the yard.

"You're probably exhausted, come, I'll make some tea. Or coffee? Is there something you prefer?" 

He was about to protest, not wanting to bother you, to go back home to his crummy apartment and lose himself in his journal for the rest of the day, but something compelled him to agree to the offer. He wasn't sure what.

"Coffee is okay, thank you," his smile hadn't left. 

When you turned to lead, his eyes flew to your hands, searching for a ring. He also wasn't sure why he let himself.

There was none, however; no jewellery at all. 

Huh.

He quickly caught up and shuffled inside after you. 

"This really means a lot," you started, closing the screen door before turning to face him, "to me and, obviously to my son..." 

A sombre look replaced your smile.

"...I haven't seen him this happy since we moved," you looked back at (c/n), watching him jump up and down with his friends, their voices filtering through the mesh. 

"You're not from Gotham?"

You shook your head, rounding him to shift further into the kitchen, behind the counter. His eyes followed your zipping from, moving when you were out of view. 

"Sugar?" 

Arthur found his hands fidgeting with his wig again, refusing eye contact. A soft 'sure' passed his lips, followed by a 'two, thank you' as the porcelain clink of mugs being placed, echoed. The soft scatter of sugar followed soon after.

"Please make yourself comfortable, Arthur. You can sit down if you'd like." 

The scraping of the chair from behind told you that he listened. 

After a few moments of silence, he spoke up. You could tell he was starting to open up, less nervous than when you had first spoken to him. It was endearing. 

"With all due respect miss-

"(Y/n)," you interrupted, turning to grin at the man. You noticed he had taken his wig off, his red foam nose too, displaying his almost raven coloured locks and chiselled features.  

"(Y/n), he repeated. The way your name rolled off his tongue had your stomach fluttering, a sensation that caught you off guard. 

"Why did you move to Gotham? It's not exactly the...best place to be." 

"Life works in funny ways," you started, "one minute you're on top of the world, the next the floor crumbles beneath you, and suddenly you're in a hole." 

Boy, did Arthur understand. Although he knew you weren't able to see him, with your back turned towards him, he nodded his head frantically. How were you able to so eloquently sum up his life? His whole existence? 

"Sorry, I'm oversharing," you awkwardly laughed. 

"No! I know what you mean..." 

With one flick of the kettle's trigger, you returned to Arthur. 

"I take it you're a native Gothamite?" 

He nodded. 

"I live with my moth- … my mother," his voice lost confidence towards the end as if he was ashamed of such a fact. 

This was only supported when he scrambled to get out his next words, "she needs help sometimes, and I'm the only one who's around to take care of her."  

"I'm all she has…" 

You gave him a reassuring smile, gently touching his interlocked hands which were resting on the table. He flinched at the contact. 

"You don't need to justify yourself, Arthur. I'm sure your mother's proud to have raised such a compassionate man."

You had caught him off guard - that was for sure. Flicking through the entirety of your interactions wasn't needed to come to the glaringly obvious conclusion that he wasn't used to being complimented. That he wasn't used to any form of nicety, and that fact well and truly broke your heart.

Who had hurt him?

Arthur had yet to find evidence of repulsion - yet to find anything that indicated you were weirded out by him; like the guys at work. He relaxed into the hold a second later, when he realised it wasn't anything threatening. Or, part of some malicious, ulterior motive.

"As strange as this might sound, you're really easy to talk to, Arthur. You're a good listener."  

"Really?" He couldn't hold back the crooked, love-struck grin that infiltrated his features, and he was about to compliment you too when the shrieking of the kettle broke up the moment, causing you to pull away from him.

He felt cold; the warming action starkly contrasted with the wind which permeated through the mesh door.

In seconds, you had returned with your steaming beverages, warning of the burning hazards, though your touch hadn't returned. 

Fast-forwarding through the small talk and the stories which decorated your conversation, Arthur eventually finished his coffee, and never before had he been so smitten. Out of all the jobs he'd gotten this week, which weren't many, this had been the most enjoyable. Although his work here had finished a while ago, he had tried to stretch out the minutes, just to hold onto the glimmer of happiness he knew would dissipate as soon as he left. He could feel time laughing at him, sticking its ghastly tongue out while telepathically hammering the fact home. He couldn't drag it out any longer. 

And so, when it was time for him to leave, heading towards the door, he paused and swallowed his pride, doing what he thought was best. 

"Did you want to get dinner sometime?" He said, turning back around as he placed an awkward arm against the arch of the hallway, leaning on it. He saw it in movies. The cool, nonchalant characters always got the girl, so it must work. 

Right? 

No, that was stupid, he thought. 

He forced the limb down, it bumping against his side. 

His fingernails dug into his palms again, for the second time that day, pressing against the very same spots as he waited for a response. He was expecting rejection. No way would she say yes, what was he thinking? At least he could say he tried; at least he'd had one positive interaction in the last few months. 

Sorry kiddo, guess Carnival's not coming back. 

His negative thoughts were disrupted by the sound of your reply. A reply in which made him delighted for taking a chance. 

Because your next words were nothing but a sweet package of glazed agreement.

"I'd love to." 

Uttering something about a day and a time, to which you agreed, he quickly found his way out of the house. 

When he slipped outside into the fresh air, he shut the front door. Away from everyone's gaze - at least those he cared about, namely you. He felt compelled to move. One of his legs with a mind of its own crossed over the other, twirling him around against your patterned brick pathway; a path in which led to the small gated exit. His arms then followed a similar pattern, striking the air, drumming into it. With one slide, the soles of his shoes skated against concrete, pushing him towards the iron gate. He felt good as he opened it. He felt confident. Laughter bubbled from his lips, failing to halt as he travelled further and further away from your house. 

He smiled all the way home.

And, it was only until he reached said home, emptying out his pockets while changing into more comfortable clothes, that his fingers brushed up against a flat, smooth surface; thin and malleable. He wrapped his digits over the peculiar material and brought it to eye-level, palm exposed. 

It was a small, folded piece of paper. White, though crumbled from being cramped up in his pocket. 

He didn't remember placing it in there...

Arthur's eyes grew wide when he unravelled the mysterious sheet, a line of numbers taking up a good portion of its space. Below it was a small 'call me - (Y/n)' written out neatly, a drastic variation to his own child-like scribbles. He reclined his head against a nearby wall, letting his childish exuberance take over. 

Turns out you were quite the magician yourself. 

———

Arthur sat alone, leg jittering as his eyes glanced back and forth from the clock on the pale wall opposite him, above the entrance. With each darting glance, barely a minute between them, he became increasingly aware of the chatter around him. While there weren't many people in the area with him as the tables were more empty than they were filled, he was highly conscious of the fact that he was the only one there without company. 

For the first time, he looked out the window he rested against. The chilled frame soothed his hot face as he watched people stroll by, hoping to catch you. His attempts were, sadly, in vain. 

You were late. 

When he returned his gaze to look back at the clock again, he tried his hardest not to make eye contact with any of the staff. He knew that if he did, they'd flock to him like a swarm of bees. Instead, he kept his head low, pretending to look at the menu.

After another five minutes passed before the bell hanging off the door finally rang. His gaze immediately shot to the noise, locking with yours. Air left his mouth, both in relief and at the red dress you were wearing, coincidentally matching his own red suit. It hugged your figure, complimenting every curve, and he tried his hardest to keep his eyes from wandering. 

You hadn't stood him up.

As your beaming face lit up the world around him, your clacking heels took you to the booth opposite him, observing the room with a smile as you did so. 

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" You exclaimed, placing your purse down, sandwiched by you and the wall.

"Kids," you rolled your eyes.

"You came," were his first words, his eyes riddled with a strange confusion, yet a light - hope. He believed he had articulated his surprise internally, that was, until you gave him a look.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?"  

"I-I don't know." He sputtered out. 

He did. 

As you both got settled in, Arthur for the first time that night willingly made eye contact with one of the servers. Your orders were speedily jotted down and taken to the chef within minutes. 

Conversation flowed, and his jokes actually got a reaction out of you, much to his surprise. The tension, or rather the anxious energy that seemed to bounce off the two of you melted, fading away light the lights of the cars that sped by the open window. In its absence, a playful aura took told. Small touches here and there, and your leg which rubbed against his, even if it was accidental, left his head spinning. This, he thought, was bliss. 

"So," you started, a finger twirling around a strand of (h/c) hair, "I've decided." 

Arthurs brows furrowed, allowing you to continue. 

"I have to tell you something," you said, rubbing your hands against your dress; a nervous tick.

A finger curled into his collar, tugging at it to cool his heating body temperature. Arthur's anxiety which was already a mess, exacerbated from hearing one of the most infamously terrifying phrases.  

"I feel like it'll be good for me to open up - I haven't told anyone since I've left. No one really knew in the first place, except a few friends." 

Arthur didn't know what to say. 

It sounded serious. Your words held a unique gravity to them. And while he felt the air around them shift, from light-hearted and playful, to darker, more solemn, he could tell you had been repressing what you were about to tell him for a good while. He knew the look. 

His hand reached over the table to meet yours. They were timid, brushing against yours experimentally until he knew you were comfortable with his affection.

"How the tables have turned," you joked, allowing his hand to slip into yours.  

"I was in a nasty relationship," you started off wavering, a sigh passing into the air, "I only dared to leave a few months ago." 

Arthur's heart virtually broke as you revealed this to him. He watched as you swallowed the lump in your throat, noting how your eyes started to flutter from the stinging of tears. 

"It endangered me and my son. It took a lot of strength to leave, but I had to for (C/n). He's my world, and I care about him more than myself." 

Tears by now had fallen, running down your cheeks. Arthur intently listened to your confession. 

"Moving to Gotham was the only way we could start over, and if I could have given him a better life, I would have, but it was the best I could do. I just wanted to see him happy again." 

You let out another sigh, trying to blink away a few of the stray tears, though Arthur beat you to it, his hands moving to your face, wiping them with his thumbs. He felt how you leant into his touch, your eyes falling shut with a sniffle. As grim as the situation was, he was happy you were comfortable enough to tell him such a heartbreaking story.

"Sorry," you mumbled, forcing a laugh out to mask your vulnerability. Arthur saw right through it.

He gave you a look, one that virtually said 'are you serious?' before he spoke, exasperated, "what for?" 

"I don't know...for crying? For dropping this on you, for-" 

"Hey," Arthur's thick, dark eyebrows furrowed, his hands still cupping your face, "if I even had half the strength of you, I'd-"

"I'd-"

Arthur paused, his voice coming out as chokes.

Oh no. 

He felt an overly-familiar twitch in his throat, a reflex in which he tried to stifle by clamping his mouth shut, contorting his face in pain to keep it at bay.  

He never could. 

And then, at the worst possible moment, the worst he could possibly think of, he hunched over and wheezed, cackling over the table. Your eyes, riddled with confusion from the lost contact, was promptly replaced with hurt at his sudden laughter. 

He quickly noticed this, shaking his head. 

Everyone else in the establishment, with what few were there, reared their heads to the ruckus, watching Arthur spiral. 

"I-I'm so-" he started, desperate to contain himself. 

It only made things worse. 

"S-sorry." 

He fiddled with his pockets, trying to produce the laminated card, he practically depended on. His fingers brushed the plastic, and he frantically pulled it out, sliding it to the other side of the table.

Please understand. 

Please, please, please. 

You had been the only person he'd connected with in months, perhaps longer. And now, he was about to ruin it with his stupid, stupid, stupid condition. 

Guess the mystery had unravelled, he thought bitterly. 

He tried to watch your expression for any indication of disgust or contempt. It was difficult, however, as he continued his fit, a hand hitting the table's surface. Another reflex. The pain was starting to set in, his lungs screaming, and his chest aching. 

Please just let it end. 

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

Your voice surprised him, the kind tone and the understanding in your eyes was something he had to get used to. Something he wanted to get used to. How were you so kind? So accepting?

He shook his head slowly, trying to get a few words out.

"I have-"

"Have to-"

He tried to breathe, nearly choking.

"W-Wait."

"It's okay," you comforted, hurt no longer manipulating your features. 

"Take your time."

———

In Arthur's eyes, the date had gone really well, or at the very least as well as it could have gone considering his outburst. He was happy, the feeling of warmth and nervousness he felt around you was something he hadn't really experienced with anyone, or really had the chance to. He kind of liked it.

He felt like he could be himself. You'd laugh at his jokes, his puns, regardless of how morbid they got; the most you'd do is playfully slap his shoulder and bite back a grin - guilty for laughing. He never understood the frivolous sayings about love, how things could sound so far fetched and dramatic, but now, he understood. 

He didn't know how it was possible, how someone as beautiful as you, could be interested in someone like him. 

After eating, you both walked under the darkness of the sky, the pinpricks which twinkled above, smiling down. Content was the air that surrounded your bodies, a loving blanket. With nothing more than a few minutes walk back to yours from the restaurant, you relished in his company. 

It wasn't long before you both arrived back though, almost too soon, with the giddiness of your date still swirling around in both your heads. Arthur, at some point, had wrapped his red suit jacket around your goosebumped form, an action at which you had initially declined, but gave in when he insisted. You thought it felt good against your warming skin, the smell of his cologne intoxicating. As you entered the hallway, leading him back to the living room, you were happy to see the babysitter you had hired playing a board game with your beaming son. She was the teenage daughter of a friend you met at work, and you, happy to help out a struggling youth, decided it was the perfect opportunity to go out with Arthur. After paying her, and seeing her off, you excused yourself for a moment and vanished into one of the other rooms.  

Arthur had sat down on the table like last time. The wood cooled his clothed forearms as he watched the child from across the room walk his way over, and push himself into the chair opposite him. Once (c/n), was comfortable, Arthur shot him a smile - one that wasn't returned. 

(C/n)'s bright eyes were suddenly reduced to slits, his arms crossed and observing the dressed-up man. It made Arthur uncomfortable, to say the least. What had caused the dramatic shift in attitude? 

Nothing was said, for at least a good two minutes, until finally, the small child in his blue space pyjamas saw it necessary.

"You know, my mommy really likes you." 

Uh oh.

Arthur made a face back to the boy. 

He wasn't entirely sure what face he made, though it didn't matter because the child picked up on his general disbelief anyway.

"It's true!" His arms shot out into the air, "I do too!" 

There was no way a child could know such things; plus, nothing was ever certain. It was with this that he pushed down the hope that had sprung up, like a freshly bloomed flower in spring - its stem resistant and youthful, not yet pressed by the wilting life would inevitably bring. 

"So you better not be mean to her!" (C/n) exclaimed.

The double meaning behind what the child said made him internally cringe. Arthur now knew the context of your troubled pasts and whilst what (c/n) had said was innocent, had saddened him. Not just over the fact you had been through hell in the first place, but because, for a moment there, Arthur saw himself in the child; a reflection of what he was still like. Always having to take care of his mother - look out for her. Support her any way he could.  

Arthur's eyes softened in understanding, a great respect for the child forming. (C/n) sincerely looked up to you - loved you, and he was willing to resist anything that endangered that. 

Arthur leaned forward, a forearm extending. His elbow rested against the table's surface and all his fingers, except for one - his pinky - curled into his palm. 

"I promise," he said, eyes firm, a certainty the child was happy with.

(C/n) reached his small body over, his knees digging into the pads of cushioning on the chair as his significantly tinier finger wrapped around Arthur's skinny one. A smile was shared between the two of them. 

When Arthur went to pull away, he was stopped by (C/n)'s whine.

"No! You have to lock it!"

"Lock?" Arthur questioned. 

(C/n)'s tongue stuck out in concentration as he reached his small thumb over to Arthur's, tapping it. After much trial and error, the older man finally got the hint and connected the tip of his thumb with the boy.

"There!" (C/n) exclaimed.

Unbeknownst to the two seated at the table, you had snuck back into the room, watching the heartwarming scene unfold. The gentle noise of your knocking signified your return, and Arthur, with surprise, jumped in his chair, quickly standing. You bit into your lip, trying not to laugh. 

He made his way over to you when you extended your arm, his red suit jacket floating in the air as your fingers gripped it from the top. In one quick movement, it was hugging his body again.

"Thanks," Arthur smiled.

As much as he wanted to stay, to talk to you all night, his eyes caught the time which had apparently flown by, like a flock of birds migrating for the winter. He had undoubtedly overstayed his welcome, and his mother was probably worried sick. 

His eyes grew wide.

"I-I have to go!" 

His sudden shift in mood had you worried. 

"Arthur? Are you okay?" 

"I'm really late. I'm sorry." 

"Oh - okay well, let me walk you to the door?"

It was barely a few meters away, and you internally scolded yourself. How obvious could you get?

He quickly nodded.

Your form quickly moved past him as you hear Arthur's gentle voice in the background say goodbye to (C/n). When your fingers gripped onto the doorknob, pushing it, Arthur squeezed past with a small 'thank you'. You felt the nips of the wind against your exposed arms, causing you to shiver. The distant noises of Gotham - the blaring sirens which were muffled, and the faraway clamour of car horns, was something you had gotten used to; it was a city that never slept. 

Arthur stood awkwardly in front of you, lost. It was then when you realised you had to make the first move. 

"Thanks for tonight," you said, hands wrapping around him in a gentle embrace, chin resting on the pad of his shoulder. The smell of his cologne hit your nostrils instantly. It was oceanic, traces of bergamot and melon, with a hint of frangipani; so perfectly him. It was a fragrance that you associated with safety, the small feeling of comfort burrowing in your stomach. 

He froze from your actions, evidently stunned. His arms then snaked their way around your waist, pulling you closer to him. 

"I had a great time," you whispered, eyes closing against him.  

The husky agreement which you felt vibrate in his chest induced a sinful shiver. As much as you wanted to stay wrapped in his arms for longer, hell for the rest of the night, you knew he needed to be somewhere. Tearing yourself away, the hands remaining at your hips stopped you, squeezing into your sides. This prompted you to look up at the man, into his hardened eyes. They looked to be concentrating, portraying an internal war. His Adam's apple bobbed. You didn't get a chance to ask if he was okay because he moved before you could, his lips quickly pressing themselves against the softness of your heated cheek before scurrying off.

You smiled, fingers grazing the area. 

Arthur was a unique man. Strange, but endearingly so. 

So soft and gentle; kind. 

He would never hurt a fly. 

———

.

.

.

.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Arthur repeated the mantra in his head. 

He'd fucked up - fucked up big time.

He'd shot three men - killed them in cold blood. 

His ears were still ringing from the gunshots, and he remembered the way his hands shook as he held the trigger. How his tremors diminished with every squeeze until finally, a hardened look replaced his fear. His whole demeanour had altered within those critical seconds.

As he found himself back in the present, his makeup smudged and appearance dishevelled, he emerged out of the public bathroom, panting. 

He felt different. 

The eyes which had stared back at him in that mirror didn't feel like his own. They didn't harbour the terror they once swam in, nor the naivety. His body, which had moved with grace and finesse, had danced on the dirty tiles instead. His movements came from the soul; a conglomeration of motions he was unaware he was even capable of. 

Yes - he was different. 

So, when he wiped off his makeup, and kicked his leg out, against the resistance of the bathroom door, he didn't go back to his apartment. He didn't want to see the rats in the lobby, scurrying and squeaking, only a matter of time before they found their way into his apartment. He didn't want to stare at the wall for hours, envisioning what could have been, and the what if's. He didn't want to sit down with his journal and think about how depressing his life was - just to get his therapist off his ass.

No, he didn't want to. 

So he didn't.

Preferably, he found himself going in the other direction. To the place where he felt most welcomed. Loved. 

Although the date had been days prior, he felt the need to see you. 

He didn't know how long it took him to get there, all he knew was the thumping of his heart, it's frantic beat echoing in his ears when he rapped on the door. The sound hollow. 

Your head peaked out, groggy from sleep as you opened the door, its range widening when you saw him. It was late, perhaps late enough to be considered the early hours of the morning, but you didn't question it. Rather, his name passed your lips with concern. 

Arthur didn't hear you call his name. Though he saw your lips move, plump and inviting. No sound reached his dazed state. His hands found your face alternatively, thin digits sliding below your mastoid, save for his ring finger and pinky. Wasting no time in seizing your lips, his mind worked overtime to memorise every little detail - of the moment he had been waiting for; the grand finale. 

Every scent - like the perfume that seeped into your skin, faint and applied hours prior. It was a scent he often detected, sometimes rubbing off on his clothes, but an odour he never got sick of; heavenly. 

Every feeling - like the way your hands wrapped around his form, gripping him tightly to steady yourself from your stumbling - from his pushes into the house. Or, like the feeling of his stomach, how it fluttered when you kissed him back, his heated blood pumping through him. 

Every sound - like the soft 'click' of the door behind him, which he closed with the sole of his shoe. 

Every taste - like the raspberry chapstick which coated your lips, mixing in with the contrasting flavour of his carmine lipstick. Although most of it was wiped off, there were distinct traces. Smudges.  

Every sight - the way your playful grin took up most of it when you pulled away, teeth dragging your bottom lip, leading him to your bedroom. 

When inside, Arthur dipped you down onto the bed, his slim frame hovering over yours with darkened eyes. The dim glow of your lamp residing on the bedside table allowed you to identify the hunger in his look. A lusting fire which burned right before you, behind those glassy, blue eyes. The warmth of his lips met your mouth once more, but only for a second because he shifted his attention to the base of your neck. The moments in between had you complaining from the loss of contact, a noise which he chuckled at. 

He wanted - needed - to explore every curve of your body; every crevice. Map it in his brain. 

"Arthur," you whispered. He shivered at the sound of his name breathlessly leaving your lips, goosebumps forming across his skin. In response, he hummed deeply - an acknowledgement which originated from the back of his throat, the vibrations sinful against your heightened senses.

"What's gotten into you?" 

The confidence radiating off of him, although adding to the pool in your panties, had surprised you. You had to remind yourself that the previously timid Arthur and the man above you were the same person.

"I need you," he husked. 

Amazed by his forwardness, though equally as desperate, your voice came out shaky, "then take me." 

Three words. Those lovely three words were all it took for him to lose himself; his control. The tightness of his pants was becoming too much to bear. It was his own personal prison, and the anguished motivation to escape was only increasing by the passing moments. Judging by the way you were grinding against him, pressing against his crotch unfairly, he knew you were just as riled up.

His kisses seared into your skin, rendering you a whimpering mess. Your back arched against the mattress, an action driven entirely by instinct as his hands slipped under your shirt. In an attempt to make things easier, your hands hooked under the shirt as well, bunching it up. When he sensed the movement, he assisted you with the material. In your whirlwind of passion, the article of clothing had been removed, thrown away as it was left sprawled across the floor, uncaringly. His breath hitched in his throat when he realised there was nothing underneath it, except for your underwear.

"You're beautiful," he said, pupils full-blown.

Your eyes then smiled up at his in the delicate moment, the tender upturn of your brows leading to the capture of his lips. Without so much as moving away, his slender fingers fiddled with his dress shirt, he too, removing himself from its constraints. 

He suddenly pulled away as his frustration reached its peak. His need for you had become overpowering, and he worked his way down towards the only piece of clothing you had left. The light, tickling touch of the pads of his fingers slid down your ribcage, tracing down your hips until they reached the waistband. His thumbs dipped under the elastic, and with the cooperation of your wiggling, it was promptly discarded. His caress was ever so gentle, his handling virtually leaving you quaking beneath him. 

Arthur wasted no time in pleasuring you, this was proven to you quickly when one of his digits smoothly slid into your cunt. The sound of your wetness was vulgar, although all the more alluring. 

He felt drunk; hazy. In some sense, it was surreal that this was occurring, that you were actually interested in him in the first place. Yet, there was another part of him that was screaming at himself to focus, to halt his berating comments and take pleasure in the way you were crumbling before him. He tried to do the latter.  

"Fuck- oh my god!" You immediately cried out, hands darting to cover your mouth as he slowly started pumping his finger. His devilish movements had your other hand fisting the sheets. 

Your breathing swiftly became ragged under the knuckle you bit down on, and he hastily added another finger, loving your reaction. He felt his chest swell with pride as he glanced up at your dishevelled manner. Encouraged by the enchanting sight, he picked up his pace. It was relentless and brutal, the thrusts forcing obscene mewls from you, some no longer containable. Raising your hips to meet his rhythm, to relieve the overwhelming knot forming, you knew you weren't going to last long. Arthur knew this too, your squirming made this clear, and he instantly added his lips to the equation, stimulating your clit. 

You were done for. 

As your walls clenched around his fingers, your hands rushed to grip his hair. They weaved through his untidy strands, pushing his head down while the wild flicks of his tongue assisted you with your earth-shattering orgasm. Ecstasy rushed over your trembling form, and as your thighs tensed, the tip of your head grazed the headboard; you swore you could see stars. Arthur's cock twitched in his pants at the sight of you unfolding before him, impossibly hard. 

"Holy fuck!" You moaned.

He kindly slowed his rhythm when he knew you finished, yet his tongue licked a long stripe against your slit, moving to lap up your juices. The sensation, as well as the hums that lasciviously left his mouth, vibrated against your already sensitive core, setting you down the path for a second climax.  

Perhaps he had done it on purpose, but when you felt the pressure in your abdomen, ready to burst again, he pulled away. 

"No!" you cried, "Arthur, please! I'm gonna cum, please let me cum!" You sobbed quite shamelessly. In all honesty, your words surprised yourself, and apparently Arthur too, because laid sat there for a moment, eyebrows raised as a delicious smirk settled over his lips. He took his merry time, with no sign of returning to you, savouring your pleading.  

"Beg," he purred, sitting up as his tongue lolling out to lick and suck on the fingers that had fucked you into oblivion. His eyes never shifted from yours, and you watched with absolute astonishment, upon desire, at the action. Your reaction only egged him on. 

What exactly happened to him in the last 72 hours? 

You were genuinely bewildered at the whole situation. The last thing you would have expected was to have Arthur rock up in the middle of the night and turn into a sex god. Though, you certainly weren't complaining. 

While one of his hands was busy, in his mouth, his other trailed up your thigh. Eventually, it reached your bundle of nerves, tracing small circles with his thumb, agonisingly slowly. 

"You're so good to me, fuck," you whined, stirring against his touch. He pulled away again when you bucked into his hand.

"Please-"

"Please, what?"

"I need you inside me, Arthur, fuck please-"

He couldn't take much more of your begging, his own self-control had wholly vanished by then, and he quickly shifted out of his pants, freeing himself. When his cock fell into his fist, he gave two steady pumps before lining himself up with you. You held your breath in anticipation despite your wild heart, making you feel dizzy. The relief you had been longing for - no aching for - had finally arrived when he pushed himself into you. 

"Oh god- you feel so good," you gasped. The moan which fell from Arthur's lips had your name mixed in, a deliciously carnal sound. As he started moving, a slow rhythm from his hips developing, he shut his eyes. With his concentration on chasing his finish, salty beads of sweat trailed down his forehead. 

"Arthur," your gentle voice had called, "w-wait." 

Upon hearing your words, he immediately stopped, eyes flying open with concern.

"Let me take care of you."

He was confused as to what you meant until you maneuvered yourself on top, kissing him softly.  

You could see the stutter in his confidence at your words, though his nod signified his consent. With a small smile, you made sure he was comfortable before your entrance started teasing his cock. You felt him tense up, and when you made the movement again, he thrust into you, an involuntary action which made you both cry out. His stroke hit you perfectly the first time, harsh yet euphoric. If you woke up the next day and found your body aching, you wouldn't be shocked.

His arms reached over to embrace your form as you buried your face in the crevice of his neck, teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. Then, fully adjusted to his length, you started to move up and down on his cock, the feeling of him stretching your walls overwhelming. 

"You're doing so well," you gulped, your panting warming the side of his throat.

"I want to see you," he managed to murmur out, and his request was promptly granted when you pulled away from his neck.  

His hands slid down to grip your hips when you shifted, guiding them as you bounced. No longer did he need to fantasise about being with you, image you writhing in pleasure as he touched himself. No longer did he need to envision the way you felt around his cock, the way you moaned; it was now his reality. Hell, even Arthur's wicked fantasies couldn't have prepared him for this. Nor the words that left your mouth next, sending him spiralling. 

"Let go, Arthur. Cum for me."  

He did.

And hard. 

His orgasm rocked him to the core, and you milked him for all he had, his hot spurts of cum coating your walls. Both your paces slowed, becoming sloppy as you came crashing down seconds later. 

Deathly tired, you collapsed on top of his chest, exhausted. The only sound that could be heard were your frantic breaths, and you could've sworn your heart too, considering how hard it was beating. As you both took a minute to calm, neither of you move from each other, his cock still buried within you. 

Only when you felt him soften did you slowly depart, rolling beside him. Arthur's grew heavy when you did, though they tried to resist the weight of his lethargy. He managed to twist his frame over to you, giving you one last kiss, the taste of yourself prominent in the heartfelt and passionate kiss, before he finally gave in. 

Sleep gripped your forms. 

———

Arthur stirred at the alien sensation of warmth next to him. Your naked body was pressed against his, head leaning on his chest as his arms protectively enveloped your frame. It took a few moments for this to register, and a lot more minutes for him to realise this was real; that this wasn't a dream - a product of his imagination.

He hadn't woken up in his own bed with his sheets dirtied from, well, his...dreams. 

Everything had actually happened yesterday. 

Your beautiful form was really there in his grasp, face relaxed with soft exhales leaving your nose. He could feel the breath against his skin, a perception his body reacted to on its own.

Don't start, he thought, scolding himself. 

Perhaps it was his staring that had woken you next, or the soft, dulled yellow tone of the suns rays projecting past the white curtains. He wasn't sure. But, when your (e/c) eyes bore into his, fluttering open with a grin he knew he'd never get used to, he realised it didn't matter. Its appearance always managed to sucker punch him in his gut, make his heart stop. And if that was the way he was going to die, fuck, he really couldn't complain. He'd choose it if he could. Your radiance was sincerely otherworldly to him, angelic - personally constructed and moulded by the angels themselves.  

"Goodmorning," you yawned, arching your back into a stretch. Soft groans left your lips and pops from your joints filled the air. Arthur's finger trailed your spine, forcing you to shiver.

"Morning," he replied lazily, a drowsy smile gracing his lips.

"I don't wanna get upppp" you whined, voice still affected by sleep as you nuzzled into him. 

"We don't have to," Arthur shot you a look, one you were quickly starting to identify as his sex expression. Its appearance forced you to roll your eyes playfully, something he laughed at. 

"Maybe later, loverboy."

After one soft morning kiss, you both decided it was best to do the complete opposite of what you wanted and get up. 

As you both tossed on the discarded clothes from your nightly activities, Arthur beat you to the kitchen, refusing to let you sort your breakfast out. Your giggles decorated the hallway as you admitted defeat, knowing he wasn't going to give in. In no time, Arthur had somehow transformed into a chef, something he casually brushed off, stating he learned for his mother. 

Not long after, a long metallic groan - of hinges - sounded. Then, frantic footsteps littered the hallway, a short form entering the kitchen soon after, eyes observing the scene before them.

"Are those pancakes?" The boy asked, looking between you and Arthur. 

Arthur winked at (C/n). It was enough confirmation for the kid and his feet lept off the ground repeatedly. His cute red pyjamas had green patterns of t-rex's scattered across the fabric, a fact he exhibited to Arthur every few minutes. 

So, this was what having a family felt like, Arthur thought, smiling. 

When Arthur eventually finished cooking and experimenting with pancake shapes (he had managed to morph yours into the outline of a heart and (C/n)'s into Pacman), he was the last to join the table. 

Excited to take a chuck out of his consumable masterpiece, Arthur sipped on his water. But, before he could move on, the boy's words across from him, stopped him, forcing the liquid back into its glass. 

Arthur damn near choked. Deep coughs emerged from his chest, and while he was repulsed by the sight of his saliva swirling with the chilled drink, it was the least of his worries with the child's words buzzing around his head. 

"Does this mean you're my dad now?!"

———

Side note: I was genuinely considering putting the summary as ‘Arthur shoots people and gets laid lol’ because I couldn’t think of anything. I need help PFTT

[sukarabia]

Sereia x Leona - A disastrous first meeting

Disclaimer: Sereia is @kirseduwu‘s OC! Mary-Ann is one of my (still unrevealed) OCs, and they’re both 1st years at the time of this drabble. I’m sorry this took so long, and sorry if Sereia is OOC, I tried working with the character sheet you provided me T_T Regardless, I hope you like it! <3

“... You’re seriously weird, you know.”

Sereia stopped in her tracks. That voice- it was unmistakable. Swift as thunder, she turned around.

“.. Ara, if it isn’t Leona-san. Is there anything I could help you with?” She titled her head, softly smiling at him.

“There you go again. Seriously, aren’t you tired?”

Dusk was slowly setting on the courtyard, yet the light seemed almost blinding to Sereia as she processed what Leona had said. She responded, as imperturbable as ever, a fake smile plastered on her face.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, Leona-san. I am just putting away the practice material, after all. Is there anything wrong with that?”

“... Ha, look at you, with that fake smile n’ all. Don’t you know your eyes ain’t even smiling when you’re grinning like that?”

She had to resist the urge to bit her lower lip as she fought the growing uneasiness swelling inside of her.

“’A fake smile’? You must be mistaken, Leona-san. Why would I pretend about anything?”

Somehow, her voice had faltered a bit. And when Sereia looked up to meet Leona’s gaze, she understood that he had noticed. Shit. Why did this guy have to butt in? He threw his head back, looking down at her with a cocky expression.

“Hah, so I was right. Seems like our lil’ mermaid can reach her limits, too. Must be tiring, smiling around those idiots all day and pretendin’ you care. Kinda admire you, in a sense.” He paused, and his expression got colder. “... But man, you seriously creep me out.”

--

“You seriously creep me out”.

As much as she wanted to play it cool, Leona’s words rang in her head. Seriously- what did that jerk even want anyway? He barely showed up for class, despite being held back once already. He barely interacted with his classmates, scoffing whenever anyone would talk to him, and purposefully skipping on any social activities. What even was he up to? Who knows, but Sereia knew what she wanted- to have a smooth high school career, both academically and socially, in order to land a nice job post-graduation and finally become a person who matters. Which, obviously, a spoiled royal like Leona would never understand.

“Se~re~ia~-chan~”

Absent-mindedly, Sereia tapped on her pencil. Did he figure her out? Well, not that it mattered, or that she was in the wrong. For someone like her, it’s important to keep on a façade- because unlike Leona, she has to be liked. Because no one is going to fold their back for a rootless orphan- she had to be the one to appeal to people. She was going to erase the scars of the past. She was sure of it.

“-ia-chan?”

But man.... regardless, she was irked. It was her adage to avoid troublesome matters- but trouble had just found her. She just couldn’t understand- why would he purposefully go out of his way to tell her that she creeped him out? When he is such an aloof person by nature?

“Heeeey....”

Sereia jolted up as she felt something cold on her cheek. Startled, she looked up to see her classmate Mary-Ann handing her a soda can, pouting.

“Oi, Sereia-chan, you just ignored me for a good 5 minutes y’know? Seriously, after I go all the way to the cafeteria to bring you something to drink? How mean ~”

“... Ara, Mary-Ann-san, I didn’t see you. My apologies.” Sereia smiled as she took the can from her hand.

“‘Didn’t see me’? That ain’t not seeing me, that’s straight up ignoring!!” Mary-Ann sat down next to Sereia, sighing.

I didn’t even offer for her to sit.... was Sereia’s first reaction. Ah, seriously, we don’t match. Mary-Ann was extroverted and exuberant, the type of person that anyone could figure out at first sight. The very opposite of Sereia- yet when they met on the first day, Mary-Ann suddenly decided they’d become best buddies, and tagged along wherever Sereia went. She wasn’t a bad person, but she was way too simple-minded.

“So, what’s up with you?”

“Huh?” Sereia looked at her. “Ah... Nothing much. I was just thinking.”

“Nah, no way, you literally look like you swallowed salt.” Mary-Ann put her chin in the palm of her hand. “Is it Leona-san?”

For a split second, Sereia couldn’t control her expression of surprise. How did she even figure that out?

“Eheh, hit the nail on the head ~” She laughed as Sereia stared at her with a suspicious expression. “- Oi, what’s up with your face? Swear I didn’t spy, but I saw you both talking when I was putting stuff back after Vargas’ class.” She grasped Sereia’s arm, her face way too close for the blue-haired girl. “Soooo, what happened?”

“Mary-Ann-san, you’re misunderstanding, nothing happened.” Sereia clarified as she wriggled her arm out of Mary-Ann’s embrace. “Leona-san just had things he wanted to talk about, that’s all.”

“Leona-san? Talking to anyone? As if. Plus, judging by your face, he was totally being a jerk, wasn’t he?”

... Maybe Sereia misjudged her, and she wasn’t as oblivious as she thought.

“Aaaah, seriously, that guy pisses me off ~ He doesn’t talk to anyone in class at all, and then he comes around and insults you? You’re like, the kindest person in the class!”

.... Or maybe not.

“Ara, I really am not.” Swift as thunder, Sereia feigned a smile. “I guess I must have irked him the wrong way....”

Mary-Ann suddenly got up, startling Sereia. The blonde girl clapped her hands, a grin on her face. What is she up to....

“Well, you don’t wanna keep a misunderstanding around for too long, right? That Leona guy definitely doesn’t have any reason to hate you, so you should clarify things with him!”

“He leaves straight after class, so-”

“Aaand that’s where I come in! I’m on classroom cleaning penal- ahem, I meant duty with him today, so if you cover my shift tonight, you’ll get to talk to him!”

“.... Mary-Ann-san. Surely, you aren’t just trying to escape your cleaning duties?”

“Eh-? Ahah, no, I would... never do that...” Letting a nervous laughter out, she waved her hands. “And I’ll like, totally pay you back by covering your shift when you’re paired with a hot guy, m’kay?~”

Sereia sighed. That just sounded like trouble, but... she felt as if she had to clarify things with him. She was used to contempt and scoffs- but for some reason, Leona’s words made her heart ache.

“.... Alright. Thank you, Mary-Ann-san.”

--

Sereia regretted agreeing almost as soon as she entered the empty classroom. Leona was napping on a desk, obviously not intending on helping out at all. Sereia cleared her throat.

“... Is this how you clean?”

Surprised, the Savanaclaw student removed the book he was using to block the light. He slightly raised his head to peer at the young girl in front of him.

“Well, if it isn’t our lil’ mermaid. What are you doing here? I thought I was on cleaning duty with that blonde chick?”

“She isn’t ‘that blonde chick’, that’s Mary-Ann-san.” Sereia sighed. “I’m covering her shift for her, so please start cleaning already.”

“... Well, would you look at that, ever-so-kind.” Leona grinned, resting his head on his arms. “Do you get some brownie points for that?”

Irked, Sereia turned around.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, if you would please start cleaning.”

“And what do I get for it?”

Sereia turned around once more. Upon seeing her face, Leona’s grin disappeared. Her eyes had turned cold. Interesting, he thought.

“Leona-san. I assume as a royal heir, you haven’t had the opportunity to clean after yourself, never mind after others, am I correct? Well, now that we are both Night Raven College Students, please understand that you are to do as us plebeians do.” Sereia’s voice came out as colder than she had intended. But for some reason, Leona’s arrogance really brought out the side of her she’d rather hide.

“Ha, what a quick change of attitude. How creepy.”

“- Would you please stop saying that.”

The tone of Sereia’s voice perked Leona’s interest, as he raised himself up with a big yawn. His gaze met Sereia, and the intensity of his predator eyes caught Sereia off-guard.

“... You’re an interesting one, you know.”

“If I’m not mistaken, you said I was ‘creepy’ a few seconds ago. Talk about a change of attitude.” Sereia tried her best to keep her composure, but the air seemed to grow heavier as Leona shifted towards her.

“All those lil’ herbivores ain’t worth my time, but you...” He stood up, and stopped right in front of Sereia. “.. You seem to have some fight in you, y’know. The way I see it, you can’t stand those idiots either, but why do you go around pretendin’ you do? What are you trying to get out of them?”

Sereia took a step back, only to be met with the wall behind her. Shit, she thought. The tension made her feel like her legs could give in at any moment- yet she couldn’t turn her eyes away from Leona’s gaze.

“... I already told you, I’m afraid you’re mistaken about this.”

Leona let out a chuckle as he placed his arm above her head, hovering over her.

“You’re still going on about that even in this situation? Hah, my instincts didn’t fail me- you’re intriguing. Y’know, I can’t stand those innocent, goody-two-shoes types, but you....”

The setting sun made Leona’s eyes shine even more in the dusk-coloured classroom. Sereia gulped, almost enchanted by the sight in front of her.

“... Something tells me you might be the one to make this pretentious school less boring.”

[mehenxe]

👗 ; ida & dorian

👗  :    my  muse  sees  yours  all  dressed  up . [ PROMPT STATUS : NOT ACCEPTING ]

standing before the floor-length mirror, a nuisance in and of itself. the last time dorian witnessed his full reflection had been several months ago; it’s not that there’s some avoidance of the self, but a rather incantation towards the looking-glass, believing it might steal his soul if he looks at it for long enough. and of course, the last thing someone needs is something else cursing him, it a slipping slope of navigation all the while. he gazes at himself now, however — because it has been quite some time since he last saw himself, but even so: it has been even longer since the last time he had some excuse to put on these dress blues. or, rather, the dress blacks: the first of his forma uniforms, handed out in the ripened age of 1919, with the silver buttons in the cross motif across the whole torso, and the tight brown belt sitting just beneath the waist, the coat and shirt tucked into the trousers, the shoes shined and sleek. his hair is different now, than it was then: slightly longer, almost to that length where it could be tied, if he made the best effort, but he hasn’t yet; thus, it falls in a side part, stone-straight, blue-black, longer on the left and tucked behind both ears. the unkempt appearance never would’ve flown. he is not going to wear the blasted cap; this isn’t a matter of being compatriot. this is a matter of being formal to pass the dress code; wolves, occupying the same establishment for a prolonged amount of time & here, dorian blackwood dressing as though he heads off to the front lines again. 

perhaps it is a metaphor. he clears his throat, smooths his hair behind his ears again. & in those ears, stars dangle, winking in the dull light. he doesn’t often wear these earrings, filched from a time when he used to work in the entertainment sector of boston, and it crosses his mind, not for the first time, that this is the most domesticated he’s ever been. preparing to go to one of the end-of-the-year parties that the packs through, mixing with humans and other supernatural people in order to integrate some festive bullshit — well, he won’t let that sour his experience. & there are a few things he might even look forward to, such as getting drunk on mulled wine ( or pretending to do so ) and stumbling around and pretending to throw full glasses on people. it might be a rather enjoyable time, all things considering. he can hear the rabble-roused from the little mink in the other room; taylor, insisting that he and joshua truly don’t have to match, and in doing so, opens up the argument for joshua to proclaim: but like it’s kinda cute! or something. dorian almost immediately stops listening as soon as he starts. a deep breath — let it out. there is a shuffling movement from behind him. he stands almost near the edge of the mirror, where his shoulder is out of the glass’s reflection, & he doesn’t want to whirl around like some idiot. he thinks to himself, it better not be someone bloody here to make me regret agreeing to go. if he had it his way, he would be pretending to sleep in his chair for the whole thing, not moving from his desk until the rest of them had gone, and prowling alone around this establishment without any interruption and any conversation. he’d block the whole pack from his brain.

the person behind him makes no sudden remarks. dorian frowns. he smells —

he steps one pace to the side, glancing through the mirror. 

& the mirror captures his expression as it shifts, mercurial, smooth, into something a little slack in the jaw, softened in the eyes. pupils dilating, perhaps to see her better —

ida stands there, and of course, her hands are at her sides and doing their best not to swing. a wave of embarrassment pours off of her — he tastes that on the tip of his tongue, which he thus clacks against the roof of his mouth, her olfactory profile stronger in perfume than usual. barely is there the musk of the wolf, replaced by something cinnamon and anise, strong spices for her. her dress is also black, to match his own, because he offhandedly said he’d wear black. & there are little silver straps that sparkle like the silver of his medals, heavy-hanging upon his chest, to frame the buttons, to proclaim his accomplishments. she is a freckled star-map, a brilliant sheen of cosmic ice, standing there, her brown-threaded-blonde hair braided and pulled out to provide a rather functional, yet distressed, plait that rests upon her right shoulder. & when did she fill out in her curves, his gaze stuttering upon her hips, her waist, the framing of the dress’s chiffon-soft bodice around her bosom. it is both refined and undone all at once. his eyes widen. he blinks, a few times, thinking her half a mirage, perhaps he is dreaming. there is a sudden infusion of red colour in his cheeks, & hers blush to match as they — stare at each other. she purses her lips in that way she does, when she’s thinking of something & not stating it outright. but it floods him, it makes him smell something all the sweeter: like cotton sheets, like faerie lights hanging on a bedroom wall. like a high-school crush, writing your name and his surname together in a journal and a heart sketched at the end. if there were mistletoe, he would kiss her lips, glossed & nude, to be the same berry-red shade as the flora of the season.

she must have overheard that thought. she clears her throat.

in the corner of his mouth, a vague smirk.

“hm.” is her first word. “i’m surprised you clean up that well, dorian. i almost thought that your ripped jeans were stuck to your backside. did i interrupt your self-admiration?”

you can put the girl in another dress, but that does not change the girl. he moves from the mirror. the sheer-tattered edges of her thoughts brush against his as he approaches her, slow, as if he does so in such a clandestine, delicate movement she cannot sense it. & yet her brown eyes watch him, flickering downward towards his feet that continue to step. & step, & step, until he stands before her, and when he captures one of those fidgeting hands, the baby-pink, half-translucent varnish upon her nails glimmers in the dull light of the desk lamp.

“of course not,” he smoothly retorts. “i was waiting for you to come along so i could stare at you instead of myself. i do believe you’re much more interesting to read.”

he presses the honesty to her ring finger, kissing her there. she colours. 

his throat goes dry. “and i admit, i’m rather glad we don’t have to argue about matching. that saves us a perilous conversation.”

“mhm, it’s a relief.” 

“do you regret accepting the invitation to accompany me? do i clean up well enough?”

“well enough.” she keeps her cards close to her chest. perhaps he will pull her closer.

[dvp95]

quiet on widow’s peak (5)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 3.3k (this chapter), 16.8k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

"I don't know what I'm supposed to be looking at."

"Oh, for the love of - you're holding it upside down, Christopher, that's why you -"

"How is this my fault? Why don't you have your screen rotation enabled? ...I still don't know what the fuck this is a picture of."

"You are so - Phil. Hey, Phil? Hello?"

Long fingers snap in front of Phil's nose and he startles a bit, almost upending his hot chocolate all over the table. He gives PJ a reproachful sort of look, embarrassed about being caught zoning out.

"Hi, what," says Phil.

PJ glowers at him. "You can get his number later. Pay attention, you lump, this is your job."

"I wasn't," Phil starts to protest, but there's no real use in lying to PJ. He sighs and takes PJ's phone from Chris. "What are we arguing about? You got some photos?"

"Yes," PJ says. In his exasperation, he looks and sounds uncannily like a substitute teacher dealing with a group of kids that are being difficult on purpose. It's a little funny, but - PJ drove them here. Phil isn't going to risk getting abandoned for laughing at him.

Phil squints at the screen. He tilts his head to the side. He tilts the phone to the other side.

"I don't know what I'm looking at," he admits. "It just looks like graffiti to me, Peej, and that's not exactly unusual."

"Graffiti of what?" PJ presses.

"Geometry homework?"

Before PJ can scold him for not taking this seriously enough, Phil gets distracted by Winnie's sudden cackle. His head turns in the direction of the noise like a dog hearing a whistle, and PJ kicks him.

"I swear," PJ starts.

"Sorry," Phil says quickly, "it's just that - that's the person who sent us the essay on this place."

He doesn't expect subtlety from his friends, because he knows better, but he does have some hope in the back of his mind that immediately gets dashed when Chris claps his hands together excitedly, Sophie almost leans right off her chair trying to get a look at Winnie, and PJ stands up.

"What are you doing?" Sophie asks, but PJ is already taking his phone out of Phil's hand and walking to the counter.

Phil buries his face in his hands and watches through his fingers as PJ slides his phone over the counter and says, "Hey, uh - it’s Dan, right? Will you take a look at this for me?"

Winnie glances up from where they're wiping down the espresso machine and makes eye contact with Phil before they look at PJ. They smile, a little bemused, and pick up PJ's offered phone. They tilt it a couple of different angles with a frown. Phil can't help but notice how their hand covers the large phone with ease.

"See, Peej," Chris calls over. Their table isn’t far enough from the counter to justify the way he practically shouts it, but Phil has already given up on looking normal in front of Winnie. "None of us know what the bloody hell it is, just tell us!"

"They look like," Winnie says slowly, "sigils."

"That's exactly what they are," says PJ. He shoots a triumphant sort of look over his shoulder. Phil rolls his eyes. He doesn't understand why PJ had to make a whole production out of something that he could have texted them when they were still in the house.

With another little smile, Winnie hands PJ's phone back over. "Guessing that was in the Wilkins place?"

"It was," PJ says, sounding a bit distracted all of a sudden. "Sidebar, I really like your nails."

PJ wiggles the fingers on his left hand to show off his own gaudy, bright blue polish, and Winnie's smile widens. They've got such soft cheeks, indented with dimples that Phil wants to poke at.

As if they can hear Phil's thoughts, Winnie's eyes flicker over to him again.

They’re talking to PJ, and the conversation is loud enough for Phil to hear - in theory. The problem, of course, is that he keeps zoning out completely when the soft lighting catches the glitter high on Winnie’s cheeks or they gesture with their big, distracting hands. Phil could honestly not figure out if PJ and Winnie are talking about nail polish or the Wilkins house or some other topic entirely, because he’s too busy watching Winnie laugh.

This is definitely going to be a problem. Winnie isn’t a pretty boy, and Phil knows that, whatever his stupid gay monkey brain says when he looks at them. He can unpack whatever this pull of attraction means when he isn’t, technically, working.

“Why would there be sigils on the attic floor?” Phil asks, more to get his own brain on track than to interrupt whatever’s going on at the counter. He turns to Chris and Sophie, who shrug in eerie unison. “That’s weird, right? Maybe people are just bored and trying to scare the locals.”

“Or people are summoning spooky, scary things,” Chris suggests. He’s grinning wide and wiggling his fingers, so Phil has no idea if he’s being serious. Chris is always like that, riding the edge of sarcasm so far that Phil has known him for two years and yet doesn’t know for sure if the guy believes in ghosts or not.

PJ does. He doesn’t even pretend to be down to earth at the best of times, and listening to weird noises on Phil’s computer always gets him in peak conspiracy form.

“I think the better question is why did we have to leave right away?” Sophie hums, stirring her drink. She’s long since shucked off her jacket and curled up on the chair like she’s at home, firelight reflecting off her eyes and earrings. “Did he recognise them?”

“Bet he just freaked,” says Chris.

“Peej doesn’t freak.”

“Bet he did this time. Bet he went up into the attic and it was all spider-y and creepy and he freaked at the first sign of prior human life.”

“Sigils mean things,” Phil says, pulling out his laptop. “They’re not just random shapes.”

“They do, but they also are.”

Phil’s head jerks up at the sound of Winnie’s voice, suddenly so much closer. Winnie is standing awkwardly beside their table, in the process of taking Chris’ empty mug away, and their cheeks flush a soft rosy colour when they make eye contact with Phil.

“What do you know about them?” Chris asks, leaning forward in clear interest.

It takes a beat for Winnie’s eyes to leave Phil’s. “A bit,” they say.

PJ sets a new drink in front of Chris and ruffles Sophie’s curls as he sits down, and Phil wonders what they look like to a complete outsider. He’ll have to message Winnie later and ask what they think is going on here.

Maybe it’s easier if you don’t know them, actually. Maybe there’s a very simple answer that Phil is unable to see past all the strange noises he’s heard through the thin walls of the Brighton house and the cuddle piles he’s walked in on and the way Chris openly flirts with him at any given opportunity.

Phil doesn’t understand the look that passes between Chris and PJ. That’s nothing new, really, but something about this one unsettles him. He wants to know what they’re thinking, because if it’s something to do with Winnie, it feels like Phil has the right to know.

“Right,” says Chris. He’s got the sort of dubious expression that he usually reserves for when he’s asking if Phil ate the rest of the biscuits.

“What?” Phil asks.

“Nothing,” Chris says convincingly, giving Phil a winning smile. It’s always a little disconcerting to watch Chris pull up and discard personas as easily as if he were changing scarves. Something about it feels different to the way Phil gets when he retreats into himself and puts up his walls, because all Phil is ever trying to do is deflect, deflect, deflect, but Chris is more of an actor, and a good one at that. Phil doesn’t think he’s ever seen a side of Chris that wasn’t intentionally put there.

Sometimes he wonders how well he knows these people that he shares so much of his life with. He wonders how well they know him.

Phil turns back to Winnie to see if anything about the exchange made them uncomfortable, but they’ve gotten sufficiently distracted by Phil’s laptop screen. They snort and give Phil a sideways sort of glance.

“I don’t think that’ll get you very far, mate,” they say.

The Google search in front of Phil simply says ‘what sigils’.

“I wasn’t finished,” Phil huffs. He backspaces the question entirely and taps his fingers on the edge of his keyboard.

“Hi, I’m Sophie,” Sophie says in that soft, soothing voice of hers. She smiles up at Winnie. “The drink is delicious, thank you.”

“Oh, er,” Winnie says, clearly caught off-guard by the unexpected politeness. They bite their lower lip and shift from one foot to the other, still holding an empty mug to their chest. “You’re welcome. Had a lot of practice. You can call me Dan, if you like.”

They look to Phil when they say that, and Phil has to look away before those brown eyes draw him in again.

“Dan,” Phil says, because he can’t help himself. He wants to know how the name feels in his mouth and it’s a little strange, actually, how well it seems to fit there. He gestures across the table before he can start to overthink in public again. “Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum over here are Chris and PJ. And you know my name.”

“You’re Tweedle-Dum,” Chris informs PJ solemnly.

“Hi,” Dan says, giving them an awkward little salute.

“You seem to know more about this than we do,” Sophie says, gesturing at the empty chair at the head of the table. “Care to talk us through it? If you’re not too busy, that is.”

Dan raises their eyebrows and pointedly looks around the quiet, empty coffee shop. Their coworker has her headphones in and looks like she’s in danger of falling asleep against the cash register.

“I think I’ve got some time,” they say, dry, and set the empty mug down as they sit.

--

Twenty minutes later, and Phil is no closer to understanding the symbols scratched into the Wilkins attic floorboards. He learns several other things, like the theory behind chaos magic, the etymology of the word ‘sigil’, and, inexplicably, Dan’s opinion on impressionist art, but he doesn’t follow half of the paths that Dan’s rambling wanders down.

It’s cute to watch, at least. They get so worked up and gesticulate wildly, and it makes Phil wonder if they have any idea what they look like when they do that. He has to hold onto his mug to stop himself from mirroring the gestures.

Phil glances around at his friends to see if anyone is following this ‘explanation.’ Sophie’s got a little crease between her eyebrows and Chris is just looking at Dan, a little slack-jawed, but PJ is nodding along.

“Exactly,” PJ says when Dan pauses to take a breath.

“Fucking what?” Chris asks. Phil is unreasonably glad that he doesn’t have to be the one to say something. He’s just as lost as Chris is. “Sorry, but what the fuck? What did any of that even mean? Did I have a stroke halfway through that?”

Dan looks sheepish, the rosy patch on their cheek deepening and spreading until their whole face is pink. Phil finds himself fascinated by it, but he really doesn’t want Dan to feel like they’re being annoying or anything when they’re just being kind of helpful and very cute. Their teeth dig into their lower lip again, and Phil idly wonders if Dan has ever heard of chapstick. The shiny lip product they’re wearing doesn’t seem to be helping with the dryness the way Phil would have expected it to.

“Sorry,” they say, suddenly much quieter. They link their fingers together like they’re stopping themself from talking with them again. “So, it’s like… you can’t really look up what these mean, because that’s not how sigils work. They’re not runes or, like, Gallifreyan, there’s no dictionary out there telling you what every sigil ever means. The person who creates them is the one who makes them up, like…”

They pull a small notebook out of their apron and Phil hands over a pen from his bag without thinking twice. Dan gives him a small smile, still seeming embarrassed now that they’ve been confronted with Chris’ blunt confusion.

The notebook is full of small doodles and indecipherable bullet points when Dan flips through it to find an empty page. Phil is surprised by how much he wants to look closer, but he’s got this pull in his stomach that he’s pretty sure has been there since he first heard Dan laugh. He wants to know Dan better. It’s been a long time since he wanted to know anyone at all, because, well, Phil and new people are very un-mixy things.

Phil and his friends all lean closer to watch as Dan taps the pen against the page thoughtfully. “Okay,” they say, “one of you, tell me something you want in your own life.”

“I want a dog,” Sophie says immediately.

“Me too,” Dan grins, their dimples on full display. “What kind of dog?”

“Small. Definitely fluffy. I don’t really mind about different breeds or anything.”

“Okay,” says Dan. They write SOPHIE HAS A SMALL FLUFFY DOG THAT SHE LOVES at the top of the page in block letters. “You don’t say you want something, you say you have it already. I’m guessing you guys have heard about speaking things into existence? It’s kind of like that.”

This whole system is foreign to Phil, but having a visual is helping a lot. “How does that become what PJ found in the attic?” Phil asks, curious.

“First, you take out the vowels,” PJ is the one to say. Dan gives PJ a bright smile that has Phil feeling a pang of something he doesn’t have a name for. “Then all the double letters. It breaks the sentence down into just a few consonants, right? That way you can use them as a kind of base, I think.”

“That’s exactly right,” says Dan. “At least, as far as I know? Like, I don’t know every type of sigil and method of creating them that’s ever existed or anything, I just get lost in Wikipedia sometimes.”

Underneath the first sentence, they write SPH HS SMLL FLFFY DG THT SH LVS, and then S P H M L F Y D G T V under that. The breakdown is a lot easier for Phil to follow than just listening to Dan ramble, as long as he doesn’t get too distracted by Dan’s long fingers around the pen.

“‘Y’ is a vowel,” says Chris.

Dan shrugs. “This is just an example, anyway. So then you’re supposed to make the sigil out of the base letters, like -”

They sketch out a couple of messy attempts, their tongue poking between their teeth in concentration, and Phil is fascinated by watching the letters get more and more abstract until they resemble something like a single image.

It doesn’t look exactly like the ones on the floorboards, but Phil thinks that’s probably some combination of artistic liberty and individual thought patterns on how letters can fit together into a single symbol. PJ holds his hand out for the pen and draws his own take on the same sigil, and the rounded preciseness of his lettering next to Dan’s spiky, symmetrical finished product is really interesting to look at.

“Then you’re supposed to forget it and activate it,” PJ informs the table. “Although that order doesn’t make much sense to me.”

“That’s really cool,” Sophie says softly, reaching out to press her fingers against PJ’s sigil.

“It is cool,” Dan agrees. “But that’s what I mean - they are random, in a way. You’re never going to be able to look at those sigils and, like, reverse-engineer them until they have a meaning.”

“Which is exactly why I needed to get out of there,” PJ says, more triumphantly than Phil thinks he has any right to. Yeah, this is interesting and everything, but Phil doesn’t think it proves anything at all. “Because who knows what someone summoned into that place!”

Dan snorts. They look up at PJ through those long, dark eyelashes and give him such a skeptical look that Phil has to hold back laughter. “Nobody summoned anything, mate,” they say. “This is a load of rubbish, same as any other type of ‘magic’. I just think it’s fun to read about when I can’t sleep.”

The look of absolute betrayal on PJ’s face sends Phil over the edge, and he’s laughing before he can stop himself.

“Okay, okay,” Phil says between giggles. “This isn’t a debate forum. You two can argue about this later. So we kind of know what the symbols are but also we don’t, and they’re more or less a dead lead. What I am hearing is that PJ did, in fact, get freaked.”

“Ha!” Chris crows. He sticks his palm out towards Sophie, leaning into PJ’s personal space to do so. “Pay up, Newts.”

“I didn’t make a bet. You did.”

“Still! I won!”

PJ smacks at Chris’ hand and scowls around the table. “I didn’t freak. I don’t freak. I just think we should be on alert in a place that is covered in creepy sigils that could do anything at all to us and our environment.”

“There’s nothing they could do,” Dan says, seemingly unable to help themself. “They’re doodles.”

“We shouldn’t be there without some kind of protection,” PJ insists.

“What d’you suggest?” Phil hums, already typing up some notes for future Phil to look at later. He knows he’ll forget something core if he doesn’t do it now. “Holy water? I don’t know any priests.”

He’s teasing, just a little bit, because PJ’s steadfast determination to live on a planet where impossible things happen every day is very funny.

“No, that’s for demons,” Chris pipes up, cheerful and half-sarcastic as always. “These are witches!”

“You’re the demons,” PJ says flatly.

Phil reaches across the table and pats PJ’s hand without looking away from his screen. “If it’ll make you feel better, you can Sharpie some protection sigils on us before we go in next time. I need to see the attic for myself, but I definitely got a weird vibe just being in that place.”

“Dan,” the girl behind the counter calls over. She’s long given up on pretending to work at all, and has been watching something on her phone the entire time that Dan’s been talking to them, but Dan still startles like they’ve been caught out doing something they shouldn’t. “Sorry, but it’s quarter to. We gotta start closing up.”

“Right, yeah,” Dan says, sounding a little flustered. They stand up and start collecting all the empty mugs on the table. When they reach Phil’s mostly-full hot chocolate, they raise an eyebrow.

“I don’t really like hot chocolate,” Phil admits. He gives Dan a little grin. “Maybe I’ll come back tomorrow and try the coffee?”

He can only imagine what his friends’ expressions look like right now. He doesn’t bother checking, even when Dan’s pretty eyes flick over to them momentarily.

“Okay,” says Dan. Their shiny, chapped lips stretch into a wide smile. “I won’t be working, actually, but… I can stop by if you guys - I dunno. Want another set of eyes? Ones that don’t jump immediately to ghosts and witches, perhaps?”

“Sure,” Phil agrees before his friends can give their input on the matter. “I’ll message you.”

Dan ducks their head in a surprisingly shy gesture for a person who takes up so much physical space. Their eyelids glitter like their cheeks, their nails, their lovely eyes, and Phil might be a little screwed, here.

[moonshinelouis-archive]

fine line analyses

these are thoughts; my thoughts. if you don’t agree please be reasonable and just ignore.

tumblr fucking ate this post so here i am. rewriting it all.

tw: i talk about alcohol, drugs, grief, and death

the album in general uses the extended metaphor of yellow. the colour is mentioned in nearly every song and i’ll explain why or why not later. the yellow is hope, happiness, and all things nice but as all archetypes it has a ‘dark’ side; it means cowardice and/or deceit. it also seems to follow the hero’s journey which is interesting.

side a: love/light vs dark. exposition.

golden begins the album already in sunshine; in happily vibes imo. gold is the ultimate illuminated colour, so to use it is... the next level, especially as the album opener. “take me back to the light / i knew you were way too bright for me” are ideas that come back in lights up. i love the juxtaposition in this song: “hold [the golden (light)], focus, hoping,” and then a couple lines later, “i’m hopeless, broken”; showing that at the same time, he’s hopeful and hopeless. i love that he alludes, in the entire song, that his person is the sun but he never says it outright: “you wait for me in the sky / [your light] browns my skin just right / you’re so golden,” which come back in sunflower. “i know that you’re scared / because hearts get broken / because i’m so open” immediately made me thing of strong. both he and his lover overwhelm each other at times: “you were way too bright for me,” “you’re scared / because i’m so open”; but ultimately this is a song about devotion: “i don’t wanna be alone / loving you’s the antidote.”

watermelon sugar doesn’t have anything outright yellow; however, the entire lyrics are rooted in imagery surrounding summer which inherently involves a sunny, especially when he calls out that it’s “warm,” that there are “berries,” that it’s “the end of June,” so my point stands. this song has already been analysed, i think, so i’m not gonna go too into it; in a nutshell, it’s the sweetest of loves. “tastes like strawberries on a summer evening” calls to we made it’s “remember how it tasted / looking into your eyes,” and the absolutely feral warm image of tasting moments makes me crazy...the tenderness..oh god.. “it sounds just like a song” comes back in many other tracks; in sunflower, “plant new seeds in the melody” -- try to find new beginnings in the music -- and also “want you more than a melody.” harry says this one was “the hardest one to finish” which could suggest ongoing events.

adore you has yellow in “honey” and “lemon” and hidden in “summer skies” and “brown skin.” thematically, this song is the same as watermelon sugar; devotion. “walk in your rainbow paradise” -- a rainbow is renewal, promise; a gateway, the calm after the storm. to be with his lover is to walk in paradise, away from all evil. though their lack of communication plagues them, it can sometimes be how they find their peace: “you don’t have to say you love me / nothing / [that] you’re mine.” “i’d walk through fire for you” reminded me of happily and through the dark. 

lights up, too, has already been discussed at length; “what do you mean? / i’m sorry by the way / i’m never coming back down / can’t you see / i could but it wouldn't stay?” will speak volumes to anyone who’s been closeted, even if nothing extreme. “i’m never coming around / it’d be so sweet / if things just stayed the same” would be the melancholy and fear of watching those you love slip away because of something you can’t change; and, even if it doesn’t, there will always be the little things that change, like how you’re perceived. “all the lights couldn’t put out the dark / running through my heart” is one of my favourite lines; it speaks of the things within himself he’d rather hide, and yet, all the pride he’s told to have does nothing to erase his bitterness towards the feeling -- internalised homophobia/transphobia. however -- “step into the light / so bright sometimes / i’m not ever coming back” -- as overwhelming, as scary, as engulfing as it all may be... it’s much better to be in the light than in the dark; back to golden. the yellow in this song is in the ‘light.’

side b: complete abstinence of yellow. abyss.

cherry presents vibrant red rather than yellow, perhaps to illustrate the glossy jealousy he expresses in this song, and possibly to say he is angry despite sounding defeated. thematically similar to woman. i don’t think this song is dismissible because its aspects all come back: “gallery” is again in sunflower; “don’t call me baby” returns in to be so lonely. “there’s a piece of you in how i dress” reminded me of “painted nails make harry beautiful” :’) also, “your accent” is pretty loud. if anything is to be said about the ending, is that it’s in the “language of love.”

falling is very clearly the death in the hero’s journey; the lowest point from which he could only rebirth. again there are communication issues: “forget what i said / it’s not what i meant”; “we’ve run out of things we can say.” and then there’s rediscovery: “what am i now?” he asks, after having asked the listeners if they know who they are; and his despair seems tied to insecurities -- “what if i’m someone i don’t want around? / what if i’m someone you won’t talk about? / what if you’re someone i just want around?” (notice the flip of pronouns in the last two; switching the blame. harry and louis seem to do that a lot; the blame is passed from one to another in songs. he blames himself in this one, though: “there’s no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands.”) the biggest insecurity lies in the line: “i get the feeling that you’ll never need me again,” in which harry just wants.. to be needed; to be loved and to be in love. overall he’s asking for redemption, whatever of.

to be so lonely is still sad, but obviously a rise; a rebirth. “don’t blame me for falling / i was just a little boy / don’t blame the drunk caller / i wasn’t ready for it all / you can’t blame me, darling / not even a little bit / i was away / and i’m just an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry” -- the opening verse is just all excuses, all flimsy at best; pushing the blame around. “i was just a little boy” had me screaming; “don’t blame the drunk caller” is distancing himself as far away as possible even though....that’s him, drunk-calling; he said so in falling: “there’s no one to blame but the drink and my wandering hands.” the last one is not even trying; he just straight up says he’s arrogant.. lol. again he’s rooting onto insecurites: “i just hope you see me / in a little better light” asks his lover not to only see him as the stupid little boy who became a needy and arrogant drunk caller; and again he pleads for mercy with rather nonsensical logic: “do you think it’s easy? / being of the jealous kind?” overall, these three songs together could be interpreted as a breakup, though the romantic songs in the album would support better that there have been really rough patches in their relationship; specifically times in which they were caught in untimely scheduling inconveniences amid fights. but see it how you will.

she is a projection. harry tries out the ‘normal guy’ archetype, giving his character a nine-to-five office job and the predictable (supposedly married) life with kids; he likely did this to try out a different perspective of his feelings and/or to appeal to his audience, who is mostly not made up of millionaires. right away, he’s pretending, with the most basic of things: “[he] sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon / around 13:32 / like he knows what to do.” as for the whole chorus and “a woman who’s just in his head / and she sleeps in his bed / while he plays pretend” is, to me, the woman inside him who aches to be seen; she represent his struggles with binary genders, both of which are oppressing. “he takes a boat out / imagines just sailing away / and not telling his mates / he wouldn't know what to say” is literally eroda?? and shows communication issues. again.

side c: ascending

sunflower makes the yellow comeback.. loud and in your face. the sunflower is commonly associated with the sun tarot card, which often depicts them with children, who are mentioned... the card stands for clarity and success. this song is thematically like watermelon sugar and adore you, but it just has that stoner vibe you know ? “kids in the kitchen listen to dancehall” triggered “even as young as you are.” again, there are communication issues; “i’ve been trying hard not to talk to you” “let me inside, i wanna get to know you / wish i could get to know you” “i was just tongue-tied / i’m still tongue-tied.” “i’ve got your face / hung up high in the gallery” again shows adoration; with cherry’s “does he take you walking through his parents�� gallery?” it could be interpreted as, are his parents showing you off like i do? a big note about it: “hung up high in the gallery / out of this shade” in the light! this is major.

canyon moon shows yellow in “the world’s happy waiting / doors yellow, broken, blue” -- happy, first of all. the doors are portals that they’ve taken, will take, or could take; some are happy, some deceitful, some sad. i find it very interesting that in she “the man drops his kid off at school” and in this one jenny tells her husband to “go get the kids from school.” “two weeks and i’ll be home” loud loud loud. paris and rome are both romantic cities. “[she -- jenny?] pretends not to know the words” again shows some pretending, perhaps to show that we all pretend about things in life, even mundane activites... just a fun song about being away and missing each other like right now.

treat people with kindness is the only song outside of side b that does not have yellow. i think that is because, though this is a happy song, it’s jus a cover up -- he’s burying his grief in the music and drugs/drinks. “and it’s just another day / and if our friends all pass away / it’s okay.” “feeling good in my skin / i just keep on dancing” shows the other effect of numbing all the insecurities and fears he normally carries. 

side d: settling. the first sign fine line is a track to be paid attention to is that it’s the titular the track. the second push is giving it its own side on the record. 

fine line is another side of she, for which i liked this eloquent explanation. it’s a drastic shift in mood from tpwk to fine line; harry truly shows how vulnerable he is. he’s divided -- “you sunshine, you temptress”; god, when i read/heard that i cried. so beautiful, so appeasing, but it looks like such a distant dream. unachievable. furthermore i think making this song about a relationship, or anyone other than harry and harry’s inner demons is belittling it; belittling his internal struggles to reach the so desired fine line...

[megalony]

Liar- Part 10

Another part of my latest Roger Taylor series, thank you to everyone for the lovely feedback.

Warning: Mentions of rape and assault.

Permanent taglist: @marshmallowmae @langdonzvoid @butlegendsneverdie @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan

Series taglist: @caborhapch @im-just-a-musical-prostitute @scarsout @luckytrashgooprebel

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

John watched with eyes burning like a wildfire as the redhead scanned her eyes around for nothing in particular. Her matching lipstick smearing over her lips that she was pressing together as she wandered over to the familiar matching red sofa pressed against the wall. Her arm splayed out over the back of the seat as she very neatly folded one leg over the other. Head cocking to the side in question as she waited for John to speak.

There was no guessing between them or confusion. When the bassist had rung her number he had found in Brian's possession they both knew he was ringing because of what he had witnessed. John wasn't friends with her. He thought Roger was friends with her, Freddie and John simply acknowledged her and spoke to her briefly from time to time. They were not close enough to ring up for a chat or ask to come round. The only reason he could have called and told her to meet him at the studio was for him to talk about what she had done to one of his closest friends.

Their eyes never lost contact as John sat down in the swivel chair behind him, making sure there was ample distance between them, not wanting to be close to the monster sitting in front of him.

Unlike Brian, there was no doubt in John's mind about what Sarah had done. He knew Roger and he knew him well enough to say without a doubt that he would not lie about something as serious as this. John didn't know Sarah but he saw how clingy she was with Roger and how the drummer never reciprocated that closeness. He was polite but never seemed to agree with how close she sat next to him or how she clung to his arm. John wasn't letting this go so easily because it wasn't fair.

Roger had given up and that was never an easy thing for anyone to do. He could have gone to the police, he had the boys as witnesses to what Sarah had done but he didn't. Roger didn't try anymore to make Brian believe the truth, he didn't go and confront Sarah or try and make her see reason. Roger didn't try and back down to let Brian have his way and think that Sarah was good and not the vision of evil. He simply gave up. Roger had told them in no unspoken terms that he was not going back to the studio and he didn't want to be in the band, at least not for now. He had stuck to his word and cut off contact with Brian and he wasn't letting John or Freddie get within distance of him, wanting to be on his own.

John was not allowing this to be the ways things were from now on so he was taking matters into his own hands to change it.

"So, why am I here? Where are the others?" Sarah seemed to sigh the words, wanting to be put out of her misery although she didn't seem that concerned with why John wanted to talk to her. He couldn't work out if this was some kind of smokescreen she was putting up but it didn't really matter.

"I don't know. Roger quit because of what you did, Brian refuses to talk to us and Fred... I don't even know."

It had been two weeks since Roger's assault and Freddie and John had been talking. They leased the studio for a few months at a time to work on albums but they needed to decide whether to cut the lease so others could use the studio or if they should keep it going in case things changed. Brian wasn't talking to any of them at the moment and Roger was shutting them out. A phone call here and there was all they could get from the drummer who wouldn't even answer the door when John and Freddie turned up. Things needed to change.

"What I did? You mean when you and Fred walked in on us together?" Something seemed to flicker in her orbs that were almost black in colour. Almost as if she was angered that John gave no reaction at all to her words, in fact his lips seemed to curve into the slightest of smiles at seeing she was that desperate for an excuse she used that. John was not nearly as gullible as she seemed to think. He had seen what happened and he had heard the screams and sobs, he saw her running out in a hurry because she had been caught. No way was that anything innocent and nothing she said would change what she did.

"Is that what you're going to tell the police?"

Suddenly her demeanour changed. Her leg was no longer crossed over the other, both feet were now planted firmly on the floor as her back clicked into place with how quickly she sat up. Her hands gripping the edge of the sofa beneath her instead of lounging on the back of the seat that made her look so casual, so flirtatious without even trying.

Her eyes narrowed as her chin tilted down when John didn't suddenly say he was joking. His arms folded across his chest as he leaned back in the seat, it was his turn to take the upper hand.

"Excuse me?"

"I assume that when me and Fred testify to what Roger tells them, you'll be forced to lie. Oh, he didn't tell you?" A small chuckle passed through John's lips that he tried his best not to make sound forced. This was a long shot by far, it was so long he couldn't even see the target he was aiming for. He didn't know anything about Sarah. She could be as hard as nails and not give in to threats or deals or anything of the sort. She could tell John to do his worst here and this wouldn't work. "Roger has witnesses this time, he wants to go to the police."

Roger wanted nothing of the sort. Witnesses didn't make a difference to his case because he had no other evidence and she hadn't raped him. Rape cases had a 6% conviction rate so sexual assault wasn't going to have very high chances either. There was no point other than to prolong the torture Roger had been through and he wasn't going to do that.

"To tell them what? He cheated on his girlfriend?" There it was. The wobble in her voice that was unmistakable.

Sarah had gotten lucky the past two times she hurt Roger and all the assaults in between. He had never gone to the police because he had a very big lack of evidence and was too afraid to speak out about what he had gone through. He would rather bottle it up but even then Sarah had been cautious. She had drifted from Brian for a few days and hadn't been seen around much because Roger could have spoken out. He could have gone straight to Brian, he could have gone to the police or to Freddie or any number of his friends or family. Once she realised he hadn't and he wouldn't, she had a clear path to carry on with what she was doing.

She hadn't been so careful this time, she hadn't thought about one of the boys walking in and catching what she was trying to do. Roger had them as witnesses and they knew what they saw and the state their drummer had been in. No one could believe it had been an affair when Roger had scratches, bruises, split knuckles and a bleeding nose. That wasn't something that would happen between lovers, that was an abuser trying her luck with her victim and they all knew it.

"Attempted rape doesn't count as the victim cheating. You don't have to pretend with me, Roger told us everything. We know all you did to him and if he's still serious about going to the police, then we'll go with him and testify against you. He might not though, if you admit to Brian what you did and own up to it in front of Roger he won't take it any further." This was the deal John wanted. This was what they all needed. Sarah would be doing no harm to anyone and it wouldn't put her out of her way if she finally admitted to Roger that she knew what she had done to him was wrong and owned up to that.

It hurt the drummer more than words could ever express each time she acted like she hadn't attacked and brutally assaulted him twice. When he fired back at her and she simply said it was consensual or acted like it never happened Roger died a little inside. It would do nothing to her for her to admit to his face she knew what she had done. Roger wanted that for some kind of closure that he hadn't gotten for ten years.

Admitting everything to Brian wouldn't harm her either, only her relationship with her brother. Brian needed to hear it from her lips so that he could believe Roger and they could try and move past this.

When John watched her eyes flickering to the tape behind him he gestured to the light beside it which was not red. He motioned to the plug sockets beneath the counters to show that they were not even turned on at the wall meaning she was not being recorded. John didn't want that, a confession wouldn't do much if Roger didn't want to go to the police or try and take Sarah to court for what happened ten years ago and then two weeks ago. John didn't want that, he wanted her to apologise and own up to what she did.

"I'm not recording your confession. Check for yourself, it's all turned off. A confession isn't what I'm asking for, I want you to admit what you did to me and then you can admit what you did to Brian so Roger can finally hear you say what you did. You owe them both that much at least."

John watched her get to her feet, eyes scanning over the equipment behind him as she processed what he had just said. He wasn't asking her to confess to the police. He wasn't trying to record a confession, he wasn't asking her to ruin her life or do anything that would disrupt her life like she had done to Roger. She had not and would not be going through any trauma. She would only be admitting to the crimes they all knew she had committed so Roger could gain some kind of closure and Brian could know the truth. That was not a hard thing for her to do. Nothing she had done had been hard on her.

"You want me to admit I tried it on with Rog the other week? Fine, maybe he wasn't as into it as he was years ago, I'm sorry-"

"I don't think pinning him to the carpet and ignoring his screams counts as 'trying it on'. You're five years older than him, right?" She was trying to confess to the wrong person, whatever she said would make no difference in John's life because he was not affected by her. He hadn't been attacked by Sarah, she had not raped him and she was not his sister. John didn't feel afraid of her like Roger did because of her assaults, he didn't feel the need to defend her like Brian because she wasn't his sibling. This was for them not for him.

"Yes, why?" Her response was pushed through gritted teeth, biting through the air as she sat down on the counter. Watching John stand from his seat so he could have that bit of height over her.

"You raped a nineteen-year-old who was still studying in university at the time, a boy five years younger than you who had much less experience with relationships than you probably did. You didn't even stop at that, you did that to him twice when he was so young and because he's a guy he felt trapped and unable to talk to anyone. You forced a teenager to hide away and let his attacker continue to assault him and you think that's fine? Do you think it's fine to take something from Roger like that? You don't own him, you don't hold the rights to his body and you don't get to take part of him away, try and do it again years later and then have the nerve to act like you're not in the wrong."

When John was that age he didn't have much experience with women and he guessed Roger didn't either. She was five years his senior, Sarah had been in her mid-twenties when Roger hadn't even gotten out of his teens, of course she was going to have more experience with sex and relationships than Roger. That had been used to her advantage as she took a part of Roger away when she did that to him twice. He was a young impressionable boy and the impression Roger got was that she was older, she had done that and she got to keep doing that to him because he was a boy and she was a girl.

Roger was left scarred with the impression he couldn't speak out about it and as if it was his fault because she didn't take the blame for something that was entirely her fault.

John felt his hands closing into fists at his sides as Sarah looked down to her feet, some kind of emotion in her eyes that showed his words had hit home for her. He needed her to see that Roger was not her property, she couldn't rape him, leave him alone for ten years and then saunter back into his world and try and do that again. She couldn't break the ground he stood on because she thought she had the right and she certainly couldn't act like this was not her fault.

"We hooked up for two months before that! He didn't mind fucking with me then but that one night I kissed him and that was fine and then he got pissy about going further like we'd never done that before. He didn't want a relationship he wanted sex and-"

"And then he said no." John finished for her, slightly surprised when she didn't backfire against his remark.

Roger held the right to stop their hookups whenever he wanted and if he didn't want to have sex then he had the option to say no, Sarah held no rights to take that option from him like he didn't deserve it. Hooking up with her before gave her no rights to think that anytime she wanted to have sex with him he would be perfectly fine with it. John couldn't figure out of she knew forcing Roger was wrong or if she seemed to think that it was okay because they had been together before.

If she thought any part of this was okay then she was even more warped than John first thought.

"You did that to him twice because you thought you held that right over him. Do you not see how that makes him feel?" If she acted like this for much longer, anytime Roger saw her he would come to be under the impression she was going to hurt him again and he wouldn't feel able to do anything about it.

"That was ten years ago-"

"If I cut off your hand today and never said sorry there would still be part of you missing in ten years. You took Roger's consent away from him twice and you did that again two weeks ago, the time makes no difference because you still raped him." Time didn't take away what she did. She took part of Roger away and she ignored him when he said no, that didn't change because she tried to forget about it years later. She attacked Roger two weeks ago and that didn't become erased from history because it had been and gone. Sarah abused him and showed no remorse and didn't act sorry. She didn't ask if he was okay after she hurt him, she didn't apologise or say it would never happen again. She either walked away after she had raped him or she tried to stay and antagonise him to the point they both got hurt.

"Alright! Where the hell is he? I'll say sorry, okay? There. Bring him here and you can watch me say sorry because I did force him to have sex with me, alright? I'll say sorry but I'm not having this conversation with Brian, take it or go to the police I don't care. They won't do anything anyway."

Her words bounced around the soundproof walls as she lashed out, the heel of her shoe connecting to the chair John had previously been sitting on causing it to fly and hit the counter behind it. Her red hair seemed to become unstuck from its perfect style. Instead of all the strands connecting together and framing nicely around her features, her hair split into clumps. Strands gathered here, there and everywhere as a few hung in front of her eyes. Eyes which were darkening in colour as her chest heaved from the sudden outburst. The red lipstick was now smeared above and below her lips, her tongue having swiped most of it away out of nervous habit.

Her apologising wouldn't do anything for her and she doubted it would do anything for Roger either but she was sick of John doing this. She didn't want this conversation anymore and even if he went to the police they couldn't do very much. It had been two weeks now, they stood more chance of getting her convicted if they went to the police straight away.

"Thank you, but I've got what I asked you here for."

John's head turned to the right when she looked at him questioningly. He had gone through all of that speech to convince her to agree and now he was saying no. What the hell was he on about?

No voices were raised in that moment. No tempers flared and no opinions were spoken louder to try and gain more value over the other. A thick tension swallowed them up like a fog clouding their vision when Sarah looked to her left, wondering what was going on. Her question being answered when she looked to the person standing at the end of the corridor leading from the control room to the small kitchen.

Brian.