#those are just my flower ideas though feel free to use other ones if you want a different meaning

[danganronpa96]

Au where the chapter 6 motive is hanahaki disease but monotora fucked up the laws of hanahaki. And now hayasaka and latte are coughing up flowers for dead people

I remember seeing you talk about this on the discord a while back and it was like a try not to cry challenge in real time /j

I went to do a little research on the hanahaki disease and I found that it doesn’t have to be a specific flower. So I decided to find what type of flower the two would be diseased with.

Latte -> carnations, specifically white. Since they symbolise purity and good luck, it’s a reminder of Latte’s pure and happy relationship with Mai, and the good virtue Mai gave Latte before her death.

This may underline a hopeful idea that she can overcome the disease, however as she does not want to forget Mai, it only gets worse.

Hayasaka -> roses, either red or crimson red. Red roses are a common symbol of love, so he won’t be able to turn a blind eye to his feelings towards Kurumada, something he had often struggled with. It also heavily reflects on his verbal confession in the trial.

Crimson red on the other hand represents mourning, something that will co-exist within Hayasaka for the foreseeable future. I’d imagine seeing such a thing every day would only wear him down further.

I also read that sometimes surgery to remove the flowers is possible, at the cost of removing all feelings (and/or memories) of the person they love. So, if Nesos gave them the option of getting rid of the disease with that clause in mind, I wonder if either of the two would give in.

The more I think about it, however, the less I’d see them ever consider it.

[viviennevermillion]

flirting with them

notes: i present to you, the 3 absolute worst (best) people to flirt with: "cranky & in denial", "goes through a crisis when you compliment him" and "utterly confused but ready to marry you if you ask"

if you like my works, feel free to commission me!

contains: character x gn!reader, shameless flirting

characters included: rollo flamm, azul ashengrotto, malleus draconia

word count: 2.7k

warnings: glorious masquerade spoilers, enemies to lovers with rollo

dark content creators & consumers do not interact

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Listen, Rollo goes through enough of a crisis already over the fact that he likes you, one of those insufferable Night Raven College students who use magic so carelessly and gaze at it with wonder and excitement. But you flirting with him? He goes through all 5 stages of grief over that.

Up to the point where you start actively teasing him, Rollo does a good job at convincing himself that the reason he’s just particularly fixated on you of all the NRC students, is because he just hates you the most. Nevermind the way his heart skips a beat when you smile at him while touring the City of Flowers before he revealed his true colors to you. How you had invited him to sit with you and share some local food as you exchanged experiences and thoughts. 

He tries to ignore the way his heart is beating faster when he sees you at the Masquerade Ball. He tells himself it’s likely just that he’s anxious about not having succeeded with his plan. He pushes down the idea of kissing you breathless and being held in your arms gently as you run your hands through his hair and kiss his forehead- 

God, what am I thinking…they’re my enemy, he thinks to himself. With a hateful expression he makes his way over to you, determined to tell you how he’s not done yet and one day he’ll erase magic from this very world. That you’ll fear his name and- oh god you’re winking at him. 

He’s blushing furiously but he still has that angry expression on his face, so it just looks a little like Riddle when it’s off with your head. His mind is going haywire though. They winked at me…oh no…oh fuck…abort immediately, he decides to just avoid you and glare at you from a distance but at this point it is too late. A certain hunter had already told you how Rollo had been staring at you this entire evening whenever you weren’t looking and that he “probably wanted to have a dance with you”

So you make your way over to him and ask him. His heart skips a beat and he wants to reject you and tell you off but what he wants even more is to indulge you and have a nice evening with you. “What makes you think I’d want to dance with you?”, he spits out and crosses his arms. Yeah. That’ll work. Good job, Rollo.

“I don’t know, you seem pretty desperate”, you shrug, trying to suppress a smirk. The AUDACITY, he thinks but can’t say anything in response, just taking your hand and starting to dance with you. He remains silent and you poke his cheek. “You can be so cute when you stop being cranky for two minutes”, you tease and he can feel his cheeks burning. At this point you’re well aware that he’s got a little crush on you, because against his own perception of things, he wasn’t exactly subtle. 

He looks after you with rage written on his face and confusion in his heart as you and the other NRC students leave to head back to your own school. That’s all he can do. Watch you leave.

What did he care anyway? You were just an obnoxious magic enthusiast who- 

He gazes in surprise upon the small rose that had been placed on his desk. It is definitely enchanted, has a soft glow and some of the petals are floating around it. There is a little note attached to it: Thank you for the dance, Rollo ♡ - Love, y/n.

He looks at the mirror in shock when he notices the soft smile on his face upon seeing your note. He hates magic so much. But maybe…maybe he could make an exception for you and you only. 

Definitely rants to the gargoyles about how much he hates you and the way your eyes sparkle in the sun and how your laugh sounds like a thousand beautiful symphonies. Yeah he definitely hates you, no doubt.

He sometimes posts about school events on his Magicam and on pictures he’s on he tends to find little compliments from you. This makes his day every single time but god forbid anyone notices.

He eventually starts conversing with you over text, having quite a few long conversations and bonding despite how much he wants to deny it. You’re still flirting with him shamelessly and never miss out on wishing him a good night with a heart emoji attached. He sends one back once or twice, claiming his hand slipped on the keyboard.

When he sees you again, at the culture festival, he sits at the table with you and a couple of your friends. You ask him whether he is going to watch the VDC and he insists he sees no reason in watching a singing competition. “I mean we could always go backstage and kiss for a while if you’d prefer that”, you say nonchalantly and so casually, it makes Rollo choke on his drink. The other students at the table are definitely staring at you two and Rollo wishes he could merge with the ground at this moment.

He pulls you aside after the incident to a hallway where there’s no people. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”, he hisses at you and clutches onto his handkerchief until his knuckles turn white. “I apologize for putting you on the spot”, you say sincerely, “you look pretty when you’re flustered, though.” “Do you ever shut up?”, his breath hitches in his throat. 

“If you take me up on my offer I would”, you wink at him and find yourself with Rollo’s lips on yours within seconds. As soon as he gets to kiss you, the very thing he had been longing for for months now, it’s like a switch flips in his brain. His kiss is fiery and aggressive at first but then melts into your touch just like he had wanted for so long, kissing you softly as he feels his hands shake. He feels you smile into the kiss upon noticing how gentle and loving he is now and Rollo holds onto you, resting his head against your shoulder breathlessly as soon as the kiss was over. Both of you remain silent for a while before Rollo speaks quietly, his voice shaking: “I love you.” 

You chuckle and pat his head. “I know”, you kiss his forehead gently and he closes his eyes.

Rollo hated magic, he knew that much. But somehow every moment with you felt so magical and made him so happy…

Azul is used to people being mean to him and also to casual, neutral interactions but never has anyone been so blatantly verbally affectionate with him and this man doesn’t know how to handle it. 

It all started when he had asked you to come to the Mostro Lounge VIP room as Valentine’s Day was getting closer, because several people had declared that they were ready to sign a contract with him if he could get them a date with you. So he presented the terms to you and offered you help in a class you were bad at. He didn’t think you’d accept so easily. 

“So, let me get this straight, all I’d have to do for this is to go on a date with one of those guys involved in the whole contract thing with you?”, you raised an eyebrow and Azul nodded, extending his hand to you to seal the deal, as you had blatantly refused to sign a contract. But that didn’t matter. After all, he’d already get what he wanted from whoever you would pick to go on a date with. You shook his hand and Azul smiles at you. “Well then, shall I show you who was ready to make a contract with me for your company?”, he showed you his typical business smile and you just replied dryly. “That won’t be necessary. I’ve already picked.”

Azul was confused. “But you don’t even know who asked?”, he raised an eyebrow and threw Jade and Floyd a questioning glare. They didn’t seem to know what was going on either. “I said ‘someone involved in the whole contract thing’”, you reminded him, “do you have any plans on Friday?” Azul’s face fell. He was already blushing and glaring at the twins who were snickering quietly. “No?”, he croaked and pushed his glasses back with his eyes widened. “Great!”, you smiled at him and got up, waving him goodbye, “I’ll see you at 8 then? I’ll pick you up at Mostro Lounge!” 

As soon as you had closed the door behind you, Jade and Floyd started wheezing uncontrollably. “What just happened?”, Jade asked under his breath, “did they just scam you into a date?” Azul’s expression darkened, as did his blush. “I DON’T KNOW WHAT JUST HAPPENED”, his voice cracked and he wanted to curl up in his octopus pot, “stop laughing.”

Once you've learnt of his past, you've become much more gentle and less teasing with your flirting. He deserved the reassurance that you were serious and genuinely liked him. You’d often tell him that you thought he looked nice when he wore a new outfit and complimented him for his achievements in class and his business strategies. You even went as far as to tell him that his octopus form probably looked cute. He just didn’t know what to do with you. 

Upon being asked whether you were trying to make fun of him, you looked into his eyes with a serious expression and told him you meant everything you had said to him. 

As he took you and your friends to the Atlantica Memorial Museum to return the elementary school photo, Grim was excited. “Maybe we’ll bring back some sort of treasure from the ocean!”, he exclaimed. “But we already have Azul”, you insisted and the octopus merman blushed immediately. “Please just stop”, he begged and sighed, although your words definitely made him feel good, “not in front of people…”

Over such a short time he had already learnt to expect your flirting. That didn’t mean it made him any less flustered. 

Once you had returned the photo and had a moment alone with him, you took his hands into yours and told him you were proud of how far he had come. Azul squeezed your hand gently, a silent ‘thank you’ for the love and affection you were so ready to give to him after all of his hardships.

Malleus doesn’t actively recognize your flirting as such. Don’t get me wrong, he’s so on board with this and really flattered but until you tell him directly what you feel for him, he still assumes you just see him as a good friend.

“Shall I give you a blessing?”, he smirks as he asks you this question on your birthday. You cup his face gently. “You’re my blessing, Malleus”, you say with a soft smile on your face and Malleus looks at you with his signature surprised expression. Lilia chuckles, mumbling about how bold you are. Malleus is just awestruck. He doesn’t know what to say at first. He’s blushing and then takes your hands in his. “Thank you. I feel honored. It means a lot to me to hear that”, he says genuinely and his thumb brushes over your hand softly.

Malleus loves your little affections so much. He didn’t know how starved he was for them until he experienced them for the first time. He treasures so much how ready you are to speak your mind, especially when it comes to telling him how you feel about him. Little does he know that’s only a small part of how much you truly love him. 

You were a little late to the Masquerade Ball during the student exchange meeting, eventually opening the big door to the entrance hall of Noble Bell College for your big entrance. Malleus spots you almost immediately, marveling at how beautiful you looked, dressed up for the occasion. Your eyes meet his across the hall and you make your way over to him straight away, taking his hand in yours. “I really like this song they’re playing right now. I think it’s time for our first dance of the evening”, you smirk at him, just waiting for him to follow you. Sebek is yelling at you how you could possibly have the audacity to not just assume you could dance with him but not even ask Prince Malleus Draconia ‘Would you please share a dance with me?’ first. But Malleus adores when you’re bold. After all this time of people being too afraid to even talk to him, he’s fascinated how assured you are to approach him with your wishes and requests with no hesitation. 

“You seem quite determined”, he chuckles and leads you to the dancefloor. He’s absolutely relishing in the fact that you walked into this event dead-set on getting a dance with him, implying your upcoming dance wouldn’t be the last one that night either. It makes him feel so special. More than the treatment he receives from others as a prince does. Because it feels like you have seen right through him, accepted every part of him and decided you wanted all of it. 

You dance through the evening with Malleus, telling him how much you liked the song he presented as a gift for the other students. “I could listen to your voice for hours”, you brush a strand of hair out of his face and Malleus leans into your touch. “I would gladly sing for you again. You need only ask”, he smirks. 

You later stop by his room, knocking on the door softly. Malleus opens it, having taken off the heavier, pompous parts of his masquerade outfit; now only dressed in a pair of black pants and the see-through black shirt worn under the complex and ornate fabrics of the costume. His hair is slightly disheveled and he has his bangs pushed up, letting you see his dragon markings. Upon seeing you, he instantly smiles. “You look so beautiful”, you mouth, making Malleus chuckle and smirk at you. “So do you”, he insists. “I’m never going to overshadow the talking gargoyle but I’ve made peace with that”, you sigh and step into the room, Malleus closing the door behind you. He laughs at your comment, then gazes out of the window. 

“The night in the City of Flowers seems to show a different expression than during the day”, he says and turns to you, seeing you smile at him with a mischievous expression, “that face…you are also interested?” His smirk matches yours now. “Malleus, what do you think I came here for at this hour, hmm?”, you chuckle, pulling out a map from your pocket, “so…you can teleport us out of Noble Bell College without being seen right?” Malleus puts his hands onto his hips. “Nothing easier than that.”

After you explored the city at night, you end up sitting at the roof of a tall building, looking down on the beautiful city. “I’m very glad I got to share these memories with you”, Malleus takes your hand in his again and you look into his eyes, cupping his cheek gently. “You’re so precious to me…you have no idea”, you mumble quietly, smiling at him fondly; filled with unconditional love. Malleus squeezes your hand and looks at you with the same expression. “I think I’m starting to understand”, he whispers as the sun rises on the horizon.

Malleus loves when you’re bold with your flirting, he loves when you show your teasing side and flatter him with a clever line. But he just as much craves the moments when you’re calm and serious, just smiling at him and letting him know how much he means to you, even if he doesn’t know yet whether you intend for it to be romantic or see him as a good friend. He treasures your affection and how you’re unafraid to give him your love and appreciation in a way no one ever has to him. 

[demonic0angel]

Haunted Paintings Sketches!

Part one

I hope you enjoy the sketches I made of the paintings!

Also! You’re free to use my ideas (please give credit ofc) if you’d like, bc I REALLY don’t think I’ll write this one, no matter how much I want to. It’s just too much and I’ve already got 3 unfinished fics and several other series to write for. If you have any questions, feel free to ask or send me a submission! You can also DM if you’d like!

TW: mentions of suicide, murder, depression, mental illness, just really dark, creepy stuff bc these are haunted paintings and they torment people :/ no scary drawings tho! I only described them (click for clarity)

Jazz:

Description: Jazz is sitting at a table in the middle of a flower garden with a book in one hand and a teacup in the other. She looks tranquil and is dressed formally. On the table are a few plates, a plate of cookies, a bookmark, an opened envelope and a bloody butter knife, and a teapot that is slightly out of view.

Use of mediums: gouache paint, watercolor, and pencils

Focus: Jazz amidst the flowers

Inspirations:

• The Queen of Hearts from “Alice in Wonderland”

• Galna from “Mairimashita! Iruma-kun”

Location: She used to be in the home of a random crime lord in Gotham for intimidation purposes. She was kept in the crime lord’s office before being relocated into Wayne Manor, where she sits in the hall across from the library.

Extra facts:

+ Her scary form would be one where her tea is filled with blood and the roses would be replaced with decapitated heads. The sky would turn dark red and the ground would be a pool of blood. Jazz would smile and look at the viewer with shark-like fangs and hollowed out eyes.

+ The tea she drinks is Darjeeling and the cookies are chocolate chip.

+ Although Jazz is the weakest painting, her effects are deadlier, more painful, and longer lasting than the others if her victims survive.

+ She causes paranoia and dizzy spells. Her effects are rather weak compared to the others, but when spending enough time with her, victims can also display symptoms of scurvy, which cannot be cured.

+ She was the first one I drew and also the easiest to plan. I just love her so much, she’s one of my comfort characters so it’s not hard for me to find ideas for her 😭

Valerie:

Description: Valerie stands in the middle of a dark, foggy forest, wearing a long dress and pressed close to a tree as if she is about to hide behind it. A branch covers her face and the trees around her curve into a circle with multiple holes within them. There is a Fenton thermos in the background on the floor and an axe in front of Valerie, sticking into the tree and oozing something.

Use of mediums: pencils and watercolor paint

Focus: Her hidden face

Inspirations:

• The Son of Man by René Magritte

• The Beast from “Over the Garden Wall”

Location: She was kept in the back of an art museum, but the director has been hoping for someone to buy her and get rid of her, since he cannot handle the strain of having her inside of the gallery. Now she stands near the door to the entrance of Wayne Manor, a silent and deadly sentry.

Extra facts:

+ Her scary form would have her surroundings to turned into the entrance to a mouth or an intestine, red, fleshy, and bloody. There would be bones littering the floor everywhere and Valerie herself would become bloody and stained, with her face still hidden. Tortured faces would be seen through the fog.

+ The holes on the trees sometimes leak a mysterious substance.

+ Valerie is not the weakest, but she is not that powerful. However, she does amplify the others’ effects to fatal degrees.

+ She causes paranoia and auditory hallucinations, often causing her victims to feel as though they are being watched relentlessly, which cannot go away. Eventually, her victims will shut themselves into their rooms and starve to death from the fear.

+ She and Tucker had switched ideas, but I had to trash them. I never got the opportunity to draw those ideas because I struggled so much with Tucker that when I eventually got inspiration for Valerie, I just went with it. I’m quite happy with Valerie’s portrait now.

Dani:

Description: Dani, dressed formally, sits at the head of a table with a large painting and curtains behind her. She holds a fork and a knife over a pig head. Her gaze is downward and she looks like she’s frowning softly. The dinner table is messy with three other dishes and a knocked over bottle of wine.

Use of mediums: oil paint and oil pastels

Focus: Dani holding the fork and knife

Inspirations:

• Rosie’s Tea Party by Mark Ryden

• “Spirited Away” (specifically that one scene where Chihiro’s parents eat the food)

Location: She was hidden by Vlad and kept safe with him. He keeps her in his office, where he can watch her. He only recently found her again, and he was determined to watch over her. Now she stays in the Wayne Manor's dining room, but often changes her position to be next to everyone else in the bedroom hallway.

Extra facts:

+ Her scary form would be one where all of her food dishes would be replaced by very obviously human parts, especially with the pig head becoming a human head. The curtains would turn to blood dripping down the wall and Dani would be smiling, taking a direct bite of the human head that was in front of her with her fork and knife.

+ The dishes she eats in the painting are: pig head, vulture thigh, lamprey eels, and sheep brain.

+ Her at the dining table is meant to signify greed and gluttony, 2 of the most simplest sins.

+ She causes great feelings of hunger and paranoia in others. When spending too much time with her, some victims turn to self-cannibalism to sate their never ending starvation.

+ Originally, both her and Dan’s ideas were switched, so Dan would’ve been the one feasting and Dani would’ve been the one looking at her reflection. However, I switched them around because I felt like it would’ve been spookier. I even finished the drawing with Dan and everything, but then I just erased him and drew in Dani 😓

Dan:

Description: Dan is standing in front of a mirror, glancing behind his shoulder, while his reflection shows something different: him looking at everyone else and the door behind him by looking at the mirror. The party guests are all wearing masks and there are chandeliers on the ceiling. The party looks vaguely fancy, but messy with secrets.

Use of mediums: Oil paints

Focus: His reflection

Inspirations:

• Jeff Lee Johnson and his art

Location: He was kept in a locked safe within a rich person’s house in Italy. He had to been wrecking havoc on the nerves of everyone around him, but he is now safe and happy in Wayne Manor, where he is kept in the office to the entrance of the Batcave.

Extra facts:

+ His scary form would have all of the party guests dead, but their eyes would face the viewer. Dan's reflection would also be dead, but his actual self would be the same, only with an eerie smile as his eyes follow the viewer. In the doorway would be the figure of Danny. Blood would cover the entire floor and walls, but nobody would react to it.

+ Dan keeps his own masquerade mask in his pocket.

+ The woman who is directly staring at him is supposed to look like Maddie.

+ He causes viewers intense mood swings and long, often violent mania episodes or mind-numbing depression episodes. Those who keep staring at him will gain the feeling of being watched and haunted, often with visual hallucinations, resulting in losing their mind from fear and then killing others in their terror and panic.

+ I tried so hard to make Dan as handsome as possible. I think I pulled it off bc I’m a little bit in love with him ong, but I also kinda have to be bc I draw him so often

Tucker:

Description: Tucker is in the back shot of a desert, with his back towards the viewer, staring at a large skeleton that is seemingly climbing over a large sand dune. The skeleton has flowers in its eyes, and its hand reaches over the horizon. There is a single sun in the sky and an arm holding a pocket watch sticks out of the sand close to the viewer.

Use of mediums: gouache paint, pens, and pencils

Focus: The large skull

Inspirations:

• JT Music (specifically their JT album covers)

• The Giant God Warrior from “Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind”

• “Dune”

Location: He was originally kept in one of the rooms within the GIW headquarters. Now, he is kept within Wayne Manor, and stays in the theater room, where he whispers to the Wayne residents what movies he wants to watch. Sometimes, he moves to the garage.

Extra facts:

+ His scary form is one where the skull becomes covered in meat and flesh, oozing blood and tar while the sand turns red. The scene turns to darkness, and more limbs would sprout from the ground. Tucker would be nothing but a pile of flayed skin, crumpled into the sand.

+ GIW agents were unable to experiment on him, since he would purposefully cause machinery to misfire and slowly corrode his surroundings.

+ His painting is meant to be a little comic book-esque with one of his mediums being ink, but I felt like that wouldn’t be a PAINTing, so nvm

+ He causes visual hallucinations, hypovolemia, headaches, blindness, and osteoporosis :). Often, when his victims are autopsied, sand and salt can be found within all of their organs. He emits so much radiation that he can wear down the materials of the place he is stored in.

+ I DREW HIM THREE DIFFERENT TIMES OML, FIRST IT WAS HIM IN A WORKSHOP, THEN IT WAS HIM IN A MARSH, THIS IS THE FINAL PICTURE I CANNOTTTT IM DONE

Sam:

Description: Sam stands on top of a small, grassy hill with a path leading to a grave and an angel statue on top of it, close enough that she is blocking it. Around the hill are pomegranate trees and hanging corpses. There is no sun, but there are clouds as Sam stands with her back to the viewers in a long goth-styled dress.

Use of mediums: paper, glue, acrylic paint

Focus: Her standing on the hill

Inspirations:

• This Reddit picture of a liminal garden

• A mix of weirdcore and dreamcore aesthetics

Location: She was tossed into the ocean by her parents when they first saw her, but she later washed up on an island and now the animals and plants there act erratically and strangely. Finally, she was relocated to Wayne Manor, where she hangs on a wall within the greenhouse, happily watching over the plants there.

Extra facts:

+ Her scary form would be one where eyes would replace all of the pomegranates, staring at the viewer. The paper used to make her would become flesh textured and bloody, and Sam would appear abnormal, broken into pieces and cracked, turning around and smiling at the viewer with shark-like teeth. The grass would become hairy skin and the sky would become red, with swirls and more eyes.

+ Sam's "painting" is actually made of mostly paper, since it is a collage. It is a bit touched up by paint and all of the materials used are vegan and ethically sourced, though they do change.

+ The flora and fauna in the island she landed on have mutated so much that they’re basically mindless. They protect Sam relentlessly.

+ She causes general insanity and relentless symptoms in her victims, such as paranoia, intense episodes of mania and depression, itchiness that can result in self harm, and violent, unexplained behavior in animals and plants. She also emits so much radiation that she can cause sporadic DNA mutations, resulting in several forms of cancer and mental instability, often resulting in victims becoming inhuman and monstrous forms of themselves.

+ Originally, Sam’s portrait was supposed to be in a garden, but I wanted it more “liminal space” themed, and I think I got it right. I think it’s really simple, but I also feel like if I was able to create it in real life, it would be more interesting because it is a collage of paper and paint.

Danny:

Description: a picture of black blotches and scribbles with muddy and red stains. Any features besides the ornate frame is hidden underneath the stains.

Use of mediums: pencils, ink, charcoal, tar, blood

Focus: His crying

Inspirations:

• SCP-035 (“The Possessive Mask”)

• The Anguished Man by an unknown artist (it’s a haunted irl painting!)

• Bendy and the Ink Machine

Location: He was cloning himself in order to jump through universes to find his family. In the current universe, he was with the League of Shadows before he was found and brought back to the Wayne Manor. He is in the hallway with the bedrooms of the Wayne residents.

Extra facts:

+ His scary form is technically his normal form because he cannot turn it off. Once he is happy again, his normal form would be one with him and his family, smiling and happy. Until then, he haunts the minds of others and ravages their sanity.

+ He’s been traveling all over the multiverse in order to find his family. Coincidentally, they’ve all been in the same world for some time.

+ He screams all day and night for his family. It’s so bad that Danny has destroyed thousands of worlds in his grief.

+ He causes the worst of all symptoms, often causing the viewers who look at him to go insane and kill themselves or others, even if it is only a few seconds. Even those who stay in the same room next door to him are consumed with suicidal thoughts and intense moments of psychosis. Those who have survived encountering him and have some semblance of mind left say that he “cries” relentlessly. His paintings leak a black substance that corrodes the place around him.

+ Literally all I did for this picture was scribble in my notes app, take a screenshot, and then scribble some more on photos LMAO

Extra notes:

+ Jazz, Dani, and Dan showing their face while Sam, Tucker, and Valerie hiding theirs is intentional. Danny is a mix of both, because he actually IS showing his face, but you can’t see it past the black and red.

+ Every painting has a flower inside of it, specifically a carnation, which are often funeral flowers, and can mean gratitude, remembrance, love, and affection.

+ Every painting also has a mention or appearance of Danny in it.

+ I also tried to put hints of bad omens or signs of death within every painting. Some examples are Dani’s painting with the chopsticks sticking out of the bowl (a sign of bad luck and death), or Dan’s painting, where a woman is being strangled in the background and another is being killed.

+ All of the paintings generally have an ability to teleport to places nearby and can actually snatch up viewers to shove them into their domain. This can be a defensive mechanism (the paintings protect the Bats) or an offensive ability (they pull victims in and kill them). They also all have weapons on them that are hidden or not so hidden.

+ I struggled a lot with ideas and how to get started on some characters because I just had so many, and I wanted it to be creepy, but not noticeably creepy, like most paintings. I’m sad to say that I wasn’t able to use some of my planned ideas from inspirations of actual haunted paintings.

+ Discarded inspirations: The Rain Woman by Svetlana Telets (my favorite!! Please look it up if you can!!), this picture I saw on Reddit of a sheep being stuck under ice with its back exposed, a workshop idea with Tucker, and Dani and “Daughter of Evil” with mirrors and everything.

+ The world where Danny and co., come from is different from the world they’re currently in. It’s like a world where some people are the same, but others are not. Example: the GIW, Maddie, Jack, and Vlad exist, but Danny and Jazz never made it past their childhood. So basically a What-If world or something.

+ Their backstories are somewhat undecided, but basically, something dangerous happened to them in their home dimension and it was so bad that Danny captured all of their souls and put them into paintings so they would live (with the help of Clockwork). However, by doing this, he scattered their souls and paintings throughout the universes and he went crazy from it, and turned himself into a painting too so he could find them. Now his cloned paintings travel and sends itself to other worlds to find his family again, often leading to their destruction from his power.

Or something? Lol

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

girl on fire 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, neglect, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: neglected, you find comfort in another home.

Characters: Jonathan Pine, Loki

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself

Another lonely morning greets you. The chirping of birds and the yellow haze of sunlight does little to warm your bed. You stretch your arm out, feeling the empty space beside you. You lift your hand and stare at the ring you forgot to take off, as you often do. Sometimes, you just don’t want to. Sometimes you think if you do, he’ll truly be gone. 

Your husband isn’t gone though. Just absent. Just away on business. What's the difference?

You sit up and that knot under your shoulder pangs. You don’t sleep well without Loki near. Even after all this time, you’re not used to it. You wonder if he lays awake in his hotel beds. 

You go to the bathroom and wake yourself up with a splash of cold water. The day unfolds slowly around you as the dregs of sleep recede to painful reality. Alone. Again. Just like every day. When you said til death do you part, you didn’t think it would be a walking death. 

You wash and dress, for no reason in particular. You suppose because you should look human if you go outside. You sit and drink your tea in the kitchen as you watch the news on your phone. Current events only make you feel worse about the world. Even in your suburban paradise, there is no joy. 

You close out the player and tap on your messages. The last text you got from your errant husband was two nights ago. He landed safely. He doesn’t respond unless you message first. You’re starting to forget the days when he would rush in the door and sweep you off your feet. There is only numbness left where once you tingled. 

You’ll talk. Yeah, you’ll sit down and communicate and make it all better. Sure, that’ll happen. You laugh at yourself as you rinse the mug and leave it in the sink. You say that to yourself every time and then he comes home and it’s just silence. 

This isn’t a home, it’s a prison. At least you get outdoors time here. 

You step into your slippers and go outside, grabbing your gardening gloves as you tie on the tool belt with trowel, rake, and spade tucked in the pockets. You roll your shoulders and stretch, groaning as the dull jab remains under your shoulder blade. You need to stop reading in bed. 

As you near the soil along the walk, you stop short. Dirt litters the pavement and petals scatter all around. You near fall to your knees, staggering instead as you grasp at your stomach. No, no, no. 

You stare down at the ruin of your tulips. Not just any tulips but the pink and white ones you’d been nursing for weeks. The ones you bought yourself to mark your tenth year of marriage. The gift you never got from your husband because he couldn’t fit you into his calendar. 

“Ugh!” You exclaim and stomp the broken stems. “I hate you!” 

You stamp your feet in the dirt, spreading the mess, jumping up and down as your anger swells and your hurt flows over. That damn squirrel! That pest! That horrid creature! 

You kick through the other flowers, crushing peonies and pansies and violets. You don’t care about any of it. It doesn’t matter. It all just wilts and dies. It’s all just a bunch of bullshit. 

You clutch your head and collapse on your heels, sitting on your knees as you hang your head forward. It’s not the flowers. You know it’s not. The one thing you don’t want to think about is the only thing you can think about. 

You stay like that, sobbing into the ruin of your front garden. How pathetic you must look in your old Gap tee shirt and oversized sweatpants. If any of those HOA cyborgs walked by, they’d surely give you a citation. 

“Pardon,” a voice breaks through your tragedy and you close your eyes.  

You’re delusional. You have to be imagining things. It sounds just like him. Like your Loki. You turn your head and open your eyes, lashes webbed with tears. You sniff and quickly mop them away. Of course it wouldn’t be your husband. 

“Are you alright? I saw you fall from across the street,” the slim tall man stands on the other side of your iron gate. “Oh my, well, what a mess that chap made of your garden. I’m afraid he had a go at mine as well.” 

You squint and shake your head, “who?” 

“That squirrel fellow. He broke one of my planters as well,” he points with his long index finger. How peculiar. He reminds you of him. Tall, slim, and his nose... 

“That’s... yeah,” you sniffle and look down, using your shirt, to wipe away what’s left of your grief. 

“They must’ve meant very much. Even if they are just flowers, I can empathise,” he says. 

You shrug, “I’m being dramatic.” 

You stand and sweep off your pants. He lingers and you avoid looking at him. You’ve humiliated yourself enough. 

“Tulips,” he remarks. “I’ve some lovely blue ones from Holland if you’d like some bulbs. Can never have too many.” 

“That’s nice of you,” you keep your head down, turning your back to him, “who are you exactly?” 

“Oh, yes, I suppose I’ve not made the rounds yet. I... do you perhaps know a Hattie?” 

“Yeah, across the street,” you mutter. 

“That would be her. My aunt,” he explains, “she’s in need of some assistance, she’s due for surgery, so I’ve volunteered myself as her minder. She always did make the nicest biscuits, I only think it fair.” 

“That’s... nice,” you nearly choke on emotion. It is very sweet and selfishly, you feel worse for hearing it. 

“Needless to say, I’m a bit of a stranger around here,” he continues, “I’m Jonathan, though, if you... care.” 

You take a breath and lower your head, trying to get yourself together. You face him and try to force a smile but only feel like you might start crying again. You enunciate your name through the tension in your lips.  

He repeats it and it nearly takes your breath away, “do I have that right?” 

You have to hold back a gasp as you nod.  

“Beautiful,” he remarks, “happy to have a name to the face. I hate to be trouble but you might see me around.” 

“That's… That's okay. I'm sorry. I'm just… having a day,” you try to laugh out your distress but it only sounds fractured. 

“We all do,” he says, “I might be so lucky you never catch me in one.” 

“Sure, uh, I'll… I gotta go inside.” 

“Of course,” he purrs, “I shall let you know if I do catch the menace.” 

You put on a perplexed face. 

“The squirrel,” he says, “I am merciful, never worry. I'll only give him a good fright.” 

“Mm, thanks, er, I'll keep an eye out too.” 

“I do hope your day turns for the better,” he dips his head slightly, “can't complain for the sun, can we?” 

He turns and struts to the curb. You watch as he looks both ways then strolls on, hands in his pockets, a man without a care. You envy him that, but you can't quite place that other thorn in your chest. 

[edgeray]

HI, first of all, i love your write so much 💕💕💕💕💕, you're so creative, please, as long as you feel good writing, write!!! You are very good at it, and you feed Arle stans so weel.

Second, did you by any chance watched bridgerton ? If not, just ignore it, it's more to give a historical context (and dresses in beautiful scenery, for sure). Bridgerton is a period show (and books) that takes place at the beginning of the 19th century (1810-1820) [Although, I think Arlecchino would fit even more within the context of the Victorian age, but I think it might be an idea saved for another request]. Given the context, I believe my request becomes clearer :

Arlecchino who pretends to be a man (dressing and acting like one) to get married to the reader.

It's not news to anyone that Arlecchino is part of a powerful nobility family and it's also not news to anyone that she hates playing the female role given to her (and I can't imagine her wearing the fluffy dress ever!!!!), so seeing her childhood best friend become the diamond of the season (basically the favorite debutant of the season for both the queen and the suitors, in a very short way) She realizes that she needs to enter the marriage market too, in this case to fight for your hand.

Please feel free to change any part of the order, I don't want this to become boring for you to write.

So thank you for share your works and read it, (can i?) 🪷anon.

Courting a Lie

(Arlecchino x Fem! Reader)

A/N- Of course you can be 🪷 anon! Thank you for your kind words. I aim to feed. Arle for everyone!! Sorry that this is super late… I will assume the reader is female for this because a debutant is a woman. Also didn't know how to make it GN! since there's no gender neutral aristocratic titles as far as I know. Sorry GN! readers :(  While I haven't watched Bridgerton, from your description of the era, I've read quite a few manhwas set in a European aristocratic society that sounds just like this. I get the general gist of what you're saying from those manhwas so I drew some inspiration from there.  I've never really written for a historical fiction AU so we shall see how this goes. Apologies in advance if it is cringe. I did change a few things for the plot, but not because it was boring, more because of my own plot/backstory building. I actually had a lot of fun researching random bits for this request, and this request is among my most developed and thoughtful works on Tumblr! Still don't know how to dialogue though… I really liked writing this kind of setting so I would be pretty happy if a part 2 of this was requested... how did I do in terms of writing this? hopefully not too far from bridgerton?   Content warnings / info - arlecchino is referred to as a man and uses masculine pronouns for a little bit, 2.0k words

You don't quite remember what occasion it was when you first met her. Perhaps it was a charity ball or some celebration. Either way, you were at most eight years of age when you met your first friend, a quiet, petite child hiding in the corner of the Snezhevna Estate's garden, ducked nearby a bush. You wandered away from the garden party, as you couldn't find any other children your age that weren't pestering, so you explored the edges, admiring the flowers. 

You stumbled upon a white haired child, with her white dress sullied by her kneeling on the dirt. Similarly, her pale hands were soiled, as if she had dug into the earth with her fingers alone. You nearly gasped at the sight–no lady would ruin their dress so carelessly, especially a dress seemingly adorned as hers. Nevertheless, you were in awe of the courage to do so. Was it possible she wasn't educated well? It'd be damaging to her family's reputation if anyone were to see the condition of her apparel.

You approached her carefully, your voice small in hopes that you wouldn't sound rude. 

“Hello,” you greeted first, and the child turned her head over her shoulder, gazing at you. 

Your breath hitched as you glanced at her eyes, each black pit filled with a red cross in the center that made you suppose she didn't fit into any aristocratic family. You didn't know of any noble family that had such eyes, and it's only been known from noble families to hold particular sets of eyes. Did this girl really belong to nobility? 

“I know I'm not supposed to be in the dirt. Now leave me alone,” she says before turning away, her voice sounding far too monotone and androgynous for you to consider her a young noble lady. Nonetheless, the clear difference between her and the other guests of the function intrigued you. She was educated, or at least it seemed like it, but she had a disregard for creating a good impression. You ignored her request, instead, plopping yourself down beside her to see what it was in the dirt she was so interested in. 

“What are you digging in the dirt for?” You asked. She slumped, as if irritated by your persisted presence. 

“I'm looking for bugs. So go away, unless you want a spider on you,” she warned without looking at you, with the evident expectation her threat would ward you away. 

It did not, in fact, deter you. If anything, you pressed on, your expression contorting to that of fascination. “What kind of bugs?”

That seemed to snatch the young girl's attention as she turned to you, widened eyes as she observed you, searching your face for any lies. She couldn't believe that there was someone else who could be so ‘lady-like.’ Her apathy returns shortly after, and she glances back at the mound of dirt before her. 

“Young ladies aren't supposed to be interested in pests or dirtying their hands,” the white-haired child states, but it seems more like a recital of someone else's words. 

“Maybe. But it's fun, right?” You replied, offering her a small smile.

Although she still didn't face you, you watched her eyes gleam with life. Your grin grew in accordance. 

“So… you like bugs?” She questioned as she cups a worm she managed to uproot. 

“No way. Not touching them,” you shutted her down immediately and she pouted as you shook your head vigorously. 

“But… I thought you were better company than those other kids. So… I hope you don't mind having me too much?” you sheepishly remarked, wincing a bit at your apparent nervousness. In response, the girl huffed, gracing you with a faint smile. The sight sent flutters through your stomach, filling you with a rush of giddiness you never felt before. 

“Just don't scream, okay?” Is all she answered back.

And that was how you befriended the bastard daughter of the Snezhevna family. Since then, the two of you have been exchanging letters, and met each other at every possible social gathering in secret. Although your family discouraged meeting her so often, you ignored them. However, when you had just turned twelve, her letters stopped, as if she disappeared. You asked Marchioness Crucabena about her daughter, and all you received from the matriarch was a cold cut message: Peruere was receiving ‘education’ for indefinitely. 

Your heart sunk as you crinkled the letter in your hands, tears welling in your eyes at the thought of never seeing your dear friend again. Where had Peruere gone? You hastily wrote another letter, inquiring more about the education or if Peruere could write you back, but the Marchioness would not indulge you with additional information, essentially telling you to mind your business and to stop writing to her. 

You remember weeping into your pillows for the entire night until your eyes dried up, red and puffy from rubbing them constantly. You were haunted by memories of star gazing, of laying on the garden grass, of lounging in one another's arms. Your few moments of bliss were gone forever, stripped away with her absence. 

— 

Pureure always wished she wasn't born into a noble family. Aristocratic society was tedious and pretentious. Why her father ever chose to engage with something as disgusting as the Marchioness, it most definitely wasn't out of love–a fabled concept among nobles really. Peruere knew little of what happened to the late Marquess–his death was caused by a carriage accident–but she knew her birth father was with the Marchioness after the death. 

Regardless, between her and her half-sister Clervie, the Marchioness deemed Peruere better fitted as the heir of the family. In Peruere's opinion, Clervie would have made an impressive matriarch. However, when she inquired Clervie about it, her sister vehemently rejected the notion, wanting to remain carefree as she always was. For as heedless as her older sister was, she would be the model of a noblewoman, the favorite debutante had she wanted to take on the aristocratic responsibilities. In any case, Marchioness Crucabena always had a noticeable distaste for the two of them and Peruere suspected it was because she had no sons and marrying once more would mean losing the inheritance of her late husband. 

Peruere soon learned why exactly she was chosen as the next heir. It was easier for her to pose as a male rather than Clervie in order to appease the Marchioness. Added with Peruere's bastard status, few people knew of her existence, or more so, her familial ties with the Marchioness. With the Marchioness’s ‘education’ Peruere, the bastard daughter with a commoner surname, was transformed into Arlecchino Snezhevna, a bastard son with the Snezhevna surname, and so inheritor of the Marquess title. Pereure was erased effectively in the span of six years. 

Because Arlecchino was a bastard son, that label would have made it difficult to impose herself among other noblemen, and most especially, marry another powerful family. In that sense, what she could not make up in legitimacy, she had to make up in other qualities as a noble. Her hours, from dawn to dusk, consisted of history, economy, and art lessons, etiquette and mannerisms classes, 

and learning various skills such as conversational, dancing, equestrian, fencing, and hunting. Obtaining any length of slumber came few and far, and when rest was finally permitted, her body often ached too much for her to drift.

Instead, she laid conscious at night, her head tilted towards the window, the stars winking back at her. Her thoughts returned to you, as they always have during her respites, and she would wonder again and again if you were looking at the same night sky as she was, reminiscing over memories of stargazing. She often raised her hands to her eyes, the only question lingering in her mind would be if you would recognize these hands if she met you again, the same hands that held you. Alone in her chambers, Arlecchino, no Peruere, promised that she would meet you again, and maybe, this time she would never have to leave your side again. 

She only hoped that she would be good enough for you. 

—

Your heart is thumping rapidly against your chest while your clammy and fidgety hands grasp onto the gloved hand of your dance partner, maintaining deep breaths and keeping your composure as best as possible. You match the steps of the bachelor gracefully and diligentfully, feeling many spectators’ gazes on your back. It’s both invigorating and exhausting to realize that you are the diamond of the season. Receiving this many dance requests is a good sign, yes, but it only means that you are creeping closer to having to choose a suitor.

And inevitably lose Peruere forever. 

You quickly snap out of your thoughts in order to further entertain your dance partner with small talk, and finally the dance ends. 

“Thank you, Earl Childe. It was a pleasure dancing with you. You make an excellent dancer,” you offer the young redhead a beaming expression. 

“You're quite one yourself. I quite enjoyed our time. Perhaps we could dance more privately at a later date?” The sauve bachelor replies back, matching your practiced smile with a cocky one. 

“Perhaps,” is all you say, and thankfully the bachelor walks away. 

You let out a sigh of relief, but it seems you thought too soon, as another set of footsteps approach you from behind. Turning around, you’re met with perhaps the most refined and handsome gentleman you've graced your eyes upon. Immediately, you feel your cheeks swell and you feel unnaturally timid. Sincere red-crossed eyes meet yours, and a faint, charming smile stretches on the lips of the nearing bachelor.

“May I have this dance, Lady [F/N]?” He offers his hand gracefully, and you take his. 

“I haven't introduced myself, pardon me. I am, Earl Arlecchino, Earl of Snezhevna,” he introduces himself with a knowing smile, or rather, she introduces herself as your face contort to that of shock at the mention of her family name. You halt as she initiates the dance, her grin growing as fondness spreads over her facial expression.

“Peruere?” You whisper as you reach out, placing a hesitant hand on her shoulder, your other gloved hand in hers. Her body warmth bleeds through the contact, and you sense it flow through your entire body. 

“It's Arlecchino, for appearances. I trust you won't expose me?” Peruere says, her eyes scanning over your entire form in awe. “You're… I don't quite have enough words to describe you. You're utterly beautiful.” 

You flush at the compliment before you forcefully tear yourself away from the bubbling giddiness within you, nodding at her first question. Your face attempts to appear stern and angry, but your eyes sabotage that. “I missed you… dearly. Where have you gone? Why didn't you write to me? I kept waiting for you…” 

Peruere's face softens, morphing to one of regret and sympathy. “I haven't stopped thinking of you either. My mother demanded I suddenly take lessons on how to be a nobleman, and with that, I was no longer Peruere, but Arlecchino. During that time, I had to endure everything my mother gave me, and I hardly had time to sleep. I have tried to send you some, but I suspected that the Marchioness meticulously checked what was sent and received. I've kept a pile of letters that I wrote for you, so you would be able to read everything I had to say over the years.” 

You inhale slowly before nodding, understanding her words. “You kept plaguing my dreams, Arlecchino. You don't know how long I've wanted to see you. Please… never leave me again. I don't think I can bear being without you again.” 

It's Arlecchino's turn to be surprised. “You… Are you asking me what you think you're asking me?” She breathlessly inquires, her voice on the edge of exhilaration, and you give her a hopeful smile. 

You nod. “I… I always thought you were the one since we were little. I didn't want to spend my time with anyone else. So… can you be beside me again?” 

Peruere nearly melts at your request. “As long as you'll allow me another dance.” 

[lalovi]

Longan Dragon x Reader

Oneshot

Synopsis: You braid their hair

Warning: Some angst

Being as strong as the Ivory Dragon is, it makes perfect sense that they can have whatever they want. Riches, power, knowledge. Anything really.

And yet, for someone as powerful as they were, the current moment confused them. They were being reduced to that of some mannequin in which you braided thier hair.

"I don't see how this is necessary.." they mumbled, staring off into the distance.

"It's not-" you began, "but it's nice. Right?"

"I suppose."

Time slowly went by, and the once blue skies shifted into an orange and pink. A cool evening breeze swept through the land.

"I'm done," you chimed.

They couldn't see it in the moment, but they knew the braid was nice. Anything you did always turned out that way.

"Thank you," they said, turning their body to face you. The faintest of blush dashing their face.

You smiled at them before laughing and lying down in their lap while covering your face with your arm.

"Why are you laughing?" they questioned, their gaze slowly falling to the ground nearby.

"Sorry sorry-" you took a breath. "I'm just so happy right now." You uncovered your eyes to look at them.

"Did braiding my hair really make you so happy?" They asked.

"Not just that. It's just... you look so relaxed now. You're usually so put together and I'm just glad to see you let loose for once."

Longan had a realization here. A realization that they yearned for you more than they should. They thought they could never come to love anyone. Yet here you were proving them wrong. You and your foolish smile. You and your loud voice. You and your nurturing touch.

A silence followed shortly after that. Not one of the awkward ones that made everything feel heavy. It was a comfortable one that the two of you basked in for a while.

Then you were struck with an idea.

It was very apparent in your expression.

"Longan, do you remember when we used to walk in those flower fields?"

You both often went there in your free times. You'd look around fondly at all of the wild flowers that Longan had already seen plenty of times before. You looked at those plants as if they were ancient treasures, and each time Longan couldn't help but think about how they could give you real treasures.

"I do," they'd explain, nodding their head.

Your expression softened. "Can we go there now?"

The Ivory Dragon had lived for thousands of years. They feared no one and bowed to no one. Yet now, they just couldn't bring themself to say no.

You twirled happily amoung the flowers, spinning without a care in the world. Then you got dizzy and bumped into Longan.

They couldn't help but admire you.

The way the golden light bounced off of your figure stunned them, though it hardly showed on their face. Their expression was always so stoic and unchanging.

Yours on the other hand was quite the opposite.

Your smiles always were so bright. Your frowns always so full of melancholy, and your fury was one that could ignite flames. Your emotions were perfectly human in every way.

That's right. Human.

In the end, you were nothing more than mortal; and Longan was forced to remember that in everything that you did.

How loving you would be like betraying their kin.

Yet their body seemed to move on its own as their hand began to cup your face.

Your face seemed to heat up as they gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

It felt so wrong.

But it was so natural as they inched closer to your face.

As they inched closer to the biggest mistake of their life.

They hadn't even had the time to realize it before you closed the space.

You pulled away soon after.

"Sorry. I don't know why I did that." You'd say softly.

Oh. They hadn't kissed back.

Loving you now meant making you their everything.

Loving you now meant losing everything.

Because you were simply mortal, and Longan would live for thousands of years after your death.

But Longan just couldn't help pulling you closer once again for another kiss.

Because you had slowly become much more than their everything.

...

Being as strong as the Ivory Dragon is, it makes perfect sense that they can have whatever they want.

They thought that meant they could have you too.

Yet here they were; sitting on an empty throne with no one to accompany them.

Forced to realize that they had lost you long ago.

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 7; "Stay here, honey."

a/n: tehe hi friends! we havent spoken much so...the tortured poets department was literally written for daisy and oliver, that's all i gotta say. i listened to i can fix him (no really i can) and guilty as sin this entire writing sesh. i missed yall tho! i feel like i havent written in 5ever. anyways enjoy friends :)

“Jesus, just pick it up.”

Oliver squinted his tired eyes at his phone screen. His body was twisted around, his neck arching to try to read the contact name that was flashing across his screen. This was the fourth time they had tried calling him. I was snug against his side, occupying the rest of his strength. I went to move away a bit, just to allow him some room to answer the phone without being contorted like a pretzel.

He felt me tug back from his hold and immediately set the phone back onto his bedside table. The screen was faced up. It was probably just me, me and my stupid naivety- but I was touched that he set it that way. My stupid belief that I meant just as much to him as he did to me made it so. Trust, love. Two feelings I had when I was with him that were now more familiar than the anger and fear I used to be consumed by.

Oliver latched his other hand, now free, around my back. His fingers splayed out around my hip, nose nuzzling into the bare crevice of my neck. I sunk into his body, an anchor sinking into cold, salty sea water.

“Eh, fuck ‘em. They’re just taking time away from me and my flower.”

I snorted at the pet name, though I secretly (not so-secretly) loved. “You’re so cringey sometimes.”

“Cringey?” He reeled his chin back, glaring down at me with those icy hazel eyes. “Girl…”

“Girl!” My mouth widened as the word so easily fell through his lips. I fought against giggles that were winning. “Who are you? Where’s Oliver?”

His laughter was deep, steady, chest rocking beneath my head, “Shh, don’t tell anyone. I’m his twin brother, Isaac. Oliver is on a top secret mission. He said you’ll always be in his heart, but he must go, fulfill his duty as a spy.”

“What the fuck,” I stated, nuzzling my head in bare chest in hopes the escape his jokes. I let out a small sigh as I fed into his humor, “You don’t have to lie to me, Isaac. I know he’s off with his secret girlfriend. Just, if you can speak to him, let him know that I won’t cry over him. I won’t miss him. Besides, his twin brother’s kinda…hot.”

“Secret girlfriend? What are you even talking about?”

Maybe I wouldn’t have noticed it if I wasn’t trained to read body language. Maybe it would’ve gone over my head if I didn’t know him, the very shell of him, so well. I could have looked past it, could’ve turned it over in my head, blurred the lines, pretended like I didn’t know the way his eyes flickered, disruption taking over his hazel pupils, as he glanced, so minutely, to his cell phone.

And, maybe it was me. Maybe I was really that insecure. Maybe I was stupid. Maybe I’d never really learn to trust him, based on the entirety of our situation.

I think Oliver noticed the flicker that tilted at the corners of my lips because his face fell, just a bit. And he rushed to cover it up, “There is no secret girlfriend, darling. I promise you that.”

And he did what he was so subconsciously genius at- he manipulated the situation, moved on from it, by wrapping me up, pressing the tip of his nose to mine, and saying, “You are my one and only, Daisy. The only one I want. Need.”

I was stupid, like I always was, and kissed him.

We continued on that morning, laying around like we always did, in the early hours of the dawn, long before anyone would wake up. They had a show later, but Oliver didn’t care about getting rest. He wanted- needed, he claimed- to be with me. I guess his idea of resting involved fucking me and kissing me and feeding me with his ownership.

He always asked the strangest questions, always reminiscent of that first night on the roof. He asked like he was trying to memorize the nocks on my bones, prophesied my future in a romantically dramatic way. It was usually when we were laying around like this, silence comfortable in our breaths.

Today’s was formed as more of a statement, curious intonation, “Tell me more about your mom.”

It took me by surprise, like he almost always did. It forced me to slow my own thoughts for a moment, articulate my memories, and find delicate words. Mostly, I wondered, “Why do you wanna know that?’’

Oliver was forced to think now, but he didn’t have much of a response, “I don’t know. I was just…wondering, I guess. I mean, you’ve told me your dad’s an ass, but you had to have gotten your beauty somewhere.”

I knew he used that compliment in a much more meaningful way than the surface level allowed it to be understood. So, I blushed, tilted my head, “Well, I could talk for hours about her. Don’t want your ears to bleed.”

“Nonsense, my love. Your voice is music to my ears.”

I nuzzled my nose to his cheek. Then, I mustered up the courage to fight my sadness and began with, “She was…literally everything to me and Sam. She…dad left when I was 5. Sam, 12. Mom was, like…30? I think? So young. She opened up her own flower shop not long before he left. But, it wasn’t nearly enough money for us to live off of. So, we, like, moved into the tiny ass apartment that was above the shop. It smelled like Chinese food because of the restaurant. And, sometimes, that mixed with the flowers. And my allergies are terrible! And, not to mention, mom smoked. So…it was rough. Sam and I shared a room, so we were together more than we should have been. We were…we were so mean to mom. We, like…took out dad’s absence on her, the fact that we had to live in this shitty apartment. Meanwhile, she was just…this ball of light. She’d stay up till 3am, in the shop, blasting Taylor Swift, arranging flowers, writing this silly little poem book she hid beneath her mattress and thought I never found and read. She picked up shifts at the Chinese restaurant literally every day. She never took a day off, not even on holidays. God, she must have been fucking miserable. But…no matter what…she was, just, like…kind. I think…no, nevermind.”

I sniffled and cut my own words off, teary eyes shutting. I didn’t want to be all sappy and emotional in front of Oliver, especially not at this time of day. As I tried to steady my breathing, Oliver’s arms tightened around me.

“Hey,” he swept a hand to my cheek, drawing my eyes to his, “Daisy…keep going. Please.”

“I think Sam really misses her. He…he’d help her out, with chores, making dinner, getting the trash cleaned up when she’d be overwhelmed and forget about it all. And at the time he resented her. But, he was a teenager. He didn’t know any better. But he beats himself up over it. I just…wish he’d be kinder to himself.”

“And what about you?” Oliver whispered once I had let a pregnant pause of silence go.

I looked up at him, struck by the question, like always, “What…about me.” My eyes drifted as my mind wandered, “I…I’d sneak downstairs, far too often, watch her from the doorway while she danced, sang, drank cheap wine, tossed flower petals all around. She’d always catch me. I was a noisy kid. But, she’d never punish me. She’d grab my little hand, drag me into the room with her, play all our favorite Taylor songs.”

Oliver cracked a joke which burst a ray of sunshine through the sadness layering itself overtop the room, “God, now I feel terrible for making fun of you.”

I punched him in the stomach, closed fist splaying out into a gentle palm on his belly. “You should. She meant a lot to me and my mom. I…she’s why Sam got into music. She had this- this beautiful voice. She’d write songs, along with her poems, and record them on this tape player.”

“Where is it now? Back at your apartment?”

“No,” I shook my head, “at hers. We never really cleaned it out. Sam still pays the lease.”

“And the flower shop?”

“A stupid fucking smoothie bar. I was really hoping one of us would take it over, run it, keep her alive. But…it’s just not feasible. Too expensive.” I’d always felt guilty for that- not investing in mom’s memory. I felt like I’d buried her back in my hometown and sealed shut whatever conscious thoughts I had of her in her grave with her rotting body.

It was just too much. She gave us everything and the world failed her, killed her. Every ounce of light that had been in her eyes was completely spoiled by the time the cancer had taken over.

The thought made me shutter. Oliver noticed and brushed a soothing hand through my hairline. “We don’t have to talk about it anymore.”

“No, no,” I tapped his stomach, “we should. I never really…never really mention her to anyone. This is nice.”

Oliver kissed my temple sweetly, “I agree. So, tell me about these late night dance parties you’d have.”

And, so, we spent the next few hours talking about my mom. Her smile, the inky flowers she had wrapped around her elbow, the way she’d let me stand on her toes while we waltzed across the shop.

We talked and talked. I cried and Oliver wiped my tears. He told me he’d give Taylor Swift another try.

And I found myself falling further.

Then, it was suddenly nearing 8am, when I knew for sure my brother’s alarm would be going off. So, we finished quickly with whatever we’d been doing. Then, Oliver helped me get dressed, which took much longer than it should’ve with two people pulling one person’s shirt over her head. It was because he stuck my head through, then dipped his head to my stomach, tracing my abdomen with wet kisses.

I giggled and shrunk away from the ticklish feeling. He laughed and chased me with his strong hands, encasing my hips with his splayed fingers. I tried pushing his touch away, writhing like a worm, but he was able to plant more kisses onto my skin.

Then his phone started ringing again.

Our movements paused. I slowly pulled the shirt the rest of the way down, meeting his eyes as my vision was cleared from that blockage. His hands moved, passively, to his sides. His body language, that distant, distracted look in my eyes burned.

“Oliver,” I accidentally whispered, then, “just answer it.”

He knew. He knew it was a challenge, a probe at the situation. He knew I was testing him. And, if he failed, if he refused to pick up the phone and answer the call, I’d run out.

I think that- losing me, watching me walk away- was just something he could not deal with right now. So, he made up some excuse while slinking over to the phone, “Probably just someone from the label. Or a stupid spam caller. No big deal.”

I was still facing away from him, still small, shrunken in on myself, when I said, to no one but the air, “Please.”

He didn’t hear me. “Hello?”

I turned around to face him, watching the muscles on his face carefully, paying attention to how he reacted to whoever was on the line. After a moment, he pressed the speaker button, and held the screen towards my vision.

“Spam,” Oliver scrunched his nose as he hung up.

Intuition, maybe jealousy, nibbled at my skin like some flesh-eating piranha. I gave one shake of my head, easily falling back into the casual, comfortable air that was routine between us. I smiled, a joke on my lips to push us past the awkwardness, “So, what kind of top secret mission is Oliver on? Drugs? Or…war?”

“Oh, all of the above!” He dramatically replied.

“Well, you tell Oliver that I need to be getting back to my own bed,” I tapped his chest, awaiting him to let his arms loose.

But, he squeezed tighter, even wrapping his occupied hand around me, “No! Please! Stay!”

“Won’t you ever get tired of me taking up space in your bed?” I giggled at his hair, tickling my neck.

He hummed a rejection, “Never. This is, like, our own secret sanctuary. Here, in this room, we can be whoever we want.”

I focused on his eyes, touching my nose to his. Then, he kissed me before mindlessly reaching behind himself to set his phone back up.

Face down.

I felt like throwing up.

The feeling was worse when I was alone, leaving his apartment like I had just signed an NDA. I tried my hardest not to overthink things, but considering our precarious relationship, this was a very difficult thing to do.

Somewhat luckily, Oliver had been normal the rest of our time together, easy-going, non-suspicious. That’s how someone who didn’t have a secret girlfriend should act. So, why couldn’t I be satisfied with that?

(Why did he place his phone face down? Why had the look in his eyes told me something different, something worse-?)

It would have made so much sense to find out that he did, in fact, have a girlfriend. After all, he’d been telling me all summer how unavailable he was. This would make so much more sense than the mindless, kind of shitty excuses he had for not being able to commit to me. Was it, then, my fault for getting involved with him? For fucking a taken man? Perhaps I’d pushed myself onto him, forcing the situation. No, no, it couldn’t have been. After all, he’d sought me out numerous times.

And, if this were the case, I was supposed to then end things? As soon as possible? Find her social media, send a fucking hey girly text message, throw myself off of a bridge in the process?

The way he kissed me when I left, the way he whispered, “I’ll miss you. You should come to the show tonight. My shining star. You’d make it all worth it. Until then, beautiful,” against my cheek, his eyelashes fluttering against my skin- there was no way I was the side piece. He was too invested in me.

Maybe she wasn’t real. Maybe he didn’t have a girlfriend. No, really- he just couldn’t have a girlfriend. It felt impossible. He was too…too caring, too gentle with me. He treated me so delicately it…just-

“Shit! Sorry!”

I had not been watching where I was going once I left Oliver’s room, which was extremely irresponsible of me. Anyone of our friends, my brother for Christ’s sake, could be walking these halls, on their way to visit the very person’s I’d just vacated. It was worse this week because Oliver’s room was on a different floor than everyone else’s. I had no way of excusing myself if I was caught up here. All I could do was be careful and hide when I heard someone familiar.

Yet, again- I was fucking stupid. I was careless. Mindless.

And I had run right into Adam.

“Daisy!” He looked up from his phone, still safe in his clutches because I’d only knocked into his left shoulder. “Shit, sorry. I’m a clutz.”

I forced out a chuckle, trying to seem chill, like I hadn’t just been having sex- 3 times- by his best friend, boss, lead singer of his band, my brother’s best friend.

“Oh, hey, Adam! No worries! I have plenty of bruises to prove I’m even more of a mess. What’re you up to?”

If I could gain control over the situation, be the one to ask the questions first, maybe then I could worm my way out of it without being exposed.

Then, a distant, deadly memory blared through my skull like a freight train. Last week, backstage. Adam, telling me where Oliver was, encouraging me to go to him. A knowing smile.

Fuck. This hole was deeper than I could ever crawl out of. Maybe he- maybe…maybe. Maybe he forgot-

“Daz…” he knew. He knew. Adam knew. He tilted his head, flicked his brows, gave a smile that suggested I just give up the facade already.

Before he could go on, I interrupted him, “Listen- just…please, just…no lectures, okay? I can handle myself. I know you guys all think Oliver’s this, like, bad person. But, he’s not. And, like- even if he is, I can handle it. I got it. I don’t need to be told what to do or warned or treated like a child. I- Oliver’s…it’s, just…you guys don’t know, okay? We have…I know it seems, like shitty, to you, probably. But…it’s really good. We have fun and, and we like each other…and that’s all that matters. Your opinions don't matter.”

As I went on, Adam’s face contorted into one of confusion, shock. Like he wasn’t computing the information I was messily throwing his way. “Daz, I…are you guys not just hooking up? I thought- I thought you were just fucking?” He let out a breathy chuckle, one of slight uncomfortability.

“It’s…yeah, like…I can see why you might think that, but…we have feelings for each other. And we’re not together or anything, but…we’re…we’re working on it.” For insisting that I didn’t want to be lectured like a child, I sure was speaking like one, shrinking in on myself, fiddling with my fingers all shy.

“So, please,” I held my hands up all defensive, like he’d lurch forward and attack me or something.

But, Adam simply sighed. He pocketed his phone, crossed his arms, eyeing me like some art exhibit. I didn’t know what he was going to say and, based on the silence he gave me, I didn’t really want to. He was calculating his response. He was probably going to fucking lecture me.

“Daisy, I…” aaand, here we go. It was me and Max in the elevator, all over again. It was Sasha, across from me at the breakfast table.

“I’m not gonna tell you what to do. That’s just not my place, no matter how much you mean to all of us, how much I think of you like, fuck, like a little sister. You are an adult. You can make your own decisions, dude.”

I breathed out the air I was holding. It was a relief, a sentiment I needed to hear. I didn’t care if I was being stupid- I just wished people would listen to me for once and let me do what I wanted.

“But.”

I shut my eyes, a bit tighter, longer than a blink took, in an attempt to ground the anger that was growing in my fingertips. “But, what?” My words were short, scornful.

“But,” Adam sighed again, “I just want you to be happy. I’ve watched you, all summer, try to prove yourself. To Sasha, to Max, to me. To your brother, especially. And, worst of all, Oliver.”

“It makes me so disappointed to see somebody like you have such little self worth. To see you dilute yourself for others. You are…so kind. So beautiful. So pointed and smart and sure of yourself. But, you hate it. You hate that you’re like that. You want to turn yourself into some version of you that just doesn’t fit. Some girl who’s edgy, some girl who’s laid back and doesn’t care what happens. That’s just not you, Daisy. You are intense. And that’s good! You’re passionate, you know what you want. You just…you need to believe you’re worth those wants. Stop doubting your abilities to make it happen. Stop doubting that you deserve it. Just grab it.”

I hadn’t expected to be so humbled. His words were…truer than any cheesy line any therapist had sold to me for $200. It knocked the wind out of me, forcing me to take a step back, literally. I guarded myself from the rush of the tornado, an arm wrapped over my stomach, one nervously rubbing my neck.

What the fuck was I supposed to say to that?

“I’m…sorry,” I whispered in response. It was all I could think to say.

“Don’t say sorry to me,” Adam touched my shoulder, “say it to yourself. You deserve the entire world. And I hope you accept that soon. This shit with Oliver will suck the life out of you.”

All I could think to do next was toss my arms around his shoulders, clutching him to my body like a warm blanket. He hugged me back, just as tight.

After only a few moments, we pulled apart. Neither of us said anything else. Adam simply touched my head, lovingly offering me this brotherly smile, before continuing his way down the hall.

I finally made my way to the elevator, one singular thought on my mind: my own self worth.

Adam had been so shockingly correct. I…

I knew it, too. I’d known it this whole time, only making myself and thought smaller in order to make room for Oliver. I couldn’t keep doing that. I needed to prioritize my own worth while loving him.

Loving him.

I needed to…

We couldn’t keep going like this.

I loved him.

And, from the way he held me, kissed me…the lyrical remedies he spoke to me…he loved me.

He loves me.

I’d confront him about this intuitive feeling.

Tonight.

–

“And this one I got when we were in Australia last year. I had this idea of getting ink everytime we hit a new city. But it got kind of expensive. Plus, we’re always so busy now that it’s, like, do I wanna eat or get a tattoo?”

“Get a tattoo, obviously,” Sam scoffed from the couch, a hint of tease within his tone. He scrolled mindlessly on his phone, barely a part of the conversation, just a nuisance, really.

Ronnie met my eyes and rolled her gaze, “Anyways-“

I giggled at the interaction before returning my line of sight to her arm. She pointed upon another piece of art inked onto her skin, diving into the backstory for that specific moment in time. Though it looked, to any passerby, that she was simply splattered with random images, doodles, animals, symbols- there was meaning to each and every piece on her body.

Tonight’s show had been postponed until tomorrow due to the monstrous thunderstorm that knocked out the power on that side of the city. With half the town closed down and plenty of free time now on our hands, Ronnie, Sam, and I found ourselves in our hotel room. We had been laying around for the majority of the afternoon, random topics on our minds.

I was killing time until I could chase Oliver down in his room, make my big stupid love confession.

Having admired Ronnie’s tattoos for a while, I was glad to finally have some extra time to ask her about all of them. It was always nice to get to talk to her, especially this in-depth, about most anything. She was intelligent and, frankly, hilarious.

She finished telling me the story about the horseshoe around her elbow. Then, before she continued down her left arm, she paused, another thought having intruded her concentration, “Daz.”

I tilted my head in recognition of my name, encouraging her to go on. She gave a little grin, like she had some sort of coy idea floating around in her head, “You don’t have any tattoos? Right?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. I definitely want some. Honestly, I get a little nervous,” I sheepishly admitted to what was holding me back.

Ronnie’s expression positively grew. I understood, based on the context clues and the way she peered over at me, what she was getting at now.

“Half the city is out of power,” I raised my brows at her. I wasn’t opposed to the idea- I, myself, even had a little smile itching at my lips. I was just…a little scared, to be honest. I hated needles, like any average person did. Plus, the idea of something so permanent on my skin terrified me. What would I even get?

“I know a guy. He’d come to us.”

“I don’t know what I’d get! I can’t do last minute things like this. I’ll regret it forever,” I giggled, though what I was saying was true.

Ronnie sat up, grasping my hands in hers. She clutched on, begging from her knees on the bed beside me, “That’s the best way to get a tattoo. Get something stupid, something you don’t even know if you like, so you can regret it and hate it until you finally decide to love it! Plus, what a memory we’ll make, Daz! We’ve barely gotten to do anything together this summer, yet you’ve become like a sister to me. We have to do it!”

Sam came out of the bathroom, face half-covered in shaving cream, razor dangling between his fingertips. He met my gaze as I turned my head towards him, a relaxed, pleased look on his brows. “Daz…”

“Sam..” I returned his tone, awaiting his criticism, his claims of me being too good-two-shoes to follow through.

His brows rose more, “Daz! Come on! You have to!”

“Sam, really? I thought you of all people would hate this idea! You really think I should do it?” I was shocked, to say the least. Where was his chidness? His disapproval? The daunting argument always between us?

Nowhere to be found. It was like character development, magically morphing itself before my eyes.

“You have to! You said yourself, this summer is supposed to be about letting go, having fun, being dumb. So far, I haven’t seen you let go and be dumb at all. So, you have to check those off your list! What better way to do that than by getting an impulsive tattoo?” He pointed.

If only he knew just how dumb I’d been this entire time.

I think he’d have killed me if he found out even just a shred of the truth.

He was right, anyway. What I thought was letting go, not caring- it wasn’t. And I knew that now. It was exactly what Adam had been telling me.

Oh, well. Sam would soon know the truth, once Oliver and I talked through the relationship. I’d deal with that hill after the mountain.

Everything between me and Oliver was out of my control- yet, I was clutching to the situation with white knuckles.

The idea of a tattoo was a distraction, a shred of proof, to myself, that I could control something. That I could genuinely let go of fate for a moment or two.

Besides, I’d always hear that tattoo therapy was the best kind of way to get through shit.

“Fuck it.”

So, there I sat, still in my pajamas, fuzzy socks on my feet, on the edge of my hotel bed, arm propped up on Ronnie’s friend Frank’s stand he’d brought with him.

I didn’t know what I was getting. Ronnie convinced me to let her pick something out, but I only let her do so if Sam had approved it first. The giddy expression on his face and the squeeze around my shoulders that he gave me signaled that it was a good pick.

My knee was bouncing. Anxiety that I more than expected filtered through my system like a poison. I steadied my breathing, focused on the fidget ring I wore on my left hand. Frank was setting everything up on this collapsible tablet he’d unpacked from this wagon he stepped into the room with. Ronnie and Sam talked his ear off, laughing over old memories they all shared. I didn’t even know my brother knew this guy, but I guess he had this entire life I didn’t know about in the first place.

I kept to myself, fit with the quiet introduction I offered and the stress that bled off of my skin in droplets of sweat.

more pre tattoo shit

“You love it?” Ronnie stood behind me in the mirror,

cutest poolside

“What the fuck!” Max bounded through the door. He had a Sleep Token bucket hat on his hair and I nearly snorted at how goofy it looked on his head.

But, any tease I wanted to prod him with was curbed as he brought his complaints further into the hotel room. He spotted me after looking over the rest of the habitants. His offended expression didn’t lessen, though, like I thought it would once he fell into his usual routine of laughter and flirts. Instead, when he approached me, towering over my lounged sprawl across my bed, he noticed the black ink pooling beneath the dermal-wrap on my forearm. His brows shot up underneath the rim of the bucket hat that I was beginning to grow just a little jealous of.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t gotten into the boys’ music ever since the show. But I’d never admit that to any of them. Especially not my brother, who would’ve acted like the snarkiest prick because of his incessant need to be right, even though he was usually quite wrong.

“No fucking way!” Max climbed onto the bed beside me, crawling across the messy sheets by his knees. He stopped beside me and grasped my wrist in his hands.

The pull gently lurched me forward, forcing me to sit up. I dropped my phone to the bed beside me as Max dipped his head low, examining my new tattoo. I giggled at his wonderment.

“You got a tattoo! Without me! What the fuck! Daz, I’m hurt!” Max pouted, meeting my eyes with the puppy dog expression sinking in his brown ones.

Adam, Cyrus, and Oliver had shuffled into the room. The former two latched onto the tattooist’s conversation with my brother and Ronnie. They started bouncing ideas off of him as quick as one could blink. I wondered where they thought they could fit more ink on their already crowded skin.

Meanwhile, Oliver wasn’t being shy with how obvious he was, peering towards Max and I like we were a museum attraction. But, I was probably the only one to notice how his gaze first latched onto Max’s fingers, gripping my arm. Then, he moved his attention to my tattoo, trying to make out its shape from the distant angle at which he stood.

I felt it now, more than ever, since I’d confirmed the feelings in my gut and let them rise to the surface. Just looking at him, I knew it…I loved him so fucking much.

Though Oliver had averted his expression, his point of view, I knew what that first glance had been. I knew that burn in his gaze, the sickening claim in his pupils. Jealousy. So sickly sweet and insecure.

Suddenly self aware, if only because of that strange understanding I had of him, I slipped my hand from Max’s. I pulled my knees in front of my chest which expanded the distance between us. Though the movement was light, Max noticed it like noticed his own breaths.

His words stuttered for a moment, fading away as the proof settled in the room, “How’d you deci- decide….on…” He filtered his look from my face then over his shoulder, at Oliver. I had peered at the latter for a moment too long, a gaze which was easily noticed by my friend.

“On it,” Max’s tone fell off. Oliver didn’t meet his eye, his gaze latched onto my tattoo still. What had been an observational moment for Oliver turned into an avoidance of Max’s confrontation.

I was seeing through the smog now, the rose colored glasses just a bit dimmer than they had been before. And Oliver looked…he looked ashamed. Ashamed that Max was finding out, or ashamed that he had been with me? I would soon find out.

Max glanced back at me. I followed the curves on the sheets with a distanced glaze behind my lids, barren all the same. Then, Max looked to his friend again.

He waited for someone to say something. But neither of us would wave a white flag, nor would we confess to the guilty sin. My plan had been to tell Oliver how I felt, then tell everyone if I needed to.

And I didn’t really want to. Especially not Max. I felt like I’d betrayed his trust.

Max sighed, sitting up a bit straighter. He dropped a gaped, “Oh,” before pulling himself off of the bed, becoming a part of everyone else’s momentum.

My body paused, Oliver and I tangled in the poison ivy on the cream colored wallpaper behind me. He didn’t look at me, he didn’t breath, he didn’t do anything. He just stood there, anxiety bleeding off his healed scars like me.

I hadn’t expected him to jump onto the bed, proclaim his love for me, and tell the judgemental town folk that they just didn’t understand Romeo and Juliet. But, something other than his quiet treason would have been everything to my jittery frame.

I would have appreciated it if he had, at least, told Max to forget about it. If he would have shoveled some excuse off the tip of his tongue, defended me, us, the stupid love affair we thought was getting us somewhere.

But he didn’t.

He just fucking stood there, like he always did.

It made the confidence Id just built up waver a bit.

I was too anxious to really do anything, either. I couldn’t find the nerve to stand on my own two feet, let alone pull Max aside and try to excuse our indiscretions. The room was suffocating as the stress further settled in.

Max knew. Max knew.

He knew.

The cat would tear itself out of the bag any day now if I couldn’t get it under control today.

It was only a matter of a ticking time bomb. When would the seconds run out? When would the explosion shatter my skull?

I thought about running out of the room, tossing myself off the balcony.

But before I could find the strength to get my footing on the carpet of the hotel room floor, someone was saying my name. Someone was dragging me into a conversation, turning the room’s energy onto me and Oliver’s sad, pathetic, bubble of shame, anxiety, and ruthless obsession.

I snapped out of my fragile little frame like the chill girl that I was and answered the question Sam had asked;

“Do you remember mom’s joke? About the flowers?”

I rubbed my dried lips together until they morphed easily into a sweet smile. The anxiety was pushed back down, like it always was, as I played my old, now forgotten role, “Which one? She had that book behind the counter. She harassed customers with it. Said she’d been a comedian in an alternate timeline, but I don’t think so.”

Sam rolled his eyes gleefully. The room shared a laugh at the thought of some eclectic woman, chasing customers out of her flower shop with a thrifted joke book before her eyes. I remember one time she tripped over a pot and nearly fell onto the concrete floor, already sprinkled with petals and cut-off flower stems. She caught herself, but fell to her knees with laughter. Sam rolled his eyes from behind the counter, where he’d been doing homework.

But, I could see myself, 10, braided plaits in my hair, scurrying over from my seat at the window. I abandoned my book, something I never did, to bask in my mom’s joyous laughter, something I missed more than air these days.

I wonder what Oliver thought of this story, now knowing what he knew. I wanted to look for him, for a smile. But I kept staring straight, at my brother.

“I know, but it was, like- it was the one about the photos and the camera. Something, like…” he racked his brain, concentration on his blond brows. “Helping..plants?”

“Helping the plant photosynthesize!” I straightened up as the punchline lurched from the depths of my memories.

Sam and I laughed, louder than the others possibly could, as we shared a sacred vision, as blurry as my eyes, as fleeting as the smell of our mom’s perfume. She loved that joke.

I could do with a little bit of her humor, now more than ever.

The things she’d say, if she could see me now…

Regardless, I think she’d have liked Oliver.

“Well, don’t bother telling the joke,” Ronnie snickered, patting Sam’s shoulder.

I noticed the intensity of his bone, from just the longer of her fingers on his clothed-skin. But he easily hid that before it became obvious. I recognized that flinch…But my brain was too busy to really memorize the interaction, let alone evaluate it.

“You spoiled it!” Ronnie drew another laugh from the crowd.

The joking continued, though the topic moved away from our mom. My thoughts lingered on her, as Adam moved to the tattoo station, the artist having found a spare spot on his shoulder to put some symbol I couldn’t make out.

My attention turned to my arm, to the burning ink settling its way into the layers of my derma. Two thin flowers, stems rooted in nothing but my pink skin, no soil in sight, just the garden of my body. The petals shaped out the delicate curve of the pair of daisies, my mom’s initials written out to the left of the small bouquet.

I looked up when I felt someone’s gaze on my face. It was Sam, watching me admiring my tattoo with this awestruck way that only a brother who loved his sister could appear.

For the first time in a very long time, I felt the urge to break the distance between us. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and held him tightly against me. He didn’t hesitate to embrace me, even tighter. When he pulled apart, he pressed a kiss to my hairline.

“I love you, Sam ham.”

He punched my shoulder.

I was so scared to tell him about Oliver, though I was now realizing it would have to happen eventually. Adam’s advice- unsolicited, sure- had given me so much clarity. I was running, so much, so far, on broken ankles. Running from the truth, from myself.

I couldn’t anymore.

I went to say something else, but a phone started ringing in the room somewhere. It wouldn’t have been too halting if, when I passively looked over my shoulder, it hadn’t been Oliver’s cell.

He tugged it from his pocket, curiously reading the contact across the screen. As always, he denied the call and stuck it back in his pocket. He’d told me before that he thought it rude to answer it in front of others. Yet, as soon as he put it away, it began ringing again.

He went to deny it, again, when Cy called out a tease from his seat on the couch. “Dude, just go outside and answer it. Could be someone important.”

“It’s not,” Oliver muttered, denying it.

It was ringing. Again.

“Your mom?” Sam inquired, brows furrowed.

I knew Oliver’s mom didn’t call often, a small detail he’d told me once in a fleeting conversation about his family, a set of people he didn’t really identify himself with if only because of the distance between them all.

So, when she did call, he’d always take it. Couldn’t be her, but I couldn’t vocalize this knowledge.

Oliver shook his head, confirming my suspicion. Everyone else that I knew he spoke to was in this room.

Spam, probably.

Oliver denied the call. It was ringing before he could hide it away, shut it off, hell- throw it out the window.

Oliver huffed, loudly. Sam snickered, then, a knowing chuckle that told me he knew something I didn’t.

“Ooo,” Sam took a few steps towards his friend, who was still seated on the couch. He peered over Oliver’s shoulder, who quickly hid the phone. “That tells me all I need to know.”

“Shut up, dude,” Oliver’s eyes rolled over mine, shortly, quickly, ashamedly.

This was, really, where things did start to fall apart, if I had to pick a singular moment in time and stamp it.

This was it. The end of it all. My demise.

Our fate finally crawling from our throats.

Where I thought I had control, where I thought I knew exactly how to handle the situation, cure our disease…

There were cells multiplying beneath our pale skin.

Max, sat on the couch now, stood to his feet with a sense of urgency. He met my eyes as I glanced at him, right before things clicked in my head, right before Sam opened his mouth. It was like he could see the future, his intuition screeching like a siren. Once the bomb dropped, I noticed the panic in Max’s eyes and looked back to my brother, towards Oliver, who gazed at me again, as fleeting as that final look was.

“Ah, it’s your little girlfriend. Knew you two would get back together. How is Fiona these days? Still annoying as ever?” Sam seemed amused by the moment.

He was so unaware of the drama layered just underneath the careless air he easily existed in, so unaware of the panic in my body as I fled from the room. I made no attempt to make myself seem casual or fucking chill.

Max didn’t hesitate to follow me. He was on my heels, hot as the summer air just outside of the windows.

But, I ignored him as he called out my name.

The air in my lungs was burning, like I was going up in flames from the inside out. Maybe it was that pain, or maybe it was the choking tears flooding down my cheeks, but- my vision was blurring. I was dizzy. Short-lived muscle memory is the only thing that got me to the elevator doors. But, I couldn’t find the button. I slammed my fingers against the wall, only feeling the dry scratch of the decorative paper beneath my prints.

My lips wobbled like a child’s, blubbers that were supposed to be sobs flustering out from my tongue. “Where is it? Where the fuck is it?” I whispered to myself, pointer finger numb from how harshly I was jabbing the wall.

My harbors had gone up in flames. I was floating in deep, deathly waters with nowhere to anchor. Until- Max’s voice finally caught up with me. One gentle hand on the dip of my back, one carefully wrapping its fingers around my wrist.

I couldn’t resist, not that I really wanted to, as his towering, homely frame took me in, cradled me like the child I needed to be in this moment.

The elevator finally beeped, the doors opening like another set of warm, homely arms. Max guided us inside and peeled one of his hands away from me to press the button for the second floor.

I half-expected Oliver to chase us down, to lodge his body between the doors, grab me from Max’s arms. I wanted him to chase me out into the rain, flag down a taxi, meet me at the airport like some cheesy rom-com scene.

But, he didn’t.

In fact, he didn’t say anything to me for three whole fucking days.

[illiterateaffairs]

behind the scenes chapter three | friends with professional benefits

masterlist | prev | next

pairing: jamie tartt x actress!reader (ted lasso)

rating: T

word count: 3,410

summary: you and jamie get to know each other. let the games begin.

a/n: this is coming out later than i had planned but i hope it was worth the wait! going to be less busy this coming weekend so hope to share more soon and get a lot of chapters in the queue for you all <3

Five days. It had been five days since you and Jamie agreed on your plan to fake date in front of the entire world. And although you didn’t regret the idea - yet - you’d still had enough time to overthink and suddenly become very nervous about things going wrong. 

You hadn’t seen Jamie since your conversation in the café, but you had various text exchanges throughout the week. At some point Jamie had asked you what your contact name was for him.

what do you mean? it's your name. jamie.

just jamie?

what else would it be?

you’ve gotta add emojis luv if someone sees your phone it's gotta look like i’m ur boyfriend. mine says ur name with like 5 hearts

That’s when you realized you needed to be more thorough than you thought. 

Which is precisely why Jamie was coming over to your flat today. Sure you’d known you needed to get together sooner or later to talk through the plan as a whole, but today you were armed with a checklist of things to cover. 

You’d also talked things over with Margot earlier in the week. And Harry. But that conversation had been a lot more cut and dry. He was over the moon you were doing this, and sent you an email with own list of requirements. It basically started and ended with: be a couple in PUBLIC. 

With Margot, she’d repeatedly asked if you were sure about the whole thing. You’d told her over and over again that, yes, you had never been more sure of anything in your life. Though by the fourth reassurance, you weren’t sure how convincing you sounded. 

Either way, you were committed to this and dammit if you weren’t going to see this through. This was just another role you had to play. It’s what you did best.

From your spot on your coach, you nearly fall off of it when there’s a knock on your door. 

Jamie.

Its go time. 

You put your laptop down on the coffee table and jog over to the front door. Pulling it open, you’re actually surprised to see Jamie standing on your doorstep holding a bouquet of flowers. 

You squint, “Are those for me?”

Jamie scoffs, “No, they’re for your elderly neighbor I just passed. I’m hoping you can introduce me.” You roll your eyes but give him a smile, “Of course they’re for you. We have to make this look convincing right?”

“Jamie, there’s nobody else here.”

“Okay, but what about paparazzi? One could be lurking about and catching me visiting your flat would be the perfect kickstart to this whole thing.”

You chuckle, “I doubt there’s any photographers around here.” Still you look around behind him, and after seeing no one, you pull him into your apartment and shut the door.

“Still, you know Google Earth. Always taking pics,” Jamie jokes, laughing to himself as he steps further into your living room.

You stop in your place before you follow him, “Did you just quote Parks and Rec?”

Jamie spins around, “You understood that reference?” 

You laugh in disbelief, “Of course. It's one of my favorite shows.”

“Same,” he smiles, “Used to watch it with my Mum all the time in high school.”

“I love that,” you smile back, closing the gap between the two of you so you can take the flowers from his hands, “These are pretty by the way. Let me go put them in a vase but feel free to make yourself at home.”

You’re quick to fill up a vase in your kitchen, leaving the flowers on the counter, but are surprised to return to Jamie still standing in the middle of your living room, looking around.

“This place doesn’t seem very you,” he comments as you return, plopping down on the couch.

“How would you know? You just met me,” you ask teasingly.

“Well, that’s the point of today isn’t it,” Jamie teases back, joining you on the couch, “Still, it seems very posh and you seem a lot more chill.”

You nod, “Well, I’m just renting this place while I’m here so not much of it is mine. I’m thinking about decorating it a bit to make it more homey.”

“Well if you need any recommendations for places to look, I know some stores that have cool shit.”

“I may have to take you up on that.”

You lean forward and grab your laptop again. You glance over the excel sheet you had open and try to figure out where to start.

“What you lookin’ at over there?” Jamie asks curiously, trying to peak over.

“I want a way to keep track of all the things we need to figure out like our cover story and just things we need to know about each other,” You explain, turning your computer towards him.

His eyes widen at the very detailed and colored coded document you had laid out. “Wow, that’s…intense.”

You chuckle, “Yeah, I may be a creative but I am very Type A. I also don’t want to fuck this up so I think it would nice to have a place to keep track of everything. I can email this to you if you want? Or ooh! I can upload it to Google Drive so we can both edit it.”

Jamie shakes his head, but there’s a small smile on his face, “Sure. Where should we start, Boss?”

“Well, I feel like the most obvious thing we need to cover is how did we meet? How did we get together?”

Jamie’s thoughtful for a second before shrugging, “I feel like we could use how we actually met, you know? It’s realistic because it's actually real. And keeps it simple. We ran into each other and got coffee, or hot chocolate, as some may prefer.”

“Nice, you remember my preferred beverage,” you smile as you start typing in the doc, “Who asked who out? Did we do it that day?”

“You asked to exchange numbers, but I reached out a couple days later. Maybe we went on our first date last weekend?”

You nod thoughtfully, “That works.”

“It would’ve had to have been Friday, though,” he adds, “I had a match Saturday afternoon and told Keeley about seeing someone that night.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, “I filmed late on Friday night.”

Jamie shrugs, “I could’ve waited up for you. Got drinks at a bar?”

Your lips quirk up at the thoughtfulness - even though it was made up.

“Okay,” you continue filling out your spreadsheet, “I have a list of things that one might normally know about a significant other, but since our “relationship” is so new, I think we only need to cover what you would on a first date.”

Jamie’s eyebrows furrow, “Like…what?”

You glance up at him, “What? Jamie Tartt’s never been on a date before?”

He laughs awkwardly, “I’ve obviously been on dates. But we didn’t really do a lot of talking.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh lovely. Alrighty, then, let's just focus on what normal people do the first time they’re getting to know someone.”

“Fine,” Jamie sighs, “Hit me.”

“What’s your…favorite color?”

“Seriously?”

“What?” you laugh, “It's a completely normal question.”

“Yeah, for five year-olds,” he frowns, crossing his arms.

“Come on, you’re seriously going to sit here and tell me you don’t have a favorite color?”

“I dunno,” he shakes his head looking around, “Maybe, blue?”

“Blue? Come on, that’s such a boy answer,” you mock.

“Well, I am a boy if you haven’t noticed,” Jamie throws back defensively, “Its my favorite color your asking, is it not?”

You bite your lip to keep from laughing, amused by how seriously he’s taking this, “It is. Why blue then?”

He shrugs, “Dunno. It’s one of Richmond’s colors. Was a Man City color, which is the team I used to play for and my hometown team. I remember my mum wearing it a lot growing up.”

A genuine smile starts to form on your face as you listen to him ramble. It was the second time he’d brought up his mom. “Are you and your mom really close?”

He turns to you, a little taken back, “You ask about parents on a first date?”

You shrug one shoulder, “If it's going well.”

Jamie has to turn back away from you so he doesn’t do something stupid like blush. He decides to focus on answering your question. “We are. She’s sort of like...my rock, I guess? She’s actually the one who got me into football.”

You nod, listening intently, “And your dad?”

You notice Jamie tense slightly, but he turns back to you with a half smile, “Our relationship’s a bit complicated. Maybe that’s more of a story for a fifth date or something.”

You give him a kind smile, “That’s fair.” And then you turn back to your laptop screen.

“What about you?” Jamie asks after a beat.

You look up with raised eyebrows, “Me? My favorite color is yellow.”

Jamie chuckles, “Noted. But no, I meant, what's your relationship with your parents like?”

“Oh!” you chuckle lightly with him, “My mom is the best. Feels like she might get along with yours; she’s the reason I’m an actor.” Jamie’s smile grows, “She did literally everything in the world to support me even though she was a single mother. I never knew my dad though. He left my mom before I was born so he’s never been around.”

“Oh, that sucks, I’m sorry,” Jamie says softly.

“It’s fine. I don’t know him. And from the brief things my mom has said, its probably for the best. And honestly it's okay. Mom’s been more than enough on her own.”

Jamie nods, the smile back on his face. “Okay, anything else you got on that list besides colors and parents?”

“Oh, I have plenty,” you chuckle, “But feel free to ask me anything of your own?”

“Hmm,” Jamie thinks for a second, “What's your favorite flower?”

You look up, amused, “My favorite flower?”

“Yeah. You know that way I can be more specific next time I get you some,”

You once again have to bite back a smile, “Uh, I would say daisies are my favorite flower.” Jamie nods, committing the information to memory, “What about you?”

“Me?” you nod and Jamie doesn’t even hesitate, “I think lilies are nice.”

“Lillies are nice,” you agree, typing it into the doc.

That’s how you spend the next hour or so, asking one another trivia about each other and inputting it into the doc for ease of studying later. You learn about each others childhood pets and the careers you wanted when you were five. You learn each other's favorite foods, stores, bands, as well as the little things you hated. You learned more about his teammates, particularly those closest to him like Sam, Isaac, Colin and Dani. In turn you told him about how Margot was more like a sister to you even if she was technically your employee, as well as your childhood next door neighbor Katie who was still your best friend today.

You only realize you’d been talking for so long when your stomach lets out a growl, and Jamie doesn’t even pretend to courteously not hear it when he lets out a belly laugh. 

“Leave me alone, it actually is almost dinner time, dude,” you defend, even though you find yourself laughing along with him.

“Fair point,” he amends when he catches his breath, “Do you want to order in?”

You don’t even protest the idea of prolonging your time together, thoroughly enjoying getting to know him, “Sure. I can order a pizza.”

You start searching local pizza places into Google, when you remember another item of business you had on your list. 

“Ooh, that packet on the coffee table is for you.” you nod in the direction of said stack of papers.

Jamie sits up, intrigued by the mysterious document, and picks it up. He squints at the weird legalese, “Is this…a contract?” You nod, “What, you don’t trust me or something?”

“No, it's not that, it's just standard,” you shrug, “It's more or less just to appease my publicist and the like.” Jamie still looks unsure, so you sit up and start flipping pages of the document for him, “Looks, its no big deal. I already signed it myself. It just states we can’t tell anyone about this. Besides, the NDA expires in 5 years anyway. So by that time, I’ll have an Oscar and you’ll be a washed up football player, and no one will believe you if you said anything.”

Jamie huffs, “I want to be offended by that, but you called it football so I’ll accept it.”

You smirk, “See, I’m a fast learner.” Then you settle back into your spot on the couch and carry on ordering pizza. 

Jamie looks over the packet again, before siding it was no use tonight, “You mind if I look this over and get it back to you in a few days?”

You nod, “Of course.”

“And your publicist knows? I mean obviously. And assuming Margot knows? Have you told anyone else?” he asks.

“Nope, that’s all,” You answer, “I get it if you want someone to confide in, but I figure the tighter we keep the circle, the better, right?” Jamie nods, “I mean have you told your publicist or professional team?”

Jamie laughs humorlessly, “My publicist is my ex, Keeley.”

You once again look up at him with your mouth agape, “Nooo, how does that happen?”

Jamie shakes his head, “Not intentionally. She took over the club’s PR before I came back to the team and I guess I never thought to find someone else. We became friends, genuine friends, but then everything got tangled up again a few months ago. And yeah. Here we are.”

You look at him for a few seconds before you let out a deep breath, “Well, that all sounds fun. A real incestuous family you got going on over there at AFC Richmond huh?”

Jamie can’t help but laugh along with you, “Yeah, look what you’re marrying into.”

You chuckle, but weirdly you feel your stomach flip at his phrasing. You brush right past it in order to collect his pizza preferences. As you finalize submitting the order, Jamie starts over analyzing your apartment again. This time he’s a bit more nosy and pulls open some of the coffee table drawers. He gasps when he pulls open the second one.

“No way. Please tell me this is yours and it didn’t just come with the place.”

When you look up, he’s holding up a Mario Kart game cover. 

You scoff, “Of course that’s mine.” 

“I haven’t played this in ages,” Jamie says, studying the back cover. 

Another smile plays at your lips. You nod at the TV in front of you, “I can hook up my Switch if you want. It’s been a while since I’ve played with someone other than myself.”

Jamie looks up at you, an excited grin forming on his face. “You’re fucking on.”

And so you spend the next hour competing against Jamie in various Mario Kart races. You play as Toad, naturally. Jamie plays as Princess Peach which makes you laugh. In between rounds, you munch on pizza and breadsticks. You also manage to get to know each other more, and set up ground rules for your charade even as you trash talk one another.

“I feel like the most important is PDA,” you state, somehow managing to focus on not falling off rainbow road while also talking strategy.

“Well, we’ve obviously got to do some of it,” Jamie comments, cursing as he gets hit with a shell, “It would look weird if we didn’t sometimes.”

“Sure, but we’ve gotta have some boundaries. We can’t just be kissing each other willy-nilly.”

Jamie chuckles, “Well, yeah, consent is key.”

Your lips quirk, “I’m completely fine with small things like hugs and hand holding whenever it seems fit.”

“Okay, cool, yeah,” Jamie nods, “And if you’re fine with it, kisses on the cheek are pretty innocent.”

“Yeah,” you nod, swerving to avoid a banana, “But actual kissing…”

Neither of you know how to finish that sentence. However, your race comes to an end. This time you get away with first place, Jamie in second, which you’d be switching between throughout the evening. Without gameplay to distract you, you have to make a decision.

“Maybe we just take it as it comes?” you suggest slowly, “I mean, couples kiss right? So if it feels right in the moment, it's not a big deal for a peck here and there?”

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees, “And if there’s ever a time we need to make a show of it, we check in with each other. Either beforehand, or if its in the moment, we give each other a signal.”

“A signal?”

“Yeah, like we blink twice or something.”

You nod, “Blink twice. Okay. And if we’re ever uncomfortable with something, we just have to communicate with each other, right?”

“Right.” Jamie nods. After a beat, he extends his hand, “Looks like we’re doing this.”

You chuckle, but shake his hand none the less, “We’re doing this.��

You exchange smiles. Now that the sun has gone down, Jamie decides its probably time to head out for the night, feeling like you’d accomplished a lot over the course of the evening.

As you walk him to your door, you ask one last question, “There was actually one more thing I wanted to ask. If you’re free Thursday night, do you want to come to an event with me? Isabel Mercer’s new movie is premiering, and since she’s dating my costar the whole cast is going. Figure it might be a good place to make a public debut?”

Jamie smirks, “A movie premiere? You should have started with that.”

You snort, “Yeah, well, I had to make sure this mock-date went well first.”

“I’d say it went very well, wouldn’t you?” Jamie smiles, “I think we’ve got this shit in the bag.”

You laugh, “So I guess that means you’re in?”

Jamie does a half bow, “I would be honored.”  

“Good, because I hate going to these things. I need someone to suffer through it with me.”

Jamie fake-pouts, “Don’t try to make this sound less fun for me.”

You shake your head, and you make your voice really high as you reply, “Don’t worry, it’ll be great!”

Jamie tsks, “You’re gonna have to be better than that when we’re trying to convince the whole world we’re madly in love.”

“Yeah, yeah, get out of here,” You tease, opening your front door and gently shoving him towards it.

Jamie turns to you with a smile, “Good night, girlfriend.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and give him a smile of your own, “Good night, boyfriend.”

Before you can process what he’s doing, he’s leaning in to press a quick kiss to your cheek. Before he completely pulls away, he whispers in your ear, “Google Earth.” He gives you once last smirk before jogging down the steps. 

You shake your head as you lock up. This was certainly going to be an experience these next three months. 

You flop back down on your couch to review your notes from the evening. After reading through for a few minutes, you remember you hadn’t checked your phone the entire time he was there. Aside from a couple emails and a text from your mom, you didn’t have much since it was a Saturday. However, you also have 2 texts from Margot. The first you had missed from earlier this afternoon, which was a link to tweet from an updates account about you. The tweet contained pictures of Jamie arriving at your flat earlier that day. The second had been sent minutes ago, including a tweet from the same account, this time with pictures of Jamie leaving literally ten minutes ago.

The devil works hard, but paparazzi and stans work harder.

You also realize that Jamie had been right. That smug bastard.

You couldn’t be too annoyed though. The comments under the tweets, even the most recent, were filled with people surprised yet supportive of your coupling. A few even conceding that you did look cute in a relationship. You smile to yourself as you scroll through.

Shit. This was going to work. 

a/n: can’t wait to hear what you guys think!!! :))))))

taglist: @respondingtoshowerthoughts-blog​ @royalestrellas​ @loveslide​ @torpedo-belly​ @skewedcherries​ @littlemisssunshine192​ @hopefulromances​ @breakmyheartlater​ @ohpuckyeah​ @alipap3​ @meg-ro​ @rexorangecouny​ @pythagothug​ @bonesbonesetc​ @xxenia14​ @rockchickrebel​ @thatonedogwithablog​ @percysaidnever​ @msjb2002​ @loveforaugust​ @dicgohargreeves​ @whimsical-roasting​ @gcidrvsh @lightninginab0ttle it wouldn’t let me tag the last couple of you, but i will keep trying <3

[writerblue275]

Pet name headcanons for Jayce/Viktor

My first Arcane headcanon! I FUCKING LOVE THIS SHOW and I hate that it took me so long to watch it, but I can’t wait for next year for season 2!

Inspiration: A. Being a full simp for Viktor. B. Secretly also being a simp for Jayce (LMAO). C. Listening to the beauty that is the Arcane score.

Genre: Headcanon

Category: Fluff!!

Gender: Primarily Gender Neutral reader. Some of Jayce’s definitely are more gender specific but I can’t help but think he’d use them (as long as his partner was alright with it of course).

TW: Swearing because I have the mouth of a damn sailor.

Viktor

(The way this man had me in a CHOKEHOLD the second he walked on screen! LOML.)

Pet names for his partner:

Viktor’s intelligence and you think he’s using boring pet names for you??? Absolutely not.

Come now…you know him far better than that…this man is far too creative to be limited by "babe" or "baby" (no offense meant to anyone who uses those, I also use them for romantic partners so I get it).

Ok, maybe early on in your relationship as he was opening up to you, he used some simple classics. Ones like “my dear” or “honey.” These are the main ones he'll also continue to use in public. He's just a private person and I can't see him using any crazy pet names in public with his partner.

Once he’s settled into his routine with you in it and you two spend more time alone/on dates, he starts to have fun, seeing what reactions he can draw out of you with different pet names. (Viktor is surprisingly adept at flirting and playful teasing. It's that sharp wit. He's just so good at banter.)

He figures out the ones that make you smile and the ones that make you blush. Those are the ones he keeps.

There are a few “traditional” ones that Viktor keeps using for you because he loves how they turn your cheeks pink (especially when he says them with a cute little side smile, smirk, or chuckle).

“My darling,” “my love,” “my heart,” or “sweetheart” are the main ones in that category. (I feel like he is such a romantic under all that workaholic, he just needs to get out of the lab and LET IT OUT.)

Others would be cute, but unique. “My sunshine,” “my owl,” (if your sleep schedule is also fucked) “my sunflower,” “butterfly,” ”my flower,” "otter," or “birdie” would be some examples of what I mean. (LMAO Jayce is never hearing him call you any of those. Viktor is 99% sure he'd never hear the end of the teasing from his lab partner.)

If you’re also in academia/research/work at the academy, Viktor would teasingly call you “my most esteemed colleague” or if you’re in sciences specifically, “my fellow scientific genius.”

Pet names from his partner:

As you and Viktor get more comfortable in your relationship, he'd really come to enjoy pet names from you. He just needs to get used to the affection (I'd imagine he's not the most experienced with romance). I think he'd like the funnier ones earlier before the more romantic ones.

(For those in academia/research/at the academy) You and Viktor really weren't super open to other people about starting a relationship (neither of you felt the need to be, but like you would tell people if they asked).

In these early days, "My most esteemed colleague" was a cheeky way for both of you to very subtly announce your affection in public. (I have such a cute idea for a headcanon/drabble based on this oh my GOD.) Even though more people definitely know about your relationship, both you and Viktor still use the pet name when you walk into each other's lab/classroom/office.

When you go to try and collect him from his desk so he can take care of himself, tease him with "genius," "smarty pants," or "bookworm" (especially if you find him with his nose buried in his notes again).

Viktor is a fairly private person, so "honey" is probably the sweetest one you'd normally use in public. But if you do want to see his ears turn pink, feel free to throw "love" out there every once in a while.

In private? As I said, under all the genius is a romantic, so get as soft and sweet as you want.

It surprises him how much he loves hearing you call him "handsome." He's never been super vain about his appearance (though he always looks pretty put together), but knowing that you find him handsome makes him stand up a little straighter.

Just as Viktor uses "my darling," "my heart," and "my love" for you, he loves it even more when you call HIM those. It's the easiest way to drag him away from the lab when the teasing pet names above don't quite do the trick: Come up behind him while he's at his desk (obviously not while he's doing something dangerous), wrap your arms around him, and softly murmur "my love..." into his ear. You can visibly see his resolve break and you know you've won.

Love love LOVE the idea of using the Russian diminutive of Viktor's name: "Vitya." It makes a lot of sense for a romantic partner to call him that.

Jayce

Pet names for his partner:

Ok, so one of my best friends and I give Jayce quite a bit of shit when we text each other about Arcane (he’s a bit of a himbo, your Honor).

BUT I actually think Jayce would be a great romantic partner and the pet names he uses would be very sweet.

He’d definitely use the classics like “baby” or “babe” for you. I don’t think he’d go mushy classic though (think “my darling” or “my love”). But "babe" and "baby" are definitely the most common ones he'd use when you two are out in public.

Can also see him using cute ones like “sunshine,” “shorty,” or “peanut.” (I mean hey, 6' (as confirmed by Riot) is a pretty good height.) Those last two are loving teases. He never means "shorty" in a mean way.

And when he’s about to envelop you in a hug (I imagine Jayce gives EXCELLENT hugs) he’d call you “squish.” Ex: “C’mere squish….” (When he gets home after a long day of being a councilman.)

“Sugar” or “sweetheart” are also on the table. This very big man has a very soft side. We even saw examples of this during season one.

Now that he’s put House Talis on Piltover’s social ladder, he’s understandably proud. What he’s done doesn’t happen often. Very rarely does high society make room for others to enter at all, and now he's the de facto head of Piltover's Council.

The fact you’re willing to stand with him? He’s honored really. But the way he shows it through pet names is interesting. It’s almost a little….teasing? But the intent is genuine. He never wants you to doubt that.

Here’s what I mean (Heads up: gender-specific language incoming): Jayce would smirk and call you “my lady/m’lady” (think Cat Noir’s nickname for Lady Bug from “Miraculous: Tales of Lady Bug and Cat Noir” and especially how he says it, which is often very playfully) or “m’lord.” He’d also use “(my) prince/princess,” especially when he buys you gifts. (I feel like he'd love to spoil his partner omg.)

Pet names from his partner:

Jayce LOVES when you use pet names for him. Honestly it makes him smile. And he loves how creative you’ve gotten with some of them.

Classics for you to use in public would be “babe,” “baby,” or “honey.” Simple and quick, definitely easy to get his attention with those.

If he’s ever talking about HexTech with you, feel free to lovingly tease him with “smarty pants” or “big brain.” (Please listen to this man talk about HexTech. It’s far more interesting than council shit.)

While Viktor is definitely running the lab now that Jayce is a councilor, Jayce is still the face of HexTech (and Piltover’s “Golden Boy” <- call him that to tease him btw), so he’s the main one who tries to secure funding for the lab’s future. This means rubbing elbows with Piltover’s elite and giving speeches at fancy parties and banquets. Honestly he kinda hates it. He gets really nervous beforehand, but, he’s very good at it. Only you and Viktor know about Jayce’s nerves in these situations.

When he’s successful at this schmoozing, use “superstar,” “hotshot,” or “you charmer.” (Ex: (After he comes back from a speech, you’re straightening his tie after kissing his cheek.) “Way to go, hotshot…I saw potential funders pulling out their checkbooks before you were even finished.”)

Ok listen, we’ve all see the forge scenes…Jayce Talis is physically FINE AS FUCK (though OSHA would have something to say about him being shirtless in there 😂). Being a house known for forging tools comes with its physique benefits, so feel free to feed his ego on this point.

He loves when you call him “sexy” or “handsome.” He does like knowing you find him physically attractive.

Whenever he calls you “shorty” or “peanut” feel free to fire back with “big guy.” (I just…Ex- Jayce: *pulls you into a hug and murmurs* “Hey peanut..” You: *smiles and murmurs back* “Hey big guy..” 🥺 FUCK that is just so cute to me.)

He may not call you “my darling” or “my love,” but he LOVES when you call him those. When you do, he is wrapped around your little finger and ready to do whatever you ask of him.

Thank you so much for reading!!

I had such a blast writing this and I’m sooooo excited to get into writing more stuff for Arcane because I really love the show. Shoutout to my bestie (mentioned in Jayce’s first section lol) for also loving Viktor and being excited to read my writing in all its draft-stages!

[azucarmorena97]

Money Ties (Jungkook Love Story || Pt.11)

Pt.10 || Pt.12

Your parents have worked hard to get to the top and have made sure to teach you everything you need to know to be successful in this business: from tough but lucrative financial decisions, down to the right ball gown for any given banquet. A promising and extravagant future awaits you- that is, if you agree to one teensy detail...

Son of Mr.Jeon Sr. and heir to June Company, Jeon Jungkook is an immature playboy with nothing to offer a woman but good looks and a crap ton of money, and he stands to inherit much MUCH more, so long as you both enter into the arranged marriage contract that was drawn up before the pair of you were even born.

You're more than willing to try, but you're not sure you'll be able to stand each other long enough to inherit a single penny...

Series Warnings: There will be smut in the near future and I will label those chapters as such. As I say before most of my pieces- I do not endorse any themes, ideas, or behaviors in this series. This is all purely fiction/fantasy! Feel free to inbox me suggestions/ideas/what you'd like to see in this series and I'll see what I can do! Enjoy <3

Recap: Suddenly, it's as though the world was set to slow motion; Frame by frame, you watch as Jungkook lifts your veil, the last barrier between you and destiny.

He wraps his arm around your waist and brings you closer to him until your faces are centimeters apart, "To the ride," He whispers, drawing back to the night where you both shared a toast at the bar. "To the ride."

His lips collide with yours and eventually, you don't know where you end and he begins- as now, and forevermore, you are but one flesh.

When he pulls away, he looks at you under hooded eyes, lashes barely exposing his beautiful brown irises. You'd give anything to stay like this...

But of course, it comes time for the both of you to turn to everyone: friends, family, and receive their love and cheers. He grabs your hand and then the both of you are running out of the ballroom, the crowds muted by the double doors closing behind the both of you.

For a moment, you and him are alone again, as the photographers haven't made their way out to take your photos.

"You look so beautiful..." He says, his own cheeks blushing slightly. "Thanks...They-they found a dress," You say, adjusting your shoulder straps nervously, feeling quite shy yourself under his gaze.

"I can see..." He can't take his eyes off of you, meanwhile, you're looking everywhere else but at him; you might just burst if you do.

Finally, the photographer comes out and leads you both out to the courtyard of the hotel; the perfect spot for photos. There's a tall fence around the perimeter of the courtyard, along with a tall hedge full of beautiful flowers. You do, however, spot a few cameras being held high on the other side of the fence in order to capture a few lucky pictures of your groom. "Are those...paparazzi?" You ask. "Yeah...a lot of people really care about our wedding." "I can see."

It does make you a tad uncomfortable, but you try to shake it off; this is something you'll have to get used to. Back home, no one really recognizes you- although, you do typically keep a pretty low profile. Jungkook, on the other hand, has a slew of loyal followers ranging in the thousands- as confirmed by his social media.

"Okay, Mr.Jeon, can we get one of you hugging her?" The photographer asks. Without hesitation, Jungkook pulls you in from your waist, pressing you close to himself. You blush, not used to such public displays of affection...not used to affection very much at all, considering you've never had a boyfriend. This is gonna take some getting used to.

"Mrs.Jeon, a little more to the left."

That's gonna take some getting used to, too.

"Ah! Mr. and Mrs.Jeon!" B/f/n's voice travels over to the both of you as the bridesmaids and groomsmen all trail behind her into the courtyard.

"Shut up," You laugh. "My man!" One of the groomsmen come up to Jungkook and hugs him, "I'm happy for you- for the both of yo." He turns to you and extends his hand for you to shake.

"Thanks, uhm...?" "I'm sorry, I know we haven't formally met you. I'm Felix," He says with a sweet smile. He's quite handsome, as is typical for Jungkook's friends. "I'm Y/n," You say with a slight bow.

"That's Mrs.Jeon to you," Jungkook cuts back in, wrapping his arm around your bare shoulders, though his smile is playful.

Suddenly, Jungkook is abruptly pulled of of you, "Kookie! I'm so happy for you!" Lisa exclaims, throwing herself on him before he gets a chance to react. He doesn't hug her back, just keeps his arms open, "Lisa- I- uhm, thanks."

She pulls away slightly, though she doesn't let him go, "Look at you all grown up and mature now."

You didn't think she'd stoop so low, but here she is blatantly flirting with him in front of you and everyone else. "Yeah...thanks," Jungkook says, clearly uncomfortable. He gently pulls her off of himself, which is clearly a move she didn't expect from him because she immediately goes into clean-up mode, "And you- you make the most beautiful bride, Y/n!"

"Thanks." You can't even be bothered to say anymore than that because if you do, these cameras are gonna catch you pummeling her into the ground in your wedding dress.

"Anyway!" B/f/n cuts into the conversation, emphasizing how awkward the interaction is, "Time for pictures!"

And, as though someone has flipped a switch, everyone is back to their excitement and merriment.

Except, of course, Lisa.

All things considered, the time spent taking pictures was a breeze. Everyone got their chance to pose with you and Jungkook, and you're sure even the paparazzi must've gotten a few good shots.

Now, you're all standing outside of the dining hall waiting to be announced upon entry. Pair by pair, each bridesmaid and goormsman walks in until it's only you and Jungkook.

"Ready?" He asks, a smile on his face as he takes a deep breath. You nod, "Ready."

"And now, I'd like to present, for the first time ever as man and wife, Mr. and Mrs.Jeon!"

You and Jungkook enter into a room teeming with cheers and shouts, a few tables being banged on in excitement.

Of course, unable to resist the applause, Jungkook take an exaggerated bow and then pulls your hand straight up in the air in triumph before leading you to the table where all your court is already sat, with two large empty seats in the middle, saved for the both of you.

Slowly, guests come up to congratulate you both personally, their smiles genuine and warm. All this time you spent dreading your wedding day; you never thought you'd feel so at peace in your new role- of course, it's only been about an hour and a half.

You spot Namjoon walking around from table to table recording people, "Wanna say a few words to the bride and groom?" He looks quite happy for being "Jungkook's babysitter", as he'd put it that night at Jungkook's birthday party. You chuckle. "Namjoon's funny, isn't he?" Jungkook asks, as though he's able to read your mind. "Yeah...very much so." "You know he's totally in love with B/f/n, right?" "Totally." You watch as B/f/n follows him around with a small ring light.

Soon, people start making their way to the dance floor, having had their fill of food and drinks. "Come dance with us, Mr. and Mrs.Jeon," B/f/n says, pulling on your wrist. You look at Jungkook who is aggressively noding his head, "Oh, absolutely." He puts his drink down and then grabs your other wrist, the both of them leading to the dancefloor with the rest of your court- except Lisa, who you spotted only moments ago, seething, sitting at a table with Rose, arms crossed.

You all dance together in a cluster on the dance floor, Jungkook and Felix are clowns, of course, and soon they're pulling their pant legs up so they can get in a "twerking stance." "They're a little too good at this," B/f/n laughs, "Oh, you should see him twerk on a door," Namjoon cuts in, bringing his drink up to his lips as he sways slightly. Jungkook looks at Namjoon, clearly already a little buzzed and he puts his hands square on Namjoon's shoulders, "You were the best ring bearer that ever...beared rings." "And you were the best groom that ever...Yeah, let me not finish that sentence." "Aaaay! The wedding man!" You all turn to see Jin coming up and throwing his arm on Jungkook's shoulders, "You sly devil, how'd you manage to nab a girl this fine," He says, motioning to you. Jungkook's tone gets immediately more serious, "Yo, that's my wife." "Of course, of course. I'm sorry- you know how I get when I get a few drinks in me. I say whetever comes to mind." "Oh, we know." Namjoon rolls his eyes. Jin says, "I'm so glad there was a wedding after all." "The wedding was never off, dweeb," Namjoon looks annoyed whenever he has to interact with Jin- I wonder if it's because he's almost always intoxicated. Jin furrows his brows, "I know, I meant after the whole dress thing." You all look at each other in confusion, "What about my dress?" You ask, narrowing your eyes at him.

As far as you know, your mom and B/f/n didn't tell anyone about the dress except Jungkook and it was right before the ceremony. The dress you're wearing now is one they'd previously considered at the bridal shop weeks ago that they'd held on to in case you didn't like the first one. How the hell did this bozo know anything about your dress?

Unless...

"Oh- uhm, your dress? I- I didn't mean to say that," Jin's eyes widen and he starts trying to backtrack. Jungkook gets in his face and takes Jin's arm off from his shoulders, "No, too late. Say what you were going to say." "It's nothing, man. Like I said, I say anything when I'm drunk." "Jin." With Namjoon and Jungkook both standing so close to his face, Jin has no choice but to give in to the pressure. "LisatoldRosethatshewasgonnaruinY/n'sdressbforetheceremony!" He blurts. "What?" Jungkook asks. "Ugh...Lisa told Rose that she was gonna ruin Y/n's dress before the ceremony. She's been planning it since Mrs.Jeon asked her to be a bridemsaid..."

Your heart is pounding in your chest. Of course it was her. How could you not have known? The nerves and adrenaline of it all completely clouded your judgment before. You and B/f/n immediately start looking around for Lisa. Wedding or not, you're gonna beat this bitch's ass.

"Do you see her? I don't see her," B/f/n says, still looking around. "She was just there, what the hell?" You groan. When you turn back to say something to Jungkook, you realize he's not there anymore. "What- where'd he go?" You ask Namjoon, who only points in the direction of the dining hall doors.

You see Jungkook walking over to the security guards standing at their posts. You pick up the skirt of your dress and follow after him. Once you get over to where he is, the bodyguards immediately walk in the directions of the tables. "What- what are you doing?" He doesn't answer, just stands there watching. The goofiness from minutes before is gone and he seems completely sobered up. You both watch as the security guards approach a birdesmaid over at the punch bowl- It's Lisa.

They exchange a few words, her face going from confused to irritated, her eyes immediately darting to Jungkook, and then settling on you.

All three of them walk back toward where you are, right in front of the doors, and you see some people who were sitting in that general vicinity are now staring, whispering to each other. Everyone else seems completely oblivious.

"Kookie, what's going on?" She asks, her eyes switching from snake to deer in the headlights, but you know better than to fall into it. Does Jungkook?

"Cut the shit, Lisa. Jin told us everything," Jungkook hisses. "What- what are you talking about?" She starts playing with her fingernails, getting more and more nervous but trying to play it cool. "The dress, Lisa. The fucking dress. How could you do this to me? To Y/n?" "Are you insinuating that I had something to do with her dress?" She narrows her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You know, so many people have tried to warn me over the years, but I ignored it all. I ignored the warnings, I ignored the cattiness, I ignored the childish games- this ends here."

Her eyes get wide again, "Kook, come on. It's- it's not that serious. She found another dress- Y/n, come on. Can't fight your own battles so you got my best friend to turn on me?-" "Don't ever talk to my wife again." "Jungkook-" She puts her hand on Jungkook's arm but he swiftly pulls it away, "Get her out of here." He doesn't even stick around to watch her go, just grabs your hand and leads you out of the double doors and back out to the courtyard where you'd previously taken pictures with your court.

Once you're outside, he lets go of your hand and just leans against a pillar, putting his face in his hands, "I'm so sorry, Y/n."

"Jungkook, it's okay. I-" "No, it's not. You tried to tell me again and again and I didn't listen. I couldn't protect you even from something so petty. I'm so sorry-" You step toward him and take his hands off of his face, "Hey..." You say gently, looking up at him. "Hey..." He says, sadness melting into a small smile.

You hadn't noticed it before under the dim lights of the dining hall, but his cheeks are flushed the perfect shade of soft pink, the drinks having caught up to him, despite how soberly he was talking only moments ago. His hair is just messy enough to fall in his eyes, but still neat enough to hold an entire photoshoot for Calvin Klein if he wanted to, especially with his loosened tie and slightly unbuttoned dress shirt.

Again, Michelangelo's David comes to mind.

You stand in silence for a bit, basking in each other's presence; the first time you've been alone as husband and wife. It feels the same...and yet different. Jungkook's called you his wife twice tonight. Both times, it made your heart stir in your chest. You're his wife...

"You're my husband now," You say shyly, putting your hands behind your back and looking down, your smile practically cramping up your cheeks,

"I am," He chuckles, staring at you.

He takes another step closer and lifts your chin, your eyes locking once again, though just as you think he might kiss you, he's pulling your arms onto his shoulders and snaking his around your waist, beginning to sway with you. You only now notice that they've begun to play a slow song inside, the distance making the melody barely audible...but you don't mind.

You're in his arms again.

You lock your hands together behind his neck, letting him lead you, and you just let your head rest on him. After a moment, you realize he's humming. "You know this song?" You ask. "Mhm...She is Love by Parachute." "It's pretty." He doesn't respond, choosing instead to sing the words softly to you.

"It was all the same, all my pride and shame, but she put me on my feet... They call her love, love, love, love. She is love and she is all I need. She is love and she is all I need. She is love, and she is all I need."

His voice so angelic, you wish you could record this moment.

But that's the thing about these beautiful moments; we always wish we could capture them somehow, though if we could, they might not be so special anymore.

Maybe what makes them so, is their inability to be bottled up.

You and Jungkook are back at the dinner table chatting it up with your court, the only empty seat being Lisa's. Funny enough, Rose and Jin seem perfectly settled in and comfortable despite the fact that their bestie has been swiftly kicked out. You're sure Rose's mission is now to relay everything to Lisa.

"Excuse me everyone, may I please have your attention! Before we wrap up the party, the father of the groom would like to say a few words to the Bride and Groom." The DJ says, the lights brightening just a bit as Mr. and Mrs.Jeon Sr. come up to stand by the booth.

"Yes, hello everyone," Mr.Jeon bows, "I'm so happy that everyone came to support our family on this momentous occasion. Truly, an occasion we've looked forward to since the day our son was born," From where you and Jungkook sit, it almost looks like Mr.Jeon's eyes are watering.

"As you all know, this wedding will mark the beginning of the merger of our family companies, with my son and new daughter-in-law being the heirs. We cannot begin to express how incredibly proud we are of them- so, as a gift to express our love, my wife and I, along with Mr.L/n and Mrs.L/n, have gotten the bridge and groom a gift."

He waves you and Jungkook over, to which you both respond by looking at each other confusedly. Jungkook helps you out of your seat and you walk up to them. Mr.Jeon hands an envelope to Jungkook, who quickly opens it and pulls out its contents.

A paper, and two sets of keys.

"Wait-" Jungkook says, brows furrowed. He passes the paper to you and then looks at his dad, an expression of complete disbelief. "Congratulations, son."

A house. They've bought you a house.

Everyone begins cheering at every table, as though they've instantly understood the gift.

Jungkook immediately hugs his dad, and then his shoulders start shaking violently- he's begun to cry, and so has his father. You hug Mrs.Jeon tightly, and then go over to your parents who are sat at a table a few feet away, hugging them with all of your strength, your own tears falling onto their shoulders.

You rejoin Jungkook after he's had his moment, and he takes the mic from his dad, "Wow, I cannot tell you all how shocked we are. This was truly unexpected. I think I can speak for my wife-" He glances over at you, a smile on his face as he says it, "- and myself when I say that we are so grateful for the support our parents have given us, and also for the support you've all shown us. Not just today but every day leading up to this and even before. Friends, family- we love you all so much.

We couldn't have done it without you."

The rest of the party was a blur after that moment; more food, more drinks, more laughter and joy, and before you know it, it's all come to an end. "Okay, let's get you back to the hotel and get you out of this dress so you guys can pack your suitcase for the honeymoon!" B/f/n says, grabbing her purse and walking over to Namjoon really quickly. Jungkook looks at you, his soft eyes taking you in; you'll only be in this dress for a little while longer...he's not so eager to end this night yet. "Wanna go somewhere?" He says quietly. To which you smile and respond, "Sure."

"Ready?" B/f/n says, bright eyed and bushy tailed for someone who had thrown back at least 5 shots in the last hour and a half. "Uhm...I'm actually..." You don't quite know how to say it. "I'm gonna take her to the hotel," Jungkook interjects. "What? But you still have to-" "That sounds just fine," Namjoon says, coming up behind B/f/n and lightly pushing her along, giving the both of you a knowing smile. "Wait-" "Let's go, B/f/n," He coaxes. You and Jungkook share a little laugh and then walk out hand in hand to the car.

This time, rather than having a driver, Jungkook is behind the wheel. His arm is extended past the center console and resting on your knee, his thumb stroking the fabric gently. Your heart skips with every touch, and suddenly you feel like a shy teenager; maybe this is what Madonna was talking about when she sang, 'Like a Virgin'.

"What are you thinking about?" He asks, glancing at you. It's only just dawned on you that you've been quiet the entire car ride, which has been about 20 minutes. "I...I don't know." "Liar," He smiles. "I guess I'm just...taking it all in." "Me too." He pulls into a gas station and turns the car off, "Come on." "What? Where?" "Into the unknoooown," He sings. "Never took you as a Disney Princess guy," You laugh. He doesn't acknowledge what you'd said, just exits the car and walks around and opens your door, "My queen." His exaggerated bow elicits another laugh. You gather your skirt and somehow manage to jump out of the car. One arm hooked around his, you both walk into the gas station store. The few people inside turn to look at you and just continue staring. It was probably a strange scene: a bride and groom strolling in casually, walking over to the chip section. You almost wanna laugh imagining it from their perspective. "Pick anything you want," Jungkook says, excitedly picking up a few bags of chips for himself. You carefully examine the wide selection. He walks away to, you assume, look at more things- but when he comes back, he has a basket full of things. You toss a few bags of chips and a candy bar into the basket, along with two drinks; one for hydration, one for pleasure. "Done." He nods and walks over to the counter. "Will that be all?" The cashier says sarcastically. "Wait, wait..." Jungkook tosses in a small pack of gum, "Done."

You ride in happy silence, windows down, your hair falling out of the once-elegant wedding hair style, though you look just as beautiful- at least, that's what Jungkook thinks. You finally drive into a parking lot set on a hill, overlooking the beautiful cityscape. The businesses that would normally be bustling with clientele are closed for the night, so it's only the two of you there.

"Wow...it's beautiful out here," You say, dazzled by the way the lights twinkle down below, cars going back and forth, weaving in and out of sight between the buildings. "Yeah. I first found this spot a few years ago during one of my...not so bright moments," He chuckles, grabbing the bag with all the snacks and taking out his banana milk, "and I've just been coming ever since." "Hmm," You nod, thinking about what he's just said. Not so bright moments... "What does that mean?" You ask. You would've normally left suuch a vague statement alone, thinking if he wanted to expand then he would, but fuck it. That's your husband now, right? You deserve to know...you want to know. You want to know him so badly, now more than ever.

"What, did Namjoon not do a good enough job telling you all my business?" He smirks, causing you to roll your eyes playfully, "Shut up." His smile fades slightly as he sinks into deep thought; as though he's carefully selecting what words to use. "Well...after I came out of rehab, I kind of didn't know what to do with myself. I knew I couldn't go back to how I was living before, as far as the heavy drinking and the drugs- I had done a lot of damage to my family, you know? I couldn't bear to disappoint them like that again," He sighs, taking a sip of his drink, "So, I would spend hours- some times all night- just driving and driving. I drove everywhere, all alone. I drove angry, I drove sad, I drove numb, I drove happy...not that I had many happy moments at that time." You turn in your seat (as best as you can in this big ass dress) and look at him as he talks.

"Did you...ever ask anyone to drive with you?" He furrows his brows, a confused expression on his face, "No, I...I guess I didn't know that I could." Without another word, you reach over and grab his hand, squeezing it lightly. "You might just be the only person in my world who can relate to this feeling," He says in a low voice, looking down at your hands; you do the same. You know exactly what he means.

When you look back up, he's already looking at you; his eyes are low, dark obsidian pupils flickering back and forth from your eyes, to your lips, "Y/n..." "Yes?" You whisper, heart so loud you hear it in your ears. "Can I kiss you again?"

You nod, chest rising up and down as your breath catches in your throat. Not even at "You may kiss the bride" did your heart beat so fast as it does now.

His lips press firmly against yours and slowly, you feel both yours and his head moving rhythmically together.

When he pulls away breathlessly, you can see a tiny bit of your makeup on his nose and mouth, causing you to let out a little laugh.

"What?" He smiles, "Nothing..." You reach over and grab the side of his face, and this time, its your thumb stroking his cheek.

You could look at him forever...

Thanks for being patient in your wait for the next part! Let me know what more you want to see going forward into their married life! DM me some juicy drama to add in :)

[obsessedwrhys]

Your headcanons are soo good istg 😭😭😭 im love you

Feel free to answer anytime, can I request Hogan (afk journey) dating/married headcanons? He's my husband and my wife both at the same time <3

|| HOGAN DATING HEADCANONS ||

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ major fluff, reader is gn!! (OMSHD I'm so happy to hear you like my other work, that really makes my day, I hope you enjoy this one ☺💕)

This man gives me hubby vibes ngl.

If you managed to get his attention, you must be something special because it takes a lot to get even his respects.

Once he falls for you, trust him to get you flowers everytime he visit you. Even if he just happens to be passing by, he will always take the time to stop to say hi.

Valen once made fun of him for having a crush but that ended up terribly.

Dude had to run laps around Holistone 💀

The crush between you and Hogan was mutual, to be fair it was hard for you not to fall in love when he treats you like you're the single most special person in the world.

The way he gives you his hand when you need help getting down...

The way his eyes lingers on you longer than any person should...

The way he goes out of his way to make sure you're always okay...

It all just made you love him ever more.

That's why the urge to confess your true feelings to him grew day by day.

Scenario ↴

You were in Holistone, to be more precise, inside one of the castles towers. It wasn't that you were in trouble, it was more like your friend Hogan needed to see you about an urgent matter.

With nothing much to do, you were poking your head out of the open window to admire the view below.

"I apologise if I've made you wait. One of the guards needed my help with something..." A familiar voice spoke from behind and you turned just to see Hogan approaching you. Somehow just seeing him made you smile.

"At least you didn't forget... so what's so serious that you needed to see me?" You questioned and you can see his body going stiff for a split second.

"Ah that..." He chuckles lowly, an attempt to ease his nerves. He has fought countless battles and yet the idea of confessing his love to you is nearly sending him to shambles.

"It's nothing urgent really... it's more of a personal matter..."

"Personal matter?" You repeated, seeming puzzled.

"Yes... of us" He said and the moment those words left from his mouth, you had a clear idea of what he was hinting at. Your eyes went wide as your face burned.

"I know I may not be like the prince from the stories you read but... I'm certain that I've fallen for you... and this love I feel for you feels like the ones in a fairy tale... it's as though I've been captivated by you... I'm sorry if I'm pouring all my emotions at once, I just can't keep this a secret anymore" He expressed with his eyes locked on yours.

"I don't mind... to be honest, I feel just the exact same" You slowly formed a smile on your face and the joy was contagious enough that a smile eventually appeared on his face as well.

Literally when the townsfolk found out he was dating you, everybody was fast to congratulate you both. If you weren't given any context you would assume that the town was celebrating someone's marriage 😭

Hey, the people are just happy for him since he does his job of protecting everybody's safety.

Plus he deserved to have somebody look out for him.

Now dating this man is full of fun and excitement. He does not welcome any bad vibes even though how serious he can get sometimes.

I'm talking lots of trying new things together.

For example that time you guys went to try out this super fancy place for dinner and you guys had a thrill trying to pronounce the names of some of the dishes.

Not to forget, his kisses would be full of love and desire. Everytime he kisses you he just doesn't have the strength to pull away, it was the kind of passionate kiss that would always leave you two breathless.

Even when leaving a kiss on your cheek or forehead, he always needs to kiss you a couple of times for you to get the memo that he loves you dearly.

However, I'm sorry to break it to you but sleeping with this man can be kind of a struggle.

He snores.

I don't mean like those light snores.

I mean those snores that slowly builds itself up until it's as loud as a train.

Not only if you're the type to not be able to handle that, sometimes he can also take all of the blanket from you which results in you two fighting for it almost every night 😭

But the cuddles? Trust me when I say it's the most comforting experience in the relationship. It always makes you feel like you're on cloud nine.

When it comes to nicknames he's more on the traditional side, he calls you dear the most.

Would he be fine with PDA? Yes, very much. He does not care what anyone thinks. Okay maybe a little but still he's not embarrassed to show everyone that he's yours.

Jealousy doesn't faze him that much, that's because he thinks he's set for life with you. Any man or woman could try to flirt with you but he trusts you a lot that he's sure you know how to handle it.

But if the person doesn't take no for an answer? He'll just have to step in to get that message through their head.

If you want to, he's totally fine with you wearing his clothes. That's because he finds the sight of you not being able to fit in his shirt adorable.

Did I forget to mention how he knows all of your weakness? Whether you're more sensitive in the neck or you're ticklish on your sides. He knows.

And he's not afraid to use it against you.

Fyi, he's the type of person to act like he's full and give you his leftovers because he knows those are your favourite 🥰

Honestly? 100/100 MALEWIFE

[universe-friday]

EXCERPT #16:

Hello. I hope somebody is listening…

Ok, no, I know what you’re thinking.

You think I sound weird.

Well, not weird, I hope but… New! A little different…?

I’m trying something out here, and it feels pretty right. It still feels like me, it still sounds like me.

Thalia has been trying to teach me to step a little more out of my comfort zone… And, she already got me to do that when I searched the clubs for her, so why not listen?

We have been hanging out a lot recently, not much else to do in the City, especially being alone.

I’ve just been inspired by her, old sport.

Her voice just sounds like falling asleep on fresh, new bed sheets for the first time… Sinking more and more into the mattress with every word…

I wanted to sound like that. So, I hope you’re feeling comfortable, old sport…!

It can be harder sometimes though, days where I sink into that mattress… But I start to dream about you again, February, as her voice fades into yours.

Your voice is the one I ultimately fall asleep to February, but I can’t stand to only hear you in my dreams anymore. I just want to truly hear your voice again, with your comfort and touch as a package deal… It’s been so, so long.

[…]

You would really like Thalia, February.

You’d just love her. She’s really helping me open up, something you always wanted me to do. But, I suppose, the City is a better place to do so. We would never want me to burn as bright as you ever did; to steal your spotlight. Thank you for hiding me in your shadow… if only you would turn around now, February.

While I got to explore the City day by day, discovering its secrets so few people know of… I never seemed to do the one thing I could do in the City… explore who I am. So many people don’t know me… But do I even know me?

I have a funny little anecdote for you, February.

Thalia has so many variations of this dress - a floral dress, of different colours, lengths and styles.

[Chuckles softly] Perhaps I should be taking notes with my suits…

She showed me so many different ones, yet I had my eyes fixed on this beautiful white dress with blue flowers… it had these frilly, long sleeves and the skirt would flow all the way down to your ankles.

She insisted I try it on.

I won’t lie, I felt a little silly. Not because I’m used to my suit, no… but I did have my gloves on still, of course. They did not match the dress.

You would've been proud of me though, February. Right? I don’t know why I did it though… I swore to myself no one would’ve ever been able to get me out of my usual style. I like my style! But there’s something so liberating about twirling around in a dress, a sense of freedom. Just how a suit gives me that boost of confidence.

You always did care about your clothes, February. You were right, I get it now. You’re always right.

Do you feel free, February? Up there, in the sky, with all of those other shining stars. They do say the sky is the limit… But when you’re there, what else is there to stop you?

You know what’s funny? People say the sky is full of freedom, and they say the same about the City… yet, have you ever noticed that the places said to be full of freedom seem to feel the least free? Perhaps the idea of ‘being free’ is just having too many options. And no one is ever going to agree with every single one.

While no one in the City would ever care enough to judge, the freedom almost feels too free… do you understand me, February? You have the opportunity to do anything you ever wanted to do, but no one to praise you. No one to care. Is it worth it…?

If only you could see me too, February. Would you think of me as pretty? Handsome?

Or am I just me?

[...]

NOTE: as inspired by the week #1 prompts of february friday events as organised by @februaryfridayevents! this week's themes were voice / freedom / expression ... these were super fun to explore!

if you are curious as to how i interpreted these into this week's excerpt, i have posted a behind the scenes here on @friday-answers! go check it out!

as always, see you next week!

[andy-wm]

My thoughts on SEVEN, both the song and the MV, and what it says about Jungkook.

About the song:

My biggest take away from the song is that Jungkook has total confidence in his ability to keep his partner satisfied and entertained. Daily. He also has a good reason to do heaps of laundry.

Also, he gets to say Fu@k a lot (always fun) and his pronunciation has really improved since he collabed with that disrespectful a$$hole who's name i won't bother to mention.

Seriously though, i hope his adulthood will finally sink in for the people who still try to keep him in babyville.

From a musical point of view, he does get to use those magnificent pipes he has, and use them well. The song flexes his vocal range and has lots of dynamic movement. And he gets to rap. I can see why he would have wanted to sing it.

About the MV:

I have a few observations about the mv and the relationship represented. I know it's meant to be lighthearted but that doesn't mean it shows us a healthy relationship so i'm gonna say my piece. Sorry if it's a downer, feel free to skip.

The power dynamic between JK's character and Sohee's character is what i find interesting.

She's totally in control of their narrative the whole way through.

At the start, she's angry and berating him and he's just listening, his head down. Very submissive. Most of the time his hands are in his lap or on the table while she's gesturing to herself and even throwing her hands up. The only time his energy is up. Is when he pulls her away from the falling debris.

She's getting up to leave halfway through his response, too. She doesnt really give him a chance to respond.

Even though he tries and tries to talk to her, she's dismissive, rolling her eyes, ignoring him, constantly walking away before he can finish what he's trying to tell her. At one point she pushes him so hard he falls backwards. He's repeatedly risking his personal well-being to get her to hear his side, but even then, he's still completely submissive. He brings her flowers, he walks three steps behind her, he tries to make her laugh to break the tension so she will listen.

Theres only one point at which he is assertive and that's at 2.55 when he gets around in front of her.

When he does eventually get her to stop and hear him out, he takes the role of a supplicant. She is very much in control of the outcome. She eventually offers her hand, and then basically hauls him along behind her. He is trotting along behind her like a scolded child.

I found it a little hard to watch because JK isn't an actor. Not because his acting is bad but becuase it's really him.

I could be way off, i admit that, but i honestly feel that his character is responding exactly as he himself would respond. He's soft and sweet and gentle, but dammit he believes in them! He's trying his best to placate her even though she is giving him NOTHING back.

I hate that it reminds me of that damn hamburger incident (he's is a sponge cake. Pls dont hurt him, world.)

Anywayyyyy....

My take away is 2 things.

First one is, throughout the MV his character is "fighting *for* the relationship", which is different from fighting within the relationship. He wants this problem they have to be solved, and he's prepared to do the work. Go, you Jungkook’s alter ego.

Second one is, despite a lot of people seeing this as a,stalker situation, the power balance is very heavily weighted towards her. Also, she treats him pretty disrespectfully. If these gender roles were reversed, the comments would be very interesting...

Other than that i loved the aesthetic, the humour, and the energy.

But what does this overtly hereronormative MV tell us about Jungkook's sexual orientation?

I'll say it does not tell us anything about who he likes to do the horizontal boogie with.

He liked the song, and wanted to record it. I have no idea if he had any hand in the MV storyline. If he did, awesome. It's fun.

But let's be real about the likelihood of him coming out to the world through a MV. I'd say it's ZERO. Reality dictates that whatever his own orientation, the MV needed to represent the Jungkook (most of) the world WANTS to see. Dont forget, this song is more of a business decision than a creative decision for Hybe. We know SB had a big part in the processs, and that man is all about the dollar bills.

It's certainly not a personal statement from JK. Its a fun, summer song and he gets to say F◇CK a lot and flex his vocal chops. That's it.

Do i personally think JK is gay? Hell yeah. With bells on.

Do i think he would risk it all?? ('it' being a huge entertainment empire, his own and his friends' careers, social damnation, personal freedom, and the loss of his contact with ARMY)

No, absolutely not. Not for a song that he didn't even write. Not in his solo debut. Not in today's America (sorry American readers, the USA isn't a safe place to be queer right now).

An unrelated question:

Do i think he will show us something more substantial with his album?

I think he will. I truly hope so. I dont think he's going to sing about his orientation but i do think the songs will be meaningful and personal and I'll be quite suprised if there isn't a fair bit of queer subtext.

If he includes a hidden track and Jimin features on it, I will throw a party and sprinkle glitter EVERYWHERE.

Just for fun, here's some JK looking gorgeously gay...

Living his best life in the Butter MV

His gestures... so pretty

No words for this one (cr to photographer)

I mean he's not wrong...

[beautifulpersonpeach]

I relate to that anon who misses your Jimin posts. I always wondered why you wrote more about non-rapline members than the rapline who you biased. Esp JM, JK, V, and sometimes Jin. But now that Jimin is your bias I notice you posting more about Taekook than Jimin so now we’re Jimin deprived 😭

It sucks cos I like how you write about him. I’ve been going back to your posts about Face and even your posts from before his releases Face. You were one of the first bloggers who said Jimin’s music was the one you were most looking forward to. When other people doubted him you shut that shit down with “he’s Park Jimin for goodness sake”. Is there anything you can add about his music making process though BPP? Anything at all? Maybe some screenshots like you just did for Minimoni? Thank you.

***

Sigh. Y'all...

Okay, I'm going to use a lifeline and 'phone a friend'. We'll call her N.

She's the friend I've talked about before. Below is the result of a conversation I had with N before BTS's chapter 2 began. Consider it an abridged summary of why we were looking forward to Jimin's solo work the most, as well as what we think about his creative process. I'll tie it back to FACE at the end...

--

Jimin writes the dopest melodies.

Dis-ease bridge (I still can’t believe he came up with this in less than 5 minutes)

Blood, Sweat and Tears

Friends

Christmas Love

Promise

The first time I heard Dis-ease, before I even knew Hobi wrote most of it, I just knew it was a Hoseok song from the disk-scratches and very retro old-school hiphop vibe. And so I expected it to flow a certain way, and it did. Until it got to the bridge. Dis-ease could have been a very different song and you really see this if you listen to the version with JK’s bridge which keeps a somewhat faster tempo and lower notes.

Jimin’s bridge, quite literally, elevates the whole song - it starts in a completely different octave. If you’re actually singing this song, like singing out loud, when you get to the bridge you’re forced to belt out “SICK AND TIRREEEDDDD” and “THROUGH THE FIREEEEE”, up high, real loud, with heart and feeling. The melody Jimin composed in 5 minutes is simultaneously soulful and energetic.

This is the same with other melodies he has composed such as Friends and Blood, Sweat and Tears, and others.

Jimin writes some pretty dope melodies that make me want to sing out loud.

He seems to write plain but beautiful and honest lyrics

Jimin has said writing lyrics doesn’t come easy for him and I think this is because he writes the way he speaks.

Even Namjoon who we all know writes incredibly beautiful lyrics has said this too, but I think Jimin might want or aim to write more artistically like Namjoon, but (I think) he writes lyrics the way he speaks, which is plainly and directly but carefully and very honestly. He sparingly uses metaphors unlike Tae and RM who can wonder about snow and flowers individually or uses colors like Blue and Grey to convey struggling with burn out or how the world pauses at 0 O’clock.

When people write songs the hope is to convey certain ideas or emotions. If those things are very personal, heavy or dark, songwriters often use metaphors or analogies in their lyrics to communicate them. This way, the songwriter’s personal feelings are somewhat obscured and protected by artistic interpretations. If you write literally however, there’s nowhere to hide. Everyone knows exactly what you’re thinking and I think this is why Jimin struggles with lyrics.

Jimin writes very literally and this personally appeals to me a lot. Take for instance, how Jimin wrote Lie:

“순결했던 날 찾아줘 Please find me who was innocent

이 거짓 속에 헤어날 수 없어 I can’t free myself from these lies

내 웃음을 돌려놔줘 Please bring back my smile

Caught in a lie

이 지옥에서 날 꺼내줘 Please take me out of this hell

이 고통에서 헤어날 수 없어 I can’t free myself from this pain”

(translation credit: Doolset)

There’s nothing metaphorical about this. He’s literally going through hell and he tells you that very plainly as much. The only way to maintain some ambiguity in the whole song is to never mention what the Lie actually is. And so he never does.

*

Jimin seems to write more songs than we think. For example, when talking about how Friends came to be, he mentioned he was working on 3 songs which he casually showed to Bang PD just for kicks while they were touring three years ago. Two of those songs were mostly finished and the most incomplete song was the third one which PD liked most and worked with Jimin to complete, and that song became Friends - track 15 on the Map of The Soul 7 album.

For their BE album Jimin mentioned how he wrote three new songs for the title track but they weren’t selected. So, Jimin has likely just got these songs sitting somewhere, much like how Yoongi was sitting on Telepathy for years before releasing it with BE.

Whether we’ll ever hear these songs is another story, but if he ever does release them I’m sure I’ll be singing my heart out alongside him.

--

Of course, since Jimin released FACE, you can judge for yourself how many of these points hold up. It's especially striking for me how Jimin wrote the lyrics in Alone, Set Me Free Pt 2, and Face-off mostly literally. For anyone who hasn't read it yet, here's some selected posts on FACE.

[cadrenebula]

Prompt #19: Taken

Nebula was puzzled as they stared at the slowly growing pile of things that had been handed to them over the last couple days. People around here seemed nervous around them even. Handing them gifts and flitting off as if spooked. It was confusing to say the least.

The gifts ranged from foods to flowers to semi-precious stones. Nebula couldn't recall doing anything to deserve such items from the people in this deeper part of the woods. They barely interacted with some of the other villages this deep. These villages were much like the one they had been born into, keeping separate from the larger world and it's dangers.

"I just don't understand this..." Nebula mumbled as they looked over one of the stones. It was pretty but they didn't feel like they'd done anything to deserve all these gifts either.

"They're trying to stay in your good graces apparently." Gwyn spoke as she arrived back to their camp and took a seat across the fire from Nebula. "I tried talking to a few of them without you around to see if they'd bother to talk to me at least."

"And? What luck did you have?" Nebula raised a brow curiously.

"They think you're a fae creature that will take their children away from them if they do something to displease you. Apparently you and Karma have created some deep woods stories for yourselves. Unintentionally I'm sure." Gwyn laughs merrily at the sour expression on their partner's face. "Stories aren't necessarily bad, love. It can also be a good thing. They're likely to easily turn over any magical artifacts you want to take back to your village without any real fuss."

"I suppose that is true... But I don't like the idea that they think I will take their children away like some monster..." Nebula huffs softly as they cross their arms and scowl. "Karma wouldn't even eat children."

"I know that. They don't know that. And I find no harm in them continuing to believe the stories. Keep letting them believe you're some fae being. You should have heard some of the stories of my lady in her time. Many were exaggerated. Some were helpful by letting them be believed. Maybe they'll start thinking I'm some ice fae solider who guards you." Gwyn teased as she pulled out her waterskin to take a drink.

"Ha... Ha..." Nebula huffed before they sighed softly in defeat. "I suppose I can leave the stories. I just wish they'd stop trying to give me gifts."

"Well I for one am not turning down free meals. It's one less thing we have to hunt for this deep in the woods. One less set of rations we have to make last till we head back towards the cities. If anything, just promise them they are safe. Act like their generosity has appeased you enough already." Gwyn shrugged as she made the suggestion.

"I suppose that may work. Though I will also try not to turn down any offered meals. But only if they seem like they have enough to spare feeding us. I won't use these stories and rumors just for a free meal if it means hardship for them."

"I would never think you would. You stayed with us for moons. You always offered to help because you insisted. It's not in you to take advantage of those at the bottom. Not like those holier than everyone else high lords in Ishgard."

"Of course not." Nebula put the gifts away before getting up to move to sit with Gwyn, snuggling in close and resting their head against her.

[aristocratic-otter]

Thank you, @cutestkilla, @nausikaaa, @that-disabled-princess, @youarenevertooold, @fatalfangirl and @whatevertheweather for the tags!

So, once again, no snippets from Saving Simon Snow or The Heart in the Well (still reviewing them to figure out where I want to go), but I've got double chunks of TikTok Dancer and Stars, Flowers, and Children for you (and a normal sized slice of Snow Fox. The next chapter is so close to being ready for posting!).

Then there's COBB and Erotic Gropefest coming. I've got my idea for COBB, and I've already outlined a fic for EG. Big hint...it was one of the unfinished fics I teased in a 'what are your WIPs' last year. And the one I got the most feedback saying people wanted me to write it! I reviewed my fic ideas folder and decided this one is perfect for EG.

And, I've got a question. I've got more than enough content on both TikTok Dancer and Stars, Flowers, and Children, and I know where I'm going on what's left for each, so I'll likely start posting one of them soon. Feel free to leave your vote on which one in the tags, and I'll consider it!

With no further ado, here's 12 sentences from TikTok Dancer

I frown. Surely a troop of dancers on Santa Monica pier isn’t that extraordinary. “Why wouldn’t I believe it?” I ask.

Dev’s hardly listening to me. “I mean, I knew that there was a chance we’d see celebrities in LA. I mean, this is a celebrity breeding ground, right? But right in front of our hotel? And we get to see them filming?” He turns to me as if expecting me to enthusiastically agree with him. I’m beginning to understand that I’m missing some context here.

“What celebrities?” I ask weakly. 

Dev and Niall both freeze, goggling at me in disbelief. This time, Niall recovers first. “You mean you’ve been watching them through the window and didn’t recognise Simon Snow, Agatha Wellbelove and Shepard Love?”

I wrinkle my nose. “Those sound like made-up names.”

Some young Baz yearning, from Stars, Flowers, and Children:

It’s in our fifteenth year that we both finally have growth spurts. Simon’s indignant that, even after he grows several inches, I’m still taller than him by at least three inches. But, not that I’ve got anything but memory to judge by, but I think we’re both man-high. 

But height isn’t the only thing that changes about Simon Snow. I wish it was. 

But no, Simon has now grown from the freckled street urchin with shorn hair that I first saw on board the SS Watford to a full-grown man, with everything that goes with that. He’s powerfully muscular because of all his building work, and his skin is burnished gold from hours in the sun. His bronze hair is grown out into ringlets that are also kissed by the sun. And all the stars of the universe are scattered across his skin in a host of golden-brown freckles and moles. 

Even his blue eyes, though they’re nothing special when it comes to colour, are such a contrast to his sun-darkened skin that they stand out from his face with a lambent light.

From Snow Fox (the smut is done, I just have to get Baz out of the sticky situation I've put him in).

Tarleton is a horrific bore. The arse only talks about himself–his achievements, his family background, his personal wealth. He hasn’t asked a single thing about me this entire time. When our steaks are dropped in front of us by a bellicose server, I’m grateful for a chance to look at something other than his insipid face. I eat slowly, delicately. I don’t want to get to the part of this ‘date’ where Tarleton suggests we retire to a paid room in the local hotel. 

Tags and encouraging pats on the back to the friends above (we'll make it through January) and to:

@artsyunderstudy, @angelsfalling16, @bazzybelle, @bookish-bogwitch, @best--dress, @carryonsimoncarryonbaz, @captain-aralias, @confused-bi-queer, @dragoneggos, @erzbethluna, @palimpsessed, @skee3000, @frjsti, @facewithoutheart, @gekkoinapeartree, @giishu, @hushed-chorus, @ileadacharmedlife, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @j-nipper-95, @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists, @krisrix, @messofthejess, @martsonmars, @moments-au-crayon22, @moodandmist, @mostlymaudlin, @nightimedreamersghost, @raenestee, @rimeswithpurple, @shrekgogurt, @stardustasincocaine, @thehoneyedhufflepuff, @tea-brigade, @upuntil6am, @whogaveyoupermission, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe