#youre not stupid or naive for enjoying her lyricism

[biblicalhorror]

My dash has been extremely divided today re: taylor swift/swiftie criticism and honestly my take on it is that as long as you don't believe she is an untouchable oracle who would never lie or exaggerate any story about her life and is always the victim in every situation OR that she is an evil nuisance to society for continuing to make and put out her art at a time when her boyfriend is also massively successful then we should all pretty much be on the same side here

[callmerainman]

Accidentally In Love | sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader

PART 1 | PART 2

plot. You and Adam became friends with benefits. The lines of your situationship are blurred. Even more so when you and the First Man get closer and closer. What will it take you to understand that you and Adam are falling in love?

word count. 3.8k

tags. enemies to lovers, sinner!Adam, friends with benefits, sexual content, p in v sex, Adam Has a Heart, falling in love, Reader has wings, Reader is Lucifer's Royal Guard.

TW! this chapter contains an explicit sexual scene, MINORS DNI

taglist. @kaces-mind @call-me-nyxx @serendipitous-fernweh @plutodestr0yedme @luvvnightingalee

a/n. here it is, final chapter! Thank you for reading this silly little fic, I'll for sure write more about Adam soon! Hope you enjoyed it <3

"and now I go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like I love you"

—

It’s karaoke night for you and Adam. Yeah, karaoke night. At first it started off as a joke. One time, after an usual afternoon of strenuous intercourse, you and Adam found yourselves singing “Out on the Tiles” by Led Zeppelin. You had decided to put on some music in shuffle to try to muffle up your obscene sounds that both of you understood you couldn’t contain. Next thing you knew you and Adam were performing an improvised gig on the already ruined bed of your room.

“I’m so glad I’m living and gonna tell the world I am” you sang out of your lungs, holding an imaginary mic.

You pointed towards Adam, prompting him to finish the lyrics. Smiling, Adam clenched his hand in a fist to pretend to be on the mic too. He leaned backwards, throwing his head back.

“I got me a fine woman and she says that I’m her man” he sang back, enthusiastically.

This singing shenanigans would happen so often that you decided to set your own karaoke night on Fridays. You and Adam stole a karaoke machine from a bar and installed it in his room. And now he’s holding you by the shoulders, vigorously shaking you in a playful manner as you can’t stop laughing.

“Feels like you’re dying, you’re dying” he sings with all the air he could gather.

You bend in half, this time a real mic in your hand “Youuuuuuu, your sex is on fire”.

Adam mimics a guitar riff with an high pitched voice as you sing along to Kings of Leon.

“Consuuuuuumed, with what’s to transpire!” Adam goes, crouching onwards himself.

Something definitely changed between you and Adam. You still don’t know what it is but it’s pacifying you.

—

The other patrons at the Hotel noticed, even though a bit later. Your relationship was so obviously sexual that none of them really stopped to think if there was more. Until signs started to show.

One time, all of you were watching a movie downstairs. You had forced Adam to participate even if he didn’t want to and was suggesting to have another karaoke night instead. But in the end, you both plopped down on the couch next to each other with everyone and got comfortable in front of a romantic comedy Charlie put on. At first, you and Adam tried to keep your facade of annoyance. You and him were so dense, you didn’t think the others knew that you two were fucking, so you had to pretend to still hate each other. But, as the movie progressed, you and Adam lost your purpose of showing a fake resentment. You glanced down and noticed the tip of your fingers resting really close to Adam’s. His fingers, weirdly enough, were moving in a jerking motion, stroking the fabric of the couch back and forth, as if he was nervous. You moved your fingers closer. With unusual uncertainty from his part, Adam slid his fingers even closer to yours, making them touch. And you and Adam held hands. You decided not to mention it, staring at the TV with your face on fire and his cheeks colored in a red hue. Your hands stayed intertwined the whole movie, and when it ended you separated quickly, again naively thinking that nobody noticed. But, during the movie, Angel had definitely noticed. The spider demon let out one of the loudest gasps in his life as he covered his mouth with four hands. When you and Adam went upstairs later, everyone was still hanging out in the common room. And Angel raised his shoulders and arms.

“Are y’all blind or did you see what I saw?” he asked, almost irritated.

“What?” Cherri asked while mindlessly scrolling on her phone.

“Like, (Y/N) and Adam holding hands?!” he exclaimed, his arms dramatically falling flat on his sides.

“They’ve been fucking like two horny rabbits for months and this is where you draw the line?” Husk questions, raising a red eyebrow.

“Fucking is one thing, holding hands while watching a romantic movie is another!” Angel protest.

Cherri chuckles “It’s obvious by the amount of sex they have that there’s more”.

“Obvious?” Angel questions “Uhhh, hello?? Hate sex is a thing!”.

And that wasn’t the one and only time. Seems so obvious to everyone now, except to you two. It’s in the way you and Adam snuggle during movies, or when you’re cooking and he hugs you from behind, resting his chin in the space between your horns. It’s in the fact that you don’t call each other names anymore unless you’re having sex. Or when you fly around the city together pulling pranks on people, and sing your hearts out during karaoke. Now it’s not only in the way you two wildly wrestle under the sheets. It’s in the goofy way you try to sweep it under the carpet.

“Uh, we’re going upstairs uh to…FIGHT! Definitely not to have sex! Because we hate SEX!” Adam stopped “No wait, I love sex, I mean-“

“We’d HATE to have sex with each other!” you say, trying to back him up.

“Exactly, not with such a stupid cunt!”

“Hey, too much” you whisper, elbowing his side.

“Oh shit I’m so sorry babe”

And everybody looked at you the most unconvinced, inexpressive poker face. But Charlie, underneath, felt that it was heartwarming. Even if Adam whispered in your ear a “can’t wait to fuck your brains out” when displaying apparent affection, she knew that something was going on and it was nothing but beautiful. This is the purpose of the Hazbin Hotel, after all.

—

Honestly you have no idea what you and Adam are right now. First, you were just a Royal Guard who had to surveil the First Man on Earth, the Exterminator. Then you became his friend with benefits. Now sex is still here, but maybe you’re more friends than anything? Or more. Nothing was defined. You never set boundaries. You had your fair chances of getting intimate with other people, but it felt so wrong so you never went for sex. Adam felt the same. When Cherri brought everyone to the club to have a night out, he had his opportunities to have sex with other girls. But he just didn’t feel like it was right. Especially not if you were in the club with him.

“You can do what you like, you know?” you suggested him in his ear one of those times, in a space between the bar counter and the dance floor. But Adam just shook his head.

“Nah, don’t really feel like it. I mean, yeah that bitch with the black top was all over me but she’s not my type”

He tried to play it cool, not looking at you in the eyes. But in reality, Adam was just checking around to see if your friends were looking. And when he made sure that they were out of sight, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you deeply. It was unexpected coming from him, sure, but you let yourself melt in his kisses as music bumped in your ears. Something was happening.

—

“Here you are” you say.

Your hair is flowing, moved by the slow but firm flapping of your wings. You’re suspended meters and meters high, just in front of the Hazbin Hotel sign. Adam is sitting on the “Z”, holding his golden guitar in his hands. He looks kinda annoyed.

“I was just practicing guitar” he says.

“And I’m still a Royal Guard on duty”

“If your duty is going at it with the one guy you were supposed to surveil, then you’re already doing a great job”

You roll your eyes and scoff “Funny, very funny Adam”.

“Alright, you can hear me play something” he gives in.

“As long as it’s not Wonderwall”

“The fuck no, I fuckin’ hate the Oasis!”

So, with another flap of your wings, you gracefully land next to him. You expect Adam to go wild with one of his exaggerated, over-the-top and ego-boosting guitar solos. But instead, Adam quietly starts a finger picking, quite tune. It’s not a specific rock song, just a chill, peaceful chord progression. Adam starts humming a tune, eyes closed. You press your elbows against your knees and rest your cheek in the open palm of your hand, looking at the view. Pentagram City is a mess, for sure. But with Adam’s unusually calm vocalizing, and his presence, it feels like home. You peek a look at Adam. He’s still keeping his eyes closed, it’s the first time you see him so calm, and not his loud, immature self. He’s beautiful. You realize that your face is hot. And you can’t see it but your pupils are dangerously dilated. You press your lips together, and you feel your heart pounding in your chest. Oh you know what’s happening. Maybe you should make it stop. You try to take a deep breath. You’re so in love with Adam.

Adam is lost in his own thoughts and music. He was so comfortable in your presence as he strummed that he almost forgot you were there. He opens his eyes, he just wants to take a quick look at you before closing them again. He realizes that he’s done for the moment he sees how you’re looking at him. With shining eyes, dilated pupils, a fond smile on your face. He doesn’t really realize what it means for you, neither do you. But now his heart is beating at unprecedented speed. Shit, shit, shit. It’s not the first time it happens with you. One time, he felt this way when he woke up before you and saw you sleeping naked next to him, cuddled in his arms. The other was when you held hands for the first time during movie time with the other guests. But this time he’s feeling it on a whole other level. You’re so beautiful. And you’re standing by him listening to his tunes despite the man he is. The one who did so much harm but it’s trying to get better. Adam doesn’t know if he actually has gained any redeeming qualities, but one thing he’s sure about is that at least with you he is a better man. He thinks back on when you two used to argue non stop, resenting each other’s presence. It looks like a far, distant reality that never happened, if anything it’s at least a joke. Adam is so in love with you.

—

Sex still represents the majority of your relationship with Adam. Unlike your feelings, it never changed. Always so loud, fun, satisfying for sure, and unhinged. You and Adam could unleash your personalities at best under the sheets, and that was the best part of it. But this time, something is out of place. Not in a bad way, at all.

Adam is on top of you, placed between your spread legs. His wings are wide open, covering your naked bodies and encapsulating them in a small space reserved to only you two. His thrust are firm, but also slow and sensual, which wasn’t really his style. He’s holding your face with both hands, as he’s mesmerized by your deep moans of pleasure. You cling onto him with nails and legs, holding him as if he was about so slip away. You open your eyes, and catch him staring. He would usually say something sarcastic, like asking the fuck are you looking at. But instead, he looks lost in a profound state of blissful hypnosis, his pupils dilated and mouth slightly parted. Then, Adam plunges forward, still sliding in and out of you with slick sounds. Your breathing becomes even more irregular, hips jerking under his body as waves of pleasure hit you. You tug at Adam’s hair in the spot between his horns. With one hand, Adam firmly holds your hip, while the other has its fingers entangled in your hair, lightly pulling them.

“A-Adam…please I’m so close” you stutter. You would never beg usually, but this time it’s hard not to do so.

What surprises you is the way Adam responds. He would have usually bragged about you begging for him to make you reach your climax, reminding you how much of a whore you are for him. And you would have protested by flipping the roles and making him a mess under your body. But Adam just sinks his face in your neck, whispering.

“I know baby, I know. I got you” he says, interrupted by a moan “Fuck you’re doing so good I swear”.

His movements in you become more erratic, sloppier, and his breath hotter against your ear. The fingers plunged in your hair start stroking your scalp, you try to suffocate your moans of pleasure in his shoulder. You come first around his shaft, whispering quietly his name until you come down from your high. Adam climaxes second, emitting a low, strangled moan in your neck as his wings twitch. You take some time to realize how good it was, your chests rising and lowering with every breath, holding each other. It’s when your mind clears that you realize how atypical of a sexual encounter that was for you and Adam. It was…sweet? Really intimate and not in the physical meaning of the word? Adam never praised you in bed, and you never spoke to him so gently asking to make you finish. And the way he looked at you was absurd, to say at best. With a cherry colored hue on his cheeks, and a light in his eyes you rarely saw in him.

“Ah shit that was great” Adam chuckles, collapsing next to you.

The pride in his face says it all, maybe you were wrong before. You mentally shrug.

“Yeah” you roll on your side, facing him “but I’m so hungry right now”.

Adam sighs, looking up at the ceiling “When I was in Heaven, there was this place that delivered the best fucking ice cream your taste buds could ever graze. A mountain of it. Great for after sex I swear. I miss it”.

Adam takes the opportunity to talk about Heaven more. He’s clearly being nostalgic. He misses it. And while you like hearing him waffling about all the crazy concert he performed, the best restaurants, theme parks and clubs in Heaven, you can’t help but frown. A small smile still lingers on your face, but you ask yourself if Adam really belongs in here. A part of you says of course yes, the other is unsure.

“You know” you say, scooting closer to him “I’ve never really asked myself about how life in Heaven would be. But it really sounds like a beautiful place”.

Adam nods, twisting on his side to face you “Oh fuck yeah it was, I wish I could…”

He interrupts himself as he meets your face, pressed against the pillow. A small, comprehensive smile is gently placed on it, and your eyes are stuck in his own with a visible shine.

Oh no don’t look at me like that.

Adam’s grin disappears, he looks away and tries to play it cool as always, glancing around the room. He clears his throat.

“Yeah I mean, Heaven was great but under a certain perspective…” he trails off.

You wait for him to finish, and he can’t escape your eyes. He finally reciprocates again, getting lost into them.

“Hell is not half-bad, for some reasons” he says.

Adam doesn’t realize it, but now he’s smiling too. His eyebrows are arched upwards in adoration as he ponders on every inch of you. Your now relaxed expression, your glimmering eyes, your naked body covered in white sheets, your head slightly plunged in the pillow. Suddenly, Adam’s smile fades. His eyes go wide, and his heart skips a beat. A wave of realization hits him.

“Holy shit (Y/N) I’m so in love with you”.

Both of you jump in surprise, moving away from each other as the mattress bounces under your bodies. You clench the sheets, and you feel your heart pounding. Where did that come from?!

“What?!” you exclaim.

“WHAT?!” Adam yelps back, incredulous of his own words.

He didn’t mean to say it out loud, he didn’t even mean to say it in his mind actually. You can feel his own panic on your skin, as every inch of your body figuratively catches fire. You don’t know what to say. Adam sits up, covering his face with a hand in embarrassment.

“Fuck! I’m so sorry I ruined everything!” he exclaims, voice panicky.

“Ruined what?”

Oh no. It takes you a second to realize what you said. Adam’s hand files down from his face and looks at you. And you see something you thought you would never witness on Adam’s face. Pain. Adam is hurt. His mouth is slightly open, his breath suspended, his eyebrows knitted. You used to call him many names when you two argued. An asshole, a dirtbag, a dickhead, an irresponsible, immature jerk. But Adam never batted an eye. It’s the first time you see an unmistakable, terrible flash of pain in his face. You feel horrible. You sit up, your mouth open and about to say something. It’s hard to gather the right words after saying something so wrong. You extend a hand towards him, but Adam leans back, away from your touch.

“Adam fuck that’s not what I…” you say, voice shaky.

Adam shuffles away from you again, his face full of regret, embarrassment and clearly pain. He shakes his head, proceeding to get out of bed. He starts looking frantically for his clothes, putting them on as quick as he can. No words come out your mouth, your mind too confused and full of things to process. In just a matter of seconds, Adam is already dressed.

“I-I’m sorry, I gotta go” he stutters, looking at you for a split second.

“Adam, wait! I’m sorry I didn’t mean to sa-!”

You don’t have time to finish what you have to say. Adam had already opened the window of your room, and in the blink of an eye he flew away. Shit, shit, shit! Why did you even say that? That came out so wrong. But you couldn’t help it, you were so taken aback by his sudden confession. You mentally punch yourself in the face. Physically, you limit yourself to drag a hand down your face and groan loudly in your palm. You try to give yourself some time to think, you don’t want to hurt Adam even more. You spend some minutes with your face smothered in your pillow, suffocating sounds of pure frustration. After you gathered your thoughts together, you finally get up from the bed. You put your clothes back on, and head towards the still open window. With a strong flap of your wings, you sprint upwards. As you thought, Adam is sitting on the Hotel sign. He looks pissed. His lips are tightly pressed together and his eyebrows are knitted at the corners. He notices you but doesn’t look up.

“Adam, c’mon…” you say, as kindly as you can.

You keep floating in front of him, the wind generated by your wings making Adam’s hair slightly flow. He doesn’t look at you, he’s just staring at his own knees. For a solid minute you two don’t say anything. Silence has never been a thing between you and Adam, but you respect his wish. Suddenly, Adam breaks it.

“It’s not like you have to pity me” he mumbles.

“I’m not pitying you”

“Um yeah? I just ran off like a pissy school girl and here you are looking at me like a lost child”

“Adam-“

“You know how much time has passed since I last said those words?”

You don’t say anything. Adam finally looks up at you, his eyes a mess of emotions.

“Centuries” he says, spiteful of himself.

Your eyebrows arch upwards in surprise, your forehead corrugated. Your stomach burns, as you can finally feel every emotion Adam tried to hide under sarcasm for so long.

“Centuries?” you ask.

“Yeah, and I know I’ve been literally fucking around for a lot of time so it’s actually my fault, but I can’t say that I don’t mean it once I say it”

“Adam, my question was genuine”.

His mind stops in his tracks. You look weirdly calm. A bit unsure, of course, this is your first very serious conversation. But you’re still collected and he envies you.

“I really wanted to ask you what did you think you ruined. Because I’ll admit it, and I don’t wanna hurt you even more, but I don’t know what goes on in your head. We have all this sex, but also some care, but we also bicker. It’s confusing. I don’t even know if monogamy is your thing. But you showed me care. Sometimes, you still are a bit of a jerk let’s be honest. But I felt care too”.

Your stomach is twirling around, but you can’t stop your flow of consciousness. You wanna know what Adam means, what the First Man wants from a sinner he swore to hate not so long ago. Adam strokes his hair with a hand. His blush intensifies.

“I myself don’t really know what we are. If you know please fuckin’ tell me. What I know is that I feel something, love if that’s what we wanna call it. I mean, look at you! You sing along to rock songs with me, you know how to fight and look so badass while doing it, and you’re hot as fuck too! But if you don’t feel the sa-“

In a sudden movement, you zip towards Adam and grab him by his robe to push him on your lips. He lets out a muffled sound of surprise, but quickly closes his eyes to reciprocate the kiss. It’s calm, sweet, your lips and tongue are moving in tandem in such a tender yet passionate manner. It’s full of care, whatever it is. When you pull away, you look at each other in slight embarrassment. But you push it back immediately.

“I would have never thought I’d say it to you, but I do love you, Adam. Even if you’re still not perfect at all, you’re still a dickhead let’s admit it, I feel something for you. And I don’t expect you to suddenly become a better person just for the sake of being with me, but right now I’m sure I love you like this”.

You had blurted it all out in a single breath, still close to Adam’s face after your kiss. And finally, he smiles. Not with his usual teasing, shit eating grin. He smiles genuinely.

“I still don’t know if I’ll be a redeemable man, or if I want to become one. But at least with you I feel a bit of a better man”.

You smile back at Adam. He looks like a whole other person compared to how he was when you met. He still is his old self. But you came to love him. You and Adam lean forward, capturing yourselves in another deep, thoughtful kiss. Your wings meet, grazing each other as they close around you two. After a while of getting lost in your affection, you separate and playfully smirk.

“C’mon you whiny baby, why don’t we go downstairs to join everyone for movie night?” you suggest.

Adam groans and rolls his eyes “Us being a thing doesn’t mean that I have to participate in every fuckin’ activity of this Hotel”

“Uhh, yeah it does? I’m still in charge of forcing you to join. Now get your lazy ass off of there and let’s go”

“Okay, finee but can we have sex again after?”

“Of course we can”

“Hell yeah”

[the-stars-in-your-eyes-if]

☀︎NO DEMO YET☀︎ PLAYLIST ☀︎

☀︎SYNOPSIS☀︎

Your childhood friend has always dreamed of the big scene, of the crowd singing your lyrics, of a world tour. Max always wanted for your bands to succeed together. Until...

Well, it is was all a big stupid joke.

The real world caught up to you: you are no longer the naive child you once were. Writing a Grammy worthy album isn’t as easy as it seems and the big scene is nowhere to be seen. You navigate through life as you can, you party with your friends every Saturday and write music all week. You enjoy each one of your gigs – big and small. Your burning love for music doesn’t seem to fade. Your band brought together a solid community that crosses borders. You have fun with your band and it’s all that matter.

But you can’t help but fantasize that, someday, you’ll be at the top of the world…

Big stupid joke, right?

✮BATTLE OF THE BANDS IS BACK!✮

You thought 2020 was the end of us, uh?

You couldn’t be more wrong!

The worldwide known music contest is finally back!

We carefully chose the mentors of our beloved participants. This year will be all pink…

Make way for Pink Riot!!!

Application open to foreigners (check our website)

RATED +18

TW: explicit language, (occasional) violence, transphobia (one character is misgendered but just in one scene), use of alcohol and drugs, (soft) sexual content, parental abuse (flashback), depression, self-harm (warning will be in the "next" button), mention of suicide (same as self-harm)

☀︎FEATURES☀︎

– Customize your MC’s appearance and personality. You decide of their public image and persona.

– Your choices will define your band’s public image and popularity. Are they loved? Do they make underground or mainstream music? Are they the parents’ worst nightmare? The reference of rebellious kids?

– Decide your band’s aesthetic. Do they have one to begin with? Or do they each dress in their own style?

– Write your own lyrics!

– Engage in romantic affairs…

– ...or don’t, your choice!

– Are you going to help the people that cross your path or do you only care about yourself?

☀︎A BIT OF CONTEXT☀︎

Of course, this story is set on Earth.

But.

Racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, islamophobia, antisemitism and fatphobia will get you in court.

You are not very well seen if you do one of those things and, if you’re a celebrity/politician/public figure, it can (and will) ruin your career.

I know that this isn’t realistic at all but I need to believe that, one day, this will be real. My characters have and will go through enough trauma and bad moments, I want to give them some peace.

And it feels really good to make a world where those things will ruin the oppressor and not the oppressed.

☀︎ROs☀︎

THE HERMIT — Diesel Di Angelo (they/them)

Diesel is the soul of the band, they bring a sort of osmosis. Their calm energy somehow has a place on stage and is liked by everyone.

Diesel took their first steps in the music world with Max and MC. It was just the three of them before the band grew bigger. Diesel is a talented guitarist, they worked hard to get where they are and they don’t stop improving. They are quite reserved and don’t talk about their feelings… Who knows what lies beneath their shell?

THE MISCHIEVOUS DRUMMER — Roman Lupin (he/him)

If MC is the backbone of the band, Roman is its beating heart. He has no problem to make the public jump from the back of the stage. He’s a spark that will light a bonfire.

Roman learned to play drum from his mother. He went to the conservatory but he didn’t stuck with it. Since a young age, Roman wants to have a band and to perform all around the world. Roman is full of life and he’s the human version of a sunshine. Is there something behind that smile or is he genuinely happy?

THE LITTLE MERMAID — Isra Wafa (she/they)

Isra brings magic to the band. Her mermaid low voice is unique and enchants the public. If you think you’ve heard good bass players, just wait until you see Isra on stage.

When Isra was a child, their parents let them chose an instrument to learn and to their surprise, she chose the bass. They fell in love with this low instrument. They navigated from band to band before settling for this band her boyfriend was part of. Isra keeps ignoring their responsibilities toward her family. For how long can they pretend it doesn’t exist?

THE REBEL ANGEL — Archibald “Archie” de Beaumont (they/he)

Even with a classical training, Archie managed to switch to their band’s genre without too much troubles. All the members affirm it: Archie is a gift from the universe.

Archie popped out of nowhere to audition to be the band’s keyboardist. He was the most talented person they saw all day and the chemistry was very much here. The band doesn’t know much about Archie, but it doesn’t matter. They are a good person and a dear friend. It wouldn’t change anything to learn about their life before the band. Right?

THE MANAGER — Cal Bremont (he/him)

Cal works in the shadow to make the band shines under the spotlight of the biggest stages. The band claims it, he is the best manager you could hope for.

Cal takes his job very seriously, he has a perfect work ethic. Maybe he is a bit too close to his clients and they may not just be clients… But, well, no one is complaining. Cal is very secretive about his personal life, he never mentioned his family or anything else. Can he maintain his relationship with his friends and still keep his life a mystery?

THE RISING STAR — Max Larash (she/her or they/them)

Max moved their band to the other side of the world and they managed to impose themselves on the west coast scene. We’ll keep an eye on them as they’ll compete against their former friends…

Because of artistic divergences, Max decided to leave the band when Isra and Roman joined them and they created their own band with high school friends. Max had big dreams for Sleep Walking and their friends in MC’s band, but it didn’t turn out as Max has hoped. Sleep Walking left the country for the USA without their friends and they intentionally lost all contacts with them…

THE MUSE — Olivia “Ollie” Madden (she/her)

You may have never see her face but, as a comics fan, Ollie Madden is a name far from unknown. None other than the comics artist and writer of the most followed comics, Ollie is still a mystery to her fans.

Olivia works for Blue Pegasus, a major comics book publisher, since years. She was the comics artist on a lot of books, it took her a lot of hard work to finally publish her own series. Olivia isn’t only a famous artist, she also is a single mother. She’s taking care of a lot by herself and it often leads to forget about herself. There is nobody to remind her she’s human and not a superhero…

THE PRINCESS — Katharina "Kat" Deluca (she/her)

We don’t need to present Katharina Deluca anymore. Success and awards seem to follow every movies our Lady K touched. She confessed that her break from the cameras and greens screens was to be present for her best friend… Athena Pierce.

Also known as the Princess, Katharina is one of the biggest actresses of her generation. Between two roles worthy of an Oscar, she is also a model and the face of the infamous designer brand: Beaumont-Griffin. She is in the industry since she was 12. But, behind closed doors, Kat doesn’t seem to have a joyful life… What is she hiding from the world?

GODDESS OF MUSIC — Athena Pierce (she/her)

Athena is a legend in the industry. Everybody wants to work with her and Pink Riot. Her voice will shatter your world, there is a before and an after Athena Pierce.

Athena is the lead singer and front woman of Pink Riot. She was a star child and charmed America with her angelic voice. But, with the creation of Pink Riot, Athena is no longer the little angel of the USA. She’s now known as a freaking rebel and she is quite provocative. She flirts with the limits all the time. Her persona is loved all around the world, but who is the real Athena?

☀︎CANON EVENTS☀︎

You can customize a lot of things regarding your MC and your band. But there are a few things that are canon.

— MC is born and lives in France. Where exactly is up to you. The only place MC can’t have grow up in is Paris. (I headcanon them growing up in Perpignan or Montpellier)

— The names of MC parents can’t be choose. I tried to make them as common as possible so you can choose their origins. MC is French but their parents can be from wherever you want!

— MC's age can’t be choose.

— MC is friends with Max and Diesel since they are 6. They were in school together.

— MC’s first band is with Max and Diesel.

— During high school, MC met Roman and Isra. They joined MC’s band but Max didn’t like the kind of music their band was into so they formed their own band with other high school friends (Sleep Walking).

— The OG band (MC-Max-Diesel) exist until the fateful break up.

— MC’s band and Sleep Walking always were there for each other and gave mutual support. They also create songs and musics together, some are only instrumental and other are with vocal.

— MC speaks French and English. Feel free to add a third and even a fourth language.

— MC lives with Isra and Roman since they finished high school.

[oceaneyesinla]

Hi Roxy! 💕 -> 🪐 🦋🦴 for the ask game pleaseeee 😊

I am SORRY I sat on this for so long, thank you for asking!!! <3

🪐 name three good things going on in your life right now

1) I bought myself new squishmallows because they're Halloween themed and they're very cute

2) I might be going out with my friend on Thursday for a dog walk! She's one of my best friends and she's really looking out for me at the moment while I'm not doing so well. I love her <3

3) I'm going to stay with my parents for the weekend 😊

🦋 share something that has been on your heart and mind lately

I really don't understand why people send anon hate, or hate in general. I think about this a lot, because a lot of my friends here get anon hate and I just. Do Not Understand. Maybe I'm being very naive or very stupid, but for me there is infinitely more satisfaction in being NICE and KIND. Like my favourite thing is leaving nice (and slightly unhinged) tags on people's writing, or leaving a kind word if they're having a bad day. I am constantly thinking of ways I can slide into someone's asks with something nice or to be a little gremlin.

Tldr - hate is bad, love is good, and I will fight anyone who tries to upset my beloved friends 🤍

🦴 is there a piece of media that inspires your writing?

Music. 100% music. I love listening to music and taking in the lyrics and enjoying the melody and sometimes the feelings from a song just inspire the perfect story. Or certain lyrics will just hit me and I'm like oh, that fits that character so well, let's write

(i swear one day i'll actually write the Daylily inspired shoto fic)

[tenebrius-excellium]

YOU WATCHED TRIGUN STAMPEDEEEEE??? HOWD U FIND IT WHATRE YOUR THOUGHTS !!

I CONFESS I WAS THE ANON ON YOUR BLOG YOU STUPID (affectionate) FRIEND; I GOT IT FROM YOU!!!

I LOVED IT!!!

Thanks for the accidental recommendation! :P

Ok I know NOTHING about anime, okay? Anything I say was great or not so great might refer to Trigun Stampede specifically, or it might just be an anime thing in general because That's What An Anime Is. I can't tell the difference.

LOVED the intro song (Tombi by Kvi Baba). Constantly listening to it right now. It's hauntingly beautiful yet so easy-going and chill. I looked up the lyrics and they're about being a light in the darkness, I dig that theme!

LOVED Meryl from the start. A level-headed young lady who craves the truth, justice, and knowledge beyond herself because it's the right thing to do. She cares so much. She doesn't steal any spotlight by interfering or by being dramatic. She simply observes, listens to instructions that will save her life, and draws her own conclusions. I'm glad we got to experience the plot through her perspective first! A "journalist investigating a story" may seem like such a dumb start - could be Hallmark. But in this Space Western setting, it's perfect.

VASH MY BELOVED. I hated his intro because it made him seem so dumb and silly. There's a difference between making a character seem naive so that he gets underestimated (bringing in the - surprise! - big guns later), and making him outright ooc to create a false first impression. Idk I knew that his FIRST scene where he needed a bullet was not how his character would remain.

HIS CHARACTER DESIGN IS SO COOOOL!!! Idk from the outfit down to his martial arts skills matched with radical forgiveness and pacifism - DUDE. He's very complex. Idk yeah he lets himself get shot in total surrender but there is the part where one bullet won't immediately kill him and he knows it. There's also the part where Wolfwood challenges him on his beliefs, saying that for all his "peace and love on planet earth" talk he sure does not clean up after the messes he creates. The thing is - it's not so much about taking responsibility for the bounty on his head or something, but rather for the fact that his behavior evokes confused, angry and frightened reactions because it comes unexpected to a human society that is drilled on survival. As much as he CHOOSES not to use violence time and time again, I think he needs to cultivate some awareness that this is unusual behavior and that it triggers people to do crazy things (based on insecurity) around him. On the positive side, he confronts each and everyone with their personal tolerance for violence and tests their hearts that way. Beautiful.

The team is so well balanced! Vash, Wolf, Meryl, and Roberto - Dream Team!

The actions scenes take my breath away. They are so so so so good. I am noticing the attention to detail and the accuracy to skill that everyone is describing. I am also highly enjoying the ingenuity of new moves and awesome use of weapons, physical strength and surroundings. I'm sorry, I can't explain the brilliance of these moves well - but you already know what I mean.

I didn't quite get the in-depth explanation of the conflict I think??? Like, I'm still not quite sure what a Plant is, why Vash and Nai are more intelligent than the rest of them, why they were in space to begin with and what exactly Knives was trying to achieve by traveling to a higher dimension? I really didn't get the angel theme and why Vash suddenly developed a wing and became dark (I like his darker look tho). I also don't quite understand Nai as a character. To ensure the survival of Plant seems like an understandable cause for his actions, but why be so cruel and uncaring about it? It doesn't explain his maniac barbarity. Explanations are more than welcome!

What is your obsession with Livio about?? I mean I know, he was epic in that one scene he appeared in, and his bond with Wolfwood was genuine and deep. But he literally took himself out like a light, so... where's all that additional Livio content coming from? It's also really sad. Like... he never even gave himself one minute after waking up. That was a bit morbid.

Oh my gosh Vashmeryl is the og canon? I'm happy there wasn't any forced romance between anyone in this season. Only platonic connections for once. Amazing. Whatever Vash and Meryl end up as, I'll support both.

If there comes a Season 2, I will watch it!!! I don't know how far I'll take Trigun Stampede in fandom, but believe me, watching this has positively altered me forever. It's so FRESH.

Again, thank you for the unintentional recommendation!

Cheers

Reddie

[zephyr-thedragon]

*DRAMATIC ENTRANCE*

hello, loyal listeners

how long has it been, a week? two weeks? who knows, since i posted rapunzel. it hasn't been very long, HOWEVER, i am here to present to you a project i am very excited about

you see it was about a year ago when i made a promise, a promise yet to be fulfilled, that I would write you guys a wolflet song

well lads, the day has come

im not quite sure what route i meant to take with little red riding hood, but it turned out to be most of all, a tale of caution

like I say with all of my songs, you may interpret this however you wish, but when i read it, i think of a girl who was daring and brave, fallen at the hands of the kind wolf

at the beginning of the song the narrator's presence is very strong, constantly warning litte red and reminding her to be vigilant, reminding her of what the wolf is capable of

but as the song continues the narrator's voice fades into little red's until she's the only voice you can hear at the very end, and the bridge is like her breakthrough moment

i could honestly write a whole essay about these lyrics but for your guys' sake i'm gonna stop there kdfgjh

i'm very proud of this one :)

hope y'all enjoy!!!

Little Red Riding Hood

Written be me, for Scarlet (and Wolf)

Guitar base chords: Am Em F E7

‎

[Verse 1]

See what I can’t see

It’s all up to me now

To me now

‎

Living so naive,

I can tell how

It didn’t end well

Didn't end well

‎

Falling the whole way

The air feels different today

Are you still sure of your prey

‎

Stories are just that

But you know that within them

The truth can always be found within the act

‎

[Chorus]

Little red riding hood

Follow the wolf but don't get bitten

Follow the path but don't go far in or you'll get lost

‎

Little red riding hood

Oh keep your head no don’t lose it

Even when he speaks to you, like you’re the only thing that matters

It’s not worth it

‎

I can tell your brave, you’re determined

But you can be stubborn, you can be stupid

They're a part of each other, there isn’t much to it

‎

But in the middle of the night

When the moon steals the blank sky

Don’t look away

Don’t close your eyes

‎(Little red riding hood x4

Don't look away, don't close your eyes)

[Verse 2]

You're a girl in a world

Where you always have to think twice

Listen, learn, scrutinize

Is it love or sacrifice

‎

Use that anger, use your voice

Use that hidden knife

Think about, how easily

he’d be willing to take a life

‎

What does he want

What did he come for

The woods are silent

When the people are scared of war

‎

What’s more valuable

Time or gold?

Cause when either runs out

The truth will unfold

‎

God I’m stuck here

All who know me

Tried their best to keep a hold of me

If I’m fated to drown, at least let me go

‎

Just fall back

And let me die

Let me fade or let me fly

I’m not afraid of death, but I’m afraid of you

‎

[Chorus]

‎Little red riding hood

Follow the wolf but don't get bitten

Follow the path but don't far in or you'll get lost

‎‎

Little red riding hood

Oh keep your head no don’t loose it

Even when he speaks to you, like you’re the only thing that matters

It’s not worth it

‎‎

I can tell your brave, you’re determined

But you can be stubborn, you can be stupid

They’re a part of each other, there isn’t much to it

‎

But in the middle of the night

When the moon steals the blank sky

Don’t look away

Don’t close your eyes

‎(Little red riding hood x4

Don't look away, don't close your eyes)

‎

[Bridge]

Falling

Falling

I’m falling down

(x4)

‎

Can’t understand the storm in your eyes

There's beauty there and silenced cries

Have I misread you this whole time

‎

[Outro]

Falling

Falling

I’m falling down

(x2)

‎

Don't close your eyes,

Little red riding hood (x4)

‎

I'm falling

Falling

I'm falling down

(x4)

‎

THANKK YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU FOR COMINGGG

*bows, exits*

taglist: @cerenoya @just2bubbly @cinderswrench @shelbylmkaider @shellyseashell @nightmare-not-neophyte @crescentchat @healing-winston-pratt @gingerale2017 @winterrhayle @salt-warrior @cindersassasin @purpl-cryptid @if-wishes-came-true @strawberry-seraph @thestarryeyedsapphic @genyasafingf @starry-tea-party @cinderskai @rapunzelfromthemoon

[captnjacksparrow]

Hi.

How is it possible that the studio let ops and eds of Naruto feature in the anime? I mean c'mon, even a child can see how romantic they are. The lyrics, the visuals, the story/feel and meaning, all of it!!

Kiss me kiss me all night?? Really? How else are people supposed to interpret it? Even if some other studio was commissioned to make them, it's not possible that they just brought the ideas for ops and eds out of thin air. They must have submitted the concept/storyboard/song/lyrics beforehand to Studio Pierrot. No way studio Pierrot was not aware of how romantic they were. Not possible. It wouldn't have happened without their tacit approval and permission. Studios just don't work that way.

I am sure the studio was very aware of Sasuke and Naruto's romantic love, the producers aren't stupid or inexperienced. So they deliberately let the eds and ops be.

So what, it was just queerbaiting knowing SNS would never actually happen? Fanservice? What else could it be?

Also, how cruel and fuck those fuckers. 😤

I cannot predict the exact reason, anon.

But I am pretty sure, it was not for Queerbaiting. Definitely not!!!

As you and I both know that the world we currently live in is majorly Homophobic. I am just speaking generally. The fact that we cannot even google 'Who was Naruto's first kiss?' and expect an honest answer that it was Sasuke. Please don't Google this question unless you want some extreme bleeding from your eyes, ears and nostrils. Same with Youtube, Twitter, Reddit... Like you cannot even talk about SNS in a general discussion.

So, what we can infer from this is that such Homophobic creeps does exists in majority.

If I really want to bait people to watch this Anime, why should I target people whose numbers are very less as compared to the people who constitutes the majority??? What do I even gain???

What I would do is to make some steamy scenes between SS and NH in all my ops and eds, and it would definitely catch everyone's eyes!!!

I've said this countless times and I will say it again, I don't ship SNS in a sexual way but as Soulmates. But if someone ships them sexually, I don't get bothered at all or rather I enjoy their content all the same. 

Having said that,

Just ignore those ops and eds for a moment... Let's talk about posters, most of which were drawn by Kishimoto himself.

Click on the picture for better resolution. Because there are lot of details in the following poster.

Now, what do you understand from this picture??? 

The above poster screams 'Sexual Innuendo' on many levels. Even to my unromantic eyes, I could see the hidden stuffs blatantly.

Naruto was seen eating watermelons and watching a battle between two beetles which was marked with Blue and Red... which indicates Sasuke and Naruto. And for every 4 wins, he strikes the name on the notepad that’s next to him, (you could see the words SA, NA written on the paper, meaning SAsuke and NAruto). It seems Red Beetle won the first round. LOL.

Sasuke was seen doing 'something questionable' while looking at Naruto. If anyone who claims that Sasuke's actions were normal, then they must be really naive. It’s just not!!!! No matter how you look at it....

Pinky was seen wetting over her beloved 'Sasuke-Kun'.... I mean she was literally wetting so bad... Look at the water getting sprayed from the water hose. Also look at the placement of her hands. ROFL.

Am just going to leave it at that!!!

What was Kishimoto trying to convey from this??? 

Pinky wets over Sasuke... Ok, we all know that. 

Sasuke, ummmm.... Also likes Naruto in THAT way??? That's a news to me!!!

Logically speaking, Sasuke is the popular character especially among girl fans. Everyone wants to self-insert with him in some way. If I am an author who created a character like Sasuke, why would I make him look at Naruto ‘like that’???... Instead I would get more money if Sasuke looked at Sakura in a teasing manner. Just look at the popularity of that hot garbage ‘Sasuke Retsuden’..... I could easily make a Sasuke’s version of 50 Shades of Grey and sleep on a Golden Bed. I don’t have to design a poster in this way!!!

And then there's this,

This is another handiwork of Kishimoto where Naruto and Sasuke were seen tilting their heads in the opposite direction and looking at each other like they were ready to kiss each other!!! I will forcefully make my sibling to get treated from the Hospital if she looks at me like that!!! 

And finally this...

Sasuke is looking at Naruto with some seductive sensual look. I think this is the movie poster of ‘The Bonds’. It’s not Kishimoto’s work but SP’s. Imagine if Sasuke looked at Pinky like this!!!! 

All these posters were drawn with some ‘Sexual Innuendo’... blatantly or subtly. What is the need for that??? Queerbaiting??? Well, if that’s the case, Kishimoto could’ve stopped with that famous Chapter 3, ‘Accidental Kiss’ and be done with it. There’s no need for VoTE1 and VoTE2 confessions. And all those repressed feelings and stuffs. 

Because the pattern of Queerbaiting is that you already know it in your heart that it’s a Joke. I repeat you will know it’s a Joke.

For example, Naruto and Sai. 

2 Chapters in, we saw Sai was making 10 Dick Jokes about Naruto 

and he was also seen interested in Naruto’s well-being like wanting to feed Ramen, protecting him from Sasuke and Karui’s attacks. 

This is called Queerbaiting. Making one of the secondary male character to be 'seemingly' interested in the Main Male Character and usually it won't go anywhere. And we know it.

As for Fanservice, I've seen one and SNS don't even qualify under that.

Yes, In Japan, KakaIru was the popular ship.... More popular than SNS. Hence, Kishi made a cute scene where Kakashi saves Iruka from Pain.

This is called Fan Service!!! It means you do something for the fans which doesn’t change the plot in anyway. 

What I call as an extreme fanservice was pairing up Naruto with Pinata and Sasuke with Pinky. Just imagine if Naruto married Pinky and Sasuke married Karin.... Do you see any change in the storyline of Boruto???? Absolutely Nothing. Still, Sasuke would have preferred to be around Naruto and his Son.... Naruto would have adopted a new kid called Kawaki. This is the laughable fact of Narutoverse. No matter whichever girl they marry...... Their bond would have remained intact. 

So Queerbaiting, Fanservice...... You guys can go out and eat popcorn!!!!!

All those Openings and Endings with romantic subtext, I see them as an extension of  What Kishimoto was trying to convey through his subtext in his Manga. And we should be happy that the Studio didn’t try to censor it.

Let’s take this one!!!! 

We saw Naruto’s important people in this same ending.... He had Iruka, Kakashi, Sakura (I seriously don’t know why this Biashhh was there.... probably to evade extreme homosexual vibe and since Naruto is the titular character) and then Sasuke!!!!

However when it comes to Sasuke’s side it was crystal clear.... It was just Naruto and Naruto alone. And that’s the truth. Otherwise why did he leave Naruto in VoTE1 with such a painful expression? Whereas with Sakura he looked like ‘Why is this girl coming in my way?’ especially he was showing his back to her the whole time???

So, the Studio knew it. They definitely are not some dunce who just want to spout some meaningless stuffs out to the public. They really did their utmost best to convey their relationship through these ops and endings. 

Especially this.... LOL!!!!

The sexual tension that was emitting throughout this ending was easily noticeable, even without the song ‘Please Kiss Me’!!! And this is the only ending that featured just Naruto and Sasuke. And with that Song placement, the tension becomes almost palpable.

Do I think this ending was accidental???

No freaking way!!!!! 

These are all carefully planned and produced with thorough inspection. So, just like you said, anon, the producers of this studio know what their relationship was. They did their utmost best to bring out Kishimoto’s drawings into Anime reality. Despite all of these, still people couldn’t see the story beyond the surface level probably because of Homophobia or Lack of Understanding a media and it’s subtexts. They conveyed what they wanted to say without receiving any strong criticism and at the same time people still believe they are brothers/friends. So, it’s a win-win situation on many levels for both Kishimoto and the Producers.

The Day when someone starts to question themself that ‘Why Naruto and Sasuke were hiding their feelings if they were just friends/brothers?’.... Then that day, they will surely come to understand the real relationship between Naruto and Sasuke!!!! 

[lovesanmotion]

yandere!fanboy!ateez reacts: s/o writing a song about them

This is: requested | I guess....the yandere!ateez as fanboys are a success from what I can see. I only uploaded them without thinking. Also, don’t hesitate to blow up my request box! I’m jobless like Hongjoong, Yeosang and Wooyoung. Also, to the sender who requested this, thank you so much for appreciating my blog and writing! 

Lyrics I placed in order:  Love Battery - LOONA (Immortal Songs)  Shadow - F(x)  Going Crazy - Secret Jieun ft. BAP Yongguk Peekaboo - Red Velvet Shampoo - After School Babe - Hyuna Into You - Yuri Love Foolish - TWICE 

Hongjoong: 

“Even if you are not handsome, I like it. Even if you’re not buff, I like it. You are just for me, to me, you are the best.” 

Hongjoong stood among the crowd with a foolish smile painted on his lips. His hands placed on top of his chest as he listens to your new song that you are performing at your comeback concert. 

“Hold me one more time. Hold me tightly until I burst. Love’s effect must be fading. I need you.” 

A soft sigh escapes his lips dramatically. Lovestuck as he watches the love of his life sing a song about him and how she constantly needed his touch or else she’d die from his lack of attention on her. 

“Fill me with love. Love battery has drained. I can’t live without you, I really can’t live without you. You are my battery.” 

He clutches his chest tightly, his heart beating loudly inside. He didn’t cared how wild the others were cheering for your comeback stage, all that matters to him is that this song was made for him. Just for him. Normally he would promote your songs by requesting them on radio stations, but he hesitated on the idea of promoting it. This was his song. And only he gets the full rights to enjoy it. The others are just listening to it, he thought that you were kind enough to let everyone hear the song you made especially for him. 

“To me, you are everything. I like you so much, I totally like you. My only love, there’s no other, my love. You are the best.” 

As the comeback concert ended, everyone inside the concert hall talked about how your comeback song is a hit and promised to get you another music show win. The others gushed how you must be in love that you wrote a song about affection. 

Hongjoong could only chuckle to himself as he walks out of the venue, hands filled with your individual merchandise and a wallet almost empty after emptying the shelves of your concert goods. 

“Stupid fools think that the song is for them when in fact the song is about me. Me! Only me! Why would Y/N ever notice all of you when a whole me exists?” Hongjoong thought to himself as he walked alone late that night. 

Seonghwa: 

“Everyday, I secretly chase after your footsteps. I’m always careful so you won’t notice. No one says it but our date has started, our own date.” 

Click click! Seonghwa focuses his camera on a different angle before taking another shot of you. Click click! 

“Where are you going? Step by step, I follow you. Without a word you lead me. Step by step, did you notice me? I have nowhere to hide anymore.” 

Yesterday, Starlight made a comeback and today, they are performing their comeback song at a radio station. For this comeback, Starlight’s Y/N participated in the song writing, having been credited two songs in the mini album. She partook writing the comeback song! 

“When the sun rises, I walk in sync and together with you. I am really really into you. When the moon rises, you fall asleep in my arms. I really really like you.” 

Seonghwa’s parents had been praising him for landing a wonderful job in the corporate world. When in reality, he was only hired by a fellow sasaeng that gave him much flexible work hours so he could still manage to slip out of his work and follow your every footstep in the country or out. He was being paid fairly well even when all he did was just to follow you around.

“Day by day, we resemble each other more and more. Your laughter and tears, I know it all. Don’t be scared, were a fate tied by the sun, its our destiny to be together.” 

As the performance ended, the girls sat back down on their seats and the interview rolled in. Fansites can only hang outside of the studio, and of course, Seonghwa is up close, nearest to Y/N. 

“Congratulations to Starlight! This is their third comeback and the song is really catchy!” The MC remarked. 

“It’s sounds like a summer song! I heard Y/N took part in the production?” The second MC asked, the cameras then turned to face Y/N. Y/N who was flustered, nodded her head. “Yes” 

“Can you tell us the story behind the song? Your fans are dying to know the meaning behind such a good song.” The first MC says. 

Y/N held the microphone in her head, smiling, she explained: “This is a true to life song. I made a song about a guy who was really handsome and captured my heart. We were always going in the same direction and one time, his hand brushed into mine. And I felt so happy by the small connection.” Y/N chuckles. 

When Seonghwa heard about it, he lowered his camera and stared at Y/N. The song was about him. He remembered how he would spend his vacant period at work to follow Y/N when they were shooting an ad around Namsan because of the newly built skywalk. His hand brushed on hers when they were buying food at the convenient store. Seonghwa was so moved by the explanation that he felt like his feelings grew more for you. 

“My sunshine likes getting attention. My attention. That’s right, my sunshine, bathe in my attention only. ” 

Yunho: 

“It’s not love, this isn’t love. It’s just your obsession. Wherever, Whatever I do. It’s frightening. The you who watches me.”

Yunho watched as Y/N practices for her upcoming comeback stage at The Show next week. He admired how she dare approached a bold and mature comeback. And he was so happy to see this new side of his girl. However, he felt like he needed to be more protective of her since she was going for a more risque concept. 

“Have you gone crazy? Why are you like this? Please just leave me alone now. Seeing you is suffocating. Please disappear from my sight.” 

Yunho stood behind the cameras as he watches Y/N and the featured artist practice. He heard a few staffs make a comment about how the featured artist looks like him. And maybe how you might’ve fallen in love with him. Yunho’s feeling swelled when he heard of those comments. In fact, he was so happy that he heard it from them. But you on the other hand, why do you still deny your feelings for him? Why was it so hard for you to be up front and honest with what you feel? Is it because he works as your manager? You’re in the same company as he is? And that you kept insisting to be professional? At this point, Yunho would resign if that was the case. If he can’t have you because of his line of work, he would be more than pleased to resign and be in your arms everyday. 

“Get lost. Just back off. I really can’t breathe. Wherever I go, wherever I am. It’s frightening. The you who follows me.” 

Yunho managed to lift the debts off his family. After paying the debts, he was able to even buy a new home for them around Gangnam area. His parents hesitated on the idea at first since owning a land in Gangnam costs way more than renting, Yunho told them not to worry. Not to worry since he is being paid royalty in his job. After that, he was able to spoil you with luxurious gifts and live with you in your apartment. More like forced himself into your home. 

“This ain’t right, this isn’t love. It just hurts me, don’t be like this. I loved you. But I don’t now. Erase me from your memory.” 

And when the song was released, Yunho was all up for promoting it. He made everyone he know listen to the song in various streaming platforms and watch the MV as well. Whether you would like it or not, Yunho is here to stay in your life. Permanently. 

Yeosang: 

“Peekaboo! This is new, is this love? All my friends yell at me, they say I have a problem. I’m fine fine fine fine fine fine.” 

A small painted Yeosang lips as his eyes followed you on stage. He watched you as you danced in a tight red dress. That was his gift for you last Christmas to be exact. The designer brand didn’t really put it out for sale. They only made one and had it up for auction. It was a dress that accentuated your curves and complimented your skin. Yeosang won the auction and had it included in your next comeback. 

“Tag you’re it! It’ll be fun! I’ll include you here. Til the moon hangs on the jungle gym, let’s play” 

Since Yeosang is someone who holds a high position in the company, he made a proposal to be your sponsor. At first, your members didn’t like the idea since sponsors have a bad reputation attached to it. But you were naive and still proceeded with the sponsorship. You thought it would go bad, but Yeosang made you feel comfortable in his home and gave you all the fame that you wanted. Never did he once ask anything that was against your morals. 

“Peekaboo! It’s strange, you’re different. I stop this game and I look at you again. I’m not a fraid, because I just felt that a new story will begin” 

Your members were still cautious about Yeosang orbitting around you. There was something about him that they could not lay a finger on. Scared that they would find their contracts terminated the following day. But seeing you happy, they felt like they needed to stop. As long as you are happy, they are happy. Yeosang included. 

“Don’t worry, my love. You’re safe with me. Anyone who accuses you will come to me first.” 

San: 

It was 9pm when you made a surprise V live alone in the recording room of your company building. San was actually nearby, he was hid inside the convenient store where he bumped into you before. 

“Hello everyone! Have you all eaten? I missed you alot.” He watches his Y/N pout in the screen. His heart raced a bit, 

“I ate already, my love. Don’t worry.” San responds, as if it was only him that you were talking to. 

“I made a new song and I’m in the recording room. Apparently, I was given permission to spoil the song for you!” Y/N happily takes her phone and draws it closer to the company phone of where she is doing her live. 

“I wanna be shampoo Trickling down your hair I wanna embrace you With my strong fragrance  I will wrap around your entire body With white foam  So even the mirrors can’t see you I will cover you  So no one can have you You won’t ever get rid of my scent” 

“That’s all the spoil for now.” Y/N stops the recording and turns the camera to her face again. She leaned her face closer and read a few comments about how would the fans think. 

“What is your inspiration behind this song?” She read aloud. She leaned back in her seat with her lips pursed. “In all honesty, I met a male fan last week. I actually bumped into him and I was able to smell his perfume and...” Y/N paused. “He smelled so good that...was it possible to fall in love just by smelling their perfume?” Y/N chuckles softly. 

San had his eyes wide. The song was about him. He felt like bursting from his seat but he refrained himself from doing so. 

“I hope he isn’t a weird fan. I also have a fan who constantly bothers me even at the late hours. It’s bothering me. And I hope the person stops soon.” Y/N said. Double jackpot! He got mentioned twice by you. He couldn’t wait until the song releases, he was already booking train station platforms in honor for the release of your song. 

Mingi: 

Was it possible to fall in love with just a touch? Ever since the incident at the Incheon Airport, your company has become stricter and hired more bodyguards when it comes to outside activities. From what you heard, VS Media is even rewriting their rules when it comes to fan and idol gift giving. 

“Come on, let me play some more. Why treat babies gently, I cannot count on you, my age. You’ve walked in any magic. I am the one for you. Everyday I wake up. This is mine.” 

Ever since the incident at the airport, you slightly became uncomfortable with the idea of leaving the dorm. Despite your feelings, rest assured that your members were always there for you. 

“I am not sleeping today. I remember my eyes. I’m not sleeping.”

It’s been a month since you stepped foot inside the airport again, things were going okay. You were able to walk inside and through the gates without any problem. The fans still following your footsteps, you tried to loosen up yourself a bit - smiling and waving at them. Nothing could go wrong. 

Until, you saw a figure from your peripheral vision. You turned your head to take a look, but no one was there. Strange. As you and your group were able to board the plane, you took a seat near the window and pulled out your lyrics notebook. Flipping through the pages, you stopped at an unfinished work. The unfinished work is your solo song used as an outro for Starlight’s upcoming full album. 

“Babe babe babe in your eyes. Babe babe babe in your hand. My appearance is babe babe babe babe. I want to hear it again.”

“Are you writing a song?” You were startled with the question. You turned your head and didn’t noticed how a man with a mask and cap sat besides you already. 

“Yes I am” You spoke softly. “Can I read it?” the man besides you asked. 

You hesitantly gave him the notebook, the man took it and read through the lyrics. 

“I like how you composed the song. It’s still in its raw form too. You’re a genius.” The man complimented. You smiled and thanked him for the compliment. The next thing you knew shocked you. 

The man placed a hand on your knee, his other free hand removed his mask and cap. Song Mingi. At that moment, you couldn’t process what was happening. All you knew was that your mind kept telling you to tell at least your members. But your body started heating up at his touch. 

“Did you miss me?” 

Wooyoung: 

Wooyoung had disguised himself as the photographer for your album. The night before it came, he worked on creating his fake ID and borrowed a spare camera to use for the production. 

“At that smile that sees my eyes. For me, the whole world is bathed in light. Hold my hands and I close my eyes. I hope this time stops here.”

Wooyoung’s breath almost took away as he saw you in black under shorts and wrinkled and almost unbuttoned white button down. He didn’t know what the concept was but his eyes were already feasting on your body, not ever feeling full. 

“Fall in love more deeply, you and I. Let’s fall in deeply, you and I together. The one thing that I want. You seep into me, you spread inside of me.” 

“Ms Y/N taking the bold move of doing her first sexy concept.” Y/N’s manager teased her. Wooyoung knew everyone who was on set. Him, Y/N, Y/N’s manager, stylist, make up artist and a few production crew that wasn’t part of VS Media. 

“What’s the story behind this concept?” Y/N’s manager asked, Wooyoung could only stare in awe at Y/N. Never did he see this side of her. He always knew of Y/N as the sweet and bubbly girl in soft concepts. But of course, Wooyoung love to break the types. 

“I actually like to search my name on the internet. And I came across fanfics of myself.” Y/N chuckles. Oh that sweet sound that made Wooyoung’s heart beat fast. The audio recorders can never outdo it. 

“There is a certain blog that possibly does a lot. That blog posts photos of me, writes fanfics and posts my schedules too. He’s doing god works for my other fans.” Y/N chuckles. As the production of the photoshoot started, Wooyoung did his best to capture the real beauty of this side of Y/N. 

“What a hardworking fan. What’s the name of the blog?” 

“ForY/N” 

Wooyoung’s eyes widens as he heard the name of his blog. His blog inspired you to make a song....about him? 

“Filling my whole heart. With you, I feel my heart. Fall in love more deeply, you and I. Let’s fall in deeply, you and I together.” 

“The way that person writes really amazes me. I’d like to get to know the person.” Y/N explains. His mind fell into a spiral. Part of him wanted the song to be released already but there was also a part of him that wanted the song to be released for him only. 

“Wish will soon become tomorrow. Today is more heart fluttering than yesterday. I want to go together with you. Closer to the place where my dream reaches.”

The bonus thing about what Wooyoung did today is that as a photographer, he was able to keep some of the photos. Running away even with some. 

Jongho: 

Jongho fell in line for the release of your album. He was actually second in line as he was actually camping outside of the building of your company. 

“Everyday I called out your name, about a thousand times, about ten million times Before you finally heard it Cut and rewind, why can’t you be mine? Ooh the one who spins my head like this It’s you, just running running running around you  My repeatedly-midnight promise  I don’t know what to do”

Jongho, who had his arms crossed over his chest, looked up and down to turn around where that song was coming from. He hasn’t heard of this song but he knew that was your voice.

“Crazy love!  I love you, love you, hate, foolish Crazy love!  I love you Make me feel so high Love!  I love you, love you, hate, foolish Crazy love!  I hate you Make me so bad It’s weird, the more I fall for you I’m sorry, I’ll hate you I don’t know, I can’t explain this I’m trapped in a labyrinth of strange emotions”

The whole room was adorned with your own merchandise and on the TV display was actually an MV of your b side. Jongho took a basket and grabbed a handful of your limited and regular version of your albums, along with a packet of your photocards and a griptok. 

As he was in line to pay for his orders, in which his basket was filled as he actually bought more of your items. You made a sudden appearance into the room. For Jongho, he felt as if the room got brighter when you suddenly stepped inside. When it was his turn to pay for his items, the people behind the counter were amazed at how many he was able to fit into his basket. 

Tapping his feet impatiently, he wanted to be able to greet you before you left the room. When his bag was handed to him, he immediately took it and sped walk towards your direction, talking to a few. 

He felt as if the gods were with him. As he drew closer to you, the ones you were talking to left and it just you and him now. 

“Hello Y/N!” Jongho greeted. You turned to him happily. “Hello!” 

“I really really like this song of yours!” He gushed happily. “Can you tell me about it?” 

You nodded happily. “The song is actually about someone who makes me feel happy, the idea of love in a dangerous way? The idea send me thrills.” You chuckled. Jongho felt ecstatic. Beyond the moon even. You wrote a song about him! 

That afternoon when he got home, he made sure that everyone in Seoul would be able to hear the song that you made. It was for him so he had full brag rights to do so. 

[miracleonice87]

’tis the damn season

an Auston Matthews song fic

a/n: based on the absolute masterpiece that is ’tis the damn season by Taylor Swift from evermore. This one was not on my WIP list but came over me as soon as I heard the song when the album dropped. also have no idea how it became my longest piece yet, by far (as in 12k+ whoops). obviously, I do not own any of the music/lyrics to this song nor any other I write about.

summary: Auston Matthews and his ex-girlfriend are reunited in their hometown years after their difficult breakup.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sex, a delicate balance of angst and fluff. a bit of a slow burn, if you want to call it that.

_____

You might have been one of the few people on the planet who disagreed with the phrase, “There’s no place like home for the holidays.” At least, for the last few years, that hadn’t exactly been your sentiment.

But, you were home anyway, after a few weeks of your mother’s guilt tripping and your father’s repeated phone calls. And, admittedly, you were enjoying your quiet time at home with your parents.

After helping your mom bake a few dozen cookies for the Christmas Eve party they were throwing tomorrow night, you wandered upstairs to your childhood bedroom to change out of your flour-covered attire and maybe squeeze in a nap. An undeniable perk of staying with your parents during the holidays — so many opportunities to sleep. As you pulled on a well-worn, long-sleeved ASU t-shirt you found hanging in your closet, your phone rang.

You groaned and swore to yourself that if it was your editor again, you were quitting. She’d already interrupted your time off at least once throughout each of your three days at home thus far — your first week of vacation in the two and a half years you’d been with the fashion magazine. You rolled your eyes and reached for the sounding device on your bed, then recoiled when you saw the contact name — or rather, initials — on the screen.

AM

Oh, god.

Even worse, the years-old contact photo popped up behind the name — a picture of the two of you lying together on the shore on your vacation four years ago, right after the draft, when you both still held onto the naive belief that nothing that had just happened in his world would change things between the two of you.

“Shit,” you whispered, covering your mouth while anxiety coursed through your veins.

You couldn’t just not answer. Right? The two of you were on decent terms, though you couldn’t quite remember the last time you’d spoken — probably seven, eight months ago. You had no good reason to ignore his call.

And after all... you were the one who had ended things.

You cleared your throat and, trying to coach yourself into mustering up some semblance of courage, quickly repeated, “Okay, okay, okay, okay.” Then, like ripping off a bandaid, you hurriedly tapped the green button and pressed the phone to your ear.

“Matthews,” you greeted curtly — tentatively.

“Kels. Come over,” Auston said abruptly, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “I know you’re home.”

You squinted and glanced around your room, racking your brain as you tried to figure out how exactly your ex-boyfriend knew your current whereabouts.

“What?” you asked, puzzled, not to mention slightly shocked that he was even interested in seeing you in person — though some part of you was, indeed, grateful for that. “How did you even know I was in Scottsdale?”

“Uh, your Instagram story, my dear,” he said, obviously amused. “You posted this morning from that new coffee shop between the Methodist church and our old school building. Remember?”

You rubbed a hand over your face, suddenly regretting adding him to your close friends list on Instagram six weeks ago after a few glasses of wine with your girlfriends.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, eliciting a chuckle from Auston.

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourself thinking I sit around and stalk you, sweetheart,” he teased. “I thought about replying but I didn’t wanna slide into your DMs and look like a fuckboy.” He paused, and you opened your mouth to make a halfhearted wisecrack that you didn’t truly mean, but before you could speak, he added, “Plus you probably get so many DMs, I’m sure mine would just get lost in the shuffle.”

Again, you rolled your eyes. “Matthews,” you repeated, whinier now.

“C’mon, Kels. Just come over,” he whined back. “I just got in last night. I’m staying at my parents’ house. My sisters nearly busted down my door when they saw you were back in town, plus I know my mom and dad would love to see you.”

Suddenly, two decades’ worth of memories that you had long ago pushed to the back of your mind flooded all at once to the forefront of your consciousness. Sleepovers watching Disney Channel movies and eating peach rings with Alex and Brey. Brian scooping you up in his arms after a nasty tumble off your bike on their street, propping you on the kitchen counter as he bandaged the scrapes on your knees, Auston never leaving your side nor letting go of your hand. Road trips with Ema to watch Auston play in countless tournaments, with you doing homework in the front seat while Ema sang along to the radio. Matthews family dinners eating Ema’s famous chicken tortilla soup. Vacations and carpool and pickup basketball games and shopping for prom dresses and just the mundane, everyday routine you had been part of for so many years.

And those were just the memories that involved his sisters, his parents. You didn’t dare let your mind uncover the buried memories of him, and him alone.

You missed them. Sometimes you missed them all so much that it made your heart physically ache and your stomach drop and your mouth go dry.

So, you drew a long, deep breath, and against your better judgment, eventually said, “Okay. Fine. But you have to send me your parents’ address. I haven’t been to the new Matthews McMansion.”

Auston huffed on the other end. “So mean to me.”

_____

It was certainly a far cry from the modest old ranch-style house where Auston had spent his childhood.

As you pulled up to the sprawling estate in the bougie part of town and cut your engine, you whispered, “What the fuck am I doing here...”

And still, after a quick check of your makeup in your rearview mirror, you got out of the car, closed your door and pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head, sighing as you took in the four vehicles parked in front of yours in the roundabout driveway, none of which you had ever seen before. Audi, Mercedes, BMW, Porsche. Well, you could guess which one was Auston’s.

You walked up the stone sidewalk and slipped your aviators into your purse — it was only then that you noticed that your hands were trembling.

You cleared your throat and exhaled sharply, willing your nerves to subside, as you arrived at the door and pressed the button on its frame, sounding an elaborate chime inside.

“I got it,” you immediately heard a familiar voice call, and you took a startled step backward as you saw his figure approaching through the decorative glass panes outlining the doorway. As he pulled open the door, the flutter you’d tried your hardest to avoid feeling for three years took flight once more in your belly.

“Matthews,” you greeted again, arms crossed in front of you in hopes of hiding your shaking hands.

“Why’d ya bother to ring the doorbell, you nutjob?” Auston asked with a broad smile.

Before you could throw a snide remark back at him, he pulled you into himself, one arm snaking around your mid-back and the other hand cradling your head to his chest. Inadvertently, you exhaled contentedly, and you swore you felt Auston tighten his grip on you then. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let yourself relax into him for longer than you had intended. He just felt so… familiar. Broad. Strong. Comforting.

He was just… Auston. A thousand things had changed for the two of you, but the way you felt in his presence hadn’t changed since you were a little girl.

You inhaled his cologne, and you noticed that he was doing just the same — breathing in your long-worn Chanel No. 5 perfume, the same kind he used to save up all year to buy you each Christmas.

At that memory, you snapped back to reality and extricated yourself from his embrace, leaving him looking slightly disappointed, though still pleased with your greeting.

“Hi,” you spoke simply as you stared up at him, then chuckled at how stupid that sounded.

“Hi,” he mimicked, head bobbling and eyes widening, causing you both to fall into a giddy fit of nervous laughter over nothing at all.

Just then, you saw Ema’s head pop out from beneath an arched opening toward the back of the house — probably leading to the kitchen, you assumed. Ema was always in the kitchen.

“I thought I heard your laugh,” she sang. You couldn’t help but beam, and Auston smiled and moved out of your way so that you had a direct pathway to his mother. Taking advantage of that, you made a beeline for the petite woman you considered your second mom, already feeling emotion bubbling up in your throat as tears blurred your vision.

“Oh, mija,” Ema said, her voice tight as she met you in the middle of the grand entryway and gathered you into her arms. “Te extrañamos,” (we miss you) she said sincerely.

Auston cupped the back of his neck and quickly looked away then, fearful that he may just shed tears of his own.

You sniffled and murmured, “Los extrañé a todos mucho,” (I missed you all so much) into Ema’s shoulder as she smoothed her hand lovingly over the back of your head.

When you finally parted, moving past the brief sadness of the reunion, Ema still held tightly to your hands, extending her arms so that she could see you better.

“You look more beautiful than ever!” she exclaimed, and you dropped your head bashfully at her compliment. “California is treating you well.”

You nodded. “For the most part,” you remarked with a sigh. Ema glanced quickly from your face to her son’s and back again, deciding not to dwell for too long on that loaded response.

“Well,” she pivoted with a click of her tongue. “You look great. Now come, come! I know Auston’s going to want to steal you away from me, not that I blame him, but I just put on some tea, so let’s sit and have some first.”

“Ma…” Auston protested lightheartedly. Ema wagged her finger at him. “Shh! Mijo! My long lost daughter has returned. Give me ten minutes for a cup of tea with her.”

Auston’s lips parted at her use of the word “daughter,” not that he should have been surprised by it, and you tossed him an animated shrug as Ema pulled you down the hallway back from whence she came. You were right — it was the kitchen, and it was a spectacular one at that.

“Holy…” you trailed off as Ema patted one of the leather barstools at the enormous island in the center of the room. You took a seat, pulling your cross body bag from your shoulder and placing it on the island, and commented, “This kitchen is incredible, Ema. I’m sure you love spending time here.”

Ema nodded and excitedly launched into stories of using all the appliances and gadgets she had never owned before, walking back to the teakettle on the stove as Auston sat down on the nearest barstool, feeling as though he could simply be dreaming, hallucinating, that you were here, sitting with him in his parents’ kitchen. But when you noticed him taking the seat next to yours, you tossed him a classic Kelsey smile and nudged his shoulder with your own, and he felt just slightly more confident that this was reality. Unable to resist your magnetism, which hadn’t faded with time but seemed instead to have only grown stronger, he squeezed your knee beneath the countertop, just as Ema approached with a cup of tea in hand for you.

Choosing to react instead to Ema rather than her son, you grinned and thanked her, feeling Auston’s eyes on you as you lifted the mug to your lips and took small sips, Ema still prattling on happily from the other side of the kitchen. You eventually cast a sidelong glance Auston’s way, accompanied by an amused smirk, the combination of which left him beaming as he looked away from you and back toward his mother, who now approached with two more cups of tea.

“Thanks, Ma,” he said as he wrapped his hands around the mug she offered him.

“You’re welcome, mijo,” Ema replied. “Now Kelsey, honey, how long are you in town?”

“Uh, just until the day after Christmas,” you replied, swirling a finger along the ceramic rim of your mug. “This is the most time I’ve taken off since I started at the magazine,” you admitted with a hint of embarrassment.

Ema nodded. “Your mother said you haven’t made it home for a while. I know they keep you pretty busy there. Is that why you don’t visit so much?” she asked unassumingly.

Auston dropped his head and shuffled his feet awkwardly against the tile floor, and your eyes flickered to him as you racked your brain for an answer that wasn’t a complete lie but also didn’t unmask the whole truth — which was that being in a town that held so much history with your ex was simply too suffocating to bear, even for a quick visit with your parents. So, you typically just stayed in California where you could throw yourself into your work as a fashion writer at a well-known publication and operate under the illusion that you had moved on. From Scottsdale, from Auston, from your life before Los Angeles.

And especially from Toronto.

But the problem was, when the night fell and the lights all faded and you were left to face the truth, you knew in your heart that that’s really all it was — an illusion.

And from 2,500 miles away, Auston knew it, too. He knew it because he was living the same lie.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied sheepishly. “That’s the gist of it. Just, uh, just hard to get away sometimes. My parents usually come out to visit me instead since their schedules are, uh, a little more flexible.”

“Right,” Ema said skeptically as you took a long pull from your mug, despite the hot liquid singing your tongue and making your eyes water. “Well, either way, it’s so good to finally see you here,” she added warmly.

“It’s good to see you too,” you breathed, honesty dripping from that answer.

Auston finally looked at you again, giving you an understanding smile. Even that smallest of gestures made you dizzy.

“So,” you said as you moved away from the topic, sitting up a bit straighter. “Where are the girls? Where’s Brian?”

“Golfing,” Auston answered. “Like always,” he added with a chuckle.

“Why am I not surprised?” you teased, making both Ema and Auston laugh.

“They begged Auston to come with them, but he turned them down,” Ema informed you. “And now we know why.” She lifted her eyebrows and took another sip of her tea as Auston shook his head.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he joked. “But no, they’ll be back soon. They can’t wait to see you.”

You brightened at that, not having seen the Matthews girls in nearly as long as it had been since you’d seen Auston himself, finding it easier to breathe when they weren’t nearby, reminding you of him with their every mannerism. And yet, you’d found that starving yourself of their friendship and their company ached nearly just as much.

“I can’t wait either,” you said through a distant smile.

“And Dad will probably cry more than Mom did when he sees you,” Auston predicted, lifting his mug. Ema swatted at his arm.

“Don’t start with me!” she warned. “I happened to see you choking up out there, too.”

You turned to Auston and raised an accusing brow at him. He simply chuckled into his tea and looked away, and the three of you sat in silence for a beat.

“Come on,” he finally said as he rested his mug on the island, nodding his head in the direction of the sliding glass door at the back of the house. “Lemme show you the patio.”

You nodded, knowing full well that showing off the backyard was not the real reason he was inviting you outside. Despite that knowledge, you hopped off the barstool, put your mug in the sink, and kissed Ema on the cheek as you passed her.

“Thanks for the tea, mamacita,” you said with a smile, squeezing her shoulders. “Anytime, mi amor,” she replied, sending a wink your way as you turned to follow Auston.

He slid open the door and motioned for you to step through it first. When he saw his mother watching you through the kitchen window, he gave her a knowing smirk, and she put her hands up in innocence. But as she watched you two walk out onto the patio through the glass, she breathed a silent prayer to any higher power who would listen that maybe, just maybe, you would finally come home.

Not to Scottsdale, no. Home to Auston.

Meanwhile, you were trailing your hand along the hammock near the pool, taking in the scene and trying to remember to breathe. When you heard him close the door, you turned back to Auston, your eyes floating around the backyard.

“Nice setup they’ve got back here,” you grinned, Auston chuckling with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.

“Yeah, it’s even nicer in the summer,” he commented. You nodded, stepping closer to the pool and lowering yourself to sit on the edge, patting the space next to you as an invitation for Auston to do the same.

“We have chairs, ya know,” he grumbled as he took a seat. “Not all of us like to sit on the floor all day doing yoga.”

You sneered at him. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I do all day long,” you said sarcastically.

“Well, you used to, anyway,” he mumbled.

You gulped as visions of him watching you do precarious yoga poses on the living room floor of his apartment flickered in your mind’s eye, and then, once again, you moved right along.

“So… how’s it going, Matthews? How’s life?” you prompted, not even sure if you truly wanted to hear the answer to your inquiry.

He stretched out his long legs so that his feet were dangling above the water as he wondered where to even begin.

“It’s… it’s good,” he said. “Overall. It’s nice to be home for a few days. Needed that. I missed it. Missed my family. Missed…” he stopped himself, “…other things,” he added under his breath.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and decided to avoid the path he was taking this down. “How’s hockey?” you asked instead.

Auston shifted noticeably at the mention of his career, still painfully aware that, despite the successes it had brought him, it had ultimately caused the demise of your relationship.

“Hockey is… hockey,” he said. “Honestly it’s good on the whole. But the team’s not having the greatest year so far, which is rough.” You nodded, knowing better than most that the Toronto media operated at a different level of intensity and scrutiny than that of nearly all other markets, especially when the Leafs were losing, and especially when new blood was added into the equation, like Auston’s had been when they drafted him.

Like yours had been when you moved there with him.

The spotlight they shone on you — and the subsequent attention you received from so-called fans who took to the internet to question your intentions and integrity — had been far more than you bargained for.

Just as you were about to ask about how the guys on the team were faring, Auston spoke again.

“I think about calling you every time we come to LA, Kels,” he said, fixing his eyes on the neighbor’s house in the distance because he was simply unable to look at you while he admitted it. With a sniff, he added, “I’m not gonna lie about that.”

“Why don’t you?” you asked after a beat, maybe unfairly, studying his familiar profile. His features were the same, of course, but he looked… more mature. Older. Wiser. All that jazz. Auston shrugged, still not capable of looking at you.

“Just didn’t think you’d want me to,” he answered dejectedly. Your heart sank into your stomach. Given the things you’d said when you left him nearly three years ago, you could hardly blame him for that one.

“Well,” you started with a sigh. “I guess we could call it even then, because I think about coming to see you play every time you come to LA. Or Anaheim. Or even Vegas. And obviously Phoenix.”

“Well why didn’t you just call me asking for free tickets then,” he said in a tone that he tried to disguise as facetious, but you heard the hurt seeping into his words. “Everybody else I know in any NHL city does.”

You felt a fierce sense of protectiveness then, clenching your jaw as you tried to calm your irate thoughts. You watched him pick at the sleeve of his black Raiders crewneck and felt deeply for him — this man you’d loved since he was a little boy.

“Do they really? Still?” you asked in monotone.

Auston nodded, squinting in the sunlight. “Yup,” he answered, popping the ‘p.’ “Every game.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, covering your eyes with your hand and pushing into your temples. You blew out a long breath. “Fuck. I’m really sorry about that. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I… it just sucks.”

Auston shrugged. “It’s not your fault,” he stated. “Sometimes I do it, sometimes I don’t. Kinda depends on whether the person’s actually talked to me lately.”

You nodded as he chuckled sadly, and you felt your chest tighten. “Well,” you began, clearing your throat. “I guess I wouldn’t qualify then because we haven’t talked much.”

Auston looked at you with intensity surging in his deep brown eyes, and you wanted to look away but found that you couldn’t.

“You always qualify,” he said seriously. “You’re one of the only people that qualifies.”

You bit down, hard, on your bottom lip and grappled internally with the weight of his comment. Then he said sarcastically, “Besides, I know you’re only after my money. I mean, you forced me to buy you that Louis bag the week after I got drafted.”

Your jaw dropped at his joke, and you scoffed indignantly. “Oh, yeah, the one you finally had to hide in my closet after I kept sneaking it back into your car because I wanted you to return it?” you corrected. “Yeah, ya caught me. You know me, Aus. Such a gold digger.”

Auston had started laughing halfway through your quip, but stopped suddenly. You gave him a questioning look, and he paused before answering.

“You called me Aus,” he stated with a smile he tried and failed to hide. “You went back to calling me Matthews after we broke up. But you… you just called me Aus again.”

“Yeah, well...” you grumbled, “Don’t get too excited.” You tossed him a smirk and he mirrored it, basking in the comfort of the moment.

“So whaddya think of the place? Not bad, right?” he finally asked, glancing around the property, back at the house, then settling his focus back on you.

You shrugged. “A little gaudy for my taste, but...” you began, and Auston shook his head bemusedly, knowing he set himself up for that one.

“No, it’s great. I can see how much your mom loves it. In all seriousness, I think it’s amazing, everything you’ve done for your family. Your parents. It’s pretty incredible,” you said earnestly. “I don’t think I said it enough when we were together, but, I’m really proud of you, Aus. And I don’t just mean about the hockey.”

Auston nodded soberly, turning his head to look you in the eye.

“I know you don’t,” he said quietly. “Thanks, Kels. It means a lot coming from you. More, uh… more than you know.”

And then, before you could think twice about doing so, you reached out your hand to rest atop his, feeling its familiar warmth as your fingertips grazed the raised veins there. Auston swallowed hard, blinking at where your hands now met, and slowly wrapped your fingers in his, giving them a squeeze. You exchanged long stares before you eventually slammed on the brakes in your brain and carried on.

“So, you just casually hang out with Justin Bieber now?” you asked, reaching your palms behind you and leaning back. “And the wildest shit is that I saw it first when he posted it, not you.”

Auston chuckled, looking down at his slides and — ironically — Drew socks combo. In his signature way, he halted his laughter on a dime and his face turned somber as he said dryly, “Yeah, I’m like really famous now, yanno?”

You sighed in annoyance, rolling your eyes as you looked skyward, feeling Auston’s gaze turn to you. You let it go for a few moments before shifting only your eyes toward his.

“What?” you asked accusingly. You could tell by the faraway smirk on his face that he was lost in a memory.

“Remember you had posters of him hung up all over your room in like middle school? From Tiger Beat magazine and shit? And now I play video games and mini sticks with the guy,” Auston said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, and if you ever tell him about that, I’ll end your life,” you threatened, shoving at his arm and attempting to ignore how much his biceps had grown since you last touched them. And then you were slamming the door shut on a rush of memories of having him beneath your touch — some innocent, but most intimate.

Auston saw it in your eyes — the place you went for a moment — as you dropped your hand back to the concrete beneath you. He knew where you went because, so often, he went there, too.

He held your gaze and promised, “Your secret’s safe with me. You know that.”

Only a hint of a smile graced your lips for a fleeting moment as you ran your fingers through your hair. Suddenly, you felt the heaviness of the history between the two of you closing in — smothering you, like it always did. Auston watched helplessly, wishing it didn’t have to be this hard.

And then, in a flash, like he so often did to save you from your swirling thoughts, he casually changed the topic as he commented, “Your hair’s shorter. You look like your mom. In a good way.”

Blushing, you breathed a laugh through your nose. “Thanks,” you said softly. “I think it’s the highlights, too.”

“It is,” Auston confirmed, and then — damn him — he reached out and looped a lock from the front of your face between his thumb and forefinger, the way he had done a thousand times before, usually mid-conversation, always absentmindedly. This time, you knew, as you forced your eyes to meet his, it was a bit more calculated. “I really like it,” he told you.

You nodded, searching his eyes to try and determine whether he had any idea what this — this moment, this visit, this day — really was.

“If you’re gonna ask me what we’re doing,” Auston spoke, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, “then I have to tell you I have no idea.”

Again, damn him. After all this time, it was like he still lived inside your brain and had read your every thought like the morning paper before you even had the chance to convey it. Which used to save you in a lot of ways. Now it felt kind of… intrusive. But somehow you didn’t mind.

“I had no idea what I was even gonna say when I called you. All I know,” he continued, still flipping the strand of hair around his fingers, “is that I really wanted to see you, and that I was really happy when you came, and that I’m really enjoying this time with you.”

You nodded, and as he pulled his hand from your face, his thumb brushed your jawline just slightly, and that touch alone sent a bolt of lightning through you. Auston smiled softly as he said barely above a whisper, “Okay, now it’s your turn to say something.”

You heaved a sigh, tipping your head back with eyes closed and soaking in the sunshine. “I don’t expect you to know, Aus,” you finally spoke. “I was just so... so shocked, I guess, that you wanted to see me. It’s been so long, I just... I didn’t know when I would see you again.”

“We’ve talked though,” Auston pointed out with a sigh to match yours, pulling a knee to his chest and wrapping his arms around his bent leg. “FaceTimed. Texted.”

You rolled your head toward him. “It’s not the same,” you reasoned softly, hesitantly reaching out your hand to tuck some of his black hair behind his ear. He licked his lips swiftly and placed a peck to your thumb before you slowly withdrew your hand.

“You’re right,” Auston conceded. “Definitely not the same.”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt...”

You were snapped out of your private moment by one person’s voice and another person’s squeal behind you.

“Oh, my god!” you yelled as you shot up from the side of the pool, Alexandria and Breyana already scampering toward you from the back door.

“It’s about goddamn time you came back to us!” Alex shrieked, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “I missed you, little sister,” she cooed, rubbing her hands across your back, and you hummed in agreement.

“I missed you, Al,” you replied, kissing her temple as you stepped back to greet the youngest of the Matthews clan.

“And you. My baby!” you exclaimed, pulling Breyana into your arms. “The true star athlete of the family,” you teased as she squeezed your waist.

“Damn straight,” Breyana giggled. “I missed you, Kels. I can’t believe you’re here!”

You pulled away, glancing behind you as you saw Auston slowly approaching out of the corner of your eye. “Me either,” you admitted, eyes widening dramatically as the girls snickered at you. “How was golf?”

“Brey smoked us, no surprise,” Alex replied. “But shut up about the golf. Tell us what’s going on with you two.”

“Alex!” Auston warned, shooting her a glare. “Please don’t.”

Alex gave him her best older sister roll of the eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as Breyana looked between the two of you.

“Nope,” Alex refused. “Not until you tell me what’s up. C’mon, spill.”

“We’re just...” you began, swiveling to look Auston’s way as he smirked down at you, happy to let you flounder in this one all on your own. “Visiting,” you finished, nodding once at Alex, pleased with your choice of verbiage.

“Honestly, you guys…” Breyana lamented.

“Visiting, huh?” Alex echoed, growing even more suspicious. “Yeah, okay. Sure. Wear protection. Anyways, uh—“

“Alex!” Auston repeated, this time through clenched teeth. “I swear to god...”

“Anyways, like I was saying,” Alex continued. “Your parents invited us all to their house tomorrow night for the Christmas party. I didn’t think you were gonna be there — does this mean you will?”

You nodded, causing Alex to clap excitedly. “I’ll be there with bells on,” you confirmed. “I already made my shortbread cookies.” All three siblings moaned in delight at the mention of your famous treats.

“Hell yeah! Plus that means we won’t be the only ones escaping to the balcony to drink,” Breyana commented.

“Brey, you’re like twelve,” Auston taunted, earning him a sharp elbow to the ribs from his younger sister. “You don’t get to drink with us.”

“Whatever,” she retorted. “Like you guys weren’t sneaking Mom and Dad’s liquor when you were younger than me.”

“Anyways,” Alex said yet again, clearing her throat. “We’re gonna go back inside now and shower, and just, uh, leave you guys to whatever it is you were doing beside the pool there. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. See ya,” she sang, spinning Breyana by the shoulders and guiding her inside, both girls whispering and giggling all the while. “Kels, I’ll call you tonight — you can tell me all about it!” Alex called over her shoulder, sliding the door closed.

You turned to see a pink tinge to Auston’s cheeks as he muttered, “Sorry,” with a dry laugh. You shook your head.

“No, don’t be,” you insisted, waving him off as you took a seat at the glass picnic table beside you, Auston following your lead. “It wouldn’t be a visit to the Matthews house without Alex torturing the both of us,” you teased.

Auston nodded. “Very true,” he said, and you knew he didn’t want to stop there, but he couldn’t seem to find what he did want to say next.

Instead, you ventured, “So what are your—”

At the very same time, he started, “Kels, would you maybe—”

You both chuckled at yourselves, locking eyes. This certainly wasn’t the first time this had happened in conversations — far from it. And usually, you were about to say the very same thing.

So, you motioned for him to speak first.

He toyed with the band of his watch as he said nervously, “I was just gonna say, uh, would you maybe wanna go to dinner with me? Tonight?”

You sat back in your chair, smirking, fully aware that you were teetering on a damn fine line.

“I was hoping you might say that.”

_____

An hour later, after reuniting with Brian (Auston was right — he cried more than the rest of his family combined when he hugged you), you headed home to change for dinner. As you pulled away from the Matthews house, you were thankful that Auston had offered to follow you in his own vehicle so that he could drive you to dinner, which in turn gave each of you a few minutes to breathe.

Surprisingly, your mother didn’t seem at all shocked to see the guest you had brought back with you. You had told her that you were going to visit the Matthews’, not specifying which member of the family had invited you, though she could venture a guess. When she watched two vehicles pull into the driveway side by side, she inhaled an excited gasp, a smile overwhelming her features as she came to meet you at the front door, just as you laughed at a lame joke Auston cracked about your driving.

Your mother nearly tackled him in a hug, which he warmly returned. He shared a similar bond with your mom to the one you shared with his, which was yet another piece that fit perfectly into the puzzle that was your relationship. So many pieces fit, and so few didn’t, but that still didn’t make things whole.

But, you ignored that thought — and so many others — as you left the two to chat, bounding up the stairs to change, now grateful that you’d brought more than one nice option to wear to the Christmas party tomorrow, considering the rest of your suitcase was filled with comfy loungewear.

How could you have ever planned for this?

After touching up your hair and makeup and putting on the more understated of the dressy outfits you’d brought, you returned to the kitchen where your mom and Auston stood huddled at the counter, near empty glasses of red wine in front of them both.

“Already boozin’, huh?” you teased as you folded your arms in front of you. They chuckled, and Auston glanced at you over his shoulder with a smile. When he laid eyes on you, though, he stood straight up and turned to face you, making no attempt to hide his stare, even in front of your mother. Without taking his gaze off of you, he threw back his final sip of wine and blew out a flustered breath. You knew you were blushing, so you walked past him to your mother, pressing your cheek to hers for an air kiss so as not to mess up your lipstick.

“Sorry to take your favorite boy away from you, but we should head out,” you announced as you looked back at Auston. He cleared his throat, walking to the other side of the countertop to hug your mom again, thanking her for the wine and something else that you didn’t quite catch.

He followed you down the hall, his hand ghosting along the small of your back as you reached for your purse on the coat rack. You looked back and blew a final kiss to your mom, who waved as she watched Auston open the passenger door of his car and help you in — both of you giggling as you crouched into the low-riding vehicle in your skirt and high heels. Like a mom of a young teen, she stood at the window and watched the two of you drive down the block and out of sight, hands clasped together wistfully as she turned back to finish placing the final decorative touches in the living room ahead of tomorrow.

Just a minute later, your dad came through the door from the grocery store, calling for her, sounding nearly breathless.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, smoothing the silk ribbon wrapped around the banister.

“Marie… did I just see Auston driving Kelsey down the road in a Porsche?” he gaped, his brow furrowed, thumb pointed over his shoulder.

She laughed, looking downward as she nodded.

“Yes, you did,” she confirmed, then looked at him as she felt tears welling. “Jack... I can’t say for sure, but I think maybe the girl is finally coming to her senses.”

A smile spread slowly across your father’s face and he came toward your mother, wrapping her in a hug.

“Well…” he began, kissing her temple. “Then maybe we’ll get our Christmas wish after all.”

“And what’s that?” your mom asked.

“For her to be happy again.”

_____

“You look amazing, Kels,” Auston said seriously from the driver’s seat. “Gorgeous.”

You gave him a coy smile and briefly inspected the outfit he’d chosen before leaving his own parents’ house.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Auston grinned and decided he would take that.

Ten minutes later, he was pulling up to the restaurant you had already known he’d had in mind when he asked you to dinner, without even needing to discuss it. The same Italian restaurant where you’d celebrated infinite birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s Days, and other milestones. You fell into easy conversation during drinks and appetizers before Auston told a comical story about his teammates which led to an in that he knew he needed to take. 

“They miss you, you know,” Auston stated cautiously between bites of his shrimp scampi. “Mo. Mitchy. Especially Steph.”

You folded and unfolded the seams of the cloth napkin in your lap, considering your response.

“I miss them, too,” you eventually murmured. “So be real with me. You really like it there now?” you leveled with him.

His demeanor shifted — in a good way — as he replied. “It’s honestly great. I mean, you’d love it there now, Kels. I swear,” Auston said, shaking his head in wonder. “’M not just saying that. I mean, the hype is still there, yes, but it’s not at the level it was when I first started. Mitchy and Mo and Willy and I, all us guys who kinda started out together, we’ve all sort of found our groove with the media and stuff, and for the most part, it’s great. I have a feeling it’ll just keep getting better, too.”

You watched his eyes light up as he spoke about Toronto, relief and happiness washing over you. It didn’t seem so long ago that Auston was curled up on the couch, near tears, head in your lap, feeling incapable of living up to the expectations set for him — almost buckling under the immense pressure, the likes of which he had never felt before.

You let out a teary chuckle, swiping at a teardrop on your cheek that had fallen as he answered, taking you by surprise.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that, Aus,” you told him, holding your hand over your heart as it soared within you.

Auston nodded slightly, and his lips twitched into a sad smile. “There’s still something that doesn’t feel right though,” he confessed, though it didn’t feel much like a secret. “Still something missing.”

“And what’s that?” you asked timidly as you lifted your wine glass, excited for and fearful of his answer at all once.

“You.”

Forcing yourself to swallow your merlot so you didn’t spray it across the table, you put your fist to your mouth, holding it there while you attempted to process his latest, and most brazen, admission.

“I mean… look, there have been a few others,” Auston continued with a mindless shrug. “But never anything serious, and never anyone that I’m not constantly comparing to you in every possible way,” he told you, rolling his fingertips on the table and focusing on his hand as he spoke. “Feel kinda bad actually, because I know they all thought it was something more than it really was, and then I was always the one to break things off. I didn’t purposely lead them on, I just... once I got into it, I realized my feelings just weren’t in it.”

You opened your mouth to speak, hands limp in your lap, and then closed your lips in a tight line as you mulled over his words. You inhaled a shuddering breath and looked down, feeling the same shame that had overcome you countless times before come back again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered without lifting your eyes.

“Kelsey…” Auston spoke firmly. “Look at me. Please.”

You did as he asked, lips pursed, and were met with his adoring, enchanting gaze, always too forgiving of your faults and mistakes.

“It’s okay,” he promised sincerely. “I understand. Trust me on that. I’ve always understood where you were coming from, but it seemed like there was just… just nothing I could do about it. Nothing I could do to make you stay, or to bring you back. That’s what made it so hard. That’s what still makes it so hard.”

You nodded. “Well — what you’re doing right now — whatever this is… it’s working,” you divulged, knowing this was a dangerous game and no longer caring.

“Is it?” Auston asked, a full-blown smile appearing now on his lips. Those lips you missed so damn much.

“Yeah,” you giggled, both of you grinning. “God, I missed your smile, Aus.”

“My smile?” he asked incredulously, then scoffed. “Your smile fucking breaks my heart, Kelsey,” he told you in his deepest tone, biting at the inside of his cheek as if he was trying not to lean across the table and kiss you full on the mouth right then and there.

And now, as you saw that look in his eye that you knew so well, you knew two things.

One, you were fucked. And two, you were in desperate need of a minute.

“I, uh, I gotta run to the ladies’ room,” you told him, standing, feeling unsteady as you pushed in your chair. Auston nodded knowingly and said, “Take all the time you need.”

You brushed a hand over his shoulder, the other holding tightly to your crossbody bag, as you attempted to walk in a straight line toward the restrooms across the restaurant floor. You were only one glass of wine deep, yet this night was making your head feel as fuzzy as if you’d just done a row of shots. Once safely inside the bathroom, you tossed your purse on the counter and held tightly to the sink to try and settle yourself, taking deep breaths in an attempt to control your racing pulse.

Just then, you heard a toilet flush, and your sense of solitude was quickly shattered when you saw a familiar blonde figure step out of the bathroom and lean closer upon recognizing you.

“Kelsey!” she exclaimed, moving toward the sink.

“Holly! Oh, my god,” you laughed as you squeezed her upper arm.

“Here, let me wash my hands and then I’ll give you a real hug,” she promised as you both giggled.

You had been a cheerleader throughout high school, and Holly, a year your senior, had been captain the year before you took on the title. Though you two weren’t particularly close, you had always looked up to her, and you’d kept in touch for a couple of years after you graduated before mostly falling off, save for the occasional hype comment or story reply on social media.

“How are you, girl? You look gorgeous!” she said as she threw her arms around you.

“So do you! I’m doing well, thanks. Home for the holidays,” you offered as she stepped back and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s great! Me, too,” she replied, then smiled mischievously at you. “To be totally honest, uh… I saw you when you were being seated. I didn’t wanna be weird or like, intrude, or anything but… I saw you come in with Auston. Are you guys like… back together?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no,” you laughed nervously, feeling yourself blush under her questioning. “We’re not back together. Just, uh, just two old friends, uh, catching up, ya know?” you reasoned nonchalantly as you reached for your bag.

“Oh. Right. Well... ‘tis the damn season, am I right?” Holly said with a chuckle, her own cheeks slightly flushed as she feared maybe she had made you uncomfortable by addressing the elephant in the room.

“Right,” you nodded cordially, then took a step toward her and patted her hand, wanting to make sure she didn’t think you were upset by her comment. “It’s so good to see you, Hol. I’m gonna head back out there—“

“Kelsey, wait,” Holly said urgently, grasping your arm before you could turn away from her. You blinked at her several times, glancing between her grip and her face as you waited to hear what had gotten into her.

“I just have to tell you... for what it’s worth, you guys still look so happy together,” Holly said. “Even if that’s not what this is. I just... I wanted to tell you that. As someone who has known you both for a long time, Auston never smiles as much as he smiles when he’s with you. It’s just nice to see.”

You gaped at your old friend, speechless, and she scrunched her nose at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cross the line, I just...” she trailed off.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to act casual. “No, no. Not at all. It’s okay. Thank you, for telling me. I just, I gotta run,” you said, leaning in to hug her again. “Bye, Hol. Have a merry Christmas.”

“You too, Kels. See you around,” She smiled as you moved toward the bathroom door. With one last polite nod at her, you exited and escaped to your seat.

As you reached the table, you had to physically restrain yourself from reaching out and running your hand along the back of Auston’s neck and affectionately trailing your fingertips over the short hair there, as you had done for so many years when approaching him and sidling up to him. Instead, you smoothed your hand over your dress and sighed as Auston turned his head to look at you, grinning as he watched you sit.

“You get lost?” he teased. You chuckled, throwing your hair behind your shoulders.

“Something like that,” you muttered, immediately reaching for your glass of wine, which you could tell had been refilled in your absence. Auston hummed in acknowledgement as you took a long sip, watching you all the while.

“One more glass and then we get outta here?” Auston suggested as you set the glass down. You only nodded.

_____

“Remember when you had that old truck, with the tires that were always muddy, and we used to just ride around Scottsdale all night long?” you asked Auston, both of you reminiscing about days gone by after leaving the restaurant.

Auston nodded, running his pointer finger across his upper lip, the other hand on the wheel, as he watched the memory projecting in his mind.

“‘Course I do,” he told you, and you didn’t miss the way his tone changed when he did, making you smirk.

“So, where to next?” you prodded. “Back to Casa de Matthews?”

He shrugged ambiguously, but secretly, he knew just what he wanted to do. “We could just ride around. Like we used to. If you want. I mean, there’s no real reason for us to rush back to our parents’ houses, right?” he said with a snicker.

This could get messy as the mud on the truck tires, you thought, but your response was already tumbling from your lips.

“Okay,” you said, smiling at him. “I’d say let’s go drive through the rich neighborhoods and look at Christmas lights like we used to, but that’s where you and your parents live now, so...” You clicked your tongue and Auston rolled his jaw, acting completely offended to hide how much he had missed you chirping him. The way it melted him.

“We’re still going,” he insisted, turning the wheel at the next intersection and pulling a U-turn. “We’ll just, uh, we’re just gonna maybe skip a couple neighborhoods, that’s all.”

You laughed — a real Kelsey belly laugh — and Auston watched as you lit up his world yet again. He didn’t even need to see any Christmas lights this year. He had all the light he needed right next to him.

Minutes later, he passed the usual first turn on your holiday lights tour and you furrowed your brow.

“Aus, where are you going? I wanted to see Ranchero Nuevo first. We always start there,” you reminded him.

“No, what’s the actual first thing we do when we go see Christmas lights?” Auston asked, pulling instead toward the strip mall at the next light. When you saw the green glow of the Starbucks sign up ahead, you smiled as it dawned on you.

“Get hot chocolate,” you said fondly. Instead of answering, Auston simply sent a soft smile your way. “You’re the greatest,” you lauded, igniting a pride that burned bright in Auston’s chest.

“Anything for you, babe,” he said before he could even realize what he’d just done. He snapped his head your way and saw that you were trying your damnedest not to smile.

He was completely taken aback as you quipped, “You can call me babe for the weekend.”

Auston did a double-take and then nodded once at your phone in your hands, which had just lit up with two missed calls and a particularly accusatory text from one Alex Matthews that you decided you would have to tend to later.

“Write this down,” Auston instructed curtly.

“What do you mean?” you laughed, holding your phone up curiously.

“I want proof that you just said that to me,” he deadpanned, jutting his chin toward your glowing screen and sending you into a fit of laughter.

After you’d both recovered, Auston picked up your drink — large peppermint hot chocolate, like always — and a coffee for himself, and you set off to wind your way through the same neighborhoods you had driven through countless times, admiring most of the decorations and poking fun at the gaudiness of some, laughing all the while, without a care.

As he pulled into a neighborhood you knew to be just a stone’s throw away from where he had recently purchased a house, Auston took a deep breath, fingers gripping the steering wheel rigidly, and decided to take the leap and say what had been circling through his brain since you’d stepped foot in the vehicle after dinner but had only just now worked up the nerve to say.

“What if we didn’t go back to our parents’ places tonight?” he asked abruptly, the words sounding much more jumbled and rushed than they had in his head.

You chuckled anxiously, staring straight ahead. “What do you mean?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pressed on. “Hear me out. What if we just went to my place for the night instead? I don’t mean to like… to hook up, or anything,” he assured. “Just to be together. I just… I really fucking missed you.” 

Uh, whoops. He hadn’t exactly meant to slip that last part in there, but it was too late to turn back now.

There was a lengthy pause and the car was frighteningly silent as you weighed your options.

“Well...” you eventually said, nibbling on your bottom lip. “If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me.”

“Yeah?” Auston asked immediately, searching your face for confirmation that he had just heard you correctly. He couldn’t believe that this — any of this— was really happening.

You nodded.

“Yeah. And… Aus?” you spoke.

“Yes, Kelsey?” he asked softly, joy radiating from his whole being and seeping into his words.

You leaned your head back against the seat and reached to wrap your hand around his on the center console.

“I really fucking missed you, too,” you told him.

_____

“Why did you agree to come with me tonight anyway, Kelsey?”

You and Auston were each almost a full bottle of wine deep by the time he asked this, inhibitions now lowered. He’d barely finished giving you the tour before you were both so palpably overwhelmed by the reality of being alone together in his house, with so many feelings buzzing about frenetically, that you took the liberty of pulling a bottle of red from the wine fridge and asking for glasses and a corkscrew. Auston forked them over without question, and now you were deeply entrenched in the process of examining old battle wounds that had never quite healed.

“Because I missed you,” you answered truthfully. “And also because I owed it to you to accept your invitation when you took a chance by reaching out.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Kels,” he claimed, taking a swig.

You picked up your glass and passed by him as you began to pace the tile floor, unable to just be still during this exchange — this conversation that had been a long time coming.

“I do, though,” you argued. “You gave me everything. Everything. And I still left.”

Auston squeezed the stem of his wine glass so hard he feared he may just shatter it.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself for the things I put you through because of my career choice,” he said firmly, a hand splayed against his chest as he accepted the responsibility, just like he always did.

“But you didn’t choose to have the media posted up outside our apartment every day. You didn’t choose to have strangers stalking me and my family online. You didn’t choose to have them calling me a distraction and a leech and a gold digger and a wh—“

“Don’t say it,” he warned as he lifted a finger, referencing the specific instance of the smearing of your character that had left you broken enough to start packing your bags.

“Okay,” you conceded quietly, knowing just how sick that one word had made him. “But listen. Yes, you chose to play hockey. But you didn’t choose all that shit that came along with it. You didn’t know! Hell, you didn’t even get to choose where you played. But even so… honestly, I used to blame you for everything. Because back then, it was just easier for me to deal with it that way.”

Auston’s head hung between his shoulder blades as he leaned his palms against the bar, reliving the very same pain that had eaten away at him for the past three years, especially the acute ache that had come in the weeks immediately after you left.

“I know you did — blame me, that is,” he said softly. “And I understand why.”

You took slow and deliberate steps back to where he stood and rubbed your hand soothingly across his broad back, feeling the way his muscles relaxed under your touch.

“Hey… look at me, huh?” you asked, gently guiding his face toward yours with your fingers. “I don’t blame you, Aus. I don’t,” you assured, your eyes piercing into his. “Not anymore. I’ve grown. I know I did this. I know it’s my fault that we’re like this. I mean, fuck, I broke my own heart, and I know I hurt you. I just... at the time, I didn’t see a way forward on the road we were on.”

Auston’s mind was firing on all cylinders as he tried desperately to compute what he’d just heard, convinced he was gathering more from your words than you meant for him to.

“And now?” he ventured.

He watched as your pained expression turned to one of, dare he even think it, hope.

“I still see it, Aus,” you said. “I still see us ending up together. I know it’s out of the blue, but…”

“It’s not though,” he said, cocking his head a bit to punctuate his point. “I know it doesn’t make much sense, any of this, but… to me, it’s not out of the blue. I’ve wanted this for so long,” he told you. “And I just need you to know that. Regardless of what happens next.”

“Auston, you and me together… that’s the only thing that makes sense. That’s all that’s ever made sense to me,” you said, clarity washing over you. “But I just, I wasn’t ready. And I got so scared that I wouldn’t be able to handle your life that I… I just ran.”

“You can run, Kelsey,” Auston said softly as he, yet again, twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “But only so far.”

“Yeah…” you whispered. Then, without hesitation,��you grasped his chin between your forefinger and thumb, turning his face to yours and studying his brown eyes just for a heartbeat before pressing your lips to his.

And for now, that was all that needed to be said.

_____

You hadn’t slept together. But you had slept together.

Too much crying and laughing and kissing and rehashing and wondering aloud had left you both emotionally drained and physically exhausted, and after dragging yourself into the master bathroom to throw on a crewneck and a pair of  Auston’s sweats, you’d promptly fallen asleep in his arms, a smile on his features even in sleep.

The next morning it occurred to you, with your cheek pressed against his bare chest and your legs entangled with his, that Auston’s bed — whether here, or in the house where he grew up, or in Toronto — was the warmest one you’d ever known. Though you could tell by the sunlight flooding the room that it was late in the morning, you couldn’t bear to move away from him. 

Soon, he, too, began to stir. As he squinted in the daylight and peered down at you, he closed his eyes once more, a peaceful grin on his lips.

“Oh, thank god that wasn’t just a dream,” he whispered. You chuckled, your fingertips lazily drawing shapes on his pecs as you nuzzled your head further into his neck.

“Nope,” you established. “This is very, very real.”

You lay in quiet thought for a moment before adding softly, “But what happens now?”

At that, Auston’s eyes opened wider this time, a slight panic visible in his face.

“Well,” he began, smoothing his hand over your head and kissing your hair. “What happens now is that we get some coffee.”

You sighed at his attempt to make light of the situation and pushed yourself to sit straight up in bed, cross-legged in front of where he lay on his side.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you spoke, your fingers pulling anxiously at the bedsheet below. “Yesterday was like a fever dream and now... now we have to face reality.”

Slowly, Auston sat up, too, and pulled you into his lap, allowing you to rest your back against his torso as he gathered your hair at the nape of your neck in a makeshift ponytail.

“Everything that happened yesterday was reality, baby,” he insisted, kissing the crown of your head.

“Our feelings, yes,” you allowed. “But not the rest of it. I mean, fuck, we’re both leaving town in —“ you glanced at the bedside clock and were shocked by the 11:27 that stared back at you, realizing you’d practically slept in half the day — “48 hours. And then what? I go back to LA and you go back to Toronto and we just wonder about—“

“Baby, stop,” Auston begged as he turned you to face him, bringing your forehead to his lips. “Take a breath,” he said, stroking your jaw with his thumbs as he looked down at you, concern etched into his features. “We don’t have to figure all this out right this minute. In fact, we’re not going to. For right now, let’s just let this be what it is. And you have to try and stop spinning your wheels so fast. You’re gonna burn a hole in my floor,” he joked, kissing your nose.

You chuckled sadly, holding his wrists. “You’re right,” you eventually told him. “We’ll figure it out, somehow. I know we will,” you sighed, frowning. “First things first though, I have to get home and help my mom get ready for the party tonight.”

Before you could get out of bed to start gathering your things, Auston circled his arms around your hips and kept you in his lap. “Wait, gimme a smile first,” he requested.

You looked up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile, still distracted by the future of your relationship teetering precariously in the balance.

Auston shook his head. “That’s a fake Kelsey smile,” he accused, accurately. “Don’t even try me.”

With another deep sigh, you muttered, “You’re the only soul who can tell.”

“Who can tell what?” he asked, hugging you tighter.

You looked up at him for a moment, feeling more seen than you had in years. “Which smiles I’m faking,” you said quietly.

A pleased smile twitched at the corners of Auston’s lips before he pressed his mouth to yours.

_____

Auston walked into your parents’ house that night with his understated charm and a devastating ensemble of a maroon suit, white shirt with the top few buttons undone, and black loafers, looking every bit the GQ model he was once upon a time. With two bouquets of red roses and a bottle of champagne in hand, he knocked on the glass and your dad met him enthusiastically at the door.

“What’s the occasion?” your dad then chuckled, a bit puzzled. Auston glanced to where you stood near the staircase, waiting to greet him, and smiled.

“These are for your daughter,” Auston said as he grasped one bouquet. “And these are for your wife,” he said as he gestured toward the other. Your dad raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of you pensively, and let out a loud laugh. “Well, how thoughtful! And the champagne?” your dad asked as Auston stepped toward you and tucked one bunch of roses into your hold. He kissed your cheek chastely and turned back to your dad.

“Well, you never know when you’re gonna have something to celebrate,” Auston said with a smirk. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and your dad clapped Auston’s back appreciatively before leaving the two of you to your moment.

“Thank you, for the flowers,” you said softly, staring up at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a nod before your aunt and uncle suddenly appeared in the doorway, loudly greeting you and pushing their way toward you for hugs as Auston gave them their space and waited for you to become available again.

His patience lasted all of five minutes as he made vague pleasantries with the handful of guests who had already arrived, before he was approaching you again, eager to do what he really came here to do and unable to wait a moment longer. As you turned away from a brief conversation with a longtime next-door neighbor, Auston gently grasped your wrist as he said hastily, “Can I see you outside for a second?”

You didn’t have much of a choice as he led you hurriedly through the formal living room and out the French doors to the balcony, closing them behind you and backing you into a corner, hidden from view.

“Aus, what are you—“

He pressed his body into yours, nudging you back against the rail as he took your face in his hands and kissed you hungrily.

“Doing,” you whispered when he let up, completing your earlier thought as you pressed your fingertips against your swollen lips and looked up at him, your cheeks reddening.

“That,” he answered simply with a small smile. “And I wanted to give you something...”

He patted his pockets to determine where the object was, and your eyes widened.

“Auston, no!” you exclaimed, squeezing his elbows in an attempt to stop his search. “You can’t. I didn’t get you anything. I —”

“Kelsey, are you crazy? Yes, you did,” he said firmly. “Time with you. You gave me time with you. That’s all I’ve wanted for the last three years. That’s more than I could have ever asked for.”

There was nothing you could say then, nothing that sounded worthy enough to hold any significance in such an already meaningful vignette of the two of you. Auston took your silence as his opportunity to pull a mid-sized, square, red leather box from the pocket of his suit jacket, the name “Cartier” imprinted in gold script on the lid.

“Auston, stop,” you warned in a whisper, knowing what was inside and knowing that you would be rendered completely incapable of walking away from him once he offered this gift to you, knowing what it signified for both of you. He shook his head, knowing that your request was an empty one. He propped open the box and placed it on the small wrought iron table in front of you on the balcony. You couldn’t peel your eyes from it as your mind raced with questions.

“How... where... we slept until noon, Aus,” you stuttered. “All the stores were closed. Where did you even buy this?”

He pursed his lips and nodded once, then put his hands into his pockets and admitted, “I’ve had it for almost three years, Kels.”

You blinked again and again, not processing what he’d just revealed.

“I’m sorry... what?”

“I bought this for you for Valentine’s Day three years ago,” he continued. “I bought it and I hid it in my closet and I was gonna give it to you but we broke up on —“

“January 30th...” you whispered. Auston’s brows knit together in agony, and his throat constricted.  

“You remember too,” he stated quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember a little too well,” you said, sniffling as you glanced down at the box again.

Suddenly, your mind drifted back not to that fateful day in his apartment in Toronto, but instead to lying on your stomach as a kid in your family room, flipping through the pages of your favorite issue of your mom’s old Vogue magazines, as Auston used a yardstick and a Nerf ball as makeshift hockey equipment, taking shots at your couch again and again while you soaked in the photos of beautiful models, trendy clothing, and expensive jewelry, as visions of working at a fashion magazine someday twirled through your daydreams.

“Whatcha readin’?” a ten-year-old Auston inquired as he dropped next to you to take a break from his game.

“Vogue,” you answered, turning another page. “Like usual.”

Auston nodded, spotting a pretty woman in a tight black dress and commented, “Cool,” with a laugh. “If you could have anything in that book, what would you pick?”

Ever the master of sass, you rolled your eyes.

“It’s a magazine, Aus,” you corrected with venom in your voice as Auston rolled his own eyes. “But, if I had to pick... I know just what I want,” you informed him, leafing through the issue to get back to an ad in the front. When you finally found what you were seeking, you plopped the magazine down again, smacking your hand onto its glossy pages.

“That,” you said, pointing to the gold bangle. “It’s called the Love Bracelet. It says that it gets bought by somebody you love and then they have to use a screwdriver to put it on you.”

“A screwdriver?!” Auston asked incredulously. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

You giggled. “No, silly,” you drawled. “It doesn’t hurt. But then the person who loves you is the only one who can put it on you or take it off you. You can’t do it by yourself.”

Auston nodded. “Cool,” he repeated, more seriously this time. You sighed wistfully as you gazed down at the bracelet.

“Yeah, but it’s a whole bunch of money, and my dad said he isn’t buying it. He said maybe my husband will get me one someday,” you said sadly. Auston watched your face drop, then, he got an idea.

“How about this,” he offered, nudging you with his elbow. “If I get famous for playing baseball, or hockey I guess, and I make a boatload of money, then I’ll buy you that bracelet. ‘Kay?”

You blushed, hunching your shoulders as you were slightly embarrassed by your best friend’s offer. Still, you loved Auston, and you knew he loved you. He was the only person you wanted to get that bracelet from, except for like, your mom or dad.

“Okay,” you agreed. “You promise?”

Auston dragged his index finger over the left side of his chest. “Cross my heart,” he confirmed.

This time, it was your turn to say, “Cool.”

“I asked my mom to hold onto it,” you heard him telling you now. Now that you’d become the people you’d said you’d be. Now that you both had grown into the farfetched dreams you’d shared as children. Now that you’d come back home — back to one another. Now that he was here, in front of you, again. “I just couldn’t bear to take it back, even though I honestly never thought I’d get the chance to give it to you.”

You were shaking your head endlessly, attempting to stop tears from streaking your face. “I can’t believe this...” you said, awestruck.

“I don’t have to put this on you right now,” Auston said, swallowing his own tears he felt creeping up on him. “I just want you to have it. It’s yours. You should keep it.”

With a few swipes at your undereyes, you rubbed away the wetness on your hands and then extended your left wrist to Auston. A smile flashed briefly across his lips before he set them in a straight line once more.

“Are you sure?” he asked, caution in his voice.

You pulled him in by his waist, beaming, before you answered.

“I’ve played this out basically every night since I left,” you told him. “Even when I was with somebody. I just followed the path my mind was taking me all the way to the very end, until there was no place left to go. And it always leads to you. It always leads me home.”

Auston pulled you into a searing kiss, both of you smiling into it, before he squeezed your hand and reached for the box, carefully disassembling the bracelet so that he could put it on you at last.

“All day I’ve been thinking about what I said earlier. About running,” you spoke as Auston worked on securing the bracelet. “I started running and running and it’s been such a mess since then. Nothing about the past three years made any sense to me. And then I saw you, and… it all made sense again. You and I were the only thing that ever made sense to me,” you told him, your voice wavering as he twisted the final screw into place, lifting the inside of your wrist to his lips and placing a warm, reverent kiss to the skin there, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. “So I’m done. I’m done running, Auston. I can’t run anymore.”

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” Auston admitted, touching his forehead to yours before leaning back. “So, to your earlier point... what the hell are we supposed to do now?”

You ran a frazzled hand through your long hair and bit at the inside of your cheek as you formulated your response. “I mean, I have to go back, Aus. I’m working on a really big project...”

Your words put him into a tailspin of his own this time, watching the dreams he had let resurface over the last two days come crashing down in front of him all over again. You were eluding him. Again.

His ears were buzzing so loudly that he barely heard your next words.

“But maybe after that... I could come and spend some time in Toronto?”

Auston pulled his tongue away from the roof of his dry mouth and pleaded, in a voice barely above a whisper, “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t say that unless you really mean it,” he said, desperation in his tone.

“I mean, really, I don’t have a choice,” you pointed out with a breathy laugh, your fingers tracing the cold metal of the bangle around your other wrist. “I don’t see any other way that this ends. Not after this. This perfect fucking weekend. I mean... do you?”

“No,” he quickly retorted. “No, I don’t. I was just scared that you... that this was going to be it for you. That we would have this incredible time together and then it would just be another chapter in the Auston and Kelsey history book.”

You smoothed your hands over his lapels, allowing your body to fully relax into his.

“Auston, this... this is different,” you said somberly. “Before, it all just felt like too much. I got scared. We were so young, Aus. I mean, we’re still young, but we were babies. And now... I’ve realized that dealing with the press and the social media and the fans... it’s worth it to me. I’ll never like it. But I love you. And that’s enough. That will always be more than enough for me — being with you. And I’m so sorry that it’s taken me this long, that it took me finally coming back home, to realize that.”

“Don’t be sorry, Kels, please,” Auston whispered, one hand clutching at your hip, the other tangled in the hair at the back of your head as he held onto you with everything he had, knowing he was ready to do so for as long as you would let him. “Just... just say it again, baby. Please?”

“I love you, Aus,” you whispered, tears falling freely down your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m never gonna stop.”

“Don’t stop,” Auston pleaded, nuzzling his nose against yours before pressing his lips to your mouth. “Don’t ever stop. Promise?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

“Cross my heart,” you whispered, drawing a pretend line across your chest before cupping his cheek and kissing him tenderly.

[sukiglycerin]

it’s too cold outside for angels to fly || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: pro-hero!katsuki bakugou x angel quirk!reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, angst, actually sfw (wow, luna's can do that?!)

* words: 8.1k (it’s a big baby!)

* warnings: mentions of trauma, reader is insecure but it's not their entire personality, therapy (not a lot of scenes with it), slight intoxication, mentions of throwing up (not much), like one suggestive joke, (light) cussing because bakugou

* original request: All I’m saying is reader with a angel quirk and the reader even has wings AND ANGST (but happy at the end 🥺) WITH BAKUGOU sounds so good 😔 but of course if you don’t want to do that it’s fine no pressure 💕

* a/n: hi 'nonnie! i hope you like you like this! honestly, it turned out longer than i expected (twice the length lol) but i'm proud of this baby. i'd like to note that enko, the nickname bakugou calls reader means 'halo' in japanese and can double down as a name, and an important reminder not to take any advice from the therapy in this fic. i am not a professional therapist, and please seek advice for situations specific to yours. the name of the fic is inspired by a lyric from ed sheeran's 'a-team,' but i promise it's not that dark. thanks so much to @toishi​ and the amazing feedback from @dylanxmin​ for beta-reading this! hope you enjoy!

* synopsis: you were your parents' perfect angel. you listened, and you followed. you didn't become a pro-hero, you stayed inside per your parents' request. it was okay if you couldn't fly; or, at least it was, before katsuki bakugou came along...

your grandmother loved pastries. that’s why you were here, trekking through the cold city in the tokyo winter. you shivered everytime your feathers came in contact with the frigid air, as if they, too, cowered under the looming shadows of tall buildings and bright lights.

so many people roamed the sidewalks, yet any bodily warmth was gone. you regretted not buying a cover for your wings - surely, it'd be an investment despite the price. wing covers were rarely manufactured for your size in japan, mainly aimed for small children just developing a quirk. the extra cloth needed for adult wing covers as well as shipping costs jacked up the price, making you hesitant to buy them. your wings were folded against the outside of your coat (putting them inside gave you cramps), nuzzling against your back subconsciously for heat. your wings were a pale cream colour, slightly more vibrantly mustard-coloured at the tips, and were the most visible part of your quirk.

according to the doctor, your quirk was "angel," but it felt nothing more than a pet name. there was a time in your life that you adorned a halo, but it no longer hovered above you when you looked up now. you weren't granted much power with your quirk; you were barely able to fly with your wings, but maybe you had a stronger moral compass than others? the wings, at this point in your life, were just accessories, as useless as the appendix. they could only cause you pain. you walked mindlessly toward the bakery, snow flurries dotting your hair. the bakery was a rundown, easy to miss place; you would've missed it if you hadn't gone there so many times. the faded yellow paint on the exterior was peeling, the poster on the window ripped and advertising for summer deals from years back. it had only a word-of-mouth reputation to rely on.

there was a worn sticker on the door, right at eye level, which said the name of the bakery in loopy letters: 'the flour road.'

you swung the door open with a jingle, greeted by the scent of baking bread and warmth. the bakery was your grandmother's favorite, specializing in rice cakes and dorayaki. she loved the pastries, for some reason - the baklava especially. she sent you on an errand to buy her some, giving you extra money to buy your personal favorite of dorayaki. to be exact, she pushed the money into your hands and forced you to buy a dorayaki for yourself. it was still warm when the cashier handed you your boxes, which you gingerly put in the bag.

you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the cold, before you opened the door and found yourself back in the cold winter.

a hand roughly pulled you into an alley, and you found yourself face to face with a masked figure.

"give me your money." the figure pointed to your purse, tugging it.

"i don't- i don't-" you reach to take off your purse, not questioning it. there was simply nothing you could do; besides, the voice was young enough. what if they were simply going through a rough time in life? that was no cause to-

"OI, DUMBASS, WHADDAYA THINK YOU'RE DOING?!" a spiky haired man appeared suddenly, wearing what appeared to be melons on his arms. you suddenly recognized his getup of black, orange, and green; he was a pro-hero. what was his name? zero gravity? zero gr...ass?

"LADY, MOVE ASIDE." he looked you over. "FLY, OR SOMETHING."

"i can't-" but he was already after the thief. it took him less than 30 seconds to capture the thief; he was fast by himself, but was faster when propelled by his explosions.

"well, why are you here still?" he turned to you, the figure from before slung over his shoulder.

"i can't fly," you blurted.

he blinked. "then walk. besides, you literally have-" the figure moaned over his shoulder. "agh, nevermind, gotta take this douche to the police. go home."

the next you see of the explosive melon hero is at a supermarket. his arms are melonless this time, though, and you're not actually sure if he's the melon hero. you only recognize him by his hair and red eyes, but truthfully, it was probably not him. he was muttering something about "the spice not being spicy enough," and "stupid hair-for-brains nagging about the heat."

you felt a finger poke your wings. "hey miss, you have ugly wings." a stubby boy, no more than 5 or 6, looked up at you. smirking, he pushed his own smaller wings out, hands on his hips. "mine are teal-turquoise! yours are boring white."

"uh, okay-"

"mind your damn business, brat. where are your parents?" you could now confirm that the spiky haired man was indeed the melonhero by his voice and vulgarity. melonhero had turned to the kid, standing by your side.

the kid hmphed and walked away, to where his mother scolded him for straying from her.

"you again?" melonhero turned to you. "you really need to learn how to stand up for yourself."

"eh? i was handling it fine!"

"yeah, sure. what’s up with your wings, anyway?" he grunted. "can’t fly?"

"n-no. they're, uh, too weak." it was something hard to admit out loud for you. all winged people could fly, but you couldn't even hover, your wings just flapping up wind.

"too weak?! eh? is that even possible??" he poked one of your feathers. "they seem sturdy enough to me."

you turn your wings away from him, frowning. "it's not that easy. i-i never really had time to learn..."

"isn't that what all kids do in their free time, though? experiment with their quirk?"

"my parents thought it was useless..." you shuffled your feet awkwardly, eyes downcast.

"WORTHLESS?!" you flinched at his sudden volume. "it's your quirk, though, 'wings'?"

you rubbed the back of your neck. "well, not really... it's...." angel. the word echoed in your mind, under the spotlight on a stage. it stared at you in an empty auditorium. 'angel.' the word had negative connotations for you. to others, it was a sweet, innocent nickname, but to you, it meant more.

it represented the weight of your parents' expectations, the burden of your classes' assumptions. it became a ball and chain, reminding you of who you were, who you were supposed to be, and who you could never become. you were your parents' angel, your parents' little light. nothing else.

"'angel,' eh?"

"huh?" did melonhero suddenly manifest a mind-reading quirk? you look at him, but his gaze is above your head.

"halo."

"halo," you repeated, looking dumbly at the flickering ring above you.

"well then, enko, it's nice to meet you," he smirked.

"i'm not enko- i'm y/n-"

"enko’s better. i'm ground zero, the number one pro-"

"melonhero," you blurted.

"HUH?! what's that, moron?!"

"nothing, sorry, continue-" you apologized. what had gotten into you?

ground zero cleared his throat. "-number one pro-hero! ...it's katsuki bakugou to you."

"bakugou, i'm y/n l/n, nice to meet you! oh, and um- where are my manners? -thank you for the other day."

"don't go giving your purse to random men on the street, dumbass."

"it wasn't like that!" you protested. "i mean, what if he was going through a rough time? or, his parents kicked him out-"

"doesn't justify anything. you're so naive," he grunted. "didn't your parents teach you self-defense or anything?"

"w-well, no, not really..." you mumbled. you'd always just been their angel, delicate and thoughtful. you never wanted to disappoint them; always staying inside to clean or cater to their needs. their perfect angel. in their opinion, villains could never touch you if you never went out.

you recalled a time in your youth when deciding on a high school.

"i wanna go to ua!" you'd said. you knew a teacher willing to recommend you, so you didn't need to worry about much.

"honey, no, you can't be a hero..." your father started. "you're an angel, you're our angel, okay?" 

your mom nodded. "it'll be dangerous, angel, and we can't have you getting hurt day after day," she added.

you simply agreed, not wanting to upset your parents. they were always right. being a hero wasn't worth it, anyway, you told yourself. it was an unstable job. you'd entered a private high school near the coast of japan, instead of ua.

"eh?! well, how are you supposed to fend for yourself alone?!" bakugou exclaimed.

"i'm... supposed to stay at home..." you confessed quietly.

"then why are you here?!"

"...i moved away from my family."

"and you didn't learn to protect yourself? get yourself some pepper spray, idiot!" bakugou grabbed your wrist, abruptly leading you to an aisle with pepper spray in it. he briefly paused, then picked one.

"it's on me. i can't have more morons like you to save when you could save yourself." 

"thank you," you said. in all of his vulgarity, bakugou was semi-decent. you wondered why he was so on edge constantly; perhaps it was a trait from being a high-demand hero.

"HEY!" bakugou yelled, making you jump in place. "whatcha smilin' at?!"

you wiped the small grin that subconsciously crept on your face. "n-nothing."

"tch, so quiet, enko." he looked above you. "halo’s gone? fuckin' weird-ass quirk."

"could you... um... nevermind." you originally wanted to ask him to tone down the swearing, but thought better of it. the vulgarity reminded you of your uncle, and you a gagged at the thought of the disgusting man who'd occasionally crash at your family's home completely wasted.

"what? just spit it out," bakugou said. "i don't get offended, unlike deku or something."

"can you... cut down on the swearing?" you ask, then add more quickly when you see his face. "i mean, it's okay if you wanna keep doing it. i can't stop you. y'know, freedom of speech and everything."

"okay," he said with surprising composure. he didn't question the request, instead looking at you intently.

your gaze was set down, trying not to think of your uncle, and the horrors you'd gone through as a child because of him.

"i- um- sorry," bakugou forced out of himself. "i didn't mean t-"

"don't worry," you smiled cheerily. a fake smile, but you tried to convince yourself it was real.

"d'you-" he coughed, "d'you wanna talk about it?" he seemed to be going through something in his mind. "there's a park nearby - god, what did hitomi say? - we can, uh, talk it out? you can vent."

"oh no, it's fine, you're busy, a pro-hero." you said nervously.

"ah- yeah," bakugou seemed to be flustered too. "my therapist though- uh, she's really damn good- i mean, really good-" he pulls out a wallet from his pocket and sifts through cards. "here." he handed you a business card, advertising 'HITOMI YABUKI' in bold.

you blinked at him and accepted the card reluctantly. pro-heroes were really kind at heart, huh? "is she a pro-hero therapist?" you asked.

"her? no, she does other stuff. normal stuff, trauma, quirk stuff, erm- whatever you need. she's an all-rounder."

"oh." you put the card in your pocket. "okay, thank you."

he grunted, accepting the thanks. "need to buy anything else?"

you glanced at your cart. "no, that's all. thanks for everything, bakugou-"

"i'll pay," he blurted. "for it all." he looks surprised at himself, perhaps even angry. "oh, no thank you-"

"i'll do it. i mean it. you didn't even buy much," he muttered.

"o-okay," you said. he snatched your cart from your hand, walking to a self-checkout.

"weren't you gonna buy anything?" you asked.

"eh?!" he grunted while scanning items.

that was the end of the conversation. once he finished, he swiped his card and handed you a bag.

"make sure you use the damn pepper spray."

it was only once you got home that you realized he slipped his number into one of the bags.

you see bakugou again at hitomi yabuki's therapy lobby. he sat casually, earbuds on as he stared at his phone. you debated sitting next to him and decided against it, not wanting to bother him. you didn’t contact his number yet; your hands sweated at the thought. as much as you were tempted, you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself in front of a pro-hero.

you found yourself staring at the man, who was unusually calm at the moment. you stared at his eyelashes, his eyes, down to his nose and lips, and his firm set jaw. your eyes fell to the phone he’s clutching, to the curve of his fingers and uniform nails.

"l/n y/n?" a tall woman called your name. bakugou looked up at you, and for a split second you could see what looked like a genuine smile before it was twisted into a smirk.

"yes!" you stood up and followed her, glancing back at bakugou before he disappeared from your sight. after a short elevator ride, you walked out onto the third floor.

she led you down a short, carpeted hallway to the last door. it was an opaque glass door that said "hitomi yabuki" on a plaque.

"so, what brings you here?" she finally said once the two of you were seated. "um- bakugou?" you said.

she smiled and jotted something down. "is that so?"

"yeah. we met a couple times by accident, and uh, he gave me your business card."

the rest of the session was just introductions - prices, meeting times, and therapy that can be provided. still, you weren’t really sure if you needed the therapy - maybe it’d be suited more for someone else struggling more than you. you didn’t need to use your quirk much; flying wasn’t much your style anyway. what would your parents think if they found out you were taking therapy? they’d surely be hurt, assuming that they didn’t provide a good childhood to you. you could practically hear your mom asking you why you’d waste money on therapy. you took a deep breath as you re-entered the lobby. bakugou was seating in the same place you last saw him, still on his phone. you bid goodbye to the receptionist, thinking out your decisions. your insurance could cover much of the costs for the therapy, but you still wondered if you should spend the money.  these thoughts trailed you as you waited on the sidewalk for a cab, watching your breath billow in front of you.

"hey, enko."

your elbow shot out by instinct, hitting the invader of your thoughts.

"woah, idiot, it’s just me." luckily, bakugou had caught your stray elbow, chuckling to himself. "so the angel does know self-defense, eh?"

you stiffened at the pet name, though you knew bakugou meant well. you could remember each distinctive voice in your childhood. your parents beckoning: angel. your nickname: angel. how everyone saw you: angel. you could never escape it, not with your halo or wings. it was so distinctive, your defining quality. whether he noticed the shift in your posture, he didn’t say. "how was it? hitomi’s great, right?"

you hummed in response, rubbing your wings together for heat.

"are wings supposed to get cold? aren’t they just... feathers?"

your wings ruffled at the comment. you sniffed. "they’re sensitive."

"weird," bakugou muttered under his breath. for a split second, you considered smacking him with your wing, but you stopped yourself before you could execute the instinct.

your cab pulled up by the sidewalk. "that’s my ride." you smiled and waved to him as you entered the car. somewhere during the 15 minute car ride, you mustered up the courage to finally text bakugou.

who knew he was so dirty-minded, anyway? you leaned back in your car seat, exhaling. thankfully, you didn’t text the wrong number or prematurely end the conversation. so, now you were friends with a pro-hero, or so you assumed (friends texted each other, right?). the you from 10 years ago would be jumping for joy at the prospect of befriending a pro-hero, and here you were. you finally booked a therapy session for saturday at 3pm. you checked into the lobby ten minutes early, just as your parents had taught you, and took a seat in the lobby.

when it was finally your turn, you found yourself back in hitomi's office, the familar scent of vanilla and fresh linen wafting in the air.

"i hope you don't mind the scent," she said.

you shook your head. "it's fine." the fragrance was almost reassuring in a way, but you couldn’t pin point it. this time, you allowed yourself to drink in your surroundings. hitomi’s office was spacious, a large window overlooking tokyo’s snow-covered cityscape adding onto the effect. the walls followed a vertical gradient pattern of mint green and light blue decorated with paintings, hanging plants, and wooden shelves yet not in a cluttered way. in the center, against a wall, was a white couch. it had an oddly calming aura to it, as if you'd stepped into a dream outside reality.

"would you like an apple? or some water?" hitomi offered.

you weren’t really in the mood for either, but accepted the water. she gestured for you to sit on the couch.

the meeting consisted of her asking and you answering, the topic changing from family life, to your quirk, to your feelings.

"so, can you explain your quirk to me?" hitomi asked.

"well..." you gathered your thoughts. "obviously, i have wings like an angel. they don’t really do anything, though, just get sensitive to the weather. i used to have a halo when i was young, but it’s faded by now. dunno why. let’s see...." you paused. "i guess i have an inclination to help others? it’s hard for me to say no to things, honestly."

"is it because of your quirk?"

"probably," you admitted. "i’ve always been like this, i think."

"can you fly with your wings?"

"no." you sipped your water. "i guess i never learned. i’d try, but i don’t think they can support my body weight."

"how do you feel about your quirk?"

you shrugged, but then regretted it. you didn’t want to seem insensitive to all the quirkless people who could only wish for a quirk. "it’s- it’s cool, i guess. it makes me unique..." you thought back to your parents’ words, how they’d praised you for such an amazing quirk. when you used to feel bad about your quirk, they’d always remind you that there were children who’d wish to even have a quirk at all, and that you were special. your mother’s quirk allowed her to shine small rays of light through her fingertips, while your dad’s quirk gave him a wing attached to his left arm. it was pretty much useless for anything other than generating wind, considering he didn’t have a right wing to balance him out. their quirks together worked out just right to create you, their perfect angel. hitomi jotted something on her notepad.

the more you thought of it, the more you felt broken. you'd been doing therapy with hitomi for months now, and it had gotten harder and harder to emotionally process. your parents, your family, your quirk; you now saw the things for what they were.

your parents had used you. you were their doll, their perfect obedient angel, and it disgusted you. your hands felt tainted, your wings heavy weights on your back. you were revolted by yourself; looking in the mirror, you couldn't help but gag, seeing not the you of now, but the you of the past looking back at you. you couldn't sleep; tossing and turning and ruffling your wings in frustration. you couldn't stop thinking about your parents, how they restricted you from everything.

you wondered how it'd be different if your parents were better. you wondered if you'd gotten into ua and strengthened your quirk. you wondered how your reputation as a pushover would change. maybe you'd be a hero right now, helping others instead of being so irreparably broken.  you could hear the catcalls from your classmates like bullets beating your wings. angel, the goody-two-shoes who couldn't say no.

not once did you cry. maybe you felt too disgusted by yourself. maybe bakugou was becoming the best friend you'd ever had.

he was there for you. making spicy curry or those awful, equally spicy instant korean noodles - he was there for you, in the same way milk is there for you when eating a particularly spicy dish. he listened to you, and you did the same for him. you laughed and joked together. somehow, in such a dark time, your friendship bloomed. it was strange, really. his reputation as a hero made him out to be aggressive and careless - and while he could brash in word choice at times, you knew he had a good heart. at one point, you’d even opened up to him about your past.

"then deku just completely f- messed up the mission! i could’ve blown up the damn guy, but he had to play mr. goody-two-shoes and just tie him up. and he got all the interview time. what’s even up with that?!"

he talked about his friends a lot. he'd deny his relationship with them being something other than strictly professional, but the way his crimson eyes would deepen gave it all away. he mainly spoke of deku and red riot (though their names would be referenced in cruder ways).

"what if- what if i was a hero?" you asked suddenly.

bakugou lifted an eyebrow. "you'd be a damn good hero if you could manage your quirk. like hawks."

"you think the public would like me?"

"duh. you're pretty, kind, AND fight villains? pretty badass. hell, if i approve of you, anyone would."

you smiled.

"why, though?" bakugou asked.

"curious. i, um, used to want to be a hero. growing up."

"your quirk has potential." bakugou leaned back on the couch. "why didn't ya become one?"

"parents." you flinched as the word passed your lips. thinking about your parents was painful, as if you had to rip off a month old bandaid before you could even get their faces into your mind. "they just... worried," you said. you didn't say anything else.

"betcha couldn't come up with a hero name as damn awesome as ground zero." "i could barely remember it," you teased.

"though, i must say, i do like enko as a hero name. it's like i'm joining an idol group."

"akb48 has nothing on you though,"  bakugou said.

you flushed. "i-i don't think you've looked at them properly, then."

"nah, i have, ochaco's obsessed with idol groups. don't doubt me, enko~" his voice was dangerously close, but he hadn't moved an inch from his original spot. "you're prettier than all the idols combined. tch, how low do you think my standards are?!"

"they're idol groups, bakugou, they practically rely on visuals!"

"eh? who cares? you've beaten them in looks and personality."

the thing about bakugou was that he was always completely honest with his thoughts. his integrity always amazed you, but then again, he was a pro-hero. you were quick to change the subject. "um- then-- what time is it? it must be getting late. i should get home-"

bakugou frowned. "it's late, idiot. eat before you go. i have some leftover tonkatsu and rice, and i can whip up the miso-"

"n-no, it's fine bakugou, you don't need to-"

"idiot, i can't have you starve to damn death on the ride home. eat."

even if you wanted to protest, you couldn't. bakugou's cooking was always to good to pass up, alarmingly spicy or not.

"the rice is still warm in the rice cooker," bakugou finally said, turning towards the kitchen. he knew you'd follow him, and you did.

bakugou busied himself making some instant miso soup and reheating the tonkatsu. you prepared yourself for the spicy of bakugou's tonkatsu; you'd had it once before, and it was quite painful. finally done, bakugou sat to the side of you eating tonkatsu as well, seasoning his with extra chili flakes. he was positively crazy; how did he handle such spice?

you cut yourself a strip and brought it to your lips. the tonkatsu was surprisingly tame for bakugou's cooking; it could've passed for normal restaurant tonkatsu.

"thish ish good," you said in between bites.

"i know," he gritted out, but he looked proud. "would be better with chili."

you shook your head, smiling. "never in a million years."

it was often you thought of this moment. it was so happy, so complete. it was just you and bakugou, simply being. right now, a genuine smile was something you couldn't curl your lips into, no matter how hard you tried. when you did, the taste of something salty crept into you mouth.

something salty...?

you touched your face. it was wet. your head spun, and then it dawned on you: you were crying. you were crying? your eyes focused, and pain throbbed in your head. lights shone too bright on you, heightening your headache, and a foul taste lingered in your mouth. you were suddenly aware of something solid in your hand: a drink.

something else you were aware of was how much you wanted to go home. you could barely remember what led you to a club as you fumbled in your purse for your phone, glancing at the time and unlocking the screen. all you needed to do was go home. you really wanted to go home, but where was home? home was gone. home...

a fresh wave of tears glossed your face, and you ignored the person next to you's advances. you didn't even know why you were crying. you struggled to read your contacts, dizzy, and called the first one you can make out with your hazed vision.

bakugou.

yes, all you wanted right now was bakugou. you wanted him and his warm arms, his endearing words. you wanted him so bad. you wanted him, and his warmth, and his happiness. you wanted his scent of comfort, the smile that made you feel fuzzy. you wanted his voice to shelter you precisely at that moment, you wanted to feel like it was him and you against the world.

"dumbass? hello? where are you? why is it so freaking loud? enko?"

you hadn't realized that a low quality projection of his voice was speaking on your phone.

"b-bakugou," you said, though it came out hoarsely. "bakugou."

"enko? where are you, and why are you calling at ass o'clock in the morning?"

"miss you," you almost said, but instead it came out as "dunno, you," a mix between "dunno" and "miss you."

"eh? where are you?"

you shrugged. "come here."

"send me your location, moron, and stay where you a-"

you hung up to send him your location.

you yawned and rubbed your forehead. everything was loud, everyone was together. and you were alone. it made you sad. you wanted to have somebody. a voice in the back of your head told you that you had bakugou. did you? right, he was coming. did you tell him to come?

you pressed the call button again.

"what is it?" bakugou asked roughly.

"lonelyyyy..." you moaned. "pick me up, baku...."

"idiot, i'm on my way. why the fuck are you so far from where you live?"

"hmm mmmhm," you strung together sounds. "'m sad."

"don't be." he sounded mad. he always sounded mad.

"why are you always mad at me?" you pouted.

"i'm not, dumbass! i'm pulling in."

"hmmm...!"

bakugou almost tore through the door with rage. "ENKO, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE."

you hopped toward him, wobbling a bit. the floor seemed to turn under you. enko! that was you! right?

"bakuuugoooou~" you cooed, flopping into his arms. "let's sleep."

he smelled nice. his scent enveloped you, a mix of vanilla and caramel that you’d grown so accustomed to.

he stiffened. "dumbass, i can smell the alcohol on you, we’re going the fuck home."

"don’ wanna," you whined. "lonely. wanna be with youuuuu..." you nuzzled more into his chest, finding comfort in his body warmth. you didn’t want to let go, ever. "tch, fine."

the car ride to bakugou’s place was uncomfortable. cars spun by you, lights making you woozy. you almost bashed your head on the dashboard. your seat was uncomfortable, the seatbelt itched you. despite all that, you stopped to stare at bakugou in your daze, all serious and set on the road. he had nice biceps, and his side profile was a sight for sore eyes (see also: your eyes).

"what, enko?" he grunted, glancing at you.

you said the first thing that came to your mind. "you know you smell nice?"

"huh?" he glanced at you, turning in to his driveway.

well, there was no going back now. "you smell like caramel... and vanilla... it’s nice..." you sighed happily, imagining the fragrance.

bakugou didn’t reply, instead parking and unlocking the doors. "get out, dumbass, it’s past your bedtime."

"but i don’t haaaaaave a bedtime," you slurred, stumbling out of the car. bakugou mumbled a complaint before hoisting you over his shoulder. it was probably not the best move, considering the blood rushing to your head made you feel sick. after entering his house, bakugou set you down on a sofa, sitting you upright.

"stay here."

you leaned back on the sofa, feeling suddenly empty. the buzz in your head had not quite left, but the weight of the world came crashing down again. therapy, your parents, your quirk. it struck you that you were probably bothering bakugou and disturbing his sleep; he was a pro-hero after all, lives depended on his health. but here you were, ever so selfish and probably taking a toll on his health.

"drink." you hadn't realized bakugou had put a glass of water in your hands. you simply nodded and gulped it down, hoping to sober yourself up.

you stared at the man glossy eyed, glass in your hand half empty. "bakugou."

"eh?"

"sorry."

"for what?"

"y'know... waking you up... bothering you... i know you're busy, and-"

"shut up, it doesn't matter. i'd rather you here than in the hands of some douche at the club."

"but still, how would i make it up-"

"by sleeping well. off to bed you go."

he started pushing you towards the hallway. "where will you sleep?"

"sofa."

"but bakugou-"

"go to bed."

"i feel sick-"

"hah?"

a rising sensation of bile emerged in your throat. the only words you could get out of your mouth was "bathroom," before you rushed in. it was not a pretty sight - you preferred to skim over the details when recalling it. the details you did not skim over, however, were that of bakugou's care; for being awoken at ungodly hours in the morning, he was surprisingly gentle with your vomiting state, soothing your stomach with warm hands and rubbing your back. after, he gave you a glass of water and forced you to take ibuprofen, though you swore you felt fine.

bakugou's bed was surprisingly comfortable. then again, bakugou did claim to have gone to bed at 8:30 sharp daily during his high school years, so it made sense he still valued sleep.

you were then reminded how you disrupted his.

and how you were now forcing him to sleep on the sofa.

you padded out of his room, wearing one of bakugou's old shirts that he'd graciously lended you, to the living room. he was laying on his back, feet sticking out of the sofa, eyes closed.

"what?" he asked, eyes still shut.

you knew he wouldn't let you feel guilty about intruding his sleep, so you settled upon saying the next best thing. it was partially true, anyway.

"'m lonely without you." your voice came out smaller than intended.

"huh?" he sat up, groggily looking at you.

"it's- kinda cold, and y'know, with your quirk..."

he grunted and obliged, walking toward his bedroom. you stood behind him, staring at his back; that was surprisingly easy.

bakugou slept with his arms around you, so you were nestled comfortably into his chest. this position felt strangely domestic; something lovers might do nightly. but you and bakugou weren't lovers, you were friends. image of you and bakugou involved romantically faded into your mind; coffee shop dates, cooking together, waking up next to each other. there was a sudden loss of breath in your chest, as if your heart had become weightless and was lifted by a thousand of butterflies taking flight. bakugou... romantically? it hadn't crossed your mind. still, you could see it so vividly in your mind; you, becoming his dumbass, his and his only. you could imagine how he'd look at you, full of love in his eyes, and how he'd gently kiss your forehead in the morning. was it so bad to want that? the more your thoughts indulged you, the more his body warmth drowsed you, his calm breathing adding to the effect. he was practically nyquil in human form. you found yourself nodding off in his arms, not before mumbling a quiet "what if i liked bakugou?" and clutching his shirt closer to you.

you were far too engrossed in the realm of sleep to hear bakugou's faint but hopeful reply of "i'd hope so, dumbass."

at your next therapy meeting, you told hitomi about bakugou. it was unplanned, spilling out of your mouth as soon as she asked why you looked so anxious. you couldn't like bakugou. you blamed your slightly intoxicated past self for planting such a thought in your brain, but you knew it just admitted a lingering feeling from in your heart. you spared her the details of the throwing up and the guilt that gnawed at you regarding how bakugou cared for you.

"it's... childish, right? like an old schoolgirl crush," you flushed, finishing your confession.

hitomi shook her head. "it's good to feel this way, actually. it's quite healthy for a twenty-something like you to harbour such feelings; it allows you to explore your feelings and relationships healthily."

even so, crushing was so damn frustrating. it's one thing to like a person; it's a completely different experience after admitting to yourself, yes, they're my crush. when you were younger, you very rarely developed crushes (as influenced by your parents) and even less were able to act on them. but now, as an adult, you had the freedom to act (or not, considering how your nerves constantly started to act up around bakugou). you decided to push the feelings down; you were just friends, and bakugou had no time to pursue a romantic relationship.

if having a crush was like an addiction, rehab was torture for you. gone were the days of seeing bakugou as platonic; you couldn't stop your heart from swelling whenever he recounted his day to you. bakugou had now become attractive, from his tight, bulging muscles to his hard chest. it did not help that you had to see him in his hero costume flaunting those features every other day on the news.

you convinced yourself bakugou harboured nothing but platonic sentiment for you, but he never failed to send your heart aflutter with discreet compliments he hid under rough comments. you started leaving early whenever the two of your hung out under the guise of other plans (that in reality didn't exist), and tried to always cut conversations short when you bumped into each other in public. he was ground zero, pro-hero, and you were just a civilian who could barely maintain their quirk.

you were just starting your quirk therapy, but you couldn't expect major changes a week in. bakugou had said your wings looked brighter, but you assumed he just said that to make you feel better. you could hover off the ground for less than a second now, but your wing strength lacked too much to be able to do anything requiring more strength. your halo was still absent, and you couldn't figure out how to make it reappear. there hadn't been much research done on the essence of halos; hitomi said not to worry about it regardless.

flap flap flap.

"oi, dumbass, you're gonna create a tornado in here."

flap flap flap.

"i'm practicing flying."

"well, you're going nowhere. d'you want me to call hawks or something?" flap flap flap. 

you turned to bakugou, folding your wings neatly. he had the same expression as always, slightly disapproving and tired. your eyes meet his momentously; but they fall down immediately to his lips. lately, this kind of thing had been happening often. bakugou acted like he didn't notice you'd been different lately, but you could tell he wanted an explanation.

you acted on your impulse, your mouth opening and words tumbling from your mouth.

"bakugou- idon'twanttoruinourfriendshipbutijustwannasayitnow- ilikeyou."

"what?" why did you do that?

if this were a texting conversation, you'd leave him on read. if this was a tweet, you'd make your account private. if this was a video call, you'd end it.

alas, this was real life, so you resorted to the next closest thing: you ran. you ran faster than any shoujo girl and with more conviction than any shounen boy, and then you were lost. damn cities.

panting on the sidewalk, wings heaving up and down, you realized what you did. staring at the edge of the pavement, where the curb met the street, hands on your knees, it hit you.

you cussed and yelled at yourself mentally, and though a small part doubted bakugou even heard you, you didn’t allow yourself to have hope. it was game over. you let your feelings override rational thought, and you ruined what was arguably the best thing going on in your life.

you were interrupted by an itch in your feathers from being so cramped while folded. they ruffled against the cool air, distraught. you stretched them out, observing your surroundings and allowing yourself to cool down. the breeze was a satisfying sensation against your feathers, and you hovered just a moment when they flapped.

"mommy, wings!" a kid passes you on the sidewalk, pointing. his mother hushes him, but you smile at him.

the next few days were rough, particularly because you were avoiding bakugou. it was definitely not a good idea, but it was a temporary patch over the open part of your heart.

this was not one of your healthy coping mechanisms.

did he text you? did he call you? you didn’t know, because you turned off your notifications. you knew you were just making things more awkward, even more so if he hadn’t heard you at all. it gave you all the more excuse to ignore him longer.

now, with evenings to yourself, your mind wandered more. your thoughts drifted into a vast desert of tangled constellations in your mind, tightropes you’d tread that would lead you to a random destination. sometimes it led you to random memories - other times, it wasn’t as random, leading you to painful manifestations in your heart. these were the things you tried so hard to ignore, but rang so true.

you were reminded by the constellations in your mind that you were being terribly selfish to bakugou; not even considering his feelings. bakugou didn't deserve you. maybe stars twinkled in your mind, but the bluest ones burned you to the touch. you needed to get over bakugou.

that wasn’t to say it didn’t hurt, trying to get over bakugou. the stars in your mind dimmed, and perhaps, at one point, the constellations were reduced to thread; knotted, tangled, and hopeless.

maybe it was better when the string had been unkempt, because now it unraveled. you cried, and cried; in the shower, at your desk, doing chores. tears, hot and sharp like newly shapen diamonds, dripped down your face. your face was permanently marked by the wounds the diamonds left, and contrary to the stars, your eyes were red and hot. your thoughts unwound like string - there was a clear pathway now, but it was tainted by the shape of the knots there had once been.

everything hurt when you thought of bakugou. your swollen eyes became lifeless as memories of him overtook you. they controlled you. you missed therapy session after session, too scared to go to the place which bakugou had connected you to. sometimes, you’d sprawl across the ground, stare into your ceiling, and feel yourself vanish into something, a dark void of nothingness. he had cared so much for you - too much. why had he? why couldn’t he have left you, that one day you were almost robbed? why couldn’t you just have stayed the way you were? why did you have to find the truth in things? ignorance was a bliss you woke yourself from. ignorance, the dream which from you woke to find a nightmare, reality. why did he have to be him, the stupid pro-hero with a heart that bled kindness into yours? why couldn’t he have stayed a two-dimensional public figure, the careless and angry ground zero? why did he have to be in your goddamn life and ruin it, entangle everything into one big mess? you hated him. you hated him and his stupid endearing insults, him and his rugged smirk that pained your heart so, him and his eyes that held sparks and diamonds and you. deep inside, you knew it wasn’t true; hate was just a name for an indefinably strong feeling you had for him. you knew you didn’t hate him, you knew you couldn’t hate him. you told yourself you did to distance yourself from him. the distance between you and he only grew. your memories were tarnished with pain, his image blurry and wrinkled in your eyes. katsuki bakugou was just someone, no one.

this was the feeling of agony, this was the sight of pure hell, and this was the sound of you burning your heart. distance between you and the man named katsuki bakugou grew, as did your descent into pure madness.

until the distance between you and he was less than a metre.

you had not bothered to tame your hair; it was a bit overgrown and sprouted a couple split ends. you were dressed in a stained shirt, your face not even mentionable, and your heart was beating in your ears. you felt yourself dragged quite forcefully down to sanity, as if opening the door suddenly put gravity into effect.

because here he was, katsuki bakugou in all of his perfect glory, standing on your doorstep.

the little shit refrained from making a comment about your current state, but you could see the comment appearing in his eyes and vanishing as soon as it came. you watched his eyes go from the state of your face down to your unkempt attire. he, on the other hand, looked unaffected. he was sporting a t-shirt and jeans, hands shoved into his pockets. the only indicator, which was minuscule at best, that he had changed at all was the red at the corners of his eyes and slight eyebags. he looked shocked at the sight of you.

"y/n..." you almost fainted on the spot.

you weren’t not jumping for joy in ecstasy at the sight of him, and you didn’t feel like a shoujo protagonist at the moment. it was something different.

"again," but your voice was too hoarse to be heard. your mouth opened and closed, you coughed, and repeated yourself. "s-say it again."

"huh?!" it was nice to know someone hadn’t changed after all that time.

"my- my name..."

"eh? enko."

you sighed, your face indifferent. you weren’t exactly disappointed by his reply; it brought memories upon memories of happier times with him.

"well, what do you want?" you asked, rubbing the side of your face.

"what- what the fuck is going on?" he gestured to you. "i should be asking about you. what the f- what happened to you?!"

"i-"

"enko, i don’t get any of this shit. this relationship crap. what do you want me to do?! first, you act weird as shit- because of what?! i don’t fuckin’ know. you avoid me - don’t think i didn’t notice - and then suddenly you spew shit and leave?! i don’t see you for a goddamn week, you don’t answer your damn calls or texts, and suddenly i’m the damn villain and i’m supposed to give you time or shit to figure things out, and when i can finally fucking see you, you look like actual crap?! hell, i should be the one with deteriorating mental health with all of the bull you put me through! if you want something, if you don’t wanna be friends or shit, just goddamn say it to my face! i’m not good with people, enko, goddamnit! tell me what’s wrong!"

you stood in shock. relationship..? you shook his words away. you hadn’t realized how much this took a toll on bakugou, too. he looked away - something glinted in his eyes, but you couldn’t tell exactly what.

"god-fucking-damnit," he grumbled. "...are ya gonna let me in, or what?! it’s cold out here!"

you didn’t think about how bakugou’s quirk involved producing heat, and let him in unreluctantly, stepping aside. "sorry," you mumbled.

he took off his shoes, and you motioned for him to sit down on your couch.

"explain it to me," he demanded. "what in the goddamn world has happened tot you? did someone do this to you?!"

you refrained from saying technically, it was you, and settled on: "no." it was apparent he hadn’t heard you that day. "just- it’s nothing. i was being stupid, a-and i’m okay now." it was a lie.

"do you take me as an idiot?" he asked. gears shifted in his eyes. "sit down," he said, suddenly calm.

you did so, sitting as farthest as you could from him.

"closer," he gritted out. you scooted a centimetre. "closer." another centimeter. "clo-ser." he pulled you so you were sitting angled toward him, knee brushing his.

"baku...gou?" so many questions flashed in your mind.

"confirm something for me," he ordered. "what exactly did you say to me before running away?"

"i- nothing. it was nothing, i told you, bakugou."

"tell. me. i don’t care if you quoted freud, told me a failed joke, or what. tell me."

your mind was devoid of possible jokes you could use to lie.

you opened your mouth, forcing the words out with all your might. "i don’t remember the specifics," you rambled. "i don’t think i was in the right state of mind-"

"spit it out."

"i think it went something like ‘i like you’ or something?" your pitch rose with every syllable.

"tch," a smile was on his face. "thought so." his hand was suddenly on your cheek, and his lips were on yours. he tasted like caramel. your eyes widened, and you pulled away, sputtering.

"what? what d’you mean, ‘thought so’?!"

"idiot, i like you too. also, when did you last brush your teeth?"

"i- that doesn’t matter. bakugou... i don’t think that this relationship is good for us. as friends or whatnot."

"huh? why not?"

"look at me. look at you. i can barely handle my quirk, and you’re a pro-hero who uses his quirk to help people. i can’t really do anything."

he mumbled something under his breath. "enko, do you think i care about any of that? i don’t care if you have the strongest quirk in the world or none at all. you’re strong - and i don’t say this ‘cause i like you - you’re kind, you see the best in people." he paused. "people don’t give me the time of day ‘cause they think i’m too irrational. brash. careless. but you? you see past that, you don’t care. you work hard no matter what people say. people-" his voice caught in his throat, "people say shit to you, and you don’t care. you keep going."

he saw you... like that? your face heated up.

"don’t be gettin’ all shy on me," he grunted. "tch. come here." he pulled you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around you and narrowly avoiding your wings. you flushed, holding him tight and inhaling his caramel scent. you squeezed your eyes shut, wishing to hold him like this forever.

“hey, enko,” he whispered into your ear. you looked at him, who was currently looking up and pointing. “halo.”

[costellos]

author’s note: this wasn’t a request, just something super self-indulgent that I wanted to do! ❤⃛(*ૂ❛ัᴗ❛ั*ૂ) also this ended up taking 2.5 hours to write aldkf;j so much for unwinding at the end of the day. overall, I’m super proud of how this came out — please enjoy!

❥ ┋ ❝ bucci gang realizing that they’re in love!

bruno bucciarati.

Bucciarati realizes he’s in love when he sees you defending civilians.

he is a man made of love. for his people, for his community, for his goals — he firmly believes that everyone and everything can be built on yes, but more importantly, taken care of.

he sees you protecting an elderly couple during a stand battle. in a split second do you throw your stand at the couple, taking a hefty amount of damage in their place. you’re bloody and your arm is definitely broken, but you still turn to them. "you need to leave. now,” you say. although your words are harsh and hoarse, your smile reminds them that yes, everything will be fine, I just need you to trust me.

you didn’t have to protect them. any other gangster would have left them to die. they’re old, no one would miss them.

but you did. you put these two strangers, two no ones at the wrong place at the wrong time, before yourself. even if it meant you’d die.

Bucciarati would visit you shortly after the battle. Giorno had already tended to your wounds, evident by your lack of bandages. his hair is normally neatly placed, but it looks like he had been rustling it, with his clips out of place and the braid atop his head uneven. his concern is apparent; he’s wracked his brain waiting for your recovery. you knew that Bucciarati cared about his team, but when did he care this much? ↳ “I admit, your actions were certainly reckless,” he would say to you, taking a seat beside your bed. “you’re lucky that fight didn’t end worse than it did. nonetheless...” his voice is tired yet soft, comforting. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’m... I’m incredibly glad.”

leone abbacchio.

Abbacchio realizes he’s in love when he sees you upholding true justice.

although he would never admit it, he is haunted by his inability to save his partner during his time as an officer. as such, Abbacchio envies those who back justice in spite of the system Italy lives under.

you’re patrolling one of La Passione’s turfs with him when you see it: two officers harassing a young girl. even though Abbacchio tells you not to get involved, you quickly storm over to the scene. their voices are loud and clear, despite them being several meters away. the girl looks scared.

it turns out she had stolen a handful of painkillers from the corner store. the cops noticed her scurrying out as they were buying a pack of smokes. and now, they were threatening to take her into the station. “I need them for my family!” she explains, but the cops don’t buy it. they huff something about her bringing them to school and selling them to her friends.

“here. I’ll pay for her. just leave her alone.” Abbacchio watches as you flash 30 euros to the cops, more than enough to pay for the medicine. playing them at their own game, he sees. thankfully, they relent, pocketing the money and leaving the scene. and after you talk to the girl, explaining that if she needs more help to come find you, you both leave the scene too.

it’s a brief affair. truthfully, he wouldn’t have gotten himself involved. he wishes you hadn’t either. it would’ve been less of a headache, and now that girl is going to pester you again in the future. but he can’t stop replaying the scene in this head. how you willingly stood up for her, reassured her that everything would be okay. how you smiled and looked so content after the fact. ↳ “ I envy you,” he would say as you walked away from the scene. “doing the right thing is...” he pauses. stupid? naive? “...it’s not easy. you didn’t have to do anything but I admire your valor. just don’t be surprised if that girl comes up at your doorstep begging for more money.” nonetheless, he wants to learn more from you. to be good again, he thinks. maybe then he can be someone that he himself is proud of. and maybe, eventually, he’ll make you proud too.

giorno giovanna.

Giorno realizes he’s in love when he sees your ambition.

he prides himself on his resolve. to him, resolve is committing to something regardless of the difficulties that a person faces. seeing you be so goal-oriented would make him believe that he’s found his match.

it doesn’t have to be a huge goal, like dedicating yourself to a field of practice or learning a new language. it can be as simple as trying to keep your houseplants alive. in fact, those little things come off as more charming to him. it shows that you’re passionate about everything you do, no matter what it is.

seeing you continuously try despite numerous failures would make Giorno’s heart pound. you refuse to give up. even with everything against you, you still roll up your sleeves, take a deep breath, and pick yourself up again. he adores this about you.

he realizes it when you’re rambling about your next move in your goals. your face is so excited, your eyes so wide and bright. your mouth is voicing your steps a million words a minute but all he can focus on is how beautiful you look. the smile on his lips is unmistakable. ↳ “tell me more. I want to know everything. tell me about every detail, every step, what you’ll do when you’re finished... all of it.” he won’t say it — after all, he doesn’t want to come off as too desperate — but he wants to be there every step of the way with you. and when you’ve completed your goal, he wants to be the one next to you, the one to say, “I am so, so proud of you.”

guido mista.

Mista realizes he’s in love when you laugh at one of his jokes.

life should be simple. that’s the mantra he lives by. despite being a gangster, he just wants to have a simple life filled with simple pleasures. one of those ways is through telling stories.

it happens when the group is eating dinner at a local restaurant. Mista is telling some long-winded anecdote, something about how he heroically beat up a landlord for harassing his tenants over money. at the end, it turned out to be the set up for a really brief and really stupid punchline.

everyone is looking at him. “ah? ahhhh?” he muses, but no one responds. the silence in the air is unbearable. hm. wow. is it hot in here or what? finally, Narancia breaks the silence, muttering that he doesn’t get it. Fugo tells him that Mista could have made the joke so much shorter. Bucciarti exhales quickly from his nostrils, a half-assed attempt at laughing. Giorno and Abbacchio don’t say anything.

but then you. oh, you. it takes you a moment to get it, but when you do, your giggling disrupts the awkwardness. it sounds like bells, Mista thinks. sweet bells, ringing like how they used to at the church every Sunday morning in his hometown. it makes him feel warm, welcome, and he can’t help but feel his face flush when he hears your laughing.

Mista stays in place afterwards, pushing his white beans to and fro on his plate. he’s not hungry anymore. he keeps looking up at you, and while he had acknowledged you were attractive before, something about you was now beautiful. you were happy here, with your eyes bright and your smile wide. eventually, he would say: ↳ “hey, thanks for covering me back there. those guys never laugh at anything I say.” he rolls his eyes playfully, adding a slight shrug of his shoulders. “lemme make it up to you. what can I do for you?” he’s trying to be smooth, but he’s so giddy at the prospect at spending more time with you!

narancia ghirga.

Narancia realizes he’s in love when you don’t lose your patience with him.

he doesn’t have much of a formal education. hence, critical thinking skills don’t come easy to him. he tries his best, he really does, but it’s difficult when he’s hardly flexed his brain.

he’s writing a song. nothing fancy, but music has always been a part of Narancia’s life that he wants to give it a go himself. maybe one day he’ll be a famous hip hop artist, touring across Europe and maybe even the U.S. one day! the thought makes him excited. but for now, he needs to establish the lyrics.

rap is easier said than done, though. Fugo is teasing him about his inability to write poetry — what makes Narancia think that he could write a whole song? he grits his teeth and turns back to his paper. 

that’s when you approach him. you sit down with him, asking him what he would like to write about. “oh, uh... growing up in the streets, I guess,” he mumbles. he’s taken aback by your help. plus, talking about it now makes him embarrassed. but you don’t judge him, no; you sit down with him and try to help him nail down the theme. and once you have that, you assist him in finding snappy lyrics and catchy rhymes. 

you don’t criticize him for his ideas. you don’t yell at him for his suggestions. you just listen and add on. the encounter is foreign, to say the least... but not unwelcome. Narancia finds your help incredibly productive (much better than Fugo could ever offer him). and the time goes by so fast! within a few hours, his song is done. yet he’s not happy... no, he starts to feel lonely the moment you stand up, off to assist Bucciarati with whatever he needs. ↳ “wait, hold on, [Name]!” shit. his voice is way too desperate. he softens it as best he can muster: “can... can we write another song sometime? I have a lot more ideas and I can’t do it without you.” fuck. he did it again. but when smile at him and nod, promising that you’ll help him hit the Top 40, Narancia can’t help but smile back.  

panacotta fugo.

Fugo realizes that he’s in love when you put him before yourself.

genius. prodigy. failure. Fugo is defined by how others see him. after his parents abandoned him for leaving an abusive establishment, he finds himself lost in the world. who is he? what is he worth?

he’s escorting you to your mission when his car is attacked by a rival gang. the assault is a blur. he can remember the car flipping over, tumbling off the road and into the Mediterranean Sea. it happens so fast. the salty water surrounding you both. the windshield cracking. the airbag goes off, suffocating him. he can’t see. he can’t breathe. and suddenly, it’s dark.

when he wakes up, he realizes that you’re both on the beach. “where are we?” he musters out. it hurts to talk. you hush him to take it easy, that he had most certainly broken a few ribs. and that’s when he sees it: when he looks down, his wounds are tended to. gashes have been tenderly wrapped in gauze and minor cuts treated with balm. a pain relief patch has been placed on his chest, no doubt where the air bag hit him. but when he looks at you, you’re bleeding through your bandages.

that’s right. there was a first aid kit in the car. based on his injuries, you spent the majority of supplies on him, even though you definitely had it just as bad. “why?” is all he can say.

why? you shake your head. “because you’re my friend,” you answer, adjusting the gauze on his wrist. “I’m taking care of you because you’re worth it.”

your words catch him by surprise. he doesn’t believe it, but... your face is honest enough. his thoughts are jumbled, as mixed as the sand and water at the shore just a few meters away. and when your hand touches his wrist... he shakes his own head.

↳ “you should’ve tended to yourself first.” his tongue tastes of nothing but blood and salt and his words show it. a beat, and gentler this time: “I appreciate your thinking of me. thank you.” that’s all he can say, at least for now. it hurts to much to talk, moreover think. so he places his hand over yours as a gesture of thanks. friends, huh? the idea before sounded laughable, but now... there was something warm about it. the answer to his question — who is he? — had come as quickly as the waves beneath him: a friend.

[sokkas-honour]

for the spotify wrapped writing i'll say number 4 and sokka?

omg this one was so fun to write! ty for requesting!

dream boy - modern!sokka x reader

pairing : modern! sokka x reader

wc: 1.7k including lyrics

notes/warnings: going off of the hc that sokka is a baseball boy from my girl @draqondance and it’s just unedited but enjoy !!

part 1.5 | part 2 | part 3

taglist (send an ask to be added!!): @draqondance @biqherosix @missmorosis

sometimes i think i see your ghost, in passing hallways, the staircase to my apartment,

the clock couldn’t seem to hit three fast enough, the sun was shining outside but everything about your seventh period math class just made you gloomy. you tapped your foot on the ground, anxiously waiting for the final bell to ring so you could get out of the boredom that was calculus. you sighed and rested on your hand that was on your desk and tried to see if you could understand what your teacher was saying but you’d spaced out too long to even know what the hell he was talking about.

with another sigh, you slightly turned you head. you were seated at the back of the class, meaning you could see a part of the empty hallway since the door was open and there he was, the beautiful water tribe baseball player. your heart rate picked up as he simply passed in the hallway though he seemed to catch your staring because he backed right back into your line of view and smirked at you.

his flirty actions imply earned a playful eye roll from you. you watched your friend laugh before waving goodbye and continued on his way knowing he’d be able to speak to you after school anyway.

god did you love that stupid boy. seeing him, even for a split second, singlehandedly made this boring period your favorite of the day. his smile, his dorkiness, his horrible jokes, just sokka in general made your heart race at a speed that was practically impossible to slow down.

i accidentally self impose, bashful thoughts, careless wants, emotional involvement,

the baseball game ended and your school won 7-4, with your best friend pitching his best game yet, you couldn’t contain your excitement. as soon as sokka stepped off the field, you rushed out of your seat to go congratulate him outside of the dugout. your whole friend group couldn’t make the trip to the away game but you had promised him that you’d never miss a game when he got accepted into the team freshman year and so far, you’d never missed one. wether you were swamped with work or sick, you always found a way to sit on those bleachers cheering him on.

“sokka! that was your best game of the season!” you exclaimed as soon as you saw come out and ran to him. he was smiling that adorable stupid smile he always did and rushed to join your halfway.

“i know! did you see how i curved that ball on the last guy! he never saw it coming!” he excitedly retold you the final play that you’d just seen, pride shining from his eyes and grin.

“yeah! sucker didn’t even know what hit him!” you replied matching his energy and he just engulfed in you in a hug out of excitement. to your dismay, he quickly retracted it.

“sorry! i’m just so excited!” he apologised though you didn’t mind at all, hell, you’re disappointed he didn’t let it last longer as you craved affection from sokka that was anything but platonic or initiated by you, how you wished the hug lingered.

“sokka! you don’t have to apologise! i’m just as excited as you are!” you reassured, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much as you placed both your hands on his arms to emphasise how unbothered you were by his actions.

“okayyy. can we go get sea prunes? pretty please?” the pitcher begged, looking down at you with his signature puppy dog eyes that made you practically weak in the knees, he knew you’d never say no to them.

you've got my heart bursting at the seams, maybe you're the boy from my dreams,

most people only saw you and sokka as two inseparable best friends, two peas in a pod, practically attached at the hip, and they wouldn’t be wrong. sokka and you had been best friends ever since kindergarten when he accidentally hit you in the head with a snowball during your recess.

you’d always been close friends but ever since highschool started, you’d fallen for your best friend and you’d fallen hard. his adorably cute smile, his adorably cute eyes, his adorably cute ponytail, his adorably cute jokes, just his adorably cute self was enough to make you long for anything more than a simple close friendship with the water tribe boy.

you’d seem to have done a pretty good job at hiding it as none of your friends ever picked up on it. sokka and you had always have a pretty touchy friendship, you’d hug all the time, you’d place your head in his lap, he’d lay his head on your shoulder, but none it had any ulterior motive. so when zuko confronted you about it you were surprised, he was the one to find out about it, not toph, not even katara, the said crush’s sister, no it was zuko.

zuko seemed to have seen right through your lies about your lack of feelings for the baseball player which led you to just dumping all the reasons that he made your heart put a race care to shame. you told him about the daydreaming that occurred whenever someone would point out that you would both be a cute couple, you told him about the monthly dreams you’d have about you finally confessing your emotions that were always reciprocated.

zuko was kind and always listened but always took the oppurtiny to tease you about it when you were alone.

if you're gonna love me make sure that you do it right, i’ll be under your window in the moonlight,

oh i tend to keep my heart locked water-tight, all you gotta do is meet me after, meet me after midnight.

‘y/nnnnnnn, meet me by our favorite tree like at around midnight. i need to tell you something important.’

you’d been doing your english homework late one night when your phone buzzed with a message from the boy that made you swoon. your heartrate would always pick up a bit when he would send you a message but the content written made it race even more. you quickly replied to agree to meet him.

you grabbed your coat and your shoes and quietly left the house, making sure not to wake your sleeping parents. once outside, you took the ten minute walk to an old willow that stood about halfway between the water tribe sibling’s house and yours. you had often spent afternoons with the two of them just laying in the ground and watched the leaves around them slowly move with the wind.

when highschool started, you often found yourself throwing a rock or so at sokka’s window when it would be late in an attempt to get him to sneak out with you for walks under the beautiful moon. one night you almost got caught so you both agreed to simply text and agree to meet at that nostalgic willow.

upon arriving and passing through the weeping willow’s leaves you saw a figure leaning against it’s trunk. you were able to recognise the boy thanks to the light from his phone that he was scrolling mindlessly on.

“hey sokka.” you made your presence none in a rather soft way, not wanting to spook him.

“hey y/n, thanks for coming.” he looked up and smiled at you and put his phone back into his jacket pocket. your eyes had long acclimated to the darkness and were able to see him sit on the ground and pat the spot next to him to which you happily obliged.

“so what did you want to say.” you asked once you sat next to him.

“okay well i wanted your help. how do i ask a girl out?” his questions came out of nowhere and took you aback, you feared the direction that the conversation would go in but you shoved your emotions down. sokka may be the boy of your dreams but he was still your best friend, and you’d always want him to happy.

“well first of all, i need to know who this girl is.” you smirked, a small spark of hope as your mind rushed to not only a horrible ending to the conversation, but one that ended in a confession of feelings from both sides.

“okay well, only if you guess.” he joked which earned a playful eye roll from you before continuing. “okay well i’ve been friends with her for a while but recently, i’ve been feelings differently towards her y’a know? she’s always been there for me and always knows how to make me happy. i just feel warm and safe with her. i dont want to ruin our friendship because it means so much to me!”

“well sokka, i give up.” your spark grew at his description of the girl he was mad for, the only person you could even think of that fit the criteria was you. boy if you only you hadn’t been that naive, maybe that would’ve saved you from the heartbreak that was coming.

“okay well i thought it was obvious.” he grinned, leaning his head back in a way that told you that he was thinking of the girl who’s name you were about to know.

“it’s suki. i’m head over heels for suki.”

your heart dropped and felt like a knife had just been shoved into it, twisted, and then ripped out. no, your heart had just been broken. you felt like crying, you’d been so stupid in thinking he’d ever have any feelings for you. god it all made sense now, you’d never admit it out loud but you had been spending less and less time with sokka in the last couple of weeks. you had been spending more time with zuko where you would gush about the boy you were in love with.

if only you’d looked at the signs, he had been spending more time with the star volleyball player, the straight a student, the perfect in every way, suki. you couldn’t hold it against him, you loved her as a friend and she was impossible to not love. the words that left your mouth following his confession hurt your soul more than anytning

“you’d make a great couple sokka, you really would.”

[tinyyoungblood]

midnight in prague | tom holland

summary: you play MJ in far from home and when filming gets too stressful, you and tom sneak off from set to explore the city of prague at night while also talking about the idea of running away together

pairing: tom holland x actress!reader

word count: 1.9 k

warnings: a bit angsty but mainly fluff, one (1) violent metaphor, language 

a/n: i highly recommend listening to the song, it’s absolutely beautiful, sets the mood and inspired this story. used some of the lyrics as dialogue. enjoy! 

song/inspo: Canada (ft. Alessia Cara) by Lauv

↳ masterlist

* * *

“That’s a wrap, guys!” The crew cheered weakly, lacking the usual enthusiasm. Not moving from your spot, you meekly pumped your fist in the air in mute joy. To say you were exhausted wasn’t just an understatement, it was a big truck that rammed and then dragged you through the empty streets of Prague. You’ve been up since 9 am and the enormous clock, that had surely become the focal point for everybody, almost signaled three hours after midnight.

Your scene partner was even more drained than you. Tom was barely twitching a limb—only a hollow shell, containing the last remains of his wiped-out energy.

With his head rested on yours, you believed he was dead asleep and lightly poked his side to wake him up. But he only reached out and held your hand in a loose grip, arms dangling between your bodies. “I’m awake,” he murmured, and you were sure he was talking in his sleep.

“Tommy, wake up,” you said gently and wrapped your arms around his torso, letting him engulf you in a warm hug but he didn't budge, “You’re compressing my brain, Tom.”

Slowly, he lifted his head, eyes fluttering open to scan your face but only a second later did he realize that insomnia had caused him to believe your teasing for once. You couldn’t help but pout at the prominent exhaustion on his face. Footsteps on cobblestone and the movement of heavy filming gadgets made up your surroundings but you focused solely on Tom and the guilty look on his face. No words were needed for you to know that he was still sorry for something that he had no control over.

It wasn’t his fault that the weather conditions pushed the night shootings back and it certainly wasn’t his fault that cars were constantly driving over the bridge that you were filming at, forcing you to quickly jump to the side, only to shuffle right back to restart the scene.

But this was Prague and he was Tom. Much like his character, he had thoroughly planned a romantic trip for both of you and after weeks of gushing about it, he was sure he could make it work but something would always come up and push his plans into hopelessness.

At this point, he had accepted his fate but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t sad every time he looked at you and mad every time somebody said “action”. He loved his job and was forever grateful but for fuck’s sake, was it too much to ask for to spend some alone time with his girlfriend?

Just when he was about to open his mouth to apologize to you, you locked his lips with yours and he melted into the kiss, tense shoulders dropping. Releasing his lips with a soft plop, he sighed with a small smile, but his eyes still held sadness. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that the others were already walking toward the van to drive back to the hotel to fall into a restless sleep, but you couldn’t bring yourself to let Tom go to bed like this.

Your mind flicked to back home where you had naively envisioned your trip to Europe to be completely different—free and without a care in the world. You knew you were here for work, but you didn’t expect to have this many obligations that added to the constant pressure of having to deliver the perfect scenes. The world was counting on you to not fuck this up.

You sighed and looked down at the river. The water reflected the vibrant yellow streetlights and brought you a sense of much-needed peace and tranquillity. Tom watched you curiously as your eyes marveled at the scenery.

Your head whipped back to him and now you were beaming at him, a glimpse of mischief dancing in your eyes. “Let’s get out of here.” Tom blankly stared at you and blinked to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “What?”

“I’m saying,” you dragged out and let go of his torso to swing his arms excitedly from side to side, he squeezed your hand, “this is our last night in Prague! We’ve been looking forward to this for the longest time, do you really want to miss it? Come on, we can sleep on the plane tomorrow. Let’s be carefree for once.” Your soul was fueled with sparkling joy and you forgot about your exhaustion. “Let’s be free.”

Tom took a second to contemplate your words before a wide grin broke out on his face and he nodded eagerly, surrendering to bliss. “God, I’m obsessed with your brain sometimes.”

With your hand still in his, you pulled him with you, excitement shimmering. Crossing the Charles Bridge, the two of you slipped away and entered the night you had dreamed of.

Golden lanterns on the side of the houses marked hidden but absolutely breathtaking alleys and for the first time on this trip, it was quiet and serene. Your eyes couldn’t stop darting everywhere, taking it all in with the deepest admiration. It was like you were falling in love with the whole world.

You had a bounce to your step and Tom couldn’t contain his bubbly feelings at the sight of you. He didn’t really understand what switch of yours was suddenly flicked for your spirits to fly this high, but he didn’t need to. He missed spending time with you. Back in the States, both of your schedules were packed and barely allowed a fleeting glimpse but now, the girl of his dreams was buzzing with happiness while the streetlights highlighted her glowing face and he’d be damned if he wouldn’t treasure every moment.

The darkness made the town appear like a secret fairytale village with its colorful houses and narrow passages. Your soft chatter lingered in the warm summer air and every time a giggle left your lips Tom’s heart filled with more love for you, warming him from within. With his adoring gaze, he spun you around. Your dress flying up and you stretched your arms upward, enjoying the carefreeness with a broad smile. You felt like you were floating, feet barely touching the ground as the both of you were dancing to no music.

Drunk with happiness, both of you laughed as Tom pressed your back against a wall. With his hands caressing your hips and your foreheads pressed against each other, your heart throbbed with profound joy, something you haven’t felt in a while.

Adrenaline and happiness consumed you, so much of it that you nearly forgot to breathe but you didn’t need to as Tom’s lips were already on yours. You pushed off the wall, sealing the tiny space between you and he deepened the kiss. Your heart almost broke with joy. Pulling apart, it left you breathless again and you were certain nothing could ever wipe off the stupid grin on your faces.

Arms swinging, the two of you continued your fairytale walk and ended up at the Charles bridge again where you had started off the night. Still high on emotions, Tom pulled you with him as he swung his legs over the rim of the bridge and gestured for you to follow. You didn’t hesitate and sat next to him, legs dangling over the river. You rested your head on his shoulder and his arm wrapped around your small frame as you overlooked the sight in front of you.

Your voice was delicate as you spoke, cautioning into the silence, “I really needed this. It's almost like I've been stuck at home forever.” Tom was playing with strands of your hair and you knew he was deep in thoughts.

Again, you watched the dancing streetlights reflection on the water surface but this time it didn’t bring you peace. You had your night and that was all you wanted. So why did you feel a pinch of sadness at the simple thought of heading to the hotel, settling into your bed and calling it a night. You didn’t want this night to end and you knew Tom also dreaded having to end this feeling.

So the question he asked next wasn’t a surprise to you in the slightest—it resonated with you.

“What if we move to Canada?”

He sounded hopeful. Musing about taking on the world in a different way than you both already did but he knew you two were in no position to be bold and just not give a damn. It was neither in his nor your power to be selfish. A sudden breeze left goosebumps on your exposed skin, but he dreamingly gazed at you with vulnerable eyes and you let yourself dream with him.

“We could bring Tessa,” you voiced, and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “And your paintbrush and some candy,” Tom added, and awe transformed your face, eyes lighting up.

“I guess we’re lucky that we don’t need much outside of us, do we?” You chuckled softly and he shook his head with a sad smile on his face. He took your hand in his and started to play with your fingers, eyes looking heavenward. For the first time tonight, you noticed the endless stars sparkling from above.

“You know, when we film those movies...” He licked his lips and your gaze darted to his hesitant face. You weren’t sure if tears were brimming his eyes or if they reflected the deep water but they were glistening and you squeezed his hand to remind him that you were there. “...When they talk about those people in the movies who up and leave, I always think about how that could be us.”

He looked down at you, hands tightening around yours and now you were sure those were tears shimmering in his eyes. “That could be you and me.”

You didn’t answer and he didn’t need you to.

Both of you knew this wasn’t the heat of the moment talking. ‘Let’s get away from here and do our own thing’ wasn’t an option for any of you. Your thing was acting, you loved it from the bottom of your heart, and you wouldn’t be completed without that passion in your life and Tom—Tom was Spider-Man. Arguably one of the most recognizable cinematic characters in the world. Besides the fact that he couldn’t just quit, he didn’t want to either.

This was the life that you both chose. Unforgettable memories, unconditional support and overwhelming opportunities. There were also hours of press tours, draining interviews and nerve-wracking red carpets.

Your heart rate picked up at the single thought of it all but if tonight had taught you anything, it had taught you something deeply beautiful. Amid the chaos and pressure, amid the glamour and blessings, all you needed in the end was Tom by your side. He was the reason why you soared your highest heights and he was your support system when you plunged to the deepest depths. Gratitude flowed through you.

Leaning forward, you pressed a soft kiss on his cheek, letting it linger for a moment before you nuzzled your head back into the crook of his neck—brown eyes never leaving you. He returned the gesture by leaving a gentle kiss on top of your head, before resting his own on yours, pressing you closer into his body with a content sigh.

We are lucky that we don't need much outside of us.

* * *

wrote this at 5 am so it might be extra cheesy but i’m still too sleep-deprived to tell lol. i appreciate the hell out of feedback so feel free to leave me some and if you don’t, that’s okay too. thank u for reading, buh-bye! x

masterlist

[iwantitiwriteit]

Slow Burn: Act I - Part 3

The Secret Session

Pairing: Chris Evans x Famous!Reader

Summary: There’s a secret audience member at your acoustic show.

Warnings: Profanity

Notes: Before you dive in, get in the zone with the moodboard + music specially curated to go with this part! Full of acoustic jams by a couple of my favorite artists. Read the previous part here.

The calm before the storm. That’s what the time before a performance is like for you. You politely demand minimal talking of anyone in the room, unable to help getting lost in thought before a show, often reflecting on the last couple years. Today is no different.

Honey, your song is on the radio!

Oh ‘cos you’re ‘famous’ now, you think you’re hot shit?

It’s not like you don’t have the money.

5 weeks at number 1 and counting!

I can’t believe how naive you’re being.

I can’t believe how jealous you’re being.

And the award goes to…

You won!

I thought you’d be happy for me.

I can’t do this anymore...

“So… that hangover of yours must be serious.” 

You bring your eyesight from its fixed spot on the floor in front of you to look at Jimi. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear me say ‘pancakes’.”

You whip your head around like a madwoman. “Pancakes?! Where?”

“Down girl. There are none. You fiend.”

“Then why mention it? Getting my hopes up like that…”

“‘Cos they’d go reeeealllly good with this obviously expensive, gourmet coffee someone named ‘CE’ sent you.”

“What?” You rush over to Jimi’s side and take the note from her hand.

“Mmhmm... cryptic ass note too. But I’m gonna guess not to you.” 

Roses are red, coffee is brown. Boston’s known for tea parties, and I for putting my foot in my mouth. Forgive me? -CE 

‘Brown’ and ‘mouth’? What a way with words, this guy. He really went through the trouble, though…

“Wanna tell me what you got up to last night? As your manager, I should know.” Jimi tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at you. 

You cringed at the thought of recounting last night’s events. “Not really.” Throwing the note over your shoulder, you began inspecting the extravagant bouquet. “And I’m not hungover by the way. Just feeling— ugh, you know how I get before shows.”

“Nuh uh, sis. Now I’m pulling best friend rank. Hungover or not, you crept ya ass back into the hotel room close to 3 am KNOWING you had a show the next day, get sent coffee and flowers with cheesy apology notes by obviously rich randos, and on TOP OF IT ALL, are about to be away from me for what? 3 months?”

“4 months,” you reluctantly corrected her.

“4 MONTHS! And you REALLY THINK you’re not about to tell me what the hell happened last night? What do you think this is— Pretty Little Liars? Bitch, spill.” Jimi’s right…  manager AND best friend. She deserves the tea… Why’d I give her this much power?

“Well…” Jimi takes a seat as you pace around, beginning to tell her about meeting Chris the night before.

“Chris Evans, Chris Evans? Like Chris motherfucking Evans?”

“Girl, yes!” you confirm.

You tell her about your stupid, potentially offensive joke.

“Ooooff. I’m not surprised, though, that’s on brand for you.”

“Ugh, I know— hey!”

You tell her how Anthony and Scott were obviously trying to set you up, and how Anthony was not helping the awkwardness you already established.

“Why, though??”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

You tell her how things eventually turned around, you and Chris caught a little vibe, and that you were so sure he was flirting with you. How genuine he seemed, and how dreamy his eyes were, and—

“Wait a min—”

“Let me finish!”

Finally, you told her how you’d accidentally read Anthony’s text chain with Chris, and saw what Chris really thought of you.

“Well, damn.”

“I’m saying!” You breathe out exasperatedly as you sit down in front Jimi, leaning your head on her knee.“It's not that I thought we’d ride off into the sunset together or anything, but I just thought I’d read him as genuine. I don’t know… with all that’s happened the last few months, my judgment could really use a win.”

“Oh honey, I know. But what did I tell you? You—”

“We’re ready for you!” Saved by the stage manager.

“Looks like your stern talking to is gonna have to wait until after the meet and greet.”

“Immediately after. Have fun out there hun. Snatch some wigs!”

——————————————————————————

You didn’t see it, but last night Chris saw you enter the party. His breath hitched at the sight of you, dressed in all white, hair like a kinky-curly halo around your head. An actual angel. Somewhat dressed down from the other ladies in the party, but clearly confident and comfortable in your own skin, made you stand out to him. His mesmerization was interrupted by voices calling out in the distance. It was a couple of the younger actor boys, and he watched you chat with them.

Chris looked away when his phone dinged indicating he received a text. It was from Mackie, asking if he was ok. Can I catch a break? He exchanged texts, but wanted to return his gaze so badly to the sneakered beauty that caught his eye. When he looked up, you were gone, and he panicked a little. He finally found you outside on the rooftop patio, dancing provocatively… with Scott?

Chris made his way over to you, Scott, and Mackie. He admired the way you talked expressively about who-knows-what, but your animated faces amused him. When he got to you all, introductions were made; you’re an actress, soon making your film debut alongside his brother and friend. He tries to make small talk with you, but somehow finds himself being joked on for his own film debut, and he’s slightly returned to his sullen mood. I’m not in the mood for this. It’s always too good to be true, huh?

Alone with you at the bar, though, something happens, you change his mind— or rather confirm and further his initial intrigue. The two of you talk, laugh, and dance with each other for the better part of the evening, often catching yourselves gazing smittenly at the beautiful stranger opposite of you. He thinks that you're funny, smart, and confidently awkward. Chris appreciates your realness and was never more glad he came out despite his previously funky mood.

Unfourtunately, there was another change, a sour one. You’d seen Chris’ blind judgments of you. FuuuuUUUUUUcccckkk. He’d sent those texts before he’d even met you, ignorant to you being the musician that his brother and friend were trying to set him up with— they’d done a good job of making sure of that after he expressed his disinterest. But you didn’t know that, and believed that what he texted was truly what he thought of you after enjoying each other’s company all night.

Chris was embarrassed to say the least. He went to the bathroom to hide his shame. I finally, FINALLY hit it off with someone, and possibly blew it because I just HAD to choose this ONE time to be colorful in my word choice. I gotta make this right.

 As quickly as he could, he’d gotten together a demonstration of remorse: a beautiful bouquet of roses and some gourmet coffee, a call back to the quips you shared last night, sent to your green room. He wasn’t sure what to say on the note, but remembering how much of a jokester you are, he went the cheesy, comical route, and prayed it went over well. Chris could’ve left it at that, but no, my curiosity had to get the best of me. 

Just like you hadn’t seen him watching you last night, you hadn’t seen him watching you today. Today, however, he’s not the only one watching you. This isn’t qualified as stalking, is it? God, I hope not. Appropriately anxious and tucked in the furthest corner of the small, but packed venue, clad in a baseball cap, hoodie, and sunglasses, Chris heavily reconsidered his spur of the moment decision of coming to see your acoustic performance. Any chance of leaving was now gone as the lights dimmed and the presenter came on stage.

“In the last 2 years following the release of her debut album, today’s artist has taken music by storm! She’s had a #1 song in the country for 10 consecutive weeks— graced the covers of Rolling Stone and Vogue— top-billed major music festivals like Lollapalooza and Coachella. She’s even cleaned up at the Grammys this year and then gave the most talked about performance.”  Damn… do I really live under a rock? “iHeartRadio, give a warm welcome to…” 

Applause erupted as you joined your band on stage, taking your spot behind the microphone. You greeted the crowd with a shy smile and introduced the first song. “This… is ‘Stroke’.” The crowd erupts again around Chris, all in on what’s in store, leaving him the only one in the room unsure of what to expect.

Chris is mesmerized by your voice and amused by your quirky dance moves. But he feels conflicted, knowing that similar moves were done with him last night on the dance floor. When you danced together, it had felt like the two of you were in your own little world, but seeing you onstage sharing some of that with an entire audience made him feel a little… insignificant.

Your lyrics are smart, raw and moving and the instrumentation is captivating even in its stripped back state. Chris doesn’t think he’s ever heard music like yours before. He’s surprised by the subtly aggressive and sexual nature of it, considering how awkward and goofy and cute you were with him. However, he loves watching your outright confidence, your assertiveness, in action on stage. Wow, she’s fucking amazing!

“... thank y’all! Um… this next one is a cover of a song I’m sure you know and love.” The guitarist starts the iconic riff of Aaliyah’s ‘Are You That Somebody?’. Chris is taken back to hearing this song at many parties in his younger years where he mindlessly *and drunkenly* danced to the upbeat production. But hearing you sing it today, a little slower and a lot more vulnerable, the lyrics hit him differently.

“Oh boy, see I’m trusting you with my heart, my soul

I probably shouldn’t let you but if I

If I let you know

You can’t tell nobody, I’m talkin’ ‘bout nobody

I hope you’re responsible

Boy I gotta watch my back, 'Cause I’m not just anybody”

He’s reminded of your comments last night.

“Don’t you ever feel like you can’t tell people’s intentions? Like, you can’t tell if someone wants to be around you for you or… for what they think they’ll get in return. It’s just easier to stay in your own, comfortable bubble sometimes. I don’t know…”

She probably thinks I was trying to take advantage of her. God, I’m so stupid sometimes!

At the end of the set, there’s a round of deserving applause and cheers for you, and you beam at the crowd, thanking them. Chris can’t help but feel strangely proud of you; he barely knows you, but can tell you love what you do and give your all to it. He admires that.

When the lights come up and the presenter joins you on stage, Chris takes that opportunity to slip out early so as not to be caught in the rush of everyone leaving, risking him getting recognized. He gets his phone out to let his driver know he’s coming down and to meet him around the corner, hoping this will keep them from tipping off paparazzi. He then opens his music app to download all your music. It’s official: I’m a fan.

——————————————————————————

“Alright everybody, if you have tickets for the meet and greet… “ the presenter gives announcements as you leave the stage. Being the attentive performer you are, you noticed a tall, enigmatic audience member leave early. Normally you would’ve gently called them out, but something stopped you. A familiarity of the figure, the stature, the walk.

Your breath catches in your throat at the thought of who it could be. You start towards the green room to prepare for the meet and greet, although your swirling thoughts cause you to make little to no strides in that direction. What if it is Chris? Why would he come today? Was he really sorry? Or was he just bored and looking for a good laugh?

Adrenaline rushes you and you head in the direction of where the figure had gone. You scan the room and spot them, stomp up behind them, ready to have some words.

“Hey! HEY!” You reach and yank their hoodie off, “WHAT’D YOU THINK OF THE show…” your voice trails off at the sight of a toupee hanging in the pulled down hood, and the figure turns around. Shit. 

“¡¿Qué mierda estás haciendo?!” The Spanish speaking stranger is loud, bald, and clearly pissed.

“Lo siento,” you offer with a sheepish smile and shrug, then turn on your heels and scurry off, slightly embarrassed by the scene you’d caused.

“What the hell was that?” Jimi asked with wide eyes. “Not what I meant when I said ‘snatch some wigs’!” 

“I thought that was Chris…”

“You thought an extremely famous, A-list actor, who barely flirted with you last night, and clearly doesn’t think very highly of you, risked pestering paps and mobbing fans to go out of his way to come to your set today?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“And if it was? What were you gonna do?”

“I… didn’t think that far.”

“You didn’t think at all. Listen, I get that you’re hurt—“

“I’m not hurt! Ok… That’s not me. I don’t get hurt.”

Jimi sighs, softening her eyes and speaks at you with tough love and concern. “Whatever it is you’re feeling, you can’t let him or any other industry guy get in your head like this. Your career’s finally taking off like you wanted, and your personal life is less in shambles than it was a while ago. If you want everything to continue going in the right direction, you gotta get focused! You’ve got a movie role to slay! And many more amazing opportunities waiting for you after that because you made it all happen. I want you to remember that this next chapter is about focusing on what’s right for you, professionally and personally. Do NOT bring in the bullshit from the last chapter.”

It’s your turn to sigh. “But, I—“

“Aht-aht! No excuses. Are we clear?” You simply nod because there’s not much you can say. All you can do is mentally make a promise to yourself to not let any guy get you besides yourself, that you will be willing and ready for great things to happen to you. Jimi’s right… again! Dammit, I hate when she’s right.

Part 4

[iam-kenough]

Will you ever notice me? (Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character)

Summary:  Dutch and his boys found a girl hidden inside wrecked shack near their camp. She introduces herself as Iris and starts leading outlaw life with Van der Linde gang, quickly developing feelings towards one, special cowboy. However there is big year gap between them and Arthur sees Iris just as a kid...And girl won’t take that!

Authors notes: It’s another chapter and you can find the rest of them following masterlist on my blog if you  want to read more of my  fanfiction. Hope you gonna enjoy it! Words count: 2242 Chapter 12 Iris was at her tent, undressing herself with nose was patched up and she still heard Mrs Grimshaw's harsh yelling in her head. Her shirt landed on the floor as it was ruined with crimson of blood. - What the fuck were you thinking today?! - Arthur stormed inside her tent, completely ignoring fact she's undressed, wearing only her lingerie. - Huh? - she tilted her head to the side, looking visibly surprised. - You could kill yourself, you idiot, twice times today! - So what? That's my job - she shrugged - I'm an outlaw just like you. - Are you out of your mind? - Arthur looked furious, his voice harsh as gravel and eyes stormy. Iris was trying to reckon if he ever was furious like that before, but she couldn't remember. Not towards herself, at least. - What would be better in situation when I had choice to fall down along with the train, jump on my horse like you said and probably break my spine or risk life and jump into the water? - I'm not only about it - he growled, throwing his hands in the air and gesticulating with them, showing frustration - You're not going anywhere else with us! - Excuse me? I am amazing with getting things done, especially when you think that all Dutch's plans are stupid and naive while I can fix all of them. I am not gonna stop - girl shaked her head in disbelief.

- That's the problem, you are amazing with pulling these out, 'cause you are crazy! - Arthur grabbed her arm and shook Iris like it was meant to wake up her.

- Even if, what's bad about it? - Iris tried to back off, but couldn't as his fingers were pinning into her forearm.

- How couldya've said that you have nothing to lose? - Arthur said suddenly with much more silent voice, slowly looking away.

- But I don't and you know it's true! - Iris laughed but there was no joy in it

- My life? I'm gonna be dead sooner or later, I'm not a town girl nor wife sitting at home, I'm an outlaw just like you, Mr Morgan. The only difference is when I'm gonna die.

- I-I...How can you say things like this? They sound so easy in your mouth it makes me afraid - Arthur was disbelieving Iris's words with ''hurt puppy'' eyes.

- I always thought you're never lying to yourself, but here we are. What I'm saying is true, all I have is group of people in this camp, but everyone is risking, anyone can die tommorrow, or in two weeks, you just don't know it! You can't hold me away from all this dirt and...I needed this money.

- Money?! You were caring about the money?! - Arthur was starting to boil once more.

- I need it if I'm gonna move some day soon - she said and it made him freeze.

He threw her look of kicked dog. - What? - Iris noticed his intentions right away - You were thinking I'm gonna stay forever? I'm in my twenties and all I have is this tent and nowhere to go, no one to look after or no one to hold me there, isn't it obvious? I can go to New York, or even freakin' Tahiti, maybe become a doctor to make my life less boring and miserable. But that was exactly what Arthur was thinking. He just realized that now there was no strings attached between them and that she was thinking about moving, mentioning it in the past, when they were still friends, talking every night in the light of oil lamp. Arthur Morgan was always thinking that he has time but there she was, proving he's wrong and also a fool.

- Iris, I still need you - he said but she didn't hear him. There was screams coming from outside. At first, Iris bursted out, thinking that's it's something horrible, tripping over her own legs. But it was very opposite. Everyone could see like John Marston in kneeling in front of Abigail Roberts, holding an engagement ring.

-Oh my god, John, yes! - Abigail yelled with visible shock and disbelief in her eyes. Normaly woman didn't like being in the centre but marring John properly was her deep hidden dream.

- It's time for me, to do somethin' proper out of us, Aby. I want to make you happy - John was speaking quietly and with gentle manner but everyone heard it as no one dared to breath or else.

Iris was looking at pair, sharing few tears of joy. It was simply beautiful, somethin' she wished for them deeply in her heart. It was also something she was dreaming about for herself for short period of time and was moved that they were so lucky to have it. It was little proof for herself, that she could have normal life someday, that she could leave this camp and finally that they are were family. Disfunctional one, but family. She noticed with corner of her eye that Arthur was looking at her. She wiped her face from tears quickly, walking away to hug Abigail and John just like everybody. This evening turned away differently than everyone expected. People catched every bottle of booze they had and gathered around the fire. Soon they were singing every song they knew, laughing, talking and dancing. John was the one who's wasted the most, obviously, he liked to drink when he was happy and today happines weren't the right word. It was more than overjoy. There was also Iris with bottle in her hand, who was joyful enough to yell the lyrics of one songs they both knew, dancing with John as they were tripping over each other, making Abigail laugh as she clapped in the rythm her friends wasn't minding anyway.

Arthur was watching Iris carefuly. She looked happy, joyful even but it seemed weird and unsetteling. And then something clicked inside Arthur's head. Iris was drinking everyday, chugging down on bottle of whiskey almost every evening and now she, with her fragile body, was enough strong to keep up with John without getting wasted. She had also having this hip-flask that she was drinking from time to time. All puzzles fitted right now. - You're an alcoholic - Arthur hissed, when he catched Iris from between others and  quickly dragged away, hiding they both in his tent. Man quickly pulled down flaps, giving this conversation needed privacy. Arthur didn't care much if it's uncomfortable for Iris, the way he just treated her - How many drinks did you have today, eh?

- Hmm...A bottle and still counting! - she said, giggling, completely clueless - Come on, don't be such sourpuss, Mr Morgan!

- You're an alcoholic! - he shouted again, much more agressively at her face and girl stopped smiling right away.

- F'course I am - she spoke slowly, like was supposed to explain something to child - My daddy was and I am too, that's no surprise. Now I think I kind of get him, whiskey's your best friend. It always listens to your heart and it lulles you to sleep so easily, when all you see is dirty ceiling of your tent. It makes you warm, just like you were in lover arms - she looked dreamily now, smiling a little - That's why I'm gonna drink till the day I'll fall asleep drunk and choke myself with my own vomit. Cheers to that! - she took big gulp from the bottle, few drops falling down girl’s chin.

- No! - he grabbed her arm, tearing the whiskey away from her hands and spilling it on the floor.

- Ey, I payed for that! And you're stupid to think I had only one or two - she laughed but she was furious and it sounded more like barking.

-Get yourself together, eh?! - Arthur placed empty bottle on the trunk with loud bang.

- What?! You saying something like this? - she looked almost amused. Almost if only it wasn't for fury and fire dancing in her pupils.

- Yes, me! I won't let you ruin your life!

- And who you are to judge me, eh?! Big scary boys who clinged onto me when he gets drunk, crying because his lovely Mary won't have him nor now, not even in ten years, 'cause she's a bitch who uses him to run errands for her!

- Excuse me? - he froze, not knowing what's going on. It was his thoughts but he wasn't reckoning saying them out loud ever, especially to Iris.

- Oooh, bullseye, you don't remember it! - girl looked like she was satisfied as hell with this discovery - You seriously belived when I said you just blanked out after puking on my new coat the other night! But no, there's much more to that and I'm gonna tell you a story - she was pacing, looking at him with fury.

Arthur didn't say a thing, nor moved. He was to shocked, but God, if he knew what's coming he would sit down already. - So I was sitting in your tent the other night and you weren't there, as always. I felt frivolous enough to take a look around, finding maybe something funny I could torture you within' a while, but oh, I was so shoked! A pile of letters, love letters under your cot. You left me for Mary Linton, just cutting our strings lose, not respecting me enough to tell that out loud. But that was expectable, I've never thought well enough about myself to expect being treated nicely. I wanted to search for ya, I wanted honesty from your mouth - she stopped for a moment, collecting her thoughts - and I got it when someone shoot me, robbed me and left me to die.

- Iris, I- - Arthur choked on words as they fought to leave his throat.

- No, no, that's not the best one I have for you today, loverboy - she hissed - Because when someone found me and drove me to the doctor in Saint Denis, I've been told I'm gonna live because someone took a bullet for me and it was our child. I was pregnant and I found out about it like this. And I will probably never gonna be pregnant again - she lifter her chemise and there it was, fresh scar, shiny and pink, running from belly button to left side - How do you like it, Arthur? Look at it closely! I know I look beautiful like that - Iris's voice was malicious, getting every small amout satisfaction from relieving secret that would hurt Arthur just like he did hurt her. No, it was only very bad dream. He's gonna wake up and laugh it off. Even his life wasn't this much miserable. But no, it wasn't any fantasy and girl stormed pass him, going to her tent. Arthur followed her and when he entered Iris's tent she already was grabbing another whiskey, hidden under her cot.

- Why you didn't tell me straight away?! - Arthur was finally able to spit anything from mouth but his throat was numb, big gulp growing inside.

- You haven't even notice me missing, nor wondering why I lie in my tent all day and Dutch doesn't say a thing. Why would I tell you anything? - Iris shrugged, her face hopeless. How could Arthur expect anything from her?

- So I could protect you! I'm barely speaking english, how can you expect me to read your mind? - Arthur's eyes looked wet and red but not even single tear fallen down his cheeks. Man was to proud for this.

- Protect me from what? You should protect me from yourself, 'cause you're the one who knocked me over and left - Iris shaked head, face forming into a frown.

- Protect you so you would never get shot, protect you so you wouldn't work like that. I was doin' that with Eliza- - Arthur really tried to justify his need of protection but they both knew he couldn't, not right now.

- The girl I am similar to, but lacking her soothin' temper, eh? Oh I know all your dirty little secrets, 'cause you gave me no reason to trust you and I was right, never taking your presence for granted, nor your words. Arthur, you were going in and out of this relationship like my heart was made of stone - she sobbed, curling up in the very corner of her bed, cuddling a bottle of booze.

- I need you! - man looked at Iris hopelessly, trying anything he could try to get them both back on tracks. But for now there weren’t any right words.

- You merely remember to notice me, back then and now, Arthur - girl waved him off, ignoring confession - but I get this...After all I'm just a kid who can't even kiss you the way you like being kissed. Why would you ever got back to me? - she cried in despair but he just left, leaving her to herself. For Arthur it wasn't leaving because he hated Iris, he just couldn't deal with emotions that were tearing him apart right now, puting pins into his heart and causing migraine, pain pulsing in man's temples. But girl was thinking amiss, taking it as Arthur's giving up.

- Glad that I still have you - she whispered after a moment of looking into direction Arthur went, opening a bottle and downing it at once, then falling on her back and going asleep in yesterday's clothes. They simply weren't meant for each other. 

[skeletorific]

YES! Marvus 6, 12, and/or 27 and Marsti 1, 8, and/or 9? I know that's a lot so u can just choose your faves if you want!

UGH YES MARSTI WRITING MUSCLES FUCKING ACTIVATE. Also I could use some meatier asks anyways (trying to recover fro castlevania s3 lmao) so I’ll do em all

Marvus Xoloto

9. What is their biggest regret?

I don’t see Marvus as being built for regret, honestly. Based on his entire speech on extra-canonicity he seems to view every failed choice as simply one more stepping stone into who you eventually become, for better or for worse. He’s done shit that, all told, he probably wouldn’t do again. No one gets out of Alternia without committing at least a few atrocities, least of all clowns. But he can’t change that. What happens is, usually, exactly what had to happen, and while he probably internalize at least a little guilt he doesn’t really see the need to make a Thing of it. Just take it, and do better next time. Call it the Seer instincts.12. Do they prefer to be asked on a date, or would they rather do the asking?

Its tricky. Marvus enjoys being chased, being desired, but he’s also very used to fielding requests with less than honest intentions. If you ask first, even if you were friends beforehand, there’s always going to be a part of him that wonders if you just got to know him for the clout. Which hey, he’s not about to shame anyone for doing what they gotta to get those $$$, but he’d just rather not mix quadrants and work.

In general I think he prefers to ask for the first date, just to dodge that particular brew of trust issues. For subsequent dates he tends to prefer being asked, though. Bonus points if you coordinate with his schedule before asking because nothing sucks the romance out of it for him like an 80 message long text chain of “I’m off this day but only for ten minutes but the day after I’m in a literal different continent and-”

27. Being alone hc

He’s a chronic extrovert, and gets cabin fever like you would not believe. Still after getting knocked out cold by a pretty severe fever/breakdown after his first tour he learned his lesson about setting aside alone time. He tries to reserve at least one weekend every two months where he is just unavailable. Doesn’t answer his phone, doesn’t check venues, doesn’t do interviews, nada. Might occasionally get someone over during those days but no one involved in his tour is allowed near his hive or whatever hotel room he’s holed up in because its gonna shift him into work mode. Its just him, a couch, some absolutely godforsaken clothes, and some shitty tv. His one exception is he does let himself write, given his tendency to absolutely forget lyrics if he doesn’t write them down right away. Still, after a couple of days he’s usually desperate to get out.

Marsti Houtek

1. What are they like at their worst?Look, complete and total alienation from your own desires isn’t exactly healthy for anybody, but Marsti strikes me as someone who has had points where she is infinitely worse. There was a time when she committed hard to that subservient lowblood role. Not only was she cleaning, but she was quiet and apologetic to any highblood looking to pick a fight. That would usually only provoke other lowbloods to get into it with her, mocking her for just caving, which would also make her apologetic. Once she got older though, I think eventually she got sick of it. She’s not breaking through of this social role any time soon: not like she’s looking to get culled for being stupid. But that doesn’t mean she has to take shit lying down. She  discovered there was a certain power in not giving a shit. The truth is most highbloods won’t consider you worth the energy to kill if you’re just lippy. Not to mention, she’s not interested in hearing it from other lowbloods who haven’t figured out what she’s always known: there’s no way out, like it or lump it. So, Marsti, at her worst? Its her giving a shit what anyone thinks. Giving that up gave her the largest fraction of power a lowblood with no psiionics and no prospects can have on Alternia.

8. Do they consider themselves dangerous?

She knows her own abilities well enough to know, she’s fucked if she ever ends up in an out and out brawl. She’s not particularly strong, has no psychic ability. Still, she doesn’t underrate herself either. She’s intelligent, adaptable, and nihilistic enough to be functionally fearless. So, while she doesn’t see herself as dangerous, she knows she’s not defenseless, which is ultimately what’s important to her.

9. What is their biggest regret?

Like Marvus, Marsti doesn’t really give herself a lot of space for regret. Doesn’t see the point to it. If she had to name one, though, probably for not studying more into medicine when she was younger. Don’t get her wrong, there was never a circumstance under which she would be able to pursue it in any meaningful way. Still, being young and naive and tearing through every book she could find on troll anatomy and disease....it was some of the best times she’s ever had, and she sometimes wishes she had indulged in it for longer before that inevitable maturity known as a “reality check” set in.