#truly obsessed with how awkward these two very confident humans are being
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obsessed with the twins just saying 'we are not present actually'
#critical role#cr3#truly obsessed with how awkward these two very confident humans are being#callowmoore#lyd watches cr#cr cast
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Hiiii
Can I request a Bakugo (Cuz let’s be honest, he is FINE AS HELL) x gn! Reader who’s very socially awkward?
Like, if anyone they don’t know tries to talk to them they’ll just be like🧍♂️and give them that classic awkward smile
yes!!!! i relate to this reader sm and also I 100% agree bakugo is so fucking fine like??????? he's a fucking 2d character from a style where theporportions arent even based on humans, he has unmanaged anger issues and will fucking explode and not in the joking sense and yet????/ like whoever made hi design TEL ME YOUR WAYS. he's so fucking pretty. but also as much as I love him jeanist did him so fucking dirty with that hair. jeanist looked at *THAT* and really said "I can fix him"??? bitch don't fucking fix him I like the explosive pomeranian bitch. but like that one scene when he was making fun of todoroki during the provisional license extras classes like bro I was watching with my siblings and had to aggressively hold back a fucking screach noise. AND I STILL DO WHENEVER I WACTH IT. he's a fucking anime character who is so damn unhealthy but if you cant tell by the length of this, I fucking love him.
reader: GN
characters: bakugo katsuki
summary: reader is a very much not people person so how the fuck are they dating bakuhoe out of all bitches
warnings: swearing if you couldnt tell. anxiety, mentions of anxiety attacks. bakugo being a bitch.
💥- okay honestly, first day? didnt even know you were in the class.
💥- this mf too focused on beating everyone up to notice you.
💥- was forced to acknowledge you when you kiri and bakuhoe were in the same area during the usj attack.
💥- after yall beat the shit out of some ppl you were sweating a ton but not bc you just fought some bitches.
💥- your ass was panicked af, not only are you shoved in a small space with two extroverts, you're also being exxesivley complimented by Kirishima bc you punched someone and along with that the fucking usj is under attack.
💥- it was very obvious you were panicking tbh.
💥- like bakuhoe at this point doesnt give a shit about other peoples feelings at this point but even he could tell.
💥- you were just standing there with you r arms pinned to your sides staring into the distance as Kirishima was obsessing oever how you beat someone up.
💥- after the usj he started to notive you more often.
💥- he noticed hpw evenn when the whole class was close with each other, you were still extremely quiet.
💥- he noticed how awkward you were even when talking to your friends.
💥- he noticed how youd speak up if your friends were being rude to you but the moment someone like monoma said something you just shut down.
💥- he even noticed how panicked you were when you learned about the internships.
💥- during the sports festival you both fought one on one, that's when he truly noticed how awkward you were.
💥- like bro was beating the shit out of you while yelling shit like "say something damnit!"
💥- honestly even though he wouldve won anyways, the round ended faster due to your panic with him yelling n shit.
💥- bro was thinking about it more and was like "damn. but like why were they kinda cute."
💥- first thoughts?
💥- immediete denial.'
💥- bakugo thought his time would be something like loud and outgoging, someone whos super confident.
💥- then saw you who was about to have a fuckinh panic attack and was like:
💥- i want that one.
💥- honestly ur crush on him was not obvious at all, you were just your normal panicky self but this time with slightly more blush.
💥- honestly you guys didnt get together until someone had to word it to make it seem like they were challenging bakugo to confess.
💥- will fight someone for you.
💥- monoma insulted you? 3 days of house arrest for bakuhoe.
💥- someone judged you? explosions.
💥- cashier looked at you wrong? banned from the convenience store for the next 6 months.
💥- congrats on your new scary dog privledges.
💥- mf so fucking protective tbh
💥- its not that he doesnt think you cant fight for yourself, he knows you can beat anyone to a pulp. i mean like- you're in the hero course for gods sake man.
💥- more in the sense of, distant jealousy. you wont know he's jealous, but whoever is talking to you thats making him jealous will know.
not my best work but i wanted to type something lol.
#bakugou x reader#bnha x reader#mha x reader#bnha x gn!reader#mha x gn!reader#bakugo x reader#bakugou katsuki#bakugo x gn!reader
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Real ciel with a fem darling
In all honesty, if I wouldn’t have been already far enough in the manga, I would have needed to reject this. It’s kind of bad that they didn’t put this into the Anime since it’s ridiculously important. So I apologize if I missed something, but I’m not finished with the manga yet.
Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, manipulation, kidnapping, gaslighting
Real Ciel with a female darling
🍵Let’s just say that “Ciel” is a lot more possessive over his darling than his little brother is. Because whilst Ciel had a lot of people around him who seemed to care about him, “Ciel” had no one. He only had Undertaker on whom he seems to look down too as well even though he’s the one who keeps “Ciel’s” body functional. He’s a Bizarre Doll, a very advanced one who can blend in perfectly under humans, but is still no human. He wouldn’t want his darling to feel scared of that fact and for that tries to hide it.
🍵He’s also incredibly isolating, judging from how he always wanted to isolate his brother. But he manages to make it look less like he is isolating his darling, more like just coming over as extremely overprotective, guilt-tripping his darling mercilessly with his past and making her feel bad. Don’t know if that changes later on, but his body seems to be weak and fail him from time to time. No wonder, he is somewhat dead. He uses that as an advantage as well. He’s housebound, just like his brother used to be when they were younger. You surely wouldn’t want to leave him whilst he can’t even accompany you?
🍵Feel like he is also the more dangerous one from the two brothers. To start with, he has far more confidence in himself than our Ciel has, seeing how he was the dominant sibling during childhood and even know doesn’t even seem to falter after everything that happens. It just makes him so much more willing to get rid of people than Ciel, who is already very vicious. Here comes the aspect in that “Ciel” was all alone whilst Ciel had always people around him who cared for him. And whilst he might have pushed them away and told himself, his priority is vengeance, their love had an influence on him. “Ciel” had no one for nearly four years, he had no one who could have influenced him and is in my opinion due to that far more vengeful than our Ciel is. Combined with his possessiveness it makes a horrific mix.
🍵Also feel like he has an easier time charming his darling than Ciel has. He’s more outgoing and playful due to his confidence and doesn’t have the same awkwardness than Ciel does. It would be much more easier for him to sweep his darling naturally off her feet than his little brother might have. He is much more open to his darling and can socialize better than Ciel can. He would most likely find a way to set some rumors up which will lead to his and Elizabeth’s end of the engagement. But he is still smart enough to keep a good relationship with them since they’re good connections to have. Lizzy is anyways confused with her feelings and feels bad for not realizing sooner that the person she’s been with for the last four years was in fact not her Ciel, but his brother. It makes her see herself in a bad light and “Ciel” will use this to his advantage.
🍵Whilst he doesn’t have Sebastian or the butler Ciel used to have, “Ciel” still has influence and Undertaker by his side, next to a lot of other connections. He can draw his darling willingly closer to him if he wants too, but is also not above using manipulation and bribing to make that happen. He is after all good-looking, charming, rich and is a fascinating person to be with, given his past. He’s quite caring, looking back how he always took care of his brother and tries to be just the same way for you.
🍵Being a far more controlling one than his brother is due to only being able to watch his brother acting like him for years makes him a scarily obsessive one. He had little to no control in his life before and doesn’t want the same thing to happen with his darling. He will get his hands on any sort of information he can get and try to charm his way into friends and family’s hearts, expressing his interest in you so they’ll hopefully be more open with him.
🍵He excuses a lot of his actions, not letting you out, not letting you talk to any other people, through his terrifying backstory, having been marked, mistreated, abused and a lot of other horrible things. His paranoia can be so easily excused due to everything he went through and might make you think that he can’t help, but be that way. It might make you more lenient with his behavior. You would most likely want to help him getting over his trauma.
🍵Personally believe he would much more rely on gaslighting and guilt-tripping his darling than his brother might do. “Ciel” is without a doubt a true mastermind and his darling is a person he truly loves, in another sense than his brother. He already wanted his brother to rely on him and had always this feeling that he had to be there for him since he didn’t even want to be the next heir when hearing that his brother wanted to open a toy store. It’s similar with his darling. He wants her to see him as her fiancé and the one person she can always trust and rely on. It’s his pretty dream and he installs indirectly great fear on his darling to make her more frightened from the outside world.
🍵Being a doll makes him run on his desires a lot and you just happen to be the greatest of them all. He causes great troubles without ever being caught by you nor suspected, he’s too smart for that. He’s also far more vicious and brutal when it comes to getting rid of any obstacles in his way due to never having experienced these last four years anyone loving him which made him, as mentioned, more vengeful. He experiences mainly through his darling love again since she matters to him more than anything else, besides his little brother of course.
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I've been asking around this one question for a few people now, because I like hearing what people have to say about it...
So I wouldn't mind it if you shared a list on who's your favourite (from Most to Least) from the Obey Me! Crew (Brothers & Formally Undatables)...
Also, please feel free to ramble on about why you placed them in each space...
O-oh dear-
First off, you spoil an infodumper like me too much lol (I am happy sfjsjjdjn) and I am going to go overboard (and changing the order of things) for my own pleasure.
And so...
Second off...
Gladly
Here is My List of LEAST to MOST Favorite of The Obey Me Boys ^^
That I just did on spot because I didn't have one ready because it's hard for me to rate the characters as they all have their traits and even their flaws add something good to the character but I'll be dammed if I don't enjoy deep frying my brain for fun.
Please take note I am taking this literally and all characters in here are FAVORITES, just some will be more and some less, which mean I LIKE ALL OF THEM. Yes, I have changed my opinion on a certain two characters I have said to not like, and I am not ashamed to say I was incorrect.
So let's start this off with the right foot shall we?
#12 | Diavolo
He is still infuriating I won't deny that. And I won't pity him though he is a tragic character that is so lonely he overrates any kind of affection, that doesn't know how to interact with others without exagerating, that has no one to give an oposing opinion because of his status and so it's increasingly hard for him to learn to make good decisions, and with his goal to unite the realms I could almost say he is naive. He's a bit of a puppy always wanting some pets, but as a not dog person, I don't have enough in me to be always playing, so to me an overly needy puppy can end up getting annoying, though of course, I can't help it but at least give it a few pets before going my way.
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#11 | Simeon
Yes in the end I actually liked him all along but was just in denial after I thought about it. Simeon is a good character, he's a dick even though he's an angel and he doesn't bother to be any different, he definetelly has his own set of rules he follows and I believe he would be a Chaotic Good just like me. He's well made. And as much as he is pretty unlikeable, the mystery, the questions, the fact that he has always been the same we just didn't get to interact with him much to see it, to have a naturally asshole character put down some of his walls to help us even if part out of possible self interest. And of course he's also fun. Simeon is charming, and I have come to appreciate all of him.
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#10 | Luke
A kid. A brat and a tsundere. I Absolutely love the character development and it's extremelly adorable. He's now officially our guardian angel and I love that. He was just a prick that I rolled my eyes so hard whenever I encountered him in the game and now he's just a lil' bratty brother that is fun to tease and squish the cheeks off. He's a really nice kid in the end, just previously ignorant, but still nice because he was willing to learn and change despise saying he didn't want to. I personally can understand Luke as I was pretty alike as a kid. Again, he's a nice kid I would gladly buy some balloons and cotton candy for.
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#9 | Barbatos
The number 1 buttler, he's just, a good dude l o l. He has his distance from everyone due to his position but that doesn't make him any less interesting. He is mysterious and powerful and yet he feels, so chill. He's also fun and actually has a pretty soft personality in which he knows exactly when to switch off to strict. He's a character I respect and wish existed in real life so I could be friends with (╥﹏╥).
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#8 | Solomon
Shady sorcerer is actually a pretty good guy though mildly insane. He is actually responsable (and takes it pretty seriously seeing he's basically the representative of the human realm). He's kind though again, mildly insane, and diligent. He may have terrible food but the fact he does it with good intentions is pretty adorable, he just likes to follow his instincts and be spontaneous because he likes new and exciting things. He probably has quite a bit of angst to him due to his not only immortality in not aging but also by not being able to be killed but even so it feels that, contrary to how many human immortals end, he still hasn't lost the light in his eyes and can still enjoy things and enjoy being alive, and that is most likely thanks to other immortal/long living beings such as demons.
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#7 | Lucifer
Yep. Lucifer is actually a really fucking great character, he's fond of his family, hard worker to the point of destroying himself, self punisher, elegant, pretty af, cute at times. But not exactly my most favorable cup of tea. Seeing I can see through his bullshit all his posessiveness, all his pettiness, all his actions just becomes ridiculous and annoying. And theres also a problem with the fact we always end up submiting to him, I don't want that. For every time he disrespects me I want him to kneel and kiss my feet. His pride collides with my own, and his decisions do too. But even so he is very reliable and so he has my respect for that, I do want to hug him and tell him he deserves nice things and that he can rest now this is not the war anymore you don't have to bow down to anyone anymore you didn't doom your brothers but freed them instead, but then again he makes bad decisions because he has zero braincells for emotional intelligence and that pisses me off and makes me just want to yeet him off a cliff. Yeah Lucifer, I would gladly kick you in the balls with ♡°.•love•.°♡.
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#6 | Leviathan
Surprising is it not? But it's true, I often focus on Levi due to him not only being pretty alike to me but also because he's related to many things I have been familiar with since I was born: animes and games. His anxiousness is relatable, the outcastness is relatable, the awkwardness is relatable, the obsession is relatable, the references are relatable, the infodumping is relatable. He's very relatable to me, but not my most favorite, and all because of his envy. He's a guilt tripper, and though I am long immune to it in real life due to extreme exposure to it from my family, it still is enough for his rank to go down. I still love him though, but mostly as the character that represents the thing I am most familiar with in life: myself.
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#5 | Beelzebub
Big puppy, he's the type of guy who will talk to plants. He has big and strong hands that could crush anything and yet he will do his best to handle some things gently. He's chill and non judgemental, loyal to the core. Once you win him over, you win him over, he would die for you. He is purposely childish at times and it's cute. He is amazing. I wish I could enjoy eating like he does. He's the only character I truly feel hurt for, as he is deeply inflicted by survivor's guilt and it just pains me I can't comfort him because he isn't real ಥ‿ಥ
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#4 | Belphegor
Hoh boy. The brat. The fandom itself is pretty divided on their liking of Belphie and it's understandable lol. But I personally understand Belphie. To hide hurt behind anger, hate and spite, to turn to agression to prove a point but you end up just fucking up. But the guilt and wish to fix things can lead one to giving themselves up, and so it becomes a constant battle of getting close but not too close for the sake of both parties involved. I get this boy more than I wish I ever did, and that's why he's high on the ranking. And because he's cute ngl.
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#3 | Satan
H o h b o y, another one that reminds me of myself, only it's the aftermath of the above where one bottles up all their negative feelings because being emotional is not being rational and who the fuck even wants to not be rational. Where you have no fucking idea who you are because all you know is to stomp your feet and scream for the sake of making an statement but that just proved all your enemies a point so now you turn to smarts to prove yourself. To make others angry, to make them frustrated and infuriated with your knowledge because you want to prove yourself, be reconized for who you are, to be someone and also, hopefully, change other people's ways, to make them understand they are wrong because you deep down actually want to get along with them. Yeah, Satan is high on the list, and it's also because he likes detectives uwu.
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#2 | Asmodeus
What a fucking icon he is I love him okay. It frustrates me when people use cheating as a angst prompt for him as he's obviously someone who just isn't made for monogamy, and he's pretty honest and I feel he would have nothing to hide and would talk it all out with all his partners. He's a sweetheart that works hard on daily basis and hour after hour to mantain an image, he likes the attention, he wants to be loved. If anyone mildly self centered ever told me 'I love you as much as I love myself' I would marry them on spot. Asmo is just incredibly sweet and I love all his affection and respect him for all the work he does to make a good impression and look up to that self confidence even though most of it is actually just him trying to convince himself. Also perfect example off gender is an ilusion lol.
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#1 | Mammon
Yep, our number 1, The Great Mammon, the most lovable dumbass that has been by our side from the start though with a bit of whining. This man is perfect. He has incredible self control over his powers, and as someone who used to be an angel to be able to use money all you want bro. I wouldn't feel bad either. He's our protector from start to end to the point he focuses on us instead of the queen in the Dame event. He isn't stupid just has selective focus just like me! And all the people with ADHD and many other neurodivergents. When he wants something he does is perfectly and diligently, he just needs the right push at the right time. He's the most good of all demons and even angels and he loves all his brothers deeply, he is always there to support everyone to the point of even allowing himself to be the punching bag for the sake of them not turning too much on one another. He was literally our first SSR card, our first call, our first pact, our first and the best. He IS great, truly.
#god I need to sleep#any typos are due to sleep deprivedness and I will be fixing later#obey me#obey me!#obey me shall we date#obey me! shall we date?
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Living with the Turtles (headcanons)
Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo x Reader
Summary: A secret mission that only the four brothers could accomplish requires them to become your personal bodyguards. How would each one of them react to sharing a house with you?
Category: Platonic relationship, domestic fluff, deep friendship.
WARNINGS: None c:
A/N: This actually could be a whole fic (maybe someday) but honestly I was just feeling very into domestic turtles today so I decided to post this. Let me know what you think!
You can also read it in AO3! <3
Leonardo
The order was clear, you needed to be hidden. To fade, become invisible. After a team of outlaw scientists from the old Sacks' company discovered that you DNA carried a sequence of molecules that was thought had disappeared from the human species many decades ago - the only sequence that could serve as a basis for creating new mutagens - your blood became the most precious material in the planet and you, the most wanted person in the world. The Federal Program for Assistance to Threatened Victims and Witnesses had no option but to hide you in the only place where you would be safe 24 hours a day, seven days a week: the old train station where New York's newest heroes lived.
How will each of them react to the brutal change of sharing their house with a stranger?
When Chief of police Vincent set up an urgent meeting with the Hamato brothers to make a request and warned that the fate of the world depended on it, Leo prepared to receive a mission that would involved discipline, discretion and unmatched fighting skills but when he realized they would have to spend the next few months being bodyguard to a human, his confidence immediately morphed into pure nervousness.
He is a true gentleman and is desperate to be the best host possible. Before you arrived, he ordered the whole family to clean the Lair with a military streak and himself inspected every room. He and Donatello built a private room for you using some of the shoji screens from the meditation room and he provided a bed and headboard.
He's absolutely nervous the day you arrive. You are their first official guest and he will do everything to make your stay perfect. Because of that, your first interactions with him is a little awkward. He doesn't allow you to collaborate in any domestic activity and spends the first two weeks asking if you need anything ("No," You always answer "I am very comfortable, thank you.").
After a few days getting to know you better and seeing your determination to participate in the routine of the house, he finally manages to relax a little and takes this opportunity to share some house tasks with you. Despite that, he continues to treat you like royalty: pulling chairs, opening doors, covering you with a blanket at night and carrying you to your bed whenever you sleep on the couch -and then he ensures that the house is quiet, so you can rest. Nothing will interrupt your sleep, your peace, your security, your stay will be perfect, he will do anything to make you feel at home.
Living with Leonardo is a bit like being a soldier in a barracks, but without all the shouting. From Monday to Monday you have a schedule and after you finally manage to convince him to teach you a little self-defense, the training is hard and disciplined. Unlike the barracks, however, Leonardo is very comprehensive with your physical and mental limitations and it's more than willing to adapt your training depending on what you need most on the day. Weary? Deep meditation. Muscle pain? Yoga. Feeling unmotivated? Cardio.
Then when you finally get to know each other better, after a few weeks living together, Leonardo is like a mentor to you. He always has excellent advice and is always available to listen to you, regardless of how repetitive or superficial your problems are.
Leonardo's cooking skills are truly awful. It was during dinner, in fact, that you really started bonding. The pasta was slimy and bland and the sauce tasted like old ketchup: You had to intervene. Only when he saw how well you cooked - and wow that's a pretty good knife control! - he realized that you not only had a lot to learn, but a lot to teach. You have taken on the responsibility of teaching him how to cook the basics ever since and you will never forget his face when he first tasted missoshiro.
You're both obsessed with Chinese fighting movies. Every wednesday you watch a movie together and no matter how hard you try, you can't convince him that "Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon" is better than "House of Flying Daggers".
Of all the brothers, he is the one who gets used to your presence faster (even before Mikey) and his generosity is essential to make you feel welcome.
Raphael
It is not even possible to define with words the intensity of the fight that Raphael and Leonardo had when he told them that he had accepted the mission of hiding the human carrier. Once again Leonardo had made a decision without consulting the whole team but more important than that: Raphael was going to have to share the house with someone he didn't know and there was nothing in the world that made him more angry - and nervous - than that.
Deep down, Raph was more anxious than angry. Knowing that he was going to share his only intimate and personal space - his house - with someone he didn't know made him feel super vulnerable, exposed. In fact, he was scared. He feared the possible looks of dread, disgust, repulsion. He knew that few things in the world could hurt more than a look of hatred and he was not at all comfortable with the reality that he might have to LIVE with someone who found him disgusting.
But when you arrived, the looks didn't come. You looked nervous, but not scared, let alone disgusted. As the days went by, Raphael realized that the only feeling you had before arriving at Lair was gratitude and after he actually understood that in fact he made you feel safe, the warmth in his chest was enough for him to forgive your invasion.
Sometimes you are just as scary to Raphael as he is for most humans. That day when he caught you alone in the kitchen taking the cookie sheet out of the oven, he realized that. You are so… small, so fragile and soft. He feels that if he breathes too hard or too close to you he will dismantle you, like a house of cards. It's also impressive to him how much noise such a small creature can make. God! Are your shoes made of iron? How can biting into toast be that loud? Even your breathing seems loud to him. But it is not your fault, you always answer, it's not like you're a trained ninja.
Raphael is the last one to be comfortable with your presence but when that day finally comes and he admits he likes it when you are around, he also decides that you are one of them now and for you he ride or die. Silently he swears eternal loyalty to you and from that day on, rest assured, you don't need to be afraid of anything anymore.
Because of this, Raph becomes strangely jealousy and possessive. You are now his best friend and he needs to know if everyone around you is good enough, well-intentioned enough and ensuring your joy and well being are now part of the mission. It's a little overwhelming at first but when you adjust the intensity it's wonderful to have someone who takes such good care of you.
His affection is always returned. You love his company and think it's funny how such a big man can be so soft. And soft he is, since what you most have in common is the appreciation for period romances. You love watching all the adaptation films from Jane Austen's books and maybe he cried at the end of Reason and Sensitivity - he will deny it until the end - but your favorite activity for you to do together is when you read to him while he works out. You are like a personal audiobook and he will never stop making fun of you for crying while reading Mr. Wentworth's letters.
Despite the affection, he is really a tease. He doesn't miss a single chance to remind you how small you look to him and nicknames like Tiny Temper and Shortstop are recurring. You always repay it whenever you can but ultimately you know that he doesn't mean bad.
Donatello
Donatello thinks that the idea of protecting the source of the conflict is brilliant, it seems much more rational to avoid a war before it happens and proceed a mission with a more discreet and strategic course of action than to appeal to physical strength and weapons. That said, he hates having someone else around as much as Raphael. Unlike him, however, Donatello is not afraid of rejection, he is... Uncomfortable. Privacy is a right that he considers essential and imagining that he may receive someone who is intrusive in his own home makes his head hurt.
Therefore, he receives you with extreme coldness. He helps with the organizing of their home and your personal space, of course, he doesn't want you to feel unwelcome, but it's essential for him to draw the line between mission and personal life and he wants to make that very clear. His room is off limits, the computer area is off limits and specially the laboratory is off limits.
But he soon realizes that his coldness is unnecessary and maybe even a little rude since you seem excellent at respecting personal limits and spaces. He was prepared to spend a long time refusing to answer invasive and indiscreet questions, but you seemed to have a genuine and respectful interest. In the end, he found your polite curiosity very charming.
After that, he showed you the lab on his own and was even happier when you got interested but didn't touch anything. He finally had someone around with the same enthusiasm for science as he and he even started doing research based on your doubts. Enjoy, he's a great teacher.
But what you most like to do together is to sit on the huge couch in the living room with a cup of coffee and talk for hours on complex matters. Ethics, morals, economic and social configurations, what is the fate of the world? Why are we here? You certainly do not have the same theoretical background to refute him, but he loves your interest and loves to hear your subjective takes. A debate partner is everything he always dreamed of.
It's also a relief for him to be able to open up to someone other than his own brothers and he likes to hear the solutions you would give to his dilemmas from the perspective of a person who has lived a life so different from his. He also loves to watch you, but he will never admit it: Humans are fascinating, and he finds your ways and habits very funny.
Before you arrived he did a thorough research to understand what vitamins, minerals and supplements you would need to take while out of sunlight and with restricted access to various foods, so you also got you a personal doctor and nutritionist.
Michelangelo
The first week living with Michelangelo were almost unbearable. It may be fair to say that he was the only one among the brothers really pleased with your arrival and it was good to be warmly welcomed by at least one of them, but Mikey's excitement was a little overwhelming. He spent all day filling you with praise, flirting, asking about your life and life on the surface and it felt like he talked so much that he sucked all the air out of the room.
Knowing that your relationship could nor go on like that, in the second week of your stay you sat him on the couch and asked him to chill out just a little. You explained that for you it was super important to know that one of them was happy with your arrival and that you knew that he wanted to do everything to make your stay the best possible but for that he didn't need to treat you like a creature from another world, perfect and sovereign, you just wanted to be treated like ... an equal. That was more than enough. Michelangelo ceased to be a dedicated servant and became a great friend.
You couldn't ask for anything else in the world. Mikey was the perfect friend for a situation that could be unbearable without an icebreaker. He's fun, lovable and after you had that conversation, extremely relaxed and comfortable around you. His loyalty is unquestionable and every day he shows affection without hesitation.
He loves spending all the time he can with you and has volunteered to become your personal teacher of the art of graffiti. Leonardo can't know, but you are responsible for the new tags on the subway cars and on the doors of abandoned houses. Mikey loves to watch you do your hair and help you choose the clothes you are going to wear that day and you find it funny how that dynamic makes it look like he is playing house for the first time.
You made homemade pizza once and he asked you to marry him, a request to which you answered yes, of course. He made you a ring from the pizza crust and you drank soda with your arms crossed just like in weddings.
The most sensitive of the brothers. He always know when you're not feeling good and always has the right answer to make you feel better (that is, burrito blanket and reality shows).
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Obey Me: Part 7: Key to My Heart
Lucifer was opening and closing the fridge as if he expected food to appear. His stomach continued to protest with him, producing loud grumbles and rumbles. There was no food, not even a little. Perhaps Beel ate it all before he could even have a chance to eat some. Lucifer closed the fridge and pressed his knuckles against the counter, he couldn't help but wonder why he was so emotional yesterday. He was driven to tears. He strongly believed he was only being dramatic, that's all. It was his mind playing tricks with him. That must be the truth, right? Maybe he was thinking about it too much. He turned around and leaned against the counter with a heavy sigh, resting his fist underneath his chin. Nico managed to find the kitchen after a few minutes of running around aimlessly. He recognized the tall demon, he was the one from the group chat. He was the one who bluntly threatened him. The thought made him shudder. Although, something felt off whenever he saw him.
He felt strangely attached to Lucifer, he wanted to hug him, embrace him, caress him, and so on and so forth. Lucifer lifted his head, staring at Nico with a neutral expression, he looked very solemn. That only added to the awkward silence of the room. Admittedly, Nico was a little intimidated by Lucifer's grim appearance, considering he made a precise threat a few minutes ago. He was still thinking about it, it never left his mind. He decides to break the prolonged silence, opening his mouth to speak, of course, Lucifer just had to beat him to it, "Hello, Nico. How are things?" There was something about his voice that made him freeze on the spot. It was simultaneously unnerving yet reassuring. He doesn't know why he was so comfortable whenever he was around him. It's like he could open up to him easily without a problem. Lucifer clearly knew who he was, he knew everything about him. Then again, he knew everything about the other exchange students. It was nothing special. There is no meaning behind it. Nico was naturally affectionate towards him, constantly giving him hugs every single day.
He didn't show his gratitude verbally nor physically, he always hid his true feelings deep within him. So, you never really knew his true intentions. He impatiently tapped his foot against the ground, disappointed he didn't receive a response. He frowns, glaring at him with menacing eyes, "I do not like to be igno-" he was interrupted mid-sentence by a warm hug. Nico hugged him...again. He didn't understand this human's obsession with hugging him. Kauffee walked into the kitchen and saw the two hugging, immediately deciding to turn around to leave the two alone. However, he wasn't going to let his perfect opportunity slide.. he peeked in on the two, mumbling, "Why does everyone have someone else but me?" He stared into space for a few minutes and murmured something before going silent, "Well, I'm kinda an asshole.. so yeah, predictable." Nico inclined forward, gazing into Lucifer's eyes. Mesmerized by their peculiar appearance and beauty. There was something about him that made his heart pound. Without a doubt, he was... totally into him. He places a palm on the side of his face, causing Lucifer to flinch and growl under his breath. He kneaded his cheek with indisputable intrigue in his expression.
Lucifer melted underneath the other's touch, holding Nico's wrist with narrowed eyes. Nico leaned even closer towards Lucifer, staring up at him with a knowing look on his face. He could feel Lucifer's intense sweating in his grasp. How he loved Lucifer, he made his heart flutter. What.. is this questionable feeling? Lucifer was hesitant but, he was confident that this was the appropriate moment for a small kiss. Nico's face was nearly touching his, he was practically asking for it. He fixated his palm on the back of Nico's neck, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. He didn't expect his lips to taste this sweet. His lips were soft and smooth, he could keep on kissing him forever. He didn't want this moment to ever end. He felt Nico's arms wrap around his waist. Everything about
this was amazing. This moment happening between the two of them was surreal. Nico could feel himself pulsating magic just from the kiss.
Nico swore he could sense sparks flying everywhere although, maybe it was all inside his head. If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up. He pressed his body against his, positioning his knee between their legs. He was out of breath and desperately needed to pull away for some air. Still, he didn't want to stop, this felt too good. He was going to kiss him until his face turned blue, which it did. He never wanted to let go. Never ever. There weren't any words in the universe that can perfectly describe his breathtaking love for him. This was really the best day of his life. Lucifer was the first one to pull away from the kiss. He took a deep breath, wrapping his arm around Nico. He pushed himself onto the counter, pulling Nico onto his lap. He secured his grip, planting a peck on his cheek. Truthfully, he's been wanting to do this for so long. Now, he finally had the chance. He's truly happy, he has his little human in his arms. Nico rested his head on his chest, closing his eyes. Lucifer embraced his warmth, holding him closer.
He promised he was going to be there for him, always. He never thought he'd be in love with a human. These feelings were all so new to him. He was suddenly overcome with a wave of happiness. True happiness. Nico loved being in Lucifer's presence, he felt safe and sound. Nico took his hand and lifted it up to his lips, kissing the back of his palm. Even though he wasn't directly facing Lucifer, he was certain he was smiling widely. Nico smiled to himself and murmured softly, "I love you," he finally gathered up the courage to say those words. I. Love. You. Nico's heart was going crazy, it absolutely was going bonkers. He wasn't expecting this sort of thing to happen, nonetheless, he was glad it did. He obtained a special someone who would have their back no matter what. He was unable to process what was happening at this very moment. There was so many new feelings to adapt to, popping up all at once. Nico held Lucifer's hand, intertwining their fingers. He looked up at him and stared into his eyes to symbolize he truly meant his words, "I love you so much, Luci." Kauffee was silently witnessing the birth of a new relationship, he couldn't believe his eyes.
Lucifer couldn't help but smile like an idiot — his face was remarkably red. He kissed the top of Nico's head several times, taking both of his hands. He rested his head on Nico's shoulder as his lips curled into a flustered smirk. This was all too much for him, he was at a loss for words. He loved him, he adored him so much. It's official; he is in love with a human. He admits it. Lucifer mumbled, exchanging loving glances, "I love you too, Nico... you are my responsibility and I won't let anyone hurt you. You are mine." Lucifer's constant, wide smiling was contagious and spread to Nico. He sunk his burning face into the demon's chest, he couldn't take it anymore. Those words made his heart melt into a puddle. This obviously wasn't a dream, right? He was really in Lucifer's arms, being bombarded with affectionate compliments. This was all real. This was really happening right now. He raised his head, playfully ruffling Lucifer's hair with a small grin, "Is it alright if we take this to my room?"
Lucifer nodded, squeezing Nico's body tightly...how he loved him so much. He massaged his lover's head with cautious fingers, ending the gentle rubbing with an ambush of kisses and hugs. He placed his palms on the sides of his face, allowing a few raspy giggles to escape his throat. Nico squirmed in his compassionate grasp while holding both of his wrists. Lucifer brushed his lips against Nico's skin, feeling the human shiver. Lucifer couldn't hold it in anymore, he attacked him with more kisses. Nico releases a startled yelp, trying to defend himself and escape from the Almighty Lucifer's 'wrath.' It wasn't long until they finished their little, love session and called it a night.
. . .
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Budding Blossoms (Steve x Reader)
Anon’s Request: “ Hi! I read your "it starts with a sentence" prompt with Steve and I absolutely love the way you write him. So, I was wondering if i could request something? Like the reader is a big fan of Steve not as Captain America, like as a war hero (because she learns about him in history class or something) and she's always wanted to meet him to thank him for everything he's done, but doesn't think she ever will. But then they meet by chance and just have a deep talk. Thank you 🙏🧡 “
A/N: So honestly, I feel like I suck at writing Steve (which is why it takes me a bit to do the requests, I”M SORRY), so thank you for your sweet words. It means a lot!!!! I’m happy to do this request for you :) Also - I hope you don’t mind the small twist I put in for the reader.
Summary: You had only ever cared for the war hero, never finding interest in the superhero title that the rest of the world had become so obsessed with. But you knew the odds of meeting him were...well, impossible. Or were they?
Word Count:1490 words
Warnings: My friends, tis a bunch of fluff. That is what I have for you. Please - enjoy. XD There’s a bit of angst, but it’s not intentional. It’s all very sweet.
To most, a day that fell in line with all the others was boring. Trivial even. But to you it was the one thing you had become desperate for. The flower shop you worked at was quaint, small even. Yet still wild and unique. It was hard not to find yourself content within its walls. Truly, you could spend every waking and sleeping hour here.
“Have you finished your homework?”
You looked up, placing the watering can next to the long row of roses. Your gaze shifted to your cousin, the owner of Budding Blossoms. She had been working on potting a couple new plants. Knowing how much she was constantly worrying, you reminded her, “I’m not taking classes this summer, remember?”
“Fine, then what about – “
You grinned. “I already took my meds.”
She huffed and asked, “Why do you act like it’s a bad thing for me to worry about you?”
“Because you worry too much.”
“Oh, is that right?” She threw some dirt your way and you ducked, laughing as the flowers proved to be a natural shield.
The familiar ding from the front door brought you two out of your little game. She looked up first as you returned to caring for the plants, surprise evident in her features. “Uh…you guys are Avengers.”
A laugh, boisterous and fun, bounced off the small walls. If you hadn’t known any better, you would have assumed the flowers bloomed a little brighter because of it. But still – you found yourself wondering. Why were Avengers in a flower shop?
“Is that a problem?”
“Not at all,” your cousin assured. “But if I’m honest, it’s more common for men to wonder in here when they’ve upset a girlfriend.” You watched through the hanging ferns, catching glimpses of the man you knew to be Sam Wilson. He was the one laughing, teasing your sweet and far too protective cousin.
“Not a girlfriend. Poor, sweet Clint here,” he said, hands clasping shoulders and jerking the Avenger forward. “Well, he managed to piss off his super-soldier boyfriend. And there is no one better at the silent treatment than that guy, believe us.”
Clint nodded. “You gotta help me out here.”
You heard your cousin agree. Of course she would. There was no doubt that her favorite part of her job was helping people truly in love. She was an every-day cupid, that you were certain. Watching them wander towards the back, to more exotic flowers, you turned on your hell only to stumble into something very big.
Very hard.
And very tall.
You looked up, realizing that you had walked into the third member of their party. “You – You’re – “
He blushed, hand scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah, I’m Captain – “
“You’re Steve Rogers.”
“ – America.”
Of all the things you would have expected, his surprise was not one of them. He looked at you as if he had never heard his name said before. A small chuckle slipped past his lips as he said, “I’m sorry, I think that made me sound a bit like an ass.”
“No, it didn’t,” you promised, shaking your head. “You’ve been known as Captain America for how long? I would’ve been shocked if you said anything else.”
“But you called me ‘Steve’.”
“I’m taking some classes at Brooklyn College and,” you shrugged. “My professor thinks our war heroes should be known by their name and respected for it. And I agree.”
Steve looked at you with an emotion neither of you could quite place. He stared with a kindness and familiarity that made it seem as though you two had been friends for years. And perhaps known each other longer. The silence was unsettling not because it was awkward, but due to the fact that there was an immoveable weight there. Silent words begging to be spoken.
But you had more courage to say them first.
“I wanted to thank you for everything that you’ve done.”
His brow furrowed. Clearly, of all the things he could have expected, that wasn’t it.
“Not as Captain America, but as Steve Rogers. You’re…” You smiled, tucking your hair behind your ear. “You’re a good man.”
His brows raised. Once again you had managed to surprise him. Little did you know how or why. There was no way you could know that similar words from an old friend. Dr. Erskine. Not a good soldier, but…a good man.
Steve watched you go about your work. He wanted to talk to you some more. It wasn’t every day that someone was capable of reminding him that he was a human first and hero second. “Do you…” He faltered when you looked his way. “Do you want to get a coffee? Maybe we could talk. I’d happily answer any questions you may have.”
--
“No, I wasn’t trying to act too cool!” You giggled, nursing the coffee in your hands as Steve grinned. “I just – I figured you’re always having to deal with strangers flocking to your side. I didn’t…” You sighed, sitting back in your chair. “I didn’t want to be another person to cause any stress.”
Steve tilted his head. Curious only because most people didn’t think of it that way. To them, he was a hero. And being a hero meant being in front of the spotlight. Hell, it had been that way since he was parading around in the 40’s. “Thanks.” Silence fell, but this time it was comfortable. Easy. “Can I ask you something?”
“Uh…” Now it was your turn to be surprised. “Yeah, of course.”
“I promise I wasn’t being inappropriate,” he started, earning a snort from you. “But…before the serum I was always sick. I was a really small kid and no one expected me to ever live a healthy life.” He cleared his throat and you could feel a change in the air. “Your scar…Can I ask what happened?”
Your fingers instinctively brushed against the spot he spoke of, knowing it traveled farther down. Beneath your tank top and between your breasts. It had taken a long time to gain a confidence in your appearance thanks to that ridge of healed skin. And still – you earned stares. You earned watchful eyes and even more careful hands. Everyone treated you as a doll, too weak to care for yourself.
“If we had met a few months ago, I probably would’ve bolted from the table,” you told him honestly. Nevertheless, your thumb ran across the lip of your coffee cup. “I had a heart transplant earlier this year.” You swallowed, willing the tear to stay away. His gaze, though warm and not at all judging, never wavered from you. And yet you wouldn’t dare look up at him. “Maybe that has something to do with why I respect and appreciate you so much.” You looked up at him, a sad smile curving your lips. “You were so determined to do the right thing. So determined to be good. And that…” You breathed a shaky laugh, a small tear slipping down your cheek. “That means a lot to someone like me. Someone who knows what it’s like to feel limited and know you are…” You met his gaze. “So much more.”
He reached across the table, his hand finding and squeezing yours. It was meant to be calming, reassuring. And god, it did exactly that. He was genuinely…such a good man.
The conversation went on. The pair of you discussed things no one had ever heard from either of you. Talking as if you had known each other for lifetimes, discussing things only someone who lived in a weak body could understand. It was precious.
Intimate even.
“Do you think they’ll come inside anytime soon?”
Sam looked to your cousin, noticing how she gazed out the window. There Steve was still talking to you. And the day had faded away. Sunset was greeting them now. He grinned, highly amused that Steve had managed to find comfort in talking to a woman. There were some days where he still believed that his friend was far more awkward than anyone could ever know.
He chuckled. “Probably not. But,” he looked to her. “Is there anything wrong with that?”
Your cousin thought back to the pain you had endured. All the time you spent clinging to the hope that you would heal. You would get better. You had grown so used to living the days on repeat, simply appreciating their existence, that you had forgotten that surviving and truly living were not the same thing. Nor would they ever be.
“I don’t think so.” She watched the way you both laughed. He had leaned closer, smiling from ear to ear and looking far less like a hero. And much more like a man. You looked so at peace. Happy and hopeful. No, there was nothing wrong with any of that.
If anything, she thought it was very much…right.
#steve x reader#steve x you#steve x female reader#steve x y/n#marvel ask#marvel#mcu#marvel au#marvel request#steve rogers#captain america
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Headcanons for when the knights get horny perhaps??? 😳💦💦
What is there to expect from a "knight" in his 30s who has lived most of his life until now with his mother? He may have been king for a few years, but that doesn't change his incel status. The only hand that has touched his dick belongs to him. He's in no way sex-obsessed, but he does get horny. He's touchy. If he's someone so obsessed with maintaining his status and avoiding "filthy peasants", why does he have his hand right on your back? You would quite like to punch him in the face, but sadly, you would rather not break your fist. Though, one may come to ask themself if it's worth it. On one hand, you teach him a good lesson about personal space and get to wipe that stupid confident smirk that you just know is behind his helmet, on the other, you may be thrown in jail for the rest of your life with a broken hand. You're left contemplating it as you feel his hand lowering. You swear he's trying trying to perk your attention with (mostly) empty promises of riches and status, but you're too lost in thought to notice his hand on your ass. He's seconds from storming away frustrated that you can't notice his foreplay, he contemplates just smacking your ass. He clearly does not foresee the consequences of his actions - but you do notice instead, and your mind is split between slapping him once and for all (your hand is willing to sacrifice itself) or politely pull his hand back up. His voice will become louder and more confident (or at least try to be), as to counteract his growing embarrassment and need. Even when he's horny, he doesn't result any less obnoxious than normal.
Tinker Knight usually tries avoiding the feeling as much as he can until it finally dies down and he can concentrate once more on his beloved machines, as working in such a state is an absolute no for him. He gets horny while he’s working on something and he accidentally distracts himself and blacks out (working 24/7 in the same place is very mentally tiring), letting the lewd thoughts seep him. Now watch his hands become sweaty under the gloves, his fingers tremble and his grip loosen, causing him to mess up and consequently curse out loud. He needs a pause, and most importantly he needs to drive the troublesome thoughts away. He's a man of focus, commitment and sheer will damnit! His ambition may keep his spirit strong, but it certainly doesn't help his screeching boner. He would rather die of sexual frustration than stop working. That's why you're around. You make sure he doesn't suppress it too much and get permanent hard cock disease.
Sentient magic has a strange way of acting when "aroused". It doesn't quite feel the same sexual arousal as humans or animals, but something much different, like craving a good piece of meat. Wait no that's sexual. A good carrot. Who even likes vegetables? Either way, sentient magic has its own manner of attaining pleasure. Treasure Knight just happens to be sentient magic inside of a free real estate armor. Whether it's a good thing or bad thing is all up to you. When "sexually" frustrated, there exist two ways of dealing with it. You either form what can only be described as a magic dick, or you touch your magic essence under the helmet. Treasure Knight has better things to do than keep a boner and wait for it go die out on its own, which means he'll actively drive it away whether it's thanks to your help or his own hand. He's curt enough to walk up to you and ask you to bed him right away. Expect him to stare intensely at you as you try mustering up an answer, your pupils travelling in every direction just to avoid that intense, supposedly horny gaze. He'll be more than happy to indulge in adult fun time if you give your consent, and then he'll be right back to work. Magic-possessed armors can be quite the workaholics sometimes, while still not being affected by their insane life-work balance. What a blessing.
Some may ask themselves: How can a corpse get horny? Can they even get hard? There isn't any blood in their veins. To which you say: "Magic and social awkwardness". It's like he's a teenager, really. Watching you from the corner of his eye, avoiding you as much as possible, spying on you in the dark. You might as well invite him over for a good fuck since he doesn't even dare wank it in the bushes. Specty can be a creepy motherfucker but with enough love you're sure he can reach some level of basic human decency. He acts like touching you is the most difficult thing he has done in his entire life, and that includes recruiting the Order of Asshole Knights. His touches are awkward, too shy to be truly tangible. You're sure that if you were to grab his dick he would disintegrate. You don't even know if he wants to either hold hands or fuck. Heck, they could mean the same thing for him for all you care. Touch him, and he's immediately on fire - you couldn't know dead skin could become so stiff until you tried caressing his cheek for the first time (while being in the dark of course, he's still trying to accept his body as it is).
Libido can vary between sentient magic beings. Plague Knight? His libido is nearly inexistent. All he knows is how to make potions and do crimes. This little fucker hasn't even experienced a handjob in his entire life, not even from his own hand. He has reached a new level of incel. You need to make the first move. What move? Who fucking knows, it can be getting him new potion ingredients (he might consider leaving your body explosion free for your apparent generosity), or maybe you're both nerds who enjoy discussing alchemy. Who knows, add some of your knowledge about creating gold out of lead, it might turn him on. His horniness translates into science, you struggle to find a way to fuck the alchemical bitch. They say "the way to a man's heart is through his stomach", but if the man in question is a bird-like alchemy enthusiast, you better go for potions. Has he ever made potions that affect sexual behavior? Aphrodisiacs? The Middle Ages’s alternative to Viagra? No one knows, actually, no one should.
Propeller Knight has no problems getting accustomed to his sexual needs and will find a way to quench his primal thirst. This man is labelled as a chad and so he shall be remembered, because he always knows how to get rid of the boner in the most pleasurable way possible. Still, he happens to find the foreplay quite... interesting. His voice becomes mellow and his gestures slow and kind, he's the type to push your lower back towards him as he holds your chin between his two fingers. He won't straight up ask you to bed him, he has manners and he does not want to ruin the poetic atmosphere, but sometimes his horniness will be so apparent that you'll find yourself blushing in embarrassment as his hands travel to places they normally wouldn't belong to.
Specter Knight might be laughably edgy, but Black Knight? He doesn't fuck around. Dubbed the Friendzone Knight by the Bard (who has luckily managed to escape his hot topic wrath), he lives up to his name. He's so sexually oppressed you might think that he's as mellow as a newborn duckling with no legs. Which has been justified by the fact that at times, he seems particularly determined to avoid your touches. He acts as if you're attempting to lay claim to his little edgy soul. Sometimes you find him brooding silently at the horizon. For a moment, you believe he's reminiscing about his tragic backstory, something along the lines of being rejected by his mother and living his lives with a pack of wolves. Then you realize that he's trying to suppress his boner. He avoids you like the plague.
Mole Knight, similarly to the two other sentient magic knights, does a bit of a better job at admitting his arousal and not breaking your pelvis. His flames are a clear, but unwilling, indicator of it. You have never seen them burn so bright before. They're dancing, scorching through the air itself as he awkwardly looms over you. He would try to bend. Though, he doesn't want to insult your short height, or burn you alive for that matter. He's awfully kind and polite, and most importantly: unfocused on his work. He'll try to pep in, subtly try to hint at spending some time together until you cut him off and kiss his helmet. The ordeal leaves a burn on your lips. Still, you're quite happy as long as he's not dying of heat. But that would be assuming that magic fire can be affected by it. He's literally on fire, what are you even thinking about. Though, the flames under his helm are soft and delicate and certainly not scorching. You haven't lost a body part... yet. You lick your lips as a reflex after feeling them burn a little, he ends up blushing even more and his magical boner is almost tangible. His instincts are screaming at him to jump on you but no, you're too precious for him and he would never do such a despicable thing to you - unless you consent of course. You'll need to ask him to bed you, and he'll be ready to run (more like wabble - he's massive) to the bedroom and spend some quality couple time with you.
Polar Knight hasn't gotten the privilege to get accustomed to his sexuality for a long time, being the coldest man you have ever known - at least on the outside, because you know that on the inside, he's certainly warmer than a couple of certified edgelords we all know. However, he still remains an incel. A silent, massive bearded incel. You'll find him to be quieter than usual (which is impressive if we consider that he established that record), and deep into a pensive state that may look similar to meditation. Leave him alone and he'll drive it away on his own, approach him and he'll look at you with such intensity that you'll think he either wants to murder you or fuck you all night long. Luckily for you, it happens to be the latter. He'll let his large hand loom over your shoulders, arms, hips; his gaze may leave yours but it will still be as intense. You can and will shiver when he'll finally place his lips against yours.
-Mod Tinker and ~Mod Propeller
#shovelry#shovel knight#king knight#mole knight#tinker knight#specter knight#black knight#propeller knight#plague knight#polar knight#treasure knight
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THANK YOU FOR INDUCTION ME INTO JEGULILY!!!!! I LOVE YOUR SNIPPETS! AND I LOVE THE THREE OF THEM TOGETHER!!! AND THEY HAD KIDS?! I CAN'T EVEN!!! I'M GOnna go weep with joy now bie bie I love you 🌷💛
Hi! You’re very welcome! This isn’t really a prompt but I don’t have many in the way of Jegulily so I’m going to treat it like one. Thank you so much for your kind words and I hope you like this as well!
***
Regulus had needed to get away after his mother died. He’d never exactly been close with his brother considering their apposing views on their parents, so after his mum died Reg had no one. He’d always been horrible at dating, too severe and not romantic enough. And his friends were the kind of people you realized you didn’t want to be associated once you were out of the bubble of school. He truly had no one.
He had thought getting away would be good for him. As the sole inheritor of his parent’s estate, since Sirius had been written out of the will, he had enough money to go anywhere or do anything he wanted. So he’d bought a house by the seaside, always having been a little obsessed with water. He kept his family home in London but he’d thought the country air would do him good.
It had been a horrible idea. He’d never felt so alone and isolated in his life. The people were friendly compared to the people in London and he’d never had so many people say hello to him every morning. But with that came the feeling of being an outsider, reminded on a daily basis of just how different things were here.
Fueling his melancholy, Reg walked down to the beach and sat down in the sand, looking out at the water. There was a family a little ways down the beach and Regulus couldn’t stop staring at them. The woman had red hair that whipped around her face in the breeze, a large straw hat on her head threatening to blow away. She laughed at her own misfortune, holding onto the top of it determinedly. Her husband laughed along with her, leaning in and kissing her sweetly, his own unkempt mop of hair blowing wildly in the breeze. When the hat finally escaped, the man went chasing after it.
Their son, who looked to be about three, ran after his father with his arms outstretched. The husband leaped and managed to trap the hat underneath him. The son gigged and leapt onto his father. The husband soon brought the son and the hat back to his wife, the top of the hat having been squished under his body. The wife merely laughed and pushed it back out from the inside before depositing it on her head and beaming up at her husband.
Regulus realized he’d been staring for quite some time and quickly looked away. He felt something ache inside him and he had no idea what. Perhaps it was just loneliness. Before he could think better of it, Regulus pulled out his phone and called his brother.
“Reg?” Sirius said as he picked up. “You never call me! What’s up?”
“Hi,” Regulus said, covering his face with his free hand as if ashamed. “I thought maybe you could come visit me.”
There was silence on the line and Regulus was about to take back his stupid request when Sirius finally spoke up. “I’d love to! Text me the address and I’ll be there by this evening.”
“You don’t have to come that soon,” Regulus told him quickly, not wanting to be an inconvenience. Christ, he still felt like a child sometimes, needing his brother to come and rescue him. “This weekend will be fine.”
Sirius sighed heavily into the phone. “Reg, you’re calling me of your own volition. I’m coming up tonight.”
Sirius rang off before Reg could argue with him about it. He texted Sirius his address before he forgot, even though he wasn’t sure he even wanted his brother to come. Groaning to himself, Reg tugged his fingers through his hair and buried his face away against his knees, pulled up towards his chest. He was going to be twenty-five soon. That was a quarter of a century and what did he have to show for his life?
“Hey mate, you okay?”
Regulus lifted his head up and the husband he had been watching earlier was standing in front of him with an easy smile on his face. Regulus blinked a few times and tried to remember how human speech worked. “Not really, but I’ll be fine.”
The husband laughed and held out his hand. “I’m James Potter.”
Regulus shook his hand quickly. The guy – James – was really intimidatingly good looking. His glasses framed his handsome face perfectly, his just slightly lopsided smile was hopelessly endearing, his body fit and toned underneath his t-shirt. The wind was whipping just right to pull the t-shirt across his chest and stomach and Reg was fairly certain he could make out abs. Regulus stopped himself before he went overboard with ogling this stranger. “Regulus Black.”
“Well, Regulus Black, you’re coming over for lunch,” James said as if it were a done deal, brokering no argument, tugging Regulus to his feet. “You new to this area?”
“Just moved in a week ago,” Regulus answered, walking side by side with James back to where his family was. His wife was packing up their stuff while their son kept grabbing a new toy to play with immediately after she’d put it away.
“Well welcome!” James said, clapping Reg on the back. “Lily, my love, this is Regulus. I’ve invited him over for lunch.”
Lily glanced up at her husband, her eyes searing with murderous intent. “James Potter, if you don’t help me pack all this shite up I swear to God –“
James snickered and went over, giving his wife a quick peck on the lips and then helping pack up their stuff. “Can I help?” Regulus offered, feeling a bit awkward just standing there.
“Oh yes!” Lily said, picking her son and depositing him in Reg’s arms. “You can hold Harry. He’s a troublemaker just like his father, I’m afraid.”
Regulus blinked in surprise and shifted them around until the three-year-old was sitting comfortably against his hips. Harry had a little sand shovel that he was flying through the air and making plane noises for. He then flew it into Reg’s chest and made an explosion noise.
Regulus had no idea what to do so he let Harry continuously crash a tiny plastic shovel into his chest. Lily and James finished packing up their things and smiled at Reg triumphantly. “Thanks so much for your help,” Lily said, slightly out of breath.
“We just live a block away if you don’t mind walking,” James said, nudging Reg lightly with his elbow.
“No, I don’t mind.”
***
By the time Reg got home that evening he was so utterly confused. The Potters had been wonderful, kind and inviting, and James’ cooking had been to die for. They’d laughed easily and made jokes at the others’ expense and they hadn’t even minded if Reg didn’t always laugh along with them. But what had really thrown Reg off was the amount of touching.
It was all perfectly innocent, a hand on his elbow here, a guiding hand on the small of his back there, but Regulus had noticed and savored every press of warm skin against his own. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had touched him. Had it been when he’d held his mother’s hand in the hospital? Was that really the last time someone had touched him?
He’d gotten so distracted by the Potters and his whirlwind of an afternoon that he forgot about having called Sirius to come up for a visit. It was only when he heard knocking on his front door that he remembered his earlier phone call. For a brief moment he had hoped it might be the Potters but that was stupid. They had their own lives.
“Little brother!” Sirius said once Regulus opened the door. Sirius threw his arms up and pulled Reg into a hug. “How are you?”
“Better than I was when I called you,” Reg said honestly. “I think I made some friends.”
“That’s great!” Sirius said, dropping his motorcycle helmet down on one of the kitchen tables. “I think I made a friend as well.”
Regulus’ mouth dropped open in shock. “But you’ve only just got here!” he said, unable to keep the tinge of envy out of his voice.
Sirius laughed. “I got lost on the ring road,” he explained, sliding his gloves off. “Nice stranger named Remus was kind enough to help me. Fuck, he was so cute I nearly proposed to him right then and there.”
Regulus rolled his eyes. He’d always been a little jealous of Sirius – cool and confident – self-assured in a way Reg never could be. Despite all that he was glad his brother was there with him. “How long are you staying?”
Sirius shrugged. “Took some time off work. Told them I had a family emergency. So I can give you two weeks at least.”
Regulus shook his head. “You can’t do that!” He could not believe his brother’s recklessness sometimes. “Sirius – “
Sirius turned towards Reg and crossed his arms over his chest. “I hate that job anyway. It’s boring and tedious and I don’t even like working in a call center! If they fire me then who cares? I’m only twenty-six –“
“Nearly twenty-seven – “ Reg interjected.
“And I’m not dead yet! They’ll be other jobs,” Sirius finished with a self-satisfied grin. “Besides, maybe I’ll be a worthless layabout and come live with you and mooch. I think I’d be a great moocher.”
Regulus sighed, already exhausted from being around his brother, and went into the kitchen. He pulled out two beers and slid one to Sirius, who had followed him. Regulus grabbed the bottle opener from the drawer and opened his before sliding it to Sirius as well.
“Cheers,” Sirius said, popping open his beer and taking a long pull from it. “So have they got a pizza joint we can order from in this town or what?”
Regulus shrugged. “I have no idea.” He pulled out his phone and texted James, figuring he might know the best place.
James answered right away, which was surprising, and gave the name of the best pizza place in town but also an offer to come over for dinner instead. Regulus explained the situation of having his brother with him. He was shocked again when James said to bring him along.
***
“Ten quid says he fucks it,” James said, taking a bite out of his ice cream cone and munching it loudly.
“No way,” Lily said, shaking her head. “Even if he fumbles it he’ll get the date.”
Regulus eyed her warily. “I sense some insider knowledge,” he said, raising a skeptical eyebrow at Lily.
Lily grinned. “I happen to know of a certain librarian who is smitten with a certain motorbike driving weirdo.”
“Cheater!” James said, pointing at his wife accusingly. Regulus couldn’t help laughing at their antics. They were sitting together at the ice cream parlor across the street from the library where Remus worked. It had been two weeks and Sirius had been coming to the library pretty regularly to try and chat up Remus. So far it hadn’t resulted in a date.
Now watching Sirius’ bumbling attempts had become almost a spectator sport for them. Regulus was going to have to switch to frozen yogurt if this kept up much longer. He’d been consuming an alarming amount of ice cream as of late. That or he’d have to finally go on that jog James was always suggesting.
Two weeks and Regulus felt like he truly belonged somewhere, all thanks to the Potters. They’d accepted Regulus and Sirius completely even from that first dinner they’d all had together. Maybe they’d been able to sense just how much the Blacks needed a family or perhaps they were just wonderful people. Regulus had a feeling it was a bit of both.
Sirius stuck his upper half out of the main door of the library and gave them a thumbs up, grinning like an idiot. The three of them broke out into cheers and applause with little Harry joining in even though he had no idea what was going on.
“Hey Reg,” James said, nudging him slightly, not wanting to knock his ice cream cone out of his hand. “Lily and I had something important we wanted to talk to you about.”
Regulus sat up a little straighter, his stomach churning with anxiety. “Okay,” he said softly, chewing his bottom lip.
“See Lily and I were kind of hoping we might get a date of our own,” he said, glancing over at Lily and then back at Reg.
“Oh,” Regulus responded, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Did you want me to babysit Harry? I’m sure it can’t be easy to find time – “
“No!” James said quickly, interrupting Reg before he could get his sentence out. “No Reg, you don’t understand! That would completely defeat the purpose – “
“Oh my god, James, let me handle this,” Lily said, putting a hand on James’ arm to stop him babbling. James’ mouth clicked shut and he physically deflated. Regulus looked to Lily to explain because he was completely confused. “We don’t want a date with each other, we want a date with you. All three of us.”
Regulus looked between the two of them, scratching his head. “I’m sorry, what?”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to!” James spoke up again, dropping the remnants of his ice cream cone in favor of taking Reg’s free hand. “We’ll still love you no matter what and you’re always welcome at our house even if you don’t want to date us. But we’d like to love you a little more completely, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”
Regulus blinked a few times, dropping his ice cream on the ground in complete bafflement. “I don’t understand.”
Lily chuckled and got to her feet, standing in front of Regulus and cupping his face in her hands. “James and I have had a nice long talk about this,” she explained, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of Reg’s nose. “And we’ve both quite fallen for you, Mr. Black. If you think you could find a way to love us in return we would both like that very much.”
Regulus felt his breath catch in his throat. “I already do,” he whispered, staring up at Lily a little helplessly. He was so in love with them, afraid to even think it for fear that it might rip him apart from the inside. He’d thought it was the dumbest thing he’d ever done, falling in love with a married couple. He’d convinced himself it was just his loneliness and his desperation to have someone. He’d clung to the Potters in his time of need and told himself what he was feeling was just affection for friends – some of the first true ones he’d ever had in his life.
He’d told himself all that to protect himself from the fact that he couldn’t have them. But as Lily held his face and James held his hand, it felt like the invisible wall he’d been carrying around him was simply floating away, stone by stone, being lifted off him.
Little Harry came and crawled into Reg’s lap, wanting to be included. He was a sticky mess of Strawberry ice cream but Reg couldn’t even care. It felt right, being surrounded by the Potters. Reg brought his free hand up and held Harry around the middle so he didn’t fall.
“So,” James said, giving Reg’s hand a squeeze. “About that date?”
Regulus laughed. He thought he might have laughed more in two weeks with the Potters than he had in his entire life up to that point. “You two pick the day and place. I’ll be there.“
#jegulily#I write things#long post#fluff#Polyamorous relationship#background wolfstar#modern day au#I just want regulus to have nice things okay?#kid harry#kind of unprompted#abstractundefined
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What Kind of Woman?
“What kind of woman am I going to be?”
That was never a question I asked myself, neither before, nor after, I realized I was trans. There was too much riding on the “Oh gosh, I wish I were a girl” thing, or the, “Jesus Christ, just pump me with hormones NOW” thing, to the point that the consideration of who I would become never really entered my head. The major reason I never questioned it is because I KNEW what I would look like and what I would wear (and for me, the whole of one’s character was involved in what one wears), and so why even stop to consider alternative? I mean, at least I THOUGHT I knew.
If you go back in time, back into little four year-old Chloe’s head, you’ll see a vivid picture of a kid getting obsessed with a certain type - namely, the Bad Girl, and, in particular, the bad girl who rocks a leather jacket and who could cut a man just by looking at him. This image was given to you by way of POWER RANGERS, and then by way of THE SECRET WORLD OF ALEX MACK, and then by way of the animated series BEETLEJUICE - all three include an episode in which a wonderful heroine gets somehow magically transformed into an alternate version of herself (or in the case of Alex Mack, an alternate bad version splits off from her gooey self and then traps the real one in a sewer). Also, all three rely very heavily on this alternate, “bad” version of each character to don a killer fit, accentuated (as almost always seems the case in this kind of rep, at least for the early nineties) by a leather jacket.
So, okay, you were very like INTO IT. But you were also like four. So what do you do? Well, you dream about it, aaaaand you want to talk about it but you can’t because this type of thing is literally labeled as “bad” (and, for a kid who lived her life with no intention of ever breaking the rules, something “bad” was inherently wrong, which meant you would NEVER EVER PARTAKE GOSH DARN IT!!!).
Over time (and by that I mean eleven years), you finally kiiiiind of talk to your sister about it (not about the gender thing, which hasn’t even truly shown up yet), and that gives you the courage to at least draw the things you want (tho not the courage to show said drawings to literally anyone else). And so you draw and draw. And you draw and you draw and you draw. Just…leather jackets and babes - that’s what you do. One day your mom finds your drawings. And like…the shame. The agony. THE HUMILIATION. In all honesty, the drawings weren’t even anything “bad.” They were just…unexpected, and the last thing you want people to know is that there are unexpected things to be learned about you, because that could clue them into… SOMETHING else.
Later in your teenage years you finally discreetly purchase your first leather jacket, and it’s pretty cool. Do you wear it outside the house? Nah, people could see you and TALK. You just wear it in your bedroom, constantly listening in to the other rooms in the house, forever being conscious of every other family member’s or roommate’s location in case they decided to rush the door (honestly what?). Eventually the guilt (oh yeah, there’s that whole “I believe in God, and he would NOT be happy with this” thing going on, too - that’s pretty important) drives you wild and you actually tear the jacket to shreds. And then the loss makes you so sad that you buy another! And then yadda yadda yadda, you eventually go to school and start wearing them all the time and it becomes your THING and people who you become friends with tell you that they were so intimidated by you at first because you looked so COOL and INTENSE (their words, not yours [well, kinda yours; you would definitely describe someone seeing you and not saying something to you as being because you looked COOL and INTENSE]) and then on and on and on and then HOLY SHIT WHAT YOU’RE TRANS??? AND YOU DIDN’T TELL ME (YOU)!?!?!? ALL THESE YEARS!!!!! WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!
So like, it was already there, right? You were already DOING IT. What you could not have anticipated, though, was just how wrong you were about everything.
For starters, personality and personal aesthetic ARE NOT mutually exclusive. This has always been tough for me to reconcile (and even now still is), because it’s created in me an inability to see these Bad Girls as reasonably human. And so, despite my incredible interest in them, I’ve never really been able to write a character I could define as a badass, especially as a protagonist, because she actually lacks all humanity (like, how could someone who looks so cool have like REAL PEOPLE problems?).
I also recognize that my OWN personality and aesthetic don’t mesh in the way people might expect - sometimes it’s been simple things, like people assuming I’m not into girls (?????), or assuming that my music taste is something that it isn’t (the discussion I had with a former boss about how my favorite genres are rap and pop still sticks in my mind); other times, unfortunately, it’s put me in more dire, even scary, circumstances, like the guy who gave me his number and wouldn’t stop overtly sexualizing and fetishizing me while I was checking him out at my register, or the dude who propositioned me for sex in the back of his Uber.
While it’s always been a nice idea to gain a wild amount of confidence by being myself, the truth is that I’m a neurotic mess: I think too much about everything, over-analyzing this and that, whether it has to do with me or not; because of this, it’s hard for me to ever believe I’ve actually gotten to the place I wanted to be. Am I a babe who wears siccc fits like 100% of the time? Sure, but do I genuinely FEEL like it gets me to the mental state I desire? Oh, absolutely not! My overriding fears kind of still pedestal this idea of some kind of “Unattainable Cool,” and disallow me to ever achieve it.
It would definitely be better to rid myself of this idea at all - people are just…people! We all make mistakes, we all look dumb sometimes, we have our silly moments along with our serious ones; and so, trying to achieve something that is virtually impossible, and which, if achieved, would rid one of her humanity, isn’t even a goal worth having.
So what does this boil down to? Essentially, this expectation that I had of just becoming this cool girl with no thought put into it at all has kind of proven to me that these images I had of someone cool are NOT what actually makes someone cool. A lot of perceived coolness in this world is created as some kind of mystique to pique others’ interests. If I read as unapproachable, I am “cool,” but like being fun and friendly and goofy and caring and all that good shit somehow is NOT cool? NAAAAH, that’s fuckin bullshit. The coolest people I know are those who’ve been welcoming and approachable, and who were willing to be there and help myself or others when they could. There was no true mystique about them: that’s not what it was about! If a true “Bad Girl” person exists, she’s probably just a piece of shit, because living your life on mystique alone is nothing.
So what kind of woman have I become, then? Well, not this picture of the purest form of badassery I had ever seen, because that’s not something even worth attaining. Honestly, I was even wrong about the fact that I “knew” what I would look like. For a while, I thought I didn’t really have that awkward, early transition phase where you wear wild fits until you find something that really works for you, mainly because I thought I kinda showed up fully-formed; obvs, that was DEFINITELY not the case, but never could I have anticipated that I would 1) retire like all the clothing I bought at first within a year or two, 2) grow out of a lot of my clothing fairly quickly (those ‘mones, man!), 3) stop wearing jeans, and 4) start wearing skirts. This last one was the biggest, because it ended up taking my style from androgynous-butch to girly-cute/hot (depending on the skirt). But what does this style and fashion-sense say about me? Whelp, if there’s anything I’ve learned, it just shows that your style doesn’t dictate much of who you are - or at least, not with regard to a lot of the traits that really matter.
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Snowed In
Pairing: Alex Claremont-Diaz x Henry Fox-Montchristen-Windsor
Prompt: we just had a one-night stand but a massive storm hit so now we’re snowed in, hello awkward
Warnings: mild sexual content, swearing
A/N: Thanks to @moderngenius94 for requesting this prompt! (sorry, i still don’t know why tumblr won’t let me tag you) Not-famous university AU for you all which does exactly what the prompt says so enjoy!
Word Count: 2124
*
Alex’s thoughts were currently consumed by soft blond hair, sparkling blue eyes, plump pink lips, and a swoon-worthy British accent he didn’t know existed until tonight. He hadn’t meant for it to happen but too much alcohol, a sexually charged party atmosphere, and months of attraction had led to him finally taking action and inviting Henry back to his dorm room.
You could call it a spur of the moment decision since he hadn’t started the night looking to get laid, but it was something Alex had been considering, consciously or not, since his first week of college. At that time he’d still been blind to his own bisexuality but Henry had unintentionally forced him into having a sexuality crisis. And he didn’t even know his name.
His best friend Nora had been both a help and a hindrance in the following two weeks. She was too smart and perceptive for her own good and brought Alex to realisation quicker than he’d have managed on his own. The problem was, she lived in the same building as the beautiful blond who Alex was quickly realising he might be obsessed with and caught glances of him far too often.
So, he figured himself out but still had no idea how to approach the boy that starred in most of his dreams and even invaded his waking thoughts, or even if he could. He didn’t know his name or a thing about him, only ever saw him from afar around campus, and had no idea if he was even into guys. He ended up spending months pining, which was both unusual and most unwelcome by his friends, and never doing anything about the attraction he couldn’t seem to shake. Until tonight.
Alcohol had been flowing for hours at the Christmas party being held in his dorm and Alex had managed to get suitably drunk when he spied Henry across the room. Thank god for liquid confidence and the reckless abandon it brought, Alex thought as he found himself walking in Henry’s direction, determined to finally put an end to this one way or another.
“Hey!” Alex called over the music, his words only slightly slurred.
“Hi,” he replied with a smile and Alex could just make out the accent shaping the word. He wasn’t usually all that into accents, not even British ones that seemed to make American girls swoon, but he couldn’t deny that this one was doing it for him. And he’d only said one word. Maybe he could chalk it up to being drunk for now, even if he knew for a fact that wasn’t the case.
“I’m Alex.” He offered the boy his hand and a soft palm slid into his grip. Alex tried not to think about how good his hands would feel elsewhere.
“Henry. I’ve seen you around my dorm a lot, your friends live there?” So Henry had noticed him too.
“Yeah, Nora does.”
“Nora… Isn't she the genius one who’s always got a laptop with her?”
“The very same. So you’ve met?”
“A few times. She likes psychoanalysing me.”
“Yeah, she does that a lot. She’s kinda freakishly perceptive.”
“I’ve noticed.” He smiled softly and took a swig of his drink. Alex’s eyes were glued to his throat as he watched him swallow and wow, it was really getting hot in there.
“So, what are you studying?” He asked after a moment of silence in which he dragged his mind from the gutter.
“English Literature, you?”
“Political Science. So, let me guess, favourite author is Charles Dickens?”
“Jane Austin actually.” They talked for a little longer and yeah, Alex really liked this guy. Henry managed to catch up and get on Alex’s level of buzzed, losing some of his control and frequently looking at Alex in a way that had him very hot under the collar.
The sexual tension climbed between them as they drank and danced - at Alex’s insistence - and talked until it was too much to bear. Henry’s eyes had barely left Alex since he struck up a conversation and he looked like pure temptation with his flushed cheeks tousled hair, Alex couldn’t resist it any longer. He shuffled close to Henry, reaching up to grasp the back of his neck and pull him down into a searing but uncoordinated kiss. There was a moment where Henry didn’t respond and Alex thought he’d misread something but it was fleeting and he found himself practically melting when Henry kissed back and hands landed on his hips.
Both of them were too drunk to make it a good kiss but neither cared. It was hot and heavy and filled with pent up want on both sides. Henry was far from the shy, quiet guy Alex had seen around now and he didn’t kiss a thing like he’d expected. He moved confidently, taking what he wanted and giving Alex everything he needed in return and Alex wondered how he’d managed to go his whole life without this.
“You wanna get out of here?” Alex asked breathlessly when he pulled away, opening his eyes and meeting Henry’s which were dark with want. He was a little flustered at the question and its implications, which amused Alex after the way he’d just been kissing him, but Alex could read the answer on his face before he even said it.
“Yes. Gladly.”
Which is how Alex had ended up pressed against his bedroom door, hands tangled in that soft blond hair, lips locked with those perfect pink ones that had been drawing Alex in for months now. He ground his hips against Henry’s, groaning at the friction and slotting a thigh between his legs, pressing up and drawing the most beautiful sounds from his lips.
“Alex...fuck…” Henry breathed right in his ear and Alex felt like he might combust. God, his name hand never sounded as good as it did when Henry said it. He found Henry’s lips again and everything went into a haze. Clothes were torn off, lips traced hot, sweat-slicked skin, hands and mouths dragged out lustful sounds and sent them both tumbling into blissful oblivion.
-
Alex woke first the next morning. He squinted in the early light pouring through his window and tried to remember what had happened the night before through the pounding in his head. There were drinks, lots of them, he recalled, dancing, kissing, blond hair… it was all a bit blurry. As his senses properly returned he noticed another weight dipping the mattress.
Turning his head he was met with messy blond hair, pale skin, and a dawning realisation of just what the hell he’d done last night. He almost fell out of bed at the shock of finding Henry lying there beside him, very much naked and very much not leaving any room for doubt. ...So that had happened.
He watched the sleeping boy for a few minutes, taking the opportunity to admire the view while memories of last night resurfaced. Henry’s hands, his lips, his tongue, all over Alex. The taste of him, his face as it contorted in pleasure, his gasps and moans of Alex’s name. It was starting to get very hot in there again and his body was starting to react to those memories in ways he couldn’t exactly deal with right then.
Breakfast. Water. Painkillers. That’s what he needed right now. He slipped out of bed and looked on the floor for his clothes. A cold shower, he added to the list when another particularly vivid memory surfaced and he felt something stir in his belly.
He went for the shower first, dealing with his little problem and getting rid of the itchiness from dried sweat quickly. He was slightly more human by the time he’d finished and took some painkillers to help him get the rest of the way there, leaving the packet on the bedside table for when Henry woke up on his way back through the bedroom.
It turned out, as Alex discovered when he glanced out the kitchen window, that a snowstorm had hit during the night. He vaguely remembered seeing some news report warning about it a few days ago but hadn’t truly believed it would happen so of course the universe had decided to prove him wrong. Several feet of the white stuff had already settled from what he could see and was still falling heavily from the sky. He shrugged it off at first, graciously accepting his fate of being stuck inside watching TV or studying all day - oh the humanity!, before remembering Henry. Henry who was still in his bed. Henry who he’d just had a one night stand with. Henry who couldn’t get home in this weather. Well. Today was going to be interesting.
He’d just finished making breakfast - eggs and bacon, greasy and the only acceptable hangover food - when he heard tentative footsteps emerging from his room. They stopped abruptly and Alex turned, finding Henry frozen like a deer in headlights. He stood awkwardly for a few seconds as Alex watched him, trying to gauge where they were at, before breaking the silence.
“...Hi.”
“Morning.” Alex tried for a relaxed smile, not 100% sure it was successful. “You want breakfast?” Henry hesitated, looking very much like he wanted the delicious smelling food, but declined.
“I should probably go…” Alex tried not to look as deflated as he felt.
“Yeah, about that… There was like a blizzard last night and we’re pretty much snowed in.”
“I can’t dig my way out?”
“Nope. And even if you could, it’s still snowing pretty bad, I’m not letting you walk all the way across campus in this.” Henry looked like he wanted to argue but there really wasn’t any way around the situation they found themselves in and he accepted defeat.
“Okay. Uh...since I’m staying, could I have breakfast after all?” He looked so awkward, still hovering in the doorway, and Alex smiled at him, hoping to help him feel more relaxed. He was going to be stuck here for a while after all.
“Sure. You want coffee as well?”
“Do you have tea?”
“Probably.” Alex set to searching the cupboards. His roommate drank tea so there should be some around. “Aha!” He exclaimed triumphantly when he found it. “Is earl grey alright?”
“That’s fine.” Henry finally moved and joined Alex in the kitchen, taking a seat at the small dining table pushed against one wall while Alex piled food on plates and poured them both a drink. He stayed quiet while they ate and Alex wasn’t entirely sure what to say in this situation. Typically, you don’t end up having breakfast and being trapped with a one night stand. Especially not when that one night stand was someone you’d been into for months.
“So, uh, I should probably tell you, I don’t usually do this.” Henry finally said when they moved to the couch and Alex put on a movie.
“What? Hook up with impossibly attractive guys or have breakfast with them the next morning?” He winked and Henry nearly choked on his tea, cheeks flaming.
“Both,” he choked out. “This is really not in my comfort zone.”
“I get that. But, it’s only awkward if we make it awkward.”
“How on Earth can this not be awkward?” Henry asked. Alex just shrugged.
“Just try to forget how amazing the sex was I guess.” Henry’s face reddened with embarrassment again and Alex grinned. “Look man, if it makes you feel any better, I’m a bit lost here too. I don’t do the one night stand thing very often either.”
“Then why-”
“Because I’ve kinda liked you for a while.”
“We never even spoke until last night though?”
“Yeah, but have you seen yourself? Anyone with eyes has a crush on you.” Henry’s flush deepened at that, as if he wasn’t used to receiving compliments, the notion of which was utterly ridiculous to Alex. Henry didn’t have any kind of response for him and Alex let out a sigh. Might as well just go for it now.
“Okay, so, I know that was probably meant to be a one time thing, but would maybe wanna do it again sometime? Or something else?” He quickly added when Henry looked at him in shock. “Like coffee or dinner or something?”
“Are you- Are you asking me out on a date?”
“Yeah. If you want.” Henry considered for a moment, they’d really gone about this in a very backwards fashion and the idea of a simple date after what they’d done last night seemed rather odd but not unappealing.
“I’d like that.” He smiled softly and Alex felt something flutter in his chest. Hopefully he’d get to see that smile a whole lot more now.
*
Tag Lists: (send an ask if you want to be added!)
Everything: @wonderfilledness @writingbychelle @ad-astraaaa @moderngenius94
Firstprince: @alex-g-claremont-diaz
#red white and royal blue#FirstPrince#rwrb#alex claremont diaz#henry fox mountchristen windsor#alex claremont diaz x henry fox montchristen windsor#Alex x Henry#firstprince fanfic#red white and royal blue fanfic#rwrb fanfic
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with a kiss, you’ll know
title: with a kiss, you’ll know
pairing: lee taeyong/reader
genre: writer!au/fan!au
summary: taeyong likes to hide in the corner of the library, picking up his favorite romance novels and gushing about it in the silence of his privacy. however, there is this one writer that touches his heart in the most excellent of ways, and somehow, he feels like he is connected to this person. the problem? the author’s anonymity.
type: fluff/angst
Once, she had a love so brief, it felt timeless.
Although, said person is as unknown as the planets in another galaxy, a representation of love just like Thais once was, and the main character of a story that is real life is none other than the man that sits at the very corner of the local library by the center of the city. Instead of sitting by the chairs and tables empty and ready to be stacked by books, like any other person would, he decides to take a spot near the romance section of the library. His knees are pressed against his chest, most of the time, cladded in jeans that show just how long his legs are. He wears thrifted clothing, like jackets that would be worn by people in the past but fashion always comes back. What is the most outstanding about him, however, is not the strange way he blushes as he walks towards the romance book section, but it is the fact that his reactions are priceless, probably the reason why writers would keep doing their jobs in the first place. He coos when a scene is adorable enough to warm his heart, already sensible although not shown often. His smile appears when he reads something funny, and he has gotten shushed by the librarian time and time again, although his wide eyes are enough to have him forgiven. Speaking of his eyes, they get teary sometimes when a scene is too profound, too bad to be real, so sad that it irks him that the book is so good.
Lee Taeyong enjoys literature, but he wasn’t always a book-freak. When he was younger, back in high school, he would have preferred a videogame over a book, but as he moved to his own place and bought decorations, he opted that a shelf full with color-coordinated books would be a great idea. He started learning that he loved reading, then, but he is too scared of horror books, and action books he is pickier about. What he has realized, however, is that he adores a good romance book. Not the type that has the cliché characters of a woman that needs a man to survive, and a man that needs a pure woman to change his outstanding ways of being a complete asshole. The books he reads, sometimes good and other times bad, have to indulge him in a storyline that makes him want to read more. Personally, he loves psychological thrillers mixed with romance, and there has been a few times that he has read erotica. Just for the sake of knowing what exactly it is about.
It only so happened that, as he was reading, a person passed by and looked at the title of the book—and of course, they just had to know what that book was about. A curious glance that looked more like awkwardness brought Taeyong to the mindset of never reading erotica again. Not that most authors do it well, anyways.
His friends do not know that the sweetheart that their friends is, Taeyong in this case, is a romance-book lover, but he goes as far as buying some of those books simply because he wants to read them again. He likes to believe that he is not one to seek for love, but the feeling that reading works about it leaves him is more of an obsession to him. Love is good in those books, most of the time, or at least it gives you a lesson. Seeing different points of view about a concept that is so widely known suddenly seems fitting—oddly enough, Taeyong thinks that every book shows just how exactly the authors perceive love, no matter how many romance novels they could, can and will have published.
Some like to say love is the opposite of never, the companion of heartbreak or even going as far as saying that love is holding a person you love by their hand but never telling them how you truly feel. Taeyong has read so much that he doesn’t have a concept of love anymore—he’s impatient, that he knows, and a little bit jumpy. Cinema dates are not his thing, much less if a horror movie is playing in front of him, and he has a love affair with dinner dates in which he actually cooks dinner. With being impatient, comes Taeyong saying those three damned words before he should, or sometimes his mind doesn’t connect with the person he is dating.
Psychologically speaking, Taeyong reads romance novels because he is physically unable of projecting romance in a way that is not rushed. He lives in his teenage years where someone can mean his whole entire world. He gives entitlement to people who can take it to break his heart altogether, or simply to put it together.
This time around, Taeyong is sitting on the floor, a bag filled with hard candy on one side and strawberry milk by his other. One of his legs rests underneath his adjacent thigh, fingers dancing across his newest romance novel. The only problem is that this is not the first book he reads by this author; whose name is nothing more than a mere nickname—one that she has given to herself for some reason. Jupiter, like the planet, one that is ruled by intelligence and logic, but love is considered the opposite of that. While it is not the most perfect choice for a pen name, it definitely is not what has made her so famous and so loved inside his heart. The way of her words, not cliché at all, have captured his heart in webs of emotions he can never seem to get out of.
He is tranced by the way her words create kaleidoscopes of thoughts inside his head. She says enough, ramblings of words until the ending hits him as a surprise. Her analogies are satin, elegant and nice to the eye, but even more perfect with the mere touch. Her plots are oceans that show everything, but nothing at all—you’ll never know what’s the depth behind it, but you know that once you dive in a story, you won’t come back up until it’s finished. Taeyong munches on candy as he reads her first book, for his chronological order of reading her titles goes from newest to oldest, and he is lost, completely forgetting that there is life outside of that library.
The buzzing streets, the screamed words, the smell of delicious pastries or even a nice looking pair of legs is not enough to take Taeyong away from his books, much less Jupiter’s.
Part of his love for romance comes from how boring his life is outside of the library. Taeyong is a call center representative, with a voice made to be heard, but no one really asks about him. He lives his life creating love for others, in the form of moon cakes for his friends, or a song for his mother when Mother’s Day arrives. He falls in love too easily, and people enjoy his presence for the mere existence of his nice looking face, but very rarely does someone think:
I’ll love the good, and bad, side of Lee Taeyong. The insecure side, that bites down on his nails and expects acceptance from people. That one side of him that jumps up and down when he gets a compliment, but bathes on pouts when he spends a Sunday afternoon alone.
His body jumps when he hears the sound of someone’s shoes hitting the woodened floor harshly, cradling the romance novel to his chest as if it is his child. Taeyong looks with worried eyes, sparkly and big, to the person that almost fell to his knees, cursing under a soft breath about how awkward it is to make noise at a library. He is met by the sight of a teenager, tall and with plump lips, wearing his school’s uniform and holding what seems to be a girl’s purse. Someone calls his name, then, with a bubbly tone: “Jisung, did you find the book I asked for?”
Somewhere along the library, someone shushes her and Jisung widens his eyes before stuttering a small: “Y-Yes! Coming.” Once again, another hush hits his ears and this guy, clearly around his last year of school, flinches at the sound. He notices someone else is there, and Taeyong is equally as embarrassed as the young man, just for different reasons. Jisung is worried about the tint of his cheeks, the development of his crush, and the fact that he almost fell on his nose. Taeyong, on the other hand, is holding Jupiter’s first novel, clearly about love, and while he adores a good book—he doesn’t normally like to show that he surrounds himself in stacks of romance novels, hard candy, and sometimes any drink that keeps his sugar-high intact. “Uh, excuse me…” The guy, whose name is apparently Jisung, says. “Is this the textbook section? Preferably the geography section…?”
Taeyong doesn’t find the words in his throat, but he whispers. “I…don’t work here.” It’s audible enough for the two and then, he moves the book in his right hand a little bit to catch Jisung’s attention. “This is the romance book section.”
Jisung frowns. “Oh.”
Always one to help, however, Taeyong points to his left. “The section you’re looking for is right over there. Two bookshelves to the left.”
“Your left or my left?”
“Everyone’s left.”
“Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
And when the high school guy leaves, Taeyong releases a big breath. One day, he will be confident enough to show his love for romance movies, but until then…he will continue sucking on hard candy and reading his favorite author’s books. Over and over again.
❤️
Taeyong has had a good set of bad days in his lifetime. Some worse than others, some equally as bad, all terrible in their own ways.
Because there are enough dreams about his teeth falling off to remind him that he is pretty much the human equivalent of one of those stress balls people buy to fight anxiety. He’s soft hearted, used by people to relieve whatever they have inside them, but no one ever dares to question why Taeyong is so strong for everyone, so condescending, as if he wants the world to be alright and doesn’t mind how he really is. Sometimes, the world he creates comes crumbling down at his feet and all he can do is bite on his bottom lip so the tears don’t spill from his eyes. He sits down on his bed, hopes for a miracle, wishes that his mind is suddenly wrong about the idea of pessimism and that the next day becomes the brightest moment of his existence.
Yet, life is a set of good and bad, wrong and correct, like how a flower blooms to die eventually for the lack of water, and water could be evaporated from the earth years from now thanks to climate change, which is something that continues to develop thanks to the ignorance of human beings. Sometimes, he gets some good news—and then everything is crashed down with the reality that there only needs to exist one person to ruin someone’s day. Like how the world could still end thanks to a single person that continues to throw plastic bottles to the ground.
Taeyong’s life is full of plastic bottles. No, it’s a creator of oil refineries. He only brings more stress upon himself.
Half of his hair is sticking up to different places, his head is peacefully resting against the fluffiness of his pillows and the smell of a fresh bath bomb clings to his body. Be forgotten his skin routine that night, for he is too lost on his reading app to even care. It’s an application that he finds himself entering often whenever he needs to find a good new book, create a set of to-read list and buy some of the cheapest deals in books. The importance of this is that sometimes, and only sometimes, the authors make some type of forum to answer questions that are sent their ways—and Taeyong doesn’t pay much attention to that, until a notification comes from one of the profiles he visits often. Jupiter is having a Q&A session.
The new release of her book is coming up, and Taeyong is one of those people who has pre-ordered the beautifulness that are her words, but the idea of talking to the author that has been the only person that has accompanied him through his stress seems fitting. He wants to proclaim how thankful he is, how his bed seems fuller with her words, how his dreams are no longer ruled by demons but filled with the idea of happy endings—even when they are not expected, or when they are not really happy, but they are fitting and necessary. Her words are the blanket he had as a child, the kisses his mother gave him, the meals he ate throughout his life, that one first trip he had to Jeju.
And he’s having a bad day. Days like those are the equivalent of irrational decisions made from a mindset that speaks the idiom of ‘I’ll regret it if I don’t do this’.
He thinks of the most complex question that he has been thinking about. Her second book, to be exact, where the main narrator remained unknown but at the end of the book everyone could guess who it was. People would have different guesses, but instead of pointing out whom did he think was the protagonist that no one knew, he spoke about how intelligent it was of her to add a narration like that. He added paragraph after paragraph of how delicious her honey-like sentences were, how her analogies and the small details led someone to believe that each character was more than they were, or less that they showed. Taeyong types on his phone quickly, loving the way he remembers the most profound of parts in the book, and by the time he sends it, he thinks Jupiter must have stopped answering questions, but he got to say how thankful he was to her.
That’s enough for a moment.
Until Taeyong is stuffing his mouth with his favorite package of chocolate cookies, dipped in Nutella, hail his appetite of a four years old boy. His phone buzzes by his side, though the first thought that blinks inside his head is the fact that one of his friends must have texted him—or his big sister, probably asking how he’s doing. Out of curiosity, he takes his phone in his hands and pops his fingers inside his mouth before he smears the Nutella and chocolate over his screen. Once unlocked, he’s welcomed by the sight of Jupiter having responded to his question (long paragraph talking about how big of a fan he is, really) and he doesn’t know if his heart jumps, or his sternum ends up poking a whole on his chest or if feelings are just ephemeral and his nervous system is sending waves of happiness to his bursting smile.
“I have gotten a hundred comments, never one like yours.” She starts, and Taeyong sits back on his bed with utmost happiness. Something along the ways of life changes, twists, turns, creates a new environment as if a year had passed by in a mere second. Taeyong thinks that the power of words is bigger than any theory of the Big Bang could or will ever be. How many friendships haven’t been destroyed by words? Just like that, there are words that mend people, bring their pieces back together after a long day, and being that for the person that has done just that for him makes him feel special, in a way. “I will admit that I had a terrible day. Thank you, user Yong, for being the sweetest highlight of my day today.” And she finishes it off with a pretty and highlighted Jupiter, one that reminds Taeyong that she is anonymous—but she is a human being. For all he knows, she might be eating spicy noodles, or laying in bed, or working a nine to five office job and sneaking some free time to respond to questions. Even better, she could be writing his next favorite book.
Is it wrong of him to be interested in someone just from their form of portraying art alone?
It’s creepy, isn’t it?
It brings a smile to his face, however, and he presses his cheek to his palm with a sigh of his own. The night still feels heavy, his head is thumping, his heart is aching…and there are the leftovers of despair that brings a frown to his pretty features, but there is the buzzing excitement of getting to know something more about Jupiter. At the very end of her response, there is a contact e-mail left and Taeyong raises his eyebrows in surprise. The thought that runs through his head, stupid like a kid’s imagination, is to send her an e-mail with all the gratitude he feels towards her. And that he does, sighing in relief when he turns to look at the TV to spend the rest of his night in utmost relaxation. Or the closest thing he can get to it.
❤️
Sweets are one of the addictions that Lee Taeyong has—that doesn’t make his life any sweeter, or easier, but something within him makes him believe that the only way of changing a bitter day is having what he likes to call optimism and sometimes, it comes with some time to rest and think, but other times he changes retail therapy for something easier. A chocolate bar, or candy, or a book—or mangas, he likes those as well.
But life holds comparison, and an antonym of Taeyong must be the librarian that works at his favorite library. Old and wearing a huge hat that covers his baldness, always sporting a frown on his face that someone needed to kiss—but Taeyong won’t, obviously. He should be taking advantage of the fast WIFI at the library, but instead he is looking at the e-mail address of the woman whom he continues to read books from. Not only books, pieces of art, intricate secrets of the world that no one gets to live.
Sometimes, Taeyong thinks that he wants to be part of a book.
He’s Lee Taeyong. He’s a romanticist, in love with love, but also in love with the idea of comic books and music. He loves technology, hates insecurity when it arises within him, and most importantly he loves a good night of internet searching. His first roommate was a guy whom he couldn’t get along with, and ever since then he doesn’t want to have a roommate. He’s the mother of his group of friends, and sometimes he feels like he’s that one character in books that no one really pays attention to. It’s stupid—how he feels like he is being looked at with her books, because her characters are never heroes. They are real people, with issues and problems, not witty sometimes, other times deeply shown with colors and highlights that make them interesting. Her power is that she sees boring people, like Taeyong considers himself to be, like the most interesting person in the world.
His fingers hover over the keyboard, teeth biting down on rosy lips coated in cherry chap-stick. His hair is brown and sticking around everywhere, fluffy and soft and with thick strands. His eyes itch, thanks to his posture and how he gets too close to the screen. He continues to look at his Gmail account, hoping that some ray of certainty hits him in the middle of the rain that is his day at that very moment, and he simply decides to speak about his day. He tells her that he is Lee Taeyong, that he loves her book and that he wanted to be a firefighter when he was younger. He talks about his day, most importantly, and once he finishes the e-mail, he notices just how stupid he must look.
This writer must be a person of power, with a pipe in between her fingers and fingers that have no imperfections as they type down on a keyboard. She must love French culture, and Spanish literature, and she probably dates a philosopher of sorts.
Why in the world did he think she would care about what he had to tell her?
He scratches the side of his face as he ponders on the fact that there is a person on the other end of the email, and that is not the biggest issue, the problem is that he doesn’t want to be ignored. Taeyong sighs, closing his eyes tightly as he presses his finger down on the ‘send’ button. It seems out of place, irrational, illogical, and Taeyong has made good and bad decisions in his life, but this one seems like it is outstanding on its own. He feels ashamed, but at the same time anxious, and he bites down on his bottom lip as he distracts himself with actual proper and useful things to do instead of daydreaming about a writer that is out of this world, just like her name.
Pluto is tiny. Venus is filled with love. Jupiter is big, meant to be noticed, with moons roaming around itself to show just how powerful it is. Sometimes, Taeyong thinks he is like the little prince from that one book he thinks he read once, the one that fell in love with a rose and was from the sky—but instead, he is in love with Jupiter. Outstanding, captivating, the only sight he could see now that he perceived it.
Is Taeyong Pluto, perhaps, seeing from far away to the big planet when he is even considered a star by some ignorant people?
Or is he a person that has gotten tired of the stars and wants something new?
Is he finally going crazy thanks to metaphors? Yeah, that’s possibly something that happened.
The sound of someone knocking on his door has him licking the leftovers of sugar that a gummy bear left on his fingers as he shouts at the top of his lungs for the visitor to wait. He makes sure that he looks presentable, running his fingers through his silky hair and cringing at the sticky feeling of his fingers that are covered in sweets. As he rushes to the door, he realizes his phone vibrates in the pocket of his sweatpants, but he doesn’t pay much attention to it. Instead, he receives the person on the other side of the wall by opening the barrier between them and he shares a smile. Toothy, small, it makes his eyes shine in a way that people rarely see.
Some people think Taeyong is scary, for some reason.
By his door is a woman by bangs, lips pouty and covered in red lip tint. Her hair is dark and long, eyes small and innocent. Taeyong knows who she is, the landlord’s daughter, Mihee, who would rather watch a hundred movies but a book is out of question. A film major that enjoys spending a few hours around the building that Taeyong lives at, totally different from how the man is right now. She doesn’t have to move a single finger to work, and yet she is still humble enough to greet him with a smile at times, cheeks dusted in a blush. Taeyong even feels a little bad, since it is quite clear that Mihee likes him—and had not she confessed that to Dongyoung when he had asked her out on a date, he would have never known. He rests his arm on his door, nodding his head as a greeting. “M-Mihee…it’s…it’s nice to see you here.” He breathes out an awkward laugh and his eyes trail down to the box in her hands. “Does your dad need me to pay rent a little bit earlier on the month this time? Because I don’t think I can—”
Looking over to the side, Mihee plays with her bottom lip by moving it between her teeth. “No...you can pay whenever.” She whispers and then, she pushes the box towards his arms. “I was buying some donuts for my dad and I decided to bring some for you…since I know you like sweets.”
How does she know? He has no idea, but what he does recognize is that he feels bad accepting such thing from a woman he does not feel anything for. Mihee is attractive, but he does not think he is at that point of his life where he wants a youthful, easy to comprehend, and lively woman. He wants…some mystery, something to have questions about. Someone, really. “Mihee, you shouldn’t have!” He starts. “I was having sweets just now, and I don’t want to get sugar-high so…you can have them.”
His phone vibrates once again and he cusses inside his head when Mihee insists: “Have them as breakfast, then.” She pushes the box once again and Taeyong finds himself pressed to the carton of the box, taking it in between his hands. “Please.”
Taeyong sighs, grinning after the action. “Alright. Thank you so much.”
“Anything for you.” And Taeyong wants to wince, but he doesn’t—because it is rare to see someone crush on someone so deeply. Crushes are that, dreams turned into imaginations that soon turn into disappointment, because putting someone on a pedestal is never good. Even Taeyong thinks that there is something a bit delusional about his love for Jupiter’s writings, but this is not about himself. “Uh, sorry.” She replies after noticing the silence that followed after that and Taeyong shakes his head.
“No, no.” He starts. “I’m flattered.”
Mihee’s eyes widen at that and Taeyong feels his heart clenching inside his chest. It feels wrong, to have someone falling in love with him—no, with the idea of him. Would she like him less or more if she saw him sprawled on his bed on his worst days, reading the stories of a woman that he doesn’t know, but he feels like he does? She would probably leave him on the spot. The more he thinks about his situation, the more embarrassing it gets. “Well, I shall get going. Dad said I had…to…do something. I don’t really remember.” She giggles and Taeyong gives her a tight lipped smile, lifting the box up a bit.
“Thanks for the donuts.”
“Thank you for your time.”
And then, with a bow, Mihee leaves, not forgetting to take a second glance at Taeyong and his lazy attire, black hair and gray pajamas. The man in question releases a sigh, placing the bag of donuts on his kitchen island and calling one of the numbers on his phone do have someone over to eat them. Maybe, Yoonoh hasn’t made dinner yet and he could have some donuts—since it is not good for Taeyong’s health to have that many sugar in his body. However, when he is unlocking his phone to text the first person that popped inside his head, he realizes he has an e-mail on his inbox.
Not only that.
An e-mail…from Jupiter.
Not the planet, definitely, but the orbit that has his mind roaming through the expenses of unreality. Part of himself thinks that daydreaming about someone is better than reality sometimes. He smiles, so happily that one would think he has never gone through hardship, and when he opens the e-mail, he is pleasantly surprised by the message. “Oh, you’re that one Yong user, right?! I remember you! Well, thank you…I didn’t think someone would like my stories all that much. It’s never too late to get a message like this, since you’ve made my day, too.” Taeyong wonders what type of voice does she have. Is her voice lightweight like a worrisome day with a nice grade and an excellent payment waiting at the end of the week? Or is her voice deep, meant to tell the world the most intelligent of eloquences to bathe it in knowledge? Sometimes, he thinks her voice might have the secrets of life, those deep hidden meanings that come with years of living in the hellhole that is the world.
He wants to believe that however she sounds, her words are beautiful. And he wants to hear her, read her, feel her in the form of words and paragraphs and sentences. Her aches might drop as a new book, but he wants to be the reminder that there can always be happy endings—or just a happy moment throughout hardship. It’s hard for him to believe that, as well. “Oh, Jupiter! You wouldn’t believe how much your writings have helped me.”
And almost as if they were texting, she replies immediately. “I would like to know. Tell me.”
“Do you have time?” He asks.
“My writer’s block is here to stay, so…yes, I have time.”
Taeyong did not know he needed to be heard, not listened to. He ached for a person to read his words and find meaning, just like how he found a world full of light in hers. He wanted life to suddenly have color, and she painted dots of white in his dull world. It’s tenderness at its finest, how he ends up having a midnight conversation that moves to the morning in flowing motions. It feels like he has known her forever, and he is no longer the kid that watches such a marvelous planet from a telescope—he’s there, with her, talking to her, making her feel less lonely when they are both alone. Two toys that finally found a home, not with a kid or a collector, but within themselves…with one another, better yet.
❤️
“Hey, Yong.”
Taeyong tries to pull his gaze away from the book at his hands, listen to the voice that is calling him, or the sound of boxes being opened around the library, but he is stuck in an old book to pass time. It is rainy outside, the utmost cause of his sudden change of mood, but he is also feeling a bit under the weather—suddenly the sky is gray, and his heart is shrinking for some reason. When he hears the pitter patter of someone walking closer, he does look up to the see the librarian in front of him. The older man frowns at the sight of Taeyong, almost lost in his sweater that is a few sizes too big for him, and with his hair covering his eyes slightly, those two orbs that looked at him with innocence, paired with parted lips in a pink shade. His fingers hold onto the book, nodding his head as he says: “Yes, Mister? Can I help you?”
The man fixes the hat on his head before clearing his throat. “Yes, you can.” He says excitedly before pointing with his thumb to the front of the library. “Some books have just arrived and one of the guys from my staff is sick, and since you’re such a good reader, I thought you could help me.” Taeyong stands up from the ground, mumbling some kind of acceptance to the librarian’s offer. “I’m sorry if I am bothering you. I never do this, but I’m short on hands and I can’t see well—”
“No. It’s alright.” Taeyong says, pressing the book back into its place before placing his hands inside the pockets of his jeans. “Lead the way, Sir.”
Anyone who gets the chance to meet Lee Taeyong thinks he is a man of good, that he has never stumbled in life, or ignored something important, or did something pointless. Sometimes, Taeyong is just like a piece of art—a sculpture, and he likes being praised, but there are people who can’t live with that. Those people are scared of being put in a pedestal, only to show that they do not shine in colors, that they are not what everyone expect. It is a thought that pops inside his brain when he realizes Jupiter’s pre-ordered books are being delivered to the library, signed for those who wanted to buy it, since she never shows her face…or shows anything, really.
He wants to take one of those books between his fingers, but one of the people there takes his wrist in between her fingers before sighing. “Excuse me, ah…those are not going to be organized yet.”
Taeyong looks over to the side, met with a woman that has her hair in a messy ponytail, wearing a sweater just as oversized as his, letting go of his skin the moment his eyes connect to hers. He must have hypnotized her in some way, looking over to the side in embarrassment, but he talks to her. After all, he is not stupid enough to stop talking to a pretty girl. “Uh, sorry.” He admits. “Want to tell me how to organize these book?”
“No.”
What?
“Sorry, did I make you uncomfortable?”
The woman in front of him nods her head, closing her eyes tightly. “Yes. Well, no! No…yes? I don’t know.”
Taeyong scowls at that. His heart aches and he lowers his head to place his face in her sight before raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean? I’m confused.”
She places one palm against her face, breathing lowly before replying. “Yong, it’s nothing.”
It takes him one second—no, two! It takes him two seconds to realize that she doesn’t work there, and that she came with the boxes filled with Jupiter’s newest release, most importantly, he realizes that said nickname is the one he uses for his e-mails when writing to Jupiter, a person that he has talked to a few times over the past few weeks. They have bonded over books and their love for them, what is good about their days and what isn’t so much. She must have noticed Taeyong’s change mentally as he takes a good glance at her. For what he can sense from her, she is as beautiful as her words are, and her pouty lips with her worried gaze only makes his heart jump the slightest.
“You’re Jupiter?” He whispers and she scoffs almost too quickly, as if she is falling to her knees with her lie. She takes her phone out of her bag, shaking her head as she looks at her texts. “Hey,” He speaks softly, nudging her side with his hand. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. I’m such a big fan—”
“I’m not her.”
“Are you sure? You called me Yong.”
She shushes him, cursing in between her teeth and strangely enough, she looks like an angel when doing so. She gets closer to him, to the point people would think they know each other—but they kind of do, sincerely. “Not a word about this to anyone.”
Even though he doesn’t get a confession, it is as clear as water to know that she is Jupiter. “What’s your real name?” She rolls her eyes, looking at her phone once again and he realizes that she needs to look away when saying the truth. She had gotten so used to lying she can’t even look at people and say the truth straight to their faces. When she does say her name, however, Taeyong’s smile becomes as addicting as bourbon. “And…sorry if I am making you uncomf—”
“Taeyong, carry those boxes there, please!” She lets out a soft breath when she realizes she won’t have to continue talking to Taeyong straight to his face, although through words on an e-mail things seemed easier. However, the world is never on her side, and she hears her name being called by the librarian. “…And you should carry the limited versions with him! Since you know more about that as Jupiter’s publicist.”
So, Jupiter herself pretends to be her own publicist just to hide her truth? Or is she her own team just to keep her secret? She bites her bottom lip and tries to take the box with the rest of the limited versions, but Taeyong beats her to it, instead bending his waist to carry the two boxes. “I can do it on my own.”
“I know.” He adds in a chirpy tone before grinning. “But I want to help you.”
Nonetheless, there is a cost to letting Taeyong help her, and she knows it. She remains quiet as she holds her two hands together, feet kicking fake dust from the floor before taking a glance at him. Taeyong is like one of the characters in her books, with love in his eyes and curiousness in his lips. With too much to think, too much fabric to cut, just enough for someone who has wanted to have the world at her feet, but has only gotten to see how ants roam around her flooring.
“Why do you hide your identity?”
She doesn’t seem offended, but it shows that she is out of place. After she clears her throat, arranges her thoughts and prepares the truth, because lies are too easy to tell, she finally speaks. “I guess I’m scared…” That’s all she says, and Taeyong expects for her to continue, but she doesn’t. Of course, they are strangers, and Taeyong can only nod his head before placing the boxes down. He wants to continue asking, getting to know the reason why she hides herself when having so much talent, but instead, he comes up with nothing. “Your…e-mails do make me smile, though. I appreciate it.”
He beams at that. “Really?” He asks and then, he looks down at the stacks of books, arranging them on a table neatly, always one to love cleaning. “I mean every single word. Your…your stories have stuck to me through this year.”
She chuckles at that. “I agree with you.”
“That your stories are excellent?”
“No.” She says, placing with a book as she roams her fingers over it. “That this year fucking sucks.” She cusses and Taeyong shakes his head, chuckling at her words before taking a peek inside one of her books. The cover is rose gold and shines in the perfect light, but when she tuts her tongue, he stops his movements. “No. You’ll have buy one of these tomorrow.”
Taeyong takes his wallet out of his pocket, taking some money out of it. “I’m paying for it now.” He places the money on top of her hand, watching her surprised expression thanks to seeing someone being so…himself. He is not scared of showing his real colors. “Only if you add a special note on the first page.”
She takes something from the table, maybe a pen, because she clicks it soon after and then taps the object to her lips. “What kind of note?”
Taeyong shrugs, organizing and making himself noticeable with just his mere presence. “Whatever you want.” She takes a good glance at his side profile, jotting something down on the first page and then, tossing the book at Taeyong that barely catches it between his hands. He opens the book, watching her face for a moment before looking at what it says:
“I hope you find the peace you gave me when reading this book.”
The man smiles, pressing the book to his chest like how he used to hold the toys he was given on Christmas when he was a child. She doesn’t look at him, too busy organizing, but if she did, her heart would have probably burst at the mere sight. “Thank you.”
“Thank me with some help arranging this.”
“Okay.” He says but when he starts working, he can’t help but start asking her questions. “On your second book, the character…wait, I know his name…he’s in the background but—”
Absentmindedly, he makes her day. For the first time in her life, she feels accepted by someone.
❤️
Neutral is a feeling, too, even when people do not confess it. You can feel neutral about a show, for example, not like it but also not hate it. You can have a neutral day, where cereal doesn’t taste well, and your clothes are just not nice looking enough—but they are not bad, also. That is exactly how Taeyong feels when it snows; the time where raindrops turn into snowflakes slowly but surely. He likes to wear thick clothing and big coats, but he hates having to clean after the rain, and he despises shivering at the mere touch of his feet against the flooring early in the morning. His fingers skim over the cup of black coffee he is holding in his hands, the plastic cup seeping its warmth to his skin. His eyes occasionally roam around the place, looking for his sister and his niece, whom had brought him to that park just to play with them.
If nodding his head to whatever his niece tells him and buying her gummy bears against his sister’s will counts as playing, though, that is a subject for people to judge.
But he does not really feel like playing, just like how he does not feel like staying at his apartment doing absolutely nothing but reading. He is the sand, between the water’s coldness and the sun’s hotness. No, he is the crab that walks around; perceiving, protecting himself, but also being vulnerable to people’s touch.
The material of his gray coat matches his bright blue turtleneck, and the fabric of his dark jeans. His dark hair is sleeked back, and he can feel a few glances of people looking at him. His sister is cheerily playing with her daughter, and he is sitting by a bench holding an insane amount of Barbie dolls and sweets. It is at that moment that he starts people watching, and he almost imagines stories for every person. A couple that falls in love, for example, right by one of the benches, when in reality they are just two students trying to take pictures for a project. It is weird, how books have changed his life, to the point he sees it differently.
Definitely from a better perspective, of course.
Sometimes, he writes letters to his favorite writer—Jupiter, that is no longer a planet but a star, a constellation that if he tries hard enough, he can reach. There had been a man in the moon, so he can touch the sky if that is what he so desperately pleases. And she, always (and this is not an exaggeration), always responds. Sometimes, it is a mix of words in between the lines of “Sorry, I can’t talk at the moment. I’m writing.” And other times, they talk about everything and anything.
He has gotten to know meaningless yet interesting things about her—like her favorite color, and how she can’t ever pick just one; or that one movie that she cries whenever she watches. Furthermore, she has said profound things about herself, as well, and Taeyong has spilled a few things about his heart, too.
Like how her first book is based on her first heartbreak.
And how Taeyong thinks he has loved many people, but he believes no one has loved him. At least, not the romantic type of love people talk about in books.
Soon after, she makes him feel better, telling him that there is no book that is not at least a little bit based on fiction, so to base something so carnal and emotional on some writing is lame. Taeyong, however, argues that every book has a little bit of reality, and that leads to another conversation.
Finally, she has someone to talk about her reality with.
But she still hides, just like how when she gave him her number through an e-mail, she said she did not want him to call her (“I prefer writing,” she said, “I feel like my voice is annoying.”), but she would never believe that Taeyong both loved listening to her and also, reading her. It is an unusual use of words, combination of a verb and a person that might sound either really stupid or insanely creepy, but reading her is nothing more than seeing her truest soul through words. Every lie has its reality, or so he believes, but he is proud of saying that he thinks his favorite author is not lying to him.
Giving her peace, that is somehow the main reason why he believes she is being truthful.
Taeyong jumps slightly when he hears the sound of something falling to the floor, although it touches the snow and the sound is not as hard as it should. The person who let their phone fall curses quite audibly, kneeling down and taking the device in between her hands, unlocking it and checking it was fine, using her sleeve to wipe off the snow from the very front of the screen. Taeyong acts upon his slight innocence, not the type of innocence that everyone would think about, but the one that keeps him looking at the world as if it was beautiful, when in reality there are terrible things about it.
“Is your phone okay?” And when said woman looks at him to respond, he realizes that cladded on a hoodie and a coat over it is the author he is always thinking about. A smile spreads across his face, like butter on bread, and her eyes widen at the mere sight of him.
“Yes.” She replies, standing up from the freezing ground with white spots on her jeans, specifically where her knees are. Her fingers fiddle with her one, passing it from one hand to other, and she swings back and forth as a way of distracting herself. “It’s fine. It’s nothing—”
“Be careful.” Taeyong says and it shouldn’t feel warm, because it is damn freezing at the very moment, but there is something about his voice that calms her down. No, there is something about Taeyong that translates to summer mornings, for some reason. He interlocks his hands behind his back and with a mere smile, he continues his train of thought: “Wouldn’t want my favorite person to have a broken phone.”
She squints her eyes. “That’s such a weird sentence…” She whispers before clearing her throat. Her eyes widen, because he had not just said that she is his favorite person. Taeyong could have easily picked Cervantes, a writer, or George Washington or maybe…Lee Minho, that most definitely has everyone eating from the palm of his hand after every drama, but he picked her. “W-Wait…you meant to say favorite author, correct?”
Taeyong shakes his head, his cheeks burning in color just like his nose that makes him sniffle continuously thanks to the coldness of the day. “I said what I said.”
She chuckles at that. “You’re crazy.” She starts. “We have only talked through e-mails.”
Taking the opportunity of hearing her admit that she is the author Jupiter, something that she doesn’t do often even when he asks her through e-mails, he presses his index finger to her shoulder momentarily as a grin appears on his face. “So you are not Jupiter’s publicist?”
In reality, she has a publicist—an old man that takes her word on the fact that she is going to represent him physically when she goes to libraries or book signings, since no one would know she is actually the author a lot of people have looked up to for the last three years. She has two best sellers, a nice amount of New York Times’ mentions, and most importantly, a few awards that she keeps hidden in boxes because she never tells anyone about her real job. To anyone that asks, she is a publicist. “You already know the answer.” She bites back and then, she kneels down to grab a handful of now.
“What—?” And then, Taeyong feels it, the snowball that hits his chest and has him gasping. She gives him a smile like a child’s, showing just how interesting she finds the situation to be, and with a mere smirk, he retorts with a snowball thrown her way, as well.
“Hey, don’t me mean!”
“You threw a snowball at me, too!”
“Sorry, my hand slipped.” She comments and Taeyong can’t help but laugh, watching her red-colored lips and the beanie that covers her head. He can’t help but find her beautiful, because he has gotten to know her—even through letters on a screen, or on a piece of paper, or just in person. They don’t know each other, but Taeyong thinks romanticism is better when he is blind, sighted by the beauty of life.
“Uh…do you have something to do right now?” Taeyong asks and she answers:
“I’m free, actually.” But he can tell that it will take her a long while to ever open up to him, or anyone for that matter, because (as he has thought plenty of times before), she is nothing more than a lie—and he wants to see the truth inside her. “Why…?” And she has written a hundred of love scenes, like burglars that find love in non-existent shadows, or maybe love triangles between the guardians of a king, but she has never imagined stories that can be developed in real life. Mediocrity at its finest, that is how she would describe her romantic life, but maybe someone could change that. “You aren’t busy?”
“I’m here with my sister and her daughter, but they aren’t paying attention to me so…” He trails his voice, biting his bottom lip and fluttering his dark eyelashes before lending his bent arm at her, his hand hidden at the depth of his pocket. She hesitates, looking at his arm when he says: “Let’s find some street food around here, and stuff our faces with some grease. How about that?”
She scoffs, because romance is not supposed to be like this. He should be dramatic, or maybe even invite her to some coffee, but she wouldn’t have it any other way. “Lead the way.”
“What kind of food do you like?”
She’s like a fruit that he tries to peel, but with every bit of skin that he gets to see, there is another part covering it. She has layers, ones that Taeyong doubts he can get through…but he has never been one to think of that as something bad. After all, the best of books tend to be longer than most ones…and what is so wrong about a few hundred more pages to read, just to get to the perfect ending?
❤️
“So, are you okay with finally telling me why you’ve never shown yourself off to the public after becoming so successful?”
It is not common to see her at the library, and he is always there, but life seems to make do with whatever moment they can have together, working with a friend called ‘coincidence’ just to get a meeting from two people who only talk online, or through the phone (because, finally, Taeyong can text her or call her if needed). This time around, she is signing some new prints of her book, because her latest project had been excellently received in that library—no, around the city and the country itself, and to keep it a secret, she does it at the very corner of the library, when the place is about to close down and students are too occupied on not falling asleep on their notebooks to even pay attention to some anonymous writer. Taeyong, on the other hand, has already finished his book of the day, and he is helping the librarian by dusting some of the old history books by the shelves. To be honest, people rarely read those by now…
For a moment, he does not get an answer from the author, and he thinks that he will remained bothered with an unanswered question, but she lets out a sigh that lets him know there is going to be a sentence coming soon after. And indeed, she speaks up. “I told you before,” She starts. “That I’m scared.”
He pouts his lips, turning around with a book pressed to his chest before mumbling—really, that is all they can do in that library—. “Why? You’re so talented. You shouldn’t feel scared!”
Sometimes what we don’t see is what scares us the most. What we don’t live, what we can’t perceive, what we can’t touch. No one ever says that intrigue is also pain, that when they unite they create the worst of mixes, and she knows this. She bites down on her bottom lip, dismissing what he says with a movement of her hand before continuing with her signings. “Thank you. You’ve told me that already.” Although, she never gets tired of hearing him say it. Or anyone, for that matter. Yet, Taeyong makes it sound special each time. “And don’t be so curious about things. That’s not good.”
Taeyong moves towards her quickly, settling himself on the seat in front of her at the table. “But—” He initiates. “We’ve known each other for a month…maybe a little bit more. I would guess you’d want to give me that little bit of information, since I am your only fan that knows your true identity.”
“I still haven’t told you if I am Jupiter.”
He widens his eyes comically. “It’s obvious!”
“…Either way,” She breathes out, clicking on her pen and leaning back on her chair. “Don’t call yourself a fan either. I’m not a person you should look up to.”
“What?” He asks in a whisper before resting both of his hands on his cheeks, pushing them together slightly but absentmindedly. “You don’t even notice how powerful you are?! Not only in writing, no.” The way he talks about her doesn’t give her a sense of comfort, it brings her fear…not knowing if she would live up to the expectation Taeyong has for her. “In everything. You’re beautiful, and intelligent, and definitely mysterious and creative. Not only that, but you also like the same sweets as me…and love replying to my stupid ramblings…” His voice gets lower as he pulls on the sleeve of his sweat, suddenly becoming shy at the mere thought of saying all those things in front of her. Taeyong doesn’t know how to call what he feels for her, or that if he would give it a name at all, but the mark that her art and her persona have left on him is timeless. “…I just want to know.”
She realizes that enough is enough, and that she wants to be bared of her fears only for the slightest of seconds. Nonetheless, she hesitates to speak about what troubles her, whatever it is that keeps her from being truthful to herself—or the world, for that matter. “I’m scared of being judged.” She starts. “Not for my writing, I want to be judged as an artist…but people are mean in this world. What happens when people I know in real life judge me? Or if I suddenly fail and people watched me do so?” She lowers her voice when she realizes she got a little bit into it. Her hands close the book she had been signing harshly before releasing a big sigh. “This is stupid. I shouldn’t be pouring my insecurities on you—”
The world switches, and Taeyong is suddenly brave, and there is water in between them instead of a huge brick wall. His fingers reach for hers, delicately tracing the outline of the veins that pop out of her hands, resting his palm in an engulfing manner just on top of the back of her hand and when he looks into her eyes, he sees the surprise in them, because she has definitely written a hundred stories about encounters like that one, or having a person that understood a character in such a way…but could something like that exist in real life? “No.” He wraps the word cutely around his lips, like a present just for her. “I want to hear them, because you never talk to anyone about these things…and it’s good to get it out of your chest.”
But he could always hurt her and spill her secret to everyone if something ever went wrong. “I’ll be fine—”
“I know you will.” Taeyong says, his soft skin and thin lips shining with just one glance. She swallows thickly, seeing how he suddenly becomes a prince right in front of her eyes. “But…even if you decide to stay anonymous, just know that there are people like me who will accept you. Maybe, don’t go public to your writers…but tell the closest people in your life. Don’t feel ashamed of liking something and making a living out of it.”
Whether she feels like crying or not, bawling her hands and clinging to his chest just to pour all her emotions out, or not, is not perceivable. However, she stacks the books together, patting them against the table before standing up. All she says is: “Thank you.” But it weights as much as a bus, and Taeyong is not a weightlifter—it downs him, makes his heart race, presses him to the floor because he has done something for someone he cares about. He has taken a layer off the igloo, and that has to be something. She goes around the table, pressing a kiss to his cheek and stumbling over her words soon after. “I, uh…I have to go deliver these now and find something to eat…”
Taeyong smiles, tilting his head to the side to look into her eyes. “Yeah?” He asks dreamily, his skin tingling, his mind burning, his heart set ablaze because he is making her nervous. Progress is what he calls it.
She nods her head. “Uh-huh.”
Taeyong moves his face, pressing a kiss to her cheek in return of hers, and he smiles toothily when she gazes at him with impression on her face. “Make sure to send me a text when you get to eat, okay?”
With a gaze full of tenderness, she hums in approval. Of Taeyong, or of the situation, but she is content for the slightest moment.
❤️
Mihee isn’t supposed to be there. At the library, his meeting place with the woman that starts to feel like a dream, because she is more the illumination of his screen late at night that dries his eyes that a palpable being that he gets to see outside of the library. However, Taeyong had been carrying a big amount of plastic plates, spoons and forks, as well as some boxes filled with his favorite meals and pastries—all prepared by himself—for the little lunch break that he is planning, all in commemoration of having one of ‘Jupiter’s’ books going out of stock after only two months of being released, a best seller at its truest form. He needed some helping hands, and Mihee is always there for Taeyong.
Sure, it sounds fucked up, to have the person that likes him help him get the person he likes, but that is just a big slice of the cake that is life.
“Yong?” Mihee asks in her soft voice, turning around with sweater paws covering her hands and sweetness coating her eyes as she holds onto some empty bag. “Why are you preparing all this?”
Someone would say he’s crazy. Others would say he is a romanticist. Taeyong, however, thinks he is just being optimistic about his whole ordeal with his crush. It is like he has a brick wall in front of him, and he is driving a Maserati, and instead of stopping on his tracks to not crash, he goes full force into what is her life, and sometimes he feels left out, but by scraping the slightest part of her personality, he gets to see a glimpse of the real her. That, of course, is not something that he should tell Mihee, the woman that basically second-hand owns his apartment—or the building he lives in, per say—and that crushes on him madly ever since months ago…or years. “A friend of mine finished a project and it was successful…so we’re basically celebrating.”
Mihee is not stupid and she squints her eyes out of suspicion. “At a library?”
“Well, she likes books.” Taeyong admits and Mihee’s vibe falters at that, hunching over and playing with her hands as Taeyong continues with the finishing touches.
“So they’re a she…”
“And?”
The woman in question widens her eyes at that. “N-Nothing!”
But Taeyong recognizes what she feels: raw jealousy that fades into discomfort. He tries not to make her feel bad, instead patting his hand against her back as a way of comforting her. “Thank you for helping me out. I appreciate it.”
And instead of breaking hearts, Taeyong mends Mihee’s back together with a smile, as if that is enough to count as love. He understands her, strangely, because he feels the same for the author that has taken his breath away through words, and then with her beauty, finally with her personality, but her emotions have been nothing more than a hazy picture for Taeyong to figure out. Sometimes, he feels like their conversations are deep in flirting, and that their getaways are dates—but other times, she closes down once again, emanated by fear, and Taeyong is left with the same feelings he had at the beginning. She exists, but she is untouchable.
People say they love the moon, but they don’t love how far away it is.
Is it normal that he wants to continue, even when she gets further away?
Her pseudonym says it: Jupiter. A planet far, far away.
“Anytime!” Mihee adds with a smile, beaming with happiness until they hear the sound of someone tripping with a chair. Taeyong turns to look at the source of noise, and Mihee seems to do as well, noticing that the woman he had prepared all those meals for is standing right there, holding onto the edge of a table before smiling weakly.
“You’re here—”
“Ah, yes…you kind of told me I had to come here.” She replies, waving weakly at the woman beside Taeyong before widening her eyes at him, wearing a fake smile that has Taeyong’s wondering what she thinks of the situation. “I…” She scratches the side of her head, chuckling a little bit at her silence. “What were you planning exactly?”
“Since your project got so much praise and love…I wanted to celebrate.” But it is not Taeyong and her celebrating, like it had always been, there is someone else in the room and the secret of her job is still a subject that shall remain in between two people. She grits her teeth together, watching the plates and the food, the nice smell that lingers on the air, the small table at the edge of the library decorated with a sign that says ‘congratulations’ and if only it had been Taeyong there, alone, she would have loved the surprise…but he is accompanied by someone, and there is a gush of something that radiates deep within her. “This is my friend, Mihee. Mihee, she’s—”
She takes her phone out of her pocket, pretending that it is vibrating before putting it up to her ear. “Yeah, I am getting a call…Hello?” Taeyong knows it’s a lie and she tries not to cringe at the sound of her voice, but the way she closes her eyes tightly lets him know that she is trying to run away once again.
“Hey, cut it off.” Taeyong says, more like whispers, as he gets closer to her. She watches his eyes as he gently takes her by the wrist, his gaze showing nothing more than disillusionment. “Nothing bad will happen. Don’t act like this.” Mihee does not listen to their conversation, and Taeyong is too close. She realizes then that getting close to him, a stranger that adores Jupiter—her pseudonym—, is not what she should be doing. Jupiter is a version of herself that is not afraid of judgement or everything that surrounds her, and a mistake from her part could lead to Taeyong telling her secret. Most of the time, she feels like she can trust him—but Taeyong is innocent, he believes in people like Mihee, he trusts that the world is a bone with its head and its body, it’s never broken…and for some reason, she can’t see that part of life. “Can we just sit down and eat and celebrate?”
“Oh, yeah, Boss…I-I did not know…you needed me there. I’ll be on my way.” She pretends she is on the phone, looking straight into Taeyong’s black eyes before putting her phone down. “I can’t stay.”
“I didn’t say a single thing. You’re overreacting.”
She leans closer to Taeyong, until she can count every hair in his eyelashes, fine and soft. Then, she mumbles: “I’m sorry. I can’t risk having someone else around us…that’s not…what I want.” Or maybe, she just realizes Taeyong is not a loner like she is, and sometimes she feels like they are in their own bubble—only the two of them—and it is ridiculous and egotistical of her to want to keep him in her lie filled, fearful life. “But I can take the food with me.”
Taeyong pulls away, taking the plates in his hands and giving them to her before sighing. “If that’s what you want…” She bites on her bottom lip, because it is not what she wants, but it is what she feels like she needs. Mouthing a small ‘thank you’ and saying a ‘nice to meet you’ to Mihee, she gets out of the library in a rush, leaving Taeyong with his heart in his sleeve, and his lips pouty out of…anger? Sadness, maybe?
Mihee whistles. “Your friend is busy.”
Taeyong looks to the side, pondering if he should feel angry at himself for bringing Mihee over or because the woman that just left is in absolute denial of her talents and how they are powerful enough to be shown to the world. “She is.” He confirms, crossing his arms over his chest before sighing. “Want to eat the leftovers?”
And Mihee’s eyes shine with the idea of a love affair that doesn’t exist.
❤️
“Jo In-Sung what?!”
She does have friends, ones that don’t know about her identity as nothing more than the best-seller, romance author Jupiter, but Taeyong is the closest person that she dares to call a friend to which she can talk about her success as a writer. Earlier that month, she had been contacted to be told that her first book was going to be bought to be turned into a movie. That morning, however, she received an invitation to attend the first recording of the first scene of the movie. Turns out, Jo In-Sung, in all his famous actor glory, was going to be the main character of said movie—and of course, she had to deny it as Jupiter. Not that she couldn’t attend as Jupiter’s publicist. “The Jo In-Sung is going to be the male lead of the movie based on my book and I get to meet him as Jupiter’s publicist.”
Taeyong scoffs, because she is the author herself and even when something as big as that opportunity arrives at her doorstep, she can’t open the door to reality. “We should celebrate!”
She bites down on her bottom lip, pressing her phone to her ear and continuing with responding to e-mails. “With your friend there?”
The encounter with Mihee at the library had passed a few weeks ago, yet, she could not let go of it and that caused Taeyong to roll his eyes. “Nope. Just you and me and my favorite restaurant, and a beautiful sunset if that’s what you want.”
And a sunset and a pretty man do sound like the best idea she has had so far, but when Taeyong parks in front of the restaurant that he had been bragging about, elegant and with gourmet dishes that aren’t the size of a toe-nail, she feels absolute fear. The fabric of her dress hugs her body nicely, with a heart-shaped neckline that falls off her shoulders and creates the shape of an elegant woman, but that is not the look she wants to have when she dies…because if she ever gets to the highest floor of that building, she will totally pass out along the way. Taeyong said the restaurant was a little bit high, so she thought a second floor or a third…not a thirteenth floor.
“Oh no, I’m not going up there.” She says after she gets out of the car, holding tightly onto her purse. Taeyong moves over so he is standing in front of her, wearing a white button down and trousers in typical elegant fashion. He runs his fingers through his dark locks, the silky strands falling back onto his forehead, and he sighs at the sound of her voice. Dramatics are on her tone, something that comes with writing so many books in the lines of romance. “Next week, I am meeting one of the most loved actors of the country, and I am not getting up there. Jo In-Sung is waiting for me.”
“For Jupiter, you mean. We agreed that you’re not Jupiter, right?” Taeyong asks in a sarcastic manner and she rolls her eyes. The man smiles gleefully, taking her hand in his and trapping her fingers in between his before giving a soft kiss to the back of her hand. “It’s just an elevator and then some big glassy windows. I have come here before and nothing will happen to you.”
“I’m scared of heights; can’t you tell?”
Taeyong nods his head. “And I understand.” He admits. “But we can’t let your fears get the best of you. You already fear so many things.”
And while she complains about how she does not along the way, holding Taeyong closely to her body, she knows he is correct.
She can say a lot about herself; how she fears heights and ants, failure but at the same time utter success. She thinks fears, as you get older, become miniscule or invisible—to the point big monsters don’t scare you anymore, but what can’t be seen seems like a more fitted nightmare. Sometimes, she wishes her life would not be guided by her fears, that she could be like Taeyong: willing to fall into the hands of life like a leaf from an Autumn tree. She has never trusted life, however, because whenever she falls, it is face first on the floor and it hurts her. She does not want to be hurt, or judged for falling.
Her eyes are closed tightly when the doors of the elevators open and Taeyong chuckles before wrapping an arm around her waist, letting go of her hand but feeling her fingers reach for his biceps to grip onto something. “We’re here.” He whispers, near her face to the point she smells his scent, and when she opens her eyes they are greeted by the sight of an elegant restaurant. Dark carpet with a tone of brown, walls that are made out of glassy windows and a skyline that deserves its own book. “See? Little by little, step by step…you can get over your fears.”
Only if he is there, but she won’t say that. “I doubt it.”
“Why?” Taeyong asks, after they are leaded to their table, that is—and she remember that Taeyong said that he has a friend working there that helped him get some reservations at the last minute.
Once she sits down, she answers. “My fears are already part of me.”
“You said it! Part, not entirely you.”
Dear, lovely, adored Taeyong, that sees life like something easy…when it is not. She smacks her lips together, looks into his eyes and hopes that she could let go of what she is scared of, but it is too late for her. “I am paranoid. I have got to settle with that.”
“You can change, if you want to.”
She looks over to the menu, ignoring what he said as she starts: “What did you say was your favorite dish—?”
Taeyong’s feet gently taps her calf under the table as he whines. “Don’t ignore the topic.”
“I’m hungry.”
“But—”
“Hungry, I said.”
With a kiss, you’ll know if love is real. That is a part of her first book, and she thinks she was full of bullshit when she wrote it, maybe she had been thinking about something that sounded profound but was not really, but now that she is a few years older and she has Taeyong in front of her, she thinks she really was wrong. When love is felt without a kiss, it aches a hundred times more, it makes your problems fluttering butterflies and every date becomes a set of words that you can’t wait to read. She wishes she could kiss Taeyong, tell him about the space he has earned inside his heart, but she can’t.
She doesn’t want to make him go through the hassle of loving her.
She is complicated, like how she takes too long to pick what she wants to eat and how she laughs a little too loudly at his jokes. They share smiles and conversations after eating, even when they are just looking at the sunset, and all that she can think about is the end—not because she wants the closure of the date, or of their friendship, whatever had blossomed between them in the past few months, but because she is visibly and mentally scared of how things end. When someone told her that nothing lasts forever, she took it to heart.
But Taeyong is sweet, like everything she never had, and with a simple movement of his chair, he is seated by her side, not caring if people look at him, listening to her every word and ounce of pride she has for herself, because a movie deal is a lot of money, and her book is being recognized to a bigger extent. His fingers reach for her hair, tucking the strands behind her ears and trailing his fingers down to touch her long golden earrings. He grabs her jaw, his lips quirking into a soft smile as he says: “I am proud of you. Not of Jupiter, but of you.” And it means a lot, because Jupiter had always been more powerful, but there is someone that liked her. Not a planet, or a writer, but her.
She holds his wrist in between her fingers, widening her eyes and fluttering her eyelashes up at him. “Say that again.”
Taeyong chuckles at that. “What if I say something better?”
She continues his laughter. “I don’t think there is something better than that.”
“Mhm?” He hums before leaning forward, his breath ghosting over hers as he looks from her eyes to her lips, creating a set of dots—constellations that he unites into his own zodiac. “I like you.”
When he kisses her, at the almost empty restaurant that is about to get packed in an hour or so—since it was too early to have dinner—, he does it so softly that it feels like she is made of stars. His lips press to hers delicately at first, the thin skin coated in her lip-gloss in the matter of seconds. His hand travels down to her jaw, his touch warm as it seeps through her skin. He tilts his head to the left, and she wishes she could open her eyes just to look at his blissed expression, at the way he lets out a soft sound against her lips when he opens his mouth the slightest to let the tip of his tongue touch the surface of her lips. She invites him in, or more like her body does without asking her mind, letting her hands fall to his knees, wanting to be closer but making it impossible in the uncomfortable position. The sound of their lips joined together ends too quickly, pulling away to watch Taeyong lick his lips with his eyes closed, letting out a smile that means the whole word to her.
With a kiss, she knew she loved him.
But with doubt, she knew she would never tell him.
❤️
Do you remember the first lie you told?
She doesn’t, but she remembers the last. It was on a Sunday afternoon, seated on top of Taeyong’s car, swinging her legs with the man beside her serving as leverage, her head resting on his shoulder. Taeyong’s fingers are on her thigh, and he talks about how excited he is for the little sneak-peaks he got to see when he went to see the recording of the movie with her. His voice is lightweight, filled with energy, and sometimes she wishes she could tell him how much she loves it, or how she never wants to have his heart broken by anyone…but then she is reminded that she fears the end of it all, and the least she wants is to be able to recognize that she fell for him and then have it taken away from her.
“One day, you will finally reveal yourself as Jupiter. I know so.” Taeyong says with excitement, shaking his head and smiling up at the stars. She, however, can’t imagine such day and his thoughts of her being successful are always the main source of their arguing. Writing is not supposed to be a job, so it is logical of her to think that it won’t last—
But will they last? “I don’t think so.” She says, stopping the movement of her legs before cupping his cheek, making him turn towards her as she looks at his face. Sometimes, she thinks the easier option is just breaking everything up with him, but she does not want to lose him. All she knows is that Lee Taeyong should be the definition of forever. Taeyong whines, blushing because of her gaze.
“You’re so stubborn.”
“I am not.” And there’s a lie, but Taeyong only smiles through it, leaning in to the point her back is pressed to the car’s hood, his fingers resting on her waist before kissing her lips. As always, Taeyong takes his precious time and when he deepens the kiss, it is unexpected. Only that every time he kisses her, she wishes he can feel what she never says—I love you. I like you. Please, never leave.
With a kiss, they make a brief love timeless, and even when someday it will end…a kiss is all they need to make it better.
#taeyong scenarios#taeyong#nct scenarios#nct#kpop scenarios#writing#nct fluff#nct angst#taeyong fluff#taeyong angst#nct au#taeyong au#anonymous writer!reader#fan!taeyong#unrequited love!au#ish?#not really???#i hope you like it#tumblr doesn't let me add my breaks so i added hearts#bc strangely enough i like this#so#tell me your opinions!!!
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Waiting - IronWidow Request
TonyNat angst with a happy ending? Natasha's secretly in love with Tony but she thinks after his break-up with Pepper, he would never even try to love again. She was wrong.
A/N. Hello! Apologies for the delay. My laptop is no longer usable and I need a new one. I’m posting this on mobile and I’m still getting used to the formatting so forgive me if it looks weird. I’ll work on the next request as soon as I can.
- Rose
Tony and Pepper’s split was highly publicized. For ten years, it was impossible to get a public appearance of Tony Stark without spotting his assistant Virginia Potts somewhere in the background, running the show and overall just keeping everything together. Over the course of Ms. Potts’ tenure there had been rampant speculation about her and Mr. Stark. Her progression to CEO of Stark Industries was not a quick one but even then people speculated that she only got the job because of Stark’s fondness for her.
And it was true. He was fond of her. But that wasn’t why he made her the CEO in 2010. She was truly the most capable candidate with the most experience and highest qualifications. But most importantly, she had proven time and time again that she was trustworthy, something Tony valued her highly for.
They did get together not long after her promotion, which sent rumours flying. But neither of them cared that much what the paparazzi had to say. They needed to have good PR for the company, sure, but they didn’t have to believe anything that was said.
For a while, they had a good relationship. Tony put his all into being there for her. He dropped hundreds of thousands of dollars, maybe millions, to make Pepper happy. Anything she wanted, he would give her, even things she maybe didn’t want but Tony thought she might appreciate. They communicated openly and were honest with each other. But like every couple, they had their problems.
As Iron Man grew in popularity, so too did Tony Stark. As Tony Stark became more Iron Man, he became less involved in Stark Industries. When the Avengers formed, Pepper was happy that Tony finally had people he could talk to about the whole superhero thing. But then Tony became busier than ever, more traumatized, more hurt more often. Pepper worried herself sick over him constantly. His myriad of pre-existing issues intensified the more traumatic events he had to live through and she hated watching him suffer. Watching was a suffering on its own.
After the battle of Sokovia, when Tony broke his promise of toning down his obsession with the suits and when he accidentally built an evil robot that nearly destroyed the world, Pepper asked for a break. Nothing permanent. Just time apart to reflect and be alone.
Tony had resisted. Hard. He’d put his foot down, dragged his other foot behind him, and threw a tantrum when nothing else worked. That had been the last straw. Pepper didn’t want to marry someone who still had tantrums like a child.
So she packed up her things and left and Tony kicked himself until he was blue and broken. When he stopped to think about it, he picked himself back up and vowed to win her back. He threw himself into his work - not as Iron Man but as Tony Stark, owner of Stark Industries and major player in the clean energy sector and liaison between the U.S. government and the Avengers. He hoped that signing the Sokovia accords would relieve him of some of his duties as Iron Man, that maybe then Pepper would see that he was trying to compromise, to make it work... for her.
Natasha watched all of this with a careful and sneaky eye, never snooping too much but always prying a little more than strictly necessary. Her heart broke for Tony, who had nothing but good intentions and a desire to save the world and everyone in it. She knew better than anyone what it was like to try to redeem yourself. She also knew how people who got too close could hurt you the most and she sympathized. There had never been anyone after Alexei, never anyone who could even come close. Steve was her closest friend and confidant but even then she kept him at arm’s length. He was too good for her, anyway.
But Tony... Tony was a deeply flawed human being. He was broken in ways that Natasha wasn’t and vice versa. He was an addict. He could be so single-minded that it blinded him to anything else. He was impulsive. He was cocky.
Natasha was in love with him. And she couldn’t for the life of her understand why. It had been years - years - since Natasha had felt like this. But she was fascinated by him, utterly entranced. Nothing would please her more than to hug him and tell him that everything would be okay.
So she sided with him in the civil war to come. She had her own reasons too. But if she was being honest with herself, at least a small part of her just wanted to stand by his side and say, ‘I’m here for you’. He didn’t seem all that grateful, so wrapped up was he in his longing for Pepper.
Natasha knew, then, that whatever she felt for Tony would never come to fruition. Tony pined for a woman who complemented him in every way, a woman who was his polar opposite, a good woman with no shady pasts or murderous ways. A woman he could trust. If there was one thing to be said about Natasha that everyone agreed on, it was that she wasn’t very trustworthy.
In the end, she had proven that to Tony in the worst way possible by betraying him to side with Steve, the one man who had put all of his trust, all of his faith in her.
When the dust was still settling, after breaking the other Avengers out of the Raft, Natasha paid Tony one final visit to say good-bye and to apologize. She found him in his bedroom, two bottles deep into a stupor, one eye still back and blue and one arm still strung up in an awkward position. It struck her then, just how alone Tony must feel. His best friend was in the hospital recovering from being paralyzed, his girlfriend of four years had left him, the team he’d called a family abandoned him...
Natasha folded herself to climb through his window and he let her. What was the point in stopping her? He had nothing now. It had all back-fired in his face.
She sat on the floor next to him, cross-legged. For a while, they sat together in the darkness and said nothing. He continued to drink and all the while the room only smelled worse (which is why Natasha left the window open).
“I’m sorry,” she finally said. “For everything.” Her whispers seemed like screams in the silence.
Tony took a while to respond. “I should be angry,” he croaked, taking another swig. “But I can’t feel anything. I should hate you with my whole being. You betrayed me when I needed you most. I wish I could hate you. I want to hate you. But why can’t I?” He pondered this as he took yet another swig, finishing the bottle and then letting it roll away from him.
“You can,” she said quietly back and tugged her knees in towards her chest. “You should.”
He shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t because I understand why you did it and all it does is make me hate myself for putting you in that situation in the first place.”
“Tony...”
“Am I a horrible person?” He turned to look at her with sunken eyes, red-rimmed and watery. His head hung low, heavy with the weight of the world.
“No, Tony,” she assured and scooched closer. They sat with their backs against the end of the bed, their hips touching. “You’re just a man looking for redemption.”
He buried his face in his hands. “I thought I had it. For Christ’s sake, I thought I had it. I had the perfect girlfriend and I stopped my company from selling illegal arms to the enemy and I became a freaking superhero and I worked okay with the others and-” He was shaking.
Natasha hesitated. She wasn’t very good at this stuff. But she wanted to try. She slowly wrapped an arm around his shoulders and soothed him, rubbing his back and holding him close.
“Why are you here?” He asked suddenly, clamming up.
Natasha froze. “Me?” She repeated stupidly. “I, uh, I’m... I’m here to...” Her first instinct was to lie. But he didn’t deserve that. Not after everything. “I’m here to apologize.”
He gave her a disbelieving look.
“No, I’m serious. Look, watch.” She pulled back a little so she could more easily look him in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Tony. For everything. I never wanted to hurt you and Pepper was a fool to leave you, especially like this.” Too honest, she panicked. Too honest!
Tony merely blinked. “You think Pepper made a mistake?”
The hope in his eyes made Natasha’s gut sink. Nonetheless, she agreed. “Yeah.”
And then he was kissing her, warm lips pushing firmly against hers, clumsy hands pawing at her hair and his weight shifting to lean over her, to knock her over. She let him and they tumbled to the floor in a heap, toppling the other empty bottle and making it roll away. His breath reeked of alcohol but she didn’t mind.
It felt so good to be passionate like this. She had forgotten what it felt like not to fake it, to let it happen spontaneously, naturally. It was addicting, like inhaling a drug and feeling immediate effects. She opened her mouth to let in more, guided his hands to her hips, pulled him closer.
She didn’t stop to think because thinking would mean stopping and she didn’t want this to ever end. Whatever the consequences, she would deal with them. But for now she let herself enjoy this, let Tony have this. Together, they shared a night without regret or guilt, something they both sorely needed.
—————
Natasha woke up to a man she had pined over for years naked beneath her and playing with her hair.
“Morning, beautiful,” he said.
Her answering smile was so bright that it looked as if it made Tony’s hangover even worse. He kissed her anyway.
“Good morning,” she returned and snuggled closer, pulling him tighter and vowing never to let go. “How are you feeling?”
“In pain,” he replied honestly, “but happier. Just knowing that someone thinks it was Pepper who made the mistake and not me... It gave me a lot of my self-confidence back.”
“Oh,” said Natasha, wondering if she should be disappointed.
“You valued me,” he continued. He stared up at the ceiling as he spoke but he was most definitely speaking to her in an impossibly intimate sort of way. “And you had faith in me. Even when I fucked up, you had faith in me. And I... I can’t possibly begin to explain what that means to me.
“And you’ve shown me that there’s a world outside of Pepper. That if I don’t get her back I can still....”
Natasha wanted to say that she wouldn’t be his second choice. But she knew in her heart that she would. If he asked her, she would. Because she didn’t feel this way about anybody else and she didn’t deserve anyone at all, let alone this kind, generous, selfless man whose bed she was lying in.
Oblivious to her inner turmoil, Tony plowed on. “I still love her. I’ll always love her. And I’m not ready for anything else just yet. But tonight- er, last night... you helped me. I’ll remember that. Maybe someday I’ll be ready but-”
“I’ll wait,” she blurted, not registering that her brain and mouth didn’t seem to be communicating very well.
Tony shifted to get a better look at her. “You will? Cause I think someday I could be ready for whatever “this” is but not today. Someday. You’ll wait?”
Their eyes locked. In his, she saw only sincerity and a broken man whose fractures matched her own.
“I will,” she promised. “I’ll wait.”
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The Spring of Burning Forests: Chapter 6 (Geraskier)
🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵 🎵
Jaskier wants to write a bittersweet ballad about true love.
Geralt thinks he can make it better by adding a touch of gritty realism.
You can read the chapter on AO3.
For a full summary, see this post. Go here if you want to start from the first chapter.
Big thanks to @booichiboo, @sdmcburney, @goshdraws, Rita, @valdomarx, @carmillacarmine, @thelastsock, @geraskierficrecs ❤️ Dedicated to @variousnoises.
Updates every Sunday.
Here’s the first scene:
Nothing more than a glimmer of light, perhaps. It was not wise to assume anything prematurely. The next time he looked, the shadow was clearly there, as if mocking him. The sight should have calmed him down but didn’t.
As the empty fields gave way to picturesque hills and valleys, with narrow rivers running along winding paths, their moods shifted. The grass was long, the trees in full bloom, and the shade of green fresh and highly saturated.
Geralt didn’t like any of it.
All throughout the day he watched Aliya’s every move. She didn’t seem concerned. Jaskier, in contrast, ended up throwing glances his way with increasing frequency. He would look up when talking to Lianna, or suddenly find himself walking by Geralt, then moving away.
Finally, as they stopped to rest and eat, he settled on remaining within a safe, two-meter radius. Aliya promised to supply the food but then just happily chatted with Lianna, both lying in the grass at a fair distance, occasionally laughing. One would be forgiven for thinking they were traveling for pleasure.
‘What the fuck are we waiting for?’ Geralt asked as he sat by an old oak tree.
Although the question was rhetorical, he happened to direct it towards Jaskier, who was more than comfortable with their current situation.
‘Would it kill you to relax for a while?’ he asked, sounding more pleased than he wished to.
Finally sitting down, his legs exhausted from walking, he was leaning against a convenient tall bump in the grass, closing his eyes and breathing in the fresh air.
‘There’s even a breeze,’ Jaskier whispered, smiling to himself, content. ‘I’m sorry, Geralt, I know you want to be miserable, but this is motherfucking idyllic.’
Geralt rolled his eyes.
‘Are you rolling your eyes at me?’
‘You’re not even looking.’
‘I don’t have to look to know,’ he responded with glee, smirking, half-surprised to be right, eyes still closed.
Geralt smiled back, not something Jaskier could have predicted or seen.
‘That thing you’re leaning on…’
‘What about it?’
‘Nothing,’ he sighed. ‘There’s a tree, right here.’
Jaskier stood up and came by to sit close to him, treating it as an invitation. Geralt didn’t protest. The afternoon was so calming, even he was starting to feel a bit less on edge. The leaves were rustling above them, and the movement of the branches slowly swinging in the wind was oddly hypnotic.
Jaskier started strumming on his lute, trying to decide what to work on next.
‘I think I need a good love ballad. Some forbidden romance perhaps?’ He seemed enthusiastic about the idea.
‘Isn’t that a bit overdone?’ Geralt couldn’t stop himself, his enjoyment of their break was clearly increasing with every little jab at Jaskier.
‘Everything has been done before. I just have to avoid the clichés,’ he stated confidently, totally not discouraged.
‘So no tragic ending?’
‘And no happy ending either.’
‘That only leaves bittersweet.’
‘I suppose.’
‘What’s the obstacle?’
‘I don’t know. Social disapproval of some kind?’ Jaskier seemed unsure.
‘Hm.’ Geralt gave it a thought. ‘She’s an elf and he’s human?’
‘No, I think I should leave elves alone.’ He looked straight at Geralt and smiled. ‘What if he’s a witcher?’
Geralt just grunted in response, noticeably sceptical.
‘Well, it only makes sense. I know quite a bit about witchers already.’
‘Do you?’ Geralt seemed amused by that. ‘And what about her?’
‘What about her?’
‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘Nothing. She wants to be with him.’
‘But?’
‘But… it’s hard to get through to him. He is not exactly used to people showering him with care and attention.’ Jaskier seemed deep in thought for a minute. ‘There are some challenges there but… although he is a tough, obsessively self-sufficient loner, other people matter to him so much. Not that he would necessarily admit that. Ultimately, he just wants somebody who understands him, and values him for who he truly is. You know, somebody who can break through that bullshit veneer of indifference. Isn’t that how witchers are?’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
Jaskier just smiled, and continued, ignoring Geralt’s huffiness.
‘And she… she is sociable, very much unlike his reclusive self, has some, I don’t know.’ He went through a few ideas in his head before he lit up. ‘She’s a princess.’
Geralt grinned, clearly suppressing a laugh.
‘And why would a princess want a witcher?’
‘Well, he’s very… lovable.’
‘A lovable witcher? I’m not sure if I’ve ever met one.’
‘I’m sure everyone has, at some point. They’re around.’
‘Right.’ Geralt’s eyes narrowed. ‘Awkward that.’ He shook his head with disapproval. ‘No heir to the throne.’
‘No, and her father is terrified. He hates witchers.’
‘Won’t work.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s bullshit.’
‘Because…’
‘A witcher won’t sacrifice his peace of mind for some royal nonsense. Witchers like a simple life. She grew up believing social rank is all there is. What is he worth to her? They might spend one night together. He’s feeling lonely. She sees him as some… exotic oddity.’
‘What if she’s a bit unconventional? She doesn’t care for royal nonsense and appreciates he doesn’t either.’
‘Doesn’t she?’ Geralt seemed far from convinced.
‘She doesn’t. And she doesn’t care… I mean, she would be at least a little impressed with him as a witcher.’
‘Ah.’
‘No, but… she would actually appreciate him as a person.’
Geralt grunted, looking slightly suspicious, and still very much amused.
‘He probably saved her life and she thinks that means something,’ he said, casually.
‘Well, wouldn’t it?’
‘It’s a part of the job.’
‘Oh, is it?’
Geralt smiled. He was enjoying getting on Jaskier’s nerves a bit too much.
‘That depends,’ he added finally.
‘I guess it does,’ Jaskier agreed, reluctantly.
‘But it would still be stupid of them to go for it.’
‘And why would that be?’
‘There’s a viable prince somewhere. He is familiar with all the crap she grew up with, her family would approve. She’s just creating needless drama for herself, asking for pointless heartbreak.’
‘Not a single creative bone in your body. It’s a story, Geralt. Drama is the point.’
‘I don’t see it.’
‘It’s love.’
‘Hm… That excuse only works for a while.’
‘Bollocks… If you were writing ballads, they would end before they even started.’ He looked back at Geralt who just started calmly sharpening one of the short knives he kept in his belt. ‘Well, yes, of course, why am I surprised?’
Geralt was undeterred. He just looked up for a second, noting Aliya and Lianna were still sitting quite far away, focused entirely on each other, not a single glance their way.
‘The princess,’ Geralt continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm, ‘even at the height of love, would keep one eye on all she sacrificed to get there. All these palaces. All that comfort. Her family’s love. The gold. The admiration of common people. The blessed peace of mind.’ He pushed a sharpening stone across the edge of the dagger with every phrase. ‘There would be no great fights, just growing resentment, until it snaps, one day. Possibly over something trivial.’ He nodded, clearly pleased with both his conclusion to the story, and his sharpening job.
He weighed the knife in his hand. The blade was shining as it reflected the sunlight. He then cut through the grass, the movement was swift and efficient, a couple of wildflowers collapsed to the ground. He grunted, satisfied.
Jaskier looked strangely overwhelmed by that, his mouth gaping open.
‘I thought…’ he started, finally, ‘I thought we said no tragic ending.’
‘It’s not tragic. It’s normal. Bad decision-making does that. Maybe that’s the point of the story.’
‘No, that’s not the point.’
‘Gut feelings are not better than long term strategies.’
‘But you can’t just ignore…’
‘Believe me, you can.’ The statement came out a bit more aggressive than intended, which surprised them both.
Jaskier just stared at him, looking almost ready to give up. And yet, he couldn’t let go.
‘What if that’s what she wants?’ he asked, sounding surprisingly invested. ‘What if that’s exactly what she wants. I mean all of it. You are…’ He stopped and looked confused for a second. ‘You are… assuming so many things about her. Maybe it’s not a sacrifice for her at all. Perhaps, she is proud to be where she is. And maybe, just maybe, she didn’t feel that way at the royal bloody court. Maybe this is exactly who she is.’
‘She might think so. But that’s only because she has no clue. She grew up with her ass sat comfortably on a golden fucking pillow. He lived in the shit she’s now walking into his whole life.’ Although his words seemed heated, Geralt’s tone was matter-of-fact to the point of being unsettling. ‘It’s not easy being hated, sneered at and turned away,’ he added a moment later, somehow still sounding completely unbothered. ‘Not if you’re used to… applause. Not if you don’t have to.’
‘But…’ Jaskier was a bit uneasy but kept going. ‘They can still be happy. They don’t have to care what others think.’
‘Sure, they don’t have to care. Not until some random villagers shower them with stones.’
Jaskier looked away, frustrated.
‘But, Geralt, isn’t that exactly what makes it good? The story, I mean.’ He was annoyed with himself for feeling like he needed to clarify. ‘That is the point. She risks it all out of love. Because fuck these people. Because we are not like them. And they don’t dictate what we do. Your normal princesses can be happy with a prince but that’s not special, is it? By sticking to the rules, they are no better… they are contributing…’
‘I think you’re starting to mix your metaphors.’
‘I mean, of course, a normal princess doesn’t have to fight for it as much. She doesn’t have to sacrifice… her comforts. She’s going with what’s expected. It’s bloody boring and simple. The point is our princess pays a high price but it’s worth it precisely because she cares so much more. It’s worth so much for her, everything else pales in comparison. And if it fails, so what? It was the right thing to do. Witchers do not deserve to suffer for who they are. Both of them should fight for what they want. Otherwise nothing will ever change. It might be wonderful, the best thing that happened to them, even if it just lasts for a while.’ He noticed Geralt remained unimpressed. ‘It’s at least worth a try,’ he added, faintly.
‘Everyone suffers for who they are. That’s just life,’ Geralt stated simply.
It was clear he was getting bored with the conversation. He looked up and lost his focus. Jaskier followed his line of sight, and saw Aliya looking back at them.
‘Why do you keep staring at her?’ he asked, sounding hurt.
Geralt ignored him and Jaskier waved his hand in front of his face, annoyed.
‘Oh, come on, Geralt! I asked you… Isn’t it at least worth a try?’
‘Not really.’
‘Oh, and why is that?’
‘It’s short-sighted, selfish and greedy.’
‘Is that so?’
‘I don’t see why some frustrating bards are so set on romanticising impulsive behaviours.’
‘Well, life is both too long and too short to never…’ He looked back at Geralt, suddenly distracted by what he said. ‘No, they are not. They romanticise freedom and love.’
‘If that’s what you call it.’
‘Fuck, it’s like trying to explain colours to a blind person.’ Jaskier took a deep breath. ‘You must know what I mean.’
‘I know what you mean.’
They went silent for a moment. Jaskier looked like he was desperate to say something but hesitated.
‘Then…’ he said, finally, a glimmer of hope in his eyes.
‘The princess should wait. It will pass… like a bad cold.’
‘Oh, fuck you, Geralt.’
Geralt smiled to himself, feeling a tiny bit bad for Jaskier.
‘Look there.’
‘What?’ Jaskier was confused for a moment.
Geralt looked ahead, motioning towards Aliya and Lianna who were deep in conversation, looking perfectly harmless.
‘That’s where the real story is. As a specialist in narratives…’ He turned to Jaskier, rapidly changing the topic. ‘You should understand… if we die because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants, it would make for a very sad and disappointing story. How hard can it be…’ He stopped, looking slightly disoriented for a moment, and opened his mouth, ready to justify what he just said.
‘Ehm… Geralt? You’re getting a little carried away here,’ he smiled, chuckling slightly. ‘Why do you keep nagging me about this anyway? Nothing terrible has happened yet. On the contrary… Let’s admit it. Ever since we joined them, everything improved. Also, you said yes to this! And, may I remind you, you don’t exactly struggle with the idea of saying no to me.’
‘If only there was a quick and efficient way to keep this under control,’ he sighed, observing Lianna leaving Aliya in the grass and walking towards her bag. ‘Anything we could do to stop you behaving like a stray cat in the spring.’
‘Anything we could do?’ Jaskier found that amusing. ‘Do you know what you’re suggesting?’
‘I was thinking castration. What was your idea?’
‘Ah, that’s what you meant. Well… that’s probably for the best, Geralt. Because I do believe there is a good reason “quick” and “efficient” are not two words which feature in passionate love ballads very often.’
‘What does that have to do with anything?’
‘And you dare to call me frustrating.’
‘What’s going on?’ Lianna asked cheerfully as she approached them, seeing their conversation was getting livelier.
‘Nothing. Don’t pay attention to Geralt. Sometimes he likes to stab me and then really twist the knife. It gives his life meaning. I tend to indulge him.’
‘Jaskier was just explaining why he thinks the best sex is slow and inefficient.’ Geralt’s face lit up with a light grin.
‘You know…’ Jaskier was clearly annoyed now. ‘It doesn’t really cost me that much to put up with his nonsense. And it genuinely makes him happy.’
‘Slow is good!’, Lianna exclaimed, enthusiastically.
Geralt noticed Aliya suddenly started laughing. She was sitting too far away to be able to hear them talk.
He looked even more worried from then on.
Keep reading on AO3.
#geraskier#geraskier fanfiction#geraskier fandom#geraskier fanfic#geraskier fic#the witcher#the witcher fanfiction#the witcher fandom#the witcher fanfic#the witcher fic#geralt#witcher geralt#geralt of rivia#update#jaskier#julian alfred pankratz#geralt x jaskier#the witcher and the bard#my fic#my writing#love ballads#the witcher netflix#fanfic#fic#fanfiction#dandelion#gerlion#geralt x dandelion#original character#geralt x julian
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On Connecting with Starscream
So, true story:
The first time I tried to perform a ritual for Ghost Season, I had no idea what I was doing. None. Which makes sense, since I may have been the first person ever to attempt such a thing. I set up an altar on my apartment balcony using various things that felt “Starscreamian” to me, and when the night of August 22 arrived, I nervously cast my circle. I invited Starscream to enter into the circle, and… waited.
And waited.
For what, you might ask? Well, I have always had a sense of what his presence ‘feels’ like. It’s a little hard to describe, but I’ve made an attempt in the section below, titled Sensing Starscream’s Presence. I’ve included comments from a couple of other people who work with him so you can compare your experiences to ours and, perhaps, have some idea of what to expect.
In any case, I was getting nothing. Not a tingle, not a flicker, not a mental image; nothing. I began to feel ridiculous. Why was I sitting here in the dark waiting for a cartoon robot to speak to me? I’m pretty sure that’s not something normal people do. Not that I’ve ever aspired to be normal, but… well. It wasn’t working.
I packed up and went to bed, feeling embarrassed and ashamed. As I burrowed under the covers, though, a car roared past outside with an old AC/DC song blasting out the windows:
You told me to come, but I was already there.
For those who know that song, yes, I do realize that’s a slight misquote. But that’s how I heard the lyrics in that moment, and their message couldn’t have been clearer:
I am always with you. You don’t have to summon me.
For this message to have been delivered in a voice that’s always reminded me of Starscream’s made it seem incredibly personal and real. And yes, it’s wrapped up a double entendre. If you work with Starscream, you’ll likely discover his ribald sense of humor for yourself.
Why am I telling you this?
Because if you turned to this post wondering how to establish a connection with Starscream, this might be your answer. If you love him, he’s probably already with you. If you feel drawn to Starscream, admire him and would love a deeper connection, there's an excellent chance that he'd be open to working with you as well. If you've been having dreams about him or finding that he, or things you associate with him are ‘coincidentally’ popping up in your life, he may be reaching out to you.
If you’re still not sure, though, you can try this exercise:
Connection Excercise
Open your journal to a fresh page and give some thought to the questions below. You don’t have to answer all of them. Pick the ones that resonate, and write down whatever comes up:
★ Does Starscream provoke strong emotions in you (positive or negative)?
★ Does he show up in your dreams?
★ Do you daydream about him?
★ Are you inspired to create works that feature him, such as fanfic, fanart, cosplay, and so on?
★ Are there certain songs that remind you of Starscream?
★ Do you have favorite quotes by or about Starscream?
★ Do you, at times, catch yourself ‘talking’ to him in your inner dialogue?
★ Do you ever wish you could talk to him?
★ Do you identify with Starscream and see yourself in him? In what way(s)?
★ Have you taken on new interests because of him? (Example: jets.)
★ Do you imagine yourself as Starscream in some way, either physically (eg. Having null-rays, ability to fly), or in terms of your personality or life situation?
★ If you were part of the TF Universe, would you want to know him personally and be part of his life in some way?
★ Has he inspired your life in some way?
★ Have you changed how you dress (say, by wearing more red) because of him?
Those are just a few examples of the ways Starscream could be showing up in your life. You might think of others. If you do, note those down as well.
Now, you might be thinking these are simply examples of fannish obsession. You may even have found some of the questions embarrassing. That’s very natural. These questions touch on some very intimate, sensitive aspects of being a fan, and there’s good reason for that.
These questions are embarrassing because they bring up feelings of vulnerability. When we love something, we open ourselves to being hurt. The mockery that’s so often aimed at fans is motivated by people’s desire not to feel vulnerable themselves. They try make themselves feel safe by ridiculing others, but in doing so, they cut themselves off from the source of their own magick.
Yes, you read that right. Your magick, and your spiritual connection to Starscream, flows from that intimate space within. It’s that vulnerable, awkward, geeky place where you innocently, unabashedly adore a character and are totally obsessed with them. Treasure that place. It’s your inner temple. Guard it with care, because it’s where your magick resides.
But, you might be asking, are the ‘symptoms’ on this list actually signs of a spiritual connection? I’m going to say yes. I believe they are, and if you’re open to the possibility of deepening that connection, you can begin to make it a two-way street. Starscream is many things, but ‘shy’ is not one of them. He will show up if you make space for him, and the place where he’ll meet you is within the heart of your magick; your inner temple.
Sensing Starscream’s Presence
So what can you expect? What does Starscream’s presence feel like? It’s hard to give a definite answer, since everyone is different. Your experience will be your own, and in many ways incomparable to anyone else’s. In case it helps, though, I’ve included commentaries by three different people who work with Starscream, including yours truly, to give you an idea of what you might experience...
Starshadow writes:
I think I first became aware of [Starscream] as such while I was in high school. I was initially drawn to his character on the animated show, and at first that was all he was. But I quickly became intensely invested in his story, especially when I started to follow him in other media (comics, etc) as well. He became more to me, and began to transcend the stories and art presented. He literally seemed to take on a life of his own. I started to feel (and sometimes see) him in my dreams encouraging me and telling me to be strong.
His presence is distinctly strong. It sometimes borders on aggressive, but it is not threatening to me. I think he just has a particularly powerful presence. It's very fiery and passionate, which makes it distinct from other entities I sense which are more calm and protective. I will often "see" in my mind's eye his red eyes and wings as well when I feel he is near.
Occasionally [he communicates through] dreams, but much more often I will "hear" his "voice" in my mind, often giving advice and emotional input. As I mentioned before, he has from time to time actually yelled (screamed? ;)) at me, but only at times when I really needed it. Sometimes his colors will show up in combination and songs I associate with him will be played out of nowhere when he is taking a more subtle approach.
[My sense of his presence has] waned at times. For a while it seems like he is just hovering on the fringes, but he never completely goes away. His means of communication hasn't changed much though.
He has made me braver than I probably would have been. He is still working on my self-confidence, though. He's been back again recently encouraging me with that. He has also definitely influenced my creativity and aspirations. He has helped me be driven enough to pursue my desires for so long and explore creative work beyond the "traditional female" expectations.
He [also] does sometimes seem to share aspects with other entities I've communed with, like my [wolf guides]. He will almost seem to "combine" with them, or share their energy, and sometimes they with him. I haven't quite figured out why this happens or for what purpose yet, but I am very curious!
Dark Star of Chaos writes:
It’s no exaggeration to say I spent my whole life looking for Starscream. If you want to get technical I first “met” him as a kid watching Transformers Armada, but though he became my favorite character, that was all he was to me then: A character. I loved him, but what I really wanted at that time was an imaginary friend. Not a real one; an imaginary one. The catch was, I didn’t want to invent one. That, in my mind, was not how it worked. The imaginary friends in cartoons all interacted with their humans as though they were real, and that was what I wanted. I didn’t see how a thing invented from my own head could ever take on that kind of life.
When I was older - after Starscream had slipped off my radar - I came across a book called “The Fire Within”, about an aspiring author and his clay dragon Muse. That book, and those which followed, completely redefined what I was after. I wanted to be a part of this world of dragons and shamans, where words held magic and transdimensional aliens “commingled” (merged consciousnesses) with Earth creatures. And I wanted a Muse of my own; always just a thought away, and always ready with some flash of inspiration to offer.
Looking back on it, I don’t think it’s any coincidence that Starscream reappeared in my life within a few months of that series ending. Our reintroduction came via the original cartoon, and after only a few episodes - specifically, by the end of “Fire in the Sky” - I had already decided I had to write about him. I couldn’t say exactly when I began to perceive him as an entity separate from his cartoon portrayal, but when the idea was suggested to me, it didn’t sound strange or crazy. It sounded right.
Starscream’s energy has always been subtle for me. I’ve never had much luck “feeling” his presence, though I’ve come to trust that he’s there. I only have to talk to him to get proof of that, because he always replies. Sometimes there are words, but more often it’s emotions and concepts, and it can take a while for me to figure out what he means. He also appears in my dreams rather frequently, and we’ve had more than one “face-to-face” meeting that way.
His influence on my life, on the other hand, has been anything but subtle. In addition to inspiring me creatively, he helped me overcome embarrassment about sex, played a role in my moving from a small desert town to a big city, and most recently, he’s come down on me about my abysmal self-care habits. He can be pushy sometimes, but it’s never harsh, and I always end up happier for having listened to him.
In short, Starscream is the friend and Muse I’d been searching for all those years, and I’m endlessly grateful for his presence in my life. After all, how many people get to make dreams of magick a reality?
Grayseeker writes:
I first became aware of Starscream’s presence when I got a call from work asking me to come in, even though it was my night off. The idea of going in made me sick, but I felt I had to. It wasn’t just that I was afraid of getting fired; I also had a strong impulse to obey authority figures. I didn’t know how to say no. But on that particular night, a voice spoke inside my mind:
You don't have to do anything you don't want to.
It was a voice I recognized, and the words were accompanied by what I can only describe as a ‘feeling image’ of myself as a sovereign being with full authority over my own life. I didn’t have to do anything I didn’t want to, and I didn’t go in to work that night. I told my supervisor I’d had some drinks (untrue, but effective) and after that, they stopped calling me on my nights off. Maybe they sensed that something in me had changed. It had.
I believe Starscream has always been with me, but that incident, over three decades ago, is the moment I became consciously aware of his presence. My sense of him has remained pretty consistent over time. I still ‘hear’ him as a voice inside my head. Usually it’s just a few words, but they’re always imbued with a sense of meaning that goes beyond the words themselves. I also get physical sensations, such as warmth or tingling, emotional communication (which is hard to describe!), dreams and synchronicities, usually involving numbers, colors, and/or song lyrics.
To me, Starscream’s presence feels warm, welcoming, comforting, affectionate, and… amused. His communications with me are typically laced with a certain wry humor, and the observations he makes are often phrased in sardonic, even sarcastic terms, though they’re somehow never hurtful. I always feel the warmth behind them, and they make me feel loved. I always feel like he’s on my side, even when he’s pointing out ways that I could improve.
On very rare occasions, he will get serious. That’s when I know to pay extra attention, because it usually means there’s some danger to me, or that I’m venturing into territory that isn’t healthy. I’ve learned (the hard way!) that he’s always right. He’s immensely wise, and I’ve learned to listen when he says ‘no.’ He doesn’t say it often, and he always has a good reason.
Starscream has influenced my life in countless ways. He’s my creative Muse, and has been the impetus for my desire to write. He’s also my main guide, my teacher and spiritual awakener. I think of him as more a friend, and more than family. I love, trust and respect him, and feel that I receive the same in return. I hope these words will find their way to someone who is starting on the same path, or a similar one. If I can offer any reassurance or inspiration, perhaps it’s just to say trust you heart. I’m glad I trusted mine.
I know he’s sad because he couldn’t blow up the Earth, but kinda want to hug him anyway...
A Few Last Thoughts
You might be wondering how to make sense of all this. In particular, you may wonder how to distinguish what’s real from what’s a product of your imagination. And what am I trying to say, anyway? Am I, in fact, suggesting that Starscream is real?
Why yes, I am. Now before you decide that I'm nuts and walk away, let me explain what I mean. I am not necessarily implying that Starscream is a physical entity. I'm not saying that if you were to hop into a really fast spaceship and fly far enough and in the right direction, you would arrive at a metallic world named Cybertron, populated by living robots who are able to transform into various types of vehicles and other machines, and that among those Cybertronian entities you would find an individual named Starscream.
Of course, I'm not ruling that out, either. Our universe is too vast and strange to rule out much of anything. But what I am saying, based on several decades of personal experience, is that there is a real, non-physical entity named Starscream, with whom it's possible to communicate and have real interactions.
Can I prove this? Nope! There is no tangible, objective phenomenon I could point to as "proof" of his existence, but for me, that's beside the point. I feel Starscream as a constant presence in my life. He is my guide, teacher, healer and dearest friend, and his impact on my life has been very real indeed. I hope that the personal examples given above will provide a starting point for you to begin having your own experiences, if you desire them, and that your relationship with Starscream will be as rewarding as mine has always been.
Blessed be,
Grayseeker
#starscream#starscream spirit guide#pop culture spirituality#pop culture paganism#pop culture spirit guides#spiritual connection#spirit contact#spiritualjourney#Spiritual practice
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The Bowers Gang: Ship #8 - Belch Huggins
Request: I’m really tiny like REALLY. I’m 5’ feet (or 154cm I don’t know if the inches are correct). I’m redhead but not a true one because I dye them. I wear a lot of bands shirts or horror movies ones, and a lot of high waist skirts or dresses with belt and chains and a black hat all the time. My shoes are platforms from the new rock brand and sometimes I wear Santiag but it’s really rare. I always have a leather chocker around my neck with spikes on it. Peoples call me dog because of that but I don’t care because I feel good with it. I wear A TON of makeup (only because I love makeup so fucking much), and that’s usually black lipstick with red eyeshadow and eyeliner that’s all. I also have tattoos on my right tight and on my left arm. I literally can’t live without music and my favs bands are Aerosmith, Guns N’ Roses and Slash. That’s so basic I know, but I love them and I always want to dance and sing when I listen to their song, because they makes me feel so happy. I also love witchcraft and paranormal. I do believe so much in magic and ghosts and I love to walk around old abandonned places and talk about ghosts, aliens, demons ect, because for me it’s so fascinating and interesting. I’ve already played Ouija and it worked and I freaked out but loved it. Peoples think I’m a witch actually but I’m ok with that. I love watching horror movies so much, but I hate blood and gore, wich is pretty contradictory I know. I’m also scared easy even if I love all theses witchy/paranormal stuffs. Last thing is : I’m getting angry REALLY (too much) fast, and that’s a big problem because I have so many issues because of this. I do cry so much too because anger makes me cry and shake but I do love cuddles so much (not all the time but that feel good sometime to have someone who can give you hugs, that warm your heart). I do a lot of sex jokes too and my friends hates me for that but hey, it’s funny.
All the guys were attracted to you at some point, because they’re each turned on by different aspects of your style (Henry by your makeup, Patrick by your red hair, and Victor by your skirts/dresses)
But Belch (who knew he had to have you the second he saw just one of your epic band t-shirts) wound up coming out on top, because he’s the only member of The Bowers Gang with a proper respect for the greats
The greats being Axl Rose, Saul Hudson, and Steven Tyler
All the other guys might pretend to be metal-heads (because bad boy aesthetic), but Belch is the only one who legitimately deserves the title
Seriously - he’s never more confident than he is when he’s talking about his music obsessions (i.e. rock, metal, and the development of those genres), and you’re one of the very few people in the world who ever gets to see him like that
Belch dominates the floor talking-wise, and his entire body language changes; for just a few minutes, he seems to lose all pretense of being meek or uncertain
Aka: You get to meet confident Belch who knows what he’s talking about, and that’s a friggin’ miracle
You guys have insanely long, thorough debates as to which current bands should be considered “real” rock bands
These talks can last for hours at a time (because you’re both just passionate like that), and tend to take place around Belch’s kitchen bar
The two of you just sit on your stools (next to each other, like the adorable humans you are) and crack open beer after beer, completely losing track of time listening to each other’s rants
Usually neither of you notice how long you’ve been talking until the sun starts to set through the kitchen window - you’re just that into what one another is saying
Belch shows you his vinyl collection (over 500 records, all alphabetized)
This is great because 1.) that collection is Huggins’ pride and joy, which means you’re definitely his person if he wanted you to see it, and 2.) because everything sounds better on vinyl, and you never knew it until he showed you
You come over to Belch’s place almost every day after initially finding this out, because you need that ear-sex feeling of the music pulsing all around you (*Steven Tyler’s voice pulsing all around you* - definitely a mood)
... And Belch honestly loves it, because watching you dance around his bedroom is literally the highlight of his life
It was hard to get him to dance along with you the first few times you asked (he would just do a few awkward, timid movements before laughing and sitting down) but he now does it with you almost all the time
And when Huggins dances... he dances hard
We’re talking the robot, the sprinkler, everything
... Which you’ve explained to him are not moves that should be done when listening to death-metal, but he just keeps saying he “knows you love it,” and persists in doing those moves
... You do kind of love it, though
What can I say? You’ve led the man to his free spirit (and the world thanks you for doing so)
Belch also takes you to some well-known sites around town that are famous for tragedy (The Black Spot, the Ironworks Factory, etc.) so you can do paranormal investigations there
He actually almost took you to the Neibolt house once on Patrick’s suggestion, but decided to back out at the last minute because it was a Hockstetter idea
... Yeah, even Belch knows better than to trust Patrick with his physical well-being
Typically all the guys tag along for these paranormal activity trips though, because even though Belch wants to look tough for his girl, he doesn’t like the idea of scrapping with ghosties by himself
... It’s truly a hilarious sight to see
Ghost-hunting missions typically entail you and Patrick being at the front of the pack (you trying to “make contact” as Patrick actively fucks with your process) while the rest of the guys trail lazily behind you
Henry complains at least once every 3 minutes (”my fuckin’ legs hurt”/”why are we still out here” x10), Victor looks quietly at the scenery, and Belch just tries to look brave (but can’t hide how hard he’s listening to whether or not anything responds to your prompts - he’s silently praying nothing does)
Sometimes things do come through though, and it changes the atmosphere for everybody
... that is, everybody except for Patrick (who would refuse to believe in the occult even if he was levitated by Casper)
All arguing/off-handed banter comes to a stop, and the guys act way more on edge for the rest of the night
Typically involves a lot of mildly nervous looks around on Victor’s part, and flinching in response to loud noises on Henry’s - Belch is a combination of both
After close encounters like these, you all tend to walk back to the car in a much tighter group than before
Henry and Victor press in on the sides, and no one says a word
... Except for Patrick, who makes joke after joke about how big of pussies you all are, and challenges all demons in the near vicinity to fight him
He’s never been fought, but it sends you all into a frenzy of “shut up!” every time
All the guys love that they don’t have to change their regular movie aesthetic for you
Literally everything they ever watch is some type of horror, so you’ve never been more well-suited to a group of people
They don’t sit down and really watch things together very often, but they usually have a horror movie and/or violent TV show on to serve as background noise for their conversations (”Tales from the Crypt,” ”Friday the 13th” re-runs, etc.)
Regardless of whether or not you’re with the guys though, Belch always covers your eyes when he knows the next scene of the movie that you’re watching is about to be especially gory
...Seriously.
The dude physically covers your eyes.
He even flung himself across a room once (in front of the gang and everything) just to child-proof your vision before you could see the fish hook scene in “Hellraiser”
Mostly because he knows you don’t like gore, and he tends to remember when it’s about to happen at the very last second - it’s all our teddy bear can think to do to save your innocence
Now, bro - it’s totally fine that you have a temper
I can’t imagine where that would be less of a problem
Even though Belch tries hard to keep you feeling calm and collected (because he just cares about your inner peace), he’s low-key enthralled by the way you look when you’re angry
... And all the other guys just find it entertaining as hell, because they’ve never met a 5-foot powerhouse such as yourself
You get into arguments often, though.
...Often.
So often, in fact, that the guys eventually stopped letting you finish.
They tend to let you go back and forth with people you’re arguing with for a while, but if it becomes obvious that you’re not really going to fight the person, they eventually decide to move on with their day...
... at which point either Henry or Patrick will pull you away by your choker.
... Yes, by your choker. Like you’re a little dog.
Patrick did it first (”Come on, killer! We’ll find you some other crotch to bite later.” *Annoyingly satisfied Hockstetter cackle*), and Henry just followed suit afterwards.
It’s a thing now; you’ll have to accept that.
Belch gives you the best cuddles that have ever been cuddled
Seriously - because of your size, you can curl up on his gargantuan male body like a cat
Pick any cuddle position - you guys can cuddle it better than hibernating bear cubs
And you’re high-key cuter to watch, too, because your love for one another just rolls off of you both in waves
Just so wholesome, and so very adorable
Overall, you fit into the group well, and cultivate a refreshingly genuine connection with Belch
He gets to be who he really is with you, and that means more to him than anything
#henry bowers#patrick hockstetter#belch huggins#victor criss#The Bowers Gang#the bowers gang headcanons#it
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