c o n c e i t . @lvment - Tumblr Blog

harry:

“hm? oh, nothing.” he knows better than to open that can of worms. sooner or later, he and flash would have to have an actual conversation about their memories, but not yet. harry is used to being the one in control – the person with all the answers, and now he’s so … well, the opposite. he’s all too eager to change the topic when they return to their innocent flirting. “of course i think you’re cute. i wouldn’t hook up with someone who isn’t cute.” his usual smug look returns as he reaches a hand out to cup one of flash’s cheeks. “and how about me? am i cute?” he’s joking, sort of.

horny jail is an appropriate phrase for whatever they’re doing. “you never answered my question.” he pulls his phone out of his back pocket and starts composing a text message. “but i’ve gone ahead and decided on the picnic. i’ll let the caterer know.” once the message is sent, he slides his phone back into his pocket and motions toward the limousine that’s just pulled up for them. “shall we?”

“nothing, huh? you trying to add mysterious to your perks?“ soon as harry flicks the dynamic from nebulous to the usual push-pull flirtation it’s too easy for flash to meet that energy. he doesn’t feel he’s on comfortable enough footing to dig too deep. whatever he and harry have going on -- it feels paper thin. flimsy. like if flash makes a misstep it’ll tear. “so i passed the shallow looks test?” he turns his face into harry’s palm and parts his lips, dragging his mouth up the lifeline of harry’s hand and stopping at the base of the thumb, words muffled against skin. “cute doesn’t fit you. hot, maybe.”

he nips at the skin before finally stepping back and turning on his heel. “bossy. but picnic works.” he wanders back to the entryway and toes his shoes back on. “picnic in the park, huh? that’s in public. better practice keeping your hands to yourself.” the look flash throws over his shoulder is brimming with laughter. whatever this is -- it’s fun. flash is used to getting his way. working for it is something new. “let’s shall then.”

#muse: flash #opp: harry

maya:

“i can promise you, i need no long term evidence that i saw you in a bathing suit.” she signed, mimicking his speech pattern alongside it, an unimpressed yet jokey expression littering her features. she had only really come because she was melting in the heat and had nothing better to do, but she supposed a little socialisation wouldn’t be the death of her.

“besides, don’t you want the sun blocked? i’ve had enough of it to last a life time.”

soon as she starts signing with her hands flash has to smother down a spike of panic. he took a class in high school, but put on the spot all he can scrounge up is a sloppily signed ‘sorry’ and hopes she can read lips when he enunciates, “i’m not fluent.“

he only manages to pick up ‘sun blocked’ and ‘life time’ and he hopes he gets enough of what she’s trying to communicate right when he admits, “i’ve been mostly indoors for months. not all of us have your naturally gorgeous skin color. i have to kinda burn for mine.”

#muse: flash #opp: maya

remus:

his mouth opens and snaps shut at that, trying to not let it bother him. he knows james doesn’t mean it in a bad way, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t twist something low in his stomach. the constant worry of being too much is usually pushed down, but now it threatens to rear it’s ugly head before he is distracted by the mention of a rat — and james outright lying to him.

remus listens, quietly, and steps down from the bed. the more his best friend talks, the more sure he is of the lie. it’s not that james is bad at it per se, it’s just that remus has heard him rambling like this before, which is why it’s easy to understand he isn’t telling the truth. the chase comes to a single question: why?

when he’s called on it, the words are what finally makes remus frown, ends of his lips turning downwards, an open expression of hurt on his face. how can james say that to him? “that’s not how it works! weren’t you the one who told me i was not a ‘me’ problem — why are you being such a hypocrite?” he remembers very similar words falling from his own mouth years ago, and how james convinced him it was not the truth.

after a moment of him trying not to get more heated, he continues, hands clenching to fists by his sides. “what the hell, james? is someone hurting you?”

hypocrite. soon as remus throws that insult out in the open it’s knee-jerk instinct to go on the defensive. “so it works the same way every time? for every problem? i can’t keep any fucking secret to myself?“ his fists clench, his shoulders tense, and james heaves a breath and breaks eye contact, gaze flicking sharply to the window.

he wants to leave. but where do you go if it’s your roommate and best friend you want to run away from?

“i just --” he starts to pace. when remus insinuates he’s being hurt -- james jolts and stops mid-step, but still can’t bring himself to look at him. “i’m fine. seriously. it’s not that big a deal. not like your thing.” when he finally turns to face remus his face is flushed. “are you going to force it out of me? i’m not ready.” with all remus has to deal with? james doesn’t want to pile on his own issues on top of it.

#muse: james #opp: remus

wrong-person-deactivated2020051

closed starter for james potter / @lvment

with a knock on the door, heather quickly rearranged her arm placement to make sure she kept everything in her grasp. between the camera, a small ring light, makeup and hair products it was all a lot for someone to bring by. but heather was determined and also maybe didn’t realize how long james’ place was from the subway. “ james ! ” she called out, her voice light with only a slight panic to her tone. “ please let me in or i just might drop all of my important items, and that would be on you! the fans would be so mad. ”

lvment

there’s the rattling of a latch then the click of a lock before the door opens. “hey, you.“ he blocks the doorway for a moment, one eyebrow cocking up as he takes in all the equipment piled in her arms. “i mean -- can’t piss off the fans. some of them are a little intense.”

he plucks the camera and ring light and turns to carry them inside. “so are we doing this in the living room or my bedroom? i cleaned out both so the choice is all yours. but not sure -- what do you call your fans again? anyway. them. not sure if they’ll be cool seeing you in a man’s bedroom. i know you like to keep up the pretense of being single and dateable so they throw you more money.”

#muse: james #opp: heather

grace:

Grace had a couple of hours without any clients and frankly she was getting a bit stir crazy in her office. So she took her lunch and some files and headed to the park sitting on a bench. Thinking no one was around she was free to sing along to her music, even so much as using her fork as a microphone at really important moments.

It wasn’t until James spoke up did Grace realize that she wasn’t alone. “Jesus James.” She said with a start, trying not to drop everything from her lap. “You need to wear a bell or something.” Grace laughed, trying to calm herself down. “Sorry to be distracting, clearly I didn’t see you there. But absolutely please tell me what you have there.”

“a bell? like a cat or something?“ james laughs, not bothering to restrain the volume and it earns them a few looks. they’re comfortable enough friends that he’s able to joke, “i save roleplaying for the bedroom, grace.“

he makes of show of getting comfortable next to her on the bench. licks his thumb and smooths his eyebrows down, flicking the moleskin notebook open then clearing his throat to read, “she doesn’t realize all the faces turned toward her. doesn’t notice how she’s caught the eyes and ears of this hard to please new york crowd as she sings over traffic and conversation. new york’s own songbird, it’s golden feathered nightingale.“ smiling, he rips the page out and hands it to her.

“didn’t know you could sing that good.“

#muse: james #opp: grace

rey:

they’re sitting on a bench on their lunch break when a voice comes out of nowhere and makes them jump. rey had chosen a spot in the middle of nowhere for a reason : to avoid having to encounter anyone else. this man, however, piques rey’s interest once he explains himself. “you wrote about me?” brow arches as they toss a half-eaten sandwich back into a brown paper bag and turn to face the man. “it better not be bad,” they say with a hint of a smile on their lips.

james reads from his notebook, pointer finger moving under the words as he raises his voice for them to hear. “it’s the ones that make an effort to be overlooked that guard the most secrets. in a city of constantly moving parts they stand steady, a solid rock in a steady stream. what will it take for them to finally dislodge from this safe space and challenge what they’re hiding from head on?“

flicking his notebook shut, he asks, “does that sound at least a little bit like you?”

#muse: james #opp: rey

caitlyn:

“a charmer, okay.” caitlyn turned their head to the side as they laughed in an attempt to hide their blush; keep it cool, cailtyn her brain promptly reminded her before she turned back. the brush of their shoulders earned another soft chuckle from the blue-haired of the pair and she took a tentative look around them to assess the options.

“i’ll take your word for it, but i’ve only managed to master beans on toast right now, and i think if i eat it again today i might go mad. do you like take out? my treat, considering i dragged you all the way out here. or, we can always test your kraft mac and cheese now?”

“so you think i’m charming?“ she draws the last word out -- the smile she can’t quite wipe from her face warming her voice as she says it.

there’s a clear disregard for personal space as she walks close enough for their arms to occasionally brush. if confronted she’ll blame the crowded sidewalk. “i’ve never had beans on toast. isn’t that a european thing? so do you just, i dunno, toast bread then pile beans on it?” a group of drunks veer a little too close and vi guides caitlyn out of the way with a hand to her lower back “but, sure. take-out works today, then we can schedule the mac and cheese for interview number two if you’ve got more questions.“

#muse: vi #opp: caitlyn

deena:

Deena was no stranger to being cold, it didn’t happen often but sometimes her dad would drink away money intended for the bills and Deena would have to gather enough cash to cover the heating. This weather was so so much worse though. With pizza in hand, even splurging on extra so they don’t have to go out during the storm, Deena entered the apartment relieved to find a fire already started.

“Hey my doctor drink just might end up saving us all in this weather.” Deena laughed. “I dare not come home empty handed. I even bought extra, my treat. I don’t know about pizza being flammable but I heard that you can set Doritos on fire and it can last a long while.”

vi shuffle-slides on her socks to the kitchen and collects a mismatched pair of plates and two mugs with anime characters on them. “i dunno. if it tastes as bad as i remember i might just melt some snow to drink.“ she sets the plates on the floor and fills the mugs with dr. pepper, waiting a beat for the carbonation to fizzle down before taking a sip. “eugh. blegh. this shit tastes like the medicine they give kids.”

she makes grabby hands at the pizza. “gimme gimme. i need to wash the taste from my mouth, deens.”

#muse: vi #opp: deena

akira:

akira hums, taking a sip of his own drink as he watches the other. ends of his lips are turned upwards a smirk as he nods, gesturing agreement with the flick of an open palm. “of course, no fun at all. you know-” he begins, then cuts himself short, the expression on his face turning solemn for a moment. the mention of cards flashes the memory of sae’s casino, her ridiculous games, how akechi had saved them with a careful shot, when he was… the prince. then the interrogation — unconsciously, his face twists before he cuts that line of thought, shaking his head quickly.

“never mind.” the joker lets out, slipping on that mask easily, locking away the unwanted memories, not wanting to bring them up or force akechi to remember now. the way the other looks at him, playful and direct, with his words always hiding something underneath; it makes something flutter in akira’s chest and he cannot help but let out a laugh, a genuine one this time. “i’m always having fun when i’m with you, goro.” he slips his first name, both a term of endearment as well as another demonstration of pushing his buttons. “i doubt i’d ever get bored but- i understand. i suppose i’m not too much of an open book myself.”

it’s easy to obscure details in the shadow and smoke of the bar. both their faces flicker in and out of clear view, but he doesn’t need akira in sharp perspective to read his expression. despite their similar nature of holding secrets close to their chest -- akira does have tells. that sudden abandoning of a train of thought is unlike him, but akechi chooses not to comment or tease.

he wonders what sort of unpleasantness akira is trying to keep from him now. that self-sacrificial nature is something akechi loves and absolutely detests about this man.

“having fun already?“ the sound of akira’s genuine laughter gently eases a pleasant fondness to settle slowly, warmly in his chest. “but i’ve hardly done anything yet. you’re too easily pleased--” lowering his voice and hooding his eyes he enunciates, “kurusu-kun.”

#muse: akechi #opp: akira

rhapsodiq

NOCTIS & PROMPTO ( @lvment )

the campus is scalding hot, and the moment he leaves the economics building, he can feel himself sweating. he can’t remember the last time they had a heatwave this terrible, and he mentally curses himself for not taking the car. he misses the well-ventilated, cool atmosphere of the classroom terribly, and dreads the commute back home.

with a mask and a bucket hat, he’s basically unrecognizable but sweating even more as he takes the subway, leaning against the doors as he tries to will the minutes away. it takes him another half an hour to make it back to their penthouse, and the moment he enters the code and steps inside, he groans at the change of temperature.

“prompt’? are you home?” he whines, and manages to toe his shoes off and take off his mask and hat before falling on the couch, head buried in a pillow. his shirt sticks to his back, and with how the ac is blowing, he is probably going to get sick- but it feels so nice after twenty minutes in the subway with no working ac, he can’t get himself to get up and shower.

once he hears footsteps coming his way, he lifts his head slightly to speak. “i f’cking hate the heat… how come you have no classes today?”

lvment

“who said i didn’t have class?“

prompto slides a wrapped popsicle down the back of his friend’s neck, tracing the knobby bumps of noctis’ spine before offering it out. “all that’s left is pineapple, sorry.” despite the apology there’s a clear lack of remorse in his chipper tone. “i ate five of the cherry ones. we’re gonna have to buy more.” he puckers his red dye stained mouth and blows a kiss.

positioning himself on the floor he further explains, “was too hot outside so i skipped. i mean -- i’m coasting just fine on a B average. not all of us have to flex about who has the highest gpa at parties.”

#muse: prompto #opp: noctis