#I can’t tag crow because he is not in the scene

[soaringonblackwings]

Returning to the Nest (excerpt)

-

“Does Crow know about your little plan to try and woo him?” Harald asked giving his energetic friend a stern look.

“Well….” His noncommittal response was all Harald needed for an answer.

“Geez, Brave there you go, jumping the gun.” Harald heaved a sigh. “At least tell Crow so he can help you with your move.”

“I will come up with something. There is plenty of time.” Brave says. “There is one thing I want to make sure of before leaving.”

Harald and Dragan both noticed the serious look on Brave’s face.

“Go on.” Harald gestured for Brave to continue.

“If things don’t work out, I just want to know if I have a place here to come back too….” Brave voiced his question.

So this is what has been bothering him lately? Was he afraid they would just never accept him back if he were to leave? That would explain why he’s been acting so weird since Crow announced his departure.

Brave never had a place to return home to. His hometown had no one waiting for him to come back. It was easy to leave and never return. He’s been moving from place to place never looking back until he happened upon the orphaned kids. It was then when he realized that maybe being a lone-wolf wasn’t what he truly wanted. The feeling only grew when he teamed up with Harald and Dragan. They were his family. Now, that he wanted to try and be with Crow, he was worried about losing them.

“Brave, you will always have a place to return to here.” Harald softly says. Dragan nods.

“Thanks! You guys are the best!” Brave runs over and wraps his arms around both of them.

He excused himself to his room and pulled out his phone. As much as he would like to just surprise Crow, it would be best to let him know. Brave wanted to show Crow he was a serious person and would be a great romantic prospect. He began typing.

Brave: After the tournament I’m thinking of moving to Neo Domino City.

[trevisos]

got sick and had to play this scene again

[chubby-bun-bun]

untitled (part 5)

You rope the busy businessman into enjoying the holiday spirit.

nav: one, two, three, four, five (current), six or: read on ao3

tags: sylus x reader, an au where you're an average citizen, slow burn, fluff, your shot's smoother than stephen curry's

“You set me up,” you accuse, pointing a finger at the culprit before you.

Your midnight-feathered companion merely squawks in your face.

Frowning, you scoop the garnet-eyed traitor into your arms. Try as you might, you can’t resist stroking its feathers, the soft, silky texture effectively subduing your vexation. The bird settles comfortably in your hold, pecking at some lint on your shirt.

Are you still plagued by your embarrassing encounter with the red-eyed Apollo of a man in the park last week?

Absolutely.

Are you being unfair by taking it out on an innocent animal?

You drop your face into your hands with a dejected sigh.

It’s the eve of the Frostlight holiday, and you’ve decided to visit one of the places you hold a lifetime voucher for—a quaint little coffee shop tucked away in a shopping district alley. Aside from wanting to shake off the holiday blues, worsened by the eerie quiet of your undecorated house (save for the tiny Frostlight tree your brother gave you as a gag gift on your fifteenth birthday), you’ve been eager to check out the place after its recent renovations.

You’d been enjoying the shop’s new seasonal latte, sitting at one of the outdoor tables, when the familiar sound of cawing reached your ears. Before you could look for the source, a blur of black feathers descended gracefully onto your tabletop, a tiny red gem bead clutched in its beak.

Normally, your friend’s surprise appearance would brighten your mood. But as the events of last week played out again in your mind, you couldn't help but launch into a one-sided tirade about how your little tag game with the bird had unfolded that night.

“He said his name was Sylus—he was so handsome,” you groan, idly tracing the condensation on your cup. “And such a gentleman, too! And I tripped over him.”

The crow pecks at the stack of tissues on your table.

“But he was bleeding,” you continue, your gaze drifting to your straw, now bent and chewed. “He looked really hurt. I tried to help him, but then he just stood up—like nothing happened!”

It abandons the tissues, opting instead to preen its feathers.

“Do you think it could’ve been his Evol?” you wonder. “If it was, that’s so cool. And really convenient, don’t you think?”

You glance down at your companion, only to find it engrossed in cleaning its glossy plumage, its blatant disregard for your monologue clear.

You huff.

Deciding to leave the bird to its own business, you let your gaze wander to the other shops.

Because it’s the eve of a well-awaited holiday, the shopping district is alive with activity. The booths are adorned with warm white lights, accented by the sparkle of colorful fairy lights. Even from a distance, the aroma of cookies, hot chocolate, and assorted pastries wafts through the air. At the heart of the district where the streets converge stands a towering Frostlight tree, its meticulously arranged decorations glimmering under the festive lights. Decorative wrapped presents are nestled beneath its branches, and a brilliant star crowns the top, casting a warm, radiant glow over the lively scene.

The crowd is a bustling mix: parents paying at booths, teenagers laughing boisterously in groups, children darting around with unchecked energy, pets drawing clusters of admirers… and a familiar, silver-haired man standing by a stall, his towering presence capturing the awe-struck attention of passersby.

You blink.

Before you even realize it, you're on your feet,  weaving through the crowd—nearly tripping over a couple of kids—until you finally reach the stall.

Breathless from your short dash, you rise onto your tippy toes and tap him on the shoulder.

He turns around, brows furrowed as he glances left and right, before finally looking down.

“Sylus, hi!” you blurt out, a toothy grin plastered on your face.

You're pleased to catch the surprise flicker in his eyes.

"Sweetie," he greets, the faintest tug of a smile playing at his lips. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“I was in the area trying this new latte...” you trail off, glancing down, only to realize your hands are empty.

You must’ve left it at the table, along with your little crow. 

You look back up at him sheepishly. (You send a half-hearted mental apology to the abandoned drink and bird.)

“New latte, huh?” he says, lips curling up into a smirk.

You realize his eyes are a beautiful, bright scarlet under the light.

“What about you? What are you doing here?” you ask, eyes curiously trailing over his dark button-up dress shirt. The sleeves are rolled up neatly, revealing toned forearms, the fabric adorned with slashes of deep red embroidery.

Sylus pauses. “Just… handling some business,” he replies, vaguely gesturing to the stall behind him. Around it, several well-built men in black attire and face masks move about—some standing idle, others murmuring in low voices, and a few weaving in and out of the stall's shadowy depths.

Your gaze shifts past them, landing on the vibrant display of oranges, clementines, pomegranates, figs, and other fruits neatly arranged in wooden crates.

“Oh! You own a fruit business?” you exclaim, your face lighting up with excitement.

You miss the slight grimace crossing his face.

“How lovely!” you say, already fishing for your wallet. “Allow me to support such a wholesome endeavor. I’d like two bags of pomegranates, please.”

A brief silence lingers between him and the nearby men. Then, he chuckles, flicking a finger over his shoulder. Two of them—smaller and seemingly younger than the rest, each sporting identical curls—exchange a quick glance before grabbing paper bags and clumsily filling them with pomegranates.

“Here you go,” one of them says with a bow, handing you his bag.

“The freshest of the season!” the other adds cheerily, offering his own.

You accept the bags graciously, about to hand over your payment, when Sylus raises a hand. “On the house,” he tells you, eyes gleaming with amusement.

You hesitate. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” he replies, gaze roving over your form with a slight smile. “A holiday gift, if you will.”

You take in how striking he looks beneath the soft glow of the lights, his presence almost ethereal against the lively backdrop.

It’s then you realize you only have one life to live. Life is too short for regrets, and you miss 100% of the shots you don’t take. That fortune favors the bold, and that you either go big or you go home.

And so, with a deep inhale to steel your nerves, you seize the moment.

“Sylus, would you like to go get ice cream with me?”

The men behind him perk up. Deeper within the stall, a bound man sits trembling, a gun fitted with a silencer pressed against his temple. He’s being hushed, and the air grows thick with suspense as everyone waits with bated breath for the silver-haired man’s response.

After what seems like eternity, Sylus chuckles, flicking your forehead gently.

“I’d be more than happy to.”

—

You’ve barely spent an hour together, but already, you’ve learned so much about him.

He’s surprisingly chivalrous. You hadn’t expected it, but when you pulled out your wallet to pay for both your ice cream cups, he leaned over, gently swatted your hand away, and handed his card to the cashier.

You looked up at him in protest. “But I was the one who offered to get you ice cream…!”

He merely ruffled your hair, amused, as if you were an unruly feline meowing its head off for not getting the fish on the dinner table.

“I’m not letting you pay. End of discussion.”

Determined to make up for your honor, you dragged him to a weathered claw machine not far from the ice cream stand.

“Fine. But I’m getting you that one,” you declared, pointing at a black-and-red dragon plushie nestled among the other prizes. “You’re not allowed to refuse, okay?”

After a brief scuffle over who got to insert the coin (you lost), you managed to snag the plush on your first try. Triumphantly, you handed it to him, watching as he turned it over in his hands, his fingers gently fiddling with its tiny wings. Your gloating expression faded, though, at the sight of his faint smile, the image strangely sending a dull ache through your chest.

And despite his intimidating appearance, he’s remarkably generous.

When the two of you stepped outside the bustling shopping district for a breather, ice cream cups in hand, a gaggle of children in Frostlight-themed costumes approached. Tambourines and melodicas in hand, they eagerly asked if they could perform for you. Their chaperone stood nearby, wincing apologetically at their loud enthusiasm.

“Do your best,” Sylus told them, leaning against the building wall behind him, eyes gleaming in amusement.

The children hastily formed a crooked pyramid, the instrumentalists awkwardly positioned at the back, before launching into the most gloriously off-key performance you’d ever heard. You struggled to suppress your laughter, covering your mouth with your hand, but Sylus regarded them seriously, his head nodding slightly, as if genuinely finding rhythm in their chaotic melody.

When they finished with a burst of giggles, Sylus clapped slowly, laughter dancing in his gaze, before handing over a generous wad of cash. You’ve never heard so many high-pitched “You’re the best, mister!”s all at once.

You’ve been having so much fun—exploring the bustling stalls, petting the pups you come across, checking in on his hardworking fruit stall employees (and happily handing them some of the banana chips you bought), and watching the small fireworks display in the shopping district's adjacent plaza—that you don’t realize how late it’s gotten. Before you know it, you’ve arrived at your house, the neighborhood now quiet and serene, the hum of the city replaced by an almost peaceful stillness.

At your doorstep, you turn to see Sylus leaning casually against his sleek black SUV, his gaze fixed on you. A thought strikes you, and your eyes widen.

“Wait!” you blurt, fumbling for your key. “We never got around to returning each other’s stuff. Let me grab your coat!”

Before you can act, tendrils of black-and-red mist creep along the ground, curling around your feet. Bewildered, you stare at it as it coils upward, encircling you. “What…?”

Despite the way it looks, it feels soft and warm against your skin. Gently, it curls around your wrist, pausing your search for your key, and lifts your chin, guiding your gaze back to him.

“Return it next time,” Sylus tells you, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“But won’t you need it?” you ask, distracted by the way the mist dances around you, one tendril brushing your side playfully. You let out a surprised laugh. “Is this your Evol…?”

The mist retreats slowly, as if reluctant to leave. It curls around his feet one last time before dissipating entirely.

“I don’t have your sweater yet,” he says, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “It’d be rude to accept the coat before then.”

“But—”

“Think of it as my excuse to see you again.”

Your words catch in your throat as heat rises to your cheeks.

To appease you, though, he offers to exchange numbers so you can work out the details of your sweater and coat handover. If he notices the way your hands tremble when his fingers brush yours while swapping phones, he doesn’t mention it—though the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth doesn’t go unnoticed. With a reluctant wave and a final goodnight, you step inside and close the door behind you.

You lean against it for a moment.

Then, you bolt to your room, dive onto the bed, and scream into your pillow.

When you finally roll onto your back, breathless and grinning like an idiot, the ceiling above you seems brighter, the world lighter. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this way—like you’re floating, bursting with happiness.

You like him. You really, really like him.

As thoughts of brightly colored ice cream scoops and cuddly dragon plushies swirl in your mind, the weight of the day’s events finally begins to settle over you. You briefly resist, realizing you haven’t even changed out of your clothes or undergone your nightly routine yet, but in the end, you surrender to the comforting pull of slumber.

Just as you drift off, your phone screen glows faintly from your bag.

Good night kitten.

note: tysm for taking time to share your thoughts about the series 🥺 reading through them truly makes me so happy! it's so surreal to know that there are people out there actually looking forward to updates lol!! happy holidays, everyone! 💞

nav: one, two, three, four, five (current), six or: read on ao3

tag list: @thepotatoislost, @xxfaithlynxx, @browneyedgirl22, @vorfreudevortex, @midiplier, @wisteriaflowersss, @euclase0, @leighsartworks216, @keyiswatching, @goldenbirdiee, @delaythings, @datura109, @iloveboysinred, @everythingistaken00, @moonlight-inthe-sea, @blueberrysquire, @mourning-into-dancing, @bookfreakk, @everywherenothere, @vvhira, @laidenbreecatchall, @kyushii, @lucifer-says-hii, @sylus-crow, @carmelves, @nishayuro

check out my other works!

[wannabepoeticischiya]

all the colors of the sun

ao3: all the colors of the sun pairing: karasu tabito x f! reader genre: romance wc: 17.5k status: one shot

You don't need to wish for love or for someone to love you. Because… sometimes, you just never realize that you've had them all along.

And if he were to put it into words, he'd tell her: “And ya don’t need to wish for him to love you…”

Because he already does.

“No way in hell did Karasu get a girlfriend before me!” Otoya protests, voice laced with all the stinging sensations of envy as he, Isagi, and Yukimiya huddled together like the Avengers if the superhero group was the type to peek at people from around a corner.

The object of their interest? None other than the assassin, Karasu Tabito—talking animatedly to a girl all the while looking like he just won the World Cup, saved the universe, and had gotten married all in the same day. His smile was very annoyingly wide, and his laughter sounded so happy that it scratched the ears of his very envious teammates.

"Maybe he’s just being nice to a fan," Yukimiya offered, though the model himself couldn’t stop the bitterness from tagging along with his words. He swears he could almost taste it.

“Karasu?” Otoya questions incredulously.

“Nice?” Isagi follows.

“Ha! The only way Karasu and nice belong in the same sentence is if the word isn’t is in between,” Chigiri remarks, arms crossed as he leaned against the opposite wall, silently judging his teammates—who were very keenly drawing nearer and nearer to the borders of looking like electric posts if they could pull the We Bare bears pose���from their spot in the corner.

“Why’re you guys talking about him anyway?” Chigiri asks, sipping casually on his energy drink.

“Look at him, Chigirin!” Bachira’s head popped up from behind the trio like a Whac-A-Mole, pointing dramatically at the crow in the crowd. “Karasu’s talking to a girl!”

Chigiri chokes mid-sip, spilling his drink all over his hands and on the floor from absolute mortification. “He’s what?!”

"Whatcha guys yellin' for? Yer gonna get us in trouble if ya don't keep it down—"

“Hiori! Look at your childhood friend!” Isagi whispers in alarm, as if the scene he’s been watching unfold before his eyes for the last five minutes is nothing but fever-induced hallucinations.

"He ain't my childhood friend,” Hiori mutters, rubbing the back of his neck in annoyance that he had to clear this up, again. “If anythin’ he’s—”

Tired of Hiori’s stalling, Isagi shoved the Ice Man’s face in the direction of their crime-committing teammate.

“[Name]-san?” Hiori mumbles in surprise, blinking repeatedly as if the scene before him was something out of this world. Well, he should’ve expected this considering… well, considering them.

“You know her, Hiorin?” Bachira pokes his head from Yukimiya's side, curiosity all over his honey-colored eyes.

“Yeah,” he breathes, still struggling to process the image, “She’s…” his words faded to a dull echo. It’s only been a few months since he last saw them together. There wasn’t anything unusual, same old Karasu, same old [Name], still laughing and talking like they were the only two people in the world. They’ve always looked like that. Always looked at each other like that. So how come seeing them now… how did they look so different? Almost as if they were…

“In love.” He whispers.

“What?!” The peepers—minus Yukimiya—screamed in unison, garnering a few odd stares from the people walking by.

“What I meant,” Hiori clears his throat, “is that she’s Karasu-kun’s childhood friend.” Hiori smiles, “She’s also ridiculously strong.”

“Can’t be stronger than Karasu, right?” Otoya asks, his eyes giving way to the bubbles of whatever evil plan it was that he was concocting in his head.

“Oh, I ain’t sure.” Hiori shrugs, “But from all the fights they had that I can remember, she never lost a single one."

Hiori caught sight of the smirk on Otoya’s face growing wider, and if he were to push it, Hiori was certain that Otoya would was going to tear his jaw open from it.

Amused by the ninja’s shamelessness, Hiori imparts a very much needed word of wisdom.

"If she and Karasu-kun were to fight for real right now, she would still win.” He laughs, not quite liking the sudden image of Karasu’s bruised face from long ago showing up in his head, “and that's with Karasu-kun burnin' all the candles at every end."

Otoya’s suggestive expression wilted like a rose at the new information, stepping behind Yukimiya all of a sudden.

Wanting to see how far he could go, Hiori hummed and pretended to think deeper, “I think she does kickboxing—or was it karate? Well, doesn’t matter. Yer screwed either way, Otoya-kun.” Hiori pats Otoya’s shoulder as he walks past the group of terrified teenagers, “Best not to try!” He calls, waving his hand in farewell.

As he walks away, snickering softly to himself as he noted the look on his teammate’s faces. He remembers the day those two met, a moment in time so engraved in his head it felt kind of strange to see how much had changed.

Or maybe… just maybe, nothing’s changed at all.

---

"Didja lose your partner?"

A younger [Name] stood in front of a boy crouched by the bike rack near the curve, popsicle in hand as the other scratched the back of her neck—craning her head to see if anyone was around the corner.

[Name] tried to catch his eye, shamelessly offering the half-eaten treat to him when he ignored her question.

Met by his silence, she steps closer to him, setting her bag next to his yellow hat as she crouches down to try and get a glimpse of his face.

"Oi," she calls again, waving a sticky hand in front of his face. "Can ya hear me?"

The boy hides his face further in the comforts of his arms, swatting away her hand without a word.

[Name] furrowed her brows at his dismissal, pouting at him even if he couldn’t see.

What’s this kid’s deal? She thought.

Just as she was about to get back up and walk away, she heard him—albeit very soft that could be mistaken for the wind—whimper.

He wasn’t upset at her or anything, but he just didn’t know what else to do at the moment, so he couldn’t help but try to push her away. This was the last thing he wanted… for someone to see just how weak he was. He didn’t get partnered up with the girl he wanted, so what? It wasn’t like it was the end of the world. He thought it was the stupidest reason in the world. It shouldn’t be something to be so upset over.

But he was.

To him… getting partnered up with Marisa really, really mattered.

Pained by the sudden reminder, he felt the back of his eyes tingle, silver brimming his downcast gaze.

"H-Hey, c'mon now, don't cry..." [Name] panics, dropping down to eye level with him once more at the sight of the tears streaming down his very sad face. Mindlessly, she thrusts the melting, half-eaten popsicle to him like an offering, like the spirit of summer could magically solve all his problems.   

She pats his back awkwardly, "I lost my partner, too." She blurted, her voice colored in cheer and laughter, as though the matter of losing a buddy on a school field trip was a funny story they can share for life.   

The reason for Karasu's sadness was a very different matter altogether, still, he appreciated his classmate's efforts. Her kind, and frantic energy pulling at the corners of his lips even by the smallest centimeter.   

"Hio-kun prolly made it back to the teacher, maybe your partner is there!" She smiles at him, like there was no surer thing in the whole wide world aside from her optimism. She extended a hand for him to take. "Let's go back, Nakimushi-san!"

"I'm not a crybaby!" He snaps, finally looking—more like glaring—at her through watery eyes, "And the name's Karasu. Karasu Tabito!" (believe it!)

"Okay, Tabito-chan!" She beams, one so bright it made him squint.

Before he could reprimand her for her actions, she plopped the matching yellow hat back onto his head, the brim settling crookedly as her sticky fingers lingered for a second too long. She adjusted the straps of her red backpack and looked to him in anticipation.

"Don't go calling me by my first name like we're close or somethin’!" He yells, flustered at the thought of a girl being all chummy with him.

"Sure thing, Tabito-chan!" She replies, completely ignoring his protests as she drags him by his hand and led him back to the rest of the group.

---

That was how they became friends.

According to the testimony of Hiori Yo—who was originally [Name]’s assigned partner—she was seen ditching him half-way when caught sight of an ice cream store, and somewhere along the way got wired with a crying kid on the sidewalk.

From that day onward, they just sort of… stuck together

---

At eight years old, [Name] discovered Karasu’s secret, as much as a secret it could be but… what she unveiled was his crush on Marisa—the resident cutest kid in class, according to him.

It wasn’t intentional. [Name] blamed it on Karasu. It was completely by accident.

She went to his house one Saturday morning to return the ball he had left by mistake last night when he came over to her house to play.

His older sister, Tsubame-nee-chan, who looked just like Tabito but with longer hair and a kinder attitude, had told [Name] that her best friend was upstairs. She was so used to having the girl come over that it started to become weird when there wasn’t any laughter and banter in the house.

“Tabito’s upstairs,” Tsubame waves from the living room, laughing at something her friends said. “Ya can just grab him yerself!”

Muttering a faint, ‘Pardon the intrusion’, taking off her slippers, and a ‘Thanks, Tsubame-nee-chan!’, [Name] climbed the steps, no limit to her usual buzzing energy.

But the second her foot closed the last step of the stairs, she halted.

[Name] caught sight of Karasu at the far end of the corridor, standing in front of the full-length mirror he probably used more than his sister—or anyone in his house for that matter. The boy hadn’t taken note of her presence just yet, seemingly immersed in whatever it was that he was doing that merited his undivided attention and spatial awareness.

She tilted her head in curiosity and breathed to call out to him.

And with little to no warning at all, his voice broke through like thunderstorms.

"Marisa, I like you," he tells his reflection, flushing red from the weight of his own words.

[Name] gasped, her jaw dropping to the center of the earth—the surprise simmering in her soul that it had frozen her over where she stood, causing her grip on the soccer ball to loosen. The ball slipped from her hands, descending step by step down the stairs, sounding like a drumroll for impending doom.

The sound had Karasu whipping his head in her direction looking like roadkill. Blushing, in the nicest word; lovesick in the worst.

"YOU LIKE MARI—!"

Karasu, in sheer mortification, bolted toward her, yanking her away from the stairs and slapped a sweaty palm over her mouth before she could blacken his name in his own household. His heart racing faster than when he stayed past curfew and had to go home knowing his mom was waiting for him by the door with a slipper.

“Shaddap!” He hisses, voice barely above a whisper as he glances around like a criminal.

Meanwhile, downstairs, in the living room, Tsubame glanced at the direction of the stairs—noting the series of thuds and muffled and restrained yelling—raising a questioning brow as it had her pausing mid-laugh. A minute of silence ensued after that, so she immediately concludes that it was probably nothing… hopefully.

Those two were always loud and rough and chaotic, there existed no day where she could describe them with just two of those adjectives, and frankly, it would never work anyway. Where there was loudness there was chaos, and all the other matches.

Besides, her brother was a soccer player, and [Name] was a karate practitioner.

Totally normal.

Back upstairs, Karasu dragged [Name] into his room like she was a dead body he was desperately trying to hide.

When he was sure that the door was slammed shut and that no other human on earth could possibly lo and behold his newly discovered secret, only then did he let her go. He knew full well that as he stood there all red-faced, heart pumping, colored in all the shades of horror for his impending fate, shoulders heaving as he struggled to regain his composure… Karasu Tabito was never gonna hear the end of her teasing.

And it began the moment [Name] stood up, dusted the dust from her clothes, and looked at him with the most skin-crawling smile to ever graze humanity. “Sooo… Marisa, ey?” She jabs his side with her elbow, her smile growing impossibly wider.

Karasu groans, sliding dramatically against the door like a telenovela star as he hides his face behind his hands. “Yer absolutely not allowed to tell anyone!” he commands, glaring at her from where he was, trying to act all big and scary but failing in [Name]’s eyes since he was far too red-faced like a stoplight to be considered a threat. “’Specially not my sister! She’d tease me and I’d be forced to hit the grave early.”

"Don'tcha worry, Tabito-likes-Marisa, yer secret’s safe with me!" [Name] salutes dramatically, a certain twinkle in her eyes as if his wishes were a heaven-sent mission to their strongest soldier.

Karasu let out an exasperated sigh, ruffling his hair in frustration—already beginning to count the days that remained of his secret.

"So...” She started, leaning closer to him with a mischievous smile, “Whatcha like about her, Tabi-chan?" [Name] teases, wiggling her eyebrows while she was at it, poking his reddening cheeks at the reminder of the pretty girl from class.

His face erupted in all the shades of red—if it was even possible. [Name]’s prodding wasn’t helping his racing heart one bit, in fact, it only made him feel like his own organ was trying to break down his rib cage and run as far away as possible.

He wasn’t getting away from this—not unscathed—so might as well fess up.

"Well, she's really cute," Karasu admits, a tiny, soft smile painting his expression.

[Name] nodded enthusiastically, leaning closer in anticipation. But Karasu remained silent, he was just smiling there like an idiot staring off into yonder.

"What?" he asks as he took note of the unimpressed expression on his friend's face.

"Ya mean that's it?" she deadpans, all the happiness draining from her face at the sight of Karasu's lenient expression speaking volumes far more than when he spoke the words—"Should there be more?"

"Oi! I always thought ya weren't the sharpest tool in the shed, but I didn't know yer stupidity was this high—OW!" [Name] yelps as Karasu karate-chopped the top of her head, effectively drawing the curtains to her insults to a close.

[Name] glared at him, eyes reflecting the thought: you dare use my own spells against me?

"You don't get a say!” He protests, crossing his arms over his chest defensively. “Ya never liked anyone but the neighborhood cat!"

Because for the life of him, no matter how many kanji he learned to read or write, he was certain he couldn't convey a hundredth of Marisa's beautiful qualities.

"Liking someone is dumb!" she shot back, wincing as she rubs the top of her head to ease the ache. She was certain she'd develop all the necessary dodging maneuvers from her friend alone.

"Of course, ya'd think that you gorilla." Karasu laughs as he leaned over to pull at [Name]'s cheeks just to annoy her further.

The small conversation was something only the two of them shared. Lost under the stars of all their laughter and the echoes of their smiles… forever just theirs to keep.

Karasu never confessed his feelings for Marisa in the entirety of elementary school, or ever for that matter. And [Name], surprisingly true to her word, kept his secret well, a secret.

That’s why it came as a surprise.

It was the day of their elementary school graduation.

Tabito and [Name] stood next to each other as his sister took their photo, saying that they were one step closer to ‘reaching the age of maturity’ as she had so cryptically put it. Because what on earth could she mean by that? They were plenty mature. It didn’t help that she was smiling weirdly at the two of them while she was at it.

But the biggest shock of the day wasn’t Tsubame-nee-chan’s sudden teasing, no. It was something entirely different.

Marisa called to Tabito just as their class had finished capturing a photo together. [Name] hardly had any time to see everything unravel before she was whisked away by the Karate Club to take a picture of their own.

As she caught the last of their shadows from the corner of her eye—Marisa, all smiles and laughing, Karasu, standing looking like he could snap like a taco shell at any moment but hid his situation very well.

For some reason unknown, the sight of them talking rang an unpleasant melody in the caves of [Name]’s chest, rattling the once peaceful solitude.

She blamed it on the pollen. She blamed it on the heat or the cold, whichever was more prominent. She blamed it on… quite literally everything else. Not willing to admit to anything—not when she didn’t even know what the heck this was.

Later that afternoon, when the two found themselves at the beach loitering on the wave breakers by the roadside to watch the sunset, Karasu told [Name] that Marisa—his life-long crush at the time—had confessed to him.

He told it like it was nothing. As if it was no more than an ordinary occasion, like a weather report!

But [Name]’s reaction was a stark contrast to his nonchalance.

The revelation crashed against her like a tidal wave that nearly had her toppling over the concrete barrier, in danger of falling to the sandy shore—a generous twenty-foot drop at least.

Karasu grabbed her by the scruff of her clothes, heart pounding at the sight of her almost falling— “Idiot, be more careful!” He scolds, carding a hand through his ever-growing violet hair.

“MARISA CONFESSED TO YOU?!” [Name] screams, standing up in absolute shock with zero regards that she almost had a close date with the Grim Reaper a few minutes ago.

"Hey! I already told ya to watch yerself! You'll fall!" Karasu reminds, reaching out to steady her. His brows remained furrowed as he stayed seated on the concrete barrier, only this time, one hand caged her own as his other found anchor on her ankle.

"Whatcha say? Ya better not have told her somethin' stupid! Gosh this is excitin'—"

“I rejected her.”

The world came to a standstill at the resounding echo of his words. But the tides continued to crash against the shores, drawing away not a moment later. The birds’ orchestra flowed like the spring zephyrs as they flew over the vast finiteness of the horizons. Still… [Name] could not feel herself move from her frozen state.

Wasn’t it too sudden? It felt like only yesterday that she discovered his crush on their classmate. Why… why?

Karasu looks to the ocean with a completely calm face, a stark contrast to the slowly rising tides. The sunset painted him golden, like all the stars melted just to color him in this moment.

When he was colored in that light, saturating him in every shade of soothing silence, softening his features… for the first time in forever, Karasu felt unreachable. Like he belonged to a world she had no right to step into. As though he would continue to travel past the borders of the Milky Way to some unknown universe far beyond what [Name] could comprehend.

When he was painted in all the colors of the sun, it was hard to deny.

It was difficult to fight the fluttering sensation thrumming in her heart—surging in all the forms of power—of happiness.

[Name] tugged on his arm that held her own, urging him to look at her as she asks, "Why?"

Indeed, why?

For as long as [Name] had known him, Karasu's always liked Marisa. He even went as far as to make her swear not to tell a single soul about his infatuation with the girl, not because he was embarrassed, but because he thought far too lowly of himself—believed that he was too ordinary—for someone like Marisa to ever like him back.

"I... well, we're gonna go to different middle schools,” he shrugs, sweeping it under the carpet like it was no big deal. “It would be a long-distance thing ya get me? So I rejected her." He talks about it so easily, always acting that it isn’t eating him up inside.

He was always like this.

Using the hand that held the hand of the girl standing before him, Karasu pulled himself up from his sitting position. He towered over her easily, already breaking past a hundred and seventy centimeters—a reminder that they were growing up—and he was sure to grow taller in the near future.

"Nothin' weird about it,” he comments apathetically. “Completely normal—ow! Hey! What're ya doin'—[Name]!" He hurriedly shielded his arm from [Name]’s aggravated assault.

“Yer an idiot!” she fires at him, her frustration dropping on him like a bomb.

"Ow! [Name]—stop! You hit like a gorilla—ow!" Karasu finally held her thrashing arms, caging her in his hold so she couldn't hit him anymore.

He wasn't sure why [Name] was acting this way, or why she was so upset over this. What he was certainly most certain of is that her punches hurt. They hurt a whole lot.

"You're an idiot..." she echoes.

Karasu tried to look her way, but it proved to be an arduous task as she kept her head down. A few stands of her hair prevented Karasu from discerning what sort of expression was on her face. He hesitantly let her arms go, watching them fall to her side softly.

Karasu poked [Name]'s forehead, pushing her head slightly to get her to look up.

"Hey..." he calls gently, closing the remaining distance between them with a single stride, "Why're ya cryin'?"

[Name] looks to the ocean, aggressively wiping away the traitorous tears that slipped from the shackles of her eyes. She wasn't gonna cry over this. It was stupid.

"You liked Marisa a lot, Tabito."

It took Karasu by surprise that [Name] called him by his first name, free from her usual teasing jeers and awful nicknames—still, he didn't understand why is it that she was so upset by his situation.

"I just..." she begins, glancing at him from the corners of her eyes before sighing and turning to face him, "It was yer chance to be with the one you loved—"

"Oi, oi... love is a strong word for that—" Karasu wanted to complain, to say that it really wasn’t like that, but looking at the saddened expression of his friend, he thought otherwise.

"—and you let the chance go just like that." She admits, her voice threatening to crumble from the heaviness that she felt—and before long, her tears had broken free from their holding cells.

"I know I can't say anythin' to ya cuz I'm a gorilla and I don't like anyone else but Miiko but don'tcha think it's a waste—" Karasu cut her off by wrapping his arm around her form, tangled her in gentleness that stood in great contrast to his usual rough and jagged demeanor.

Because he didn’t like seeing her cry.

He doesn’t like it when other kids make fun of her, even if he knew that she was better equipped to handle them far more than him. He doesn’t like it when she’s sad. And he doesn't like it when she wasn’t around.

[Name] was an irreplaceable figure in his life… and it hurt him just as much that she—that she was sad… and he felt even worse this time because he knew that he was the one who caused it.

"Gettin' a love life ain't everythin' in this world ya know?" he tells her, threading a hand through her hair in a soothing gesture.

[Name] buries her face in his chest, nodding despite knowing that he wouldn't see.

She felt like the world's biggest scumbag. Her best friend in the whole wide world just turned down the girl he liked for so long.  She should've been sad—angry at the world for forcing this fate onto Karasu, to her best friend who was the kindest person on earth. And she was!

Desperately, she tried to convince herself that she was.

But here she was… taking advantage of his kindness. Trying to take more than what she was given.

Because what else could this be? That there was this thrumming sensation in her chest that rejoiced in knowing that Karasu turned Marisa down.

"Hold on, why are you the one cryin'? Shouldn't it be me?" He teased, ruffling the threads of [h/c] that covered her head.

"Idiot!"

---

As the seasons changed and the moon waxed and waned, a good chunk of their time in middle school was spent with Karasu breathing into his soccer career slash club slash obsession, playing alongside Hiori Yo—[Name]’s initial elementary school partner whom she ditched to get ice cream and was later forced to apologize to by her mother—all the while [Name] dedicated hers to Karate.

The two remained as close-knit as ever, choosing to wait for whomever had practice the longest so they could walk home together. Spending all breaks and lunches lounging around and glaring at people who looked at them funny. [Name] complaining about chemistry because who the hell would find joy in dragging numbers up and down, sideways and backwards, all over roll over. It was a pain. All she knew was that Protactinium + Nitrogen + Calcium + Potassium + Einsteinium = PaNcaKEs. And that was just about how far her Chemistry brain cells could peak.

It didn’t help that Karasu was a wizard when it came to that godawful subject so when it came to helping her with it, tutoring sessions were 5% learning, 3% complaining, with all the rest occupied by his relentless teasing.

A horrible experience.

But for them who had known each other since once upon a time, it was nothing unusual.

Everything was the same as ever. Same old science woes. Same old swimming classes despair. Same old faces. Same old Karasu. Same old [Name].

That was until one winter night of their second year of middle school...

[Name] was set to compete in the winter Karate tournament and if she did well, it was one step closer to Nationals.

She trained day in, and day out near the field where Karasu played soccer when the school field was out for break.

The soccer player was not privy to her unshakable resolve, even going as far as labeling her—and letting her know—that she was “working so hard like a cow” which he received a kick as thanks.

It was fine during spring—her training that is, even more so in summer, and Karasu would even let it slip in autumn but winter? Winter was a different matter altogether.

For the past days (and even last year), he had told her off for it—scolded her far more times than he would like to admit with a tone laced with all the streamers of irritation and illuminated by the lights of his concern. “Ya gotta stop workin’ yerself so hard like a cow, gorilla girl. You’ll get sick!”

As he makes a move to hit her head like he always did, [Name] dodged and repaid his words with a very kind kick to his side, sending him staggering a few steps away.

"Ya don't get ta lecture me on that, stupid crow! Yer here too, equally as guilty! And don't call me a cow! Or a gorilla!" She points a numb finger in his direction, because even with her stubborn and brutish attitude, it sadly didn't make her immune to the cold.

"Yeah, yeah..." He waved her off with one hand as the other rubbed the spot she kicked.

"But I'm runnin' around so I ain't as cold, but you've just been standin' there for the past thirty minutes, aren'tcha cold?" He quirks a brow at her as he approached her slowly, like a wild predator cautious to scare away his prey.

"Oh, I'm freezin’." She agrees nonchalantly, a mist of white clouds leaving the borders of her lips.

"Act more like it then, idiot." he deadpans, scratching his head in frustration.

"Here," Karasu breathes into his hands moving closer so he could cup her face.

"Woah. Ya really weren't jokin' when ya said yer freezin'" he says in surprise, laughing at his own discovery like it was the most amusing thing in the world. "Are yer hands cold, too?"

He retreated his hands and made a motion to take off his soccer gloves not a moment later, looking at them for a few moments—trying to figure out which hand was right and left, even if they wouldn't matter in the end—before sliding them onto her trembling fingers.

They hung loosely on her despite the Velcro straps going as far as they could possibly go.

Since when did he grow so much?

When she looks away from her hands to thank him, [Name] felt the world around her freeze into place, frosting over like the trees that bordered the field. Light snow descended from the heavens, the last sunrays dipping behind the horizons of the sky as the stars flickered to life one by one.

And then there it was again, that same fluttering feeling from so long ago. Only this time, it set everything in her to flames: her blood rushed far too fast for her head to keep up, lighting the meadows of her face to a vibrant shade of red, setting every hollow and edge into a raging inferno. She felt cold and warm everywhere—like her body couldn't decide if it wanted to burn to ash or forever freeze with winter.

The colors of the night shone in a vibrant light, flowering in circles from the sheer intensity—brighter than the summer sky yet dimmed in comparison next to him—to Tabito who looked at her like she was the only thing in the world, rubbing his hand against his arm to spark heat so he could thaw the frozen wasteland ravaging her soul.

Since when did she begin to see him like this? When did he become so saturated in all the colors of everyday life that he blended in so well?

When... did I start feeling like this?

Don't look at me like that, [Name] wanted to tell him. Don't laugh at me. Don't hold me like this... just don't.

Because if he did—when he does all of this—how was she supposed to fight off this greedy, hungry feeling festering inside her? This needless longing to keep him close to her, to never let him go, to show him all the wonders of the universe... all the colors of the sun, everything that he turned his back on because he believed that he wasn't enough to have any of them.

When he looks at her like that, when he laughs... when he holds her like this—how was she supposed to deny it?

That she was in love with him.

[Name] was in love with Karasu Tabito.

---

When the wave of High School crashed against the two best friends, it brought with it the cruellest game fate could play on [Name].

Marisa… had returned.

The same Marisa she had teased and jeered at Karasu about when they were kids. The same Marisa… Karasu had loved—again, such a strong word—for so long. And she guessed—no matter how much she didn't want to entertain the thought that Karasu could still like the same Marisa from elementary school—he loves even now.

And it nearly killed her inside when she found that her suspicions were true.

It was a week after their first year had begun when Karasu came running from the pitch to meet her halfway, cleats thudding against the grass as she made her way to the bleachers.

"[Name]!" He yells as he runs towards her at full speed it nearly had [Name] contemplate if she should move aside so Karasu doesn't accidentally trample her over. But he ran to her with the biggest smile she had ever seen on him—yes, even happier than the time they won the local tournament—it broke her heart to even think of sidestepping him, even if he did pose as a road hazard from his speed.

"Why'dya hafta feel like ya need to win a marathon, Tabi-chan?" She punches his arm playfully once he skidded to a stop near where she stood (after nearly running her over).

She sets her bag down as she laughs at the sight of Karasu buzzing in excitement. Must be something really important to him if he's this happy about it. Before [Name] could fully turn to face him, he had already grabbed her by the shoulders and started shaking her back and forth. "She's here!" He cheers.

"Who's here?"

"Marisa!"

[Name] felt her heart shatter from the happiness decorating every word that left the orbit of his tongue, shining like the stars that could’ve littered her evening. She should have been happy for him. Really, she should have shared even half the joy he felt from his supposed amazing discovery. She should've... she knew full well that she should.

So why does it remind her exactly of elementary graduation?

When he was whisked away from her by the same girl who she cheered Karasu to pursue? Why does it remind her so much that she wasn't a figure like Marisa in his life? She wasn't the object of his desire. Karasu didn't hold an ounce of romantic affection for her like he did for Marisa. She... [Name]... was just his friend. She was his best friend. And god... did that hurt—that she couldn't be more than that—when all she wanted was to be a little greedier, to have a place in his heart like Marisa did. She couldn't quite understand it... even if she knew deep down that Karasu liked Marisa, that he had her image perched atop a pedestal in the center of his heart, [Name] couldn't be contented with just being his friend.

The one friend who loved him so much.

The one friend... that he couldn't love back.

"Ya hafta help me, [Name]!” His voice anchored her back to reality. “I know I told ya that gettin' a love life ain't everythin' but now that I actually stand a chance... I—I don't wanna lose it agai... [Name]? You still there?"

Karasu waved a hand over her face, taking note of the expression painted on her face, almost as if she just saw a ghost. "Hello? This is ground control to [Name], are ya still in orbit?"

Through the haze, [Name] watches as Karasu walked around her in circles, poking her cheeks to try and get her back to him—huh, what an easily misunderstood thought.

She blinked, taking in the way he eyes her in confusion, his ridiculously gelled hair remaining immovable even as he prodded and scratched his scalp like it held all the answers in the world. Really, it wasn't him who was stupid for trying so hard... it was her.

Because as it stands, she was the one foolish enough to fall for him.

"Oho~ so yer finally mannin' up to ask her out, eh?" she smirks, her facade tugging at the seams of her resolve, pulling at the pieces of her shattered heart. In the silence of his unspoken rejection, she found herself gluing them together, even if they threatened to come apart later. Just a little longer, she would coerce. Just a little more... so that he doesn't find out—so he wouldn't find out—that his feelings... were slowly killing her.

"Don't even start," Karasu holds a hand to her face, he couldn't stomach that teasing shine in her eyes. How long has it been since he last saw that? Far too long he believes, still... he asked himself why he didn't miss it as much as he thought he would've.

Back then, even if it annoyed him to the point of starting a fistfight with [Name]—which he not-so-surprisingly lost every single time—he would secretly be grateful that she pushed him to go reach for the things that made him happy. In his little love life endeavors. No matter how badly it ended for the two of them—like getting scolded for coming home late or getting accompanied by the neighbor who owned Miiko, the cat, back home.

So why now? He didn't quite understand why it had to be now that it felt so wrong to see her pushing him towards someone else again.

She used to do it all the time, and it never bothered him.

Karasu briefly asked himself if the reason behind it was because they spent three—going four—years having no one else but each other. No, that couldn't have been it. Hiori was there sometimes, and Karasu was sure it never felt like this unpleasant feeling.

This was [Name] for crying out loud! The elementary kid who offered a half-eaten popsicle to him like it was some treasure. [Name] whom he pushed into the mud pond and laughed as she tried to get the dirt off her face. [Name] who could kick him so hard that he would fight to hold back his tears—even now that they were in high school.

[Name] was his best friend...

"I'll help ya get with 'er!" she grins, planting her hands on her hips in that little mannerism of hers that Karasu bets she doesn't even know she does, as though she was about to give him some prophet-level guidance free of charge.

Karasu just stares at her, longer than he would have liked to admit. Has she always been this short? Or did he simply grow taller?

Had they always been like this?

Yeah, she was his best friend.

And there should be nothing more.

…Right?

---

And so, the first semester of their first year in high school was spent planning ways to get Karasu together with Marisa while [Name] pulled all the hair on her scalp trying to hide her ever-growing affection for her violet-haired friend.

This also consisted of asking around the campus for Marisa with [Name] doing all the "cow's work" as Karasu had oh-so-gently put it, which merited him a much-deserved kick to his shin.

He had many excuses. One, he didn’t want to seem desperate (which he was). Two, he was too busy (which he is). And three, apparently, he didn’t want any rumors to start going around that he was still pining over his elementary school crush (which he very much was).

Even if [Name] told him not to be ashamed of it, Karasu still couldn't bring himself to do it...

Part of it, though, was because he didn’t miss the way the fire in [Name]’s eyes froze over whenever it was mentioned. He just decided that he didn't like that even if he didn't know the reason why. It bothered him. A lot.

If it were [Name] who asked around, it was different. There would be nothing to worry about since she was also a girl, and girls look for other girls all the time, don't they? They even accompany each other to the restroom like a pair of FBI Agents.

And if Karasu were to lay his heart bare for everyone to see, the only girl he looked around for, flipped heaven and earth over, out of his own jurisdiction and nearly toppled over in despair when he couldn’t find—aside from his mom and his older sister—was [Name].

But he didn’t know how to tell that to her.

The two best friends (mainly [Name] doing all the hard work) discovered a couple of interesting information about Karasu’s person of affection:

Marisa was in the swim club, an extremely coincidentally convenient twist of fate since the pool was by far the nearest facility near the soccer field (the dojo the farthest having been located on the other side of the school).

She excelled in Japanese Literature and Chemistry.

She worked part-time at a local café on Saturdays around the afternoon, another heaven-sent opportunity since soccer practice ended right before noon.

And finally written at the bottom of the paper in all caps along with a few doodles of hearts.

MARISA LIKES MUSHROOMS!!! ❤❤🍄❤❤

"Is that enough, yer highness?" [Name] asks him sarcastically, rubbing the tiredness from her eyes as she had spent the majority of her night stalking Marisa across all social media platforms.

She could pass as a CIA agent by now from all this digging.

She eyes the page ripped from her notebook that Karasu held in one hand as they sat face to face in the classroom—with their desks pushed together to accommodate their lunches.

Written on the slightly wrinkled paper, in messy scrawny handwriting were the fruits of her hard labor.

"I better get compensated for his, you rabies-infected crow," she mumbles, resting her head on the desk, and closing her eyes from the tiredness.

"Wow, ya got all of this in one night?" Karasu scans the paper, they weren’t much but it was still far more than what he could’ve gathered on his own. His stare lingered a moment longer on the girl—noting the way her head stayed resting on the desk, exhaustion seeping through the crevices of her skin as he observed the way her entire frame wilted from exhaustion.  

[Name] hummed in confirmation, far too tired to give a worded reply. Now that the less than sufficient hours of sleep were getting to her, she feared that if she spoke another word to Karasu about Marisa, she would end up saying something she'd regret. So, it was best to just... stay silent.

It's getting easier to hear Karasu talk about Marisa. Bearable in the kindest word; numbing in the worst. Still, it didn't mean that she could deny that it hurt any less.

Learning to live through something was very different from accepting it, especially when it was the one you love loving someone else.

[Name] just hopes that she gets over this soon—because the last thing she wanted was to get in the way of Tabito's happiness. Or worse, lose him because of her own selfishness—because she couldn't get over a silly pathetic crush—that she couldn't stop wanting, praying… hoping to have him more than a friend.

"Oh, she likes mushrooms," she hears Karasu mumble, seemingly intrigued.

It was better to pretend that she didn't hear him. It's better this way, she tells herself. He wasn't going to remember anyway, but somehow, her traitorous mouth always worked faster than her brain, a step too late to grab the chance to hold her tongue before she says something she would regret... which is now.

"Ya can give her yer mushrooms now, Tabi-chan."

Silence blanketed the distance between them, seemingly setting them apart from the reverberating chaos ensuing in the classroom.

[Name] was embarrassed beyond belief, feeling her entire face catch fire yet was too exhausted to shield it away from him—not like he could see, but still!

Please let the ground swallow me whole.

Karasu looks to her like she suddenly grew three heads. "I'll always give ya my mushrooms, [Name].” He whispers softly, placing an elbow on the table, propping his face upright with his palm as he unconsciously smiled at the blush that littered the meadows of her face.

“Ya love 'em right? Just ‘bout the only other thing ya like other than Miiko." He snickers at his own jest, remembering a time in their childhood when [Name] would look over the fence and stare at the neighbor's cat for hours or chase it around the little alleyway near Miiko's house.

She felt her heart skip a beat. [Name] blamed it on the weather, or perhaps a growing ailment that made her heartbeat irregular. This was practically Arrythmia—dangerous and a health risk!

But she was sure that heart diseases didn’t come with lingering affections for your best friend. It also didn’t come with the pain of knowing that he was never gonna like her back. And she was most certain that it wasn’t attached with happiness after knowing that he remembers…

[Name] didn't like that she felt happy that Karasu knew that little thing, even if everything about her had practically become baseline knowledge for the soccer player. She just didn't like it.

"Uhuh," she agrees mindlessly, her voice squished by gravity as she remained still laying her head on the desk facing the window and looking at the world vertically.

"When ya marry her, can't just go out in the middle of dinner ta hand me some mushrooms, right?" She teases, the rumble of her laughter feeling more like a hurtful jab to her already breaking heart.

"I guess..." Karasu no longer stared at the paper he held in his hand, opting to observe his very sleep-deprived [Name].

Maybe the dryness of her eyes was getting to her or perhaps she was tired of him beating around the bush and walking on eggshells every time Marisa was around.

Karasu sighs, folding the paper three times and tucked it away in the safety of his bag. The raging inferno in her soul dwindled to a small flame, her usual bladed tongue that cut through his ego had dulled, her silence all too prominent in a world where everyone had something to say.

Ah… I don’t like this.  

"Hey, gorilla woman." he grips her head like a ball, although he makes a conscious effort not to hurt her—lest he risk his well-being be a training dummy for the karate practitioner.

[Name] tried to wave away his arm but right now, she was too tired to even lift her hand. She could only mumble a very annoyed, "Don't call me gorilla, you rat-nest-haired crow."

"Let's go to a café this weekend," he suggests, taking a strand of her smooth hair and twirling it between his fingers like it was some sort of scientific breakthrough.

Was it weird that he was inviting her to go out all of a sudden?

But this was [Name]! They always went out together whether it's the local fair, watching a soccer match, or those late-night convenience store runs... this was nothing special.

Karasu started to chant that phrase like a mantra in his head. He was catching himself doing that too much—trying to convince himself that it was nothing—that spending time with [Name] was like a norm already.

They've done it a thousand times and he reckons, a thousand more after this... so what's the difference?

His heart thudded against the confines of his ribs at the sight of her: tired beyond all rhyme and reason, brows furrowed from the noise buzzing in the small room filled with their classmates and other students, her empty bento box next to his own like yin and yang. Salt and pepper. It wasn’t complete without the other.

Has she always been this present in his life? Since when? When did she start to be so interwoven in everything he did that it became strange when she suddenly disappears even when she’s right there? Really… since when?

Since forever...

And maybe, just maybe, that was the difference.

An idiotic part of [Name] rejoiced at his invitation—

"We can see Marisa there while we're at it," he quickly adds without thought, afraid she might misunderstand.

—yet all too suddenly; cruelly, she is reminded that she shouldn't long to be more than just his friend.

"Sure thing, Tabi-chan..." she whispers softly, forcing the thorns in her throat to pin down the hurt so they wouldn’t tumble out—that he may never see them.

And there, with the afternoon gale flowing past the curtains, she feels her heart breaking a little bit more.

---

When the weekend rolled around, Karasu finished his soccer practice exactly before noon, leaving him with a few spare minutes to change into the extra clothes he brought with him. Initially, he felt like the unluckiest athlete in the world when he dragged his ass here at 5 in the morning yet now that he was preparing to spend the rest of his day earlier than what he originally planned, he began thinking that it wasn't so bad after all. At the very least, it gave him enough time to go and see [Name] look at him in envy that his practice ended earlier than her.

[Name], much to Karasu's expectations, did not look at him in jealousy as he had hoped. Instead, she was second-in-line for kicking practice, looking like all the forces of good and evil conspired together to make her day as terrible and energy-draining as much as it could.

The Karate coach, a middle-aged woman who was also their gym teacher, made everyone stay back to practice some drills, claiming she saw it on her social media feed last night and wanted everyone to try it out... and no one was going to leave until at least one of them got it. It was cruel—very much the kind of savagery she expected to get from this tyrant (coach) in her innate domain (karate)—not that she was any stranger to cruelty, though she would be lying if she claims she didn't feel just a little bit sad when she was at the receiving end of it.

Karasu was allowed to stay in the dojo and watch, so long as he remained a safe distance from any potential kicking pads that might come flying his way—a warning he engraved to his mind and soul after getting smack-dabbed in the face by one, and many, many close calls.

It wouldn't be the first time he'd watch [Name] practice; he'd been making the trip from the soccer field to the dojo ever since the beginning of first year that the coach relented and let him stay no matter how many times she told him to go away.

Karasu didn't mind the extra cardio, more often than not, [Name] was the one who had practice running so far from dismissal time, leaving him with nothing to do but sit and wait for her to finish so they could go home together. And it was rarely the other way around.

But seeing her here, in her element, always tugged at something in his chest. A sort of reminder that this was the girl he was lucky enough to call his best friend.

When it was [Name]'s turn to do the drill, everything faded to silence... until it was just her: bouncing on her feet under a thousand shimmering lights, drawing in a breath in preparation. And like the flow of the spring zephyrs, she sliced through the air like a fairy—an aggressive and very, very strong fairy—striking the lowest pad with her left foot, her right foot forcing the middle pad to fly, and finally—after so many failed attempts and an almost sprained ankle—successfully kicked the last top pad with her left foot.

She landed gracefully, like the first fall of snow, shattering the momentary reverie Karasu found himself raptured into.

What the hell?

[Name] looked to her coach in miserable anticipation, a silent plea to release her from this torture. It was between this room and this witch how many times she and her teammates had to do that godawful trick.

The coach gushed over the exhausted [Name], complimenting her for a few seconds before dismissing training.

[Name]'s tired vision zeroed in on Karasu, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor near the door, bag next to his side, and looking every bit the part of someone going on the most anticipated date of his life. [Name] blamed it on the light, or the fatigue seeping into the cracks of her heart, but for a small moment, a foreign light shone through the depths of sapphire pools of his irises.

She thought nothing of it, choosing to lazily wave at him from where she stood, completely oblivious to the lingering glimmer in his expression or the way his face shone brighter at her greeting as he waves back; that for the first time ever, the usually cocky soccer player found himself drowning in the oceans of shyness and hesitance at the sight of his best friend.

"Imma change real quick, so wait for me a little longer, 'kay?" she called, brushing past his figure as she sluggishly—bag in hand—made her way to the locker rooms.

Karasu nodded absentmindedly, his eyes tracing the shadows of her figure until she disappeared around the corner.

C’mon, me, this isn’t the time to feel all mushy for [Name]! That’s [Name]! Your best friend! The gorilla girl next door always working hard like a cow, he internally scolds himself.

Karasu let out a low groan, slumping over on the floor, staring at the place where [Name] once stood. He swore he could almost see her figure there, and he would have believed his own illusions if he hadn't just seen her walk past him to go change.

The soccer player runs a hand over his face in frustration. "Honestly, what's wrong with me..." he mumbles, covering his head with his arm like it can somehow magically put out the wildfire wreaking havoc on the meadows of his face, burning through his resolve like paper.

In the locker room, [Name] was facing a dilemma of her own.

"Hey, [Last Name]-chan, are you and Karasu-kun going out?" one of her teammates asks, a gentle curiosity for Karasu and her long-term friendship, but the words felt like collapsing stars in the once quiet place.

In horrified befuddlement, [Name] screamed an anguished—"Huh?!" like the words her teammate spoke had been a cursed enchantment that would linger through her bloodline for a thousand generations and not the fantasy she wanted to bleed into reality.

"That gel-faced crow who's scared of water? Hell no!" she denies, trying to have it look like the teases and jeers she usually passed around with others.

"But he always waits for you to finish practice" her teammate pointed out.

And it was true—Karasu always made the trip across campus just to wait for [Name] to conclude training no matter how long it dragged on. She recalls the many times the soccer player had fallen asleep by the door, using her gym bag as a pillow because, according to him, her clothes were fluffier and a lot more comfortable than the mess of dirty, sweat-drenched heap in his bag he called clothes.

And as told by another one of his anecdotes, [Name]'s stuff (and even herself) were a lot more preferable sleeping buddies than a soccer ball. A soccer ball! Then there was also the day he carried her home after a particularly bad fall from kicking practice, even if Karasu himself was tired beyond belief.

"That mole rat's been around for so long, we prolly look the same in everyone's eyes by now." [Name] jokes as she continues to rummage through her bag, shaking her head from the horrible image of her having Karasu’s hair.

"And besides..." she murmurs, her gaze distant as she stares at the dress she chose—picking apart her closet all night, spending so long trying to carefully place it in her bag—only to betray herself by abandoning it last minute.

He already likes someone else.

---

The walk to the cafe was relatively silent.

Karasu kept the comments of [Name] being far too quiet for the past week to himself. He thought, maybe she was just tired. The school festival was coming up, but she also still had to train. It was cruel, especially the arduous training he saw her endure earlier that she looked ready to rearrange her coach’s face to roadkill.

Domed by an eternally blue sky, he glances at her from the corner of his eyes.

She looked like hell!

Karasu wasn’t about to lie and tell her that she looked great—that would just be cruel—so he chose not to say anything at all.

He didn’t trust himself with his words, a restraint he put on himself like heaven’s command after he caught himself looking around a store and thinking: Oh, [Name] would like this, or, She’d look good in this, before a hollowing echo of, She always looks good in everything though, would cause him to freeze where he stood and cover his face in shame for having such thoughts.

By far the worst case of this was when he stopped someone because he mistook her for [Name]—it was ridiculous! This was getting outrageous!

Yet one look at her, right here, when all the colors of the sun had painted her in an ethereal light, how could he still think that she was the most beautiful person on the planet?

It must be witchcraft. A curse put upon him for lying. A truth… that he was finding increasingly difficult to deny.

Absolutely… ridiculous…

"You tired?" he asks casually, even if the answer was staring at the road in the form of dark circles heavier than Oganesson.

"Nah.” She smiles through the haze, lazily eyeing him from the sides. “This is the usual ain't it?" she laughs, shifting the weight of her bag that she refused to let Karasu carry despite his many offers and demands for her to just give it to him.

"Don't act so tough, gorilla woman. If yer tired, we can always just go another day." He rubs the back of his neck, finding no other thing to do to ease this shaking sensation in his cardiac muscles.

"Stop callin’ me gorilla woman, you turd-face crow,” she barks, though her tone didn’t hold an ounce of real bite. “'Sides... we're already here. It'd be a shame to leave now."

They stood in front of a glass-front café, cakes and other desserts peering at the passersby from the window. The little signboard by the door offering a warm welcome.

The scent of something faintly sweet weaved with the aroma of coffee waltzed through the warm air of the shop, a low hum of conversation rippling the serene atmosphere.

It thankfully was not the busiest place on the planet. There were a couple of middle school kids by the window side laughing amongst themselves, an office worker staring blankly into the horizon as the sunlight caught her auburn hair in a shimmering light, lastly, an elderly couple shared a pie and some loving smiles near the bar.

"Welcome!" A melodic voice cuts through the air, littered with all the scent of flowers in an open field, warm like the hearth of a fire.

Karasu turned in the direction of the voice, squinting at the sight of a girl in an apron holding a notepad. Who the hell was this loser? He thought, amused in the kindest light, domineering, in the worst.

The soccer player pushes [Name] to an empty booth, telling her to go order whatever her heart desires.

“Just get me whatever,” she mutters, closing her eyes, looking every bit like the monks he occasionally sees on TV… only cuter—what the actual hell?

“Sorry to burst yer bubble but they aren’t sellin’ that here.” He teases, reaching over to pinch her cheeks to get her to wake.

“Ow! Quit that!” She yelps and swats his hand away, sticking her tongue out at him before grabbing the menu from the table. “I’m gonna make your pockets hurt, turd-face.”

She buries her head in the menu dedicating every bit of concentration on the booklet, and he let her—even if he knew how this was gonna end.

“The Chocolate Milk non-coffee drink! And some cake trio platter!” she smiles at him—like he hung the constellations in the sky, or that he had been the one who conjured all the colors of the sun—the first in a long while, so it seems.

“Ya always get that everywhere we go.” He sighs, tracing her features with a gentle gaze.

“Ya asked me what I wanted, and I want that—” she raises her voice in faux defiance as if daring him to contradict her.

“Yeah, yeah…” he waves her off, flicking her forehead to add to her ire. “’Scuse me,” he calls over the lady who welcomed them earlier.

[Name], lost in her own thoughts, allowed her gaze to linger on his side profile from under her lashes. It wasn’t intentional. Why was he sitting there like that anyway all broad-shouldered and tall and—and…

She sighs in defeat.

When did you get so pretty? She thinks, mapping the edges of his jaw, memorizing the sudden sharpness in his gaze.

When did I get so sappy? She lets out a breath, shaking her head to clear her thoughts.

"Oh, Karasu-kun! Long time no see!"

The greeting caused [Name]’s eyes to shoot open, her stare landing on Karasu before it traced his gaze to the café worker smiling at them—at him, every atom the embodiment of a daydream. Built upon the foundation of effortless femininity.

“Uh…” Karasu trails off, unsure of what to reply. He was certain he didn’t know this person—

“You don’t remember me?” the waitress points to herself, “It’s Marisa, from elementary school.” She laughs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ears.

Karasu didn’t speak for a moment, short enough to feel natural yet all the stretch to let [Name] know that he was struggling to think about what to say.

"Marisa… Oh, Marisa!” His voice raises higher than expected, like he was caught red-handed for something he was guilty about. “Didn't expect you to be working here." He says, his easy-going tune hiding the truth that they intentionally chose this place because she was working here—that it was not a fated coincidence but a conspired plan. That was what [Name] thought, after all, she was the one who brought him here.

But Karasu… Karasu had forgotten all about that.  

"[Last Name]-san, too. Hello," Marisa greets politely, every inch of her polished to a girly perfection. [Name] nods her head in acknowledgement, mumbling a quiet “Hi”.

"So, what can I get you two?" She asks smoothly, quickly pulling out a notepad.

Karasu steals a glance at [Name] finding her slumped where she was seated, painfully aware of the feel of her knee grazing his from under the table.

"I'll get the bamboo shoot soup if ya will." He replies cooly, like it was the most natural thing in the world, and it probably was.

What wasn’t natural, however, was that…

"Ever the favorite, huh?" Marisa teased, writing down his choice. "Ours have some mushrooms in it, so do be careful."

…She remembered.

"No biggie, [Name] here loves those." Karasu tilts his head to her direction. Did he have all the intention to rub it in her face that he was so close to getting the girl of his dreams? Or did the world mocked her through him as if saying, in big bold letters: Stop dreaming already, girl, yer never gonna get ‘im. Totally not cool.

[Name] didn’t know how to reply, she had no intention of doing so in the first place since she wasn’t even supposed to be part of this conversation to begin with.

"Really? I love mushrooms too, [Last Name]-san." Marisa beams, smiling like an angel.

"Well ain't that a surprise!" Karasu laughs.

No... it really wasn't.

He was enjoying this too much, [Name] thinks. How cruel does fate have to be that [Name] was hearing this conversation right in front of her face? Pretty damn cruel. She was no stranger to that, her coach made sure of it, fate made it certain, and the world set it in stone so that she may never forget.

Yet it still hurt. It hurts… so much. Every time she’s led back to this road, back to this desolate, empty, and pot-hole-riddled road—her resolve… breaks just a little bit more.

But she took one look at him, at Karasu—her best friend in the whole wide universe—looking so happy, and she plunged to freezing depths of her acceptance.

She steeled her heart, tightened the seams that they bled through the threads. Just a little longer, she whispers. Please, just for a little longer. Karasu's happy. Finally, after three long years of waiting for this chance, it's already within his grasp.

That's right.

This is how it should be.

This would be the inevitable outcome of all this planning and running around. All so he can be with her.

These useless feelings need to go away, they need to leave because they would just get in the way. They'll wedge themselves between Karasu and his happiness. [Name]’s yearning to be more than just a friend in his eyes would drive him away. Karasu didn't think of her like that. He didn't like her that way. And he would never. And she needs to learn how to accept that.

Because why would he—how could he—if Marisa was the one in front of him? How could he bring himself to love [Name] when the girl of his dreams liked him, too?

I'd rather see them happy together. So happy that it'll show just how ridiculous it is for me to want him. Until I can't even dream of it anymore.

Because that was how it should be.

This was the reality.

[Name] loves Karasu that much was true.

But... Karasu loved Marisa… and no power on earth was going to change that.

---

"Isn't this strange," Tsubame, Karasu's older sister, mused, looking up from her schoolwork all the way from the dining room table to stare at her little brother's entrance like he was some strange lab experiment gone wrong.

"What's strange?" Tabito questions, yanking his shoe off with all his usual carelessness before haphazardly shoving them into the cabinet by the door.

"Yer not with [Name]-chan."

Tsubame now stood before him, an inch taller than him, courtesy of the higher leveling of their living room from their entryway.

"Didja get in a fight with her or somethin'?" She buzzed around the taller male like a bee, completely forgetting about her work still littered on the table. "Finally win? Yer count is on an outstanding three to fourty seven, those three wins because you cheated!"

Karasu dodged his sister's nosiness, grabbing a glass from the cupboard to fill it with his usual kelp tea.

"We didn't fight," he mumbles, from his spot, he could see past the window above the kitchen sink and to the window of [Name]'s living room. "She was just tired 's all." He answers mindlessly, rinsing off his glass before turning to leave, brushing past his older sister and her simmering curiosity.

Tabito didn't understand it himself.

That was supposed to feel like mission accomplished! He should've been over the moon, even reaching farther than the center of the galaxy... but he wasn't.

He blamed it on the mushroom he was forced to eat! He blamed it on the karate team's coach. He blamed it on destiny, on fate, on any other higher being messing with him and laughing in the coves of their habitats!

Most of all... he blamed himself.

Whose fault was it other than his that all [Name]’s hard work got burnt to the ground?

Because when he talked to Marisa for the first time in three years—just when he thought it would be a lasting moment that would echo for all eternities to come—he felt absolutely nothing. Like that day back in elementary graduation. Completely impassive from that girl's confession.

Empty.

He didn’t even recognize Marisa! He called her a loser! And despite having her right next to him, within arms’ reach, close enough to hold, all the bit possible to touch… all he could think about was the girl sitting in front of him.

How her eyes looked too tired, that she probably wanted nothing more than to sleep, or get that tournament trophy over and done with and goof around.

Everything about Marisa blended with all the colors of the earth, nothing but a backdrop to make everything else shine. Her voice fading to a dull echo until all he could hear was the silence…

"Ya can't keep denying, Tabi-chan."

...Silence left by the lack of [Name]'s presence.

It must be witchcraft; someone must've cast a spell on him on the way home! That must be it! Because why on earth was he hearing [Name]'s voice in the safety of his home when he very much clearly saw her walk through her front door and shut the door in his face?

He blamed it for forgetting to clean his ears earlier, because the next words he heard came in the form of his sister's voice. "If there's somethin’ ya wanna say to her then ya better say it."

It was Tsubame-nee-chan from the very beginning.

It was just Tabito thinking otherwise. It was him summoning all these hallucinations of [Name]. Conjuring the image of her in the afternoon haze, seeing her face in the breaks of dawn, hearing her voice in the horizons of twilight. It was all him. All him.

"It'll make ya feel better if yer just honest with yerself. Do it now while ya still have the time." Tsubame places a comforting hand on her little—who is now not so little—brother's shoulder. "Regret always comes when the moment's over."

"Does this come from yer personal experience?" Tabito shot back, evading what he already feels engraving in his heart.

"Imma let that slide, you ungrateful brat," Tsubame smiles through her irritation, before it quickly thaws to a sigh, "It's an old saying, Tabito. 'Repentance comes too late' or 'the biggest fish is always the one that got away'." She shakes her head, tired of her brother being an idiot!

"While she's still there, just tell her how you really feel."

"What's that s'posed to mean?" he barks, aggravated by the hidden implication, he didn't like that—

"Oh, please! Assess yerself for once!" Tsubame yells, throwing her hands fed up with this idiot’s stubbornness, turning her back and retreating to the dining table to continue her work. “Ya shouldn’t need someone to spell it out fer ya! Figure it out like man, ya idiot!”

His sister’s words strike true, rattling the peace within his great fortress of denial. The weight of it left him standing there in the ruins of his cowardness, unsure if he should rebuild the remnants of something he once had thought would stand for eternity.

Tabito needed to know that for himself, he knew that. He also knew that he shouldn't need an external force to have him work on his tangled feelings of friendship and love, because it would make it meaningless. He needed to find that out on his own.

He needed to do all that gruelling powder and brushwork on his own accord and find out for himself where exactly did he cross the line between friends and 'I guess spending life with you wouldn't be so bad'.

[Name] was always there.

Everywhere he looked, in every memory he held, she existed. No matter what point in his life he travels back to—she was just... there.

All the memories he could recall had remnants of her: a smile, her daunting laugh, the pain of her kicks, the scent of daylight that lingers around wherever she goes. She was there. In everything. Everywhere. In all the colors of the sun.

The heat from soccer practice. The gentle gale of spring. The moon in all its glory. She was there. The laughter echoing in the streets. A shadow in the playground. The starting thought before daybreak. A lingering memory before he succumbs to slumber. She was there.

In all his thoughts, every action, every smile, every laugh... they all led back to her. The fall of snow, the rain of petals, the crashing waves, the eternal saturated autumn sky.

There's a piece of her in everything.

When did it all change?

When did I start seeing you like this? When did I go so far beyond the boundary that I couldn't see that everything was blurring past all the colors of friends? When did I start missing the sound of your voice? When did I start staying in the illusion that I didn't see you more than a friend?

When did I...

This was the reality.

An undeniable truth he had always run away from. Choosing to cower behind the fragments of a past he had long swept out of his heart.

He was in love with her.

Karasu Tabito... was in love with [Name].

And he has been for a long time.

---

When Monday morning came in, Karasu showed up on her doorstep with his uniform thrown on his figure looking like a whirlwind passed him by on his way to her house.

He gave her his usual smirk, trying to bite at her ego from the way he stares at her. Condescending from an outsider’s words; lovesick from his.  

“Didja run twenty before comin’ here on somethin’?” She teased, fixing his crooked tie with a laugh.

Karasu stares at her face scrunched into concentration, his head buzzing from the drumming of his heart—reaching all the way to the tip of his fingers. He prayed to all the deities out there that she couldn’t hear the way his chest wanted to split open from the lingering warmth of her touch. Or that she couldn’t feel that his body was emitting more heat from her close proximity.

Did he do this on purpose? No.

But for once he thanked all the cells in his body for working late on a Monday morning because he gets to be at the receiving end of [Name]’s warm touches.

“Tabi-chan? Are ya listenin’?”

Karasu’s momentary reverie crumbled at the sound of her voice. [Name] eyes him with heavy concertation, tilting her head as she looks up at him, her hand now holding onto the strap of her bag.

“Sorry, what were you sayin’?” he whispers, his breath falling short and had his words tumbling like the wind, left for only his and the earth to hear.

[Name] paid no mind to his strange demeanor, shifting her weight from one foot to another and looked at anything but his searching gaze.

“I said I was sorry,” she purses her lips together, the words didn’t taste particularly unpleasant, but the reminder of their laughter still haunted her more than she’d like to admit. “Fer cuttin’ yer date short with ‘er, I mean.” She clarifies, shutting the door behind her as she steps a foot onto the front lawn, walking past Karasu who stood on her porch a moment longer than usual.

Karasu quickly pulled himself together and closed the distance she put between them in a few large strides, slyly taking her bag with her as he distracted her with conversation.

"'S nothin'. We had a talk while ye were dyin' in the bathroom," he muses, poking at her side to rile her up.

"Hey! I wasn't dyin'—" [Name] rose to protest, because she really wasn’t. She excused herself to the bathroom to spit out whatever the hell it was that she ate—"Their bread had raisins on them. Raisins. I hate raisins." She argues defensively, crossing her arms over her chest… entirely unaware that her bag was no longer in her hold.

"Could've given them to me," Karasu shrugs, leaning half his weight on her, a terrible habit he developed when they were nine years old and hasn’t grown out of ever since.

[Name] dragged her weight to her legs, trying to keep both him and her upright. She doesn’t wanna topple over the sidewalk... again. It’s happened too many times already, and with more than at least ten of their neighbors seeing.

"Not in front of yer Mona Lisa," [Name] sneers, pushing his ever-drawing face away.

"Puhlease, she's hardly a Mona Lisa." Karasu comments, voice mumbled by the nice-smelling hand that belonged to the girl next to him.

[Name] was not sure how to respond to that. The truth was that they left the café after they finished eating. But some might think, oh, isn’t that what you do though? Well, it was what she wanted to do. She planned that meet-up to end with Karasu and Marisa living happily ever after. But as she went to the bathroom, came back, and told Karasu that she had to go home because she wasn’t feeling well—he offered to walk her home. It was what a good friend does, really it was. But you don’t do that when the girl you like is standing right next to you!

Plus, they talked about that! [Name] told him that she was gonna make up some dumb excuse to get them alone. This was the dumb excuse! But he was being more of an idiot than the idiotic excuse leaving her lips.

In the end, they ended up bidding her farewell… with Karasu lying through his teeth that he was gonna come back—not that [Name] knew that considering she was far too busy glaring at him from the side.

"Marisa... has a boyfriend already,"

Karasu’s voice froze the gaping silence between them, his words flying into the blue skies, forever left to find their way to the land of acceptance Karasu has long since passed.

[Name] looked at him in shock, stumbling over her step before regaining her footing only to gawk at him again.

Is that true? Did Marisa really have a boyfriend? Since when? I never saw that on her socials. Did Karasu confess or something? Or was Marisa possessed by some sort of psychedelic mind reader?

[Name] would never know… and she reckons Karasu was never gonna talk about it either. She knows that look, when his eyes stare so far into the distance she begins to wonder if he was seeing a portal to another universe open before his eyes, let’s not talk about it.

"Oh... uhmm,” she starts; racking her brain for an appropriate response that wasn’t Hell yes! or Woo hoo! because that was not appropriate in the least. “That's rough buddy." She awkwardly pats his back, only this time, she had no melted, half-eaten popsicle to offer him. Only a heart, battered and bruised, covered in bandages and held together by a thread… that will only ever be his.

"Ya know, I thought I’d be more upset about it." Karasu looks to the heavens, oddly vocal about what he feels.

Maybe it was morning dew refracted by the early morning rays. Maybe it was the autumn gale, ruffling the threads of his clothes. Maybe it was because of her—of [Name].

She looks at him with a raised brow, "And ya aren't?"

He smiles at her, one so gentle it could rival the clouds, replace the sun in warmth… dethrone Aphrodite from her position. “No,” he whispers, “No I’m not.”

He takes it all in, the image of her in this light. Karasu traces the contours of her face, the dust of roses powdered on the hills of her cheeks, the shine of a thousand galaxies in the pools of her irises.

Karasu was never one to believe in magic, or the supernatural… he couldn’t even consider himself an avid fan of the faerie folk.

But if somehow, somewhere—in this vast infiniteness, in the depths of the parallels, and the lullabies of the unknown—if there existed a figure for love, he was sure that it would be her.

"Maybe it's cuz I never liked her enough to begin with."

His confession slipped past his lips in a low murmur, faint enough that it could pass as a song of the fall, but she heard it. Always. Because what else could explain the reason that [Name] had suddenly started choking on her spit.

"Oi! Ya alright? Hey! [Name]! Don't die!" Karasu panics.

"Whaddaya mean ya don't like her?!” She screams, shoulders heaving from the sudden strain on her lungs. “What's all that work for then? Didya lie to me? Karasu Tabito—"

Her tone sent shivers crawling through his spine. "Woah,” he raises his arms in surrender. “Don't go drawin' the full name card on me [Name]." he tries to laugh it off, but the look in her unimpressed eyes told him that he needed to say something else.

"I did get somethin' out of yer hard work," he smiles.

"Which is?" [Name] nods in anticipation, leaning closer.

"Realizin' I don't like her anymore."

[Name] draws a deep breath, releasing it in an exaggerated huff of air, and without another word, continued to walk to school.

This was hopeless.

She walked in front of him. One, because she didn’t want to look at his face at the moment. And two, so that he won’t be a witness to her burning cheeks and her desperately suppressed smile. Yeah, no way in hell was she letting him see that!

"Told ya about it remember?" he calls from behind, a good four to five steps apart.

"I can barely remember what I ate yesterday, ya gotta be more specific."

Karasu stares at the back of her head, a view he’d seen for at least half his life already. "That day… by the seaside."

[Name] remained wordless; she remembers that vividly. Because how could she ever bring herself to forget?

The day that she…

"Ya have the memory of a goldfish," Karasu groans, every bit the telenovela star he was. "I told ya, getting’ love ain't everythin' in this world."

…began to like this guy.

"Oh." She whispers.

"Remember now?"

That memory had always been something she treasured, never an ephemeral wandering like a half-buried shell washed ashore.

[Name] looks to him from over her shoulder as she nods in confirmation. "What's that gotta do with this though?" She continues ever forward, eyes once more trailing to focus on the pavement before her.

Karasu’s answer got stuck in the tunnels of his throat, like his own brain was unsure of the reason why he brought it up in the first place. He just wanted to talk to her, to hear her voice echo for all eternity in the caves of his soul, even long after he’s left this world. "Losin' an ordinary girl ain't worth it to be upset over."

[Name]’s footsteps falters, the edge of her shoe getting caught by a crack appearing out of nowhere, much like her own traitorous heart, once again caught in the snares of his words. The words someone spoke to her long ago echoing in her head, you two are finally reaching the age of maturity. Finally—after so, so long—brave enough to let go of the things that weren’t meant to stay, and to be strong enough to accept those who were supposed to.

"Woah," this time, [Name] turned to face him with a skin-crawling grin, an all too familiar shape, he thinks.

"Who ever knew a day would come when Karasu Tabito calls his lifelong love an ordinary girl—"

"She wasn't a lifelong love!"

---

It took a long time for Karasu to gather the dust and form the courage to profess his love for [Name].

He was cocky, and overconfident, and rough and ragged around the edges, and disliked it when anything went wrong. Basically, he was his own enemy when it came to his own love life. Sure, people liked him enough to give him Valentine’s Day chocolates, but the issue lies in him, not his admirers. For the life of him, he could not be nice to anyone he saw as mundane or boring. He was an—in the nicest way possible—Karasu Tabito was an asshole. His smirk didn’t help his case one bit.

Oh, but how humbling an experience it is for him when she was the one standing before him. The great, I’m-gonna-make-you-see-yer-ordinary Karasu Tabito who stared down his opponents on the field, was afraid to tell his best friend that he liked her.

That’s why he had dragged his feelings by the collar all the way to their second year of high school. His sister had more than a few not-so-nice things to say about him when she heard that up until now, he was still shaking in his elementary school boy shorts.

But could they blame him? Yeah, they really could. Even his parents looked at him weirdly when he always offered to wash the dishes at night because it gave him the excuse to see [Name] from the comforts of her living room.

Still, here he was—beating around the bush with the girl he likes.

But could they really blame him? This was [Name]! The one who could brawl in a gang fight barehanded and win. [Name] who had the nicest laugh and the warmest touch. It was [Name] whom he liked… [Name] who was dyed in all the colors of the sun.

And he was scared to lose her.

Karasu didn’t want to mess this up because not only will he lose her as a lover, but he’d also be left to live in a world where he was no longer her best friend.

What if he did confess and she turns him down?

What then?

In his eyes, compared to her—[Name] who was everything in his world—to [Name] who had the nicest smile, and the happiest laugh, Karasu felt mundane in all the aspects of his life.

So sometimes, when his own emotions overwhelm him as he gets so lost just thinking about her in the silence of the night, he tells himself that maybe, it was fine like this.

Tabito and [Name]; [Name] and tabito. Best friends.

Maybe, he should just shut them in, keep it all inside and wait for it to go away, pray for it to go away. He was having loads of fun already. They were together all the time. Maybe... just maybe... it's fine like this. Maybe staying as childhood friends—as best friends forever—isn't so bad.

"Why're ya dressed like an old man?" [Name] raised a brow at him, lips twitching as she fought tooth and nail to swallow her laugh. Her eyes analyze his get-up from head to toe, taking in his fake white beard down to his green yukata and his grey haori, and the geta on his feet that echoed with every exaggerated step; wooden footwear she saw inside her grandpa's shoe cabinet. He was hunched over like a shrimp, with a cane to support his weight.

"'S for the class!" he replies with enthusiasm, stroking his fake white beard like some wise old monk.

"Ya look like a senile old man." [Name] snorts, her restraint shattering at the angry look on his face as her laugh resonates in the crowded hallway. She adjusts her grip on the box of props, shoulders shaking from the little giggles that seeped from her lips.

Karasu cracked an eye open to glare at her, and with an added pizzazz, rose in hand to counter—more like agree—with her. "I am a senile old man!"

[Name] laughed harder, the box rattling like the happiness that rippled the once-serene calmness of her soul. "Ya sound just like gramps!" She breathes, wiping her eye on the cloth of her shoulder.

Karasu grumbles in defeat, knowing he couldn't win against [Name] and her oh-so-creative teasing.

He dropped the act and adjusted his posture to stand to his full height, ultimately noting that [Name] had stopped laughing once she realizes that in height, Karasu would always have the last laugh. Or in this case, a triumphant smirk on his face as he eyes her from above, not even craning his head.

She squints her eyes at him. “Damn evolution,” she mutters under her breath and made sure her voice was loud and clear as she finishes her sentence with— “Since when did idiots grow to be so tall?!”

[Name] hmphed, turning her head to look away and sidestepped to get past him to move onward to her destination, but before she could, Karasu shifted to block her path.

"What is it now—" The words got lodged in the tunnels of her throat as the weight of the box she’s been carrying since the school gate suddenly disappeared from her arms.

She looked at him, startled to find him looking at anywhere but her. The autumn daylight made the crimson on his cheeks all the more prominent.

Karasu couldn’t bring himself to believe that he could ever be happy with being just her friend. He reckons he never will. It would kill him not to love her beyond all this. If there ever existed a universe where he was contented with that—he was damn sure it would not be this one.

Because he as much as he was cocky, and overconfident, and an asshole. Karasu was greedy. And he was selfish. And painfully stubborn.

"Just helpin' the pretty girl lift the heavy boxes."

[Name]’s face erupted into a thousand shades of red, but this time, she had nothing to use to hide it from him. He caught her by surprise. A dirty trick. Ambushed her to this—this… vulnerable position. She could feel fire spread through her veins like lava, setting all in its wake into a melting heat, burning at the thorns of her restraint, drowning the caves of her hesitance to a resounding calm, and lighting the heavens of her soul into all the colors of the sun.

She hated this. Stupid Tabito. Before she could contain herself, her embarrassment took reign of her actions, her knee jerked up, landing a solid kick to the back of his thighs.

"Ow!" He yelps, did Karasu ever mention that her kicks were heavy? Well, they were. The force of her assault had him fumbling over his own steps, but he could not stop the growing smile on his face.

"Get goin' old man!" she snaps, crossing her arms and glaring at all the things around them. She was flustered. Her body couldn’t decide if she liked it or hated it. Why does he find the need to say that? Why does Karasu have to be so—so… embarrassing?

[Name] buries her face in the palm of her hands, as if her own flaming limb could help cool the raging inferno on her face. Her mind replays his words like a broken record. Pretty girl. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did he even mean that? Probably. That stupid crow always pushed her so far, teased her to no end. So, what was the difference this time?

Karasu laughs, a sound so cool and warm, the sting from his best friend’s kick fading to a dull echo. His gaze was made from the softest threads, one so intertwined with the melody of affection, blanketed with the warmest colors.

…Maybe it’s because this time around, he actually means it.

And this time, he wasn’t afraid to say it to her.

This one will probably come around to bite him back, but he would take it. Anything the world throws at him—he would take it. Because he wouldn’t allow himself to see another sun if [Name] didn’t go to sleep not knowing that she’s pretty.

---

The day of the school's culture festival rolled around.

For the past three weeks, their class united on the single idea of setting up a little café. By some miracle, they actually pulled it off quite well, despite battling the initial deadline, heavily handicapped at the loss of their two athletes. Between Karasu’s rigorous training schedule and [Name]’s tyrant of a coach monopolizing every spare second of her time for practice, there was no way they were ever going to contribute much beyond the bare minimum.

But [Name] did not want to be dead weight.

She volunteered to carry the boxes containing the ingredients and decorations, carrying them across campus like a one-woman moving company. While Karasu was left with no other option but to dress up like an old man inviting people to come and buy—he would probably garner more attention if he stayed just the way he is, but with his sharp tongue and domineering stare, he would just scare all their customers away (not like a beard and a yukata could hold his words back).

By the time the sun had reached the middle of the sky, they already looked like they wanted to go home—both completely floored from the physical work.

[Name] sat crisscross apple sauce outside the classroom, her back against the wall, and Karasu plopped down beside her, stretching his legs out with a groan—no respect for anyone walking by, his legs were nearly occupying a quarter of the hallway!

Their lunches were as mismatched as their personalities: [Name] poked at the pasta littered with raisins while Karasu grimaced at the sight of mushrooms contaminating his bento.

He knew he should be thankful to his sister who had oh-so-kindly offered to make them lunch seeing as she was on break from college, but Tabito has already told her like a million times! He doesn’t like mushrooms, [Name] does. And [Name] didn’t like raisins, he did!

Without a word, he begins plucking the raisins out of her food like they were newly ripe fruits ready to sell, dumping them on the lid of his bento. In honor of distributive justice, he traded in all the mushrooms he had on his lunch to hers.

"Yer actin' weird," she mutters through a mouthful of pasta, eyeing him from where she sat.

"Whatcha talkin' 'bout, I've always been this kind." He retorts, smiling to convey his sincerity as he places a hand over his heart like it could vouch for his claims.

"Kind-a suspicious ya mean!" [Name] squints at him, pointing a stick of bread at his face. "Just say whatcha wanna say already!"

"Yer ovethinkin' it! I'm always like this!" he defended, not bothering to hide the way he eyes [Name]’s stick of bread.

If he were to just…

"Hey, Tabi-chan...” her call drew the curtains close to his evil scheme. “What would you do if I got a boyfriend?"

Her question silenced the chaos in his head, pulling apart at all the worlds he built until everything came to a standstill. Until he was surrounded by the never-ending nothingness that came with the weight of her question. Heavier than all the stars, so it seems. Why was she saying this? Why now? Why does it have to be now? Now that he was finally—

But she didn’t wait for an answer. Maybe he was perturbed by his silence, mistaking it for agreement. Yet the truth was that she just caught him off guard.

Like [Name]… he didn’t hold all the answers in the world.

"I probably wouldn't, huh?" she laughs, smiling despite the obvious squeeze in her throat. A jest, in the kindest words; hurt, in the worst. "No one's ever gonna want a brute like me."

That's not true, Karasu wanted to protest. What she spoke of couldn't have been farther from the truth.

He didn’t want her to think like that—she just couldn’t. She was someone who deserved the love she wanted to have… more than anyone else. And he wanted to say that to her. He wanted to tell her desperately that there was someone who loved her—hell, so many people loved her.

Every day, he raced against so many people for her affection, for a chance to feel what it’s like to be loved by someone like her.

"There's gotta be someone out there, right?" he offers. Or right here... if you can only look at me. "Someone who'll love you… just fer who ya are."

"Ya really believe in that?" she asked, laughing again, but this time it sounded more like an escape. She wraps the furoshiki on the bento box, her hands moving far too quickly that Karasu knew she was doing it just so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

But that didn’t matter. She could turn a blind eye to him today. He would wait. Ignore his attempts tomorrow—he would still wait. Stay oblivious to it for the next five years? Then he’ll just have to step up his game.

"I know it."

There was something about the way he said it, shacked by all the chains of his beliefs, as though there could exist no surer thing than what he knew right at this very moment.

It took her by surprise, stole all the breath reserved in her lungs that she forgot that she needed to breathe to see the next day.

“Ya don’t even need to wish fer that,” he adds, voice steadied by the foundation of his own experiences. “They come naturally,” he continues.

In all the forms you can think of. A piece of paper with the things about yer crush. A soccer ball. The kicking pad almost takin’ yer head off. Or a melting, half-eaten popsicle on a summer day.

“Sometimes… ya never realize ya had them all along.”

[Name] formed her courage from the dust, turning to look at him, despite every pull of gravity telling her not to.

He was never gonna make forgetting him easy, was he? Perhaps he never wanted her to forget. Because how could she when Karasu says all these things that made her heart want to run out of her own chest? When he says all these that it leads her back to her planet-sized crush on him. How was she supposed to get away from him now? How was she supposed to move on? How was she going to ever fully deny that she didn't like him anymore when in everything, everywhere... all the roads lead straight back to him?

“And ya don’t need to wish for him to love you…”

Karasu smiles at her, one so different from all the others he ever gave her. Dyed in all the colors of gratitude, blessed by the heavens, shaded in all the colors of the sun.

“Because he already does.”

---

"Why'd we hafta go, Tabi-chan?" [Name] whines, tired from all the walking they had been doing for the last thirty minutes, now tired from all the hiking—seriously, who hikes in the evening?

"Whaddaya mean why?” Karasu shot back, raising a questioning brow at her complaint. “We always go every year! And don't act like ya don't like it when yer all dressed up." he points to her yukata, dyed in the shade of violets, decorated with the flowing river in the form of cranes. Karasu had to leash his head and make a conscious effort not to look too much lest he risk getting reported for being a creep.

"Only cuz Ma made me,” she admits, tugging slightly at her obi. “Always naggin' 'bout actin' like a girl and lookin' like a girl as if I ain't a girl." She huffs, the corners of her lips weaving into a scowl.

Karasu tilted his head in fond gentleness. “You look beautiful,” he whispers, the sentiment flowing past his lips like the gentle spring breeze. “Yer always beautiful.”

His words crashed against her like a tidal wave: caressing the soles of her feet, drawing back, before coming at her all at once—with little to no warning at all.

[Name] tilts her head to the side to look at him, smiling at him with all the happiness in the universe. “Ya don't look too shabby yerself, Tabito."

Before he could fire back, Karasu caught a glimpse of sparks tracing the obsidian sky, rising to reach the heavens for it to fracture into a thousand colorful fires, dyeing the obsidian canvas with all the colors of man.

Yet he already saw something far more grandeur than those when he looked into the pools of her eyes—reflecting all the stardust and galaxies as if everything existed just so they could dim when compared to her, like it all came to being, just so they could fall short when she breathes.

"They're so pretty..." she whispers in awe, smiling at the sight of the transient lights.

"Yeah," he hums mindlessly, but his eyes never left hers. You are beautiful.

"I like you, [Name]." Karasu’s words silenced the chaos of the world, as if everything spiralled into nothingness to create a space only the two of them shared.

[Name] stares at him in bewilderment, her lips parted slightly, not knowing what to say.

"Don't look so surprised,” Karasu berates her with a crooked grin. “Whatcha expect? I'm only human, ya know. Ain't immune to yer charms."

"Tabito what the hell—"

Her vision burst forth into multitudes of colors at the sight of him, red-faced, flustered beyond her wildest imagination, eyes that shone with all the bravery and strength in the world, still his voice is riddled with a careful gentleness—like if he spoke any louder, this ephemeral space would crumble and he’d find himself back to reality. But his words would resound in the depths and skies of her soul for all the eternities to come, until all the stars are nothing but a dream. Until the earth is painted with all the colors of the sun.

"I'm in love with you," he confesses, his hand reaching for hers. Shaking from his nerves, determined in his affection.

His eyes searched hers for traces of disdain, any hints that she didn’t want this. Karasu dug through the colors of her face for anything—anything that told him to go away, to never show his face to her ever again.

"And I have been for a long time."

His touch lingered, hesitant to take another step forward.

"I know I'm nothin' much.” He admits, pained at the thought of his own imperfections. “I get jealous easily, and I can't be nice to mediocre people. I can't swim, and I'm afraid of water. I'm prolly the last person ya'd ever want to love ya but..." he falters, his breaths coming in short intakes as he scavenged the lands of his soul for the right words to say—for the courage he had stacked upon one another.

“I don’t—” His voice cracks, holding her hand tightly as if her touch could piece back his crumbling confidence. “I want ya to be happy. God knows that I do. But I don't want to lose ya to anyone else.” But it seems like her warmth could not hold together his voice that shattered from the weight. “I’m selfish. And I’m greedy. If you still have space in yer heart for a little bit more of me, even if the odds are one to a million... then I'd want to have it.”

I'd risk everything to have it.

Karasu looked at her again, mapping the face of the one he loves, breathing heavily until he found the words he always wanted to say. "Yer beautiful. Yer smart, and strong. Anyone would be lucky to have ya love 'em."

He smiled weakly, voice softening to melt into the silence of the night.

"And... I'm just an ordinary guy, standin' in front of the most amazing girl... askin’ her to love him."

He could wait a thousand more years if she told him to. Capture every star in the sky if it makes her happy. Karasu would move the universe for her, and she would only ever need to ask.

He would color the world to her liking if she tells him to.

“Yer an idiot are’ntcha?”

Karasu raised his head to meet the sound of her voice. God, she was so beautiful.

“I guess I am,” he laughs.

“Good on ya that I like idiots.” She tightens her hold on his hand, smiling at him for all that he did and more.

Because people can’t love you exactly the way you want them to. 

You just have to let them try to do their best.

I think I got sidetracked halfway tbh 💀this is my first time writing a non-tragedy paleontological disaster-ending fic also my first time writing for karasu because he wouldn't leave me alone 😭 I can't believe I managed to give birth to a fic in under four??? yeah four days. I think I began liking this guy like five days ago for some unknown reason 💀 anyway, my requests are still open, and ya can read my other works here! thanks fer readin' 😁❤

[the20thangel]

The Dragon and The Raven Chapter 14: Warging Lessons.

Chapter Summary: Benjoct begins his warg lesson, growing frustrated at the slow process when his dragon princess decides to provide stress relief services. A certain person from the past comes to visit in dreams.

Tags: Smut, 18+ NSFW, angstishFluff

Taglist: @poppyflower-22 @alastorhazbin @callsignwidow @whimsicalmystic02 @mercedesdecorazon @rhaenyrathecruelwithteats @ithilwen-blackwood

word count: 2.7K

Masterlist

Ben stared at his aunt and the lord of Winterfell before laughing, his cackles frightening the whole group. The only person who seemed not bothered by the young lord’s outburst was Jaesys, who, in turn, began cooing, looking at his father. Alysanne would have swooned at the scene if she weren’t so worried about her nephew’s reaction to their plan. The Blackwood lady turned to Princess Aemma, who was staring at her husband with slight worry but was trying to hide it. 

After a minute, Benjicot finally calmed down. 

“I’m sorry, but it seems so far-fetched; you want me to try something I have only read in books. We don’t know if I even have enough blood from the First Men…” 

Aemma squeezed his hand, making him pause and face her. 

“It wouldn’t hurt to try, right? Look at my family; we asked Dragonseeds to come and try to claim dragons to support us in the war… If my family can have magic to bond our dragons, why can’t yours have a different magic to warg into animals.” explained Aemma to her husband while caressing his cheek. 

Benjicot smiled, leaning into his wife’s touch. She had a point; he just didn’t want to get his hopes up in trying something that could potentially amount to nothing, but again, just like the Dragon seeds, the outcome would never be certain unless he tried. Nodding, he turned to Cregan, letting him know that he was willing to try to learn how to warg. 

Cregan beamed, “Great! Using a raven or crow from Blackwood Lands would work best because they will sense a familiarity with you.” 

Aemma grew excited as she answered for Ben, “You can use my raven, Ben, the one you gave me when we started courting.” 

Benjicot smiled at her, placing a chaste kiss on her cheek as he stood with Cregan. Both lads eagerly wanted to start the process, Leaving Aly with the princess and little heir. 

After allowing a small moment of solitude to pass, Aly moved to sit next to the princess. As she finally allowed Jaesys to return to his mother’s arms, she asked how the princess was doing. 

Aemma nuzzled her baby, smiling as he cooed. She turned to answer Aly,  “Okay, there are days when I just want to wallow in my grief, but thankfully, Ben and Jaesys are always there to bring me out. Ben has also been amazing in being so hands-on with our son…truthfully it surprised me. As far as I knew, lords tend not to be so hands-on, but then again, many people also expected me just to hand my baby to a nursemaid.” 

She knew the greens were surely like that; she saw how out of touch Alicent was with her children.  Her mother rightfully criticized the green queen for that. 

Aly smiled as she replied, “Ben was always excited to have children; he would always take time to play with the children of the village and our younger cousins; he had more patience than Davos.” 

Bringing up Davos opened a wound in Aly; it had not even been a full year since her brother's and eldest nephew’s death. She knew Davos would have made an amazing uncle, adoring Jaesys with so much attention and gifts. He also would have enjoyed teasing his shy younger twin endlessly for wooing a Targaryen princess, but alas, fate was cruel in the form of Brakens. 

Aemma smiled, knowing the ghosts of their loved ones were close; grabbing her hand, the princess and lady leaned on each other, quietly reminiscing about their families. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the days passed, Benjicot spent many grueling hours reading and practicing the process of warging, but so far, nothing seemed to make process. It was frustrating for him; he wanted to support Aemma but felt like he was failing so far. He was also growing upset, having to place most of his lordly duties on Aly and Aemma while he trained with Cregan. Both women didn’t seem to complain, but Benjicot knew that putting all the engagements to them was unfair, especially since Aemma herself was taking her lessons from her father, preparing for the announcement from the Queen proclaiming Aemma as the new official heir to the Iron Throne. 

Rushing into his tent after another day of failure, he grabbed his cloak and threw it to the ground in frustration. Sighing from mental exhaustion, he sat tiredly on the bed, rubbing his hand up and down his face and trying to cool off. The rustling of the tent’s entrance made him look slightly up as he and his princess walked in wearing mostly red today. Warmth spread in Benji’s stomach; he always felt like this whenever Aemma decided to wear red instead of fully black. She looked gorgeous, and he was greatly considering asking a seamstress to make a dress for the princess that would have ravens and dragons embroidered just like their son. 

As the princess walked in, she noted her husband's mood, quietly sitting beside him and taking his hand into her own. After a moment of the two sitting in quiet peace, Ben raised their intertwined hands and kissed Aemma’s hand. Smiling, Aemma turned to her love, raising her other hand to move some of his hair from his forehead. 

“How was your day today?” asked the dragon princess, frowning slightly as Ben huffed quietly. 

“Frustrating… I just can’t seem to grasp how to warg… all I seem to be doing is growing headaches,” explained Benjicot as he felt his frustration coming back. 

Aemma moved closer to him, knowing he was placing so much pressure on himself. 

“It will come; just don’t push yourself too much. I don’t want this process to hurt you; skin changing can become dangerous.” pleaded Aemma. 

Ben shook his head, “I want to support you, be your eyes in the air; I want to prove to you and everyone how much I can bring into our marriage…” 

Aemma kissed him before she replied, “Yes, but what good will come if my husband ends up injuring himself because he constantly pushed himself beyond his limits? Warging is a skill; you have magic in your blood, as I do, but the magic needs to be trained, just like how I built my dragon riding skills. I was born with the magic to bond with dragons and ride them, but I did not magically wake up with a strong bond between Sliverwing and me. I worked hard for years with her to build our bond; there were days I was too frustrated, but my father and mother both made me realize that forcing skills to appear quickly was not the route to go; it would have only hindered my bond and caused serious repercussions. So be patient, my love; your hard work will come to fruition.” 

Benjicot sighed, knowing his dragon princess’s words to be true. He kissed her back briefly before separating himself from her and asking for Jaesys. 

“Daemon has him, says that the Blackwoods have been hogging him for too long, and the boy also needed to know his Targaryen roots. His words, not mine,” replied Aemma as she stood from the bed, walking behind Benjicot and placing her hands on his shoulder. 

Mischievous, the princess smirked, pressing her body to her husband. She began messaging his tense shoulders, causing the raven-haired lord to groan. Leaning to his ear, Aemma whispered. 

“Besides, I felt you were going to be tense, so I decided to use this free time to release you from any tension.” 

Benjicot blushed slightly at his wife’s words. Determined not to falter, he decided to play on. “Oh, and what plans do you have, wife? Will you serve me on your knees and-” 

Ben sharply inhaled, seeing Aemma knee before him, and spreading his legs open. Aemma placed her hands on each thigh, squeezing them a little, making sure to keep eye contact as she replied. 

“What a wonderful idea, husband. Let me serve you tonight.” 

With that, she reached forward and grabbed Ben’s clothed cock messaging it and squeezing it for a moment before she freed it from his clothed restraints. She stared at it as it slowly started to harden and rise. Spitting in her hand, she grabbed his rod again, moving her hands in a circular motion and up and down. 

Ben groaned, spreading his legs farther, allowing Aemma to come closer to him as she spat on him, squeezing his cock before continuing with her motion. Once she knew he was fully erect, she leaned her mouth to him, placing a kiss at the tip before dragging her tongue slowly down to his base and enjoying his loud groan from his mouth. 

Benjicot felt like he was in paradise with an angel. As he placed his hand on Aemma’s head, he entangled his fingers in her sliver waves, tugging a bit, which prompted the princess to lick upwards before taking him into her mouth. 

“Fuck Aemma!” exclaimed Ben as he felt her warm mouth around him. 

Aemma smiled. Hearing her name coming out of his mouth in a pleasurable tone, she continued her attention to him, moving her head up and down and swirling her tongue around him like he was a sweet candy. She moaned, feeling his hands grip her hair harder, pushing himself deeper into her mouth. She begins feeling wetness pool under her. 

At hearing her moan, Ben began panting, feeling his release coming fast like a train; as he tried to pull her off, it only caused her to suck harder, which pushed him to the edge. Letting a loud grunt, he released himself in her mouth. Opening his eyes, he moaned loudly, seeing how his beautiful wife swallowed every single drop. She looked so angelic, her purple eyes slightly hooded, staring at him. With a smile, Aemma released him with a loud pop, kissing the tip again before she moved up and sat on his lap. 

“How was that for you, my love.” She whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Ben chuckled as he, too, wrapped his arms around her waist, dragging her body closer to him, causing her to grind on him. Both lord and princess quietly moan at the sensation. 

“Wonderful, you are a divine, sweet girl; now let me return the favor.” He stated as he kissed her hungrily. 

Aemma moaned again, allowing her raven lord to push his tongue into her mouth and explore the inside of her mouth. Still feeling mischievous, she lightly sucked on his tongue, which prompted him to growl in pleasure as he retreated slightly. Before she could tease him, she squealed when she felt him bite her neck. Her squeal quickly turned into moans again at feeling him attack her neck with love bites. 

Gasping, Aemma began to grind herself on him, feeling her husband’s cock awaken again. She moaned, feeling him against her. As much as she wanted him inside of her, she remembered the caution from the midwives: she shouldn’t lay with her husband until 3 moons after giving birth. Jaesys was barely turning two moons. 

“Ben, we can’t; the midwives warned against laying with you until Jaesys is 3 moons,” she whispered, although she didn’t want to stop. 

Ben kissed her again before replying, “I don’t have to be inside you to make you find your release angel. Take off your small clothes; I promise I won’t enter inside you.” 

Aemma, slightly confused, raised herself and did as was told. Once she removed her small clothes, she gasped at Benjicot’s stronghold, roughing, pulling her back onto his lap. She whimpered, feeling his stiffness nestle in between her folds. Ben placed his head on her neck, licking her neck and huffing as he felt her slick wetness coating him. Placing his arms around her waist, Ben began to move his princess, allowing his cock to slide in between her lower lips, savoring her moans and gasps. 

Aemma closed her eyes in pleasure, wrapping her arms around Benjicot’s head as she, too, began to move and grind herself on him, enjoying the feeling of him sliding. 

“Mmmhm, yes, Ben, just like that,” she whispered, for she only wanted him to hear how good she felt. 

Ben, wanting to hear more, began to roughly and faster grind himself to her, grunting at how much wetter she began. She was gorgeous, and she was his, and he was hers. No other man will ever compare to him, and no other woman can hold a candle to her. They were made for each other, and both princess and lord knew that thought to be entirely true. They were always meant to find each other. 

“Please, Ben, please..” Aemma began to plead, moving her hips faster, wanting to bring her release faster. 

“Please, my love, I can’t give you something I don’t know.” Ben taunted, although he, too, was coming close to his second release. 

“Make me undone…I need your release; I need you to bring me to ecstasy,” commanded Aemma, leaning her hips as she felt like she was going to burst. 

“Go ahead, sweetling. I will never deny you,” assured Ben, groaning as he and Aemma simultaneously allowed their release to flow over them. 

Both moaned at the sensation, holding on to each other until their ecstasy soothed over, panting. Both stayed frozen, smiling at each other. 

After a moment, Aemma kissed Ben sweetly, playing with the hairs on the back of his neck. Smiling at the kiss, Ben caressed her face. Allowing each other to feel their love for each other. 

“We should probably bathe before someone comes with Jaesys; I’d rather not see my father with our fluids still on us.” proposed Aemma, rising from his lap. 

Benicot laughed but silently agreeing he did not need to give his good father an excuse to stab him. Taking his wife into his arms, he walked them both to the bathing section of their tent. 

As the night progressed, Daemon finally returned the baby to his parents, wishing them goodnight as the young family prepared for bed. Jaesys snuggled in his bassinet, and the babe cooed in his sleep. Aemma snuggled into her husband, breathing in his scent as she allowed the realm of dreams to welcome her. Lastly, Ben, too, entered the realm of dreams. Two ravens flying around him welcomed him as one landed before him. Benjicot’s eyes widened, seeing the raven transform into his twin. His shock grew as the second raven flew down, Jaesys transforming out and landing in his uncle's arms. Davos smiled at the babe, tickling the baby as he turned to his younger twin. 

“Look at you, snagging a Targaryen princess, aye,” smirked Davos, watching as Benjicot openly gaped at him.

“What, the dragon got your tongue, Ben? Close your mouth before a fly enters; I don’t think my good sister would appreciate that.” Davos laughed as Benjicot glared at him. 

“How…what… how are you here? Where am I?” asked Ben. 

Davos shrugged, placing his nephew back in his father's arms. “Not sure, this could be your dreams or the realm in between; regardless, the old gods have decided to be generous with me and allow me to meet my nephew; he's a handsome bugger, isn’t he…a proud Blackwood, he will grow into.” 

Benjicot smiled, slightly agreeing with his twin: “He has Targaryen qualities, too; he has his mother’s eyes.” 

Davos nodded; the Blackwood genes were beautifully enhanced thanks to the Targaryen's otherworldly beauty in his nephew. 

As the twin brothers continued making small takes, Davos felt his time was coming to a close. As he expressed his thoughts, Benjicot frowned. He was not ready to let go of his twin. 

Davos chuckled, walking to his twin and hugging him. Benjicot was always the sweeter of the two. 

“We are proud of you, Ben; Mother, Father, and I are all proud. You will lead our house to glory. You will be the first in generations to warg, allowing our allies and enemies alike to see the true power of having the blood of the first men. Continue on your path, brother; you will be successful. 

Sniffing, Benjicot smiled tearily at his twin, knowing their time was up. Walking away from the young father and son, Davos smiled. 

“Tell your princess I thank her for honoring our customs and that her brothers are safe with their families.” 

Ben gaped at the words. Nodding, he stared in awe as his brother transformed into a raven again, taking flight and flying away from father and son, with sweet little Jaesys cooing, his purple eyes following as the blackbird became smaller and smaller in the distance.

[moonyswritinq]

I can’t wait to read your fics! Your writing is awesomeeee!

Can we know whatchu got in the inbox already plsssss?

(Btw I just discovered your blog but it’s so cooooool!)

😍

* REQUESTS ARE CLOSED FOR NOW ! *

thank you so much! it really means a lot to me to hear that <3

and for sure, I'll tell you what I got, in no particular order. I've written what the ship is, the form it's going to be written in—if it's decided (which can be subject to change if you have opinions on it)—, context to it and its status if it's started. I also added some projects that I haven't had requested but are working on, just in case you are curious about that (because I realised I had not updated about them for about a year, so sorry).

MASTERLIST, TAG LIST, REQUEST RULES

Dead Boy Detectives

Charles Rowland:

Charles x gn reader, headcanons and oneshot — based on the song 'So American' by Olivia Rodrigo : finished

Charles x gn reader, headcanons and oneshot — reader is short and alive

Charles x male reader, oneshot — Charles pines for reader and doesn't know how to confess his feelings

Charles x gn reader, headcanons — just cute headcanons : just started

Charles x gn reader, headcanons and oneshot — established relationship, alive reader who is psychic/has powers

Charles x male reader, headcanons and oneshot — Charles with an s/o who is European (prob Italian)

Charles x alive! gn reader, oneshot — how Charles would react to Crystal and Niko's roomate (reader) getting hurt on a case

Charles x alive! gn reader, oneshot — Charles is worried the reader will get hurt if they help on cases, so in retaliation they stubbornly put on loads of iron jewelry to keep him from stopping them

Edwin Payne/Paine:

Platonic Edwin x sibling! gn reader, oneshot — reader has been wandering the earth as a ghost in search of their brother, and accidentally run across him in a small town in America : finished

Platonic Edwin x gn reader, headcanons and oneshot — reader is a witch and Edwin does not trust them in the beginning, but they end up with a sibling relationship

Edwin x psychic! alive male reader, headcanons and oneshot — reader is the opposite of his partner Edwin; energetic, outgoing, impulsive, and often gives him ghost heart attacks trying to prevent him from dying

Monty the Crow:

Monty x gn reader, prob oneshot — non-native reader (prob French) that struggles with english and Monty thinks it's cute/reassures them

Monty x male reader, headcanons and oneshot — vampire gothic reader who shows affection in strange ways and loves to listen to Monty talk

Monty x gn (maybe male) reader, oneshot — painting Monty's nails black in a tender and intimate scene

Monty x ghost!gn reader, oneshot or headcanons — Monty goes after the wrong ghost

Monty x male (or genderfluid) reader, oneshot or headcanons — Monty has a crush on reader but feels guilty because of Esther's plan

Thomas the Cat King:

Thomas x male reader, oneshot — enemies/rivals to lovers where reader is more of a dog person so you know it's going to be lots of tension : just started

Thomas x ftm reader, prob oneshot — a fallen angel reader who got hurt and gets reassurance and help from The Cat King

Thomas x male reader, prob headcanons — reader is stoic and ace, yet not sex-repulsed, but The Cat King has to work differently to gain his affections than through his sexuality

Thomas x gn reader (or x Edwin), oneshot — a poor soul narrowly avoided Esther's capture and takes refuge in The Cat King's palace

Thomas x male reader, oneshot or headcannons — enemies to lovers with the Cat King and the Dog King (reader)

Thomas x mage!gn reader, oneshot — the reader is Edwin's descendant and helps out on cases, always thinking about the two ghosts and never about themselves. The Cat King notices this and helps them unearth some repressed desires

Painland/Payneland:

Charles x Edwin, prob oneshot — friends to lovers in a non-modern AU where they didn't die

Charles x Edwin, oneshot — Charles realises his feelings earlier and says he loves Edwin back in that scene

Edwin / The Cat King:

Edwin x Thomas, oneshot — Edwin finds himself paying a lot of attention to cats in London, though he hasn't figured out why, which is something The Cat King notices and decides to send him a little something to remind Edwin of him

Edwin x Thomas, oneshot — the rest of the Detective Agency find out about Edwin's relationship with The Cat King and chaos ensues

Miscellaneous:

Dead Boy Detectives x male reader, oneshot — reader has powers and works with the detectives on a case

Poly Edwin x Charles x gn reader, headcanons and oneshot — established relationship with fluffy moments between the three : may not be written (don't love poly but we'll see)

Dead Boy Detectives x supernatural!male reader, headcanons — the boys get a crush on the feminine presenting supernatural being and then finds it out he's a man

Platonic! Edwin x gn reader x Thomas, oneshot — part two of Runs in the Family, The Cat King finds out Edwin has a sibling and shifts his attention : may not be written (there will be NO incest)

Lord of the Rings

Legolas Greenleaf:

Legolas x male reader, oneshot — reader and Legolas drink way too much at a pub, ignoring any onlookers and opting to share a dance together : not requested

The Marauders

Regulus Black:

Regulus x ftm reader, oneshot — fluffy scene, maybe dysphoria comfort

Regulus x male reader, oneshot/series — academic rivals to lovers that resolves with a lot of tension at a Slytherin party : not requested, almost finished

The Maze Runner

Newt:

Newt x male reader, prob oneshot — Newt is very protective of reader, could be in the Glade or in the Scorch Trials or in the Last City

Newt x ftm reader, headcanons and oneshot — best friends to lovers and everyone in the Glade knows about them

The Umbrella Academy

Male Original Character, series — with a charismatic & overdramatic who flirts with everyone, multiple ships : not requested, but a long work in progress

Outer Banks

JJ Maybank:

JJ x male reader, oneshot — reader is a surfer and manages to impress JJ enough to get invited to a party, where they play truth or dare and silly things happen : not requested

Sherlock

Sherlock Holmes:

Sherlock x male reader (or oc), oneshot — reader is a genius, autistic, and a cat person, and help Sherlock with one of his cases, thus earning his attention immediately : just started

Star Wars

Obi-Wan Kenobi:

Obi-Wan x male reader, oneshot — part two of Caught in the Moment, which would be the aftermath of them finding out about Obi-Wan and the reader's relationship during a joint training session

Stranger Things

Eddie Munson:

Eddie x gn reader, headcanons and oneshot — shy reader who needs to let loose, Eddie takes it upon himself to show them a good time and they really come out of their shell

Eddie x male reader, oneshot — reader stumbles onto Eddie's magasins which are bookmarked with people that look suspiciously like reader, so gay confession ensues : may not be written (original request too lewd so I changed but don't know if I'm inspired enough to write it)

hope this helps if you want to request something or just to see what's to come in the near future :) you guys have really put me to the test and to work and I appreciate it more than you can believe. if you cannot see a request you've made her then I will not write it, sorry (prob bc it went against my rules or was too sexual).

if you want to encourage me to write faster/more a good way is to read, like, reblog, and comment what I have already written. I loooove feedback and encouragement

[escapethewonderland]

Lost Scenes Thursday! Get to know your favourite authors better. Show five scenes from either abandoned fics where you regret they will never see the light of day, or five scenes from WIPs where you are impatient to see them out there. Long, short, one-liner... it's all good reading. Tag five other authors where you are curious.

(feel free to ignore it though :))

Hello darling! ✨💜

I saw this ask and I couldn't resist because only my PC knows the amount of WIPs I have on it. I was very excited for this, not gonna lie so thank you for sending it!

Some of them will probably never see the light of day, some hopefully will. (fingers crossed because the procrastination is strong in this one 😂)

Tagging a few of my lovelies (feel free to ignore it though 💜✨): @miss-celestia13 @itsnotzka @julesthoughts @cassi0-peia @fem-moony @julcia404

So let's go ahead and dive into it.

Disclaimer: the majority of them were written in my native language so the translation is far from finished and thoroughly edited.

Also, this post is long af.

The first one is a small scene from the first chapter of what was supposed to be my PhilxMC Duskwood fanfiction. 🐦‍⬛

“A weird dream has been troubling me for a while lately” she replied quietly, still facing the window. A ruffling of paper, probably a page being turned and her therapist voice filled the air again. “Would you like to talk about it?” asked the other woman with patience and kindness. Nadia turned around hesitantly, resting her hips against the big window’s edge, hugging her elbows for comfort. She nodded, biting her lower lip while she recalled her dream. “It’s not always quite the same, some minor details change at times” Nadia started saying. “It starts with me waking up in a lush forest, usually barefoot and empty handed. In the dream, I know I’m looking for something so I start walking, watching every step. At times, I wander in the forest for what feels hours or days, with only a bird overlooking my movements.” Nadia began to walk around the doctor’s office almost unconsciously. “Do you remember what kind of bird it is?” the therapist questioned with a soothing tone. The girl shocked her head, long brunette hair falling in waves down her shoulders. “I’m not sure, it’s either a crow or a raven, I can’t really tell the difference” said Nadia, frowning her eyebrows uncertain. The doctor invited her to go on with an encouraging hand’s gesture. “Please, go on” Nadia squared her shoulders for the next part: it usually plagued her most recent nightmares and it scared her to death. “Suddenly, I stop near a tree to inspect it and at a closer look I understand why. There’s something carved in the bark, a sort of stylized symbol in the shape of a raven or a crow, but when my hands are almost about to touch it, a scream fills the air.” Nadia paused, rubbing her arms against the unexpected cold evoked by the tell of her dream. It was one thing when it was all in her head, she could pretend it was only a fragment of her vivid imagination and nothing more. Narrating out loud made it somehow more sinister and real. “I look around frightened, hastily trying to figure out where it came from and then I see it. A figure is standing there, near the trees, with a jute bag over his head. I can’t see his eyes but I know he’s watching me. And then, I’m running for the hills, the creature…or man… whatever it is, it’s following me at full speed and I can’t escape, I can’t hide, I’m like a prey counting the seconds leading up to her death.”

2. The second is an excerpt of an original short story I wrote years ago for a contest called "Dark Seas". I was one of the 3 lucky winners! 🥰 It is not published in English (yet) but here is a little glimpse of it (translation is unedited, it's still in its raw form). 🌊🧜🏻‍♀️

And then a sound interrupted that moment frozen in time. The piercing sound of the general alarm urgently shook the Leviathan’s walls. The man looked up to the ceiling, swearing a bunch of profanities. He barked orders like a rabid animal, his eyes setting at last on the lifeless body of nurse Michaels. “Clean this mess, start the evacuation procedures, NOW!” he ordered peremptory, but no one around him seemed able to move a muscle. “You’ll die, general” declared Seline coldly. The sclera of her eyes shifted color, slowly turning into a deeper shade of blue in stark contrast with the pale iris. “You’ll die alone and forgotten in the depths of the abysses that you believe you can conquer for your dirty deeds” The man looked at her as if seeing the mermaid for the first time. “The ocean does not forgive. This is a promise” murmured Seline, voice sweet as honey before parting her lips and singing a wordless melody. She closed her eyes, listening carefully to the sound of the ocean. She could feel it, right there in the distance, the chanting of the waves screaming for vengeance. The mermaids are coming, my sweet darling. Seline projected that reassuring thought to Eloise, and a sense of calm overcame her. They’re here.

3. The third scene comes from an old, abandoned story about ghosts loosely based on my old school and a dream. 👻

“Tell me. Tell me what you saw,” he demanded, eyes boring a grave look I had never seen before. The sweet lull of the water made the moment feel surreal. I was still grasping for breath when Garrett moved. He cradled my nape gently, the other hand tangled in my wet hair in a silent prayer. He should not have been this close to me, but his touch felt like a reassuring anchor to reality. I parted my lips, words struggling to emerge under Garrett's intense, worried gaze. I frowned before finding the courage to let the truth come to the surface. “Are you familiar with Charlotte, Charlotte Wrought? The only daughter of Darren Wrought?” I said, swallowing my fears. Garrett nodded, not leaving me or moving away even for a second. “She did not take her life. She was murdered."

4. This is from my beloved Teen Wolf fanfiction. I spent a lot of time on it, sweat and tears spilled while shaping the plot which spread through the first three seasons of the show. It was my comfort throughout a very difficult summer. Now it's just a dusty memory on my pc. I won't say what's going on in this scene, just in case I decide to continue it eventually. 🐺🌕

“I don’t want an evil person in my life. I adored the sweet Isaac who asked me shyly to help him out with chemistry. The same guy who held me the whole night like I was the only thing keeping you anchored to reality.” The girl lifted her head, looking the young werewolf in the eyes, a traitorous tear sliding down her cheek, “The same guy I cried for after promising to never do it again. be the cold, strong girl seeking her vengeance. You are light, Isaac,” whispered the girl, planting a soft kiss on the edge of his lips before turning around. “Even though now it’s tarnished, I know it’s still glowing somewhere. But I don’t want another bad person in my life, not now.” She stated softly, resting her forehead against the cold shower’s tiles.

5. Last but not least, a little tease from chapter 3 of "Do I Wanna Know?", my original OS currently published on Wattpad, Ao3 and Inkitt.

How many secrets can you still keep, Alexis? Derek seemed to direct the question at her, bold and wild. A lump in her throat blocked every word. Her tangled mind was powerless, unable to form any rational thought, overflown with images of him singing to her. “Cause there’s this tune I found that makes me think of you somehow” he sang, taking his sweet time before meeting her eyes, fixated on her until the pre-chorus. Alexis didn’t dare to move a single muscle, like a snake charmed by the lethal flute.

Hope you enjoyed it! 💜✨🌌

[kcwriter-blog]

15 Lines of Dialogue

Rules: Share 15 or fewer lines of dialogue from an OC, ideally lines that capture the character/personality/vibe of the OC. Bonus points for just using the dialogue without other details about the scene, but you're free to include those as well!

Thank you, @broodwolf221 and @kierarhawke for tagging me in this. 🥰

This isn't going to be easy. I just started writing fan fiction and most of it is Solas stream of consciousness stuff in which my OC doesn't speak. So much of this is coming from my WIPs. Given that, here's an introduction to Theneras (Her name means Dreams in Elvhen).

“Was it prepared here? Because I am not eating anything that came out of that kitchen. I’m positive I saw a rat getting drunk on the bar. He had his own little tankard and everything.”

“No? I’m their bloody Herald of Andraste and they still butchered them. Regardless, I made a mistake and they paid for it.”

"“That was my choice to make, not yours!"

“How was I supposed to know? It’s not like he was wearing a sign that said, ‘Elvhen god planning to destroy the world. Under no circumstances fall in love with him.’"

“Ir abelas, vhenan, if I could add your grief to my own, I would."

“When I wake up, they will still be gone. I will still be the last of my clan. I will still be alone. Dreams offer cold comfort."

“I can’t talk about this. I can't even think about it right now. Why not just say no one trusts me and be done with it. Maybe that’s why I never leave home."

"There are always choices, Solas. You may not like them but they are there."

“I don’t know if I am safe, but I assume I’m not dead – yet. I have you to thank for that, I take it?”

“I don’t understand you, Solas. Do you want to succeed in your endeavor or fail, because I can’t tell.”

“What experience? If I want to fuck a carpet, there’s a perfectly good rug in my sitting room.”

"I don’t want to wake up alone. Do you?”

“And you thought a wolf was the appropriate response to a Crow assassin?”

“I never like your answers anymore.”

“That you still love me? No. That I still love you? Yes. I just don’t want to.”

Tagging, but with no pressure to accept (if you've already been tagged, my apologies. 😊): @arlathvhenan @an-established-butt-dent

[dujour13]

⭐!!

Thanks Ash! A wild card, what a gift! 💕💕

I’d love to chatter about the Woljif parts of Wandering Stars—the parts where he’s running for his life in Kenabres in chapters 6-10. It’s my favorite bit of the story, drawing inspiration from my beloved Charles Dickens and Terry Pratchett. I read Dodger not long before writing it.

It was a little chance to echo Woljif’s thought in The Lark and the Crow:

A tiefling just can’t catch a break in this city.

In chapter 6 there’s a lot of rat imagery associated with Woljif as he finds himself thrown back to his days as a Kenabres street tiefling:

He scurried around the nearest corner into the gap between tenements, his tail whipping behind him like a rat’s, and crouched for a few moments to formulate a plan.

He even steals cheese at one point.

So that was on purpose. Sorry Woljif.

As for Alix. I limited it to just suggesting that Woljif had been through some heavy stuff, because the tone of Wandering Stars and The Lark and the Crow is pretty light-hearted in keeping with the azata path of the game. Besides, he’s sharp and has a strong enough sense of self-preservation to remove himself from anything truly unpleasant, so I don’t mean to imply it was much worse than an insensitive dickhead he hooked up with once or twice, but I did tag the fic with a couple content warnings for this little confrontation. Sorry Woljif.

While writing this I was stumped for a long time: I needed to intersperse Woljif parts with Siavash parts in these chapters, and all I knew was that he was on the run and going to end up cornered, but it took a long time to come up with what I hope are interesting ideas for getting him from point A to point B. The run-in with the Constable, Barnaby, and the scene in the Defender’s Heart only came to me very gradually.

I even remember where I was the exact moment when the Barnaby idea struck me. (I was taking a walk. That often seems to shake things loose in my brain?)

So what I’m saying is, from a stuck writer to any other stuck writers with a gap in the story that just feels boring, be patient, be kind to yourself. It will come to you.

My favorite part is with the Constable, it was so much fun and gives Woljif a chance to show off those acting skills he touts:

Woljif wrung his hands. “Ain’t you gonna take me in?” “What’re you on about?” “Ain’t you gonna take me in, on accounta the cheese? You know, clap me irons?” The watchman waved him off. “Don’t let me catch you around here again or I will.” “Please, Mister Constable, I gotta be held accountable for my actions. I ain’t never gonna change, otherwise.”

The other thing I want to say is I’m so excited about the plot twist in this fic, another thing that came to me while I was taking a walk. Must have looked like a madwoman out there in the forest grinning to myself. I hope people enjoyed it.

[the-dalseum-duet]

gay people with nouns as names in a cult. this is hozier

FILTHY HOMOSEXUALS THEY ARE! BURN THEM!! AT THE STAKE!! GET THEM AWAYYY FROM ME AT ONCE

@svwhssftr mandatory cult member with a noun name tag

movement by hozier. i think that’s all I have to say. saw the prompt of “cult leader x their sacrifice” somewhere I don’t even know. doing something a little free-form today. a little looser-knit narrative. 

update: I got a little carried away literally just letting Crow yap so. this is half gay and half just me projecting onto Crow because I think it’s funny 

Blood danced in the divinely glistening saltwater, curling in almost enticing ribbons around Mako’s pale lips. God, it burned like the pits of hell, but it was the closest thing in Dalseum to heaven. 

Gale was a sacrifice, sure, but he was more than willing to forsake his body for the unrestricted power of his lover. His hands tightened around Mako’s neck as he hauled his aching body upward. He tasted his own blood on Mako’s lips, its rusty, tangy sweetness melting into the water rising above them. Mako ran his claw-like gloves through Gale’s drenched hair, droplets of water speckling his drained face. 

“Kiss me again,” Gale breathed, his vision blurring. 

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Mako kissed the fang marks left on Gale’s neck. 

“You won’t hurt me, love.” 

A second wave crashed into them as Mako sank his teeth into Gale’s exposed shoulder, the smell of blood inducing him into some feral fit. He brushed Gale’s wounds with his lips before lifting him from the water, sand rising into swarms of dust around their feet. 

Gale lifted his quivering hand to his neck, the blood dripping around his neck glinting in the full moonlight. “Did it work?” 

The blood staining Mako’s hands and nose reflected the deep blue of the ocean around them. His answer was another kiss. He lifted Gale’s unstable form and spun him in the piercingly bright moonlight, the thin shawl carelessly strewn across his bare skin soaking wet.

 

The scene was much less romantic when Mako recalled it to the members of The Order of the Fin the morning afterward with the unconscious, sand-covered body of Gale— or, rather, The Sacrifice— stretched across his arms. 

“So, he’s dead?” The Oracle asked, prodding at the scabbed wounds across The Sacrifice’s neck. 

“He’s not dead, God, no!” Mako explained. 

“You took him out to the ocean just to bite him?” The Archivist asked, chugging his third straight Redbull of the morning. “Could you not have done that somewhere sanitary?” 

“My whole shtick is that I’m, like, an ocean god,” Mako awkwardly said, stumbling over his words. “I thought it would be kind of badass, I guess. To sacrifice my lover underneath the moonlight in the ocean, or whatever.” 

“That’s so fucking corny.” The Archivist blinked his heavy eyes. 

“Yeah, in hindsight, it was probably lame.” Mako stared down at his feet and twisted his heel back and forth. 

“He’s not ‘your lover;” he’s some random twink who just stumbled upon here because my pocket watch decided to act up,” The Archivist sighed. 

“Who are you to deny our almighty Prince his affections?” The Oracle said. 

“Yeah, you’re probably jealous of him,” The Archivist mumbled. “Fuckin’ predator, that’s what you are.” 

“What was that?” The Oracle asked, narrowing their striking eyes. 

“Oh, nothing,” The Archivist said. “It’s just a little odd that your whole job is to suck up to some guy who’s barely eighteen. Don’t you think so, Mako?” 

“I’m literally a god,” Mako said. “Crow, that’s what worship is.” 

“Who’s that?” The Oracle sharply asked, swiftly elbowing Mako. He nearly dropped The Sacrifice’s lifeless body. 

“The… shit. Archivist? Is that what we decided?” Mako asked. 

“I don’t even care.” The Archivist let his head slam down into his desk. “I haven’t slept in three days. I can’t feel my hands. I don’t know what words are anymore. I haven’t taken my meds since I don’t know when.”

“Look, I’ve performed miracles before—“ Mako started. 

“Oh, miracle-schmiracle!” The Archivist exclaimed, slamming his fist into his shabby desk. “You’ve yet to do shit about my degenerative disease. Not even any miracles! Just, like, basic accommodations, man! This cult is not very inclusive!” 

“I mean, you’ve never asked me to do anything,” Mako murmured. 

“I don’t even have my T shots anymore! I sound even more like a prepubescent teenage boy than usual. My acne is somehow worse, and I seriously doubt you want to hear about bottom grow-“ 

“This clearly isn’t a transphobia thing,” The Oracle chimed in. “I’m still on estrogen. This seems like a personal issue of yours.”

“It’s because I’m Asian, isn’t it?” The Archivist aggressively pointed at both of them.

Mako and The Oracle shared a blank stare.

“How do I answer that?” The Oracle whispered. 

“Don’t.” The Archivist realized his mistake after he tidied a stack of papers. 

“I’ll let The Oracle take care of The Sacrifice with me today. You need to sleep, man,” Mako said. 

“I can’t sleep,” The Archivist muttered. “Too much to keep up with. Now, I have The Soggy Twink or whatever to write about. What’s his name?”

“The Sacrifice,” Mako admitted, hiding his face in his robes in embarrassment. 

“The Sacrifice?” The Archivist laughed. “That’s so corny, oh my god! And I thought it couldn’t get any more ridiculously queer around here.” 

“Our names are reduced to our simplest role for ease,” The Oracle stated, shrugging. 

“Still, The Sacrifice? What, is this some sort of cheap BL manhwa where the bottom has no role other than to be a pathetic hole-bearer? This is just fetishization, at this point. I’m not writing this.”

“What did any of those words mean?” The Oracle whispered to Mako. 

“I don’t know,” Mako whispered in return. 

“I mean, I understand that the genre of BL overall has a rich history of queer rights and women’s liberation in East Asia, but damn! It’s a little ridiculous, don’t you think? That this still represents us?” The Archivist dramatically spun around in his spinny chair and tossed his disgustingly pale hands into the air.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Mako said, passing The Sacrifice to The Oracle. 

“Please tell me you didn’t fuck his unconscious body,” The Archivist pleaded as Mako dragged him from his seat. “Mako, please tell me—“ 

“He and I have done nothing remotely sexual with each other,” Mako confirmed, patting The Archivist’s head as he easily slung him over his shoulder. The Archivist did not fight back.

“See, look at you go!” The Archivist exclaimed. “Breaking stereotypes by being a freak and a virgin simultaneously.” 

“And you’re not either of those?” Mako asked, beginning the trek down the stairs to The Order’s sleeping quarters. 

“I’m a freak, absolutely,” The Archivist said. “And I hate to break this to you, but I have fucked your mom.”

“I don’t have—“ 

“Exactly!” The Archivist said, softly kicking his feet. “That’s the joke, nitwit.”

“You’re so funny,” Mako flatly said. “What would I ever do without you?” 

“It’s kinda weird, though,” The Archivist said, “that your dads act like that. Like, my dad was off the walls insane, but at least it was interesting. Your dads are just horny. That’s, like, all that defines them. That must be so sad.” 

“Mhm.” Mako was not listening to The Archivist’s rambling. 

“See, I don’t want to write that. Anyone who does must be some sick freak with too much time on her hands. Shouldn’t she be applying for scholarships or something? Or going to bed. That would be good.” 

“Sure.”

“You really didn’t fuck him?”

“Nope.”

“Why is he butt-ass naked then?”

“He had a covering.”

“I could imagine what was directly under it with little to no effort.” 

“It was supposed to be dramatic and sensual, alright, man? It was supposed to be cool! A blood ritual is one of the most intimate things two beings can share,” Mako explained.

“Yeah, because me slicing your wrist open with a pocket knife was so intimate.” 

“You just don’t know the power of blood rituals yet. Do you know how Charlie and Sara did theirs?”

“No.”

Mako laughed. “You don’t want to know.” 

Mako kicked open his door as The Archivist stretched. “You’re letting me sleep in your bed?” The Archivist asked.

“You need somewhere comfortable, clearly.” As Mako rolled The Archivist onto his bed, he was sound asleep before Mako even rolled up his blanket to cover him. 

He had one unhinged cult member taken care of. Now, he just had to reawaken his Sacrifice. 

[polurbehr]

Ghost Mutuals Tag Game 🦇 Send this to the last ten Ghesties in your notifications, then reply here with ten facts about yourself! Let's get to know each other!

Omg hi thank you, I like these. Now I just have to try and remember everything about myself that could be perceived as interesting. I am going to overthink this. I’m also going to add a cut below because I type A LOT and I don’t want to fuck up anyone’s dash (don’t remember if it would but whatever). OKAY FUN FACT TIME WOO YIPPEE

I have a pet chinchilla. He is basically a round domesticated squirrel that eats hay and screams when he’s bored. I love him dearly.

My favorite movie is The Labyrinth, and it has been my favorite since I first watched it when I was 4. My current favorite franchise, however, is Saw.

My favorite food is Thai green curry, despite the fact that I cannot handle spicy food for shit. I need at least two drinks on standby every time I eat it. It’s incredibly tragic.

This year I attended 7 concerts, and in order they were: Waterparks, Pierce The Veil & The Used, The Cure, Tori Amos, Counting Crows & Dashboard Confessional, Fall Out Boy, and Ghost.

As seen above, I am an emo loser. I have a fairly eclectic taste in music, but my favorite artists other than Ghost are probably: My Chemical Romance, Jack Off Jill, Fall Out Boy, The Cure, Pierce The Veil, Rob Zombie, Ice Nine Kills, Get Scared, Nine Inch Nails, Peach Pit, and The Front Bottoms. I am indecisive if you couldn’t tell.

I tend to pick up and put down hobbies very quickly due to the curse (ADHD), but the ones that have stuck with me are making perler art, playing the kalimba, needle felting, playing video games, rollerskating, and writing.

I like to collect vinyl, CDs, Lalaloopsy dolls, (regrettably) Funko Pop! figures, and any cool shiny shit I find on the ground.

I was a dinosaur kid. Obviously. However, that special interest created a spin-off special interest- coelacanths. They are my BEST FRIENDS and I LOVE THEM and the only thing keeping me away from them is the fact that I can’t swim nor breathe underwater. God did this on purpose because he saw that I would be too powerful with my ancient fish brethren and he quaked.

I love emo, scene, and mall goth fashion so much. Sincerely, a person who only leaves the house wearing band tees and black skinny jeans because they are scared of people.

Other than Ghost, right now I am also hyperfixating on Moshi Monsters again. PLEASE MOSHI FANS FIND THIS AND TALK TO ME I LOVE MOSHI MONSTERS SO MUCH. IF YOU HAVE NEVER PLAYED IT PLEASE GO DOWNLOAD THE REWRITTEN GAME I LOVE MOSHI MONSTERS. Yay.

[cinlat]

Whumptober: Day 2

Thanks for the ask @dingoat​ and for letting me borrow Ahuska (kinda) and Crow (Rev, I can’t tag you! Did you change your url?)

2: Nowhere to run Corners | Caged | Confrontation

Word Count: 208 I don’t want to give away too much! haha. But, I really wanted to do this because this scene has been in my head for two weeks.

The weight in Fynta’s hands shouldn’t have felt as heavy as it did. The night air turned her lungs to ice, amplifying each wheezing breath in her ears. Moonlight spilled over the land, painting hills in silver and trees in the deepest of blacks. 

“Just—hear me out, will ya?”

Crow stood with his hands raised while a monster frolicked behind him. Fynta couldn’t make the shot from here, not with a pistol; even with her augmentations. Her gaze flickered to the blur of fur as if flitted in and out of view. Crow took a step to the side, filling Fynta’s view again. 

“You don’t wanna do this.”

Fynta bared her teeth as if she were the animal her name claimed. Like the one she’d come so far to kill. “You don’t know—”

“I do,” Crow assured. His hands never strayed towards his weapon, though he hardly needed that to make things more difficult for Fynta. There was a sliver of her friend in those blue eyes. “Believe me, I do.”

Shaking her head, Fynta tightened her grip on the blaster. She could feel him worming into her mind, his words making sense. She couldn't let it all be for nothing. Otherwise, why had she become a monster?

[party-gilmore]

(Tagging @darkfinch because replying to you is literally what gave me this thought)

We talk about the pejorative moniker of Eliot being called Moreau's Dog (realistically, probably even a harsher version fitting with the canine them, by the particularly jealous, Moreau's Bitch) and to that effect I 100% believe that Moreau was in possession of Eliot's old military dogtags.

That Eliot, the closet cheesy old-fashioned sap that he his, gave them over to Moreau in what he hoped was a casual, offhand, "...seeing as I'm Yours now, anyway" back when things were Good, when he felt okay about handing Moreau the reigns and saying "I trust you to use me better than my country did."

Then when Moreau let him leave he left, Moreau absolutely one hundred percent kept them so that

1) whenever Eliot thinks about or misses them, gets sentimental/guilty over being the only one out of his military buddies (if/when he tries to go to then to reconnect) he always remembers who he gave himself to instead

2) keeps them in a cute little display case on his desk for any face to face meetings so that Important Enough clients can see and know that Eliot is still Moreau's Dog, even if he's run away for a bit

3) when Eliot finally returns to him (because of COURSE he will) Moreau will have then as tangible proof that Eliot was never free, that Moreau always held the leash, and THIS time they will be displayed even more prominently so he never gets these kind of fool ideas in his head again.

...

And now I'm thinking about The Team finding out post!San Lorenzo (maybe while celebrating Eliot actually let himself cut loose a little bit because BY G-D he's EARNED this celebration, he's FREE! ((and do not get me fucking STARTED on that last scene where he's waking Nate up all early and crowing 'you're a free man, now!' like... like!!!)) so he gets a little uncharacteristically tipsy on fruity cocktails and let's slip that one of his bigger regrets was having to leave them with Moreau).

And Eliot's all growly later like "it is what it is, just leave it alone" and Nate's all like "yeah of course it's just a necklace we can't risk alerting any of his contacts and resources that are still out there about who we are until the heat dies down over just a necklace anyway let's all split up seperately and lie low until season four for six months"

Then Hardison immediately made a group chat without Eliot and like

H: okay but we're definitely gonna go steal those back for him right?

N: Oh yeah. Always were. (👍3)

Then in TLWDJ we get the flashback scenes of "What have yall been up to over the break" and Eliot's is he's actually been chillin' and laying low and cooking a lot, meanwhile The Team has a series of mid-heist flash cuts a la the Sapphire Monkey job in TBWJ as they infiltrate the still VERY heavily secured fancy mansion in [Redacted Jungle Location].

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! There’s a fic I’ve been looking for and I can’t find. It was a sick fic where Crowley was sick and Aziraphale was taking care of him, and the thing I most remember is that Az was carrying Crow to a bathtub to cool him down but Crow started panicking because he thought he was back in hell and that the bath was filled with holy water. Much thanks!

Hey! The only fic I know of with a scene like this is...

In Silence Our Secrets Lie by IneffableToreshi (M)

A Good Omens AU which takes place in the year leading up to the Apocalypse. Aziraphale has been alone on Earth for 6000 years. He loves the planet, the humans, all the wonders therein, but as the only ethereal being on the planet (as far as he's aware) and a misfit among the other angels of Heaven, he's been terribly, painfully lonely.

Everything changes the day he senses a presence: a demonic presence that is in pain, as lonely and miserable as the angel is, and is hanging on his last thread of life after being tortured for an untold length of time. Aziraphale rescues the dying demon, whose powers and voice have been stolen away from him by a mystical artefact, and vows to protect him and keep him safe.

But what will Aziraphale think when he finds out who was responsible for the demon's imprisonment and why? Not to mention the secret the demon is keeping about who he really is?

But Aziraphale isn’t carrying Crowley, and Crowley isn’t so much sick as injured. So I’m not sure it the fic you’re after.

(Mind the tags for this one!)

Do our followers know of any fics the one anon is looking for could be?

- Mod D

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

GO Gifs Masterlist Part 2 :)

!!! Because Tumblr has a link limit in one post, the list is divided into two.

This is part 2, part 1 with Season 1 Episodes is here.

S2 Episode 1

Look at you, you’re gorgeous

Angel Crowley’s excitement

How much trouble can I get for asking a few questions?

Wing protection

Was it always this easy?

What are you doing here?

Gabriel grin

Azi is so done

Ahh, Gabriel! 

Crowley reminding Aziraphale that Gabriel tried to destroy him

SO DID I

Crowley’s apology dance

No one will have noticed a thing

Detail of Crowley jumping from the chair

S2 Episode 2

Seems legit to me

Aziraphale finds out about the goats

Just to be able to ask the questions

Our car

S2 Episode 3

Crowley sits on Aziraphale’s chair with him

S2 Episode 4

Did you miss me?

S2 Episode 5

Smitten. You’re being silly.

I did not... care for it.

Wait and see

Aziraphale and Crowley dancing

S2 Episode 6

Crowley in Heaven

Crowley’s hopping in Heaven

S1 Opening title

Dining and flying

Good Omens logo

The flying saucer

S1 Deleted scenes

Crowley being cool and throwing his jacket on the railing

Disposable Demon wants to hit the angel

Crowley thanking the rats in the BT Tower

Aziraphale saves a baby

Parallels and annotations

Subtle clues about the switch

Miracles gesture system and wings

The Them vs. the Four Horsemen - sword, crown, scales

Crowley cuts across the lawn

Aziraphale and sarcasm

The empty flower pot

Aziraphale’s raised wing vs. piano raised lid

Wing cover - AC vs. Eve and Adam

Gardener vs. Nanny - Don’t listen to her/him, listen to me

Eve and Adam vs, Aziraphale and Crowley - Leaving the garden

Neil Gaiman at the cinema

Bentley’s broken door

Aziraphale vs. Crowley dancing

MS face at church - is he trying not to laugh?

Mary Poppins vs. Nanny

AC vs. Victorian swans

Crowley and Aziraphale travelling mirror reflections

David Tennant and Daniel Mays in Good Omens vs. Des

Spooked Crowley S1 vs S2

Excited Azi S1 vs S2

Gabriel and clothes S1 vs S2

Sullying the body S1 vs S2

Wing parallel S1 vs S2

Asking questions

Crowley remembers Aziraphale’s exection to Jim

Crows taking up while ‘Seems legit to me’

Collections and sets

AC yeeting things compilation

Crowley’s walk

Aziraphale using peculiar words and phrases

Crowley calling Aziraphale angel

Crowley stopping time compilation

Waving Aziraphale compilation

‘Destroy you‘ compilation

‘You are a demon‘ compilation

Fuck compilation

Sassy Aziraphale collection

Crowley’s walk in the church

Crowley and his old-fashioned phone

Pollution

Death

Famine

War 1

War 2

Anathema

Dog

Manips

Crowley realizes that he can’t call Aziraphale

Crowley taps Aziraphale’s shoulder

Aziraphale realizes Crowley came for him in Bastille

Eye in the clouds in Eden

The Moment

Janthony

Can I hear a wahoo?

Get this demon a wahoo

Gabriel is a wanker

Heart

Moving Leonardo’s portraits of A&C

When someone starts talking about books or shows

If you make a vow to shield someone

Boop Crowley

Fixed dove scene

Crowley angel flashback

I smell someone spending too much time on social media

My last two brain cells

S2 promo photo overlayed with the wing raise

Crowley hearts the S2 promo photo

Stop being dicks to each other

Would you still like me if I was a worm

Wing protection from S1 and S2 overlay

BTS:

(general tag for bts gifs is goodomensbtsedit)

Demons dancing

AC on the wall effects

CGI Bentley

Hastur and Ligur being awesome

CGI snake Crowley

Crowley in lines

Pepper and Brian practicing their sword routine

Production trailer: filming Aziraphale’s trial

Production trailer: Crowley, Tracy, Shadwell at the airfield

Production trailer: DT

Production trailer: Deeds

Production trailer: tied Aziraphale

Michael holding up “7” during the Apology Dance

Promos:

Crowley and Aziraphale prophecies

Newt and Anathema prophecies

Tracy and Shadwell prophecies

Gabriel prophecy

Dog prophecy

Adam prophecy

Pollution prophecy

War prophecy

Famine prophecy

Death prophecy

Poster zoom

Apple zoom

The End Is Nigh

Series 6000 in the making

S2 misty promo

S2 Through the Ages

Other:

Poster with rain

Season 2 poster with rain

Rotating poster

Interviews and events:

(general tag for interview gifs is gointerviewedit)

DVD Aziraphale’s world: MS - Aziraphale loves Crowley

DVD Crowley’s world: DT showing his flexibility

Production trailer: MS

Production trailer: Every day is a new discovery

Bts trailer: MS, DT and NG about GO

Doc Dream Dangerously: TP about his and NG fans

2015 In conv. with M. Chabon: NG about writing GO with TP

2015 In conv. with M. Chabon: About NG and TP planning GO2

2015 In conv. with M. Chabon: NG about TP and Discworld

2017 NADWCON: NG and RW about losing DT in burning Bentley

2017 FanExpo Dallas: DT about what he’d be if not actor

2018 NYCC: DT about their favourite bits

2018 NYCC: DT about finaly working with NG

2018 NYCC: MS about Aziraphale and Gabriel

2018 NYCC: DT, MS and JH being precious cinnamon rolls

2018 NYCC: DT, MS about AC love and gazes

2019 SXSW: NG about ghostly Terry in the back of his head

2019 SXSW: DT and MS making the devil sign

2019 SXSW: MS about Az. being like a comfortable old sofa

2019 SXSW: DT about Crowley and being cool

2019 SXSW: NG about getting Jon Hamm

2019 Puppies: MS about who’d he spent Apocalypse with

2019 Most likely to: NG MS DT JH about who’s a big softy

2019 Most likely to: JH tells DT that clothes look good on him

2019 Most likely to: David being a dork

2019 Most likely to: MS about DT’s sylphlike chest

2019 C2E2: DT about Neil’s approach

2019 Tim Ferris i.: NG about when TP asked to write GO with him

2019 Tim Ferris i.: NG about him and Terry writing Good Omens

2019 Tim Ferris i.: NG answers what people can be expecting

2019 Interview with nuns: Nuns on a tour

2019 TODAY int.: DT talking about being on stamps and licked

2019 TV Insider int.: MS and DT about Az. annoying Cr. with tricks

2019 TV Insider int.: MS about Az. and when he has no anxiety

2019 TV Insider int.: MS about DT as attractive nanny

2019 TV Insider int: MS and DT about playing each other

2019 AP int.: MS about Az. falling in love with Cr.

2019 AP int.: DT about Queen

2019 London Premiere: JH about more lines than in the book

2019 Graham Norton Show: DT impresses MS with welsh

2019 Graham Norton Show: DT and MS about a rude journalist

2019 Graham Norton Show: DT, MS and Thor fixing their jackets

2019 GO cast for IGN: MS looking like DT

2019 GO cast for IGN: WHAT HAS HAPPEN TO YOUR HAIR?!

2019 Int. with Sam Jones: DT about A&C being one originally

2019 Int. with Sam Jones: DT about MS

2019 BT interview: MS stole a few hearts

2019 Tribute to Terry Pratchett: NG about TP and IEMan scene

2019 Answers for tumblr: Adria about the best roommate

2019 Answers for tumblr: Adria about memeable material

2019 Dragon Con: DT about Crowley being cuddly

2019 Dragon Con: DT about rewatching Good Omens

2019 Dragon Con: DT about a favourite scene

2019 Dragon Con: DT about the deleted scene he wants on DVD

2019 Dragon Con: DT about Crowley’s swagger

2019 RHLSTP: David Tennant is the Scottish MS

2019 GalaxyCon Minneapolis: DT what if the Doctor met A&C

2019 Playing in the Dark: DT hugging NG

2019 Playing in the Dark: DT and Amanda swaying to the rythm

2020 SheenCon: MS on speaking with DT

2020 Live Amazon Int.: DT’s favourite line + comparison

2020 Live Amazon Int.: The Superfan

2020 Live Amazon Int.: DT on Crowley cosplayers

2020 The One Show: MS on what he got from Az’s bookshop

2020 The One Show: MS pokes DT

2020 DC FanDome: NG about working with MS

2020 Graham Norton Show: DT&MS about contact with each other

2021 The Late Late Show with James Corden: DT’s support 

2021 There’s something about movies: MS doing DT impersonation

2021 National Television Awards: DT and MS hug

2021 National Television Awards: MS joking about DT’s award

2021 David with red hair in the Audience with Adele 

2021 BAFTA Scotland Awards: MS very nicely about DT

2021 International Emmy: DT with red hair and flower shirt

2021 David on the GO S2 set answering question about ATW

2021 Blond MS about filming a movie and hair

2021 The Andrew Marr Show: DT with red hair

2022 DT and MS on the GO S2 set saying hi

2022 German ComicCon: DT about MS in a kilt

2022 FanExpo Boston: DT about TP in S2

2022 NYCC: NG saying S2 is quiet, gentle and romantic

2022 NYCC: DT and MS Zoom sketch

2022 NYCC: DT - I’m the Doctor

2023 EmeraldCityCC: DT confirming Queen for S2

2023 EmeraldCityCC: DT about his fav historical looks

2023 EmeraldCityCC: DT about JH being funny in S2

2023 St. Louis Literary Award: NG about JH in S2

2023 Basingstoke Comic Con: DT about his S2 fav moment

2023 S2 Promo: DT MS about fanfiction

2023 S2 Promo: DT MS about working very hard

2023 S2 Promo: MS talking about Seven during apology dance

(last updated 30.12.2023)

[castthy-nightedcolour]

One- Shot: A Different Side (written as part of my series ‘don’t worry about a thing’ on AO3, link can be found at the bottom of the post as it won’t let me embed it)

Fandom: Good Omens

Characters: GN Reader, Crowley, a very annoying mouse

Warnings and Tags: snakes, animal death/ harm, swearing, uh oh we have a pest control problem, snake crowley, comfort , are they aren’t they

Summary: mouse traps, a skip full of rubbish and a broken down bus. not exactly your dream day, but your favourite demonic entity has a trick up his sleeve and behind his glasses to help you.

Word Count: 2778

Link to original: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31055930/chapters/81050182

If there was one word to describe your mood, that word would be vile. Tiny little irritants throughout the day had built to a simmering anger:

-Firstly, your bus into town had broken down about ten minutes away from your stop, meaning that you were forced to trek your way to the shops.

-Secondly, your trip to said shops wasn’t for any kind of retail therapy, but was instead to buy mouse traps. Your usually serene flat had been taken over by a little grey rodent who despite any humane efforts, was refusing to leave. You weren’t usually one for violence towards any living thing, but the little shit was out staying its welcome and had most recently been seen taking a bite out of a loaf of bread.

-When you did eventually get into town, it seemed to be the day for the world’s slowest walkers to take to the streets. Everyone was moving at about two steps per minute and you, being naturally speedy, were constantly waiting for gaps on the pavement to overtake. When you did manage to do this, there would be a whole new couple walking side by side, plodding along at a snail’s pace. You weren’t getting anywhere quick.

All in all, not your finest hour. This all came to a head on Oxford Street, or as you liked to call it, hell.

Your brain felt as though it were made of jelly, your temperature was rising, and someone stopped right in the middle of the street to check their phone. Slamming right into the back of them, you immediately let out something resembling a howl before running to your side off down Old Cavendish Street, somewhere slightly quieter. You leaned against the nearest wall, hot anger bubbling within you for what at the time, seemed like a life or death scenario of you getting out of town with the mousetraps, but in retrospect was just the culmination of various shitty things.

The last thing which you wanted to hear was any sign that you were being perceived, but a teenage boy riding past you on a bike shouting an obnoxious ‘WAHEYYYY’ at you was enough to tip you over the edge. You bashed your head back on the wall, feeling acid tears of anger falling, pedalled down your face by your short temper. Then, another shout came towards you from across the street.

‘Y/N? Is that you?’

You were ready to push yourself off the wall to lunge at this person until your brain caught up with recognition. Tilting your head forwards, your suspicions were confirmed when you saw floppy, ginger hair bouncing over the street atop a leather-clad frame. The sunglasses perched on his nose brought you a feeling somewhere between relief and fear.

You and Crowley had a relationship which can only be described as ‘are they? Aren’t they?’

You sure as hell couldn’t tell if he had any romantic feelings for you, and he gave off vibes so mixed that they were jumbled by this point. People always commented on the electricity between the two of you whenever you were together, but you tried not to get your hopes up and usually just put this down to his magnetising nature.

He’d told you about himself, and you thought that he must have trusted you somewhat to be able to disclose that he was a demon to you.

Then again, maybe he was just overly confident.

In the state you were currently in, you couldn’t decide whether to run into his arms to scream, or run as quickly away from him as was physically possible.

Your body chose neither and just stood there, open mouthed and gawking as the tears continued to fall with no effort from your eyelids. Crowley examined you, peering over the top of his sunglasses to try and decipher the scene before him.

‘Don’t tell me someone’s upset you, because I will find them for you, Y/N’ he started, rearing himself up as he spoke. You jumped in.

‘No, no. Not upset. I swear. Just… pissed off. Massively, massively pissed off. Short fuse today, y’see.’

‘Oh. Well, I know all about that. I’m quick to anger at any given moment but then again, ‘s in my nature. What exactly are you doing down here?’

You looked to your side at the gigantic skip full of building waste, then down to your feet where someone’s puke sat. You looked back up to the demon.

‘It was a quick escape, one that was made before I slapped someone in the face.’

Crowley looked slightly taken aback, not expecting any expression of violence from you considering your usually placid nature.

‘Ooookay. Well, I won’t ask for details but, here.’ He leaned over slightly and brushed away some of the tears which were still running down your face. You could swear that you both stopped breathing for a moment as he touched you but then again, you weren’t in a fit state for rational thinking.

‘Thank you,’ you breathed out. ‘I’m all good, I promise. Just need to breathe.’ You gave a reassuring smile to the demon and noticed him looking down to your hand, holding a flimsy plastic bag containing the mouse traps.

‘What you got there? Looks interesting.’ He said, tilting his head to try and get a closer look. You brought the bag up to your chest.

‘Oh, mouse traps. There’s a little shit thinking that he owns my flat who’s probably currently in my bread bin. Thought I’d stop the problem while I could, considering there’s that saying about seeing mice. Y’know, for every mouse you see, there’s always another one somewhere. Can’t wait to clean that up!’ Your words had somewhat of a bite, being spat like venom.

‘Woah. You really are pissed, aren’t you?’ Crowley responded, half smirking. For some reason, this set you off again.

‘Yes. Yes, actually I am. Because y’know what? This day has been fucking horrific! I genuinely don’t think that I’ve had two consecutive minutes of peace since the second I woke up. I can’t relax because of the mouse, then there was the bus, and the walking, and the pain in my feet, and the twat who decided to check his phone in the middle of Oxford Street. Sorry, who the hell does that? I just feel like I’ve been left out of any plans that the universe had to let people go about their day without a care in the world. So yes, I’m fuming.’ You gave a huff before realising that you were now crying again. Crowley stood slightly dumbstruck, shifting his weight between his feet. You glanced off to the side, watching the shoppers propel themselves down Oxford Street.

The demon then spoke, his voice low and sincere.

‘Can I give you a lift?’

—

After what felt like a windswept journey in the Bentley, Crowley screeched to a halt outside your flat. Jolting forwards slightly, the plastic bag containing the mouse traps crinkled between your legs.

You’d calmed down quite significantly, but now felt a combination of complete embarrassment that you’d had such an outburst in front of the being that you completely adored, and absolute excitement that he’d even offered you a lift. This wasn’t helped when you heard him say,

‘Let me walk you upstairs. Check that you’re okay.’

You felt fizzy, and as the two of you trudged up to your flat, you felt as though you could lift off any second. As you unlocked your front door, Crowley leaned on the doorframe, peering in to the hallway as you threw your bag on the floor. You suddenly regretted this as when the bag hit the floor, there was a scuttle from under your bedroom door, and the little mouse took one giant sprint off towards the kitchen. You screamed in shock as the little bastard took itself away, and Crowley grabbed onto your arm. This made you jump for a second time.

‘Woah woah there, calm down. It’s just a little mouse, we’ll sort this,’ Crowley sweetly spoke, lulling your heart back to a slightly normal rate. You looked down to his arm resting on yours and couldn’t help but smile slightly.

Crowley had a look on his face which would have read from ten miles away as one with a scheme brewing.

‘Look Y/N, I’m going to do something here which I don’t do very often, and all I’m asking is that you don’t freak out,’ the demon announced.

You couldn’t help but make a sarcastic joke.

‘What’s that then, the housework?’ Smirking, you looked up at Crowley who glared at you through his sunglasses.

‘Fine, you don’t need my help!’ He huffed, obviously taking the piss but you couldn’t help but tease him back into good spirits.

‘No no, sorry Crowley. What have you got for me?’

‘Snake.’

You stood there for a second, trying to make any sense of what he just said and burning up slightly as you wondered if this was perhaps his way of flirting.

‘A… a snake? You have a snake?’

‘Yes. Well, no. Well… yes. Look it’s complicated, can I just show you?’

Uh oh. Maybe this was him flirting.

You thought for a second before hearing an almighty crash from the kitchen, and from down the hallway you saw an entire loaf of bread fall to the ground, followed by a small army of mice. Again, you let out a scream as Crowley slammed the door shut behind the both of you.

‘How fucking many are there now?!’ You exclaimed, turning to face Crowley who was now quickly shifting between his feet. He suddenly grabbed your shoulders.

‘Look Y/N, tell me quick, do you have a phobia?’

‘Of mice? I think that’s pretty evident Crow-‘

‘No, of snakes. Are you scared of snakes?’

‘What is it with you and these snakes?’ You laughed. The demon then stood dead still and stared right at you.

‘Stay still. Don’t freak out please. I promise this will help.’

Before you knew it, Crowley’s hands had disappeared off your shoulders and he seemed to disappear entirely from before you. Confused, you looked down at the floor.

What you saw took your breath away for what felt like forever.

Rows and rows of black scales suddenly lined your hallway, flowing from side to side as the form made its way towards the kitchen. This didn’t take long, considering the snake’s body seemed to run on forever, there must have been at least 10 metres of the creature occupying your apartment.

You’d never really considered Crowley’s powers before. While you were aware that he was a demon, this thought didn’t control your every interaction with him. He was just Crowley- your friend Crowley- your possibly more than a friend Crowley- your Crowley. Shapeshifting had never been part of the picture.

But it was so, so beautiful.

Moving.

And snakes were never your favourite but this was just something else.

Squeals of mouse terror came from the kitchen as a massive shadow rose up throughout the whole apartment. Crowley was sitting up on his body, his head pointed towards any mouse that he could detect and a razor sharp stare in his luminescent eyes.

Your favourite part of this whole scenario was laying on the floor in front of you- Crowley’s sunglasses, sans Crowley for the first time ever. You smiled as you bent down to pick them up, your feet planted to the spot due to the inherently overwhelming nature of what was happening. You ran your fingers over the frames feeling the heat that was stored in them.

There was something so human about the lingering warmth to the metal, but that thing that made it so distinctively Crowley was the fact that the heat never seemed to fade.

The floor seemed to move as the scales once again shifted, with Crowley turning round to come back towards you. Cold fear seized your entire body, despite the oddly comforting and protective energy of this gigantic creature. His yellow eyes were right in front of your face before you’d even managed to properly react to him moving towards you.

You blinked and the Crowley that you knew and … ahem… was standing in front you, a live mouse swinging from his hand by the tail.

‘Consider those rodents dispatched.’

The mouse in his hand was thrashing wildly from side to side and while you hated the little shits, you couldn’t help but feel sorry for it. You went to protest but no words came out of your mouth.

You’d just witnessed something- something that couldn’t exactly be described as a miracle but to you- maybe?

Crowley noticed the panic in your eyes directed towards the mouse and realised what he needed to do. The mouse disappeared in another of your blinks.

There were so many pressing questions on your mind, but you only managed to actually articulate one of them.

‘Please tell me you didn’t eat those mice, Crowley?’ Your tone was somewhere between intrigue and massive concern.

The demon scoffed, ‘I prefer oysters normally, Y/N. No, I didn’t eat them. I can assure you though, they won’t be back any time soon.’

Palpable silence hung between the two of you. You naturally seemed to hold out Crowley’s sunglasses to him, staring directly into the eyes which served as a reminder of his other form as you did so.

Crowley went to slowly take the glasses off you, but in a snap decision, you snatched them back. Crowley wasn’t exactly thrilled by this.

‘Hey, don’t play games with those. They’re my-‘

He didn’t stand a chance of finishing his sentence before you jumped in, with your subconscious mind taking a grasp on your mouth. Maybe this was a trick of Crowley’s, but at least some of it came from your heart.

‘Do it again. Turn back.’

The two of you stared at each other as a smirk took over the demon’s face.

‘Really? It seemed to terrify you, dearest.’

The cockiness in his voice only persuaded you to carry on pushing.

‘Not at all! No no, it was just... well it was a shock at first. Obviously. Like who the hell else can do that? But no, not terror. It’s intrigue. I swear.’

You made sure to assert yourself in your voice as your brain convinced you that you would never rest again unless Crowley turned back into a snake. It was almost like the sheer shock had morphed into utter obsession in a matter of seconds.

And maybe you just adored every part of Crowley and him being vulnerable in showing a new side to you? Well...

Again, you blinked and he was gone for a moment, before the black reptile rose up to meet your gaze. He hadn’t continued to question you.

The presence was unexplainable, physically so big in the space but even just the idea of him just seemed to fill up every corner of the place. Moving the sunglasses into your right hand, you tentatively raised up your left.

‘Can... may I? Can I touch?’ You softly asked, mimicking a petting action in the air. Somehow, Crowley let you know that it was okay, pulling your hand towards him with some kind of magnetising energy.

Your fingers lightly brushed the scales on his head and you took a breath so deep you almost triggered hiccups. The texture was confusing, it almost seemed like it was shifting forms by the second- smooth then rough, hard then feather soft, but still always cool as marble. You fully rested your hand down as you glanced along the entire body, once again filling up the entire hallway.

‘Crowley, this is beautiful. I mean that.’ You whispered, transfixed on what you were seeing.

Then, the unimaginable happened. Your hand which had ended up resting on the snake’s head suddenly felt warm.

Was... was he blushing? You decided to test the water slightly more.

‘I didn’t even imagine that anything could be so magnificent but, well. Here you are. So gorgeous.’

Sure enough, another flush felt through your hand.

‘Crowley, are you blushing?’ You giggled. The heat on his face then took another rise, this time enough to hurt you slightly. You drew your hand away instinctually, but with a smile still on your face.

This was now a day worth noting. The day that started with a mouse in a bread bin and some unfortunately placed anger, and ended as the day that you made a snake blush.

And of course, he made you blush too.

A new side of Crowley. One that you couldn’t help but adore.