#I have no romantic prospects very few friends and no reason to keep going except that i dont want my parents to deal with a dead kid

[wandering-einheri]

Does life ever get to the point where it's actually worth living for the experience, and not just sticking around getting through it because the people around you would suffer more without you?

[imperceivablesexygender]

god im exhausted

stupid hopeless yearning underneath so i don't inflict lengthy ramblings scroll of doom on the 1 person who follows this blog. hi anna you don't have to read this i'm just being dumb about my best friend and wanted to put my thoughts down

so for context. i have one (1) very short previous romantic experience. and by very short i mean half a summer, before freshman year. i have only told my 3 family members (where secrets go to die) and i don't know if she told anyone else - this thing barely even happened. we cuddled at night for a couple of months. but it's the only time i've been remotely near a romantic relationship with someone, so it counts. to Me. i don't know if it counts to Her. but i know she remembers.

this girl is my best friend. we've known each other since kindergarten. i was a dumb 8th grader who couldn't understand attraction if it hit me between the eyes. she'd had a few boyfriends - she was a bit more explicit about what she wanted. but only barely - we never talked about how we cuddled at nights, we never talked about the one time she tried to kiss me in the dark and i squeaked in surprise and didn't know how to react and she never tried it again.

she's moved on. i swear she has. she's dated a girl and our other best friend and at least three other men in the six years since our absolute nonrelationship. had a phase immediately after getting away from our abusive ex best friend where she went on a ton of blind hookups. she's Miles ahead of me in the sexual experience department.

i am So Fucking Horny for her it's not even fair.

i don't Know if i'm In Love or if she's simply familiar and safe enough for me to want to explore my own sexuality with her. i've had three (3) dreams starring her in the past few months.

i tried to ask if she'd be down. we were on shrooms together once, and complaining about romantic prospects, and she made a "low-hanging fruit" metaphor - that maybe a person should stop looking up into trees to pick fruit, and instead look around to see who else might be trying to do the same thing. she looked at me with the biggest earnest doe eyes when she said it and at the moment i would have sworn she was talking about herself, but i wimped out at the time and asked the next morning. she said she wasn't. i dropped it - if she's not interested i don't want to push anything and risk losing her again. i'd rather have her as a friend than not at all, no contest

now she's got a boyfriend. the guy seems great, genuinely! he likes her a lot, and she seems happy, and i really do think he seems chill.

a little more backstory - there was this call-and-response bit we used to do, where she called and i responded, and as part of the bit i would be deliberately obtuse and not finish it, for reasons unknown to me then and unknown to me now. once we started semi flirting and cuddling at night, i finally completed the response. this was a bit that went on throughout that summer, that did not continue after that summer when we ended things, and that has been invoked *maybe* once since, when we were very high.

today, apropos of seemingly nothing, she started the call.

and being a hopeless fool, i finished it.

i couldn't have interpreted the look on her face if you paid me. i tried to play it off like it was nostalgic to me or something, and she didn't say anything else about it, but.

i've thought i've been reading into her actions too much for forever now. i keep telling myself, dude cut it out, you're seeing patterns that aren't there, she's over you, you just need to put yourself out there and forget about it. (easier said than done - it's not that i don't want to try, but that how the fuck am i supposed to "put myself out there" as a 20yo with no experience. it's diving into the deep end without knowing how to swim. also i can't drive myself to dates, and have an aversion to dating apps.)

except there has never ever been any connotation to that stupid call and response between us other than a romantic one. we BOTH know that. she Has to know that. why the FUCK did she do it today.

im gonna ask. i Have to ask. it's just fucking exhausting winding myself up about it. i'm terrified she won't want to stay my friend if she finds out i still have feelings. even though i'll be so stupid normal and fine about it if she says she doesn't feel the same way. she'll never hear about it from me again. because i care about her and our friendship and i'd rather ignore my own yearning than lose her completely.

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Poseidon

Fishy fishy fishy… I honestly could write 100 more things for Poseidon MC and Levi. I just love the dynamic between an insecure, otaku shut-in and a chill California surfer dead set on becoming his friend.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena, Hades Pt. 2, Poseidon 

For anyone unaware, Poseidon is also the god of horses. I know it's a weird combo, but I didn't write the mythos.

Lucifer

…..

They came out of the portal….

On a horse….

They brought the mortal down to the Devildom…

On a goddamn horse….

There's a demigod on a live horse brandishing a weapon and doing laps around the Student Council Room…

Congratulations, he already wants to pull his hair out!!

Honestly, it would have been preferable to pluck them out of the sea. At least then they'd just need a towel! What the hell were they going to do with an entire horse!?

And his nightmare didn't stop there. Poseidon is a notoriously mercurial god, prone to bouts of anger and spitefulness for reasons far less grievous than kidnapping his children… 

Their apology was swift and (seemingly) effective, though the tide waters around the Devildom did rise by several feet for some time…

As for the MC… uh… Well, they're an energetic one to say the least…

Lucifer hasn't met a more active individual since Mammon. They horseback ride, swim, surf, skateboard, and probably do ten other things - the point is, they Hardly. Keep. Still! 

They're also annoyingly easygoing… He can't count the number of times they've told him to, "Just chill out," or, "Hang loose…" What does that even mean??

Between having to order a stable made for their horse and just trying to keep up with them, Lucifer already thinks this mortal has caused him more trouble than they're worth… At least they keep Mammon busy...

Mammon

Upon first meeting them atop their horse, Sunset, his first thought was of course:

"I wonder if I sell that...?"

After that, they nearly fed him to sharks for trying to take their beloved steed on same night. Safe to say, he never touched a hair on its head again…

These two had a rocky start, but their relationship mended fairly quickly. As it turns out, the MC is literally one of those "go with the flow" types. You can say it was water under the bridge soon enough.

Mammon actually thinks the MC is a hell of a lot of fun, even if they're super laid-back. Most of the time, they won’t take his drive for money (or fear of his bills) all that seriously and tell him that he’s worrying too much, but they’ll still lend a hand if its on their way.

He finds their ability to control water pretty cool as well. Levi has it to some extent, but the MC can make a whole-ass whirlpool or use water like a whip! 

He once begged them to call up some rare fish for him to sell, but they got all pseudo-philosophical on him about how “trading life for material wealth” is “not cool, dude...”

He also made the mistake of challenging them to a splash fight only once…. They managed to drench the whole family with a single wave….

The only thing that bothers him is their weird insistence on being Levi's "Best Buddy…" Why would someone like them even bother with a shut in??

Is it the water? … Probably water. Levi, that lucky bastard…

Leviathan 

Thinks they're a big normie, no scratch that, a HUGE normie! The biggest normie he's ever met!! They skateboard and horseback ride for Devil's sake!!

...But they’re also, undoubtedly, the best friend he could've ever asked for.

To be fair to Levi, their friendship was sort of forced upon him. The MC took one look at him, his aquatic-themed room, and his pet goldfish then declared their new friendship status at that moment. 

Unfortunately for him, though, they're energetic, extroverted, and generally have little understanding of personal space… aka, an introvert's worst nightmare…

The next month could accurately be described as the MC doing everything in their power to make their stubborn "senpai" like them.

They would drag him out to the aquarium, beach, or pool; they befriended Henry so he could put in a good word for them; and they'd even bring him little gifts or trinkets they'd find on the ocean floor. Pretty shells and stuff like a cat bringing its master a dead mouse.

After he finally began to accept them as a persistent fixture in his life, he introduced them to gaming and anime and started accepting them little by little...

By the end of their stay, these two were practically inseparable. Not just because they like spending time together, but because they figured out they could have a telepathic link due to Levi being part sea serpent. 

No matter how far they are, they can always have a chat! (That no one else can hear so people think they’re just crazy...)

Satan

Satan honestly isn't the MC's biggest fan, he generally finds them too loud and gregarious for his liking. But their horse…?

He never really thought that he'd be a horse man... Yet it didn’t really take long for Satan to adore Sunset, their beautiful golden-maned mare. Apparently she's not their only horse, but by far their favorite traveling companion.

Sunset is a wonderful horse - brave, strong, and well-trained. It only took a few weeks before he was regularly sneaking out to the stables to brush her fur or feed her apples...

After the MC taught him how to ride, that was it. All other forms of transportation were inferior to him now.

Satan would ride Sunset everywhere and he looked damn good doing it! It takes all that fairytale Prince Charming thing he has going on and puts it through the roof.

It's a good thing too, because when I say everywhere, I do mean everywhere. Lucifer had to put seals on the House doors to keep Satan from riding Sunset through the hallways...

Of course, he’ll always let the MC have Sunset back when they need her!... with a little complaining but nothing terrible.

The MC doesn't mind much because Sunset likes him and they know he takes good care of her, but the rest of the House is slightly unnerved at how quickly he went horse crazy… What if they brought a giant crab instead?? No one wants to deal with crab-Satan...

Asmodeus 

Their body is just scrumptious. Oh, how he could look at their swimsuit-clad figure all day!! 😩

Between the swimming and the fighting, their form is toned to all hell and he can't get enough of it! Yes baby, yes!! Take those clothes off again!!! He'll help~! 😘

When he's not staring at them “totally respectfully,” then he's inviting them out to pool parties or begging them to take him riding...

There are parts of horseback riding he doesn’t like, the smell and the jostling specifically, but there is a kind of… romance to it, no?

He loves having the chance to snuggle up to the MC as they trot around the Devildom! It's so romantic, like they’re his knight in shining armor! (Or his demigod in a damp swimsuit, either works. 😏)

His Devilgram is just full of selfies of him and MC riding on the back of Sunset or sitting by the edge of the pool or them in the middle of a swim meet…

Yeah his Devilgram is now a one part him and one part MC-Appreciation account.

After the pact he'll eventually cool down some and stop staring at them like a sex-object, but even then he'll be at every swim meet. Don't you worry~

Beelzebub 

He actually really likes them! It's great to finally have another athlete in the House. 😊

The MC joined the RAD swim team just as soon the coach was able to convince Diavolo that having the child of a water god wasn't completely cheating... 

Since swim and fangol practice ends at about the same time, they walk home together a lot and complain about... sports things... (Forgive me, I don’t know sports. Uhm... Rival teams? Coaches? That one drill everyone hates? Stuff like that.)

Beel also can surf, skate, and snowboard so the two have a healthy competition going. They're about on equal footing so they tie often (except in surfing but Beel doesn't think that should count cause they’re probably cheating).

The only thing that he has to watch out for is Sunset… As in, he has to watch himself around Sunset because he absolutely could eat her on accident… 

Look, he doesn't want to and he doesn't even like horse meat that much, but even he has to admit there are times he gets hungry enough to consider it…

Of course, he knows that if he ever did Satan would rip him limb from limb then the MC would drown the rest so he really, really tries to control himself… but still… She’s a very healthy horse...

At least he didn’t try to sell her like Mammon. The MC hung him over a shark tank for that stunt… He’d feel bad, but Mammon kind of had it coming.

Belphegor 

The first time they met, the MC smelled like beach water and called him "dude-bro…" He didn't like his prospects.

For a while, he genuinely thought that they had a lump of sand where their brain was. They were just too chill!! Here he was saying that he's being held captive and they were like, "Well that sucks, man… I'll help ya, but I've got practice tomorrow. You can wait, right?"

It's not like he expected them to jump on top of it, but some urgency would have been nice…

When they eventually got around to helping him, he was actually looking forward to choking the life out of them for the extra wait. Unfortunately, they apparently had a horse…

Yeah, Belphie found out just a bit too late that the MC could summon their steed to them whenever they wanted and ended up with Sunset's hooves firmly bucking into his back for his trouble…

What followed was Belphegor running circles around the attic from the weapon-totting MC riding their terrifying murder horse until Lucifer finally intervened....

Thank the gods he wasn’t near any water….

As it would turn out later, as long as he's not being held captive in an attic Belphie kind of vibes with their laid-backness… They say they approach life "one wave at a time" or something.

He could care less about what that actually means, but what it translates to is "Stop stressing out and just keep chill" which he's all about.

Everybody should just chill out!... dude…. Nah, he'll let them stick to the “dude”-thing, it feels weird...

[collecting-stories]

Jealous - Luke Patterson

Summary: You bring a friend to a concert with you and Luke gets the wrong idea. 

A/N: this it like, alive!Luke, it’s also like 3k long 😭😭

Julie and the Phantoms Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

Luke pouted, leg twitching as he looked around the small venue that Alex had booked them that night. The doors had only just opened and people were beginning to stream in. They’d played shows before but Luke was still surprised watching people come through the doors. He honestly couldn’t believe anyone had bought tickets. There was no doubt in Luke’s mind that they were the greatest band ever but seeing other people agree with that sentiment always made him feel like he was on cloud nine. Hanging a little over the second-floor balcony of the venue, watching every person that walked through the door, he wanted to be excited but his nerves had nothing to do with the show tonight.  

“Would you chill man?” Alex chided, tapping Luke’s arm with a bottle of water. “She’ll be here.”

“She hasn’t missed a performance yet.” Reggie pointed out, spinning on a stool that he’d nabbed from the bar.

“Yeah, I know that.” Luke insisted, standing up but glancing back over his shoulder, “she said she’d make it before doors though...”

Ever since Julie had started playing with the guys, you had started hanging around more. You were embarrassed to say but you and Julie had been little more than friendly neighbors before she’d starting renting out her garage for band practice. The first time you’d heard the loud music coming from the Molina’s yard you’d gone to inspect and found the doors open and a band rehearsing inside. Needless to say, it was that first meeting that had cemented yours and Luke’s relationship. Not exactly more than friends but certainly not just friends. The more you came around the more the two of you danced around your feelings for each other and the more you neglected your other friends.  

-

“Just, don’t say anything to the guys-”

“You mean, don’t say anything to Luke.” Julie countered, standing at her locker with you in between classes. Tonight, was the show at the Voltage Lounge and they’d been stoked about it since they got the gig. You would’ve been equally stoked, and you were, until you realized it was also your best friend’s birthday and you had promised to get dinner together.  

“Look, I’ll be there, before doors, I promise. But I’ve kinda been ditching my other friends lately and I promised Mikey that we’d get dinner for his birthday.” You replied, shutting your locker and walking with Julie toward the music room.  

“Don’t you think not telling Luke you’re going out with another guy would be worse than saying you’re gonna be a little late to the show?” Julie countered. She grabbed a seat by Flynn and you sat on the other side, leaning forward to keep the conversation going.  

“I just don’t want him thinking I’m ditching the performance okay, me and Mikey are just friends...as are me and Luke.” You replied, though even saying it sounded like a lie. You knew as well as Julie and Flynn that you were avoiding mentioning the dinner because you didn’t want Luke to get the wrong idea.  

“You tell yourself that.” Flynn chided, pulling a face at you, clearly not believing you at all.  

“We are.”

“Yeah, and anytime he sings anything even slightly romantic he looks right at you.”

“It’s true,” Julie piped up, “he’s been coming up with a lot more love songs recently. Whenever I ask him about it he just says he wants us to have a balanced song pool or something.”  

“We’re not a thing.” You insisted. “I’m going to dinner and then I’ll be at the show...simple as that. Just, don’t say anything.”  

Julie agreed, throwing out some lame excuse about you having to go over your grandparents�� house before the show as a reason that you weren’t going to the venue with them like you usually did. Getting booked somewhere as a headliner was still fairly new to them and you always liked to be there in the moments before the show started, an extra person to reassure them that they completely and totally deserved all of this.  

While you didn’t think your absence would be felt too exponentially, it definitely was. Luke had been unusually antsy since they’d gotten there. He was always eager to get onstage but this was different, he kept looking over the railing as if he was going to hurl and rush out of the venue. Reggie tried reassuring him that everything was fine but nothing seemed to calm his nerves.  

“Hey, ten minutes alright, start getting ready,” one of the crew said, scribbling something on his clipboard.

“Okay, thanks.” Julie nodded, looking back over the railing as he left, the calm she was trying to portray immediately washing away when she saw you walk into the venue. Any other time she would’ve been jumping for joy but you weren’t alone and she could only assume that the guy with you was the Mikey you had mentioned earlier in the day. “So we should-” as she turned to address them, hopefully distract Luke, Reggie caught sight of you in the crowd.

“Look!” He nudged Luke’s arm, pointing you out, “she made it.”

Julie grimaced as Luke looked over the balcony and down into the crowd. It took him a moment to find you but Julie and Alex could pinpoint the exact moment that he did. A flicker of happiness at the sight of you, quickly washed away and turned into, first confusion, and then something akin to anger. He frowned, eyebrows furrowing as he watched you get a spot on his side, talking the whole time to the guy with you.  

“Who the fuck is that?” He asked.  

You had told Julie that your plan was to go, get through dinner with Mikey, and then come straight to the venue for the show. A simple enough evening, and you’d expected it to go off without a hitch except Mikey got curious about who you were texting and guilted you into inviting him along.  

“So, this band?” Mikey asked, looking around the small venue, “how’d you become a groupie?”

“I’m not a groupie. Julie and I are friends.” You stressed, scrunching your nose up as the lights dimmed and the people around you screamed in excitement.  

The anticipation was palpable and, truthfully, you were right there with the other concert goers around you, excited by the prospect of seeing Julie and the Phantoms perform live. It wasn’t something that was new for you, a front row seat to all their rehearsals was part of your everyday life and yet, something about seeing them perform live like this, with a crowd that so responsive to them, only added to the adrenaline coursing through you.  

As the guys ran out on stage, Alex, then Reggie, then Luke, and finally Julie, the noise level around you seemed to pick up. But there was something off, something that didn’t quite sync with you that settled as the first chords sounded. You frowned, realizing, as Luke purposely missed you when he scanned the crowd, exactly what it was that you were feeling. It wasn’t accidental in the slightest, Julie met your gaze more than once and so did Reggie and Alex but Luke was ignoring you. He was very intentionally ignoring you standing there in the very front row, pressed against the barricade in front of him.

It was as if someone had knocked all the air out of your chest. Somehow that loud, crowded venue where you could feel the bass pounding in your stomach, felt empty. You felt small and invisible and even when Mikey shouted in your ear that they were actually an awesome band you lacked the excitement to tell him that they were the best band ever. You just nodded. And as much as you wanted to look away from Luke, a silent “two can play at this game”, you didn’t. Instead, you just kept watching him, waiting for him to look your way and somehow explain what was going on that had him acting like you didn’t exist.  

-

The encore ended, the boys each running off the stage before Julie, Luke standing at the side waiting for her as she waved one last time to the crowd before setting the mic back in its stand and running off. The mass of people who had been screaming lulled into a buzz, some of them leaving as others lingered, waiting for the band to come back out to sign autographs and take pictures.  

You walked Mikey to the merch table while other people hung around chatting with each other, the house lights up so that you could actually see as you walked. Flynn stood behind the table and she waved when she saw you.  

“I’ll catch you later, thanks for letting me tag along.” He said, hanging at the door for a minute.

“Yeah totally, thanks for coming. Happy birthday,” you hugged him and then circled back to Flynn, stepping behind the table and sitting down on the stool.  

“Girl, you do not seem happy.” Flynn commented as she grabbed a sweatshirt from one of the boxes and handed it across the table to a fan.  

“I’m just...” you shrugged, looking back down toward the stage, “confused?”  

“Did something happen with Mikey?” She asked.  

You handed a shirt from one of the bins to her as she rung up a sale, jumping in to ask a few people what they needed as she waited on a group of girls. When they had all finally dispersed, the line lulling for a moment, you turned back to Flynn, “no...I mean other than him inviting himself along. No, it was Luke...he was like, it sounds dumb to say it but, it was like he was ignoring me.”

“Maybe he didn’t see you?” She suggested, attempting to be reassuring.  

“He saw me. Then he just, acted like he didn’t the whole rest of the night.” You replied, “I don’t know...it felt shitty.”

“You know who you should tell that to?”

“Luke?” You asked, already knowing her answer. Flynn was the queen of confrontation.  

“Exactly.”

You frowned, the last thing you wanted to do was talk to Luke. If he was going to ignore you the way he had on stage, Flynn had been trying to make you feel better but you knew he was avoiding you for some reason. He always made it a point to find you in the crowd but tonight he had looked anywhere but you.  

A few straggling fans shouted excitedly and you looked passed the table to see that the guys and Julie had come out from backstage for meet and greets. As they spread out to talk to people, Reggie moved toward the merch stand, parking himself close enough to you that he could chat with you without drawing too much attention. You knew it was on purpose, that was usually Luke’s spot but tonight he stayed all the way down by the stage, almost reluctant to be out on the floor.  

“Hey, great job.” You mentioned, grabbing a water bottle from under the table and handing it to Reggie. He took it gratefully, taking a sip before setting it on the floor beside him and beginning to greet the group of fans that had hung back to say hello to him.  

When there was a spare minute between signing and taking pictures, he moved down the table, closer to you then before, leaning against a bare patch of wood where Flynn had already cleared away shirts. “Who was that guy you came with?” Reggie asked, looking back at you as you took one of the larger hoodies out of a box and pulled it on. Without the people, the venue had started to get cold.  

“My friend Mikey, it was his birthday and he’s been bugging me to hang out. He tagged along really and I didn’t wanna ditch him...” you replied, coming around the side of the table, “I didn’t really think it’d be an issue.”

“Oh, it's not with me. We need all the fans we can get right?” Reggie joked, “did he like our music?”

“Yeah, totally loved it.”  

The last of the concert goers finally made it to the door, waving to Reggie one last time as they walked passed the closed down merch stand. He waved back and you turned to watch them leave, back to the stage.  

“Hey, can we talk?” Luke’s voice came from behind you and you looked over your shoulder to him, standing there with his plaid jacket over a black band tee. His hair was pushed off his forehead from sweat and he was frowning already, not exactly the version of him you wanted to talk to. You couldn’t help that longing feeling for the Luke that would come off stage and wrap you in a sweaty hug guaranteed to piss of fans.  

“Uh yeah, of course...I need to talk to you too.” You replied, turning fully toward him as Reggie stood up, grabbing his water and heading back down toward the stage. Flynn came around the merch stand, following after him, leaving you and Luke alone.  

A beat passed between you and he ran his hand through his hair, trying and failing to fix the sweaty mess. Unable to stand the silence, you started talking, “you guys were awesome...as usual.”  

“Yeah, thanks.” He had asked to talk to you but he wasn’t really sure how to start the conversation he wanted to have and he couldn’t bring himself to really meet your eyes, his gaze flickering passed you every few seconds.  

“Would’ve been even better if you weren’t ignoring me all night,” you blurted.  

That seemed to be the push he needed to react, “yeah well, you brought some date with you? After the other night...” he trailed off for a moment, meeting your eyes finally, “I mean, that wasn’t nothing.”

-

Band practice had ended earlier than usual and, while you sat on the couch trying to win a particularly difficult level of candy crush on Luke’s phone, everybody else discussed a pizza run for dinner. You raised your hand to vote for extra cheese but didn’t look up when Julie left to go and Reggie and Alex walked out onto the driveway to play basketball. You didn’t look up until Luke dropped down on the couch next to you, putting his chin on your shoulder.

“How’s it going?” He asked, keeping his eyes on his phone screen as you turned your head, so close that your nose almost brushed his cheek.  

“Good?” You said, drawing the word out as you looked at him skeptically, “can I ask why you’re so close to me?”  

“So, you can bask in my awesomeness?” Luke teased, wrapping his arm around your waist.  

“I think the only thing I’m basking in is your post-rehearsal sweat.” You joked, shifting a little so that his chin fell off your shoulder and you were facing him. You set his phone down on the coffee table, giving your whole attention to Luke.  

He smiled at you, eyes searching yours. There was no denying that very specific look that Luke seemed to get, one you could never quite name but always recognized. He would smile, a soft sort of piercing look that you couldn’t look away from on his face. And you were always hypnotized by it, feeling like maybe you should distract yourself from it but never really wanting to.  

“What are we doing?” You chanced asking, meeting his gaze and holding it.

“What’da ya mean?” He asked, grin still on his face and you felt like he’d gotten closer but you didn’t move.

“You’re staring at me.”

“You’re staring at me.” He echoed.  

“Luke.” You wanted to roll your eyes but you also didn’t want to look away, even for a split second.  

He leaned closer, the joking air that had been dissipating completely gone now. You licked your lips, trying to keep yourself calm as Luke moved in. One second, he was looking at you and the next your eyes were closing, his lips pressed against yours and his grip on your waist tightening.  

The kiss didn’t last long. The doors to the garage creaked open and you both pulled away, looking anywhere but at each other as Julie walked in with pizza. Alex and Reggie came in behind her and Luke stood up, grabbing a stack of magazines off the coffee table and moving them out of the way. You picked up his phone, unlocking it and opening candy crush again to distract yourself.  

-

Neither of you had discussed the kiss, mostly because you were too afraid that if you brought it up he would tell you that it was just a mistake. Some spur of the moment thing that happened but that he didn’t really mean. You hadn’t even told Julie or Flynn about it.  

But now you were standing at the empty merch table with him and he was acting like you had purposely tried to hurt him. A ‘date’ he had called it and all at once you realized exactly what he thought had happened.  

“No, no,” you shook your head, “Mikey wasn’t a date.”  

“You didn’t say you were bringing Mikey with you to our show.” Luke replied, your best friend’s name rolling off his tongue like a curse.  

“He was bugging me about not hanging out recently and it’s his birthday so we were supposed to go out for dinner but I kept mentioning you…the band…and he wanted to come to the show.” You tried to explain.  

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” It was stupid to ask, technically you didn’t owe him any explanation at all. You could bring whoever you wanted but he couldn’t help feeling affronted by it.  

“I didn’t want you to think I was gonna ditch the show. And…I didn’t want you to think it was a date.” You replied. “The kiss wasn’t nothing and I should’ve talked to you about it sooner cause…I really like you and it felt really shitty to be ignored tonight.”  

Luke rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m sorry, I was just pissed when I saw you with some other guy.”

“Mikey’s just a friend.” You replied, “I like you Luke, I like when you pretend to play the guitar badly to make me laugh and I like when we hang out without everyone else and just do nothing or go to the beach and I like going out with you at midnight to get ice cream cause neither of us can sleep and I don’t want to date anyone else…I want you.”  

“I want you too.” Luke said, stepping closer to you. When he reached for your hands, you laced your fingers with his. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against yours again, the salty taste of sweat from playing a show still there on his mouth as you kissed him back.  

[princekaashi]

How Hq! Boys react to their date coming out as asexual.

You always had romantic prospects but never romantic partners. You had guys you liked that liked you back, guys you flirted with, guys who liked you, that is, until you told them you were asexual. 

It was like a switch every time. A bucket of ice water. The sobering thought. You preferred it, honestly, preferred that they knew their boundaries, knew what they wanted enough to not string you along. It stung most of the time, but that was life, and it was a pretty big deal breaker. And then you met them, and you just clicked. You went on dates, holding hands, wandering around zoos and looking at the christmas lights, getting coffee in a small shop and talking til it closed down. You were so into them, but you needed to tell them. You hated to break this news, as everytime it was like you’d snuffed out the candle burning in front of you. 

You had a spiel. One that, over the years, had become streamlined and casual. A talking point really, able to be slipped into any conversation and dull enough that the guy could have any reaction and not feel like it was the wrong one. Most of the time that reaction was to pointedly, quickly spin the chemistry between you into something platonic. You weren’t exactly sure how they would respond but, as you sat down for dinner, you knew you would tell them tonight. 

DAICHI

He would be surprised but he’d cover it really well.

Would want a couple of days to think through it because he really liked you but didn’t want to lead you on if he thought it would be a problem

Eventually he decided that he wanted to be with you no matter what, and he’d been happy this past month that you’d been seeing each other

Would talk to you about the possibility of an open relationship, to fulfill his needs, but if it made you uncomfortable he would look for other ways to ease his tension

If you ever apologized to him about it, or started to look guilty he’d ask what he was doing to make you feel that way and how he he could fix it 

If you said it was just your insecurities he would drag you over to the couch and have a long conversation with you about how committed he is to you and how much he loved you and respected you

Makes up for any lack of sexual intimacy with cuddles and deep communication.  

SUGAWARA

Suga would know right off the bat. 

He would wait respectfully for you to tell him but he’d already picked up how you avoided talks about sex and how you only wanted kisses sometimes (or none of the time)

After you told him, he’d lean over the table and grab your hand and tell you that it didn’t mean anything had to change

He’s really happy with you and he really wants to date you, asexuality or not

If you ever got insecure about it he’d sit you down and tell you all the reasons he loved you. 

Like Daichi, he prioritizes communication and finding ways to express how deeply he feels for you, like making you dinner or laying with you on his chest and you guys watch a movie. 

OIKAWA

Would not care in the slightest

Homeboy is obsessive. If he’s into you, he’s into you, point blank

He’d probably tell you that he was proud of you for coming out and that he felt honored that you trusted him with this

Always asks before initiating any type of physical contact to make sure it’s within your boundaries

I feel like his love language would be closer to giving gifts or acts of service anyway

So he’d probably try to make you feel loved by doing things for you like making you coffee in the morning

Honestly he’s happy that he can come home exhausted from volleyball practice and not be expected to do anything except cuddle.  

BOKUTO

Bokuto is really emotionally intelligent so he’d probably know that there was something you were working up toward telling him. 

Once you did tell him he’d probably need you to explain it a few times, what asexuality means to you and what that means in your relationship

But I think he’d be really supportive. He’s a big touchy-feely person but I’m sure he’d be just as happy to hold your hand and cuddle you and give you piggy-back rides to show his affection

Probably talks to Akaashi about it, who is also not very touchy-feely, to see if there’s anything that he should stop doing to make sure you are comfortable

He’ll always be able to tell if you are uncomfortable though, and he’ll ask you about it, to make sure it doesn’t happen again. 

KUROO

Look, Kuroo is a nerd. Also I kinda headcannon that Kenma is asexual, so Kuroo would probably be pretty knowledgeable about asexuality, and would be totally fine dating a s/o who was ace. 

Would go to pride with you and let you sit on his shoulders as you guys walked around. 

Again, he’s pretty touchy-feely so he would find ways to express his affection that didn’t overwhelm you

Would enjoy resting his hand on the small of your back, drawing shapes on your skin with his fingers, hugging you from behind, etc. 

He’d also make sure that you were never insecure in the relationship and that you knew he loved you and wasn’t disappointed that you were asexual. 

USHIJIMA

Ushijima is like Oikawa, and he will just take it at face value

He’s friends with Tendou solely because Tendou talks to him. If he’s dating you and you’re asexual then he’s just going to take that as the way your relationship works

He will 100% ask you the most blunt questions about it, even if they’re kinda rude. Tendou may have to explain to him later that he may have offended you or overstepped a line. 

He’ll always make it up to you though, with flowers or tickets to the zoo or something. 

NISHINOYA

He’s so in love with you, he’s just happy you felt safe enough to tell him. 

He’s really loyal and from the moment he decided he wanted to ask you out, he was committed. 

Is genuinely curious and wants to learn about your experiences. 

If you’re comfortable with it, he loves to give you cheek kisses, because you’re just so cute he can’t help himself.

If you ever feel insecure he will give you a pep talk like those he gives Asahi when he’s nervous about being the ace (haha ace-ace solidarity) 

Wants to spend all his time with you, even if it’s just while he practices volleyball and you’re reading 

He does insist that you guys go on weekly date nights, tho, to keep the spark alive. 

TANAKA

Like Nishinoya, he’s already 100% committed and this is not a deal-breaker

Unlike Noya, he’s going to PANIC about how to act around you

He never wants to make you feel uncomfortable but he really really wants to touch you. 

You will literally have to spell out your boundaries (i.e. what is okay) because otherwise he won’t do anything and he’ll drive himself insane.

If you ever feel insecure he will give you the most confused look because he thinks that you’re the best thing that ever happened to him, what do you mean you feel guilty that you’re asexual and that you don’t want to do anything with him?? 

KENMA 

Honestly, I think that Kenma is asexual too. 

You’d just be vibing honestly. 

Kuroo would be so happy that Kenma found someone to be with that didn’t expect anything from him

You guys would be that gremlin couple (Kenma is feral fight me) 

You’d go to their practices and you’d help Yaku berate encourage Lev to practice his recieves

GAMING NIGHTS are your guys’ thing!!! Nothing dirty, just a blanket fort and 10 hours of Halo/Mario Kart/ Mario Party/ whatever Kenma is playing that week. 

ASAHI

I don’t think that Asahi is asexual, but I do think that he finds enjoyment in a lot of non-sexual components of a relationship. 

He would need time to adjust because he’d be worried about making you uncomfortable with anything, but once he did you guys would be really happy

He loves cuddling with you when you sleep and waking up next to you

He has you model some of his clothing too, and just revels in your beauty 

AKAASHI

Again, Akaashi isn’t asexual but I think he would naturally have a pretty low sex drive. 

He’s also a very busy person, so it’s nice that he doesn’t feel like he has to uphold anything when he’s exhausted

You guys will read together and go on cafe dates 

Akaashi has to explain the way that you are to Bokuto a few times, because Bokuto adores you but isn’t sure what you mean by being asexual

But once he learns he’ll also be super supportive 

[hela-avenger]

To the Stars Who Listen- Part 7

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1977

Summary: When Loki desires to never fall in love, he casts a spell to prevent such a thing from happening. Except, well, in the matters of love and magic, you never know the result it may have in the end. Loki x Reader

A/N: This one’s a bit long and the next one will also be pretty long. I’ve just got a lot I want to include!  Tags are open! (Send me an ask/message/response.)

TTSWL Masterlist

Loki scowled as you led him once more out of the beaten path. He’s forced to descend down the damn hill again until you are content at the bare field that laid ahead of you. Loki glares at the sun that is beating down at them but is relieved at the cool breeze that flowed through the nearby trees. 

“Why did you bring me out here again?” Loki asks. “Isn’t the point of an indoor training facility is to train indoors?”

“After the incident from yesterday morning I decided it would be best if we trained away from everyone,” you answer. “I really don’t need to hear more of my friends confessing things to me.”

“Come on,” Loki drawls. “I’m sure a tiny part of you enjoyed it.” 

You hadn’t and yet a sharp sting runs down your spine at his words. As if your power was reprimanding you for lying to yourself. You try to ignore it but involuntarily shiver and Loki grins at the action. 

You hate his grin. 

You don’t necessarily hate him even though you had many reasons to. 

Loki destroyed New York in an attempt to rule over mankind. He also got his ass chewed out by his parents when he got sent back home. 

Now he was here, claiming to be better, reformed. 

You had yet to see it but noticing how miserable Loki was in the past months roaming the halls of the Tower you knew the slow punishment was certainly fitting the crime. 

Though now, things seem to be working out for him. 

“Look, I don’t want to question your superior knowledge on this matter but there has to be another way for me to expel the excess power I keep surging,” you state. “I can’t be blasting things hours at end so I don’t physically implode.” 

“There are other ways but they’re more complicated,” Loki answers as he crosses his arms. He was hoping that would put an end to that question but you pestered on.  

“So?” you ask him. “I can handle it.” 

Loki snorts. 

The arrogance you held was comedic. He would blame your humanity for the awful trait but his brother and his merry band of friends were endowed with it too. 

“You’re asking me to teach you how to wield your seidr,” Loki explains. “In mortal words that should help you comprehend, you want me to teach you how to cast spells. It will expel your powers but not as quickly or as greatly as the siphons will.” 

“So is that a yes?” you ask him unable to fight the smile on your lips. Loki rolls his eyes but you continue. “Come on. I’m trying to find the silver lining to this new power. If I can cast spells like a witch then I want to learn.”

“I take offense to the word witch,” Loki mutters, noticing how your fingers fidget with the gold siphons. Your obvious discomfort of them was written so plainly on your face. “Even if you could cast spells, you’ll still have to wear and use the siphons daily.”

 “Are you agreeing to teach me then?” you ask him. For once you were excited at the prospect of this lesson. 

“My spells of expertise reside on tricks and lies,” Loki explains. “They won’t work for you so I will have to figure out spells that rely on your ability of the truth.” 

“Seriously?” you deflate. “There’s nothing you can teach me today?” 

“Well I had planned to teach you how to pull out secrets and confessions in a more covert way, but you won’t allow my lesson, will you?” 

You shake your head and Loki rubs his eyes tiredly. 

“Just teach me something simple!” you offer. “Something that you as a kid managed to pull off and then I’ll subject myself to your lesson without questions or commentary.” 

Loki watches you silently realizing that you needed this distraction. It’s been obvious from the beginning that this power was something you hated. He was confused by this anger. Had it been him in your shoes, Loki would be elated to be more powerful than before. 

Of course, you were a different breed. 

From what he could tell by his observations, you were beloved by all. Strong, kind, and smart to be considered at the same level as many of these heroes you surround yourself with. You did it all by yourself and with the single motivation of wanting to do good for the world. 

Your intentions are and have always been so pure that Loki wonders if that is why the Book of Veritas deemed you worthy to release its power into you. 

“I can teach you how to shield…” 

“Come on, I know you have something more fun up your sleeve,” you interject. 

Loki tries to think but he finds himself distracted by the warm smile on your face. He’s seen it in the company of others but never had it been directed to him. You had never spent this much time with him to deem him one. 

“I uh… I cast childish spells. They all rhymed too. I don’t think…” 

Loki doesn’t understand why his mind drives him to that particular memory again. Of floating rose petals and impossible possibilities. He’s horrified by it. Especially as you take notice of it. 

“You know of one,” you point out, your smile widening. “What is it?” 

Loki hesitates but he knows that if he withholds his response for too long you’ll be onto him in seconds. You’ll pry the answer out of him. The truth coming out one way or another. 

“It was a foolish love spell.” 

“A love spell?” you repeat amused. “Little Loki wanted to fall in love?” 

Surprisingly enough, you don’t laugh or make fun of him. Loki is wary by the lack of it but answers your question nonetheless.

“I desired the opposite actually,” he explains. “I don’t wish to ever fall in love.” 

“And why is that?” 

“I’m not going to answer that,” Loki states. 

You’re very curious to know the answer, but Loki’s privacy was one you had yet to invade without his permission. He deserves to keep his secrets in the same way that you didn’t always deserve the truth. 

“So how do I cast this love spell?” you ask him. 

“Wish to fall in love?” Loki asks, turning the focus on you. 

You shrug carelessly, “Maybe.” 

“Don’t have enough admirers already?” 

“What are you going on about?” you ask with a roll of your eyes. “I don’t have any admirers.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

You stare at him confused and Loki sighs in response. 

“You are.” 

Loki looks away in exasperation causing you to fidget again.  

“Just spit it out already,” you exclaim. 

“Bucky and Sam admitted they found you attractive yesterday morning,” Loki states. “And don’t get me started on the Captain…” 

“Steve doesn’t see me that way,” you sigh. “We’re just friends. All of them are my friends.” 

“Well, all of your friends are attracted to you.” 

You can’t avoid the sudden warmth that encompasses your face as you realize he’s being honest. You try to stammer out a response but the words are useless. 

“I uh… I mean… They’re not…” 

You take a deep breath trying to ignore Loki’s obvious amusement. 

“I don’t see any of them that way,” you respond curtly. “They are attractive men. Actually very attractive. I’m honestly surprised that the entire team hasn’t been poached by a model agency by now.” 

“You’re straying away from the point.” 

“Right, well…” you stumble. “The point is that I don’t find myself romantically attracted to them. They’re great guys but I need more.”

Loki doesn’t really care for your explanation and yet he finds himself intrigued. 

What more could you possibly want? 

You had the whole world in your hands and yet you desired more.  

There was only one way to find the answer and he dreaded the mere thought of it. 

“The love spell needs some binding elements,” Loki states. “I used rose petals but you can use whatever you can find.” 

You can’t help the smile on your face as he conjures a small gold bowl in his hands for you to use. You eagerly take it from him and Loki watches as you skip away to collect whatever you can find. 

“You are going to bind your desires to these elements so I would suggest you choose wisely.” 

You heed his warnings before coming back to him. 

“Ok I’ve got them,” you tell him. “What now?” 

Loki looks down at the filled bowl and scowls. 

A few autumn leaves, daisies, and blades of grass. 

“Interesting choices,” Loki mutters. “Do you have your spell in mind?” 

“No,” you answer. “But why don’t you tell me how yours went and I can just… copy that.” 

Loki notices the mischief laced in your smile. Your intentions were so blatantly clear because you had no wish to hide them from him. He wonders if this was a side effect of your powers or if it was from your original character. 

“A yellow rose petal for friendship, a white one for youth, a red rose petal for love and a blue one for truth,” Loki states. “...And that is all you’re hearing from me. The rest is none of your concern.” 

“Fine,” you smile. “Keep the juicy bits to yourself.”

You take a deep breath and look down at the contents inside your bowl.

“For my heart I wish to have... a man who loves me with all that he has. Blades of grass to signal he’s lean. A fighter, a lover, a man of means. Autumn leaves and daisies of plenty. I hope to find love when I least expect it.” 

Loki could taste the magic in the air. He closes his eyes and feels the warmth and softness brush against his skin. He waits to hear your shocked gasp as the elements in the bowl begin to float away but it never comes. 

“Is something supposed to happen?” you ask him as he opens his eyes to find the bowl still filled. “I feel like something should have happened.” 

“You’re indeed right,” Loki frowns. “Your binding elements should have flown away to find your perfect pair.” 

“Did I do it wrong?” 

Loki shakes his head. He could still feel the residue of your magic and the spell was perfectly casted. 

“Repeat it again.” 

So you do feeling the bowl grow warm in your hands. 

The magic is more pungent now and Loki feels how heavy it lays around them. Before he could decipher the phenomenon, the entire contents of the bowl blew up between them. You and Loki are covered in the debris of grass, shrivelled up leaves, and daisy petals. 

“Ok,” you cough out. “Was that supposed to happen?” 

“Not at all,” Loki scowls as he brushes off the remains from his person. 

“What does it mean?” you ask as you pull off a petal from your hair. 

The magic was fading away from the air and Loki had no explanation to offer as to why your love spell had gone wrong. 

Perhaps your demands were too much, but if that were the case that meant Loki’s spell had actually worked while yours didn’t. Someone who wanted love couldn’t achieve it while someone who didn’t had. 

Loki lets out a sigh. 

“I have no idea,” Loki shrugs as he takes the bowl from your hand and makes it disappear. “You might have infused too much of your power in it and burnt out the spell.” 

You can’t help but chuckle. 

Loki wasn’t necessarily lying but he wasn’t telling you the entire truth. The thing that surprised you immensely was that you really didn’t care to know what he could possibly be hiding. 

Not this time. Perhaps not ever.

TTSWL Tag: @catsladen @is-it-madness @manyfandoms-marvel @mejusttryintogetby @illogicalfangirl @ariel-snow-tmnt @islinglivesinshire @musicconversedance @missmadwoman @smaranshakthi @adaydreamingdragon @poetic-fiasco @like-a-wildfire @jasminecalia @ha-tep @charbokbok @setsuna-meiou31 @ms-blvck @country-cowgirl-101 @bepo-is-sorry @hufflautia @waitforthehurricanrose @fictionalhoomanofnowhere​ @sanniegirl1214​ @telenari​ @anonymouscastiel12​

Loki Tag: @unicorniorosacomefrutillas @thesilentbluesparrow @oddly-drawn-muse @josiehosiedaninja @hp-hogwartsexpress @sadwaywardkid @wolf-lover74 @sizzlingbarbarianglitter @sigyn-nightshade @aoirohi @horsesandwolvesaremyanimals @just-a-donut-who-reads @day-dreaming-fox

All Works Tag: @jmb959 @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @hellocookiecutter @steve-rogers-personal-hell @buckybarnesyard @not-zari-tak @strangersstranger @thefridgeismybestie @ariel-snow-tmnt @badhollandfluff @what-a-flammable-heart

[op-peccatori]

Hopefully, Yours (part 1) | MLQC Victor

Fandom: Mr Love Queen’s Choice 

Pairing: Victor/Fem!Reader 

Rating: Mature 

Word Count: 8823

Summary: A fight between co-stars leads to you taking their place, along with the man you’ve been carrying a rather fervid torch for. A happy accident—except it’s a dating show and you have to pretend your feelings aren’t real. | Part 2

Warnings/Tags: language, fluff, oblivious behaviour, dating show, social media, Victor might be a little OOC because I’ve written him differently, some making out in the next part hence the rating, no smut though, my sense of humour

A/n: as always, I’m here to clown around. I tried something a lil new (for me) in this one 👉👈 something I picked up quite recently from works I adored, so I hope you like it! It got longer than I intended so I had to split it into 2 parts ;.; Victor said: keep writing, hoe. 

ALSO!!! Yours by Ella Henderson is. THE Victor/MC song for me. I felt it in my bones when I listened to it again after all these years. brb crying

It’s the incessant buzzing of your phone that lures you out of the warm cocoon of your blanket.

You don’t really want to come out of your haven. Not after the week you’ve had, and because you know what awaits you. But as Anna had told you, there’s no way you can avoid this. They had finished editing the episode on Thursday, and Jason had already texted you last night to let you know it would be ready to be uploaded at 7:00 pm today.

Reaching listlessly for your phone, you squint at the bright screen through bleary eyes; it’s 9:00 pm already, and you’ve managed to sleep most of your Sunday away. It’s been a whole week since you filmed the episode, and while you were able to keep your thoughts at bay through it, it’s finally caught up to you.

After all, this is the episode you’re going to be in.

Pulling your laptop towards you, you open the tab that has the streaming site open. Your heart begins its anxious thump against its cage, a beat all too familiar to you by now. As the video begins playing, the memories of that day rise up to the forefront of your mind, refusing to be outdone by this meticulously edited version.

It started with a plan. A very well-thought-out plan.

“He called me a bitch. How can you still expect me to shoot with this jerk?”

Things were not going according to the very well-thought-out plan.

From your place next to Homer, the camera guy, you watched with mounting apprehension as Hollow resisted the AD’s attempts to placate her. But she did seem calmer, the scalding rage of her glare simmering down as he continued to reason with her.

And then her partner for the episode walked back onto the set.

“She said my songs are predictable! You want me to work with a hater?” Kai protested loudly, and Hollow turned back to him in a fury. The AD looked back at you in dismay, the rest of the staff watching with varying levels of exasperation.

“This is supposed to be a cheesy, ultra-romantic show,” Kiki whispered from her place at your side.

“This is what the reality is. All that sappy crap is for the camera,” Willow snorted, shaking her head in disenchanted disappointment.

There may be more than a kernel of truth in that. Hopefully, Yours was your company’s latest project; the second season, the first one having been produced by a different group. It’s a romantic web-series that featured different couples going on dates around town. The couples featured ranged from non-celebrities to people who are household names. So far, there hadn’t been too many issues with the participants—so you really should have expected this.

“Not always!” you cut in, fiddling nervously with your planner. “Some of the couples have gone on to date for real. Raymond and Liliana got married!” A lovely couple from an episode that aired last year. They’d been in the news recently too.

“They’re getting divorced,” Homer piped up in response. You hoped the look on your face let him know how unhelpful that was and turned back to the clashing couple. The AD looked harrowed and harassed as things turn increasingly hostile.

“Willow, do we have a backup couple?” you asked after a long moment of watching them spit insults. “Or just one person to replace either of them. What about Carlson?”

“He won’t be in town until tomorrow.”

‘Can I leave town?’ You wondered in a fit of desperate, wishful thinking.

“And we’ve got everyone here, with everything set up. Can we really waste time?” Kiki wondered out loud.

“No, we can’t,” answered a strained voice from behind you. All four of you turn to see Anna striding towards you, her hassled expression sending a frisson of worry through your stomach. “___, we’ve got guests.”

“Guests?” you repeated numbly. “What guests?” From the look on her face, it couldn’t be good news.

Anna held your gaze for a second, looking vaguely apologetic, before stepping to the side, allowing you to get a look at who Jason, the director, had rushed off to greet. You felt the ground shift beneath you, throat drying rapidly and the surrounding noise dimming as you focused on the new arrivals—your friend, your boss if you insist on the technicalities, and the star of most of your daydreams. LFG’s very own CEO, Victor, and his loyal secretary, Goldman.

In other words, people you hadn’t expected to see today.

“Why?” you whimpered, mostly panicked, but distantly amused by how enthusiastically he’s being greeted. It gave you a few moments to get it together, a familiar buzz coming to life underneath your skin.

This is terrible. Surely, this is karmic retribution for some misdeed committed by you. 

“Boss, get it together,” Kiki hissed in an echo of your thoughts, and you realized you had half-fallen back into her and Willow’s arms, their hands steady on your shoulders.

“This is really bad timing. Like, really bad,” Willow pointed out unnecessarily as you straightened up, running a quick hand through your hair.

“Goldman said they just dropped in to see how it’s coming along. I don’t really understand why, this is not at all Victor’s cup of tea, but he’d been hesitant about the show, so...” With a sympathetic smile, Anna placed a hand on your elbow, squeezing lightly. The comfort it brought is chased away almost immediately by a furious screech.

“That is it. I’m done!”

Turning just in time to watch Hollow stalk off the set, you tried to restart your thought process. You just needed to solve this.

“How do we solve this?” Kiki asked in a low voice, and Willow shook her head helplessly. 

With no answer for her, you could only watch as Jason led Victor and Goldman towards the set. You knew the exact moment he saw you; there was no smile, but a slow blink. It was still early in the afternoon, and his patrician features were alight with a soft glow in the golden sunlight, the curve of his lip relaxed and his clever gaze taking in you and everything happening around you in seconds. You’re not sure what he saw in your face but it made the corners of his mouth pull downwards.

Your stomach plummeted, seized by a sudden urge to flee.

But with his long strides, he reached you before you could take a step back. Kiki and Willow retreated silently, greeting him like newly registered soldiers coming face to face with their general and leaving you at his mercy. You would have felt miffed, but the way the sunlight softened his features was a little distracting. His lips moved, and you’re certain he said something, but couldn’t quite hear him over the sound of your heart drumming in your ears.

Homer coughed loudly, popping the bubble.

“Good morning, Victor!” Certain your lack of actual delight was obvious, you tried to inject as much enthusiasm into your voice as you could while your project went up in flames behind you. Not that you weren’t happy to see him, as the sudden thrill twisting through insisted on reminding you, but the prospect of disappointing him was one you would rather not face.

There was no visible reaction from Victor, but Homer looked a bit disturbed by the attempt. Goldman just looked like he pitied you, while Jason looked oddly contemplative. This was probably his first time seeing you this…dazzled.

“Good morning,” Victor replied evenly. His eyes, a constant, focused storm and his silken hair falling artfully over his forehead form a picture so lovely, almost beyond words. It’s never stopped you from waxing poetic about them, or his long list of admirable personality traits, but he had a way of knowing when you’re not paying attention. “Looks like I picked a bad time to check in.” 

You couldn’t quite pin down the inflexion in his tone, but your immediate guess was that he was either severely disappointed or was low-key mocking you.

With how quickly things derailed, it’s understandable. 

“Haha,” you laughed—an unfortunate coping mechanism that seems to flare up most often in his presence. Also, because Victor looked unfairly gorgeous, as always and you were a fool with a worryingly erratic pulse. “Just a few bumps. Nothing we can’t fix.”

Behind you, Kai declared his intent to leave as well. There’s a contract, so they would have to look into this, but that would take time. At that moment, Victor was eyeing the singer leaving the set and your nervous smile with his brows steadily climbing higher.

“Right. Anything I can do to help?” he offered, and the shame that elicited is so fierce you felt like you’d shrunk. This was supposed to be a casual visit, for him to see how the filming was going and instead you made him feel the need to step in and clean up the mess.

“No,” you said, firm, immediate, vehement. He frowned down at you. “We’ll come up with something. Why don’t you two take a seat, we’ll get you some drinks and Anna can go over the ratings and numbers with you.”

Victor seemed to hesitate, still frowning at you, but relented when you mustered up a small but convincing smile for him. “Alright. Let me know if you need anything,” he insisted, because he’s nice like that, before following Goldman and Anna into the small room you’ve converted into an office. You have a small but closed set for the first meeting of the couples, before the crew moves to whatever location has been picked out for the date.

“He’s nicer than he looks,” Homer observed as the two of you watched him leave.

“He’s lovely,” you said miserably. Who would have thought there’d be a day when you said that about Victor? He was still an evil capitalist, but he’s a kind man. 

Homer didn’t get the chance to reply as Jason rushed up to you.

“Okay, so we’re gonna have to sit those two down for a talk, but we don’t have time for that today. We need substitutes,” Jason said, not nearly as panicked as you would expect from a director who had no one to direct. It was admirable, this ability to keep his head even when he hits what looks like a dead end.

“I’ll make some calls.” Reaching into your pocket, your mind ram through your options as your hand closed around your phone.

“I want you to do it,” Jason declared. 

It took you a few seconds to realize you hadn’t misheard. He looked back at you steadily, already resolute in his decision. You looked around, expecting protests, but the staff members only looked eager. 

“…I don’t like this joke,” you said, slowly.

“Good thing it wasn’t one!” Jason returned cheerfully. “Before you turn it down, let me say—please? And don’t go off with the ‘I’m nobody!’ thing. People know who you are.”

“Um.” You really, really didn’t know what to say to him.

“My brother thinks you’re hot,” Homer offered, and Jason beamed at him.

“Okay, we’ll do this. You’re the producer of one of the oldest and most popular shows. You’ve gained more media presence over the last two years. You’re also friends with Kiro and Professor Lucien, so people have been quite curious about you for a while! This is just a fun little thing. Please?” Jason pleaded.

In the spirit of fairness, you took a minute to think about it. It would solve half the problem. And today’s location was a local fair, where the couple got to try out anything they want to, with all the expenses covered by the company. The very thought of stepping in front of the camera left your cheeks flushed, but you couldn’t deny the bud of excitement that seemed to have taken root.

In the end, your stomach made the choice for you.

“If you think it’ll be fine, then sure,” you acceded, thoughts filled with stir-fried noodles and holding hands with a faceless person. “But what about the other person?”

“Hmm,” Jason looked in the direction of the office, reminding you that you don’t have all day to decide.

“I could call Gavin and ask if he’s free,” you suggested. People adore him. “Or Lucien?”

Jason nodded as if truly considering it, his gaze sharp on you. “Good choices. What about Victor?”

“Yeah, no. That is a bad idea,” you said at once, without giving it a moment’s thought. This was a dating show, where people go on cute dates and act adorable on camera. The very thought of Victor doing that at all, let alone with you…was something you couldn’t think of because it was ridiculous. And bad for your poor heart.

“It is an excellent idea,” Jason disagreed. You hated to be the bearer of bad news, but this was necessary. You’ve known Victor for a while now, and felt responsible for Jason’s well-being that would inevitably be threatened if he embarks on this particular path.

“He’d never agree to it,” you told him solemnly. The man barely agrees to do interviews; a show like this? Out of the question. “You know who he is, right? He doesn’t have time for this.”

“Why don’t you leave that to me, and go get ready. I’ll go get your man,” Jason said, loud and bright, shooing you in the direction of the dressing rooms. You stood there for another minute, dazed and afraid. What if Victor thought it was your idea?

The horror.

The terror.

“I’m still texting Lucien!” you called after him, voice pitched high in your alarm. Before you could follow Jason to make sure Victor knows you would never suggest this, an arm slid around your shoulder.

“Darling,” Arnold, the head stylist, cooed at you. “I heard the good news.”

“How?” It had been two minutes. People shouldn’t be spreading this without the director’s confirmation.

“Forget the hows. This is your time to shine. Come, we’re going to make that CEO drool,” he proclaimed, shepherding you towards the dressing rooms. “And I can finally do something about this hair!”

“He’s not going to agree.” You were absolutely certain of that, even as your mind continued to conjure cutesy images of you sharing cotton candy with the reticent man. 

Taking a seat at the vanity, you reached for your phone over the cotton pads, watching Arnold’s reflection in the large mirror as he flitted about the small room, picking out different outfits. You hadn’t gotten a chance to check it for a while, and scrolled through your texts swiftly, pausing on a few in particular.

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Victor [9:00]: Hello. I’ve got some time off today.

Victor [9:02]: Is it alright if we drop by the set? What time is your lunch break?

Victor [9:20]: You must be busy. I spoke to Anna. I’ll see you later.

Victor [9:25]: Also, good morning.

‎

Oh.

He had actually let you know he’d be dropping in. Taciturn and domineering he may be, but Victor’s quiet consideration often left you glowing with warmth. In comparison, your own clumsiness often left you embarrassed. In this instance, it made you feel doubly determined to do this right.

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Y/N [12: 05]: Hi, sorry I missed these. Don’t worry, I’ll get us back on track.

‎

Closing Victor’s chat, you took a moment to consider your options before making your choice.

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Y/N [12:07]: Lucien! Are you free?

Lucien [12:15]: Hello. Just wrapped up a lecture. I thought you were going to be shooting today?

Y/N [12:16]: I am. Actually, I had a favour to ask.

‎

You stared down at the screen of your phone, shoulders relaxing as one of the assistants fussed with your hair. Should you wait for Jason before asking him? You knew what the outcome will be, regardless of what you wanted. You’ve always known, always kept your thoughts safe behind a barrier, never letting them spill out in Victor’s presence.

You thought back to his disappointment, and something fragile in your chest tightened.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, and you prayed to all the powers above that this works out.

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Victor [12:18]: Dummy. I’m not worried.

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There was a knock at the door as you opened the chat, thrown off but pleased by Victor’s confidence.

“Guys, can I come in?”

It was Jason.

With trembling fingers curling tight, you sat up straighter as he was let in. Your pulse quickens, your emotions jumbling together until your can’t tell them apart. You kept your expectations low. You knew what the answer would be. It couldn’t hurt if you expected it.

You just hoped it wouldn’t change anything. It wasn’t your idea.

“He agreed!” Jason announced with a flourish, and your heart halted its despondent march. “His secretary’s picking up his outfit, they said it won’t take too long. We’ll do his hair and mak—uh, are you okay?”

You swallowed your heart back down. “He said yes.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, stretching out his answer, nodding as Arnold thrust an outfit at him. 

“And he…knows it’s with…me?” you asked carefully.

Jason’s brows climbed a notch higher. “Yes, of course.” His eyes gleamed with something you couldn’t quite read.

“Right, right. That’s great! Fantastic. Wonderful,” you said admittedly weakly, turning your gaze back to your reflection. The colour seemed to have drained from your skin, and you ignored the concerned glance exchanged by Jason and Arnold.

“___, hey,” Jason began gently, coming up to stand behind your chair. “Are you okay with this?”

You studied his worried expression, thoughts turning inward. You shifted aside the panic, the disbelief, the prickling nerves, and shushed the sparks of excitement.

A date with Victor.

It sounded wonderful. But the problem was never about you not wanting it. It was that you’ve wanted it for so long and so badly. Could you really have this?

“It’s okay to say no. It’s just…I don’t think it’ll be as awful as you think,” Jason said. His brow furrowed as the lines of your face smoothed out.

Oh.

“It’s for the camera,” you remembered, and Jason hummed thoughtfully. Regardless of what he may think of you, Victor wouldn’t let it show on the screen. You knew he was aware of what the show entails. So, perhaps, you could have this. It was for work. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay.”

Your breath evened out from its shallow state, and you smiled up at Jason, who still looked concerned.

“It’ll be okay.” Your phone buzzed again, and you gathered yourself once more.

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Lucien [12: 23]: What can I do for you?

Victor [12:24]: And I look forward to working with you.

‎

It wouldn’t be real.

Telling yourself it wouldn’t be real was easy.

Sitting next to Victor, your high stools positioned close together as you tried to keep your thoughts away from dangerous paths, was not easy. But the light notes of his scent, sandalwood and myrrh if your nose hadn’t led you astray, threatened to lull you into a state of near-intoxication.

Jason had wanted to film the ‘first meeting’ and, for the sake of authenticity, decided to have Victor wait in front of the camera while you got to be the one to walk in. Which meant it was straight from the dressing room to the set. While you were thankful you wouldn’t be filmed drooling on camera, it still meant you wouldn’t get a chance to talk to him until after, or in between takes.

You were a lot more grateful for the arrangement when you did walk to the set, because the sight of Victor—clad in a slim-fit black shirt, paired with a dark grey jacket and black pants that stretched deliciously over his muscled thighs—stopped you dead in your tracks, your thoughts wiped blissfully clean.

The look on his face, bright under the studio lights, had been unreadable, but it didn’t look like his usual unimpressed poker face, so you decided to take it as not quite a win, but not a loss either. Then the small upturn of the corners of his lips, however, threatened to overload your system, prompting you to avert your gaze slightly as you walked to him, for fear of losing yourself.

Your hi had been shyer than intended, but his hello had been the gentlest you had ever heard it.

And then he handed you a bouquet of red, fragrant roses and you felt yourself grow weak.

It was a short take, where you both introduced yourselves, and discussed where you’d be going for the date.

“Do you like fairs?” he’d asked, gaze intent as if your answer was of the utmost importance.

“I love them,” you’d answered, meaning it completely, and he’d looked glad.

Even through the wild beating of your heart, you had managed to feel impressed. He was doing wonderfully already. Who knew Victor had these acting skills? Hopefully, he thought the same of you. You weren’t acting, though, and this, you were quickly realizing, could be a wonderful way to lift the lid off the pot just a little, and let your real feelings shine through.

You would be filming the individual, interview type scenes last, after the date.

With the first meeting done, with Jason going over the take to make sure he had everything he needed, you would be moving to the location soon. But first-

You looked around quickly, covering your mic and making sure nobody was paying too much attention to you, before turning to Victor—only to nearly jump in fright when you met his eyes. How he’d known you wanted to talk, you’d never know. His own eyes had widened when you’d turned around all of a sudden, the tips of his ears reddening slightly. He had probably been startled by your reaction.

“Hi,” you whispered, grinning up at him, and his lips twitched as he covered his mic.

“You’re doing well,” Victor told you, giving you a firm nod, and you couldn’t quite keep from beaming at him.

“Thanks, you too. I never knew you were hiding such a skilled actor in there!” You really meant it, but your words gave him pause, mouth opening and closing as he considered his response. Strange, as modesty was something he didn’t often bother with. Not to say he’s arrogant, just that he knew his strengths.

“…thank you,” he finally said. “You too. I didn’t know you could…act.”

Because you weren’t acting. The blushing, the shy giggling, the warmth buzzing through you, they were painfully real.

You shrugged, smiling slightly, and he looked away.

“Just…thank you, Victor,” you murmured. “I know this isn’t really your thing. But I promise I’ll do my best to make it enjoyable.”

The light, airy sound that escaped his mouth could almost be a laugh. He did shoot you a small smirk, facing you once more. “Well, you’re not wrong. But it can’t be too bad. I’ve heard they’ve got good street food.”

“Good street food,” you repeated blankly. Wasn’t he taking this acting thing too far? This was bordering on alarming, coming from the man who used to look down on you for eating instant noodles.

“Yes.” He looks at you as if daring you to argue, and, well, who are you to argue with an actor’s method? 

His smile faded slightly as yours widened, eyes fixating on yours, your voice pitching higher in your excitement. “I know, yeah, great food. Literally the only reason I agreed to do this!”

Victor’s face shutters at that, his lips pressing tightly together. “Hm.” He turned back to face the camera, leaving you confused, before realisation dawned.

“Hey, don’t worry! I won’t be too much of a glutton, we’ll be on camera, after all,” you told him, as reassuringly as possible because you and good food were a dangerous combo.

He arched a sharp brow at you. “We’ll see about that. I may spend most of my time in kitchen, but Mr Mills has much to tell me about some of your reactions.”

It was only through the sheer power of your offence that you were able to scowl at him even with the heat flaring up in your cheeks. “Well, there’s no way the food there will be as good as the one in Souvenir, so we have nothing to worry about.”

You resisted the urge to cross your arms, keeping your hands neatly folded in your lap as you turned away from him. But when he said nothing for a whole minute, you couldn’t resist the urge to sneak a peek, only to be left with your jaw slack.

Victor was still facing forward, but the corners of his mouth seemed to be curling up despite the effort he was clearly putting into keeping them neutral, his tiny smile still managing to spill through the seams. It enraptured you, a willing captive to the sight of him so pleased, and you wondered if you could make it through this with your heart intact.

But then, you told yourself through your daze, any chef would be happy to receive such praise for their food.

[video]

hopefully, yours, episode 3, part 1: Introductions (Victor and Y/n)

450,569 views  •  Feb 8th, 2020

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JTV ✓

1.19M subscribers 

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51,509 comments

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Jason P ✓ 

pinned comment

This is a special one guys ♡

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needwater 45 minutes ego

AM I HALLUCINATING OR IS VICTOR LI ACTUALLY ON A DATING SHOW?

            view 50 replies

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somsom 23 minutes ago

omg it’s y/n! We rarely get to see her on TV. She’s so cute!!!!

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orangeismycolour 16 minutes ago

!!!! Victor and Y/n!!! Omg ever since I saw them attend the Loveland gala together last year, I knew there was something there!! 

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tooktiktook 8 minutes ago

um. isn’t this kind of an odd combo?

    cheribb 5 minutes ago

    @tooktiktok I thought so too but they look pretty cute together. I mean…he totally blushed when he saw her! And his eyes went so soft!

      tooktiktok 4 minutes ago

      @cheribb Well, she seems sweet but I think he was just being nice.

By the time you were shuffled into a van and driven to the site of the fair, your nerves had mostly settled.

Of course, that may have had something to do with the pudding cup Victor had handed you once you were in your seats. Goldman had brought over a paper bag, with Victor plucking two cups from it like a magician with a hat. With that said, while it’s a trick you’ve seen many a time, it never fails to bring a sparkle to your eye.

With Arnold’s permission, you were more than happy to dig right in. Your makeup would have to be retouched once you got there even if you didn’t eat.

It was easy to relax in the steady familiarity of Victor’s presence. A dangerous notion, your unwavering faith in Victor, that dictated everything would be okay if he was there because he would either make it so, or you, with confidence half-drawn from him, would make sure of it yourself.

It was only once you were halfway through the treat, humming and wiggling in your joy, that you realized Victor hadn’t started on his. Rather, his eyes were fixed firmly on you, intent in observing your devouring of the pudding.

The next bite went down a little heavier as you turned to him.

“Is something wrong?” Your enthusiasm surely couldn’t have come as a surprise.

He hesitated, seemingly on the verge of saying something, before clearing his throat and looking out he the window at the slow-moving traffic.

“No. Just…eat slowly,” he muttered, refusing to look at you. You squint at him, at the pink creeping up the back of his neck, sucking on the spoon thoughtfully. “There’s no need to rush.”

“Sorry. I got a little too excited.” Your laugh is a little hollow, and you muffle it with another mouthful of the soft, sweet dessert, missing his quick glance back at you.

He sighed, sudden and a little ragged.

“No, I meant that you should take your time and savour it,” he told you, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “I can make it for you anytime, so there will be many more chances in the future.”

The next spoonful remained frozen by your mouth as you struggled to process his words. Warm fingers came to rest against the back of your hand, guiding it, and the spoon, to your lips. Your skin tingled, but what was more damning was the way he held your gaze as your lips parted, the metal spoon warm against your tongue as you tasted the sweet delicacy.

It felt all the more sweeter, however, because of the little smile dancing across Victor’s lips.

You were rescued from attempting to respond to that by the van slowing to a stop, with Jason and Homer climbing in before they got moving again. Homer would be the one following you around the fair, as they only needed to get a few takes of you indulging in various activities.

“We absolutely need one with the ferris wheel, of course. A little cliched, but still damn cute. Maybe we can fix a camera in the cabin…” Jason trailed off, turning to Homer for his input. “If you think it’ll be better without you there.”

‘How would it be better without Homer there?’ you wanted to protest. ‘I’ll screw it up if left to my own devices! Professional environment aside, that’s a little too romantic!’

Something prickled at the back of your neck, and you realized Victor seemed to be trying to get your attention, albeit in a very silent way you probably wouldn’t have caught on to if you hadn’t spent so much time studying him.

He said nothing even when you met his gaze, but a reassuring warmth calmed you all the same. I’ll be there, he seemed to say. Trust me.

You were worried about the romantic atmosphere getting to your head, but surely Victor, the ultimate voice of reason, wouldn’t let you get carried away?

“Okay, we won’t crowd you guys too much, but remember to avoid turning away from the camera!”

That had been the last thing Jason said to you both before he retreated to his place behind Homer, who was ready with the camera propped over his shoulder. Your mics were affixed to your clothes, and people were already beginning to shoot curious looks your way. It wasn’t an uncommon sight; many vloggers and people working for food channels could often be found in places like these, flitting about with their cameras out as they partook in the activities available.

While being around cameras was nothing new, it was a little strange to be on the other side of them. Nervousness weighing on your chest, you reminded yourself over and over: be natural, don’t act like a lovesick fool, don’t stare at Victor for too long. Turning to the man himself as Homer adjusted the camera settings, hoping to draw inspiration from his steadfast composure, you could only stare in confusion at the intent way in which he was staring at the entrance to the fair.

Following the trajectory of his gaze, you squinted, hoping to see what had caught his attention. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, with people milling about, the welcoming sign high above their heads bright and welcoming.

“Victor?”

“Hm?”

“Is everything okay?” you asked hesitantly, and he nodded, almost distracted.

“Are we ready?” he asked Homer, who gave him a thumbs up.

Jason grinned at you, winking in what he seemed to think was a discreet manner. “Have fun, you two.”

You couldn’t quite pretend there were no cameras, not with Homer keeping up with you as you began to walk through the entrance arch. Looking at Victor was easier, just to block out the awareness of your companions, of course.

Catching your nervous glances, he inclined his head towards you and made an abortive movement, hand rising and falling midway. His jaw clenched, and then he offered you his arm, elbow bent. 

As your hand curled around his arm, you focused on your vibrant surroundings. A task made more difficult when, after a short pause, you felt him tuck his elbow into his side, the broad span of his shoulders relaxing when you tightened your grip.

“I’ve been meaning to come here for years, but never really got the chance to,” you told Victor, your voice still edged with nervousness. But Victor nodded at you again, the usual stern line of his mouth quirking up, and your mind stuttered, committing itself to memorizing the precious curve of his mouth.

“In that case I’m glad we got to come here together,” he told you, and it took a good deal of effort not to gape at him. “It’s a first for both of us.”

You nodded, stunned by this unforeseen acting prowess. Seemed like you’ve discovered another one of his many talents.

“Hopefully, it’s the first of many,” he added, a smug lilt to his voice, and this time, you did gape.

“Y-yeah,” you answered, face heating up as you turned away for the sake of your dignity. “Hopefully.”

bandanaman @headaccs

are we all seeing this?? he’s such a gentleman!! I was not expecting this man to be smooth. #HopefullyYours

mintmadness @mintsallover

@headaccs HAVE YOU SEEN HIM? He doesn’t even need words, one look and I would be on my knees. #HopefullyYours #VictorLi

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@mintsallover calm yo thirsty ass down lmao

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raspberrydream @berryberry

“the first of many” omg what does he mean????  #HopefullyYours

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freshasnow @crystalmoon

Yeah, I’m not really feeling this. I thought we were going to get Kai and Hollow this week? #HopefullyYours

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teatime ✓ @spillit

For those of you asking, yes, we knew Victor Li and Y/n were going to be on Hopefully, Yours. Don’t worry darlings, we’ll have some quality tea for you soon!  #HopefullyYours

Spotting the first of the food vendors, you both headed over to it, peering at the fresh dumplings. The vendor straightened up at the sight of the camera, a benign smile spreading across his face when you asked him for permission to film, nodding and plating plump, steaming dumplings with the utmost grace.

Gordon, as he introduced himself, was more than happy to talk about his family business, their two restaurants in Loveland, while Homer took close-ups of the dumpling that Victor broke apart for a better look.

“My daughter comes here every year with me, insisting she can handle things by herself, but honestly, I just enjoy coming here,” he chortled, before fixing the two of you with a knowing look. “It’s a completely different atmosphere from the restaurant! And it’s always nice to see sweet young couples such as yourselves. Reminds me of my own fair dates with my wife…”

You couldn’t stop sneaking glances at Victor, who seemed content to chew on his snack. He caught your eyes, before his flickered over your head towards Homer and Jason. Inexplicably, his ears began to tint a deep crimson, as he swallowed with some effort and stepped closer to you.

It began to make sense when he lifted the other half of the dumpling to your lips, Gordon gasping an oh my! in the background, and even as your heart began to race, your eyes widening, you felt…bad. Jason had obviously asked him to do this, and you felt terrible about him having to embarrass himself like this. But he did it, and so you took a small bite of the dumpling, the juicy filling suddenly tasteless on your tongue.

And then there was a soft sensation on your chin, your eyes lifting to see Victor dabbing at your skin with a napkin, the little motion taking all his concentration until he stepped back with a satisfied glint in his eyes, which seemed to linger around your mouth.

When you were unable to do anything more than flush deeply and try to stammer out a thank you, Jason ended the shot.

The glint in Victor’s eyes didn’t fade, and something within you quivered.

raspberrydream @berryberry

he looks like he wants to eat HER  #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

@berryberry I CAN’T BREATHE. I thought he was going to kiss her LOL. And she looked so nervous and then he just wiped her chin THIS IS TOO SOFT I CANT #HopefullyYours 

mintmadness @mintsallover

god I wish that were me #HopefullyYours

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only4food @bananabread

Okay I HAVE TO go to this place. I NEED TO EAT EVERYTHING. Who’s in??

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midnightmachine @musiclover

Gordon knows what’s up. We stan a hard-working man. #HopefullyYours

Things continued in much the same direction. With no signs of reluctance, Victor rolled up his sleeves and dived into the bustle of the fair. And with his hand curled around your wrist, you couldn’t bring yourself to doubt him. You’ve learned to read the signs of his displeasure, subtle and obvious, and they were nowhere to be found. He looked relaxed, trying out mini doughnuts, accompanying you to any shops you want to browse, frowning when you looked longingly at the ring toss.

“Let’s go,” he said, guiding you over to the booth. Well, you were supposed to try out the games too, but you hadn’t thought Victor would agree to play them. It seemed a little too childish for him.

“I haven’t come here in years either,” he told you when you looked at him curiously, the two of you standing in line with Homer right next to you. “I love my job, but I admit it takes up most of my time. I rarely have time to indulge like this.” He paused, as if wanting to say more, but his eyes flicked towards Homer and he ended it there.

While a part of you was startled in by his words, another softened at his truthful admission.

Victor seemed to have thought of something else, giving you a meaningful look. “But, of course, I always make time for the people in my life.”

You blinked, a little taken aback by sudden turn in direction.

“Even if they want to come to places like these, I don’t mind.” Victor seemed to be hinting heavily at something, and you smiled at that, almost excessively fond. Because it’s true that Victor makes time for the people in his life, especially his family. And even for you—he’s there for you, no matter how small the matter might be; huffing and puffing and going out of his way to help you. 

Falling for someone like that, someone who effuses such stoic confidence and noble compassion in equal measure, it was all too easy.

“Then we’ll make sure to come again,” you told him, a wide grin blooming across your face at the thought. It was unlikely that it would actually happen, but it was nice to think about. You stepped up to the cashier, greeting him politely.

You finally got your turns after fifteen minutes, with Homer and Jason taking a quick snack break while you waited. You’d run a quick eye over the prizes available, quickly drawn to two pusheen cat plushies, a soft grey and a dark ebony. You didn’t think he’d judge you on camera, but would it really be okay to admit that’s what you want? The hair pin would be a more sophisticated pick, something more to his tastes. 

Silently despairing over your proclivity for soft cute things, you turned to Victor for his choice.

Only to realize he seemed to have taken his jacket off while you were preoccupied and handed it over to Jason, his thin black t-shirt fitting him like a glove—and your words died a swift death at the back of your throat, shrivelling in the sudden dryness of your mouth. Silhouetted against the light of the late afternoon sun, his features seemed sharper, his gaze keener as he twirled the ring in his hands carefully.

As Homer began to roll the camera, and Victor prepared to toss the ring, you panicked with the realization that he didn’t ask you which prize you wanted like Jason had asked him to.

The ring landed around a bottle with a loud clink, and you hoped the surprise you felt wasn’t clear in your loud cheer. With the look he gave you, you knew he caught it even if others wouldn’t.

And then he handed you the dark pusheen plushy, which you took with trembling fingers and a sheepish smile. “Oh, thank you.” It was exquisitely soft to the touch. “This is the one I wanted.”

“Hm.”

“It looks like you.”

“What-” His head snapped toward you as you laughed, clutching the toy to your chest. Whatever outraged retort he’d been about to spit out was held back as he saw you hugging it contentedly, your eyes twinkling at him. “…I suppose.”

You handed him the toy, rolling your shoulders as you were given the ring. “Which one do you want?”

“I’m fine with anything,” he said, eyes locked on the grey pusheen plushy, the other half of the pair. So it was with a laugh, helpless in the face of his clear yet unspoken demand, that you tossed the ring. You got it on the second try, handing the toy to Victor with a triumphant grin, who took it primly and tucked it into his side.

“Thank you.”

“Isn’t this too childish by your standards?” you teased, unable to help it, but he only smirked down at you, stealing your breath with devastating ease.

“It is. But childish is…nice, sometimes,” he admitted carefully.

Your mind helpfully supplied you with all the instances of him calling you childish. “Oh?”

He shrugged, elegant, one shoulder lifting as he looked back down at the toy, before looking back up at you through dark, half-lidded eyes. “It’s grown on me.”

Kiro ✓ @kiromusic

Wow! This seems like so much fun, I kinda wish I got to go there too! :D @miracley/n invite me next time!!  #HopefullyYours 

Savin @agents

@kiromusic You just want to eat junk. And...well, I guess we can make an exception for today. 

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bandanaman @headaccs

Before I proceed to scream over the clip, I just wanted to let y’all know I did some digging and apparently, they are friends! They’ve been spotted together in public many times, including the Loveland Gala last year. You know what this means. #HopefullyYours

bandanaman @headaccs

THE PUSHEEN TOYS. They won each other toys!! Y/n’s right, that does look like him with the dark fur lmao. BUT. Look at Victor’s heart eyes!! And she looked so happy omg T_T

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raspberrydream @berryberry

@headaccs NO WONDER. It seems like they already like each other but it seemed too soon!! They’re so cute omg please date!! #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

@berryberry With how they look at each other? I smell pining ;) I’ve compiled a list of all their public appearances. He even took her to Souvenir! How are they not dating????

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raspberrydream @berryberry

@headaccs DM ME!!!!

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@headaccs I feel like that’s a bit of a reach. They certainly seem comfortable with each other, but that could easily just be friendship, which is nice too. I feel like we should allow people to be friends instead of just shipping them.

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mintmadness @mintsallover

@hotsauce they’re on a dating show, though.

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@mintsallover yeah but plenty of other ‘couples’ were just friends or went on to be good friends. I just think these two are comfortable with each other, which is probably a good thing because Victor doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who can have fun with just anyone, you know?

You ended up having a lot more fun than you thought you would. Victor was always great company, but you could tell he’d tried his best to relax for the show and you didn’t know how to thank him for it. The warm gratitude bubbled up at the base of your throat, your heart sinking deeper into the ocean of affection you already held for him.

He’s so kind. His aloof demeanour, his nagging, his precise instructions and advice were things you’ve come to appreciate. But beyond those lies a heart so caring, so considerate, it made you yearn so deeply, to find yourself a place in it. But Victor had come to treat you as a friend and you could never ruin that because of your own feelings. It was precious, his friendship, and you wanted to treat it as such.

The line you’d drawn with so much care seemed to be straining, however, ever since you found out you would be riding the ferris wheel together, without Homer.

“The people in charge told us if we could just wait until closing time, they could keep things going until we’re done shooting!” Jason had told you as he briefed everyone. A bunch of the crew had left after packing up, as this would be the last take for the day. “That way Homer can fix the lighting and equipment in the cabin and won’t need to join you two! Give you some privacy, yeah?”

‘For what,’ you’d screamed internally, nodding along with a smile on the outside.

 Looking to Victor for his opinion had been futile, because he seemed to have withdrawn into his own head, looking up at the ferris wheel absently. You were supposed to shoot the individual parts, but with how late it had gotten, Jason had asked the two of you to drop by the studio the next day. Only, you had a free slot in the morning while Victor would only be able to make it sometime during the late afternoon.

So you wouldn’t get to see what Victor said about you. That was perfectly fine. Things had gone well, and Victor wasn’t the sort to badmouth someone anyway.

It was supposed to be his day off. And he gave it up to participate in a show that was, for all intents and purposes, pointless for him. You felt terrible, heart aching at the thought that once again you had made him waste his time.

How on earth did Jason even get him to agree to this?

“You’re thinking something ridiculous,” came a low voice, and Victor seemed to have come back from his mental journey.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out, the guilt getting to you.

“For what?” He seemed genuinely baffled, and it made you feel worse.

“For this entire day. You just came for a visit and now it’s after 8 pm and your day off is gone and you rarely get free time…” your shameful rambling tapered off as the furrow between his brows appeared to grow deeper and deeper.

His response was interrupted by a staff member, who came to let you know the ride was ready for you two. Walking together in complete silence, you wondered what he was about to say.

“Do you regret it?”

You arrived at the ride, and Victor had stopped in front of the open door. “What?”

“Do you regret it?” he repeated patiently, holding his hand out to you. “This entire day. Our date.”

Our date.

It was silly, how him calling it a date, with no cameras in sight, seemed to affect you so deeply. It was ridiculous but it was so real, how your heart fluttered and hope unfurled in the garden where you’ve buried your affection.

“Because I’m not sorry,” he added when you failed to do anything other than flush horribly. There was a question in his gaze, one you didn’t know how to answer, so with a deep breath, you focused on the one he’d asked out loud.

“No,” you said softly, your hand coming to rest over his as he helped you into the cabin. “I don’t regret it.”

How could you, when he was everything you wanted?

You settled on the plastic bench, watching Homer fiddle with the settings and light, making sure the camera’s fixed in place, basking in the heat emanating from Victor.

“Alright, that should work. You guys ready?” he asked.

“Yeah!”

“Yes.”

Homer stepped back to let Jason poke his head through the door. “We’re all set guys. Just call us if there are any problems. Be yourselves, don’t worry about the take. And remember, make sure to make it as romantic as possible!”

As the door closed behind him, with the camera rolling, silence rose to take the place of the sounds now cut off, the rest of the world falling away as the ride began and you began to ascend.

Outside the window, the stars shone in a twinkling blanket across the night sky, and Victor’s arm pressed into yours. Meeting his eyes was difficult, astoundingly so after the entire day you spent together.

This close, it would be so easy to let the words tumble from your lips. You didn’t know what your eyes could give away right now, and you were just as afraid of the softness in his gaze.

It looked too real.

“I’m glad we finally got some peace,” he muttered, and just like that a bright laugh broke out through your fear.

“This was not your kind of place at all, was it?” you said, snickering at the look he threw your way, because it’s so easy to make him huff like that.

“It was…lively,” he said, glaring at you as you stifle your smile behind your hand. “Exactly the kind of place you enjoy.”

“That’s true.”

“Then that’s that.” He shifted a little, trying to face you, his knee knocking into yours. “As long as you had fun, we’ll come again.”

Despite your warnings, your heart skipped a beat.

You tried to laugh it off, changing the subject to your childhoods, swapping lighter stories and carefully avoiding the heartbreaks. Your hands moved somewhere in between, in the dim lights, and your fingers had found each other’s. Make it romantic, Jason had said. That was the only reason. You talked about work, about Miracle Finder, about his public projects, how your busy lives don’t give you the chance to find love.

“I wouldn’t say that,” Victor cut in, still looking at you in that quietly dangerous away, his gaze a heated cloak over your skin.

You stilled. “You wouldn’t?” There was a tremor in your voice, one you hoped went unnoticed.

“I think, regardless of how busy we are, however reluctant…love finds us when it has to,” he said, his voice deep, unwavering, and you forgot how to breathe. Somehow, despite doing your best to avoid it, you had wound up on the proverbial cliff’s edge.  

And it was time to take a leap.

“Victor...have you ever been in love?” you asked, part of you ready for his outrage, for him to brush it off with a roll of his eyes, and the other curling up in fear at the thought of the answer he might really give you.

He hummed, tightening his grip on your hand when you tried to tug it back, searching your face. His thumb swept over your knuckles, rubbing gently, and you wondered if he was preparing you for heartbreak.

“Yes. I have.”

Kiki @kikiki

@smilingwillow WHAT THE FUCK

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Anna @miracletv

@kikiki Language.

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Kiki @kikiki

‎@miracletv did you see the episode?? im going to collapse WHERE IS BOSS @miracley/n

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raspberrydream @berryberry

DID HE JUST???? OH MY GOD @headaccs DID YOU SEE THIS? ARE YOU OKAY? #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

THIS MAD LAD ACTUALLY DID IT. @berryberry I will never recover from this #HopefullyYours

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@headaccs @berryberry He just said he’s been in love before. He didn’t say he’s in love with her lol

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raspberrydream @berryberry

@hotsauce what will it take for you to finally see the light

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mintmadness @mintsallover

I could listen to this man talk all day. Y/n, you’re one lucky girl <3 #HopefullyYours

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cocoloco @chocolatedelite

I’m late to the party but lmao at everyone freaking out. Uhhh honestly I’m not sure. These things are usually scripted. They could just be faking it. #HopefullyYours

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srirachafire @hotsauce

@chocolatedelite Thank you!!!!

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victorshoe @mrsli

My heart is broken but their cuteness has mended it. I’ll give them my blessings. #HopefullyYours

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bandanaman @headaccs

oh thank god they just uploaded the individual bits!!! THANK YOU @jtv

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bandanaman @headaccs 

...wait 

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raspberrydream @berryberry

‎‎omfg

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bandanaman @headaccs

????? IS THAT IT??? COME BACK @jtv that can't be it!! 

Thank you for reading! 

MC/You: it’s a fake date. chill. 

Victor: Goldman I need NINE roses and an outfit that makes me look like a sex god I HAVE A DATE

[lycanthrop-ee]

Ghosting - Empty House

A/N: !!!!! It’s here! I’m so, so pumped for this- welcome to the Empty House AU! This is the first piece of content I’m publishing and it’s a one-shot from a bigger universe, but it’s also absolutely a stand-alone fic. It’s a self-indulgent, analogical-centric human AU that’s has been floating around my hollow skull for months now, so there’s a lot of doodles backed up if any of yall would like to see that ;) There will be an AU taglist, but I also have an individual writing taglist!

Synopsis: Logan has finally moved out of his childhood home into a family-sized house where he plans to finish college online. His simple plans are complicated when a strange, sad-looking boy starts showing up outside...

Word count: 4,306

Ships: Endgame romantic Analogical

CW: (spoilers) Pre-plot major character death, swearing, anxiety attack, very mildly implied previous parental abuse, be safe kiddos and ask to tag!

The first time Logan saw the boy was the day he moved in. 

The empty house had stood hollowly beside its driveway, Logan feeling small without his siblings or parents or any of his rarely acquired friends by his side. He wasn’t a sociable person, but he’d always been surrounded by noise at home, and lots of it… he’d never been in a house as still as the one he stepped into that day. The dark wooden floors were cleanly swept, except for the corners and trimmings which had little fields of grey dust dotting the deep brown. The refrigerator made a hungry humming noise, protesting its suddenly empty shelves- Logan knew a family of four had lived there before, and that they’d given him a pretty hefty discount on the house. That’s all he knew.

The floor in the entrance hall creaked underfoot, and the walls seemed to turn away as they saw him- not who they’d been expecting, not worth their attention. That was fair. 

The house had three bedrooms and two floors- altogether a strange layout. Two of the bedrooms were downstairs, situated in a small hallway off the kitchen, and one was tucked into a little corner upstairs, where the only other rooms consisted of a bathroom and a large, carpeted playroom that was mostly empty now. Logan figured it would have been a favorite of the kids when they were smaller, but now the only furniture was a faux leather couch and a television, as well as a couple of out-of-place armchairs that had never gotten much human use from the look of their fur-covered seats.

With just him taking up the whole house, he hardly saw the point in using the upstairs bedroom. The house felt big already- rationally, it would be better to localize downstairs. All he really needed was his room, the kitchen, and the little living room next to the entrance. That was enough for him- in fact, even that was too silent. He missed the screams of his brothers as affectionately as anyone could- which honestly varied day to day. 

Today, he was disproportionately affectionate. 

It paired well with the fear.

Logan was just about ready to start tearing himself apart over the family members he’d left behind- the only ones that mattered- when the boy caught his eye.

The day had been gray and dreary, the trees heavy with the prospect of rain and the air cool enough to promise it, but it had only started drizzling in the few minutes since Logan had been inside. The sky had seemed to darken remarkably quickly, especially strange without the presence of thunder or even heavy rain, and in the middle of it all was a lanky figure who looked for all the world like a member of the fae.

He stood at the side of the road, looking in the house’s general direction- in Logan’s general direction, although he was sure the other wouldn’t be able to see through his windows. His face would’ve been hidden by the dark hair poking out from under his hood were he not so painfully pale, and his brown irises were visible to Logan only because of the piercing contrast of his skin. 

His jacket was oversized, but his beanpole frame managed to show through regardless. The rainwater gradually weighed it down until the boy looked almost a skeleton, Logan frozen watching him for what could have been minutes- and then the frame heaved in a breath and ambled stiffly away. 

Obviously Logan’s first worries had to do with an unhinged white male teenager breaking into his new house- the one he had full responsibility for and few precious savings to repair. It was irrational, he knew, but his second thought was that the boy hadn’t looked capable of any harm- or really of much at all. He looked weighed down, depressed, and Logan was sure that it wasn’t just the water soaking his sweatshirt. The boy had looked sad. 

And he continued to. Frighteningly often, the teenager appeared outside Logan’s house. Each time he looked quite the same: above average height but considerably shorter than Logan himself, skinny, and almost other-worldly in his strange mish-mash of dark eyes and pearly flesh. While Logan knew that his first sight of the boy had been strange in the sudden change of weather, he could- and completely intended to- count it as a coincidence of Florida’s strange climate.  

He settled into a sort of pattern, although the boy didn’t seem to follow one. Each time he saw the figure outside his house, he would take a break from his endless work. He’d make himself some tea, sit in the window, and wait for the boy to leave. This way, he told himself, if he tried anything, Logan would be there to intercept him. He chose not to think about the possibility of it happening at night or while he was away, and he kept far away from the crime shows he’d occasionally enjoyed in the past. This way, too, he could get a good look at his visitor each time. It was almost as though he was keeping tabs on him, and at the tail end of his fear came a strange protectiveness. 

It was after about a month of this- Logan looking for job applications and living off of his savings, edgewise- that Logan pulled into his driveway at one of the key moments of his life. The boy stood unsteadily at the side of the road, sweatshirt ever-present even in the heat. Logan got out of his car carefully, his heart in his throat- though, really, did any part of him think the boy capable of much at this point? 

He’d have expected the kid to run as soon as he’d pulled in, but when Logan looked him over he saw the boy studying him, bouncing on the balls of his feet. It struck Logan anew in their close proximity how thin he was.

Almost thoughtlessly, he started across the lawn towards the boy. He had to remind himself to uphold formalities- no matter how many times they’d stared at each other across the way, they’d never once spoken. He didn’t know this kid, not really- and now it occurred to him that the boy was more than a kid. He couldn’t be much younger than himself. Logan halted a few respectful steps from the boy, who eyed him strangely.

Close up… he looked, somehow, the same as he did from across the lawn. His features were simple, small mouth and nose easy to overlook for his huge, shadowed eyes. He really did remind one of a fairytale, or even- perhaps more accurately- a Tim Burton. 

Logan opened his mouth to speak, but paused for a moment. They watched each other.

“Would you like to come in for tea?” He finally inquired, the words escaping him overly familiar. The boy raised his eyebrows almost undetectably, seeming confused, and Logan caught himself almost leaning forward in anticipation of the other’s first words to him.

“You’re not Patton,” the boy said, voice just above a murmur and hoarse. Logan hesitated, confused, and studied the expression that would’ve been bored were it not for the slight tremble in his lips and a hint of surprise- Logan supposed neither of them had planned what had escaped their mouths. He reached up with a thin arm and brushed the back of his hand gently across his eyes. A spark of something strange flickered in Logan’s chest- this man was possibly not all there. He wracked his brain for labels- depression? Mild psychosis? Dissociation?

Either way, this was not someone he should invite into his house without more information- but as that regretfully occurred to him, the first drops of afternoon rain hit the tip of his noise. He wondered if the boy would stand out here after Logan went outside, and if so, for how long. 

“No, I’m not,” he found himself saying. “My name is Logan. It is raining- would you like to come in?”

He was exceedingly aware of the boy’s breathing as they stepped out of the rain, something that would normally drive him insane- somehow he didn’t mind this time. His presence was almost calming after weeks of bringing a break from Logan’s ceaseless work. It assured him that the ghostly pale man was real, which was never a problem he thought he’d be debating... but here was this skeleton-thin, strange-mannered man entering his house as though he’d been there a million times before.

He carefully slid his shoes off, paying close attention to the floor- and no attention to Logan. 

“I’ll make tea,” the latter found himself mumbling. “Do you want to come into the kitchen?”

“I’m gonna go upstairs,” the boy said. Logan blinked.

“I- you… this is my house?” He stuttered, trying to be assertive- surely that crossed a line? He’d never seen this kid before a month ago- but there he went, lugging himself up the stairs like he belonged there. O-kay. 

Logan backed into the drafty kitchen to put the kettle on.

Time to listen to his voice of reason, he decided. Clearly this boy had been in the house before- hopefully before Logan had moved in- and knew his way around. And clearly his mental state had some connection to the house- whether positive or negative, Logan couldn’t yet tell. So, he concluded, it’s possible that he had lived here before. The married couple that had sold him the house had mentioned a son, but they’d been moving out of town- how would the boy have made his way back almost daily? There was a bus line in the area... but who was Patton, and why had his absence been unexpected?

There was clearly missing information here, and thus the situation was theoretically dangerous. The logical thing to do would be to contact the authorities for more information- maybe the boy was a local that they were familiar with. If that were the case, they would know how to handle him. 

On the other hand… it was, put simply, a puzzle. Wasn’t it? Logan was smart; he was in online college and he was passing quite well. He had an A in psych so far. He just needed a few more minutes with the boy and he’d figure it out. He could help him... why else would he show up outside his house? 

He needed Logan.

There goes rational thought, Logan sighed as the kettle started to whistle, turning off the stovetop and moving the pot to the side. Something made him turn around- the boy was watching him from the doorway, looking almost more upset than usual. His wide eyes were watery, and as Logan hesitated he wiped an arm across his face again, expression turning to frustration. He avoided Logan’s gaze. “You said you were making tea?” He said, carefully controlled voice just above a whisper. Logan was startled out of his stupor by the boy’s coherence.

“I, um- yes! Yes, would you- what kind?”

“Earl grey? No sugar, just a bit of milk...” he carefully pulled a chair from the small table, slumping into it and reaching to fidget with the salt shaker. “Please.”

The boy’s words stirred Logan into movement and he grabbed two mugs out of the mostly barren cabinet before pulling a pre-packaged tea bag from the tea box on the counter. He unwrapped the tea and dropped one bag in each mug, pouring steaming water from the kettle into them with a satisfying noise. The warm humidity and pleasant smell caressed Logan’s face, and he took a moment to bask in it before returning to the present moment- if begrudgingly. As he set the empty kettle aside, the room quieted, the only sound the rain drizzling over the side of the roof. Logan crossed the space self-consciously to close the window. The boy’s eyes were pointedly focused on the table in front of him- Logan thought he felt more awkward this way than if the boy had been staring at him flat-out. Either way, he could feel his awareness of Logan like a thick fog. He snuck another look at the boy as he hovered beside a chair, unsure whether to sit opposite him. 

“My name is Logan,” he prompted, thoughts stumbling over each other to curse him for the repetition. 

“Thank you for the tea, Logan.”

...Well, at least that was something. His name sounded strange in the other boy’s hoarse, delicate voice- less mundane, somehow. He stood at the head of a table for one more moment that seemed to stretch out an eternity- the boy carefully spun the salt shaker around in his nimble fingers, swearing softly as some of the seasoning fell onto the table. Logan’s startled eyes studied the other’s flushed face.

And then his head caught up to him, and he shuttered into motion, rushing to the mostly empty fridge for milk and fetching the small bag of sugar he’d mercifully bought a few days before. 

“I... I’ve seen you around,” Logan’s mouth betrayed him again. That was creepy- although, looking at it objectively, it was much less creepy than being ‘around’ the way the boy had. The table behind was quiet for too long as he poured the milk. 

“...When’d you move in?” The voice was quiet and held a fragility that Logan hadn’t yet heard from the other. He was relieved to finally have an easy answer to one of the many questions he faced. And, indeed, his mouth finally obeyed him, even and direct.

“About a month ago.” He turned to face the table, the boy’s tea held stiffly between his hands. 

“Sorry,” he whispered as Logan set down the tea. “I knew someone’d moved in, but I guess… it was you.” The boy let out a hollow laugh, and Logan was swept with protectiveness once more.

“Don’t worry, I won’t alert the authorities.” Because that was the most comforting thing he could think of- he’d never been very tactful with delicate emotional situations. Predictably, the boy tensed. Logan decided it’d be advisable for him to move on. “What is your name, pray tell?”

Pray tell. Pray fucking tell? What was wrong with him? The boy cut him off before he could overthink the foot he’d just shoved in his mouth with the eloquence of an 1800s era schoolboy. 

“Patton.” A moment passed before a look of horror came over his face. “Or- no, I- it’s- Virgil! Virgil.”

Now- once again, logically- forgetting one's name was not a good sign. Of general coherence nor moral innocence. Logan knew this. 

Still, the boy looked uniquely upset by the mistake. 

Logan fetched his tea and sat down opposite him.

The other boy fidgeted incessantly, and Logan felt it fell on him to make Virgil more comfortable. He threw tact to the wind- it was tiresome anyway- in favor of distracting the other and himself from the strange fumble.

“Are you a local?”

He got a nod in response, Virgil holding the tea tightly between his hands. Logan couldn’t help but feel he’d made yet another mistake- obviously the boy wasn’t comfortable talking about himself, but was it worth Logan filling the silence with unprompted facts about himself? Would that bore Virgil? Was that rude? He let the gap in conversation rest for a moment before deciding he didn’t much care what was rude.

“This is my second year enrolled in online college- I skipped my senior year.”

The stupid non-sequitor sat in the middle of the table, sinking like a rock. Virgil managed to give him an incredulous look, even in the depths of... whatever it was that was affecting him. Logan panicked. 

Here are a few things about Logan Croft that were usually a given:

                  1. He often said things without regard to the effect they would have on others. 

                  2. He did not say things he didn’t believe to be true.

                  3. He did not readily employ personal information.

All of these rules had apparently been thrown out the window the second Virgil walked in his door. As soon as he realized this, he worked to reclaim them. “Virgil.”

The wind immediately blew out of his sails, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Speaking abrasively had never been difficult for him, and this was not the time to adopt a new weakness. “I need to know who you are. You have shown up outside of my house for the past month, and while the reasoning behind this is presumably personal and not necessarily critical for me to know, I will at least need you to tell me your full name. Against my better judgement, I will not contact the authorities about your incessant invasion of my privacy, because I don’t altogether mind it- but if you are to have regular access to my house, we can’t continue this one-sided conversation.” Regular access to his house? When had Logan considered that option? As soon as he asked himself the question, he knew the answer- the feeling of someone appearing in the doorway, seeking Logan’s company… it was something that he’d missed sorely. It was something he needed.

The boy looked startled and altogether terrified by the long stream of words. Logan, still working hard to recover his sense and new to the inclination of softening his words on the behalf of strangers, disregarded this as best he could as he waited for an answer. 

It didn’t look like he was going to get one.

Virgil opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, putting the salt shaker down on it’s side like he’d been caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. Logan felt a tug in his stomach to right it, afraid he’d get more salt on his table, but now didn’t seem like the time. 

As the moment stretched forward, his attention was grabbed away anyways, trying to decipher Virgil’s expression. It didn’t look good. 

In fact, it made his heart drop.

The boy looked withdrawn, fearful- like a bird with an injured wing or a snared fox. Damn it, damn it, damn it- Logan’s split-second adopted mantra was less than helpful, but it showed no signs of tapering off to make room for useful thoughts. Virgil’s eyes squeezed shut, and the instincts left over from Logan’s career as an older brother took over. 

He rushed to Virgil’s side on blind autopilot, laying a warm hand over his bony back. The boy jumped at the unexpected touch- and then leaned into it, a choked sob tearing itself from his throat. Oh no. Oh god. Damn it. 

Logan didn’t consider himself good with emotions. He did his best to comfort his younger brothers- god knows they needed it- but strangers were a whole new situation and honestly he didn’t feel much better about this than he expected the boy did.

Nevertheless. 

“Hey, I-” he took a knee to lower himself to Virgil’s level, steadying himself against the table awkwardly. “Um-”

He choked on what to say, but his mind latched to the one thing he knew. Virgil had responded positively to touch- and with little further thought, Logan bundled the shivering boy into his arms.

Logan would’ve immediately taken back the show of affection by any means necessary if Virgil hadn’t melted into the touch so readily- Logan was reminded of an oversized cat. 

That being said, Logan was holding a sobbing stranger in his arms in his new house, alone. Damn it, damn it, damn it.

Logan had always been the kid at family gatherings who did everything in his power to ward off physical contact from his overbearing relatives. Although this situation was completely different and altogether impossible to plan for and avoid, he found himself reacting in somewhat of the same way- each place that Virgil’s thin, trembling body touched his screamed at him to recoil.

He did not.

He brought to mind his brothers- not that they’d ever been particularly physically affectionate with him. They’d always turned to each other, and he’d been left to himself. Understandably. But he imagined if they had seeked his reassurance, if they’d ever been as upset as this stranger was now. If they’d let him in. 

But now someone was leaning on him for comfort, and he was determined to provide for them. Imagine if Remus had come to him for help, he kept thinking. Imagine if it were Roman. 

And all of a sudden he had to hold back tears himself. He tensed, carefully leaning Virgill back onto his chair- Logan’s chair. Sensing the other’s discomfort, the boy came back to himself like a fire blazing across dry wood. 

“Fuck- fuck, I-I’m-” the boy was off at a rushed stutter, scrambling to right himself and wiping his eyes angrily. Logan shook his head, patting Virgil’s shoulder awkwardly. 

“Drink your tea,” Logan said stiffly. “It’s okay. I don’t- do you need something?” Good job, he thought sarcastically. Just pretend it never happened. Show him that, apologies, you seem to have made him think you’re an emotional resource. He was wrong, you’re actually a sociopath. Once again, sorry for any inconvenience. 

Logan’s thoughts stuttered and shouted as he tried to fix whatever he’d done. Virgil was quite obviously shaking, almost unable to hold his tea to his lips although he did make an effort, and Logan resorted back to psych class- maybe not a panic attack, but certainly an emotional breakdown and possibly an anxiety attack. “Do you have a history of generalized anxiety disorder?” Logan asked automatically, the place where he should have held a capacity for compassion currently void for whatever stupid reason. “Or even a suspected case?” The thunderstorm in his mind froze entirely as Virgil’s watery brown eyes focused on him. 

“...I guess,” he rasped quietly, eyes flickering back to his hands as they picked at each other violently. “I dunno.”

Logan let out a long breath, sliding furtively into the chair opposite Virgil. 

“If you’re having an anxiety attack, it could be caused by a persistent disorder or a recent traumatic event- although recent is a problematically inspecific measurement-” 

“Uh, then I- I dunno. Still. I guess…” He shrugged, looking away. “How recent is recently?”

Logan tried to hold back a sigh of relief at the comparatively simple question.

“Generally, anxiety attacks are caused by a buildup of unfinished tasks or other irritants, although there’s often an overarching problem or incident. A traumatic event can cause emotional turmoil for years after it occurs- or for the remainder of one’s life, depending on it’s nature- but in most to all cases, the effects lessen as time goes on.” Virgil nodded slowly. 

“And- and what are the symptoms? Of an anxiety attack?” He pulled his legs up to his chest, presumably placating the urge to make himself smaller. Logan rattled off the characteristics quickly.

“Shaking, a feeling of unease, impulsive thoughts, nausea, panic, the sensation of being trapped or cornered, restlessness, hyperventilation, trouble concentrating, dyspnea- shortness of breath, that is- am I making sense?” He wrapped his hands around the cooling cup of tea in front of him, feeling the need to steady himself. Virgil nodded again- it was apparent he was a man of few words. That worked out wonderfully, Logan thought, as he himself seemed so bent on talking as much as humanly possible. 

“Yeah,” Virgil muttered- then stood up abruptly. “Um- I should probably go. Sorry for… yeah.” Logan, decidedly more alarmed at the idea than he should’ve been, got to his feet as well.

“No- I mean, you don’t… have to. If you’d rather- but if you feel the need to go- I mean, I don’t want you to…” Logan paused, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to get his damn mouth under the control of his brain. Had he said something wrong? Well, obviously he’d said many things wrong in the past minutes, but… he thought over the conversation. He’d only been saying the facts- just what he knew. Was there something he should have kept to himself? Was any of it too personal? It was just facts, statistics, symptoms- he cursed himself mentally, although he couldn’t tell precisely what for.

While he’d been deliberating- not panicking, never panicking- Virgil had frozen in place. Right. The whole blazing trainwreck of words he’d let out for no apparent reason. Where the hell had that even come from? He’d known this kid for a month- five minutes face-to-face- and he was already being weird and nonsensical. It took considerable effort to bring the circumstances of their meeting to mind and even the playing field in his subconscious. If they were both creepy, did it even out? “I-I meant... you’re welcome here.” 

Logan could see the gears turning in Virgil’s head as he fell back into his chair. A weight slid off of his shoulders as the air between them settled- they were even. Or something. 

As much as he expected to regret his words, he was surprised at the lack of protest from his thoughts. It was, for once, blessedly quiet both inside his head and out. Logan sat back down warily. “You obviously have some- some connection to this house.” Like some sort of undead apparition, he thought- but he had the sense to keep that, at least, inside. “I can’t tell if it has a positive or negative effect on your mental state as I seem to be an uncalled for variable in your visit. I’m no psychological authority... I know you’ll come back either way, and I don’t like imagining you back out in the rain.” A shiver went through the boy like a roll of thunder, and he nodded. 

“When can I come here again?”

[husbandograveyard]

Hi! If there's still a spot left could I request headcanons for Koby seeing a fem (or gender neutral) childhood friend for the first time in years ? Maybe someone he knew before he got on Alvida crew ? Wether there's romantic vibes or not is entirely up to you. Have a good day ^^

Hi anon!! I hope you are still around, because again, I am sorry it took me about one small eternity for me to get back to you! Koby is super precious, he deserves loads of love! It’s mostly general, with a slight romantic vibe near the end, I hope it’s what you had in mind! Enjoy! 

Koby Reuiniting with a Childhood Friend HC 

2nd person. GN reader. No warnings! 

You practically grew up with Koby, and before Luffy, you were also the only person really believing in him and his dreams. 

Sure, he was scrawny, and not a great fighter, and just overall not the typical type of person to become a marine, let alone rise in the ranks. But you knew him through and through and you knew his heart was always in the right place. 

The way he would defend you against bullies every single time even if it would end with him getting the wave of snide remarks and possibly even get beat up, he would not waver, and placed you first. 

You stuck together through most of your childhood. And then he left to fulfill his dream. 

Sure, you were happy that he got to chase after his dream while you were pretty sure you'd be stuck on your little island for the rest of your life. But you couldn't help but feel sad at the prospect of losing your best friend. 

Years passed, and you never really forgot about him. Sure, you were no longer sad, and you were hoping he was doing well (your island's papers keeping up with dangerous pirates in the area and not who was who in the marine corps except for the fleet admiral and his three admirals, you had very little idea of who was who). 

You had moved on well, but there were little moments, when you passed your favorite place to play with him, or when one of the (now ex-) bullies would be a customer in your little shop, you couldn't stop your mind from wandering, and wondering if he was all right. 

You wondered if he had managed to train and find his place. If he maybe even had risen in the ranks a little. You doubted it, in hindsight your memory made him out to be more strong than you were now quite sure he was, and you weren’t sure just how far conviction and willpower could take you. 

It was not often that marines would visit your island, but when they did, they usually stopped by your shop. You offered a bunch of supplies that were useful for long travel at reasonable prices. Anyone interested in taking to the sea, was redirected to your shop.

Koby would be lying if he said his heart wasn’t beating wildly when he was redirected to your shop and recognized your name. He was already kind of giddy to return home, even if it was just for a few days. 

He was excited to show his progress, proud of what he had become, even though he still had quite a way to go. 

He hesitated for a moment before entering your shop. The smile you offered and the way you gleefully welcomed him made his heart skip a beat. 

And then there were a few seconds of absolute silence as you frowned and stared at him. 

He seemed vaguely familiar, but you could not quite yet put the dots together. It was the glasses, now resting on a colorful bandana instead of on the bridge of his nose that made you realize just who this was.

“Koby!”

All dignity and respect you would usually have for a marine captain were momentarily thrown out of the window without a care as you came from behind your counter and pulled him in for a hug. 

He had become so much taller! So did you, but it was super noticeable. He looked so much older, so much more mature, and you wondered what kind of stories he’d be able to tell. 

Koby closed his arms around you awkwardly, definitely shocked from the sudden embrace, and made a mental note to maybe ask for a couple days extra. He had a lot to catch you up on. 

[littlemisswolfie]

nothing is so loveless as the break of day

AO3

Cold dawn A waning moon With no companion— Since our parting, nothing is so loveless As the break of day.

—Mibu no Tadamine

 Haiji wakes up on his first morning in his new apartment and decides it’s too quiet.

Getting a team of almost complete rookies to the Hakone Ekiden in less than a year is an accomplishment. It’s noteworthy. While Haiji hadn’t been thinking of his future prospects in his last year of college (he just wanted to run), the fact is, what he did should have been impossible, as Kakeru said. Over and over and over. 

This, as it turns out, makes him very employable, and somewhere in between his emergency surgery and his final exams and his packing, he gets a job offer to be an assistant coach for a corporate team. He doesn’t really have anything else going for him, so he takes it, and he, Yuki, and King all graduate from Kansei to the cheers of their teammates. 

Haiji’s heart is heavy as he steps out of Aotake for the last time as a resident. He knows the team is in good hands, with Kakeru being unanimously voted to succeed him in captainship and several incoming freshman eager to be part of the team that seeded in their first year at Hakone, but it’s bittersweet. He got one year. One year. One year out of four. 

“Call me if you need anything,” he tells Kakeru.

*

Kakeru doesn’t call. 

*

“Hey, Kiyose-san!”

Haiji startles, looking up from his training journal to face one of the runners he’s been charged with inducting to the world of professional running. Tamura Shou, his mind supplies. He’s a bit older than Haiji, with dark hair and brown eyes. “Tamura-san,” he greets, closing his notebook to hide his notes. He knows from experience (from Kakeru) that runners seeing their own stats isn’t always the best idea. “Did you need anything?” The group Haiji is in charge of is taking a break right now so another group can run time trials, so he doesn’t see the harm in a little bit of conversation.

“Well,” Tamura says, looking a little sheepish all of a sudden, “Yoshioka and I have a bet running, and I wanted to ask you straight out, so, do you have a girlfriend, or something?”

(“By the way… Kakeru, do you have a girlfriend?”)

“What.”

Tamura flushes. “F-forget it!” He blusters off to a cluster of other runners.

Haiji blinks, a little stunned. What would have made him think Haiji had a girlfriend?

*

Cooking for one is hard. Haiji always makes too much.

*

He still talks to Yuki and King, sometimes. Yuki’s trailblazing his way through both the legal track and several women’s beds and is always eager to talk about each conquest. Haiji enjoys his career talk and tolerates his womanizing talk. King finally found work as a guidance counselor at a nearby middle school, and he’s the faculty supervisor for their men’s track and field team. Haiji never lets him forget how reluctant he was to start running in the first place.

The three of them meet up for drinks every once in a while. Haiji considers proposing inviting the older members of their old track team, but decides against it. Seeing them feels sad, like trying to relive that last glorious year of college would be betraying his friends.

“Haiji, King,” Yuki slurs one night after a few too many drinks, “you need to get girlfriends already.”

King blushes. “Shut it! I’m busy enough as it is without a woman getting in my way!”

Haiji sighs. First Tamura-san, and now this. What is it with the world prying into his romantic life? “I’m content,” he tells Yuki. “I already got everything I could ever want. What else can I ask for?”

*

He almost goes to a track meet to see if Kansei is there. He decides against it.

*

His team goes away for a training camp. Haiji can get around pretty well with his crutches by now, so he goes with them.

Okinawa is beautiful in the summer. Haiji leans out the window of the van his group takes and watches the passerby, the teenagers on their skateboards and the families walking together. He remembers how much the twins wanted to come here last summer. (He wonders where Kansei went this year, if they went anywhere at all.)

Watching the runners run is always hard. He wants to run with them, feel the wind in his hair, use his muscles that have become lax in the months since Hakone, hear his heart thunder in his ears. Wants to see if that white line that was always under Kakeru’s feet is anywhere else.

(He doubts it.)

He helps cook the meals for the team, like he used to for Kansei, but it feels wrong to cook with someone other than Kakeru next to him. He’d only had company in the kitchen for a year, but he grew used to it, and cooking without Kakeru is foreign.

He wonders if Kakeru cooks with anyone new at Aotake. He wonders why the thought makes his stomach twist up in knots.

*

He doesn’t visit his parents very often. What would they even have to talk about, other than running?

*

He’s off his crutches by then, but he still doesn’t get to go watch the Ekiden in person. Training starts that day, after all, and he’s too new to be able to beg off to watch his former team compete in a relay race. Instead, he watches the highlights when he gets back to his lonely apartment both nights.

Not everyone from last year is running the race. Prince, Jota, and Nico-chan-senpai all act as supports rather than runners, but they’re wearing their track suits, so Haiji knows they’re still on the team. He’s surprised at Nico-chan-senpai not running. It’s his last year.

The team is strong, much stronger than when Haiji was captain. He knows that’s because of their success last year. If they hadn’t made it to the Ekiden already, their team would be pretty much unknown. But the sight of all these strong runners working together with his friends makes something ugly bubble up in Haiji’s chest. He wants to be there with them. He wants to be running that race.

Kakeru beats the section nine record again. Haiji watches him hand the sash off to the last runner, some first-year, and remembers when that was him.

Kansei finishes eighth. 

Kakeru doesn’t call him.

*

After their graduation, Shindo and Nico-chan-senpai join their nights out. Shindo’s working as a business analyst for the corporation sponsoring Haiji’s team, so they see each other more frequently than the others already, and Nico-chan-senpai is still doing his freelance programming.

“Whoa,” Yuki says the first time they meet up, “you cut your hair!” His fingers brush Nico-chan-senpai’s newly-short hair almost reverently. “You almost look like a functional person!”

“Thanks, I really missed this,” Nico-chan-senpai snarks, but his eyes are unbearably soft.

The conversational inevitably turns to Kansei. “It’s so strange,” Shindo muses one night, before he gets too drunk. “I got so used to it just being the ten of us that working with all those new people was weird.”

“They just kept hangin’ around Aotake, too,” Nico-chan-senpai grumbles. “As if the twins weren’t loud enough already.”

Shindo groans. “And they’re even worse now that Hana-chan’s at Kansei. They have some sort of pact to not pursue her until they graduate, but they’re so moony. Musa and I were never like that.”

What?

Haiji’s glad he’s not the only one confused by this statement. A quick glance around their table tells him the rest of his former teammates look just as shocked. Well, except for Nico-chan-senpai, who just nods in agreement, like this is a reasonable thing for Shindo to be saying. “Uh, Shindo?” he says. “What are you talking about?”

Shindo looks at them like they’re all stupid. “Uh, me and Musa? We’ve been dating since last year’s Ekiden?”

“HAH?!” Yuki slams his hands on the table, jostling everyone’s beer. 

“Wasn’t it obvious?” Shido’s neck is red, now, and not thanks to the alcohol for once. “It’s not like we were trying to hide it or anything!”

“I-I thought you were straight, though!” King says, flushing red under his tanned skin. “You had a girlfriend!”

“Bisexuality exists, you know,” Nico-chan-senpai drawls. Haiji doesn’t miss how his eyes flicker over to Yuki as he says this, or how Yuki stares straight at Shindo, ears red. Huh.

*

“Kakeru misses you,” Shindo says to him after the others leave for the night (or early morning, whichever is more accurate). “You should give him a call, sometime.”

“He could also call me,” Haiji points out.

What good could I ever do to him? he wonders silently. I can’t even run anymore.

*

The revelation of Shindo and Musa’s relationship is one Haiji can’t help but dwell on. Looking back on it, he realizes the signs were there. They were always close, after all, and Musa ended up dragging a drunk Shindo back to his room on more than one occasion. It was weird to see one of them without the other close behind. 

So, he thinks, maybe this was inevitable.

He imagines their relationship, sometimes, when he’s alone, lying in bed in his too-empty apartment. They’re probably easy. Comfortable. They don’t have to fill a silence. They’re content to just be with each other.

He wonders if Kakeru has anyone like that.

He hopes not. Does that make him a bad person?

*

Now that he knows about Shindo and Musa, Haiji can’t help but wonder if any of his other former teammates are like them, so he does what he does best: he watches.

It only takes a few more guys’ nights out to notice how Nico-chan-senpai keeps looking at Yuki. He only does it when he thinks no one is looking, but his eyes are soft, affectionate, loving in a way that makes Haiji ache. Has anyone ever looked at him like that? Like he hung the stars in the sky? Like he’s the answer to everything?

“Why haven’t you said anything?” he asks Nico-chan-senpai when Yuki heads back to the bar to hit on a girl. Shindo and King are talking loudly to each other about their respective jobs, both already three sheets to the wind, so Haiji’s not concerned with either of them overhearing. 

Nico-chan-senpai doesn’t pretend to not know what he’s talking about. “I’m content with how things are,” he says, looking wistful. “I’d rather have his friendship and pine than risk losing him over a confession.”

Haiji nods, even if he doesn’t really understand. Then, a little quieter, he asks, “How many of the original team do you think are…?”

“Queer?” Nico-chan-senpai supplies. Haij flushes. “Well, Shindo and Musa for sure, and me, obviously. I have my suspicions about Kakeru, but I’m not sure.”

Haiji feels his world stutter to a stop. Kakeru?

*

He can’t stop imagining it, now. Has Kakeru ever kissed another boy? Did he sneak around with his classmates in high school? Is Kakeru with a boy right now, in his room at Aotake?

Haiji hates the thought. 

He pulls up his phone browser and types in “what does it mean if i get mad at the thought of my friend with a guy” and deletes it. He already knows the answer.

*

He throws himself into his coaching to try and distract himself from his new intrusive thought. His runners aren’t thrilled with his newfound enthusiasm, but it gets results, so none of them can really be mad about it. 

“What, did you get dumped, or something?” Tamura jokes.

“Five more laps!” Haiji tells him with a cheerful smile.

*

When Hakone rolls around this year, Haiji watches the replay of Kakeru beating his own record once again, and Kasei takes fourth place. After, Haiji pulls up Kakeru’s contact information and stares at the call button for a good minute.

He decides not to call.

*

The first time Musa and Prince join them after their graduation, Shindo downs five beers in ten minutes and spends the rest of the night in Musa’s lap. Musa (who has a goatee, now, and it suits him pretty well) manages a surprisingly normal conversation around his clingy boyfriend, and that’s how Haiji learns he’s staying in Tokyo for grad school.

“Visas are complicated,” he says. “Until the laws change and Takashi and I can get married, the only way I can stay here for now is as a student.”

Musa calls Shindo by his first name. Haiji’s not sure what to make of that.

Prince got a job as a shonen manga editor. “I’m not going to be working on any major projects for a while,” he grumbles. “What’s the point of editing manga if you don’t get to touch the big ones?”

“Hey,” Haiji soothes, “at least you get to work with manga! And who knows, maybe you’ll be tasked with a sleeper hit!”

“That’s what my girlfriend keeps telling me,” Prince groans.

Yuki almost drops his glass. “Girlfriend?”

King whirls around and grabs Prince by the collar. “I can’t believe you got a girlfriend before me!”

Nico-chan-senpai makes a considering noise. “That’s three of us with actual partners, huh? Shindo and Musa, and Prince.”

Musa laughs. “Four, soon, if the twins have their way!”

“I thought they were waiting until they graduated to ask Hana-chan out,” Haiji says.

“No, no, they are. They’re trying to set Kakeru up with a guy they met at this year’s Ekiden.”

Haiji’s blood roars in his ears.

“Oh, that guy from Rikudo?” Prince asks. “What was his name? Miyamura?”

“Miyamoto,” Musa corrects. “Miyamoto Jurou. They went against each other in Section 9. Jota saw him checking Kakeru out and decided they should get together.”

“I swear to god,” Yuki grits out, “if Kakeru loses his virginity before I get a steady girlfriend, I’m going to murder someone.”

So will Haiji, he thinks. 

*

Nico-chan-senpai pulls him aside as everyone else leaves the bar. “I saw that look earlier,” he says. “What’s got you so upset about Kakeru?”

Haiji really doesn’t want to talk about this, so he says, “I’ll tell you if you promise to ask Yuki out by our next guys’ night.”

And so the subject is dropped.

*

He goes home that night and looks up Miyamoto Jurou. He’s a third year at Rikudo, studying literature, and he’s tall and good looking, and he gave Kakeru a run for his money at this year’s Ekiden.

And he can run.

*

In what feels like a breach of their semi-distanced guys’ nights, Haiji finds himself at Shindo and Musa’s tiny apartment a few weeks later for a housewarming party.

It’s been Shindo’s apartment for a year now, but with Musa moving in, it feels kind of like a home. The decor is a healthy mix of Shindo’s country sensibilities and Musa’s colorful Tanzanian culture, and the two young men seem so at ease in this space they’ve made with each other that Haiji kind of wants to cry. 

More than anything (okay, maybe not more than running) he misses this. He misses living with someone else. He misses the noise and the companionship. Every morning, he wakes up to his empty apartment and he feels lonely.

He’s so caught up in this feeling that he misses Kakeru, Jota, Joji, and Hana-chan arriving until he hears something hit the floor. His head whips around and he sees Kakeru standing in the doorway, mouth slightly open in shock and a convenience store bag filled with what looks like plastic bottles of green tea at his feet. Haiji feels his heart stop.

Because Kakeru is gorgeous. He’s always been good looking, Haiji knows, but that was a lot easier to deal with when he saw Kakeru on a daily basis. Now, it’s been a little over two years since the last time he saw him, and he’s wholly unprepared. 

But everyone is looking at him, now, and he knows Kakeru kind of hates being the center of attention and that’s what’s going to happen if he keeps staring at him like an idiot, so he forces his face into a smile and waves. “Hi, Kakeru. Long time, no see.”

*

Things are more than a little tense, even if everyone pretends the atmosphere is normal. No matter where Haiji goes in the tiny apartment, he can feel Kakeru’s eyes on him, burning a hole in his skin. 

He tries to make the most of the party. He catches up with the twins and Hana-chan, who have all fallen into leadership roles as the years went on with ease. Now that Hana-chan is a Kansei student herself, she can help them full-time, which has, apparently, been very helpful. “Plus,” Joji whispers to him, already drunk, “having a cute manager is a huge morale boost!”

Jota and Joji are sort of like sub-captains, from what Haiji gathers. Kakeru is the main authority on all things running, but Jota and Joji, who specialize in sprinting and long-distance running respectively, have been overseeing those aspects of the team’s practice. “We have almost twenty guys now,” Jota says, “so it’s hard for Kakeru to give them all one-on-one attention, so Joji and I focus on the broader things while he nitpicks.”

“That’s a great idea,” Haiji praises, and he can’t help the smile that overtakes his mouth when he sees how Jota preens. This feels right, advising his former teammates like this. It’s different from the feeling he gets coaching the corporate team, because that’s a team, but this is Haiji’s family.

He wishes he could turn back time. He wishes he could live in that final, wonderful year of college for the rest of his life.

He wishes he could run again.

*

He can’t avoid Kakeru forever. Nico-chan-senpai makes sure of that, because when he escapes to the balcony for a breath of the cool night air, he hears Nico-chan-senpai say, loudly, “Oh, Haiji? Yeah, he just went out those doors! You should go check on him.”

Is this revenge? Haiji wonders. Is this him paying me back for trying to make him make a move on Yuki? It must be.

He doesn’t look up when he hears the sliding door open and then close again, or when he feels Kakeru walking up next to him to lean on the rail. “You never called,” he says, staring at the city streets below, still alive even in the dark.

Kakeru sighs. “I figured you would be too busy, with your rehab and your new team and all.”

“I’m never too busy for you.”

“Yeah, you say that, but you would do something stupid, like sleep less, to make time to talk to me.” Haiji finally looks over at him, his profile glowing a little from the light inside, and, god, he’s so beautiful. “You can’t do that to yourself again, Haiji-san. It was scary enough the first time, and we were still living at Aotake, then. If you collapsed again, I might not even find out.”

“Alright, point taken.” Despite the earlier awkwardness, this feels natural. It feels like quiet nights in the Aotake kitchen, listening to Kakeru clumsily chop carrots while the prepared dinner together. It feels like home, almost. “You’re doing a great job, Kakeru. I watched the last two Ekiden highlights, since I couldn’t go watch in person. You’ve become a great leader.”

Kakeru flashes him one of his genuine, tiny smiles. “I learned from the best.”

*

It’s easier, after that.

Everyone comes to the Aotake demolition party to say goodbye to the building that used to be home, and they split up to help Kakeru and the twins move into their new apartments, and things feel normal, for once.

Kakeru’s new apartment is tiny, but Kakeru, by his own admission, probably won’t spend too much time here in the next year before he graduates, so he’s not too bothered by it. Between his classes, training, and the part time job he’s picked up in the shopping district, he has a busy fourth year ahead of him.

“Years ago,” he tells Haiji when he sees him to the door when his taxi arrives, “you said you wanted to know what running was. Do you remember that?”

“Of course,” Haiji says.

“Come watch Hakone this year. I’ll tell you when it’s over.”

Haiji could say no. Should say no. He has his own team to think about now. But when Kakeru looks at him like that, Haiji would say yes to just about anything.

*

The next year passes in a blur. Haiji works harder than he ever has before, like he’s making up for having to take the first few practices of the new year off months in advance. The guys’ nights happen with a little less frequency (or, at least, Haiji attends less of them than he used to), but they’re fun when they do happen.

“I finally have a girlfriend!” King says one night, triumphant, and the table explodes into raucous cheers and applause. “Her name’s Noriko, and she’s the second year social studies teacher at my school, and damn, is she cute!” He whips his phone out of his pocket to show them a photo of a woman who is, indeed, damn cute. 

“Ugh,” Yuki groans. “Life isn’t fair. How did you get a girlfriend before me?”

“Being a whore might be a factor, there,” Shindo slurs.

Yuki growls when the rest of their friends laugh. “But really, who’s next?” He spins to glare at Nico-chan-senpai, who’s hiding his grin into his beer glass. “Are you gonna pop up with some girlfriend next? Huh?”

“Nah, I’m too old for that shit,” Nico-chan-senpai says, waving the comment off with his usual affable air. “I’ll just be the cool, childless uncle who spoils all your kids rotten.”

“So, that just leaves Kakeru,” Prince muses. “Has anyone heard anything else about that Miyamoto guy the twins were trying to set him up with?”

The mention almost makes Haiji’s blood boil, but before he can rile himself up too much, Musa shakes his head. “Hana-chan told me that he asked Kakeru out, but he turned him down. Apparently, he already has someone he likes.”

Around Haiji, his friends start debating who, exactly, Kakeru likes.

Haiji has an idea, though.

*

Before he knows it, the Hakone Ekiden has arrived. Haiji arrives at the finish line for the first day before the race starts, a livestream already bookmarked on his phone, and he finds the rest of the original Kansei team there, as well. “Hey!” Yuki says, slapping him on the back. “You made it this year!”

“Well, it is the last time any of the original team will be racing,” Haiji says. “What’s everyone running this year?”

Musa looks at his phone. “Jota is Section 1, Joji is Section 2, and Kakeru is Section 10.”

Haiji blinks. “Not Section 9? Why’d he change up sections?”

“If I had to guess,” Nico-chan-senpai says, “he wants to cross the finish line in his last Ekiden.” 

Haiji thinks back to his first and last Ekiden and nods. “That makes sense.”

*

Kansei ends the first day at fourth place, which is very promising for the return leg. Their fastest runner is at the very end, after all, and Haiji knows damn well how many runners Kakeru can pass if he’s serious about it.

Haiji stares at his phone in his hotel room that night and thinks about calling Kakeru. He knows he shouldn’t. Kakeru needs his sleep if he’s running the last section of the race tomorrow. But then he remembers their conversation on Shindo and Musa’s apartment, and he hits the call button.

Kakeru picks up very quickly. “Hey,” he says, voice soft. “Did you watch today?”

“Yes. Your team is really good. You’ve got a chance of winning tomorrow.”

“Don’t say that, you’ll jinx it.”

Haiji laughs. “Since when are you superstitious?”

“It’s my last chance, Haiji-san. I want to go out with a bang.”

“You’ll do great.”

“Will you be waiting for me at the finish line?”

“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

*

Haiji is a nervous wreck for most of the next day. He remembers this anxious feeling from when he was running the Ekiden, but now it’s combined with a feeling of helplessness. There’s nothing he can do but watch, and he hates it. He wants to be running alongside Kakeru, working with him, helping him cross the finish line.

But he can’t.

So he watches.

*

Kansei keeps doing well. They’re a far cry from the haphazard team Haiji put together all those years ago. These men are trained runners, athletes who have spent their lives preparing for this moment. There are no Princes, no Nico-chan-senpais, no Kings.

They are a group of Kakerus.

Where am I? he wonders as he watches them run. Did Kakeru find someone to take my place? Was there room for someone like me in the team he’s made?

*

The Kansei runner who runs Section 9 doesn’t beat Kakeru’s record from last year. Haiji can’t help but feel incredibly smug about it.

*

Haiji limps his way to the finish line as soon as he sees the sash get passed to Kakeru, who’s in first place. First place! “Go on ahead of me,” he tells the others, who try to slow down for him. His knee is on fire, but he’s going to see this through. “I’ll just slow you down.”

“What the hell kinda talk is that?” Nico-chan-senpai asks. 

Prince nods and puts a hand on his shoulder. “You and Kakeru didn’t leave us behind, no matter how slow we were. The least we could do is return the favor.”

“We’re the Kansei Ten,” says Jota, since he and Joji joined the rest of their former teammates after their sections. “We finish this the way we started it: together.”

“‘Kansei Ten?’ What kinda name is that?” Yuki scoffs.

Haiji’s heart feels full, and he and his friends, his family, walk to the finish line together.

*

When they see Kakeru coming around the bend, everyone starts yelling. Haiji can’t help but think about that second track meet, where only half of the guys ran, and how the spectators just went buck wild. This is the same thing, except there are nine people cheering and one person running.

Well, more than nine people cheering. The rest of the current Kansei team has joined them at this point, so their shouting is deafening. Haiji knows there are several cameras trained on them, but he can’t bring himself to care. All he has eyes for is Kakeru, running towards him. Was this how Kakeru felt, all those years ago, when he was in Haiji’s place and Haiji was in his?

There’s my dream, he thinks again. It’s taken form and it’s running.

Kakeru has always been his dream, even if he went over twenty years without knowing it. And now that he knows it, he can’t escape it.

“Kakeru!” he yells, cupping his hands around his mouth to make himself louder. “Last spurt!”

His friends laugh at the phrase and join in in sync, but he’s not paying attention. All he sees is Kakeru, speeding up, making a beeline to him. He knows, logically, that of course Kakeru has gotten faster over the years, because that’s how progress works, but Haiji swears on everything good in this world that he’s never run as fast as he is now.

When Kakeru crosses the finish line (in first place!), Haiji rips the blanket out of the twins’ hands and throws it over Kakeru himself. “You did it!” he gasps, and he’s positive Kakeru can’t hear him over the cheers of the rest of the former and current Kansei team members, but he says it again. “You did it, Kakeru!”

It seems like everyone is trying to touch Kakeru. There are hands on his arms, on the blanket, on his back, in his hair, but Haiji refuses to be dislodged. He has an arm locked around Kakeru’s shoulders and he’s not letting go. Not for anything. 

Haiji sees the reporters hovering outside their circle of celebration. He should let Kakeru go talk to them, should let this incredible man get interviewed for the nation to see, but he’s selfish, so he still doesn’t let go.

*

“And there we have it! Kansei University has won the Hakone Ekiden, led by captain Kurahara Kakeru! There, we can see Kurahara-senshu’s teammates congratulating him, along with the original Kansei University Hakone team. In the center of the celebrations is former captain and current works team coach Kiyose Haiji-senshu. Some of you will remember that Kiyose-senshu had to quit running after his first and last Ekiden four years ago…”

*

“Kurahara-senshu! How does it feel to have won the Hakone Ekiden?”

“It feels amazing, but, at the end of the day, the times don’t really matter. I got to run with and against extremely talented runners, and that is what I’m most grateful for.”

“Do you plan to continue running when you graduate from university?”

“I’ve had some scouting offers from works teams, but I haven’t committed to anything yet.”

“What do you have to say to young athletes?”

“I want to say that running isn’t about who’s fast and who’s slow. It’s about strength, and everyone has the strength to start. And, no matter what, you’re always running with someone.”

“Thank you for your time, Kurahara-senshu. And, again, congratulations!”

*

The team and their supporters retreat to a nearby bar to celebrate. Haiji still refuses to leave Kakeru’s side, finding excuses to touch him as often as he can. He’s probably being too obvious, but, then again, next to Shindo and Musa, he’d be surprised if anyone noticed. 

King’s and Prince’s girlfriends meet up with them at the bar, too, so everyone gets to meet them. King seems a little suspicious of Yuki when they walk through the door, but he’s a perfect gentleman about the whole thing. “They’re great guys,” he says to Noriko-san and Chihaya-san, Prince’s girlfriend. “I’m proud to call them my friends.”

Everyone stops dead at the surprisingly earnest expression from Yuki, and Nico-chan-senpai pulls him into a noogie, saying, “Damn it, Yuki, why’d you gotta get all sentimental?” and then everyone laughs.

*

As the night winds on, Haiji finally has had enough, and he tugs on Kakeru’s elbow to pull him away from the noise of the celebrations. They wind up outside the bar, leaning against  the building, arms just barely brushing. Haiji knows his knee is going to hate him tomorrow, but for now, he’s just focusing on Kakeru. “You said you’d tell me what running is,” he says, trying for conversational and probably failing.

“It’s you,” says Kakeru, characteristically to the point. “You’ve always been the answer.”

Haiji just stares for a moment. Then, for lack of a better reaction, he tilts his head back and he laughs.

Kakeru, of course, flushes bright red. “W-what?”

“Oh, no, not you,” Haiji says, having doubled over. “I’m not making fun of you, I swear.”

“Sure seems like you are,” Kakeru grumbles.

“I swear,” Haiji repeats. He straightens up, because he knows he has to be serious about this. “It’s just, I thought something similar about you.”

The younger man perks up. “Really?”

Haiji nods. “When I saw you running, that first night, I thought, ‘That’s it. That’s my dream.’” He laughs again, this time, soft. “We’ve both been idiots, haven’t we?”

“I think so,” Kakeru says. He’s breathless, like he just finished running, and Haiji can’t help how he delights in being able to affect him like this. He reaches a hand out, just this side of shy, and tangles his fingers with Haiji’s.

“Hey, Kakeru?”

“Yes?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Kakeru pulls his face down in response.

The first meeting of their lips feels like coming home.

“You know,” Kakeru mumbles against his lips when they draw back just enough to breathe, “my lease is up in a month.”

“Move in with me.”

“Yeah.”

And then they kiss again.

*

“Oh, fuck you guys!” Yuki yells when he pokes his head out the door a few minutes later to see them still kissing. 

*

A month later, Haiji wakes up in his apartment, Kakeru snoring softly into his ear and his leg thrown across his hips, and decides, maybe, it’s not too quiet, after all.

[wildlyglittering]

In the Gardens, Among the Flowers

It has been forever (two years) since I’ve written anything fanfiction-y so I’m trying to dip a toes back in. I have a few lined up but bear with me as I’m so totally rusty!

To a casual observer, Mor looked as fresh faced and glowing that morning as she did on every other.

If anyone heard about the events of the prior evening, and the levels of drinking, dancing and debauchery which had occurred, they would think it was the good fortune of Mor being high fae which kept her so bright.

Other's would think it the good fortune of being The Morrigan, a being whose vibrant personality and magic somehow exuded through her skin to wash away any trace of shadow or fatigue. At least, Mor thought to herself, that's what she believed others thought.

Those who loved her well would understand the glow she bathed in wasn't some higher fae power. They would work out what happened last night, note her satisfied smile and keep their comments to themselves.

Of course, life always contained an exception.

The prospect of early morning training must have beckoned him like a siren's call as that 'exception' had been absent from the house earlier than usual. Although Mor would roll her eyes at whatever spilled from Cassian's mouth, she welcomed his good-natured teasing.

The sun had barely risen when she bounded into his chambers as giddy as a small child, only to find them empty and his bed already made. Not wanting to disturb his training Mor decided to patiently wait in his rooms for his return.

While Mor never provided details to the rest of the Inner Circle she was nothing but honest with Cassian about when she took a lover. Her openness wasn't, as she once worried, done out of some strange obligation to their shared history but borne from a desperate need to share every element of her life with those she loved the most.

Despite his permanently laughing eyes and cocky grin, Mor trusted if she placed her very heart in Cassian's hands, he would shield it with his life.

Her plan had been to slide into his bed as she had done on many a morning and rest her head on the pillow beside his. The tradition was for Mor to wake him and tell the tales of her night-time escapades, their laughter filling the room as she relayed the expected nonsense.

Mor never worried about finding guests in his bed. Although the years had gifted her with the scent of other females on his sheets they were always gone by sunrise. Cassian made sure of it. The night may have been the dominion of nameless females she would never meet, but the mornings belonged to her.

It was more important than ever to find him this particular morning. Mor knew, as she would always know, Cassian above all others would share in her joy.

A fae named Aurielle had graced Mor's bed and it was as though the Mother herself had placed her in Mor's path.

Aurielle's eyes were bluer than any sky Mor had seen and the freckles which dusted the bridge of her nose were also painted across her shoulders. As the night progressed and the silks slid down, Mor discovered those glorious freckles in more places still.

Something of significance existed between them. Not Cauldron blessed but it felt sacred - a link which meant a promise and a promise Mor wanted to honour as it should be honoured.

Cassian had spent decades of time over the centuries reassuring Mor she was deserving of love, unwavering in his belief she would find someone. So it wasn't only excitement which made her want to tell Cassian before anyone else. In a way she wanted to reward his faith, to tell him the romance she'd hoped for had finally happened on an unexpected summer's night when the air was hot.

But there was another reason why she wanted to seek Cassian out and that was more complicated than any other. She couldn't shake the feeling something between them had shifted.

Now, when she teased him about his lack of romance and dearth of female company, his smile was subdued. When she pointed out females in Velaris, beauties who would normally catch his attention, it was as though they were invisible.

There were times now when she joked with him about his sex life, or lack thereof, where he couldn't meet her eye. Concern begun to burrow its way through her chest.

So that was the other reason Mor needed to seek Cassian out to perform their 'morning after' ritual. It was a way to reassure herself nothing between them had changed. She craved Cassian's reassurance that her world, the one which had been built on solid ground, was not breaking.

Recently it crossed her mind to be less forthcoming with Cassian about her romantic life in the same way she was with Az. The truth shrieking in her soul was that Cassian, her fierce yet tender-hearted friend, was pining.

Perhaps he was lonely and longing for the connection they all sought. Perhaps the longing had opened up old wounds and now part of him ached for Mor as he had once long ago. Perhaps her newfound openness with the full truth of her heart was now breaking his.

With Aurielle, Mor had met someone she hoped would be in her life on a permanent basis and so she needed to resolve whatever this situation was. If she was right and Cassian still held an ember of romantic flame for her then she would sooth his wounded ego and commit to finding him a welcome distraction.

Mor knew it wouldn't be hard to find someone interested in him, the issue would be to find someone who turned his head on such a scale. Despite countless lovers who previously caught his attention no one seemed to hold the ability to keep it.

Sat on his sofa, worn and scratched from weaponry and wings, she let thoughts of Cassian fill her mind. Ordinarily her magic would have given her an image of him in the training ring, his skin brown and glistening, but instead she uncovered a picture of a different kind.

He wasn't training as she had thought. While this meant she was able to speak with him sooner, it was still a surprise the magic called her to the gardens. However, she was unable to still her patience, and that's where she decided to go.

In truth, the Inner Circle had never really cared for the gardens. Their locations of choice involved places far more exciting than anywhere containing trees and plants. Still, the gardens had always been well tended, anything derelict and unkempt did not befit a High Lord of Rhys' standing.

So, although they had always been cared for by servants, they had never been loved.

Until now.

This was her first time on the grounds in a long time and rows of flowers stretched towards the sun, their petals as golden as Mor's hair, bobbing in the light breeze as she walked down the path they adorned.

The path routed her to a smaller garden, one filled with planters bursting with vegetables and leafy herbs before weaving its way through a miniature meadow filled with pink and purple wildflowers. It meandered again to another section, this one with boxed hedges and a manicured lawn set out with the human game she recognised as croquet.

None of this had existed before and it was almost appealing enough for Mor to spend time here. Almost. She would still prefer dusky evenings at Rita's with a glass in hand over bright mornings among weeds.

And, she thought, so would Cassian. But the magic called her and when she came upon a courtyard which splintered into multiple paths, she chose the one singing his name the loudest.

She found him in what had become a vast rose garden.

Mor stumbled to a halt. The magic had sung Cassian's name but hadn't added anyone else's to the tune.

The central path was covered by arches and numerous hanging boughs. Roses in a variety of colours weaved around trellis' and draped down to kiss her hair. A plethora of fragrances flooded the air around her and the combination acted as a blanket, hiding both her appearance and her scent.

Beyond the path and dotted on the luscious green grass were more rose bushes than could be counted and amongst their dark leaves bloomed soft creams, pastel pinks and vibrant reds. None however, were as vibrant as the siphons gleaming up ahead.

If she'd stumbled upon Cassian at any other time and in any other place Mor would have loudly called out his name but here and at this moment, she was too stunned at what she was seeing to alert him to her presence.

In the garden, among the flowers, stood the famed Lord of Bloodshed. His head was bowed in deep conversation with another, the expression on his face one of such intensity Mor hadn't even in battle.

The sheer hulk of him combined with wings, siphons and black training leathers made him appear grotesquely out of place with the setting but what was more jarring was his appearance against his companion.

Now her, Mor expected to see.

The love weaving its way around the garden had come from her fingers. Whether this was natural talent left over from her mortal days or something which bloomed, in every sense of the word, with her new fae blood Mor couldn't tell. There was no doubt however, the care for the gardens had come from the middle Archeron sister.

So no, it wasn't a surprise Elain was in what was considered 'Elain's gardens' but she never expected to see Elain and Cassian in them together. She also never expected to see them standing so close, speaking in tones so quiet even Mor's heightened hearing couldn't detect words.

Elain's golden-brown hair was tied loosely into a braid which draped down the front of her pale peach dress. Small white flowers had been strewn through adding to the innocent virgin look she continued to perpetuate.

A wretched unknown thing moved in Mor’s stomach.

This wasn't a pairing she'd ever considered, the one who brought death connected with the one who desperately maintained life. Mor never believed Cassian as wanting someone so gentle they were almost vacant.

In Mor's mind she expected Cassian would end up with someone like... well, someone like herself, with passion in their stomach and fight in their blood. But maybe she'd been wrong. Perhaps this was what he needed; someone soft and fragile to protect, someone pliable enough to exist with the Inner Circle without being intrusive.

Then, there was movement. Elain and Cassian were done with their conversation and Elain stood on her tip-toes, her face stretched up towards Cassian's before placing a delicate hand on his shoulder.

The something wretched moving in Mor's stomach twisted again.

Mor waited. The moment that was the cusp of their kiss lingered onwards except the kiss never came. At least, not the way she thought.

Elain pressed her lips to his cheek before smiling at him, one of reassurance, and as she rested her feet back on the ground, she gave Cassian an affectionate squeeze on the arm.

Mor's mouth dropped open. Whether this was better or worse than her initial assumption she didn't know. If it was longing for tender comfort on Cassian's part and a need to feel protected on Elain's she might have understood, but this platonic, familial interaction confused her.

Elain paused momentarily as she crossed the grass, her head slightly tilted to the side before she continued walking while Cassian wandered towards an over-flowing rose arch, his fingers idly trailing across petals.

Mor steeled herself to march over to him, to get her answers about why he was in the garden and most importantly what in the name of the Mother was he doing speaking so intently with Elain Archeron of all fae.

But, she didn't. She couldn't.

Something heavy in the air compelled her to observe, almost imploring her to view Cassian with clear eyes.

Centuries of time and love existed between them. They had seen the other at their best and worst and though it was only the once, there had been a time when Cassian's weight had pressed down upon her and she had greedily welcomed him into her body.

Mor knew every twitch his body made. He stood underneath the arch, leaves and petals brushing his hair, and she noted his guarded stance, the tightly tucked wings and the muscle flexing in his jaw. In the calmness of the garden, Cassian was anything other.

If Mor didn't know better she would have thought he was priming for battle. If Mor didn't know better than she would also have thought him nervous.

A sudden rustle sounded from behind her, of delicate silk sliding over soft skin and she turned to see Elain, an empty trug now swinging from her hand.

"Hello, Morrigan," Elain said, addressing her with the sweetest of smiles.

How had Elain crept up on her? Only a few, namely Rhys and Az, could appear without Mor noticing and Elain was neither High Lord nor spy. Still, Mor's voice was calm. "Hello, Elain."

"Will you walk with me?"

At her question Mor's eyebrows shot up. Of all interactions she had anticipated, being asked to go for a stroll around the gardens hadn't been one of them. Despite the honeyed tone with which Elain spoke, this was a request which invited no declination and so she found herself agreeing.

"Lovely. I have some roses on the other side of the garden I need to tend. Shall we?"

Mor stepped in beside her and walked through the arches toward the grass the other side of the path. She had never been this close to Elain before and while she knew Elain and Feyre shared many physical similarities she hadn't realised Elain's eyes were a deep chestnut. She also hadn't realised that Elain's skin was decorated with freckles, more so then Aurielle.

As a human Elain would have been considered pretty, but as a fae there was something about her which had been made into the other. What was once fair was now luminous, as though light had been poured into the female and, not being able to contain itself, had started to shine out.

No wonder, Mor thought, Lucien wanted to claim Elain as his mate. It was also no secret Az held a burgeoning fascination and, despite the friendliness of the interaction, there was now a possibility Cassian harboured his own desires.

Best then, Mor considered, to befriend Elain even if solely to understand her motives towards Mor's boys.

"I can almost grab your thoughts," Elain interrupted. "If I listened very carefully, I think I could pick them out."

Mor narrowed her eyes. Rhys and Feyre alone held that power and though Elain had been gifted the abilities of a Seer it didn't mean she could actually dip into Mor's mind. Although, Mor countered, it was probably safer to bury them anyway.

"I don't think you'd want them."

"Perhaps not."

They ended up walking as far away from Cassian as possible, stopping only when they reached a collection of bushes with roses of gold and silver, a variety Mor had never seen.

"Here we are," Elain said, turning to her with another saccharine smile, "you can help if you'd like?"

There was nothing in the whole of Prythian she would rather do less but the thought lingering at the back of her mind like an itch she couldn't scratch away was that she wouldn't be allowed to leave. There is, it said, no escaping this one.

So, Mor found herself nodding along and Elain, placated by the response, set herself to her task.

The magic which had originally drawn Mor towards the garden, her own magic, had been muted, becoming as light and flimsy as a cloud. The opposite was happening to Mor and it was as though she had grown roots into the ground and would remain as immobile as the roses she stood beside.

Cassian, who she could still see across the garden, matched her. He was a rigid feature next to the rambling roses that couldn't quite hide him from her view.

Of the three fae in the garden Elain was the one who moved at pace.

Even though she had requested help, Mor was surplus to requirements. Elain hummed and cut her roses and with each snip, a brand-new golden rose, more fragrant than before, filled its space. The newly sliced stem was placed in the trug and Elain repeated this pattern.

The scent filling the air was heady. Elain didn't appear to be affected but Mor found the longer she breathed in the more her brain pounded like she'd spent a week drinking dark liquor.

The perfume stung her nose and it drifted into her lungs, sharp and piercing, like she'd inhaled thorns. Mor wanted to step away to breath in fresh air but her feet refused to move.

"Is something wrong?" Elain asked.

Mor shook her head, her tongue too swollen for her to speak. A lie to Elain and denial to herself. There was always a possibility the middle Archeron had found a way to use magic to twist nature to her ends but was it deliberate? That the sweetest of the sisters had enough guile to bring Mor to this section of the garden and mute her magic.

Duplicitous little... but the thought cut off. No. Mor refused to believe she'd been out manoeuvred and out magicked by what was in essence a new-born fae. And a fae who wore daisies in her hair and pastel coloured dresses no less.

Besides, she considered, there was no reason for Elain to behave this way and no reason for Mor to be dragged away from Cassian.

But there was movement then, from the same place Mor had entered the garden. A figure walked through the very spot where Mor had stood and first watched Elain and Cassian. A figure stepped between the rose arches and on the grass towards its intended target.

If Mor had still waited at that spot then she she would have startled them off. If Mor was able to shake off the nature magic and get closer then she could have done something, but here she was, helpless. And now, slithering over to Cassian like he was her prey, came the worst Archeron.

"Sweet Mother," she managed to breath out. If Elain heard she said nothing and gave no indication of surprise at her older sister's presence in the garden.

Nesta, her golden-brown hair braided and bound around her head like she was a queen wearing a crown, marched closer to Cassian, her body rigid and face neutral.

Cassian's wings shuddered.

"Cauldron," Mor muttered, louder this time and she pushed with all her might to take a step forward. It was no good. Whatever held her there held firm and the sound of a blade slicing through stalks grew.

Nesta had reached Cassian underneath the trellis and they stood like opponents on a battlefield, less than an arm's length apart, their bodies twin tense columns.

From her viewpoint, Mor saw Nesta's face clearly but not Cassian's and only the side of his clenched jaw was visible. She imagined his expression though; one of irritation that his peace had been broken by the viper.

But he's been waiting for someone. The thought stole into her mind unwanted and once again, she shut it down. Yes, she countered, and now Nesta's presence will deter them.

The morning breeze picked up past Mor and though gentle was effective in blowing the fragrance away. It was though the fog filling her brain had cleared.

The grip around her had loosened enough for Mor to take a lightened half step forward.

The snipping stopped.

"Where are you going?"

Mor turned her head. Despite the wholesome innocence on her face with those delicate freckles and warm brown eyes Mor considered if she was a fool thinking Elain was harmless. The magic enveloping her been called forward and it felt like it had been summoned with intent.

"I think," Mor said, "you know where."

"Are you wanting to interrupt Cassian and Nesta?" Elain said with wide eyes and a tilt to her head, her tone conveying nothing but virtuous concern.

Mor frowned. The obliviousness to what Cassian was due to suffer in the next moments must have been fabricated. The level of vitriol that seeped from Nesta couldn't have bypassed Elain for the entirety of her life but those fawn eyes didn't convey anything other than curiosity.

"Yes, I am."

"Why?"

The laugh barked from Mor's mouth before she stopped it. Human's and fae alike had sheltered Elain from the truth and ultimately this had enabled her naivety as to what her oldest sister was truly like. This was an illusion Mor had no joy in shattering but shatter it she must.

"Why?" Mor repeated. "Why? It's Nesta." Perhaps saying her name with rancour would convey to Elain her outrage at being kept back from helping her dearest friend. "I can't leave poor Cassian with her."

It was so quick that had Mor not been looking directly at Elain she would have doubted she ever saw it occur. Gone in a flash but in that flash, the warm chestnut of Elain's eyes turned hard and any trace of gentleness perished leaving behind something more familiar with Nesta herself.

When Elain spoke next, her tone was as sweet as the Night Lilies which bloomed outside Velaris but possibly just as poisonous. She'd turned her back to Mor, resuming her small precise cuts along the stems, the thick unrelenting scent wafting anew.

Mor's head began to hurt again, the fragrance choking down her throat. It was so hard to move in this garden, to think, to breathe.

"Yes, poor Cassian," Elain trilled. "The vicious General of the Night Court armies and renowned Lord of Bloodshed. He who has completed the Blood Rite of the Illyrian mountains, burnt villages to the ground and massacred hundreds, if not thousands, of males in the name of Rhys' wars."

Snip.

"My heart goes to him. He only has wings, leathers, knives, centuries of training and seven siphons. How can such a male be expected to survive my weapon-less sister."

Slice.

Mor struggled to force the words out as they twisted inside her mind like vines. "She carries a weapon with her," Mor retorted, "it just sits in her mouth."

" I'm sure Cassian is used to her tongue by now."

Well, that gave her pause.

Not only the words but the way they were said. Sweet, gentle Elain who had led her away from Cassian, Elain who had taken her to the roses where she worked magic so strong Mor struggled in its depths. Elain who said things in such a way which meant Mor hadn't known she'd been stung until she had to pull the stinger out.

The unsaid truth had been trying to creep its way in. Mor had tried to wave them away but truth was Mor's gift and these had always been Mor's own thoughts. She just didn't want to believe them.

She looked back towards Cassian but immediately regretted it. Perhaps Elain, sweet, manipulative Elain who Mor had always thought too soft, had led her away for Nesta's benefit or perhaps it had always been for Mor's.

Even if the magic lifted, Mor wouldn't have moved, too horrifically eager to watch the scene unfurl in front of her.

Cassian and Nesta had shifted and now she saw both their faces.

They were talking, if it could be called that. Scowls lined their faces and their hands gestured wildly. If it was an argument, it was an impassioned one and Mor fought the compulsion to ask Elain if she knew what they were fighting about.

The breeze which carried Elain's magic away for the briefest of moments had drifted across to the pair and a strand of Nesta's hair was freed from its coronet to dance about her face.

It seemed an automatic move on Cassian's part. He reached out and tucked the strand behind Nesta's ear, his fingers lingering on the side of her face, his thumb caressing her cheekbone before pulling away.

The earlier expression on Elain's face, the one that appeared like lighting and disappeared, the one which reminded Mor of Nesta now happened in reverse.

In the seconds following Cassian's touch, Nesta's face softened into something fragile. Mor understood from his face that instead of shock at such a tender look, Cassian hungered for it.

"Elain," Mor spoke quietly, "release me."

"If I do, you can't go over." Elain held a golden rose to her freckled nose and took an exalted inhale. "It's unfortunate you found out like this; Cassian wouldn't have wanted it this way." A long sigh left Elain's lips, "No one comes into the garden."

The suspicion had turned itself into certainty at Elain's statement. This meeting between Cassian and Nesta was no anomaly.

The tightening in her chest, unrelated to the roses whose fragrance now dissipated, showed her fear. There was the possibility she was no longer the dearest thing to Cassian.

Shame burnt in her cheeks. She'd been certain his strangeness was because he'd fallen back in love with her, that he pined for her and the humiliation she'd considered that an option made her skin hot.

Elain scrutinised Mor's face. Mor could pretend she was concerned for her best friend's emotional welfare, that he would be left to romance a female who gave out cutting remarks and acid glances as easily as she breathed. Mor's magic whispered to her again; liar.

And here was Elain, looking at her as though she could see right through.

"You love him," Elain said.

"Of course, I do," she replied.

"But you aren't in love with him, you never have been. You don't love him like a lover would, like a mate." The golden rose twirled in Elain's fingertips and with the motion the thickness of the flowers, of Elain's magic, drift off. Finally.

The love Cassian and her had for each other was never a love blessed by the Cauldron and neither of them wanted it to be. However, it didn't mean she wasn't shaken by seeing Cassian and Nesta together, that despite the virulence of their argument there were sweeter moments between.

She thought back to all the times she'd pointed out females he would then ignore. He wouldn't glance at them, couldn't glance at them. Mor and Cassian were cut from the same cloth, if a link existed between him and another then Cassian would want to honour it as it should be honoured.

The solid ground on which Mor had built her world was shifting.

Mor didn't move.

She could have marched over to the secret lovers and demand her answers. She could play her hand, give Cassian his choice and, as he always chose her, win the deck. Cassian's eyes would fill with panic as she begged him to choose between a potential future and a confirmed past.

Part of her wanted to do all those things, there was a chance she may yet.

Still, she didn't move.

"He doesn't want me to know," she said, her voice quiet, "at least not at the moment. If he did, he would have told me."

Elain's voice was kind when she spoke. "He'll tell you when he thinks you're ready to hear it."

Mor could have tried to convince Elain she was ready but instead found herself saying something different.

"I just don't understand it."

Elain glanced in the direction of Cassian and Nesta, a smile lingering on her lips. "Because you don't see them."

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, Mor looked over at them again. Loose petals floated down upon their heads from the earlier breeze and it almost softened Nesta's appearance. Almost.

Mor saw Nesta reach up towards Cassian's face and she braced herself for the crack of the slap. But of course, that wasn't what happened. Nesta's fingers began to sweep the petals caught on his hair and as she pulled her hand away Cassian grasped it, turning it over to press his mouth on Nesta's palm.

The blush blooming on Nesta's cheeks made Mor think she was looking at another female entirely. The angles and ridges of Nesta's hard face softened and the nervous energy rippling through Cassian's frame disappared leaving behind a male radiating ease.

They were still talking but their words were too quiet for her to hear. Whatever they discussed must have ended in agreement as they turned and walked together down a different path, one Mor hadn't seen.

"If you're wanting to follow them," Elain said, "I would really suggest you don't. There's a hidden cottage in the garden. I was so pleased when I was the first to have found it." Elain pulled a face reminiscent of the expression on Feyre's when she ate something unpleasant. "Then I realised I wasn't the first to have found it at all."

"I don't follow."

"Exactly."

"No, I mean I don't understand."

Elain looked at her with a smile closer to a smirk. "I share a room with Nesta," she said, "and you're always skipping off into Cassian's in the morning so where do you think they cemented things."

Mor's stomach coiled, "Ugh, yes fine. I understand."

Elain let out a giggle. "They hadn't intended for me to find out either but I love Nesta and I won't judge her choices." Elain let out a sigh. "I know she can be sharp but it doesn't mean she deserves her heart to be broken. But I do trust Cassian, I made him promise the roses."

Mor watched Elain stretch out her hand, splashed with tawny freckles, and caress the petals of a rose before plucking it. She eyed Elain with caution.

Elain turned to her, the rose in hand. "You'll do the right thing," she said and held out the flower. "When I was human, I was a gardener. The Cauldron couldn't take that - I wouldn't let it. I'm not sorry for keeping you here but I'm sorry for how the magic made you feel - like you couldn't breathe. It was like that in the Cauldron."

A stillness crept onto Elain's face and all expression melted away. "It still feels like that for the both of us sometimes," Elain continued, "that we can't breathe. That we're still floating in the dark waiting to drown."

There was nothing. Elain slipped into the blankness with ease the same way Nesta slid into her rage. She wondered if her anger was what Cassian helped her with, if he also held Nesta's heart securely in his hands and guarded it with his life.

Mor reached out for the rose, lightly touching Elain's fingers with her own. Elain shook herself from her own mind and smiled at her, the first genuine one Mor had seen all morning.

"It will have to be another day when you can have an honest conversation with Cassian." Elain's reached with soft fingertips and glided them delicately over Mor's cheek. "You can talk to him about Nesta and perhaps tell him about Aurielle too?"

It took her a moment until the realisation hit her but while Mor blinked in shock, Elain had already walked off, far from the path Cassian and Nesta had taken.

Mor traced Elain's touch with her own fingers trying to be just as gentle. She thought of how the magic had led her to the garden, how she wanted to share blossoming love with someone.

Maybe, she thought, she shouldn't covet those she loved so selfishly. There was enough love to share between more than one.

With a promise to herself she would address all this another day, Mor tucked the flower behind her ear and walked back here she came from, wondering to herself whether she now liked roses.

[soopersara]

what’re your thoughts on the anti-zutarian argument citing that a romantic relationship couldn’t work between them because of an inherent oppressor / colonizer and indigenous / oppressed dynamic. love zutara, but that admittedly gave me a lot to think about and i’m still unsure about how i feel :/

Hoo boy. That argument again.

Okay, first of all, nobody has to like Zutara. Enemies to lovers (or, more accurately for Zutara, enemies to friends to lovers) is a trope that doesn't appeal to everyone, and that's fine.

But that does not make it immoral to ship pairings like Zutara. There's nothing inherently wrong with enemies to lovers, and while there probably are enemies to lovers ships out there that would make me uncomfortable, that comes down to the execution more than the ship itself, and... it's still fiction. Last I checked, enjoying murder mysteries doesn't mean that you condone murder. Tastes in fiction =/= real life morality.

As far as Zutara in specific goes, the argument that it could never work "because he's her oppressor" is just... nonsense. I'm going to try to organize this based on arguments I've seen so I don't just ramble for several thousand words, so here goes:

Zuko was her colonizer: No. The Water Tribes were never colonized. The Fire Nation never established settlements in the Water Tribes' territories. They raided the Southern Tribe and captured and killed some of its members, which is obviously horrible, but the Fire Nation never had a lasting presence in any of the Water Tribes ('any' because there's technically 3 tribes and the Foggy Swamp was untouched). Words have meanings, and... that's not what colonization means. Colonization could be a stronger argument against a Zuko/Earth Kingdom character ship since colonization DID happen there, except for a l'il issue I'll get to in a minute.

Zuko participated in a genocide against her people: Okay, while genocide is a more accurate term for what happened to Katara's tribe, this argument (and the previous one too) really falls apart at the "Zuko participated" bit. The Fire Nation committed a gradual, partial genocide of the Southern Water Tribe via raids on its villages. And the last raid happened when Katara was eight years old. At that time, Zuko was ten. At the age of ten, Zuko wasn't involved in any of the Fire Nation's actions anywhere in the world. At the age of ten, Zuko was still so far out of the line of succession for the throne (behind Iroh, Lu Ten, and Ozai) that he didn't have any real prospect of ever being able to make decisions for the nation's actions. And the first time Zuko personally had any interaction with Katara's tribe? He ran his ship through a wall, knocked Sokka over, grabbed Kanna by the coat, yelled a little bit, made a few threats... and then left without doing any further damage. So not great, but also not playing into his nation's attempts at genocide. And Zuko got comeuppance for all those things from the Gaang when they were trying to get Aang out: Zuko broke the ice wall, then Aang wrecked Zuko's ship. Zuko knocked Sokka over, then Sokka returned the favor. A few times. And Zuko grabbed Kanna, then Katara froze a bunch of Zuko's crewmen solid. Despite being wildly underpowered, the Gaang gave as good as they got.

Zuko attempted to kill the Gaang: Again, just no. Seriously, in all the time he was chasing the Gaang, he never once tried to kill anyone. Not killing was his whole deal. That's how he got banished. The kid literally tried to save Zhao, the man who tried to blow Zuko up. Capturing and killing are two very different things. Hiring Sparky Sparky Boom Man is the only exception to Zuko's no-killing thing in the entire show, and that whole plot point is just bad and wildly OOC, so I'm not going to talk about that right now.

Zuko abused Katara: There's a difference between abuse and fighting as enemies on opposite sides of a war. Hurting Katara, gaining power over Katara was never Zuko's goal. He wanted to capture Aang, and he fought anyone who stood in his way. Katara's goal was to protect Aang, and she likewise fought anyone who stood in the way. And on top of that, Zuko never caused Katara any significant harm. He tied her to a tree and tried to negotiate with her. Guess what? The first time the Gaang had the opportunity, they tied Zuko up (after seriously considering leaving him for dead). He knocked Katara unconscious. Then, the very next time they faced each other, she knocked him unconscious. That's... pretty much it. Neither of them was a victim of the other, they were enemies who fought one equal terms.

And ALL of those arguments completely disregard Zuko's redemption and the subsequent friendship between him and Katara. Zuko openly rejected his father and all his nation's actions and teachings. He changed sides in the war with the intention of stopping the harm that his people were doing to the world. He taught Aang, helped rescue Hakoda and Suki from prison, saved Katara from being crushed to death, and helped her find and confront the man who killed her mother. And Katara forgave him for everything. They became friends. But Zuko didn't stop there. He fought Azula on his own to keep Katara safe, threw himself in front of lightning to save her life again, and then, at the age of sixteen, dedicated the rest of his life to dismantling and reversing all the harm his nation had done over the past hundred years.

Zuko was never an oppressor in the way antis like to claim, but even if he had been, the fact that he saw the error of his ways at the age of sixteen and then spent the rest of his life trying to fix not only his own personal wrongs, but those committed by his nation (and many of which happened before he was even born) says a lot. And acting as though his fight to change things for the better (and his close canon friendship with Katara) doesn't matter because he happened to be born to the royal family on the wrong side of the war is incredibly reductive.

Like I said before, no one is obligated to ship Zutara. No one is obligated to like Zutara. And there's nothing wrong with people being uncomfortable with the pairing for their own personal reasons. But that doesn't mean that there's anything wrong with the ship or those of us who enjoy it. Suggesting otherwise undermines the validity of interracial relationships in general, and I would strongly suggest blocking anyone who argues that there is something inherently wrong with shipping Zutara.

PS: I'm not indigenous, but I do know several Zutara shippers who are. There may be some indigenous people who find Zutara uncomfortable, but it's in no way a universal opinion.

[sunfetti]

Hi if it not much to ask for a Teru x Reader angstfluff fic. Where teru's in a relationship with reader who died abruptly and became " [Y/N] of the student council room" and because they want to see teru again. But they have to struck a deal with tsukasa and become his helper

An: My first request!! Thank you so much for requesting, it’s totally not too much to ask!! Hopefully you enjoy it!!

Word count: 1000+ 

Summary: Teru and Y/n were the happiest couple at Kamome Academy, but what happens when tragedy strikes? And what is Y/n willing to pay to see Teru again?

Trigger warning: Violent death, slight gore, heavy angst (please do not read if that upsets you!! I will post something more fluffy in the future to make up for this!!)

   “The rumor of Y/n San...”

  Have you heard of this rumor? They say in the student council room, resides the ghost of the heartbroken Y/n-San. Their grief chains them there and if they see you—they will make you feel the heartbreak they feel. 

    Silence... That’s all Y/N heard nowadays—no longer were the days that they could walk to school with their friends or greet their family when they got home. They couldn’t even affectionately hug their boyfriend anymore—that’s one of things they hated the most of this new existence. It’s not like they had wanted this, to live beyond their time. No. They wanted  oh so desperately to be alive, still living and happy with their family and the love of their life. Safe and sound within Teru’s arms like they used to be able to do every day they wished. 

    Who was Y/n you ask? They were a former student at Kamome Academy, and the beloved of Teru Minamoto—the two of them being inseparable even before they were in a romantic relationship. They were the power couple of Kamome Academy, and It seemed as though nothing could stop them. That is except for the incident… 

    It happened so suddenly—that wretched day. Even when Y/n closed their eyes, they could still remember that day vividly.. It haunted their mind, just like how they now haunted the student council room. Y/n had been walking towards the Minamoto residence—having planned to spend the night there, as they had done so many times before. They giddily clutched the necklace clasped around their neck that Teru had given them earlier during school—the memory replaying within their mind.

   ”Are you sure you want me to have this?” They asked, admiring the gorgeous necklace that glimmered in Teru’s hands. It was such a beautiful gift but surely it must have cost a fortune right?”

   “Of course I want you to have it! I bought it just for you!” Teru said, beaming with joy as he gestured for them to turn around. He gently put the necklace on his beloved, pressing a loving kiss to the back of their head. “There.. I knew you would look gorgeous with it..” He says, watching Y/n admire the necklace more—touching the charm.

   “Thank you so much Teru! I love it!” They exclaim, happily hugging their boyfriend—who spun them around.

  Ah yes.. That day had been so exciting for Y/n, so much so that they practically skipped towards the whole way. Though even despite how vivid that memory was, the nest few parts became slightly blurry to Y/n. Though they assumed that was reasonable due to how fast paced it was...

   They had seen Tiara playing outside and waved to her—obviously being best friends with the youngest Minamoto siblings since Y/n was dating their older brother. Though, Tiara was so excited to see them that she ran towards the road—not noticing the car that was speeding towards her. 

   The next is a blur but Y/n distinctly remembers tossing their schoolbag aside and dashing into the road.

  “TIARA LOOK OUT!” They screamed at the top of their lungs as they shoved the youngest Minamoto sibling out of the way as the car hit them—sending Y/n flying and landing harshly on the road with a sickening crack. 

   Tiara cried, having scraped her knees and hands—though seeing her brother’s s/o on the ground obviously hurt, she ran to grab her older brothers. Though Teru had beat her to it, running out of his house only to see his sister crying and then in horror—his s/o on the road.

   Handing Tiara off to Kou, he dashed towards Y/n—falling to his knees once he got to them. “Y/N ARE YOU OKAY?! OH MY GOD—PLEASE BE OKAY!” He yelled, fumbling with his phone as he shakily dialed for an ambulance. He stuttered out his location and the situation through tears, checking out his beloved despite how the sight pained him.

   He clasped their hand tightly—trying to reassure himself more then his s/o. “Y-you’re g-going to be o-okay Y-y/n..” He managed to stutter out, tears almost blinding him as he reached to brush the hair out of their eyes.

  “T-teru?” They whispered, feeling their eyes begin to become heavier as they tried to keep them open—even if it was just for a few mode moments. Tears fell on their face as Teru whispered put sweet nothings to them—refusing to believe this would be the end of his beloved—of them.

   “T-teru.. T-teru I-I l-love you..” They managed out, before their eyes closed for the last time.. Their heartbeat stilled as Teru shook them—trying to wake them up, like he had done so many times when they napped together in the student council room—or under a sunny spot. Yet they were gone by then, and he merely cradled their lifeless body as he sobbed more and more. He held them so tight that it took Kou and two EMTs to tear him from their body. 

   All that was left of his beloved was a broken necklace—charm shattered into pieces, just like Teru’s heart..

  It was dark and there was water surrounding the whole place.. Something you’d imagine nothingness was.. And then suddenly there they were—in the student council room, floating above the ground and feeling their chest ache painfully. They never saw Teru ever again—for he refused to enter that room due to his grief. There was too many memories there to work.. Instead he worked in another room, far away from where Y/n wandered. 

  Anyone who entered ran when they felt the chill of Y/n clinging to them—trying desperately to get their attention. The heartbreak that manifested around them made most break into tears as they blindly ran away—leaving Y/n alone again.

  And that’s how the rumor of “Y/n san of the student council room” was started. Their once lovely memory was stained with anguish and heartbreak. But it’s not like Y/n cared much, as the only thing they longed for was Teru. All they wanted was to see him again—to be around him. 

   “I wish I could see you again..” Y/n mumbled, floating above the table in the room—which had started to collect dust. Oh how he would have hated that—after all he wanted his workplace to be neat so he could work more efficiently..

   “A wish you say?? I think I can help you with that!!” A voice called causing Y/n’s eyes to shoot open as they fumbled to look towards the voice. And there stood a boy—but he seemed off, almost eerily cheery as he smiled at them with a toothy grin. A seal was placed onto his cheek—colored a shade of black that reminded Y/n of the void they found themselves in once upon a time. 

  Though what caught their attention was the promise to make their wish come true, they stared at him wide-eyed before uttering out. “Could you? Could you really make my wish come true?” They asked, suspicious of the boy yet still hopeful.

  “I could!! You want to see him again don’t you? “ The boy exclaimed merrily—seemingly eager to help them. Y/n felt for the first time in what seemed like forever—pure joy.. The prospect of seeing their lover again overwhelmed their reason—so much so that they almost forgot to ask the consequences or the price. 

   “I’m Tsukasa, and I’ll grant your wish! But I’ll need you to do something for me in return okay??” The boy—or Tsukasa states, causing Y/n to pause in their elation.

   “What do you want me to do in return?” They asked, though their voice came out much more pitiful and desperate than they had wanted.Tsukasa grinned even wider, floating towards them eagerly. “You just have to be my assistant!! You see my brother has an assistant so I want to have one too!! You’d just would have to help me out when I need it!” 

   “Assistant? Brother??” Y/n asks further, the answers Tsukasa was giving only resulting in more questions.. Though if it meant seeing Teru again—then it would be worth being this weird kid’s assistant right? “Alright. As long as I get to see Teru again, I’ll do anything.” They say, sticking out a hand for Tsukasa to shake. And the latter did so—very eagerly. 

  “We have a deal then!! Have fun Y/n!!” He says, smiling as one of his koku-joudai surrounded the ghost in black smoke.

   “H-hey what’s going o—” Y/n starts, before disappearing completely into the smoke and appearing in another room. Hesitantly they glanced around, gaze flicking towards the messiness and the complete disarray of the room. It looked completely trashed and was heavy with just as much sorrow as the student council room had when they haunted it.Though the voice behind them made Y/n whip around in surprise.. 

   “Y-y/n is that really you?” Teru hoarsely called, staring wide-eyed at them. He almost broke out into sobs if he had any more tears left. 

   “Teru!! I missed you so much!!” They exclaimed, flying towards them and tackling him in a hug. He wrapped his arms around them—even despite the shock he was in, he hugged them like no tomorrow. 

   Thoughts raced through Teru’s head—how had Y/n become a supernatural? Would he have to exorcise them?.. No. Teru refused to exorcise his beloved—even if they were the one thing he loathed.

   “I’m never letting you go again.. Promise me you’ll never leave me side okay? Promise me that Y/n..” He says, cupping their face between his hands.. They smiled softly, tears welling up in their eyes. “Of course Teru.. I’ll never leave you again..”

 Have you heard this rumor? About Y/n san the ghostly lover..

[autumnblogs]

Day 11: Melodrama

WIth Act 4 over, we’ve finished setting up the pins on the Earth Side of this story. We are now roughly one quarter of the way through the full story - and Homestuck is set up more or less in four acts, rather than in six acts as its “official” structure would suggest.

Time to start setting up the pins on the other disc.

https://homestuck.com/story/1942

But first, some more of Andrew’s prose to detail the fallout of the Sovereign Slayer’s activity. He’s been a busy man.

Also, Rose goes off the rails, but we knew that already.

This is the part of the story where Rose becomes an antagonist, in my opinion. More on that later. More after the break.

https://homestuck.com/story/1955

A letter from another version of Earth.

One of the very first things that we learn about Jake is that one of his all time favorite movies is Weekend at Bernie’s, an association that is part of a long list of red-herrings that link Jake up with Lord English, but of which nothing ultimately comes. It’s an association mostly because Bernie is a corpse who is also a puppet (like Doc Scratch, for example).

All that has already been pointed out by a lot of people before me, so moving on.

https://homestuck.com/story/1957

Just missed her.

https://homestuck.com/story/1993

Act 5 off to a great start, and while Karkat is in many ways a parallel to John (via their shared interests), right away, this action compares Karkat to Dave. Their reaction to being misnamed by the command prompt is pretty much identical.

https://homestuck.com/story/1994

Like I said, Karkat is pretty much immediately compared to John in terms of their shared interests, what with his Terrible Taste in Movies and his Amateur Coding.

One thing that stands out as endearing to me that I’ve probably not thought so much about before is Karkat’s practicing with his Sickle in his room. It reminds me of lightsaber wielding kids on early youtube.

https://homestuck.com/story/1995

So let’s break this and the next few pages down. Viewing the narration through the same James-Joycesque lens of “Narration is more or less identical with the characters’ thought processes,” that we have been so far, Karkat seems pretty ambivalent about existing as a troll, going as far as to describe his bad dreams as *terrible.*

Do all Trolls have dreams as bad as Karkat does? Is it a chucklevoodoos thing? Maybe it’s specifically a Karkat thing.

https://homestuck.com/story/1996

Karkat gets distracted instantly by intrusive thoughts and does something else that’s very Johnlike.

https://homestuck.com/story/1998

Aw c’mon. Early Sandler isn’t even that bad. Then again, it’s been a while since I’ve watched this one, maybe it’s worse than I remember it.

https://homestuck.com/story/1999

This section of the story is even more time-agnostic than the rest of the story, and a lot of it is told in past tense prospective action, which says to me that what we’re experiencing here is the various trolls on the meteor at the End of Act 4 collectively remembering what has taken place in the past, while the parts of this segment that are narrated in the present tense are being relayed to us via the characters in the narrative present (which is to say, the events which are being relayed to us in the panel.)

https://homestuck.com/story/2008

I wonder if Troll Will Smith is a Troll Scientologist?

https://homestuck.com/story/2010

I didn’t like the Trolls very much originally. They’re so ornery and pissy with each other all the time, with the exception of Gamzee and Tavros, but on a reread, especially keeping the things in mind that I’m keeping in mind, all of these characters are a lot more tolerable.

Using the cipher that we’ve established from reading the characters as basically attempting to perform what is culturally expected of them in the first four acts, we can immediately decode what is going on between Karkat and his friends - they are trying to be the best trolls they can be, or at least, live up to certain ideals/stereotypes the way that Dave tries to live up to the stereotype of the coolguy, or John emulates the mangrit and fatherliness and so on of his father figures.

But something is way *way* more wrong with Alternia’s role models than Earth’s.

That’s all from a Watsonian perspective. From a Doylist perspective, there are very explicit stereotypes each of these characters is designed around - commonplace annoying internet people from the ‘00s (pronounce that as Naughts).

https://homestuck.com/story/2012

There’s a lot of early installment weirdness in the first bits of Troll Stuff we get where it’s clear that Andrew was riffing and trying to find clear definitions for their relationships - it’s somewhat poorly known these days, I think, but Andrew has said in the past that he hates worldbuilding, and it kind of shows. (Did I mention that Kanaya Sollux friendship back when those two were interacting not long ago? That’s another one of those bits of early installment weirdness).

Anyway, the actual bit of early installment weirdness that I’m drawing attention to is the fact that the Subjugglators are described as being an Obscure Cult here, but later Homestuck Media (and even stuff within Homestuck, honestly) will make them out to be basically the only major aspect of being a Purple Blood.

https://homestuck.com/story/2013

Gamzee’s ignorance and his bliss are pretty much immediately linked to one another.

That said, I’m not going to dive too deep into Gamzee’s inner life. Like a lot of the trolls, in spite of his great relevance, he’s a bit of a joke character, and the joke is on us - whatever is going on inside this lad’s head is a puzzle for most of the comic.

Gamzee has a Freudian excuse in the form of his absent Lusus, which incidentally, is a parallel to Jade - the Nurture is the same, but the Nature is very differently. Unfortunately, when God was handing out Natures, he gave Gamzee one of the really bad ones, so he’s a worthless goddamn piece of shit.

https://homestuck.com/story/2024

Already into the first few troll conversations, and we’re setting up some stuff for later. Gamzee and Terezi’s very first conversation demonstrates the terrible chemistry that the two have together - Gamzee legitimately unsettles Terezi, and there’s just nothing at all she can do to bother him.

https://homestuck.com/story/2025

Sollux is probably so handy with this coding language because of his ability to hear the voices of the imminently deceased - so he can write programs that will execute along a pretty reasonable time frame.

https://homestuck.com/story/2027

Leader is a phrase that ends up being used in conjunction with Karkat a lot, and the concept of leadership is another one of those things that Homestuck Talks About but not a thing that Homestuck Is About, at least in the sense that leadership as a role is part of the comic’s broader commentary on cultural reproduction, the same way that Homestuck’s conversation about gender is, or Homestuck’s conversation about Roles in general.

What do you want to be when you grow up? Karkat wants to be a leader.

As long as Sollux is making his first appearance as a character, I want to take a second to say that as a character, he’s always been pretty tough and enigmatic for me to write, especially in the sense that he‘s frequently referred to melodramatic and sensitive or similar terms by people around him, but he actually doesn’t really seem that way in most cases - he just seems like a guy who wants to his own devices, and is generally pretty non-reactive to other peoples’ bullshit. Maybe he’s melodramatic in the way that Dave is, hyping himself up as a coolguy who is the best there is, but then again, Sollux kind of lives up to his own hype, considering that up until the last possible moment, he wins pretty much every fight he’s in handily, adapts Sburb personally, and has more romantic success than just about everyone else in the comic.

Maybe Karkat’s just projecting.

https://homestuck.com/story/2031

Roleplaying - a concept that I’ve used frequently to refer to the way that John and his chums perform rituals in order to relate to their culture and parents - is made explicit through the language of Flarping, which for the Trolls, serves as a way for them to literally act out the adventures of their long-dead ancestors, although it strikes me that it’s probably a lot more gainful for highbloods like Terezi and Vriska than it is in general for lowbloods like Aradia and Tavros.

I’ll get this out of the way up front instead of commenting it on a drip feed throughout Terezi’s upcoming courtblock roleplay - Terezi is the kind of kid who aspires to be a Cop. Or a lawyer, anyway, which in Alternian Law, is the same thing as a cop. In the wake of 2020′s scads of police brutality, and in general, having grown up into a nasty commie, it’s kind of hard to look at Terezi the same way.

While it’s clear that Terezi is remorseful later on toward her earlier attitudes and behaviors, Terezi is at least ambivalent, and at worst a purely antagonistic force throughout a lot of early Homestuck because of her authoritarian tendencies and her honestly pretty psychopathic behavior. She plays games with her friends’ lives.

https://homestuck.com/story/2047

Terezi adores having power over other people and making them helpless. For Terezi, alienation takes the form of emotional distance from the people that she’s tormenting. It makes it so much easier for her to conceive of them as wicked people who need to die.

https://homestuck.com/story/2055

Nepeta is an adorable girl who deserves all the good things. All of them.

That said, as long as we’re commentating and not glurging, Nepeta’s internet troll stereotype is probably less familiar these days, and I say probably less, but I can’t say for sure - it’s like this really specific thing that existed during the late ‘00s, where you had this highly specific stereotype, which I’ll call the Furry Artist Roleplayer, and I really hope that I’m not talking out of my ass by generalizing anecodtal evidence, but I know people who were pretty much exactly the Nepeta stereotype around the time that Act 5 was being written! Roleplaying in IRCs or on specialty forums with other people, all drawing art of their anthro OCs and writing stories about each other’s characters. That sort of thing still probably exists these days, but if it does, I’m not really part of any communities anymore where it leaks into the mainstream.

https://homestuck.com/story/2058

Okay, yup, Karkat is 100% projecting “Melodrama” on all the people around him. In a literal sense, Melodrama refers to theatrics that are exaggerated and sensationalized in such a way as to appeal to the emotions, often prioritizing spectacle and physical action over deep characterization.

Actually, if we’re taking it in the literal sense of the word, just about every character in Homestuck is pretty melodramatic - I keep talking about the way that they roleplay rituals and associate with symbols even when they fail to structures of power and culture that those rituals and symbols point to - performative participation without any actual substance. That’s practically the definition of Melodrama.

But Karkat is, perhaps, the most Melodramatic of all.

https://homestuck.com/story/2065

Aradia is one of my favorite characters in Homestuck, and possibly my favorite, something I can be up front about.

Our introduction to her is brief, and right out of the gate one thing about her is apparent - her relationship with destruction is central to her characterization.

https://homestuck.com/story/2069

While I was going to wait for the Hemospectrum to come up explicitly, now’s as good a time as any to talk about the fact that Andrew uses Troll society to comment on hierarchy a lot - hierarchy of just all kinds. Ageism is one of those, and Gerontocracy in particular in Alternia. In Alternia, just one of the ways that the oppression of the Hemospectrum manifests is the way that the Empire systematically takes advantage of its children by basically leaving them completely to their own devices. Trolls don’t have family units normally, but the fact that Troll adults are all offworld is not a “natural” part of Troll Society, it’s a decision. And while it’s a decision made by the Empress, it’s still one that, to some extent, benefits adult trolls at the expense of the children, since they’re not around spending energy on raising kids who are expected to raise themselves from the word go.

It’s honestly pretty late, and I’m tuckered out because of the steroids that I’m on, and the cough medicine, so in spite of the comparatively pretty short amount of reading I’ve done tonight, I’m going to call it here.

Cam signing off, Alive and a little High.

[let-it-raines]

another kind of green (3/?)

Emma Swan spends her days in pretty white dresses and heavy layers of makeup. Day after day and dress after dress, she poses for pictures and acts like she’s in love and having the happiest day of her life with the man standing next to her.

It’s not. This is all a gig, and at the end of the day, she’s no longer the girl in the pretty dress who’s faking getting married for a magazine cover or a wedding convention. Instead, she’s the girl who probably never wants to get married.

Little does she know, she already is.

Rating: Mature

a/n: for @xemmaloveskillianx​ as her gift for my giveaway ❤️ 

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2| 3 |

-/-

“Emma, do you want a salad with your steak?”

“Do I want it? No. Should I have it? Probably.”

Mary Margaret laughs at her and then turns to start cutting up some more lettuce. Emma always feels horrible whenever she comes over to the Nolans and they cook for her. She offers to help, but they all know they’re better off if she stays far away from the kitchen. One time she put the rolls in the oven, forgot about them, nearly burned the apartment down, and they haven’t let her near the oven – or stove for that matter - since.

She can definitely cook rolls. That was an accident.

“So,” Mary Margaret begins, “how did your dress fittings go yesterday? Did you like the dresses?”

“There was so much lace, Marg. Like, I have never seen so much in one day. It’s obviously going to be a trend next summer.”

“Yeah? I’ve always loved a lace wedding dress. You know, my dress was – ”

“A strapless, fitted dress that was a mermaid style and overlaid with lace. I know.”

Mary Margaret rolls her eyes and holds her knife up at Emma. “I may be a sweetheart of a human being, but I know how to defend myself.”

“Is that a threat?”

“You bet your ass it is.”

Emma scoffs and rises from the barstool the pour herself a glass of wine. “Is Ruby coming tonight?”

“She’s got a date with Mulan tonight before she goes to New York for two weeks for a few shoots.”

“What? They didn’t want to spend a romantic evening with you, me, and David?”

“You know, believe it or not, I don’t think the two of them think we’re a great time.”

Emma mock gasps. “Shocker.”

“Okay, ladies,” David sing-songs as he walks back into the apartment from where he’s been up on the rooftop grilling in his ridiculous apron, “I come with your steaks grilled to perfection, and I won’t hear a word otherwise.”

The three of them sit down around the small table in the corner of the Nolan’s apartment and eat their steaks, which are grilled to perfection actually, and share about their days. Mary Margaret only did paperwork from home today while David had a particularly difficult new police officer that isn’t quite catching onto the rules, which isn’t great when they had him out on patrol. Being a Lieutenant obviously isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be for David, but Emma knows he’d never want to be anything else.

“Hey, speaking of that, how strict is the background check part of becoming a cop?”

Both of them stop eating, the metal of their forks and knives clanking against the porcelain of their plates, and blink at her.

“Emma,” David hesitates, picking up a napkin to wipe his mouth, “you know you can’t. I mean, I would love for you to but – ”

“No, no, no,” Emma interrupts, raising her hands, “not for me. I don’t…you know I know I don’t want to be a cop, right? Like, super thankful for you, but with my history, I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.”

David sighs. “I still hate how much of your life that bastard has fucked up. You should have so many more opportunities for what you want to do with your life.”

“I don’t want to deal with that. I just…ugh.”

If she buries her face in her hands and groans all night, she doesn’t have to tell them this, right? There’s no need for her to share what has to be one of the stupidest decisions she’s ever made. She can hoard that little secret forever and no one has to know what she apparently did while drunk off her ass in Las Vegas like the biggest cliché in the world.

Bradley Cooper and Zach Galifianakis have nothing on her. Except for maybe the tiger and missing teeth and all that.

“Emma? Are you okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m fine,” Emma mumbles, not meaning it. “Igotmarried.”

“What?”

“What do you mean you got married?”

“Married?” David shouts before coughing and having to hit his chest. “What do you mean you got married? Who did you marry? I didn’t know you were seeing someone!”

“I’m not,” Emma explains, wanting to die a little inside. “Remember when we went to Vegas for that weird convention thing last month?”

“Yeah,” Mary Margaret answers while David continues to drill lasers into her head. You’d think he was her father and not her friend. “What about it?”

“Well, the guy who played the groom and I…spent the night together.” That gets her a groan from the both of them. She knows. She gets it. They’re not fans of her spending nights with men she doesn’t know, but she can handle herself. “And then we decided to drink too much instead of parting ways and somehow, we ended up at a chapel and got married. Legitimately. I checked. Our license is online and everything.”

She lets the two of them have their freak out for the next ten minutes or so. Mary Margaret never stops asking questions while David keeps muttering curses under his breath and seems not to have a fully functioning brain. It’s a lot to comprehend. She understands. She spent her entire day yesterday trying to figure out how this happened and what she was going to do about it.

Get it annulled, obviously.

Killian mentioned that, and when she got home after her fittings yesterday, she looked it up and made sure they qualified – the both of them not being in their right mind definitely qualifies them for an annulment. Killian probably had whiskey dick or something after the marriage, so she’s guessing they didn’t have sex afterward either. Before, yes. That’s a definite. After, nope. And apparently not consummating the marriage is still a legal reason for annulment in most states.

“How did you find out about this?” David finally asks when his brain starts working again.

“Killian found me yesterday and told me. He’s trying to become a cop in the A-1 district, funnily enough, which is why I asked about the background check thing. He was having his done when they came upon our marriage, which he didn’t tell them about…obviously.”

“You can’t say you don’t have a type.”

Emma flicks a piece of lettuce at Mary Margaret. “Remember how you threatened me with that knife earlier?”

“What?” David screeches, hands slamming against the table. They’re going to cause him to have an aneurism.

“Nothing, honey. So what are you two going to do about this marriage?”

“We’re going to get an annulment. He’s supposed to text me on when I have to go down to the station to talk to his recruiting officer about the whole situation, which I’m sure won’t really help his case, and then we’re going to find a lawyer or figure out how to do the paperwork ourselves.”

“And you’re okay dealing with a lawyer again?”

“I mean, I’d rather not, but all of the paperwork online looked…confusing. I don’t know. I’m not sure what exactly we’re going to do. I haven’t really processed it all. I still think I’m going to blink and it’s all going to be a dream.”

“Shit, Emma,” David sighs, the beginnings of a chuckle creeping into his voice, “you got married.”

Emma chunks her a throw pillow at him.

After the Nolans have finished interrogating her, but mostly laughing at her for this situation she’s ended up in, she tells them she’ll talk to them later but she’s going home. This has exhausted her, and she wants to sleep. As soon as she walks in her front door, she throws her keys on the entryway table where the envelope of her wedding pictures are still sitting, kicks off her shoes, and reaches under her shirt to take her bra off with all of the sweet, sweet relief that comes with that.

Her apartment is messy enough that it needs to be cleaned, but it’s a quarter until ten, and no one but her is going to see this place. Cleaning isn’t a priority.

Then again, when is it ever for her?

She’s not a slob by any means, but she’s not going to die if there are some clothes on the floor and a dish in the sink.

Sighing, she walks toward her couch and plops down onto the soft cushions, wondering if she’s going to fall asleep before she has the time to watch an episode of Downton Abbey, her newest mindless television show that most of the world has already seen. Emma’s turning on her TV when her phone buzzes in her hands.

Unknown number: Can you meet tomorrow?

Emma Swan: That entirely depends on who this is.

Unknown number: Killian Jones.

“Oh shit,” Emma mumbles under her breath. She was expecting to hear from him, but she’d almost forgotten in the last hour that she had this situation to deal with. She spent the whole night talking about him, but for a little while, she allowed herself to forget.

Emma Swan: I can meet tomorrow. What time? At the station?

Killian Jones: Does 1:00 PM work for you?

Emma Swan: That’s fine.

Killian Jones: See you tomorrow, love.

-/-

It’s been three years since Emma’s been in front of this police station. Three years, give or take a few weeks, but nothing about it has changed. Same red doors that need painting and same grimy concrete steps that do not make it an inviting prospect no matter your reason to go inside. Then again, who really wants to go to a police station? That’s not exactly what someone would consider fun.

Emma doesn’t exactly consider this fun.

The wine she had last night helped ease her into sleep, but this morning when her alarm went off to very annoyingly yell at her to go to the gym, all of her anxiety over having to be here today came back in full force that she channeled into her hour-long run on a treadmill that made too much noise. She should have taken a Pilates class or something instead. That way she wouldn’t have had to listen to the groan of the treadmill and would have had the voice of the instructor to distract her.

(Mulan always kicks her ass.)

God, why are police stations the absolute worst?

“Are you always so jumpy?”

Emma stumbles over her own feet with her jump, and Killian’s chuckle does not amuse her, not at all.

“Point proven,” he continues, swaggering up to her and down the rest of the steps that lead to the entrance. He’s got on a leather jacket despite it being sweltering out here, and she has no idea how he’s not sweating. She was sweating simply putting her bra on this morning. “It’s a pleasure to see you, love.”

“Did I not tell you not to call me that?”

“I don’t believe you did.”

“Well, I’m not your love, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call me as such.”

Killian bows – he freaking bows – and rolls his hand in circles in front of her. “As you wish, Swan.”

He’s a cocky son of a bitch, isn’t he?

“So,” Emma starts, taking a deep breath, “what do you need me to do in here exactly?”

“Tell the truth. It doesn’t exactly make me look too great to have gotten drunk enough to get married in Vegas while on a job, which I’m sure will be a reason to have my ass handed to me on many occasions, but I need you to tell the truth and explain that I honestly did not realize I had a better half.”

“Fine. Sounds simple enough.”

Killian nods, his lips pressed into a tight smile, before he opens up the door to that station for her.

“What? Are you a gentleman or something?”

“I’m always a gentleman, Swan.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

On instinct, Emma walks into the station and starts walking past the front desk like she still has access to the place, but she quickly holds herself back and stops, stepping backward and hoping that no one noticed her. When she sees Killian’s raised brows, she knows that he did. Dammit.

“Hello, Marlene,” Killian drawls out, laying on the charm a little too thick for whoever the new officer at the desk is. “I’m here for a meeting with Captain Roberts.”

“Is everything alright? I thought the tests for our new officers weren’t until next month.”

“Everything is just fine, love. He simply wanted to meet my lovely wife.”

Oh, son of a bitch. Why would he say that?

“You’re married?” Marlene gasps, eyes full of murder glancing over at Emma. Homegirl is plotting out ways to get rid of Emma’s body right now, and if she gets murdered, she is coming back to life to murder Killian. He’s probably met this woman two or three times in his life, and he’s already got her wrapped around his finger. What must it be like to be able to charm someone like that?

“It’s new. Roberts has heard me talking so much about her, and he’d love to meet her, aye?”

“Uh, o-okay,” Marlene stutters, her jaw still dropped open. “Let me ring him, and I’ll let you back.”

“Thank you, lass.”

Killian turns back toward Emma, waggling his brows and then winking, and she has absolutely no idea how this is the man, of all the men in the world, that she accidentally married.

What a sentence.

“Do you always use your looks to get what you want?”

“Are you saying I have the looks to be able to do that?”

“I do not have to do you this favor.”

“True,” he sighs, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She almost shrugs him off, but then she sees Marlene looking at them again. “You’re doing me a kindness I don’t deserve.”

“Yeah, well, it takes two drunk idiots to get married.”

Killian quietly snorts underneath his breath while there’s a buzzing sound coming from the other end of the station with two doors opening and a group of cops walking out the door. She doesn’t think anything of it, doesn’t pay any attention, until she sees familiar brown hair and the same boots that he wore every single day.

Why the hell could Marlene not have gotten them inside any quicker? She was probably staring at Killian’s ass too much to put in the call quick enough. For a moment, Emma almost turns to Killian and asks him to do something dumb like kiss her so he can’t see her face, but she knows it’s too late. Besides, all two people making out in a police station will do is bring more attention to them.

Shit.

“Emma?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

Killian’s arm tightens around her shoulder, and she can feel him taking everyone in as they walk by.

“Hi, Graham,” Emma sighs, forcing her smile. “How are you?”

He mumbles something to the other cops, guys she recognizes but can’t put a name to at the moment, and they keep walking while he stops right in front of them, taking in she and Killian and Killian’s arm wrapped around her shoulder.

“I’m good.” His smile is genuine, and she really doesn’t need him to be a good guy right now. But he will be. Of course he will be. “How about you? What are you doing here?”

“I, uh, well…it’s a funny story, you know. I – ”

“She’s the wife of one of new prospective officers,” Marlene, like the helpful soul she is, tells Graham. Killian barely manages to stifle his snort.

Graham’s brows nearly hit his hairline. “Is that so?”

“Killian Jones.” Killian sticks his hand out to shake Graham’s, the veins in both of their forearms popping out the slightest bit, and if a sink hole wanted to come and swallow her whole right now, she wouldn’t say no to that. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Detective.”

“Same to you. Where are you in your application?”

“I have the PAT scheduled for a few weeks from now after I finish all of my medical exams.”

“Well, let me know if you need anything. A friend of Emma’s is certainly a friend of mine.” Graham nods at her then, that same genuine smile still there. “I’d love to catch up soon, if you’d like.”

Killian’s arm feels like one thousand pounds on her shoulders. “Yeah, Graham, that’d be nice.”

“Good.”

As Graham walks away, Killian turns to say something to her, his mouth gaping, but he doesn’t get a chance to before Marlene is telling them to go upstairs to talk to Killian’s Captain…or almost Captain. She’s really not sure how all of that works. On the entire walk through the double doors and up the elevator, she can tell that Killian is practically vibrating out of his skin to ask her about whatever just happened, but he seems to have enough human decency not to do that.

Or maybe he’s terrified that she won’t go along and tell his Captain that he didn’t lie and this isn’t really a big deal. Though, he seems to have no issue telling other people in the station that he’s married.

If she ever does meet up with Graham again, which she probably won’t, she has no idea how to explain this to him. Then again, why the hell is she wondering how to explain to her ex-boyfriend that she’s married but she’s not really married and he probably shouldn’t beat himself up over the fact that she committed to someone else but not him even though he’s a really nice guy.

She really screwed him over, and Emma still hates herself for that. It’s just…she wasn’t ready.

This should really not be her focus right now, especially as she puts on that fake smile again and relays information to Captain Roberts about her and about Killian and about how they got into this whole mess. Killian getting drunk enough to not remember getting married is not a good look, but his Captain seems to understand. It’s awkward as hell, and she’d very much like to get this entire day and situation over with, but it drags on for at least an hour, going a little longer when he and Killian start talking about the football game last night. It takes her five minutes to figure out they’re actually talking about soccer. Who decided that America needed a different name for that sport than the rest of the world?

But eventually it’s over, which is a huge sigh of relief, and Emma is so damn ready to get out of this station and move on with her life.

“Thank you for that, Swan,” Killian says as they step out of the station and walk up the stairs, cars speeding by and the cranes of the nearby construction whirring so loudly it’s the only noises she can hear. “Can I buy you a coffee or something in thanks?”

She almost says no. she really does. That whole thing was draining, but a coffee sounds so damn good right now. “I like anything with hazelnut.”

“I can handle that.”

-/-

“So, how do you know Humbert? He’s how you knew where the precinct was, aye?”

“How do you know his last name? He didn’t introduce himself.”

“It was on his uniform.”

“Ah,” Emma sighs as she sips on her coffee. She doesn’t know what exactly it is that Killian bought her, but it’s fantastic…and much better than whatever gross thing he’s drinking. There’s no sugar or milk or creamer in there, and she doesn’t understand how anyone does that.

“I’m quite perceptive, darling.”

“I’m picking up on that.”

“And I’m guessing Detective Humbert is some kind of former lover. I’m not sure what exactly the relationship was.”

“I really don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Killian raises his hands. “I understand. It’s just that I quite fancy you from time to time when you’re not yelling at me asking how the hell we ended up getting married in Vegas. All I wanted to do was get to know you a bit.”

Emma huffs and flicks a sugar packet over at Killian. “You are full of yourself sometimes.”

He shrugs. “It happens.”

“And no offense, but I’m not entirely interested in getting to know your deep, dark secrets. What I am interested in, however, is figuring out how to get this marriage annulled. So why don’t we do that?”

“Discussing my divorce over a cup of coffee in a public café has always been a dream of mine.”

“Annulment, not divorce.”

“Touché, love,” Killian sighs, furrowing his brows as his lips curl into a smirk that has her stomach doing that fluttering thing that she is most definitely ignoring. “Touché.”

He flicks the packet of sugar right back at her.

Killian’s not going to make this easy, is he? At least she’s going to get a free coffee out of it.

-/-

-/-

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[afaithy]

86 for the prompt list with Takari. :)

I Finally MADE IT. The world was conspiring against me as I tried to write this. What a day. Hope this suits your likes though! 

Am I scaring you?

Scary with you is better than scary without you

-Tamora Pierce-

Takeru was no stranger to the concept of love. He had read an endless number of stories where love was the engine of the plot, giving the protagonist a motive and strength to keep going. Of course, love was not always a positive catalyst and  sometimes it gave rise to the desire for revenge, hatred and envy. In other words, it didn’t only move the heroes, but also de anti-heroes. 

For a long time, love was just a word to him; something that simply existed. There was family love, which despite its ups and downs, had always been present in his life; there was friendship that, in one way or another, was still an embodiment of love  and, then, there was romantic love. 

Ah! the elusive and ever feared romantic love; the enemy of reasoning and logic. 

In his few years of life,Takeru had yet to have an encounter with the Achilles heel of human existence. People did crazy things for love and because of love; but being a young man, in the spring of life, he had yet to experience the sting of romantic love and all the luggage that came in toll. Being honest,  he wasn’t actively interested in chasing after it. Growing up in  the shadows of an unsuccessful love was enough to make him have little faith on the prospect of such a sentiment. 

He didn’t need love or at least, that’s what he thought. Everything he had ever said about the unnecessariness of "love" crumbled down the day because of her.

Mahogany hair, pale skin, chocolate eyes and a smile that could melt the hardest heart in the world. Those words could barely describe Yagami Hikari, and for sure, they weren’t enough to make her any justice. He had always claimed them to be friends. Well, that’s what they were until one day, he stopped seeing her as just a friend. 

“ That’s love.”

“What?” Takeru said, dropping his pencil in surprise.

Hikari rested her chin on her hand and shrugged. She had just returned from buying some drinks for him and herself. Her chocolate eyes were glowing and she seemed quite amused. 

“ Love. It’s obvious that Tsukasa- kun is in love with Akari-chan.” 

Takeru released the air he had been unconsciously holding back. Hikari was talking about the characters in the story he was writing. Writing little stories had become his hobby lately, and Hikari, as a good friend, was his number one fan, his editor - in a way - and his creative consultant.

“Is it? I wasn’t writing them to be a couple though…”

“Weren’t you?” Hikari replied, tilting her head a little and passing him a bottle “But...it sounds like Tsukasa likes her…”

“As if...you’re just being a romantic looking for romance.” Takeru chuckled. He picked his bottle and took a sip of its content.

“But…” Hikari continued, picking one of the loose pages “ Tsukasa stared at Akari in silence. When was it that she had become such a power of nature? Her eyes were glowing, full of life and intensity like he had never seen before in other girls. Something about her was breathtaking and it made his chest tighten whenever they crossed paths and she smiled at him with that lovely smile of hers and her beautiful mahogany hair…Oh, you have a mistake here. Wasn’t Akari’s hair platinum blonde?”

Takeru choked with his drink. He had unconsciously written his own personal dilema into his work with out noticing.

“Either way...it is clear that Tsukasa-kun has feelings for Akari-chan, just  by judging what he feels in this paragraph.”

“What? No, I mean...why? They’re good friends, like very, very good friends….so naturally they get along and he sees her with great esteem and respect. It doesn’t mean he likes her, well, he does like but not that way...I mean, thinking she’s pretty doesn’t mean he likes her, right? Or feeling his chest tighten and those awful butterflies in his stomach, or…”

What was he doing? Takeru felt like smacking himself there and now. Hikari, on the other hand, seemed a little confused by his outburst first, but soon after she let out a soft giggle.  The look in her face was a mix of amusement, curiosity and mischief.

“Takeru-kun...haven’t you fallen in love before?” Hikari said, looking at him sympathetically.

“Me? No...of course not, why would I? I have girl friends like Sora-san and Mimi -san...like you. That’s more than enough...why would I...?”

Hikari snorted and stared at him amused.

“Well, you could have fooled me. What you wrote for Tsukasa was really well done.”

“You talk like you know what being in love is like.”

Hikari smiled mysteriously at his comment.

“And what makes you think I don’t, Takeru-kun?” she said, leaning closer to him and blinking naughtily.

Takeru’s eyes widened in shock. That was something he had not expected. Hikari and him were best friends and they  pretty much told everything to each other all the time. How come she had never ever spoken about this?

“You...do?”

Hikari replied with a nod and a childish grin. He instantly felt his throat go dry.

“Who? You never told me.”

“Uhm, sometimes there are things I can’t tell you, Takeru-kun.” she said, smiling again “His name is a secret, especially for you.”

“That’s not fair…” he said with a pout. A knot had formed in his gut and he was feeling inexplicably annoyed “Fine. Don’t tell me…”

“Someone is moody.” Hikari chuckled “What’s so bad about love?”

“Nothing...it’s just annoying.”

“Why? Love is something precious…”

“It isn’t...it makes you act strange and sometimes it just messes up everything.”

“Just because it doesn’t turn out well all the time, doesn’t make it a bad thing.” she said “love is really a wonderful thing, you know? Just how everything seems to lighten up when you see that person come into the room, or how all worries just disappear when you talk to them. You just feel warm and protected...don’t you think that’s wonderful?”

Takeru sighed. Well, he could relate to that. Even the worst of his days seemed to improve when Hikari appeared and gave him that sweet smile she always had. 

What? Why am I even thinking this?

“Forgot that you love romantic stories.” Takeru said.

“It’s not about romance. It’s just something you know. The moment you look at each other eyes and everything just seems to be okay even if some crazy monster is chasing after you.” 

That was an interesting metaphor, Takeru thought.

“Love isn’t a fairytale, Takeru-kun. It’s not a princess falling in love with a prince charming. Sometimes it is just a friend loving another friend.”

Takeru frowned. A friend falling for a friend. How close that was to his current situation, but if Hikari ever found out, their friendship would change forever and he couldn’t nor wanted that to happen.

“Want me to tell how he is?”

“Oh, I thought you said it was a secret.”

“I said his name is a secret…” Hikari replied with a giggle. She took a deep breath and her eyes glittered as she began to describe this “mysterious boy” to him “he’s wonderful. Pretty smart and knows his words. He could probably charm his sassy self out of anything. He’s  also popular, sometimes a little too popular for my comfort, but somehow he always finds a way to remind me that no matter what, I’m always a priority. ”

So he was someone who interacted constantly with her, he thought. Takeru began to list the boys that spoke to Hikari and there weren’t two many except for himself and the other digidestined. Maybe it was someone he hadn’t met yet, but Hikari spent most of her free time with him, so that wasn’t possible.

“...He's cute. Always has been and he knows me well. Sometimes I wonder if he doesn't know me better than I do. Maybe that’s why he’s so overprotective of me...he’s been since we were little.”

Well, naturally, Takeru thought. Who, who had known Hikari at some point in his life, would not feel an inexplicable need to protect her? It was then that Takeru began to realize what she’d just said. The person she liked was her friend; he was good with words; he had a sassy and charming attitude; he knew her like no one else did and was extremely overprotective of her. Based on that description, there were only two possible options among her close acquaintances. The first one being Taichi, whot obviously was out of the options, and the second one was ...

Takeru suddenly paled. She couldn’t be…

“Am I scaring you now, Takeru-kun?”

Takeru said nothing, trying to put his thoughts in order. His mind was blank, he couldn’t come up with  any smartass comments or even speak at all.  In the middle of his confusion and stupor, he  heard Hikari snort. The girl pushed  her chair back and moved gracefully to his side. 

 Before he could try to say something, Hikari leaned in, planted a playfull kiss on his cheek and smiled again. 

“Think about it…” she said winking at him. She, then,  turned around and walked away as if nothing had ever happened.

Takeru looked at her back as she disappeared through the library’s door, still in shock and for the first time in his life he was out of words.

 I love dropping this ugly chibis here lol