#also dunno when i made it a habit to have fic notes at the start of the fic doc but i like this better

[cheswirls]

sits down to write fic and writes 3k of notes for it instead, spends two separate hrs in the middle of it dwelling on pointless things, there were 8k notes prev so i def added almost half that amnt, have not written a single thing even tho i set down at 8p to write a scene and made a conscious decision to do this instead of starting laundry between 8 and 9 (laundromat closes at ten), it is three am currently,,,,,,

[kai-uh-arcadian]

Something you’ll never know

synopsis: you and aeri were inseparable while you were growing up. Is that connection still there?

word count: 15k (jeeez) (it could've been 3 parts but I love you all so much so here you are)

cw: angst, cussing, drinking, f reader, childhood best friends to...(?) idk if there's any i missed please lmk!

notes! So sorry if its a confusing read with the timelines and such. the italic paragraphs are flashbacks/memories! for clarification Aeri and reader are ages 12, 22, and then 30 in this. It's inspired by the movie Past Lives (one of my fav movies, I recommend it!) barely proofread again, I also tried to add extra space in between different scenes, I hope it flows okay!

This is my first angsty fic ever but I had a lot of fun writing it! I really hope you enjoy it and if you'd like to, lmk your thoughts!!

as always dms and asks are always open!

xoxo love youuu (: <3

20 years ago in Southern California,  SM Elementary School

Ever since you can remember, Aeri Uchinaga has been a constant presence in your life. You first met in preschool, where she quickly took a liking to you for reasons you couldn't quite understand. As a ‘slow-to-warm-up’ child, you were perfectly fine with doing quiet activities on your own while your classmates ran around, chatting amongst themselves. But Aeri must have seen you as a challenge or a game, maybe? She was determined to crack the ice and see what lay beneath your quiet exterior. She would always join you at the drawing table and start rambling about a variety of things that crossed her mind or even go as far as sharing her stuffed animals with you when she saw you playing ‘family’ alone with your own.

And before you knew it, she had you hooked. Aeri was more outspoken than you at the time, and she often took the reins in your friendship, but you were (more than) happy to follow her lead. You quickly learned that she had a habit of charging in head first, and it became your unspoken mission to keep her from getting into too much trouble.

You promised yourself that you'd always be there supporting her from behind.

You dribbled the soccer ball skillfully toward the goal, weaving through defenders with ease. Just as you were about to score, a loud yelp from the basketball court made you stop dead in your tracks. Your hesitation cost you as a player from the opposing team slid in, tackling you. Pain shot through your leg as your planted foot twisted in a way that it should NOT twist.

You got up from the ground and ignored the pain as you waved to a classmate on the sideline to take your place on the field. You limped as quickly as you could toward the court from the field, fighting back tears. The adrenaline kept you moving.

Eventually you made it to the basketball court where Aeri was.

“Are you okay?” you asked as you reached a hurt Aeri, who was hissing slightly at the sight of her skinned knee. Almost every ounce of pain washed away when you saw her.

She looked up, surprised, as your shadow blocked the sun. To her, you probably looked like an angel.

“Y/n,” she sniffled, “Where did you come from?”

“I was just playing soccer,” you replied, kneeling in front of her and offering your back. “Here, hop on. Let’s get you to the nurse.”

“Mm~ okay,” Aeri shyly mumbled as she climbed onto your back, resting her chin in the crook of your neck as you hobbled toward the infirmary.

“How did you know I was hurt?” she inquired softly.

“I dunno, my Aeri instincts must've kicked in... But you do have a pretty distinctive scream that I could hear all the way from the soccer field” You chuckled

“Ah~! What!? That’s so embarrassing!” She buried her face into your neck. “Why did you come over? You said you were playing soccer?”

“Well yeah I was, but remember when we were five and had our first sleepover?” you asked, chuckling. “Ya know, the one where you couldn’t stop crying because you missed your parents, especially your mom.”

“Hey! Why bring that up now?” she groaned, playfully hitting your back with her fists. “It wasn’t my choice! My parents were busy with work, okay!”

“Nono~ we made a pinky promise, remember? I told you, ‘I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.’ And I vaguely remember claiming I’d be your prince or somethin' like that.. I’m just keeping my word.” You smiled at the memory.

“That was like seven years ago…I can't believe you even remember that” she sighed contentedly. “Well, thank you, my prince.” she let out a teasing chuckle

“Of course, Lady Aeri,” you replied in a playful, formal tone, adjusting her higher on your back with a little hop.

There was a small break of silence before Aeri took notice of the cadence of your steps.

“...Wait, are you limping?” Her tone suddenly turned serious, like a mother about to scold her child.

“Uh…” You hesitated, “No…?” you chuckled nervously hoping she'd drop the topic (she didn't).

She peeked over your shoulder and saw your left ankle, red and beginning to swell.

“Ah~! What happened!? Let me down, I can walk! You idiot!” she exclaimed, trying to wriggle off your back.

“No way! We’re almost there anyways, and all this wiggling isn’t helping the pain either!” you bickered with the girl on your back before finally reaching the school entrance.

After school, your mom tended to your hurt ankle. It wasn’t anything serious, just a mild sprain. You worked silently on your assignment before she spoke up.

“Y/n, honey~” your mom cooed before sitting down next to you at the kitchen table while you were doing homework. “What do you think about Aeri? Do you like her?”

“Hmm,” You hummed while  placing your pencil down as memories of her flooded your mind.

One specific memory came to the forefront of your mind,

You and Aeri were laying in the lush grass together with your heads touching and holding hands.

“Aeri, look!” You pointed to the sky “I see a shark.. Or maybe a really  big tuna?” a playful giggle escaped your lips 

“Mhm~!” she agreed, “Look over there! Doesn’t that look like Haku from Spirited Away?” Aeri’s eyes widened in excitement as her favorite character appeared in the sky, her finger excitedly pointing 

“Yeah! I think it does!” You stole a glance of her. 

Her eyes were glued to the blue sky adorned with fluffy white clouds that looked like they felt like cotton candy. The sun reflected against her dark brown hair and made it look like a beautiful dark ocean rippling in the wind

It was a cool summer day. A gentle breeze wafted her scent of strawberry shampoo and a light rose scent from her deodorant. The sky stretched over both of you like a blue canvas with puffy cotton balls. The warmth of the sunshine wrapped the two of you into an embrace only you both could feel.

 You stared at her with so much… happiness? While she pointed out various shapes, her face lit up more and more each time she spotted one

“What is this feeling?” You thought “It feels like i’m going down a steep slope of a rollercoaster when I’m around her”

“Hm~ Y/n? Is there something on my face? Did you hear me?” She briefly stopped her tangent when she felt a soft gaze.

“Oh~! No sorry,” You giggled

“I- just” you began barely above a whisper

“Wow, look!” Aeri unknowingly cut you off “Those ones look like two hearts about to mash together” she exclaimed giddily

Your gaze went back to the clouds and you paused  for a few seconds causing Aeri to look at you

“Were you gonna say something?” She mumbled and you met her eyes

“I’m just.. Really happy right now!” you said, unable to verbalize the feelings you were having.

“I like her” you replied to your mom

“Ohh~”She nodded in response before genuinely inquiring “Why?” 

“Well… She said I’m like her prince” she responded to her mother so nonchalantly and innocently

“Her prince?”

“Mhm, I think i’ll marry her one day” You smiled before picking up your pencil again-- completely unphased.

“Mm~ I see, I see. Well Y/n, does she want to marry you, too?” 

“I don't know if she likes me too, but if she does I know she'll say when we’re ready!” She smiled brightly at her mom 

“Ah okay~ When did you grow up my sweet daughter?” Your mom lightly pinched your cheek which caused you to giggle. “Well, I was on the phone with her mom earlier... Do you want to go on a date with her?"

Of course you excitedly nodded your head in agreement

You and Aeri stepped into the park, nature wrapped around you two like a comforting hug. The trees swayed gently in the breeze, their leaves left a playful pattern of light and shadows on the ground below. While birds chirped happily overhead, their songs blending with the soft rustle of leaves, creating a soothing melody that seemed to dance through the air. Both of your mom’s made their way to a nearby spot to watch you both 

“Aeri! Let’s go” You said as you grabbed her free hand 

“Oh~ Ma, can you hold these?” Aeri swiftly passed the small bouquet of flowers you had bought her to her mother before being whisked away by your eager pull

“Oh!”  was all Mrs.Uchinaga could get out before the two of you ran off exploring the park. She couldn’t contain her laughter and began to take a digital camera out of her purse.

“They look good together, so happy huh?” Your mom glanced at Mrs.Uchinaga as she was snapping a picture of the two of you running hand in hand in the luscious green field. 

“Yeah~ Aeri talks about Y/n a lot. She says she wants to marry her one day” Her mom let out an astonished laugh “When did our girls grow up?

“That’s exactly what Y/n said! “ She laughed, “We can’t be too surprised right?

"Ah~ I guess not." Aeri's mom began, "Remember that time we kept Y/n overnight once and Aeri was crying uncontrollably and then suddenly stopped? My god, it was so scary! I thought something had happened to her but when I checked the baby monitor, Y/n snuck out of her own crib and into Aeri’s! And then they fell asleep like that!” She laughed with a tinge of nostalgic sadness 

“Ahh~ They were about two and a half years old huh? Oh~! Remember that time I told you when I put them in charge of her brother while I was making them lunch and when I walked back into the living room and found all of them asleep on the couch with Kosei in between them! It was so cute~!” Your mom smiled brightly “I have the photo somewhere still!” 

Both you parents sighed contentedly, reminiscing on you two. After a bit of comfortable silence, you mom spoke up

“My Y/n cares about Aeri a lot. I can see she does too, it puts my heart at ease to know my daughter has someone who cares so deeply about her.” Your mom’s eyes began to get a bit watery

Mrs. Uchinaga placed her hand reassuringly over hers, a warm smile gracing her lips. "She's a smart girl—you shouldn’t worry too much. I'm forever grateful she's been in my Aeri's life. Look at them," she pointed affectionately at the two of you, nestled under the low-hanging branches of the weeping willow tree.

"Aeri! This is where we can take our shoes off," you exclaimed, gently parting the "curtain" of leaves as if entering a secret world.

Your imagination ran wild, the simple weeping willow tree transformed into a spacious apartment in a bustling city.

"And here is where our dining room is," Aeri chimed in, moving to the large stones and pretending they were seats. "Here, sit. Let me get you a coffee, honey," she playfully immersed herself in the game of house.

Aeri returned with a hollowed out rock with a stick in it, “Here’s your coffee!”

You pretend slurped through the stick straw, “This is soo~ delicious” and you fake slurped more causing both of you to giggle

“Hey, Aeri” you placed the rock coffee cup down and Aeri joined you at the “dining table”

“Where do you wanna live when you grow up?” you met her gaze

“Mmm, definitely a city. I want my fashion business to be very popular!” She flashed a cheerful thumbs up “What about you?”

“Mm..” You looked down, shyly contemplating

“Are you getting shy?!” She gently nudged your shoulder teasing you

“Nono~!” You waved your hands in defense while a smile appeared on your face “Hm.. I guess wherever you go?”

While you and Aeri played house, imagining your future together, your parents sat nearby on the park bench in comfortable silence, smiling as they watched the two of you. A gentle breeze drifted through, rustling the leaves and carrying the scent of blooming flowers through the air, adding to the peaceful moment.

“We’re moving soon,” Aeri’s mom finally said, breaking the quiet. Which explained why she asked to take them on a 'date'

Your mom didn’t respond right away, her gaze still on you and Aeri. After a few more beats, she spoke, doing her best to mask her emotions. “Oh… where?”

“South Korea,” Aeri’s mom replied softly.

Your mom paused, her voice steady but tinged with sadness. “Why leave everything behind?”

“There are better opportunities ahead than the ones we’ll leave behind,” Aeri’s mom answered with a quiet sigh, as if trying to convince herself as much as anyone else.

Later, on the car ride home, you and Aeri had both fallen asleep in the backseat, your hands still clasped together, oblivious to the change that was coming. Your mom glanced back at the two of you and with a bittersweet smile, she snapped a quick photo.

Neither of you knew how much your lives would change in the next few weeks.

You sat at your desk, your gaze unfocused as you stared blankly ahead, lost in a haze of thoughts that swirled around you like fog. Aeri’s voice cut through the noise, her laughter ringing out as she animatedly chatted with her friends nearby. Her vibrant energy filled the room, lighting up the space, yet somehow, it made the gap between you two feel even wider. You were in the same room, but it felt like you were worlds apart—both of you in your own little world.

"You're leaving?" one of her friends exclaimed, disbelief in her voice.

"Yeah!" Aeri replied, her excitement unmistakable.

"Never coming back?" another girl pressed, curiosity laced her voice.

"I don’t think so!" Aeri laughed, her tone light, almost carefree.

"What?! Why not!?" the girl pushed further, as if she couldn’t fathom the idea.

"Well.. I could never become a fashion designer here!" Aeri giggled, like her answer was obvious… like she wasn’t about to leave behind everything you had known together.

After school, you found yourself walking past Aeri as she waved her friends goodbye. Her cheerful farewell echoed behind you as you caught a glimpse of her. Her smile was as bright as ever, but for the first time, it felt distant—like it no longer belonged to you.

"Oh, bye!" she called out to her friends, her voice cheerful before turning her attention to you. 

"Wait up!" she hurried to catch up with your steps.

You slowed down slightly, but something in you hesitated.

"Oh, sorry," you murmured.

She quickly caught up and the two of you began the familiar walk home, the silence between you felt heavier than ever. Aeri seemed comfortable, at ease with the quiet, but for you, the weight in your chest grew with every step. Even though she was right beside you, it felt like she was already slipping away—like an invisible wall was growing between you, expanding with each moment.

It was disorienting, jarring even, to think that after today, she wouldn’t be walking next to you every day like she had since kindergarten. Each footstep echoed what was coming, and despite the comfort of routine, the reality of her departure pressed down on you, suffocating the words you wanted to say but couldn’t find.

The world around continued its hustle and bustle, completely indifferent to the storm brewing in your heart. Cars rushed by, bikes whizzed past, and people hurried along the sidewalk, insensitive to the internal chaos you were grappling with.

Every emotion flooded through you, leaving you drowning in a mix of sadness and anger. Each step felt trudging through quicksand as if your feet had been stuck in concrete. Your body was subconsciously pulling you away from your house to prolong your inevitable separation– like a dog who doesn’t want their walk to be over yet.

As you reached the fork in the road that diverged toward your respective houses, a heavy cloud hung above your head, thick with everything you wanted to say.

"Bye, n/n," Aeri's voice carried a tinge of melancholy as she began to walk away, her figure receding into the distance.

You paused, unable to tear your gaze away from her retreating form.

Every memory you’ve shared with her played in your head like a movie montage.

“C’mon Aeri, don’t be scared! I’m right here with you!” You aggressively whispered while carrying a bag of snacks and a blanket, trying to convince Aeri onto the roof of your house

“What if we get in trouble? What if we get locked out and we’re stuck here forever!” Aeri said to you from inside through the opened window 

“My parents know I do this, it’s a flat surface so you have to be a real dummy to slip off! And don’t worry, it only locks from the inside and if you’re scared you can just hold onto me!” You reached out your hand to Aeri

She couldn't help but smile, your own reassuring grin reflecting back at her. She warmly accepted your hand, her breath hitched when your hands made contact.

“O-oh thanks, let’s place the blanket down!” Aeri was glad it was dark because she was sure her face was the same shade as a tomato!

"Not too shabby, huh?" You chuckled lightly, settling onto the soft surface and patting the spot beside you, inviting her to join you.

It was a warm summer night. A gentle breeze wafted your scent of shampoo and a cologne-y scent from your deodorant. The sky stretched over both of you like a dark blue canvas with twinkling stars. The warmth of the evening wrapped the two of you into an embrace only you both could feel.

You felt her staring at you while you pointed out various constellations, your face lit up more and more each time you spotted one

“Hm, Aeri? Did you hear me?” You briefly stopped your tangent when you felt a soft gaze on you

“Oh~! No sorry,” Aeri giggled “What did you say?”

You scooted closer so your head was touching hers, “See those stars over there? It’s kinda like a weird looking 7?” You extended your arm while pointing, trying your best to point out three out of the millions of stars in the sky

“Hm.. oh! Yes!”

“That’s me! And your birthday is October 30 making you a Scorpio! and hmm” You began to move your pointer finger to search in the sky

“Ah! There! You see that pattern that kind of looks like a snake with claws?”

“Yeah~ I actually do!” Aeri giggled as her imagination took over

“Well, Aeri if you ever feel sad or something and I’m not with you for some reason ” You chuckled sweetly. “I just want you to know that we’re always together in the sky!” You both turned to meet each other’s gaze at the same time 

“Well I don’t think we’ll ever get separated, I want to be with you forever!” She innocently beamed which caused you both to giggle 

“Me too Aeri!”

After a few hesitant moments, you found your voice, though it felt as if your heart might stop with the effort.

“Aeri,” you called out softly, the word heavy with all the feelings you had kept buried for so long.

“Mm?” She turned to face you, her expression softening when her eyes met yours, and the cheerful energy from earlier was nowhere to be found.

“I.. I like you,” you said, your voice trembling slightly, but you held her gaze, resisting the urge to look away. You felt as though you might crumble, but you forced yourself to keep going. “I’m glad we spent our childhood.. together.”

Her smile faltered, shifting into something sadder, something that you couldn't understand. She didn’t respond immediately, as if the words you’d just said had stolen her breath, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. She was at a loss for words and the silence stretched endlessly between you.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying desperately to maintain your composure. “Bye… Aeri,” you added softly, your voice cracking ever so slightly as you turned away towards your house, trying to put on a brave face.

You couldn’t bear to see the sadness in her eyes any longer. Tears threatened to spill, but you fought them back, willing yourself to hold on just a little longer.

“Bye..” she faintly whispered out

The moment you started walking toward your house, your chest tightened. Tears streamed down your face as the weight of the world as you knew it came crashing down.

What you'll never know and what you couldn’t see, was that Aeri began crying too.

About 10 years later, you sat at your desk in your cozy apartment room at UCLA, the late afternoon sun casting soft rays across the scattered textbooks and notes. With a sigh, you pushed some papers aside to rest your elbow on the desk, propping your chin on your hand.

“How the actual fuck do I even solve this?” you muttered to yourself, staring at the confusing statistics problem on your laptop. After a moment of frustration, you searched for a tutorial on YouTube, hoping for a miracle.

As you scrolled through the list of videos, you could hear your roommate Yunjin bustling around in the kitchen.

“Jennie-poo~!” you called out, leaning back in your chair. “Can you come here?”

A few seconds later, you heard your door creak open. "Huh?" came Yunjin's voice, her (dyed) red hair poking around the doorframe as she stepped inside.

“Do you have any idea how to solve this?” you asked, switching your browser back to the page filled with complex formulas. You pointed at the screen. “I seriously have no clue what they’re even fucking asking”

Yunjin leaned down, squinting at the problem for a moment before laughing. “Yeah, I’m gonna be honest with you—zero clue. You’re so fucked,” she said, still giggling.

Yunjin, aka Jennifer, was from upstate New York, and the two of you had been roommates for four years. It felt like fate sometimes—being assigned to live together your freshman year was totally random, but she was practically you in a different form.

“You’re absolutely no help,” you groaned, laughing a little despite yourself as you buried your face in your hands.

“You’re so welcome,” she said, patting your head playfully. “I’m gonna make some jjajangmyeon, do you want any?”

“Not right now. Maybe save some for me later? I gotta finish this shit” you replied, sitting back up and stretching.

“Yeah, of course. Good luck!” Yunjin said with a wink as she left your room.

You sighed deeply as you turned back to your YouTube tab, clicking on a video tutorial. As fucking expected, an ad began to play—one of those painfully long ones you couldn’t skip.

“Do you want to be a model? Do you think you have what it takes?”

The words faded into the background as your mind started to wander, pulled back by an unexpected memory.

Aeri.

It had been so long since you’d allowed yourself to think about her. Years, even. But something about the mention of fashion, pulled you back into the past. The past where she lived, where her dreams had once shone so brightly.

Aeri had always talked about becoming a fashion designer—about where she'd live and make a name for herself. You could still picture her so clearly, sitting beside you, messily sketching her ideas in her notebooks. Dresses, bags, runway looks… She used to tell you all about it, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

“I could never become a designer here,” she’d said once, laughing. She was always so sure of her path. Always ready to go after her dreams, no matter the cost.

She may have been right

Suddenly, the thought of her became overwhelming. You couldn’t help but wonder what had become of that dream. Did she make it? Was she in South Korea, living the life she’d always wanted? Or had things turned out differently?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as your mind drifted back to the memory of her laughter and the way she’d talked about her plans with ABSOLUTE certainty.

Without thinking, you opened a new tab. You hesitated for a moment, a tightness in your chest returning. 

A memory flashed into your mind to when you were having a sleepover with her

“Y/n…” Aeri’s voice came softly from the left side of your bed, sadness creeping into her usual playful tone.

“Mm? What’s wrong?” you asked, glancing over at her.

“I wish you wanted to be a model,” she pouted. “Then you could try on the clothes I design.”

You laughed softly. “I mean, I still could... Why are you thinking about that now?”

“Well, obviously I want to be a designer! SO of course I want you to be the first person to wear the clothes I make,” she beamed, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

The video kept playing and the math tutorial began playing. 

Why the hell am I thinking about that now? It’s been like 10 years?

 Aeri Uchinaga…

You leaned back in your chair and positioned your head towards the ceiling

What are you up to…

With a sigh, you slingshotted forward and opened Facebook and began to search.

After an hour of searching, you finally found a lead—her father’s company page. It was a bit tedious to find her or her family, considering they lived in a completely different country.

“Hi, I’m looking for my childhood best friend, Aeri Uchinaga . Please let me know how I can contact her.”

And with that, you posted the message and, for the first time in hours, tried to return to your homework.

A few weeks later, on the complete opposite side of the world at 5:30 PM in Seoul...

Aeri sat in her dorm, the warm afternoon sunlight streaming through the window as she lounged on her bed, phone pressed to her ear, laptop resting in her lap.

“Ne~ umma, remember Xinyi? She plays basketball in college now!” Aeri said with a smile, scrolling through Facebook while chatting with her mother.

“Wow~! I’m not surprised,” Mrs. Uchinaga replied with a chuckle on the other end. “She was always knocking on our door, asking you to play.”

Aeri laughed lightly. “Yeah, even though I was pretty bad. She tried so hard to teach me, but I was just ass”

“It’s okay, darling. Sports weren’t really your thing,” her mother comforted warmly.

Aeri absentmindedly scrolled through her feed, clicking on old profiles and updates from people she hadn’t thought about in years.

“Who else should we look up?” She asked her mom.

Aeri paused, a small smile creeping onto her lips. “Who’s the one I had a huge crush on?”

“Y/n L/n” they both said at the same time, sharing a laugh.

Aeri’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, and she began typing your name, curiosity piqued as she searched for her old crush. As she clicked through posts, she suddenly froze.

“Umma! This is crazy!” Aeri exclaimed, her voice full of shock. “She posted on dad’s Facebook page a few weeks ago looking for me!”

“Oh wow really? Well~ I’m not too surprised, Aeri. She really liked you!” her mom replied, her voice filled with warmth.

“I’m looking for my childhood best friend, Aeri Uchinaga ...” Aeri read aloud to her mom as her eyes scanned the message.

Aeri’s heart raced as she scrolled through your profile. Even though your hair was longer and your features were more defined, the essence of you—the same joyful glint in your eyes—hadn’t changed at all. It was as if time hadn’t erased any part of the person she remembered so vividly.

“Umma, I’ll call you back,” Aeri said quickly, cutting her mom off as she reassured her with a chuckle, “Yes! I promise I’m eating well!”

She ended the call with a smile, but her pulse quickened as she stared at the screen. Her eyes scanned the message again and again, as if reading your name over and over would somehow make this more real.

“Ahh~” Aeri inhaled deeply, her fingers trembling slightly as she sent you a friend request and began typing a message to you.

“Y/n! It’s Aeri, you remember me?”

It was 1:30 AM in your on-campus apartment in LA when your phone buzzed, receiving the new message.

“Fuck her! She doesn’t deserve you! You’re like… sooo out of her league,” Yuna mumbled to your other friend, Ryujin, as she poured another shot for her.

“Right?” Ryujin sighed before pausing to take the shot. “I just don’t know why I miss her… so much,” she grimaced as the alcohol hit the back of her throat.

“Ryu, you should have some water,” you slurred, hiccuping as you passed her your water bottle.

“Y/nn~ how about you drink some water,” your roommate Yunjin chimed in, giggling as she slumped over on the couch.

The four of you sat in the living room, post-gaming the bar, waiting for your DoorDash to arrive. Ryujin rested her head in your lap, and without thinking, you rubbed her back to comfort her.

You took a long gulp of water with a satisfied “Ah~” before reaching for your beer.

“Wellll~ Beer is basically water. You should have some too Jennie-poo! It isn’t a post-game if we don’t drink till we die,” you exclaimed, taking a sip from the can.

“UGH~” Ryujin groaned, deadpanning, “I want to die~”

“Girl, she literally cheated on you and then wanted to be exclusive while she was fucking someone else—like, what?” Yuna added, deadpan.

That comment made all of you burst out laughing(she was right), even as Ryujin lightly punched Yuna in the arm.

“Hey~! Be niceeee~ Show some compassion!” Yunjin scolded, trying and failing to stifle her laughter.

You were still chuckling when your phone buzzed again in your pocket. Grabbing it, you blinked a couple of times, trying to focus your eyes on the notification.

Giselle?

Your vision was still a little too blurry to make sense of it.

"Hey!" Yunjin faked being cold

“You have a secret girlfriend or somethin'?” Yunjin teased, sounding just like a jealous girlfriend.

“Huh?” you responded, still distracted.

“Who’s messaging you at 1:30 in the morning? You have a sneaky link you’re not telling us about?” Yunjin continued, laughing.

Meanwhile, Ryujin was still moping in your lap. “Hey! Sensitive subject!” she groaned dramatically.

“Fuck if I know, I honestly have zero clue,” you mumbled, your words slurring as you stared at your phone before turning it off.

The next morning, you woke up in your bed with a slight headache. You groaned, rolling over to reach for your water bottle and chugged it like it was the last water on Earth.

The cold water worked its magic, refreshing you enough to (barely) function. You grabbed your phone from the charger and started scrolling through your notifications, still half-asleep. But then, one notification made you freeze—last night’s Facebook message.

You clicked on it, your grogginess instantly fading as your eyes widened in surprise. It was from none other than the girl who made you experience your first instance of love—Aeri Uchinaga.

“Giselle Uchinaga?” you muttered to yourself, reading her profile in disbelief.

That’s why you couldn’t find her!  It made complete sense now. Her features were more mature, but that familiar smile—the one that had always warmed your heart—was still there, lighting up her face in every picture. You couldn’t stop smiling as you scrolled through her photos.

Just then, Yunjin’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to reality.

“Y/n! Are you awake? I made avocado toast and eggs!” she announced from the other side of your door.

“Ahh~ okay, yeah, lemme pee and I’ll be out!” you called back, your voice still raspy from sleep.

You quickly splashed some water on your face and pulled on a pair of sweats and a hoodie before stepping out of your room.

“Good morning!” you chirped, only to be met with a synchronized groan from Yuna and Ryujin.

“How the fuck do you have this much energy? What puts you in such a good mood?” Yuna asked, holding an ice pack on her forehead.

“Hm?” you replied, walking over to your coffee cup on the table that Yunjin had filled for you. “Thank Jennie-poo! And nothing, I just don’t have a massive hangover like you two idiots—should’ve drank beer instead of taking shots”

As you sipped your coffee, your mind of course, drifted back to last night. That damn text from Aeri.

The two of you exchanged a few quick messages, exchanging numbers, and catching up briefly before settling on a time that worked best for both of you to video call. It felt surreal, reading Aeri’s replies after all these years—like time had somehow folded in on itself, bringing the past back into the present.

You found yourself staring at your phone, the FaceTime app open and ready, but your heart pounding in your chest. What if things had changed too much? What if she wasn’t the Aeri you remembered? What if you weren’t the person she expected? Your thoughts spiraled as you adjusted your hair for what felt like the tenth time.

It’s just a call, you reminded yourself. It’s just Aeri. You’ve known her before.

But even though you’d told yourself that a hundred times, the butterflies in your stomach wouldn’t settle. The phone buzzed in your hand as the screen lit up. Incoming FaceTime: Aeri Uchinaga.

You took a deep breath, your thumb hovering over the screen for a moment longer than it should have. Then, finally, you swiped to answer.

Aeri’s face appeared, pixelated for just a second before the connection stabilized. There she was. Her familiar eyes, her smile—the same, but different? You stared at each other for a beat, neither of you quite sure how to start.

Aeri broke the silence with a nervous laugh. “Wow.. it’s been so long. I almost forgot what you looked like!”

You smiled, feeling the same rush of emotions you hadn’t felt in years. “I know right? I wasn’t sure what to expect either. You look… different. In a good way, of course.” nervousness still present in your voice

“Same to you,” Aeri said, her voice softening as she studied your face. “It’s like, you’ve changed, but... not really, you know?”

You laughed, the tension beginning to ease. “Except now you’re Giselle, huh?”

Aeri grinned, rolling her eyes playfully. “Yeah, that’s a long story. But trust me, it’s still me. Aeri Uchinaga at heart.”

You both chuckled, the ice slowly breaking as the conversation started to feel more familiar. It was strange, seeing her face again like this after so many years—older, more mature, but still with that same smile.

“Soo.. You’re really out there becoming a designer, huh?” you teased, shaking your head with an incredulous smile. “It’s kind of wild thinking about you... you know, living in Korea and actually doing all the things you told me you would like years ago”

Aeri laughed, her tone warm but modest. “Don’t let social media fool you. I’m not as glamorous as it seems. I’m still the same girl who couldn’t shoot a basketball to save her life.”

You grinned, shaking your head. “Oh god yeah! I remember! You were sooo bad. I thought for sure you were going to quit after that first fall.”

“Whatever! I literally was just trying to impress you,” she joked, her laugh lighting up the screen.

With each passing minute, the conversation felt easier. The laughter flowed naturally, memories of your childhood together resurfacing as if no time had passed at all.

“So... how have you been, really?” Aeri asked after a while, her tone more serious now. “I feel like I missed so much. of your life"

You nodded, the weight of the years between you sinking in. “Yeah, it feels strange, I feel the same too. I’ve been good, I guess. But seeing you like this… I dunno.. It feels like yesterday, you were just that little girl on the other side of the road from me.”

Aeri smiled, her expression softening. “Right? I don’t know, life is so weird sometimes.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, a small smile tugging at your lips. “And now, you’re the girl on my screen.”

As the night went on, you both talked about everything—your lives, your dreams, the things you had wanted to say but never got the chance to. It was like reconnecting with a part of yourself you thought you’d lost. By the end of the call, there was an unspoken understanding between you both. This wasn’t just a one-off conversation.

“So, let’s not wait another decade to do this again?” you said with a grin.

Aeri laughed. “Deal. Next time, I’ll tell you the full story behind ‘Giselle.’”

“I’m holding you to that, Aeri” you replied, your heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

And that’s how it was. For a few months, you both shared everything—your days, your worries, even the smallest details. You started waiting for her calls, looking forward to the time you’d spend talking. She was always there, her laughter filling your nights(and early mornings!), making you feel closer to her despite the distance.

It was almost as if you were in a relationship. The way she looked at you through the screen, the way your conversations lingered on hopes and what-ifs. You could almost imagine what it would be like to be with her again, for real.

You routinely called Aeri during your day. 

Hey,” you greeted with a smile as the screen connected.

“Hey,” Aeri chuckled softly on the other end.

“Is it 7:00 in the morning there? I thought you said you never wake up before 10:00,” you teased, noting how early it was for her.

“I don’t,” Aeri replied, a smile tugging at her lips. “But this was the only time that worked for you, right?”

“Well yeah but don’t you have class today?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeahh~” she admitted, “but it’s later~” sleepiness still evident in her voice

You couldn’t help but tease her. “Ya know Aeri, your english is pretty rusty”

“Hey!” Aeri chuckled in return and her eyes opened slightly. “I only speak English with you and my mom!”

You both laughed yet some silence strung between the two of you

“So, you said you were leaving California to be the world’s greatest designer... You still want that?”

Aeri paused for a moment while shifting in her bed, then smiled. “Hmm... I think maybe I’ll have a business like.. My own line of clothes”

“Ahh wow~” You sighed, “ You’re the same Aeri I remember. Wanting to do everything, have everything and also still so sassy.” you teased again

She laughed, feigning shock. “Sassy? Wow, can’t believe you think of me like that”

Aeri’s grin widened before continuing,  “Actually... I got invited to Japan this summer to design for this brand for a whole month. My professor helped me get into the program!”

“Wait, so you’ll be in Japan for a month?” you asked, surprised. “That’s amazing.”

“Yeah,” Aeri nodded, her excitement palpable. “It’s crazy. I can’t believe it’s happening.”

“So, how are your applications going?” she asked, her voice softening.

“Hmm, wellll~ they’re going,” you replied with a small smile. “I’m looking at Boston for grad school.”

Aeri sighed, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “Ah wow, look at us.. when did we grow up? It feels like we’re almost... truly adults.”

“Hmm, I know,” you agreed, a thoughtful pause hanging between you. “Too soon though.”

You hung up shortly after and went about your day. You studied with Yunjin, and later, the girls came over for dinner, followed by a late-night study session. By the time you showered and finally settled into bed, it was already 1 AM when your phone buzzed—Aeri was calling.

“Hello?” You mumbled out as you turned your lamp on

“Oh sorry, were you sleeping?” she asked, her face slightly blurry on the screen.

“Mm,” you sighed softly, rubbing your eyes. “No, I just got into bed, actually.”

“Long day?”

“Mhm, but that’s alright. What’s up?” you asked, shifting into a more comfortable position and reaching for your glasses.

“I’m just.. in Haebonchang right now,” she said, flipping the camera to show the view. “Look how beautiful the sunset is, Y/n.”

The sunset was breathtaking, shades of pink, orange, and purple blending into each other like a painting across the sky.

“Wow... it’s beautiful, Aeri,” you said in awe.

Aeri’s voice softened before she flipped the camera back to herself. “Yeah... I wish you were here,” she said quietly, her eyes flickering between the camera and the fading light.

There was a pause, her words lingering in the space between you.

“Maybe one day.. We could go there together,” you whispered, your voice tinged with sadness.

“Yeah.. I’d really like that,” Aeri responded, her tone gentle but carrying the weight of something more.

There was a brief second of silence. As if both of you were hesitating to speak up.

“I miss you,” you whispered, barely audible, your voice filled with longing. Time zones didn’t matter, distance didn’t matter. You really just longed for Aeri. 

Those three words heavily hung in the air between you two.

“I miss you too,” Aeri quietly admitted, her voice soft but sincere, resistance evident in her confession. 

The day after that interaction, things started to feel different. The FaceTime calls slowly became more sparse, and her texts were less frequent. You tried not to overthink it, giving her the space you thought she might need. But as the days passed, the silence began to weigh on you. Eventually, you double texted  her, unable to ignore any longer.

“Aeri, is everything okay?”

For the first time in days, her response came instantly.

“Yeah sorry, I’m okay. I just have something on my mind. Can we call later?”

Her words did nothing to ease your nerves.

“Of course,” you typed back, keeping it simple, though your heart raced.

 The uncertainty gnawed at you, the anxiety tightening in your chest as you stared at the screen.

Finally, what felt like days but in reality was just a few hours, Aeri called you.

You hesitantly answered “Hey Aeri, you okay?”

There was a pause, and that’s when you knew it didn’t seem promising.

“Y/n,” she began softly, her face on the screen appearing hesitant, almost conflicted.

“..Aeri?” you prompted gently, your voice unsure now.

She sighed deeply, her gaze dropping for a second before meeting yours again. “Y/n… I need to talk to you about something.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “Yeah I know, what’s going on? You okay?”

“When is it possible for you to visit me in Seoul?” she asked bluntly, though her tone remained soft.

You hesitated. “Well, maybe about a year or so? Just with grad schoo–”

She cut you off gently,  “I know.. You don’t have to explain yourself, I just– God,” She paused as if holding herself back from admitting something. “It’ll be over a year and a half until I can visit you”

Your eyes stayed glued to the screen, watching her struggle to compose herself. The pit in your stomach deepened

Aeri swallowed hard, clearly struggling with her next words. “I think we should stop talking for a while”

Your chest tightened.

 “Why?”

“I came here..” She began, “ No– I’ve had this goal since forever. I want to accomplish something here but.. I can’t stop myself from looking up flights to California every day. 

And I think… I think I need to focus on committing my life here”

You blinked, the realization slowly sinking in. She was leaving again.

“So you want.. to stop talking to me?” Your words trailed off, unsure of how to finish that thought or if there’s anything more you could possibly say.

“Just for now,” she said quietly, her eyes softening with what seemed like guilt. “And I really don’t want to lose you. But I know.. I have to give this my all.”

You bit your lip, trying to keep the lump in your throat from forming. “Aeri.. It took me 10 years to find you.” 

She looked down again, exhaling slowly trying to fight a sob from coming out. “I know Y/n, but I’ll be back before you know it.. It’s just a brief break”

Fuck

You nodded slowly, though your heart ached. “Alright then Aeri ”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice was barely above a whisper now. “I’m so sorry” She began to cry.

“No need to be sorry,” You said as you choked back your own tears, clearing your throat to cover it.  “We weren’t dating or anything so don’t worry about it. Really.”

There was a long pause, the silence between you filled with all the things neither of you were ready to say.

“Take care of yourself and good luck, okay?” Aeri said, her voice soft but final.

“You too,” you replied, your throat tight, the words barely escaping. “I’ll be right here.”

The call ended, and for the first time in months, the silence felt unbearable.

Aeri never knew that this was the hardest you cried in years.

Whoever said times heals everything, is a straight up liar. Time doesn’t heal, it just lets you get used to how things are now.

It had been about eight years since you had last spoken to her and honestly, you didn’t think much of Aeri anymore. Life had moved on, as it does. Although, there were days when you’d think back on everything but those thoughts were extremely rare now, fleeting, like a distant memory and it didn’t sting the way it used to. You’d convinced yourself that was just how things went. People come and go, and life moves forward whether you’re ready or not.

Once you graduated and started your new job in Boston not long after. You settled into a routine that felt strange at first but eventually became your new normal

Somehow, you managed to entice Yunjin to move to Boston. She had moved into a place not too far from yours with her (now!) fiance. Her sister also lives in Boston too so the transition wasn’t too hard. Yuna and Ryujin had ended up in New York, so weekends/every other weekend often meant catching a train to visit them or planning get-togethers whenever everyone’s schedules aligned.

Your 9-to-5 job wasn’t glamorous, but it was steady—something you could rely on. You fell into the rhythm of it quickly enough. The crowded subway rides during rush hour, the packed streets of Boston, the distant hum of the city became part of your daily routine. You’d slip into your office, get your work done, and slip out at the end of the day. It wasn’t what you imagined back when you were chasing dreams in California, picturing something a little more exciting, maybe a little more daring. But it wasn’t bad either—it was.. just comfortable.

After work, you'd sometimes grab a drink with coworkers or meet up with the woman you’d met shortly after getting into grad school. There was nothing too serious between the two of you, just the occasional dinners or casual hangouts. She was fun to be around—easygoing, good company, someone you could relax with. You’d meet up after work at a bar downtown, sharing a drink and small talk about your days. Or sometimes, you’d catch a movie or grab takeout, sitting side by side on the couch in her small apartment, talking about work or random things that made you laugh.

It wasn’t the life-altering-head-over-heels kind of thing, but it felt normal, almost comforting. There was no pressure to be anything more than it was or used to be, and that was fine with you both. Life had settled into place without much fanfare, a quiet routine that you didn’t mind..

It wasn’t until one quiet evening, after a long day at work, that something finally disrupted your routine. You were sitting on the couch, nursing a beer, and scrolling through your phone without much thought, letting the noise of the day slowly fade away.

That was until a notification lit up your screen. You glanced at it out of habit, not expecting anything important. But the name made you pause.

Aeri Yizhuo.

Who?

Aeri…?

Your heart skipped a beat as recognition clicked into place.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

For a second, your heart skipped a beat. You stared at the message, the familiar feeling creeping back into your chest, one you hadn’t felt in ages. You hadn’t thought of her in so long, and yet, there she was. After all this time.

And then, the truth hit you like a punch to the gut.

Aeri was married now.

You felt the sting of it, sharp and unexpected, cutting deeper than you would’ve liked to admit. It shouldn’t have hurt this much. You hadn’t thought about her in so long as you knew she’d been building a life in Korea. You had moved on! Or at least, that’s what you told yourself.

But here she was, after all these years she still had the ability to make you feel something. A feeling couldn’t quite put your finger on.

After all this time, part of you had still hoped for something. For something more than this.

About a month or two after your surprise catch-up with Aeri, you finally decided it was time to visit her. The timing was perfect—it was the end of the fiscal year, and you had some extra days off to use. You figured, why not? It would be a good vacation right? The thought of seeing her after all this time felt surreal, but exciting in a way you couldn’t quite describe. You’d booked your flight, set to leave next weekend so you and your friends decided to meet this weekend.

"So," Yunjin piped up, setting down her shot glass with a grin, "Why are you going to Korea?" You, Yunjin, Yuna, and Ryujin were all seated in Yunjin and Kazuha's shared apartment, a half-empty bottle of vodka in the middle of the table while your beer cans scattered around your side.

"She's going to see that girl, rememberrr?" Ryujin teased, her tone playful.

"Who?" you replied, pretending not to know who she was talking about.

Ryujin rolled her eyes, clearly not buying it. "Don't play dumb, idiot. You know exactly who I'm talking about—your first love, right? I thought she lives there, doesn't she?"

"Oh, I see how it is," Yuna chimed in with a smirk. "You just broke up with your girlfriend so you could go see her, huh? You dog"

"What! I’m going for vacation," you exclaimed, shaking your head. "And plus, you guys are crazy. She's married now."

"WHAT? Seriously?" Yunjin blurted out, her voice incredulous.

"Mhm," you nodded, your tone more casual now though it stung to admit it. "For like five or six years now"

You couldn’t even  bring yourself to feel bad about it. After all, from your previous conversation with Aeri, it was clear how happy she was. She’d met her wife, Ning Yizhou, during her design trip in Japan. Aeri had described Ning as an absolutely beautiful soul, someone kind and supportive. They both work together now, running Aeri’s business, Giselle.

From the way Aeri spoke about Ning, you could hear the genuine love and admiration in her voice. There was no bitterness in your heart—how could there be? You were happy for her, happy that she had found someone who brought light into her life, someone who shared in her dreams.

In fact, you were proud of her. She really did accomplish everything she had set out to do. It was bittersweet, of course, but you were genuinely happy for her. 

That’s all that mattered.

Right?

You stood just outside of Incheon International Airport, the thick scent of rain mingling with the smoke from your cigarette as you waited for your Uber. The weather had suddenly turned gray the second you had landed, casting a quiet gloom over the city, the kind that sinks into your bones(What a great sign, huh?). Raindrops softly patterned on the sidewalk while you took another slow drag, the smoke curling up into the damp air.

The second you crushed the cigarette beneath your shoe and bent over to pick it up, a car pulled up in front of you, headlights cutting through the misty rain. You quickly threw it in the appropriate spot in the trash can and opened the back door, climbing in with a sigh.

“Annyeonghaseyo~,” you greeted the driver in your best (broken) Korean, trying to remember the phrases you had studied years ago for Aeri.

The driver smiled politely in the rearview mirror, his eyes crinkling with amusement. “Ah, I also speak English. Are you going to the hotel?”

You felt your cheeks flush slightly, nodding as you let out a small, relieved laugh, “Yes, please!” lowering your head in a polite bow.

The car slipped into the rainy Seoul night, the city lights blurring through the raindrops on the windows. The sound of rain hitting the roof of the car was soothing. Your eyes traced the streets as you drove deeper into the heart of the city. The roads were wet and glistening, the neon signs reflecting off the slick pavement, painting the night in hues of red, blue, and green.

The drive felt longer than it was, the beautiful city of Seoul was a lot to take in. Finally, you pulled up to the front of your hotel, the bright lights of the entrance cutting through the rain. The driver helped you with your bags, and you handed him some Won with a shy bow and a “gamsahamnida,” before heading inside.

Checking in was a blur of polite smiles and hurried conversations with the hotel staff. Before you knew it, you were standing in your empty room, the door clicking shut behind you with a finality that made the space feel even bigger.

The rain had picked up, drumming harder against the window. You crossed the room slowly, setting your bag down by the bed before making your way to the large floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the city. The lights of Seoul stretched out before you, and they were incredibly bright. 

A reflection of your younger self flickered in the glass, dim and blurred by the raindrops. It was as if your inner child was staring right back at you—smiling brightly in those stupid colorful shorts your Mom loved to dress you in with a big toothy grin stretching across your face. 

As quickly as she appeared, she vanished. Then reflected back was an almost unrecognizable adult. It was you. The light in your eyes was still prevalent, but it just wasn’t as bright as it used to be. Years must have dimmed that spark and softened the edges of the person you once were.

You leaned your forehead against the cool glass, watching as your breath fogged up the window. The city below pulsed with life, its bright lights and movement carrying on unaware of your inner turmoil.

In that moment, surrounded by the bright lights of a city that was so beautiful and full of life.

You had never felt more alone.

Some bridges in Korean folklore represent reunion and enduring love, like the Magpie Bridge, where separated lovers meet once a year to reaffirm their bond. Others, however, represent a fleeting reconnection—brief moments that can’t last, like this one.

The next morning, you got ready and made your way to Seonyudo Park Bridge, a location Aeri had sent you earlier. The sky wasn’t rainy (luckily) and the soft hum of the city seemed distant as you stood at the edge of the bridge, anxiously watching pedestrians and tourists bustle around. Snippets of Korean and bits of broken English floated past you as you nervously fidgeted with the strap of your tote bag.

You shifted your weight, glancing around, when a voice called out, one you hadn’t heard in person in years.

“Y/n!”

Your head instinctively turned.

Suddenly, in front of you stood a child. She wore jean shorts, a Hello Kitty shirt, and had medium length black hair. Her smile was bright, lighting up her entire face, and her eyes sparkled with a familiar excitement.

It was a smile you could recognize anywhere.

For a moment, you were transported back in time. There she was—Aeri, as you remembered her as a child, standing on the other side of the bridge. You froze, staring in disbelief as the vision of her younger self ran toward you, wide-eyed and full of life. It felt so real—the way she moved, the way her smile hadn't changed.

But then you blinked, and the vision vanished and adult, present time Aeri was just walking toward you. She looked different—grown up. Her hair had grown longer, her figure more filled in, and her features had sharpened with time. But that damn smile, the way her eyes crinkled in the corners when she smiled, was exactly the same as you remembered it from 20 years ago.

Without thinking, your body moved on its own, a shy yet goofy smile creeping across your face as you walked toward her. Your strides were longer, more eager, and you met her about three-quarters of the way across the bridge. You met her where she was.

Now standing just a foot apart, neither of you spoke at first. You both stood there, taking each other in, as if afraid to break the fragile moment. Aeri was still shorter than you by a couple of inches, and she was dressed in a sleek black leather jacket with gray slacks that made her look effortlessly beautiful.

You looked down at her, your heart racing, and for a few seconds, the world around you seemed to fade away. The silence between you wasn’t awkward—it was heavy, but not uncomfortable. It was the weight of everything left unsaid, everything that had built up over the years.

Finally, Aeri sighed softly, her eyes locked on yours, and a smile tugged at her lips. “Wow~,” she whispered, looking up at you with a mix of awe and warmth.

She surprisingly embraced you in an unexpected  hug. Your hands hovered, ghosting across her sides.

“I missed you” She muffled out on your shoulder

You didn’t respond.

You both pulled back from the hug, standing there, just staring at each other. There was something almost surreal about it—the way you both remembered each other so clearly, yet in this moment, you felt like strangers, familiar but somehow unrecognizable.

“You look amazing,” you croaked out, your voice betraying the flood of emotions. “You’ve changed but... you haven’t? If that makes sense.” A nervous laugh escaped your lips.

Aeri lowered her head, letting out a soft, breathy chuckle. “I could say the same to you... When did you get so tall?”

You shyly smirked “I think you’ve just always been short.”

“Ah~ so you haven’t changed at all. Still so~ annoying,” she teased, her laugh infectious.

The laughter faded, and a comfortable silence settled between you both as you took each other in again, the weight of time pressing gently on the moment.

“So...” Aeri smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “You wanna go? I’ve got a few places planned for us.”

“Yeah, of course. Let’s go,” you replied, and without another word, you followed Aeri much like a dog

The Han River has long been a symbol of flow, change, and life in Korea. Flowing water symbolizes the constant change in ones life.. they’re moving in different directions, but still connected in some way.

The walk wasn’t far, but neither of you spoke at first. Aeri led the way and you followed, both of you too shy to break the silence. Finally, she guided you to a quiet spot near the bank of the Han River, the water glistening under the dim light of the overcast sky.

“How’s here?” Aeri finally spoke, settling down near the water’s edge.

“Mmm,” you murmured, nodding as you sat beside her. The lush grass below you.

You both sat quietly, watching the water, the silence growing heavier with unsaid words.

“Was the last time we talked really eight years ago?” Aeri sighed, breaking the silence again.

“I think so? We’re 30 now... So, yeah, I guess it was,” you said, turning your head slightly toward her. “Feels weird huh?” You gave her a little half smile.

“Wow...” she whispered, her voice carrying the weight of those lost years.

After a brief pause, she added, “You know.. before I got married, I went to New York with my wife.”

“I know.”

“I sent you a message on Facebook, I didn’t know if you had changed your number” she continued, smiling softly but with a hint of sadness in her eyes. “But you didn’t respond”

There was another pause. It felt like she had more to say, so you stayed quiet, waiting.

“I wanted to see you,” she admitted quietly. “I was disappointed.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, your gaze fixed on the water, avoiding her eyes. There wasn’t much else you could say, something was hanging in the air between you.

Aeri shifted, her tone changing slightly. “Well, I also wanted to meet your girlfriend. How are you guys doing?”

“We’re not together right now,” you admitted.

“Oh, I’m sorry... I didn’t mean to— wait, did you break up?” she asked, concern lacing her voice.

“Oh well no, I don't know, we’re just... in a weird spot right now. She wants to get married but...”

“But you don’t?” Aeri asked, cutting through your hesitation.

“Yeah it's just, I don’t know, it’s just... complicated,” you sighed, trying not to reveal too much, keeping your emotions in check.

“What’s complicated?” she pressed, her voice direct, almost matter-of-fact.

You chuckled lightly at her tone. “I’m still paying off my student loans. I just don’t want my wife to carry that burden, you know? Boston is expensive enough as it is...” It wasn’t entirely a lie. But deep down, you knew there was more to your hesitation than just the financial part.

“I just feel like she deserves someone better than me. We’ve been together but.. not really together for so long... She deserves someone who can give her what she wants. Someone... less ordinary and..”

“Ordinary?” Aeri interrupted softly, her voice filled with disbelief. “You’re far from ordinary, Y/n. You know you’re...” she trailed off, as if catching herself before saying too much.

You gave her a small smile, ignoring her hesitation. It was clear neither of you wanted to dig into old feelings, not yet, maybe even never. There was too much that both of you were avoiding.

“So, how’s work?” you asked, gently steering the conversation away from the tension that had built up. The question felt like a safe place to land, something casual and mundane.

Aeri smiled, seeming to relax a little. “Busy, as always. Giselle’s doing well, though. It’s everything I dreamed of... and more stressful than I imagined.”

“That sounds about right,” you chuckled, the heaviness between you starting to ease. “But, I knew you could do it. I’m really proud of you, Aeri.”

Slowly, the awkwardness began to dissipate. You found yourselves laughing about silly memories from when you were younger, filling in the gaps from the eight years you had missed.

Aeri told you about the ups and downs of her business, her wife, her travels, and the unexpected ways life had changed her. You shared stories of grad school, your friends, your job, and the quiet moments of your own life that had shaped you. It was easy to get lost in the rhythm of it, the back and forth, as though no time had passed at all.

Before you knew it, the sun had started to dip, casting soft shades of pink and orange across the sky. .

“Remember that one time when you fe–”

Your stomach grumbled loudly, cutting through Aeri’s story

“Oh my god, are you hungry?” Aeri’s eyes widened with concern. 

Oh, no I’m fine, really!” You tried to assuage but of course she did not relent

“No it’s okay, I could eat too. Let’s go get some food, there’s a great to-go spot nearby, and then I’ve got one more place I want to show you.”

She was already on her feet, tugging at your sleeve before you could even think to protest. Not that you would, of course.

You chuckled softly, offering a simple, “Alright,” as a smile crept onto your face. It just felt so natural. Aeri was still the same, always charging ahead, her excitement infectious, leading you from behind as she had so many times before. 

Some things really never change.

Soon, you both arrived at a cozy 24-hour convenience store, the kind that makes it fresh right there. It was small and tucked away, but the smell of freshly made meals greeted you the moment you stepped inside. You ordered an onigiri, feeling like that’s all your stomach could handle after such a day like this. 

You unwrapped it and took a bite, savoring the simple comfort of the food, but before you could settle in, Aeri was pulling you along again, her food in hand, excitement bubbling in her voice.

“Let’s go, the bus comes in three minutes!” she said, glancing at her phone with a grin.

You both made it onto the bus(after scarfing down your rice ball) barely just in time. With no seats available, you were left standing together, holding the same pole.

Strangers pressed in around you, the sounds of conversation and the hum of the city filling the space. But in that moment, it felt like it was only the two of you in the world.

Your fingers brushed against each other, but neither of you moved. The silence stretched between you, not awkward, just heavy with all the years missed. 

You met Aeri’s gaze, and for a brief second, it felt like time slowed. 

The bus glided (not) smoothly through the city streets, and yet the tension between you was almost tangible. Your mind raced with everything you wanted to say, but none of the words seemed right.

"Ae—" you started to say, but before the words could form, Aeri cut you off softly.

“Oh, we’re here,” she said, her voice gently pulling you both back into the present moment.

The bus came to a stop, and you followed her out, stepping into the cool evening air. The two of you walked side by side, the quiet comfort between you settling in again as you made your way toward Namsan Tower, known for its Love Lock Bridge.

“Do you want a picture?” Aeri asked, breaking the silence. “It is your vacation, right? I feel like you haven’t taken many pictures while you’ve been here. Probably my fault,” she laughed lightly, her tone warm.

“Oh yeah, sure!” you said, handing her your phone.

You posed in front of a scenic spot along the path, flashing your signature bright smile.

“Ah~ so cute,” she teased, snapping a few photos before handing your phone back to you.

“Thanks,” you said, quickly glancing at the picture before slipping the phone into your pocket.

The two of you continued walking, your shoulders brushing against each other now and then as the foot traffic toward the bridge picked up. Just before you reached the bridge, Aeri stopped in her tracks, turning to you with a serious look.

“Y/n,” she said, her voice soft but steady.

“Hmm?” you looked at her curiously.

“Why did you... search for me?” she asked quietly, her gaze lingering on you.

“Eight years ago?” you finished for her.

“Mhm,” she nodded.

“Do you really want to know?” you asked, meeting her eyes. She gave a small nod in response, waiting.

You took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “I wanted to see you again... I don’t know. You left so suddenly, and I guess I was a little pissed off, honestly.”

“I’m sorry,” Aeri said softly.

You let out a small huff of laughter. “Why are you apologizing?”

“I guess... you’re right. I don’t have anything to be sorry for,” she admitted, smiling faintly.

“You were just in my entire life, and then you left... and then, bam, I found you again,” you said, the words coming out more candidly than you expected.

“Why would you do that?” she asked, her voice carrying a hint of vulnerability.

“I don’t know, honestly... You kept entering my mind when I was in college. I thought about you... a lot,” you admitted.

Aeri nodded, her expression softening. “I see.”

“We were babies back then, huh?” you chuckled, the tension easing. “And even eight years ago... we were still figuring things out.”

“Yeah,” Aeri smiled, a bittersweet glint in her eyes. “I can’t believe we’re not ‘babies’ anymore.”

You both finally arrived at the Love Lock Bridge, the sky now a deep shade of blue, illuminated by the city lights below. The bridge was alive with the soft hum of conversations you couldn’t quite understand  and the distant sounds of traffic, but you felt a quiet stillness between you and Aeri walked around.

“Ning  and I came here for our anniversary,” Aeri said, her voice almost wistful as she glanced around. “It was hard to find at first. We spent months looking for the perfect spot to place our lock.”

She started scanning the rows upon rows of locks, her fingers brushing over the cold metal as she looked for hers. But while she was focused on finding it, you couldn’t stop staring at her—the way her hair fell over her face as she leaned in, the subtle concentration etched on her features, the soft smile that tugged at her lips every now and then as she searched.

You knew you should probably  be at least trying to help her, but at this moment, it felt like she was a world away, even as she stood right next to you. She was talking about their anniversary, their love, and you couldn’t shake away the sinking feeling.

Then suddenly, She spotted it. A small, worn lock with their names etched in faded letters. Ning and Aeri. She pointed at it.

“There,” she said softly.

Your eyes followed your finger, and she smiled when she saw it.

“Wow... I didn’t think we’d be able to find it.”

You forced a smile, but the heaviness in your chest lingered. After a few moments of small talk about the lock, the conversation lulled, and Aeri checked the time. The soft glow of the city lights and the quiet hum of the evening reminded you both that this reunion, like everything, had to come to an end.

“I should probably head home,” Aeri said quietly, her voice carrying a hint of reluctance. She didn’t want to break the moment, but it was inevitable.

You nodded, your own smile fading. “Yeah, I should  get back too.”

Home. She was going home to someone—to a life that didn’t include you. And as much as you tried to push the thought aside, it stung.

She walked with you toward the bus stop, in silence. The conversation from earlier echoed in your mind—how you had found her again, only to realize that the distance between your lives was now undeniable.

When the bus pulled up, Aeri watched as you stepped inside. She gave you one last, soft smile, the kind that carried more meaning than any words could, just before the doors closed between you.

You said your quiet goodbye, instead of walking her home like you used to, you headed back to your own place. Alone.

The next day arrived with a clearer sky, though the weight of the previous night still lingered faintly in your chest. You weren’t sure how to feel, but Aeri’s early morning text had a way of pulling you out of your thoughts: “Let’s go to  Seoul Tower today! I feel like everyone who visits needs to see it.”

Of course you agreed, a few hours later when you had checked out of your hotel, you found yourself walking toward one of Seoul’s most famous places, N Seoul Tower, with Aeri by your side. The streets were alive with locals and tourists, bustling around market stalls and snapping photos.

There was a vibrant energy of the city surrounding you, but your focus was on Aeri, who was as animated as ever, pointing out landmarks and sharing random facts about the places you passed. It was cute.

“This place is sooo a must for anyone visiting Seoul,” Aeri said with a grin as you passed a shop offering hanbok rentals. “Wanna try one on?” She teased “Or are you more in the mood for food?”

You bantered back. “Let’s try food first. I don’t think I’m ready for a hanbok yet,” you playfully rolled your eyes

You stopped at a food stall, grabbing some hotteok, tteokbokki, and grilled meat skewers.

“You have to try this. It’s my favorite,” she said, handing you a cup of hotteok, her face lighting up as you took a bite of the warm treat “See?! I knew you’d like it.”

The day moved quickly as you wandered through the crowded streets, snapping photos, enjoying the ‘touristy’ vibe. It felt easier, lighter, as if you could both escape into the city, even if just for a while.

As the sun began to set, casting a warm golden hue over the city, Aeri led you to the top of N Seoul Tower. From the observation deck, you could see all of Seoul stretched out before you. The view was breathtaking, the city bathed in the soft light of the sun.

“This city... it’s strange how much it’s become home,” Aeri said quietly, her voice softer now. She leaned against the railing, staring out at the skyline. “I never thought I’d feel that way when I first moved here.”

You stood beside her. “It’s beautiful,” you said, your own voice hushed, as if speaking too loudly might break the delicate moment. You stared at her as she gazed out over the city, your mind was elsewhere.

For a while, you both stood in silence, taking in the view. In that moment, it didn’t matter where you had come from or where you were going. 

For now, this was enough.

After spending the day embodying a tourist and such, the sun had long set, and the once-bustling streets now felt quieter as you followed Aeri back to her apartment.

You were nervous of course,

“She knows I’m coming. right?” you asked, pausing mid-step.

“Of course,” Aeri replied, leading you up the steps to her apartment—the place she now called home.

As you entered, Aeri's wife, Ning, was already by the door. You weren’t sure what you had expected, but seeing her in the flesh felt surreal, like a final confirmation of the life Aeri had built without you. It felt like the gap between your past with Aeri and her present had suddenly become tangible.

After a brief moment of silence, you gave Ning a polite bow, offering your best attempt at broken Korean. “Annyeonghaseyo,” you said, smiling awkwardly.

Ning returned the gesture with a polite bow of her own. “Hello,” she responded in careful English.

For a second, both of you stood there, staring at each other incredulously, trying to find the right words, the weight of the moment hanging between you.

You nodded, your heart racing slightly. “It’s nice to meet you,” you added, this time in your most broken Korean.

Ning smiled kindly, understanding the effort you were making. “It’s nice to meet you too,” she said

Ning chuckled softly, the slight language barrier immediately apparent but not uncomfortable. “Aeri told me… a lot about you.” she responded in English

“Likewise”

Aeri came to your side, sensing the mix of emotions swirling in the air. “Ning, should we grab something to eat? She’s leaving later tonight, so I think we should eat,” Aeri said in Korean, but you didn’t quite catch the words.

Ning nodded and turned to you, switching back to English. “What do you like to eat?”

You pondered for a moment, thinking of something simple but satisfying. “Hmm… samgyupsal?”

Ning’s face immediately lit up at the mention of her favorite food. “Let’s go get samgyupsal!” she said, her excitement evident.

You three ended up at a cozy late-night bar and restaurant, the soft hum of conversation and clinking of glasses filling the space. Dinner had gone smoothly, the samgyupsal hitting the spot, and now you were all nursing drinks, passing time until your Uber was set to arrive.

“So, have you traveled out of the United States before?” Ning asked in Korean, her expression curious. Of course, you didn’t understand, but Aeri leaned in, her voice low as she translated.

“She’s asking if you’ve been out of the country before,” Aeri said with a small smile, eyes flicking between you and her wife.

You shook your head with a soft laugh. “I’ve been to Japan and Spain before, but I think Korea has been my favorite so far.”

Aeri translated the words, and Ning nodded with a smile.

“She says Seoul is a good place to start when visiting Korea, but if you come back, you should visit Jeju Island. It’s beautiful there,” Aeri translated again, while Ning added in her own bit in Korean, her face lighting up.

“I’ve heard great things about Jeju,” you said, returning the smile. “Maybe next time.”

The small talk flowed easily enough, but as the night wore on, Aeri slowly stopped translating, and Ning sat quietly, sipping her drink. It created an odd dynamic—one where it felt like Aeri was caught between two worlds, and Ning, though polite, was drifting further into her own thoughts.

You couldn’t help it. With the drinks loosening your tongue and emotions swirling inside you, the words began to spill out. Leaning in slightly, you lowered your voice, careful to keep your tone steady. “Aeri… thanks for introducing me to your wife.”

Aeri blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “Mm,” she mumbled, her gaze flickering between you and her drink, unsure of where you were headed.

“I can tell she really loves you,” you added softly, the sincerity in your voice clear. "I didn't realize liking your wife would hurt this much."

Aeri’s eyes softened, her brow furrowing slightly. “Really?” she asked, her voice almost hesitant, as if she needed confirmation.

“Of course,” you replied, your words gentle, but heavy with the weight of what you weren’t saying.

A moment of silence passed, the sounds of the bar fading into the background as the two of you sat there, the space between you filled with things that had been left unsaid for too long.

You took a sip from your glass, gathering the courage to speak again. “… When we stopped talking back then… I really missed you. Did you miss me?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and raw, as if you’d been holding it in for years.

Aeri’s gaze dropped for a moment, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. When she finally looked up at you, her voice was softer, almost vulnerable. “Of course I did, Y/n.”

A dry laugh escaped your lips. “But you met your wife then.” There was an edge to your voice, a bitterness that surprised even you.

Aeri responded instantly, almost defensively. “And you had a girlfriend.”

You scoffed softly. “Right,” you murmured, shaking your head with a small smile. “Sorry.”

Aeri fidgeted with the rim of her glass. “It’s okay.”

After a few quiet moments, you exhaled, the weight of your thoughts pressing down on you. The words slipped out before you had the chance to stop them. “Seeing you again… it’s made me have some strange thoughts.”

Aeri lifted her eyes to yours, her gaze gentle but curious. “What kind of thoughts?” she asked softly.

You hesitated, your fingers tracing the rim of your glass as you searched for the right words. “I keep thinking… what if I had come here eight years ago? What if you never left California? If we’d just grown up together, stayed in each other’s lives…” 

You paused, the questions swirling in your mind before you continued, your voice growing softer. “Would I have still searched for you? Would we have dated? Broken up? Gotten married and had kids? Just.. you know, stuff like that.”

You glanced at Aeri, her expression unreadable as she absorbed everything you said.

“And what I’ve realized,” you continued, almost to yourself, “is that California… it was always too small for your ambition. You outgrew it before either of us realized. I’m happy you moved here, Aeri, I really am.

And the truth is, I liked you because you’re you. And who you are…” You trailed off for a moment, letting the words sink in before you finished quietly. “Who you are is someone who leaves.”

Aeri’s lips parted slightly, her breath catching. She looked away for a second, as if trying to gather her thoughts, before her voice came out in a whisper. “The Aeri Uchinaga you remember… she doesn’t exist anymore.”

Her words cracked slightly, as if admitting it to herself for the first time.

You felt a soft chuckle escape you, one tinged with understanding. “I know,” you replied. “I know.”

She nodded, but quickly added, “But… that doesn’t mean she never existed.” Her eyes met yours again, softer now. “I left that version of me behind 20 years ago. I left her with you.”

Her words, the honesty in them, tugged at something deep within you. “I know,” you repeated, meeting her gaze, a strange sense of peace settling over you. “I know we were only twelve… but I really did love her.”

Aeri’s lips curved into a small, sad smile, the kind that holds years of unspoken truths. “I know,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

You both let out a quiet laugh, the sound soft but comforting, a brief return to the simplicity of who you used to be.

“I think we must’ve been something together in our past lives,” she said after a while, her voice distant, thoughtful. “Otherwise, why would we be here together right now?”

You thought about her words, turning them over in your mind. “I agree,” you finally said. “But in this life… we obviously just aren’t those people to each other, are we? We’re finally in the same city for the first time in 20 years, and here we are, sitting together... with your wife.”

Your expression softened, as you quietly acknowledged the truth you both knew. “To Ning, you’re someone who stays,” you whispered.

A few moments of silence passed between you and Aeri.

“Who do you think we were to each other in our past lives?” Aeri asked suddenly, her voice soft, almost wistful.

You tilted your head, considering the question. “Hmm… I don’t know,” you said, your tone thoughtful. “Maybe we were forced into a political marriage to stop a war…Or maybe we were just two strangers on a bus who happened to sit next to each other. Or even.. maybe I was just a branch you decided to sit on as a bird on a cold morning.”

You and Aeri chuckled at that, though you could sense a sadness behind it.

You both sat in the quiet for a few more moments, the weight of those imagined lives lingering in the air, until Aeri excused herself to use the restroom, leaving you alone with Ning.

You turned toward her, feeling guilty for the past hour. “I’m sorry we spoke alone,” you said gently, your voice low. “It won’t happen again.”

Ning gave you a small, gentle smile, though there was something sad in her eyes. “Don’t worry,” she replied, her English hesitant but kind. “You two haven’t seen each other in a while. I’m glad I got to meet you Y/n.”

You nodded, her response easing some of the tension in your chest. “I’m glad too,” you said softly, offering her a smile in return

When Aeri returned, you paid the bill and the three of you made your way back to the apartment to grab your luggage. The atmosphere had shifted slightly—quiet, but not uncomfortable, just the natural stillness that follows the end of a long day.

“Hey, I’m gonna walk her to her Uber,” Aeri said to Ning, offering her a small, reassuring smile before turning toward you and the door.

You paused for a moment, glancing at Ning. Bowing slightly, you tried your best to piece together the Korean you’d practiced. “Nice to meet you. Come visit me in California.”

Ning’s eyes softened, and despite the awkwardness of the language barrier, her warmth was undeniable. She returned the bow, her own English just as halting but genuine. “Definitely,” she replied, her smile sincere. You offered her a small smile in return before following Aeri out the door.

As you and Aeri stepped out of the apartment, the cool night air hit you both. You walked side by side down the quiet street, neither of you saying much, both lost in your own thoughts.

The streets were dimly lit, the distant hum of the city lingering in the background. Every now and then, your shoulders brushed, but neither of you acknowledged it. 

As you neared the end of the street, where your Uber was set to pick you up, you both stopped, standing under a flickering streetlight. The quiet air felt thick, the weight of the goodbye neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

Aeri shifted slightly, glancing at you before looking away, her hands fidgeting in her jacket pockets. “Will it be here soon?” she asked, her voice soft, trying to smooth over the tension between you.

You glanced at your phone, the screen glowing back at you. “Two minutes,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Silence.

Some more silence fell between you two as the night deepened, the distant sounds of the city humming softly around you. Neither of you made any effort to fill the quiet, as if both afraid that words would shatter whatever remained between you.

Finally, the low rumble of a car pulling up signaled that your time was almost up. You glanced at the Uber, then down at your bags. With a sigh, you began to pack them into the trunk, your movements slow, almost hesitant, as if trying to delay the inevitable.

Just as you were about to open the car door, something inside you stirred. You couldn’t let this moment end without saying it.

“Aeri,” you called out, your voice breaking the silence as you turned toward her, your hand resting on the handle of the door.

She looked up, her eyes lighting up just a little as she responded, “Mm?”

For a moment, you hesitated, unsure if you should say the words that had been circling in your mind. But the thought of leaving without voicing them felt unbearable. So you smiled, that bittersweet smile tugging at your lips as you spoke.

“What if this is a past life as well, and we are already something else to each other in our next life? Who do you think we are then?” You could feel a deep sadness in your voice as the words left your lips.

Aeri blinked, the question taking her by surprise. Her eyes searched for yours, as if trying to understand the depth of your meaning. She looked almost vulnerable at that moment, her lips parting slightly before she whispered, “I-I don’t know.” Careful with her words

There was something in the way she said it—like she wanted to know, like she wished she had an answer for you but couldn’t bring herself to find one. The distance between you two felt like more than just the physical space separating you—it was something neither of you could cross.

You had realized just then. At that moment. That she hasn’t been looking at you with any sort of love or longing. She’d just been looking at you with nostalgia. A life before the weight of the world crashed down on her.

You lowered your head with a sad laugh in response to her.

“Alright,” you began, “Goodbye, Aeri Uchinaga.. See you then.” you whispered finally parting ways with the girl you'd known 20 years ago.

A feeling of loss over you, almost suffocating. You still managed a genuine smile because you were happy Aeri was happy. 

Bittersweet. 

“See you.. then, Y/n L/n” she whispered. 

With that, you gave her a small nod, your heart heavy. The air between you felt thick with everything unsaid. Aeri looked back at you, her eyes holding a mix of emotions—nostalgia, sadness, maybe a little bit of both.

You opened the door and got into the backseat of the Uber. You glanced out the window one last time, catching a glimpse of Aeri standing there under the streetlight. She looked a little blurry in the dim light, but still the same Aeri you’ve always known.

For a second, your eyes met again. Neither of you waved, neither of you spoke. You both knew this was how it had to end.

You took a deep breath and nodded to the driver, and the car pulled away.

You silently stared out the window as the scenery of Seoul flashed by while tears streamed down your face. 

You’ll never know that she was crying too. Harder than she ever had before.

[katyasrussianaccent]

you’re so golden (corpse x reader)

Summary: You’re a faceless youtuber that sings cover songs. What happens when a certain faceless streamer slides into your DMs after you cover one of his songs?

Authors note: Part 3 whoop! I havent written fic in 3 years so Im hoping this is okay. Its about 4000 words, super long, sorry. I also dont play Among Us, but hopefully its not too obvious. Lemme know what you think!

You're nervous, though you aren’t quite sure why. The kind of nervousness that spreads to your feet, causing you to tap your toes against the side of your sofa.

Call you in 15. 

You look at the message again, staring at it till the screen goes blurry. Rubbing your eyes you exhale into the emptiness of your apartment; a feeble attempt at calming yourself down.

Logically it’s stupid to be nervous over a phone call. Logically you know that in the grand scheme of the universe, there are bigger things at hand. But you’re not a logical person, never have been. You’re all heart and emotion, both a blessing and a curse. There’s something intimate about a phone call, to have nothing but someone’s voice on the other end of the phone, talking to you and only you. It was a little scary; to think your purely online friendship with Corpse was going to be taken to a different level. You’re excited to think what that could mean.

“Fucking get it together,” you mutter to no-one as you exhale again, because there’s nothing else to do other than to wait and try to breath. There’s this frantic energy about you; like when you eat fizzy sweets, the flavour buzzing on your tongue. Your ancestors used to hunt wolves and here you were nervous over a single phone call.

The silence in your apartment’s too much now; too noisy. You grab your TV remote, clicking onto Spotify to find something. You’re scrolling so much, none of the artists feeling quite right for the moment before settling on Sufjan Stevens.

The dulcet tones fill the space, and for a brief second, you feel fine. You’re feeling relaxed and then your phone lights up.

Incoming Facetime Audio

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck” you say. Your face feels warm, your heart quickens in your chest. You could just ignore it, say you’re not feeling too good and that would be that, you wouldn’t have to do this. But it’s Corpse, you like Corpse and you’re kind of friends.

You swipe to accept the call, and press the button for speaker. 

“Hey,” you say, cringing at the meek tone your voice has taken on.

“Hey,” Corpse’s deep voice rumbles through your tiny speaker, distorting slightly and you press the volume button to turn it down a little.

There’s a beat of silence, a beat too long, and you already hate how awkward this is. You’re not great at social stuff, the concept of being a social butterfly is almost foreign to you. And it’s not because you dislike people, it’s just you hate this; the small talk, the awkwardness before you get comfortable and can hold an actual conversation.

You suddenly remember a tip from your customer service days. “How are you?” you ask, plastering on a grin so wide that it must look borderline demented. Thank god you’re single. 

“I’m okay thanks, how are you?” he asks.

You lounge back against the soft cushions of the sofa, lifting the phone up to your mouth as you do so. “I’m good, excited to be taught by the Among Us master.”

He snorts in disdain. “Hardly a master.” 

You chew your lip before you speak again, “I dunno, people on the internet think you’re pretty good.”

He snorts again, and you smile at the sound. It’s not something you’ve heard from him before, through your hours of watching his streams, you’ve become accustomed to his voice and the noises he makes. But this one seems to be new. And maybe it’s the weird, selfish part of you that likes to think he’s only ever made that sound for you. You shake the thought out of your head, because really? Getting happy over a snort is really such a ridiculous thing to do. 

“People on the internet say a lot of things.”

“True, but sometimes they speak the truth,” you reply, moving to get more comfortable; tucking your feet under your thighs. You wonder what he’s doing right now as he talks to you, is he sitting down? Or is he lying on his bed; his head propped up with pillows? There’s a brief flash of yearning, of wanting to be there in the same room as him, but it disappears as quickly as it appeared so you ignore it.

“Hm. We’ll agree to disagree.”

“Okay, you’re the boss Mr Husband.”

He chuckles softly, and again, you smile. You can feel yourself getting annoyed with yourself; you’re acting like a child with a crush; smiling at the phone. All you needed now was a notebook that had Mrs YN Husband written all over it.

“You know if you keep calling me that, we’re gonna have to get married,” he says, his voice a little lower than it was before. You blink and cock your head to the side, looking at an imaginary camera like you’re in The Office. Did you say that out loud? Is he...flirting with you? Sure, you’re flirty over Twitter, but it’s Twitter, Twitter isn’t real. There’s a fluttery feeling in your stomach at the mere prospect that he might actually be flirting with you.

“I’d be the best wife you could ever get,” you shoot back. There’s a brief second of silence before he answers, and you can hear shuffling on the other end. You want to ask what he’s doing, but you know it would break the conversation, and you’re curious to see where this goes.

“Oh really? And why’s that?” he asks, and you can picture the smirk in his voice. You have no idea what he looks like, no real care about it either, but you bet he’s got a beautiful smile. You bite your tongue before it tells him this, for once your brain actually works and stops you from making a fool out of yourself. It’s incredibly strange, how quickly he puts you at ease without a try, he’s just so naturally comforting. He’s not this flashy persona, he’s just a guy who likes to play video games and happens to be kinda good at them. And also has a voice that is literally like chocolate. Not just chocolate; dark chocolate. If dark chocolate could talk, it would sound like Corpse.

“Cos your girl can cook,” you say proudly, puffing out your chest a little. And that’s not a lie, you can cook. Okay, you’re not a Michelin starred chef, but you feel quite confident in the fact that Gordon Ramsey could eat your food, and probably (hopefully) wouldn’t scream that it was “fucking raw”. 

“And what would you cook for me?” he asks. 

You hum in thought for a second. “You’ll have to marry me first to find that out.”

He laughs, a proper laugh that settles in your stomach, spreading warmth through your chest. “I’ll think about it. I can hear music, what are you listening to?”

You straighten up a little, the question catching you off guard. You bite the inside of your cheek as you look at the song that’s playing. It’s not his type of music, you’re almost positive about that. You almost don’t want to tell him out of embarrassment. You’re not sure why you feel embarrassed; you know Corpse isn’t an asshole, he wouldn’t make fun of you. But music is so personal to you, so personal, it’s like baring a piece of your soul; which sounds so fucking cliche, but it’s true.

“Uhhh...It’s called Make out in My Car by Sufjan Stevens,” you reply.

He hums in affirmation. “It sounds nice; from what I can hear.”

“I can turn it up?” you ask, leaning forward to grab the remote off the coffee table.

“You could always sing some for me,” he offers. 

You laugh a little, scrunching up your nose. “And why would I do that?”

“I thought you wanted to get married. You have to woo me,” he replies.

“Woo you?” you ask, your tone incredulous. This isn’t how you pictured the conversation going.

“Yeah. Woo me, yn.” he says, dragging out the “o” causing you to laugh again.

You sigh dramatically. “I haven’t warmed up or anything, it’s gonna sound so bad” you warn as you put the song to the beginning.

“I’m sure you sound great. Go ahead, woo me.” 

You shake your head as you softly sing. “I'm not trying to go to bed with you, I just wanna make out in my car. And though I'm dying to fall in love with you, I just wanna make out in my car”. You stop and you’re suddenly very aware that you have essentially just serenaded him. Good going, brain.

It’s silent for a beat too long, and the smile that graced your lips starts to fade as the embarrassment starts to set in. 

“Well now we definitely have to get married,” he affirms. And there’s that fluttery feeling again.

You swallow, moving the conversation swiftly onto Among Us. You grab your laptop that was next to you, humming in acknowledgement as he walks you through downloading it. 

“So there’s a few of us joining us tonight, it should be really fun.”

“Oh. It’s not just us two?” you ask. You focus on the download, watching the number increase. You’re nervous at the prospect of playing with other people, strangers, for the first time. 

“No, it’s a 4 player minimum. We’re going to stream as well.”

“Corpse…” you start. You begin to pick at the skin around your nails, a habit you do whenever you get really anxious. This was meant to just be a cute moment where you learnt how to play a game, not a big event where people would be actually watching you, judging your every move.

“We’re going to do a few games off stream with you, you don’t need to be there for the stream after if you don’t want to,” he interrupts. 

“Okay,” you trail off, your teeth biting down on your bottom lip. You feel a little better, but not by much. You didn’t know who the other people were, what if they hated you? You ask this out loud.

“I’ll be there. You know Rae and Sykkuno. Felix, Sean and Toast will be there but they’re super nice, I promise.” His voice is sincere, and it soothes you. You don’t know him, not really know him, but you trust Corpse. You know he has his own struggles, and you believe his promise; he wouldn’t screw you over or put you in a situation you were uncomfortable with.

The rest of the call is him taking you through how to play and how to set up something called Proximity Chat so everyone can talk to each other in the game. He says it’s easier once you actually play, and it doesn’t sound particularly hard quite honestly, you just hope you don’t get imposter on the first try because you’re not the greatest liar. 

The game screen pops up, and you type in the code that Corpse gives you. You say goodbye to Corpse, who tells you to text him if you need any help. You drop into the game lobby, and you look at the little astronaut. There’s no time to dwell as a cacophony of voices hits you.

“YN!” Rae screeches and you chuckle at her enthusiasm. You’ve known Rae for a few years now, you met at college and had become fast friends. Though you had many different interests - gaming for one, you considered her your best friend. Rae was the type of friend where you didn’t need to talk every single day, you could message her a week later and it would be like no time had passed at all. And you loved that, sometimes you just didn’t want to talk to anyone. Sometimes your mood wasn’t the best, and you needed a little time to recharge. And she understood that, something that you were eternally grateful for. 

“Raebies!” you screech back, using your “pet” name for her.

“I’ve been trying to get you to play forever. But Mr Smooth Operator over there slides into your DMs and suddenly you’re a gamer now?”

“It sounds so sordid when you say it like that,” you reply.

“Hi yn! Glad to see you playing with us,” Sykkuno says. You greet him and the others, making sure to say hi to everyone in the game. You didn’t want to start off by being accidentally rude. You listen as everyone talks amongst each other, and you talk when spoken to, but you aren’t interjecting. It wasn’t anything against the other players, it was just a little overwhelming, and you were figuring out what everyone was like.

“Hello,” Corpse’s voice interrupts your train of thought and you greet him along with everyone else. 

“Aw, I wanted purple,” you say, frowning at Corpse’s name above the astronaut.

“We can switch,” he replies.

“No it’s o -” you start to speak before you realise he’s already switched to white. “Thank you, you didn’t have to.” You smile as you switch to purple, and you decide to add a flower for a little pizzazz.

“It’s your first game, I’ll kill you if I get imposter so it’ll even out,” he jokes and everyone laughs. The countdown begins and you puff your cheeks out, exhaling as it gets to 1. You’re nervous again, a seemingly common theme of the night. Your shoulders relax as the word CREWMATE flashes across the screen.

You watch as everyone but Corpse disperses from the cafeteria with haste, and you look at the keyboard to press the buttons to move.

“You ever see an old person text? That’s how I’m picturing you right now,” Corpse says as you walk together to Weapons.

“Shut up Sonny,” you reply in your best old woman voice, getting a laugh. You open up the task, shooting the Asteroids with ease. “Yay, I completed a task!”

“Good job,” Corpse replies, and you beam at the praise. You move down to o2, doing your task while Corpse does his.

“Wait, you could be imposter right? How would I know?” you ask as you walk together to Navigation.

“You wouldn’t, you just have to trust me,” he says, his voice full of charm.

You scowl. “Well that just makes me not want to trust you.” 

Before he replies, there’s a blaring alarm. DEAD BODY REPORTED. You blink at the suddenness; you were really enjoying the relaxing pace of the game. You look at the screen;  Felix has been killed.

“Who found the body?” Corpse asks.

“I did,” Rae answers. “I was in admin, and was going to lower engine and it was there in storage.”

“If you were in admin, why didn’t you go up through Cafeteria?” Toast asks.

“Because it’s quicker to go through storage,” Rae replies. They argue between themselves, and you listen intently and silently. It’s a lot of information, you can’t tell whose lying, but you guess that’s what makes a good player.

“Where were you yn?” Sean quizzes, and it takes you a second to realise you’re being spoken to.

“Oh. I was in um o2?”

“You don’t sound too sure there, pretty sus,” he says. Your face heats up a little, you’re not the imposter, but it feels like you are.

“She was in o2 and then we went to Navigation,” Corpse answers, and you breathe out as he takes on the interrogation.

“Oh you were together?” Rae asks, and you know that tone she’s got. It’s the tone that says she’ll be messaging you right away.

“Well yeah, it’s her first game, I’m not gonna leave her alone,” he says and you smile at that. 

“Yeah we’ve been together the whole time,” you add and it’s left at that. No-one votes anyone out, since no-ones really too suspicious. You carry on the game, and you find yourself really enjoying it, though the questioning part is kind of stressful. You can see why Corpse likes it so much, it’s really fun. You’re in electrical, humming as you do your task when Rae comes next to you. 

“Hey,” you greet her.

“I’m sorry, nothing personal,” she replies. Before you have a chance to say a word, she kills you and you look on in shock as your ghost floats above your body.  You listen into the meeting as Rae continues to lie and plead her case. She’s good, but Corpse knows better.

“Wait, you said you found her in electrical and you were where?” 

“I was in Upper Engine, and then I went to electrical to do my task,” Rae answers, her voice even and calm.

“I was in Lower Engine, and I didn’t see you,” Corpse says, and you grin at the fact Rae’s been found out. That’s what she gets for killing you.

“You were doing your task, I passed right by you,” Rae starts. She pleads her case, but it’s too late and she’s voted out.

“That was so much fun!” you declare. “I can see why you guys play it all the time.”

“Yes! We have converted another!” Felix shouts in victory.

“And all it took was Corpse,” Rae mutters sarcastically.

“Don’t get bitter Rachel, just get better,” you reply, causing the group to laugh.

You get the hang of it after a few games, and find yourself agreeing to stay while the others stream, though you decide against it yourself. You’ve only streamed once by yourself, and it was a very casual affair and you don’t want to feel too much pressure while you enjoy yourself. You know that Corpse gets nervous when he streams and he’s been doing it for so much longer, so you can only imagine how nervous you would be.

You tap your fingernails against the keyboard as the lobby counts down, any previous nerves have been replaced with excitement. 

IMPOSTER flashes across. You’re the only one, your astronaut looks lonely on the screen by itself, and the red letters almost taunt you. 

“Shit,” you mutter as your brain goes into overdrive. What was it Corpse had said before? Not to be too obvious. You don’t kill immediately, instead going at your previous pace to not look too suspicious. You were still fairly new to the game, and you were going to use that to your advantage.

You fake your task in Cafeteria before venting over to Navigation where Toast was.

“Hi Toast!” you greet, coming to stand next to him as you pretend you’re doing the task. 

“Oh hey yn,” he says. It doesn’t seem like he suspects you, and you’re not quite sure when to click the Kill button. You do it anyway before running out and going down and into shields. There’s adrenaline running through you as the dead body’s reported and you crack your knuckles before putting on your game face. You were going to play dumb, play the confused newbie - because to them, that’s what you were. 

“YN, where were you?” Corpse asks. Fuck. Maybe you weren’t going to get away with this.

You twiddle your hair as you draw out your words, playing the role perfectly. “Uhm I was in...shields? I think that’s what it’s called. I was in the cafeteria before that though.”

“Wait, you couldn’t have, I was in weapons. I would have seen you,” Sykkuno says.

You open your mouth to talk. “She could have vented,” Felix comments, and the rest of the group starts to agree.

“Guys, I don’t even know what venting is. I literally just started playing,” you point out, giggling.

“That’s true,” Rae agrees and you knew there was a reason you loved her.

“Bullshit! She’s playing you with her “oh I don’t know how to play” schtick,” Felix proclaims.

“Aw, that’s kind of rude, Felix. I’m just enjoying the game, doing the tasks,” you say, pouting a little. He’s the next on your list. 

Everyone skips the vote and you lean over your laptop, ready for the next round. You were going to win this. You kill Rae and Toast next, and yet again, manage to worm your way out of any suspicion. You can sense that Corpse and Felix are starting to get suspicious of you, and you know you need to bring out the big guns to throw them off.

You catch Sykkuno in Med Bay after checking the cams in Security.

“Hi yn!” he greets, and you almost feel guilty as you kill him. He’s so sweet and innocent, but unfortunately, casualties are a given. You pass Felix as he comes out of reactor and it’s only a matter of time before you’ll have to talk your way out of this one again.

“I passed yn as I came out of reactor,” Felix shouts with a hint of glee.

You roll your eyes; this is going to be tough. “Yeah I came from Upper Engine, I was finishing part 2 of a task.”

“I was in Electrical, where was the body?” Corpse asks.

“Med Bay. And the only one that could’ve been there was yn,” Felix starts.

“Well no, you could have passed me and killed Sykkuno then self reported,” you reply. “I think you can do that right?” 

Corpse hums in agreement. “Oh come on! She’s being really sus,” Felix argues.

“You are being a little sus yn,” Corpse comments.

“Corpse. You don’t really think it’s me do you?” You decide to lower your voice a little, your tone sweet but sultry. “You only taught me like an hour ago, there’s no way I’d be able to fool everybody so quickly.” You get close to the mic so it’s like you’re speaking only to Corpse. “Remember what I said? You’re a master at this.” You’re laying it on thick, and for a brief second you think you’ve been too over the top.

“This is difficult,” Corpse says, and you see the seconds count down, your heartbeat starts to quicken.

“Corpse, stop being a fucking simp and vote her out!” Felix demands.

“Corpsie baby,” you drawl out and you smile in success as you hear him sigh, almost shakily. You’ve got this in the bag. The victory screen flashes up and you cheer.

“Fuck yeah!” you shout, patting yourself on the back. You laugh as you exhale the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“Good game yn!” Sykkuno comments, the others agreeing.

“Not fair, you used your womanly wiles against Corpse,” Felix says.

“Gotta use them for something. Not my fault Corpse knows where his allegiance lies,” you reply laughing a little.

You stretch, your back crying out in pain from being hunched over so long. You let out a long, loud moan of relief as you straighten your spine, your shoulders relaxing as you move from side to side.

“Your mic’s not muted” Corpse points out, clearing his throat. You feel your stomach drop and your face instantly becomes hot. Shit. 

“Oh. Uh. I totally forgot about that,” you say, forcing out a chuckle. You screw your eyes shut, any happiness has been now replaced by red hot shame. “So this was fun, uh, really fun, but um, I’m gonna, I’m gonna go. So...yeah. Bye guys, have fun!” 

You click to exit without giving anyone a chance to say a word, and drop your head into your hands. 

“Can’t wait to see what they say on Twitter about this,” you mutter into your hands.

TAGLIST (if youre bold, it wont let me tag): @teenageguitarist @fanworrior  @cherry-piee @mirahg  @clara-bee @cookinglovingalien @vir-tual @clubfairy @youretheonlyonewhomakesme @more-like-reyna @boiled-onionrings @moneybagmgk @brendalopez99 @delicateavenuenacho @dreamsofficialwife @hydrate-tion @little-red02 

[yourmcu]

Friday, I’m In Love

Pairings: Tony Stark x reader

Summary:

In which the reader is an Avenger and she just geeks out when she sees a bunch of musical instruments at the compound and Tony just fallsinlovewithherstraightaway because of her personality and music taste

Word count: 2,562

A/n: (moved to the end of the fic!)

Warnings: u have nothing to worry about :) fluff!

read it on ao3!

gif not mine! credits to the owner^^

“I’ll drop this off at your room before I hit the hay, Tony mentioned about giving you a tour of the place first.” Clint patted you on the arm and walked pass you with your bags.

You nodded and smiled, really appreciating his help. You’ve been sorting things out at your apartment with Clint all day. “Alright, thanks. I owe you one.” You heard him say something along the lines of ‘buy me donuts’ before he was out of sight.

“Agent L/N, you’re finally able to join us,” Tony gave you a playful smile, finishing his drink to walk over to you.

You were officially one of the avengers, and now officially moving in. It’s been a few months since you assisted the team on a particularly huge mission. It was not planned of course, after that you started helping out when they needed it, and they thought you’d fit right in.

“Tony,” you gave him a small nod and a kind smile. “And please, call me Y/N.” The billionaire then offered you a drink but you declined.

“Good, didn’t think you’d be much of a drinker,” Tony stated and gave you one of those charming looks that would literally sweep any girl right off her feet. “Has anybody told you that you’ve got pretty eyes?”

The comment surprised you but then again, you remembered who you were talking to. “Stark, if we’re going to be working together you better cut the crap.” You laughed.

Tony raised an eyebrow, thinking that you probably ran into Pepper first before coming up. The small talk led to Tony’s said compound tour. He was making jokes here and there, even revealing secrets about the others that you didn’t need to know about.

After some time the both of you reached the last floor, the one that had your bedroom. Tony was still talking but your  gaze was glued to the black, shiny piano out in the balcony. Why was something so grand and probably expensive doing in plain sight where someone could just swoop in and steal it?

“Earth to Y/N,” Tony waved a hand in front of your face. He stopped when you came back from your trance. “There you are. That’s a secluded, little balcony. It’s a great place to let off some steam or just to take a break for a while.”

“That’s nice,” you murmured. “You... uh, you play?”

Tony spun around to look at you again. “Play?”

“Yeah. The piano, I mean. It’s a good looking piano.” You admitted.

“Oh. That’s what you were ogling? For a second I thought I was a bad and boring tour guide,” he chuckled. “I wouldn’t say I do. It’s a specific model my mother used to own and...”

You waved him off and smiled lightly, not wanting him to explain further as you already understood. It might kill the mood. It’s been a while since you’ve run your fingers through a set of piano keys, you realized, but you were also shy to ask Tony if you could play it sometime.

“Alright, just call for Friday if you need anything, or call Friday to call me,” he joked when you finally reached your bedroom door. “After you settle maybe you could stop by the lab? I could really use your help for something - it’s in your area of expertise, you know?”

“Sure. Tomorrow’s good?”

“Sounds great.”

You nodded and thanked him for the tour, and he gave you a salute before walking away.

----

“Good morning, metal man.”

From inside the Iron Man suit, Tony turned around to see you leaning against the wall beside the door to the lab, a cheeky smile on your face, one cup of coffee in each hand. He was certain that he pulled another all nighter, not even realizing that it was morning until you greeted him.

Surprised by your presence, the iron helmet swiftly revealed his tired face, then he opened up the chest plate of his suit to get out of it completely. “Time?”

“It’s six. I didn’t think you’d be working this early,” but you noticed the circles around his eyes. “...or you didn’t stop since last night.”

“Nope.” Tony snatched one of the cups from your hand and gulped it down. His eyes slightly widened when he realized you snuck in some bourbon in there.

He also couldn’t help but look at your nightwear. Slightly shabby sweatpants and a large band shirt. Green Day, he noticed. They weren’t bad. Heck he could’ve sworn he heard one of their songs on the radio once.

“You said you needed me for something?” You recalled, walking over to his computer. You were an all in one package: you practiced a lot of fighting as a teenager, now you trained with Natasha or Steve, so you knew a decent amount of hand-to-hand combat. Originally you were supposed to major in arts, but switched to the science stuff, engineering, so you knew a thing or two about building things. You also took interest in coding. Plus, Fury admitted to like your wit, one of the reasons why he wasn’t against you joining the avengers.

Tony just wanted you to try and make the security systems around the compound more tight, more secure. He’d do it himself but he wanted to see what you can do. You were the newest part of the team, of course he’d be curious about you.

You pushed yourself away from his desk, humming at the green bar slowly filling up in the monitor. “That should take a while,” you crossed your legs and looked up at the genius billionaire. “You’re awfully quiet, Tony, I think you need some sleep.”

He rolled his eyes, smiling. “I’m getting back to work.”

“Hey no, I’m serious. You need to re-”

You cut yourself off when you saw a beautiful, six-stringed instrument that hung from the wall when you turned. Tony wondered why you abruptly stopped talking and looked at you.

You got up the chair and carefully removed the electric guitar from the wall. You cringed a bit when you felt the rusty strings on your fingertips. Clearly this hasn’t been played in a while.

But nonetheless, you thought it was beautiful.

“You’re looking at it like it’s the love of your life,” Tony pointed out.

“Do you not know what this is?” You gestured to the instrument. It was a Gibson, 1960 Les Paul - its color scheme being cherry red and black. It greatly reminded you of Brian May’s red special-

Anyway, you sat back down, running your hands through the fret board a couple times to get used to the rusty strings, also tuning some that were out of tune. Then you pulled out a small pick from your pocket.

“So you just carry around a plastic plectrum everywhere you go, huh?” Tony heaved himself up to sit on top of his desk in front of you.

Playing a few sets of chords made you reminisce about your high school years. You were the type that brought a guitar everyday to school back then. “It’s a habit,” you chuckled. “When did you start playing?”

“Oh, no. I just collect them. I know a chord or two but that’s it.”

You laughed. Of course, he was a billionaire. “I could teach you if you want.”

Tony crossed his arms and playfully raised an eyebrow. Is this your way of flirting with him, or was it just an innocent offer? “Why, you a professional or something?”

“No - well, if I stuck to my original career choice, I should be.” You shrugged.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Tony made a mental note to himself to ask you more about that specific topic later on.

“Fine,” you giggled. “Name a band and I’ll play a song.”

He pretended to think. “Dunno, AC/DC.”

You slid your fingers up a bit to the higher frets to play the intro to ‘You Shook Me All Night Long’. It’s your personal favorite from that band. The guitar doesn’t sound as exciting as it is when it’s plugged in, but you manage to pull it off. You then played the opening riff a couple times then skipped to the chorus.

Tony watched your hand as you hummed along the chorus. It was a great song, yet simple chords, simple until you get to the solo part. He thought you played it beautifully but he’d never admit it to your face.

“C’mon, it was just one song, am I that good?” You teased when you saw a glint of amazement in his eyes.

“Please, anyone can play that song.” Tony rolled his eyes, grinning. Then he pointed to your shirt. “Green Day.”

You repositioned your hand on the frets, playing the fingerstyle to the band’s song ‘Minority’. “I’d never wear a band shirt if I didn’t know the band. That’s downright embarrassing.

“What’s your genre, Stark? I’m guessing a lotta rock?” You stopped playing for a bit to look at him.

“You could say that. But if I think it’s catchy then it’s going on my playlist,” Tony responded. “You can keep that guitar, by the way.”

You looked at him with wide eyes. “I can’t. This - this model is expensive. The brand’s expensive-”

“It’s three grand.” He told you like it didn’t matter to him.

“Exactly! It’s expensive!”

“Boss, Miss Romanoff is on her way down.” Friday’s voice rang throughout the room.

On cue, Natasha walked in wearing her usual sparring attire. “Y/N. You were supposed to meet me at the gym half an hour ago.”

You cursed, getting up and hanging the guitar back up the wall earning a glare from Tony. He really did want to give it to you. “Sorry, got caught up. Uh... I think it’s done, Tony,” you rambled and pointed at his computer, green bar already full. 

Natasha lingered at the door after you ran up to change. “I know you have a lot of those displayed around and I’m telling you, hide them.” She was referring to the guitar.

“Why?” Tony hopped off the desk and began working again.

“Mainly because she turns into a huge music geek, but I’m assuming you love it.”

----

Tony had a stressful time doing work one night. He’s in the middle of a suit upgrade and he just can’t seem to put it together right. Maybe he just needed a moment to breathe and relax.

So he went to the balcony, a glass of his preferred alcohol for the night in hand.

He wasn’t that surprised when he saw you in there too. After the first time you came over his lab you started coming over regularly, just to talk about random stuff, music and bands, assisting him with anything he needs assisting with. The both of you became close. You could catch and snap back whenever he made a smart remark, and when he would shamelessly flirt with you, you’d just play along, you don’t get insulted or take any of it too seriously. That’s probably why he likes you so much.

This time you sat in front of the piano, playing chords and doing random scales. Tony admired you quietly from the entrance of the balcony. You did look pretty peaceful humming along, he even found it adorable when your eyebrows furrowed when you accidentally hit a wrong note, sometimes you’d shake your head slightly.

You were definitely something else. As time passed, Tony realized his feelings for you only grew and grew. He even started listening to all the songs you recommended, which were all amazing, even though at first he wasn’t used to hearing songs without an electric guitar on full distortion.

“Sorry. It was just so tempting.” You giggled. You pat the vacant part of the piano seat next to you. Tony placed his drink on top of the piano before sitting down.

You began playing a new song and he was very much relaxed by it. He remembered that time he got to ask you why you didn’t grab the opportunity to play music professionally.

“Well why didn’t you?” Tony asked.

You shrugged, fiddling with his custom made Iron Man guitar. “People judged me. Told me I’d never make it as a musician, that it was just out of luck for the famous ones out there now. It’s fine honestly, I liked other stuff anyway. After that I started training, y’know, became a spy...”

“You know how The Cure’s ‘Friday I’m In Love’ is upbeat?” You asked as you transitioned to a new chord. Tony hummed. “I found a slow, piano version the other day and I... learned it. I think it’s pretty.”

“Let’s hear it.”

You smiled. You were always flattered when he wanted to hear you play songs.

Tony looked at your hands swiftly playing the piano keys, up to your face concentrating on what chord was next. You only learned it by ear, you were sure you’d mess up at some point.

“I don’t care if Monday’s blue,” you hummed. “Tuesday’s grey and Wednesday too...”

You believed your singing voice was shit, so you just did this thing where you hummed- but also sung the lyrics as you played. Tony believed differently though. He thought your voice was beautiful.

“Thursday, I don’t care about you... it’s Friday, I’m in love,” You glanced at Tony for a moment and then returned your attention to the piano keys when you saw that he’d been fully listening to you.

“Monday you could fall apart,” you fell into your own little world again, high-fiving yourself in your mind when you nailed that chord progression.

Whereas Tony was sure that he was falling for you as moments passed.

“Tuesday, Wednesday, break my heart...”

The way you sung that last part made him feel things. It was just so soft, warm, damn, he wanted to make a move now.

‘Do it! You won’t have a chance like this again.’ A voice inside his head told him.

“Thursday doesn’t even start, it’s-”

You did an entirely different chord, messing up the song. “Oh god, that was horrible.” You laughed, closing your eyes and putting your hands around your stomach to contain your laughter. “But it was a good version, don’t you th-”

When you went to look at Tony, you were immediately cut off by lips pressing to yours. He cupped both sides of your face to gently deepen the kiss. He didn’t want it to be forced but seeing as you weren’t pulling away and you started to kiss back, he didn’t stop.

You were shocked to say the least. It was so fucking cliche but it was happening. Tony Stark was kissing you, and you liked it. Well of course you did, who wouldn’t? Maybe because it felt like it had meaning, not because he’s just lusting for you. It felt like your heart was about to leap out of your chest and there were actual butterflies inside you.

“Friday, I’m in love.” Tony finished the lyric for you after he pulled away.

“Are - are you-”

“I might have to kiss you again just to shut you up.”

But this time you beat him to it. You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, and you felt those darn butterflies again.

“It’s about time, sir.” Friday spoke.

----

so this is just a pure music-related imagine and also I’m sorry if you don’t like the band(s) mentioned (bc it’s an x reader), or have a different guitar preference, or play a different instrument or have a drastically different fav genre, etc.

(AND YES I THOUGHT THE TITLE WAS PERFECT FOR THIS SINCE IT’S A SONG AND HE HAS AN A.I NAMED FRIDAY)

[kindahoping4forever]

Watch Me Bloom: A Few Months Ago // Ashton Irwin

I’m so excited to finally share this with everyone! As I mentioned, the week leading up to Superbloom really inspired me. It was so hard to believe that just seven months prior, we were living the ups and downs of CALM’s release while this was a essentially a never ending parade of self-reflection and joy. My fic Release explored a relationship dealing with CALM and I thought it’d be fun to see what the Superbloom experience might look like thru the lens of a relationship. (I wouldn’t say it’s a sequel - in my mind, they’re different relationships- but you could call it a thematic companion.)

As always (but honestly even more so this time because omg this section especially changed again and again), my eternal love and gratitude to @cal-puddies​​ for always offering direction, notes, encouragement and a good roast when I need it.

Warnings: What a surprise, it’s Boyfriend!Ash. Brief quarantine mention. So much fluffy smut you’ll wonder if I’m alright. Oral sex performed on a female. Unprotected sex within an established relationship. This is the tame chapter, folks. The calm before the smutty storm, if you will.

Word Count: 3319

Watch Me Bloom Masterlist

Masterlist // Taglist // Ko-Fi

Let  me  know  what  you  think!

You sleepily roll over to snuggle your boyfriend but instead of being surrounded by the warm firmness of Ashton’s back, you feel cool air and the beginnings of a falling sensation. Your body jolts awake to catch itself, your brain making the unpleasant discovery that there’s no one laying next to you and you’re about to tumble off the couch. You shake your head upon realizing you once again fell asleep in the living room, watching TV.

It was a bad habit you fell into once Ashton got busy with his new project. You still hadn’t gotten used to falling asleep without him and a part of you can’t help but long for the early days of quarantine, when you spent the majority of your time lazily wrapped up in sheets and each other.

But as time went on, you started waking up alone and finding him sitting outside with a coffee, scribbling away on a notepad. Other days you’d wake up to the sounds of him already in the shower, singing gibberish words to fill out gorgeous melodies he dreamt of and is trying to perfect while he gets ready to take on the day.

He eventually showed those scribbles and shower songs to his housemate, Matt, who helped him shape them into demos, which they then decided to make into fully produced tracks. After weeks of rearranged furniture, strewn about instruments and dodging cables running through the hall, Ash gleefully shared that he planned to release these songs as his own album. You’d kissed him happily, shared in his joy and teased him relentlessly that it took him this long to tell you. You couldn’t have been happier for him and you loved seeing him excited about work again, especially after the frustration surrounding the band's album release earlier this year, but every night when you go to bed alone, you just miss him.

You shuffle into the kitchen and dump the rest of your long forgotten tea in the sink, turning on the tap to wash the cup. While you wait for the water to warm up, you cartoonishly stretch your arms over your head and loudly yawn.

“Long day?” A voice asks from across the room.

You chuckle and turn to greet Matt, who’s headed towards the sink with an armful of various mugs he and Ashton must’ve used for tea, coffee and water over the course of the day.

“Well, I got up earlier than usual and Ash had already made his side of the bed, so I’m sure it was nowhere near as long as yours,” you comment, reaching out to take the dishes from him.

He silently thanks you with a kind smile. “Yeah he was up and at it even before me today,” he admits, shaking his head. “Had quite the breakthrough today, though. I’m sure he’d love to tell you about it if you wanna pay him a visit.”

You lightheartedly scoff as you quickly wash the cups. “And also he’s just moved from your studio down to his and you think I can talk him into actually getting some rest?”

He laughs at how well you know your boyfriend. “I told him I was gonna call it a night but I don’t think he’s taking the hint,” he admits.

“Sounds like our guy,” you shrug, setting the clean mugs on the rack to dry. “I’ll pop by and check on him before I turn in.”

You head for the bathroom and quickly go through your routine; you mentally cheer when you turn on the light and see Ash’s green henley draped haphazardly over the bathtub. It smells like him so he must have just tossed it aside when he showered earlier; you inhale deeply as you slip it over your head and throw on a pair of sleep shorts before heading down to the basement where he’s working.

You tentatively make your way down the stairs, not wanting to startle him. As you suspected, he’s intently focused on his computer screen, dragging and dropping components of a track, trying to layer the elements just the way he wants, something he was recently so proud to tell you he had learned to do.

You knock quietly on the wall when you reach the bottom. He turns around to investigate and exclaims your name with far too much enthusiasm for the late hour. He opens his arms, which you know means he wants you to come sit on his lap. He greets you with a sweet kiss as soon as you sit down and hums when he recognizes the scent of your nighttime skin products. “Bedtime already?” He asks, sounding slightly disappointed.

You jab his side playfully. “Already? It’s pretty fucking late, dude,” you tease. “I fell asleep on the couch again.”

“Aww, baby, no,” he commiserates, stroking your arm empathetically. "You weren’t waiting up for me again, were you?”

“Maybe subconsciously,” you shrug. “Missed you a lot today. Dreamt about you last night. Dreamt about you while I was asleep right now. I dunno, it’s weird.” He hugs you tighter to him and you rest your head in the crook of his neck. “Matt said you had a good day, though?” You say in a bright voice, trying to compensate for your sad admission.

Ashton softly smiles and squeezes your leg, indicating he knows you wish you hadn’t told him what you did. “Yeah, it was crazy, I woke up with this song in my head and I had to rush down here before it went away,” he explains. “It was so clear in my mind - every instrument, every aspect of the production - and it took all day but we’ve almost got it exactly how I imagined it.”

You rest against him while he clicks around on the computer, playing you different files and explaining each step they took in their process that day. You watch him, instead of the screen, admiring the way he lights up when he talks about his art, the way his dimples just keep sinking deeper and deeper as he delights in telling you the inventive tactic they came up with to get the guitars to sound a certain way.

You peck at his cheek, enjoying the scratch from his light beard. “I’m so glad you had a good day,” you coo. “Think you might want to head up to bed with me now, though? I love seeing how happy this makes you but you’ve still gotta take care of yourself, babe. Still working when I go to bed and getting back at it before I wake up? It’s happening a lot and I get worried sometimes.”

He plays with the hem of your - his - shirt while he listens to your concern. “I know. It’s just easy to get caught up when it’s going good. And it’s all been going so good!” His wide smile turns to an understanding nod when he sees you lovingly shake your head at his excited excuse. “But I know you’re right, baby, I promise I have been trying to be mindful. Today was just the perfect storm.”

“OK,” you murmur, believing him for now, knowing you’ll surely be having this conversation again in a few days’ time. He tilts your chin up to him and moves in for a soft kiss. You sigh as his lips gently move over yours and you reach up to run your fingers through his hair; because of the lockdown, he’d been letting it grow and you were loving it. You’d convinced him to let you trim it a few times to keep it healthy and now you were obsessed with getting your hands on it all the time.

He starts to pull away but you let out a slight whine and bring him back in, deepening the kiss while you’re at it. He lets you lead the makeout as he wraps his arms around you, holding your body against his. You shift yourself in his lap so that you’re straddling him in the chair.

“Is this your plan to tire me out so I’ll come to bed?” Ash grins.

"Thought this was your plan," you tease, tugging his lip between your teeth. "You asked me to sit in your lap, I know your style."

He giggles as you start nipping at his jawline before making your way down his neck and settling in to kiss up and down his collarbones. He sits back and lets you work, running his hands up and down the back of your top, occasionally letting his hands wander down to appreciate how tight your sleep shorts fit over your ass.

“You’re markin’ me up, baby,” he laughs, attempting to detach your mouth from his chest.

You allow him to bring your mouth back up to his, darting your tongue across his bottom lip before saying with a smirk, “Something to help you remember me while you’re locked away working.”

Before he can respond, you move in to kiss him again and as you feel him growing hard underneath you, you lazily begin grinding on him. He groans and moves against you a few times before running a hand up the leg of your shorts.

He raises his eyebrows when he feels how wet you already are for him. “Aww, you really have been missin’ me, huh?” He teases, eyes shining in the dimly lit room. “You know you can always just tell me when you need me, that’s part of the fun of working at home.”

“Don’t wanna interrupt the artistic genius process,” you tease back, sitting further back on his thighs so you can palm him through his shorts. “Plus, I don’t think Matt would appreciate that very much.”

“I’d love it if we didn’t talk about Matt while your hand is on my dick,” he jokes, lifting his hand out of your shorts and up to his lips to lick. You roll your hips impatiently as you watch his lips suck your essence off his fingertips. “Mmm, sweet tonight, baby,” he murmurs. “Think I’m gonna need more.”

Ashton grips the backs of your thighs and suddenly he’s standing to lift you off of his lap and onto the desk in front of him. He deftly uses one hand to move his laptop and various hard drives to the side and uses the other to start tugging your shorts and panties down.

He drops to his knees and the surprise of that sight gets a low moan out of you. When he licks a stripe up your center, you take on a much whinier tone. “Babyyyy,” you try to reason with him, tugging on the collar of his white t-shirt. “I don’t wanna keep you awake any later than you need to be, let’s just fuck and get some sleep.”

He sits back on his heels, peeling off his shirt, flinging it behind him. “Heard my girl was missing me,” he counters, dragging a finger slowly through your wetness. “Gotta make sure you can make it through the day tomorrow.” His thumb plays gently at your clit while he runs his beard along your inner thigh - he’s learned you love the scratch - before fixing his mouth on your skin, clearly intent on leaving a large hickey.

You shiver when without much fanfare, Ash starts softly licking at your clit with just the tip of his tongue. “That’s my needy girl,” he says in a low voice that gives you almost as much of a chill as his mouth just did. Your brain constructs a witty reply but you’re not entirely sure the mumble that came out of your mouth made sense; his tongue is fluttering against your clit now and his hands are forcefully spreading your legs wider while somehow also tenderly massaging your skin.

You pry your hands off the edge of the desk where you’ve been bracing yourself and wrap them in his hair while his mouth works you, loving how his eyes dart up to thank you every time you brush a wayward curl off his forehead. It’s a great juxtaposition to the warning look you get when you start bucking your hips against his face. You didn’t mean to start getting rowdy but he slipped his fingers inside you at just the right angle and at the same time his beard dragged across your skin and his lips finally enveloped your clit - you couldn’t help yourself.

“Easy, sweetheart,” he soothes, sliding his hand underneath your shirt and laying his palm flat across your stomach to settle your movements. “Need it that bad? Could’ve sworn I had you the other night, you’re acting like I haven’t touched you in weeks.” His tone is the perfect blend of condescension and care and his words tease you almost as intensely as his fingers curling inside you.

Your reply is interrupted with a surprised moan when he fits his lips over your clit once again and starts sucking rapidly. “Maybe… having you… just makes… Jesus… makes me want you… mmm-more… fuck, babe, I’m cumming.”

You’re shocked by how fast and strong your orgasm hits you - maybe Ashton’s teasing wasn’t too far off and you are just that needy. You lay back on the desk, tugging at his hair, biting your lip to keep from crying out too loudly; try as you might, you can’t ignore the urge to grind against his mouth and the vibration from his groaning only adds to your pleasure.

He keeps at it until you push him away and you whine when he withdraws his fingers from you; you’ve just barely caught your breath when you squeeze his arm to get his attention, craving him near. He, of course, knows what you need and stands to tend to you. He brushes his fingers across your lips before cleaning the rest of your wetness off of them with his own mouth.

You’re pretty sure you see his cock jump in his basketball shorts as your tongue peeks out of your mouth to sample what he’s shared with you. “Taste good, baby?” He asks with heavy breath.

“Tastes better when I’m mixed with you,” you counter, pulling him in.

He moans into your passionate kiss, one hand trying to lean you back on the desk and the other yanking his shorts down. You resist his attempt, catching him off guard by pushing on his shoulders, guiding him back to his abandoned office chair; you climb in his lap to straddle him again, explaining, “Been wanting you like this all day.”

You take his cock in your hand and give it a few strokes before lifting yourself up and tapping your clit with the tip; you play like this for a minute, using him to tease yourself, rubbing your pussy on him, coating him in your wetness until he grabs your hips and sighs your name in a soft plea.

Smiling to yourself, you think maybe you should rib him about being as needy as you, except you don’t want to wait any longer to get him inside you; he watches intently as you balance yourself on the arms of the chair to line up and sink down on him. You groan together in lustful harmony at the feeling and you begin tentatively rocking your hips, enjoying the familiar stretch of him filling you.

You’ve got a moderate rhythm going when Ash starts playing with your nipples through your shirt; you slow your pace a bit and reach to pull the henley off when he stops you. “Leave it on,” he requests with a glint in his eye, fingers swiftly undoing a few buttons to expose more of your chest. “Now whenever I wear it, I won’t be able to stop picturing you riding me.”

You grin at him and lean back on his thighs, grinding slowly on his cock, trying to find that perfect angle. His hands are all over you, under and over the shirt, running over the tops and inside of your thighs; his grip eventually settles on your ass, kneading it and helping you bounce yourself on him.

You ride him at varying speeds, paying attention to the sounds he’s making and the way his body responds to your movements; you can’t get enough of seeing his jaw clench as he struggles not to fuck up into you, trying to let you have your moment.

He squeezes your ass so hard you know there’s bound to be finger shaped bruises in the morning. “Fuck, Ash,” you whisper, mouth against his ear. Your tongue flicks out to toy with his earring and the gasp you get in response is as satisfying as you’d hoped.

“Gettin’ close,” he strains, lifting his hips against yours slowly, thinking if he’s subtle enough maybe you won’t mind.

“God… same,” you tell him, speeding up and bringing a hand between your legs. “Wanna cum with you, babe.”

Ashton takes that as permission to be more blatant with his thrusting and as your breath starts stuttering, he even throws in a few slaps across your ass cheeks; his instincts are correct and within seconds you’re pulsing around him. Your eyes squeeze shut and flashes of white are all you see; you can tell by the tone of his voice he’s praising you as you orgasm but you can’t process what he’s saying.

His arms wrap around you and he holds you close as you squeeze his cock. You rock against him, working yourself through it when he buries his face in your chest to muffle an exhausted grunt as he cums inside you. You stroke his hair, murmuring how good he feels; he catches his breath and his embrace tightens around you as he pulls you into a soft yet sloppy kiss.

“Love you,” he says quietly, resting his head between your breasts again, beard prickling your skin.

You play with the thin chain he’s wearing, admiring the way the silver contrasts with the dark ink on the back of his neck. You’ve seen this side of Ash more in the past few months than you had the entire time you’d been together and it still takes you aback every time it comes out. “Love you too,” you whisper in reply.

He helps you off of him and you excuse yourself to the adjoining bathroom. When you return a few minutes later, he’s redressed, the desk is back in order and all his equipment is shut off.

“Bedtime?” You ask, pleasantly surprised.

He grins. “Like I’d be able to think about anything else tonight,” he reaches for your hand. There’s a comfortable silence as he starts to lead you out of the room before pausing at the foot of the stairs and turning to you. “You know I miss you too, right? When I’m working all the time like this? I think about you a lot.”

You lift your joined hands, kissing his knuckles. “I know, babe, I’m sorry if I made you feel bad when I said all that, I was just tired,” you frown slightly.

Ash slings his arm around you, kissing the top of your head. “Can I tell you a secret? This shirt was actually clean, I sprayed it with cologne and left it out for you,” he laughs, tugging at your collar. “Wanted to wear tomorrow and spend the day having you close to me.”

“Ashhhh, that’s so sweet it’s almost gross,” you aww. He chuckles as you hop onto the step in front of him and peck rapidly at his lips. “Bold of you to assume I’d let you have it back, though.”

He snorts and follows you up the stairs. You turn to him at the top. “Make you a deal: if you’re still in bed with me when I wake up tomorrow, the shirt’s yours.”

He spins you around and gives you a gentle swat, directing you to the bedroom. “Deal.”

————-

@mymindwide​​​ @suchalonelysunflower​​​ @pxrxmoore​​​ @loveroflrh​​​ @ghostofmashton​​​ @sexgodashton​​​ @spookydaddycal​​​​  

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@wiildflower-xxx​​​ @metalandboybands​​​ @another-lonely-heart-blog​​​ @realisticnotes​​​  @makeamovehemmings​​​​​ @golden166​​​ @burstintocolor​​​

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@laura66sos​​​ @calumrose​​​ @karajaynetoday​​​  @pilunb​​​ @jazzyangel242​​​ @babylon-corgis​​​  @heyheyhaleyd​​​ @calmsweetcreature​​​ 

@spicycal​​​ @talkfastromance4​​​  @holystxne​​​ @myloverboyash​​

@meetmedowntown​​​  @ashtonangst​

@irwindoll​​​ @cheekysos​​​​ @carrielfisher​​​​ @lukedorkyhemmings​​​​ @creampiecashton​​​​ @lovelywordsblog​​​​

@trix-arent-for-kids​​ @uh-huhh-honey​​ @tobefalling​​ @aladyofalbion​​

@likehuhdude​​  @curlycalums​​  @cxddlyash​​  @reddesert-healourblues​​

[ka-writes]

——————

Notes: I had already started on the second chapter before I posted the first one, so don’t expect updates every day... I also had to do a lot of googling for this chapter.

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Chapter 1 in case you missed it:

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Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Warnings: Cussing, needles, character conflicts, intentional poisoning, poisoning, Jaws reference

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“Humans are [and text here]”

Chapter 2: What is this, an interview?

Tommy was now restrained to a chair six feet away from the weird scientist alien. He had a dark brown lab coat with a fuzzy yellow sweater underneath, matched with black pants and black leather boots. His gold rimmed Harry Potter glasses slipped down his nose bridge a bit before he pushed it up and shuffled through papers. He wore a red beanie with a big whiff of his curly chocolate hair. His skin was a weird translucent grayish color with blue speckles decorating it. He had deep brown eyes with an odd electric blue circle outlining the pupil.

His tongue licked his finger as he turned the page. This was a habit that most of the weird teachers and counselors did. It always annoyed Tommy. This time fear was also mixed into that annoyance. His saliva was tinted blue and he had sharp teeth which immediately reminded him of a shark.

“You have shark teeth.” Tommy stated absentmindedly. Clearly, this caught the scientist alien off guard.

“I have what?” The alien asked, confused.

“Shark teeth.. ya know like the weird fish creatures that eat people.” Tommy started rambling causing the shark-alien to become even more confused and slightly alarmed. “I mean I think they eat people. That’s what the shark movie showed… what was its name, Jaws I think? I dunno, my foster mom freaked out in the middle of it and we went home. That lady was weird.. She made us wear itchy clothes and take weird photos before she sent me back to the group home.”

“What?..” The shark-alien asked. Tommy jumped a bit. He forgot he was rambling to a stranger. Alien stranger at that.

“Doesn’t matter.. What's the first question bitch-boy?” Tommy liked the way the alien jumped at the randomly timed insults.

“Er- right.. First off, what’s your name?” The shark-alien asked after collecting himself.

“Tommy Innit. Yours bitch-boy?” Tommy replied.

“Wilbur Soot. Stop calling me bitch-boy!” Wilbur huffed.

“Next question, bitch-boy!” Tommy emphasized the name, getting an even angrier expression in return. Wilbur’s weird blue circle flashed red for a second which caught Tommy off guard.

Wilbur took a shaky breath before asking the next question. “How old are you?”

“Old enough! I am a big man!” Tommy stated. Yet another thing that pissed him off.

“Age?” Wilbur asked, clearly irritated.

“18.” Wilbur raised a brow, “14.” Tommy huffed. His age should only be his business not some alien-bitch who didn’t even have his file.

“If you keep lying, I may have to get the truth serum from the back.” Wilbur half-heartedly threatened. Tommy, the big man that he is, did not get scared at that statement, only slightly unsettled which clearly showed on his face.

“Now, do you have a family?” Tommy tensed at the question. It was a touchy question and was not one that was asked often especially with his reputation.

“I am a big man. I don’t need a family to be great.” Tommy stated, happy with the answer. The alien-bitch shifted awkwardly.

“Right… What is your diet?”

“Umm.. I dunno, whatever I can find. I am allergic to nuts though..” Wilbur nodded in understanding and wrote things down in his notepad.

“What plants are poisonous to you?” Wilbur asked without looking up from his notes.

“Ermm, poison Ivy, poison oak… uh I think parts of rhubarb, and most wild berries. I am not sure other than that.” Wilbur nodded while adding bits to his notes.

“What was the place you lived like?” This time Wilbur glanced up to look at Tommy. This was again another touchy subject… How many times would this alien bitch get into the sad background?

“Shitty.” Tommy snapped. That was the only response the bitch was gonna get.

“Right.. Do you have music on Earth?”

Tommy scoffed, “Of course we have music, dumbass!”

“Can you tell me about the animals there?” Wilbur asked, almost hopeful.. which was weird. What was he hoping for?

“Erm I guess..” Tommy mumbled, trying to figure out where to start, “There’s a bunch of animals. Mainly on land. My favorite would be the cow.”

“What’s that?” Curiosity stained Wilbur’s face. This got Tommy excited; he was practically beaming as he started talking.

“Well they are these big ruminants that make milk and have horns. There are a bunch of types too like the highland cow, which obviously is the most poggers one. They are a Scottish breed with really long hair. I met one once, on a field trip his name was Henry.” Tommy rambled on for the next two and a half hours, jumping from topic to topic and explaining anything that wasn’t personal. He usually ended those paths with short insults.

——————

Wilbur hated to stop the kids' detailed story, but two and a half celestial hours had already passed, and Dream would be coming to check soon. Luckily, he had a couple new poisons that could pass off as a research development. He had even managed to send the distressed signal and no doubt Phil would already be there with the SBI craft ready to fly at any given moment.

“Alright Tommy.” His voice dropped to a serious tone causing the kid to stop his story of how he got poisoned by mushrooms on a camping trip. “You’re gonna have to trust me just for a bit. I am going to get you off the ship at the next stop but in the meantime I need you to tell me how allergic you’re to nuts.” The kid immediately tensed at the question.

“I am mainly allergic to tree nuts.. almonds being the worst. After a few minutes I can’t breathe properly and I usually pass out. The doctor said if I don’t get it treated within 15 minutes, death is most likely.” He took a moment to go through the information. The kid most likely has an anaphylaxis reaction to tree nuts. Meaning either he would have to know the exact time of landing and exactly where Phil was or he needed another poison that was less severe.

“Alright, here is what we’re gonna do. I have a chemical mixture that is similar to that of rattlesnake venom. I also have a chemical substance that numbs any pain you may feel. Side effects would include being very very tired and delirious over the next few days. Along with being knocked out for a good ten hours. To put it simply I am gonna fake poison you, in order to get you off the ship. It’s your choice if you’re willing to do it.” Wilbur paused to study the kid still restrained in front of him. It was odd how relaxed the kid seemed to be in a situation like this. He had no urge as far as Wilbur was aware, to fight against anything that happened. His complaints only being those that touched on personal matters. It was unsettling to say the least, and intrigued Wilbur. He really wanted to unravel the life the kid had lived before this and how he was actually dealing with the situation.

There was a long pause before the kid spoke, “I wouldn’t mind getting away from the weird smiley bitch.. plus you seem nice and to know what you’re doing so sure. Poison me bitch.” He said the last sentence with an enthusiasm Wilbur wasn’t expecting. He took a moment to rethink his plan, which was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Dream says you better have advanced in your stupid testing. Otherwise he’s gonna kick you off the ship at the next stop.” Stated the rather rude blazeling, Sapnap. The blazeling never liked Wilbur and made a point to argue against any advancements at meals. That led to Dream installing a new system of emails and Wilbur eating meals alone.

“Yea yea, it’s going!” He yelled through the metal door.

“Better be.” The blazeling snapped before making a non quiet track back to his quarters.

“Stupid blazeling.” Wilbur grumbled as he sorted through vials and picked up new needles and measured out the substances. “We are going to start with the anesthetic then move onto the poison.” He softly addressed Tommy.

Wilbur swiftly disinfected Tommy’s shoulder and gave the needle. He then gave the second needle. Immediately Tommy slumped over. Wilbur swiftly took off Tommy’s restraints and moved him on to the patient bed in the back corner of the room. After the transfer was done he clipped the body restraints around Tommy and waited for the alert signaling landing.

After about five minutes the light next to the door turned blue. He moved over to his seat and clipped on the safety belts. The light turned green and the ship shook momentarily before a thud could be felt. Quickly as Wilbur could, he emptied the needles into the waste bin and waited for his soon-to-be-ex-boss to arrive.

Dream stepped through the door and glanced around the room before heading to Wilbur for his report.

“Report.” The dreamon commanded.

“The subject's body would have gone through a painfully slow death and have multiple organ failures if I did not intervene. The chemical mixes used created a conflict in the patient’s body which resulted in the patient falling into exhaustion as they recovered.” He responded in a monotone tone. Dream looked over Tommy. He flinched back in disgust as Tommy grunted in his sleep.

“Is that all?” The dreamon questioned.

“No.” Wilbur swallowed down his panic, “This is the last testing I will be doing with this crew.” The dreamon scoffed.

“I am assuming you’re getting off at this planet?” Dream spit. Wilbur knew he absolutely hated when people left his crew as he saw it as a direct violation of his loyalty.

“Yes.” The phantom stated, keeping his even tone apparent. With that Dream stormed out cursing in Siestian. Somewhere in the mess of words he told Wilbur to get his things.

Without hesitation he grabbed his bag from his quarters, which was held in a small room that branches off the lab. He half sprinted down the short hallway and straight to the bed Tommy was on. He swiftly unrestrained the human and sat him up. He slipped on boots and gloves then tied a cloak around the kid. He pulled the hood up and carried him off of the closest exit. There were faint yells from Dream down the hallway and reassurances from the only two beings that put up with him. And with that Wilbur was off to find the only craft he had ever called home. The SBI ship.

——————

Chapter 2- End

Words~ 1774

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End Notes: ‘‘twas to lazy to reread... sorry for minor mistakes. Also suggestions are always appreciated!! Please reblog...

——————

Chapter 3:

——————

Wilbur:

[senorarelojes]

Fic: If You Want (1/1)

A while back, I put up a post asking for writing prompts, so I'm slowly making my way through them. This is for the very lovely @what-could-have-been!

Summary: This prompt from @what-could-have-been: "Dave and Alan (who don't know each other yet) coincidentally happen to go to the gym at the same time. Throughout their exercise they keep eyeing each other on different machines. Then they end up in the showers also at the same time (surprise!), Dave drops his soap or something else on the floor and Alan comes to "help". Aaaand you can probably guess the rest... I was also thinking they could be in their mid-20's or so?” Rating: Mature Notes: (In my head, this is early Music for the Masses era DM)

.

Alan liked Ultra Fitness because it was ten minutes away from his workplace, plus it was also along the way home. So it gave him less of an excuse to skip his workouts. Besides, he was already starting to see the results from his frequent visits. His arms were getting nicely sculpted and garnering compliments from the women in his office, and he could see the beginnings of a six pack in the mirror if he held in his stomach enough. So he made it a habit to keep going after work, even though it was more crowded at that timing.

Before he had ever stepped foot in a gym, Alan had been a bit apprehensive about the type of clientele that frequented gyms - for example, those beefy blokes with necks thicker than their heads who looked like they ate guys like Alan for breakfast. But to his surprise, most of the people at Ultra Fitness were nice, friendly and tended to mind their own business, which was a big bonus in Alan’s book. There were also all sorts of regulars, from the afore-mentioned beefy types to those who were just starting out and looked just as nervous as Alan initially had been. But overall, most of them looked like regular people, just like Alan himself.

By now, Alan had definitely become familiar with a few other people at the gym. There was Daryl, the manager at the reception who seemed to know everyone, as well as Martin and Fletch, two friends who mostly came to use the swimming pool or join the Zumba classes. “Great way to meet women,” Fletch had told Alan once with a wink, waggling his eyebrows as Martin had laughed in agreement. Alan had only smiled; he didn’t like flirting with women (or men) at the gym, thinking that people probably didn’t want to be hit on when they were breathless or sweaty. He himself didn’t want to be disturbed: he would just come in, say hello to Daryl as he signed in, grab a locker, pop in his noise-cancelling earbuds and do his workout in peace. That was his routine, and it only ever deviated if he stopped for a chat with Martin and Fletch at the water dispenser.

However, one day he came back from his workout to find a strange tattooed bloke trying to open his locker.

“Er, can I help you?” Alan said, as the man fiddled uselessly with the lock.

He jumped in surprise when Alan spoke to him. “Oh, sorry. I can’t seem to open my locker,” the bloke said, holding up his access card. The lockers at the gym were first come, first serve, and Alan had a special liking for Locker 101, which was located in a far corner, nearer to the shower stalls. Half the time, it wasn’t taken and he was able to grab it for himself. Alan often wondered who was the other person who seemed to like it just as much as he did, and sometimes beat him to it.

Alan flashed the man an apologetic smile. “Sorry mate, think you’re mistaken. It’s mine today,” he explained, holding up his own card to the lock as it whirred for a moment, then clicked open.

“Fuck!” The tattooed bloke was laughing now, face a little red with embarrassment. “Sorry-- it’s just that I usually snag 101, I must have forgotten today.”

“So it’s you,” Alan said with a laugh, before realising the tattooed guy was looking at him with curiosity. “I mean-- never mind.”

The bloke was smiling at him now. He had a really nice smile, which made him look rather boyish even though he seemed to be around Alan’s age. “Well, wish me luck in finding my locker, then,” he said, dropping Alan a wink.

“Good luck, mate.” Alan couldn’t resist watching him walk away in his fitting gym shorts - it was quite a view - as he began taking out his belongings for a shower.

***

After that, Alan began to notice the tattooed bloke around the gym more often. Like Alan, he did a fair bit of weight-lifting, but he also joined the group classes with Martin and Fletch, the three of them chatting and laughing with many of the female regulars after class. Alan found himself watching them at times, wondering how weird it would be for him to ask Mart and Fletch for Tattooed Bloke’s name. Sometimes he would catch Tattooed Bloke watching him in the mirror too, but Alan never seemed to be able to catch him, Martin and Fletch at the right time.

Thankfully, Alan finally learned his name when he was late to the gym one day, finding Daryl already in conversation with Tattooed Bloke at the reception. “Oh hey Charlie,” Daryl said when he spotted Alan, nodding at him as he handed him a towel. “Got held up at the office?”

“Something like that,” Alan replied, glancing over at Tattooed Bloke who was regarding Alan with great interest.

“Your name is Charlie?” he asked, a grin slowly growing on his face. “Was wondering what your name was, but I didn’t peg you for a ‘Charlie’.”

You were wondering what my name was? Alan wanted to ask, but instead he said, “I’m actually Alan, but Daryl got a kick out of my middle name when he did my membership card.”

“C’mon Dave, don’t you agree with me? Doesn’t ‘Charlie’ suit him a lot better than ‘Alan’?” Daryl asked the tattooed bloke, who was just grinning as his gaze rove up and down Alan’s body.

“Dunno, mate,” Dave said, his eyes lingering on Alan’s arms. “A rose by any other name, y’know?”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “You’re useless,” he complained, throwing a towel in Dave’s face as Alan chuckled.

Taking the towel away, Dave seemed hesitant, like he had something else to say to Alan. Unfortunately, the announcement for the start of the Zumba class blared through the gym’s speakers at that moment, leaving Dave grimacing in frustration.

“I’ll see you around, Charlie,” Dave told him with a wave, before he ran off to the dance studio.

***

Now that Alan knew Dave’s name and they’d been sort of introduced, he found himself wondering what would be a non-cheesy way to strike up a conversation with Dave on the gym floor. They would run into each other quite often; if Alan was using the squat rack, Dave would appear soon after and wait for his turn, often offering to spot Alan. Alan wanted to do the same when it came to Dave’s turn, but Dave seemed to have no end of friends at the gym who volunteered to spot him as well, so Alan had no reason to hang around unless he wanted to look like a lecher, drooling over Dave lifting weights.

That didn’t stop him from watching, though. Alan was very, very good at being very, very sneaky, and he used his abilities to his advantage, watching Dave doing deadlifts in the ubiquitous mirrors around the gym, Dave’s tattoos darkened by his sweat, his muscles gleaming as he huffed and pulled on the bar, his perfectly coiffed hair tumbling over his forehead as he bent down to re-rack the weights. Men like Dave were the reason Alan decided he might not be entirely straight, and that his experimentation in uni hadn’t been just a phase.

However, he still lacked the ability to tell if other blokes were straight, gay, bi or whatever else. Alan thought Fletch and Daryl were unequivocally straight, while Martin definitely pinged his gaydar - not that Alan was interested. As for Dave, he was still a huge question mark as far as Alan was concerned. Dave seemed to watch him a lot, but Dave also flirted with the ladies in yoga class as easily as breathing. So Alan decided to mind his own business, unless Dave made a move first.

After a particularly gruelling workout one evening - Alan really hated leg days - he pushed himself to the showers, picking his favourite stall at the corner and draping his towel over the door. The warm water felt like a relief on his shoulders, which were still sore from yesterday’s workout, and he groaned a little as he rolled his shoulders under the hot shower, cracking his neck before he went about shampooing his hair.

He was just done rinsing his hair when he heard someone stepping into the cubicle beside his, shutting the door and starting their own shower. Whoever it was had a nice voice, humming something that sounded like Sigur Ros. Alan listened absently as he slicked his hair with conditioner, wondering if he should get a haircut soon. His hair was getting a little too long to style into a quiff, and he wondered if he should ignore Flood’s advice and get an undercut this time.

He was just done rinsing out the conditioner when he heard someone curse, “Fuck!” as something clattered to the floor, sliding under the partition over to Alan’s stall. It was a bottle of Axe body wash, which the bloke beside him must have dropped.

Alan picked it up, holding it under the partition that separated their stalls. “This yours, mate?” he asked, but the bloke had already stepped out of his stall and was knocking on Alan’s door.

“Sorry, could you pass me my soap?” he asked, and Alan sighed before he stood up, opening the door to hand him the bottle.

His eyes widened when he saw it was a very wet and very naked Dave, who seemed just as surprised - and pleased - when he saw it was Alan. “Oh, it’s you, Charlie.”

Alan couldn’t stop his eyes from roaming even if someone had a gun to his head. He took in the clear view of Dave’s few tattoos, his smooth chest, his tight brown nipples, the heavy cock between his legs. “Uh, this is yours,” Alan said dumbly after a billion years had passed, holding out the bottle of body wash to Dave like a moron.

Dave licked his lips, stepping forward and backing Alan right into his shower stall again. “Mmm, thanks for your help, mate.” Dave was staring openly at Alan’s mouth now, his tongue running over his lower lip. “Reckon you could help me with something else?”

Alan was breathing hard, taking in Dave’s nearness and his brazen confidence, his seeming certainty in Alan’s attraction. “Help you with what?”

Dave finally took the body wash from him, tipping some into his hands and lathering them into a foam, smiling wickedly at Alan as he did so. “Help me soap up my back, yeah? It’s so hard to reach.”

Alan was distantly aware that this felt like some kind of porn scenario, but he couldn’t care less as he grabbed the shower gel from Dave, soaping up his own hands before he leaned in and kissed Dave hungrily, his soapy hands roaming all over Dave’s back. Dave moaned softly into his mouth, his hands running all over Alan’s chest before rubbing at his nipples, making Alan gasp into their kiss.

“Fuck, wanted you for ages,” Dave breathed out before nipping at Alan’s lips again, guiding them both under the stream of water. It was all so slick and hot and steamy, frotting against some handsome stranger in the gym shower stalls where anyone could walk past and hear their moans and gasps. As hard as Alan tried to be quiet, it became impossible when Dave wrapped a soap-slick hand around his cock, pumping him in swift efficient strokes that had Alan’s knees weakening in the shower.

“C’mon, Charlie, c’mon,” Dave whispered against the shell of his ear, his own cock pressed against Alan’s hip, hard and hot and insistent. Alan wanted so badly to wrap his hand around it, put it in his mouth, but he lost all train of thought when Dave bit down on his neck, his hand speeding up on Alan’s cock as he came all over Dave’s stomach in a hushed moan.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Dave nuzzled against Alan’s cheek with a soft gasp, Alan reaching down for a few clumsy strokes before warm spurts of come landed on his hip, quickly washed away by the stream of water.

They were both panting now, arms loosely wrapped around each other, Dave’s back still covered with soap. Once Alan realised this, he grabbed Dave by the shoulders to angle him towards the water and get it washed off. Dave initially was filled with panic, as though afraid Alan would shove him out of his stall. But once he figured out what Alan was up to, he laughed and pressed a kiss to the side of Alan’s head. His lips felt warm, nice.

“Can I take you out to dinner?” Dave asked quietly, rubbing slow circles over Alan’s shoulder. “I swear I wanted to take you out first before doing this, but-- fuck, you looked so fuckin’ irresistable, mate. All warm and wet, y’know?”

Alan had to chuckle in agreement. “Yeah, I do know.”

Dave pulled away to look at him. His eyes - green? brown? - were serious as they regarded Alan. “So it’s a yes to dinner, then?”

Alan rolled his eyes. “If you haven’t clued in to the fact that I just got you off in the shower, then I don’t know what to say.”

“Idiot.” Dave flashed him a sunny, relieved grin as he ducked out of the shower stall. “I’ll see you outside, then.”

***

Dave was waiting for Alan at the reception counter, chatting animatedly with Martin, Fletch and Daryl. However, he straightened up immediately when he spotted Alan, ignoring all of his friends at a drop of a hat. “Hey Charlie.”

Fletch was frowning deeply in confusion. “Wait, isn’t his name Alan?”

Alan shrugged at Fletch, smiling when Dave came up to him and took his hand in his, making everyone’s eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling. “A rose by any other name, y’know?” Alan quipped, grinning at a stunned Fletch.

“Hey, that’s my line,” Dave said with a laugh, tugging Alan by the hand and out the door. “Don’t wait up, fellas.”

[mortimer-writes-sometimes]

AWF Outtakes: A Night With the Skelebros

I asked if anyone would be interested in reading some of the scenes I wrote for A Warm Feeling that didn't make the cut, and I got a pretty positive response! So, here's something I wrote out, decided didn't fit, and then decided I wouldn't be able to reuse later.

This takes place in the middle of chapter four! I'm a little impatient, so I ended up skipping a lot of Grillby actually staying with the brothers. This is the missing segment describing the first night! (Note that because this is an outtake, it picks up very abruptly. The paragraph that smoothly transitioned it into the fic no longer exists.)

Of course, just as Sans promised, Papyrus was just as insistent as his brother that Grillby stay the night. "Eating three meals a day is an important part of every monster's routine!" Papyrus declared. "Neglecting that need is unacceptable! You need not worry, however, my dear friend of Sans! I, the Great Papyrus, shall cook you all the spaghetti you can eat! Nyeh heh heh!" He dashed off to the kitchen to do just that, excited. They had a house guest! And it was one of Sans's friends!

Honestly, Papyrus had been worried about his brother lately. He never seemed to really talk to anyone, other than when he was hanging around that greasy bar. Papyrus had heard from others that even there, Sans was unusually quiet these days. The fact that Sans had brought home a friend that he seemed very close to was a good thing! Papyrus was just glad that his brother had someone to talk to. Sans… didn't really talk to him as much as he used to, these days. He needed a friend.

While Papyrus cooked, Grillby was still sitting on the couch (by order of Sans). Sans had turned on the TV and was spread out on the other end, watching some weird one-man play Mettaton was doing. The story was really hard to follow, but part of that could've been that Sans's attention kept drifting from the screen to the fire monster relaxing nearby.

Grillby looked more relaxed than Sans had seen him in ages. He was reading quietly, some sort of historical fiction book in his lap. The skeleton noticed that Grillby would occasionally tilt his head and adjust his glasses when he came across something that intrigued him. It was… cute.

When Sans saw the bartender adjust his glasses for the third time, he chuckled, accidentally giving himself away. Grillby looked up at him over the rim of his glasses, a small smile forming when Sans quickly redirected his gaze to the TV. Not quickly enough. "What's so funny?" the bartender asked, amused.

Sans shrugged. "I dunno. You, I guess. I mean, well um, it's that thing you do when you read."

Grillby looked confused. "What thing?"

"When you're reading, you tilt your head," Sans explained shyly, "And then you push your glasses up. Which is good, because they keep slipping down, heheh." Sans rubbed his neck again, looking up at Grillby with a nervous laugh. Grillby tilted his head and pushed up his glasses, making Sans snort. "You just did it again!"

Grillby blushed a bit. "What? Oh, I… I guess I did. I never noticed." He couldn't help chuckling to himself. He was surprised that Sans noticed that little habit. "I suppose it may be a little funny. Well, it's not like you don't have any quirks of your own."

"Like what?" Sans asked.

"Well," Grillby began to explain, "You rub the back of your neck when you feel awkward or shy. You do it every time I catch you staring."

If Sans had a stomach, it would have done a flip. "Staring? I wasn't staring. We just, uh, happened to look up at the same time. Yeah."

Grillby chuckled, then pointed to Sans's arm. "Told you so," he said mischievously.

Sure enough, Sans had moved to rub the back of his neck. "Heh, alright," the skeleton chuckled, "But that doesn't prove I was staring. And you have anxious ticks, too."

Grillby set his book aside and sat up, sitting cross-legged as he turned to face Sans. "Oh? Well, do go on."

For some reason, having Grillby's full attention made Sans feel almost flustered. The fire monster's expression had settled into a soft, amused smile, and his eyes were alight with more than the usual fire. They shone when genuine interest and amusement, his expression and body language gentle and at ease. It occurred to Sans that he'd never really seen Grillby in a casual setting. It was nice.

"Sans?"

Grillby broke the skeleton's train of thought, sounding slightly concerned. Oh yeah! He was still waiting for a response! Sans came back to the present and chucked. "Sorry, I was just thinking about what to call you out on first," he bluffed lightly. He leaned back and looked at the ceiling before beginning. "So, Grillby's nervous ticks. Where should I start? When you've had a lot of rude customers, you tend to flick your wrist a bit sharper when you mix drinks. When it starts getting really crowded sometimes you tap your pen against your notepad when you're taking a large order. You tap your foot when you're impatient and you kinda bounce on your heels a bit before you run off when you're in a rush…" Sans trailed off, looking at Grillby again to gauge his reaction to all that.

He'd expected Grillby to be amused, or maybe surprised. That wasn't quite the case, though. Grillby was blushing madly, covering a shy smile with one hand. "Well," the bartender mumbled slyly, "I didn't know you watched me so closely. Maybe you stare more often than I thought."

If Sans could blush, he would've been as red as Papyrus's spaghetti sauce. He pulled his hood up and pulled on the strings, tightening it to hide his face in embarrassment. "Grillby-!"

"I don't hear you denying it anymore." The bartender chuckled softly, leaning forward a bit. "Aww, Sans, don't be so embarrassed. I… I really don't mind."

Sans peeked out from his hoodie, cautious and shy. What the hell did Grillby mean by that? He liked the attention? Or… was it possible that he liked the attention specifically from Sans? "Heh, Grillbz… I–"

And then suddenly, the Great Papyrus appeared! "DINNER IS SERVED!" he declared loudly, balancing three plates of spaghetti in his arms. The monsters on the couch startled and jumped away from each other, back on their respective ends of the couch. Papyrus didn't seem to notice, passing out plates and sitting between Sans and Grillby. He turned to Grillby with a wide smile and an expectant look in his eyes, apparently eager for the bartender to try his pasta. "Now I know you prefer greasy foods," the skeleton said, "But trust me when I say that you will undoubtedly be won over when you try spaghetti made by none other than master chef Papyrus!"

Grillby picked up his fork as he considered the pile of noodles on his plate. He looked up to see that both of the skeletons were watching him then. "You're making me nervous," he chuckled.

Sans rolled his eyes. "Just try it already!"

"Alright, alright." The bartender lifted the fork to his mouth, feeling awkward under the attention. Finally, he took a bite of Papyrus's spaghetti.

It was… interesting…

Papyrus looked happy, though! "What a passionate expression! You must love it!"

Sans expected Grillby to make a comment that it wasn't good, or he wasn't hungry, or something else awful. He braced himself for the awkward conversation, but it never came. He was surprised to see Grillby pull a smile back on his face, despite the strong aftertaste that Sans was sure had to be lingering in the back of the fire monster's throat. "It has a very unique flavor," the bartender commented lightly. "I really appreciate you sharing your cooking with me."

Papyrus straightened up with pride. "Of course! I'm happy that you like it. There's plenty left, so don't be afraid to ask for seconds!" He picked up the remote and turned the volume of the TV up a bit, gleefully watching Mettaton do whatever it was that Mettaton was doing.

Once he was sure that Papyrus was focused on the television, Sans leaned forward and mouthed a quick 'thank you' to Grillby. Grillby responded with a small smile and a nod that made something warm spread through his chest. It was one thing to be kind to Sans… but it was a whole new level to be that kind to Papyrus.

After dinner, Papyrus took all the plates to the kitchen with him and started on washing dishes. Sans took the opportunity to move a bit closer to Grillby, hunched over a bit as he rested his elbows on his knees. "Hey… thanks for that."

Grillby looked away from the TV, confused. "For what?"

"For being nice to Papyrus," Sans said quietly, not wanting his brother to overhear. "I mean, people are polite enough talking to him, I guess, but he can be a little much for some monsters. I also know that his spaghetti is a little bit of an acquired taste, heh. I'm surprised you ate everything on your plate."

Grillby smiled a bit. "It wasn't that bad after you got used to the aftertaste, actually. Your brother is very… enthusiastic. I don't see anything wrong with that. So, you're welcome, I guess. I'm glad I made him happy tonight."

The two fell into a comfortable silence, a warm feeling settling over them both as they went back to watching TV. They were totally unaware of the tall skeleton spying on them from the kitchen, thankfully out of earshot. Papyrus wasn't sure what the two had been talking about, but Sans had looked very happy.

He'd missed seeing Sans happy.

Later that evening, Papyrus managed to find a shirt and some sweatpants for Grillby to sleep in. They were both too large, seeing as they belonged to Papyrus, but it was better than sleeping in the formal clothing that the bartender wore to work. The drawstring on the pants was pulled almost as tight as it would go, and the shirt hung off of him also like a nightgown. He looked small, under all that fabric.

Question was, where would Grillby sleep?

"He can have my bed," Sans immediately volunteered. There was no way he was going to make Grillby sleep on the couch when he wasn't feeling well. He'd been the one to bring Grillby home, so it made sense that he'd be the one to make room for him, right?

Papyrus frowned at that. "Sans, your 'bed' is just a mattress on the floor. You don't even have a sheet on it. He needs a proper place to sleep! He should take my bed!"

"Boys," Grillby interrupted with a nervous chuckle, "Thank you, but I really don't mind sleeping on the couch. I'm already feeling much better than I did this morning…" He trailed off into a yawn, blinking tiredly. Yeah, perfectly fine. Sure.

Sans huffed, a little irritated. He was getting tired of Grillby saying he was fine when he was obviously not fine. Was this how Papyrus felt when Sans dodged questions about why he was having so many nightmares? Sans made a mental note to be more honest with his brother as he took a deep breath. "Look, Grillbz, we both know that's bullshit. As much as I hate to admit it, Papyrus has a point. My mattress is barely better than this couch, anyway."

"Exactly!" Papyrus one hand on his hip, using the other to gesture at his door as he spoke. "I am more than happy to open my room to a friend of Sans, and a future friend of mine! And as poorly as Sans may speak of this couch, it can actually be quite comfortable when you find the right position."

Sans rolled his eyes, chuckling. "And sleeping on the couch means Papyrus has an excuse to stay up and watch Mettaton's late shows."

Papyrus huffed. "That is absolute slander!" he cried. "I just so happened to have already decided I wanted to watch the late show tonight! And I do not need any excuse to do so!"

"Uh huh. Whatever you say, Paps."

"You are incorrigible!"

Sans glanced towards the couch and stopped. "Paps, shush."

Papyrus scoffed. "Do not shush me! The Great Papyrus will not be–"

"No, really," Sans cut him off. "Look." He nodded to the couch pointedly. When Papyrus looked, the reason for Sans's sudden concern about volume quickly made itself clear.

At some point during their bickering, Grillby had fallen asleep on the couch, breathing gentle and even. Sans chuckled. "Heh, I knew it. He can't fool me when he's tired." After a moment of consideration, the skeleton shrugged and turned Grillby blue, levitating him gently so he wouldn't be disturbed. Once he was sure the bartender wasn't about to wake up, he turned to Papyrus. "Why don't you go get ready for bed while I tuck this guy in?" Sans asked in a whisper.

Papyrus nodded, chuckling as he lowered the volume of his voice. "Agreed."

There's a LOT more deleted scenes where that came from. Like, over thirty pages of deleted scenes, and there's sure to be more as I go. Let me know if you want to see more! Thanks for reading!

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Horikoshi: This will probably not be super popular, but it’ll be fun!

Us: Oh, well that sounds nice!

Us, 290 chapters later: This Isn’t Fun Anymore Horikoshi

Horikoshi: :)

Anyways, welcome to the beginning of - hopefully - a long term and engaging project. I am basically aware of all of canon, and am up to date with the manga, but I haven’t actually read from the beginning of the series, and I’ve only watched the series up to the Deku v Todo fight in the sports festival. However, I’ve been curious as to how the manga portrays stuff that I’ve seen in anime gif form, and so I figured, hey, make this a project!

If you have questions or anything, the ask box is open for now. Meanwhile, I am going to head into the first chapter proper!

[No. 1 - Izuku Midoriya: Origin]

Wow, you’d almost think this kid would grow up to be a villain or something, with that kind of attitude, huh? No way that this kind of attitude would ever come to bite him in the ass and force him to reevaluate his entire character and kickstart his character development.

(Before you say anything, I like Katsuki as a character, but DAMN did he have to do a lot of growing up. I suppose when one is at the bottom, the only way to go is up… unless you have a pickaxe.)

One thing I actually noticed right away, and I dunno how much it’s used in other manga (seeing as I currently am not reading any other manga and the last ones I read were… a long while ago…) is the shape of the text boxes in order to convey emotion! It’s actually hella neat and a little detail I wouldn’t think about adding if I were in his position (not that I can draw all that well, but that’s not my point). You can practically hear the warbling in Izuku’s tone and the rougher edges in Katsuki’s!

(Also, question for the English sub while we’re at it, why the fuck does Katsuki sound like he’s a goddamned adult when he’s fourteen. What the fuck.)

Interesting little thing here, Katsuki not actually using his quirk here against Izuku; his hand is trailing smoke from his explosion, but it’s not a direct burn wound. Not that he should be doing this at all, but with the number of fics I see where Katsuki literally gives Izuku second or third degree burns, I think this is a reminder that canon Katsuki has some modicum of restraint, even this early.

Before I forget, hello winged kid who definitely has no plot significance whatsoever. No siree.

(If you are new to the manga/show and are reading this as among your first introductions to the fandom, first off, I am so sorry. Secondly, expect me to be… definitely making a lot of sarcastic quips to things in the future.)

Onto the second/third page, which is supposed to be a full spread, but is split up into two pages on the online reading site. RIP, but I will not complain about free access to the whole manga. 

Lookit this green bean. I love him so much. I can’t wait for him to suffer.

Izuku: wait, what?

Anyways, a few things to note:

Who the fuck is this guy? I looked into the wiki but he apparently doesn’t warrant a page or even a mention as one of the background faces of the series, but look at that fucking claw, man! And those boots and jets! He’s very obviously themed after a baseball catcher, so I’m going to guess that he has some kind of quirk that deals with either drawing projectiles to him, or perhaps in throwing projectiles… in either case, it’d be something like Snipe’s quirk, so maybe this is his less howdy-happy sibling.

Oh right, the chapter. The other heroes we see on the scene in this two-page spread are Death Arms, Air Jet, and Kamui Woods. 

Also, something I want to point out that I’m sure others have but just struck me while looking at this spread - multiple people are recording / taking pictures of this. I wonder if part of the reason for the villain industry to be as strong as it is is because the villains, even if they know they’ll lose, still get their own sort of fame in being in the news? That… might explain a lot about how there can be enough villains to even run an entire damn industry.

(Well, that and a lot of sociopolitical commentary on BNHA society, but we don’t need to get into that now. Maybe wait two hundred or so chapters first.)

Not gonna lie, I had to double take because I was like ‘wait, what is Ochako doing here?’ but then I realized it was just a random civilian; she doesn’t have those side bangs Ochako does. But now I almost wonder what sort of world we could have had, if they’d met a bit earlier.

Onto the fifth page (fourth is just a filler page, nothing on it), and we get treated to this gem:

Tag yourself I’m the guy who’s slackjawed because his kid is fucking glowing.

The first four examples of quirks shown in this flashback are the luminescence, telekinesis, ice, and that flame-headed(?) mutation. Of them, we actually see hints to the fact that quirks have drawbacks, as the girl with ice is drawn with the same frostbite backlash as Shouto, while the flame-headed kid is… well, I have no idea, but they do not look to be happy.

Also, I love the nod Hori does to the heroes of our era as silhouettes! This is just more evidence to me, along with the fact that the first quirked kid is born and presented in a modern hospital, that this series takes place sometime in the future. I… even calculated the years it could technically be, based on information we get in a few chapters, but I’ll save that for then.

Onto the sixth page! A nice shot of Kamui Woods getting into position, and man is that giant quirk unnerving.

What the fuck is with those feet, Hori. Those aren’t feet.

Next we see how the crowds are reacting, basically with no panic or concern. One guy is just casually letting his boss know he’ll be getting in late. And Backdraft! That is some serious water manipulation, but it seems like it has to be the water they’re in contact with? Also, is it just me or is that a portable pressure hose on their back?

And of course, Izuku being excited over hero stuff, as one does. He’s so babey faced, going back to current chapters after this is gonna be fucking wild.

Onto the seventh page, and here we are with the ‘you’re pure evil’ speech to someone who’s… just a robber. Seriously, dude? I get that you’re still fairly new to the scene (I think he might not be from a hero high school, but a late join program, but that’s another post), but like. You can’t just call random people ‘pure evil’ and correlate petty crime with like, actual mass murderers, or else people might start to see things in black and white and, you know, create the idea of ‘villainous people’ and so push even more innocents down the path of desperation and criminality.

Wait, sociopolitics later. Izuku being a hero fanboy now. Even able to utter Kamui’s attack call as he’s calling it out, with some seriously cool visual effects-

And on the eighth page, we have Mt. Lady crash the scene. Literally. She just fucking shows up outta nowhere and fucking leaps up and delivers a kick right to the villain’s chin, throwing him back through the train bridge wall and sending debris down to the ground below. Sure hope there weren’t civilians there!

Also, hello to that random guy on the roof watching this. I think in Smash they made that guy her manager or something.

I love how Izuku and the other guy are like ‘what the fuck’ while the press just shows up out of nowhere and is like. Hyperfocused on her. (I’ve heard some issues with the portrayal of media/reporters in the series, but since I have no experience with that sort of thing, I can’t say much on it.)

The last panel of this page shows that, fortunately, there were no civilians on that part of the street (even though it being rush hour and the huge crowds on the other side of the bridge should have suggested otherwise… but what do I know?)

With page nine, we get to see our first case of villain apprehension, which to note does not include any sort of quirk suppressors. Because those don’t exist. Otherwise Aizawa and the Eight Precepts’ erasure bullets would not be such huge deals to everyone. I mean yikes, though, the guy is fucking muzzled. And you can see the damage done by Mt. Lady in the background, both physical and emotional. Not to mention…

What the fuck is that face.

But yeah, this notes that performance in heroics determines not only what they’re paid by the government, but also how much fame they get. No way a system like this could backfire in any capacity, right? Right? (cough).

I love how Hori uses Izuku’s muttering habit as the border for the text bubble when the kid zones into his little world. Also, gigantification is noted to be a common and strong quirk, so we really should see more OCs with size altering quirks in fics in the future, you hear me? Honestly, with it being common, I would almost expect there to be entire buildings, or maybe even neighborhoods / blocks dedicated to catering to size shifters… wonder what those places look like.

Also aww, the guy saying good luck on the heroics dream to Izuku and Izuku just sparkling. What a cutie. Can’t wait for him to suffer. :D

Izuku: No seriously, what-

Anyways, I’m cutting off here since we then transition into the next ‘scene’ and this is a long chapter - 55 pages! Besides, this has already surpassed 1700 words, I don’t need to ramble on too long in one post. 

Lemme know what you think, and I’ll be back with more soon!

[certifiedskywalker]

Hear Me Out - Diego Hargreeves

Anonymous said: Could you do a fic where the reader is number 8 and they and Diego have something going on like Alison and Luther. Maybe the reader doesn’t realize it

(Sorry that this is sooo long, I guess it could be considered a slow burn??? In a one shot??? I dunno. I hope you like it!)

Reginald Hargreeves was not the only person that had taken an interest in the spontaneous births that racked the planet on that fateful day in 1989; but he was the only billionaire which was why William Whackerman could only collect one child. He was in his seventies when he ‘adopted’ you and a heavy smoker. Despite his less than glamorous health habits, Mr. Whackerman, as he entreated you called him, maintained his fatherly figure for the next seventeen years of your life. Which compared to the years that followed, were quite content.

After Mr. Whackerman’s death, a sudden but not-so-shocking heart attack, you were sent to a special school. Only, the Umbrella Academy wasn’t just simply a school. It was also a messed up, backwards excuse of a family. Reginald was only present during missions and paid little mind to you, his ‘new number eight’, for your powers had not been hardened by training his own children had been forced to endure. 

He simply stapled you on the end of the numerical order and left you with Vanya. Although, you didn’t quite mind the quiet girl’s company. She told you about Fives, how Father hadn’t been quite the same after he had vanished, but also talked to you about books and art; things to find hope in that Mr. Whackerman had neglected to foster. Through the next years of your life, Vanya had become a steady river of companionship; her and Diego. The prized knife slinging, living weapon of Reginald’s little army had taken an interest in you from the moment you had arrived.

While he didn’t talk much, which was due to a stutter you had learned about by accident. You had walked into his room when you were still finding your way around the monstrously large house. He had been standing before a mirror, eyes locked with his reflection’s as he stuttered out a sentence full of ‘ms’ and ‘ws’. He had been so angry and caught off guard when you saw him that he was shocked into silence.

“It’s okay, Number Two,” you still hadn’t been properly introduced as Grace was out of commission for repairs, “just take it slow. You’ll find the words.”

 You had stayed with him until he broke the silence. “It’s Diego. M-My name is Diego.”

And that had been the start of it all. At meals, you sat yourself between Diego and Vanya to enjoy the horribly daunting quiet. Even with no words exchanged, a silent knocking of sneakered feet against each other told Diego you enjoyed his company and vice versa. Despite being in your teen years, your relationship had been so juvenile; never once had it stepped over childish affection. 

Diego would parade his growing collection of knives, how to aim just right but too nervous to get too close to show you how. Granted, your powers lacked the refinement and accuracy of Diego’s so many knives had clinked to the stone ground of the courtyard. With pink cheeks, he would always tell you that you did well.

Some nights, you would both camp out in the courtyard, peer up at the stars at you traded dreams like sweets in the darkness. You swore never to use your powers on Diego unless he told you that you could.

“W-What can you do?” You shifted beside him, turning to keep your eyes off of him.

“If I stare at you long enough, I can hear your thoughts. But I have to stare for a while which is why your dad won’t let me go with you on missions.” Diego must have sensed your disappointment for he had been quick to console you.

“Missions aren’t that fun anyway,” a lie, you both knew it, “plus it’s a sibling thing.” You remember smiling and knocking your shoulder against Diego’s. Even at seventeen he had been muscular and barely moved at the contact.

“I’m not your sibling?” You teasing had made Diego shift at your side as your teasing made him uncomfortable. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to press, I-I-”

“It’s alright, Y/N,” Diego had murmured but you could see with ease the dejected look in his eyes. “I’m glad you’re not really a sibling ...Father...being his child isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Allison makes it work, with the magazines...I-I...can’t.”

You knew better than to press Diego and instead, you stayed at his side until the sun rose. Pogo had wandered out by then, water can in hand to tend to the flowers. He found you and Diego asleep, slumped against one another like rag dolls. The smiling chimp woke you both, sent you off to your rooms where you silently exchanged more chit-chat.

Outside of superpowered abilities and late night conversations, the two of you would communicate through the shared walls of your room through a secret language of knocks. Throwing an eighth child into the mix had disturbed any sense of order maintained by Reginald and with Klaus growing wilder by the day, it seemed the man had given up on some of his children; this included the systematic arrangement of rooms. In those sweet days, two and eight were neighbors, just like one and three. 

But like everything good, it came to an end. Although, you figured you had brought the end with you. The older you and the rest got, the harder Reginald tried to choke out your freedom. After Ben died, Klaus left to go...somewhere. No one was quite sure where but one day you all woke up and he was gone. Then Vanya, as soon as she got into college, she left and begged for you to come with. 

“What about the others?” Vanya had frowned then, tears had spilled down her cheeks. The Umbrella Academy had never been home for her, for you it barely sufficed. Yet you had found some solace in the patchwork family that had taken you in and chose to stand behind with a promise you would join Vanya when you felt ready to leave.

 That time came far more swiftly than you had expected. On that very night, you wandered through the house in search of Diego. You couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him behind. Although it seemed that Diego hadn’t felt the same way. 

When you stepped into the den, Diego was nowhere in sight. Grace had been idle in the kitchen, sat at the table with a cross stitch uncompleted in her grasp.

“Where’s Diego? Grace?” The blonde android, the mother of the child you had grown to call you closest friends. Beady, loving eyes met your gaze with a cherry-red smile.

“My little bird has left the nest,” she said and you noted how her programmed grin fell for the slightest second. “He’s gone.”

“You mean he’s just out, right? He’s no-”

“He left,” Grace said, the mechanics under the synthetic skin stalled, which gave her lips an almost human quiver. You felt your own resolve as it dropped and wet tears fell down the slopes of your cheeks. The memory of Grace reaching out and you pulling away was stuck in your mind as you packed your belongings. No there was nothing keeping you there.

So you left that next morning, bid Grace and Pogo ado with tight hugs. If the android woman hadn’t been programmed to smile, you would have sworn her lips were not as upturned as they were normally.

“Do promise you’ll visit and bring Miss Vanya back with you,” Pogo entreated, beady brown eyes pleading. You grabbed his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze with your silence. Pogo seemed to understand the quiet exchange and you gave the foyer of the Umbrella Academy one last look. Up the stairs on the landing, you made out the silhouette of Reginald watching on but not daring to give you a proper farewell.

Your childhood with Mr. Whackerman and your teenage years spent with the Hargreeves somehow even out your feelings on family. Living with Vanya also helped in that respect. You helped make ends meet between shifts at a local cafe and Vanya’s orchestra work. When she decided to publish her autobiography, you were both content; despite the pages of her writing adding a final flourish to an end of a peaceful chapter.

“He’s dead,” Vanya said, prompting you to look up from the table wedged between the living room and kitchen. With a furrowed brow you peered at her with her soaked hair and drenched clothes. The case of her volin hung loosely in her hand, droplets of rain still rolling off of the side.

“What? Who?” You stood up from your seat and closed your book. Vanya’s already dark brown eyes resembled shadows, glancing slowly around your face. Moth-like, Vanya’s limbs fluttered inside the apartment, the door still open behind her as she wandered in towards the light. The lines in her face were more defined as were the tear trails on her moistened cheeks.

“My father...”

It had been nearly a decade since either you or Vanya had stepped foot inside the Umbrella Academy. The brick building loomed, more nightmarish now than in your own childhood. Vanya stood at your side, small hands curled into tight fists. She too was feeling the whirlwind of emotions that had swept you along as well. 

“It’s alright,” you said, but Vanya’s gaze remained trained on the door. “You took your medication today right?” 

Vanya nodded in response and it seemed that the mention of her routine grounded her enough to speak. “I don’t think it’s going to help much though.”

“We won’t ever know if we don’t go inside,” you pointed out. The reality of your words pulled Vanya’s eyes to yours. “You ready?”

“No,” she replied and stepped forward to open the door. 

The grand entrance hall was wholly unchanged. Looming statues that resembled more gargoyles than any other loving beast were the first faces to greet you. Persian rugs laid under a centerpiece table that held flowers, ones cared for by Pogo evident by the crispy, vibrant petals. The same chill that had rolled over your shoulders when you first moved in to the academy gripped you then with boney fingers tight. If the place wasn’t haunted before, you were certain Reginald wandered about the hallways now. 

“Is it me or does it-”

“Vanya? Y/N?”

The voice, while odd having not heard it in so long, comforted you in some irrational way. Spinning on your toes you turned to meet the mournful gaze of Allison as she stepped towards you. Her curls cascaded perfectly over her shoulders in the way that, when you were teenagers, never failed to strike you with awe. 

“Hi,” Vanya greeted, breaking the slight silence that had gathered. She stepped towards Allison and fell into what, from your eyes, seemed like a strained sibling hug. Part of you was glad your father, Mr. Whackerman, had only adopted you out of the forty-three children born. The thought of having such a stiff family relationship set you on edge.

“It’s so great to see you,” Allison said as she pulled away from the half-hearted embrace. When her eyes found yours she added, “to see you both.”

“I’m sorry, for your loss,” you said and tried out a bittersweet smile on the girl labelled ‘number three’. She returned the gesture and sighed.

“Father would be happy to see you here, Y/N,” she turned back to Vanya, “and you.” You bit the inside of your lip to keep from scowling. You knew that Allison was trying to be kind but to lie so obviously made you want to cringe. Vanya, ever stoic, remained silent. “I think Klaus is here if you want to-”

“She shouldn’t be here.” A low, gravelly voice interjected followed by the sound of heavy boots clunking down the stairs. “She should-”

The repeated message with the same eerily cold sentiment was cut short. A familiar pair of dark brown eyes landed on your form and you swore it was as if you and Klaus had traded powers. The dead memories of the Diego you knew danced before you, bleed into your mind like a freshly opened wound. 

Scars on his face showed his age more than even the slight bags under his eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t sleep soundly in a year, only napping for a few minutes here and there to keep himself afloat. Even with the stumbling step Diego took in your direction, he moved as a shadow; all dark and watchful with the eyes to match. Despite everything, he was still the Diego you had known when you were younger. 

If you had stared into his eyes any longer, you were certain his thoughts would fold open like the pages of the book that had driven the wedge further between you.

“Diego,” Allison’s voice cut through the tension that had amassed suddenly in the room. “Be nice, please.” His brown eyes pulled away from your gaze to glance at his sisters. Vanya didn’t dare to make contact with him. Her book had turned Diego’s feeling sore. 

“She shouldn’t be here,” he said again, not as harshly this time. He turned to hold your gaze once more and you swallowed hard. “Not after everything.”

With that, the boy turned man ascended the stairs to the upper level of the mansion. You watched him go, wondering what would have happened if you had found him before he left all those years ago. The thought normally made you bitter, angry because friends don’t leave each other behind; but watching him leave again made your heart ache with some horrible sadness.

“He’ll come around,” Allison’s voice once again broke through the silence. “Y/N, you should try talking to him. Diego was closer to you than any of his siblings, any of us.”

“He doesn’t seem in the talking mood,” you countered. Allison’s frown deepened and she nodded in agreement. 

“Where...Where’s Pogo?” Vanya asked, mouse like features darted around in search for the kind, ape butler. 

“He’s…..around,” Allison raised her hand and referenced the entire building, “I’ll go to find him. I’ll be right back.” Her heels clacked against the wooden floors, leaving you and Vanya in her wake. You spared a glance at the brown haired girl who was wandering into the family room, the sliding door pushed aside. 

Aside from new, antique looking furniture, the room felt unchanged. The beady eyes of mounted animals, prizes from Reginald’s many hunting expeditions, watchful as every, seemed to study you as you and Vanya stepped inside. A lifeless fireplace loomed beside a vast wall of book shelves that pulled Vanya to them almost instantly. The pages, magnets really, coaxed Vanya’s metallic eyes to one book in particular. 

“You gave him a copy?” You leaned over and caught sight of Vanya’s own book in her hands. Vanya’s lips parted with a readied reply when the padding of feet hit your ears.

“Miss Vanya, Y/N, how good it is to see you both.” Pogo gave you both a chimp smile before hugging Vanya then yourself. “I see you found your book.”

“Did...did he ever read it?” You heart broke at Vanya’s question and even more so at Pogo’s answer.

“To the best of my knowledge, I fear not,” he rested a soothing hand on Vanya’s arm. “He loved you, in your own way. You too, Y/N.” You couldn’t help but scoff. Not being in the original seven had given you an outside perspective.

“He hardly knew my name, except my last one,” you quipped sharply. Pogo gave you a saddened smile. Nothing said to him seemed to hurt him and you instantly felt guilty about your tone. 

“Yes, Y/N Whackerman,” Pogo turned and squeezed your hand. “Different names do not change the effect you had on the Hargreeves family. He loved you all.

“Like you said,” you frowned, “in his own way.”

“And that’s the problem,” Vanya murmured. At a loss of what to say, Pogo hung his head quietly. You couldn’t help but wonder what he was going to do now. Stay and look after the house? Move out, and if so, where? Reginald had never talked about back up plans; the man thought he was immortal. 

“You know, Diego suffers from this same idea,” Pogo explained, “perhaps you can find solace in one another during this time.” You felt your jaw clench while Vanya gave the butler a weary look. “I know he would enjoy speaking to you, Y/N. The two of you were close.”

“Well, we’re not kids anymore,” you replied lowly. 

“That may be true, however, like I said, you had a deep effect on him, this family. Have faith in yourself.” Pogo’s words left a sour taste on your tongue. One that reeked of rotten regret and bitter grief. You could have reached out, made plans with Diego, any of the siblings really, but you hadn’t. Instead you let yourself be hurt by Diego’s wordless, goodbye-less departure, and only spoke to Vanya. Your powers fell into disuse and you feelings numbed.

Vanya went back to pursuing the array of volumes and novels on the shelves when Pogo trailed off, out the room to address a stumbling sound that sounded too much like Klaus to be good. The stuffiness of the family room, if you could even call it that, drove you back into the foyer. Your feet developed minds of their own as they guided you up the dark oak stairs. Fingertips trailing along the polished handrail, you could remember the speck of  hope that had swelled in your gut when you first arrived at the academy.

That seed had bloomed with wilted leaves and lackluster colored petals. The only ray of sunshine you saw was Vanya’s company and Diego’s friendship. You had to learn to grow without the latter. Never once did you think about returning, only in your nightmares, but here you were. After you trudged up the steep stairs, you found yourself in the hallway that defined your last few adolescent years. 

The first room on your right, the one that had been yours, was shut tight. You and the rest of the kids in the academy had switched rooms so many times that you were surprised when you could remember which door led to who. Across the hall’s creaky floor boards lied Vanya’s door and horribly cramped living space; it would be evil to consider it a bedroom. 

“Well, long time no see.” You barely heard Klaus over the noisy wooden floors but the sass was unmistakable. You turned to see him, taller than you remember with a rather eclectic manner of dress. 

“Yeah, it has been,” Klaus smiled and opened his arms. You met him in the middle in a tight hug, one that was rarely shared in your youth. “How have you been, Klaus?”

“Oh, you know,” Klaus pulled away with a lazy grin, “fantastic. Daddy’s dead!” He raised his hand in a partying gesture and coaxed a slight smile to your lips. 

“Morbid much?” Klaus only shook his head and dismissed the question.

“I am the one that sees dead people,” he teased as he started to walk past you, “Diego’s around here, by the way.” You turned to meet his green eyes and Klaus wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “Just thought you would want to know.”

In silence, Klaus disappeared down the hall and soon, out of sight. Swallowing hard, you turned and looked down towards the rest of the doors. It was eerily quiet, all the way down to Luther and Allison’s bedroom doors. With you lips pressed tightly together, you continued down the hall. That was, until, you noticed Diego’s bedroom door slightly ajar. A childish curiosity drove you towards it and it felt like you were falling into an old habit.

Your breath caught and heart thundered in your chest at the sight. Notches in the walls where, in anger, Diego had flung knives. You had witnessed many of them firsthand, late at night while Diego ranted about his father’s training. The distant memories seemed so close now as you traced your fingers along the divets. They were the only things in the stark room that still held hints of Diego.

Despite the open door, it seemed that Diego hadn’t stopped in to relive the times you were both close. You, on the other hand, lingered. You sat on the edge of his bed which had been stripped of the dark sheets he used to like. The bare mattress was far from comfortable, but you leaned back anyway. Your body bounced slightly, the top of your head brushing against the head board. A smile spread across your lips at an echo of a memory.

To give voice to it, you lifted a hand that curled into a slight fist. Gently, you rapped your knuckles against the wall. A dull knock sounded, requocheted through the room and filled your ears with a strange sense of emptiness. Long nights of back and forth with Diego, communicating solely through thuds on the shared wall.

Another knock echoed, replying to your greeting so quickly that it shocked you. You sat up in the uncovered bed with a shocked jolt. Staring at the wall, you waited. After a minute of silence, the same knock repeated with an added question. Are you still there?

Quietly as you could, you wandered out of Diego’s old room and back out into the hallway. Your bedroom door was still closed but, after a pregnant pause, you pushed it open. Blank walls greeted you with empty stares just as Diego’s darkness filled the room. He laid on the bed, only to sit up to face you as you entered. 

“Guess we still know the code,” he quipped and you felt your heart twinge. 

“I guess so,” you murmured in reply. Your eyes never left Diego as he shifted against your old bed. The temptation to stare, to read this thoughts rushed over you like a wave. Luckily you broke through the surface and tore your eyes away; only for a moment though. Black, long sleeved shirt and pants obscured most of him, but as you studied him, you realized something else entirely. “Are you bleeding?”

“What?” “Is that blood?” Taking a step towards him, you gestured to his side. Diego’s shirt clung tightly to his abdomen, visibly damp. His dark eyes flicked from you to to his side and back again.

“N-no.” The stutter would have been endearing, to some part of you it was, but fear rose up in your throat to choke it out. Without a word, you stepped towards him. Diego jerked back from your extended hand and reaching fingers. “Y/N.” 

“Just stop,” you snapped and it seemed to shut him up. Carefully, your crooked your fingers up and hiked up the hem of his black shirt. The wet peeling sound the fabric made as you pulled it up from his flesh made your skin crawl. A gash on his side, too blunt to be from a knife, was carved under his shirt. 

“I’m fine, it’s just a graze.”

You gave him a wild look, “you’re fine? Bleeding isn’t fine.” Diego let out a huff in response and you let the fabric fall back into place.

“I’ll get Pogo to take a look at it,” you said, starting towards the door.

“Don’t, Y/N, I got it. I’m fine.” He stood up, apparently too quickly as he winced, his eyes squeezed shut to stifle the pain. 

“Yeah, sure,” you grumbled, “you’ve never been good at lying.”

“Then see the truth.” Just as your hand reached for the door knob, Diego’s words sunk in. That current of your powers seemed to sweep you under the water of temptation, swirled you around until your eyes found Diego’s. He stood straight, stiff, as he stared into your eyes. 

“Diego-”

“You said that you wouldn’t, I’m saying that you can. Do it.” You averted your eyes to the floor to hide your intrigue.

“Don’t be such a child,” you whispered before looking up at Diego once more. “Just let me help you, okay?”

“I’ve never been good at lying, like you said, or talking. That includes asking ...asking for help. You know that.” You furrowed your brows and shook your head.

“That’s your problem,” you replied, “I’m not going to read your thoughts and fix it.” Diego took a step towards you and you felt your heart begin to race. You hadn’t looked away from him and specks of his thoughts were already filling your mind.

“I’m not telling you to fix m-me,” Diego mumbled, “I’m asking to you hear me out, listen to the things I can’t explain.” The streak of honesty that stemmed from Diego shocked you but not as much as the thoughts from his mind that were filtering into your own. 

“You’re hurting,” you murmured and Diego seemed taken aback. “You side...it’s not that. Something else.” Images of you as a child raced by your head, the rest of the Hargreeves siblings, then you again. Smiles, laughing, Diego stuttering in front of his mirror.

“Y/N,” his child voice echoed within the remembered thought, “I-I love y-you.” Then your face again, through a window talking to grace. The sound of rain pattering, the night Diego left he had hesitated on the doorstep to the academy. Regret, you felt his regret so strongly. It was then you forced yourself to tear your eyes away from Diego. 

You stared at the floor and waited for your own thoughts to return to you. As Diego’s feelings and thoughts bled away, you managed to look up. His dark eyes were wide, jaw clenched tightly as he lips pressed into a firm line. 

“Why didn’t you say goodbye?”

“Keep looking,” he pressed and you shook your head.

“No, I need you to tell me.” Diego groaned at your persistence and stared at you, visibly displeased.

“I’m not good at talking,” Diego reiterated, “you know that. I...knew if I went back to talk to you I would never leave. I would have stayed here, with you, gone anywhere and…”

“I wasn’t going to stay,” you slipped in as Diego trailed off, “I wanted you to come with me.” Diego met your gaze and you saw the sadness there.

“But would you have loved me like I love you?”

It was a question you knew the answer to. You had known it since you were young and thought things could be perfect. Those nights when you and Diego would stay awake for hours on end talking, you could feel the truth. You were just so young and confused and every relationship you had ever had was for your powers alone. Yet this was the first time Diego had ever asked you to use your powers. He was not Mr. Whackerman or Reginald Hargreeves; Diego was good, not perfect but good.

“Yes, I would have. I can,” you rephrase and you saw something in Diego snap. Some twig part of him broke into splinters into your hands as he stepped towards you one more time. There was less than a foot of space between you and you reached a hand for his. 

“I wish I could read your mind,” Diego said and you felt your heartache a little. 

“You don’t have to,” you murmured and gave his hand a squeeze. “You don’t have to, you know.” Diego’s knitted brows relaxed and he leaned down gently. The tip of his nose brushed against yours lightly, tantalizingly close. You could feel the pressure mounting, the feeling of his lips a thought away when there was a knocking at the door.

“Diego? Have you found dad’s-oh! Y/N, hi. I didn’t know you were here.” Diego sighed heavily and his head dropped when you turned to face Luther in the doorway. He was broader, shoulders larger than you remembered.

“Hi, Luther,” you greeted with a tone that read clear with annoyance. As always, Luther seemed to be above that and continued on.

“We’re going to meet in the family room downstairs soon. Diego, can you come to dad’s room with me?” You looked to Diego at Luther’s question and saw dejection in his features. 

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, I’ll be there in a second.” Luther nodded and ducked back out into the hallway. Diego grumbled and you smiled at him softly. 

“Go,” you squeezed his hand once more, “he won’t stop unless you go.” Diego frowns and lets go of your hand. “Make sure to get Pogo to check your side, alright?” Diego rolled his eyes and you shook your head.

“We’ll talk later?” He asked as he pushed open the door of your old bedroom. 

“Yes,” you replied and Diego nodded. You could have sworn that he smiled but he was gone too fast for you to be certain. Diego wasn’t perfect, far from it, but he was good; and that was good enough for you.

[lostinthewinterwood]

Heart Attack 2020

Hey friend!

Looks like you and I both like to write like the wind and suffer in the process, so without further ado, let’s go :D

Also, oops, my habit of procrastination has caught up with me… sorry about that!  Here’s a letter now at least…

   General DNW

non-con/dub-con;

explicit sexual content;

incest (incl. adoptive/chosen family);

a/b/o;

mpreg;

non-canonical permanent major character death;

complete downer endings;

hurt no comfort;

heavy angst;

on-page deliberate self-harm*;

on-page suicide;

gore;

graphic physical trauma;

character bashing;

cringe comedy;

fic-as-writer-soapbox;

fic that’s all about real-world bigotries or real-world politics;

canon-typical 2020;

unrequested full-setting AUs;

unrequested identity headcanons;

unrequested romance as the main plot.

*I don’t include things like, say, punching a wall in a fit of emotion under this. However, something like cutting would not be appreciated.

 *****

General Likes

– I really like plotty fics

– Secret identity and disguise shenanigans, the more layers to them and more absurdity the better.

– Crossdressing for whatever reason and gender disguises, also for whatever reason, though not as a fetish thing—that I enjoy less.

– Time travel and time loops are always fun, especially as a fix-it.  I have a general preference for Peggy Sue style (aka, an older character getting put back in their younger body at an earlier point in the timeline) over the character’s physical body stepping back in time, but either one is good.

– A focus on family and/or friendship, especially characters realizing they’re not nearly as alone as they think they are, and just generally characters who like each other and enjoy spending time together

– Found family; families of choice

– Character studies

– Worldbuilding

– Canon-divergence AUs and missing scenes; things set pre- or post-canon; wriggling into canon and poking at it to see what it spits back at you, if that description makes any sense at all.

 ***** 

wherein i request a time-travel canon and mostly don't request time travelers [art and fic]

Mother of Learning - nobody103  

·        Alanic Zosk & Silverlake (Mother of Learning)

·        Zach Noveda & None (Mother of Learning)

·        Kirielle Kazinski & Zorian Kazinski (Mother of Learning)

·        Kirielle Kazinski & None (Mother of Learning)

·        Raynie & Kiana (Mother of Learning)

·        Neoluma-Manu Iljatir & Zach Noveda (Mother of Learning)

·        Alanic Zosk & Xvim Chao (Mother of Learning)

fandom-specific dnw: romantic and/or sexual Zach/Zorian; physical parental abuse within the Kazinski family; significant exaggeration of canonical emotional neglect/abuse/general family dysfunction

 Prompts:

If you want to write an AU, you can consider any AU requested for AUEx for Mother of Learning, as listed here, to be requested in this exchange as well, even if the requested characters aren’t requested there, as long as it isn’t written as purely mundane.

I’ve written a fair few Mother of Learning prompts already; if you want to see me going off more about things, especially for Kirielle, please see the Mother of Learning section of my Gen Freeform Ex letter here.  If you don’t want to click through, though, here’s a bit of things.  

 Kirielle, Kirielle & Zorian:

If you want to focus on Kirielle’s relationship with someone who isn’t Zorian, for Kirielle and Nochka, they’re adorable and I’d love a further development of their friendship, especially getting to see it grow and develop over the months and years after the invasion.  If you want to write about Kiri and Zach, these two seem to have a lot of fun teaming up against Zorian lol, I really enjoy their dynamic and how they play off each other.  For Kirielle and Zorian, I love their dynamic!  And again here I’d really enjoy seeing their relationship developing in real time, rather than a constantly looping world.  I think it would be great to see either of them defending the other to their parents—and maybe Zorian ends up with custody of Kiri, there’s definitely things to explore there.

For Kirielle by herself, I’d love some sort of character study—what does she do now that the time loop is over?  She’s growing up into a war; will she be a mage?  An artist?  Something else?  Alternatively—what if she got pulled into the loop; what would it be like to grow older while still looking nine?

 Zach, Zach & Neolu:

Assuming you don’t go for a setting AU, I’d generally prefer something set at least in part after the time loop begins, but beyond that I don’t have a strong preference for where in the timeline this might be set.  Maybe something from before Zorian got looped in—maybe one of the iterations where Zach and Neolu just went off across the country having fun the whole month? Zach doing whatever, possibly very early on, or maybe him freaking out a little because what the hell, time travel is supposed to be impossible, and yet—what did he do in the start?

Or for post-canon, I’d really like an exploration of Zach, who’s got the lived-time of a middle-aged man and the body of a teenager—how does he relate to his classmates/other people in the real world, where everyone’s growing again?  Maybe something about his lawsuit against his caretaker, or just a little thing with him, Zorian, and How Do You Live Normally, Again?  This Is Hard, or some such thing.

 Raynie & Kiana:

Me? Latching onto a minor character in a big sprawling canon? It’s more likely than you think!

Anyway I like Raynie a lot; we don’t get a whole lot on her, but what we do get paints her as someone who’s having a very interesting life of her own, utterly divorced from the timeloop shenanigans (except re: the shifter children thing).

I like her and Kiana’s friendship, too; I like how when we finally see more of them both we learn more about how they’re similar and different.

For specific prompts, if you want to go pre-canon I’d really love something with her initial going to Cyoria and how she befriended Kiana in the first place (or, perhaps more likely, how Kiana befriended her; I somehow doubt that Raynie age 13, recently semi-exiled from her tribe, was particularly in search of outsider friends).

For post-canon, really, anything dealing with the fallout of all the things that go down in the real world would be fantastic too.

 Alanic & Silverlake, Alanic & Xvim:

I’ve grouped these because they both have to do with Alanic, but really they’re not very similar prompts.

For Alanic and Silverlake I’d be very interested in something to do with Alanic’s backstory; Silverlake knew him as a young necromancer, so… what happened there?  How did they know each other?  Why was Alanic set on becoming a necromancer; clearly he got far enough to have soul sight himself—how’d he get that?  Why did he leave the necromancer’s path to become a priest?

For Alanic and Xvim, I dunno, this seemed fun?  They’re both part of the “annoying but ultimately helpful teacher” club to Zorian, and they get along well with each other—gonna admit I don’t fully remember what goes down for them in the final, real-world iteration, but.  They’re both a lot of fun and they play off each other well; just go wild here.  I’m down for it if you are.

 *****

 mostly found family and similar vibes here lbr [art and fic]

Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)  

·        Cassandra & Varian (Disney: Tangled)

·        Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider & Red | Catalina (Disney: Tangled)

·        Angry | Keira & Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider (Disney: Tangled)

·        Cassandra & Red | Catalina (Disney: Tangled)

·        Cassandra & Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider (Disney: Tangled)

·        Angry | Keira & Red | Catalina & Lance Strongbow (Disney: Tangled)

·        Angry | Keira & Red | Catalina (Disney: Tangled)

fandom-specific notes: Cass's canonical injured hand/arm that canon just kind of... forgets about and doesn't ever address after it's introduced is totally fair game; I'd love something that addressed that, just nothing too graphic about the original injury please.  Dnw fic which explicitly breaks up Rapunzel/Eugene.

 Prompts:

So, overall, I just love this show a lot?  It’s just so wholesome and heartfelt and hopeful?  Anything you write which can grab that vibe I’ll probably enjoy tbh.

But! Onwards to specifics!

 Cass & Varian, Cass & Catalina, Cass & Eugene:

This is my “team betrayed Rapunzel and/or ill-advisedly trusted a blue spirit in the woods and/or died for her before being resurrected” group lol, and I’d love something that explores one of those things; canon gives us a little bit of that between Cass and Varian in the form of “Nothing Left to Lose,” but it doesn’t really address it after they’ve both found their way back; I’d love something post-canon for any of these pairs, after Cass has finally got her act together and they can start learning to deal with all of it.  Sharing their experiences!  Figuring out how to emotionally process the bad (or good-but-with-unfortunate-consequences-even-if-only-temporary) decisions you made!  I’m here for it.

 Eugene & Angry, Eugene & Catalina, Angry & Catalina, Angry & Catalina & Lance:

All the found family! If you’re just dealing with Angry and Catalina, I’d take anything at any point in the timeline tbh—how did they meet? When and how did they start thieving together?  What did they do between their major appearances in the show?  If you go post-canon—how do they work out their new lives with Lance?  They’ve been living on their own for at least two years, probably longer; how do they learn to let go and let someone else take care of them?  And for either (or both tbh) of them with Eugene—former child-thieves, reformed because of Rapunzel!  He doesn’t have any parental-style authority over them; how do they relate to him as opposed to Lance, in a post-canon world?

 *****

 superhero time babey [art and fic]

Secret Society of Second-Born Royals (2020) [SAFETY]  

·        Matteo & Roxana & Sam & Tuma (Secret Society of Second-Born Royals)

·        January & Matteo & Roxana & Tuma & Sam (Secret Society of Second-Born Royals)

·        Mike Kleinberg & Sam (Secret Society of Second-Born Royals)

·        Eleanor & None (Secret Society of Second-Born Royals)

·        Catherine & Eleanor & Sam (Secret Society of Second-Born Royals)

·        January & Sam (Secret Society of Second-Born Royals)

·        Eleanor & Sam (Secret Society of Second-Born Royals)

·        Worldbuilding & None (Secret Society of Second-Born Royals)

Fandom-specific dnw: January as purely, irredeemably evil; absolute monarchy as unambiguously purely good.

Fandom-specific note: since I’m directly asking for politics in the worldbuilding option, it would be a bit silly to fully dnw real-world politics in this real-world-adjacent setting. Don’t worry about referencing real politics if that’s where you go with your fic; however, I would rather any focused-on politics be filtered through the context of the fictional countries the film uses, and please don’t reference real-world American politics post-2015.  “unrequested full setting aus” dnw has been modified to “unrequested mundane aus” so if you want to, idk, put them in a fairytale au or a sports-but-still-have-powers au or something—go right ahead.

 Prompts:

So, I enjoyed this silly little movie quite a lot—the characters were a lot of fun!  I love them all!  I really mostly just want more of them tbh.  If you want an overarching theme—I would adore time travel here, even more than I normally do. Time loops especially are just… perfection.

 Matteo & Roxana & Sam & Tuma, January & Matteo & Roxana & Tuma & Sam:

Team fic! Team fic! Team fic!  For these two sets, I’d love something about the whole team—of course—doing team-y things. You could set it in the summer, before shit goes down in the climax; or you could set it after—they’re going after January, of course.  What happens when they finally catch up to her?  What do they do?  How do they all process the relevant emotions of having been betrayed?  Do we catch a redemption arc?

 Mike & Sam:

These two are such good friends!  I like their friendship a lot, and I’d love to see more of it.  Something fun would be pre-canon—how did they meet?  What led them to start their band?  How much traction does their band have, really? Or post-canon—even having forgiven her, it’s got to be a lot to deal with, your best friend turning out to not just be a princess, but a superhero princess, while you’re just… a groundskeeper’s son(?).

 Eleanor, Eleanor & Sam, Catherine & Eleanor & Sam:

Family times!  There’s a lot of tension and secrets here, have been for a long time; tell me how they come to deal with it all and learn to live with each other better than they have been before the film—or give me backstory! How did things end up spiraling this far down?

 January & Sam:

I’d love to have something dealing with January’s PoV on the events of the film, or Sam’s PoV on January; more fun with secrets and betrayals!  (Fun for the audience at least; maybe less fun for these two though.) They got pretty close, after all—how did that have January feeling?  Did she second-guess herself over that?  How about Sam—she was the one betrayed by her new friend, after all.  If you want to see me talking more about just January, check out my Yuletide letter here.

 Worldbuilding:

Okay, so, I really did like this movie, so I say this affectionately, but… to call the worldbuilding here flimsy would be to, well, imply that it had bothered doing any worldbuilding whatsoever, and that’s not quite accurate, now is it?  To be clear, I do think this was probably a good decision, given that the movie is dedicated to superhero funtimes, not How The Hell Is This Happening, but it does leave me with so very many questions. For being a movie all about royalty, this movie is almost allergic to actually engaging any of the politics it hints at, what with the presented sides being “monarchy good” and “terrorism is fine actually”; if you want to write about the politics of the world these characters live in, by all means go ahead! For example, how did they manage to be a Western European absolute monarchy all the way to the present day?  I’d love to see that, or anything like it really, explored.  Other worldbuilding I’d be interested in includes an exploration of the “gene” which… somehow… manifests exclusively in second-born children of royal bloodlines—does this include bastard children?  What counts as a royal bloodline?  What happens when one of the superhero royal children has to ascend the throne?  Why only the second-born?  Is it really genetic at all, or is it some sort of magic?  If not magic, then wtaf is going on in the genetics of this world, I have to know more.

 *****

 disguise shenaniganery and/or PUNS

Original Work [SAFETY]

·        Male Student Mage Disguised as a Girl/Female Student Warrior Disguised as a Boy (M/F)

·        Male Student Mage Disguised as a Girl/Female Fellow Student Mage (M/F)

·        Male Student Mage Disguised as a Girl & Male Student Warrior (M & M)

·        Male Student Mage Disguised as a Girl & His Older Female Mentor (M & F)

·        Male Student Mage Disguised as a Girl & Female Student Warrior Disguised as a Boy (M & F)

·        Male Student Mage Disguised as a Girl & Female Fellow Student Mage (M & F)

·        Child Superhero & Their Concerned Supervillain Nemesis (Any & Any)

·        Spellsword Mercenary & Mathemagician (Any & Any)

fandom-specific dnw: age gaps in ships of more than 3 or so years when one character is underage; predatory manipulation between characters in the relationship in service of the relationship–if characters are manipulating each other for non-relationship things and such that’s okay, but i’d rather both parties in any of the ships be interested in the romance of their own accord. Additionally, please don’t have characters react to any gender-disguised characters (or characters in general, but it’s most relevant to them) in transphobic or transphobic-adjacent ways (i.e. none of the characters are requested as trans, but I still wouldn’t want to see the kinds of comments people make about trans people aimed at them). I’d also rather not see any kind of serious relationship with at least one character disguising their gender pre-reveal of that disguise–flirting, starting to date a little is okay but if it’s going further please have them reveal it. Please don’t play into the idea of gender-disguised character as “trap”.

also dnw characters requested as gender-disguised to be written as trans or to be written as absolutely loathing their disguise. other characters are fair game. if writing trans characters, dnw them to be explicitly nondysphoric (but not addressing it is fine).

fandom-specific note: the “setting au” dnw obviously does not apply here; my typical “identity headcanon” au dnw has been replaced by a dnw for “marginalized identities as the main focus of a fic” since there isn’t exactly a canon here lol.

If you’re a lovely friend who wants to do treats, I’d be totally on board for art treats for this section; however, I haven’t requested them as actual fills.

 Prompts:

All of these are fun groupings that, I think, imply both setting and some amount of plot; but I’ll have some more specific prompts anyway.  Overall I like all sorts of settings; all of my requested pairs imply some amount of speculative elements in the setting, but beyond that it’s all up to you.  Just-left-of-modern?  Ancient China but with magic?  IN SPACE? Whatever you want to do, go for it.

 Male Student Mage Disguised as a Girl &/Whoever:

Look, I’m a sucker for identity/disguise shenanigans, and I love gender disguises, and for all the books I read as a kid featuring girls disguising themselves as boys to do [insert restricted activity here], I never saw its natural inverse; this is a travesty and must be corrected for.  Anything playing into this whole trope/idea is just chef’s kiss, I promise you I’ll love it.

 Child Superhero & Their Concerned Supervillain Nemesis:

Another favorite dynamic of mine!  I love supervillains getting tricked into that semi-parental role where they’re like “hang on I may be a supervillain and a criminal but you’re a child where are your parents what are you doing here,” it’s quite possibly the Best dynamic I have yet encountered in superhero fiction… even if I haven’t actually encountered it all that much.

 Spellsword Mercenary & Mathemagician:

Okay, I’ll admit that I mostly nominated and requested this for the pun potential.  But I think there’s also quite a lot of implicit lore you could really dig into; what kind of world is this, where magic can be imbued in or used through swords, but can also be related to mathematics?  Tell me more about it!  How do these two know each other?  Are they both shamelessly, pundamentally invested in wordplay as well as their actual jobs?  If you’re looking for more plot-implying ideas, I would be super down if you wanted to map this onto one of my other origfic requests (but no pressure lol).

[the-real-anywolf]

Destiel Advent Calendar 2019

Title: An Avalanche Of Fluff

Tags: Established Destiel; Castiel’s Plushie Obsession; Buying on eBay Has Never Been So Much Fun; Fluff; Smut; Explicit Sexual Content; Astroglide Makes an Appearance; Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester; The Plushiepocalypse is Nigh; Battle of the Puppy Dog Eyes, HAPPY BIRTHDAY FRANKIE!!!

Summary: Even though he’s running out of space, Cas keeps adding to his plushie collection. When Dean buys him ‘just one more’, and Sam is nearly crushed by an avalanche of them, he stages an intervention. Cas might be as good at giving the puppy dog eyes as he is, but he will not be swayed… nope.

Written by: @anyreiart (anyrei), @eyesofatragedy67​ (Eyes_of_a_Tragedy) & @punk-is-notdead​ (tfw_cas)

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21765409

Notes: *ahem* It's mugglerock's birthday, people. Let's celebrate! Every time you read the word plushies(1), take a shot, lol!

Any here: Happy Birthday, Frankie! ( @misspoogy ) Day 12 of our Advent calendar is our surprise fic for you! We love you so so so so much and wish you all the best for this day!

Trex here: Frankie, sorry not sorry for the sneak attack, but you're the bestest, and deserve all the plushies(2)! Happy Birthday, bb! Love you so mush! *throws Dean's pink panties at you*

Ruk here: Surprise!! *throws sparkly birthday confetti* Happy Birthday Frankie, we love you loads. Also sorry not sorry… for all the fluff. We hope you enjoy this fic as much as we enjoyed writing it. 😘😘

Additional Note: Ruk and Trex wrote a birthday fic for me earlier this year and this is kind of the follow up chapter. You can read how the plushie(3) obsession started here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20769434

Day 12:   An Avalanche Of Fluff

Ever since Cas had won that giant panda - with lots of help from Dean, of course - his collection of plushies had gotten larger and larger. It had gotten to the point that Dean was worried that one day he would return to the bunker and the plushies would have taken over.

Also, there was the slightly bizarre matter of Cas naming them all after different angels. And not just ones he'd liked either; he had a snake named Naomi, and a skunk named Raphael.

Most of them were angels Cas liked and missed, though. Even Gabriel, who was apparently a hyena.

There was also a squirrel named Dean, and a moose named Sam, and Cas kept them separate from the others, on a shelf in the kitchen. Dean got into the habit of saying good morning to them when he was in search of his morning coffee. He knew it was kind of silly, but it reminded him of a certain King of Hell, who’d ended up becoming one of their greatest allies.

Cas had named one of his plushies after Crowley too; it was a rat, but not a dirty one. Cas treated it almost like a beloved pet, which Dean found quite endearing.

Despite the ever growing number of Cas’s new friends, Dean found himself encouraging his hobby. Dean knew he shouldn’t, but every time Cas got a new one he was so damn happy… and so damn grateful too.

Sam though…

He didn’t seem to be very happy with the plushies turning up everywhere. Cas’s new plush bee, that didn’t have a name yet, had been standing in front of the little container on a shelf in the kitchen. A container Sam stored his teabags in. When he grabbed it in the morning the bee slid from the shelf and fell into his bowl of cereal, splashing the milk everywhere. Sam had given him an impressive bitchface, as he fished the drenched bee out of his milk.

“You better get that milk off him before Cas sees. Hurry up and wash him real quick.” Dean gestured towards the sink, wondering if Sam was going to carry it over, or throw it from where he was sitting.

To his relief, Sam started to wash the bee in the sink, shaking his way too long lion's mane. "He? Does this one have a name, too?"

“Actually, I dunno. I just figured it looked like a ‘he’. Cas is still thinking of a name for this one.”

Sam held up the dripping bee with a sceptical look. "Don't you think Cas has enough stuffed animals by now? They seem to be everywhere."

Dean shrugged. “They make him happy… just like bacon makes me happy.” There was another reason Dean didn’t object to Cas’s little plushie obsession, but he wasn’t going to admit it to Sam or Cas. If Cas kept them all at the bunker, he wouldn’t leave again, right?

Sam put the dripping bee down on the kitchen counter. The antennae were hanging down, giving the wet bee a sad look. “Can you even still go into your room? I mean, how many plushies does he have by now?”

“Er… I actually don’t know. I lost count. But I have to get one more for him; it’s super rare.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “I’m beginning to wonder if the plushies are your obsession, too.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sammy,” Dean huffed. Sam was kind of right, but he wasn’t going to tell him that, was he?

“Of course you don’t,” Sam said, sarcastically. “But if this carries on, I’m staging an intervention.”

He sat back down and ate his now-soggy cereal, and Dean got the impression that the conversation was over for now.

"Who made you the plushie police?" Dean muttered under his breath. He finished fixing his cup of coffee and walked out of the room. He had an eBay auction to win.

***

Dean was parked on his bed, computer across his lap, staring intensely at the screen. So far, no one had added an additional bid on the beluga whale Dean was trying to win for Cas; but he was poised, ready to up-bid, in case someone tried to snipe him.

With only fifteen minutes left on the clock, the door opened and Cas came in, smiling at the sight of his boyfriend on the bed, laptop at the ready.

“Hello, Dean. Are you waiting for me?” He quirked his eyebrow in that way that made Dean’s breath catch and walked over to the bed.

"I'm always waiting for you, sunshine," Dean smiled and grabbed Cas's hand, tugging him down onto the bed.

Cas found Dean’s lips with his own, and kissed him so insistently, that if Dean hadn’t had the laptop perched on his lap, it was very likely that Cas would be on top of him instead.

He pulled back an inch or two, and sighed contentedly. “There’s a lot more room on this bed now that we moved my plushie collection to my old room.”

Dean laughed. "My memory foam didn't remember me anymore." He cupped Cas's cheek in his hand, brushing that chapped lower lip with the pad of his thumb.

Cas joined in the laughter, laying back and placing his hands behind his head. “What’s on the laptop? Is it a special video?”

"No, babe, I finally found that whale you've been looking for. I'm currently the top bidder, so no distracting me, okay?" Dean mock-squinted at him.

Cas sat upright, his face now a picture of seriousness. “I would be very grateful if you won the whale for me, Dean. I’ll wait with you.” He squeezed Dean’s hand for luck, and kissed him gently on the cheek.

Dean knew where this was leading, as Cas climbed behind him, chin on his shoulder so he could observe the countdown. A new bidder had upped him by chump change, so Dean added $100 to his bid.

"There, that should discourage-" He gasped as he felt a hand snake down to brush over his dick, encased in cotton sweatpants. "Caaaasss…"

Cas licked over the back of Dean’s ear, and growled into it. “Just a little distraction until you’ve won the whale for me.”

Dean bucked up into Cas's tightening grip. "Dammit, Cas! You know this isn't fair," he whined. This wasn't the first time Cas had pulled this kind of move, but damn was it always a wild ride.

“Concentrate on the screen, Dean.” Cas said, as if it was that easy. Then, just to add a little more torture, he slipped his other hand up under Dean’s shirt, and found one of his nipples with his fingers.

"Easy for you to say, you toppy asshole," Dean grumbled. But he stayed focused on the bids, not because Cas told him to - at least, not solely because of that - but because he really wanted to see Cas's face when they won.

“I love it when you talk dirty,” Cas breathed heavily behind him, and planted an open-mouthed kiss on the back of his neck.

His angel upped the torture by slipping his hand into his pants. Dean moaned at the brush of calloused fingers on his cock. "Cas, please?"

“Please what?” he asked, as he began to stroke agonisingly slowly.

"Oh, shit, Cas, please?" Dean rambled, as Cas's strokes got firmer and faster. "Wanna come for you. Spill into your hand, see my come all over those beautiful fingers. Wanna feel you inside me so bad, baby. Please, fuck, pleeease!"

Dean felt Cas shudder behind him; his resolve obviously weakening. “Patience… I’ll make this so good for you once the bidding is over.” His actions didn’t quite match his words, however, as his grip became a little firmer.

"Unh, I hate you so much right now," Dean grunted and turned to nip at Cas's jaw.

“Yeah, that’s right. Get angry… it’ll be so much better when you get your release,” Cas purred. A sudden gasp was accompanied by a loosening of his hold on Dean. “What’s that on the screen? Has someone outbid you?”

Dean turned back to the screen to see the bid now five dollars higher. "Oh, like hell! I need that for my angel.” Dean bid another hundred and glanced at the clock. Three more minutes. He'd be damned if he was going to lose this.

“Focus… we must focus on the task, Dean.” Cas tightened his hold again, and started to stroke once more, and now he was adding a series of little kisses to the backs of Dean’s ears and his neck.

"Fuck, you're killing me, Cas!" Dean's hips thrust up to meet Cas's hand. "Don't you dare fucking stop, 'k?"

“I won’t stop until the clock does,” Cas panted, and grinded the lower half of his body against Dean’s. He was obviously as affected by this little game as Dean was.

With less than a minute left on the clock, there was another increase to the bid. "Oh, fuck that, you sonuvabitch!" Dean typed a much larger number in the window, then reached back with his other hand and tangled his fingers in Cas's hair.

At three seconds, he submitted his final bid - a thousand higher than before; Mr. Robert Plant and Visa could afford it - and waited for the results.

“Two… “ Cas said, as he gave the firmest stroke yet. “One…” firmer still. “Zero… come for me, Dean.”

Fingers tugging at Cas's hair, and hips rocking up to meet each stroke, Dean came hard, adrenaline pumping through him. He glanced back to see Cas staring at the screen in triumph. Sexy bastard.

“You’re so good to me, Dean,” Cas moaned, his groin grinding harder against Dean. “I want…”

"Fuck me, angel. You know you want to. Want it so bad, baby," Dean taunted, hoping for a grade A victory celebration - confetti, parade, fucking fireworks... all of it.

Cas groaned, and Dean could feel him fumbling to undo his zipper. “Lube, now… and get rid of the laptop, and your pants.”

Dean shoved the laptop to the edge of the bed and grabbed the Astroglide out of the drawer. He struggled out of his pants, eager for the pounding he knew his angel was about to give him.

He handed Cas the bottle and heard him flip the top. “What position do you want it?” he asked… He might like to take charge, but he always wanted to make sure Dean was comfortable too.

"Just fuck me, Cas! I need you inside me, yesterday," Dean begged.

“Get on your hands and knees,” Cas commanded then; Dean had given him the green light to take what he wanted. “I’m going to give you what you need.”

Dean whined, "Please, inside me. Now, sweetheart, please?"

“You’re very impatient today, aren’t you?” Cas growled. “I think winning the bid has brought out your baser instincts.” He pushed Dean over onto his stomach and he immediately felt a lubed finger breach his hole. “Mmmm… so tight for me.”

He hated and loved it when Cas teased him like this. "More, Cas, I need you so bad…"

“You’re a very needy hunter,” Cas said, thrusting in and out, but still using only one finger. “I would make you wait for it, but you’ve been so good for me, I think I’ll take what you want to give me.”

Cas had obviously lowered his head, as Dean felt his breath on his cheek, before the brief pain of a little bite.

Dean moaned in pleasure. "I'm ready, Cas. Just do it," he begged greedily, needing to feel his angel filling him.

Instead of feeling that delicious cock pushing inside him, Cas added another finger, and thrust it in roughly alongside the first. “You like that, don’t you?”

Groaning, Dean replied, "Yes! You know I do. Caaassss…" He gave in, accepting that his angel was going to edge him again, but totally willing to play hard ball. "Mmm, more… want all of you, love."

“Oh, Dean,” Cas moaned; Dean knew exactly how to push his buttons. He’d clearly had enough of making Dean wait now, and after removing his fingers Dean felt the head of Cas's cock being pushed inside him.

"Oh, fuck, Cas! You always feel so good." He panted as that thickness penetrated him, slowly and exquisitely filling him. Dean tangled his fingers in the sheets, and muffled his moans in the pillow, pushing back to meet Cas's hips.

Cas started picking up the pace then; slamming in, then pulling almost all the way out, before slamming in again. For a few minutes, the only sounds in the room were the gasps and moans of the lovers, and the sound of skin slapping against skin.

Cas changed the angle of his thrusts and hit Dean’s prostate, making him groan loudly.

"Oh, yes, right there! Cas, please don't stop, baby? Please, I need you so bad," Dean begged, like his life depended on it.

Cas slipped his hand around to Dean’s front and encircled his cock with his fingers. Despite Dean having come already today, he knew it wouldn’t take much to get him to orgasm again; especially the way Cas was hammering his prostate.

He clenched down, tightening around Cas's dick, making the angel moan, and demanded, "Give it to me, love."

“I. Love. You. Dean.” Cas gritted out, punctuating every word with a thrust, seemingly going impossibly deeper each time. “I-I’m going to…” Cas came with a groan, holding tightly onto Dean’s hips as he finished.

Cas orgasming had become Dean's favorite kink, and he followed behind, shouting out his release. "Love you so much, sunshine! Fuck, do I love you!"

He collapsed to the bed, Cas on top of him, just where Dean wanted him.

Cas wasn’t ready to pull out yet; he stayed like that as they both got their breathing under control again. Eventually, he lifted his head and kissed along Dean’s spine, saying, “I can’t wait to see my whale plushie. Thank you for winning it for me.”

Dammit, the angel could still make him blush. "Anything for you, sunshine." He snuggled down under Cas's weight and sighed in contentment.

Eventually, Cas got too heavy and his cock softened and slipped out of Dean's hole. "Plug me?"

Cas reached over to Dean’s night table and opened the drawer. He was obviously trying to choose from the collection of plugs - thankfully not as large a collection as the plushies - but finally he picked one and brought it to Dean’s waiting hole.

The one he’d chosen wasn’t too large, and Cas slipped it in without any resistance, then sat up on his haunches and admired the view. “Beautiful,” he said, running his hand over the swell of Dean’s ass.

Dean didn't have to tell Cas how much he loved it when he left his come inside him. They'd fucked in every position Dean had ever imagined, and some he didn't know existed. It hadn't taken long for them both to realize Cas inside him in any form prolonged the pleasure.

"You're the best. I love you more than pie."

Cas laid back down beside Dean, giving him one of his extra special smiles; one that made his whole face light up, almost as if he was glowing. “That is the sweetest compliment you’ve ever given me.”

Dean curled into Cas's arms and kissed his left pectoral, over his heart. Nuzzling into his side, he let out a little hum of happiness and held his love tight.

***

Despite Sam’s attempt to curb Dean and Cas’s excessive plushie buying, a new one had been delivered to the bunker earlier that day. He had heard Cas’s exclamations of delight when he opened it (he had, unfortunately, also heard some of Cas’s appreciation for Dean when the item was purchased). Ugh!

Dean hadn’t been able to tell Sam how many stuffed animals Cas had - not even a ballpark figure - but his curiosity was piqued. He would just have to investigate, and find out for himself.

There was no sound coming from Dean and Cas’s room, so Sam easily slipped past it unnoticed. When he reached the door of Cas’s old room, he turned the handle to open it, and was surprised to find some resistance. He pushed harder against the door, and with a creaking sound it shifted, but it seemed to have dislodged something.

That something turned out to be somethings. With a rumble the entire collection of plushies crashed down on top of Sam, and he found himself on the floor, dazed and wondering what had happened.

Scrabbling off the floor, plushies basically raining off him, Sam stormed off to have it out with his brother and the angel; having so many stuffed animals that they filled an entire room was ridiculous. Opening the door without knocking, he was greeted by the sight of Dean and Cas fast asleep in bed.

How sweet , he thought, as he walked back along the hallway, picked up an armful of the furry little creatures, and carried them back to Dean and Cas’s room.

He let all the plushies hail down on their peaceful, innocent, sleeping faces before he stated, “We need to talk.”

The startled reaction of both of them was gold.

Dean sat up and ran his hand over his hair, clearly having no idea what was going on. He blinked up at Sam in confusion, and yawned.

Cas snapped out of his stupor a lot quicker than Dean did, and he looked around forlornly at the toys that were now strewn about the bed. “Sam? Why did you throw my plushies at us?”

"Because you two have a problem that we need to address. This is an intervention." Sam crossed his arms over his chest. "Your whole room is filled with stuffed animals. It is ridiculous. This is totally getting out of hand!"

Cas frowned, and picked up one of the plushies from the bed. It was a koala, and Cas smoothed its ruffled fur. “But they’re so cute. Look at it, Sam.” He held it up, making puppy dog eyes as he did so.

Sam didn't fall for it. He wasn't his brother. "I don't care how cute they are. An entire room, Cas! I opened your door and there was an avalanche. An actual avalanche of plushies. Enough is enough!"

“I… oh.” Cas’s face fell and he glanced at Dean, who now seemed to be fully awake.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go poking your nose into other people’s rooms,” Dean said defiantly.

Sam dignified that with his bitch face. "That doesn't change my point, Dean. I said avalanche. A-va-lanche of plushies. Look," Sam sighed as he carded a hair strand out of his face. "I didn't complain about the plushies I accidentally sat on in the library or in the Dean cave, nor did I complain about the dinosaur and duckling on the backseat of the Impala. I also didn't complain when plushies started to show up in the kitchen... falling into my breakfast... But Dean, an avalanche! It's just too much."

“I’m sorry… I didn’t realise.” Cas looked like he might actually cry. “I promise I will stop.” He laid his head back down on the pillow and sighed sadly.

“Happy now?” Dean scowled at his brother and pulled Cas into a hug.

Sam rolled his eyes. Of course he didn’t want to upset Cas but this had to stop. “I’m sorry, Cas. But this is just too much.”

Dean made a gesture with his hand for Sam to run along, and to be honest, it was amazing it wasn’t a rude gesture, considering what had just taken place.

Sam turned around and left the two of them, hoping he had put a stop to this. They must see that this was getting out of hand, right?

…. :::: :::: ….

Since Sam’s plushie intervention Cas had kept to his word. He hadn’t bought any more, and he’d stopped Dean from buying them too. When Dean had mentioned Christmas, Cas had firmly but sadly told him that he wanted anything but a plushie as a gift.

And although he had stuck to that promise, he felt sad. Because this was it.

He hadn't told Dean or Sam what his reasoning behind having all those plushies had been. Although they knew he gave names of fallen friends and allies to those plushies... they weren't aware why he was doing it.

Cas still carried the guilt of every angel he had killed back when he had been under the control of the Leviathans. It had been thousands. Angels Dean and Sam had never met, but Cas had spent millions of years in Heaven with.

He had a list. It wasn't written down but in his head, reminding him like an engraved wall of every one of his fallen brethren.

And even though Sam described his plush collection as an 'avalanche of plushies' they still weren't enough. He wanted every name on that list be represented in his life.

For some reason, he needed this. Because if they gave those plushies their names, he was able to talk to them. In some way… maybe it worked for him like a cemetary. A place where humans could go and find comfort in talking with their lost loved ones.

There were still so many names on that list, so many angels he wanted to talk to. Who he wanted to apologize to. Or maybe just tell them goodbye.

He noticed that Sam was giving him worried looks throughout the weeks, asking him if he was okay. He assured him that everything was fine, although it was a big lie.

Christmas morning was coming, and Cas wasn’t feeling any better. He sat thoughtfully next to the Christmas tree as Sam handed him two packages wrapped in old newspaper. “Merry Christmas, Cas.”

“Thank you, Sam.” Cas gave him a smile that he hoped conveyed gratitude, even though he wasn’t sure he would like what Sam had given him.

He carefully opened the smaller package first, finding a colourful pair of socks, decorated with bees. It was really thoughtful, and he held them up to show Dean.

“They’re very you,” Dean chuckled. Turning to his brother, he said, “Nice one, Sammy.”

Sam grinned at them and took a sip of his coffee. “Open the other one. I think you'll love it.”

The package was box shaped, and Cas wondered what it could be. A book? Another item of clothing? He unwrapped it carefully, and sure enough it was a box. Peeling off the tape, he was astonished… delighted to see a plushie! It was a unicorn, and its tail and horn were rainbow coloured. “Sam? You… thank you.”

He clutched it to his chest, feeling the prickle of happy tears in his eyes.

“Dude,” he heard Dean say from beside him. “That’s awesome.”

Cas wasn’t sure if that comment was directed at him or Sam, but he was too happy to care at that moment.

Sam cleared his throat, “Yeah, man, look… You were so down the last couple of weeks… I just… It’s alright. If those plushies make you happy, who am I to stand against it.”

Cas jumped up and hugged Sam tenderly. “You don’t know how much this means to me. And I will try not to cause anymore avalanches with my collection.”

He felt Dean’s arms around them both, and although he was being squished, he couldn’t have been happier.

The End

[smolstrawberrychara]

October Klance Prompts - 28/10 - Alien

I saw alien and immediately thought: Galra Keith. So it’s a Galra Keith fic! And longer than all my other 3 combined  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Summary: Lance aims to make this next mission a romantic one as he and Keith land on a new planet. But when rumours start spreading of monsters appearing at night, Lance notices Keith acting strangely and the planet becomes a little more spooky. (Hurt, comfort and love ♥)

Also on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21071726/chapters/50576729

The sun was setting by the time Lance and Keith landed planet side. The descent had gone smoothly, no laser fire or homing missiles or field of thorns to land in. Lance was feeling pretty good. But maybe that was more to do with the fact that this was a two-person mission - a couples-mission if you would - with Lance’s one and only crush.

It had been a few months now that he’d noticed his feet turned to springs every time he walked around Keith. There was a little wriggle in his stomach every time someone mentioned him. And time always seemed too short when they talked. It was rosy - Lance knew that - but it was bubbling like wine.

The two were getting closer. The wriggles in Lance’s belly more like barrel rolls. And one long night at the Byzantee’s liberation ball, they were an eyelash’s width away from kissing. They’d been edging closer all night, goading each other into eating strange foods, laughing at how the Byzantee stumbled drunkenly around despite being slug-like and sturdy. They’d made their escape into the halls, hiding under dark wooden walls, leaning in close. Their voices were hushed, Keith’s breath warm, heart rushing.

And then Hunk came crashing through.

One hand threw them apart, the other clamped over his mouth whilst his panicking eyes shouted, ‘MOVE MOVE MOVE’. It would be safe to say, the mood was lost.

Which is what made this mission so important. Not the so-called Galra presence Lance wasn’t detecting along the cobbled streets. And Keith seemed to feel it too, striding between the hodge-podge of town houses with his face to the sky, breathing in the sunset.

“Seems pretty safe if you ask me.” Lance commented, noticing the pots of flowers lining the curbs. He could have very well been in a small English town if it wasn’t for the luminescent petals and the tall bees stalking over them as if on stilts.

Keith hummed. Then he shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “We should go watch the sunset.”

That was easier than expected.

“Sure!” Lance cried, and he did a little hop as he fell into step next to Keith. “I saw a hill up ahead, wanna go up there?”

“Sounds good.”

Conveniently, the residents of the town had built a winding stone path into the hillside, meaning Lance’s thighs were spared the ache of a direct climb. They hadn’t seen many of the residents, Lance noted. In town the population kept to themselves, raking beady eyes down the two before popping into shops or houses. On the hill, only a single man had passed them. He was a near giant, lumbering down the pass on trunk-like legs. Yet, when he spotted the two, he ducked his hat and hid his eyes as if trying to hide.

“Is there a native species to this planet?” Lance asked Keith as they hopped off the path at a spot Keith had deemed decent.

“Dunno.” Keith answered, moving onto the ground and swivelling around until he had one knee up and one knee down. Then he patted the grass next to him, curling his elbow against his knee and sending Lance a lazy smile. “Does it matter?”

Lance’s knees buckled.

“I-it’s just, everyone I’ve seen...” Lance felt his cheeks flame. He was rambling. And wobbling. And making unnecessary observations about diversity. He threw himself onto the grass before he could say anymore.

“Pidge said it was a common immigration planet.” Keith offered, wearing a sly smile as he turned to the sky, “Like a safe-haven.”

Lance breathed. At least Keith seemed calm.

“Damn Galra,” he hissed, awkwardly sticking his hands into the grass, “how many people have they got to displace? We’ve got a whole planet here!”

Keith was too busy gazing out at the sunset to respond and Lance was too busy fussing over his foot placements to notice. There were a few wispy clouds tinged in pink sailing across the sky and when Lance finally stopped fidgeting, he could appreciate just how calming it was to watch them - like boats bobbing on the sea. He could almost feel the salty air tugging on his hair, hear the rhythmic clanking of sails on masts and feel the sand slipping between his toes. Lance let his head fall towards his shoulder.

“It’s nice here,” he said.

“But?

Lance sighed. “But it’s not Earth.”

For him, the sky was just a little too golden, sun a little too big - and there was no denying it was beautiful - but Earth’s had a rawness unmatched by space. The cooling temperatures, the lengthening shadows, the blues fading and changing. It was a new experience every time - and yet never a disappointment.

Besides, there was no ocean here. Lance knew logically there were plenty of places to watch the sun set on earth without ever even acknowledging the ocean, but he’d never seen the point. Maybe he was just biased. Or homesick. Probably the latter.

“It’s kinda like Earth,” Keith offered, curling over his knee once again like a lazy cat. “Green grass. Single sun. Someone interrupting the quiet every five seconds.”

Lance made an offended noise. He was about to defend himself when he found Keith smiling up at him and forgot what he was angry about. Lance had always liked it when Keith relaxed. Especially like this, when Lance could observe the softness of his planes and the way his cheek squashed into his eye, pushing against the angle of his knee. But, here, in the gold light of evening, the boy was infinitely sweeter and despite his misgivings with where they were, Lance found himself smiling too.

“It’s not Cuba.” He said, without nearly enough sadness.

“That’s it’s not.” Keith agreed.

They turned back to the sky.

“You’d like Cuba.” Lance said suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Why’s that?”

Lance grinned. “Because you like me.”

Keith rolled his eyes, but Lance did not miss the amused puff of air that left his nose. He didn’t comment. Just shook his shoulders in a smug sort of way, the warmth of triumph sinking into his chest.

It was peaceful as the evening drew on, the two watching the sun sink down in relative quiet. Lance found himself relaxing into the grass almost sleepily, rolling his head closer to Keith with every comment. But as the circle started to melt, there was some shuffling from behind. Lance glanced over his shoulder just as a woman broke the hilltop behind them. She froze, staring. Then she shook her head, turning back once again.

“Odd.” Lance commented, turning back around. Keith shrugged, copying Lance’s stance by kicking out his legs and leaning back on his elbows.

“Probably wanted our spot.”

But as the sun continued to fall, a couple walked passed, and Lance couldn’t help notice how their conversation turned to whispers as their footsteps grew louder. Then an old man showed up.

“You should get inside.” He called out, shaking his head as he leaned heavy on his walking stick. “Not safe.”

Lance looked him over. He was a thin kind of alien, wearing an oversized jacket and red woollen hat. His skin was leathery and hung loose on his cheek bones, reminding Lance of the old fisherman back home. Only this fisherman had skin bluer than the sea and raised bumps on his forehead like the shell of a turtle. Keith raised an eyebrow, prompting Lance to call back.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine sir, thank you for worrying!”

The man tutted. Then he turned muttering to himself. Lance could feel a chill run along his neck. But the sun wasn’t fully set yet.

“There’s monsters out here y’know!”

Lance jolted at the shout. Spinning around he found another alien, with curling white hair and deep magenta skin.

“Monsters.” She repeated. Her tongue slid between her teeth like a snake and Lance shuddered.

“Thanks!” He cried, because he didn’t know what else to do. “Will bear that in mind!”

He turned back with a nervous laugh, staring intently at the sun. He wished it wasn’t so low.

“Monsters!” She repeated, voice shrill and loud. “You ought to be inside.”

“YES THANK YOU.” Lance yelped. Why couldn’t sunsets make sounds? And if they did, why couldn’t they come with a remote so he could turn it up?

“Don’t you hear me!?”

“Yep! We got it!”

The woman huffed angrily. “GET INSIDE!”

Lance squeezed his fists into the grass. He hadn’t wanted a shouting match this evening. Hadn’t wanted to feel this angry. But it burned through his eyes as he glared red at the sun.

“WE WILL LATER!”

There was a tut. “You better.”

Lance wanted to punch her. But she said no more. And as the quiet returned, Lance assumed she left. Still, he didn’t dare turn around. Just glared at the sun until it disappeared. Stupid aliens ruining stupid sunsets. How were they supposed to be romantic when people kept talking about monsters and danger?

“Lance?”

“What?” Lance snapped before remembering where he was. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Keith said, laughing softly. “You wanna go?”

Lance didn’t respond right away.

Keith spoke again, “you okay?”

Lance shrugged. Then he frowned. Then he found himself pulling his jacket closer around his shoulders as he talked. “I know monsters aren’t real...”

“But?”

Lance shook his head. Climbing to his feet, he offered out a hand and pulled Keith up too. “Rumours don’t come from nowhere.”

Keith squeezed his hand. “This planet’s safe.”

“I know.” Lance said, but found himself unable to let go as he looked down at the grass.

“You’re a paladin of Voltron,” Keith continued, ducking down to catch his eye, “maybe not an official monster hunter but I’d place a pretty good bet on you in a fight against one.”

Lance smirked. “Really? You have a bad habit of losing bets.”

“That’s because they’re always against you.”

Lance started laughing. “You wanna bet?”

Keith punched him in the arm.

“Come on, monsters or not, it’s getting late.”

“Sure,” Lance sang. It was as if Keith had sucked all the fear from him with just a few choice words. And Lance began ambling down the path after him feeling giddy once more, “wouldn’t want Prince Charming losing out on his beauty sleep. Less than eight hours and you’ll be the monster everyone’s avoiding.”

Keith turned back to glare and it filled Lance with glee. He couldn’t help it as he threw his head back and laughed. He’d made a habit of pushing his luck around Keith, but he got the feeling the other didn’t really mind.

Town was much less welcoming now they were walking at dusk. Curtains were closed, shutters hurriedly being placed onto windowsills and any passers-by setting a brisk pace with hats pulled low. The inn sat centre of the street, metal sign swinging shrilly in the wind. Keith ducked inside, ahead of Lance, pulling at his jacket sleeves. He seemed to have made a habit of that since re-entering town. Lance had assumed the boy wasn’t affected by the cold given his habit of sweating profusely on the fridge they called a castle, but maybe it was a case of strong winds and a barely-there jacket.

Nobody was manning reception when they arrived, so Lance dinged the bell. Swinging on his toes as he waited, he noticed Keith scratching at his arm, glimpsing irritated skin.

“You okay?” He asked. Keith immediately pulled down his sleeve.

“M’fine.”

It was a rather abrupt reply. And Keith purposely turned his stare up to the keys lining the wall to cut off any further conversation. His hand was glued to his sleeve.

“Really?” Lance asked unbelieving, “thought you might have got yourself a rash given how you can’t leave your arm alone.”

Keith’s eyes widened a fraction before they flickered down to his arm. His fingers tightened around his wrist.

“It’s nothing.” He said. Then he met Lance’s gaze and shrugged guiltily. “I mean, it’s a rash. I’ll ask Coran when we get back.”

Lance hummed. It was nice to hear he intended to get help, but Keith sounded very unsure of the whole ordeal.

“If it gets worse tell me.”

Keith didn’t answer. But it didn’t matter because at that moment, their conversation was interrupted by heavy footsteps and swishing fabric.

“Hello?”

An alien appeared at the door, dressed in a coat that reached the floor and a floppy hat that did not match the season. They had speckled skin, of indigo and white, though it was only just visible on their chin as the brim of their hat fell low enough to touch their white lips.

“Hi!” Lance greeted brightly, waving briefly, “we’re looking for a room. Just a few nights. Two beds?”

The alien pursed their lips, forming a heart shape.

“A few nights.” They repeated uncertainly. “It’s the waxing moon you realise?”

“Uhh...” Lance looked to Keith but he looked just as lost as Lance felt. “No?”

“You mustn’t go out.”

“What? Why?”

“The waxing moon.” Is all the explanation the alien gave before spinning around and grabbing a set of keys. They threw them down on the counter loudly.

“Monsters.” They said, squeezing the metal under gloved fingers. “They come out at night. The full moon asks of it.”

“O-kay?”

Lance was starting not to like this place at all, glancing to Keith for help. But he wasn’t looking. His hand was scratching his arm again and he was staring out the window, as if watching something.

“Keith?” Lance prompted, nudging an elbow into his side.

“What? I’m fine.” Keith snapped, shoving his arm behind his back. “These the keys?” He said flatly to the server. The alien nodded, passing them over.

“It’s a suite.” They said, “two bedrooms, one bathroom, a shared sitting space. It’s located on the second floor. Enjoy.”

Lance didn’t feel the genuine intent of that last instruction, the flat delivery and immediate disappearance of their host offering no comfort whatsoever.

“Should we-” Lance began but Keith was already stamping up the stairs. “Hey wait!”

Keith went straight to his room without another word.

 Lance was a light sleeper at the best of times. But with the unnerving town and talk of monsters he’d fallen into a restless slumber. So, when there was a crash of falling glass, he sprang up instantly.

“Keith?” He called out. The wind was rumbling overhead, and only the rattling roof tiles gave answer. A cold tickle of air slipped under the window break, and crawled around his neck. With a shudder Lance leapt out of bed. “KEITH!”

There was the sudden slam of a door. “I’m fine!”

Lance jumped at the noise. Then he processed who it was and slumped breathlessly into the wall. “You scared me. What’s going on, are you alright?”

“Yeah!” Keith cried. Lance slipped out his bedroom. “Just dropped a glass. I’ll get another from downstairs.”

Lance stopped short. “Wait, you’re leaving the apartment?”

The night suddenly felt a lot colder. Lance pulled on his shirt sleeves.

“I uh already have...” Keith called back. Lance realised now the hall light was glowing around the front door and Keith’s bedroom was wide open.

“I’ll come with you!” Lance shouted, throwing himself back into his room to grab a jacket.

“NO!”

Lance tripped over his own feet. “What, why not!?”

“I mean... I’m fine. It’s not far. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Hurried footsteps followed and Lance was left bewildered. He was still midway to the floor, bulk of his jacket gripped between tense fingers, but with Keith’s sudden retreat he was left slowly rebalancing. It was odd. Lance had thought they’d built a kind of report in the last few months where they did things together, even if it wasn’t necessary. Just a kind of habit of keeping company. It was hard not to feel a little hurt at the betrayal. Lance clutched the jacket to his chest.

The room wasn’t so dark now his eyes had adjusted. But that only made the whole thing worse. The shadows all looked menacing, Lance caught flashes of horns and figures before he refocused on chairs and clothes. He sunk into the wall. Keith would be back soon. Lance wouldn’t be alone for much longer. So he settled into fiddling with the material of his pockets. Keith would be back soon, he repeated to himself like a mantra, as his eyes blinked slower and slower and the floor seemed to get closer and closer. He didn’t hear the latch of the door before he fell asleep.

 The next day was weirder than the first. Lance had a crick in his neck and a bad temper. He’d intended to wait Keith out the night before, standing against the wall in order to stay awake long enough to hear the latch click. But it never did. And Lance woke up slouched between the wall and hard floor with a painful dent in his face formed by the zip of his jacket.

Instinctively, he blamed Keith for his pain. But the boy wasn’t acting early nsmug enough for it to feel right. In fact, Keith was keeping very quiet. Over breakfast he took on a distant look, skin pale and eyes rimmed with red. Lance had asked how he’d slept, a subtle way of promoting his own poor night and Keith had rushed out a yes before hurriedly throwing down his knife and fork and jetting off to the bathroom.

That didn’t exactly answer Lance’s question. And left him with many more.

Maybe Keith was just having stomach problems? Not everyone was as open as Lance was about these things. He had the excuse that you couldn’t afford not to be open in a house with eight other people. But Keith had lived alone and had a general habit of keeping to himself, so Lance decided not to push. Instead, he suggested they do another check of the town.

“If we don’t see anymore Galra, we could ask around,” Lance offered as they began their trek, “maybe people will be more welcoming when they see we want to help.”

Keith grunted, shrugging on his jacket. Lance noticed the mark on his skin was gone.

“Your rash looks better.”

Keith jolted like he’d been shot with electricity.

“What!?” He spluttered, pulling down his sleeves with the desperation of a teenage boy covering up a new tattoo.

“Your rash?” Lance repeated uncertainly, “it’s gone.”

“Oh...” Keith peaked down his sleeves and relaxed at whatever he saw. Lance couldn’t help noting the fact he wasn’t allowed to see anything. Between this and the odd disappearance at breakfast, Lance felt a mighty need to speak.

“You know being ill isn’t a crime.” He said rather huffily. “You don’t need to cover it up.”

“What?”

Lance scoffed. “Are you even listening to me?”

“Yes. I am.” Keith hissed, before throwing a hand through his hair and getting caught in the knots. “I’m just not ill.”

“You sure don’t look it.”

“I said I’m not.” Keith snapped, glare sharper now his hair wasn’t in the way. Lance raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay.”

Keith didn’t seem to notice, gritting out another warning. “Just drop it.”

“I said okay!” Lance cried, exasperated at the lack of attention Keith was showing.

“Good.” The other all but growled out. Then he strode ahead, beelining towards the streets they hadn’t checked yesterday. Lance scoffed. He didn’t particularly want to follow now that Keith had irked him but didn’t have much of a choice. The mission came first and all. At least, that’s what Keith always said.

 The villagers had struck Lance as mice the day before. And to some extent they still did today, scurrying away every time Lance got close to even looking at them. But they had become a little bolder. Only where Keith was concerned, but bolder none the less. They openly stared at him - some smiling almost sympathetically as they passed. They paid Lance no such favours. But with Keith, they’d seemed to have struck some sort of kinship, one even going as so far as to nod at him. It irritated Lance. He was supposed to be the friendly one. But it seemed to unnerve Keith. He nodded awkwardly back, ducked his head at their smiles, and began glancing around more wildly as they went on.

Lance didn’t like this. He began walking closer and in a sheer stroke of confidence, he brushed their knuckles together in the hopes of offering some sort of comfort. The first time, Keith just stepped further away, seemingly unaware of the purpose behind the gesture. And the second time he just shoved his hands in his pockets, craning his head around the opposing alley.

So Lance shoved his hands in his own pockets.

“Maybe we should start talking to villagers?”

“No!”

It was the most convinced Keith had sounded all day. His eyes went wide, and he stiffened like he’d seen a ghost. He seemed to notice Lance’s shock as he immediately went limp again and avoided his gaze.

“I mean, they don’t seem to like you much. Maybe we should split up?”

Lance sucked on his teeth. Whilst it was true the people had not appeared to take a shine to Lance, he didn’t much like to hear it.

“Right.” He said, trying not to let the bitterness ring out on the ‘t’ sound. “You go ask questions and I’ll do what? Keep walking around uselessly?”

Keith finally had the guts to look guilty now. His brows tilted in pain, and his lips squashed together. “Yes?”

Lance tutted. This made Keith panic.

“Not uselessly! Umm... just investigate? Check for bases and uhh... Galra stuff?”

“You don’t sound sure.”

“I-“ Keith began before sighing, “I’m not.”

He scuffed his boot against the curb. “I don’t know what’s going on here. And I don’t like it.“

Lance paused. Keith had lost the brashness of before, and the strange flighty behaviour was gone. Instead, he seemed lost. But more than that, he was willing to admit it. And that stood out to Lance more than all the throw away comments. Without another thought he stepped forward and squeezed Keith’s arm.

“It’s okay.” He soothed, staying within the others space like a satellite around a planet. “I don’t know what’s up with this town either. If there are Galra, I don’t know why they’re hiding. And if there aren’t, then these monsters are probably freaky enough. We’ll do our best though, right?”

“Right.” Keith agreed to the floor. Then he looked up, giving Lance one of his soft smiles. One that Lance hadn’t nearly seen enough of in the last few days. It made him stand stronger in his conviction.

“You go talk, I’ll go walk.”

Keith’s smile somehow grew warmer. “Okay.”

 Lance wasn’t sure how long the walking and talking was supposed to last. But it was already sundown when Lance re-entered the town. There’d been no bases out in the fields, and no missile launchers hidden under basements. It was all rather too sweet and homely. Lance was starting to doubt the accuracy of Pidge’s intel. Maybe their coordinates had been wrong? Either way Lance was coming back empty handed. And the dark streets were even creepier on his own. Lance hurried along, pulling his jacket close to his body. Why hadn’t he headed back sooner?

There was a bang and Lance stumbled.

“Hello?” He called, like an idiot who wanted to get murdered. There was a second noise, a scraping of metal this time, coming from the alley way filled with bins. Lance crept forward. “Someone out there?”

Nothing now. Just the sprawling silence of night. He dug out his phone from his pocket and flicked on the torch. “Hello?”

Swishing the light along the alley he caught glimpses of shiny black sacks and food packets spilling on the floor. Lance drew out his breath. It was just fairy stories tricking his mind. Casually, he flicked the light back. Then something jumped into the beam and he nearly fell backwards. The shadow. It was like a bat ear. Lance threw the light around, glimpsing claws, fur, purple. Galra. Lance was stuck frozen a moment. Then the adrenaline kicked in and he was running, pelting down the pavement with his heart beating loud in his ears. Why were the Galra here!? On a quiet planet in the middle of the night. Lance burst into the alley but the Galra had a head start. And they ran at double speed, heavy boots stomping through the alley. Claws whined against stone as they scrambled for the corner, disappearing fast. Lance slammed into the wall, panting at the retreating figure. A Galra. Here of all places. Hiding in the shadows. Lance couldn’t understand why he hadn’t seen one sooner. Then it clicked. The monsters that appeared at night. They were Galra! Lance sprinted back to the hotel.

 “Keith!” He yelled only halfway down the corridor. “KEITH!”

Skidding into their door, Lance banged his fists in the wood. “The Galra! They’re the monsters! Open up we need to go!”

There was no answer.

“Keith?”

Lance leant his head against the door, getting his breath back. Maybe Keith was still out?

“I’ll go get the spare keys.” Lance muttered, smacking the door once more before running off again. His plan formed naturally in his head. Grab weapons. Find Keith. Hunt Galra. So caught up in these thoughts, Lance forgot to pay attention as he ran and the next moment he was colliding with a huge mass.

“Sorry!” Lance cried, stumbling towards the floor. In a stroke of luck, he managed to get his footing just before his nose hit the ground but his triumph was short lived when he heard the sound of crashing behind him. Clearly, his opponent hadn’t been spared the same fate. Lance spun around, worry about to spill from his lips when he came to an abrupt halt.

Across the hall was a Galra. There was no way to deny it - indigo skin, large bat-like ears, blown pupils and yellow irises. But that’s not what caught Lance’s attention. Because across the hall from him was someone familiar. And the petrified look smacked across their face was so wrong it made his stomach turn leaden.

“Keith?”

“Don’t look!” Keith shouted, throwing his hands to his face. “Please.”

His ears drooped - large purple ones covered in fur - and he attempted to hide under his shoulders. But Lance couldn’t stop looking. Even with his hands over his face, Lance could see how Keith’s skin had changed - texture like a peach, colour of a plum. His shape was the same, but his features were sharper. Or maybe just more striking in this palate. Either way, Lance had never seen Keith like this before. He wanted to speak but moved instead. And that was a mistake as Keith flinched back.

“Don’t!” He yelled, eyes flashing gold. He was trembling, curling into the corner where the floor met the wall. “I’ll be fine in the morning, okay? Just- don’t look. Please.”

He wasn’t looking at Lance. But the cracks in his voice made Lance sure if he saw his face in that moment, it would break his heart. Lance hated this place in an instant. Hated the whole universe for making his best friend cower on the floor. But more than that, he was filled with a mighty need to see Keith standing with his usual strength once again. So Lance stepped forward, more carefully than before and bent into a crouch.

“Keith?” He called quietly. The boy slowly lifted his head, hesitant but willing. And when he did, Lance brought his hands up, cupping Keith’s cheeks and sweeping his thumbs along the plump lift in his skin. “Please don’t hide.”

Then he tilted forward, capturing Keith’s lips in his own. It was gentle, Lance slowly letting his warmth spread through Keith. But not without purpose. With every moment of the kiss, Lance wanted Keith to feel that he wasn’t alone. That he was loved. That he had no reason to be scared. And when they parted, Lance felt a little giddy, eyes catching on the shine lining Keith’s lips.

“You- why’d you-?” Keith stammered, mouth opening and closing like a fish.

“Kiss you?” Lance supplied, leaning back with a sly grin, “because I wanted to.”

Keith gawped. Then glanced away and that’s where the gawping ended. He seemed to remember where he was, who he was, and his cheeks burned bright red. He pulled back out of Lance’s hands.

“You shouldn’t have.”

“Why not?”

“Because!” Keith cried, eyes suddenly flashing yellow, “I’m a Galra! I’m a monster! Even without the freaky moonlight, nothing’s going to change that! It’s in my dna!”

The words were harsh, and they left splinters in Lance’s ears. But he felt no less determined.

“You’re not a monster.” Lance said firmly. “Never have been.”

Then he reached out, tracing his fingers around Keith’s jaw, noticing how the soft hairs moved with him. “And Galra or not, who you are has nothing to do with the looks on your face or the genes in your bones.”

“But-” Keith began. His eyes became watery, words holding half the fight they had before. And a moment later, the boy collapsed all together, falling into Lance’s chest. “What about the team?” He asked wetly, twisting his fingers into the front of Lance’s shirt. “Allura. And Pidge. They hate Galra.”

Lance shook his head. Curling his arms around Keith, he pulled him closer, burying his nose in his hair.

“They don’t.” He said softly, pressing a kiss behind Keith’s ear, and inhaling the earthy scent. “They hate what happened. They like you.”

Keith’s ear twitched. He snuggled in closer, almost like he was trying to hide.

“And you?”

The question was spoken so quietly Lance might have missed it. But the vulnerability made it impossible to. Lance looked down at the boy in his arms. A lump of purple and fluff clinging to his chest like a koala. And couldn’t understand how anyone could hate such a gentle person. Someone who only showed strength in adversity, chose kindness even though he’d suffered so much. Lance burned with a sudden illogical feeling of injustice. Because Keith deserved to be happy. Just like anyone else.

“Of course I like you.” It seemed too obvious to even say. Lance didn’t go around kissing just anyone after all.

“And what about the Galra?” Keith asked, or more mumbled. Lance felt the movement of it right against his neck and was almost too distracted to answer. But he knew how important this conversation was. So, squeezing Keith tight, he answered honestly.

“The Galra aren’t evil.” He said, with a sort of finality that made it cement in his mind. “There are good Galra. And there are bad Galra. Just like humans. There are confused Galra and then, there’s survivors. Like you.”

Lance pulled back, reaching between them to take Keith’s hand and tangle their fingers together. “You’re scared?”

Keith nodded weakly. “What if they hate me?”

The way his voice wavered broke Lance’s heart.

“They won’t.” He pressed, tugging Keith’s hand up to his lips to kiss along his knuckles. “I won’t.”

He continued pressing kisses to the purple skin as he spoke, “and if anyone decides to dislike you for your biology then more fool them.” And then, because the thought made Lance’s lips widen uncontrollably, he added, “and more you for me,’ before kissing all they way up Keith’s arm and landing right in the crook of his neck. Keith squirmed under he attention but there were hints of laughter in his breaths so Lance decided not to stop. He pressed a final kiss under his jaw, humming against the sensitive skin before finally hooking his chin over Keith’s shoulder and pulling them into embrace once again.

“What if I stay like this forever?” Keith asked. His words were vibrations across Lance’s chest, but they carried a weight that sunk much deeper.

“You won’t.” Lance assured, remembering their previous conversations with the receptionist and the strange people on the hill, all about the moon and monsters that only came out at night. He realised now, they were probably just nervous of outsiders seeing their Galra traits and Lance could understand why; a seed of guilt planting in his stomach when he thought of the awful things he’d said about the Galra. And he realised then what he needed to say.

“But it wouldn’t matter if you did.”

Lance leaned back now, fixing Keith with a determine look.

“You’re you Keith.” He said softly, brushing at the tears trailing the others cheeks. “You’re kind. You’re brave. You’re stupid. You’re Galra. You’re everything you are. And you don’t need to be ashamed of any of it.”

Keith’s lashes fluttered as he looked down, cheek poking Lance’s fingers. “I am though.”

The words rang heavy in the quiet room. Lance knew the feeling. Of wanting to hide. The fear of not being good enough, of somehow being wrong. It wasn’t a pleasant one. But it wasn’t one he’d defeated yet either.

“Sometimes,” he said, voice unexpectedly raw. He coughed, clearing his throat, but it didn’t help much. “Sometimes it feels like the world wants to hate us. And sometimes it’s hard not to agree. But we don’t have to.”

He pulled Keith close again, tangling his fingers into his hair. “I don’t like who I am sometimes. And sometimes it’s really hard to fight those thoughts.” There were prickles forming in his eyes, but Lance pressed forward. “But I don’t want to feel like that forever.”

The feeling glowed like a fire in the pit of his stomach slowly taking form. It wasn’t roaring yet, just embers dancing around a fat wooden log. But it would. And Lance took comfort in the fact that he would get there.

“We won’t.” Keith whispered back. “I’ll fight with you.”

And Lance felt it’s flames flicker a little brighter. With a sudden resolution, he buried a kiss into Keith’s neck, messy like a raspberry. “Thank you.” He murmured. It felt like more than just two words. He took a moment to feel them. Then Lance took in a lungful of air, and got to his feet, refreshed but no less exhausted.

“Come on,” he said, offering out a hand. “Let’s go to bed.”

Keith smiled shyly. Then he took it. And allowed himself to be led all the way back to the suite, into Lance’s room and into his bed.

It wasn’t much different from being on the floor really. Lance tugging Keith close until his head fit snuggly against his neck and their chests pressed firmly together. Only now, he could feel the soft drumming of Keith’s heart. And hear the peaceful ins and outs of his sleeping breaths, puffing gently over his skin. It was relaxing. And surrounded by the warmth of blankets and intimate embrace, Lance decided he’d found something to like about this planet. It was a haven.

[lisatelramor]

How (Not) To Say You Love Her

Sooooo. @fugitivehues left a few comment tags on my other hanahaki fic, one of which was how the thought of Kosuke having it was fun and my brain did that thing it sometimes does and went "Oh! Let's play with that!!!" and promptly ignored all the other WIPs I have lying around ^_^;;;;;; So, uh, have a fic Fugitivehues, since you like Kosuke?? Also, like, Kosuke likes Emiko for over a year (based on those White Day presents) which leads to interesting things when combined with hanahaki, haha.

*O*O*O*O*

Kosuke pretended to be listening to his friends, but really he was watching the street beyond their outdoor café table. It was just about time… And there she was. Niwa Emiko, the prettiest girl at the university. She knew it too; she had the sort of presence that turned heads and beautiful red hair that stood out in a crowd. Kosuke watched her leave the much nicer café across the street that she got lunch at every Thursday and walk by, just the width of the street away before she turned the corner toward wherever she went after this. Kosuke had found out about the habitual lunch by chance, a creature of habit himself. It wasn’t weird if they both just happened to like to get lunch at cafés across the road from each other.

He sighed into his mostly cool cup of coffee as the last of her curls turned the corner. Maybe someday he’d get the courage to talk with her, but he kind of doubted it.

“Wow, what was that?” Minako asked, leaning over the table to wave a hand in Kosuke’s face.

“You don’t know?” Katsuma said, snickering. “Kosuke has a ~crush~.”

“It’s not a crush,” he mumbled, hiding his blush in his coffee cup.

“So you come here every Thursday to sit in the same seat at the same time because you really like their coffee?” Katsuma teased.

Minako grinned at his expense as Kosuke blushed harder. “Aww, cute! Though I didn’t take you for the type to gravitate toward pretty faces.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kosuke said, knowing that trying to say he didn’t have a crush again would only get him teased more.

“I mean she has a ton of guys chasing after her on the off chance she’d so much as look at them. Don’t get me wrong, she’s pretty and probably perfectly nice,” Minako said waving a hand, “but she’s kind of weird.”

“Yeah, I’m with Mina-chan,” Katsuma said. “What kind of girl gets confessed to and asks men if they’re man enough to father a son?”

“A quirky one?” Minako joked with a laugh. “How’d she even get on your radar?”

“She was in one of his art history classes,” Katsuma said before Kosuke could try to change the topic. “Sat a few seats in front of him so he kept ~noticing~ her.”

Kosuke buried his face in his hands. They were going to talk about this whether he wanted them to or not.

“Wait, she’s studying art history?”

“Art conservation,” Kosuke mumbled.

“You would know that,” Katsuma said. “She’s probably here for her MRS, if you know what I mean.”

“I dunno, no one studies art conservation if they’re just trying to get married. You go with an easy ride,” Minako said.

Kosuke tuned them out. They were going to talk the topic to death, probably at his expense yet again. He didn’t have a crush. Even if Niwa Emiko was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, it was more that he was curious about her. Why did she choose art conservation? What sort of art did she like? How did she manage to have the courage to deal with all her admirers? She was interesting, and their spheres of life only glanced against each other in moments like this or a rare class overlap. Kosuke was a reclusive person with a few close friends and Emiko was… was bright and effervescent, attracting friends from all different walks of life. People got drawn into her orbit and Kosuke was just another one of them, like a far off meteor as brighter, more outgoing people navigated her gravitational pull.

“And we lost him again,” Minako sighed. “C’mon, Ko-kun. You said you’d help me find sources for my research paper, remember?”

“I’m coming.” He finished the last swallow of cold coffee.

It wasn’t a crush. It was the inevitable fascination that came with being on the other side of a window.

o*O*o

It was a crush. Kosuke felt a strange tickle at the back of his throat as he caught sight of Emiko again, this time on a lunch date. Or maybe an outing with a friend. Either way, it left a tiny pang in his heart and an immediate shame because he was just someone watching from afar. He wasn’t anything to her and he never would be. Emiko was free to love whoever she wanted. To make friends with who she wanted. And Kosuke was… Kosuke was an art history student who would rather dig through dusty records and primary source material than show up at any of the social events Emiko frequented.

Even if he sometimes wished he could get the courage to talk to her.

Just say hello even.

Kosuke coughed absently into his palm. A bitter taste, like the aftertaste of dark chocolate made him frown. There was a tiny speck of something purple on his hand. Odd.

He looked up and could swear for a second that their eyes met across the street, but then her eyes slid off him and he knew he was, as usual, just one more face in the crowd.

His heart ached and Kosuke had the horrifying realization that it wasn’t distant admiration and curiosity drawing him here anymore. He liked her.

He groaned into his hands.

“Bad homework load?” the waitress asked, popping up to refill his coffee.

“Something like that.”

She gave him a motherly smile. “You’re always working hard. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

He gave her a weak smile and proceeded to go right back to burying his face in his hands. Well, he thought, nothing changed. She was still out of his reach and the feelings didn’t have to mean a thing.

The tickle kept buzzing in his throat. Maybe he was getting a cold.

o*O*o

Of course it couldn’t be that simple. Kosuke stared down at a tiny purple flower in his hand he’d somehow coughed up a week later. He’d heard of hanahaki—who hadn’t heard of it?—but he’d never known anyone that caught it, let alone considered he might catch it. He felt panic grip him. What exactly was hanahaki? Didn’t it involve plants growing in your lungs?? Oh no, was he going to suffocate on a horribly bitter tasting plant?

Kosuke spent fifteen minutes having a very quiet panic attack in the back of the campus library over a tiny purple flower.

Then he mentally slapped himself and decided he was an idiot. People got hanahaki all the time. It wasn’t an instant death sentence. Yes, it was vaguely terrifying to think about a plant currently growing in his body. But. All someone had to do was confess their feelings, if he remembered correctly. So. He’d be fine if he did that. Probably.

Kosuke took a shaky breath. He tried to picture walking up to Emiko and saying he loved her. He didn’t get past vaguely approaching her general direction. Oh god, how was he going to confess? He had never confessed to anyone! Or had anyone confess to him either, actually, his romantic life had been pretty barren for someone who was already twenty. No high school romance for him. He’d just been the weird kid who spent ninety percent of his time with his nose in a book.

He almost jumped out of his skin when hushed voices suddenly stopped right near the aisle he was in.

“You have to help me think of something! You’re a girl! What do girls like?” a male voice whispered loudly.

“Look, you could get Mikasa a rock for White Day and she’d be thrilled, stop overthinking it.” The girl walked past Kosuke’s aisle without even glancing his direction.

“Yumi!” the boy hissed-yelled. “Yumi, you’re not helping at all!” He rushed after her and Kosuke slowly unfroze.

White Day. White Day would be a perfect excuse to walk up and confess. No pressure either because there would probably be dozens of her admirers doing the same thing. He could just… walk up, give her a small gift, confess, get rejected, and go on with life cured.

Oh good, he had a plan.

His hands started to sweat. Oh no, he really didn’t like that plan.

“Why am I like this?” he groaned. The bitter taste of whatever that flower was lingered at the back of his throat like a threat. He didn’t really have much of a choice did he? Well, at least this was a perfectly legitimate excuse to actually talk to Emiko instead of sighing wistfully at her from across the street.

Kosuke was embarrassed by Kosuke. Hopefully Emiko never found out about the café thing.

o*O*o

Emiko was within sight. Kosuke had been gravitating nearby most of the afternoon trying to get himself psyched up enough to go over. In that time at least ten guys had come over to give Emiko gifts. They were all really nice gifts too, like perfume or fancy white chocolates or flowers. Kosuke could swear one of them had been a diamond necklace. With every new person his gift of a simple white ribbon felt less and less impressive. A woman like Emiko would probably laugh at something so cheap.

He’d picked it because it was pretty though and he could see it looking nice in her hair… Kind of optimistic of him to think she might possibly wear it though.

Emiko’s latest paramour was turned away and Kosuke saw his chance. He moved closer. Okay, just hold out the little tissue paper package and confess. Deep breath. Just confess. Just… Kosuke froze two meters away, overwhelmed by being this close for the first time since they shared that art history class. She just looked so put together and amazing, not a hair out of place and he had a coat a size too big on with an elbow worn out because he was always leaning on it while he worked.

Kosuke made a strangled sound and ducked away again, having a sudden coughing fit that left a couple purple flowers in his hand, a tiny deep-toothed leaf, and a horrible taste in his mouth.

He couldn’t do this.

Did it have to be a direct confession? Couldn’t he just… leave a note? Wouldn’t that still count as a confession?

He dug into his bag in a frantic motion that probably had nearby people thinking he was possessed and pulled out a scrap of paper that wasn’t covered in notes or absent doodles. What did he write though?? Dear Emiko—no, that was too intimate. Dear Niwa-san, I have greatly admired you from afar—did that sound creepy? Crap, it did sound creepy. Dear Niwa-san, you have captured my gaze and my heart (please give it back).

Why was this so hard?

Niwa Emiko, you make the sun shine brighter when you walk by and my day brighter to see you. You’ve captured my heart and affection. Would you be able to see me fondly back? Love, Kosuke

Well that didn’t sound great, but it was clearly a confession. Good enough. He just had to… somehow get it to her. Emiko had pulled out a book and looked pretty busy reading it. At least she wouldn’t be staring as he approached?

Kosuke edged over to her seat, standing in her peripherals. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. He felt like his face was on fire. Oh no, other people were looking in their direction. The curious stares and complete lack of notice from Emiko was enough to break the shreds of courage he’d pulled together. Kosuke set the tissue paper package near her elbow and ran.

It was only once he’d collapsed under a tree on the campus lawn that he realized he’d completely forgotten to drop the letter with it. So he’d failed all of his goals entirely.

Kosuke groaned into his hands.

Well, plan one, failed. That only meant one thing. Research.

o*O*o

Kosuke was not someone to stop at a little bit of information. He’d decided to learn about hanahaki and boy did he now know a lot about the subject. The library contained everything from medical texts—both historical, theoretical, and modernly factual—to collections of fairytales based around the phenomenon, flower species charts with deconstructions of emotional intent versus species, and a good deal of accounts of people who’d experienced the disease. Those ranged from notable historical figures to researchers using themselves as guinea pigs to personal memoirs. A distressing number of those accounts were suddenly cut off with editorial notes about the demise of the writer.

Those books were not good for his anxiety.

But, it was suffice to say that after a month of scouring everything he could find on the topic between working on classwork and occasionally being dragged from the library to socialize and see the light of day by friends, he felt he had a pretty good grasp on the topic. For one, he had a slower growing flower with a soft stem rather than something woody. It wasn’t going to do as much harm as some species as it grew. Unfortunately, his flower was also in the mint family and that meant it was both hardy and eager to spread if it got a chance. Motherwort was a medicinal plant that was used to alleviate female pains, regulate menstruation and calm anxiety. While the former weren’t really applicable to him, he found the latter mildly ironic considering the whole flower-in-lungs thing was causing a certain amount of stress. Its flower language association was ‘concealed love’ which again made perfect sense for the situation, but it didn’t entirely help. Theory held that hanahaki was a twofold illness. One part the body, one part the mind, and that the flowers—while very real—were fed by the mind, not the body. Emotions and thoughts determined how quickly they grew.

Drawing from that, Kosuke had hypothesized that the more he felt like he needed to go unnoticed and hide how he was feeling, the faster his flower was likely to grow. And also how much time he spent thinking of Emiko and whether or not she knew he even existed. (He had to stop that train of thought a lot because it kept leading to coughing fits and his friends were starting to subtly hint that he should go talk to a doctor about his ‘cold’.) The more anxious he got over the whole thing, the more the plant would show up to try and counteract that bit. It was all a bit cyclical with everything feeding back into itself, and the long and short of it was that if he continued at the current rate of growth, he probably had about three months before it reached hospitalization point.

Kosuke did not want to reach hospitalization point.

Obviously.

It made him want to hide away in the library even thinking about getting dragged to a hospital. But if he couldn’t magically confess in the next three months and let his hopeless love run its course, he’d end up there anyway, either because he was suffocating to death or because he went through with a surgery to remove the plant.

Surgery was controversial. It saved lives and continued to improve in safety in leaps and bounds. But it could lead to partial memory loss, muted feelings, or unstable emotions if the surgery wasn’t done right. Sometimes there was scarring to lung tissue or to the throat. And while most people didn’t regret having it done, Kosuke personally thought the idea of removing a whole chunk of what he felt was kind of horrifying. It was like his life was a text and someone decided to revise a key part of it by taking a knife to the pages.

People who had the surgery had a current eighty percent success rate provided it was done before late stage hanahaki. Of those who didn’t get the surgery, there was a thirty percent mortality rate due to inaction and/or inability to resolve emotions for one reason or another (a surprising number of cases involved people moving with no way to contact them). Sixty percent of that number confessed and recovered. Ten percent confessed and still died and why that happened was a greatly debated topic in both historic and modern texts.

Kosuke didn’t think he’d be among the ten percent to suffocate after confession. He didn’t have the black and white, stubborn thinking to clutch onto an emotion until it killed him when it was turned down. He was a lot more likely to just take what he was given and curl up somewhere to lick his wounds.

All said, he had a much better idea of where he stood—not great, because he had hanahaki because of feelings for someone he’d never managed to speak to and he was a shy person, but certainly a lot better than he could have been. The numbers and details soothed most of his immediate fears; it wasn’t an instant and quick death sentence.

He just had to make a plan from here…

He didn’t want surgery, so that really only left confessing. He wasn’t sure how to do that, but… It wasn’t like he didn’t see Emiko around campus. And he saw her at the café. He just… had to come up with a way to approach her. And confess.

Kosuke coughed faintly into his elbow. Yeah, that was going to be easier said than done. Back to square one.

o*O*o

No matter what else was going on in his life, Kosuke still had school. And school at the moment was a research paper that was fifty percent of his final grade in a class on Japanese artists. He’d gone with a local artist because it was rare that they looked at what was right under their noses, and of course, he was rapidly going overboard in researching. He didn’t need to read the artist’s personal journals or go painstakingly through his sketch book volumes, but the university had both in their collection along with a lot of the artist’s personal items and unsold artworks. How often did he get the opportunity to work with this much primary source material?

“You’ve started living in the library,” Minako said to him as Kosuke paged through a biography outlining Takamura Hiseki’s early artistic experience before he gained an apprenticeship with a glassworker. “Have you seen the sun in the last month?”

“I’ve seen the sun,” Kosuke said, not looking up. “I’m outside right now.”

“Because it’s your usual pining over an unobtainable woman day,” Minako said. “I heard that you fell asleep in the library last week.”

Kosuke flushed. He had. It was easy to lose track of time and he’d fallen asleep on a hanahaki book somewhere in the middle of trying to parse through dense medical terminology. He took a sip of coffee only to cough softly as it conflicted with the tickle in his throat. The flowers were still at a manageable level, but from the glance Minako sent him, he was starting to become obvious that something wasn’t quite right.

“Allergies still bothering you or do you have a cold?” she asked.

“I’m fine. You know how it is.”

“Right,” Minako said doubtfully.

Kosuke probably should tell his friends what was going on, but they’d just worry. He didn’t want to be a bother. They already spent more time than they needed to making sure he didn’t get lost in books forever.

Minako sighed. “So what’s got you glued to a book this time? Spill.”

“Takamura Hiseki.” Kosuke held up the book. “Born in Azumano and spent most of his artistic career here, though he studied abroad briefly. He’s mostly known for glasswork, but he worked with pen and ink, charcoal, and sometimes wood. There’s not as much interest in those things though since most of his drawings were done in planning his glasswork.”

“He’s your latest artist crush then,” Minako teased.

“He’s been dead for over fifty years,” Kosuke said with a roll of his eyes. Not that it made a difference. He’d fanboyed over artists from earlier time periods often enough that Minako just grinned at him. “But he’s interesting. I decided to look at a local artist for class, but I wasn’t expecting to find as much about him as I did. Do you know that the university has a room in their private collection dedicated to him? His friend donated most of Takamura’s belongings late in his life.”

“Takamura didn’t donate them himself?” Minako asked.

“No, he died fairly young actually.” From hanahaki, which was the only reason he’d come on Kosuke’s radar with all the binge reading on the disease lately. “I haven’t got permission yet to look at his journals firsthand, but one of his biographies broke down the last few years of his life. It was pretty skeptical of how accurate it was though. Takamura’s account of events apparently is at times fantastical, and the biographer wondered if he had a mental illness.” Kosuke absolutely had to read the primary source material to get his own impression.

Minako gave him a fond, if not completely exasperated look. “You don’t even need to look into half of what you’re doing for class, do you?”

“They want a research essay. I can’t get an accurate read on how much is author bias in biographies without looking closer at Takamura’s own writings,” he said.

“So yes, you’re going overboard again.”

“I remember you trying to reproduce a double-weaving technique for two months straight off of a single surviving cloth scrap, so you really can’t judge me here.”

Minako opened her mouth, then closed it with a pout. “I hate you.”

Kosuke grinned. His friends were all as strangely nerdy as he was. Although speaking of friends… “Where is Katsuma anyway?”

“Katsu-kun is trying to get a date,” Minako said with the despairing tone of someone who had to hear too much about Katsuma’s current crush. “It’s hopeless, but that’s Katsu-kun for you. He always falls for someone who’s way out of his league.”

Kosuke felt a twinge of heartache. He apparently was just the same. He coughed softly again as the flowers tickled his throat. Ugh, bitter taste. “Who is it this time, I don’t remember him saying.”

“You’ve had your head in a book too much,” Minako said without any heat. “It’s a girl from a different university. She’s a senior, Hikari something-or-other. Katsu-kun keeps going on about her looks so I’ve been tuning him out. Apparently she’s some kind of unobtainable ice queen type?”

“So his exact type,” Kosuke said, remembering some of the messes their freshman year.

“Yup. Be ready to go bar hopping tomorrow cheering him up. He’s definitely going to get rejected.”

Kosuke sighed. That meant all of them ending up with a hangover. And Katsuma embarrassing himself while Kosuke played damage control for his two friends. Across the street, right on time, Emiko walked out of the café, and Kosuke paused to watch her.

Her hair was up and she had a pretty sundress on, looking glamorous as ever. There was a man with her, just as handsome as she was lovely. Probably a date. Kosuke coughed again as his heart ached. Today wasn’t the day to try to talk to her either. When he tuned back in on Minako, she was looking at him with pity.

“Katsu-kun isn’t the only one with a thing for unobtainable women.”

Kosuke bit his lip and sunk lower in his chair.

“Not gonna say it isn’t a crush this time?”

“You both called it before I did,” he grumbled. “You don’t have a crush I can poke you back on do you?”

Minako grinned. “Eh, not yet. I have a pretty specific type.”

“What type is that?”

“The kind of lady that could bench press me.”

Kosuke sputtered a laugh, not expecting that in the least. There was the edge of nerves in Minako’s smile at admitting this, but she should know by now that he didn’t judge about those sorts of things. “Have you tried looking into any of the women at the girl’s college? They have athletics.”

The tiny bit of tension in Minako’s shoulders relaxed. “C’mon, when do I have time for something like that? Besides, I’m fine on my own. If something happens one day, it happens.” Her smile went soft. “Though if some girl ever literally sweeps me off my feet… that’d be nice.”

“I’m sure you’ll have better taste than Katsuma or me on ladies,” Kosuke said diplomatically.

“Hell yeah,” Minako said.

Kosuke laughed and leafed through his book again as comfortable understanding settled between them. There was evidence that Takamura had loved his close friend, the same one who had donated Takamura’s belongings after his death. The need to hide those emotions, unacceptable in their target, had been what killed Takamura in the end, though it wasn’t clear why he hadn’t just trusted his friend with the knowledge.

Kosuke tapped a paragraph that detailed Takamura’s private romantic thoughts compared to letters he’d written to his friend and hoped Minako could have better luck in life. There wasn’t a social stigma keeping Kosuke from confessing, just anxiety.

o*O*o

There was no way that this was accurate. Kosuke chewed the back on his pen as he cross referenced dates. Takamura’s diary showed that he contracted hanahaki shortly after his best friend and man he was in love with got married. And yet he’d died over three years later, which should be impossible. Medically speaking, he should have suffocated within a year at most, even if he had the mildest-tempered flower out there.

He’d had a bluebell growing though, which was a plant that spread, and came back, constant as its meaning. That wasn’t a plant that withered. It was a plant that grew just as well in the shade as in the sun.

The theories in biographies had it that Takamura tried experimental medicine to keep the flowers at bay, but if he did, it was something that was beating out modern medical practices because suppressants never got that kind of longevity out of them. Other theories were that Takamura originally hallucinated the flowers only to actually contract the disease later, or that he’d fallen in and out of love with several people, which was ridiculous because it wasn’t supported anywhere in his diary.

Based on the number of rough sketches that snuck into an otherwise work-related sketchbook of a kind-faced young man, Kosuke was sure Takamura had only loved the one friend.

He was missing something.

Kosuke sat back, books and notes scattered all across the table. Secondhand accounts and reproductions of the original materials weren’t enough. He needed to look at the actual source material. Besides, there were occasionally troubling sections of the diary where Kosuke could see why some of the biographers thought he was slowly losing sanity. Things like ‘the cost is worth it. Another day beside him is worth years I might have had without it,’ and ‘the poison is all I taste now, but my lungs pump on, the devil waiting for my last breath.’ It could be a descent into madness, or it could just be the rambles of a man facing his own mortality.

Kosuke gathered up his things. He’d have to hit up the campus conservationists to see if he could touch any of Takamura’s belongings.

The private collections were actually right off the library though, so it wasn’t a long trip to reach them. Kosuke rubbed his eyes. His friends were right that he needed more sleep, but this was interesting.

There was someone working in the collection room, more than one someone because there were voices.

“—one time. I swear you won’t regret it.”

“I’m flattered as always, but still not interested,” Emiko’s voice said.

Kosuke froze.

“Well, can’t blame me for trying,” the man in the other room said.

“Oh, but I really could,” Emiko said with the restrained sarcasm of a woman annoyed by someone that’s pushed one too many times.

The flowers in Kosuke’s chest felt like they were creeping up his throat. He swallowed convulsively. Not now, not in the middle of the library, he pleaded.

“Just finish your half of the project and we’re golden,” Emiko said, footsteps ringing out closer as she walked toward the door. “I will rat you out if you don’t do your fair share.”

“Aw, Emiko-chan, don’t be like that!”

“Jump in a lake, Ueda!” Kosuke stopped breathing as she stopped right in the doorway, attention inward and a scowl on her face. “I should replace all his pens with duds,” Emiko muttered under her breath. Then she stepped forward, casting an uninterested glance at Kosuke as she moved by him. She was so close he could smell her pretty, spicy perfume.

The whole back of Kosuke’s throat tasted bitter.

o*O*o

Kosuke paused on one of the doodles. It looked familiar. Actually, he’d seen one in an earlier journal… He snatched up a diary he’d been reading earlier. Yes, there was the same doodle, just with a slight difference in the middle, like the round design had been rotated a quarter turn. It had been out of place for the diary—Takamura had generally kept his writing journals for writing and his sketching ones for sketching. That was the only reason Kosuke remembered it. It was just as out of place in the sketch journal too though; the ink was a darker black than the rest of the page like it was added at a later date, and none of the other sketches so far had been anything beyond glasswork designs or the occasional nature study where Takamura had gained inspiration from things he saw on his walks. The doodle was abstract, almost geometric if not for the interlocking swirls around the center.

The more he looked at it, the more he had the niggling sensation that he’d seen that exact pattern before, and not in one of the journals.

Kosuke tapped the back of his pen against the table. Where? Where would he have seen it? A drawing? A photo? Maybe something from the exhibit with Takamura’s reconstructed study? He glanced at the brochure, paused. Oh, the desk. It had a pretty, decorative front panel in the center with drawers on either side. It wasn’t any bigger than Kosuke’s fist, but he remembered it looking vaguely like the doodle. He’d thought that the round design had been different though…

The biographies hadn’t found the doodles significant. Nor had the annotated sketchbooks. But… But there were two doodles, if not more…

Kosuke flipped through the diary for any more doodles, finding none, tried another. There. A third doodle… Almost identical to the others but yet another shift in the round central design. It was like… Kosuke paused, sitting up straight. It was like a combination lock. Rotate one direction, then the other, then back again, though what order or how far was difficult to tell based on the simplistic sketch.

Honestly, he should probably not be wasting time puzzling over something like this when it wouldn’t be anything to add to his essay, but it was interesting. And the idea that he’d noticed something that no one else might have filled Kosuke with a tiny thrill of excitement. He had to test this.

o*O*o

The sequence, once he sat down and worked it out had been simple. The desk was never meant to be difficult to open, just not obvious in its hiding spot. The order was sequential based off of when the journals were used. Kosuke pressed a gloved hand carefully on the carved wooden panel and turned the carving just the way the doodles showed. It moved far easier than he’d expect for a piece of wood that hadn’t been touched in decades, almost like it was just waiting to be used again.

When he tugged, a tiny compartment pulled out, perfectly sized and shaped to hold its contents, and probably why no one had realized it existed; it wouldn’t have sounded hollow.

A crystal bottle, tiny and filled with liquid tipped into his palm along with a piece of parchment, folded in on itself until it could be squeezed under the bottle. The vial was beautiful, a master work in glass. Kosuke examined how the light refracted along it before setting it down and unfolding the parchment with careful fingers. Thankfully it wasn’t brittle enough to crack even if it didn’t really want to unfold. On it in Takamura’s spiky handwriting it said:

I sold myself for a few more years with the one I love. May my price grant whoever finds this a few with their love as well.

Kosuke puzzled that, turned the parchment over, but there weren’t any more words. Kosuke could only assume it referred to Takamura’s hanahaki, but what price he paid and how it related to the compartment was less clear. Unless… Kosuke glanced at the bottle. Unless the bottle had something to do with how he’d vastly outlived the average life expectancy of untreated hanahaki. Unless this was the experimental substance that no one had ever been able to find.

What he should be doing was getting one of the staff and showing them what he learned.

What Kosuke did was pocket the vial, feeling like a thief—and wasn’t he one though? Wasn’t it theft to steal from university property?—and calmly walk out of the storage room.

If this was the suppressing factor for Takamura’s hanahaki, it could be revolutionary. Or at the very least it could buy Kosuke some much needed time.

o*O*o

Kosuke almost tried the vial immediately, only the last second realization that ingesting an unknown substance from a vial hidden in a desk drawer was kind of an idiotic thing to do made him pause and realize that this required testing. Testing that required another living thing, which was how Kosuke found himself at the park pond in the middle of the night catching frogs because he couldn’t bring himself to possibly hurt something that was cute or furry. Not that he didn’t feel horrifically guilty catching the frogs; frogs just had less expressive faces than tiny mice in pet shops that blinked wide, dark eyes at him and… Yeah, Kosuke felt kind of terrible about this.

But he also didn’t want to possibly kill himself, so experimentation it was. One of the frogs he’d caught glared balefully at him as he held the vial’s dropper above it, biting his lip unhappily. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “It shouldn’t kill you but I’m sorry if it does.” The frog squirmed as a drop landed on its skin, but nothing happened beyond him holding an angry, squirmy frog. “Oh thank goodness.” But what if it was poisonous if ingested? Or over time?

Kosuke eyed the bowl with foil and holes he’d stashed the frogs in and pulled out another, placing the first back in. After a few minutes of struggle he managed to get a drop in its mouth and other than angry frog croaking, there still wasn’t any, er, croaking happening. Only time would tell if it was just too soon to say.

He put the frog back in the bowl and sat on slightly muddy grass. When he decided to go to university, he never thought he’d one day end up catching frogs in the middle of the night because he had hanahaki and really hoped that a mystery bottle would help stave it off. He never thought he’d get hanahaki at all.

He looked at the vial. Even in the dark with only the moon for light, it was pretty. It almost seemed to glow, though he kind of hoped he was imagining that. This wasn’t the sort of thing he could talk to anyone about either. What was he supposed to tell his friends? That he stole a historical glasswork from the campus museum that no one knew existed that might also maybe kind of sort of be a magic stopgap for hanahaki? Yeah, that would go over just fine. He’d just wanted to pursue his interests, one of which was spending copious amounts of time reading about obscure things. Emotions like love happening never factored into it.

In the bowl, the frogs kept moving around unhappily. At least he hadn’t killed them. Yet. Oof, no that sounded like he wanted to kill them and he really didn’t. Kosuke sighed and reached for the bowl. Except there was a patch of water mint blooming right near it. If the vial did hold a substance that effected hanahaki… He pulled out the dropper again, letting a single drop of liquid fall onto one of the mint blossoms.

Instantly, the whole plant wilted and the flowers went dead.

“Oh.” Kosuke stoppered the bottle. “Shit.”

That was scarily effective. Not even weed killer worked that fast or effective.

He laughed nervously to himself, feeling his breath catch in his lungs on the plant growing there. Well. Well… If the frogs were alive tomorrow, he might test it on himself.

If that worked, he might just have time to think of a proper plan after all.

o*O*o

It tasted disgusting, bitter like his flower was bitter, but also sour and the faintest bit sweet the way rotting things could smell sweet along with the stench of rot. Kosuke grimaced and set the vial back down and waited, holed up in the privacy of his apartment with a bowl full of still-unhappy-yet-alive frogs. A second passed, two, and he could feel his chest ease, his breathing stop aching. It almost felt like before he had hanahaki at all.

He took a deep breath and relished how it didn’t catch at all, how no hint of a cough rattled in his chest. Oh. Maybe he’d been further along in the disease than he thought if one drop made that big of a difference. But he didn’t know how long it would last. Clearly not forever or Takamura wouldn’t have died from it, but it helped, made Kosuke feel better than he had in the last month at least.

He sent his fervent thanks to Takamura, wherever his spirit might be.

Minutes ticked on and he did not die and he kept breathing.

This, he reminded himself sternly, was a stop-gap measure. Not a cure. He still had to confess to Emiko.

It was so, so tempting to just… pretend. Go back to his usual life and throw himself wholeheartedly into working and studying and shove down any emotional issues like they didn’t exist. But doing that would get him killed. Kosuke sighed. Emiko had a birthday coming up so he could try again then. Just one more person in the crowd that had well-wishes and ulterior motives, he thought cynically.

It was no wonder no one caught Emiko’s attention. They were all trying so hard to one up each other, but had any of them actually taken any time to get to know her? Or were they all, himself included he supposed, just charmed by her appearance? Kosuke liked to think he wasn’t that shallow, but he didn’t know her well. He just knew that she cared about art like he did and that she was beautiful and that she was smart if her grades were anything to go by. He wanted to know more though. He didn’t want to snatch her up and have her on his arm like some sort of trophy. He wanted to ask her what she thought about what was considered art, or if she had a favorite artist, or what her thoughts were on the cultural revolution that had left hundreds of art pieces destroyed and culture lost or irrevocably changed for reasons he still couldn’t explain. He wanted to know if she liked research as much as he did or if she believed in restoring art rather than merely preserving it. What she thought about how museums could sustainably and ethically procure art pieces. If she liked history or if she cared more for physical art than where and when it came from…

Kosuke sighed.

For someone so popular, Emiko was a mystery. She was friendly and emotionally open about anything in the moment and completely closed about her family life or what she thought about the big things in life. She wanted to have a son, everyone knew that, but no one knew why.

Kosuke wanted to know her and it hurt to think about if he let himself. He didn’t let himself often.

What, he wondered, fingers playing with the glass stopper in the vial, would she think of the hidden artwork Kosuke found? That he should share it with the world or that it was okay that he was keeping it for his own personal gain for the moment?

That question, like all his questions, had no answer. One day he’d have to actually talk to her and find out.

o*O*o

Kosuke finished his paper on Takamura—above the page and reference count by far which hopefully wouldn’t get too much exasperation from his professor—and dove into finals while plotting how he was going to confess to Emiko. Using a flower as a gift felt a little too on the nose considering the situation, but he wasn’t sure what to give a woman who had nice things and the ability to buy herself far better jewelry or trinkets than Kosuke could afford. Not to mention that she’d receive nicer things from everyone else around her. He’d settled on a pretty bookmark as it was both practical and aesthetically appealing, but even practicing how he’d approach the gift and confession wasn’t going well when it was his own reflection he was talking to.

He didn’t really have much hope about getting it right.

The day came and Kosuke showed up outside one of her class buildings… and promptly got lost in the crowd of six other men there to get Emiko’s attention as well.

Well.

Kosuke watched her manage their enthusiasm and be simultaneously receptive and dismissive, listing reasons why she wasn’t interested in dating them but thanking them for their gift and attention, and he felt… not jealous, but perhaps a bit lost. It was another moment where she felt like she was on a different level than him.

He was so caught up in watching her handle it that he somehow missed the exact moment she managed to disengage from her admirers and sweep out the building. Kosuke was left standing with a gift hidden up his sleeve and a bunch of men comforting each other in their rejection.

“She hasn’t said yes to anyone once,” one said. “But there’s just something about an unobtainable woman…”

Unobtainable. Like she was a prize. Kosuke disliked that line of thinking. But she did feel unreachable. Emiko was as human as any of them but sometimes it didn’t feel that way with how confidently she confronted her world. They might as well be existing on different planes for all that Kosuke seemed to be able to bridge that gap.

What did it say about himself that he’d fallen for someone that he couldn’t even talk to? And yet he desperately wanted to.

Kosuke coughed, coughed again and had to duck into an unused classroom when it became a full blown attack. There were bits of stem mixed in with flower clumps, broad forked leaves. The bitter, bitter taste in his throat. Kosuke slid a cough drop in his mouth just to chase away the flavor with strong, numbing menthol. He was progressing more and more toward full flower stems and less toward scattered flower parts. His emotions hadn’t fully bloomed yet, but they were close.

He took a drop of the hanahaki suppressant. It didn’t remove the strain in his throat, but it let him breathe clearly. He didn’t know how often it was safe to use, but he’d slowly been needing it more, from once every several days to a little more than every other day, depending on the day. How many months would he last with it? How long until he started finding blood or fractured a rib? Soft-stem flowers had a longer threshold of time before they caused bleeding in the lungs. But because of that the coughing attacks could get worse before that point and hurt the body other ways.

There wasn’t much to do beyond keep moving forward.

o*O*o

Summer brought a few weeks of rest between semesters and a move to a new apartment; Kosuke’s old one had been slowly creeping out of his budget range. He needed a part time job to balance things, but he had too much going on in his life to have time for one.

Minako and Katsuma helped him move his things to his new smaller, and much sketchier apartment with the help of Kastsuma’s car. Kosuke pretended not to notice their concern when he was easily winded carrying boxes up one flight of stairs. Or how Minako narrowed her eyes at the couple of coughs he couldn’t suppress.

“Rest,” she pressed when Kosuke tried to start unpacking immediately. “You look like hell lately. Just take the break to actually recover, okay?”

“I’m fine,” Kosuke protested.

Katsuma smacked him on the back. “Sure you are. And there aren’t tanuki rings under your eyes. If I wasn’t going home to visit my family, I’d make sure you got some damn rest. Because I am going home you better call at least every other day to tell me how you managed to relax that day.”

“I’m not that bad,” Kosuke complained. Minako and Kastsuma had their own bad habits.

Minako patted Katsuma’s arm in a solidarity that annoyed Kosuke. “I’ll check in on him. I have more hours at work over break though so I can’t drag him to the beach or anything.”

“If he went to a beach he’d burn to a crisp. He doesn’t see enough sunlight.”

Kosuke rolled his eyes and let his friends help put away all of his belongings in the tiny space. He had a box leftover that couldn’t go anywhere and just sat in the corner.

“You need a job,” Minako said.

“I can’t rest if I’m working,” Kosuke pointed out snidely.

Katsuma cuffed him over the back of the head. “Don’t be an ass.”

Kosuke sighed. “How’s your girlfriend search going?”

Katsuma wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, you’re in a mood. For your information I’ve been exchanging letters with a girl. She likes kind of old fashioned courting. It’s going great.”

Now Kosuke felt like a jerk for trying to dig at Katsuma’s usual insecurity and because he hadn’t even known this was going on. Maybe they had a point that he was getting too caught up in his head.

“Are you visiting your family over the summer?” Minako asked Kosuke.

“No.” Katsuma was close to his family. Minako’s lived on the other side of Japan, too far to casually visit. Kosuke’s family… There had been a lot of absences growing up. There were reasons that books were a refuge. Going months without hearing from his parents or them from him was nothing new. If they ever suddenly took an interest in his life, he wouldn’t know what to do with it.

An awkward silence followed that.

“Well,” Minako said, “my parents are visiting next week. You’re welcome to go out to dinner with us. You know, to prove I can make friends in the big city and all.”

Kosuke smiled, a peace offering.  “I’ll think about it.”

Katsuma, proving himself yet again as a good friend, announced they were getting food delivered and having a party to celebrate the new apartment despite it being the least celebratory environment possible.

Kosuke tried to keep in the moment with them for as long as they were there. He hadn’t been the best friend lately.

The move brought unexpected results. As in the fact that Kosuke suddenly found himself sharing a train stop with Emiko. Before they’d occasionally shared a train if they left campus at the same time, but now they lived in a neighborhood close enough that they used the same stop to get to the campus as well as get home. And Kosuke was aware of every meter between them and how Emiko looked radiant in a sun dress.

The universe sure did like to laugh at each new way Kosuke tied himself into knots over things.

o*O*o

It was somewhere between torture and comfort to see Emiko on the train so often. Kosuke could tell when she was having a good or bad day based on how she was dressed, the state of her hair, and how large of a travel mug she had at any given time.

It was probably creepy that he knew that.

There was a bell-curve to how she presented herself. On the days she was at her best and the days she was at her worst, seemed to be the times she was perfectly dressed. Like making herself that much more beautiful was both a pleasure and also a shield.

Kosuke liked the days where she was a bit less made up, where her hair was a bit flyaway and she would read on the way to their stop. She looked comfortable, and more than that, she looked human instead of unreachable. He was never telling her that though.

As the summer ended and they moved back into the next semester, Kosuke found himself orbiting her from a distance, part of the background of her life, but never quite part of it no matter how many times they almost brushed paths or coexisted in space. There were men who came and went around her, and a few bright-faced female friends in her life. There was an older man with graying red hair that sometimes accompanied her who might have been a relative or her father. There were several not-quite-dates he saw occurring in glimpses as he was moving through campus that were more likely Emiko grilling want-to-be beaus on their family history.

There was an invisible line between them that Kosuke was slowly feeling resigned to never cross. Emiko, on the whole, was happy, and he was glad for that. She didn’t need anyone in her life for all that she seemed intent to find someone. As always, he wondered why because she was an independent and driven person. And yet motherhood was one of her main life goals.

Kosuke mentally slapped the judgmental side of himself because, well, who could judge when they didn’t know the motivations? And what was wrong with wanting to be a parent? Even he could admit that it would be nice to have a child someday. To holding a small being and knowing that some part of them came from you. That they were so tiny and new and would one day be as much of a person as any other, living and thinking and dreaming. It was awe inspiring, humbling and terrifying in equal measure.

If he got the nerve, perhaps that would be what he said to her first. Not a confession, but a question. That need to understand outstripped the part of him that said getting a cure to his disease was the bigger priority.

But Kosuke still couldn’t do it, and time dragged on, routine turning into stagnation, and inaction making the task grow from something intimidating to something that felt impossible.

Kosuke knew he was making things complicated and it was all in his head, but that was the problem, wasn’t it? He wouldn’t have hanahaki in the first place if his mind and heart didn’t work a certain way.

o*O*o

“This,” a familiar voice said, “is an intervention.”

“Eh?” Kosuke stifled a cough behind his cold mask, looking up to find Minako and Katsuma standing grim-faced in front of him. It was Katsuma who’d spoken. Minako had somehow confiscated half the library books he’d had strewn about the table without him even noticing either of them there. Kosuke blinked and sat back. “An intervention for what? I haven’t even been in the library tw—” He glanced at his watch. “Three hours yet.” It was a weekend day, and normally the only time his friends dragged him away was when he’d spent multiple weekends holed up. But he’d gone out with them the night before. And he’d made a point of arranging brunch on Sunday to try to be less antisocial than he had been lately.

Minako and Katsuma exchanged inscrutable looks. Katsuma set both palms on the table before Kosuke. “We’re your friends,” Katsuma said. “And as your friends, we’ve been trying to give you space and time to talk to us. But there’s only so long we can wait for you. Kosuke, how long have you had that cough?”

As if on cue, Kosuke had to stifle another small cough. “Um. For a while. On and off.”

“Months,” Minako said. “It’s been months. It got a little better, but it never went away. That’s not a cold. Colds don’t last over six months.”

“Maybe I just keep getting sick,” Kosuke said with the sinking feeling that he should have had a cover story ready. It hadn’t occurred to him that anyone would bring the coughing up, which in retrospect was kind of stupid. Especially when he had friends who cared enough to go out of their way to drag him out to get fresh air and sunlight on the regular.

“You’d have a week here and there being better if that was the case,” Minako said.

“Instead,” Katsuma said, “it’s been getting worse.” He reached out and tapped Kosuke’s mask. Kosuke leaned away. “You weren’t wearing that before. You stopped even noticing when you were coughing so you put that on to stop coughing over everything, right?”

Kosuke felt a bit trapped even though theoretically he could push his chair away from the table and walk away if he wanted to. “I have a cold.” He had actually had a very mild cold, the sniffles making his hanahaki cough worse, but it had only lasted him a few days. He’d kept the mask because his throat never recovered even if the rest of him had.

“Have you seen a doctor yet?” Katsuma asked seriously.

“I…” He hadn’t. Between knowing what they’d tell him about his hanahaki and being a little scared to find out if the magic vial of suppressant was harming the rest of his body he hadn’t exactly been diligent on keeping up with his usual health screenings.

“Well you’re going to.” Minako and Katsuma both put a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t want you to end up in a hospital.”

“I can’t,” Kosuke said uncomfortably.

“You can. It doesn’t take that much time, it doesn’t cost much money, and it’s not worth ignoring your health.” Katsuma was very emphatic and Kosuke remembered with a jolt that his grandmother had gotten pneumonia once and almost died because she hadn’t wanted to inconvenience anyone to the point that she hadn’t sought help. “Please.”

Kosuke should just tell them everything. Except that might make them worry more. Hanahaki could be as fatal as a bad cold or influenza if left untreated too long.

“I’m doing what I can,” he said finally. “I know what it is and I’m keeping track of it.”

Katsuma frowned. At his side, Minako chewed her lip, worry radiating from her.

Kosuke sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. “Just… a little more time? Please? I promise I’m not going to end up in a hospital tomorrow.”

Katsuma shook his head. “That’s not good enough, Kosuke.”

Crap. Kosuke felt genuinely guilty now. Even more when he glanced at Minako’s stony expression. They weren’t going to let this go today. “…It’s hanahaki,” he finally muttered. “Not a cold.”

Both his friends stared. “Wait, what?” Minako said. “Seriously?”

Kosuke’s cheeks burned. “Yes, seriously.”

“But for months? And you’re not coughing up blood by this point?” She froze. “You’re not coughing up blood are you?”

“No!” If he reached that point Kosuke would have to get the surgery. He wasn’t going to let himself die from this, but he was going to try to gain the courage to talk to Emiko right until he had no other choice.

“How?”

“It’s…” Most people would be coughing blood by this point or at least have coughing fits bad enough to land them in a hospital. He was just at the point where it was hard to hide that he was coughing frequently. All the tea and honey in the world couldn’t soothe the constant throat irritation at this point. “Hanahaki progresses differently for everyone. Mine’s just… slow.”

“Oh shit, it’s Niwa isn’t it?” Katsuma groaned. “Why didn’t that even occur to me?”

“…Maybe because hanahaki isn’t that common?” Only about twenty-some percent of the population was susceptible. Or perhaps only twenty percent ever ran into the specific requirements to get it; there wasn’t enough research done on the topic yet but there were strides being made to look into the possibility of genetic correlations for susceptibility but that was still in the early stages.

“Shut up, Kosuke, you’ve been mooning over her for ages, it should have been obvious. Damn.”

“I didn’t notice either,” Minako pointed out. “So… how serious is it then? If you’ve spent over six months…”

“Um.” Kosuke fidgeted with his mask.

“You didn’t ask a doctor about this either did you,” she said with a sigh.

“I did my own research,” he defended. “I haven’t reached any of the chronic markers yet. I’m still in the middle stages.”

“That being?”

“Still mostly parts coughed up, the rare full flower stem. …progressively more frequent cough and throat irritation…”

Minako sighed. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

Kosuke blushed. “I’ve. Um.” He sunk in his seat as both his friends fixed full attention on him. “I keep trying to confess and ending up awkwardly standing in the background.”

Katsuma looked somewhere between resigned and amused. Minako didn’t even bother to hide the twitch of a smile on her lips. “Well at least you’ve been trying.”

“I don’t want to be coughing flowers forever,” Kosuke said, a little annoyed that they both apparently thought he wouldn’t have even tried to confess. Then again, they’d been watching him watch Emiko leave a café once a week for almost a year. So. Yeah. Kosuke buried his face in his hands, coughing slightly. “Please don’t try to intervene.”

“Well maybe it’ll go better with help,” Minako said.

“The problem isn’t an opportunity, the problem is me.”

“So we back you up,” Katsuma said. “Try to help you both end up together alone or literally run into each other or something.”

“Because knocking her to the ground would be a great first impression,” Kosuke mumbled. “She doesn’t even realize I exist.”

“So you have to get her to realize,” Katsuma said realistically. “Try to catch her eye and smile. Wave. Offer to walk her to class.”

“Don’t walk her to class without asking, that’d just be creepy,” Minako said.

“I know!” Kosuke was already starting to regret telling them. “…we ride the same train.”

“Really?” Minako said. “Hmm… Find a way to stand closer? So maybe she picks up on you subconsciously first before you take a step to get her to actually notice you?”

Kosuke thought that if she was going to notice him subconsciously, it would have happened by now. Between having that once class together and then passing by on the same campus and campus adjacent businesses, and now the same train. But sure. Stand within sight range on the regular on the train. Never mind that Kosuke wasn’t sure if he could name three people he regularly rode the train with besides Emiko.

“The problem,” Katsuma said, “is that you chose a girl used to getting looked at by random men. And talked to. And given gifts by. And—”

“I know!” Did they think he hadn’t thought about all of this at one point or another?! He’d had months! “I know I don’t stand out enough!”

“So,” Minako said after a moment, “what are you hoping to happen? Once you confess?”

“That she turns me down lightly without somehow knowing my whole family history?” Kosuke said.

“Not that she might like you back?” Katsuma asked.

Kosuke rolled his eyes. “It’s Niwa Emiko. Who doesn’t know I exist even though we sat three seats away in the same class a year ago. I can be realistic in my expectations. Besides.” Kosuke tugged at the mask self-consciously. “I don’t expect anyone to like me just because I like them. That’s not how any of that works. Ideally I’d get to talk to her and ask her about some things I’m curious about but. I’m someone whose idea of fun is researching obscure topics and whose idea of a romantic gesture is a flower and a ribbon. That’s… not really the sort of person she seems to be interested in.”

“I dunno, she seems to be interested in a guy who’ll give her a son and is into girls who’re extremely forward,” Minako said bluntly. “You’re one of those things. Now if she asked you if you’d father her child…”

Kosuke went scarlet and sputtered.

Katsuma and Minako laughed at him.

“Why are we friends again?” Kosuke asked into his hands.

“Because we’re all nerds and we find your shut-in nature endearing,” Katsuma said slinging an arm around Kosuke’s shoulders. “But seriously, go see a doctor soon. I know you’re not too bad yet and your research skills are top notch, but you’re also not a medical professional by any stretch of the imagination.”

“…fine.”

“He conceded!” Minako cheered. “Good enough! Now you have one more hour with your books before we go for a walk. Spending this much time indoors is bad for you.”

“You both spend hours indoors too!”

“And we’re all going on that walk because we also need it,” Minako said. “Work fast.”

Kosuke swore at them both and dove for his notes. He only slightly dreaded the kind of plans and awkward conversations that were sure to follow telling them the truth.

o*O*o

He did, honestly, mean to go to a doctor. But life got complicated again with more school projects and taking odd shifts as a convenience store clerk for money and trying to follow Minako and Katsuma’s newest schemes to get him to talk to Emiko.

None of which worked, to no one’s surprise. Kosuke had walked into a wall, tripped over his own feet, and stood paralyzed off to the side as Emiko walked by more times than he can count. He’d visited Emiko’s café once instead of his preferred one across the street.  He’d walked away dozens of other times because he truly hated how stressed it all was making him and wondered how he could simultaneously start to dread seeing someone and still want to make sure Emiko was doing well from afar.

“This isn’t working,” Kosuke sighed around Christmastime, as the number of couples tripled and suddenly everyone was being overly romantic.

Katsuma, who had recently just started dating a girl from his literature class (who had apparently been the pen pal), patted his shoulder sympathetically. Although a lot less sympathetically than a few months ago. “You know it really is easier if you’re going into it expecting to be rejected.” He’d know at this point with how his crushes had come and gone.

“I don’t know why this is so hard,” Kosuke said. Or why he couldn’t just be brave and march up and say something. He really didn’t expect anything from Emiko.

“It’s probably you overthinking,” Katsuma said, tapping Kosuke between his eyebrows. He gave a smirk. “I still think you should get drunk and then go confess. That’s probably the only way that you’re going to overcome that knee-jerk reaction of yours.”

“I’d die of embarrassment later.” Also, drunk Kosuke wasn’t actually any more forward than he was when he was sober. He just got more impulsive and tended to info-dump on anyone near him about whatever his latest interest was. He was, in Minako’s opinion, ‘one of the least fun drunks ever’.

“Yeah, but it’d be done,” Katsuma said. “Think about it. You only have so much time, you know?”

“Hmm.”

The hanahaki had plateau’d for the moment. He had a persistent cough that brought up bits of flowers all the time now, and rarer bad fits that left stems in his hands and a bitter taste that no amount of toothpaste could scrub away. He only used one drop from the vial a day but the benefit from it was lasting less and less each day. Soon he might have to use it every sixteen hours instead of every twenty four.

“Are you going home for New Year’s?” Katsuma asked, kindly changing the topic.

It wasn’t a much more enjoyable one to think of really. Kosuke pursed his lips. “I suppose I should.” Even his parents were home at New Year’s. Neither of them had talked in months.

“Yeah?” Katsuma said, surprised.

Kosuke shrugged. “I should try, right? To talk to them once a year at least?”

There was sadness in how Katsuma looked at him. He’d been invited to both his friend’s homes before and yet… Sometimes Kosuke wondered what it would be like to have a family. A real one that marked milestones and celebrated birthdays and showed support. He hoped that if he ever ended up a parent he’d do better than his had.

“You don’t have to go,” Katsuma pointed out.

“Mm.” Didn’t he though? They were supporting most of his university expenses. Why, though, did people have children if they had no interest in knowing who they were or spending time with them? Just to have someone to pass a name along to? Because they felt they were supposed to? (Why did Emiko want a child so badly…?) Kosuke gave himself a mental shake. There was no use in dwelling on any of it. It didn’t change what was. Though, some tiny part of him thought, it would be kind of funny to marry into another family. Then he wouldn’t even have a name to pass down from his parents, could be the one to walk away from them rather than the other way around.

o*O*o

New Year’s was quiet. Kosuke thought that perhaps this time they’d find something to say to each other. That he’d talk about his research and school with or without his parents’ interaction like he did as a child. Instead there were mechanical, stilted semblances of polite small-talk and long, uninterrupted silences that made Kosuke want to run to his childhood bedroom and bury himself in the books that had been his solace. Instead he endured, looking at the art on the walls of his family home and remembered a time that his parents did talk and they’d gone to museums and they’d instilled that little spark of interest in art that had grown. It must have died in them at some point, leaving Kosuke with a flame he had initially nurtured thinking it could be shared.

The whole experience was like taking a bite of something and finding it tasted like ash.

Neither his mother nor his father said anything about his cough.

Not for the first time, he accepted that his friends were better family than his actual family. At the first trip to the temple, he prayed for their happiness, not his own. He hoped he could be better in showing that he cared. If he modeled what he’d wanted to see from his actual family toward them… maybe. Maybe.

It was a cold, quiet New Year, but Kosuke knew warmth.

o*O*o

The first time he coughed and felt his breath go wet he had a sinking feeling in his gut. Ah, he thought as he saw the first flecks of blood speckle his handkerchief. Ah.

It was Valentine’s Day and there were dozens of men hoping Emiko would give them confession chocolate, or at the very least, obligation chocolate. There was more than one man who offered her chocolate, gender roles be damned.

Watching it all, his chest had grown tight and he’d had a coughing fit, one bad enough that Katsuma had pulled him aside.

And Kosuke could just stare down at the results with a numb feeling in his chest and pain in his throat.

“Kosuke?” Katsuma said, worried. He glanced at the three flower stems littering the secluded hall floor with bits of purple flowers and leaves. He didn’t see the blood. He didn’t know that the taste in Kosuke’s mouth was bittersweet with how the tang of blood mingled with bitter herbal astringency. “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” Kosuke said, tucking his handkerchief in his pocket. He dredged up a sheepish smile. “I just wasn’t expecting how hard watching everyone fall over her would hit this year,” he said. Christmas had been bad enough, but Christmas was more for established lovers. Valentine’s Day was for confessions and new love. He breathed, never too deeply to aggravate his chest and throat. Shallow breaths kept the feeling from catching as much, held back another coughing fit. He’d have to start wearing a mask again. That was fine. Between cold season and the fact that this was the time of year hanahaki showed up most, if it showed up at all, no one would think twice about it. Well, no one but his friends.

Mentally he calculated that he’d have to start using the drops twice a day. Mentally, he knew he had to at least consult a doctor and make plans. Mentally, he knew he’d give himself until White’s Day to actually make plans. Time was running down. He’d just entered late stage. Even that extra month was a stupid thing to draw out.

Katsuma touched his wrist in concern. “Want to walk around? I know we planned a whole confession out but…”

“Please,” Kosuke said.

Katsuma didn’t even joke as they walked away. Maybe Kosuke wasn’t really hiding anything from him after all.

o*O*o

He must still not have looked like himself a few days later because Katsuma pulled him aside. “Hey, remember that artist you were obsessed with last semester?”

“Takamura, who I did a research paper on?” Kosuke said.

“Yeah, that guy.” Katsuma smiled though it looked a little forced. “I was at the public library downtown and it turns out they have some of his art there too. I thought you might be interested since, y’know.”

Oh, Kosuke must really look back because Katsuma is encouraging him to set foot in a place surrounded by books and art he hadn’t got his hands on yet. Kosuke gave him a tiny smile, feeling both guilty and grateful. “That’s cool. Do you know anything about how they got it?”

“Uh.” Katsuma shrugged. “I think it was donated? Probably? I just saw a case with the name, and you’d been talking about him a lot, so…”

Kosuke smiled a bit wider. “Thanks for telling me. Although… what were you doing in the public library?” Kastsuma only used the school one when he had to.

“It was a stop on my date,” Katsuma mumbled, going pink-faced. “Um, Hana likes books and uh, I might be growing to like them more.” He scowled when Kosuke just kept smiling wider. “Fiction. I am not interested in any of your dense history and biographies. Just. Maybe literature isn’t so bad.”

“Thinking of changing majors?”

“Hell no. One of us has to get a degree that will actually get us a job. Business is useful.”

“Well you always have your family business if nothing else.”

“Exactly. And I need to have something steady if Hana becomes an author like she wants to be. That’s not a guaranteed paycheck every month.”

Kosuke blinked. “It’s that serious?”

Katsuma opened his mouth, closed it, face getting redder by the second. “I… maybe. I think I want it to be? I know it’s still early but…”

Kosuke pushed his shock aside. “No. No, you’ve been writing for months. You probably know each other pretty well.”

“Yeah.” Katsuma smiled shyly. “Yeah, I think we do.”

It shouldn’t be a surprise for one of his friends to have a serious relationship but it was. That was the way the world worked, right? People met and fell in love and got married. They planned a future together.

And there was Emiko looking straight to the future of a child without even having a boyfriend in the picture yet.

Kosuke felt a bit like he was falling behind, or maybe not taking things seriously enough. If she asked him the question she asked everyone else… He blushed.

Katsuma elbowed him with a knowing look. Kosuke rolled his eyes and elbowed back. He was fine. They were fine. It would all turn out fine. Somehow. He coughed lightly into his fist and pointedly didn’t notice the worried glance Katsuma sent him. Just fine.

o*O*o

Kosuke had set foot in the public library several times—it was a library, of course he had—but generally he’d gravitated toward the vast research-oriented collections of the university library to the local library’s less specialized collections. Still, it was nostalgic to walk through shelves and see children sitting at tables with picture books or mouthing words as they learned their kana and kanji.  Libraries were homey to him in a way that his actual home wasn’t.

The collection Katsuma mentioned was at the back of the nonfiction section near local history books, just a cabinet attached to the wall with thick, shatterproof glass to protect its contents and a little plaque next to it. Kosuke was surprised Katsuma even saw it considering it was so tucked away.

“Glasswork by Takamura Hiseki, generously donated by the Amari family,” Kosuke read. “Items were gifted to the Amari family and Amari Jun in particular by Takamura, evidence of their close friendship.” ‘Close friendship’ was one way of putting it, he thought wryly. All the glasswork was smaller items, all beautiful, but two pieces made his breath catch in his aching chest. One was a bluebell, a perfect glass representation of the same flower that had killed Takamura as he stifled his love. The other… The other was almost a perfect double to the vial in Kosuke’s pocket. It was slightly different, just a bit less polished and the edges cut a bit less cleanly like it had been a prototype to the one he’d found in the hidden compartment, but it could only be its match.

What on earth had gone through Takamura’s mind when he gave Amari those items? What had Amari thought, later, when Takamura died and his hanahaki was exposed?

“There’s supposed to be a match to that,” a young voice said by Kosuke’s shoulder.

Kosuke jumped. A young teenage boy with over-large glasses looked at the same vial Kosuke had been looking at.

“They never found it though,” the boy continued, turning his gaze from the case to Kosuke.

Kosuke could practically feel the vial in his pocket burning against his leg in guilt. “T-They?” he asked.

The boy smiled. It wasn’t a nice smile, was probably the fakest smile Kosuke had ever seen. “Amari’s family. Takamura Hiseki and Amari Jun had matching vials, but Takamura’s was missing at his burial. It’s a pity,” he said looking back at the case. “It’s always sad when there’s only half of a set.”

Kosuke didn’t know how to answer that. Actually, he wondered how the boy knew any of that at all because it hadn’t been in the books Kosuke read. “They must have been really close,” Kosuke said after a moment, “if Takamura made them matching pieces.”

The boy snorted. “Were they by the end? At that point, was it love, selfishness, or cowardice?”

Kosuke really didn’t know how to respond to that, but thankfully the boy didn’t expect him to. He turned and walked away, leaving Kosuke far more unsettled than a child should be able to do. The words resonated though. Was it love, to pine away for someone and die slowly? Or was it just an unhealthy obsession? Takamura had hidden his illness for years. Was it because he was afraid of losing his friend or because he was afraid of hurting him with the knowledge? His diaries had been vague, circling around logic for so much of it. Maybe Takamura hadn’t even known his own reasoning by the end.

Maybe Kosuke was no better. At any rate, true, healthy love couldn’t be one-sided. And it couldn’t start with emotions hidden either.

He looked at the glasswork for a long time, thoughts whirling, indecisive.

When he left, he called the number of a local clinic. White Day would be the last attempt. If he couldn’t confess then, he’d get a consultation about having hanahaki surgery. It wouldn’t be like Takamura dying, leaving his friend shocked and grieving if Kosuke let things continue. Emiko didn’t know him. She wouldn’t care. But he did have friends who would be hurt, and Kosuke didn’t want to give up living just because he couldn’t stop feeling for a woman who didn’t know he existed.

He felt steadier after making the decision. All those months of running himself ragged over it, the choice was made.

Kosuke gripped the vial in his pocket. A bit longer. He’d endure a bit longer. But then he’d let go because it wasn’t healthy to keep doing what he’d been doing.

o*O*o

The ribbon was a tiny weight and pressure in Kosuke’s pocket. In fact, compared to the vial in the other one it should have been unnoticeable. Instead it was all Kosuke could focus on, like it was a highly volatile material instead of smooth silk.

As luck would have it, he’d had an exam on White Day and hadn’t been able to approach Emiko before it because her class (from what he heard; he hadn’t made a point to know where she was at all times, thank you that would be creepy) had happened to be on the exact opposite side of campus. Kosuke was dreading the exam results because it had definitely not been his best showing.

It took a little doing to figure out where Emiko was, and once he found her it was blatantly obvious. There were two different people currently giving her gifts and confessions and getting a few questions before being shot down. Usually Emiko seemed to enjoy the attention, but today she looked like she’d rather be at home than listening to another man try to win her heart. It kind of made Kosuke want to back out because he would hate to stress her more, but this was his self-imposed deadline. He had to do this. When the two men finally backed off, Kosuke took a step forward. Then another, and another until he was only a couple meters away.

And she turned and walked a different direction without noticing him at all.

“Emi—ko…” His voice trailed off, not loud enough for her to have heard.

Right. His hands clenched, sweaty and shaking. Right. Maybe he just wasn’t meant to talk to her.

Kosuke ran a hand through his hair. “Right.” There were flowers crowding his throat and he took a few quick steps to round the nearest building and cough them up with some amount of privacy. Three stems and the bittersweet blood and herb flavor on his tongue. He wiped his mouth. It was so frustrating. Why couldn’t he just do something as simple as walk up to a girl and talk?! The heel of his palms pressed against his eyes for a moment. “It’s fine. It doesn’t matter now. You’re going to be letting it all go in a few days anyway.”

It wasn’t fine.

Still, he dragged himself out of the shadows and back toward his last class, and from there to the train station. He couldn’t remember anything that happened in that class at all. In fact he barely remembered the walk to the station until he heard a familiar voice.

Emiko and some of her admirers, one of them one of the men from earlier. He started to look away but—“Hey! Stop pushing!!” Emiko said above the sound of an oncoming train. They were so close to the edge and—!

Kosuke didn’t even think about it, just shoved through bodies and dove for her as Emiko lost her footing. His hand caught her elbow and yanked her back against his chest as brakes shrieked as the train pulled into the station. A pillar smacked against his back and Emiko’s weight crushed the air from his chest. He struggled not to cough, back aching.

“Owww…” He may have hit his head too. In his arms Emiko jolted, pulling away. “Hey, it’s—”

“I’m so sorry!” she said, and of all the ways to finally meet, Kosuke thought wryly, this was not how he pictured it.

“I’m just glad I caught you,” he murmured. She could have been a smear along the track, he thought with a lurch in his gut. Thank goodness she was fiiii— “Your ankle! You got hurt!” Oh no, he made her bleed. He hadn’t even managed a rescue properly.

“It’s fine,” she said, one hand fluttering over the injury. “I’ll just tie it up, I’m sure I have a handkerchief.”

“I have one,” he offered immediately, digging into his pocket. “Use this!” He thrust it forward and Emiko’s eyes caught on it.

“Ah!” Her hand caught his. “The ribbon!”

“Oh no.” Kosuke felt his face burst into flame as he realized he’d not only pulled out the White Day gift with his handkerchief, but somehow Emiko recognized it. “Oh no no no.”

“It’s you!” Emiko said with something like joy in her voice. “You’re the one who left the ribbon last year! I wondered.”

Kosuke relinquished both items into her hands so he could bury his face in his own. “Ahhhh, that was not how I was supposed to do that…”

“So it was for me again?” Emiko asked.

When he risked a glance up, she was looking at the ribbon with a soft smile. “Yeah it, um, it is.”

“Why didn’t you give it to me earlier?”

How was he supposed to say that he’d been too nervous to walk up to her for over a year? That it was a miracle he’d given her the ribbon last time in the first place? “I was… waiting for the right time,” he mumbled.

She didn’t seem put out by that, if anything she smiled a bit more. “Well I guess now was the right time,” she teased. She tied Kosuke’s handkerchief around her ankle and Kosuke helped her stand up, letting her tug him over to a bench. The men that started all of this were somehow long gone of course. Emiko’s touch lingered on his fingertips and Kosuke found his hand getting sweaty again.

If Kosuke thought he loved her from afar, actually having a conversation was killing him. A bit literally actually; his chest was feeling very tight. He opened his mouth to confess—because that was kind of the whole point but what came out instead was, “I wanted to ask… why do you want to have a son?”

Emiko gave him a shocked look, like no one had ever asked her that, though he couldn’t believe no one had bothered. It was kind of an integral piece of understanding her.

“Since I was little it’s always been my dream to have a son,” Emiko said, warm and introspective. “I wanted to be the mother of the legendary phantom thief!”

Kosuke didn’t know what she meant by that exactly, or why it held significance to her, but he could tell that she truly felt strongly about it. That she was baring a piece of herself to him in a show of trust to a perfect stranger and that meant so much that his chest ached. He bit his lip.

Emiko looked up at him with a warm smile on her face. “So, are you someone who’d be willing to help me with that dream?”

Kosuke choked and ended up coughing after all, bad enough that Emiko touched his shoulder with concern. He wiped his mouth, damp petals hidden in his hand and just looked at her for a beat because he was actually here, talking to her. She was listening and waiting for him to speak. “I. One day, if you’d care to have me,” he choked out hoarsely. “If you like me, but I know you don’t know me, but I’d like it if you did know me, I mean I’d like to know you but only if you’d like to that is to say—!”

Emiko burst into giggles. “Is that a yes?” she asked, grinning.

Kosuke was going to die of embarrassment before he died from suffocation. “Yes,” he squeaked. “I’d like to have a family with you.”

And there was something in how he said that that she liked because she gave him the most genuine smile he’d seen her give anyone, and he’d been watching her from afar for a year. (Oh no, was he going to have to admit he’d been watching her for a year???) “I think I’d like to get to know you then,” Emiko said. “Although I think we should start with a name…?”

Oh no, he hadn’t even given his name. Kosuke was a wreck. “It’s Kosuke.”

And for the next few minutes they exchanged questions and Emiko learned he was the only son with distant parents, that he didn’t have much family at all, but that he had an unmarried uncle on his father’s side. He learned that she only had her father, but that they were very close and her mother died when she was young. She learned that he liked books and art history, he learned that her family had an art collection and she was learning conservation to take care of it properly. He learned that it was so much better to see her expressions up close and that he had never felt a rush quite the same as when she directed all of her attention his way.

Kosuke didn’t talk to people easily but somehow she coaxed words out of him and had him asking questions back, soaking in knowledge about her the same way he soaked in information about his research. If it wasn’t for the persistent tickle in his throat and the bitter taste in his mouth, he’d have forgotten what he needed to do.

Even with everything he almost let it slide again when Emiko glanced up and noticed the time.

“Oh! I have to get home!”

Another train would be arriving any minute too. “Um, Emiko-san.”

“You can just call me Emiko,” she said, not for the first time.

He really wasn’t ready to call her anything to her face without an honorific. “Emiko-san, I need to say. That is. I’d like to get to know you.” Close but not quite. “I like listening to you.” Still not there. “I l-like. I mean, you, I like—”

“You like me,” Emiko said, taking pity on him.

“Yes.” Thank goodness one of them could be direct. “I like…I like you.”

“I kind of figured,” she said, smiling fondly in a way that was way more intimate than one conversation merited.

“Do you…?”

Emiko hummed and tilted her head. “I don’t know yet.” Her smile grew wider. “But,” she said dragging out the word, “I’d be interested in finding out. I guess that just means you’ll have to take me out on a date, hmm?”

Kosuke breathed and felt like he could take a fuller breath all of a sudden. “Yes. Yeah, sure, I’ll take you on as many dates as you’ll let me.” He’d pull out full stop romance if she wanted. Flowers and candle-lit dinners and watching sunsets and sharing umbrellas in the rain.

Emiko laughed happily. He wanted to hear that sound forever. “You know,” she said after a moment, “I’ve seen you around before, but you always looked busy.”

She’d noticed him? Kosuke blinked. “I… really like reading.”

“You’ll have to show me some of your favorite books then. I’ll show you some of mine.”

Kosuke was definitely in love. There was no turning back now. Head over heels. It was only going to get deeper because now he knew what it felt like to have her smile at him and mean it. To hear her talk about things she liked and how her hand felt in his own. “Anytime.”

o*O*o

“So, what, you’re dating now?” Minako asked, stirring sugar into her coffee at the usual café.

“I think?” The word ‘dating’ hadn’t been used, but they’d met once for lunch and made plans to do so again. Kosuke’s heart beat fast thinking about it. But since White Day, he’d been breathing easier bit by bit, no more drops from the vial needed. It almost didn’t feel real.

“Well, congrats,” Katsuma said with a grin. “I told you that you could do it.”

“You said I could manage to confess, not that I could get a date with her,” Kosuke pointed out.

“Details,” Katsuma scoffed. “What’s she like?”

Kosuke tried to capture Emiko in words in his mind and kept coming up short. “Bright.” Her smile shone and she was very smart. She was also a bit strange, having some weird interests and he still was trying to parse out the whole thing with a phantom thief, but that was fine. Kosuke looked forward to getting to know her well enough to understand. And they’d talked about art and books and… She made him actually want to be sappily romantic.

“I think we’ve lost him,” Minako teased. “Just one word, lover-boy?”

“She’s…” Kosuke moved his hands helplessly to mean something bigger than he could describe. “I could talk to her for hours. Or listen to her talk.”

“Someone that actually makes you want to talk is good,” Minako said. “I’m glad.”

“If you’re ever up for a double date,” Katsuma said with a wink, “Hana and I are game.”

“I think I’ll stick to single dates until I’m sure we’re actually dating,” Kosuke said.

“And speaking of your girlfriend,” Minako said, nodding at across the street.

Kosuke turned so fast he almost fell out of his seat to see Emiko exit the other café like usual. Only unlike all the other times, her eyes met his across the space and she gave a smile and a wave. Kosuke’s face went red as he waved meekly back.

“You know,” Katsuma mused aloud as Emiko started to cross the street in their direction, “she always asks the same question when someone confesses, so does that mean our shy little Kosuke said yes?”

Kosuke’s face was almost as red as Emiko’s hair and Minako was laughing at him.

“Kosuke!” Emiko said cheerfully with another enthusiastic wave. It hit him right in the heart. He had to have the most ridiculous, sappy expression on his face right now. “I thought I’d seen you here before! Are these your friends?”

“Ah, yeah, this is Katsuma and Minako. Guys, this is Emiko.”

“Nice to meet you,” Katsuma said.

“Yeah, it’s about time,” Minako said with a grin, “since this dummy’s been pining for ages.”

“Guys…”

Emiko laughed. “You know I’ve never been to this café. Is anything good here?”

Kosuke and his friends exchanged a look. “It’s cheap,” they said at the same time. “And they have really strong coffee,” Kosuke added. “It’s good for when you’ve been pulling late nights.”

His friends looked exasperated. “He pulls them too often,” Minako complained. “The books aren’t going anywhere, Ko-kun.”

“So many books, so little time,” Emiko teased, stealing a chair to join them.

“It’ll be nice to have another person reminding him that there’s life outside the library,” Katsuma joked, poking Kosuke’s face.

Kosuke swatted his hand away and Emiko watched the exchange like she was seeing something valuable. He didn’t have words for how her interacting with his friends made him feel. It was a good feeling though.

“We’ll have to work on a work-life balance then,” Emiko said. “I’d be a little put out if he chose books over a date with me.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’d be a problem,” Katsuma said.

“I will tell Hana-san about the time you burned your classic literature book,” Kosuke said, calling back to their first year together as friends.

“No you won’t, I have more blackmail on you than you have on me,” Katsuma said confidently.

“I can list your failed relationships in order of magnitude of how bad they went.”

“Remember the first time you got drunk?”

Kosuke snapped his mouth shut. He very much did not remember parts of that night and that meant he really couldn’t refute if Katsuma made embarrassing things up.

Emiko laughed. “Hmm, I’d like to hear about some of these things.”

“Katsuma, I will pour my coffee down your pants so you have to leave here looking like you wet yourself.”

They laughed at him and Kosuke resigned himself to at least some of his embarrassing college stories being told, though most of them involved the extremes he went to on research benders. Still, it was nice. Emiko was slotting into his life, and maybe she’d let him slip into her life as an equal presence.

o*O*o

“Isn’t this one of Takamura Hiseki’s pieces?” Emiko asked months later, sitting in Kosuke’s cramped little apartment like it wasn’t a few steps above a box. She’d never made a big deal of any of it, not Kosuke’s lack of nice things or how he couldn’t make the grand gestures of other people who courted her. He was pretty sure that part of what she liked about him was that he didn’t give lavish gifts or make grandiose promises. That he was down to earth and showed he cared in small gestures like picking up a coffee or surprising her with a piece of candy or a good book on days where she was stressed. She’d been to the apartment before, but it was only recently that Kosuke stopped carrying Takamura’s vial around and put it on a shelf with some smaller, far less valuable art pieces.

It hadn’t occurred to him that she would recognize the artist.

“Uh.” He bit his lip. How to explain that? “It is.”

“It’s nice.” Emiko turned it over in her hands, letting the light reflect of its cut glass edges. The liquid swirled in it as full as it had been when he found it; he never did figure out how it never depleted. “How did you end up with it?”

Kosuke blushed guiltily. Emiko raised an eyebrow. Kosuke scratched at his cheek. “I did a research paper on him and noticed something odd in some of his journals… There was a secret compartment in one of the furniture pieces he donated to the university and… well.”

“Kosuke.” There was an almost gleeful expression on her face. “Did you steal a piece of art from the university?”

Kosuke flushed harder. “Err. In my defense they didn’t know it existed?”

Emiko laughed. A few months ago he would have expected to be scolded for it, but he was starting to realize Emiko didn’t function on the same moral standards as most of society. It should have bothered him, but honestly it was one more thing he liked about her, how she didn’t match the image she’d built herself up as in public. “You,” Emiko said, putting the vial back, “are perfect.”

“Excuse me??”

Emiko just shook her head and grinned. “How do you feel about meeting my dad this weekend?”

“So fast?”

“It’s not fast; we’ve been dating for months. Although I guess you haven’t introduced me to your parents either.”

Kosuke flailed a little, but stilled as Emiko moved to lean against his side. He relaxed against her. “I’d like to meet your father,” he said. Emiko nodded against his shoulder, snuggling closer. “And um, my parents are, um.” He was having trouble finding words with how Emiko kept getting closer, like she was going to end up sitting in his lap. “Um. We don’t talk, so.”

There was a tiny pause in her getting as close as possible before she gave up even trying to be subtle and draped herself against him. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to become part of my family.”

Oh. She was smiling, but her eyes were serious. Oh. His arms went around her. “Yeah. I’d. I’d like that.”

When she kissed him, he lost all ability to think about anything other than the moment, all his anxieties and insecurities falling away because she was here and she’d chosen him. By some miracle, she liked him back, and it was maybe about as much as he liked her. He felt like he belonged the way he did surrounded by books. Kosuke, finally, felt happy.

o*O*o

At some point, a second, almost identical crystal vial ends up sitting innocently on Kosuke’s shelf. Kosuke, soon to be Niwa Kosuke, never tells anyone how it got there.

*****

Kosuke totally doesn’t tell her about the hanahaki until right before they get married and Emiko is all ‘why didn’t you say something???' Also, I really wanted Kosuke to already have something to do with art because I prefer that to picturing him uprooting his entire life to try and fit with what the Niwas need. So my HC for him is he already was a guy who liked spending way too much time researching things and it just was serendipity that it turned out to be useful for the Niwas.

[smolbeandrabbles]

Kiss You - Anders Harris x Reader (The Land of Steady Habits)

Author’s Note: Literally me in Bed, Bath and Beyond, tho. Could this technically count as a Christmas fic for the 0.1 seconds I talk about Christmas?! So. I realised whilst doing some clearing up on my Masterlist that actually the only time I’ve written this man is a request... Without further ado. Let’s give this film it’s own section, shall we...?

Disclaimer: The Land of Steady Habits & Characters not mine... etc etc etc... Premise: When the father of your favourite co-worker offers to take you home as a favour, you can’t resist the temptation of having him stay...  Words: 3902 Warnings: One Night Stand / mild swearing 

______ Oh, I just wanna take you anywhere that you’d like We could go out any day, any night Baby, I'll take you there, take you there Baby, I'll take you there Oh, tell me, tell me, tell me how to turn your love on You can get, get anything that you want Baby, just shout it out, shout it out Baby, just shout it out And if you You want me too Let's make a move, yeah So tell me girl if every time we touch You get this kind of rush Baby, say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah yeah yeah If you don't wanna take it slow And you just wanna take me home Baby, say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah yeah And let me kiss you Oh baby baby don't you know you got what I need Lookin' so good from your head to your feet Come-a come over here, over here Come-a come over here yeah Oh, I just wanna show you off to all of my friends... Baby, be mine tonight, mine tonight Baby, be mine tonight yeah

--- You didn’t want to call it a bad idea. Far from it. Maybe a little stupid? Maybe.   Sleeping with the father of someone you worked with...? Ehhhh Your night wasn’t really meant to go that way, but hell as if you’d minded.  Preston hadn’t introduced you to Anders on anything more than a coincidence. Anders still liked seeing his son, and you knew he took him out to their favourite lunch spot maybe once every few weeks. You’d heard a lot about Anders Harris but you hadn’t actually had the pleasure of meeting him until you’d been coming back from picking up lunch in town, and he was waiting for your star team member in the lobby. You would have walked straight past him then, had Preston not been walking out of the office and caught you in the middle of the foyer, only for Anders to casually wander over.  Even then you hadn’t had enough time to be interested. You caught his name, shook his hand. Were polite. He seemed sweet enough, but didn’t necessarily catch your eye; you had to excuse yourself to the twenty different projects you had deadlines for. But it was nice to momentarily meet a man Preston talked so much about. Then you started to notice him around the office a little more either on your way to or from lunch, and you would give him a nod or a wave at times.   A few months after that first interaction, also known as last night, you’d been on the way home from Christmas drinks with friends walking to your car, and Anders was coming the other way up the street. You had been looking at each other a good portion of the way up the street - and you knew you both recognised each other, but maybe not enough to chat? But it was Christmas, and you kinda felt the situation was unavoidable... so you both slowed to a stop; “Hey!” “Hi! What are you doing in town this late?” Though your eyes flicked to his hands; “Oh! Late night Christmas shopping...! Yourself?” “Catching up with friends before they all split for the Holidays... it’s good to see you!” “And finally talk properly I guess...!” He laughed gently “Hey, I, always mean to ask... how is he... doing? You know I just... as his dad-” “He’s amazing what can I say?” You grinned, “Probably one of the most incredible team members I’ve ever worked with. He’s incredibly bright and independent and a good team player. Trust me, you don’t have to worry... you can be very proud of him...” There was a bashful smile on his face as he looked away from you; “Well... thank you for saying that...” “You’re very welcome... I do try to aim to be the cool boss!” you winked; “So, if you can push that notion his way.” Anders laughed “oh, I don’t think I need to. He likes you a lot.” “Well that’s made my day!” You grinned back, giving him a laugh of your own “Glad to be of service... where you headed now?” “Home, cab...” You pointed to the end of the street that you knew was easiest to catch them from. “And yourself with all those bags?” He nodded for a second, eyeline following your point, before turning back to your question; “Oh, I’m driving home... do you... I can drive you back home!” Anders’ eyes flashed, and his smile got considerably cuter at his bright idea “Oh no! You don’t have to do that.” “I would like to though, it saves you money, c’mon!” You knew you wouldn’t need much persuading to spend some more time with him, but you wanted to act like it was a hard decision, sway on the spot for a minute, “Okay!” But you wouldn’t let him get away with just that, “Then hand over some of those bags!! I can’t watch you walk around with all those!” ** He only begrudgingly let you take them off him to walk back to his car, and you made small talk. You found talking to him was as easy as his son, and the conversation flowed naturally. Anders was tall and attractive and had a boyish look about him that somehow meant you couldn’t tear your eyes away. Every so often he said something that subtly sounded like flirting, but could have been passed of as anything else – except by the way he looked over at you and smiled. And from time to time that smile would have you looking away from him and blaming the cold, or the alcohol, for your flushed cheeks. Sometimes you could return that smile with a subtle flirt of your own. And then he would laugh – and you were having real-time in work flashbacks. They are so alike… You wondered if they even realised it, or if they would even like the comparison. Preston would probably roll his eyes and call you crazy, Anders seemed like the kind of guy to smile bashfully, look to his feet and mumble that he wished he was half as good as his kid. You wondered if you would ever get the opportunity to tell them both – and which reaction would hold most true. One thing was for sure, you weren’t about to do it your very first real conversation with him here and now. He unlocked his car from the other side of the parking lot; “Safety first?!” you joked “Uh. You have felt this outdoor temperature right!? I wanna get in it, and get home…” He blew out a breath which instantly fogged in the atmosphere to make his point for him. “…Dunno, guess I’m keeping the chill off just fine.” Anders scoffed; “Yeah alright. I can do late night drinks with friends too, y’know! I just… not this week, probably next…” “Preston says you do cooking classes!” It didn’t mean to come out quite the way it did, what you had meant to follow up on was his statement on his friends - because you knew he happened to do these courses with one. He spluttered instead with a choked laugh “HA-! God, what else has he said about me-!?!” You held your hands up innocently; “I didn’t say it was a bad thing! He just tells me things here and there…” “I bet it’s all terrible.” You bit your lip through your smile; “…If it was Mr. Harris, I wouldn’t be getting in your car.” “Ah. Well, there’s that…” He popped the trunk and you helped him arrange the multitude of carriers, as he asked for your address – typing it into his phone. Anders paused for a second before he tapped the ‘go’ button to start the navigation system and allowed his eyes to flick back to you arranging things and standing back to admire your handy work; giving yourself a small smile and self-assured nod that everything was bound to fit, and the trunk would close properly now. He wondered if you wouldn’t mind… not going home… “Well... alternatively...” he shut the trunk “You know you could just come to mine..?” You gave a smirk, leaning against his car, as you turned back to him – there was only one notion behind his question; “Like, a one night stand?” He was attractive. His just-grey hair was still stylishly spiked and matched his cool blue eyes, and he even dressed with a sense of style that made him out to be half as old as he was. Yet, retired… divorced… and into finance? No. Not here and now, not with him looking at you like this.  You were into his humour too, which was the biggest plus. This didn’t sound like a bad suggestion. He squinted a little to make sure he was getting the notion from you he thought he was; “Yeaaaah?” “You think that’s a good idea? The father of someone in the boss of?” You teased, folding your arms. He gave a shrug “There are worse ideas, right?” You laughed in agreement “To be honest; I think that’s one of the best ideas I’ve ever heard.” You thought hard for a moment, looking to the parking lot and back to his car… hadn’t he just spent the time and effort typing in your address though, wouldn’t you just have to get home in the morning...? That cancelled out the fact he was doing you a favour and then turned back to him; “Why risk the journey to yours at all?” “Hmm?” You knew from when Preston liked to complain about having to drive over there in “rush” hour after work, that it was slightly further away from town than yours. And on the other side... “Well, you could simply take me home like a gentleman... and stay...” you added to let him know that there was no-way you were having second thoughts. Anders smiled with a knowing nod - “That sounds agreeable...” He leant into you - so close, and you did want to completely get wrapped up in him then. He looked cozy and your body was just aching to be held by him. You pressed further up against his car with a gasp - the metal was freezing in the temperature but it almost didn’t faze you. He kept on leaning. Hands sliding down your arms to find your fingers. And then he kissed you: sweet and comforting, and better than you might expect from a man potentially still hung up on his divorce and the pursuit of happiness. If he had meant to keep it short Anders failed through no fault of his own - after a few seconds of linking with his, your hands wanted nothing more than to pull him closer - and you wound your arms around his neck, drawing him into you up against his car. And you didn’t know if the drink was getting to you or it was his kissing giving you this buzz. But it was expert, thrilling; he was by no means a shy kisser. Not that his invitation had been anything short of forward. It was the kind of drunk kiss in the bar you were supposed to have that made a one night stand happen - not the one you made when you were both (practically) sober that sealed the deal after you’d already agreed to it. But there was a softness to that confidence - and you didn’t want that make out session to end, despite the fact you were standing outside in the freezing cold and dark and could have been doing this in his nice warm car. You broke apart - warm breath now visible as you tried to catch it. Oh yeah, you’d made the right decision here. This unassuming, kinda awkward, father of your favourite co-worker might be about to show you the time of your life…  *** So that’s how you ended up waking up... wait, hold on...?! Were you alone-!? He’d left you alone-!?! Son of a-! You sat up for a minute, had he really got up and driven away – no note? No nothing…? You left your bed and dressed quickly. Guess you were about to find yourself stuck at another boring weekend... You jogged down your stairs. No matter; one feel good pill, and a glass of water and you’d be ready to go jogging. You ran past your living room and front door, and almost made it to the kitchen. Before you stopped dead in your trainers and jogged back a couple of paces. Standing looking at your bookshelf, was Anders. Didn’t leave me after all?! You smiled, standing in the doorway and waiting for him to notice you; "You don't have any of those f**king self-help books…" he mused, eyes tracing from shelf to shelf just in case he’d missed it. You raised an eyebrow at that; "No! Why would I!? Do you think I need them!?" He turned to you and raised an eyebrow. Bright red and grey hooded sports jacket, your soft shirt hugging you just right, leggings and yellow running shoes meant no one out there was going to miss you. Why didn't that surprise him... “Where are you going?" "Running!" you were amused by the look he was giving you – somewhere between bewildered and impressed; “You run?” “Jog. Saturday and Sunday. Well. Most Sundays...” You nodded to him “You stayed?” “Oh shoot - Yeah, I shoulda... I dunno I got up and couldn’t sleep, and I didn’t want to wake you so...” He gave a shrug “I figured I’d wait up down here...” “Oh! No, no! Honestly that’s okay! Stay, if you got nowhere to be… please stay!” You gave a wink, “If you wait up a little longer we can have breakfast...” “Ah-! Breakfast too!? Careful Y/N, this is going to become a date...” “Maybe I want it to...!” You grinned and stepped backwards, “Enjoy my books!!!” “I will help myself to...” He couldn’t help his laugh “...no self-help!” “Well if you want me to get you one-!” “God, no please! Mercy!” “I won’t be too long I promise...” You scanned his outfit for yourself as you placed your headphones in, he looked good. Nice shirt, nice pants, jumper you could get wrapped up in on really cold days. Jumper you’d quite like to get wrapped up in right now, actually... Shoulda taken your time last night... Y/N!! He gave you a gentle smile and shook his head; “Aw, you don’t have to promise me anything... take your time.” “Still, I don’t want a guest of mine to wait around for breakfast!!!” you smirked, pulling open your front door and calling back; “Sorry to disappoint on the book front-!” You were followed out your door by the delightful sound of his laugh; “Quite the contrary!”  *** When you got back from a very short (very light!!!) jog you were surprised to find Anders sitting on your couch genuinely reading. You leant against the door frame again; "Oh...I didn't think you'd actually take me up on that offer." "Well..." He mused, not looking up for a second as he finished the page. "...You do have a good collection." You tipped your head to try to read the cover, so he held it up for you.  "Oh! You a Stephen King fan?" His smile was a little on the awkward side "I haven't read a lot but... What I've read is good." "You should read some more. He's awesome." You gave a wink, and he stood; "So uh, breakfast...?" "Oh! Sweetie, let me go change!" He raised his eyebrow at you calling him sweetie - considering you couldn't have been all that near his age... "You don't have to do that for me..." "Yes I do...! I do...!" Ander gave a shrug, to indicate that it didn't matter to him at all, but he knew it was important to you - so he let you go. "I'll be five minutes!" "Good with me..!" He called after your disappearing frame ascending the stairs. ** But Anders, now knowing you were back home, decided he wanted to surprise you a little - and went about making breakfast and setting the table by himself. This was possibly the longest he'd ever stayed at a one night stands house. And the least awkward he'd ever felt after having one... There was something comfortable here... Whether that be his surroundings, or whatever was going on between him and you. He tried to keep what Preston might think about this out of his mind for as long as possible. You knew what he was doing when you caught the familiar scent of coffee half way back down your stairs. And couldn't help but be a little impressed as you trod softly into the kitchen; "Wow... I mean, I don't think I've ever had a guy make me breakfast at my own house before... Or make me breakfast period..." "Well, consider this - hopefully - a nice first..." He handed over a mug with a warm smile, and took a sip of his own. "Oh, I don't know, you're the guest! I feel like..." "Guest?" He raised an eyebrow; "Is that what I am now?" You flushed slightly "I mean...I guess..." Your eyes left his face, and your coffee became very interesting. Anders chuckled, "Well. I'm okay with that..." He brushed his hand across your shoulder, and guided you to the table "I'm... VERY okay with that..." "Oh really?" "Is it surprising?" He eyed you for a minute, you were a smart girl, you'd have picked something up. You paused, and then flushed a little more; "Please don't tell me you wait for Preston in our lobby... to see me?" "...Well... I guess it's not the only reason..." Anders pulled your chair out before sitting next to you, but you were a little lost for words – and continued to stare at him in awe with that gentle blush crossing your cheeks. “I…” You looked to the table for a moment “…I don’t…” He laughed; “You don’t have to say anything. And heck, the last thing I was looking for was making this morning awkward…” “No-! No!” You stammered, placing your hand affectionately on Anders’ arm, “You didn’t-! I’m just..! Overwhelmed a little that you…” your smile was as much in quiet adoration as your voice; “…that’s really… cute…”  *** You had danced around the subject all breakfast time, gingerly sipping coffee - then the pause came when it felt like it was the right time, but it never was. So, the both of you just ended up chatting about something else. But it was good conversation - and you didn’t want this feeling to end discussing something you knew you eventually would have to. Preston. And what you might decide to tell him. Anders had noticed that you had let him place his hand over yours, and the adorable way you were smiling at his gentle caresses. There was no fairly embarrassing redressing and sneaking out... No see you later that neither of you would ever mean... sure he’d drive home in what he was wearing yesterday, but as far as he was concerned it wouldn’t be a drive of shame. And yet... if you did want to see each other again, Preston became even more of an issue. And eventually you were the one to open your mouth; “Anders I... I really like you... you know? And I... I mean I’d like to see you again-” He cut you off before you could even think the but “I Like you too... I think that would be a good decision...” he didn’t want to give the impression that the matter of his son was going to stop that from happening. “But Preston… I...” “We’ll...” he waved his hand “We’ll deal with Preston when it comes to it... he’s an adult he can handle it, I’m sure...” Your expression remained fairly uncertain as you bit your lip; “I don’t want to act like it’s a big secret-!” “No. No! He just... Let’s see where this goes - if we both want to continue being serious about it...” Anders smiled, thinking that you probably both did, “then we’ll figure out the best way to tell him. But it’s probably not the first thing to do.” “A priority though.” You wanted to make sure he agreed on this, because you didn’t want to affect his relationship with his son - that you had learned from Preston himself was rebuilding pretty well - neither did you want to affect your working relationship with him, because honestly if you lost that banter work would become the most dull place again. And you cared about that kid a lot, he was a sweetheart. Anders nodded “of course, it’s an absolute priority...” Glad you were in agreement, and sure for yourself now this was going to end up being much more than just a one night thing, you turned to your cabinet and picked up your phone. Now you were determined to take the initiative here; “Anders, can I get your number?” He stared at you for a moment in almost childish wonder, then gave you a laugh to match - taking your phone: “Oh, Y/N! Of course, you may...!” He tapped it in, pulling his phone from his pocket “Though I might quite like you to return the favour!” *** He decided not to outstay his welcome, but it was practically lunch time by the time Anders pushed his chair out to leave. You’d already persuaded him to stay talking with you for one more (one more!) coffee. And this time Anders politely declined, there was still a little bit of irrational fear inside him that you might get sick of him. Or that he would say something stupid – he was used to doing something like that. But he also noticed how slowly you walked together to your front door, and he knew this was something already. He shrugged his jacket on and tied his scarf – with that same wonderful smile on his face. Which you were trying to fathom a reason for. And only realised it might be you when he turned back with those glittering blue eyes. “So, now you have my number. I guess I don’t have to wait to pick him up from work to see you around.” “Guess not… And I don’t have to hope that I might just coordinate my timing to see you either.” He grinned “Ah-! I knew there was a reason you liked walking out with him.” You waved your hand at his suggestion “Nah, that’s coincidence!” but your laugh gave you away. He opened your door to the colder temperature and shivered a little; “Man… Don’t you get tired of this?” You had to bite your lips together to not blurt out that he looked so good in clothes made for this weather, that from now on your answer would probably be ‘no!’ “…Well… By the time summer rolls around… but at this time of year…” “True…” He took the step down onto your drive way and turned back to you; “Thank you… Y/N… for having me.” “Uhm. Thank you for driving me home… and uh… Staying.” “Mmm…” Anders winked “Anytime.” Then he leant in to kiss you goodbye “…I’ll call you, text you… Whatever you want… and we’ll go out.” “That sounds good.” “Good… What are you doing for Christmas?” “Oh!” you couldn’t hide that surprise; “…Going to see my family.” “Ah… well, if you change your mind…” He gave a shrug “I’ll still be around.” You giggled; “Okay, I’ll keep it in mind…” Anders gave a smart nod; “Next week good with you?” “Should be.” You couldn’t help but mirror his amused smile “Awesome!” He patted his pocket “Keep your phone on you, and await my calls!” “Don’t be one of those men that calls me every minute of the day now… They usually get blacklisted.” Anders couldn’t help but laugh; “No promises! But thanks for the tip! Enjoy your day, Y/N!” He gave you a wave and set off down your drive to his car. “And you… And thank you…! I had a great time… sometimes stay at home dates are the best!” He opened his car door and turned back to you with another gorgeous smile; "…Well, I've had worse first dates... Much, much, worse first dates!" --- @3134045126​ 😘

@dennismitchell @happyskywhale @wltz-bby #MendoTagSquad. 

[strayneoculturekids]

I’m here you know? - Doyoung x Reader

Summary: You were starting to worry doyoung with your constant all-nighters just so you could study

College AU

Genre: Fluff, (a tinnnnyyyy bit of) Angst

A/N: This is kind of a sequel to my other Doyoung fic which is here (x), it’s kind of based off of that but you don’t need to read it to know what’s going on, it would probably be better though

You groaned as you saw sunlight peak through your closed blinds, only now just realizing you had stayed awake the entire night, being too caught up in studying to remember to sleep, eat, or really just practice basic hygiene in general.

You heard a quiet knock on your door followed by your roommate and unofficial boyfriend, Doyoung, not even bothering to wait for a response before he opened the door.

“Did you stay up all night again?” He asked, looking half pissed and half worried

“...maybe,” You said back, not wanting to lie to him even though he could plainly see the truth

He sighed and walked up to you, plopping down on the empty spot on the ground next to you, closing your laptop lid, moving it to the side and pulling you to sit on his lap, proceeding to bury his face into your back, elicitating a blush to rise up to your cheeks.

“You need to take care of yourself better. And take a damn shower too!” He spoke softly at first but then it turned into his usual nagging voice

“mmm...” you said, trailing off and closing your eyes, leaning back into Doyoung, falling asleep.

You were so rudely awoken by an alarm and a lack of the warmth you fell asleep with, checking your phone you saw the alarm was labeled “take a shower and go to your class”

“Doyoung” you muttered to yourself under your breath, appreciating him bothering to set an alarm for you before he went off to his class.

You did as instructed and went to take a shower, throwing on a hoodie, a t-shirt and a pair of sweat-pants afterward and heading to your class, not bothered to get dressed properly. Hell, you didn’t even want to go.

[dongie]: You awake yet?

[You]: ya, thanks for the alarm

[dongie]: No worries. My class just finished so meet me back at our dorm once yours has finished. I wanna talk with you

[You]: about what?

[dongie]: just focus on getting to class. See you in a bit

His texts seemed more serious than usual, he was normally quite affectionate with you over text out of habit. Maybe he wanted to talk about making your relationship serious? You got excited for a second but brushed it off quickly, not wanting to be disappointed if that wasn’t actually what he wanted to bring up.

You sat through the boring class, sleepily taking notes and trying your best to pay attention to what your professor was saying but only soaking up about a quarter of the information given to you.

You finally made it back to your shared apartment with Doyoung that you two had moved into together before you even liked each other, just to save money. You were met with him sitting on the couch, smiling softly at you, motioning for you to sit next to him.

Once you had, he crossed his legs so they were both on the couch and turned his whole body towards you, you naturally mirrored his actions and you were now staring intensely at each other.

“What did you wanna talk about?” You asked

“What happened?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, cocking your head

“Your sleep schedule has been completely messed up lately, just a few weeks ago you didn’t give a damn if you got a C- on a test and now you have a break-down about getting a B+, tell me what happened, this couldn’t have just come out of the blue.”

“Ah, it’s nothing, I just wanted to get my grades up,” you say, averting your eyes

Doyoung grabbed your hands, making you look into his intense gaze again. You sighed and you shoulders drooped

“I dunno, I guess I’m just having a mid-life crisis or something,” You said exasperatedly, sounding defeated “It’s just- what if I don’t get the job I want or I’m never happy with my life or-”

Before you could go on, Doyoung enveloped you in a hug.

“Hey, I’m here you know? You can depend on me for anything. I’ll stay with you”

“But what if you don’t? What if this whole thing flops and everything just goes to sh-”

Doyoung interrupted you for the second time, but this time with a kiss. Your face flared up and you could see Doyoung’s face was just as red as yours. This was your first kiss, considering you and Doyoung weren’t officially dating, it was pretty damn early, even if you had known each other for about 2 years now.

Doyoung finally pulled away and looked ou in the eyes once again “I also wanted to ask you something,”

“Hm?” You said, gulping

“Be my girlfriend?” He asked hesitantly “It’s cringey to ask at a time like this, I know, but I felt like now or never, you know?”

You smiled brightly at his antics and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug and whispering a small ‘yes’. Doyoung hugged you back tightly.

“Now I’m not allowed to just leave you,” he said humorously

“Yeah, whatever,” you said, hitting him lightly

Your opinion on him really has changed a lot since when you two first met.