#and ended up drawing the “burnt out” pose at the last minute

[refractionfish]

interview with tetsuya chiba (artist behind ashita no joe as well titles like ore wa teppei and notari matsutaro) from 2022. apparently the "white ashes" beat was his idea — one has to wonder what author asao takamori (aka ikki kajiwara) even contributed.

eBookJapan. “インタビュー【漫画家のまんなか。vol.4 ちばてつや】弱さもダメなところもひっくるめて、人間の素晴らしさを描きたい - Ebjニュース＆トピックス,” April 18, 2022. https://ebookjapan.yahoo.co.jp/special/article/aa0243.html.

[itsillchangethislater]

These took me far longer than they should have, but finally!! Chapter 12 illustrations done! I went the charcoal and graphite route on these. I’m a bit burnt out on inks atm and switching it up helped me get back to it!

I love the scenery and setting of chapter 12-13. The misty lake forest always is so clear in my mind. I’ve always pictured it being in the mountains? Think the Rockies or Vermont. Which they then cross over to reach the desert. BUT, when I attempted to draw mountains…It….Didnt go so well! So we got a lake centric view instead!

The Sun picture was actually a last minute addition to the picture line up I have. I’ve got everything sketched out at this point but realized I had no scenes inside the airstream, which was a big letdown! I love the airstream home they have and really felt like I needed at least ONE shot inside of it, showing a cozier scene.

Also!! Here’s some fun trivia for the 2nd picture with Sun…so while my family and I were traveling, we passed an airstream dealership. I practically tipped the car with my lunge of desperation. Quite probably the only chance I would ever get for really good reference images of the inside of an airstream….! We ended up stopping on our way back and I took about a million pictures. Yeah sure I might have all the other images sketched already and this is the only one that was in the inside of the airstream BUT!!! They’re there if I need them and that’s the important part! Special thanks to my sister and her leg for posing for y/n’s pose for me!

Cryptid sightings of course belongs to the lovely @naffeclipse

[keefwho]

September 28 - 2023 Thursday

10:40pm

I didn't journal last night because I was up late chatting with Daisy.

This morning I had a hard time decided breakfast but I picked my last sausage pattie in a hamburger bun with a side of rice. My diet has been pretty non-varied lately so I'm trying to remember to eat something as different as possible every meal aside from my usual chicken dinner but even that might get changed up.

Stream didn't go so well. I just couldn't figure out what to work on. I'm sort of idea burnt out right now. In the past I would have been tired of the process but I feel like I can draw forever. Its just coming up with interesting ideas I actually want to do and not just the same poses and scenarios over and over. I ended stream very early, only about 30 minutes in. I also had to use the bathroom pretty bad. I felt bad about ending but also I knew that I honestly needed a break. I still do I think. I've been so focused on creating ideas that I haven't been taking in any information. I'm reverbing in my own brain. I need some fresh content to go off of.

After stream I honestly can't remember what I did. I somehow managed to kill a couple hours by doing actually nothing. Maybe watching a Twitch stream, maybe working a little bit on my room scan, and trying to find something to clean. Eventually I decided to fellate myself but I probably shouldn't have, I ended up not being very into it and because of that it took about 40 minutes.

Lunch was a few chicken fries, fish stick, and a macaroni cup. I had been looking forward to working on something while watching a stream on the side. Instead I had joined Eggs server and she showed up along with a couple of her friends. It was a nice call for the most part. Some of it was her friends nonstop narrating their OSU gameplay which rotted my brain but that stopped. For a bit it was just me and her and we share mutual feelings about being glad we bumped into each other for similar reasons. She was sort of isolating after a friend group break up and I also have very few social connections. I had been working on a halloween pic of Adora for Daisy in this call. Egg and her friend were watching and complimented me a lot which was nice, they really like my coloring brush. When I was done with the pic I left.

I felt terrible for Daisy today because of her finding out her insurance doesn't cover mental visits and also she had a bad day at work. Thats part of the reason I did the halloween pic. I didn't mean to get the whole thing done today but I thought it would make her feel at least a little better. I don't think I play myself up enough because that pic only took 2 hours. I think a lot of artist wish they could draw something so complete in that time. At this point its normal for me so it doesn't feel like anything special but I should take pride in being able to crank something out like this when it's needed.

After a little stream watching Daisy and I played Zelda together for just a little bit before her mom got home. When she hopped off my friend Will messaged and reminded me that we had planned to hang out in VRchat tonight so we did that for a bit. It was cool catching up with him even though I forgot about the plans and didn't quite feel up to socializing with someone I hadn't talked to in a decade. It was worth it though. We got him an avatar and showed him my cabin before getting crashed at a Black Cat.

Daisy and I chatted before bed as usual while I'm been Twitch gambling. I'm running another room scan alignment tonight and hoping it goes better with new settings. I dont want to settle for a lame result.

Its nearly time I try to figure out a new plan to self therapy. I've just stopped for a bit to regroup because everything kinda stopped working. I got too focused on certain things and at the same time not focused enough on others. I wasn't very coordinated in general, so much so I can't even describe exactly what the problem was. Just that I was so scattered. Whatever I try next will be more structured and focused.

I've naturally been better about feeling secure in my relationships. It might only be temporary but I've been aware of how miserable and harmful it is to not trust in my close bonds. Especially when I'm given so much reassurance. Sure I have legitimate reasons I end up feeling like this but it's still so goofy. Sometimes I just say fuck past experiences and so called trauma. I want to be happy and at least sometimes I can be.

[chouchen]

Hey there! So, really like your art and I'm always really inspired by it. I really like doing art myself and have been focusing on improving it ever since 2019 (no art school yet tho). However i really struggle doing basically everything when drawing (specially poses & anatomy) to the point where it really desmotivates me to draw, and, even if i succeed at making a pose or a good sketch, i get really burnt out quickly and abandon the project because i already spent WAY too long on doing just the sketch.

And even with the help of several yt tutorials and trying to learn techniques and just practicing a lot in general i still feel like my improvement is just too painfully slow.

I'm going to start going to art school this year, but my expectations for my improvement after that are kinda low.

So, if it's no bother to you, I'd like to know if you have any advice or tips to help improve on drawing, because I'm kinda desperate for it and you were the first person that went through my mind when i thought of asking someone for advice.

Also I deeply apologize if I'm being a bother, that's not my intention at all.

hello there ! i see your problem and i'll do my best to help you ^^

so first of all struggling with art happens to every artists even professional or students. For your problem with poses and anatomy i advise you to do just what we do in art school, don't draw but learn first. Since you said you were going to art school this year i suppose they're going to teach you way better than i could haha ! Still i can recommend you the book morpho by michel lauricella !

Now i can help with your sketch problem, you say that you get burned out after sketching because it took reallyyy long but why continue in the first place ? A sketch is a drawing and if you want my opinion, a sketch can be way more interesting than a full finished piece. Sketches are meant to be quick and so they can be really expressive which can be super beautiful !! i say focus on doing good sketches for now and try to spend less than an hour on it.

ALSO a skecth isn't only with a pencil, don't be scared to try other stuff like promarkers or charcoal !

example of some of my work :

all of these works were made in less than 20 minutes, all of them were made with people posing in front of me. As you can see, there's a lot of white, this is called the reserve (at least in french haha) and this can help you to gain time ! leaving a space with nothing in it can make your art lighter but still pleasing to watch.

(in art school we do exercise like that, you can try it too, basically get someone to pose for you and draw them in 5 minutes, then another pose in 2 minutes, then another in 30 seconds)

To help you with anatomy i recommend you trace pictures, NOW DON'T GET ME WRONG, don't just trace the outlines of someone that's useless and you're not going to learn, use the picture to create a skeleton of the pose

example (with drawings but do it with real people) :

this will help you if you have trouble to draw a correct anatomy !

now don't rely on it too long, this is only at the start, you'll have to learn to draw without it and to create this skeleton only with what you see.

i also recommend to use reference when you draw poses, don't draw from your mind, you have to observe ! this is really important and it's basically only what you will do in art school.

Now for you're improvement, i understand that you feel demotivated but art takes time and a lot of work. This is my last year of art school, i've been there for 3 years and i can tell you that it's not easy. But you will improve, everyone does, you might be faster or slower than some people but you will still improve. If you really love art and want to work in the art industry then don't give up ! you and i still have a lot to learn ! i can assure you that your years in art school will not be a waste even if it can feel like it sometimes.

(At the end of the day, you may realize that art is not made for you and that's totally ok, a bunch of people in my class are not going to work in the art industry. ^^)

In conclusion, don't overwork yourself, take care of yourself and most importantly enjoy drawing, don't make it a task to do, draw when you feel like it, draw what you want and everything will be fine :D

I wish you a good year in art school, sorry if that was a bit long, i hope it helped you even a tiny bit and feel free to contact me again if you have any questions about art or school !! (please note that i learn design too !)

[kagedaddy]

I'm not sure about the rule so can you do inarizaki with a model and streamer s/o? 💖

streamer / model - miya twins, suna & kita

warnings: none

miya atsumu

miya osamu

sun rintarou

kita shinsuke [masterlist]

hey hey, thanks for the request, no worries i don’t have rules for asks! hehe i think this scenario is cute, hope yah enjoy it! asks and dms are open for requests.

model

“Ready up angels!”the stage manager calls your attention, you were nervous and excited, tonight you were given the honour to open for the show, so you were going to be walking down the runway first. The make up team quickly does the last touches on your make up and the stage manager fixes the lingerie and giant (colour) wings on your back. You were ushered to the landing area, waiting for the artist and the music to play. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome (favourite artist).” 

“Stand by first model, (first name).”the stage manager tells you and you nod your head, the intro of (favoruite song) starts playing and the stage manager cues you in. You make your entrance and the crowd goes wild, you strut down the runaway, looking out into the crowd and the unmistakable faux blonde hair of your boyfriend catches your attention, you meet his eyes and decided to sway your hips seductively a little a lot to the song. You see him bit his lip and it gives you a newfound energy on the runway, as you approach the artist they offer you their hand, twirling you around giving the wings on your back a fluttering effect.

 As you arrive back in the landing you’re quickly pushed to the dressing room for a change of outfit and in minutes you’re out again, after a few more quick changes you are strutting one last time in the runaway, you wave and blow kisses to the audience, finding your blonde lover again and sending him an all too suggestive wink before giving a final pose. Once you’re all backstage, you and all the girls cheer at the success of the show, snapping pictures and all heading to the after party lounge. 

Picking up your phone to message Atsumu but thick toned arms snake around your waist and you’re greeted by the familiar cologne of your boyfriend, “You looked really good, babe.”you turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck, pulling each other closer and giving him the kisses you both longed for. “Thanks Tsumu, I wanted to give you a show.”he growls at your words and you pull away, “Or maybe to your friends, kidding.”you tease your blonde lover, pressing hot kisses to his neck. 

“Fuck babe, you were so hot. I’m glad I get to take you home.”

streamer

“Hi hi! Welcome to my stream, its (username) here!”

“I know it’s a little bit different today, we’re not gaming but we’re cooking with my partner and a Q & A!”you wave at the laptop you had set up for the stream session today, Osamu awkwardly waves at your stream, he was too cute, you talk about your plans bringing back the attention to yourself. “So babe what are we making for the stream?”you quickly fix the webcam so it would have a good view of the kitchen, “I’m not sure, what does your chat want.”he juts his thumb to your screen and your chat starts spamming all their suggestions.

‘[(random username) donated ¥ 10,000] It’s my birthday today, how about a cake?’

A donation notification sounded, the robotic voice of your text-to-speak read off the donation, “Ohh Happy happy birthday (random username), nee Osamu can we make a cake?”you clap your hands, singing the happy birthday song for your fan, “We can most definitely bake a cake.”he prepares the ingredients and you cheer as more of your fans begin chatting their favourite flavours and decorations the cake should have.  Osamu mixes the batter and you stand beside him, he wants you to be his assistant and look pretty, while he does that, you begin to read out questions for you both to answer.

‘Osamu-san, is (first name) a good cook, what food has she cooked for you?’

You read out the first question, Osamu thinks about it for awhile before answering, “She isn’t a good cook, she cooked me some pancakes but half of it was burnt.”your face turns red in embarrassment and you smack your grey haired boyfriend, “So mean Samu, I thought you love me.”pouting at your partner and playfully crossing your arms. “I do babe but you really stink at cooking.”he presses a kiss to your forehead, deeping the blush of your cheeks.

“Okay next question!” 

You answered as much questions as you guys could and the next thing you knew that cake was baked and cooled, ready for you to design it. You take the offset spatula and began smearing the icing on the cake, throwing in a couple sprinkles and writing illegible words on the cake. You stare at the monstrosity you designed, the cake was baked well credits to your lovely chef of a boyfriend but you were not skilled enough to do the pipping and the adding of sprinkles, “Good job, looks good babe.”Osamu presses a kiss to your forehead as you finished up the design, you knew he was being nice so you just accepted the affection, you both lifted the cake for your viewers to see. 

“Well, I think it kinda turned out okay.”

streamer

You stifle a yawn as you stretch out your limbs, glancing over your clock it was 3:30 am you’ve been streaming for about four hours now. You were on a winning streak in Call of Duty and didn’t want to stop, your snipes were on fire today. “Babe come on, let’s head to bed. It’s late and you’re literally about to fall asleep.”the voice of your boyfriend draws your attention, “just one more game Shin.”smiling sleepily at the salt and pepper haired male, he pats your head and you lean up close enjoying his warm touch. ‘Aww you guys are the cutest’your chat goes wild, spamming it with hearts and you giggle at your chat but one message catches your attention, it read.

‘(username) get your boyfriend to play’

“Good idea chat!”your eyes light up, “Shin look, they want you to play!”you point at your screen, he turns to the monitor eyes following the chat, “Are you sure I’m not that good.”he rubs the back of his head unsure, “It’s okay, it’s all for fun!”you roll you chair to the side to give him some space but he stops you, instead he gestures for you to get up. Confused you follow anyways, Kita settles in your chair and he pats his lap, “come sit babe.”he pulls your body towards him until you’re sitting quite comfortably on his lap, “Will I get in trouble for this chat?”you laugh as you snuggle into you boyfriend’s warmth, shifting the headphones over to his head and quickly going over the controls with him. You set him up in a lobby and letting him pick whatever skin he prefers. Once he got it done, he was doing great, you were yelling at him on what to do and he panics, causing your chat to go crazy from they way you both interacted.

‘You are my parents, you guys are too cute.’

Your focus shifts to Kita, face morphed into concentration as he did his best in the game, he was so cute. He was able to kill a few players and survived the gulag, it was a funny sight to see. Your eyes become heavy, a small yawn leaving your lips, your eyes droop close and you lean closer into Kita but before you could completely drift off he wraps you up in his arms. 

“Guys, I think I’ll end the stream here. It seems like she’s fallen asleep.”

model

Standing at the gate of Inarizaki high, you were lost, you were from a different school, “Ano, excuse me do you know where the volleyball club is?”you tap the nearest male’s shoulder to get his attention, he had blonde hair and wearing what you assume to be the volleyball club uniform. “You! You’re (last name)! You’re really pretty in person”his eyes widens in realisation, jaw hanging open as it dawns on him the model he’s seen on several magazine covers stands before him. “Shh!”you politely smile at the male, holding up your finger to your lips, he nods his head smiling widely. “I’m heading there, I can definitely take you!”he says a little bit excitedly and you can’t help but laugh at the male, “Thank you thank you.”you slightly bow to the male before following him to the direction of the gym.

“I’m Miya Atsumu by the way. Why are yah headin to the gym?”he introduces himself side glancing at you. “Well you already know me but I’m here to see someone.”walking up to the gym you can clearly hear the loud squeaking of shoes running across the court, you couldn’t help the nervous smile to show on your face. You wanted to surprise your boyfriend, he didn’t know you were in the area for a photo shoot so you wanted to visit him. You both walk in the gym, all the boys were busy warming up so they don’t notice, you wave off the blonde telling him to hush about your presence and walk off to the side sitting at one of the many benches. You watched interest as they played a practice match, you’ve never seen Suna play and man were you more attracted to the man, you were practically drooling as he flexed his muscles to block spikes. The coached called for a break and the boys all went to the benches near where you sat, as soon was Suna walks up, he meets your eyes.

“(first name) you’re here?”his eyes widens at the sight of you, “Surprise!”a smile forms on his lips, his sleepy demeanor changing into a more energetic one, “Do you know her?”Atsumu looks between you and Suna bewildered, “How do you know her, she’s like a big time model!”your boyfriend nods his head. “She’s my girlfriend.”the whole gym goes quiet staring wide eyed at their middle blocker, Suna takes this opportunity to go to sit beside you. Taking the towel from his hand, you wipe of his sweat before leaving a small peck on his cheek, “How do you have a girlfriend before me yah sleepy bastard.”Atsumu grumbles earning a laugh from you, “Aren’t your teammates such sweethearts.”you giggle at the scene, you did rounds of introductions and answer their questions about the both of you until they had to get back to practice.

The boys finished up and you waited for Suna by the gym doors, as soon as he stepped out the door you jumped into his arms, catching you without any problems, you wrap your legs around his waist so he’s carrying you. “I missed you.”finally pressing your lips against his, you sigh in happiness, “I missed you, too babe. But why didn’t you tell me you were coming, I could’ve skipped practice today or even class.”he snuggles closer to you but you just shook your head, “I wanted to surprise you, I was in the area for a photo shoot.”you kiss the tip of his nose, his face breaks out into a smile and connects your lips again. “You were so sexy when you played, you’re so good Rin.”you drop your head to whisper in the dark haired male’s ear, licking a stripe down to his jaw and his breathing hitches.

“Let’s go ‘cuddle’ in my bed.”

//

herro herro! the late valentines special will continue tomorrow click here to see it in [masterlist] under gala days, also added the other members for this request. hope yah guys enjoyed it, i not sure if it’s good, i’ve been super stressed lately some shit came up about my ex and the old apartment we use to live in. anyways leave a like and comment if you liked it! have a great one, jaa ne!

all the love xx

[chunkecheeks]

WHOOPS LITERALLY FORGOT TO DO THIS UNTIL THE LAST MINUTE 

anyways this year was kind of a weird year for art bc i didn’t draw like. AT ALL. much much less than i usually do and what i would have liked to draw. I think I just burnt myself out last year with forcing myself to draw cats art even when i wasn’t feeling it.

it was also weird bc I have no major interest taking over my life so the art ended up being either my various special interests or my ocs. I also didn’t even draw for every single month so some of these are cheating (February’s is from the beginning of march and october’s was actually made in june but finished in october) 

that being said when i look at the pieces that i DID make this year i do think they’re pretty impressive, i mean i did so much more work with lighting and poses than i usually do and i learned to oil paint this year! the color blocking i learned to do with the oil paints really came in handy with doing the dramatic lighting in some of these digital pieces.

even though i am happy with the pieces themselves i’m very unhappy with the lack of art that i made this year. I feel like i stopped pushing myself and even when i wanted to draw at times i was just too lazy to pick up a pencil and do even the tiniest sketch. NO MORE!! 2022 I am going to try to draw every single day, even if it’s a small sketch because I know i won’t be able to make nice finished pieces everyday. 

[bijvoorbeeldja]

Instagram-Famous!Sander AU, Chapter 1

More fic prompts??! I’m on it!! I’ve been reading a lot of celebrity!Sander aus recently so how about an instagram famous!Sander that comes across Robbe’s account and becomes instantly infatuated, which leads to him sliding in to his DMs and posting art for Robbe on his page! And this causes problems for Robbe because as someone that doesn’t like attention he somehow becomes Instagram famous over night! 

-- @that-one-meh

...........

Chapter 1: Sander

Sander was lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was late in the morning, and he’d massively overslept, but still, he felt unwilling to move. His phone was next to him on the nightside and was vibrating nearly nonstop, trying to notify itself into a coma. He knew he needed to check it. But right now, he just couldn’t. He was so tired, so burnt out. If he had to take another half-naked selfie, or do some unboxing video of products random companies had sent him that he’d never use, he was going to lose it. 

He didn’t really understand how his social media presence had grown so spectacularly over the last few months. He’d posted a few of the candid photos his girlfriend Britt had taken of him, and some of his random drawings, and for some reason, people had started following him — in droves. He got hundreds of DMs a day and some new product or another was always turning up at his door. 

It was exciting at first, feeling interesting and admired, but the longer it went on, the more he resented the attention. He and Britt had broken up months ago, so he had to pose stupidly and post his own photos, and art was becoming something he had to do for engagement, not for his own enjoyment. He’d even felt that his following dictated his looks and behavior, forcing him to adopt some on-screen persona that didn’t feel like him. He felt vapid and hollow most of the time now. But the social media collaborations were paying for his rent and tuition way better than his local barista job ever had. So he kept posting.

Finally, he rolled over with a groan, grabbing his phone and bracing himself for the onslaught of messages, comments, and an oversaturated feed. Unlocking his phone, he took in a deep breath as he opened his Instagram app. And groaned. A cursory glance over the more than 500 DMs clued him into the reactions to his latest selfie. They were mostly heart eye and fire emojis, with some “OMG SO HOT” and other explicitly-messaged ones he had to ignore — for his sanity. Ugh. 

He left his inbox teeming with unread messages and returned to scroll absentmindedly through his feed. He only followed a handful of people — despite common belief, it wasn’t because he was trying to look cool and unattainable as an “influencer” (he hated that word); it was because there were really only a few people he actually cared about. A few art school friends, a few music accounts, and that was it. Besides doing his job as a randomly famous IG personality, he chose not to engage. Everything was so shallow and pointless. Lives curated to perfection on meaningless squares, the real life off the screen. But as he reached the end of any new updates, a photo caught his eye. 

One of his school friends had a habit of posting particularly artsy street graffiti he found around Antwerp, usually black and white photos of spray-painted words and stenciled graphics. But this one was different. First of all, it was in color. Bright, intense colors made the image pop. There was still street art, but it wasn’t the focus, taking second stage behind a figure in the foreground. The figure was a teenage boy, but small, soft somehow, even as his limbs sharply angled on the skateboard he rode. He was in the middle of a jump, his eyes focus and wavy brown hair airy around his face mid-movement. 

Sander sat up immediately, rubbing the leftover sleepiness from his eyes, and feeling suddenly warm and breathless. It wasn’t like he was into skateboarding or anything, he wasn’t particularly coordinated, but something about this photo was so captivating, he couldn’t stop staring at it, like the longer he did, some mystery would be reveal itself. The boy looked small, but strong; focused, but relaxed. He looked so...beautiful. 

Sander felt embarrassed even thinking it...I mean, he didn’t even know this boy, and hadn’t even ever been with a boy. But staring at him, he felt his stomach flutter slightly, and his heart quicken. The boy had these soft features, and wavy hair he knew was soft without even having to feel it. Which...obviously, he never would. But still. He just knew it. He sat there, the minutes — or was it hours? — passing by as he stared at the photo, absorbing every detail and shamelessly memorizing the stranger. 

Then, his heart rate picking even more, he acted without thinking. He hit the comment button on the photo, swallowing hard as his fingers hovered over the keys before typing. 

Hey man, cool pic. Who’s the kid? 

Did he sound nonchalant enough? He hoped his breathless eagerness wasn’t evident through the words. God, he was pathetic. But the more he stared the boy, the more desperate he was to know more. Anything more. 

He waited, refreshing his notification page, willing his friend to respond immediately. But no response came. So he held his phone to his chest, laying back down on his bed. It wasn’t until he was drifting off dozily with brown waves and soft smiles lingering at the edges of his subconscious that he remembered he still hadn’t posted for that day. His followers would be aching for new content. But with his last bit of mental energy, he pushed the thought away, letting the boy’s being envelop him in sleep. 

[flipomatic]

Internship Chapter 14: Day 10 - Edric

Author Note: I’m currently working on chapter 30 of this fic. Since NaNo ended I’ve been feeling burnt out and have slowed down a lot. It’s still in progress though, and I expect to finish it by the end of this month.

First Chapter Previous Chapter

___________________________________________________________

When the dispatcher told Edric and Frederick that they would be assigned to the training hall for the day, Edric wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

On one hand, patrolling was the worst. On the other, trying to train new spells was almost as bad. He hadn’t bothered to work on the plant or healing spells, so he was sure to show zero improvement. It was certain to be another bad day.

Regardless, he had to go with Frederick to the training hall.

As usual, there were a few other coven members already there training. Unlike other days though, Frederick actually went to talk to one of them when they arrived.

“Hey, Nick!” He called across the hall to a witch who was practicing fire spells. The witch was in full coven uniform, so Edric couldn’t see their face. When they looked over, Frederick waved broadly. The witch put out his fire spell and jogged towards them, seeming to recognize Frederick.

“Frederick!” He said amiably. “How’ve you been?” When he reached them, the two grasped hands in an odd sort of handshake. Edric lurked behind, not wanting to get involved in this conversation. If they talked for a while, then his suffering would be pushed back.

“I’ve missed our patrols together. Other than that pretty good, been showing our intern the ropes.” Frederick released the handshake and then tugged Edward forward by his sleeve. “Edric, this is Nick. If I remember correctly, you met him on your first day here.”

Edric couldn’t recall meeting someone by that name. The only one coming to him was Mike, the coven member he’d patrolled with. “Hello.” He said politely; it wasn’t worth mentioning that he didn’t remember him.

“Nick Ralph, at your service.” Oh, so his last name was Ralph. Frederick was right; Edric had met him on the first day. Edric only saw him for a minute and he hadn’t made much of an impression. “How are you liking the internship so far?”

Edric put on his best fake smile beneath his mask. “It’s awful.” He said in a saccharine sweet tone.

For a moment, neither of the men reacted. Then Nick burst out laughing, bending over slightly from the exertion.

“He’s a gem.” Nick said after his laughter faded, as he lifted his mask to wipe his eyes.

“We’re working on discipline.” Frederick seemed far less pleased. “And we have training to do.”

Nick nodded, putting his mask back in place. “I have to get going to patrol anyway. See you around.” He saluted, which Frederick returned, then walked towards the exit.

That meant conversation time was over, and suffering time was about to start. Frederick started moving towards their usual training corner, gesturing for Edric to follow him. “Have you been working on your spells?” He asked while they walked.

“Before we talk about that,” Edric wasn’t ashamed to stall for more time. Even if he had to ask personal questions. “How do you know Nick? You seem close.”

Luckily, Frederick didn’t catch on to the stalling tactic. “We went to Hexside together.” He replied as they reached their corner. “He was on the abomination track and I was on healing.”

That was news to Edric. “You were on the healing track?” That was surprising, given his skill in plant and illusion magic.

“I can do a lot more than heal bruises.” Frederick replied, referencing the events of last week. “Speaking of, how is your chest feeling?” He sounded concerned.

The bruises had faded to a yellowish color over the weekend and didn’t hurt as much to the touch. “It’s healing.” Edric replied, not wanting to go into detail.

“Good.” Frederick nodded. “We’re going to work on spells and some basic weaponry today, let’s start with the plant spell.”

Edric sighed, then lifted his hand to cast it. He drew the circle like he should, but then just like last week there was almost no effect. A single root wiggled up half an inch out of the ground. That was it. Without being able to see Frederick’s face, Edric wasn’t sure how he would react.

“Try putting your other hand on the ground.” Frederick seemed to have far more patience than Edric, as he had already proven many times. “To better connect with the plants.” He maintained a calm tone, which honestly Edric was not used to hearing in response to failure.

It was worth a shot. Edric knelt down on one knee and pressed his left hand against the ground. He used his right to cast the spell. It did lead to a stronger effect, but only slightly.

Now the root was an inch out of the ground, instead of just half an inch.

“We’ll keep working on it.” Frederick said, still sounding confident. He crouched down to cut a nick into the small root. “Let’s try the healing spell now.”

It would feel overdramatic to sigh again, so Edric just rose back to his feet and cast the spell. Similar to the plant spell, it had minimal effect. The cut was only partially healed.

“You’re making progress.” Frederick was being way too nice when he said that. “I thought of another useful spell for you, one that’s great when working with a partner.”

Oh no, not another type of magic. Edric prayed that it was an illusion spell.

His hopes were shattered when Fredrick pulled a collapsible flute out of his pocket. “It’s an acceleration spell, super useful.” He lifted his mask to sit on his head, then started to play the flute. A wave of magic came out with the music, which was a fairly simple tune. It had the immediate effect of making Edric feel lighter on his feet.

“Please no.” Edric said bluntly. If it was possible, his bard magic was even worse than the other ones. He had tried a recorder once, nearly killed Em with the screeching sound.

Frederick stopped playing, almost pouting as he put the flute away. “Fine, but only because the other two still need work.” He pulled his mask back down over his face. “What else was there today… oh yes.” He hit one clenched hand into his palm as he remembered. “Wait right here.”

“Ok.”

Frederick walked back across the training hall, towards the rack of weapons. He stopped at it and examined it closely, likely looking for the ones he wanted to use. He picked up two wood swords and started walking back with them.

It was sword training time. Edric knew this was coming at some point, but he hoped it would be later. Or never, never was ideal.

When Frederick was close, he tossed one of the swords to Edric. The teen barely caught it, almost fumbling it to the ground.

“You need to be able to defend yourself, so it’s time to learn the basics.” Frederick said, placing his own wood sword on the ground. “Show me how you should hold it.”

Edric turned the sword so he could hold the hilt in his right hand. He spread his feet a little farther apart and brandished the weapon, holding that pose.

Frederick walked over and started correcting his posture, first by fixing his hand on the weapon. Then his knees, the width between his feet, and how he positioned his center of balance.

“The Emperor’s Coven primarily uses the sword defensively.” Frederick explained while Edric continued to hold the pose. His arm was starting to hurt from holding up the heavy wood weapon. “Can you cast with your left hand?”

“Yes.” Edric replied. He could do it, but the spells weren’t as strong as the ones from his right.

“Go ahead then, cast some illusions without dropping your stance.” Frederick proposed the challenge, picking his own sword up off the ground.

It turned out harder than Edric expected, especially with his right arm starting to shake. He lifted his left hand to draw a spell circle, and was able to create an illusion stand to rest the wood sword against.

“Not exactly what I had in mind.” Frederick said, though he sounded at least a little amused. “Go ahead and take a five minute break, then we’ll work on deflecting.”

Edric let the illusion drop, causing his wood sword to clatter to the floor. He stretched his arm, rubbing at the muscles to get blood flowing properly through it again.

“You’ll get used to it.” Frederick was watching him do the exercise. “And get stronger.”

Edric doubted that, especially since he would not be continuing a career in this line of work. “That’s unlikely.” He sat down on the ground, might as well take advantage of the break. Once he was seated he continued to stretch his arm.

While Edric rested, Frederick lifted his wood sword. He gave it a few practice swings, then switched to a two handed grip.

Fredrick swung a few more times, going through a few routines, then called to Edric. “Let’s get back to work.” He gestured for Edric to stand up, which the teen did slowly.

Edric picked his sword up and resumed the stance he was in before. Frederick gave a couple instructions on fixing it, but not nearly as many as before.

“See, you’re already improving.” Frederick complimented his clearly sloppy form. “Now we’ll work on one handed blocking.” He lifted his wood sword, pointing it in Edric’s direction. “When I swing, lift your sword to block.”

Frederick took a couple steps towards Edric, swinging his sword in a slow diagonal motion. Edric quickly lifted his to meet the strike, and the two clashed together. The impact hurt against Edric’s hand as the hilt jostled in his grasp. Frederick pulled back, and it took all of Edric’s concentration to not drop the sword right back onto the ground.

“Keep your elbows up when you move.” Frederick offered a correction, as usual. “Let me show you why. I’m going to come again, this time hold the position after you block.”

Edric nodded, already exhausted. When Fredericks sword came again, he lifted his own to block it. He was slightly too late this time, and the two collided much closer to his body. As instructed, he held the pose.

“Right now your elbows are down, this is how blocking like that feels.” Frederick leaned forward, applying pressure on Edric’s block. It was heavy, and difficult to maintain the block. He almost sighed in relief when Frederick pulled back.

“Keep your sword up.” Frederick reminded him, snapping Edric back to focus. He walked over and lifted Edric’s right elbow, bringing his arm to a different angle. He then went back to put his sword where it was before. “This is how it should be, with your elbow in the right spot.” Frederick again applied pressure to the block, but it wasn’t nearly as heavy this time. It still took a lot of effort to hold and Edric was still weak, but it didn’t feel out of control.

“Remember how that feels.” Frederick said as he backed away. “Go ahead and return to your starting form.”

Edric did so, his arm muscles once again complaining.

The pair continued working on this technique until lunch, and then for a while after as well. When Edric complained while they ate, Frederick explained that he was worried Edric would be injured even worse than on Friday without proper defensive training.

The bruising on Edric’s chest made it hard to argue against that.

Edric did okay until the strikes started to speed up. He could either have the correct form, or be fast enough. To do both was just beyond him, especially after a long day of training.

“We’ll keep working on it some other time.” Frederick said after knocking the wood sword from Edric’s hands during a failed block. “Go get a drink, then work on your plant magic.” Edric was relieved; even going back to the plant magic was better than this.

That didn’t stop him from taking his time getting that drink, of course. He had to sit on the couch in the lounge for a while to drink it properly.

By the time he made it back to the training hall, Frederick had put both wood swords back on the rack. He was working on some kind of bard spell, or maybe he was just playing his flute it was hard for Edric to tell.

Edric went far enough away from him that the flute playing could be ignored and set about working on his magic.

He didn’t plan to work on the plant spell, no, he had something better in mind.

Illusion magic revenge for sword fighting.

Next Chapter

[ineffablecolors]

The Wife [17/?]

The Wife || Ch 17 ~ 6.2k || Ch1 Ch2 Ch3 Ch4 Ch5 Ch6 Ch7 Ch8 Ch9 Ch10Ch11 C12 Ch13 Ch14 Ch15 Ch16 || FF.NET&AO3

Summary: No one knows all that Emma has been through and certainly no one knows all that Killian has been through and being husband and wife doesn’t make them any less unknown to each other. And really, how can you help someone heal when you don’t even know how hurt they are?

A/N: This whole chapter is basically a “they touch” warning + check out the gorgeous manip @spartanguard made for last chapter!! 

After a few minutes of holding her in his arms and feeling the soft skin of her cheeks under his lips, Killian finally feels the anxious coil in his stomach unfurl and let him breathe properly. Breathe with the knowledge that he hasn’t fumbled beyond repair, that he hasn’t fallen too short, that he hasn’t ruined this tender thing – this love – brewing between them. The knowledge that his wife will stand by him no matter what – it’s foreign and overwhelming and incredible.

With the last of his tension seeping away, he finally feels the brunt of the last few days – the pounding behind his temple, the burning in his eyes, the ache along his left side, the shakiness in his legs even as he is sitting down. His head swims a little and he feels himself lean further into her. The rum in his tea and the warmth of the fire and the woman on his lap are certainly not helping matters.

He tries to shake it off and push the exhaustion down. He blinks rapidly and flexes his fingers on her hip and runs his hand up and down her side. Killian realizes what this moment means to him, he can only imagine what it means to her and he doesn’t want to bring it to an end just because he feels his eyes staying closed for half a second longer after each blink.

He can still feel the fluttering of her hands, the little sounds she makes as she presses closer to him and the way her eyes watch him – in awe, in disbelief, as if she is still trying to wrap her mind and heart around this. It makes his own heart constrict painfully in his chest and he kisses her again and again and swears to himself that this woman will never know another day in her life in which she doesn’t know how loved she is.

So when he feels the impulse pushing on his jaw, he embraces her and tries to hide his yawn in her hair – if the way she laughs softly against him is anything to go by, he is woefully unsuccessful.

Emma pulls back far enough to run her eyes over him and her right hand comes up, caressing his face from the roots of his hair to the beard that he has let grow much longer than usual in the last week.

“Can we finally get you to bed, captain?”

He lifts an eyebrow and tries to give her a teasing look but he thinks his eyes can’t open wide enough to execute it properly. The mirth on her face says that he is not wrong.

“Come on.”

She stands up with finesse that Killian can’t hope to imitate right now so he is more than willing to let her pull on his hand and wrap her arms around him as he gets up and sways a little on his feet. Emma doesn’t say anything but the way her eyebrows draw together and her hold on him tightens perceptibly is admonishment enough.

She lets him go only to put out the fire and Killian looks around for something to do with himself, careful not to let his eyes stray to the settee and the temptation to just let himself lay down and stay there for a few hours. Eventually he sees the cup next to the leg of his chair and bends to pick it up. When he straightens, Emma is standing before him with a candle in her hand and her eyes still dancing with something very much resembling amusement. Her fingers gently pray the little porcelain from his hand and set it on the table and he can’t find it in himself to protest as she leads him out of the room and up the stairs.

*****

He stumbles twice going up the stairs and the only reason Emma doesn’t feel guilty for not sending him to bed the second he got off his horse is that she would’ve hated for those doubts and fears to fester in his mind even a moment longer.

That and the fact that it’s hard to distinguish any other feeling through the all-encompassing joy and wonder vibrating in the air around her even now. It feels like his words have been etched into her flesh, into every inch that his lips touched, and her smile comes unbidden when Killian sits heavily on the bed but doesn’t let go of her hand, bringing it to his mouth instead. She knows at this point he is barely awake and aware of what he is doing but somehow that only makes it sweeter and harder for her to pull away.

She returns to him with a wet washcloth, trying for efficiency as she helps him wash his face and hand, and huffing in fond exasperation when he yawns again and nuzzles into her touch, his hair falling into his half-opened eyes.

“You’re terribly distracting,” she mutters under her breath and is met with Killian’s only semi-conscious but very firm denial.

Fortunately, she doesn’t need help getting out of the simple dress she is wearing and makes quick work of changing into a nightgown and combing her hair. Her gaze runs over the comb and pins and bottles of perfume before her, realizing that she has brought more and more of her possessions into his room. She hopes he doesn’t mind – she knows he won’t, but she makes a note to ask him properly tomorrow. She doesn’t think posing the question now will do much good.

Her suspicion is confirmed when she turns back around and finds her husband right where she left him – his real and wooden hands braced on either side of him, applying all the concentration and energy left him in sitting upright.

Emma leans her head to the side and thinks that she has never seen Killian Jones so stripped of all defenses – not when he told her the darker parts of his story, not even when he finally let her see all of him, and she feels her chest expand with the sweet knowledge that he trusts her like this. The absolutely precious sight he makes might have some effect as well.

She closes the space between them, runs her hands over his arms and presses her lips against the top of his head. The touch seems to bring him back into the present and he looks up at her, blinking slowly, his eyebrows scrunched up in endearing confusion as she smiles at him and starts undoing the fastenings on his vest.

“Oh, right, right,” he shakes his head and raises his hand to take over the task but Emma just steps further between his legs and brushes his fingers away. “I can… I can do that, love.”

The way the endearment drags and slurs a little at the end seems to prove otherwise but as she pulls the vest off his shoulders and sets it to the side, Killian stubbornly and determinately bends down to try and tug his boots off.

He doesn’t lose his balance but it takes him a fair amount of time to take care of just one and, when he reaches for the other, Emma kneels beside him and stalls his hand.

“Killian,” she cradles his face in her hands and waits for his eyes to focus on her. “You’ve taken care of everything and everyone. Let me take care of you now.”

He frowns for a long moment, trying to puzzle out her words, and when his eyes turn a little glacier she doesn’t know if it’s fatigue or emotion swimming in their blue depths. But he turns his head to the side and presses a kiss against one of her palms and doesn’t fight her when she works off his boot and then his socks. His eyes slip closed while she undoes the buttons of his shirt and he helps her tug it off his shoulders without conscious thought.

The straps crossing over his left arm are again tighter than she’d done them when he left and Emma scowls a little as she unfastens the buckles, pulls the brace off and gently rubs at the pink welts left behind.

“Emma?”

“Hmmm.”

He pulls his arm away and wraps it around her, tugging her into him somewhat clumsily and Emma presses her laughter into his neck as she feels them tip backwards onto the mattress.

“Missed you,” he presses the words into the crown of her head and Emma feels her heart squeeze and sigh happily at having him so close again.

“I missed you too.”

He hums and nods – pleased and sleepy, and she waits for a few minutes, running her fingers through the hair on his chest and the pale scars on his side, until his breathing deepens and his grip on her loosens and she can slip away and finish undressing him. Coaxing him into one of the sleep shirts she digs out of his wardrobe requires some slyness and maneuvering and brings forth a fair amount of not entirely coherent grumbling from Killian – she is certain she picks up something about how they should both be unclothed at all times and she cannot wait to turn that on him in the future.

Eventually, she blows out all the candles in the room and slips between the sheets, shuffling closer and nudging Killian onto his side so she can wrap her arm around him and press her chest against his back. As her fingers slip easily between the black and silver strands of his hair and her legs fit themselves between his, Emma feels her own muscles finally relax – warmer and more peaceful than she has felt in days.

*****

She is at sea. The vast and serene horizon seems to stretch on for eternity and the blue waves lull her deeper and deeper into sleep. She knows she must be asleep because she has never seen anything like this with her own two eyes. It’s marvelous.

She looks around – she is on solid ground and yet gliding on the surface of this borderless ocean, and she wonders if there is such a thing as a floating island. She wants to ask Killian – Killian will surely know.

The blue of the ocean loses some of its lustre and allure as she pictures his eyes and, after another look around, she decides that she wants to awake. Squeezing her eyes shut, she breaths in and smells lavender and burnt wood and Killian, and willingly lets it all pull her away from her dream.

*****

Emma blinks her eyes open slowly and sees the morning light coming in fresh and bright – the skies finally clear and almost as blue as the ocean of her dreams. They must have shifted in their sleep – Killian is lying on his stomach, face buried half under his pillow and snoring lightly, while she is draped half on top of him, feeling the gentle push and pull of his breath as his back rises and falls under her cheek.

She inches up until her nose brushes the nape of his neck and breathes him in, her arms tightening around him as she recalls the mounting disappointment of waking up without him for days. Emma stays like this for a while and wonders how she ever managed to convince herself that she did not want this. She supposes it was easier – to tell herself that marriage and family and love simply weren’t meant for her and she wasn’t going to spend her days being bitter and resentful over it – before she actually knew what it all felt like.

She has spent entire days in this house marveling at being warm and welcome, but it is nothing compared to the kind of warmth that comes from having this – from knowing that he feels as she does. It is almost incomprehensible – the idea that someone can love her as much as she loves him, but then again, if she can believe it of anyone – it has to be Killian.

The sun rises leisurely but faithfully – higher and higher, and yet Killian barely stirs. Emma slips quietly out of bed eventually, freshening up and venturing into the kitchen for a cup of tea and to make sure everyone knows that Killian is back.

Peter has already broken the news after seeing Roger in the stables but it doesn’t take away from the large smile on Ruby’s face or the glimmer in Granny’s eyes. She smiles and tells them Killian is making up for lost sleep and chases everything else to the back of her mind. She has already decided that she will talk with Killian and, if there need to be changes in the household, she will take that responsibility off his shoulders – but those are thoughts for tomorrow.

When she returns upstairs, Killian is still dead to the world and she takes the book she was using to put herself to sleep while he was gone and slips back on her side of the bed, propping herself up on a pillow. She thinks he must be waking when he rolls over and reaches a hand out for her but he just shuffles closer to press his face into her thigh and wrap his arm around her leg, and settles back down, leaving her staring down at him and sensing that her heart resides somewhere other than her chest now.

*****

Killian wakes up into a dream. He cannot remember the last time no part of him ached for some more rest, the last time his head was so light and clear and his body so engulfed in warmth and comfort – he feels years younger and better than he thought possible.

Gradually he takes stock of his surroundings – the hand running absentmindedly through his hair, the dip where his hand is wrapped around her knee, the scent of lavender and soap and Emma’s skin where his nose is pressed against her thigh, the softness of the mattress, the hardness of his cock.

Last night comes back to him, his mind ordering and calculating as his heart seems to immediately call out for the woman beside him. He wraps his arm around her waist and pulls himself up, burying his face in her stomach and kissing her through her nightgown. Emma gasps in surprise above him and he grins against her as he nuzzles further into her.

“God, you better not still be asleep.”

He laughs and looks up at her, his heart finally content as he drinks in the sight of her – pale skin, golden hair, the top of her gown undone and her eyes shining down on him as she pushes his hair off his forehead and bends down to press her lips against his. Killian raises himself on his elbows and meets her half way – trying to pour the longing of six days of not waking up beside her into his kiss.

When he pulls back, there is a question in her eyes, lit by expectation and exhilaration and so much tenderness that he almost goes to hide his face against her again. Instead he focuses on the question and, without letting his mind weigh in on the matter, he takes a firm hold of her and tugs her down. The surprised, breathless sound that leaves her lips makes him press himself against the inside of her thigh until it turns into a moan that he is determined to hear again very soon.

She doesn’t need much time to fall into step with him and before he knows what’s happening, her hands have slipped beneath his shirt and are urging his arms up and the fabric over his head. Her skin is warm and so very soft as he kisses the curve of her shoulder and reaches under her shift, running his hand over her inner thigh until he finds something in his way.

“Emma,” it’s not quite a whine but it’s probably the closest he has ever come to sounding petulant. “I thought you weren’t fond of undergarments.”

Her laughter is crystal clear and absolutely delightful.

“A woman goes without one time and rumours start spreading.”

He leans his head to the side and studies the pink of her cheeks and the way her breasts rise and fall rapidly and thinks that there can be nothing about her that he will only want one time.

“I merely wish to encourage and promote your comfort, love.”

“But, of course,” she says in a tone that tells him that his motives have been judged and assumed to be much less pure. “Perhaps you can take a more active role in promoting my comfort.”

Emma angles her hips up and he wastes no time in dragging the offensive garment down her legs, while she gathers the ends of her gown and whisks it over her head.

“Bloody hell.”

He slips his hand and stump up the beautiful curve of her waist and plants his lips in the space between her breasts. Her hands cradle the back of his head and guide him shamelessly to her breast and Killian grins proudly at her boldness, only too happy to oblige her.

By the time their lips meet again and his hand slips between her legs, stroking and teasing, he finds her wet and pliant, her legs spreading wider to make room for him to settle between them. Killian pulls back and swallows roughly before he finds her eyes, trying to temper his own desire and gauge hers.

“Emma—”

“Yes,” she nods briskly.

He hisses in surprise and pleasure, dropping his head on her shoulder as she runs her nails lightly over his nipples and down his chest, before making quick work of his laces, their feet kicking each other without much coordination while trying to get rid of his pants.

When her fingers skim lightly over his cock, he rushes to capture her wrist and pull her hand away, setting it over his wildly beating heart.

“Aren’t we—“

“That we will, love,” he says breathlessly and presses his lips to hers for a second. “Are you certain?”

She nods again but there is something almost regretful lurking in her eyes that Killian is not willing to ignore. He skims his own hand over the place where her heart is beating hard before he gently presses his fingers against the edge of her jaw, the question written plainly on his face.

*****

She sees the hesitation on Killian’s face and feels it in the way he holds his body over hers – tense and unmoving, and she is not sure she can put into words how certain she is about this, about him. How much she wishes she knew that it could feel like this – when you trust someone, when you want to please them and know nothing would please you more than being with them.

Her fingers curl where they rest over his heart, as if they could gather it in her grasp.

“I just… I wish I’d only ever been yours.”

“Oh, Emma,” his face shifts and his eyes soften, his palm inching up to cup her cheek as he leans down and kisses her softly. “You’re mine now and I’m yours. And I want you just as you are.”

She feels her eyes fill with tears as her heart settles even further into his possession and protection and when she surges up to capture his lips, there is nothing soft or cautious about her kiss. She strokes her hand over the small of his back and presses down and, thankfully, Killian seems to understand because in the next moment his hand moves between them, his fingers running over her center once more before she feels him press himself against her. He kisses her cheek and bring his lips below her ear.

“Tell me, if you need me to stop, alright?”

She nods even though she finds it hard to conceive of a world in which she would want him to stop now. As he starts pushing inside, she sucks in a sharp breath and feels his hand flex where it has settled on her hip.

“Alright, love?”

She swallows, focuses on his eyes and lifts her hips up. He slides the rest of the way with a slight burn that dies down as she feels him come flush against her. He kisses her forehead and the bridge of her nose and then slips his tongue inside her mouth, rocking gently against her without really moving.

She has imagined this – more and more as the weeks passed, but her fantasies – let alone the memories that she has tried to suppress – are nothing like the real feel of it – shattering and soothing and almost unbearably full. When his lips trail down her neck and press against her chest, the laugh bubbles out of her breathless and joyful and she feels Killian’s smile against her heart and his warmth all around her and inside her.

It’s a moment that stretches endlessly with his hips pressed into hers, his forehead resting above her chest and his deep breaths pushing into her as they stay locked together. Slowly she brings her hand to the back of his neck and starts to explore the sensations inside her, squeezing her muscles around him.

Killian’s moan sounds almost pained as his hand moves up to her waist and squeezes her in turn.

“I’m sorry.”

His chuckle is choked and heavy and she feels it inside. Fuck.

“What are you sorry for, my queen? Feeling absolutely divine?”

He lifts his head and looks down at her – his eyes are almost black and his tongue runs quickly over his lips and Emma knows she has never felt more wanted in her life. She has also never wanted more.

He pulls out as he kisses her again and then slowly slides back in, again and again, building something she can’t quite identify until little sounds start bubbling out of her on every push, until both her hands clutch at his back at every pull.

“Killian, Killian. Oh, please, I—“

She can’t find the words for what she wants from him – she wants more, she wants exactly this, she wants this for an eternity, she can’t stand it a moment longer.

“Tell me. Tell me what you want, Emma.”

“I— I don’t know.”

He grabs her ankle and guides it to his waist, she follows his lead and when he rises up slightly, sinking deeper into her, she thinks that this, this is what she wants, but then he leans forward, the hair on his chest rubbing against her breasts, and that, that is what she wants.

What she wants keeps changing but it always seems to be exactly what he is doing.

“Love, I can’t—“

She can’t hold the whimper that leaves her when he pulls back and sits up with them still joined together. His hand moves between them and strokes her right above where she can feel him until he finds that spot and she fists the sheets on either side of her and tries to keep her eyes on him for as long as she can – his hair is an absolute wreck and the pink lines down his chest and stomach are probably her doing and she has never imagined that she could find sweat appealing – but then he presses harder and she drops her head back. Some part of her mind is aware that she screams out but she has no notion of what or how loudly and she does not care – no part of her cares about anything but the feeling coursing through her body and Killian, Killian, Killian.

She is panting for breath, her legs have slipped back to the mattress and her hands are reaching and trying to hold onto him as he pulls her hips closer – his movements less fluid and much faster. When he leaves her completely she is caught somewhere between a drawn out moan and cursing his name. She watches him wrap his hand around his cock and move sharply up and down – it looks almost painful and she instinctively reaches to replace his grip with her own.

“Fucking hell. Emma— please, love.”

He seems willing to relinquish control then, leaning back down to kiss her – his lips more desperate and demanding that he has ever been, and Emma has barely found a rhythm when she feels him spill himself against her thigh, his breath leaving him quickly and his whole weight pressing down on her for the first time.

“Heavens above.”

She giggles and presses her words into his sweaty hair.

“You must decide if I am from heaven or hell eventually.”

Killian groans and laughs against the hot skin of her neck, his lips and tongue pressing hard against her pulse and drawing a needier sound than she thought herself capable of. He lifts his head, his hand coming up to push the damp strands away from her face, and smiles at her.

“You are neither. You are mine.”

The words send another small wave of pleasure through her whole body and when he goes to lift himself off her, her arms and legs tighten around him, unwilling to part with the feel of him. Killian pretends to resist her for a moment before he huffs and pillows his head on her chest again, looking at the world outside.

“Christ, how long was I asleep?”

Emma slips her hand over his neck and tugs on the ends of his hair.

“You needed rest.”

“I need to sort—”

Her hand covers his mouth, his fingers hooking under his chin and drawing his gaze back to hers.

“Killian, my heart, not yet. Please.”

He looks at her and nods, his arms slipping more securely around her as his shoulders soften again.

*****

He manages to keep quiet as they clean up and decide that nourishment is not worth putting on clothes just yet. But as she settles into his side and he feels the gentle movements of her hand playing with the greying hair on his chest, he can’t hold on any longer. He needs her to know, needs to reassure her and explain.

“The house is safe.”

Emma sighs heavily and rolls further into him, crossing her arms on top of his chest and resting her chin on them. Her face is calm and her eyes watch him patiently and when he starts, he is not quite sure when he will stop.

“I will do everything I can not to let anyone go. Granny and Ruby, of course. Peter, if I can keep the horses. Otherwise I will send him to Liam but I don’t think— I’ll have to go into town. Sell some stock. That should cover most of it. Some art pieces maybe. I will have someone come take a look at— I will let you know beforehand, of course. Perhaps you can visit you friend Mrs Nolan or Elsa and—”

“Why would I have to visit someone?”

She sounds genuinely perplexed and he runs his hand up and down her bare back, marveling at the solidity and tenacity of her.

“It’s not the most flattering affair. Having art speculators and dealers at one’s house.”

Emma’s eyebrow rises incredulously and he sighs.

“Emma, I— I cannot tell you what it means to me that you… that you’ve taken this so well. But I want to spare you—”

“That’s what worries me.”

His eyebrows draw together in confusion and one of her hands comes up, running over the deep lines of his forehead in a move that sends him right back to the indescribable feeling of waking up beside her and feeling her hands on him.

“I don’t want you to spare me anything. I want you to let me help.”

“Emma—”

“I know I can’t do much,” she hurries on, self-conscious, almost contrite and he wants to tell her that she could probably fly, if she put her mind to it. “But I want you to tell me what you are doing. I want you to share the things that worry you and I want you to let me do whatever needs doing in the house – cutting expenses or welcoming art dealers or whatever it is that you decide on. Can you do that?”

He looks at her carefully. He doesn’t doubt that she can do all that and more, as he studies the beseeching look in her eyes, he doesn’t even doubt that she wants to. It is himself he doubts. Whether he will be able to let her see him trying to put things in order and potentially stumbling, potentially failing. Killian has long made peace with failure. It’s the idea of letting others see it that makes his shackles rise.

Then again, he thinks, his failures are as much a part of him as his triumphs and for once he cannot bear the thought of cutting himself into parts – of having Emma love only some of him. With the weight of her form on top of him, the feel of her nails scratching lightly at his skin and her hair tickling his side, he has already grown greedy and he already wants all of her for all of himself.

“Alright.”

“Alright?” she sounds cautiously pleased and he shakes his head in wonder.

“Aye. You can captain this ship with me – float or sink.”

“Float or sink,” she lifts herself up a little and sticks one of her hands out.

It takes him a moment to realize she wants him to shake on it and he stifles his laugh long enough to oblige her before he gives a sharp tug on her hand and kisses her firmly.

“You are a very peculiar woman, Mrs Jones.”

She shrugs her shoulders and ducks her head and he puts his stump under her bottom and urges her up until she is hovering over him, her nose brushing his and her eyes unable to hide from him.

“And I love you very much.”

Her smile is blinding and he just lets her grasp his face and kiss him to her heart’s content. It’s hardly a sacrifice.

*****

“You’re too good to me.”

She rolls her eyes and smiles at the way Killian’s eyes run excitedly over the plate she has set before him. It is the product of the only time Granny managed to persuade her to leave the home while he was gone, making that trip to the confectioner’s with Ruby and picking all the sweets she was certain he will like.

“As if that were possible.”

She gathers her skirts and lowers herself on the floor beside him. He has a complex mosaic of papers spread all around him and he hasn’t had much other than toast and tea since they got out of bed but she decided to allow it since she was given permission to help and he agreed to put nothing but a pair of trousers and a flowing white shirt on. She makes use of the latter now as she sneaks her hand under the cotton and strokes her fingers over his side.

“Emma,” it’s a warning wrapped in a plea and she hides her self-satisfied grin in his shoulder and inspects the document in his hand.

“What is this?”

“It’s my share in Captain Nemo’s small fleet. This one should be easy. I’m confident Liam wouldn’t mind taking it off my hands.”

She doesn’t say that Liam wouldn’t mind helping him out without anything in exchange. She is certain Killian knows that and she is certain he will not take advantage of it and she doesn’t fault him for it.

“It’s other less conscientious gentlemen’s businesses that haven’t prospered all that well over the years that I might have trouble selling my shares from.”

“How much did those two men want anyway?”

“Oh, it wasn’t those prats that were hard to buy. It was Mrs Hood that drove the hardest bargain.”

“Wait, wait,” she pulls back and stares at him incredulously. “You had to buy off her own mother?”

Killian sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t wish to say that she has no love for her daughter but… it obviously doesn’t extent to “this level of inconsideration, impropriety and depravity”.”

She shakes her head in disbelief and Killian takes her hand and pulls her back to his side.

“I don’t think many people would react much differently,” he says with resignation and Emma presses her lips to his shoulder.

“I’m glad they have you.”

Killian huffs a little and ducks his head, tilting it from side to side as if weighing her statement. He inspects the delicacies she brought and takes a bite of a candied plum before offering her the other half.

They spend the next hour arranging and rearranging their limbs in front of the fireplace, going through most of Killian’s personal assets and devouring a questionable amount of chocolate and sugar-coated fruits and biscuits.

*****

She is staring at the fire, watching a piece of wood snap in two and send up a small burst of sparks and dust, her hand finding its way beneath Killian’s shirt again without conscious thought, when she feels his long fingers close over hers and still her movements. Emma looks up at him in question, before she feels the raised skin under her fingertips.

“Sorry. You said they don’t hurt anymore.”

She flattens her palm over his ribs, her thumb fitting perfectly over one of the horizontal scars.

“They don’t, love. They are just ugly reminders of past pain.”

She frowns.

“They are not ugly.”

Killian scrunches up his face in a way that she thinks would look much more befitting on a much younger version of him.

“I know you don’t mind about that. But you don’t— you don’t have to touch them.”

She frowns harder and runs her thumb over the scar.

“I didn’t mean to, my heart. I was just exploring. They are interesting.”

She supposes that explanation is much more befitting of a much younger version of her as well.

“Interesting?”

He fixes his eyes on her, doubtful and somewhat suspicious, but she can see the little tendrils of amusement trying to sneak in. Emma just shrugs and slips her hand along his side.

“Well, yes.”

Killian shakes his head but doesn’t protest further. She slips her hand out and sets it over his left forearm.

“Does this hurt?”

When he doesn’t flinch away, she gets at the skin underneath. There aren’t scars at the end of his arm so much as it all feels like one big scar – unnaturally smooth in places and unexpectedly raised in others and undeniably strange to the touch.

“Sometimes,” he answers her honestly. “It’s not pain so much as… an ache. More after journeys or long days, I suppose.”

She rubs the heel of her hand over the inside of his wrist and upwards, where the scars resemble the ones on his side and there are shallow welts left into his skin by his absent brace.

“Because you have it encased in all that leather and metal at all times. You don’t have to wear it when you are home, you know?”

She doesn’t want to overstep. She can’t imagine what this feels like, if he wears his wooden hand for convenience or comfort or to hide from the world. But she is sure that having it on at all times can’t be good for him.

She glances at Killian cautiously and sees him open his mouth to protest but then he seems to give her words some consideration, rotating his left shoulder and turning his wrist a little in her hand, as if testing the feeling of spending the day like this.

“Maybe.”

It’s more than she expected to receive right away, knowing how long he has dealt with and decided those things without having another’s opinion.

“Could you promise me something?” she asks earnestly and, when he turns his head to look at her properly, she knows he is not giving her platitudes but means exactly what he says.

“Anything I can.”

“Promise to tell me whenever you are in pain. Whenever you need…”

“Help?” he doesn’t sound insulted or hurt, just a little perplexed.

“Me.”

The corner of his mouth twitches but he lowers his gaze and poses the question to their hands.

“And if I need you always?”

“You don’t,” she tells him truthfully, expecting the frown and the protest gathering on the tip of his tongue. “But I hope you want me.”

“More than you could ever know.”

*****

Taglist: @bmbbcs4evr @laschatzi @darkcolinodonorgasm @shireness-says @profdanglaisstuff@courtorderedcake @passports-and-postagestamps @nikkiemms @winterbaby89 @wyntereyez @mayquita@cocohook38 @snotelek @yasbio2015 @superchocovian @facesiousbutton82 @lawgeeks@whimsicallyenchantedrose @emmas-storybook@idristardis @snowbellewells @let-it-raines @andiirivera@unworried-corsair @sherlockianwhovian@kingofmyheart14 @quirkykayleetam @jackieorioncat

If you wanna be tagged in future updates (or if you want me to fuck off your mentions :D), just drop me a line ;)

For more: MY FANFICS   MY BOOK   MY BLOG

[robinrunsfiction]

The Spaces That Divide Us - Chapter 1

Pairing: Gerard Way x Female Reader Rating: General (future chapters will have author’s notes indicating when they may include violence) Requested By: None Author’s Note: To understand this story, it is vital you have read Weapons of Clairvoyance, which can be found on my masterlist. This story is so much something I wrote for myself, and honestly if you enjoy it, I’m really glad. Also if you would like to be on the tag list for this story, please let me know.  Song recommendations for this chapter: Nothing At All by Taking Back Sunday and Young and Menace by Fall Out Boy (~ denotes song change)

When you pulled up in front of the house, there was a light on in the living room despite the late hour. Gerard opened the door for you, the living room filling with crisp fall air as Mikey jumped up from his place on the couch as you walked in.

“Where the hell have you been?” he shouted before noticing how you were both dressed, looking back at the breaking news on the TV. “You did that didn’t you?”

“Mikey, listen,” Gerard started.

“You killed them! And you tricked them into shooting that Bob guy, Frank told us!”

“Would you shut up and let us explain?” Gerard shouted back. You didn’t know what to do or say, standing silently behind Gerard, wrapping his jacket tighter around yourself. Mikey’s mouth formed a tight line and his brow was furrowed, but he nodded and sat back down. Gerard began to explain your plan to draw Restoricom off the rest of them by taking off that night, how Brendon found you, and it was either following his plan, or continuing to run from Restoricom. He left out all mention of Sarah.

After hearing everything, Mikey nodded and sighed. “I’m sorry I blew up, I was worried. I didn’t know if I was gonna see you, either of you, again.”

“We couldn’t risk anyone else knowing,” you said quietly. “It could have compromised everything.”

“So, it’s over?”

Gerard nodded silently, and Mikey got up. “I haven’t slept in a week thanks to you two, so I’m going to bed. Welcome back.”

You sat down where Mikey had been sitting and let out a sigh. “We aren’t evil, right?”

“No Sugar, all we did was help Sarah do her job, and saved ourselves from being killed for what we are.”

You nodded listening to Gerard’s reassurance. He was right, you knew he was, but it was going to take time for it to sink in.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” he said offering you his hand. You took it, following him up the stairs to the comfort of his familiar bed.

~

The next morning Gerard woke up, squinting his eyes against the sun that was beginning to shine through the crack of the curtains.

He instinctively reached out for you but felt nothing but the cold spot where you had lay the night before. He sat up and saw your phone was gone as well. He tried to regain his bearings as he looked around his room. The gown you wore the night before was draped carefully over his desk chair, your pajamas in a pile at the foot of the bed. Your bag in the corner looked like it had been dug through, but it didn’t look like you had left with no intentions of returning.

Gerard felt another wave of guilt wash over him. He had come to learn that when you had a lot on your mind, you isolated yourself and he knew you were dealing with your own feelings of guilt over last night’s events. It was his fault that you were dragged into this whole mess. He jumped into a plan without considering other options and the next thing you knew you were doing a favor for Death and the blood of a dozen corrupt men was on your hands. Gerard felt like he needed to make this right somehow.

He got up and decided to go check by the lake to see if that’s where you were. He expected to find the coffee maker running when he entered the kitchen, but he found it was still empty and cold.

“Hey Gee, where’s the car?” Mikey asked, his voice still thick with sleep as he shuffled into the kitchen.

“(YN), she must hav-” Gerard started, but was cut off by his phone buzzing in his pocket. “(YN) are you ok? Where are you?”

Mikey watched his brother’s face turned from concern, to shock, to sadness.

“Are you ok?” He paused, listening. “Ok, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“What’s wrong?” Mikey asked as Gerard ended the call and started rushing toward the door, grabbing his jacket.

“(YN)’s house was burned down the night before last, and the investigators are all over her. It’s got to have been Restoricom. I’m gonna go be with her.”

Mikey nodded, his head still spinning at the news since he still wasn’t completely awake. He watched as Gerard went out the front door and gracefully transformed into a crow and took off into the sky.

~

You were sitting on the curb staring at the ground, the smell of burnt wood hung in the air. Last night as you got ready for bed, you realized that in the commotion of the last few days, you phone battery had died. You plugged it in but left it off, not having the mental energy to look at it.

But once you were in bed, you couldn’t stay asleep, afraid if you closed your eyes of what you would see, whether it would be memories of what you had done, or what might lay ahead of you and you weren’t sure which scared you more. Before dawn, you decided to give up and pulled yourself out of bed. You turned on your phone and wandered downstairs as it started up.

Dozens of text message and voicemail notifications started to load and your heart began to race. You went to the text messages first, all from your landlord.

(YN), its Kenny, the police just called to report a fire at your place, are you ok?

(YN) I’m heading over to your house, I hope you’re ok!

(YN) you aren’t answering, I hope you are just busy, call me back as soon as possible!

(YN) investigators need to talk to you, get over here ASAP

(YN) your boss said you quit weeks ago with no notice, what the fuck is going on?!

You felt sick to your stomach as you listened to the voicemails from the police and your landlord. You had to get back there and deal with the wreckage. You raced back upstairs, changed clothes and grabbed Gerard’s car keys. You’d call once he was up.

Now you heard footsteps running up to you. “Hey Gerard,” you said without looking up.

“Are you ok Sugar?” he asked sitting down on the curb next to you.

“Yea, no, I don’t know,” you replied, tears stinging your eyes. “Everything I had that wasn’t at your place is gone. My car is destroyed, photos, heirlooms, everything,” you sniffled. Gerard wrapped his arm around you protectively and you rested your head against his shoulder and let all the tears fall. Gerard looked back over his shoulder at the smoldering remains, it was a total loss.

“Excuse me sir, are you Mr.. Gerard Way?”

“Yea, is there something I can do?” he asked looking up at the police officer. You felt a wave of panic wash over you, as you hadn’t gotten the chance to fill Gerard in on the story you had told them regarding your whereabouts.

“Where have you and Miss (YLN) been the last few days?”

“Up at his cabin, my phone died, and I forgot my charger! God, I already told you!” you jumped in before Gerard had a chance to respond.

“Miss (YLN),” the officer growled, frustrated that your outburst had just compromised his line of questioning. You burst out into hysterical sobs, throwing your face dramatically against Gerard’s shoulder.

“Officer, you cannot expect someone in her emotional state to be questioned like this,” Gerard said, knowing full well you were putting on a show.

“Is there anyone who can corroborate your whereabouts?”

“My brother, Mikey. I can give you his number. In the meantime, is it ok if I walk to the café around the corner and grab her a coffee?”

“Leave your phone,” the officer said. Gerard got up and pulled out his phone and gave the officer Mikey’s number.

“I’ll be right back Sugar,” he said pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You watched as he jogged around the corner and suddenly a falcon flew over, heading out of town rapidly.

You had let your sobs die down so you could overhear what the officer was saying on the phone. He had to leave a message because, just as Gerard suspected, his brother wouldn’t pick up for a number he didn’t recognize. A few minutes later Mikey called back. You could hear the officer ask him the same question that he posed to Gerard about your whereabouts.

“And where do you live sir? Oh, that far out of town. Ok, fair enough.”

A few minutes later Gerard reappeared, two coffees in hand. The officer came back and gave Gerard his phone.

“We reached your brother; he corroborated your account. You’re both free to go, we will be in touch when we find out more.”

You and Gerard made your way back to his car silently. The sun was fully up, and he could see just how tired you were, the darkest circles he’d ever seen under your eyes. You handed him back his keys and got in the passenger side.

“Sorry for stealing your car,” you said quietly.

“Its fine. Whatever you need, don’t ever hesitate to take,” he smiled wearily as he started the car. “Are you ok? Really?”

“I’m drained, but also kinda relieved. Like, it really, really feels over now. That whole chapter of my life is done,” you said taking a swing of your coffee then looked over at Gerard. “Thank you.”

He glanced back. “For what?”

“For helping me, for keeping me safe, for believing in me all along.”

Gerard smiled; weight lifted off his own heart a little hearing those words. “You don’t blame me for this?”

You scoffed. “Not for one second. You didn’t give me this ability. You didn’t create that division of Restoricom. You’re my light in all this.”

Words danced on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed them back, instead reaching over and grabbing your hand as he drove home

“I was thinking I might throw a Halloween party,” Gerard replied after a while, breaking the silence.

You perked up. "Oh my God, is it really almost Halloween?”

“Yea, you don’t mind, do you?”

“Not at all, is my favorite,” you replied with a grin, your mood decidedly improved. This was exactly what you needed.

Chapter 2

[okaywhateverokayyes]

To Always Forgive Me

Prompt: Isobel asks Alex to stop Michael from doing something rash, because of course he is. (Post 1x04); includes flashbacks in Alex’s POV

Alex rubs behind Toby’s ears, an easy smile settles on his face as the dog kneels bemusedly beside him, laying against his thigh as he ran his hand down his back. He leans over to press his lips against the paw resting on the sole of his shoe, gentle as he sets his foot down.

A jeep pulls into his driveway, a familiar army surplus. Isobel is swift as she slams the door, striding in his direction, offering a smile as an afterthought rather than out of convention.

“You need to stop Michael.”

Alex blinks.

Alex stands up hastily, his knee buckling from under him as a result of his swiftness. He winces as he shoves his crane into the soot, gawkily kneeling on one foot whilst he rests his elbow on the other.

Isobel was at his side, gripping him as she bolsters his weight as he moves to the timber porch post and rests against them. He was haggard as he caught his breath.

“Thanks.” He says, responsively.

She flicks her wrist, off-handedly. Isobel fixates on him, naturally, yet it does nothing but make Alex answer her glance with an apologetic smile.

“Is he leaving town?” He inquires.

Isobel shakes her head, pursing her lips as if what he had said was preferable to what Michael was about to do. “Something stupider. Unnecessary. Dangerous.” She adds, drawing her brows inward. “So, stop him.”

Alex’s apologetic smile fades into a slightly uncertain one.

“What do you think I can-?”

Isobel adopts a slightly altered pose, crossing her arms briskly across her chest. “Alex.” She says, impatiently, “We don’t have time to go back and forth.”

“Isobel, you and I both know that when he sets his mind onto something, he’s going to go through with it.” He snaps, wanting to add ‘Whether we like it or not’ but settles against it.

Isobel considers this. “You and I both know that’s not true,” she says with a familiarity that precluded Alex, “Please, do me this favor.”

If he was being honest, he didn’t need to be impelled. The thought of Michael having done something out of sheer indignation was emblematic of Guerin.

Alex accedes deferentially.

He ends up at Crashdown café, Isobel paying for his roast beef sandwich as consolation- as if he needed any; just to consume time, as needed, she ordered a fudge-blast off, orbit rings and a shower malt. When the order came in, Isobel had taken a bite of each, a cursory sip and dunked the ring into hot fudge.

Alex begrudgingly takes a bite of his sandwich. It tasted insipid. Or, maybe the flavor was unable to be savored by his parched mouth and numb tongue. His thoughts wavered nervously, fingers trembling as he pressed them in between his legs. His chest throbbed.

Shit. The idea that Guerin was about to do something shortsighted, inflamed him. Because, shit. Why did he decide it upon himself to be crucified and vilified?

No, he decides, Guerin probably thought it over a thousand-and-one timesbefore considering doing anything that put himself, Isobel or Max at risk. He was just that thorough with his decisions. When the past itches to resurface, Alex clears his throat.

Isobel scrunches up her nose, batting away at the waitress-Madeline- who appears by their table to refill their water. Alex offers an apologetic smile in return as she stilts on her heel to turn, rattled.

The thudof a glass slamming against the table has Alex whisk his head in that direction. “Are you-“

“There’s not enough acetone in this god forsaken world for my headache,” she rubs at her temple. “Never enough.” She’s gruff as she scoops a spoon of the malt, only to pause momentarily when her eyes catch onto something-not her particular choice of word which has Alex drawing his brows inwards-but someone.

Isobel waves her hand distinctly, flicking her wrist as to get their attention.

“You shouldn’t have. An exodus bash, for me?” Guerin’s voice cuts through the unspoken uneasiness stretching between the table separating the two. Isobel hisses condemningly, eyes wavering from Michael to where Alex crouched, urgent.

Michael stills, abruptly. Alex doesn’t have to look up to see the grin falling off of his face. Two clenched fists are jabbed to his sides as he adjusts his tone, his attention elsewhere. “What did you do, Izzy?” It’s sharp, furious, on the verge of sounding irritated.

He feels secluded, unwelcome.

Alex bristles where he sat.

“I’ll leave you to it.” There’s a warning intonation. Isobel mouths ‘thank you’ in Alex’s direction, gripping Michael’s shoulder as she makes a beeline towards the crowded entrance.

Michael doesn’t move. There’s tenseness that settles in his posture. “Whatever she said to make you come here, forget it. She won’t hold it against you.” He says, his voice low and rough with restlessness.

Alex thumbs at the ham sticking out, biting his lip. His mouth begins to prickle with microscopic thorns that has him reaching for the glass of water. He takes a quiet sip, gulping, only to have the thistles penetrate outwards, his nerves ignited to the point where he jabs his curled hand into his thigh.

Cool hands are pressed against his. Alex flickers his eyes open, which he hadn’t noticed he had shut close. He watches as Michael sits across him. His gaze moves to their bridged hands near the empty glass. Ostensibly, he feels the air leave out the room yet he lets out a freeing exhale he doesn’t realize he’s holding in, until Michael pulls back.

“Sorry.” He whispers, face clipped as he settles into the booth, leans against the side towards the wall, a habit by now.

They hold each other’s gaze. Alex struggles to think of how to initiate, opens his mouth but clamps it back down. It’s almost unsettling how even after all this time, the thought of dissuading Guerin seemed not only impossible, but unwarranted. Unwelcoming.

The uncertainty of where Alex stood in their friendshiphad him reminiscing of his second tour. When he woke up, both panicked and dopey with painkillers, a terrible combination that lead to him flailing sideways off the hospital bed, unable to speak with his numb, heavy tongue. It took a solid ten minutes for the medics to convince him that he wasn’t dead, that he was on bay, that he was alive.

Just his leg, they heed to mention. The loss of his limb had him at first, dazed becausesurely, this must be a dream. When he first reached to ram his bruised fingers into the sheet of where his shin would have been, only to press into the mattress, he bit down on his tongue to repress the sob clamped in his throat.

Dead, he surely must be dead.

Everything afterwards was a blur. Sensibly present, inherently absent. Removed. Uninhabited. Gone. Two tours later, he wasn’t convinced that the torture he had slighted in the abyss of his mind had ever left.  

He was sure he was a word away from disintegrating.

“Don’t go.” Alex blurts forcefully, takes a deep breath and says, a little shakily, “Just, don’t go anywhere.” His lower lip trembles. He quickly bites it harshly.

Utter confusion met his comment. “What?”

“Idon’t want you to go,” he repeats, emphasizing the distinctive ‘I’ to make it evident that this was him, out of his own volition, saying it.

Michael reacts as if he is slapped. Because, ten years ago, he was the one to say that to Alex. It occurs to Alex that the tables have turned, the words are incendiary and suggestive of the manner in which they had fallen on deaf ears, his ears, back then.

“That’s not fair.” He grunts, drawing a sharp breath in. “Fuck you.”

Cold fear seizes Alex. He knows he’s being hypocritical. He knows that he has lost his agency, his right to ask Michael of something. It dawns upon him that it’s the only way he knows how to make him reconsider.

He bites the proverbial bullet as he recounts what needs to be said, “I felt too much pride back then to listen to you,” he answers a question that’s not asked but heavily weighing on the both of them, “I didn’t know-didn’t think that I could do what I wanted back then.”

Guerin is rigid, immobile, eyes glazed as he glares right into him. He says nothing, in return. It dawns upon Alex that the memories were all-too-clear and the numerous questions, all-left-unanswered.

“I didn’t tell you what happened that night because I didn’t want to hurt you anymore than I already had.”

Prom. He shows up empty-handed because he cancels last minute. Can’t go through with it. Hates how self-righteous his father feels as he takes a picture, that Alex was doing the right thing, by bringing someone, a girl,to the dance. He spurns when his father engages in a jovial chit-chat with her, as if she’s his saving grace. As if she’s fixing something, him, that needed to be fixed.

Alex lets her know in the parking lot of the school that he’s tired, not really interestedand tells her that he’s sorrybefore he asks her to get out, rigidly.

He hopes Michael does the same. Anger looms within him when he notices the blonde beside Guerin the entire night. She’s laughing at something he says, links their elbows together. Michael’s grinning ear to ear. It impales Alex. He leaves abruptly before the second song even plays. Doesn’t even realize that he has over 11 missed calls, from himthat night, until the day after, when he’s at the army reserve handing in his filled-out application.

He doesn’t check his voice-mail, not when he’s having his premature sendoff-get-together with his brothers and others, in the military personnel, people he wouldn’t have even known if it weren’t for his dad. Not when he received his order to mobilize at an operating base in Herat. Not when he takes the day off to say his goodbyes, to everyone but him. Not when he removes the sim from his phone and slips it behind the casing of a photo-frame.

He says things out of anger when Michael slips in through his window the day before he’s set to leave. Everything, forgotten, mostly burnt from his mind so he doesn’t have over 800 words that if unveiled, would have disintegrated him on the spot.

A pang goes through Alex. He knows that Michael hasn’t forgotten a single thing. It’s the way in which he grits down on his jaw, the jowls of his chin protruding out from under his skin. Michael stabs his fingers into the soles of his palms, his flesh turning white in the surrounding area. His face is void of any color. The blood rushes out and seeps under the fabric of his jacket.

The thing about Michael was, he never forgets. Even if he wanted to, it was impossible for him to. His worst burden, Alex notes. He has probably etched the words into the matrix of his bones, scorching it into his mind only to replay it repeatedly, distastefully-

Alex had the luxury of drawing a blank. It took years of practice but he was adept at it.

“I’m sorry, Michael.” He starts with, feeling immediately overcome by how long it’s taken him to even say it, “I’m sorry for everything.” Hopes it’s inherent that everything meant absolutely every. Single. Thing.

Michael is bitter as he scoffs, emotion making his voice tight. “You can’t do this.” He’s mostly speaking to himself. He rubs at his face as he laments into the palms of his hand. There’s defeat wearing thin on his shoulders; As if he’s imagined this exact conversation countless times but never concocted an outcome that would be sufficive enough to mitigate years of absolute agony he endured.

“You can’t do this,” he’s breathless as he repeats. He looks disoriented, reaches for the other glass of water and quaffs it down in futility. It doesn’t help.  Alex reaches instinctively towards Michael, recognizes the conflict, far-too familiar with it himself-but stills when Michael gets on his feet abruptly.

The sound cuts through raucous room, everyone’s head whipped in the direction of the thud.

“I need air,” Michael is tight with fury and hurt; wistful eyes meet his, albeit for a second, before Guerin strides out the dinner, his torment puncturing into every stomp he made.

Alex tosses his head back, lips pressed in a thin, exasperated line; Alex owed Michael a lot. He owed Michael so much more than a mere apology. He owed him his time, his space and him.

Alex felt the familiar light-headedness, knows what’s to come. The detachment, the inhibition, the folds enclosing the locked void in his mind, threatening to unfold.

He reaches into his pocket, throws two bills of twenty, somehow makes it into his truck, drives out of town, into his driveway, into his room. He goes to close the blinds, removes the comforter off of his bed and kicks off his shoes.

Toby is scratching on the door to his room. He’s locked out. The scratching is incessant but not painful to Alex’s heightened hearing. He settles furthest away from the window, curls up on the wood floor with a blanket and his elbow, to support his head.

He has his phone beside him, has it on silent but watches the screen keenly. His eyes are heavy, lids looming lower. Alex presses his nose to the floor, breathes in the musk and concentrates on the splinters in the footboard slat.

It’s only when Isobel sends him a wordy ‘thank you, thank you, thank you…’ message does Alex succumb to his exhaustion.

[leviathanpotato]

Reflections - Young!Remus Lupin x Werewolf!OC

PART 8

part 7     6      5      4      3      2      1

Sorry I vanished for a bit. There was an incident that distracted me for a while. I am glad to finally say that this story is complete. To be honest, I’ve had a few wobbles with this, but I guess I’m kinda happy with it now. Enjoy it.

Ten letters arrived for Elise in the post the next day; each one was more degrading than the next. There was one that stood out in particular. The calligraphic green ink of Dumbledore’s writing was on the envelope. After reading it, she raced up to his office, where he greeted her kindly, despite both knowing there was nothing good coming from their meeting. She listened to his words echoing around the dream, only this time she desperately wanted it to be a dream, she couldn’t face the reality. When they finished, she returned to the letter. She read it again and again, crying a little more every single time.

She screamed, ripping up everything into tiny pieces and shoving it into her trunk. Then she kicked the trunk across the room. Her heartbeat was thudding rapidly. She waited a second for the blood to stop rushing in her ears before she climbed down to the common room.

All the marauders except for Remus were sitting in the room, laughing with each other. Elise smiled painfully and headed over to join them.

The fire was gently crackling as usual and the midwinter sun had already set, despite it having just gone 4 o’clock. The snow still fell, and had created a huge mound of white fluff on the windowsill.

Elise pulled her robes tighter around her, shivering slightly as she sat down next to Lily. She pulled out some last minute homework and began to write. She could hear the others whispering argumentatively, whilst Lily tried to get them to stop. Earlier, she’d had a quiet word with Lily, not wanting any of them to bring up the dance. The three boys started a silent rock paper scissors competition. Whatever it was for, Sirius lost. He coughed loudly, drawing Elise’s attention.

“I have a serious question” Sirius asked.

“Go on” Elise started wearily. She knew Sirius could ask some very questionable questions.

“If…and this is an extremely big and hypothetical if… If you and Remus had kids together-”

Elise choked on air. “What?”

Sirius smirked. “I’m not finished. If you were pregnant, and you transformed, would the foetus also transform? Like, what would happen if you gave birth on a full moon?”

Elise dropped her quill, staring into space. If anyone else had asked that, she probably would have hexed them until they were just a big unidentifiable blob on the floor, but for some reason she felt her anger dissipate. There was no mocking tone in his voice or disgust in his eyes. She’d never had someone be genuinely curious in her condition. If anything, she felt better than before. She was free to talk about herself for the first time ever. “I…” she pressed her fingers to her temples in deep thought. “Stop, this hurts my mind”

“If dogs have litters of puppies, would you have litters of babies?” James piped up.

Elise threw an inkpot at his head.

“You can name them Sirius 1, Sirius 2 and Sirius 3” Sirius went on, ducking as Elise charmed the pillows to chase him around the room.

Remus wandered in. He took one look around the room. Peter and Lily were doubled over laughing, Sirius was being chased by floating pillows and James was dripping in ink. Meanwhile, Elise was trying to clear up a pile of books that had been knocked to the floor.

“Come on girls, we’re leaving” Sirius shouted as he exploded the last of the pillows. He sashayed out, followed by James and Peter. Remus watched them leave, before running over to help pick up the books.

Elise grabbed his wrist, smiling sweetly. “I can do that, go to the others before Sirius does something stupid.”

Remus laughed, accidentally inhaling part of his chocolate. “When doesn’t he?” He joked softly, before walking out of the portrait hole, waving, and lightly sliding it closed.

Elise beamed at him, waving back, still staring for a good thirty seconds after he’d gone before turning to a giggling Lily.

“Shut up.” Elise snapped, hiding a smile behind her book. Her face flushed red.

“You are going to be such a cute couple.” She smiled. The smile slid off her face when she saw Elise’s face fall.

“What’s wrong?”

                                        ------------------------------

The Christmas holidays came around, and all the students were gathered on the train. Elise had spent the time leading up to Christmas with the marauders, making the most of them. She felt no joy that Christmas had finally arrived, instead she felt a sinking feeling dragging her down. After hiding in the toilets, she shut herself away inside a compartment, closing the blinds. She couldn’t take it.  All the children around her were laughing and playing. The first years were running giddily up and down the corridor. To her, their bubbly excitement sounded like forks being dragged down a plate. Elise grimaced, how could they all be so happy as her world was crashing down? She noticed how students she’d never met made sure that they stayed at least two metres away from her, as though they thought she would jump on them and try to eat their face. The kids in her compartment ran out when she entered, as though she carried a plague.

Irritation simmered in her veins. She ignored it until she felt a stabbing pain in her palm. Looking down, she saw blood trickle down where she had gripped her bag strap so tightly, the corner of the buckle had torn her skin. Hissing, she dropped her bag and started to lick the wound clean. She pretended not to hear the whispers from passers-by.

“Are you okay?” A warm voice interrupted her.

She looked up to see Remus sticking his head through the door. She nodded, not making eye contact with him.

“I’ve been looking for you for ages; do you want to join us in our compartment?”

Elise nodded. After taking her stuff, she tried to slide past him and walk off, but failed when he joined her, matching her hurried pace. Neither of them said a word, just walked in a looming silence. She could sense the questions on his mind, hoping that he’d keep them silent.

“Is-“

“Everything’s fine, Remus.” Elise snapped coldly, cutting him off from saying any more. She sensed his hurt gaze as they continued to amble up to carriage.

“Eli-“

“REMUS” She screamed. He stopped walking. Elise’s hand shot up to her mouth. She cried. Remus grabbed her and pulled her into a long, warm hug. The snow fluttered against the window and Elise cried harder, but silently. He rubbed her back gently with his hand, soothing her.

Eventually, they let go. Elise’s hands trailed in the air, unready to end the hug. Remus took her torn hand in his and kissed it softly.

“I’ve been expelled.” She told him.

Remus dropped her hand like it burnt his skin.

“What?”

“The parents don’t want me at the school. The governors signed an order for my expulsion from Hogwarts because I ‘pose a significant danger to all pupils and staff’” She muttered bitterly. “They say there’s there’s strong evidence linking me to dark magic. I won’t even get to keep my wand.” She sobbed, pulling it out of her robes and gripping it in her hand.

She thought back to the day she got it. She remembered how the midsummer sun beamed down through the windows of Ollivander’s, illuminating the dust in the sunbeams. A young Elise with bright red hair in need of a trim was clutching a wand, watching in awe as it sprayed blue and gold sparks across the room - Applewood, eleven inches, thin and swishy, with a fresh unicorn tail hair. It was perfect for her. Only now that it was being destroyed could Elise truly understand the connection between a wand and its witch. She felt like she was going to lose a part of her – her longest companion, who had been there through it all, was about to be snapped to pieces.

Remus paled. “They can’t… You don’t even have much time left at school” He stammered, but Elise shook her head, placing a finger to his lips.

“There’s nothing I can do. Dumbledore tried to help but they won’t listen. No one will listen to something like us Remus, especially with my aunt.” She pressed.

“But…” Remus started, but then he looked down at his shoes in defeat. The train was slowing to a stop. The familiar yellowing brick slid into view from the window. The platform started to trundle past, tarnished trolleys were strewn across the concrete and parents were struggling to restrain their ecstatic children.

Elise felt the seconds drag on. This was it - the end of the line. She counted for what seemed like hours until the train jerked to a stop, its whistle screeching in the distance. Elise closed her eyes, not wanting to cry. She sighed, stepping aside as younger students sprinted off the train. She could see her parents waiting with tired eyes and dishevelled hair, panic written on their faces.

Elise felt her feet grow heavier as she stepped off the train and walked towards them.

“Wait.” Remus grabbed her arm, stopping her. “I…” He glanced from her to her parents in the distance. “I think I love you.”

Elise smiled painfully. “Well, Mr Lupin, I think I love you too.”

“You can’t leave.” He begged, pulling on her sleeve. She could see the heartbreak in his eyes. She shook her head slowly.

“I’ll write to you.” He said desperately.

Elise couldn’t hold her smile. It dropped into a pitiful gaze She placed a hand on his cheek. “Remus… A werewolf in Hogwarts. It’ll be in the Prophet. Most people already know because of what happened at the dance. I’m a known werewolf with muggle heritage. My blood is about as filthy as it gets and I have close relatives who are death eaters – we have to go into hiding.” She explained. She could feel herself choking up. She hated having to watch as Remus’ face whitened, she could see him breaking on the inside.

“Just my luck isn’t it. I get a crush on the sweetest, funniest girl I could imagine. A girl who truly understands the pain I go through and makes me feel like I can actually live with my condition. A girl who is so unique and beautiful and reminds me that it is possible to keep fighting even when the ones we love don’t take our side. Then when I realise I love her she has to leave.” He told her. “I’ll find you, when this is all over.”

Elise let out a bitter laugh. She couldn’t imagine a life where the world wasn’t going to shit. “Promise?” She asked.

Remus cupped his hands around her face. He hesitated briefly, giving her a chance to move, before pulling her towards him. He kissed her softly. It was bittersweet. Elise felt the joy of finally kissing her crush alongside the devastating realisation that she would probably never see him again. Their lips moved slowly and delicately, the pair of them savouring the moment, but when they sensed her parents edging closer, it became rougher. Elise’s hand jumped to his hair and she pulled him closer, desperate to keep on feeling - clinging on to her final hope of life and love. He did the same, running his hands through her knotted red locks, almost pushing her into him. His hands clutched her with needy desperation. She pressed her chest against him as they backed into the wall, draining each other of every drop of passion. She clung on to the final burst of colour before they separated, and her world faded back to the shades of her black and white television screen.

“I promise.”

Le Fin

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #178

“for such a little thing, you sure are in your own way.”

What’s your favorite type of bird? Barn owls are actual deities. What was on the last sandwich you ate? Pb & j. What sort of music did you listen to when you were in high school? Same stuff I listen to now, although I had a mild screamo-ish phase. Have you ever gotten back together with an ex? No. How far away is the closest store to your house and what is it? Some cheap dollar store in the town, dunno names. What is your favorite Thai dish? Haven't tried any. When was the last time you made out with somebody? Over a month back. What month of the year was your mother born? August. Are there any candles in your bedroom, and what scent are they? No. What TV show(s) have you been watching currently? None. How many apps do you have on your phone? Six. My phone has so, so little storage ugh. Have you ever dated a smoker? If not, would you? No to both. Are there any movies you’ve seen so many times? Yeah, sure. Of course a lot as a kid, Finding Nemo and The Lion King 1 & 2 especially, then I've watched both Blair Witch Project movies a lot, Jim Carrey's How the Grinch Stole Christmas... How would you describe your sense of humor? Sarcastic. What’s your favorite type of bread? Pumpernickel. Do you share a middle name with any of your siblings? Yeah. Have there ever been any brushfires/wildfires in your area? Yeah. What did you have to eat for dinner last night? Nothing (Thanksgiving was lunch). Do you have separate emails for personal and business? No. Have you ever missed a flight? Yes. Do you know your significant other’s passwords? No, I have no reason to. Would you like to study abroad one day? No. Does someone have a crush on you but you don’t feel the same way? Idk. Who do you feel most beautiful around? Sara. /v\ What’s one makeup item you cannot live without? I could easily live without any. Is there one thing all of your ex’s had in common? All guys. Did you french kiss before you were 16? No. Imagine your spouse just died; would you get re-married? I don't know if I would. Like... I'd never stop loving her, so "moving on" to someone else just because she's no longer physically here would feel disloyal. What’s your favorite thing about life? New, fun experiences and creating strong bonds with people like you. Who pays for the first date? Idrc, but probably whoever proposed the date? Or split the bill? Have you ever had a friend that got a bf/gf, and then completely ignored you? Yeah. Do you play any computer games, if so, what ones? Not currently 'cuz my gaming laptop has to be fixed. :| When it is and I have my own income, I might return to WoW, but I'm not sure. I think the subscription is kinda high, and I have more important things to handle. What is the funniest movie you’ve ever seen? Idk why I find White Chicks so goddamn funny. What lyric means the most to you? Off the very top of my head, "A bloody war behind my eyes; I'll come all right on the other side" from "Free" by Mother Mother. Really makes me think of all I've been through but how I keep coming out stronger. Who is the smartest person you know? Girt. What’s the next movie you will see in theaters? Idk. Are you adopted? No. What band do you like that most people hate? You canNOT look me in the face and say you don't like at least one Nickelback song. I don't get the hate. Any new bands that you actually enjoy? Oh idk. What is your escape from reality? RPing. Do you have any self-inflicted scars on your arms? You can only just barely see them. Do you like “scene” hair? YEAH AND I ALWAYS FUCKING WANTED IT BUT I COULD NEVER POSE IT CORRECTLY 'CUZ MY HAIR WAS TOO THICK AND HEAVY. Have your parents ever been to jail? No. If your friend asked you to hold their drugs, would you? Definitely not. Does it scare you when a relationship moves too fast? Y E A H Would you ever consider hitchhiking? I don't know if I would even in a desperate situation... I don't trust people. Have you ever hitchhiked? No. Have you ever been to a music festival? No. What color car do you want to have? Burnt orange. Would you rather hike a mountain or explore a cave? Explore a cave!!! Would you rather wear a flower crown or veil? Probably a veil? Do you believe peace on earth is attainable? I honestly don't believe so. What type of tattoo do you want? s o  m a n y What is your favorite insect? Butterflies. Would you ever live in the desert? Nooooo. Fuck the heat. Is your town beautiful? I don't really live in one, but the closest town isn't. Which season do you want to get married in? Autumn. Are totem poles cool? YEAH! Favorite art forms? Conceptual photography. What kind of music do you enjoy? Plenty sorts of metal, rock, and alternative. Do you have any gay friends? Yeah. Where is your favorite place to go? The zoo, even though I have mixed feelings about them... Do you know your dad? Yeah. How often do you get on Facebook? At least once a day. Are you related to anyone who’s in prison? Don't think so?? What concerts are you attending in the near future? Y'ALL I MIGHT FUCKING SEE OZZY IN JANUARY. He and Megadeth are coming to Charlotte and the tickets aren't too bad. :') It's a loooong drive but Mom was like "hell yeah" when I told her and wants to buy tickets after she gets her tax return AH. Metallica is a possibility too, but Mom doesn't think she can afford it. If you were kicked out of your house, where would you go first? Dad's. What are you currently looking forward to? Sara's b-day, Christmas, hopefully getting my laptop fixed, aforementioned concerts, and school. What was the reason you got grounded for last? Idk, that was a long time ago. But most likely for "talking back" to Mom. The last two people you kissed, are they virgins? Yes; probably not. Is there a guy that knows everything or mostly everything about you? Yeah. Do you sleep on a certain side of the bed? A bit to the left. If you could have anything delivered to your doorstep each morning, what would it be? Um,,, money?????? What is one vacation destination that many people think is just fabulous but which you personally have no desire to visit (or revisit)? New York City. Heard from my sister it's a shithole with the craziest and rudest people known to Planet Earth. I'm not big on cities, anyway. Which animated character is your all-time favorite? Uhhhhhh... Dory, maybe? If you could own a home on the shore of any body of water in the world, which waterfront would you choose? I WANT THE PINK BEACHES OF THE BAHAMAS. But I'm scared of the Bermuda Triangle so will probably never see them. :'''''') What serves as the greatest motivation for you in your daily life? MY RECOVERY. If I got through what I have, I can't ever give up and roll back down that hill. I'm focusing to always improve. If you could have any round object in the world, what spherical item would you want? t h e  g a m e s p h e r e ,  l a d s If you were left alone for one hour with nothing more than a pen and a notepad, what would you be inclined to draw or write during those 60 minutes? Practice eyes or start a poem. If you could witness anything at all in super-slow motion, what would you want to see? Hmmm... OH, maybe a big cat's tongue licking meat. See how it actually shears tiny bits off. Cats' tongues are cool. What do you forget to do more often than anything else? Take my anxiety med at the right time. If you could teach everyone in the world one skill, what would it be? Compassion. You’ve been offered the chance to paint a billboard along a highway with any message you choose, as long as it’s only 10 words long. What is your message? Oh jeez, I'd have to think too hard on this. Who’s the last guy to give you roses? Tyler. Did your parents do drugs when they were younger? Not to my knowledge, and I doubt they would've. Do you have any relatives who live on a different continent than you? I don't believe so. What are your religious beliefs? Were you raised with those beliefs, or did you develop them on your own? I'm a theist, entailing I believe in a creator, but I know nothing about him/her/it. I personally picture them as a peaceful and sage deity that allows life to go on without it intervening anywhere, letting the world evolve on its own and see how we adapt to our unique settings and handle life. In the end, I believe we are either given some form of paradise or a type of damnation depending on how you wrote your story. I like to imagine the good go to their personal vision of "Heaven," and I wonder if the paranormal activity some experience in life are the acts of the damned, apparently confined to remain on Earth or something. Anyway, I wasn't raised with such beliefs; they were developed. I was brought up Catholic, then I turned to just simple Christianity as I didn't agree with a lot of Catholic ideas, and most recently I abruptly turned away from that in favor of theism. How did you and your significant other celebrate your last anniversary? We went out for breakfast. What has been your favorite house/apartment/etc you’ve ever lived in? My last house for location, as a house itself, my childhood one. What’s something in your house that currently needs to be cleaned? I need to vacuum my room. Do you still remember any of the dreams or nightmares you had as a child? Yup. What’s the most bizarre conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of? The world is donut-shaped. Yeah. Do you have a good sense of direction? Not. At. All. Who was your first crush? Did you ever actually date them? Dylan, and no. What’s the weirdest, rudest, or most ridiculous thing a guest has ever done in your home? Who knows. Has anyone ever told you you’re manipulative? I don't think so. Do you know anyone who owns their own business? No. When was the last time you weren’t 100% sober? Uhhh maybe that movie night with Colleen and Chelsea. Is obtaining a college degree something that is important to you? Well, for my possible career future. Have you ever eaten at a vegan restaurant? No. Do you view substance abuse as a disease or a choice? I have... mixed feelings here. Starting something, that is indisputably a choice. Becoming addicted though, I'm not sure. Some people have addictive personalities so have a bigger inclination to become addicted, but isn't that just a personal trait/weakness you can fight?? I dunno. I know it's labelled as a disease by people way more informed than me though, so. What does the last text you sent say? Don't feel like checking. Does it bother you when people call you ‘ma'am’ or ‘sir?’ No. I live in the South, that's polite. Have you ever been obsessed with a television character? Does Dory count for movies? ha ha Do you ever wish you had powers of invisibility? Not really. What was the last thing that changed your life completely? Recovery. Do you have any step siblings? One. Have you ever been questioned by the police? No. In which state/country were you born? NC, U.S.A. Have you ever been to an amusement park out of state? Disney World. What do you normally drink when eating at a fast food restaurant? Coke or Mountain Dew. Have the police ever been looking for you? Not because I did something wrong; I've told the beach story a few times. If you chew gum, which kind is your favorite? I love the watermelon Hubba Bubba one asjfawoeu Have you ever kissed someone of the same sex? Yeah. What was the last liquid that you choked on? Water, just this morning when I was taking my meds ah. How many times did you wake up today before actually getting up? Well, I woke up once in the middle of the night like usual, then I woke up at like, 6-something and went back to sleep. Who did you celebrate your last birthday with? Mom, sises, Ash's husband and kids, and Dad stopped by. Was your last kiss initiated by you or the other person? I think it was kinda a simultaneous thing. We were saying bye. Do you buy a ton of things at the store at once or just for that day? Mom does the shopping, but it depends on how much time she has and what's at the house. When getting dressed do you put your pants or shirt on first? Pants. When you kiss a person where do your hands usually go? I actually don't know if it's a consistent thing for me??? I don't kiss anyone regularly so I don't recognize a pattern. What is one song you listen to that you’re sure not many people do? "False Flags," probs. Massive Attack is so neglected of the attention they deserve. Do you use a handrail on stairs if there is one? Yes, I'm scared of tripping. What was the last thing you saw that made you smile? Teddy came right up into my face wanting attention. What is your favorite drinking game? Never played any. Do you have any tattoos that you don’t like anymore? I think I've mentioned why I don't love my "ohana" one now. I'm getting it covered at some point. My "perfectly flawed" one is probably getting covered by a much bigger piece; I picked a bad location for it to want a sleeve. I'd just maybe redesign it, put if somewhere else. Do you have a shower curtain or door? Curtain. Who was the last person from your high school graduating class you saw? Probs Colleen? Who was the last non-relative you hung out with? Sara. Are you listening to anything right now? I'm way too obsessed with "Black Wedding" by In This Moment (feat. Rob Halford). Rob makes it, and the chorus is awesome. How many keys are on your keychain? One. Who was the last person you took a photograph with? Ryder, my nephew. Are you left handed? No. What were you most scared of when you were little? Losing my mom/being separated from her. Are you biracial? No. When was the last time you painted your nails? What color(s)? I couldn't even guess. Has a stranger ever offered to buy you a drink? Thank fuck no. Have you ever overflown a bathtub? Don't think so. What’s at the top of your to-do list in life? Stay positive, never stop aiming to improve. What was the last thing you shared? Well, Thanksgiving food. Where are you most ticklish? Feet. Do not- Which cartoon character do you want to keep as a pet? Uhhhh how 'bout an Espeon. I imagine them to be calm and silently affectionate like cats and very intelligent. Have you ever considered a career in music/acting? No. When was the last time you felt seriously embarrassed? Getting food yesterday. Per usual, let things die down, but I still ended up crammed in a corner, unable to go in any direction while someone was trying to get past me. I was headed for an anxiety attack and felt like a total nuisance. I'm pretty sure it showed in how I was whipping my head around, shuffling in various directions, clearly wanting the fuck out. Have you ever liked a song, looked up the lyrics to it, then hated it? No, lyrics can't ruin a song I like the sound of. What would be the icing on the cake for you this Christmas? A PS4, omg. I have to get my laptop fixed and a new camera, so I highly doubt I'm getting that or a tablet considering cost. I want to play the Spyro Reignited trilogy beyond words, like I refuse to even watch a let's play because I want to experience it all first-hand, but. Yeah, unlikely anytime soon. If you had the opportunity to live forever, would you take it? Noooooo. Do you like quesadillas? Only chicken and/or cheese ones. Did you like the show Invader Zim? I surprisingly never saw it. What’s the greatest/most influential song you’ve ever heard? "Life Won't Wait" by Ozzy always makes me wanna get off my ass and do something. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever seen in a grocery store? A HUGE BOX OF ANIMAL HEADS IN THE MIDDLE OF WAL-MART, BECKONING THE FURRIES INTO ITS DEPTHS. Have you ever bought yourself a present on Christmas? No. Well, I've used money I've been given on Christmas, if that counts. Have you ever been on a mechanical bull? No. Do you need a key card to get into the building you live in? No. Have you ever stepped in chewing gum? Yes. Name all the people you know that you’ve seen today. Just Mom.

[hxpeincarnate-a]

scars and bruises ( but do it with her canonical ship )

↳   stories.   //  @ anon

Send me a number 1 thru 200 for a hurt / comfort prompt that I’ll use to write a headcanon, drabble, or starter. Send 🔃  for a random number.  ||  ✔  story time drabble  !!! 

―『 ♣ 』»   she didn’t remember how she got there, but as soon as she opened her eyes, be it with everything blurry, she still knew where she was. From the tall bookshelves littered with spell books to the familiar scent of burnt lavender and nicotine - there was only one place that could fit under that description. Cold hands, bare of the usual gloves she wore, went up to rub her eyes, trying to shake the tiredness that clung to her. In truth, it felt like she was bashed over the head - at least with the pounding headache, which made it harder to place what had happened.

She wish she hadn’t. 

It took a few minutes, sure. Red eyes still half lidded as they looked around the darkened room with just a flicker of magical fire giving her enough light to see the color that was splashed against the bookcases. There was a sudden sting as she sat up, her hand grasping at her chest - quickly taking note as the blanket slid off that she no longer bore her hoodie, but just the lone tank top she’d always wear underneath. Looking down, red hair fell in her face, eyes catching the bandages that were soaked in red by her chest and up her arms. All she could mutter are curses under her breath, sliding her feet to the side of the bed, about to get to her feet, find a way to ditch before the other returned. 

It was too late - the sound of a throat clearing, the door opening carefully as to not make another sound. Guilt filled her as she just looked up to the taller, lips parting as she awkwardly  smiled. “ Ry - Ryder look, ‘m thankful but - “ 

“ I already told Luis and Arthur. “ Something was wrong. She kept watching him breathe, hypnotized almost by the sudden fear that was in the back of her mind. The way he stood, the look in that silver - ish eye…. She tensed without realizing it, watching as he moved closer, dog tags around his neck clicking together. “ We .. Need to talk Kai. “ 

Something was really wrong  !!!  She couldn’t control her moment of scooting back as he drew closer, as each step he took she went further into his blankets, like a child hiding away from responsibility. “ I - I told you before, I get r - roughed up every day - Arthur can attest to that - I’m fine - I - I ain’t dyin’ Ryder s - so come on - . “ 

He stopped, a shaky sigh as he simply sat against the edge of the bed, turning his back to her as he buried his head into his hands. It confused her - enough to stop her from speaking another desperate word of trying to get away from responsibility and lecture. It worried her - this wasn’t like him. He was calm and collected - always without wavering and yet… Now… 

“ … Just… Would you listen to me, for a minute…? “ Ryder’s words had a tremble within them, she watched as he quivered, listened as he took a breath too sharp - hiding a sob. “ … There’s things you’re not telling us… and I get that - that some of this isn’t under your control but… “ He bit his lip, taking a long, hissed breath through teeth. “ Did you really do it…. Did you …. Really give up hope to the point of… to kill yourself … ? “ 

                                oh. 

She went to try and speak a single word, a syllable - wanting to lie once again - but instead… She held his shoulder, teeth gritted to the point of locking her jaw. This - this shouldn’t be happening - and yet here she was, dealing with him ask the one question without acknowledging the truth behind it. How. How - the only way she could think of was of the scars atop her chest, the scars he’d seen over and over again and give her a look of dread over. Always asking if they were from a recent fight - as they looked fresh - and yet she’d always come up with some wild tale of fighting a dagger wielding crocodile, hoping it would just buy her enough time for it to be forgotten about. 

But, it got worse. 

“ … Did we fail so much that - that was your only response? That instead of…. Instead of letting us go you… You’d rather… Draw that dagger and … “ it was like every word was a mountain to climb for the boy, his shoulders tensing as her thumb tried to rub a circle into it - to try and fix this mistake as she had for the last 66 lives … Yet he continued even still: “ Why… Why did you do  – no…. Why won’t you trust us to help you, Kaida? Why do y - you insist on putting the weight of everything on your shoulders - yours alone … We’re here to help  -  we’re here for you no matter what it means -  I didn’t need your hope, we need you. The - the good old you …. The girl that just - that didn’t let hopelessness beat her – 

                      – You don’t have to sacrifice yourself for everyone’s happiness !  “ 

It was only a second, but the sudden pain to her head had begun to make tears rush down her cheeks. The words that came out were from fright - from the fear - from the memory that was slowly crawling its way back up to her thoughts: 

                  “ WHY DOES IT MATTER IF YOU’LL ALL END UP DEAD ANYWAY ! “ 

She remembered. But she wish she hadn’t. 

It was the end of the line, crossing the gates of hell on earth - of the grounds of chaos who always knew how to rub salt into the wound. Six had been left, yet only two would survive the final fight, be it just barely. The blood the stained the tall mage’s clothing, the eye patch against the ground as he struggled to breathe as the bitter cold still fought to freeze their lungs… He chuckled - even as the bodies of their friends family lay deceased not too far away - out of the nervousness and fear in his mind. Still, he stood up shaking legs, calling out her name to not get a response. Panic filled him, his eyes going side to side against the white stained red, spotting the tuffs of hair poking free. 

He rushed over, be it with a few stumbles, pushing the rubble off of her in a huff as his whole body wanted to give. A yelp filled the now desolate halls, pulling her into his grasp with a ginger touch, kissing her forehead so lightly as he hoped he could warm her freezing body with the little amount of body heat he had left. 

It had been a blessing for her eyes to open, to see a puff of water vapor escaping her lungs, a tiny mumble of his name. Her hand careful to raise up and brush his cheek, the usual smile fading away as tears rolled down. At first, he didn’t hear the words she’d muttered, a bit too focused on the blood that dripped from her side, wanting to heal it even though there was nothing left to do such with. 

But it came loud and clear once he focused on her pale lips.  

                              “ I failed again. “ 

It was a tilde wave of emotion, coughing as he pulled her closer, protectively hugging her in his grasp as he mumbled back; “ no… no sweetie we… we failed. This - this isn’t your fault. “

She shook, a sudden eruption of laughter from her lips as she pushed herself away, spinning around as tears rained to the blood drenched snow.  “ I didn’t fail? “ He hit a nerve that he hadn’t realized. “ I didn’t fail?  Do you not see EVERYONE FUCKING DEAD, RYDER ? I FAILED. AGAIN. “ 

“ Kai - “ He went to grab her, to pull her back, to anchor her some way, yet she slapped his hand away, Morpheus forming in her right hand as she spat to the ground. 

“ No. No - you don’t get it - You don’t know how many times I’ve seen you all DIE - you don’t get a damn thing ! “ 

“ Then explain it to me so I can help - ! “ 

The dagger was posed, ready with it’s blade sticking outward towards the other. For a moment, she stood there, shoulders trembling as she took a step back, looking at the ground - flinching and looking away in despair as she saw the puddle of blood that Arthur and Alice laid in, the icicles that ripped through Vera… The gunshot to Rei … The lacerations to Luis. 

Addolorato had a sick way of humor… Changing the deaths every time. 

“ … Explain it to you? “ she whispered, eyes grazing the blade in her hand, a smile slowly forming as her breathing became shorter. “ It’s not like you’ll remember this anyway. You never do. “ 

He was seconds too late. Morpheus rolling in her grip until the dagger was poised to herself, before in a quick motion… 

It found purchase in her chest. 

Her ears filled with static as the world darkened in color, mouthed words from the other only being given a weak smile as blood dripped. Not a single word against her lips as in the time of a heartbeat, the world reset… 

How many life times ago was it  - that was all she could ask herself as she was sat there, hugging him around the neck, crying into his shoulders like a baby.  She hadn’t realized such had been going on for an hour or so, of her just apologizing until her throat went dry. The room was silent besides her whimpering - yet there was comfort in the touches that brushed against her cold hands, the tiny whispers of “ it’s okay “ finally bringing her back to reality. 

“ This time will be different. “ He spoke aloud, slowly turning as her grip loosened slightly. In a matter of moments, they’d both fumbled against the sheets, her head burying itself against his chest as she trembled more and more. “ We’ll make a difference this time. “ 

“ D - don’t say that … N - not again… “ 

“ And what if I’m right - “ he rested his head atop hers, holding back tears of his own as he rubbed her back. “ What if this time will be different? What if… We do it this time. “ 

“ I don’t know if we can anymore…. “ 

He huffed for a moment, pulling her closer, hearing pop from her spine that seemed to have been from the tension. 

  “ Kaida, we’re family, and family never gives up on each other, no matter what - get that through your skull. I’m never giving up on you.  “ 

[lovelylogans]

my true love gave to me

ships: platonic lamp, prinxiety, logicality

warnings: drinking, swearing, food mentions, jokes of the “it’s so cute i’m going to die” variety

words: 14,210

read on ao3

Twelve broken cookies, eleven homemade ornaments, ten crumpled solo cups, nine choreographed dance numbers, eight pissed-off mall elves, seven kept promises, six kinds of wrapping paper, five mismatched shoes, four doofus roommates, three different drinking games, two mugs of coffee, and the smell of smoke at 4 AM.

The original song might be catchier, but honestly, Virgil prefers his version. Even with all the hilarity and hysteria.

Something is burning. The smell's what wakes him, and it takes him about three seconds to identify the scent of smoke.

Fantastic. Virgil loves starting the day with a surge of adrenaline straight out of the gate.

Virgil stumbles out of bed, managing to avoid bouncing off the wall, and careens his way to the kitchen, feeling a little bit like his body is a bumper car being piloted by a sugar-high toddler. Distantly, he thinks he probably should have put a shirt on, in case he has to flee the building at the tail-end of December, but he can't really bring himself to care about that just now.

He comes to a stop in the doorway of the kitchen, and makes a sound that could only be compared to a particularly inquisitive squeaky hinge.

Two heads snap around from where they are focused on something on the kitchen table. Virgil leans a little to see what it is and nearly overbalances. He thinks he can hear his adrenal glands screeching to a halt in sheer confusion. Logan, wild-eyed, throws himself casually atop the kitchen table, and Roman is beaming at him at full wattage.

"Hello, friend-o!"

If the rest of Virgil's brain cells were awake, that would be the point where the Kill Bill sirens would start going off. Firstly, because Roman only calls people friend when he wants something from them. Secondly, the last time Roman and Logan teamed up in the shroud of darkness it resulted in what Patton politely terms as "a science experiment mishap" and Virgil terms "sweet fucking fuck, you idiots, we're going to lose our deposit, and my mind, and then our lives, in that order." Thirdly, there is still the scent of something burning.

As it is, he's too distracted by the brightness and eagerness of Roman's smile. His currently awake brain cells have folded up the list currently titled "You Shit, You're In Love With Roman And Now You're Resigned To Suffering In Silence Here Are All The Reasons" and is beating him about the head with it. God, why does he have to live with his crush, it's the worst thing ever.

His brain finally seizes on a talking point, and he says, "Fire?" in a voice still gruff from sleep. Belatedly, he crosses his arms over his bare chest.

"No, no, nonononono, what?" Roman says, laughing the fakest laugh Virgil has ever heard while exchanging a frantic look with Logan, who is posing on the table in a way that wouldn't be out of character for Roman, but for Logan looks like the least natural pose possible. Logan is also currently gesturing to Roman to get Virgil to leave the room, as if Virgil can't see him.

"You look sleepy, Virgil," Roman says, voice sugary-sweet, arm wrapping tight around his shoulders and steering him away from the kitchen table of mystery. Roman's arm is very warm, and his body is a tense warm line against Virgil's side. The material of his sweater is very soft along his bare skin. Virgil is quietly dying, just a little. "Aren't you just so sleepy?"

Virgil's body traitorously leans into Roman, and he mumbles, "What are you two doing?"

"Shh, nothing, nothing, don't you worry your pretty little head about it," Roman says, and Virgil is aware he's being steered out of the kitchen and thereby away from whatever apocalypse-worthy thing Roman and Logan have deemed fit to create in the dead of night, but he's also very very tired. And also, Roman just called him pretty.

"But I smelled smoke," Virgil says, sleepy and confused and a little punch drunk off human contact, and before he knows it, Roman has shoved him unceremoniously onto his own bed. 

"Did you?" Roman asks, attempting to wrap Virgil in all the blankets like the world's most emo burrito. 

Virgil tries in vain to wriggle his arms loose, which results in a five minute detour of the conversation while Roman attempts to bundle him up and Virgil attempts to keep the ability to breathe without being smothered to death.

This ends with Roman laying mostly on behind and slightly on top of Virgil, pinning him to the bed, and Virgil making a few token wriggles of malcontent but really mostly kind of enjoying the weight and heat of Roman's chest to really try anything. He is very warm. He should probably be trying to get back up again but all his brain is capable of is a half-asleep stupor, stunned and lazy with it.

"I know what you're doing," Virgil mumbles from where his face is mostly squashed into the pillows. He now knows what it's like to be the little spoon with Roman, this is going to ruin his life, but also this is the best thing that has happened to him this week.

"That's nice, Virgil," Roman says distractedly, and Virgil feels the sensation of Roman's arm leaving his body. He supposes this might mean that Logan and Roman are having some kind of gesticular conversation behind his back, but as Virgil is pinned, he can't exactly eavesdrop. Eyes-drop? Since he'd be looking at it.

Virgil wants to laugh. Patton would like that one.

Patton. If Roman's snuggle-warfare is going to work—and it probably will, at this point of exhaustion Virgil's only requirements for sleep are "vaguely horizontal" and "warm" and Roman knows that—then Patton will be the only one making sure the apartment doesn't explode, and Patton sleeps with the kind of force that would make hibernating bears weep with envy.

He is the last line of defense. If it were just Roman or just Logan awake, Virgil would leave them to it. But Roman and Logan are a duo to be reckoned with. Logan and Roman are the type of people who are convinced whatever they'd create would be used to ascend to the astral plane with Africa by Toto blaring in the background. Roman and Logan are the type of people who think they could create something that would be used to unlock the final secrets of alchemy. Roman and Logan would merrily burn down the whole apartment complex if it furthered one of their brain children.

Virgil has a sudden and terrifying mental image of being tackled by dozens of tiny Roman-and-Logan look-a-likes, whilst they both cackle proudly in the background.

Right. Okay. Either he needs to caffeinate or sleep, and he can do neither of those could happen while they're in danger of Roman and Logan realizing An Idea.

Virgil pushes himself up onto an elbow, intent on going to see what Logan was blocking from sight, and very suddenly, Virgil is on his back, Roman laying on top of him with a wild light in his eyes.

"Um," Virgil says, because now he knows how Roman feels on top of him this is the best and worst EVER, "you, uh, realize this is just making me more curious. Right?"

Roman's weight on top of him is—nice, to say the least. There's an odd sense of comfort from being boxed in like this, which is saying something, because if it were anyone else Virgil would probably be halfway to freaking out. As it is—

Roman blinks down at him, elbows on either side of Virgil's head, close enough that Virgil can pick out all the little golden flecks in his eyes. "There's nothing to be curious about," he says, high-pitched. "I, um. What if I just really wanted to tuck you in?"

Virgil rolls his eyes. "Sure. And Logan wanted me to draw him like a French girl, and the smoke was just a scented candle, right?"

"I'm so glad you've understood the situation," Roman says brightly. The fact that he is currently on top of Virgil hasn't fazed him at all. "Now, don't you feel better? Relaxed enough to sleep? Preferably until noon?"

Virgil's eyes narrow. "I'll accept your terms," he says warningly, "if you promise me that whatever you and Logan are doing won't affect our security deposit."

"No, no, of course not," Roman says soothingly, and adds, more seriously, "Really, Virgil. I promise. You know how protective Logan gets over the deposit. The most danger we're in is a couple of burnt fingers, maybe." He pauses, and then leans in close enough that his lips are brushing Virgil's ear FUCK, "It's a matter of Logan's pride, really. I'm doing him a favor."

Virgil really hopes that Roman cannot feel his pulse from where their chests are pressed together. "Logan's pride?" He whispers, half to the air and half into Roman's shoulder, eyes squeezed shut.

"Mmm," Roman hums into his ear. "He required a bit of creative flair for a certain someone's present."

It clicks then. Patton. Of course. In the cover of night, when Patton would only be roused by the sound of sirens, and even that was a stretch. He supposes they just hadn't counted on Virgil's panic response. Logan and Patton's mutual crushes were the worst kept secret within the apartment, except, it seems, to Logan and Patton themselves, who were both equally convinced they would be resigned to pining away in misery forever.

"Ah," Virgil says. "I'll, uh. I'll just stay here, then. Where you've tucked me in so nicely."

He waits patiently, trying not to spontaneously combust, and adds, "You, um. You can get off of me now, Roman, you've got me convinced."

"Oh!" Roman says, and he draws back, clearing his throat as he awkwardly clambers off of Virgil. "Of course. Ah. Sleep well."

A little cold, very conscious of his bare chest, Virgil draws the blankets around himself tighter and turns back onto his side. Distantly, he sees Roman going to where Logan is standing in the doorway, and he can hear the low murmur of Logan's voice, too soft for him to catch, but he can definitely see the way Roman's shoving his shoulder as they walk away.

When he's certain that they're out of sight, Virgil turns his face into the pillow and screams a little.

2 DAYS TO CHRISTMAS

In the morning—actually the morning, it's a Christmas miracle—Virgil rolls out of bed and tugs on a shirt, this time, before slouching to the kitchen.

"Mornin', kiddo!"

A warm mug is pressed into his hands. Virgil doesn't even look to see what it is before immediately working on transferring the contents of the mug into his body, right now. Bless Patton, it's coffee, because Patton knows that Virgil would chug an entire pitcher of coffee if given the chance.

When he breaks to breathe, he makes a grunting noise of greeting at Patton, who smiles and asks if he wants eggs or cereal. 

"Whatever you're having," Virgil mumbles, and starts drinking more of his coffee. He glances around the kitchen surreptitiously—there are no obvious signs of damage, which means Roman kept his promise.

Patton goes about pouring them two bowls of artificially bright cereal, and Virgil pours himself another mug of coffee.

"Good morning!" Roman trills, swooping into the kitchen with all of his usual obnoxious morning-person-ness. Virgil, huddling over his cereal bowl, is suddenly very conscious of his unbrushed rat's nest of hair. He makes another sound of greeting that could be perceived as friendly.

Roman angles his smile at Virgil, and Virgil tries his best not to choke on his cereal. Roman probably knows exactly disarming he is, and he certainly isn't above flirting to get out of trouble, as shown by the last science experiment mishap/sweet fucking fuck, you idiots, we're going to lose our deposit, and my mind, and then our lives, in that order/time the landlord marched in to have a talk with Roman and staggered out looking like he'd seen the face of God. How does he not even look slightly disastrous in the mornings, life is unfair.

"What's the plan for today, Padre?" Roman's asking, making himself a mug of tea, or whatever, because Roman's a functional adult who's severed his ties to caffeine, whereas Virgil is stuck in a dark and captivating affair with it. 

But Patton's frowning at the doorway, fiddling with the sleeves of his cat hoodie, the one Logan had gotten him after a hard week that turned into a hard couple of months, and he has subsequently worn religiously. "That's odd," he says, in an undertone. "Usually Logan's up by now, I wonder if he's sick?" He turns his big, doe eyes onto Virgil. "Did he look sick yesterday?"

Virgil opens his mouth to suggest that maybe Logan's tired because he was up at 4 AM trying to clandestinely make something for Patton with Roman, but Roman's already winding his arm around Patton's shoulder, shooting Virgil a look as he does so. 

"Maybe our resident Einstein's just taking a bit more rest, hm? It is break, after all. I'm sure he'll love whatever idea you've got planned for us." Roman squeezes Patton's shoulder, shaking him a little bit, comfortingly. 

"You think so?" Patton says, a little breathless, looking like his eyes will start glimmering like some kind of anime protagonist any second now.

At that moment, Virgil manages to look out into the hallway, and leans hard enough to see Logan, who is straightening his necktie and staring at himself in the mirror. Virgil presses his lips together to keep from laughing. Primping? Roman's style, definitely. But not Logan's. Unless—

"Hey, Patton, he's coming down the hallway," Virgil says loudly.

Logan jumps in the hallway, glowers at Virgil as he weakly smooths his hair back, and then clears his throat, striding into the kitchen. He goes straight to the fridge, pulling out that niche organic jam that Patton bought once and is now a permanent staple on their shopping list because it was a jam that both Roman and Logan actually liked. He places two slices of bread into the toaster, and pours himself a mug of dark, bitter coffee.

"What were you saying, Patton?" Logan says, attention on the toaster so he can't see the aggressive heart eyes Patton is sending at his back. Virgil's phone buzzes, and he glances down at it.

sir sing-a-lot: can we shove them under some mistletoe today?

Virgil's lips twitch, and he smirks at Roman in agreement, rolling his eyes. 

dark and stormy knight: honestly if i have to endure another logan monologue about "feeLINGS????" i might actually go full rom-com and lock them in a closet together

Roman snorts, inelegantly. Virgil might die, it's one of the cutest sounds he's ever heard. The "You Shit, You're In Love With Roman And Now You're Resigned To Suffering In Silence Here Are All The Reasons" has that sound on it like fifty times, but Virgil doesn't care, it's going on there again.

"Well," Patton says, straightening himself up, "There's this thing me and my friends used to do as kids, and I thought it could be fun, you know, to make sure we all get into the Christmas spirit!"

There might be someone who would deny Patton something when he's looking so excited, but that person absolutely did not live in this apartment building.

"Sounds fantastic!"

"Fine by me."

"Adequate."

Patton laughs, looking delighted and a little confused. "I haven't even told you all what it is yet!"

"Doesn't matter," Roman declares. "Logan decided what we did yesterday, Virgil decided the day before, and I've got dibs on tomorrow. Today is your day, Pat."

They did. Logan decided on going to see a rendition of A Christmas Carol, an option Roman had joyously agreed with, and then they'd had a group dinner after that. Virgil's day had been marathoning Christmas movies, munching on popcorn and candy canes and Patton's cookies. 

Logan nods from where he's smearing copious amounts of jam over his toast. Virgil is busy slurping the last of his coffee, but he manages to give a thumbs-up of agreement.

"Okay," Patton says, after everyone's finished their breakfasts, and holds out a Santa's hat. "Everyone, take a name! If you get your own, put it back."

The other three shuffle around, and Logan sticks his hand in first, then Roman, then Virgil, then Patton. Of course, Patton draws his own name, so they have to do it all again, and Virgil glances at the name scrawled in Patton's sloppy print. Logan.

"Everyone got it?" Patton says, and the other three nod. "Okay, who's got who?"

They all blink.

"I thought this was secret Santa," Virgil says.

"No, it's Not-So-Secret Santa, there's a twist," Patton says happily. "See, look, I got you, Virgil."

"I got Patton," Roman says.

"Logan," Virgil says.

"Roman," Logan says, holding up the scrap of paper as evidence.

"Ooh, that works out so well!" Patton squeaks happily. "Okay, so the rules of Not-So-Secret Santa are pretty easy to follow. Since you've got me, Roman, and Virgil's got Logan, you two are on a team!" 

A team. On a team with Roman. Virgil doesn't care if Patton tells them the rules to Not-So-Secret-Santa are to immediately punch your person in the face, he will break Logan's nose if it means he spends extended alone time with Roman. Logan's a bro, he'd understand, he'd probably do the same to Virgil to ensure alone time with Patton.

"So that means you and me are together, Logan," Patton says, and they take a moment to exchange Totally Platonic Longing Eye Contact Between Best Buddies, before Patton clears his throat and looks back down at his scrap of paper, then at Virgil and Roman. 

"Anyways," he says, "there's a dollar limit—five or ten, ideally—and a time limit, too, but we'll decide on that when we get to the mall and see how busy it is. We just get a gift—something small, or cheap, or funny, or something you think the person would like, that's all."

Oh God, the mall. Two days before Christmas. A Sunday. It's going to be a zoo.

"So get thinking, and get dressed!" Patton says happily. "We'll head out once everyone's ready."

Right. A cheap gift for Logan. What would Logan even want? Logan's one of the least materialistic person he's met. 

A vision blooms in his mind, rapidly, and Virgil feels himself grinning as he reaches for his usual hoodie. It's perfect. It's wonderful.

"Dear God, you look absolutely unholy," Roman comments as they both step into the living room, carefully fastening a bright red scarf around his neck. Virgil narrowly avoids stepping into the Christmas tree, as he has been since Patton put it up. The things is mostly decorated with a sparse collection of ornaments Patton and Roman made in their spare time, the chain of colored paper Virgil and Logan had spent a long, dull day making that loops around the tree three times, and truly obnoxious amounts of tinsel and fake snow. It's horrific. Virgil loves it. 

"I've just thought of the perfect gift for Logan," Virgil says brightly. "It's just a matter of making sure they've actually got it."

Roman grins at him, a little confused but happy nonetheless, but Logan and Patton are stepping into the living room, and they all bundle into Patton's car. Patton puts on some CD of instrumental Christmas music that Logan loves, because he's super gone and has probably listened to it sappily whilst drawing hearts and doodling Logan into all his notebooks. Logan smiles when he hears it, and Patton looks as if he is about to ascend through the roof of the car.

Virgil looks down at his phone when it buzzes.

sir sing-a-lot: ffs please don't tell me that he put this on because of logan sir sing-a-lot: wait, of course he did sir sing-a-lot: because they're in LOOOOOOOOOOOVE 

dark and stormy knight: how much you wanna bet that they're late meeting us because of all the breaks they have to take to stare into each other's eyes

He glances over as Roman's phone buzzes, and watches him grin at the screen. Virgil directs his own little smile towards his phone screen.

sir sing-a-lot: i think we have a Holiday Mission, Brendon Urie

If he wasn't in the same car as Roman, he would absolutely be pressing a hand to his chest in shocked awe and flattery. As it is, this is going on the "You Shit, You're In Love With Roman And Now You're Resigned To Suffering In Silence Here Are All The Reasons" list.

dark and stormy knight: first of all i am not worthy second of all ???

sir sing-a-lot: Operation Mistletoe sir sing-a-lot: i promise you that by the time school resumes the nerds will be making lovey-dovey eyes at each other with full knowledge that the other likes them back, and so hopefully they will contain their sap to their own rooms

dark and stormy knight: you have to do literally nothing to convince me

sir sing-a-lot: so clearly the first step is this shopping trip, but how much can we coordinate if we're shopping? 

Virgil angles a look at Roman, who's staring at him, eyebrows lifted.

dark and stormy knight: so what do you propose?

 If he's judging by the state of the parking lot, Virgil would say they're completely and totally fucked. He takes a couple seconds to draw some deep breaths before they all exit the car, because crowds aren't exactly his favorite thing, much less driven-mad-by-holidays crowds, but he isn't going to be the person to strike down all the fun. He can handle this.

Suddenly, someone's hand is around his wrist, and he hears Roman shout, "COME ON, VIRGIL!"

He angles a look back at Patton and Logan, but all they do is send him equally coordinated winks, because Virgil had freaked out in front of Logan about the "You Shit, You're In Love With Roman And Now You're Resigned To Suffering In Silence Here Are All The Reasons" list and Logan had called in Patton in a panic about emotions and also Virgil's anxiety, so there's no help at all there.

He doesn't have time to reflect on that before Roman's pulling him, half-running through the parking lot, and into the door, where Roman adjusts so he's holding Virgil's hand, everything is FINE—

"Okay," Roman says brightly, "if I recall correctly, your gift for Logan's over this way, come on, hurry, we have to lose them—"

"We don't have to lose them, they're walking across the parking lot like normal people," Virgil complains, but he follows along to where Roman's pulling him.

Down ten dollars and hiding his purchase in a shopping bag, Virgil trails after Roman as he trawls the various stands for the perfect gift for Patton. It doesn't take him very long to find one, and the various things needed to dress it up to Roman's standards, and Roman's leading him to a relatively quiet alcove. Passing suburban mothers give them the stink-eye, because clearly two college-aged boys in a small space could mean nothing good.

"Okay," Roman says, hands on his hips. "So, first things first, we need to find out where Patton and Logan are, and then sneak up on them."

"So how do we find Patton," Virgil muses.

Roman pauses, tilting his hip, and then snaps his fingers. "I've got a plan."

Five minutes later, Virgil is being glowered at by a woman who is juggling two babies, but he cannot bring himself to care, as Roman is pressed into his side.

"If this doesn't work we're going back to my plan," Virgil grumbles, which is going back to the car, locking themselves inside it, and leaving Logan and Patton to wander the mall for them for however long Roman and Virgil can stick it out.

"It'll work, trust me," Roman says confidently, glancing down at his phone and then scanning the food court, and then immediately whacking Virgil's shoulder in excitement. "See, what did I tell you!"

There, at the edges of a line for the cookie booth Roman Snapchatted to Patton, are Patton and Logan.

"Princey, I take back all my words of doubt," Virgil breathes. God, he really shouldn't have doubted it—cookies were Patton's ultimate vice.

"As you should," Roman preens, and then, "What do you think they're talking about?"

Virgil flattens his voice into his best Logan impression. "Cookies? Anything you desire, Patton."

"Oh, Logan," Roman catches on, sending the bounce factor in his voice to over nine thousand, "The only thing I could possibly love more in this world than these cookies is yo-ouu!" His voice goes into a ridiculously high-pitched Mariah Carey impression, and Virgil has to muffle his laughter against his hoodie sleeves. 

They cycle through a variety of topics that Logan and Patton may or may not have been discussing, including: how dashing, suave, and debonair Roman is, how cool and edgy Virgil is, the possibilities of eloping to Vegas, how they were going to give Virgil and Roman all of their winnings from Vegas, and the dog they were all going to adopt right after this.

Logan and Patton eventually get close enough that they can hear them, though, and Roman and Virgil duck down even lower, shushing each other, still giggling a little.

"—think Roman and Virgil are doing, anyways?"

Like that, the laughter's gone. Please don't say anything about my crush on Roman, please don't say anything about my crush on Roman, Virgil thinks, his latest attempts at telepathy. God, that would be the worst reveal ever, and already Virgil is starting to hold his breath.

"Well, it's not last year," Patton says, "They've come a long way, haven't they?"

They share a laugh. Virgil doesn't think Roman's breathing, either.

"They have," Logan agrees. "I thought that living in the same apartment would've aggregated their relationship, not softened it."

"It did at first, though," Patton says. "Remember that time they were yelling at each other, and I was kind of upset and you took me out for milkshakes?"

Roman and Virgil exchange a look of surprise. The fact that neither of them had heard about this—

"At one AM," Logan says, voice a little softer, the way it only ever softens around Patton. "And we got cookies from that late-night bakery and parked on the roof of one of the parking garages."

Roman's hand grips his upper arm, and Virgil looks at him. THAT SOUNDS LIKE A DATE, Roman mouths exaggeratedly, and Virgil nods in agreement.

"And we sat on the hood of your car, and you told me all about—"

"—the planet's rotation slowing down because of tidal forces. I remember."

They're staring into each other's eyes, and seriously, how the hell do they not understand that they're in love with each other, Virgil's going to knock their heads together if Operation Mistletoe doesn't work. But Roman's never broken a promise to him, and then the vendor's calling them forwards, and Logan's already digging out his wallet.

"Logan, you don't have to—"

"I want to," Logan says, stubborn, and that—hits Virgil in a way he didn't expect. Because Logan runs budgets five times over, goes down to argue with the admission's office on a monthly basis about his various scholarships and tuition costs, pinches pennies like his life depends on it. And Patton knows it. They all do.  

"Well," Patton says, soft. "Only if you let me buy you coffee later."

Logan doesn't respond, only hands Patton his cookie. Patton's smiling, happy and a little sad, and Logan clears his throat.

"So, do you have any ideas on what to get Virgil? I'm pretty sure I know what I'll get Roman."

Roman tugs at Virgil's arm, and they hustle as discreetly as they can after Logan and Patton. It takes a little while to shake off the sense of seriousness that settled over them before, but it only takes Patton innocently lifting up an electrically pink hoodie and asking Logan, "For Virgil?" to send Roman into hysteric laughter.

Virgil shoves him, and apparently it sends him into a grandma, and the grandma goes flying into the mall Santa display, bumping her against the sleigh and sending the presents in the sack on the sleigh flying. A swarm of mall elves descend upon them and immediately threaten escorting them from the premises if they insist on causing trouble. Being rounded up by eight people in curved shoes and belled hats just makes Roman laugh harder as Virgil desperately apologizes and hopes that neither Logan or Patton look to see what the disturbance is.

Virgil gets his revenge, though, when Logan dryly suggests to Patton that he could buy Roman some music that isn't Broadway or Disney in addition to his other gift, to expand his horizons, and Roman looks so offended that Virgil chokes on his own spit laughing at him, which makes Roman thump on the back, then rub his hand up and down his shoulders.

"You—your face," Virgil wheezes into his hoodie sleeves, and at last manages to compose himself, straightening to stand, Roman's hand still gentle between his shoulder blades, which stretches to his arm wrapped around his shoulder, tugging him in for a friendly little hug. 

Or at least, that's how he's sure Roman thinks of it. Virgil's heart is doing a happy little tap dance in his chest, complete with overenthusiastic jazz hands, and Virgil lets himself soak in it, just for a few seconds. 

Then he pulls away, looking around. "Did we lose them?"

Roman curses, stepping back and turning in a circle, before both of their phones buzz.

sunshine personified: hey there!! logan and i noticed that you're just behind us! want to stop and exchange gifts in starbucks?? we can walk around some more after if you both want!

"Caught in the act," Roman sighs, and sends a suitably cheery response back. He takes Virgil's hand, and says, "So, we'll walk around more, and maybe conveniently lose them?"

"Sounds good to me," Virgil says, mouth dry. Roman's hand is warm, and his fingers lace neatly between Virgil's. Right on the "You Shit, You're In Love With Roman And Now You're Resigned To Suffering In Silence Here Are All The Reasons" list, then.

Roman looks around, squinting around the crowd. "Starbucks can't be that far from here, can it? Which way is it again?"

They end up doubling back towards the food court, where Patton has somehow snagged them a table and is waving at them enthusiastically as Logan sips on a coffee Virgil's sure Patton bought for him, like he's not entirely sure Patton is real. 

Virgil picks up his order—peppermint mocha, because now his coffee is festive—as Roman beguiles Patton and Logan with the story of how Virgil knocked him into a little old lady, and ended with them being threatened by the elf cops. Virgil flushes and groans in all the right places, even going as far to hide his face in his hands again, and Patton reaches over to rub his shoulders bracingly, and—

It's nice. It's really, really nice. The day's been really nice. The tiny gremlin that lives inside Virgil's brain is just waiting to see what will go wrong, but he ignores it the best he can. The day has been good. He's having fun. He just has to, you know, ignore and repress all of his feelings to ensure that keeps happening. He shouldn't be feeling anxious or nervous or depressed or anything, it's—fine. He should be fine. He is surrounded by people he loves and who love him back and they are having a nice day out.

"Gifts time!" Patton sings, wriggling excitedly in his seat, and he claps his hands. "Should we exchange and open them all at once, or one at a time?"

"One at a time," Roman says, smiling brilliantly, and he holds out his shopping bag to Patton. "For the one who came up with the idea today, hm?"

"Aw, Roman," Patton says, blushingly, and accepts the bag as Roman doffs an imaginary cap. Virgil smiles, trying to make himself really feel it, and decides to narrow his focus on Patton.

Patton squeaks happily over the adorable stuffed kitten Roman bought him, with a sky-blue ribbon-collar ("for accessorizing," Roman declares) and Patton happily squeezes Roman into a little side-hug. 

"So, Virgil, here's yours," Patton says, passing across the plastic bag, and Virgil draws out... a thing? It looks like a tiny stuffed monster.

"It's a worry doll," Patton says, picking it up and opening its mouth. "See, you can write down whatever's stressing you out and put it in its mouth! So, um. So even if you aren't in a place where you can talk about it with us, there's still someone to hear about it, in a way."

Virgil is fully aware that his face is doing something, but he doesn't bother to hide it. God, Virgil doesn't deserve to even be on the same continent as this man. Because Patton knew all of it—the way he was raised by parents who seemed, at best, mostly confused by him, and stepped back from disciplinary action at a young age, because they thought he was a good kid, when in actuality Virgil was just scared to break the rules, overridden by irrational thoughts of getting kicked out and punished. Because Patton knows how Virgil's words get all tangled and and choked up, caught in his throat and in his chest, and how Virgil could barely manage to fumble out a request for help even on his worst days. And Virgil is working on it, he really is, but—

Virgil reaches blindly and grabs onto Patton's wrist, squeezing tight. He doesn't quite want to leap over the table to hug him, so this is going to have to do for now. A corner of his mouth is quirked up in a smile, and he's staring at the hideous little burlap monster that's landed between them—and then he looks up at Patton.

"Thank you," he says, and he's proud that his voice comes out sounding only a little croakier than normal. 

Patton's hand grabs his wrist back, and he squeezes tight, voice warm and gentle. "You are so very welcome, Virgil."

They both squeeze one more time, and Virgil draws back first, clearing his throat and gathering the little worry monster to his chest, avoiding everyone's eyes as he downs about half of his coffee. When he feels slightly more normal, and also like he's about to pass out from air shortage, he resurfaces, clears his throat, and shoves the shopping bag at Logan. He could really use a laugh just now, to break the tension.

Logan's brow creases as he looks into the bag, and creases further as he draws out his gift.

"What is this," he says flatly, staring at it.

"It's an emoji pillow," Virgil says, inordinately pleased with himself. 

Logan turns it around, as if to compare the done-ness of his face to the crying-laughing hysteria of the pillow.

"Thanks," Logan says. "I hate it."

And that's it, the deadpan needed to snap the tension—Virgil starts laughing first, shortly followed by Patton, and Roman's booming laughter does Logan in—his straight face cracks, and he starts to laugh, too, looking resignedly at the pillow and then back at Virgil and at the pillow again, but Virgil's gone on the certain type of laughter that only comes after someone has come very close to crying. 

As their laughter is dying down, Logan, smirking, hands over his bag to Roman, who unwraps it with glee, and blinks, confused, pulling out a gold-backed mirror, glancing into it and back at Logan.

"A mirror?" Roman says.

"Truly, you'd like nothing more than to receive yourself," Logan says, and Roman's free hand flies to his chest and there's a reappearance of his offended face, and Virgil's cackling at him again, arm wrapped tight around his stomach, cheeks hurting from smiling so wide.

"Look," Patton says, holding the emoji pillow next to Virgil's face, "it's you!"

That sets everyone off, then, and Virgil can't even bring himself to care that there are hordes of people turning to stare at the four college boys guffawing stupidly at an emoji pillow.

Yeah. It's a nice day out.

CHRISTMAS EVE

"Oh, what a beautiful mooooooorr-ning! Oh what a beautiful day! I got a beautiful feeeeeeeeeeeeeling! Everything's going my way!"

Virgil jerks awake, and it takes him a few moments to comprehend what is going on just then.

Roman, who is currently holding a travel cup of coffee directly under his nose, must have serenaded him awake, which, his voice, god fucking dammit, and also he must have been out already, because he looks all dashingly windswept and handsome, cheeks a little flushed from the cold, fuck Virgil's life.

Virgil accepts the coffee and goes about putting the majority of it into his body as fast as he can, and emerges, blinking at him and making a hand gesture that he hopes conveys explain.

"I've decided what I'm doing today, and it will graciously go towards Operation Mistletoe," Roman declares grandly. "Of course, if you're uncomfortable with it, we can always brainstorm, but I really think—"

Virgil grunts at him, gestures a go on, and starts drinking the rest of his coffee. Roman waits patiently until he surfaces again.

"A Christmas party," Roman blurts out, and Virgil blinks at him.

"A what," he says, voice a growl, roughened from sleep. 

"It won't be anything too crazy," Roman adds soothingly. "Just some theater people, maybe some of Logan's nerd friends, and some people Patton knows. Some mistletoe, a bit of a tipsy confession, and we've got a classic rom-com on our hands."

Virgil blinks. He's pretty sure there's dried drool on his face, and he's shirtless again. Why does Roman always see him at this time of day.

Roman leans in closer, and adds, soft and beseeching, "Virgil, I promise, if you aren't comfortable, I won't do it, we can make it something else—"

Promise. Roman has never, ever broken a promise for as long as Virgil has known him. Roman takes his word very seriously. It's on the "You Shit, You're In Love With Roman And Now You're Resigned To Suffering In Silence Here Are All The Reasons" list. It's one of the things Virgil really admires about him, crush aside.

Virgil takes a second, and says, "Promise me I won't be stuck with clean-up?"

"Promise!" He practically sings. "I'll handle all of it, Virgil, you're just in charge of making sure that they're in the same room as each other. They'll gravitate to each other anyways. Oh, this will be wonderful," he declares, and whirls his way out of Virgil's room, leaving Virgil to blink at his coffee and belatedly scrub a hand up and down his face.

When Virgil finally emerges from his room, Patton and Logan are sitting at the table as Roman pitches his party proposal, in full Dads mode.

"Virgil said he was okay with it, too, so it's just you two to agree," Roman adds, nodding to Virgil, and Patton and Logan both swivel to look at him.

"Are you?" Patton says.

"Yeah," Virgil says, pouring himself another mug. "Sounds fun. Roman said it wouldn't be too big."

He can practically hear their exchanged glances—the "Virgil Agreed to Socialization!" one—and Patton says slowly, "Well, as long as you know that since it's your party—"

"My cleanup, yes, I know, Virgil's already told me," Roman says brightly. "Invite anyone you want, it'll be just a lowkey little thing—"

Roman picks up his phone, looking like the world's busiest little social butterfly, and Virgil slurps down more coffee. They're in for an interesting day, and an interesting night. If Roman's plan goes as he thinks it will, then Operation Mistletoe will be done. Another promise kept.

For most of the day, Virgil barricades himself in his room. It's nothing personal against any of his roommates, and they all knew it. If there's going to be a big social event, then Virgil needs to charge for it. So he spends most of his day watching A Nightmare Before Christmas, scrolling through social media, and listening to his favorite albums. He gets a text from Roman to start expecting people at 9, which really meant 9:30, but regardless, he drags himself out of bed at 8 to start getting ready.

Eyeliner, eyeshadow, and because Virgil's leaning into the Jack Skellington today, he goes with a dark lip stain. The theater people Roman's invited will love it. He tugs on an outfit—dark ripped jeans, black t-shirt, Christmas sweater shockingly similar in design to his favorite hoodie, gutterstomping black boots—and slouches out of his room, into the living room.

He takes a couple seconds to stare, his brain currently blaring "YOU SHIT, YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH ROMAN AND NOW YOU'RE RESIGNED TO SUFFERING IN SILENCE HERE ARE ALL THE REASONS" as his eyes sweep up and down what he can see of Roman's outfit, from behind—he's wearing a tight red button-up with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, a well-tailored pair of black slacks, the only ridiculous, incongruous thing with his outfit is his own pair of boots—more suited for adventuring than gutterstomping. 

Virgil clears his throat, tearing his eyes towards where Roman's eyes would be, and says, "Anything I can do to help?"

Roman spins, and his eyes do an up-down-up-down-up-down-up over Virgil's outfit, coming to rest on his makeup. Virgil shifts—he's second-guessing it already, maybe he just looks like an idiot, he can wipe it off, and change his whole outfit too, actually.

"Is it too—?" Virgil starts, and Roman practically shouts, "NO!" so loudly Virgil startles a little.

"I mean, ah, no," Roman says. "It's perfect. You look perfect."

Virgil scuffs the toe of his boot along the floor, clears his throat, and swallows, before he repeats to his feet, "Anything I can do to help?"

"Patton might need help," Roman says, "you should check."

Virgil nods, and heads to the kitchen, where Patton is surrounded by plates of cookies, and he's setting a tray of cookies onto the stove, presumably to cool.

"Anything I can do to help?" Virgil repeats, and Patton whirls around.

He's wearing a sweater that declares Bah Humpug, with a picture of a pug wearing a santa hat on it. It's bedazzled. Very adorable. 

"Look at you, kiddo, that makeup's so neat!" Patton exclaims. "We're just waiting on this last tray to cool, really, but maybe you could open up that pack of cups over there and set them on the table—?"

Virgil nods, and tears open the plastic surrounding the red solo cups. He places them carefully on the table that holds a modest selection of alcohol, including a bowl full of punch and supplies to make eggnog. Virgil straightens the bottles, cursory, and starts a conversation with Patton about dogs and Christmas. Patton's plating the cookies when Logan's voice comes floating down the halls.

"I look ridiculous," he complains.

"You look hot as hell, shut up, I wish I had your arms," Roman responds.

Virgil and Patton exchange looks, and Patton's toting the plate out into the living room, Virgil hot on his heels. 

Roman's saying, "Logan, really, cut loose, you deserve it," and suddenly they veer into sight from Logan's room. "Tell Logan he looks hot," Roman complains.

Logan's wearing...something that definitely came out of Roman's closet. It's a white shirt, short-sleeved, almost like the usual style of polo shirt that he usually wore, but then Virgil noticed the mesh. It's almost a classy amount of mesh, if such a thing exists, in a sort of floral pattern. Belatedly, he realizes that Logan's wearing makeup, too, something that makes him look even sharper and more angular, and a bit of glitter? It works for him. It works for him really, really well.

There's a clatter, and Virgil turns a little to see Patton, slack-jawed, the plate of cookies on the ground, the cookies hopelessly crushed. Patton is not even slightly moving to pick them up.

Logan's arms go to awkwardly cross over his chest, before he seems to remember something, and instead shoves his fists into his pockets, shoulders hunched.

"Uh," Patton says, "You, uh. You look. Uhm. Good!" He says, proud of himself for seizing on a word. "Really. Really good. Uh."

Logan straightens his posture, a little. "Really," he says, uncharacteristically timid.

Virgil says, "That style... really works on you."

"What, yeah, that," Patton agrees, and actually shakes himself, and looks down at the plate. "Oh no, the cookies!"

He crouches to pick them up, and Roman shoves Logan forwards.

"Logan, help Patton, I've just remembered I want Virgil's advice on the sound system," Roman says cheerfully, and suddenly Roman's grabbing Virgil's sleeve and yanking him into the living room.

"That's the closest I've ever seen Patton to giving bedroom eyes," Roman hisses into his ear.

"How did you convince Logan do a makeover sequence?" Virgil says.

Roman looks very innocent, and says, "Logan might be a couple shots ahead of us, and also I may have told him that Patton likes his arms. So."

"You're evil," Virgil snickers.

"I'm going to make Operation Mistletoe happen," Roman says. "It'll be a goddamn Christmas miracle."

"You didn't actually want my opinion on the sound system, did you?"

"Nope, sorry. We're leaving them alone together as much as we possibly can this evening, Gerard, that was the plan."

"What is it with you and these flattering nicknames lately," Virgil says.

Roman grins like a shark, all teeth, and doesn't say a word. 

It doesn't take all that long for people to show up—they make a beeline for the booze, which is unsurprising, and Roman presses a drink into his hands.

"I know you're not for mingling, so do what you want," he says. "But Mistletoe will happen. Discourage anyone flirting with either of them."

Virgil nods, mission received, and goes to give his scariest snarling face to anyone who tries to approach Logan.

He really only has to snarl at two people, considering Logan's locked up in a corner with Patton most of the time anyways, and so Virgil ends up drifting around the edges of the room, eyes narrowed.

The party's still filling up, people arriving every couple of minutes, and Roman's the life of the party, greeting people, directing them towards the drinks and snacks, laughing and cracking jokes. Virgil feels at peace, at least, as at peace as he ever does at parties—people are giving him space, he can see the people he came with, this is his home turf. 

The music is mostly in the background, no one dancing yet, people collected in clusters and filling themselves up on alcohol and Patton's snacks. Virgil figures he may as well follow their example. He goes to grab a cookie.

At some point between Virgil going to the kitchen and coming back out with a half-eaten snowman in his hands, the theater horde has taken over the sound system, and some song from La-La Land is playing as they're all sitting in a loose circle. Someone has brought some of the alcohol out from the kitchen, so it's more easily accessible. It's easy to see why.

"Who is most likely," muses a girl Virgil recognizes from a few of Roman's shows, "To shoplift?" 

Everyone points to someone, with a few people more common than others. The ones with more people curse a little before they start to drink. Roman's eyes catch on his and they brighten, and he waves Virgil over to sit next to him.

"What's this?" Virgil asks, tucking his legs in to criss-cross.

"Who's most likely," Roman says. "Basically, ask a question, and if two people point at you, you have to take two drinks. Or however many people, you have to take that many drinks."

Virgil nods. Self-explanatory enough.

"You good to play?" Roman asks.

"Yeah, sounds fun," Virgil says.

There are several things that he miscalculates, which he realizes as people are complaining about this game and demanding a new one.

One, it's hot in here, with the increasing amount of human body heat and the fact that he wore a sweater. Two, he's a lightweight regardless, but three, considering how rarely he drinks, his tolerance is pretty shit anyways.

Basically, he's one and a half mixed drinks in, and he's reached a point of tipsy where he's much more... smiley. His thoughts are a little looser, slipping away from him so much easier than they usually did, and things were just a bit funnier. Not drunk, not even close, but it's enough of a reality check that he decides to add more mixer and less alcohol to his next drink.

Patton and Logan sit next to them for the next game, and Virgil grins, bumping shoulders with Patton in camaraderie. 

The people have settled on sip sip shot, which is really just making Virgil realize how little he knows about drinking games. But Patton doesn't know either, so that makes him feel less alone. God, he loves Patton. Patton's the best human being on this earth.

"It's like duck duck goose," Roman explains. "Except the duck is sip, which means you sip at your drink. And goose is shot, so you have to chase the person around the circle. If you win, they take the shot. If you lose, you take the shot."

Virgil and Patton both nod in comprehension, and everyone squirms into a tighter circle configuration so there would be optimal running space. Virgil's smiling still. This reminds him of being a kid at recess, except he never had friends when he was that little, so this is just. Even better. 

Someone's hand taps his head. He takes a sip of his drink.

It's a pretty even routine, occasionally broken by yelling and clapping and heckling, but Virgil never gets chosen to be goose, which is just fine by him. However, Roman is, which is much less fine by him, because that means Roman's not sitting next to him anymore. Virgil tries his best not to pout. He's not entirely sure if he succeeds.

The game dissolves a lot like the one before it; people start getting distracted, and branch off on their own, which just causes the whole big group to concave on itself. Just as well; Virgil's finished his drink.

"Virgil!"

He turns, and grins as he sees Roman, who looks very suddenly knocked off-kilter—most people expect Virgil to be a sullen drunk, or maybe even a handsy one, not a giggly drunk. Roman knows he's a giggly drunk, though, so maybe he just—forgot? Or something.

"Roman!" Virgil says, matching his tone as best as he can, and Roman shakes himself, squeezing between a couple of people.

"I've had an idea, and Valerie's volunteered to help us along," Roman says, gesturing grandly to the girl next to him. "We need to beat Logan and Patton in beer pong."

Virgil blinks. "Um, why?" He's down to destroy Logan, at any time, but this seems like a random idea. But he will win. That much is guaranteed. Virgil is not above cheating to ensure it.

"Because," Valerie says, "the losers have to do body shots off each other."

Virgil is suddenly not so dedicated to winning.

"I'm in," Virgil says, wondering how many throws he can fumble without Roman noticing he's doing it on purpose. Probably a lot. Virgil isn't very athletic. Plus he's tipsy.

Roman turns to Valerie, squeezing her shoulder. "Find Patton and Logan for me? Virgil and I are going to set up the table."

His fingers lace with Virgil's again, and Virgil doesn't bother hiding his smile as Roman tugs them towards the kitchen, as they shuffle around plates to counters and Virgil grabs a stack of red solo cups.

"How many?" He asks.

"Ten each side," Roman says, carefully stacking plates and bowls of snacks on the counter, and Virgil obliges, placing them in careful pyramids. Roman's just filling the cups with punch as Logan and Patton both step through the door, Patton a little wild-eyed, Logan cool with focus.

"Prepare to lose," Patton declares joyously, nudging Virgil in a friendly way as he skips over to his side of the table. Virgil sticks his tongue out at him.

He stands shoulder-to-shoulder with Roman as Roman chivalrously accepts Valerie's offer of a ping-pong ball, before he turns to Virgil, holding it up in front of him.

"Blow on it?" Roman asks, voice low, lashes fluttering, just a little. Virgil notices he has something sparkly and golden on his eyes that he didn't have at the start of the party. "For luck."

Virgil smiles, and obligingly huffs out a warm breath over the ping-pong ball, over Roman's fingers.

"Suck it, losers," Roman declares, pompous, and then immediately sinks the shot. Virgil whoops in encouragement.

Logan rolls his shoulders, angles a glower at them, and then tosses; he misses, and Roman and Virgil both boo him.

The game continues, and as each cup vanishes, people gather round to watch them. There's more heckling and more cheering for each side, but oddly, Virgil doesn't mind the attention, even when he misses more shots than he makes. Logan is horrible enough that it evens out. But it turns out that Patton is actually a secret master at beer pong, so it's mostly Patton and Roman keeping pace with each other. 

They get down to three cups on each side. Roman arches his brows at Logan, before turning and bending over, wiggling his hips enticingly at Logan.

Logan scoffs, shoving his glasses up his nose. "That's not going to work," he says, and then immediately whiffs his shot. "Okay, that worked," he admitted, quiet, as Roman straightens up with a whoop.

"My secret weapon—my ass!" Roman declares proudly, and elbows Virgil, conspiratorial. "Do you know how many games of beer pong I've turned around because I decided to show off my ass?"

Virgil snorts, accepting the ping-pong ball. It is a fantastic ass, and it has its own little carefully detailed section on the "You Shit, You're In Love With Roman And Now You're Resigned To Suffering In Silence Here Are All The Reasons" list, but he's not about to inflate Roman's ego right now.

Patton's version of a distraction is screaming a curse word, which shocks Virgil so terribly he ends up accidentally throwing the ping-pong ball into a bystander's face.

"Patton, I am surprised at you!" Roman teases, and Patton, flushing, just shrugs, tossing him the ping-pong ball.

"We do what we need to do," Patton says. 

Logan starts rapping Blackalicious' Alphabet Aerobics, and although it is a fantastic sight, it doesn't faze Roman, who sinks his shot, and smacks his hand against Virgil in a celebratory high-five. It does, however, derail the game for a solid three minutes, as some theater kids start beatboxing for Logan, and cheer him on, dancing along as Logan finishes the rap with a smug little smirk, people clapping him on the back and whooping at him.

Which means it's time for Virgil to distract Patton. 

"WHEN I WAS, A YOUNG BOY," Virgil screams at the top of his lungs, at a pitch that makes him sound at best like a wailing cat, and Roman bends double, cackling, even as Virgil continues shouting the lyrics to "Welcome to the Black Parade," miming the instruments and headbanging as hard as he possibly can. A few of the gothier-looking theater kids join in, unable to resist the call of their people, and Virgil is lost in the truly unique sound of a horde of drunk college emos trying their best to imitate guitars with truly horrible screeches.

"Shake it off, Pat, shake it off!" Logan declares, clapping his hands on Patton's shoulders and shaking him a little, but it was shitty timing for them, because it was right at the apex of Virgil's killer air guitar solo.

"WE'LL CARRY ON! WE'LL CAAAARRYYY OOOON! AND THOUGH YOU'RE DEAD AND GONE, BELIEVE ME—"

Patton throws. Bounce. It hits the edge of a cup and clatters off, and the people roar. Two to three.

"That's okay, we'll get 'em next!" Logan declares, arm soundly around Patton's shoulders. Patton looks too delighted by this development to really be upset about missing his shot.

Roman sways a little on his feet, and Virgil reaches out, touching his hip to steady him, and leans in close.

"You got this," Virgil breathes into his ear.

Roman nods, looking the most serious he has ever looked, takes aim, and tosses the ball.

It sails in a beautiful rainbow arch, landing in the left cup.

The crowd around them screams. Three-one. Roman's pumping his fist in the air in victory as the crowd heckles Logan, telling him to drink, but Virgil doesn't care, because Roman's grinning at Virgil, who grins back and wraps a happy arm around his shoulders, pressing his nose into Roman's cheek in a moment of perfectly happy drunken camaraderie.

"It's on!" Logan declares, squashing the cup and dropping it at his feet, as he and Patton had for the previous eight. "It's on!" He bumps hips with Patton, and leans forwards exaggeratedly, squinting at the cups as people yell "send it back!" at him.

"Who even WAS Rosalind Franklin," Roman yells, but it doesn't deter Logan—he sinks it, and Virgil groans, taking the cup and shaking out the ping-pong ball before he starts to drink, Logan screaming, "She was a VISIONARY, that's who!" in the background.

Virgil has seen a drunk Logan get emotional over Rosalind Franklin, so maybe this wasn't the best path to start him down on, but Virgil crushes the cup and drops it, shaking out his hands and rolling his shoulders. Last cup. Two to one.

Roman's hands are bracing on his shoulders, squeezing, before he leans into Virgil's space, hand drifting down to his waist to squeeze, just a little, wow, this is not good for his focus.

"Shut your eyes," Roman says, and Virgil lets his eyes slide shut, blocking out the sight of the crowd, of Logan and Patton, of Roman in his space. All he can feel is the artificial warmth from the alcohol pooled in his belly, and Roman's hands on him, steadying and warm.

"Take a deep breath," Roman intones, and Virgil does as he says, taking a deep, even breath in and letting it out, squaring his shoulders. 

"Let it all fall away," Roman says into his ear. "The crowd's not even there. Logan and Patton aren't even there. It's just you, and the ball."

And you, Virgil wants to say. No matter what Virgil tries, he can't block out Roman. 

"Now," Roman says, "open your eyes, focus on that cup, and crush it. If you sink it, I promise I'll let you blast any emo song you want."

Virgil opens his eyes. He spins the ball in his fingers, and hesitates, before holding it up to Roman.

"For luck," Virgil says, looking at him through his lashes. Roman smiles, brings Virgil's hand to his mouth and kisses his fingers, before meeting eyes with Virgil as he blows out a cool breath, mouth a perfect o shape.

Virgil tries his best to smile like that hasn't affected him at all, and turns to face the table, narrowing his eyes.

"Just you, and the ball, and the cup," Roman says, hand drifting to the small of Virgil's back.

And you, and you, and you, Virgil thinks, and tosses the ball.

The resulting scream is deafening.

"VIRGIL!" Roman screams, and Virgil turns to face him, mouth open a little in astonishment. "VIRGIL, YOU BEAUTIFUL MAN, YOU DID IT!"

Virgil lets out an odd, aborted half-laugh of astonishment. "I did it?"

Rather than answer, Roman's arms close around him, and suddenly, the room is flying, Roman's arms tight around him as he's spun in the air, and Virgil's laughing, the world a technicolor bleed of colors and Roman's arms keeping him secure and safe and happy, and it's over too soon, but Virgil wraps his arms around Roman's shoulders, hugging him back, tight, trying to communicate all of his complicated feelings through this one hug.

"You're the best teammate ever, you know?" Virgil says into his ear, and draws back, but not enough to unwind his arms from Roman's neck.

Roman's about to say something, opening his mouth, one of his hands curling around Virgil's wrists as if to keep him there, when Valerie yells "BODY SHOTS!" and Roman and Virgil both turn away from each other with a start, looking over to where Patton's fidgeting a little and Logan's trying not to squirm as Valerie applies the salt to his neck.

"Your lime," Valerie says, and Logan sticks it in his mouth, trying his best not to move too much, as there's a shot glass tucked into his waistband.

"PAT-TON, PAT-TON, PAT-TON," people start to chant as Valerie steps back with an elaborate twirl of her wrist, as if to say the floor is yours, and Patton steps forwards, adjusting his glasses. Logan says something to him, too low for Virgil to hear over the chanting, and Patton shakes his head, before Patton leans forwards, licking a broad stripe up Logan's neck. He drops to his knees, knocking his face into Logan's thigh before managing to close his lips over the shot glass and tipping it back, surging to his feet and sucking the lime from Logan's mouth into his mouth.

"I feel like I just watched my innocence die," Virgil comments, at a loss for other words. Patton winces from the acidity of the lime, and Logan looks—well, he looks like Patton's just hit him with a train, a hand coming up to his neck where Patton licked it.

"What innocence," Roman snorts, and Virgil whacks him a little.

Patton's lying on the kitchen table, though, doing as Valerie directs, grimacing but placing the lime into his mouth, propped up on one elbow, the other hand tugging his sweater away from his neck. Virgil can see why, because now Valerie's pouring the tequila into the hollow of Patton's neck, and Logan still hasn't moved his hand from where Patton licked him, staring at where he's laid out on the table.

Logan screws his face up in determination, though, and licks the salt line on Patton's chest, bending his head to suck the tequila out of the hollow of his throat, and Patton seems like he's about to faint, head tilting back as Logan presses his mouth against his skin. Logan bites the lime from Patton's mouth, snatching it away.

"No, I see what you mean," Roman muses, and Virgil snorts back. Roman tugs on his hand, and says, "C'mon, let's blast your victory song."

Virgil grins, letting himself be led away, and says, "In for some danger tonight, then?"

"Oh, always with you, Virgil," Roman says, looking at him over his shoulder, before leading him to the sound system and grandly presenting Virgil with his phone.

Virgil's tongue pokes through his teeth as he scrolls through Roman's extensive music library, and then he says "Ah!" as he sees the song he wants, pressing play, and his body starts rocking to the beat, an absent-minded bobbing.

The same goths from before come flooding into the living room, and Virgil grins, tilting his head back as he joins their voices in song.

"AM I MOOORE THAN YOU BARGAINED FOR YET?!"

Suddenly, Virgil is twirling, and Roman grins when he stops, their hands twined together again, and Virgil laughs, head tilting forwards, before he tries his best to keep up.

Roman dances like it's a language that Virgil doesn't know, effortless and graceful and—okay, yes, sexy, he looks incredibly sexy when he dances—but Roman always looks like he's having the time of his life whenever he dances, sings, performs, and Virgil finds himself unable to focus on his feet when Roman's beaming like that. Besides, he and Roman are too busy singing along to Fall Out Boy to really pay attention to technique.

Roman's hands are getting sweaty in his, and Virgil's sure his are doing the same, but he can't bring himself to care all that much—watching the way Roman moved, hearing him sing, that was what was taking up his attention at the moment, and all too soon, it ends.

There's the plucking of notes, something Virgil thinks he's heard maybe once or twice before, but Roman's ears practically perk up, spine going straight, and he can see a similar response in all the theater kids.

"Roman!" Valerie's yelling, waving an arm, "I need my dancers for this one!"

Roman turns to look at Virgil, and Virgil waves him off, grinning.

"Go on," Virgil says, "be a big Broadway nerd. I'll be okay."

"Well," Roman says, and squeezes his hands. "If you insist."

"I do," Virgil says, and at last their hands drop, and Virgil wanders off in search of a drink.

When he comes back, canned margarita in hand, Valerie's finishing off "All That Jazz" with all the verve of performing it live in front of a crowd, and Roman is currently helping hoist her into a split, a hand bracing her thigh, the other clinging to her hand, like it's no trouble at all.He hopes no one tramples over their horrible-wonderful tree, or the presents underneath—Patton had tried to get them to wrap all the presents with one wrapping paper per person, to make it more organized, but somehow two other kinds had gotten in there, so it's just a mess of colors and tags. Virgil takes a moment to be thankful for their high ceilings, and settles into an armchair that's been shoved out of the way to enjoy the show. 

Virgil applauds enthusiastically when they finish out the song, along with the theater nerds who didn't know the choreography, the science nerds Logan invited along, and the nerds Patton knew were on campus over break. 

He really should have expected this when Roman said a ton of his theater friends were coming over, because it seems they've landed in Roman's Broadway playlist, people singing and dancing and pretending with imaginary props. They shout for who sings what, swap in and out depending on who knows choreography, and every time, Roman's in the thick of the scrum, belting his heart out, twisting along to choreography and improvising to some degrees of success.

West Side Story's prologue, Roman dancing along to the Jets', snapping and twirling and leaping to his heart's content. 

Pippin, Roman doing his best Fosse as someone Virgil doesn't recognize belts out Glory, his movements, Roman twirling an imaginary cane and doffing an imaginary cap, hips cycling and crooning along in the background.

Sound of Music, Roman charming and serenading Valerie, Valerie hopping along the couches as they duet Sixteen Going on Seventeen, theater people doing a variety of ballroom dances as a form of background dancing.

Grease, Greased Lighting, Roman smoothing his hair back and popping the top few buttons of his shirt, thrusting hips and funny faces and precise gesticulation, and he even sends a wink at Virgil, where he's sipping his drink. Virgil flushes, and smiles a little, hiding it behind the can.

This is the point where Patton and Logan stand on either side of his armchair, and Patton says teasingly, "Having fun, Virgil?"

Virgil tucks his knees up to his chest, and says, "Well, Roman is."

Patton grins, ruffles his hair, and passes him another unopened can of margarita, before grabbing Logan's hand and tugging him off to the kitchen.

Virgil meets eyes with Roman, and Roman's eyes are lit up excitedly as he takes a second to gesture in their direction, before he resumes his number at full enthusiasm.

Footloose, the titular number, and Roman's sweaty and bright and so full of life, glowing with it, and they mostly let the preprogrammed voice handle it, theater kids dancing, goofy and bright, Roman spinning and twirling between partners, trying to dance with everyone, laughing and chattering and bright.

Grease again, Born to Hand Jive, Roman on the periphery as two more people Virgil doesn't know take center stage, swinging and lifting their partners and throwing them, and Virgil would be much more worried if it wasn't for the alcohol. 

Heathers, Freeze Your Brain, and Virgil knows this one, so he stands and sings as everyone does their best dramatic JD, Roman surging over to Virgil as they sing together, trying their best to dance to such depressing lyrics. The song ends, and it leads into one Virgil doesn't know, blinking owlishly at the speakers, dropping his empty can belatedly.

"Rooo-MANNN," Virgil hears at least three people yell, and Roman laughs, messing his hair before he takes center stage, stomping and clapping along to the beat. 

"You guys are never going to let me live this down, are you?" Roman asks the crowd ruefully, and there's a loud cheer of NO, and Roman laughs, ducking his head, before he starts to sing along, poppish and exaggeratedly eager, hips shaking as he claps along.

"LOOK—AT—MY—ASS, LOOK AT MY THIGHS—"

Oh no. Virgil knows what song this is now. And Roman is going all out on the choreography.

"I'M CATNIP TO THE GUYS! THEY CHASE MY TAIL, THEY DROOL AND PANT—WANNA TOUCH THIS BUT THEY CAN'T!"

Virgil is going to have a stroke. 

"ALL THE BOYS WANNA COME AND PLAY," Roman belts, snaps and winks at Virgil, "SNAP MY FINGERS AND THEY OBEY, WHY DO THEY FOLLOW ME ROUND ALL DAY? WATCH ME WHILE I WALK AWAY—"

This is it. This is the day Virgil's soul vacates his body. It's been a good run.

"I BEEEEEEND AND SNAP! FEEL HOW HOT IT'S GETTING!"

Virgil does not need Roman to tell him how hot it's getting, thank you.

"BEEEEEEND AND SNAP! AND WHEN YOU'VE GOT 'EM SWEATING, SPRIIIING THE TRAP! THEY CHEER AND CLAP!"

Clap, clap. Roman's having a great time. Virgil distantly wonders why the theater kids associate the Bend and Snap with Roman, and if he survives this, he will certainly ask him later.

"NO TIGHT MEN, CAN DEFEND, 'GAINST THE BEEEEEEND AND SNAP!"

Distantly, Virgil recalls how Roman said his ass was his secret weapon. He cannot help but agree. He is watching Roman tackle some ass-centric choreography, and it is honestly a wonder as to how Virgil hasn't fainted yet from where he's standing on the fringe of the circle of theater kids surrounding Roman.

But more people are jumping in to fill in parts, but Virgil cannot stop staring at Roman. What the fuck is his life. 

The song both takes forever and is over too soon, and for the first time, Roman steps out from performing as the girls get ready for a rendition of the Cell Block Tango.

He's still grinning, fanning himself. His shirt is soaked with sweat, and he never rebuttoned his shirt, so Virgil can see the top of the expanse of his chest, his hair sweaty. Roman pushes it out of his face.

"Phew!" He declares, and Virgil is trying his hardest to untangle his tongue from the knot it's formed, so instead mutely gestures to the kitchen.

"Drinks, great idea, Virgil," he says, clapping him on the shoulder, and they both go out to the hallway, where Virgil stops dead and whacks Roman on the shoulder, shoving his hand over Roman's mouth when it looks like he's about to start screaming. 

Because Patton has Logan pressed back against the wall, kissing him hard. One of Logan's hands gripping Patton's shoulder to keep him from leaving, the other where Virgil can't see. And Patton's cupping Logan's face with one hand, the other tight on his hip. And they are not stopping.

Virgil yanks Roman into the kitchen before they get caught.

"Holy fucking shit," Roman scream-whispers as soon as they're safely out of sight. "Logan did it!"

"Operation Mistletoe!" Virgil cheers, and Roman cheers back, "Operation Mistletoe!" And they smack a high-five, then Virgil, laughing, surges forwards, hugging him tight.

Roman smells like sweat and cologne. Virgil can feel his still-quick pulse from where he's pushed his face into Roman's neck, and Roman laughs as he hugs Virgil back, a hand bracing the back of his head, an arm strong around his waist.

"You always get so giggly when you're drunk," Roman says, sounding fond. "It's like the natural order's been swapped."

Virgil hesitates, tangling his fingers into Roman's shirt. T hen they shift, so they're still in each other's arms, but staring at each other.

"Well," Virgil says, mouth dry as he fiddles with Roman's collar. "Lowered inhibitions, you know?"

"I know," Roman says.

"Is it weird?" Virgil says.

"You're always weird."

"I—I mean, do you... like it?"

"I always like you, Virgil." Roman says, voice soft, and his eyes are soft too, and this is it, Virgil can feel it, the air heavy with potential. 

Roman's so stupidly beautiful. His eyelids are coated in that glimmering gold that Virgil noticed before, and it brings out all the gold in his eyes, the gold that magnetizes Virgil, like some kind of magic. The sweat on his face glints in the low light, accentuating his cheekbones. He's still smiling. He looks like some kind of beautiful statue come to life.

It's Roman—a year ago, Virgil would have laughed at himself for this, thought someone would have been joking. But he knows Roman so much better now—Roman, who hides his insecurities so well it looks to so many outsiders that he doesn't have any. Roman, who works so hard to make sure that all of his work is perfect and up to his standards. Roman, who's trying to improve himself every day. Roman, with his ridiculous nicknames, and his fancy posing, and constant singing. Roman, who lights up so much whenever there is music, or dancing, or laughter. 

Just. Roman. The "You Shit, You're In Love With Roman And Now You're Resigned To Suffering In Silence Here Are All The Reasons" list is so long and so varied it could be turned into a book, and Virgil finds something new every single day to admire and love about him.

So why can't he say any of this to him? The old, constant frustration, trying to reach inside of himself only to choke on whatever he wants, needs, to say, like he's on the verge of tears the whole time. Like the words trip and stumble on the way to his tongue, and fall into a sixteen car pile-up complete with flames and screaming. And he doesn't want to mess this up.

He really, really doesn't want to mess this up.

"What?" Roman asks, edged in a laugh. "You're staring at me."

Virgil makes a frustrated noise, says, "Words," and then grabs Roman's collar, pulling him forwards, and pressing his lips against Roman's. 

Roman makes a noise of surprise, and Virgil presses closer, lips moving against his.

In all honestly, Virgil thinks tongues are kind of weird, but when his tongue first meets Roman's, that belief goes straight out of the window. The kiss is consuming, and slow; Virgil's in the lead, his tongue pressing against Roman's first, and he could feel Roman's body against his, muscles relaxing, and Virgil tangles his fingers into Roman's sweaty hair because he does not want him to leave. He knows he's inexperienced, but he hopes it's still good for him anyways, because this is amazing. Roman's arms are still around his waist, and he kisses him harder, Roman's mouth hot and insistent, and oh wow, okay, wow—

"Wait," Roman breathes, and then he pulls back. "Wait, wait."

Virgil freezes, and Roman pulls back, staring at him, mouth open. The sight of Virgil's lip stain smeared around his lips, his mouth, gives Virgil a surge of something to his stomach that he wasn't expecting, at all.

"What?" Virgil breathes, and Roman's eyes squeeze shut.

"You're drunk," he groans.

"I don't care," Virgil says, and Roman's hands land on Virgil's wrists, gently tugging his hands from his hair, and his eyes are still closed as he brings Virgil's hands to his shoulders, thumbs rubbing gently at his wrists. He looks—blissful.

"I do," Roman says, and he opens his eyes, meeting Virgil's. "It's—it's important, Virgil, you're—important." He presses a hard kiss against Virgil's left palm, then presses his cheek into Virgil's hand, holding Virgil's hand against his cheek.

You're important. Virgil swallows, slides his thumb along Roman's cheekbone. He loves this stupid noble idiot.

"I—I know how much you hate anyone saying this, but we'll talk later, all right? When you're sobered up. I promise."

Virgil's eyes squeeze shut. I promise. And Roman never breaks a promise.

"But you—I mean—" Virgil huffs out a breath, and says in a rush, "We're, like. On the same page. Right? This isn't—?"

Virgil doesn't get to say what this isn't, because Roman's cupping his face.

"Look at me, please, Virgil," Roman says, and Virgil opens his eyes reluctantly. 

"You're one of the most important people in my life," Roman says, eyes half-lidded. "I didn't—I didn't say anything, because I didn't know if you—and I wanted—I want—"

"What?" Virgil says, his voice hushed.

"You," Roman says, strangled. "I want you."

It doesn't sound sexual, not at all, despite the fact that Virgil had his tongue in Roman's mouth a minute ago. It sounds like Virgil is the beautiful princess that Roman's been questing for, like in some ridiculous Disney movie.

The door to the kitchen opens, and Virgil and Roman leap apart, as if it isn't obvious by looking at Roman's mouth what they've been doing, and someone shouts, "Roman, it's Rent time!"

Roman sighs, looking out at the party, and back at Virgil, eyes full of conflict.

"Go on," Virgil says, soft. "You're the life of the party."

Roman's fingers card through Virgil's hair, and Virgil leans into his touch. "Later," he says. "Later. I—I promise you're not alone in feeling this. It's just—" he smiles, sudden, huge and bright. "You just have the worst timing, Virgil."

Virgil laughs, and steps back. Roman runs a hand through his hair, and heads back out to the living room. 

Virgil's alone in the kitchen. Suddenly, he doesn't want to watch Roman singing. He doesn't really want to talk to anyone just now, actually.

He steps into the hallway—empty now, Logan and Patton must have relocated—head full of confusion, and stops in the bathroom to scrub off his makeup. He slouches quietly into his room, toeing off his boots, wiggling out of his jeans, tossing aside the sweater, and pulls on the ridiculous Peanuts-themed Christmas pajamas Patton got him.

He curls up in his too-big bed, and hugs a spare pillow close.

You're important, you're important, you're important.

CHRISTMAS DAY

Virgil wakes up to a distant headache, a dry mouth, and sweating like a fiend.

He opens his eyes, and the events of the night come rushing back.

Apparently, when Roman said sobered up, he meant first thing in the morning, and by that he meant as soon as you wake up, because Roman, shirtless, has replaced the pillow—a little spoon, and Virgil tries his best to keep his breathing even and calm.

Cool, so Roman decided to come cuddle last night? Awesome, tight, love it. Virgil's not quietly flipping his shit to himself at all.

But—wait—somehow, miracle of miracles, Virgil is awake before Roman. 

Virgil carefully props himself up on his elbow, and resigns himself to waiting to watch Roman wake up. 

He doesn't have to wait very long.

Roman stirs, face scrunching up, and he makes a groaning noise to himself, turning his face into the pillow, only to make another distant noise of complaint. A stretch works its way through his body, like a cat, and Roman blinks his eyes open at last.

"I knew it," Virgil says, sleep having ground down his voice. "There was no way a person was so inhumanely peppy in the mornings."

"Virgil!" Roman says, voice similarly scratchy, and he flips so that they're face to face. "How are you?"

"A little hungover, a lot nervous," Virgil admits, and Roman says, "Oh, I brought in some water, it's just—"

Virgil turns, and there's a little hangover pack on his table—a glass of water, advil, a couple mints. Virgil takes the medicine, downs the water, and sticks the mint into his mouth, offering the other one to Roman, who takes it, smiling, sitting up, too. Virgil notices belatedly that he's still in the slacks he was wearing last night. And also, Virgil is wearing Peanuts-themed pajamas.

"The apartment's all clean," Roman says. "I have no idea who, but five separate people have left behind a single shoe, I've no idea how or why. And Patton's got all the presents under the tree."

"Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Roman says, and clacks his mint against his teeth, shifting, and blurts out, "I lied."

Virgil stiffens, like ice is flowing into his veins.

Roman doesn't seem to notice. "Logan and I weren't making Patton a Christmas gift."

Virgil blinks. "I—what?"

"We weren't working on making Patton a Christmas gift," Roman repeats, leaning forwards. "Operation Mistletoe was, in fact, a two-pronged plan. Logan wanted to get together with Patton, and I—I wanted to get together with you—so we tried to make a plan."

Virgil blinks, and says again, "What?"

"Patton told Logan and I about Not-So-Secret Santa after you went to bed, so Logan and I decided to throw the selection."

Virgil blinks. "You cheated?"

"I know, Patton would be very disappointed in me," Roman says. "Logan didn't know that I was going to follow him, though, that was just a you and me thing. And Logan and I decided to make a plan for the party—the body shots were Valerie's idea, but I did come up with the Bend and Snap bit."

"It was a very good bit," Virgil says faintly.

"And if the party didn't work, then, well, there were a lot of plans, there would have been some actual mistletoe involved—"

Virgil snickers, and then he pauses. "Wait, then what was the smoke?"

Roman looks sheepish. "We, ah. We burned the lists of bad ideas."

Virgil snorts, and Roman smiles.

"So, ah," he says, and looks nervous. "I've, um, kind of been in love with you for a while now, so—"

"Oh," Virgil says, breathless, then, "Cool, same."

"Same," Roman snorts, and suddenly, he's slithering forwards, hands cupping Virgil's face. 

Warm. He's so warm, and his lips are so soft, and the way they move with Virgil's speaks of experience that Virgil doesn't have, but that's okay, that's more than okay, and he tastes like mint, and Roman's kissing him long and soft, and Virgil feels warm, too, lit up from inside, like some kind of magic that only Roman was privy to, like Roman's trying to give him something, and Virgil tries his best to receive it, give it back.

"Merry Christmas, Charlie Brown," Roman whispers, and Virgil groans, throwing an arm over his eyes before he starts to laugh.

"What, like yours aren't just as bad? It's the bunny suit from A Christmas Story."

"I obviously have the panache to pull it off," Roman sniffs, and grins at Virgil. "Look at you, Eeyore-rable."

Virgil boos even as Roman's situating himself on Virgil's lap, and Roman says, "Like adorable? Adorable Eeyore?"

"Crossing references, doesn't count," Virgil says, grinning even as he arches up to meet Roman's lips again.

"Which plan was it?" Logan's voice comes from the doorway, and Roman yelps, throwing himself over Virgil like Virgil was the one whose virtue needed protecting, as if Roman was the one wearing a shirt.

"Logan!"

"I mean, I'm assuming it was either Plan A or Plan C, but—"

"Shut up, it was Plan B!" Roman groans into Virgil's shoulder. "Would it kill you to knock?"

Logan angles a severely disapproving look at Virgil. "Plan B? Really?"

"I have no idea what that means," Virgil says.

"My hips are very seductive and my ass is entrancing, Logan, they made you miss that shot last night," Roman huffs, and it clicks.

"Oh, my God. B for Bend and Snap?" Virgil says, over Logan's spluttering.

"Are we having a party in here, or something?" Patton asks, materializing in the doorway, and Roman groans into Virgil's shoulder again, Virgil grinning and cupping the back of his head.

"It's Christmas!" Patton declares. "Get up, get up, there are presents! And cocoa! And mistletoe! Put on a shirt, Roman! I'm so happy for you two! Virgil, I love the jammies! Come on!"

Virgil, laughing still, gets pulled from bed.

It really is the most wonderful time of the year.

[translightyagami]

Otp questions for Matsuda/Light?

dflkjskaljf;ldfsakj ALL OF THEM????? aight dude.

1: Who spends almost all their money on the other?

i don’t think either of them spends a lot of money on each other. their relationship isn’t rlly....over the table. but i think matsuda gets light presents sometimes like that sashmi phone charm or fun socks. he definitely DEFINITELY gets light something on valentines day bc he sort of hopes light will do the same but uh light has to go on his lunch break to the nearest convience store and buy some shitty chocolates bc he doesn’t want matsuda to know he forgot. except matsuda like knows, he’s just too nice and a little too into light to say anything.

2: Who sleeps in the other’s lap?

matsuda will lay his head on light’s lap while light is doing paper work. its late on a tuesday when they hv light’s apartment to themselves which almost nvr happens and he’s running his hand thru matsuda’s hair. its almost like they’re a real couple. it’s almost like light cares.

3: Who walks around the house half-naked and who yells at them to put on some clothes?

they r both way too conservative abt their bodies to walk around half naked anywhere but if matsuda spills something on his shirt he’s not gonna soak in that cold coffee. he’ll strip that shirt off and use light’s washing machine and then chill in the kitchen. light yells at him, which scares the shit out of matsuda bc light almost nvr yells at ppl if he can help it, and tells him that misa is going to b home in like an hour so he can’t b waltzing around w no shirt on. then he stops, sees matsuda’s wide eyes and his anger slinks back into it’s cage so he offers to blow him as an apology.

4: Which one tells the other not to stay up all night and which one stays up all night anyway?

matsuda is always getting on light for staying up too late. “you’re giving kira too much of your time!” he says and light just gets this ugly look on his face like he’s halfway to a laugh but also abt to melt. “how else can we bring him to justice,” he says, “if we aren’t giving up some parts of our comfort?” that shuts matsuda up.

5: Which one tries to make food for the other but burns it all by accident and which one tells them that it’s okay and makes them both cookies?

god they both suck so hard at cooking. matsuda tries to make them like romantic meals and light lets him bc he loves it when ppl do things for him ever at all. all the meals end up burnt and light tells matsuda he doesn’t mind but he rlly rlly does bc then he has to explain to misa why their apartment smells like burned chicken. they order takeout or go somewhere to eat and its rlly uncomfortable for the rest of the night.

6: Which one reads OTP prompts and says “Oh that’s us!” and which one goes “Eh, not really”?

oh for sure matsuda sees those, like, couples memes and wants desperately to send them to light and b like “ha that’s us” but he’s not sure if they count as a couple since light makes him leave immeadiately after they fuck. so instead he just sort of casually will announce that this meme makes him think of someone and light doesn’t look up from his work like “what’s a meme?”

7: Which one constantly wears the other’s clothes?

god they r like different sizes but sometimes, if light is weak and lets matsuda convince him to go to his place, light borrows a shirt from matsuda that’s too big on his all flat angles body. it hangs on him and it kind of....turns matsuda on a little?? they’re all his old college track shirts. light always returns them promptly the next day, washed and folded in a plastic bag.

8: Which one spends all day running errands and which one says “You remembered [thing], right?”

light likes to send matsuda on errands bc he knows he can and also he hates hving to do small tasks so he’ll like send him to get lunch and then when he gets back will get huffy if he forgets to bring like...enough napkins.

9: Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions?

it’s canonical in my headcanon that light is a very bad driver and matsuda actually had to help him learn so matsuda drives them most of the time. light gives surprisingly good directions for what a shit driver he is, mostly bc he has a good memory and spent a lot of time using the subway so he knows his streets. get him out in the country tho and he’s like “uhhhh turn left?? maybe right??? lets use the gps.”

10: Which one does the posing while the other one draws?

light poses and matsuda draws a shitty stick figure w a tie on. light must stiffle the urge to rip it up and it’s the greatest feat of strength he’s ever managed.

11: If they were about to rob a museum, which one does backflips through lasers and which one is strolling behind with a bag of chips?

uhhuhuhuuhhh shit man i literally hv no idea with this one!!! neither of them can do a backflip but matsuda is convinced that if given the chance, he could do one and then light and he hv that charlie and mac argument of “u can’t do a backflip” “i do a backflip every day of my life!!”

12: Which one of your OTP overdoes it on the alcohol and which one makes the other stop drinking?

literally. neither of them stops the other one. light doesn’t drink a lot but matsuda will take him out clubbing which means light gets drunk off two cocktails and half of matsuda’s rum n’ coke. he dances to ariana grande and pulls matsuda on the floor and matsuda is so flattered by the attention that he lets light get drunker until he’s swaying and they hv to take a cab back to his apartment bc he can barely stand.

13: Which one likes to surprise the other with a lot of small random gifts?

i think i said in the first question, but matsuda often leaves light little gifts.

14: Which one keeps accidentally using the other’s last name instead of their own?

dslkfjla;skdfj;aslkfj;slfa matsuda sometimes puts yagami as his last name but that’s only bc he spends so much time w that family. he’d b so pleased to marry into it honestly. its a secret dream of his to propose to light and for light to accept and it keeps him warm on nights when light won’t return his calls.

15: Which one screams about the spider and which one brings the spider outside?

neither of them take the spider outside but matsuda will just smack it w his shoe. light gets the bug spray and watches the spider die, slowly and painfully. he only ever does this when no one else is around but god, it’s a little thrill to take the edge off.

16: Which one gives the other their jacket?

matsuda forgets his jacket A Lot and so light will offer his as a token of affection (or at least as much a token as light can manage). it nvr fits but the same song and dance happens every time. matsuda wishes that light would forget his jacket once so it would b the other way around but uhhhh mr. five hundred plans at once has nvr been unprepared for bad weather. except once on a certain rooftop but like who’s keeping score?

17: Who keeps getting threatened by the other’s overprotective older sibling?

their relationship is secret so nobody. but if sayu knew, she’d hv a word or two for matsuda abt dating her wonderful brother who deserves the best boyfriend life has to offer.

18: Who’s the first one to admit they have feelings for the other?

hmm. this one is......tough. neither of them every say anything but matsuda almost does. it takes a while. it takes several times of matsuda getting up to put on his shoes and looking over his shoulder, asking if light’s sure he wants to be alone. its a lot of him “dropping by” when he knows misa isn’t home but light didn’t ask him to come over and just watching tv together. he’s like a frog in water slowly boiling until he realizes the water is too hot and he’s burning with some kinda something for light. so he works up a little courage and a little stupidity and one night, after sex, he rolls over and asks light what they are. light blinks and smiles. “we’re friends,” he says and matsuda’s heart is a brick sinking into his stomach. “oh,” he says. “okay.” he doesn’t bring it up again.

a week later, light calls one of their outings a date and the brick starts to lift.

19: How good would your OTP be at parenting?

Oh They’d B Such Shit.

20: Which one types with perfect grammar and which one types using numbers as letters?

is this.....are you trying to ask me who does 1337 speak? okay okay. u would b surprised but i think light uses a lot of text chat when he messages ppl he’s closer to. if its like a work message, its all business but if it’s like a booty call to matsuda its like “hey wyd?” matsuda texts in such.....text code....u would hv to hv one of those “what is ur teen saying” guides next to u to understand. light can’t keep up. the only time matsuda texts with perfect grammar is when he’s sexting and honestly? that is half of what drives light wild.

21: Who gets attacked by a bully and who protects them?

here’s the facts: light likes matsuda but if he saw him getting bullied or anything and protecting him meant bringing himself to literally any harm? he’d turn right around and go in a different direction. matsuda defends light constantly whenever someone says something abt him being kira. anyone got anything to say abt light yagami? matsuda is on ‘em at the drop of a hat.

22: Who makes the bad puns and who makes a pained smile every time the other makes a pun?

god matsuda makes so many puns. he’s out of control. every time he opens his mouth its light’s worst nightmare which is nice humor and fun. he’ll grit his teeth and smile but inside he’s in special dead hell which is for ppl hearing bad jokes. BUT there’s one time where light is doing something and doesn’t catch himself b4 just out loud making a pun and the grin on matsuda’s? could’ve lit up an entire stadium.

23: Who comes home from work to see that the other one bought a puppy?

if matsuda ever brought a puppy into light’s home, he’d b out on his ass in a minute. his dick game isn’t that strong.

24: Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they’re tired?

matsuda is actually a little stronger than light, he’s like short-ish but built and frequently has to carry light home from clubs bc he can’t handle his alcohol. when he does carry him, light gets v handsy and matsuda has to like try and calm him down which is hard bc matsuda is drunk too? uhuhuh here’s something: one time when matsuda was carrying light home, light kept up this stream of conversation abt nothing and then started to make this weird, choked crying noise and matsuda was like whats wrong and light just kept saying “he’s dead” all gargled n shit. matsuda got him home and everything and light offered to hv sex with him but there was something so dead eyed abt him that matsuda was like “uhhhh i’ll just go home.” and light looked v small and matsuda knew he should probably stay, that light would b sick soon and probably vomit and he should definitely stay but he leaves anyway. he thinks abt that a lot after he shoots light. abt the way he lay there like a corpse, like he died six years ago and was haunting himself.

25: Which one competes in some sort of activity and which one does the overzealous cheering?

every once in a while light will do some intramural sports like soccer just to keep up his physique (he’s one of those ppl that like sports over like gym time) and matsuda always goes w misa under the pretense of their friendship. secretly tho he’s checking out light’s legs in shorts. light has v defined thighs.

26: Who takes a selfie when the other one falls asleep on their shoulder?

matsuda takes eight selfies every rare occasion light sleeps on him and uses the kitty ear filter on them. he only sends the snapchat to his mom, who is the only person that knows abt him and light, and keeps the photo saved on his phone. light nvr finds out abt them. matsuda’s mom snapchats him back a thumbs up.

27: Which one would give the other a makeover if they asked?

light would definitely give matsuda pointers and he actually does it, unsolicited, pretty often. if he could get a crack at matsuda’s waredrobe? god. the amount of macy’s casual wear he would shove in there. he hates matsuda’s day off clothes. worn jeans??? no thanks!!!

28: Which one owns a pet that the other is absolutely terrified of?

matsuda has a lizard named suds and light is not terrified of it, okay??? he just doesn’t like how it feels when it touches his skin and also how its eyes look and also he’s maybe a little scared of it so whatever

29: Which one holds the umbrella over both of them when it rains?

light insists on holding the umbrella bc he’s taller and likes the control but if he’s super busy and speedwalking he lets matsuda do it. also bc he likes flexing his ability to make ppl do things and it makes him feel royal to hv someone else hold his umbrella.

30: If your OTP went on vacation, where would they go and what would they do? Who would take the pictures?

well, they’d literally nvr go on vacation bc they r not in that kind of relationship BUT if they did, they’d probably just go out to the country to a bed n breakfast in the gayest fashion possible. light would use the time to read some books he bought but nvr got around to reading. matsuda attempts to write a science fiction story which he is too embarassed to show light. light hacks his computer when he’s asleep so he can read it and finds out that the love interest is just a thinly veiled version of himself so he shuts the computer and crawls in bed, blushing bc he’s flattered and bc there were a lot of alien sex scenes w his character.

matsuda takes several phone pics of light falling asleep in the car on the way to the bed n breakfast and is sorely tempted to save one as his phone background. he doesn’t but he does keep one of those pictures even after light dies. it reminds him that light was human. that somewhere there was a person in there, that he didn’t sleep with a monster.