#as the resident sunset lover- this is so important to me!!!

[lifemod17]

me always talking about sunsets

[shotofaluda]

this is a post about my brainrot over bkdk and everlark(katniss and peeta from hunger games) having parallels based on the same colours they represent🐢

colours that they represent:

peeta: orange bakugo: orange

katniss: green deku: green

even though peeta and bakugo represent orange, there is a contrast. bakugo and katniss are a better pair. let me explain by individually going through each of them.

starting with deku, full name izuku midoriya, midori in his name means green and midoriya means greenvelly

i am taking this as reference

coming to katniss everdeen, she represents forest green. forest is her home, she feels the safest in there, forest keeps her hidden from everything. she and gale have this idea of running away from everything and living in the woods forever so they dont have to face snow, the hunger games and the after effects of it. meaning of deku's name also fits her perfectly.

coming to the orange boys, katsuki bakugo, his colour is orange because of his last name and his quirk that are both 'explosions'. The left part of his kanji stands for fire. his name goes well with his personality and character.

my sweet bread boy, peeta mellark, says his favourite colour is orange, the sunset orange, the soft orange. it contrasts from bakugo's orange that is explosive but is similar in a way because both indirectly and directly mean fire. peeta's name comes from pita, a type of bread, going well with his character too. peeta's name, even though very literally meaning bread, has so much significance i could write an essay but i WONT(i swear, this post is going to be long djdhjd sorry), i will only write things that are important. so

1) panem, the country peeta and katniss reside in, gets its name from a phrase 'panem et circenses' that means "bread and circus". i think many people would be able to relate it to mha just from this if you know what the phrase means. this describes how if you give people bread(food and clothes- a life of ease) and circus(entertainment), they would not really care about anything else or anyone else who is suffering, they would enjoy their life in atmost ignorance. now peeta, who means bread, gives panem just that, entertainment. he entertains the people of the capitol who live in luxury by his 'star crossed lovers' story.

2) bread is made by heating up a soft dough, symbolises all the struggles he went through to get where he is now. this connects him to bakugo, bakugo's character is literally "win yourself"-the second meaning of katsuki. how bakugo, a brat, grows up and struggles to be the self he is right now. a soft, tender and delicate dough shaped into a sweet bread.

ok so now that i have laid out the meaning of all four and why they represent the colour they do, i wanna point out how katniss and bakugo/ deku- peeta fit together.

1) the personalities- bakugo and katniss are fierce, not afraid to say or do anything they want, talented and strong. they also are rather...insecure, they dont want to appear "weak". this is highlighted in katniss' case when she shoves and hurts peeta in book1 when he lies about them being lovers. she says "he made me look weak" when all peeta did was help her

who else thought the other's help was an act of pity and made them look weak? :D our sweet boy bakugo, who pushed deku's hand away that was there to HELP him but he thought it was an act of pity, that deku thought bakugo was below him and thats why deku thought of helping him. but both deku and peeta had no intentions like that.

katniss and bakugo, no matter how talented and strong, are not 'appealing' to the public eye. bakugo curses and shouts at people and katniss kinda does the same too jdjd not cursing but her personality pushes people away(not my opinion cuz i love her but thats how its in the books). bakugo shouts "die" and katniss actually k/lls people dkdjjd love them cutie patooties.

apart from the scene i just mentioned above, peeta also helps a starving katniss when they were kids and katniss questions his motives till they meet again(at the age of 16). very bkdk river scene coded too where bakugo falls into the shallow river and all his friends are laughing but deku rushes to help bakugo up and asks if he is ok but bakugo smacks his hand away thinking deku is looking down at him and now bakugo regrets not taking his hand. also this scene stays rent free in katniss' head like how the river scene stays rent free in bakugo's 😭 peeta remembers it but it doesn't plague his head like it does to katniss.

majority of book1 katniss questions peeta's intentions, thinks about how peeta is lying to her and what manipulative tactics he is going to use to win the games. much like bakugo who accuses deku of lying to him about not having a quirk and deceiving him. bakugo also doesn't trust deku in the initial chapters, questions his motives behind the things he does.

katniss and bakugo solidarity, the tsunderes.

now that i think about it, katniss and bakugo are very barbie coded djhdjd as in "she is barbie and he is just ken".

katniss and baku are individual people with goals and ideals and their own motives, they dont think about love and friendship that much, they are focused on what they want and they strive to achieve it.

now coming to the Ken's🥸 peeta in the series exists to support katniss. peeta in both games had one motive and it was to save katniss. deku too desperately wants to save bakugo, time and time again he wants to save bakugo but cant. katniss and deku are similar in a way that they both fail to protect the one that means the most to them. this made me remember, like in book1 katniss questions peeta, takes him for granted, kinda(?) uses him to survive and win but in the second games she is dead set to save peeta, doesn't matter if she dies, peeta is #1 priority. she knows peeta will sacrifice himself any chance he gets so she is there to look over him. very similar to bakugo in the 1st war arc. deku is there, doing hero things and ready to sacrifice himself and bakugo is there looking over him, seeing how he is destroying himself and saved deku with his own life(he doesn't die there).

reminds of a scene in book2 where peeta's heart stops and katniss cries and screams to finnick to save him. and deku screaming after bakugo gets kidnapped

peeta fell in love with katniss when they were children, he admired her since then. he looked at her in the corridors of the school, my man is a simp. deku is also a simp(this is a joke, i am trying to keep this post neutral and not including any headcanons, if i did, i am sorry), bro admired bakugo since they were kids, bakugo was his image of victory.

now coming to the point of "bread and circus". even though the hero society in mha is not entirely distopian like hunger games, this sentences fits here too, very perfectly. how the hero society was set up, the civilians were pushed to became the audience, no one without a hero license is not allowed to fight or hurt anyone, not even students in hero training who dont have a license. this made the civilians entitled and ignorant. entitled cause they started thinking that heroes exist for them, they are supposed to fight for them(much like how people in real life treat soldiers or doctors, they take them for granted) and ignorant to all the struggles heroes go through. not just heroes may i correct myself but also people around them, if anybody has a quirk that doesn't fit the societal standards(like toga's, she has to drink blood to become someone else for some time), they are treated differently, deku who was quirkless was bullied, by bakugo and literally so many others, even adults, he was treated differently than everybody else. examples can go on but you get the point, people of japan in mha get bread(a life of ease) and circus(entertainment as heroes fight with their life on line and people watch in awe as if its some action film). the people of the capitol(panem, hunger games) are like that, they watch teenagers killing each other on screens as entertainment, they bet who would win etc.

peeta and deku fit right in. i explained how peeta fits, now ill talk about how deku fits. deku, a "true hero" like his predecessor all might, who wants to save people with smile but as the series goes on, he himself cant smile bcoz the burden on him. people want their bread and circus from him and want to stay ignorant to his struggles. they wabt him to protect them and give them the life of ease back to them, they want him to fight the villains while they sit comfortably but when he needed protection, when he needed rest, they straight up said no. like the people of capitol or even some people in the district who hated katniss when she became the mockingjay(face of the revolt) but loved when she was serving as a cute little girl in love and giving people the entertainment they needed.

ok so this got a lot longer than expected, i am sorry sjsjjsjs and i still must have missed a lot so feel free to reply with more things if you can think of any.

god the way i love everlark. its the writing that is sooo good, you can keep reading into it and making connections and keep analysing the text. same reason why i love bkdk so much cuz they have material that you can keep analysing.

i thought of all this when i recently watched hunger games movies again and went "wait....green and orange...sounds familiar🥸" sjdhjd. then i kept thinking and found so many parallels between them. take this as an disclaimer that i am not saying that bkdk are based on them or ANYTHING, its just my brain mixing up two things that i am obsessed with<3

[evanluvsdragons]

Blacier fluff fanfic

I saw someone else post their short Blaze/Glacier oneshot, so I thought i’d do the same:

In the rocky, snowy land on the border of the Ice Queendom, a large cabin resided. Inside, in the SandWing princess’ private living room, Blaze sat with her back to the door and to the right of the magnificent fireplace. She was admiring one of her newest tapestries, bending her long neck so she could view its entirety. The woven art displayed rolling hills of sand with a beautiful sunset on the horizon. In the imaged sky, two blobs of color flew; one a white-gold, the other a blue-ish white. The princess sighed, a longing ache in her heart. She was alone in the distant cold lands, far away from the dunes. And to make it worse, Queen Glacier was gone fighting an important battle against a large MudWing army.

A cold pretense walked into the living room. The cold touched Blaze’s neck scales, sending a jolt of shivers down the SandWing’s spine. Hope flooded Blaze’s chest, pouring into every inch of her body, from her claws to her wingtips. Her heart thumped twice, echoing in her head, before she slowly turned around to look at the dragon who had entered. 

There, in the doorway, stood Queen Glacier, queen of the IceWings. Her ice colored scales contrasted against the warm colored textures of the room, looking like a misplaced diamond.

Blaze’s breath caught in her throat. “Glacier!” she called out, leaping to her feet. “You’re back!” Running forward, the SandWing stood before Glacier, their snouts inches apart. The IceWing’s cold blue eyes warmed at the sight of Blaze. 

“I was so worried something was going to happen to you,” Blaze admitted, tears welling in her eyes. 

Gently, Glacier lifted a talon to Blaze’s face, cradling it. “It was just a small battle, I was well protected by my army.”

When a stray tear fell from Blaze’s black eyes, Glacier used a claw to swipe it away. 

“I would never leave you alone for too long, my dear,” Glacier said. “You know that.”

Blaze leaned into the queen’s talon with closed eyes, taking the time to appreciate the cold against her warm scales. Oh, how she’d yearned for the IceWing’s touch the past two weeks.

“I just missed you so much ,” Blaze said, opening her eyes and looking up at her favorite dragon, who was staring lovingly back at her.

“Oh! Glacier, come look! You must see,” Blaze said excitedly as she dragged Glacier over to the spot she was in previously. “Look at this tapestry I had made!”

The SandWing looked over at the Queen, analyzing her face. “It’s us,” she explained, pointing to the flying dragons in the sky. “Isn’t it beautiful? I mean, it has to be because it has us in it! We are, after all, the most beautiful dragons in all of Pyrrhia.”

Glacier smiled as she gazed up at the artwork. Blaze looked back and forth between the tapestry and Glacier, loving that Glacier seemed to like it. 

“It's beautiful,” the IceWing concluded, making Blaze squeal. “I knew it!” 

The SandWing’s midnight eyes widened with an idea. “Oh, glacier, you must have it for your palace, so every time you see it you think of me!” The princess hastily tried to reach up and take the tapestry off her wall. 

Glacier set a talon on Blaze’s outstretched forearm and stopped her flailing. Standing up on her hind legs, the IceWing queen used her height to pull the string that hung the tapestry off its peg. 

“I’ll cherish it for as long as I live,” she told the beaming SandWing. Blaze noticed her lover petting the tapestry. 

“I ordered only the best for something of such importance,” she informed Glacier, reaching out to feel the work as well. The silky threads were smooth and polished, like Blaze’s prized scales. 

The two dragon’s looked up at the other at the same time. Glacier’s eyes pierced into Blaze’s making the SandWing blush furiously and look down at her claws, trying not to feel the swarm of butterflies in her stomach. 

“I want to hear all about your adventure,” Blaze piped up, changing the subject. She let go of the tapestry and walked gracefully to the large cushion in front of the fire. “Let’s sit down and you can tell me all about how you vanquished our enemies.”

Glacier chuckled softly, and followed the waiting dragon. 

“Alright, but I’ll skip the blood and gore,” the IceWing said. 

“Thank the moons,” Blaze sighed in relief. 

The cushion was a deep red, like the purest of rubies, and was filled with the finest down feathers Blaze’s servants could find. It gave way when the two dragons sat on it and bent to hold their shapes perfectly. The firelight flickered in the fireplace, casting dancing shadows across the room. Blaze hoped that the heat wasn’t too uncomfortable for Glacier.

The queen began to narrate the long, gruesome fight: “I cut through the front line of MudWings as easily as catching a basking walrus,” she boasted with a proud smile.

Blaze ‘oooo’ed and ‘ahhhh’ed at all the appropriate movements, making Glacier add even more enthusiasm to her story. 

“There was, however, an event where I was fighting three MudWings at once, one of them being the battalion’s leader,” Glacier said with drama. 

Blaze gasped, holding a talon to her mouth. “No,” she whispered, enthralled in the story. Glacier nodded and continued. 

“They tried to slit my wing membrane, but I shot a long blast of my ice breath and froze their heads before they had a chance to scream!” Glacier let out a bark of laughter, but stopped when she noticed Blaze had her talons over her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, dear,” she sighed. “I know I promised to leave out as much death as possible. 

“No, it isn’t that,” Blaze lamented. “I just hate the idea of you being in danger like that.”

“I know, I know. But a queen has her duties,” Glacier recited.

Blaze rested her head against the IceWing’s cold shoulder. “Sometimes I don’t want to be queen,” she admitted. “I’d rather stay alone with you for the rest of my time. But I know I can’t,’ she added before Glacier could respond. “I know I can’t let my sisters take the throne.”

“I’m sorry, my sunbeam,” Glacier said sorrowfully. “All we can do is take the time the moons allow us to have with each other, and relish in it.”

Blaze relaxed as a calming chill caressed her back in rubbing motions. In a single movement, the SandWing moved into a lying position on the comfortable cushion. Behind her, Glacier shifted until she was cradling the Sandwing, her white tail encircling the resting dragon. 

“Let us sleep, now,” Glacier whispered in Blaze’s ear.

Blaze nuzzled into her lover’s embrace as she drifted off to sleep, thinking of the desert, ice, and impossible weddings.

[reflectionsofneptune]

little things about the Mars Signs

18+ 

little, dreamy things I associate with sex and the Mars signs in Astrology. 

Aries Mars

Rawness. A strong grip. Tugging a lock of hair when it gets too much. A thin line between pain and pleasure. Nails scratching down a back because of frustration. A build up. Taunts. Deliberately causing arguments because make-up sex with you feels so good. Will you take the bait? Sex feeling new each time. A fast rhythm. Confidence. Advancing towards you. Feeling protective over you. An urge to KO anyone who looks at you for more than 2 seconds. Warrior urges instigated. Persistence got me this far in life, let me show you how it works for me.

Taurus Mars

Pressure. A slow burning warmth that licks up the body. We have all the time in the world.  Every part of the body exposed to a kiss, a touch, a breath of air. Flickering of orange flames in a fireplace. A feeling of pure, unabashed sensuality when naked. Coolness of air which brushes the hairs on the back of the neck. Rooted in sexual energy. Slow and steady wins the race. Scented massages. Starting at the base of the neck. Feeling strength. Resilience. Flavoured condoms. Drunk on your love. How is it possible you taste sweeter every time? The smooth column of the throat. The shadows a sunset causes dancing. Seduction is like art to me, let me paint you a masterpiece. 

Gemini Mars

Curiosity. Curiosity killed the cat, but the cat had nine lives. Opening up to try different things. Trying to do too many things at once. Falling on the floor so we stay there. A combination of arms and legs. Head cocked to one side. Observing you from a different angle. Slanted eyes. A feeling of pressure that’s quick but growing in acuteness. Busy hands. Roaming fingers. Lights on or off it doesn’t matter. I can still picture you. In my mind. With my eyes closed. You’re a permanent imprint on my psyche. My desire resides on the mental plane. Whispering all the things I want to do to you. Biting an ear lobe. Wanting to learn about every inch of your body. Tell me your fantasies and watch how fast I bring it to you in real time.

Cancer Mars

Baby. But I can take control. It depends how I feel. An emotionally charged touch. Hearts in sync. A vivid imagination. Role-playing. Wearing that outfit I know has that effect on you. Playing coy. If I’m feeling sad, I might insist we stay wrapped in each other’s arms, just for a while. Is that OK? A stormy kind of desire. Waking up to kisses. Not wanting to sleep because this moment is all I ever dreamed of. This feels like home. Checking in with you. A sensitive kind of love. Hold me tight. So tight I can’t breathe. Only then will it feel right. TLC. Crying before, during and after sex. I can’t help it. A sudden wave of desire, greedy in nature. Strong feelings of lust. My fervour for you is bottomless, this is but a small representation of its total expression.

Leo Mars

Doing it in the mirror so I can show you how beautiful you look. Don’t be shy. Rose petals on the bed. Even more rose petals on the floor. I wanna perform for you. An effortless performance, start to finish. This is what you signed up for. Let me deliver my end of the deal. Pride in the bedroom. Forgetting about past lovers. At the moment of release, saying my name soothes the lion inside that bares it’s teeth when you’re underneath me. Aggression. Feeling royal together. Round one barely took the edge off. Leaving my mark on you. The bedroom feels like a hunting ground. Running isn’t an option. Pleasure in all its forms. Can you tame the beast?

Virgo Mars

Acting reserved in public but it’s a different story behind closed doors. Who knew? Not afraid to get dirty with you. Voyuerism. Less stress. Surrendering to pleasure and not feeling guilty for it. Peace with the imperfection of this ritual. Perfection out of the window. Lust making a direct entrance, front and centre. Tasting you. And then kissing you. Tasting us. Fresh sheets. Getting equally turned on watching you get dressed vs watching you get undressed. When we’re done, cleaning you as an act of service. Submission. A routine that brings order to a chaotic life. If I tell you how crucial this is to my well-being, will you look down on me?

Libra Mars

Fluid. Fluidity in our movements. You first, then me. Close your eyes if you like. There’s no rush. I like being here with you. Who said romance was dead? Wants and desires expressed with you in mind. Sleepy sex. In the throes of passion, you still look like a masterpiece. Can’t get enough. Delicate petals of a rose. Instinctively knowing how to get you off. Licking my lips. And then licking you down there. Playing with you with finesse. How does this feel? Dressing up, just for you. A breathy sigh released in the crook of the neck. Scented candles. Not knowing where each other begins and ends. Not caring. A true union of souls. Sharing this helps me to forget about inner turmoil, if only for a little while.

Scorpio Mars

Enticement. Pupils full and unblinking. Space between us lasts for a second. Who are we kidding? Sharing oxygen. Sucking on your bottom lip. Eyes on me. That’s not a request. Wanting to watch you fall apart. A wet trail left by a tongue. Those kind of toys. Do you trust me? Show me how much. Fingers pressed into the skin, hard. A ghostly handprint flashes on the surface of the skin for a heartbeat. Teeth tease the throb of a pulse point. Blood rushing. Be brave enough to discover the intensity of my feelings and be sucked under. Only to rise up in levels in consciousness on a spiritual plane. Love is transformational. I’m willing to show you what you do to me. Don’t run.

Sagittarius Mars

Free rein. Sex with the possibility of being exposed. Down for whatever. Bluntness. Desires expressed with no shame. A finger over the lips. Playing to win. Feeling energised when rolling around the sheets. Nothing is off limits. Fantasies coming true. No strings attached. Watch me do you. Laughter as foreplay. Relax with me. You may have tried this position before but with me it’s different. Let’s get physical. A work out. Kissing you to muffle your screams. Messy hair. Messy sheets. How did this end up in the bed? Mundane details of life losing their importance when we’re together. Feeling the strength coursing through the thighs. I would risk getting caught with you.

Capricorn Mars

A hand on your waist in public, a hand on your throat in secret. Trust me, it feels better when you wait. Limits pushed. Burning up. Debauchery. I won’t tell. It’s our little secret. Experience is a turn on. Standards are a turn on. A sense of control. Mastery. I know this game in and out. Sex is all about power at the end of the day. Soft bristles of a whip, barely brushing the spine. I know how to do this with my eyes closed. How do you feel about blindfolds? Vulnerability. Replaying these moments we share in inappropriate places. Seductive e-mails. Legs pressed tightly together. Having power over you is an accolade I hold close to my heart, not something I take for granted.

Aquarius Mars

Electric. Electricity when our fingers touch. Permission to be one’s free, authentic self. A non-judgement zone. Non-physical forms of affection. I’m open to trying something new with you. Inviting other people into the picture but only you can make me feel this way. Incorporating technology to add a new flavour. Feeling closer to you in group sex. Conversations intermingling within the very act of sex. Noses brushing against each other faintly. Deep eye-contact feels orgasmic. Hearing soft vibrations in the air before you feel it. Swirling galaxies. My thoughts are consumed by you nowadays, but I’m OK with that.

Pisces Mars

Altered states of consciousness. The bliss that comes when feeling wholly accepted. Complete adoration. Eyes locked. A desire to merge together. Skinny-dipping under the cloak of the night. Who cares if we get caught. No restrictions. A transcendent experience. Artistic nudes. A photo album on my phone. Dedicated to you. Boundaries teased. Biting my lip to control myself but failing. Kisses on the forehead. Reverence. I can morph into whoever you want me to. Kissing you, but my eyes are open. Moments of silence. Desires expressed without words. The sweetest dreams. Every time feels like a little death, only to be reborn again.  

| little thoughts about the mercury placements

| little thoughts about the venus placements

| little thoughts about the saturn placements

[gukyi]

that’s the spirit! | myg

summary: min yoongi hates halloween. as his best friend and resident halloween-lover, that is simply unacceptable. but when halloween night rolls around and you and min yoongi feel farther apart than ever before, you discover that what’s come between you is more than just a bad trick, and that no matter what day it is, loving him is the sweetest treat of all.

{college!au, friends to lovers!au, halloween!au}

pairing: min yoongi x female reader genre: fluff, comedy, a little angst? (a little i promise) word count: 8k (woohoo! i did it!) warnings: alcohol consumption, underage drunkenness in flashbacks, misunderstandings, helpless but mutual pining, halloween parties, this is halloween during college, what else do you expect a/n: some scenes inspired by love, rosie, my absolute favorite rom-com! happy halloween, and i hope this brings some joy to your life before armageddon i mean election day rolls around! much love 🎃💜

Min Yoongi hates Halloween. 

Which is ridiculous, because you assume that there must have been at least one time in his life where he liked it. Halloween is a universally-liked holiday. It was the one day of the year where he, an unbridled child rebelling against authority, got to dress up as his favorite book character, superhero, or movie star, hang out with his friends past sunset, and solicit strangers for free candy. Free candy! How could anyone hate that?

But the thing is, it doesn’t matter what Min Yoongi was like in his youth. Ever since you met him, he has hated Halloween. For reasons completely unbeknownst to you. 

Unfortunately for Min Yoongi, just because he hates Halloween doesn’t mean that he gets to spend his October pretending that it doesn’t exist. Because, unlike him, you do not hate Halloween. In fact, you rather like it. So much so that Min Yoongi has to deal with the holiday no matter what. For better… 

“Ah! What the fuck!”

Or for worse.

You pop your head out of your bedroom to find Yoongi about to throw down with the fake skeleton you’ve propped up by the door, one of those cheesy ones from Spirit Halloween that make a zombie sound whenever its artificial brain can sense someone near it. He’s got this wide-eyed look on his face, fists up in front of him like he’s going to beat the damn thing senseless, even though Min Yoongi is barely five-feet-ten and has a body that functions exclusively on iced coffee and could probably get taken down by the average third-grader. 

Min Yoongi does not have a flight instinct. He only knows how to fight. 

He’s muttering to himself by the time you emerge completely from your bedroom, grumbling about how he nearly wet himself at the sight of the thing, fingers glossing over the plastic bones as he inspects them. There he stands in the doorway of your apartment, curled-up fists tucked inside the too-long sleeves of his too-big hoodie, pink lips parted in innocent confusion as he blinks at your apartment’s new resident. 

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” You chide from where you stand in your room, watching as Yoongi jerks his head up. The sound of your voice seems to catch him off guard for a minute, eyes wide in shock before he realizes that it’s you and his whole body relaxes. “Was that you I just heard screaming outside my apartment, Min Yoongi?”

“No,” Yoongi deadpans, fully aware that the both of you know that it was him. “Must have been someone else.”

“Yes, of course, my mistake,” you tease, coming up behind him to rub his upper arm, the palm of your hand pressing against the worn fabric of his hoodie sleeve as he sighs. “You don’t have a problem with my festive decorations at all, do you?”

“Not those,” Yoongi frowns, pointing to the orange and black streamers hanging above your apartment window, to the mini pumpkins sitting in the center of your dinky kitchen table, to the construction paper cutouts of black cats decorating your walls. He rounds on the skeleton, propped up right next to the door with the sole purpose of scaring whatever visitors you have. “This, I have a problem with. What is this thing?”

You smile proudly. “Reginald.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Yoongi looks at you, positively flabbergasted. “You named it?”

You scoff. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? I bought him, he’s mine now, and he needed a name. So I named him Reginald. What’s the issue here?” You weren’t about to buy a twenty-five dollar plastic skeleton, set him up to be your personal doorman, and not give him a name. 

“The issue is that this—” he motions to Reginald’s face, “—is the first thing I see when I walk into your apartment, instead of—oh, I don’t know—you,” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Aw, I’m touched,” you say, pressing a hand to your heart. “Didn’t know you always wanted to see my face first thing when you come over.”

Yoongi’s gaze drifts down towards the floor, thumbs twiddling. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, words barely audible. “Why else would I come over?”

“I don’t know, for the ambience, maybe?” You say with a shrug, watching him slide his backpack off of his shoulder and onto the floor by the couch. “Anyway, maybe if you had come with me to Spirit Halloween when I went shopping for decorations, you wouldn’t be so surprised.”

“I had two midterms that week! Two!” Yoongi reminds you.”

“I’m just saying,” you tell him, hands up defensively as you make your way to the kitchen, fishing out two teabags from the cabinet as you set the kettle to boil. You never used to like tea, but a year ago Yoongi convinced you to try this jasmine flower one from the Asian supermarket downtown and you haven’t looked back. Now there’s always at least three spare boxes in your kitchen cupboards, for you and for him. “No time is a bad time to get into the Halloween spirit.”

Yoongi sighs, loud and obvious, because this is the third year in a row you’ve brought up this conversation and it’s not any more convincing than it was the last two times. “Do we have to do this?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t we just pretend it’s November Eve?”

“Come on, Yoongi,” you plead, because he’s never given you a good explanation as to why he refuses to spend Halloween with you, and you just want to know why. “Won’t you just celebrate this one stupid holiday with me?”

“So you admit it’s stupid?”

“That’s not what I meant.” You frown at him, crossing your arms as the kettle starts whistling. 

Yoongi exhales, reaching over you to pour the boiling water into your teacups, matching His and Hers ones you bought from the sale section of Target last year for Valentine’s Day. “It’s just not my thing. You know that.”

“But we’re college students,” you exclaim. “Halloween is the best when you’re a college student! You get to dress up as whatever you want and go to five different parties and spend the night with your friends without your parents chaperoning you.”

Yoongi purses his lips, unconvinced. “So… basically an opportunity to get piss drunk in a frat house? No thanks, I’ll pass.”

“You know that I wouldn’t care what we did if you celebrated Halloween with me,” you say, leaning against the counter as you hold your mug in your hands, the heat warming your palms and steam brushing against the skin of your cheeks. “Even if we just stayed in and watched a movie. Or played one of those horror video games Jungkook’s always talking about.”

“That sounds worse,” Yoongi admits with a helpless laugh. It really does. Neither you nor Yoongi have ever been huge fans of the horror genre Jungkook loves so much. 

You chuckle. “Honestly, yeah, forget I said anything about that.”

“You know I just don’t care for Halloween that much,” Yoongi says, gazing down into the swirling brown of his mug, the steam from the water making his glasses fog up. “It’s nothing personal.”

You sigh. That’s about as good of an answer you’re going to be getting out of him. No matter what you suggest, whether it be a house party, a night in, or even just a candy feast, he has always declined, citing his unexplainable dislike for the festivities. The only reason he deals with the holiday in the first place is because you love it so much. 

“Will you at least help me carve some pumpkins please?” You ask, a last ditch effort to get him to participate. “The supermarket on Fifteenth Street is having a sale on them, and I wanted to decorate the windowsill. It’s easier with two people, you know.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes, looking hesitant. 

“Oh, please, Yoongi? Just this once? It’s not even, like, a strictly Halloween thing. It’s just a fall thing! Plus, we can roast the pumpkin seeds after for a snack,” you plead, placing your cup down on the counter so you can tug on his arms, hands wrapped around his wrists as you stare into his eyes, positively desperate. 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Yoongi says with a huff, that resigned tone to his voice that signifies that he’s caving in. “Yes, we can carve pumpkins together. That I will do.”

“Oh my God, really? Yes! Yay, thank you so much!” In a fit of excitement, surprise, and joy, you pull Yoongi in for a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck as he tilts back in shock, tea spilling out over the edge of his mug and onto the linoleum floor beneath your feet, drops of it splashing against your skin. 

“Whoa, whoa, okay,” Yoongi says, taken aback. Still nestled tightly within your arms, he carefully sets his mug down onto the counter so as to avoid more spilling, his other hand pressing against the small of your back. “I didn’t know pumpkin carving was so important to you.”

You laugh, pulling away as you look into his eyes, crinkled up into fond little crescents. “It’s not. But you are.”

“So cheesy,” Yoongi chides.

“You love it,” you remind him, pressing the side of your body against his as you lean against the counter together. Instinctively, you let your head flop onto his shoulder, fitting perfectly in the crook of his neck. “Thanks for doing this for me,” you say softly. 

“Of course,” Yoongi says. “Anything for you.”

“Look how festive campus is!”

Yoongi chuckles as he watches you skip down the main walkway, the one that winds right from the west to the east side of campus, relishing in the feeling of autumn. Yoongi always forgets that it’s fall until it hits him like a brick to the head, and suddenly it’s getting dark at five-thirty and he can’t go outside without a proper jacket anymore. It’s a week until November, and Yoongi still refuses to wear anything heavier than a denim jacket, no matter how cold it gets. It can’t be winter yet, right?

“Wow, all the tones really fit the spooky mood,” you tell him, leaves crinkling as your feet step on the fallen foliage, brown and orange and yellow and red.

“How convenient it is that orange happens to be one of Halloween’s signature colors,” Yoongi chides with a roll of his eyes. “Is the Castle still hosting that party next week?”

“The costume one? Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” you tell him with a nod. “We’re still going, right?”

“Only because it’s our first year,” Yoongi reminds you pointedly. “And since you wanna celebrate together so badly.”

You scoff. “Don’t act like it’s such a drag. I know you want to spend time with me.”

Yoongi chuckles to himself, casual and cool. He knows you’re just teasing him but quite frankly, if Yoongi could spend every day of the rest of his life with you, then he would. If he could turn himself into a witch and cast a spell to keep you by his side for the rest of time, then he would. From the moment the two of you met in your dingy dorm, you clicked. And Yoongi knew, in that moment. He just knew. 

“Oh my God, look at the pumpkins!” 

Your voice breaks him from his thoughts, your finger pointing excitedly at the carved pumpkins outside of the dormitories that line the walkway, lit candles nestled safely inside. They’ve got everything from the college logo to video game characters to the face of your lovable-but-memeable university president carved into them, decorating the street with a little more personality than normal. 

“They’re so cute, holy shit,” you tell Yoongi fondly, all endeared and heart-eyed, the same way you get when someone walks their dog through campus or a professor sends out an update email with a picture of their newborn grandchild. Yoongi’s only known you a couple of months, but already he’s starting to figure out what makes you tick. “I love them. Don’t you love them, Yoongi?”

You turn around to meet Yoongi’s eyes, and when he looks back at you it feels like his whole heart is lighter. He sees your smile and it makes his body fill with warmth, like someone’s wrapping a blanket around him, like a warm cup of hot cocoa on a cool autumn afternoon. He looks back at you, and it feels like everything is right. 

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, grinning. “I do.”

The lopsided legs of your creaky kitchen table tremble as the pumpkin hits it. 

“Damn, is this thing heavy or am I just getting weaker?” You ask, smoothing out the newspaper spread out on the flat surface of the table, two college students’ best attempt to avoid a mess. They’re old student copies with headlines like Brand New Cafeteria, but is the Food Even Any Good? and New Semester, New Me! sprawled across the front. You care about your school news, you really do, but the members of the newspaper team that hand out the papers practically stuff them down your throat whenever there’s a new issue, which is three times a week and at every street intersection on campus. So you’ve had extras lying around. 

“Nope, they’re definitely heavy,” Yoongi agrees as he plops his pumpkin onto the table next to yours with a thud. “Though it’s not like I go to the gym much anyway.”

“Didn’t we say we were gonna try and be healthier this year, since we’re graduating?” You ask. 

“That was before that new doughnut place opened up next to the ramen restaurant three streets up,” Yoongi reminds you. 

“Maybe grad school?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, reaching over the table to grab the pumpkin carving kits the two of you bought from the drugstore down the road. “Caution. Keep out of reach of children ages three and under,” he reads. “Welp, guess I can’t do this then…”

“Ha ha, very funny,” you say with a deadpan frown, grabbing onto his wrist. “Hold on a minute, Mr. I Promised I Would Do This For My Best Friend.” Yoongi exhales dramatically as you pull him back towards the table, though it’s not as if there was much resistance from him in the first place.

You pry open the plastic wrapping that surrounds the kit, the orange tools eventually popping out of their casing and onto your newspaper-ed table. Sure, you could have probably pulled out two knives from your kitchen drawer and it wouldn’t make a difference, but spending ten dollars each on these two little pumpkin carving kits didn’t seem like a waste of money. For the sake of Halloween spirit, right?

“What do you want to carve?” You ask, handing Yoongi your open kit as you gaze at the instruction manual. Pumpkin carving shouldn’t be too difficult, should it? You cut open the top, pull out all the gunk from the inside, and then carve a face, or something. 

“I’m not a very good artist,” Yoongi admits, looking hesitant. 

“Well, the good thing about pumpkin carving is that no one expects them to look nice,” you point out. “I think I want to do that anime eyes face emoji. You know the one. Let’s see…”

You grab a hold of the plastic knife that came with the kit, hover the tip over the top of the pumpkin, and stab. It sinks into the squash up to the hilt. That’s the good part. 

The bad part is that, because you’re holding onto a knife made out of non-recyclable plastic, moving it once it’s inside the pumpkin is exceedingly difficult. You pull it right and left fruitlessly, watching as the knife sits firmly in place, the handle bending with the curve of your fingers if you tug on it too hard. 

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Yoongi says with another sigh, abandoning his own pumpkin, which he has already de-stalked in the minutes you weren’t looking his way. “Let me help you.”

Suddenly, you feel a warmth wrap around you. A figure presses against your back, this musky, coffee-laden scent surrounding you, and you watch as Yoongi’s calloused hands slowly envelop yours, fingertips pressing firmly against your skin. It makes you freeze up instinctively, jumping at the sensation of his body around yours, of his torso pressed against your back, of his breath tickling your ear. 

“Relax, alright?” He says, voice calm and gentle. He brings your hands to the knife, lets his palms rest against them as your fingers slowly wrap around the handle. You can feel him breathing, feel the slow rise and fall of his chest against you, the heat of his mouth just inches away from your cheek. “It’s just me.”

You force a chuckle. “You just surprised me, that’s all.”

You feel Yoongi pause behind you. 

“Seriously, I’m fine. Help me,” you insist. 

Steadily, albeit a little bit tentatively, Yoongi does. His hand wrapped around yours, together the two of you carve out the top of the pumpkin, his chest pressed firmly against your back, body engulfing you. He feels so close, so goddamn close, like there is barely an inch of space in between the two of you, like if he were to bend down right there and if you were shift yourself around you would see nothing but his face right in front of yours, his hazy brown eyes looking back at you, twinkling in the white light of your kitchen. 

It almost makes you want to turn around and look. 

“There we go,” Yoongi says, voice suddenly soft, quiet like there’s something else weighing on his tongue. “What are you thinking of carving?”

“I don’t know,” you murmur, lips upturned. “Maybe you?”

“I don’t make for a very attractive pumpkin picture,” Yoongi says with a shake of his head, even though that’s total bullshit for a number of reasons. 

First of all, a pumpkin portrait is by no means meant to be an attractive portrayal of you, unless you’re Keanu Reeves and you look photogenic no matter what. Second of all, there has never been a time where Yoongi has not looked good. He always does. He did during finals week when his body was made of nothing but iced coffee, he did in freshman year when the two of you would stay awake until the early morning getting vodka spilled all over you in frat houses, and he does now, tired eyes and soft skin, dark hair and pink lips, standing in your apartment like he belongs here, like this is where he was meant to be. 

“I think you would,” you tell him honestly. “You’d look good no matter what.”

Yoongi’s silent at that, but you can tell from the way his cheeks are turning red he’s taken the compliment to heart. It makes you want to shower him in them. It makes you want to freeze this moment in time, suspended in reality, and stay like that forever. 

“Then I’ll do you,” he says with a grin, because what else would he say? Who else would he choose? You are going to put two matching pumpkins on your windowsill, and they will be of you and him. Messy, Picasso-style portraits carved into the orange skin. Two best friends, together even as fucking pumpkins. 

You will carve out a picture of him, and he will carve out a picture of you, and isn’t that what this is really all about?

“Do you think people are gonna get the wrong idea about us?” 

“What do you mean?”

Yoongi turns around to face you where you stand in front of your dorm mirror, this giant plastic one hanging on two hooks that you’ve latched onto the door of your room. He knows that you can see him in the mirror, staring back at you with a black mask over his face and a cape draped over his shoulders, the giant yellow emblem printed out on a piece of paper and taped onto his chest. It’s a last minute costume, for sure, but it gets the job done nicely. 

“I mean,” you say, fixing the cat ears that sit atop your head. “Do you think people are gonna think we’re a couple, or something?”

Yoongi grins nervously and hopes that you don’t notice. “I mean, we’re just going to a frat party. I doubt it’s going to be light enough to see anything at all. Why?”

“Well, I don’t want people to get the wrong idea about us,” you say, adjusting the mask over your eyes. Yoongi, unabashedly, rakes his eyes up and down your figure. Your black turtleneck and skintight leather leggings don’t leave very much to the imagination. You’re definitely much more in costume than he is, to say the least. 

“We’re freshmen, people already have the wrong idea about us,” Yoongi scoffs. 

You turn around just so you can shoot a frown his way. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Why are you so worried about people getting the wrong idea about us?” Yoongi asks you, an eyebrow raised. This does not exactly bode well for him. “We can be Batman and Catwoman together no matter what people think.”

“I don’t know, I guess I just—” You stop in your tracks, letting the words fall off your lips and crash to the floor. “Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“What? You can tell me,” Yoongi says, concern lacing his voice. He rushes over to you, the two of you staring at your reflections in the mirror. Two friends, clad in black, wearing matching costumes. If Yoongi wasn’t sober right now, maybe he would actually do it. 

Maybe. 

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing,” you shrug it off with a shake of your head. “I’m happy to be doing this with you. Even if your costume totally sucks.”

“Hey!” Yoongi exclaims defensively. “It is not my fault you came up with this idea last minute even though you already owned everything. I had to pay twenty-five cents to print this in color, you know.”

“A Twenty-five cent costume and you still look good.”

You and Yoongi smile at each other in the mirror, lips turned up as you stare at yourselves, wondering if this is all you will ever be, or if there is something more. 

Yoongi sure hopes it’s the latter. 

And he’s determined to find out, once and for all, tonight. 

You’ve just lit the candles that sit inside yours and Yoongi’s pumpkins when you hear the knock at your door. 

You’re sure that Yoongi can hear you from a mile away as you scurry towards the door, white platform heels clapping against the floorboards with every step you take. You’re going to have to practice walking in these a bit more. Maybe you shouldn’t have bought them only a week before Halloween, and maybe you should have at least tried to break them in a little bit. 

“Hello?” You swing open the door. 

“He—whoa,” Yoongi begins before his eyes widen to the size of the moon as he fully takes in the sight in front of him. “What’s with the—uh, the… dress?” He’s scratching at the nape of his neck, eyes sweeping up and down your body. 

You hold out the skirt of your sequined, bedazzled dress as best you can, and grin. “I’m a gogo dancer! What do you think?”

“Wow, I—” Yoongi starts, a little speechless. “I don’t know. Wow. You look… you look nice, Y/N.”

You smile, thankful for the compliment. Yoongi seems weirdly breathless, blinking more often than usual, like he’s trying to convince himself that what he’s seeing is real. Although, you will admit that this dress is much more sparkly than anything else you have in your closet. You reckon a few disco balls were sacrificed to make this costume. 

“Why—uh, why did you call me over? Did you need something from me?”

“Actually, yes,” you say, ushering Yoongi into your apartment. 

As he’s walking inside, Yoongi notices the pumpkins sitting on your windowsill. “Hey, those look cute together.”

“Don’t they?” You say proudly. Nobody else has commented on them, but then again, you live on the fifth floor of your apartment, so you don’t imagine many people can even see them from ground level. But it’s nice to know that they’re there, and that they mean something. Not to a whole lot of people, but to you. And to him. “But that’s not why I asked you to come over.”

“Why, what’s up?”

You freeze when he looks up at you, like you can hardly will the next few words to come out of your mouth. They’re stuck at the dam of your lips, refusing to budge, because there is this tiny, this little part of you that doesn’t even have the courage to ask. To say it. Because you know already. 

“Hoseok’s throwing a party tonight—”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish!”

“But I know what you’re going to say,” Yoongi says like it’s obvious, because it is. “You’re going to ask me to come with you. And I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, Y/N, but I am not going to go. I’m just not.”

“But it’s not a shitty frat party or anything!” You exclaim, desperately trying to dig yourself out of a hole you’re already six-feet in. “It’s at his place, an apartment across campus, with just some friends of his. There won’t be crazy music and sleazy guys and jungle juice. It’s just going to be a house party.”

“I don’t care, I don’t want to go,” Yoongi tells you. “There’s nothing you can do to change my mind.”

“Why? Why won’t you go?” You demand, because the least your best friend of nearly four years could do is give you a real reason. A real reason as to why he hates Halloween, why he never wants to celebrate it with you, why he never wants to go out with you on your favorite night of the year. 

“Because I just don’t want to! Why can’t you just accept that? I don’t want to go!”

Silence. It’s almost as if Yoongi’s shocked he was even speaking so loudly in the first place. 

Next to you, the candles flicker. 

“I don’t get it,” you say, resigned. “I don’t understand. This is our very last year to celebrate Halloween as college students, as best friends, and you can’t even give me a real excuse as to why you won’t come with me.”

Yoongi frowns. “What do you mean, ‘a real excuse’?”

“Exactly that,” you say sharply. “A real excuse. Even when I offer for us to just stay in and eat KitKats and watch a shiity movie you refuse. All because it’s Halloween. I don’t get it. It’s not the crowds, and it’s not the drinks, and it’s not even the other stuff, like the pumpkins and the decorations. Is it me? Am I the reason you don’t want to celebrate Halloween?”

“No, what the fuck, it’s not you!”

“Then what is it, Yoongi?” You plead, not even making an attempt to lower your voice. Can’t he hear the sheer desperation in your voice? The hopelessness? “Why won’t you just tell me why you don’t ever want to celebrate this goddamn holiday with me? Is it my fault?”

“I just don’t!” 

The sound of Yoongi’s shouts echoes throughout your living space, bouncing off of the walls. You look back at him, feeling helpless, but he doesn’t look angry, or enraged. He looks exhausted. Like this conversation has knocked the wind right out of him, stolen the breath from his lungs. Like suddenly the pot has boiled over, only it’s extinguished the flames that kept it burning. 

“I just don’t,” Yoongi repeats, fists clenched tightly by his side. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

He gives you one last tired look, matching your own defeated expression, before turning around and walking out of your apartment. The door shuts firmly behind him, neither a slam nor a gentle stop, leaving you stranded in the middle of your living space, watching his silhouette disappear. 

You sigh. You don’t think Yoongi will ever tell you why he hates Halloween. And while that may be no fault of your own, you can’t help but feel like it has something to do with you. 

Yoongi could probably count the amount of times he’s gone to a frat party on one hand, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t already know everything there is to know about them. In his eyes, once you’ve been to one, you’ve been to them all. 

Still, he supposes that it being Halloween makes this one a little different. Everyone’s in some sort of costume, whether it be good or bad or just plain old lazy, and there are at least a few orange and black decorations lining the walls of the Castle, and they’ve curated a playlist with Halloween songs as well as rap songs Yoongi has heard plenty of times before, so for once, Yoongi will give the fraternity a bit of credit when it comes to their Halloween party-planning. 

Beside him, you take another giant chug of your drink from the orange solo cup in your hand, wincing as the alcohol burns your throat on the way down. 

“Hey, take it easy, okay?” He says, though he doubts you can even hear him over the music, loud in the kind of way that his ears are going to be ringing far into tomorrow morning. 

“I’m fine!” You shout back, even though you are definitely not. The entire room reeks of a mixture of vodka and sickly sweet soda. 

“I just want to make sure you’re not overdoing it!” He tells you as the two of you get shoved together from some massive guy pushing past Yoongi and sending him crashing towards you. He catches a glimpse of the contents of your cup, eyebrows raising when he sees that it’s almost empty. You just got that drink five minutes ago. 

You smile. “I’m not!”

The song changes, and Yoongi swears that he can feel the entire house shake as everyone screams, cheering as they bounce up and down, dancing to the beat. Next to him, you are finishing the last few drops of whatever’s in your cup, finding an empty ledge to place it down on when you’re done, and pulling him in close to you. 

“Let’s dance!” You shriek excitedly. 

And who is Yoongi to resist?

He lets you take your hand in his own and parade him around the tiny little space the two of you share, a couple square feet of freedom in this crowded room, chock full of sweaty bodies just like his. Yoongi may not have had as much to drink as you, but the little bit of alcohol in his system is already shutting down normal mental processes like not-staring-at-you-constantly and pretending-that-he-likes-you-just-as-a-friend, sending him into a tizzy whenever he meets your starstruck eyes.

Even in this dingy, sweaty, unventilated fraternity living room, you are beautiful. You are beautiful here, and you are beautiful at three in the morning after twelve straight hours of studying, and you are beautiful after spilling the dining hall’s chicken noodle soup all over yourself. 

God, you’re the only person Yoongi is looking at in this room. You’re the only person he sees. 

Shaking his head, Yoongi abandons those thoughts as the song comes to an end, a hand wrapped around your wrist as he leans into your ear. “Do you wanna go outside? It’s hot in here!”

“Okay, whatever!” You agree easily, too easygoing after you’ve got a few drinks in you. 

Yoongi grabs a hold of your sweaty hand and tugs you towards the back door, one that he thinks leads to a fenced in backyard. You squeeze through the crowd, getting a couple of drinks spilled on your shoes on the way until you reach the back door and Yoongi fumbles with the knob, shaking it a couple of times before it gets loose. Eventually, the two of you stumble outside into the backyard, where a couple of people are playing beer pong and a couple of others look like they’re making out. 

It’s a frat party. What else did Yoongi expect?

It’s the end of October, and Yoongi doesn’t even have on a jacket, but the chill of the night has little effect on him after being in a room that’s felt like one hundred degrees for an hour. Out here, Yoongi feels like he can finally breathe. 

“It’s kinda cold out here, don’t you think?”

Yoongi doesn’t even have time to respond before you’re wrapping yourself up in him, curling into his body and placing his arm around your figure, letting the heat from his frame radiate onto your skin. 

“Better than being in there,” Yoongi reasons. 

“But aren’t you having fun?” 

He looks down to see you looking up with him with big, wide eyes, like you’re afraid that he isn’t having fun, or afraid that you’re enjoying this night more than he is. It makes him smile. “With you, I am.”

You grin at that, turning back to face forward, head pressing into the crook of his neck. “That’s good to hear,” you tell him. “It seemed like you were kinda nervous.”

“Nervous?” His voice cracks as he says it. Fuck. 

“Yeah, is there something you wanna tell me? It looks like you’ve been dying to say something all night,” you comment mindlessly, clearly much more observant now than you are when you’re sober. Or perhaps, Yoongi’s just more obvious. 

He takes a deep breath, pressing his eyes shut tightly. This is his chance. He knows it. 

“Actually, yes, there is,” he says, and it feels like he has to force the words out of his mouth because they’re refusing to come out on their own, pausing at the edge of his lips. It feels like he has to overcome his own mind in order to tell you, feels like every word is a sucker punch to his lungs. 

You pull away from him, looking up at Yoongi with big, blinking eyes. It’s a clear night, and Yoongi knows because he can see the fucking stars reflected in your pupils, see them twinkling as your glossy eyes gaze back up at him. You look up at Yoongi and God, you are just so beautiful. You are beautiful, and Yoongi wonders, then, if you know. If you know how Yoongi looks at you. If you know how he feels about you. He is so in love. It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out. You are beautiful and he is so in love, and he’s been dying to tell you that and this might be his only opportunity to do so, because tomorrow will be a new day and Yoongi won’t have the guts tomorrow. This is his only chance. 

You deserve to know. 

“Well?” You ask him. “What is it?”

Yoongi wraps his arm around the small of your back, pulls you into him, and presses his lips to yours. 

Hoseok’s party is fun. It’s definitely one of the better ones you’ve been to in your four years of university so far. There aren’t too many people, and the drinks are actually good instead of just burning your throat, and his music taste is impeccable. 

And yet, you don’t think you’ve ever been so unenthused at a party in your whole life. Thriller by Michael Jackson blares from Hoseok’s television speakers, chatter fills the room, and Hoseok’s girlfriend, Haebin, is constantly checking up on you, but never has one place felt so empty. 

It’s not really very difficult for you to wonder why. 

“Hey, Y/N!”

You whip your head around to find Haein standing by the kitchen table, gesturing towards Hoseok as he’s looking up the recipe for a drink he wants to try. 

“You want one? Hoseok’s trying to make Long Island Iced Tea,” Haebin asks. Next to her, Hoseok is struggling to get the measurements right. At least he’s making an attempt. 

You stare down at your nearly-full cup of strawberry daiquiri. You took one sip when Haebin first handed it to you thirty minutes ago, and haven’t touched it since. “No, I’m alright, thank you.”

Haebin sighs, patting Hoseok on the back encouragingly before she makes her way over to where you’re sitting on their couch, pressed up against the arm of the sofa as you mindlessly swirl the drink around in your cup, eyes zoning into the whirlpool you’re creating. She sits down next to you with a smile, with the kind of look on her face that makes you simultaneously thankful for and dread the conversation you’re about to have.

“Hey, what’s the matter?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” You don’t even believe yourself when you say it. 

“Listen, you don’t have to tell me. I just know that Halloween is your favorite holiday and I was wondering if there was something getting you down tonight,” Haebin says in that comforting, gentle sort of way, like an old friend who knows all your tells. 

“It’s not a big deal, really. I think I’m just out of it tonight,” you say, not drunk enough to divulge more information but also not sober enough to keep your mouth completely shut. 

Haebin smiles at you, lips pursed. “Alright then. If everything’s alright.” She pushes her hands onto her thighs as she gets off of the couch, heading back towards the kitchen to help Hoseok figure out how to mix drinks. But before she leaves you alone, she turns around and says one more thing. “You know, I don’t know why Yoongi’s not here or anything, but I wish that he was. You always look so much happier whenever he’s around.”

And that just sends your mind into meltdown. 

Defeated, alone, and best friend-less, you place your cup down on the end table to your left and get up off of the couch, beginning to gather your belongings, your coat and your shoes and your bag, tugging your arms through the sleeves as you storm towards the door, eyebrows knitted together, lips pursed.

“Hey, where are you going—?”

“I gotta go, Haebin. I just—” You pull on a shoe, tugging at the boot as it slips over your heel, “—I gotta go. Thank Hoseok for me, okay? I have to go.”

You only have time to catch Haebin nod, wordless, before you tug open the door to Hoseok’s apartment and stomp outside.

This is the worst Halloween of your life, bar none. The time when you were four and you tripped over a curb on the sidewalk, spraining your ankle doesn’t even come close. It’s your very last year to celebrate Halloween as a college student, to celebrate it by getting dressed up in a low-effort costume and spending time with your friends, and your best friend isn’t even here. He refused. 

He refused and you still don’t know why, but worst of all he refused and you still wish he was here. You wish you could have spent time with him tonight. More than anything else. You wish you could have spent the night wrapped up together on your couch, or on your bed, watching your favorite television shows and enjoying each other’s company. You wish you could have curled into his body as the television blared, pressed your head against his shoulder and felt the warmth of his skin on yours. God, you wish you could have. 

You wish you could have told him. 

You wish you had the guts to. 

Twenty minutes later finds you outside one of the dozens of frat parties likely occurring on campus right now, the bass from the music so loud that you can feel it in your eardrums even outside of the building. No part of you wants to go inside something like that, but at this point you start to wonder if maybe hopping different frats is actually your best idea. Get a drink, get drunk, and then move onto the next one. Rinse and repeat until you don’t remember a thing about this terrible, awful night. 

As you walk along the sidewalk, you spot another student sitting on the curb underneath a leaf-less tree, a cheap black drugstore masquerade mask covering the top half of his face. He doesn’t seem to be having a particularly enjoyable night either. 

Normally, the last thing you’d want to do is sit down next to a stranger whose face is disguised, because who knows what could happen to you if you do, but there are at least twenty people surrounding the two of you, loitering outside the frat house in the hopes that they can eventually get inside. And honestly, you could use a fucking break. 

As casually as you can possibly manage, you take a seat next to the boy, a few inches apart from him as he looks up at you. You can’t make out too much in the dim light of the frat house, but he’s illuminated just enough for you to see his eyes widen at the sight of you. 

“You don’t mind, do you?” You ask. 

He shakes his head. 

You smile in thanks, shifting around where you’re seated on the cold cement, eyes drifting all over the place, from the houses across the street to the road to the people standing around, anything to avoid turning back towards the boy and initiating an even more awkward conversation. Sitting down, the world stops spinning, just a little bit. You didn’t have too much to drink at Hoseok’s, but it was enough to loosen your mind. 

“Can I say something?” You say loudly, turning towards the boy. 

It was enough to loosen your lips too, apparently. 

The boy stares back at you, silent. 

“I’m sorry, I just need to get this off my chest.” You close your eyes, breathing in and breathing out, feeling your chest rise and fall. “I am not having a great night. And I wish I was out here with another friend of mine, instead. He’s my best friend, actually. He just… didn’t want to come out tonight with me. But I wish he was here, because I love spending time with him, and I miss him.”

The words spill off of your tongue like lava from a volcano, bursting from your lips completely unfiltered. It surprises you, a little, how much you actually have to say. How much has been weighing on your chest.

You don’t expect him to respond. Truthfully, you can’t even believe you’re unloading all of your baggage onto him in the first place. Since when are you the type of person to tell other people about the tragedies of your life?

But then, he says, “You do?”

And it makes you wonder what else you’ve been keeping hidden. 

“Yeah, I guess I do,” you realize. “I love spending time with him. He makes every day brighter, turns everything he touches into laughter. And I wanted to spend time with him tonight because I actually thought he would want to. You know, we carved pumpkins together a few days ago. Of each other’s faces.” You force out a laugh. “We carved each other’s faces into pumpkins and he still isn’t here tonight. I wanted him to be here because he’s my best friend, and because he makes me so happy, and even other people are noticing what effect he has on me. Noticing how fucking happy he makes me. Because he does. I feel like I’m a better person with him. I want to spend the rest of my life with him and he’s not here and instead of going to look for him I’m sitting here telling you the sob story that is my life and I just wish—”

“Does that mean you love him?” The boy asks softly. 

“What?”

“Does that mean you love him?”

You turn to look at the boy, eyebrows raised, almost ready to deny such a thing, but when you open your mouth, nothing comes out. 

How could you say you don’t love Yoongi? Of course you do. He is your best friend. You never want to live a day when he’s not by your side. You want to spend the rest of your life with him. He makes you smile and laugh like it’s nobody’s business, brightens your day without even trying. Just seeing him is enough to lift your spirits. Seeing his face on the other side of your apartment door, all ripped jeans and Converse sneakers, hands wrapped in the sleeves of his hoodie, dark brown eyes blinking back at you, pink lips parted in a grin. That image you have of him in your head—it’s one you don’t ever want to forget. He is standing in your apartment, lips upturned, eyes crushed into crescents, smiling at you. He is mid-laugh, grinning from ear to ear at something you said. He is right there. 

“Well, yeah,” you say, because what else are you supposed to do? “I guess I do.”

Suddenly, your chest feels a whole lot lighter. 

The boy next to you smiles, the dim light barely illuminating his features, but when you look at him there is something so strangely familiar about him, about the way he blinks at you, about the peak of his Cupid’s bow, about how his lips are stretched into a grin. It couldn’t be him… could it?

But before you have time to ask, he is leaning towards you and pressing his lips atop yours, crashing your mouths together in a desperate, messy kiss. His palm presses against your cheek and you can’t help but sink into it, sink into the way his other hand curls around to rest on the small of your back, let yourself be engulfed by him. 

You’ve never kissed Yoongi before, but you know that this is what it must be like. 

You know, from the way your blood starts to sizzle, sparks rushing through your veins. From the way your heart is pumping, loud and clear in your ears, like it’s been jolted to life. Like a shock is running through your body. Like a warmth is filling you up, from the inside out. 

When you part, as Yoongi takes off his mask, he can’t keep the smile off of his face. “I knew it. I knew you loved me.”

“What are you doing out here?” You ask, positively shocked. “I thought you hated Halloween.”

“I do,” Yoongi confirms. “Or, well, I did, I guess.”

“Then what changed?”

“You. Us. We changed,” Yoongi says, motioning between your bodies. “I hated Halloween because it had bad memories for me. Nothing crazy, but, yeah. You don’t remember?”

“What?” Your mouth drops open. “What should I remember?”

“We kissed that night.” Yoongi begins, eyes shifting down towards the ground. Clearly recalling this is awkward for him. “Halloween, freshman year. Outside of the Castle.”

You don’t remember this at all. 

“Well, I kissed you and you kissed me, and I thought that we had established then and there that we liked each other. You know, like, really liked each other. But you were so drunk that night. I don’t know what you had, but you could hardly walk by the time I got you back to your dorm. Your roommate was furious with me.” He shakes his head at the memory, replaying in his mind like a movie. “And I thought, okay, we’ll just talk about this tomorrow. But you must have had a wicked headache or something, because I saw you the next day and you said—”

“God, whatever happened last night, I don’t want to know.”

It’s the middle of the day, the sun high in the crisp November sky, but you have been cradling your forehead ever since Yoongi last dropped you off, back at your dorm, when you were slowly starting to crash. 

“What?” His voice is hollow, empty. 

“Last night fucked me up real good,” you say with a huff, shaking your head. “I’m glad I don’t remember what happened last night.”

As Yoongi traipses back to square one, his heart shakes in its cage. 

“I guess you just didn’t remember,” Yoongi tries to explain, much to your horror as you realize that you and Yoongi have been crushing on each other hopelessly for three years extra without you even realizing it. “So, uh, yeah. That’s why I didn’t like Halloween.”

“You kissed me that night?”

“What?”

“You kissed me that night? Outside of the Castle?” 

A tingling on your lips. A faint feeling of warmth. You remember bits of that night. It was cold, and you were freezing in your costume. And you and Yoongi had gone outside to escape the crowd, and he said something, and then you said something, and then he—!

“Yeah.” Yoongi nods. “I did.”

“And I didn’t remember?”

“I mean, you were really drunk.”

Your shoulders sink, the thought of Yoongi, helplessly pining after you for three more years because he thought you didn’t like him like that, because he thought that the love you shared was one-sided, still sticking by your side as your best friend. At the thought of him deciding it was better to be best friends and keep that love hidden than tell you and risk it all over again. At the thought of him accepting what he thought was his fate. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. What else is there to tell him? If you had remembered, if you just didn’t say those words, if you had just told him how you felt, this would have all been so much easier. 

“It’s okay now,” Yoongi says, expression growing fond as he pulls you in for a hug, sad to see you so gloomy. “You love me and I love you. What more could I want?”

A realization dawns on you. 

Pulling apart from him ever so slightly, you quirk an eyebrow. “You know, you could have just kissed me again the next day, and then we wouldn’t have had to deal with all of this. Plus, you would have still liked Halloween.”

Yoongi scoffs, pressing a kiss to your icy cheek. “So what? I like it now, how about that? I fucking love Halloween now. It turned my best friend into my girlfriend. She’s the love of my life. We can celebrate every Halloween together from now on until the end of time.”

You grin, pressing a kiss back on his little button nose, pink from the cold. Finally. “That’s the spirit.”

↳ don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

[cno-inbminor]

domus

a/n: here we have another short drabble dump! i wrote this up very quickly -- i’m still working on that long fic i’ve been talking about! i apologize for taking so long to put it together. pls take this short fic as an apology for now. stay hydrated, wear your masks, and be safe! love you all so dearly <3 

plot: when kuroo tetsuro drops the hard-hitting truth that he’s fallen out of love with you, your first thought is to escape. but you find comfort in the least likely person: akaashi keiji, a boy you had grown up with out of forced family interactions, who always seemed so distant from you. yet you probably knew more about him than anyone else. 

characters: fem!reader, ex-bf!kuroo, & family friend!akaashi 

wc: ~3.7k, will probably have other parts in the future.

genre/warnings: angst with dashes of fluff; mentions of alcohol

pt. 2 | pt. 3

edit: now crossposted to AO3!

When you’re in love, you spend weeks and months wondering why time won’t stop. You sit and ponder over why you’ll have to die someday and leave behind the person you’ve dedicated your entire soul to, or what might happen if your death came early and you didn’t get to say goodbye. You wonder why the seasons seem to pass you by so quickly, that in the blink of an eye, you go from enjoying a cup of iced tea on the porch to holding a mug of hot chocolate inside watching snowflakes swirl in their journeys to the ground.

But when love ceases to exist, time seems to stop. The days drag for longer, the seasons crawl at a turtle’s pace, and the inevitable end feels less terrifying. You no longer fear the eventual sagging of your skin or the spider legs that grow at the corners of your eyes. You no longer cling onto a hope that there will be a lover’s hand holding yours at your bed of eternal sleep. You simply become, just you. Solitary, single, independent you.

It’s no longer you and someone else. The realization stings so badly that it physically hurts you, a whimper leaving your throat. You shakily reach over for the next blouse and fight back the tears, teeth gnawing at your bottom lip. The skin is chapped and broken to the point that you would need layers and layers of chapstick to save any semblance of it, a terrible habit that you wish you hadn’t possessed. It’s muscle memory, the way you fold the blouse in half, fold the sleeves in, bending it over your arm before it lands in a neat stack of other tops in your suitcase. Your eyes take a glance at the clock, and you gather you have about another hour before you needed to leave for the airport and make it on time for your flight.

You ignore the male figure hunched over on the edge of your bed, tuning out his pleas and broken promises. He begs you to give him time, to implore that it’s all his fault and he’ll make it work for the two of you. Tetsuro promises that he didn’t mean to and that it wasn’t anything you did, but you feel so empty inside that you can’t even find the energy to argue, to turn on him and say that he was pretending to take all the blame so it’d be a better explanation to all your friends. A relationship involves both parties, and while there were special exceptions, this wasn’t one of them. Something was clearly wrong with you, and you were okay with that. You were just tired of Testuro attempting to take everything onto himself.

“I thought it’d be best to come clean with you,” he says, throat hoarse from lack of hydration. “I know you would question it and I haven’t done anything, I swear, I know you’re amazing and don’t deserve to live a lie and—”

“Do you want me to say ‘thank you’?” You interjected quietly, morosely. Your hands slide open the underwear drawer and take out a week’s worth of underwear, bras, and bralettes. “Do you want me to express my gratitude in your honesty for telling me that you don’t love me anymore? You can easily buy a trophy online and make the inscription yourself. ‘Most honest man alive’? Is that what you want?” You ask, tone flat and not possessing the least bit of amusement and humor.

“Can’t you give me some time? I’ll try, I’ll try to figure out what went wrong, and I can love you again. We can still get married and everything, but please don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving forever, Tetsu. I’m just gone for a week, maybe more.”

“Where are you even going?”

“That’s none of your business,” you quickly reply, defenses back up as you make a beeline for the bathroom. You pick up all the toiletries you can, the ones that would be allowed in your carry-on. Strangers won’t care about your missing skincare routine and your complexion not looking its best.

“What if you get lost? Or kidnapped? What if people ask—”

“Easy. Just tell them I had a last minute business trip, family emergency, whatever floats your boat.”

“Can’t you see that I’m trying? I—”

“This isn’t just about you!” You snap, whirling around to look at him for the first time in the last hour or so. Testuro notices with a pang in his heart that your cheeks have sunken in slightly since he broke his revelation to you just last week, the eye circles darker than ever. But your eyes are soulless, dead, no shine or spark that he’d wake up to every morning even muddled with sleep.

“You can’t just expect me to be okay and continue to bend over backwards for you without question. The least you could do is give me my time, give me some space to think about all of it. That’s the bare minimum.”

And with that, you zip your suitcase shut, grab your passport (even though you probably don’t need it), keys, wallet, and phone, and walk as quickly as you can to the front door. The scheduled Uber will arrive in just a few minutes, and as you slip into a pair of flats, you can hear the creak of the bed and Testuro’s padded steps nearing you.

“Just be careful, okay? Call me if you need anything, anything. You’re still one of the most important people to me, so just – text me at some point. Let me know you’re alive at least.”

“You need to rest. You’re on call tomorrow,” you digress while opening the door.

“(Y/n)—”

“I’ll text you. Promise.”

And the door shuts behind you.

-

Your relationship with Akaashi Keiji is…hard to explain. In fact, you’re not even sure what to refer him as in your life. Anytime you spoke of him or attempted to explain, you’d fumble over words and draw blanks. While it was irritating and aggravating at times, you learned to just accept it.

Akaashi Keiji was the neighbor down the street, two years older, and someone who had known you since you were 8. Your moms were attached at the hip not longer after you moved to Tokyo, and that meant holidays were spent together, impromptu get-togethers and dinners were a common occurrence, and you saw him frequently at school. He was a quiet soul, gentle, but reserved. In fact, most of the things you knew about him were secondhand conversations from your mother talking about the family, because honestly his mom was basically your second mom now, and your mother trusted you with everything. His past, his troubles, his personality all relayed through your mom from his own, and when you saw him in the hallways, he wasn’t much of an enigma to you. Many other girls had found the mysterious air around him to be attractive, that the pretty setter who only ever smiled around his volleyball team and kept a tight circle of friends had something significant beneath the layers.

Keiji grew up with you, playing Smash on the Wii to pass time as your parents gossiped away. Sometimes, you’d play an intense game of Monopoly with him, a game that typically tipped in his favor. He never said much about himself, always relayed more about others that overlapped in your lives. The most he ever spoke to you about was when it came to teachers at school, even giving you some of his old notes and pointers. But even you could tell that he kept his guards up, and you wondered if he even classified you as a friend.

Your go-to explanation of Keiji’s standing in your life was a family friend. But that insinuated you were close with him, which you weren’t at all. No matter how many times he walked home with you (mainly at the pushing from his mother), no matter how many times he was forced to entertain you at dinners and holidays, no matter how many times he gave you a small smile in school, there was such a large gap between the two of you. He always seemed so different around his team, like they had the privilege of knowing the real him, and at times, you felt…jealous.

And the weird thing is that you can rely on him somehow – whether it be because he’d get an earful from his parents if he didn’t help you when you asked it or out of the goodness of his heart, he was simply always there. Sometimes, you were bold enough to text him about a show he talked about in the past, and he would reply quickly as if your unexpected, rare text about something benign didn’t faze him at all.  

Yet despite the distance, despite the lack of any semblance of an actual friendship with him, he was the first one you thought of when all this happened. He was the one you wanted to see – maybe it’s because he was the closest thing to home, and you didn’t want to go back to your parents explaining everything. It’s been a while since you’ve been back in Tokyo, ever since you moved to Sapporo for your job and Testuro got matched for a residency at a hospital there.

At 7PM on a Friday afternoon, past the baggage claim with the sunset beaming in through the sliding glass doors, you stare at Keiji’s contact on your phone, thumb hovering hesitantly over the call button. You could count the number of times you’ve called him on one hand, but this was an emergency, right? Is this why your heart is pounding against your chest, so anxious that you feel like you’ll break into a cold sweat any time soon?

You jump into the deep end.

Your hand nervously brings the phone to your ear, waiting with bated breath as the dial tone echoes in the chamber of your brain. Part of you wants him to miss the call so you can avoid this awkward conversation, but another part of you desperately wants him to pick up as if he’ll be able to save you.

Oh god oh god oh god, you panic as the tone stops, there’s a pause, a rustle, and then a hesitant, “—Hello?”

You didn’t plan this out. You’re not ready for this. Shit, what are you supposed to say?

“—hello? (Y/n)?”

“Have you had dinner yet?”

Wow, you’re a terrible conversationalist.

“…um, I haven’t actually. I was about to warm up some leftovers?”

Your eyes focus on the taxis driving by, picking up passengers as they get waved down. Maybe you should just find a cheap hotel nearby, continue this conversation tomorrow.

“Well…I’m in town, actually. I just landed about 30 minutes ago and realized I didn’t have anywhere to go and I don’t really want to call anyone else and I don’t exactly know who else to call so I just, um, thought about calling you and asking if you’ve had dinner? Which if you’re busy and stuff, that’s totally fine, I should’ve texted you beforehand instead of springing this on you and—”

“(Y/n), it’s okay, alright? It’s okay. I’m not busy, so you can stop by. Did my mom ever give you my address?”

Keiji’s brief attempt to calm you down works, surprisingly. You allow yourself to take a deep breath despite the stale airport air, but it was some much-needed oxygen. This is going to be okay, Keiji doesn’t hate you quite yet.

“N-no, she never did.”

“That’s fine, I’ll text it to you. My place is about 30 minutes from the airport, I’d recommend getting a taxi instead of an Uber. I’ll order some delivery—”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“You still like the miso ramen from that shop not far from your house, right? They opened up a second store not far from where I live.”

How did he remember that? You’re pretty sure your own mother had forgotten that fact by now.

“Y-yeah, I do,” you smile to yourself. “I still think about it sometimes.”

“Sounds good then. Get here safely then.”

“Okay. Thank you loads again. I’m sorry for all this—”

“Don’t worry about it. Keep me updated, see you later.”

“Yeah, bye.”

Not 30 seconds later, a text arrives to your phone with an address, a keycode for getting past the main door, and other relevant instructions.

-

Keiji’s apartment is exactly as you expect it to be – prim, proper, neat almost to a fault, with minimalist decorations. The apartment complex he lives in is rather high-end, if the security guards standing outside the main entrance indicated anything. You almost feel completely out of place or like a bug on the wall as you step in after him, a rather comfortable silence between the two of you. His kitchen is spotless and almost sparkles back at you, and the only thing that seems out of place are the containers of your ramen he so kindly ordered for you.

“Your place is really nice, it’s really…you,” you comment, setting your stuff down at the door. Keiji indulges you with a quiet laugh, making sure that there wasn’t anything that would be in your way. His glasses are perched on his head, an old monochrome t-shirt on his shoulders and sweatpants hung low on his hips, yet in this apartment that almost seems like it should be in an interior design magazine, he looks at home. His ethereal beauty, the softness in his eyes, the gentle up-turned strands of his hair – he belonged here.

“The ramen came not too long ago, so it’s still hot. I’ll go ahead and put it together, you can put your jacket on the couch.”

“Oh, thank you.”

Instead, you fold your jacket over your suitcase and quietly make your way into the apartment. Straight across from you are doors to a balcony – darkness had long taken over the city, so you see nothing but your reflection at first. But as you near the plexiglass, the reflection disappears into the view and you almost gasp from the beauty of it.

Blinking lights, flashing billboards, and the brightly lit Tokyo Skytree peer back at you. It only hits you now how much you’ve missed home, and that even though Sapporo was one of the largest cities in Japan, it still wasn’t Tokyo.

“I never get tired of it,” Keiji chimes in while carrying your bowl of ramen to the dining table.

“It’s an amazing view, I can see why you’d live here,” you reply while moving away from it. The table also has two empty wine glasses, and just as you’re about to ask him why they were there, he returns with a newly opened bottle of chardonnay.

“I haven’t had a lot of time to restock the wine fridge, but I knew I was going to kick myself for not having a bottle of that dessert wine we had before you went off to college,” he said with mirth and amusement. “You remember that one?”

“Yeah,” you nearly splutter, almost flushing that once again, Keiji was remembering details about you that you didn’t even know. “Your mom wanted to throw me a graduation dinner and you made it back in time after finals. And she had a bottle of it and between the two of us, we probably drank most of it. Our parents said it was too sweet.”

He nods and sits across from you, elbows on the table as you mutter, “Itadakimasu,” and start eating. You finish your meal silently for the most part, making small talk here and there. Keiji refills both of your glasses and the two of you sip the wine demurely, and while he seems okay with the lack of an explanation, you’re struggling to find the right words.

“So what’s with the impromptu trip to Tokyo? Are you going to see your parents?”

“Should I try to lie to you?”

“It’s up to you.”

Oh, okay then.

But he looks expectant, as if he knows you wouldn’t lie to him – in fact, you’ve never lied to him before. There was never any need to, but did that just mean neither of you ever cared enough?

“Something happened with me and Testuro. I don’t want to bore you with the details, but at the end of the day…I just needed to get away, as cliché as it sounds,” you laugh brokenly. Keiji continues to carefully observe you with a stare that you can’t escape. “I don’t want to tell my parents – you know them, they’ll ask a million questions. Without thinking, I booked a ticket to Tokyo and…now I’m here.”

That was a lie. How are you supposed to tell Keiji that he was the first person you thought of in an effort to run away? You and Keiji have never gotten personal before, he made sure of that. The last thing you want to do is weird him and scare him off.

“…did he cheat on you?” Keiji asked. His voice is darker in his inquiry, deeper than you’ve ever heard before. He has his hands folded in front of his lips and his eyes harden. Testuro may be an old friend to him, but you were in his life longer.

“Nonononono,” you quickly wave off. This isn’t the time to slander your…boyfriend? Could Tetsuro still even be your boyfriend if he no longer has any feelings for you? “Nothing like that.”

“That’s good to hear. If you want, you can tell me another time then. You’re welcome to stay here until you go back to Sapporo.”

You look up at him, eyes incredulous. Could Keiji really be this comfortable with you?

“I wouldn’t mind staying tonight, but I can stay in a hotel for the rest of the week that I’m here.”

“Nonsense,” Keiji refutes, standing from the table and taking your wine glasses to the sink. You follow with your bowl and he starts washing them before you can even offer. “Mom would kill me if she knew I let you pay for a hotel when I have a perfectly functioning bed you can stay in.”

“I mean, if it’s not a bother…”

“It’s not. The futon’s pretty comfortable, I’ve definitely fallen asleep on it plenty of times.”

“We can switch, I would never let you sleep on the futon for a whole week.”

“If you say so then. But for tonight, you can take my bed. Let me grab you an extra towel so you can shower. I’m sure you’ve had a long day,” he says while drying everything off, folding the kitchen towel neatly before heading off to his room. He returns with a large, soft grey towel and you shyly take it from him with a word of thanks, but he stays there in front of you, waiting for something.

“I’m really glad you picked up the phone,” you whisper softly, feeling the effects of the alcohol. You’re entering uncharted territory for the two of you, and this could either kill or strengthen this odd distant friendship. “I meant it when I said I didn’t know who else to call. You were the first person that came to mind and just…I don’t want to make this weird, like you can kick me out,” you begin to ramble. “Don’t feel like you’re obligated to take me in because your mom would be disappointed if you wouldn’t, you’ve already put up with me for over 15 years and it’s fine, I can be on my own and—”

Smooth, calloused hands delicately hold your face, large palms and nimble fingers cupping your cheeks. Your words die on your tongue as Keiji stares straight into your eyes, holding your gaze until your breathing calms down to a steady, languid pace. “You’re my friend, (y/n). So it’s good that you called me.”

“I’m your…friend?” You ask unsteadily, feeling a sense of disbelief.

“Yeah,” he confirms with the corners of his lips turning up slightly. “We’re friends.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Now go shower.”

“Okay.”

-

You’re fast asleep before Keiji finishes his own shower, his bedroom door left ajar as the hallway light beams through. He pauses in the midst of drying his hair with a towel, letting it bunch and hang off his neck as he cautiously pushes the door open. Keiji notices your even breathing and how much more relaxed you look in sleep. You’re curled up on your side with the blanket pulled up to your face and he can’t lie: it’s adorable and cute, and he shouldn’t really be thinking these things.

He sits on the edge of the bed in the little space that’s provided, lithe fingers reaching out to brush back a few stray wisps of your hair. Watching you sleep pulls him back into a fond memory he’s kept of the two of you, one that might’ve held very little significance to you but meant something so much more to him. He knows you know him well, he knows how much his mother babbles on about him, and adults were more prone to gossip than the rowdiest of teenagers – he’d be painfully oblivious if he didn’t think you knew that much about him, or more than the average friend.

But it’s comforting to him, sometimes. Knowing you, how kindly you think of others, he might not have to explain what he’s feeling in the moment. You would be able to know, and that soothes him to some degree.

Maybe he had a little bit too much wine as well, but ever so subtly, motions steady and unhurried, he deftly leans closer and closer until his lips brush the apple of your cheek. He lingers for no more than a few seconds and sits back up, gazing at you before standing. His hands adjust the blankets and make sure you’re properly tucked in. He pads away, shutting the door behind him as quietly as possible as to not wake you.

And when he’s found a comfortable position on the futon with his most comfortable throw blanket, he realizes, begrudgingly, that this week will fly by too fast for his liking.  

[maira-writes-shit]

I have this habit you know

Haikyuu Tanaka Ryuunosuke x Ennoshita Chikara

Fluff, flower language, getting together, major charecter death

Words: 2758

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1KNwaK5v9gEGeM0WssuFAP?si=caf0308e539f4c14

She had thought him that there was flowers for everything and that you should always give them to the people you love.

She had thought him that there was flowers for everything and that you should always give them to the people you love.

She had thought him that there was flowers for everything and that you should always give them to the people you love.

Wich is why he was here now.

"I got you guys flowers..."

"Huh?"

"REALLY?!"

"...why?"

"They're Peonies. They mean luck."

Nishinoya's eyes seemed to glow as he smiled: "THAT'S SO COOL! THANK YOU RYUU!"

The spicker smiled and look at the rest of the first years.

Narita gave him a small smile, Kinoshita smelled the flower and Ennoshita stared at the flower with a mixture of wonder and admiration.

A year later

"'sup fucker."

"Hey asshole."

He was sitting at the counter of his grandmothers flower shop he sometimes helped out in.A bag landed in front of him and his cousin sat down next to it."you still have my eyeliner." Kyoutani said between taking bites from his sandwich.

"Oh yeah I know. It should still be at home."

Tanaka got up and walked over to the statice.Yeah this one is pretty good. Success.

“You still do that?“ „Yeah, what about it?!“Tanaka‘s cousin looked up at him and raised an eyebrow."Nothing I just don't really get it. I mean what have these people ever done for you? What is it that makes them deserving of these flowers?"

"...what is it?"They're my friends. They take me the way I am without a question."

Kyoutani looked at him with a raised eyebrow in a silent question of "And how do you know that?"

"Noya is my best friend. He gets me without me having to say anything! Kinoshita and Narita might not talk too much but whenever I need someone they got my back!"

"And what about that sleepy guy?"

Ennoshita...he was diffrent."Enno he...honestly I don't know why someone like him is even friends with me. He's amaizing! He's smart, cool, a great player, he is funny and really fucking caring! I feel so lucky to even be allowed to be friends with him..."

"Dude that sounnds like you have a crush on him."Tanaka flushed. Did he like Ennoshita in that way? Honestly he didn't know...

He blamed Tanaka.

He had this habit, you know.

Ever since first year Tanaka would give everyone from their year on the team a flower before games.

When they got into second year these flowers even started to get more personal.

And Ennoshita started to get really intrested in them. Well actually he got really intrested in Tanaka...

He was gay and he knew it. He didn't bother telling everyone, if they found out they found out, if they didn't they didn't.Simple as that.

Tanaka though...he made him want to scream it off a rooftop for everyone to hear.

Ennoshita had it bad.

So what did he do?

Call the two saltiest setters he knew.

The door to his room flew open."What's up?", said the shorter of the two, Shirabu.

Yahaba Shigeru and Shirabu Kenjirou. Pretty, petty and his best friends for ages.

The two were childhood friends while they meet Ennoshita in middle school.

"Ah nothing much..." "This is about the baldy, isn't it?", damm Yahaba and his senior Oikawa for teaching him to be so perspective!

"Yeah yeah, sit down assholes."

The two had been in his room enough to make it feel like he was in one of their rooms and not his own.

Shirabu planted himself on the bed and Yahaba flopped down on the bunch of pillows stacked in the coner.

Ennoshita's eyes went a little big as he remembered what he had put on the bed where Shirabu was streched out on now. Luckly the copper haired setter had noticed it and pulled a small book out from under him.

Or not so luckly.

Ennoshita sadly had fogotten what teasig little bastards his best friends were.

"Ohoho what's this?" Ennoshita did not like the wierd glint in Shirabu's eyes.

Yahaba jumped up only to make grabby hands at the book. Shirabu pulled it away and the other pouted.

Ennoshita looked away and felt his cheeks heat up as his friends opened the book.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Chika? Did you really keep every single flower he ever gave you?" "...Yes. Now shut up Haba."

His friends only laughed.

Ennoshita was utterly fucked.

Yellow rose, frienship. For Noya.

Gladiolus, strength. For Kinoshita.

Iris, hope. For Narita.

Camellia, admiration...For Ennoshita.

He did like him like that.

Tanaka had thought about it a lot. The thought kept him up at night, it distracted him in practice, it was always there when he was in class and he couldn't even hold a real conversation because of it.Tanaka liked Ennoshita. He liked him a lot.

He had never thought about liking men but really it seemed so natural with Ennoshita.

Every snort at Tanaka's stupid jokes, every glare send to the other teams captain while shaking hands before games, every time Ennoshita fell asleep on his shoulder, every look filled with mischief, everything about his fellow 3rd year just made him love him a little bit more.

Love?Is this love? I like it...

Tanaka looked at the flower in his hand and smiled.

If this is love then I never want to not feel it.

Camellia, huh?

Flowers fascinated him.

Ennoshita had been studying them for some time now. Flower language fascinated him the most.

It was so interesting knowing you could express everything just through flowers!Generally, camellia flowers symbolize love, affection, and admiration. ... White camellias symbolize adoration and is given to someone who is well-liked. Pink camellias symbolize a longing for someone and is given to someone who is missed. Red camellias symbolize love, passion, and deep desire.

Tanaka gave him a pink camellia...

Longing? Does Tanaka maybe feel the same way after all? No that couldn’t be...am I just interpreting too much into this again? Maybe he isn’t even aware of their meanings.

“You’ve been staring at that flower for over a minute, dumbass.“

Ennoshita jumped.

“Could you stop breaking into my house, Yahaba? Shirabu?“ „Never.“ Said Shirabu and bit off of something that may be a muffin or a very squishy pice of shit.

“Shut up.“

“Why are you staring at the flower anyway? I mean doesn’t he give everyone one? Before like every match?“ that comment earned a hit over the head for Shirabu from Yahaba.

“It’s just because of the meaning of the flower...“

Yahaba raised an eyebrow but then light up:“Kyou sometimes tells me about flower language! His grandma has a flower shop!“

“Yeah yeah we get you’re in a relationship. Now shut up and let Chika tell us what goes on in that pretty little head of his.“

Karasuno‘s captain sighed and looked back at the flower.

“It‘s a camellia. A pink one at that! They mean adoration and longing...“

“Well that’s great! I guess your lover boy likes you back!“ sing songed Yahaba as he let his head fall off the bed.

“But what if I’m just interpreting too much into it?! What if he doesn’t actually know what they mean?! What if I’m just getting my hopes up for them to crash down?!“

“Hey calm the fuck down, Chika! Just ask him if he knows flower language and if yes then you can be pretty certain he gave the flower to you on purpose. It’s simple as that.“

“Yeah you might be right, Kenjirou...“

“And when you know he meant it you can just ask him out.“

“Omg Shigeru! How are you the one of us that is in a relationship?!“

“...Honestly I don’t know either. Kyou is just stupid.“, chuckled Yahaba but there was a fond expression on his face that made his best friends cringe.

“Hey Tanaka, I was wondering...do you know flower language?“

Tanaka almost spit out his drink.

Does he know? Why is he asking? Oh my god what am I supposed to do? No wait I have to say something! Uhhhhh

“Um yeah. My grandma owns a flowershop. Why?“

Smooth

“Oh that explains a lot! I was just interested because of the flowers you always get us.“

“Do you know it, Enno?“ „Huh?“ „Do you know flower language?“ „Oh.“

Ennoshita turned away and if his eyes weren’t playing a cruel prank on him he saw him blush a little.

“N-No not really...we should get to practice!“ and with that the new captain stood up from their place on the floor and went over to a couple of first years trying to receive Hinata and Kageyama‘s quick.

Some red camellias (love, passion), some light red carnations (admiration), lady’s mantle (comforting love), Stocks (beauty, a happy life and the bonds of affection), lavender roses (enchantment and love at first sight) and Hydrangae (gratitude for being understood).

It was a lot but it still wasn’t enough to express just how Ennoshita felt.

He had thought you could show exactly how you felt but he had been wrong apparently because holy shit...all these emotions could never be expressed in just one Bouquet.

This is stupid...why did I let Shigeru let me talk into this?

Several bad decisions let me to this...ok here goes nothing!

He knocked at the door to the Tanaka residence.

He put some flowers into the vase.

Daffodils

“Here, now it’s officially our new home!“, Tanaka exclaimed.

His boyfriend only chuckled and put down the last of the boxes.

“Come here, dumbass.“

Tanaka slung an arm around Ennoshita.

The flowers stood in front of a window while the sun was going down. It was beautiful.

The man with the shaved head turned to his boyfriend who was smiling slightly and looking out the window. The orange light of the sunset complement him very well.

Yeah...it was beautiful.

This was their home now. He loved it.

„Hey Chika, look at me.“ the groom looked up at one of his best friends as he fiddled with the Asters on Chikara‘s suit.

“You are going to be ok. You are marrying the love of your life. Calm the fuck down.“

“You have no right to say that Shige. You literally had a nervous breakdown before you and Kentarou got married!“ „Not important, Kenjirou!“

Chikara Ennoshita, soon to be Tanaka, chuckled at his groomsmen.

He is right. I’m marrying the love of my life...I’ll be ok.

Chikara was beautiful.

This was like a fever dream.

He was marrying the love of his life.

With a smile and a small tear Ryuunosuke Tanaka joined his husband.

He was happy.

„Your vows now please.“

Ryuu‘s eyes were filled with tears as Chikara looked down at his vows and back up to him.

Here goes nothing.

“It feels different. It’s good. You make me happy. Every word, every laugh, even every stupid little comment. It makes me happy. It’s not the same but I like it. Stupid isn’t it? The smallest little thing...it makes me happy. Every color seems a little brighter with you. I’d like to thank you. For nothing, for just being there, for everything, for loving me and all my flaws no matter what. So here it is...thank you for wanting to spend the rest of your Life with me.“

Ryuu was now just full out bawling while Chikara also started to shed a few tears.

„My turn!“ the taller now said and everyone laughed a bit.

“Love, passion, admiration, comforting love, beauty, a happy life and the bonds of affection, enchantment and love at first sight, gratitude for being understood. Those were the meanings of the flowers from the bouquet you confessed with. And honestly...yeah. All these fit, because damm Chika! I love you. I love you so fucking much. You thanked me for wanting to spent the rest of my life with you when in reality I should be the one thanking you.“

Chikara only shook his head while wiping away a few more tears.

“Even before you confessed- hell even before I knew I liked you, I always thought you were amazing. I always thought that you had to be crazy to let me stay and now...well I guess you are a mad man!“ another laugh from the audience.

“I guess I am...“ said Chikara with a fond smile on his lips and oh how Tanaka wanted to kiss those lips already.

To be honest Ryuu didn’t even know what was said after only staring at the man he was marrying.

“You may now kiss your husband!“

And kiss they did.

He has this habit, you know.

Every Friday Ryuu would try and get his husband at least one flower.

When he saw a pretty flower on the side walk he’d take it home.

When he walked past a flower shop he’d buy one.

When he came by his late grandma’s flower shop, now passed down to his cousin and his husband he’d buy one.

And Chikara would love it.

Every single time.

Because that’s just who Chikara Tanaka was.

And that was just why Ryuunosuke Tanaka loved him.

He has this habit, you know.

Ryuu would get him flowers every Friday and Chikara would keep them.

Every single one of them.

He had done it since first year of high school to be honest.

He would press every single flower he ever got from his husband and glue them into this book he owned.

By now it was almost completely full of flowers and it was already his second one!

Ryuu would love it.

Because that’s just who Ryuunosuke Tanaka was.

And that was just why Chikara Tanaka loved him.

He was in bed.

He was asleep.

He was peaceful.

...

He was dead.

No pulse.

No heart beat.

No breathing.

Dead.

There were tears. Tears everywhere.

No. No. Not yet. Please...

Hey hey! Look at his face...

Ryuu looked up at his dead husband for the first time since he woke up.

Chikara‘s face was peaceful, there was even a little smile on his lips and he was curled up the same way he always was hugging the place where Ryuu usually laid.

He was happy...so please let us be happy for him too...

Ryuunosuke couldn’t bring himself to really do anything at the funeral.

It was just too much.

But a little thing he did say:

“Love, passion, admiration, comforting love, beauty, a happy life and the bonds of affection, enchantment and love at first sight, gratitude for being understood. Those were the meanings of the flowers from the bouquet you confessed with. And honestly...yeah. All these fit, because really Chika...I love you. I love you so fucking much. You once thanked me for wanting to spent the rest of my life with you when in reality I should have been the one thanking you-“

Ryuunosuke broke out in tears.

“Hey Chika! How have you been? I’m pretty good even if it still isn’t the same without you...look what I got you.“

He has this habit, you know?

Every Friday Ryuunosuke Tanaka would go to the cemetery and lay down some flowers at a certain grave. He’d take the old ones back home as well.

Ryuunosuke kept on talking as he laid down a red tulip.

11 years ago he kissed this man and Never thought that in 11 years he couldn’t do that anymore.

But he knew Chikara wouldn’t want him to always grief.

So he tried to be happy. For Chikara.

“What’s this?“ Kentarou said looking at a small book.

“Give me that please!“

„Uh...ok. But what is it?“

Ryuunosuke looked down at the little book with a bittersweet smile.

“Chika put every flower I ever gave him into one of these...I still do it actually! I take home the old flowers from his grave and put them into here...“

Kentarou looked at him with a slightly sad smile and grabbed his husband by the hand.

Shigeru went through a lot as well regarding Chikara‘s death so he at least understood a bit.

Ryuu was happy to have the two.

He was sitting in his chair in their once shared bedroom, the sunset was shimmering through the blinds, there was a chrysanthemum in his hand and a little book spilling flowers on his chest.

A chest that wasn’t moving anymore...

With a smile and a small tear Ryuunosuke Tanaka joined his husband.

He was happy.

(The daffodil symbolizes rebirth and new beginnings.

Aster meanings include love and wisdom.

Tulips are the flower associated with the 11th wedding anniversary, as well.

In many countries in Europe, the chrysanthemum is placed on graves and viewed as a symbol of death.)

[twisted-imagines]

Heyo! May I request headcanons for how Leona and Azul would react to their respective SO being unassumingly strong? Like they look like they possess average strength but they are able to carry a lot of heavy things (easily the dorm leaders) or hold their own in a physical fight. I hope this makes sense 😅😅😅

Unbelievable, I'm back! With a request, nonetheless💖 I wonder if you missed me, hehe? Man, did I miss you all and my precious boys~ It's shorter than usually and I got hit with a writer's block, but it'll try to pick up my pace from now on >:3

But for now, please, enjoy💗

Unassumingly strong S/O

Leona Kingscholar 🦁

Rays of sunset gently caressing his face woke Leona up from his post-lunch nap. Still groggy from his sleep he rose up just to look at the clock. Almost evening, the last classes in college ended at least two hours ago. But that wasn't important to Leona. What really bothered him, was the absence of one customary part of his sleeping routine: your warm form beside his. To have you curled up into his side or just sitting near him telling about your day always made his dreams more pleasant and now that he got used to it, not having you beside him rubbed him the wrong way. You should have already been there, so where were you? The lion didn't want to think about the worst, but only the most alarming conclusions came to his mind. The bed shifted beneath him when he got up, but before he could even take a step a loud stomping resonating in the hallway drew his attention. Ruggie was at his doorstep, disheveled, and clearly agitated.

"Leona-san! You need to see this, come. Quick!"

Leona could finally let out the breath he took when Ruggie rushed him out of his room and to the common room. Several students were running to-and-fro around the other three beat-up Savanaclaw residents. The dorm leader stopped at the door, relieved to not had seen you there. And why would you be there, though? Nonsense. But it was really the only thing he was worried about since the sight before him was all too common for Leona at that point. He was about to turn to Ruggie and ask what all that fuss was about until a conversation between couch occupant and the students treating him reached his ears.

"Ouch! That hurts, man! Ugh, if not that piece of-!"

"Don't even think about ending that sentence. You're lucky that it wasn't the dorm leader who got his hands on you."

"Yes, dumbass, can you even imagine what would have happened to you three if he found out you fought his mate- Wha? Huh?! Leona-san? Since when did you-"

Leona crossed the room in a few powerful strides only to pick the unfortunate student by his collar. An unbridled fury grimaced his face.

"What's about [Y/n]? Tell me, your puny life depends on it!“

"Nishishishi, what can he even tell? That he and his thick-headed friends got completely obliterated by a single, small human?"

"Listen, I'm very sorry about it, but it was just self-defense!"

Leona dropped the scared, shaking from fear student to the floor in favor of rushing to your self, who too entered the room. He swiftly checked you for any injury and let out a relieved sigh. From what he could see you were completely fine, while those who harassed you were very much not, trembling and holding each other, bruised and humiliated. Kingscholar could only look bewildered at them, and then at you, at them, at you.

"Leona, I'm really sorry, I didn't want to hurt them so bad."

Your ramble became faster the more your boyfriend looked at you with a blank look, not even saying a word to you.

"...so if there's some disciplinary punishment or otherwise or will take it, I-"

A snicker interrupted your speech. You looked at the man before you stunned. Before you could utter even another word he erupted in a fit of roaring laughter, it resonating in a completely silent dorm.

• Ah, Leona can't genuinely remember when was the last time he laughed that hard. The whole situation is so amusing to him, there isn't't a boring day with you, is there?

• Of course, you'll face no punishment, vice versa, you'll be celebrated. His darling, his kitten, was actually a mighty carnivore all along. He's going to mark the day, when he finally found out about that.

• Never would he think, not a snowballs chance in hell, that you had any physical strength in you, but you managed to prove him wrong. Yes, he was very close to destroying poor souls who tried to harass you, but if not for them taunting you and being beat up in the process, he wouldn't have such a discovery to laugh at. They're getting away with it, a living example of why exactly one ought to not touch dorm leader's lover. They're not dining with everybody that evening though, no matter how much tasty food there is.

• He doesn't think a lot about this discovery at first, that's just another gimmick of yours and he loves it, he loves you, but does it turn his world upside down, both figuratively and literally, when you, fed up with him lazing around the greenhouse and trying to make you lie down with him, swing him over your shoulder and carry him out. His pupils are just two saucers. He hangs speechless from your shoulder and until he feels ground under his legs he doesn't register what happened.

• Congratulations, now you have Leona Kingscholar living in your arms. He'll just use you as a personal carriage and how can you deny him, when he's so cutely snuggling up to you. Oh, he knows what he does to you and isn't ashamed to take advantage of it.

• He's quite pleased to know that you can hold your own in a physical fight, even in a magical world they're still too common. He even starts to watch himself, especially when he thinks he went too far with his teasing since you do have a strength to turn it on him. Well, he doesn't really protest. A bit of roughhousing and a tickle fight never harmed anybody, it amuses Leona when you start them.

• He admires you more than anybody else at this point. You're badass and you know it, and he couldn't be more proud. He sleeps soundly, knowing that you can stand up for yourself if the situation calls for it. He still much prefers to have you safe in his arms, or vice versa, so don't leave him for longer, than you should.

• One time he just casually asked you, if you could wield any weapon with a very unsettling glint in his eyes. He told you that a lot of people in Afterglow Savannah were proficient in some war art, it was a very respected tradition, and some of the masters could teach you, if you visited his homeland with him. He left the question open, but sometimes you still wonder what did he actually mean?

Azul Ashengrotto 🐙

Night Raven College was in a state of emergency. All students were to follow their seniors to a safe location, while teachers and student council were dealing with the threat. The reason for such a panic was a single creature. Highly dangerous at its full potential and untamable, college's Chimera was much less imposing than it's wild nature sisters, but still a difficult opponent for students at their Magic Defense classes. Apparently this time it decided to give a special lesson to everybody.

"The beast ran in that direction, don't let it get away once again, surround and subdue it!"

Azul's order rang in the hallway, spurring every present student to action. At the state of total disarray, the youth was the only one who reacted fast enough to rally his fellow students and direct them properly. But to say the hunt was going awfully is to say nothing. The students, so much for them being skilled at magic, had no idea of command work. Ashengrotto had already regretted sending Leech twins away with Octavinelle juniors, it would have ended so much faster if they were present. But alas, after running around the campus for more than half an hour, Azul could finally hope they would catch the damned beast at last.

"It's running away, catch it! Why are you standing still?"

"Can you not complain for five seconds, pretty boy? Want me to fix your make up with my fists for you?"

"The Chimera is resisting magical attacks, somebody please sacrifice yourself for the greater good. We need to neutralize it!"

No, they were hopeless. Azul could only observe the people he saw daily at college lose all respect he had for them in less than an hour. Azul was genuinely contemplating to just give up and let the teachers, who got lost halfway too somehow, handle it. At that point he wasn't even chasing it, disappointedly watching how it was running away into the sunset.

Until it suddenly didn't. Chimera crashed with a loud thud, falling to the floor completely motionless. And the one who was standing above it with a bright red crowbar was none other than you. Shocked, he slowly approached you and the unconscious animal.

"Um... [Name]?"

"Sup' Azul! You were late for our date so I returned to check up on you. This Chimera is so big! It's the first time I've seen it. Where should we carry it?"

"Yes, yes...You'll still meet it at your Magic Defense classes later the semester. To the classroom on the third floor, let me-"

Before Azul could lift it with magic you had already hoisted it on your shoulder and awaited for his lead.

Well, it was certainly a dream so he didn't have to freak out, right? His dear significant other couldn't possibly knock out a huge beast in one punch?

• Wrong. You did. You also had enough strength to carry it to its cage. You could do even more than that. The more Azul was coming to the understanding of it, the more he was freaking out. Until he completely stopped responding to you. The date had to be canceled, unfortunately. You led him to his dorm, while he was having an identity crisis.

• When he finally snaps out of his state you're so going to be bombarded with questions. They won't stop, and you're not even sure he addresses them to you. How did you hide it and why? Or was he just oblivious? But you look so demure, look at Jack for example and look at you! How?

"Well, I'm pretty soft, but here touch - there muscles underneath!"

He's now more lost than before, after making contact with your bare skin.

• It's going to take him time to come to terms with your actual strength. Lack of magic not equating to being powerless didn't register in his brain, and he thought it was actually very ignorant of him. He respected you before, but now he's in awe. His significant other is very strong and Azul thinks it's beautiful.

• When he has too much work and is stubborn about cramming it all into one day, even though he's already drooling on his notes and slips down his chair, you just lift him from his seat and parade through Monstro Lounge to his room with Azul blushing madly in your arms. Leech twins think it's the most hilarious thing they've ever seen. Azul is very embarrassed, but it also feels so good to be carried around by you, he feels the most special man in the world. He politely asks you to not handle him like that ever again, while he clings to you like a baby koala. It's obvious where he wants to be.

• He has a love-hate attitude to manhandling. It certainly feels exciting when you tug him on your lap if he's passing by, or envelop him in a hug if you're happy, but he's also quite shy about it, especially if there're people around you. Sometimes he wants just to find a pot big enough to hide.

• He likes your way of solving problems. You don't have to choose the best spells that would give you an advantage against a certain opponent, neither do you have to worry about things like mana and blot. You can only rely on yourself in a fight. He wheezed when you suggested, that Floyd wouldn't be a dangerous opponent to you since his unique magic wouldn't deflect a punch to the face. Floyd wasn't impressed with that logic, but he kept quiet.

• Azul is quite pacifistic, if he can mitigate the conflict and reach a consensus that would benefit every party, mostly him, he will try to avoid a fight. But when even he can't do this, you enter the picture. You know that those jerks are too arrogant and they should be prescribed a nice, educating blow to a face. Azul is mortified, when you escalate things, for he usually doesn't see such scenes, Floyd or even sometimes Jade leave them offstage. He quickly comes to his senses though and helps you out. Best believe you're going to get away with it, and even will be treated as a victim. Who in their right mind will think that you, of all people, can deal any serious damage to anybody?

• He feels a bit weird when you're the one carrying his shopping bags, or screwing the jars open, but he learns to roll with it, even starts to enjoy it. And his face when he sees you carrying a huge table all on your own, because he just so mentioned, that he didn't like how it stood in the Lounge? Priceless.

• No matter how much time passes he'll still react surprised when he sees you displaying your power, but it's also one of the qualities he loves about you. Azul treats your unusual strength as your special appeal and couldn't be more proud to be your lover.

• He's ecstatic that he can just casually mention to anybody picking on him, that "his significant other can and will snap you in half". Maybe you can, maybe you can not, but you just let him have his fun. The truth is that you will do your best at any given time to protect your boyfriend.

[aliwritesfic]

Our Black Hearts (F!Reader x Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels)

Summary: Jack Daniels had long given up on avenging his murdered wife, instead choosing to travel west through the ruins of the United States to a small town called Deepwell. It's a fresh start, where nobody knows him. The thought of vengeance was almost out of mind until he found out about the towns book club and the gossip trade that happened there. So he joins, and figures it can't hurt to keep an ear out for news of the man who killed his wife.

Overall warnings: Death, violence, a lot of swearing, drinking, trauma, PTSD, angst

Warnings for this part: Drinking, mention of dead loved ones, smut, P in V sex, oral (F & M receiving), somewhat rough sex

Wordcount: 2.4k

Tags: Post-apocalypse AU, casual lovers, revenge

Part 2 (coming soonish)

The book club was a group of the only twelve people in the town who could read more than the few basic words that were usually taught. It wasn’t like an old-world book club, were people would gather to discuss the books they read – it was more of a book exchange, but the members preferred the word club. Of course, there were discussions, but they were seldom about books. They met once a week, usually on a Wednesday but sometimes on Fridays, and mostly talked about news they had heard from passing traders, letters given by couriers from family. This was how Jack got most of his information.

Jack Daniels was the newest member of this club. He was the newest resident of the Deepwell township, having come through one scorching hot Tuesday afternoon on the back of a trader’s caravan. He had taken one look at the dingy little town with its long-abandoned homes and decided that this was as far as he was willing to travel. Of course, he had to speak with the self-appointed Mayor, Lucy Jonas-Green, so she could assess his “suitability”. The interview had been a short one, consisting of only four questions, the grizzled old woman glaring at him through narrowed grey eyes.

“You good at shootin’?” Question one.

“Best I know.” It wasn’t a brag if it was true, Jack reasoned.

“Got any skills?” Question two.

“I’m good at buildin’ shit, I can stay awake for two days if I need to, I can read and write some stuff . . . I’m pretty good with a whip.”

“Why here?” Question three.

“Got sick of travelling.”

“What’s your name?” Question four.

“Jack.”

Lucy Jonas-Green had deliberated for exactly one minute, during which time Jack grew increasingly uncomfortable under her gaze. He felt like she could see directly into his soul, like she was deciding exactly how shit-stained it was. The only indication of her approval was a slight nod of the head. At that, a young boy, probably no older than thirteen, rushed over to greet him. The kid was chatty, but harmless.

It was through this kid that Jack first found out about the book club. He hadn’t been interested at first – just because he could read didn’t mean he liked to read. But at the mention of it being the towns main source of news from across the Fallen States, the chance of hearing something about the group that attacked Black Ridge was too good to pass up.

So now, he sat with the book club, a yellowed, mouldy copy of 1984 in his hands, ears pricked for any mention of a merc group led by a man with one eye and eleven fingers. A few months before he had finally settled in Deepwell, he had given up on his search and his quest for revenge. There had been no mention of him anywhere along the eastern townships, so Jack had headed west, deciding to leave the cruel memories of his wife behind. Now, he figured it couldn’t hurt to just listen.

But for weeks now, nothing. Whatever hope had rekindled itself in his chest was dying away, making room for cruel acceptance. Another meeting concluded, and Jack tucked the book carefully in his jacket. As much as he didn’t enjoy reading, he had a healthy respect for the leader of the book club and the threat of slitting his throat should something happen to the books she shared with the group.

The sun was low in the sky as he stepped outside, casting long shadows on the cracked pavement. People were beginning to move as the sunset, the harshest of its rays now dulled by the horizon. Electric streetlights slowly flickered on; the entire town was powered by recommissioned solar panels that someone much smarter than Jack had rigged up a decade ago. Jack considered his options for the night: either he could go back to the house he shared with a small family and scrounge up a meal of whatever was left in his room before a trader came through town tomorrow night, or he could go to the only bar in town, order several of whatever alcohol was in stock and a bowl of the ‘stew of the day’ which was usually just a root vegetable and some unidentified meat. Jack chose the bar.

The bar was the largest building in Deepwell, three stories tall and enough beds to sleep the entire population of the town twice over. The place smelt of stale booze and dust, a smell that seemed to be common over the entirety of the Fallen States. A jukebox in the corner played old world tunes on a loop.

“Evenin’, Jack.” The owner of the bar, Marcus, nodded his head in Jack’s direction. Jack nodded back and took off his hat – an old-world style that someone had once called ‘cowboy’. “Just the usual?”

“Yep, and keep the drinks coming,” Jack sat down at a small table close to the exit, his body always slightly angled to run at a moment’s notice, an old habit that he couldn’t seem to shake. A bowl of steaming stew was set down in front of him, along with a glass of murky amber liquid.

That’s when he noticed he was being watched. A woman sat in the corner, staring at him over a half empty glass of whiskey. Jack raised a brow and realised his recognised her. She was in the book club, too, but he didn’t remember her name. Everyone seemed to call her Chase. Jack was surprised she didn’t break her gaze when his eyes met hers, and against his better judgement, he put his hat back on, picked up his bowl and glass and walked over to her.

“This seat taken?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he set his food down on the table and sat.

~

Something about Jack Daniels intrigued you. Maybe it was the hat, or the facial hair he somehow managed to keep contained to a thick, neat moustache. Or maybe it was just the most annoyingly handsome person to ever come through Deepwell. Now he sat across from you, sipping on bathtub whiskey.

“Chase isn’t it?” he said after downing his glass.

“That’s what they call me,” you said. “What do they call you?”

Jack smirked. “Depends who you ask. Some like Dirty Bastard, others Motherfucker. For a while I was known as Whiskey. But you can call me whatever you like.” He finished with a wink.

“Jack it is,” you said with a roll of your eyes, but you would be lying to yourself if you weren’t a little charmed. “So, what brings you to book club, Jack?”

“Why, my love of old-world literature, of course.”

You leant back in your seat and tilted your head. He was lying, that much was obvious. But why? What was the point of lying? You looked into his eyes, a deep brown, and wondered if he was worth the trouble. He might be worth it for the night, you thought.

“Let’s pretend for a moment that I believe that,” you said, and Jack looked mildly surprised. “What’s taken you so long to come up and introduce yourself? You’ve been in town what now? Three months?”

“Two and a half,” Jack corrected, “and what gives you the impression I don’t care for literature?”

“Answer my question and I’ll answer yours,” you countered. Was this flirting? You hadn’t done it in so long, and the most practice you had was when you were working in the town garden, daydreaming about the heroes of the romance novels you kept in a safe in the corner of your room.

“Well, well, well,” Jack leant forward on his elbows, his gaze unreadable underneath his ridiculous hat. “I don’t have a reason for you, doll, but if it makes you feel better, I haven’t introduced myself to most people here.”

You settled for this explanation, knowing that Jack had been somewhat of a recluse around town since he had arrived. You decide to answer his question. “I know you don’t give a shit about books. It’s obvious you care more about the goss. Your ears practically twitch. What are you listening for?”

Jack deliberated for a moment; you could see on his face that he really was conflicted about telling you. He finished his mystery stew and finally speaks. “I’m looking for a man, have been for a few years now. He killed my wife, and I wanna kill him.”

“A simple revenge,” you said. “What makes you think you think news will turn up in Deepwell?”

“I didn’t,” Jack said, “I’d given up when I first came here. Figured it was best for my soul to do so – but then I heard about this club, and I guess it can’t hurt to keep an ear out for rumblin’s of a man with eleven fingers and one eye.”

“Eleven fingers?” Your stomach dropped, but you kept your face neutral.

“And one eye,” Jack nodded.

“Did you find out his name?” You asked. Maker don’t let it be Elijah. Don’t let him be alive. Jack shook his head.

“Naw, but eleven fingers and one eye, how many people could be runnin’ ‘round the Fallen States like that?” Jack shrugged, something akin to grief flittered briefly across his face, and you realised he was right. Having only one eye wasn’t unusual, a lot of people were missing some body part or another, but eleven fingers . . . you couldn’t deny the coincidence.

“Anyway,” Jack smirked at you, “you haven’t asked the most important question of all.”

You raised a brow. “Oh? And what’s that?”

“Are we takin’ this back to yours or mine, doll?”

~ Jack’s body is hard against yours, a sharp contrast to the softness of his lips. His shirt is off, discarded on the floor of your small bedroom. He kisses hungrily down your neck, his tongue darting along your collarbone. A moan escapes your lips as he slides his calloused hands along the bare skin of your stomach, roughly tugging at the frayed waistband of your jeans. His fingers find your wetness, easily finding your sensitive clit with his thumb. You groaned, head lolling forward into his sweaty neck.

“You like that?” he whispered into your ear; goosebumps raced along your body. His thumb made careful, slow circles along your clit. “Tell me you like it.”

“I like it,” you whined, bucking your hips in pleasure. A low groan escaped Jack’s throat at your words, spurring him on. He forces your pants off completely and discards them in the growing pile of clothes on the floor. He drops to his knees and pulls you closer, lips trailing delicately along your inner thighs. Then without warning, his tongue is lapping up the wetness of your clit, two fingers pumping your tight hole.

“Jack,” you whimper, the need for more sending you crazy. His dark eyes met yours over the top of your stomach, his tongue still working your clit. You’re hungry for him, the look of pure lust in his eyes spurring you to places you had never thought about. You sit up and place a hand on his shoulder, shuddering as another wave of pleasure rippled through your body. The look in your eyes must’ve told him what you want to do, because he stood and stepped back, allowing you room to get on your knees in front of him.

He undid his belt buckle with fingers still slick from your pussy and pulled his pants down. His cock sprang forward, making your mouth water with how fucking big it was. The head glistened with a bead of pre-cum. You leant forward and licked it off, before taking as much of his length in your mouth as you could. He groaned, his fingers tangling through your hair.

“Fuck, deeper,” his voice was husky with desire, and you happily obliged, taking him so you could feel him almost at the back of your throat. His fingers in your hair tightened, a pleasant pain on your skull. He groaned and pulled your head back, staring into your eyes. “I need you.”

You tugged him towards the mattress, pushing him on his back. You climb atop, feeling strangely dominant. His cock slid against the wetness of your hole, head entering before you pulled your hips away, a teasing smile on your lips. You go on like this, letting him enter a little further in you each time, enjoying the tortured look on his face, enjoying it even more when his eyes snapped open as you let him in completely. He moaned loudly, holding onto your hips tightly.

“Doll,” his word was muffled by his mouth on your tit, teeth latching onto your nipple. You rocked back and forth, clenching around his cock as an orgasm threatened to rip you from your body. Jack seemed to realise this, and flipped you both so you were on your back and he was standing, still inside you. He pulled you so your ass was off the mattress, your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Maker, you’re so fucking sexy,” he fucked you hard and rough, his dark gaze never leaving yours. His thumb was on your clit again, teasing you as an orgasm ripped through you. You moaned his name, your pussy clenching tightly around him. He grinned devilishly down at you, leaning forward to kiss you as he continued to thrust. He tasted of you, driving his tongue into your mouth. You met this eagerly, whimpering against his lips as yet another orgasm moved you.

“I can’t hold on,” Jack groaned, and before you could say a thing, he pulled out of you, hot cum spurting onto your stomach. He slumped next to you, obviously spent.

“Holy shit,” you muttered, scanning the room for something to wipe the cum up with.

“Holy shit is right, doll,” Jack said. Sweat beaded along his brow and he cracked open an eye to watch you wipe up with a shirt that was so full of holes it was unwearable. Silver moonlight filtered through the dirty window, casting shadows across his beautiful face. You laid down next to him, feeling a small shiver run through you as he curved his warm naked body against yours.

You would tell him, you decided. You would tell him you knew who he was looking for, and that you might know where to find him. But in the morning, so as not to mar the beautiful just fucked haze that enveloped your mind.

Tagging @sharkbait77 because she's lovely and I'm nervous about this one.

[hot-tea-gardenparty]

SPN 15.20 Reaction

Okay finally watching it live here on the West Coast, albeit I’ve been spoiled by Tumblr so I already know the episode is utter trash. I am very upset. Do not read ahead if you’d rather feel positive.

-          Pie Festival. Sam brings up Cas and Jack and Dean just pushes past that like it doesn’t fucking matter. “We gotta keep living for them” FUCK THAT SHIT. I hate it. So we are just going to keep ignoring the whole Cas confession? Gotcha. Pics or it didn’t happen?

-          Where’s Eileen too? Does she matter nothing to Sam now? What was the point of bringing her back to life and the kiss and whatnot….if she doesn’t matter in the end.

-          Now we’ve got some rando family that I don’t care about and these dollar store mask wearing creepers. I don’t want to see this in a SERIES FINALE EPISODE.

-          So you got all these extras and all these other random actors on set….but you couldn’t include Misha in the finale? Wow.

-          Interrogation of the dollar store creepers. Boring. SO BORING. 15 minutes into this episode and I am BORED. Who cares right now about a VAMPIRE NEST in the FINALE EPISODE. Why was this put in here?

-          A barn….where Dean is supposed to be meeting Cas again but we all know that isn’t going to happen.  No….why would we actually bring back a character that has kept this show from cancellation over and over…let’s just have the brothers fight some stupid vampires that no one cares about.

-          Oh great a fight with the dollar store vampires. The fight choreo is a bit wonky….but if I was honest it’s always been a little wonky on Supernatural (at least the past few seasons).

-          HOW DID THE SPN WRITERS THINK THAT BRINGING BACK JENNY FROM S.1 WAS MORE IMPORTANT THAN CAS? LIKE SERIOUSLY…WHAT THE EVER LIVING FUCK.

-          Fastest cameo ever. What the hell was the purpose of that at all?!

-          This is where Dean is gonna fall on a spike or something and die. Oh…nope…impaled by a vampire.

-          Seriously. Dean is gonna die here? HERE? NOW? He literally just got his free will. ARE YOU SHITTING ME?! Seriously….WHAT IS THE POINT OF DEAN DYING NOW? AND THIS IS WHAT KILLS HIM?  Dean deserves more than this. This isn’t the right way for him to die. Impaled on a spike by a shitty, second tier vamp. He deserved a life. This is just CRUEL.

-          Dean’s goodbye to Sam is kinda squicky. This is crossing into Wincest territory and it’s kinda disgusting. SERIOUSLY DABB WHY DID YOU FEED INTO THE WINCEST BULLSHIT.

-          This death is taking a while.

-          Sam doesn’t deserve this shit.

-          God, I would have been fine with a death like this for Dean if it had happened LATER ON DOWN THE LINE. BUT LIKE THIS? NOW?

-          Serious question. Why did Dean have to die in a barn? A link to Cas maybe? Fuck…why am I doing this to myself….I know now this show isn’t that deep.

-          Hunter funeral. Hey…Sam….question buddy….why didn’t you call ANYONE? No Donna. No Jody? Just you and the damn dog? WTF? Where is your found family? Apparently they don’t matter anymore.

-          The dog is the best part of this episode. It’s cute.

-          So now Sam is going to go on a hunt? Sure. Fine.

-          Dean is in heaven now I guess.

-          You cannot tell me that Dean arrives in heaven, where Cas is now residing, and Cas just doesn’t pop in at all to say HI? BULLSHIT.

-          All Cas gets is a fleeting mention? Thanks. I hate it.

-          “What are you going to do now?”   “I’m gonna no homo this shit-pony into the diarrhea smear sunset!”

-          Sam marries an unknown woman. Has a kid named Dean. Thanks….I hate it.

-          WHAT IS THAT WIG?! OMG NO. AHAHAHAHAHA! They didn’t even fucking try. Jared doesn’t even look aged…jesus christ.

-          Sam dies in old age. Fine. Whatever. I am already fed up with this shitty finale.

-          Why couldn’t supernatural just give us a happy ending in 2020?

-          Carry On My Wayward Son TWICE….IN A ROW. JESUS CHRIST. HAMMER IT HOME HARDER GUYS I HAVEN’T FELT ANYTHING YET.

-          Are you seriously telling me Cas hasn’t come by to say hi to Dean ONCE. NOT ONCE? Fuck I hate this finale. I hate it so much.

Final thoughts: This finale was a mess. Every single emotional thread they had strung was left hanging. I am honestly deeply offended that Castiel wasn’t in this episode. That he was barely even mentioned. I cried about that during the final scenes, not because Dean and Sam died. This finale was a cheap, slap-dash ending…it was the epitome of “rocks fall they all die”. I haven’t felt this hurt and angered by a finale since GOT. I had so much faith in Supernatural and it’s writers….I put faith in the meta readings and I tried to stay a positive fangirl with a sunny outlook. This finale just dashed most of my respect for whoever thought this finale was good enough. For whoever deemed these endings were going to make us fans happy. This was a slap to so many of our faces. It dangled multiple carrots in our face, “it’s not a good ending without Cas” or “Cas is an important character, we can’t leave him out” and “family don’t end in blood”. WELL…apparently family does end in blood…because Dean and Sam literally cared about no one else in 15.19 and 15.20 other than themselves. It’s like the entire ensemble cast was shoved to the side to make sure that the Wincest and brother lovers got their happy ending. I am so beyond heartbroken.

THIS IS NOT MY SUPERNATURAL FINALE.

IT NEVER FUCKING WILL BE.

[verobatto]

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. LXV

It was a love story from the very beginning.

You are the one in my heart (Part I)

(11x11/11x12)

Hello my friends! Here we go again with another meta about season 11!

This time I'm gonna talk about the way this season makes us see that Dean is in love with Castiel and the angel being the only one in his heart. To talk more thoroughly about this, I divided the topic into two parts.

I want to say thank you to @destielle for beta reading this for all of you! Thank you girl! 💕

Get it out of my head!

Just a little thought about this quote that was repeated several times by several characters in episode 11x11 'Into The Mystic'. Of course they referred to the Banshee, but it was clearly a mirrored description of what was going on with Castiel, at that time possessed by Lucifer.

Cas left when Lucifer occupied his vessel, but while Sam openly worries about him, Dean confronts Sam and us with his trust in Cas and him disappearing… 'Cas is always fine!' 

He was so embedded into his drama with Amara that he had no time for additional worries. And Cas was always fine... Right?

This momentum is important because of the drastic change we will see in Dean’s stance on this after he discovers that Castiel is possessed by Lucifer. From then on he won’t rest until he is able to rescue him. His priorities will change and Amara will drop lower, behind Cas, on the list. But we will talk about this in the upcoming metas.

Oak Park and Broken Hearts

I need to talk about the two songs in the beginning of the episode: they're extremely romantic, talking about two lovers and how they meet again. So… these may be just little hints of Castiel coming back to Dean after being possessed. 

But let's jump to The Residence Oak Park. We meet Mildred, I know, but there's another interesting character, named Arthur. Arthur is the man in charge of the residence, but the reason why he sleeps at this place is because he separated from his wife. He starts talking about it with Dean, and it’s obvious he got his heart broken. He says this sentence to Dean…

ARTHUR: I should have sent the heart. I can be so stupid.

The meaning behind this? He regrets how they broke up over phone, but even more that he didn’t do more to keep her by his side. And these regrets are exactly the same Dean will be struggling with after discovering that Cas was in fact Lucifer the whole time. Maybe he should've paid more attention to what was going on with Cas, acting so weird… but because Cas is always okay, as he claimed... and with Amara on his mind, worrying him a lot, he just couldn't see it.

When Arthur is killed by the Banshee, we encounter through Mildred that he had a heart condition (valves issues), so we, as the audience, connect that bit to the symbolism of the broken heart. This also applies to Mildred herself when she says she has Atrial Fibrillation, another cardiac pathology.

So… why wanted the Banshee to kill Dean? What made Dean vulnerable? Also his heart! It was broken by his encounter with Castiel (Casifer) in the bunker!

Don't use me as bait

Before jumping to Casifer’s and Dean's scene, I want to point out how blatantly the writers helped us seeing the subtext.

First of all they made the Winchesters talk about broken hearts. Because they needed us to see that case revolving around that topic.

Secondly, after Dean and Casifer had their moment, Dean was very offended by the thought of Sam wanting to use Mildred as bait. Why? 

Because writers wanted us to see that what Cas inquired to Dean was to make him act as the bait to catch Amara. And that was the cause of Dean's vulnerability and broken heart… he thought Cas was asking him to play the bait, thus putting him recklessly in danger. His Cas, who always had been loyal to him and who would never hurt him, always took care of him even. It broke Dean’s heart, because he thought Castiel didn't love him the way he did. Again, the shadow of the unrequited love…

And that’s said scene:

Dean enters the bunker and finds Casifer searching for something, looking disheveled with rolled-up sleeves and no overcoat, especially without his trenchcoat. It’s an odd sight of the angel. And rightfully so, because it’s not the real Cas…

After this they start talking about Amara…

DEAN: Yeah, I know. Saying you're gonna kill is one thing, but... Actually doing it's something totally different.

LUCIFER/CAS: What do you mean?

DEAN: I've had two shots at Amara. I struck out both times.

LUCIFER/CAS: What are you talking about?

DEAN: I don't even know where to start.

LUCIFER/CAS: Dean... Tell me everything.

Lucifer found something that sparked his interest: why isn’t Dean Winchester able to kill or harm Amara? So he plays the concerned friend right here to gather more information from Dean.

DEAN: I tried to kill her.

LUCIFER/CAS: Well, the two of you are connected somehow by the Mark.

DEAN: Yeah, no, it's, uh... It's more than that.

LUCIFER/CAS: Attraction? Oh, Dean.

Gif set credit @starlightcastiel

DEAN: I know. I know. Okay? Whatever it is, a... Attraction, connection... I got to tell you, man, it scares me. I don't know that I can stop it. I don't know that I can resist it.

Dean defines his issue with Amara with the word ATTRACTION, but he doesn't know exactly what it is, because he can't control it. Because it’s a dark force that drags him to her. So he doesn't know what it is, but he knows what it’s not (I will talk about this in the next meta). So, Dean is terrified… he doesn't like it. 

Lucifer is lucky because he can use this against Amara, but he tries anyways to act like a comprehensive friend… but he fails… his first mistake is to place his hand on Dean's right shoulder (and that's when Dean looks at him suspiciously) because that's not Castiel's shoulder (profound bond shoulder).

And after this Lucifer says those unlucky words that will break Dean's heart, proning him to become a Banshee's victim.

Gif set credit @starlightcastiel

LUCIFER/CAS: Hey, it scares me, too. But we will find out what this is, I promise. In the end, it may help draw her out. This could be a good thing.

Dean looks at him hurt and confused. Why does Cas want to use him as bait? Doesn't he care about him? 

Dean is pining for Castiel

Gif credit @demondetoxmanual

Mildred was introduced in this particular episode as a wise character, with Dean she talks about watching sunsets and FOLLOWING YOUR HEART. Dean listens to her, and really reflects on those words as we will see in the final episodes of this season, when he follows his heart trying to rescue Castiel from Lucifer despite the main plan. It will be a war decision, more accurate in the circumstances, revealing he never changed his mind and will and has always put Castiel first, because Castiel comes first in Dean’s heart.

Another interesting and wise observation Mildred made about Dean, and writers were very specific to make us see it, is the following…

MILDRED: Darlin'... If there's one thing I've learned in all my years on the road, it's when somebody's pining for somebody else.

[Dean smirks]!!!!! Oh, don't try and hide it now. Follow your heart. Remember? I don't know who the lucky lady is, but I am damn sure jealous.

Mildred saw it, just like the banshee, Dean is pining for someone. The lucky one that has his heart however is not Amara, we know that Dean is afraid of her and he knows it’s not love that he feels for her. But Dean smiles nonetheless… he smiles, because Mildred found out. Yes. He is in love. Yes, he is pining for someone. And it’s a very hot, blue eyed and winged man. 

A little Destiel mirror

Just a couple of words about episode 11x12, we have Alex here with a boyfriend that turned out to be a vampire ( a monster) which she didn't know about before.

Pay attention to this dialogue after Alex finds out her boyfriend is a monster.

ALEX: (To Henry) Nothing? None of it was real?

HENRY: Seriously Al? You were a complete freak! I mean, you were an angry loner, creeping around the school like some kind of trench coat mafia?

CLAIRE: You're gonna burn in hell, you sociopath.

HENRY: (Still looking at Alex) I could never date someone like you.

It’s a switched mirror, Alex represents Castiel now, and the disappointment of being rejected will come at the end of the season when Dean calls Cas their Brother. Oh yes, the car scene… and the coward We/Us speech… my heart.

To Conclude:

Mildred served as a channel to show us Dean is pining for Castiel, delivering an advise Dean will follow once he finds out Cas is in danger.

Dean had his heart broken because of Cas (Casifer), drowning again in the idea that his love is unrequited.

Alex/Henry relationship was a switched Destiel mirror and a premonition of the "rejection" Castiel will feel when Dean calls him a BROTHER later on.

I hope you enjoyed this meta, see you in the next one!

Tagging @metafest @magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-is--endgame @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper

@shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @tenshilover20 @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha

@imjustkipping @destielle @agusvedder @spnsmile @shippsblog

If you want to be added or removed from this list, just let me know.

If you want to read the previous metas From s11, here you have the links Vol. LXII, LXIII, LIV.

Buenos Aires, June 9th 2020 3:17 PM

[lifemod17]

New emotional damage unlocked: driving by myself underneath a very pretty sunset while Bloodsport is blasting and screaming "SOMEWHERE THE ATOMS STOPPED FUSING I'M STILL YOUR FAVORITE REGRET YOU'RE STILL MY WEAPON OF CHOOSING AND OUT THERE"

THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT TO ME

[utterlyinevitable]

Could you please, please write OH3 Bryce X Becca angsty break-up piece but with happy ending this time? Please and thank you!♡

Of course 💕

[Part 1 is here.]

Bryce x Becca OHSY/OH3 Breakup (Part 2) 

Bryce didn’t know where he was going. It was late and he really didn’t want to do the 5-hour drive back to Boston. 

So he texted his sister. 

He could make it to her school in 2.5 hours if he caught the last ferry to Connecticut, that way he could decompress and wouldn’t have to drive for an hour.  

Becca sat in her apartment, stunned, for under two minutes. This couldn’t possibly be the end. Could it? 

In sheer panic, she threw on a cardigan and her slippers and ran downstairs. 

She hoped to god he was just sitting on the stoop stewing in their tiff. 

But he wasn’t. 

And his car wasn’t parked at the curb anymore. 

Becca ran back inside, taking the two flights of stairs two steps at a time, to call him. 

No answer. 

She called again. 

Nothing. 

And again. 

Straight to voicemail. 

So she texted. 

She texted everything she was feeling and every reason why she couldn’t decide. Why she didn’t know what she wanted. Why she was caught off guard and everything was moving faster than the earth on its axis. 

She told him she loved him, and that she never could have imagined the amount of happiness she feels with him. 

She told him everything. 

And she told him that she’s scared. That she feels like she’s been running away for a while. That there’s so much in life she didn’t know she wanted to experience. But she wanted to do them with him. 

She was afraid and it was a mistake and please just come back. 

Bryce didn’t get any of those messages. 

He muted her number until he got his head straight. 

Becca grabbed her computer and booked the next chartered flight to Boston. 

Bryce got to Keiki’s boarding school at 2AM. 

She was waiting for him in the visitor’s parking lot with a guest pass she printed off for the car.  “Are you okay?”  “I’ll be fine. Just need to sleep it off.” 

They walked to her dorm in relative silence. 

Her roommate was excited to have the hot surgeon brother stay with them. That excitement quickly faltered when he barely acknowledged her. 

The two teens complied as many blankets and pillows as they could get their hands on to make Bryce a comfortable makeshift bed on the floor. 

He didn’t care. He flopped into the pile, clutching a pillow and trying to will himself to sleep. 

It didn’t work. 

His mind was racing and he wanted to talk to her. He wanted to beg her to reconsider. 

He wanted to understand why she didn’t love him just as much. 

He also really really really needed a drink.  _

It was 4AM when she landed in Boston. 

Becca called the one person she could count on at world-shattering times like these. 

Ethan was waiting for her at arrivals. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” “That depends on if I can have my job back or not.” “Done. But that was a simple phone call. Why am I picking you up at the airport at such an ungodly hour?” 

She told him that she made the biggest mistake. She told him this is her grand romantic gesture. 

He drove her to Bryce’s apartment. 

Becca banged on the door. She made as much noise as she could to stir a possibly exhausted man on the other side.  

When nothing happened, she waited outside. Stubbornly sitting outside his apartment door for two hours before calling her friends. 

No one heard from him and Becca was less than inclined to tell them the full story of their fight. 

Instead of going right home, Bryce spent the rest of the weekend with Keiki trying to forget. 

Becca crashed with Sienna. She’d go back to Bryce’s every few hours to see if he was there. 

Her antics and worrisome pacing got so ridiculous that Elijah and Jackie reached out to Bryce, but all he responded was: “I’m fine.” 

Becca took the news better than any of them thought. She nodded one and plastered on a smile. 

Then she was out the door. 

Becca used the rest of her time in Boston wisely.  

Mostly liaising with Ethan about the job. 

She was erratic and wanted to start ASAP. She’d give up everything for Bryce in that moment. 

Her fear of losing him was greater than her career aspirations. 

Ethan wouldn’t let her make a rash decision based on frivolous emotions.  “Finish your last five months of residency at Weill. I can offer you a job immediately after.”  “It’s got to be now. You just don’t understand, Ethan.”  “Have you spoken with Lahela since the fight?”  “No, and that’s why I need to be back in Boston ASAP.”  “Don’t do something stupid and uninformed.” 

She stormed out of his office on the verge of tears. 

It had been 38 hours since Bryce left her in New York, and not a single sign of him coming back to her. 

The last time she knocked on his door was a half-assed effort. Her knuckles gently grazing the wood. She wasn’t hopeful at all. 

She also had two hours to kill until her train back.

Still no answer. 

Becca leaned her forehead against the door, regretting every single thing that happened to get them to this point. If she would have just put someone else first and not been so self-centered, she could have had that coveted Happily Ever After. 

Bryce was a once in a lifetime lover. 

She fell to the floor and cried one last time. 

She wasn’t sure how long she was huddled there. 

It was long enough for people to notice her. 

“Can I help you?” 

Becca looked up at the figure. 

Through her tears she could see him. 

Through her sobs she choked out, “I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

He kept his hands deep in his pockets. He wanted to get past her and into his apartment. But he stood there. If he moved towards her he’d invite her in. Into his apartment, into his arms, into his heart. 

“What’re you doing here, Rebecca?” 

The tears started flowing freely, tragically. He never ever called her by her full name and now he’s done it twice. She was always ‘Becks’ to him. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean- We can work through this.”  “I don’t think we can. You either want a life with me or you don’t. And from the looks of it, you don’t.”  “I do, Bryce. I do. Truly.”  “Could have fooled me.” 

She stood up finally. 

Bryce took advantage of the bit of space between them, enough to unlock the door. 

She felt the ice coming off his shoulder. 

So she reiterated everything. 

From her fears to her feelings to what she thinks she needs and knows she wants. 

And she told him about asking Ethan for her job back and moving back here for him.  

Bryce was stuck in place. In his doorway, stuck between shutting her out and letting her in. 

“I think you should stay in New York.”  “What-”  “Finish your residency. That’s the most important thing.” 

His broken amber eyes finally met hers. 

“Then what?”  He said the next words sarcastically and so full of light malice; “What do you want me to say?”  “Ask me. Ask me again.” 

Bryce watched the tears build up and the desperation overtake her. 

“Ask me to come back to Edenbrook. Ask me to move in. Ask me again, Bryce, please.” 

They implored one another. The silence between them getting greater and greater. Neither really sure of what they were doing anymore. What the point of all of this was. 

Every single memory and vision of their wishful future played out before him. 

Of them living in this apartment for the next few years. Of them moving out of the city and buying a house in the suburbs, somewhere near the beach. Of them at Keiki’s graduation and moving her into her college dorm. Of showing her where he grew up and having a romantic evening overlooking the sunset. Of her formally agreeing to everything. Of them planning the best party with all their loved ones. Of them welcoming the twins she’s always wanted. And of all the ways she’s looked at him with that sleepy smile every morning and every evening. Of them being there together every step of the way, side by side the way they belonged. 

The sweetness overcame him. 

“If I do, you have to promise me one thing. And you can’t take it back, it’ll be set in stone.”  “Anything,” she nodded. 

Bryce said the next words slow and with the most honest of intentions. They were confident and vulnerable. 

“Marry me.” 

Her eyes went wide. Suddenly all the tears had dried up and the stains across her cheeks stung. 

Bryce continued; “If I ask you again, you have to promise you’ll marry me when my residency is over. Three years. Because I’m not doing this for nothing, Becks. You’re it for me.” 

They looked at each other one last time. 

He had given her one last out. 

She wiped whatever remnants of the turmoil from her face with the sleeve of her cardigan.

“Ask me.” 

Bryce smiled. His megawatt smile peering through the sadness. 

“Move in with me, Becks? Let’s start our lives together right here in Boston.” 

She bit her lip. 

Becca smiled back;  “Yes.”  

[iamartemisday]

Lokane, parent au, friends to lovers, “I don’t think I even want to know” thank you!

Loki found the spare key under the welcome mat. It was always in the exact same place like Jane took the time to bend over and place it perfectly in the discolored outline on the dark blue carpet. As a courtesy, he knocked first.

“Jane?” No answer. “Jane, are you in there?”

She was of course. All of their usual hangouts were closed this time of day. The ones that weren’t hadn’t seen her in weeks. Not since that bleached blonde asslicking doucherocket (he’d have to thank Darcy later for that) packed his stuff and left. Walking through the apartment, the absence of another person was stark. Like missing pieces in a jigsaw puzzle, bits and pieces of the home Loki had come to know where gone. The flower vase on the hall table, the clock on the mantle, even the Toulouse- Lautrec which had once hung over the TV. Donald Blake had been thorough in removing all traces of himself from Jane’s space. What remained seemed duller than usual, a lackluster attempt at decorating an otherwise modest living space.

Now that he was inside, he just had to follow the sound of crying. It led him down the hall, past Jane and Don’s (no, just Jane’s now) bedroom, past the empty bathroom, and into the study. The cramped space which had once housed a desk and more of Don’s favorite painting was now furnished with a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand. Stuffed animals exploded from all four corners. A giant ‘Welcome Home’ sign adorning the wall was lopsided, the tape peeling off one side.

On the bed with a teddy bear clutched in her arms was Jane. Her head was bowed, tears dripping to the floor to create puddles. Though she didn’t look up, Loki knew she had heard him. He sat on the bed beside her, and she moved over to give him room.

“Do you have a plan?” he asked. His first instinct was ‘how are you’ but that would just piss her off. In his heart of hearts, he cared too much about Jane to patronize like that anyway.

“What plan?” she mumbled. “I’m all alone, Don’s not coming back, and there’s no way a single woman who barely makes enough money to support herself is getting a kid. You don’t need to be a social worker to figure that out.”

“I could pull some strings,” Loki suggested.

Jane sighed. “Please don’t threaten the adoption agency.”

“Who said anything about a threat?” Loki pulled out his checkbook. “They’re a government agency. What are they there for if not to be bought?”

Despite herself, Jane laughed, just like Loki knew she would. “Sometimes I forget how devious you can be.”

“Only for you, Jane.”

That was only partly the truth. It used to be that Loki screwed with people purely for his own amusement. Pranks and games were his favorite way to shake up the monotony of everyday life and forget about all his troubles. Then he met Jane, with her inquisitive nature and fiery temper. She took no shit from anyone, least of all him. The first and only time he tried to mess with her head, she called him an asshole and then ‘accidentally’ spilled a drink in his lap. Strange as it was, he was immediately smitten.

Then he found out she was engaged. That put a significant damper on things.

But Donald Blake had been standup fellow. Intelligent, a doctor, perhaps a bit too nice for his own good, and, if Loki was being honest, quite handsome as well. 

(Good thing Loki was never honest.)

It had been Don who suggested to Jane that they adopt. Jane had confided in Loki a few times how unsure she was about having a family. She didn’t not want kids, but wasn’t it too soon to think about that? What about her research? What about Don’s residency? The fool was simply too soft-hearted for his own good. He worked with kids every day and saw the horrible conditions so many youngsters lived in. If they could give just one child in need a home, then they’ll have made the world a tiny bit better.

That was how he convinced Jane to say yes. That was how they ended up at a group home where Jane bonded with a quiet six-year-old curled up on a cot in the corner. That was how the fights started because Don wanted a baby. 

After three months of stalling and arguing, they finally came to an understanding. Which was to say Don met a nursing assistant who agreed with him that a baby was better. There was more to the story of course, but Jane would never say and Loki didn’t think he wanted to know.

He was still considering his options for how he would make the idiot suffer. He had a few ideas written down on his laptop, but for now, he had to comfort Jane. She was far more important than his need for vengeance on her behalf. Hell, he might end up letting it go entirely. Maybe he’s gone soft.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

Jane sniffed and shook her head. “She’s still there. No one else wants her yet.”

“That means you have time.”

“Time for what?” she snapped. “To win the lottery? Get a Nobel prize? Marry a billionaire? Because that’s the only way I’ll have the resources to get approved and none of that is going to happen any time soon.”

“The last one might,” Loki said. 

Jane snorted. “What, marry a rich guy?”

“Yes,” Loki said, taking her by the arms. “It can happen very easily.”

It took her a few seconds to understand his meaning. Seconds after her eyes bugged out, it fully sunk in for Loki as well. Caught up in the heat of the moment, he had blurted out the words that had been swimming in his head since the first time she called him a pretentious asshole. Now that they were out, he couldn’t take them back. He didn’t even want to, and he almost felt bad for how selfish it truly was.

“Are you kidding me?” she stood up. “Loki, that’s crazy!”

“Is it?” he asked, offended.

“No, not like... I can’t marry you. That’s not... you can’t just put yourself on the line like that!”

“Of course I can,” he said. “I can have a marriage license ready within the next twenty minutes. We’ll be married by sunset. It would be simple.”

“No, it’s not simple,” Jane pulled at her hair. “God, I should’ve known you’d pull something like this. You never think anything through!”

“That is patently false and you know it.” Loki stood and walked to her. “Jane, you are my dearest friend, and no one is better equipped to be this child’s mother than you. I know you won’t give up on her that easily. You never give up on anything. That’s why I love you so.”

Another slip-up. Another confession he couldn’t take back. Jane’s face was already twisted in shock, so he couldn’t tell just how that affected her. Not until she sucked in a breath.

“You mean... like a friend, right?” she asked.

“I love you,” he said, leaving it up to her interpretation, “and if you say the word, I will do this for you. I want to do this for you, and for the child. Please let me do this. Please...”

It was hard to use his usual tactics. Vulnerability would only work so well on her, and then there was the fact that it felt so real. If she rejected him now and told him to leave, he couldn’t honestly say he’d make it home sober. In fact, it might just be the end of him.

He’d hate her for doing this to him if he didn’t love her so much.

A strangled cry left her lips as she fell into him. Loki breathed a long sigh of relief.

“This is insane,” she muttered into his chest.

“Just a little,” Loki said. “What is her name?”

“Katie,” Jane said.

Loki dropped his head into her hair, but he didn’t kiss her. Not yet. “Well then, let’s make sure we’re ready for her.”

[secretsantasides]

Gift #5: Sun and Moon

Gift for: @okay-finne

Prompt: Deceit/Logan, Unsympathetic Virgil/Patton. Gods AU, tw blood, body mutilation.

"Sun"

---------

He can hear their cries.

It distracts him from his own pain, the pain of having something so important ripped out of him.

It also makes his torture a million times worse.

Listening to the cries of his children in the room next door, not knowing if they're actually being hurt or if they're just scared.

He prays that they're just scared. Losing this integral part of him is one thing. Losing the children he already has is another.

"Stop- stop- don't hurt them, please don't hurt them! They're chil- they're children!" He yells out as best he can, panicked and thrashing on the bed he's strapped too. It’s too hard to lie right now, too hard to put up the harsh and cocky mask he usually puts up for the beasts near him.

Blood soaking the gauze around his abdomen.

Blood, everywhere.

The 'doctor' the gods had sent stands, grinning to himself, on the other side of the room, dark circles under his eyes and purple hair his most visible features. He smells like lightning.

Pain, everywhere.

In his head, in his body, in his heart.

The screams cut off in the other room, and his breath catches.

They should still be screaming. They should still be scared.

His own cries cut off as his panic mounts and chokes him, grief overwhelming him even as he denies it.

Maybe the screaming wasn't his children. Maybe it had been just another cruel method the gods decided to use to punish him more.

"Please, my- my children." His voice breaks on the last word. He can't convince himself that it's true; that the terror stricken voices hadn't been his treasures.

Not with blood caked against his dark skin and in his golden hair, against the scales that he had always prided himself in keeping in perfect order.

Not when they'd already gone farther than he'd thought they would.

Why take away his womb and leave him with his children?

What point would there be to take away his ability to give life while leaving him with the life he's already made?

_____________

The first ice age is caused by his grief. He stays locked within the depths of his palace, away from the servants who are only trying to help.

He gets punished for this too, of course.

Anything that affects their mortals.

And so, the unblemished skin of his face becomes puckered on one side, burnt by a fire specially made to be so unnatural that it could wound the very Sun. The scales that had been there damage, some fall off completely and some meld into his skin grotesquely. It leaves his skin patchy and scarred, and dry, and far from the beauty he had once prided himself in.

His right eye is lost to the flames as well. This, he doesn't mourn. He can't bring himself to care. Not with the gaping hole he can feel inside of him- both in his body and in his heart.

Word gets from his Moon to him, somehow. The servants, he thinks. Usually it would be too risky to do it, but with their Lord on the verge of giving up, it may be well worth it.

______________

The letter has been the only thing that has kept him going for longer than he cares to count.

Day after day. The one letter that has been able to slip through the tighter security put around his palace since his mistakes.

Now, it's worn to the point of being so fragile that he will have to copy it over again soon. He's worn through so many copies that it's obscene. He can't help it. The words and the one who sent it mean everything to him now.

The letter reminds him that even if he's lost greatly, someone shares that loss with him. And if he were to give up, he would cause him even greater tragedy.

'My Sun, We will be brought together once again. I am sure of it. Think less of our loss, as much as it pains me to say that, and think more of what may have been. Do not lose yourself in sadness in grief. Let your anger fester and pull you together and push you forward, so that we may be united again, as we should be. Hold on. The mortals will be the death of themselves one day, when the gods refuse to come to their aid. We will be released. Do not do this to yourself. You will take away the very last piece of me that the gods have not completely stripped away. Let me be that piece for you as well. Your Moon'

He will be holding on, for forever if he has to. He has to keep hope that he will be able to see his Moon again.

Not as much hope as he had last time. Not enough to make him foolish enough that he considers doing something about it himself again.

Just enough that he can convince himself that there is a reason to keep going.

_____________

More copies of the letter come and go.

More days.

More glimpses of night. Of the Moon Palace on the horizon, just out of reach.

Finally, word gets to him of the fulfillment of what his Moon had said would take place.

The Mortals will reach their end soon.

This is the first time in a long time that the servants kept in the Sun Palace see their Lord break down.

The current copy of the letter gets crushed to his chest, and the ink smears where tears dare to touch down on the creased paper.

Soon.

Soon, it will feel like this had all been for something, that his pain and perseverance hadn't been for nothing.

He will see his Moon soon, and he will be able to heal properly this time.

_______________________

“Moon”

----------

“My lord! My lord! Have you heard the good news yet?” A servant’s cry echoes through the palace, rushing into the throne room where almost everything is plated in or made of reflective minerals and polished well enough that you can see every thread of the staff member’s clothing as they scamper by.

“The good news of what? That my father will not be joi-”

“That the other gods have given up on the mortals!” The servant cuts their lord off, but such a thing is not worried about in the palace of the Moon. He does not care for the silly social rules the other gods put in place, even if the one he so sorely misses, does.

The god is frozen now- much like he has felt inwardly all these years, separated from his warmth. The gods- especially one like… him, Patton- giving up on their mortals? Now? Finally? It can’t be true. They uprooted whole lives, turned over everything and rewrote fate herself to put these mortals here.

“The gods have given up on their mortals? On their Earth?” “Yes! Remus says he’s heard the mortals are to die out within the week! He’s said you’re going to be allowed to leave your palace!”

The Moon Palace. More like a prison, he thinks. A silvery, reflective castle on top of gangly legs that does nothing more than stalk around the earth. A palace he had thought would never be able to do more than that. But with the Humans perishing, if this is true…

“You’re sure about this, Zero?” The servant hesitates when they’re addressed by the robed figure upon his throne. “I.. It’s hard to be certain. But I have heard this from Remus and his place by the throne in-”

“- Remus is far from where orders originate. Send word to the Light Council and ask for confirmation for me.” There’s no use getting his hopes too high just yet. He can’t afford to. He remembers what happened last time someone had stretched their hopes a little too far; a little too soon. It hadn’t been him, of course, last time. But it reminds him, all the same, to be much more careful with his feelings.

“Of course, Sir.” They bow before heading back out of the throne room; their steps echoing in the nearly empty halls. The Moon Palace isn’t one you would imagine a god would be living in. The walls empty, bare. Very few furnishings interrupt the mirrored structure of the castle, making the interior like a maze to all those who don’t know their way around by heart.

The servants closer to the god say that his castle is much like him. Unyielding for those not in his heart.

The god stands from his throne and goes to stand by one of the few windows in his home. He always sees the Sunset from here. His castle ever chasing after the Sun palace; his mind and heart ever chasing after someone he had once and may not be able to ever have again.

He can keep hope, now. He allows himself a small sliver of it.

Soon, he may get to be in the embrace of the Sun once again. Feel his warm embrace. Smell the slightly dusty, warm scent that not many mortals have the ability to catch a whiff of. Even the prospect of just catching a full glimpse of his Sun excites him.

It’s been so long. Ages. Epochs. Periods. Eras. Eons. Supereons. Further. He isn’t sure there’s a word for how long it’s been.

All he knows is that he’s only left with the faint memories of warm days and cooler nights spent with his lover, of the way they touched back when they actually could.

Of how he now is doomed to spend eternity only chasing after his Sun, never to catch him, for the sake of the mortals that reside on the Earth the Elder gods had given to him and his Sun.

The Moon resents the Mortals for the job the gods have given him, and resents the gods for having taken his Earth and placed mortals on it in the first place-- then having the audacity to ask for him and his Sun to do this; to be separated until their whims decided they could be together once again. He resents them for what they did to his Sun when they had said no at first.

The Moon will wait and bide his time until he is allowed to reunite with his Sun, for his Sun’s sake.

And then there will be hell to pay.

[heslikeaboyiveneverseen]

No one is you and that is your power

Autumn killed summer with the softest kiss

We haven’t spoke since you went away | Comfortable silence is so overrated

Sounds like something that I used to feel

Lover what’s your next move?

Give me your number, pick any colour, I can tell your fortune tonight

Be my mirror, my sword and shield

Is it chill that you’re in my head?

I’m your wreck

Ain’t no shame in some hand me downs

Just a comma in a decimal town anyway

The Black clouds hanging above you will follow me tonight

If it’s good it never goes away

Comparison is the thief of joy

It’s just a super cut of us

This sunflowers waiting for you

Baby you were my picket fence

Just need you and some sunsets

Fine as wine

I like my coffee how I like myself; strong, sweet and too hot for you

Don’t be bitter, just be better

They say you lose time asleep but I’m just tryna dream

Enjoy the best things in your life

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. Matthew 6:34

“Find someone who loves you well. Someone who never belittles you. Even in the heat of an argument. Someone who is gentle with you, but does not treat you like you are fragile. Someone who knows what you are capable of, and celebrates those pieces of you. Not someone who is intimidated by your strength. Someone who doesn’t make you feel guilty for being flawed. It is not love’s job to punish you. And remember the person you love is just as broken as you are when they fall short. No one is perfect – do not hold them to this standard. Find someone who is patient, forgiving, and apologetic. Someone who practices forgiveness freely and often. Love someone who is humble, kind, and empathetic. Not only with you, but with a beggar on the street, or a stranger in the supermarket. Common courtesy is important. Compassion is important. Kindness is important.”

My bones are too brittle to survive your love

Times are tough but I’m tougher

I’ll be fine

Study the painful patterns in your life then don’t repeat them

Never apologize for how you feel. No one can control how they feel. The sun doesn’t apologize for shining. The rain doesn’t say sorry for falling. Feelings just are

“Songs to listen to while you reflect on every awful decision you have ever made throughout your horrible life”

“Life is too short to waste any amount of time on wondering what other people think about you. In the first place, if they had better things going on in their lives, they wouldn’t have the time to sit around and talk about you. What’s important to me is not others’ opinions of me, but what’s important to me is my opinion of myself.”

C.JoyBell C

Definitely ≠ defiantly

Take chances take risks prosper

Visions of you maroon 5

Remember I told you I need you nick Jonas

The past is a place of reference not residence

Like I do David guetta

Best friend sofi tukker

So some days are just filler episodes. On Sunday, you feel a lot, but you don’t go anywhere. From the bed, to the fridge, to the couch, to toilet, to the sink, to the bed. Strips of light turn to strips of black between the blinds, and that’s the only way you know that the world is moving. You might even have a string of days like this one, where you can’t find meaning between the rise and fall of your breathing. It’s really nobody’s fault. All that I can tell you is: don’t close your heart to what comes next. In what other world do you get thousands of chances to discover yourself? Maybe on Monday, you’ll find some answers. Maybe on Tuesday, the pain will subside. Some days are just for getting through and getting by.

The egg don’t swim to the sperm bitch, never chase a man

I was an atheist until I reaLized I was god

What I want: money

What I got: a personality disorder

At least I have multiple disorders so they never get lonely

I have the same taste in wine as I do people, cheap and pretty tucking shitty

Get you a straw, you know this pussy is juicy

It would not be much of a universe if it wasn’t home to the people you love

And then some

To sink into myself courageously, electrically

Standing trial for your sins

Call me a safe bet, I’m betting I’m not

There is nothing more intimate in life than simply being understood

Just because you are soft does not mean you are not a force to be reckoned with, both honey and wildfire are the color of gold

When I look at the universe I feel large, because I remind myself that not only are we living in this universe, the universe is living within us

Don’t hate your body because it’s too fat or too thin. Hate it because it’s a prison of flesh and it’s existence is meaningless

“Many of us have been running all our lives. We have the feeling that we need to run—into the future, away from the past, out from wherever we are. In truth, we don’t need to go anywhere. We just need to sit down and look deeply to discover that the whole cosmos is right here within us.”a

We are products of our pass but we don’t have to be prisoners of it

Illenium drawl outta love

If nothing lasts forever can I be your nothing?

When you’re in a dark place, you sometimes tend to think you’ve been buried. Perhaps you’ve been planted.

Unique

Baby I’m howling for you

I think us bad bitches is a gift from god

Pussy so good I said my own name during sex

Now now / half noise

“I hate cats” Yo dude i trusted you wtf the fuck? What the fuck?? What the fuck what the

I love the way you stay away from me, you make me melt

Only got each other we can turn to

Lying here, I know they’ll never break you free

Sometimes you have to burn some bridges to create some distance

Be your main girl

Now you’re seeing black and white, so I’ll paint you a clear blue sky 🎨

What’s the deal with young chickens?

My little girl Tim McGraw

Aka the independent variable

Let it pass; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice.

I’m a creature of a culture I create

You don’t know my brain the way you know my name, you don’t know my heart the way you know my face

We live for the nights decor

I’m never what I like, I’m double sided

A car, a torch, a death

Friend, please

So good

Britney Spears g eazy

We were going and wild and decided not to have a child

Teach me how to be like you so I can not give a fuck

I’m a sucker for the way that you move babe

Don’t dismiss the elements. Water soothes and heals. Air refreshes and revives. Earth grounds and holds. Fire is a burning reminder of our own will and creative power. Swallow their spells. There’s a certain sweet comfort in knowing that you belong to them all.

Can’t promise that things won’t be broken but I swear that I will never leave

No one can tell what goes on in between the person you were and the person you become. No one can chart that blue and lonely section of hell. There are no maps of the change. You just come out the other side. Or you don’t.

I would love to say that you make me weak in the knees but to be quite upfront and completely truthful you make my body forget it has knees at all.

ur purpose on this earth isn’t to be liked by everyone why would u waste ur time trying to live such a restrictive existence trying to impress everyone like who really gives a fuck

What you seek lies far beyond this comfortable place

Close some doors today. Not because of pride, incapacity, or arrogance, but simply because they lead you nowhere.

No mighty oak grew tall all on her own, she called on the winds to carry her seed, the rich earth to settle her roots and the sun and rains to make her strong. Do not be ashamed to reach out for help, this is how all great things are grown.

Shits all fucked up: a memoir

So sad, so strange. The days that are no more

Close some doors today. Not because of pride, incapacity, or arrogance, but simply because they lead you nowhere.

You are too full of everything that makes you whole to ever be loved in halves