#because to me it's mostly like yeah. I recognize this because it's the story I had in my head and I wrote it!

[spiritofpassionfruit]

A–Aventio TGCF idea?? Wherein Civil God Veritas Ratio meets the infamous Ghost King Aventurine during his first mission cuz cuz like— The "live for me" paralels?!? The one who has all the luck partner as well?!? The villain who was actually not the Villain this whole time!?!? The loving humanity a little too much it causes their downfall !?!?!?

Rant AU in the tags proceed with caution

[merge-conflict]

18, 74, 26 for the fic writer asks! 🖤

Questions here

18. Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process? How do you come up with titles?

Yes. Yes. Yes.

I usually retitle a fic or chapter at least once. I used to sit and agonize over the coolest title and just could NOT move on until I've done it, but now I just relax because I know I can update it. Generally what it's named in my Scrivener project is just some sort of placeholder or feeling. My usual vibe is "lyrics from a song which vibes" (yes. it is often the mountain goats... but not always! sometimes it's brown bird.) or "common phrase, but changed slightly" or "technical in-joke". Whatever I find most amusing.

Recently posted a fic called "done dying" which was originally titled "anthem for the already defeated" both of them from song titles (the first is actually "When I Was Done Dying"). I wrote all of the "the binds that tie" (playing with "the ties that bind") before settling on the title, but in my drafts it was always 'sudo chown -R vim:vim .' (now the chapter title). I like to have my cake and eat it too whenever possible. For stuff I can't come up with names for I've started titling them 'scrap: brief summary' or something I think is grandiose or funny so I can stop obsessing over it and start writing lol.

74. You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it?

Gosh. I've been thinking about this lately, and I do think I have a distinctive style but it's hard to describe because it's just.. the way I write? I know I have a problem repeating adjectives like 'just' 'some' 'only' a lot, so that's one give away. My habit of just smash-cutting into the middle of a scene without much setup is probably another. My habit of using repetitive sentence construction to hammer in a point. My habit of writing too much damn banter.

26. Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

Tbh the damn things overlap was created to be each damn thing overlapping the next, a huge mess, very little time to breathe (condensing the canon timeline down to about two weeks of Valentine going through main storyline stuff. ~a week of which is actually in the the fic!) I wanted to write a story where you feel relieved when characters get to sit down or take a nap, and I think I've succeeded thus far.

Honorable mention to when her edges soften, where Johnny and Valentine hit the town and each other. Straight from "I'm not gonna fuck you" to competitively tracking the number of orgasms they've both had in the past 3 hours while fucking in alleyways and cars. That might qualify as a sort of wild ride. :3

[zweigsangel]

ex fratboy! chris. smut-angst. 1.8k words.

it’s one of those late nights, and you’re standing there in the middle of a way-too-crowded, kinda messy party that, honestly, you only came to ‘cause your friends dragged you here. the air's thick with too many people, bad beer, and random songs blaring loud enough to drown out any thoughts you might’ve had. and that’s when you see him: chris. the ex you swore you were over. but like, really, are you?

it’s weird though, ‘cause he’s just chilling across the room, laughing too loud, his arm around some guy you don’t recognize, talking animatedly about god knows what. he’s got that same stupid, loose stance, shoulders relaxed, wearing that hoodie he always wore, the one you’d stolen a million times. you think— hope, he hasn’t noticed you, so you kinda try to blend in, sticking close to the wall, pretending to check your phone.

you weren’t always like this, all distant and tense. you’d meet up after his frat meetings, and he’d tell you all these wild stories about his brothers, like the time they tried building a slip n’ slide down the staircase and ended up getting written up by their advisor. you’d just sit there laughing so hard you’d cry, and he’d look at you like nothing in the world could ever compare. and for a while, it felt like he was it. but it ended, kinda messy, mostly because chris was…well, chris. he’d blow off plans, flirt with people at parties, and honestly, it just felt like he didn’t know what he wanted. or maybe he did, and it just wasn’t you. he’d show up late and drunk, ramble on about his deep thoughts on the universe, and then disappear for days, leaving you feeling like some kind of afterthought. eventually, you got tired of being the whenever person, so you cut it off. even if it hurt.

it’s been a few months now, and you’re doing your thing—focusing on classes, seeing friends, trying to move on.

but nah. of course he sees you.

“yo, wait up,” he calls, weaving his way through people, looking right at you. you try to act casual, like this isn’t a big deal, like you don’t feel your stomach flip. he stops in front of you, that grin still hanging on his face. “hey,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “long time no see, huh?”

“yeah, well, been busy,” you reply, shrugging. it sounds casual enough, but he’s still looking at you like he’s trying to read something on your face.

“you look good,” he says after a pause, and it’s so out of character for him to just say something like that, straight-up, that it throws you off for a second “uh...thanks?” you laugh, awkwardly. you know he’s probably just trying to be friendly, but you can’t help wondering if there’s more to it. “so...you still doing the same old chris thing?”

he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, looking away for a second. “i guess so,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. and then he kinda sighs, like he’s tired of the frat boy act, or maybe just tired of himself. “been, uh…been thinkin’ about you,” he admits, his voice low. “more than i probably should.”

you try to brush it off, folding your arms to keep your cool. “oh, yeah? that’s, uh, new.”

“i know, i know, i messed up,” he says, sighing. “just…never got you outta my head, y’know?” you can feel yourself softening despite everything. “yeah, well, maybe you should’ve tried harder.”

he looks at you, his eyes searching yours, and there’s this vulnerability there, like he’s finally ready to admit something he’s been holding back. “you think i didn’t? trust me, i tried. i just…i dunno. couldn’t do it.”

you don’t want to care, don’t want to feel that old pull, but it’s there, creeping up on you. he steps closer, barely an inch between you now, his gaze never leaving yours. “you want me to back off?” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the music. “just tell me, and i will.”

you could tell him to go. could shut this down, walk away, stay done with him. but instead, you shake your head, just a tiny movement, and he lets out a soft breath, like he’s been holding it in. before you can think, his hand’s on your waist, his fingers brushing lightly over your hip, pulling you closer.

the kiss starts slow, tentative, his lips brushing over yours like he’s testing if this is real. then his hand moves up, slipping around your back, and it’s like something inside you snaps. you grab the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer, and he lets out a low sound, his grip on you tightening as he presses his body against yours, his mouth moving over yours with more intensity.

“missed you,” he whispers against your lips, his voice rough, desperate. you barely register the words, just feel the heat rising between you two, feel his hands sliding lower, pulling you against him, his fingers firm on your waist, his mouth moving along your jaw, down to your neck, sending shivers through you. you tug him toward the hallway, away from the crowded room, and he follows, his hand gripping yours, letting you lead him through the maze of people until you push open the bathroom door, dragging him inside.

the space is cramped and a little dingy, but you don’t care. the second the door clicks shut, his hands are on you, pushing you gently but firmly against the door. his mouth crashes into yours, hot and urgent, and your hands find their way under his hoodie, slipping over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. you tug the hoodie off him, and he lifts his arms to help you, tossing it aside without a second thought, his hands already back on you, roaming down your sides, exploring every inch.

he kisses you harder, more intense, his lips pressing down your neck, his hands slipping under your top, that quickly joins the hoodie on the floor.

“god, i’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost a growl. “yeah? thought you forgot about me,” you tease, but there’s no real bite to your words. it’s playful, but you both know the truth behind it.

“never forgot. couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you,” he admits, his hands sliding up to your bra, deft fingers working to unclasp it. you feel a thrill of excitement mixed with nerves as it falls away, and his hands are on your bare skin, exploring, his touch igniting every nerve in your body.

“you’re, uh…sure about this?” he murmurs, his voice low, his hand coming up to rest on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. you don’t even hesitate. “yeah,” you whisper, barely able to keep your voice steady.

he lets out a soft, almost relieved sound, and his mouth finds yours again, hungrier this time, like he’s been holding back and can’t anymore. his hands slide down, finding the waistband of your skirt, tugging it down, his touch steady and deliberate, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. you step out of it, your pulse racing as his hands explore you, pulling you closer, pressing you against him.

you tug at his belt, fingers fumbling, but he’s already helping, working the buckle loose, kicking off his jeans. he’s back against you in a second, his hands on your hips, his lips trailing down your collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth and shivers in their wake.

he lifts you, setting you on the counter, your legs wrapping around his waist. “you okay?” he asks, checking in, “yeah, jus’ do it,” you whisper, barely able to hold back the urge to pull him closer, “please.”

he’s kissing you again, his mouth moving against yours as you feel him press against you, hot and hard, and you let out a soft gasp. “need you,” he murmurs, almost pleading, and that raw honesty sends a thrill through you. you nod, breathless, and he positions himself, sliding inside you slowly, giving you a moment to adjust. it feels incredible, every inch of him fitting perfectly, like he was made for you.

“god, you’re so tight,” he groans, burying his face in your neck, and the sound of his voice makes you moan softly. as he starts moving, the rhythm is slow at first, deliberate, and you feel every thrust, every movement building inside you. he’s murmuring your name, breathless, and the heat between you is consuming. you wrap your legs tighter around him, pulling him in deeper, urging him to go faster.

“yeah? you like that?” he asks, his breath hot against your skin as he quickens the pace. it feels electric, every thrust sending shockwaves through you, and you nod, lost in the sensation.

“so good, chris,” you moan, the words tumbling out as you feel that familiar coil tightening deep inside you. he leans back, looking at you with those dark, intense eyes, and it drives you wild. “gonna make you feel good, okay?” he says, and there’s something in the way he says it that makes your heart race.

with each thrust, the world outside fades away. it’s just the two of you, the heat of the moment enveloping you, and you feel that sweet pressure building, your body responding to every touch, every whisper, until you’re trembling around him, ready to fall apart.

“come on, babe,” he encourages, his voice low and rough, and you can hear the strain in it as he moves faster, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “can’t hold on much longer,” you breathe, feeling that familiar rush as he hits just the right spot, sending you spiraling.

“let go for me,” he says, his voice thick with desire, and the way he looks at you, his eyes dark and hungry, pushes you over the edge. with a loud gasp, you’re coming undone, waves of pleasure crashing over you, and he follows right after, burying himself deep as he lets go. the sound of his voice, mixed with yours, fills the tiny bathroom, and in that moment, it’s just the two of you, lost in each other, together again in a way you thought you’d never be.

as you both come down from the high, he pulls you close, resting his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath. he doesn’t say anything, just lets the silence settle between you, a quiet, unspoken apology wrapped up in the way he looks at you, his eyes softer than you remember, like maybe he’s finally realized what he’s been missing all along.

and for now, it’s enough to let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

[tornioduva]

Dungeon meshi and body proportions

Ok, i'm feeling the rush i got from binging the manga this last week is starting to fade away, i'll be back to being a normal person soon i think. at least, that is before i find a new something for me to dive into uhuh.

Before that happens, i want to praise Ryoko Kui for one last think. The design of the characters!

For years i've expressed (maybe not so much online) my hate towards the "anime style", this homogenization of traits and beauty standards to an artificial degree, and the mass spread and consumption of it. yes, trends exist for a reason, this is not the first nor the last art current to be popular and i'm not the first detractor of one in history. I do think there is something uniquely harmful in this one though, and that is why i'm able to find the energy to be such a pretentious dipshit about it. That is a discussion for another day though.

All this to say that going through Dungeon Meshi and seiing these characters, plus (and in a way because of it) all the additional sketches of the daydream hour bonus sections, was such a breath of fresh air! (at least for what concerns japanese exported stories)

All i could say and praise in regard to character designs in general is perfectly expressed in this video, which i recommend you to watch if you want to hear my opinions (and the video author's too, uhuh):

I want to leave you though with at least one specific praise for me: Falin.

i've seen countless time people (online) just not understanding how people's body work, how much differences there can be and how proportions do distribute and affect the body. in anime I see a lot of short and tall people (mostly women girls) that share the same proportions despite their actual height, and that often leads to think "yeah, she is short" and than she's tall when around someone, or (most often) the contrary. same lenght of limbs, same head to body proportions, and little details like this.

Falin you can tell at a glance she is a tall woman before she's around anyone, even when she is standing near her brother who is taller than her.

Kui did her homework in studying bodies and variations, and, whether consciously or not, she differentiated her in body in subtle but fundamental ways: her head being slightly smaller than her body, the neck being fairly long, and her having somewhat broader shoulders.

I accept that there might be an element of suggestion at play here, considering also how she is dressed most of the time, but I really do think there is a direct effort at differentiation here.

This is the first time in a long time (in a series like this at least) where i've seen a woman carrying herself around others and the space around here kind of like a person like me, tall, would; at first i didn't think much of it, but then i saw her near other characters and....i don't know, i felt a warm, joyful feeling, seeing that i was right in recognizing that trait and being right.

I was especially happy in seeing her next to marcille. not so much for the height difference, but for how different they were in proportions and mannerism. A lesser manga i fear would have used marcille's body type and way of moving and interacting as the default for most other girls, but here she was uniquely herself!

Now, i could've used more extreme exemples to show how this author rocks in body types representations (while aknowledging there could've been even more diversification still), given there are far larger, taller and stranger women, but to me, nailing the little, most subtle details in such a chirurgical manner shows a greater level of mastery and comprehension. As such, Falin left me with a deeper fascination than most other characters.

Sorry for this wall of text, but i needed to let my happy thoughts go, so that i could be free again uhuh.

Feel free to tell me that i'm wrong, or that i should just accept anime media as is. i'm just really happy Dungeon meshi exists as is and i want Ryoko Kui to keep refining her craft, and drawing beautiful women and dwarves.

Plus, this was very much a stream of consciousness, i didn't go into technical details about what i think conveyed what i described, but if someone is interested, or does not get what i'm saying (while expressing it in a curious and gentle way, i won't respond to spiteful assholes), i'll be happy to make a follow up post in which i try to dissect this! For example, i didn't reread the whole manga to find examples of her, i just went to the wiki uhuh. in a follow up post maybe i'll try to go through chapters and pick more specific examples of her.

Anyway, have a good day!

[angels-fantasy]

Top Secret Fiction Ch. 6

The Confrontation

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Description: After meeting the one and only pro hero Dynamight on a dating app, you two begin to see each other. Because of the dangers that come with his hero work, you both promise to be completely honest with each other from the beginning; though you can't help but keep one big secret from him.

You write fan fiction, mostly about him.

Chapter Details: deku makes an appearance here heheh. bakugou lowkey might like fanfics? but only if they're about him. scary confrontation 😟 reader is a bit sad and confused :(

Word Count: 1.4k

previous chapter

As soon as Bakugou got home, he opened his computer and looked up 'Bakugou x Reader'. What came up was a ton of links to different websites, one of the top ones being HeroFiction.Com.

Clicking on it, he scrolled through the sight and found many other original stories about different pro heroes.

While doing this, he learned that this was called fan fiction, which he'd heard about before, but he never paid attention to it because he didn't care.

Keeping the website open, he leaned back and wondered, were you writing fan fiction about him? You must've been, based on your notes. Did you write for other pro heroes, or just him?

A small part of him hoped you only wrote for him.

He sighed and rubbed his hands down his face, trying to think about what the hell he was going to do about this. Clearly, this was something you didn't want to tell him, meaning you kept it a secret.

And he hates secrets, but for some reason, this didn't feel too bad. He was almost... flattered, in a way. He was also curious and he just wanted to know more. But how would he even bring this up to you?

Deciding he'd need help with understanding this website, he called someone he trusted.

"Hey Deku. You know what fan fiction is, right?"

Blushing, Izuku replied with "Why are you asking me that Kacchan?!"

"Because I know you used to write that shit back in high school!" He explained, "Just tell me what you know about this site called 'HeroFiction.com.'"

A lightbulb went off in Izuku's head, "Oh yeah I recognize that name! It's basically a website for pro hero fanfiction. I've seen a few good ones actually-"

"Yeah okay, thanks." Katsuki said, cutting off his friend.

It was time for him to do more of his own research, specifically on this website.

...

When you woke up the next morning, you found yourself in your bed wondering how you got there.

Did I fall asleep? You wondered.

You cringed at the thought of Bakugou seeing you asleep and hoped you didn't do anything embarrassing.

Rubbing your eyes, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and saw a text from Bakugou letting you know he had left after putting you in your bed.

You smiled at his thoughtfulness and texted him back a thank you, and an apology for falling asleep while he was over.

After tossing your phone down onto the bed next to you, you stretched and blinked away any leftover sleep.

As you were stretching your legs you felt your foot hit something softly. Wondering what it was, you sat up and looked at the foot of your bed, eyes widening when you realized it was your notebook.

But this wasn't just any notebook- this one had all of your notes for fics you were planning on writing.

You thought about how Bakugou brought you into your bedroom, and your heart sank to your stomach when you realized he probably saw your notebook.

"Noooo!" You cried and placed your hands over your eyes. "Kill me now..."

You prayed to any higher power out there that he didn't read anything.

...

Your prayers clearly didn't reach anyone because a few hours after waking up, you got a text from Bakugou that said, "Can we talk? ASAP."

Biting your nail nervously, you texted back "Sure" and asked when and where he'd want to meet up.

Quickly texting back, he told you he'd meet you at a cafe near your neighborhood in a few hours.

A little while later as you got ready to meet up with him you felt like you were going to cough up your stomach and die from your nerves.

You didn't want to accept it, but deep down you knew he figured out your secret. It was already terrifying trying to keep what you did in your free time a secret, but now that the person you wrote about knew, was even more terrifying!

It seemed as though your frantic thoughts made time go by even faster than usual, and it was now time for you to leave so you could make it to the cafe on time.

Taking a deep breath and patting your face, you stepped out of your apartment and began to head to the cafe.

...

As Bakugou sat at the cafe in the outdoor dining area, he tapped his foot anxiously as he awaited your arrival.

After his phone call with Deku and doing his own research (which just consisted of reading other fan fictions he came across), he came to the conclusion that he would accept this hobby of yours, if you were honest about it when he confronted you.

Since he had browsed the website a bit, he came across some stories that were actually decent (but also others that were very, very questionable and he really hoped you didn't write anything like that. ESPECIALLY not a story with him and that damn Deku).

He'd never admit it, but it boosted his ego a bit to know that you wrote about him, and he definitely wanted to read some of your stuff. He wanted to know if it was as good as some of the other ones he has read.

Suddenly, he saw your figure walking towards him and he was snapped out of his thoughts. He sat up straighter and placed his elbows against the table, leaning forward.

You sat down across from him silently with a shy look on your face. "So..." You said softly, "You wanted to talk?"

He cleared his throat, "Yeah. I'll just get to the point..." He said, before hesitating to say, "That night I was at your place, I saw your notebook-"

You grimaced, knowing exactly what he was talking about, and placed your hands over your face in embarrassment. "I'm sorry." You said.

Letting out a deep breath, you uncovered your face and continued to speak while looking down at your lap. "I knew this would come up eventually, I just didn't think it'd be so soon..."

Bakugou scoffed, "So when were you gonna tell me? Never?"

You frowned at his tone, "No! It's just not an easy topic to talk about Bakugou. It's embarrassing and I wasn't just going to say 'Hey Bakugou, did you know I've been writing fan fiction about you for three years?'"

He blinked. He could understand where you were coming from. In fact, he'd probably be more weirded out if you had told him that easily. But, even though you were honest now, it still doesn't shake his uneasiness about you keeping a secret from him.

Sure, it wasn't a huge, life threatening secret, but it was still something you kept from him. He liked honesty, especially in a relationship and it's something he valued heavily. A part of him felt like he should've known about this sooner, since it was about him for gods sake!

He sighed. "Before you go assuming things, I'm not mad at ya, okay?" He said, "I just... I think I need time to think about this alright? A few days at most."

You furrowed your eyebrows subconsciously, making your eyes look big and puppy like. Well damn, how was he supposed to stay away from you when you gave him that look?

"Okay." You spoke sadly, "I understand. I shouldn't have kept that from you, so again, I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "'S fine."

You rubbed your sweaty palms on your legs and stood up. "I'll give you time now, alright? Just, call or text me whenever you're ready." You said and gave him a small wave before walking back in the direction you came from.

As you made your way back, you thought about your talk with Bakugou.

If you wanted to keep seeing him, maybe you would have to stop writing. You were starting to really like Bakugou, and you didn't want a silly hobby to get in the way of a potentially serious relationship with him.

You felt your eyes tear up. It was hard to think about giving up writing. You had made friends through your writing, your own little community online. It was great! But realistically, could you keep this up forever?

That same night, you posted on your page.

Hi everyone. I've decided to take a break from writing for a while. I'm not sure how long it will be, but I will still leave everything here for you to read.

Thank you, xo.

authors note

HIII omg im so sorry i haven't updated this fic in a while 🥹 this chapter was actually really fun to write and omg writing readers thoughts at the end lowkey made me sad!! how do you feel about it? pls lmk!!

love ya!

tag list: @doumadono @54fangirl @andysdrafts @dagger-dragger @lovra974 @l4rsun1vrrse @emmab3mma @littlkittenfan @tatiquichi @cloudxluv @seonne @shonen-brainrot @the2ndl @gold24fish @cxp1d @rv19 @gina329

(those in pink couldn't be tagged)

[toska-writes]

Hello Toska!

I really enjoy reading your stories, they are really good! I see so many fanfics that swear, or have nasty stuff, but yours are good. I was wondering if you do requests? If so, could you do one with the Bad Batch (mostly Hunter and Crosshair) where the reader is a female Jedi? And the reader goes on a mission and risks their life to protect one of the Bad Batch but they get injured? Take as much time as you need, thank you for your time! :)

Yeah this may be from a few months ago…. But here we are

“Concussion Protocol”

Summary: concussions are risky business, and a certain “unconcerned” sniper makes sure everything this ok

Pairing: Crosshair x Reader (Platonic)

Warning: small mention of blood, throwing up I guess, nothing crazy

Word count: 1313 (I meant for this one to be a short blurb but whatever

Notes: I changed up the request a bit but it was just a small thing I wanted to write

The ringing was so loud. Though maybe it was so loud because everything else is so quiet. Or maybe you couldn’t hear anything else at all.

The only thing you did know is that if you kept thinking about this it would make your head hurt more than it already was.

And that was saying something. Your head felt like it weighed an extra 50 pounds as you were hunched over trying desperately to catch any breath and keep your head from hitting the floor.

Ringing, that’s all it was. For a moment you could hear your own thought and could have sworn something touched your shoulder.

You couldn’t tell, it didn’t matter at this point because in all honesty you couldn’t even tell where you are.

No no the something definitely touched your shoulder because it was a lot firmer this time. Your whole body shook with whatever was on your shoulder and if it wasn’t for something else grasping your other arm you definitely would have fallen over.

You looked over slightly, more even breaths rolled through you now, and finally something came into focus. A hand…. Oh that’s what was holding you up right now.

The shaky image of helmet comes into your view with a hand now place under your chin slightly lifting it up.

The way the helmet was moving you assumed the person hold be talking to you, it was either that or the world was spinning around you.

They looked familiar, whoever they were, but if you tried to think anymore you were pretty sure your head would pop right off. What did even happen? It was blurry looking back now.

Crosshair watched them for a moment, their eyes lost in thought finally trained back onto him but only for a moment before they drooped again.

He felt the growing weight of your face in his palm before you slumped over even more

“Okayyyy” He muttered more to himself since the calls of your name moments ago fell on deaf ears. The first thing Crosshair had to do was get you off of the battle field.

He was just lucky he saw you in time, the amount of now broken battle droids scattered around your unaware mind scared him. Scared him more than he would like to admit.

“I found them, I just need someone to cover me.” Crosshair spoke cooly into the comm, the panic rising in him however contradicted him.

A confirm from someone on the other side didn’t really matter to Crosshair at this moment, it mattered getting you to open your eyes again.

Finally the ringing died down, enough to recognize there was a voice coming from somewhere extremely close to you. It took a moment more to realize it was your name someone spoke.

The fight to open your eyes was hard. The dying light still hurt your eyes as they tried to adjust again.

“Hmmm?” Was all you could get out before you felt a thumb trace over part of your forehead.

It worried Crosshair of where this blood was coming from, he tried to keep in away from your mouth and eyes with his thumb for a moment.

The sound of blaster fire sounded closer to his head than he would have liked.

“Come on Crosshair go!” He heard hunter practically yell in his ear. Right he could worry about wiping your face later.

You felt yourself move off the ground slightly. Looking around you were about to protest to the person that you still couldn’t identify in your state, but the swirling world did not pair well with your head. This resulted in you quickly shoving your head towards the armored chest that held you.

A groan must have escaped your lips but a husked voice reassured you quickly. Wait no you definitely knew that voice, but for the love of maker a face nor name could make it to your brain.

A feeling did however, and it was warm in your chest- you had nothing to worry about if he was here.

“Where are we going?” You finally managed to slur some words together without moving your head too much.

“Towards the Marauder.” He spoke clearly to you, no more ringing seemed to disrupt your hearing. “Can you tell me what that is?”

The question struck you as odd for a moment. Of course you knew what the Marauder was….right? That didn’t stop you from thinking for a moment before you responded with “… a ship?”

“I’m actually impressed” was all that came from whoever held you as he started to slow down more. You couldn’t tell with your eyes closed when your surroundings changed but a quick tap to your check and you opened your eyes to the inside of a ship.

“Is this…” you started, a limp hand gestured around before returning with a thump to your lap. “ the Marauder.

The figure now crouched in front of you with on hand keeping you sitting straight up nodded once before reaching with his other hand a removing his helmet.

“Can you remember anything else?” He spoke softly and slowly to you, but you didn’t answer.

The man had a tattoo over his eye, one that caught your attention immediately.

You knew who that was. A smile broke across your lips and a small laugh forced its way through your mouth. A shaky hand of yours reached out to the side of his face with the tattoo. He let it happen and watched your face hoping for any recognition.

“Crosshair.” Finally something you remembered

The man, now you were sure was Crosshair, nodded ever so slightly again but the smirk was prominent in his features.

“I’m going to clean your head ok?” He rasped.

The smile couldn’t be swiped from your face either as you continued to smile at him. “Crosshair.” You spoke again. Just like the first time it wasn’t a question, you were sure.

He hummed as a response before pushing you back slightly and dampening a rag as he still was crouched on the floor.

“I’m tired.” It was the first and only thing you were thinking about or could think about. The pounding in your head and the swirling of the world was becoming too much.

“You just have to wait a few seconds for me ok?” The cool ragged touch your face and surprisingly didn’t burn. “I just have to make sure nothing too serious is going on up there.” He poked the middle of your forehead with his finger.

Crosshair deemed his work satisfactory enough when he could finally locate one of the many cut along your forehead. Grimacing at it he decided that it would definitely need stitches.

But you didn’t have to know that right now. “All done.” His nimble hands returned to your shoulders pulling you up. Your eyes once again opened, though you couldn’t fall asleep since Crosshair did anything in his power for you to keep talking to him.

“Is it nap time?” He almost couldn’t make out your words for a moment before he took your face in and sigh.

“Don’t tell Tech, but yeah I think you deserve a nap time.” Crosshair still planned to scan for more injury’s but could letting you sleep change a lot?

Before he knew it your body leaned forward and quickly crashed into his own, your head found its stop between his shoulder plate and his neck perfectly.

The words were soft now muffled into his skin but he could nearly make out “Thanks Crosshair.” The voice faded out towards the end but that what brought the smile back to his face.

Thought he was sure they would never hear it again small “ Of course ad’ika” was muttered into the air before he scooped the padawan up into his arms once again to move them someplace more comfortable.

————————————————————

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[httyd-art-requests]

Heya! I wasn't sure if this was a legal request since it wasnt listed in your bio, but it is an official httyd video game

I'd love to see the goofy guy Patch from dawn of new riders! Chimeragons really made one appearance, became way too op, and then disappeared into obscurity. But look at the guy...he so ugly and goofy I love him

Your art is gorgeous btw!

( @yuendelahoya )

So funny story. I watched a playthrough of this game when it first came out in 2019, and it's been on my wish list ever since (mostly because of the flight mechanics lol) And now that I found these asks in my inbox again, I checked the Nintendo Store just in case, and it had a 55% discount??? So I got the game and spent the last 2 days playing it and now I'm a changed man (as of posting this, the discount lasts for 2 more days!)

Dragon #125 - MLM Patch (and Scribbler)

I hope they're doing well, wherever they are...

More thoughts and spoilers for the game under the cut!

I made Patch MLM colored instead of some other random Chimeragon, because the game has shown us that he can change colors with every rebirth, which I think is pretty neat :) It also explains why neither Scribbler nor Eir recognize Patch, even after he grows to be a Broadwing and then a Titanwing- if he changes his colors every time he hatches again, then yeah, no wonder they believed there's more than one Chimeragon

I knew what the big twist was going to be at the end because of the playthrough, but MAN does this game not hold its punches. The writers really asked "How can we elevate the Best Friends Forever thing to a whole new level?" and then made Scribbler witness the death and rebirth of his best friend, and now I have to draw these guys with literal tears in my eyes 👍

The sentiment that their friendship literally transcends life and death is so meaningful to me. Patch will continue to die and resurrect, and Scribbler will be there every time to welcome him and forge their bond all over again. The mystery of Scribbler's past, his involvement with Grimmel, and the open ending leave so much room for speculation and theorizing and it's just so incredibly up my alley, it's like it was made in a lab for me lol

This game ended up being a lot darker than I was expecting, but it was honestly so refreshing. The mechanics are simple enough for younger kids to learn, and the artstyle is very evidently targeted at kids as well, but some of the dialogue and the entire theme of death and inevitable loss feels surprisingly mature in contrast. They make you go to Vanaheim and hold a burial for Patch before he resurrects, literally what other kids' game does that?? /pos

Anyways play this game, it's a short and sweet little self-contained adventure, which accomplishes the one task it set out to accomplish: making me cry, specifically

[anonymouscheeses]

Im sorry i have to say it..: Get Your Hands Dirty sounds like a love song.

HEAR. ME. OUTT!! (No i dont mean a love song between Chloe n Ella omg 😭)

What I'm implying here is that it sounds like one of those niche high school love stories when one of the lovers(most likely a goodie two-shoes) goes to their mentor/parent/even the person their loving/etc to ask for advice on relationships. Or more specifically, if this person is worth it or even a good person. From the top of my head: I Won't Say (I'm In Love) and the goodie and the wildchild dynamic is pretty similar to Gabriella and Troy from hs musical, which iws(iil) kinda inspired this post tbh but also ive been thinking about this ever since i first watched the movie. (You plop in ur own songs, i js KNOW this trope exists)

Now that we've established the well used niche trope existing in this niche song made by the niche king that is Disney.... why do i think that Get Your Hands Dirty is a love song, i hear?

Lets analyze THE LYRIICS 😈😈

"Right and wrong, cruel and kind, who's to say?" "There's a code that I believe in."

"Robin Hood" "yeah?" "Awesome guy" "yeah!"

"Every choice, you're gonna find there's shades of grey." "There are rules for a reason!"

"So you could then cross that line, theoretically."

"You'd agree?" "But he stole for the poor."

"The decision's always up to you. When there's only one thing left to do"

"I don't know you anymore.."

Okay, so i shortened and made it tiny for obvious reasons, that bein its too long 😭 so! AM I THE ONLY ONE WHO GETS A FEEELIN?? a feelin that this is SCREAMING denial?! Its giving...

Chloe: Ellaaaa.... this girl im talkn to is SOOO HHHOOOOTT and PRETTY and cool and stuff but ugh.... SHE EEEVILLL!!

Ella: oh my gosh.. STFU. Shes prolly not even that evil ill prove it smh..

*get ur hands dirty starts playing. No exaggeration. No cap.*

"Okay, but there's some universal truths you must recognize." "Like?"

"Valiant knights, pure and good, guaranteed" "That depends on what they're fighting for"

"Creepy witches selling potions for evil deeds" "She could have kids she's providing for"

"If your good-good things will come to you"

MORE denial, Chloe wants to be friends with Red SO bad she looks stupid, but she brings herself back by trying to prove to herself that she's evil and they SHOULDN'T be that close. Which also is a big sign of comphet and heteronormativity, i would know 🧍 (which is a post for another day i might make. Prolly 2 prove that Chloe is a lesbian in deep comphet)

"But just how far do you go? How much do you compromise? Oh, tell me, how do you know. Where do you draw the line?"

"There's nothing I wouldn't do. If my heart tells me it's right. If it's for someone I love. If it's to save a life."

"To save your life."

Further deepening the trope i mentioned. The first line could be interpreted as a double meaning since the song is kind of mostly about Chloe coming to terms with the fact Red isn't really evil or as bad as she thought, plus the argument of where the line between evil and good is. It could refer to Red or Ella, maybe both, but Ella changes the meaning with her own experiences so it drifts off the focus from Red because we cant have ANYTHING 🤧 but i still believe Chloe intended it to be for Red since the entire song is really just for the progress of their relationship n stuff.

Now this could definitely all be in my head, yes, Disney would most likely NEVER canonize or even imply heavily a queer relationship or anything lgbtq on a pre established franchise (cowards.). But there is always a chance.... deep inside the dark heart of the mouse..

Plus, with the subtle hints here and there of Red and Chloe's relationship growing, romantically or not, they are still super close and love eachother alot. Chloe is js (kinda) canonically a girl kisser who cant help but find a girl kissable (same)

And don't get me started on this movie and its obsession with love and proving how it is not "ain't it". Hello...? They set the tone of love, but i see NO person close enough to Red established for this message (other than Chloe) and if they introduce some random guy in the next movies, NO ONE would care nor would they want it unless somehow its 100x better than redcharming, but thats impossible cz wlw 4 life.

So, this entire thingy is me basically finding scraps and wanting to provr that charminghearts IS canon and WILL be established soon! (Im delulu)

[sleepymarimo]

𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩.

summary: after a job gone wrong, you have to call someone for help. you're pissed off at yourself for getting hurt. he's pissed off at himself for how much he actually cares. pairing: toji x fem!assassin!reader cw: blood, injuries, toji struggles w being soft an: another addition to my mini collection of stories w toji and an assassin buddy... the jjk brainrot is real wc: 2.2k +

a drop of rain brings you out of consciousness. one on the tip of your nose, then another of your temple. before you know it, the droplets of water are kissing you all over.

your eyelids peel open and it’s mostly dark, save for the fuzzy glow of a few neon signs right at the entrance of the alley.

a dull, throbbing pain pounds right behind your eyes. your bruised skin stings when you try to stand, muscles trembling from fatigue and from the chill in the air.

suddenly, you remember why you’re there in the first place.

in this line of work, it’s not uncommon for jobs to go wrong. but for you? now that happened every once in a blue moon.

your client had given you the wrong information, leaving you doomed from the start.

in all honesty, you were lucky enough to make it out of that den of hitmen and bounty hunters.

you were even luckier to have been able to stumble into an alley and collapse against the wall, hidden by dumpsters and shadows.

with shallow, slightly rasped breaths, you clench your jaw and attempt to push through the pain.

but fuck, you’re only human.

you won’t cry, you won’t. you’re a big girl, an assassin, and you need to push your pride down and get help.

trembling fingers struggle to pull out your phone and when they finally do, you hesitate to punch in the numbers you’ve come to remember all too well.

would he even pick up? even care? you can only imagine the ego boost he’d get from this.

meanwhile, toji watches a boat race on an old television with mild interest. this dingy bar he’d managed to find was open all damn night, so he decided to wait out the storm there.

no comfort like a shitty wooden stool and cheep booze.

deep green eyes spare a wink to some floozy sitting across the counter. option one was the bar, but it was good to have a quick fuck and cheap bed to fall back on.

the buzzing of his phone that he’s come to associate with jobs has his brows furrowing for a split second.

he recognizes the number. it’s his favorite occasional coworker and the only other assassin that’s tolerated him for more than one mission.

“‘ey, doll.” he grimaces as the boat he placed his bet on falls to last, scoffing before roughly adding in. “what’dya want, huh?”

your words get caught in your throat, weighed down by nothing but dignity, yet the rain and aching of your limbs force you to swallow it down.

“t-toji.” you don’t mean to let your voice crack, the sound almost pathetic. “i, uh, um…”

instinct snaps him into place, making him sit a little straighter. his expression isn’t serious per say, but it’s oddly blank.

it’s not exactly in his nature to entertain things of this sort, but he throws you a bone, because you’re you.

“what’s up, doll?” he presses, tone firm as he idly toyed with the rim of his glass. just because he didn’t get drunk didn’t mean that he couldn’t appreciate the burn of whiskey down his throat. “whatcha need?”

you can barely hear him over the sound of the beating rain. your teeth sink into the meat of your inner cheek.

“help, toji.” you exhale shakily, wincing when the action causes a sharp pain in your side. “i need your help.”

with a grunt, he’s quick to stand and knock back the rest of his whiskey. the thump of the barstool against the floor doesn’t deter him, nor does the angry yell from the bartender.

“yeah, i gotcha, sweetheart.” he hums into the phone, still not taking the matter seriously as he leisurely kicks his bike off its stand. “tell me where. and y’better have some cash handy, too.”

toji senses you when he’s about a block away, the rain doing little to nothing to put a damper on his base instincts.

he picks up on the sound of your shallow breaths, the metallic scent of your blood, and he unwillingly speeds up until he’s at the alley.

you’ve had time to cool down and put away any reservations that you might’ve had about keeping your pride intact.

once he steps foot into the alley, you can’t hold it in.

you’re cold and wet, beaten and bruised. everything hurts and fuck, you’re aware that you look beyond pitiful.

regardless, those familiar pine green eyes of his, perhaps for the first time, bring you nothing but comfort.

your mouth opens and closes, unable to get out the words you’d been rehearsing since ending the call.

instead you sniffle, the tears rolling down your cheeks and blending in with the drops of rain falling from the sky.

the sorcerer killer is taken aback, his swift mind working to make connections and understand what the hell was going on.

was this really you? the stubborn, smart and fiery assassin he’d been working with these past few months? the woman who’d killed countless targets with a cold detachment that made his core burn?

your lip trembles, the cry you let out snapping him out of his thoughts which he seemed oddly caught up in. “toji?”

brisk and urgent steps bring him to you, then he’s kneeling down to your level and scooping you into his arms.

“shit, sweetheart. what the fuck?” his black brows furrow, an unexpected swell of anger pulsing through his veins.

your arms, cold and wet and bruised, are quick to wrap around his neck. fuck your pride, you needed this.

“j-just get me home.” you snivel, gripping onto him like a lifeline. “it fucking hurts, toji.”

not needing to be told twice, he slaps a helmet onto your head and speeds off to your place.

the roads are empty, illuminated by the occasional streetlamp.

on the whole ride there, he’s just wondering whose teeth he had to kick in to fix this whole mess. a disaster is what this whole thing is, an utter shit show that has him so irrationally pissed off.

your apartment is familiar, a place he has stayed many times whether you liked it or not.

he sets you on the couch before storming to the bathroom and rummaging though your cabinets. bandages, gauze and painkillers- he messily gathers it all into his hands before practically throwing them on the ground in front of you.

toji can’t recall ever patching someone else up. he’s only ever worked on himself and even then, he didn’t care much for being gentle.

that could explain why his movements are so awkward and oddly uncoordinated.

“just fucking hold still, will you?” he grumbles, every wince and cry of yours only adding fuel to his fire.

“okay, okay.” you nod and sigh, not daring to give him any lip as he tries his genuine best to clean up some of the bigger wounds. “m’trying.”

a pile of bloodied bandages begin to form on the ground, the velvet liquid contrasting with the white cotton. the pain subsides as the medicine works it’s magic, turning into a tolerable ache.

it’s your shivering that catches his attention next, his boiling anger having been reduced to a neat simmer. he’s more composed, feigning indifference as he takes note of the chill on your skin and how your wet hair clings to you.

“always somethin’ with you.” he comments, rolling out his shoulder before taking purposeful steps to your room.

it’s a place he actually hasn’t been in all that often, but he doesn’t really think about that.

his large hands forcefully tug open drawers at random, not bothering to close them as he hunts for some dry clothes for you.

he does spare an extra glance or two at your panty drawer, but shrugs it off and returns to the living room. his free hand combs through strands of black hair, the action grounding him.

still sat on the couch, shoulders shaking from the cold, you look down at the bloodied bandages on the floor.

you’ve had time to collect yourself, too.

luckily, for both of you, you’re not crying anymore. however, your dulled, void eyes admittedly have him holding down another surge of anger that threatens to make him lose his cool.

in your head you reflect on what happened, thoughts spiraling to find a way to regain control of this whole thing.

you’re upset with yourself for not being thorough enough. you’re embarrassed that he had to see you so vulnerable, that you allowed him a glimpse into what lay behind the tough front you always put up.

it’s a cocktail of emotions he wants to stay far away from, so he dismisses it entirely.

he holds your clothes out to you, allowing his eyes to rake over your form as his signature smirk crawls onto his face. “y’want me to help ya outta your clothes, princess?”

your eyes narrow, huffing as you take the clothes from him in a bid to salvage some of your tainted pride. “i can do it.” you stubbornly murmur as warmth blooms in your cheeks.

there she is. he thinks, grin rivaling that of the cheshire cat while he begrudgingly turns around to give you some privacy. there’s my girl.

your soaked clothes hit the ground with a muted thud, the sound of the pattering rain echoing through the thin walls of your apartment.

the sigh of relief you let out is his cue to turn around. he’s pleased to find you dry and looking a lot more… like you.

you’re sat on the other, more dry end of the couch and he’s quick to follow your lead and plop down beside you.

the worn cushions dip beneath his weight and he settles in like he owns the place, throwing an arm on the backrest.

“really got ya this time, huh?” he muses aloud, unable to keep himself from prodding. “and here i thought you were untouchable.”

your arms cross, albeit a little slowly from the lingering pain. “not my fault. the wrong information was given t’me. i didn’t-” a frustrated sigh leaves you. “i didn’t do anything wrong.”

his small jabs do exactly what they were intended to. in his own way, he gets you to open up and spill the details of your assignment.

“oh yeah, ‘course you didn’t do anything wrong. don’t wanna tarnish your perfect rep, sweetheart.” he let’s his hand fall from the backrest and onto your shoulder, drawing you closer to his inviting warmth. “bet ya still did what ya needed to, even though you got all fucked up, right?”

you don’t pull away from his touch, instead finding yourself leaning into it. your eyes don’t quite meet his as you opt to rest your head on the bulk of his shoulder.

“yeah.” you mumble, satisfied with yourself in that regard. “got the intel i needed. didn’t kill all of ‘em, but i took out the only guy i had to, so...”

he hums, the sound rumbling in his chest. his hand starts to slide up and down your arm, mindful of the bruises littering your pretty skin.

toji knows better than to get involved, especially when there was nothing in it for him but the carnal pleasure of tearing into the throats of the lowlifes that made you bleed.

that doesn’t stop him, though. he’s a man who loves to indulge, to risk, to hunt.

“where at?” he asks with an innocent curiosity, speaking as if he were discussing something as mundane as the weather.

yet, you can just tell what he’s thinking.

you’re mildly surprised at how he seems to be vengeful on your behalf. you don’t presume it to be something as tender as protectiveness.

no way.

your cheek squishes against his clothed skin, trying to dismiss his question. “doesn’t matter, i got it done. s’long as i get paid-”

he draws you a bit closer, his free hand cupping your chin and firmly lifting your head so that you could meet his gaze.

the scar on his lip quirks upward, the coolness of his words strikingly different than the fire burning behind his green irises.

“sweetheart,” he starts, leaving no room for debate as he draws out his words. “where at?”

it’s like being back in that alley again, cold and scared and finding comfort only in his presence.

and fuck, though you wouldn’t admit it, a twisted sense of satisfaction unfurls in your chest at the prospect of him painting walls red for you.

when your mouth opens, it’s to tell him exactly where those bastards are.

he smirks and nods, giving your chin a smug squeeze before standing and stretching his arms. “wasn’t that easy, doll? don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

“yeah, yeah.” you sigh, crossing your arms as you watched him prepare to leave. it’s not like the two of you to butter each other up with sweet words, but you can’t deny that you’re grateful.

the door opens, the rain continuing to fall down from the clouds.

“toji,” you call, catching his attention before he could fully walk out. your tone is soft and genuine, yet another side of you being displayed to him. “thank you.”

he doesn’t do this shit, the whole squishy moments and heartfelt words. his actions alone, how he’s getting ready to stain his hands for you, are enough to let you know how much he cares.

brushing off any sort of sentiment which may have imbued itself into this moment, he shrugs and replies to you over his shoulder.

“gimme some of the cut from the job and we’ll call it even, sweetheart.”

[messedupfan]

Chapter 21

Summary: The morning after the school fundraiser, Wanda and Y/n share their fears and expectations. Rachel notices the change in her Baba's behavior. Jean has a heart breaking session with her wife.

A/n: Hellloooooo!! Y'all I watched Deadpool and Wolverine over the weekend and Y'ALL I LOVED EVERY SECOND. Mostly enjoyed dancing in the 4DX seats. But lived for every moment in the movie. My goodness. Idc to hear criticisms or negative comments about that movie. It's everything to me. I love love LOVE it. Anyway... enough of my rant. Hope y'all enjoy this chapter!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist  | All Chapters

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

The sun glaring through the curtains disrupts your sleep. You turn away from facing the window and smash your face into someone’s back. You breathe deeply through your nose. Your lips lift almost instantly as you recognize Wanda's scent. You press your lips to her back as you continue to breathe her in. Wanda stretches as her internal clock starts to wake her up. 

You move up and lean against her headboard and smile down at her as she faces you. Her brown hair is a mess, her freckles are prominent. Her eyes are a deeper green, reflecting from the green top she chose for bed. 

“Hi,” you say when Wanda opens her eyes. 

“Hey you,” she replies through a yawn. Her eyes close as she does and she stretches again. “Give me a minute and I'll make us something to eat,” she says as she blinks her eyes slowly. 

“Don't worry about that right now,” you say in a raspy voice. You move her hair out of her face. “Just be here with me. Let's enjoy this moment together while we still can.” She closes her eyes as you rest your hand on her cheek. She leans into your touch. 

“Last night was,” Wanda smiles and bites her bottom lip as she replays the memory in her head. Second to the day her children were born, that has to be her favorite memory. 

You chuckle, “Yeah, it was.” You continue to gaze down at her. You want to kiss her and technically you can. But you're not sure if she wants that right now. “Do you still feel that way?” You ask softly, to confirm with her that things are moving in a direction that the both of you are comfortable with. 

Wanda opens her eyes as moves her hand out from under the covers to touch your arm. “Yeah, do you?” Her fingers dance along the length of your arm. 

“Of course I do, I’ve admitted it three times now,” you say with a humorous tone. 

Wanda remembers each time with a fond smile. The first time she threw herself at you when the two of you got drunk together and kissed. She didn't know that you had confessed your growing feelings towards her until you later apologized about it. The second time isn't the one you're thinking of. The second time wasn't the night that you showed up at her house. That was the third and most painful attempt for her. The second happened the night she had to pick you up from the bar. You kissed her and when she asked what you were doing you said that it was something that you should have done before. “Four times actually,” Wanda corrects you softly. 

“What?” You laugh, not sure if you heard her correctly. 

“Nevermind,” she says as she curls her body against yours. She closes her eyes as she inhales your scent again. It's one thing to have items that smell like you. It's so much better to have you right here. In her arms as a person instead of a fantasy. 

“I love you,” you say to see how she feels about hearing those words from you. She opens her eyes and there isn’t the fear that you’ve seen in them before. It’s a brightness to them. It’s a loving gaze you've witnessed her give her children. “That doesn't scare you?” You ask her to be certain. 

“No,” she smiles and moves her face forward, her lips connecting with yours. Neither of you mind the sour morning breath because you're just happy to be kissing each other. Her soft lips pressed against yours make you feel more alive than you ever had before. At this point, you're not sure if you existed before now. “You don't have to worry about me, Y/n. I'm in this. I want us to take it slow for us to prove to ourselves it's what's meant to be, before we get everyone involved. But I'm not afraid of my feelings for you. I'm not afraid of being loved by you.” 

You nod as you wrap your arms around her small frame and press her closer to your body. “So we're going to keep this under wraps for a bit?” You ask, clarifying what she means when she says that she wants to take things slow. 

“Just until we are certain what this is. I mean, we've talked a lot about what we want for our futures. But not really what kind of partner or what we really think of each other. I have an image of you in my mind as I'm sure you have one of me. I just want to give us time to… settle into the reality of each other.” Wanda explains and you agree. It's something that you weren't aware of with your past serious relationships. 

Sure, you knew Jean practically your entire life but you weren't paying attention to her as a real person until your marriage was falling apart. You had a fantasy of her in your mind that you built up when you were crushing on her. She fell short a lot and it wasn't her fault. She didn't know that you had built up years of expectations of her. 

With Daisy, she had expectations of you that you're still not sure if you met. She never said anything about it but you could tell that sometimes she wished you were the person she made up in her mind. In her defense, she probably expected you to be a lot more in love with her than you were and that is a fair expectation. 

With Wanda however, you aren't sure what kind of person you've made her up to be in your head. You know that you have some idea of what a life with her would look like. You kept comparing Daisy to her after all. And it's true, you could have made her out to be a perfect person for you in your mind. But she could just be a good friend for you. You almost laugh at the thought. There's no doubt in your mind that you're supposed to marry this girl one day. But she's right, you don't need to jump into anything. 

“Okay, yeah, I don't mind that. It'll be good to keep us to ourselves for a bit. Days like these where we can be with each other with no pressure to take leaps in our relationship before we're ready to,” you say as you rub her shoulder. “And the kids were so heart broken when we told them not to hope for this anymore.” 

Wanda looks down as she remembers that day. It broke her heart too. But it was an important day for her. Up until then, she thought she was done letting Vision win with the few moments that she stood up to him. Her therapist helped her realize, she was still letting him win every time she held herself back from happiness or from really moving forward. It wasn't that she wasn't ready to commit to a relationship because she didn't know who she was. It was because deep down, she was still Vision’s wife. Her therapist helped her learn how to free herself from that mental marriage. 

“Yeah, and I’m still working on myself. I feel like if we did end up breaking up the boys would blame me and I wouldn’t be able to tell them any different,” Wanda pouts as she thinks of her boys having proof that she is the problem because they love you so much as it is. 

“Wanda, I am far from perfect. I'm going to make many mistakes and so will you,” you say with a light tone because it's the truth and there's no reason to pretend like it's impossible to mess up. “The important thing is that when we do make mistakes, it's not something that drives us apart. We take that as a learning moment. I mean there are obvious things like no cheating. But if someone makes a pass at you or someone kisses you and you come to me about it, we can talk about that and figure out how to move past it. You know?”

Wanda nods as she listens to you, she hadn't considered that she didn't need to be perfect all of the time. She hadn’t considered that you weren’t a perfect person. Even though both of you have shown each other flaws in the year that you’ve gotten to know each other, there is still so much to learn. “I’m certain that I want to be with you and only you. Which is why I’m okay with going at your pace,” you stress that you’re not doing this to see if you want a future with her. You already know that. You’re willing to go slow because you don’t need to rush anything. 

At this statement, however, Wanda starts to laugh. “You do realize that this will be your third relationship in less than a year?” The thought makes you laugh as you realize that you have become a serial monogamous in terms of dating. 

“In my defense, I wasn’t certain about Daisy. And I was only dating Nebula to pass time. She knew it wasn’t serious and I never tried to make it anything more than what it was.” You defend your actions. 

Wanda laughs more as you defend yourself because she wasn’t being serious when making the observation. She is in no position to judge, she has slept with so many people this year that she lost count because she couldn’t believe how high the number had gotten. How she got through it with only one minor STI is beyond her. “It’s fine, you’re fine, it’s just funny to me,” she says through her laughs. 

You join her as she laughs because it's contagious. She is so bright and bubbly this morning and you feel very privileged to be present for it. Then your phone rings and as much as you want to ignore it, you have to make sure it’s not any kind of an emergency. You look at the screen and sigh when you see the picture of Jean and Rachel making silly faces. You put your finger to your lips and warn Wanda to be quiet as you answer the phone. She kisses your cheek and climbs out of her bed to run to the bathroom. 

“Hey, what’s up?” You answer the phone with a tightness and dread building in your chest. You don’t want to go home yet. You don’t want to leave this bubble. Not yet. You’ve barely gotten to enjoy it. 

“Hey, sorry,” Jean says in a whisper. “I forgot that I have couple’s counseling with Anna in an hour. I hate to ask because you’ve been so generous-” 

“Rachel is my daughter, you don’t have to feel guilty about asking me to come home for her,” you remind her. With the odd arrangement, Jean has been asking you to babysit Rachel. As a parent, that’s not babysitting. She claims that she had gotten so used to asking her wife to babysit Rachel and that little piece of information bugged you. Anna adopted Rachel, making her Anna’s daughter as well. You found it to be very disrespectful that she considers spending time with Rachel babysitting. “Just give me twenty minutes, I’ll be there soon.” 

“Okay, thank you,” Jean says, then she ends the call. 

You sigh as you rub your face. Wanda comes out of her bathroom wiping her face dry with a towel. She sits on the edge of the bed and rubs your back. You can smell the flowery perfume from the products she uses. When she asks you what’s wrong, you can smell the mint on her breath. You remove your hands from your face and flash her a small tired smile. 

“Nothing, I just,” you sigh and shake your head. “I hate going home now that Jean is staying with me.” 

“Woah, when did that happen?” Wanda asks as her hand stops on your shoulder and starts to gently massage you there. 

“A few weeks ago. She got into a big fight with Anna and stayed with me for a night which I was fine with one night. Now it’s gotten a little ridiculous but what am I going to do?” You shrug because you hate the situation that you’re caught in. You scoff bitterly as you think about how Anna wanted to separate their lives from yours but she forces situations like this to happen. “She had Rachel ask if she could stay instead of asking herself, which was just… I don’t know. I can't get into it with you right now.” You say as you pull away from her touch and stand from the bed. You stretch your sore muscles. The pull out mattress in the couch was horribly thin because it has to be and it’s taking a toll on your body. It was nice to have a break in Wanda’s comfortable and clearly expensive mattress. 

“Wait, hold on. I want to be there for you with this,” Wanda says as she tries to be a good partner. “Don’t shut me out.”

“I’m not shutting you out I’m,” you sigh as you make your way around the bed to the side of the room where her closet has your clothes from last night hanging. You almost trip on a dress and you realize how messy her room is. It makes you smile for a second when you realize that it was from the effort she was making in her appearance last night. You grab your shirt and start to button up. “The situation makes me upset. No, it’s infuriating actually. Anna is putting a lot of the blame on me when it’s a shitty situation because of – no, I won’t go there.” You start to pull on your pants and Wanda is standing at the entrance of the closet watching you. 

“I can’t be upset about it because I want to lead a good example for Rachel. Her mom needs some support. It shouldn’t be me, but she alienated everyone else in her life, so it is me,” you explain as you finish getting dressed. “Talking about it gets my blood boiling. So, I’m not shutting you out. I’m just trying to make it throw the day without blowing up at my ex-wife in front of our daughter.” 

Wanda nods, feeling slightly guilty for trying to get you to open up about something that she doesn’t know anything about. But she was only trying to do the right thing so she gives herself a break because she couldn’t have known and you were communicating that you can’t talk about it right now. She watches you move to sit on her bed and thinks about what she can do to help you shift your mood while you get your shoes on. When you stand up and dust yourself off she stands in front of you and wraps her arms loosely around your neck. 

“I love you,” she says and she feels the tension in your shoulders disappear. She leans up and kisses you on the lips. Your body melts against hers in the kiss as you feel safe and secure in her presence. You close your eyes and commit every detail of this moment to your memory so that you can get through the day. And tomorrow. And however many days you have to go without holding Wanda and kissing her. 

You rest your forehead against hers and sigh with content. “I want to stay here with you,” you admit with a pout. 

“I want you to stay,” she says as she lays the palm of her hand on your chest and takes a deep breath. “You have to go. I’ll see you soon, I’m sure. The boys will want to hang out with Rachel,” she says as she thinks of ways she can still see you while you’re going through this tough time with your ex. 

“And I have the orders to finish. One is due in two weeks and the other is due in four,” you remind her. 

“Oh, yeah, you do have to come back for that,” Wanda smiles up at you. “Is this your way of inviting me into the shed for some alone time with you?” She wiggles her eyebrows and it makes you laugh because you didn’t even consider that. 

“No, but hey, it definitely gives me an excuse to take you out on a real date on the weeks you don’t have the kids. That is, if I continue to have an unwanted roommate,” you brush the back of your fingers against her soft cheek. 

Wanda’s fingers play with your tie, her eyes have dropped to adjust the knot. “Is this your way of asking me out on a date?” 

You chuckle, “Of course not. I know better than to mention my ex-wife when asking you out on a date. I'm just saying that the option is there. But I have to get going.” Wanda agrees to let you go. You get one last kiss before you run off to your car. 

The entire drive home you have a wide grin. Wanda is happily spinning around her room like a love sick teenager. She stops when she realizes that one she's is too old for that only because she could throw up. And two, she needs to call Matt to make sure that he doesn't report anything to Agatha. Wanda bites her lip as she thinks about you and her sneaking around. As if you were in some torrid love affair. 

She spends her morning telling everyone that the plan didn't work and that she chickened out when she saw you with Nebula. Carol felt sorry for her and offered to hang out later that day. Agatha was irate; she thought the plan was perfect. She had put in so much time and effort. Wanda and Carol ended up comforting her with how upset she was. She even sent the pictures to the group chat that she received from the mom who was part of the organization of the event. Wanda panicked a little as she thought of the woman having access to photos that could potentially kill her story. But Agatha thankfully mentions that the photographer was an amateur that didn't have enough memory to take photos after a certain point in the night. The last picture that Agatha sends is of you smiling at Nebula. 

Wanda tries to disregard the twinge of jealousy that she feels when she sees you happy with the other woman. Then she remembers whose bed you woke up in this morning and she is filled with joy again. She agrees to a movie night with Carol but she regrets it the moment she realizes she can't pretend to be sad. She tries to look at old photos of her and Vision and nothing. He has no affect on her emotions anymore. Then she tries to look at the image of you and Nebula but she can't get sad again. 

Jean ignores you when you come home. You were a couple of minutes late because of a few traffic jams. She was clearly upset with you but you could care less. You are on cloud nine because you finally have the woman that you’ve been pining for. It had only been close to a year, but it felt like centuries. 

Once you’ve changed into a fresh set of clothes, you start to make breakfast. You have music blasting on the bluetooth speakers you hardly ever use. She comes in, receptive to your energy, singing along with you. Even when she takes control of the music you are still dancing around and singing. Full of energy. 

“Why are you so happy?” Rachel asks with a mouth full of pancakes and eggs. 

“I’m always happy!” You say as you pour syrup on your plate. 

“Not this happy!” She giggles and her laugh is infectious. 

“What? Come on, I’m happy like this,” you make a silly face. “And I’m happy like this,” you make another silly face which makes her laugh harder. “And I’m happy like this!” You take a banana wheel from your plate and dip a side of it in syrup then glue it to your nose and make another silly face.

“No, baba! That’s sticky and gross!” She says as she knocks the banana off of your face with her giggles.

“You’re right, eat your food and we’ll go to a movie or something. You deserve a happy day,” you say as you stab your food with your fork. 

“Can we wait for mom to come home?” She asks as she eats her food. Her voice is so innocent and sweet. You nod with a smile. 

“Sure, we can wait for mom. She might not want to go though. Will that be okay?” You ask as you watch your daughter. She has no idea what happened last night and you want to tell her every little detail. You refrain from it because when you do tell her about you and Wanda, you want to say that you're marrying her. You want to have proof that it's forever. Of course, you can't be certain that the marriage will last forever. But you want to believe that you can. 

“Yeah, I guess that will be okay too,” she frowns a bit as she continues to eat. Then she perks up. “Do you think we can invite Billy and Tommy and Ms. Wanda?” Her eyes are wide as she asks. The excitement evident in her face. 

“Sorry, sweetheart. The boys are with their dad until tomorrow,” you say apologetically. 

“Oh, that's right. I'm not supposed to be here until tomorrow too. Sorry,” she finishes the food on her plate then looks back up at you. “When can I go back to mommy's house?” 

You chew slowly as you consider an answer that will be helpful for your daughter. Another thing that you hate about this situation is the lack of communication between you and Jean. You have no idea how her marriage is going. You have no idea when she's going to be moving back home. You have no idea how long she's going to be gone for today. 

“I’ll tell you what,” you say as you finish up your plate. “I'll call Wanda and ask if she and the boys are available tomorrow or at least some time this week. How does that sound?”

Rachel perks up again, happy about the idea. But then her energy drops. “I still want to go back to mommy's house. I didn't get to pack any of my things.” 

“Honey, what would you need to pack? You have enough stuff here,” you take her hand in yours as you read her face. 

“Because mommy got to pack some of her things,” Rachel says. “I didn't get to do that. I miss my stuff. I miss my room. I miss the house. I miss Anna.” She starts to grow emotional and you are quick to pick her up out of her chair to hold her as she cries. You tell her that it's okay to miss things when she apologizes. That it’s okay to miss her other mom. 

When she stops crying, you tell her to go shower and get ready. You grab your phone and you send a text to Jean letting her know that she needs to arrange a day for Anna to hang out with her daughter since Rachel misses her. Then you walk to the balcony from your room and call Wanda. “Miss me already?” Wanda says as she answers the phone. Her voice has a smile to it that is infectious as you feel one tug at your lips. 

“Very much,” you sigh into the phone. “Rachel wants us all to hang out tomorrow, if that’s okay.” 

“I wish we could. My mom does this thing for the kids at the beginning of summer. Her and Pietro set up some tents in her backyard and she does a mini camp out. My grandpa used to do that for me and Pietro when we were kids. She always says that he did many things wrong, that was one tradition he did right. And she wants to pass it down,” she explains. 

Then you curse as you remember that you need to request time off for your camping tradition with Rachel. “I can’t believe I almost forgot this year. So much has been going on, she needs some normalcy,” you respond to Wanda’s concern. 

“I’m sure Pietro already has it on the schedule for you,” she assures you. “Anyway, I’m sure we can arrange for the kids to get together at some point this week. How is she doing?”

“She’s confused,” you sigh and shake your head. “It pisses me off that I can’t give her any answers. But I’ll save my frustrations for the shed.” Then you look up to the sky and smile. “Rachel noticed that I’m currently happier than I’ve ever been.” 

“Oh yeah? What were you doing? Skipping around the apartment singing love songs,” her tone is teasing and it makes you chuckle because that’s pretty much what you did. Without you confirming it, she knows that she was right. “See, you have to play it cool. If we're going to get any privacy at all. For instance, I have to pretend like you left with Nebula last night because Carol feels bad that my plan to win you over didn’t work. Something that would be happening had I been rejected.” 

“In my defense, according to you, I got some last night and I think I would be pretty happy about it,” you jokingly mention, making Wanda snort. 

“Okay weirdo, go tell your daughter that you got laid last night because that's better,” she retorts, making you laugh. 

“Alright, I get your point. I'll tone it down. But I can't promise the same for when we get some alone time together,” an electric current runs through your body at the simple thought of spending time alone with Wanda. You get filled with a fresh energy just thinking about her. 

“Good, I'd expect nothing less,” she giggles as she imagines you jumping up and down shouting that you are in love with her. She knows that it’s not something that you would ever do. But it’s cute to picture it in her mind. “I’ll let you go, I have to think of sad things to be thinking about to prepare for Carol tonight.” 

You chuckle at the idea that Wanda has to put up a facade that she is sad and rejected. You almost make a joke about giving her some pointers. But you refrain from it, unsure what her reaction would be. You don't want to make her feel guilty about focusing on herself. 

“Alright, good luck with that. I'll call you tomorrow? Or you'll call me when you can? I'll text you,” you don't know why you're rambling as nervously as you are. But it gets a giggle from Wanda. 

“I'll text you later,” Wanda says, then she ends the call and you try not to celebrate the fact that you have won her over. You have to play it cool. So you head back inside and wait for Rachel to finish getting ready. You scroll through the movies that are currently in the theaters and check on the ones she may or may not like to see what times and seats are available. Then you text Jean for an estimate of when she'll be returning and add that you're giving your daughter a fun day and that she wanted to spend it with her mom as well. 

Jean still isn't responding to any of your messages and you figure that she is still busy with her couples counseling session with Anna. You worry that you'll waste a day waiting for her to come home when Rachel wobbles out of the bathroom in her princess themed town with a crown hood to her bedroom.

You really want to give her a good day since she has been through a lot and still has a boot on her leg. 

An hour goes by with you and Rachel on the couch watching television before you finally get a message from Jean. She says that she needs a “pick-me-up” and would be happy to have a fun day. Then she responds to the message about Anna and says that after the session they had today, she isn't sure if that will be possible. Then she says she's on her way home.

You inform Rachel only that her mom is joining on the fun day and that she'll be home soon. She cheers and doesn't ask any questions other than what movie she should pick to see at the theater. You show her the options and she takes a long time. 

“Which one will be good for you and mommy?” She asks because in the past the two of you would argue forever about what to put on when it came to watching movies at home. You shake your head. 

“It's your day, munchkin. Don't worry about us. We'll be happy with whatever you want. Okay?” You tell her as you rub her back to ease her fears. She had grown to be such a people pleaser and it's not a terrible thing to be. But a lot of anxiety comes with that and you want her to be okay with being a little selfish sometimes. It's okay to ask for her to ask for what she wants from time to time. 

When Jean returns, her eyes are red and her cheeks are blotchy. She was lucky enough to come at a time when Rachel was in the bathroom. You help Jean get to your bedroom and ask her what’s going on. 

She starts to cry again as she sits on the edge of your bed. “Anna went on a date. She told me that she needed to be reminded of why she married me in the first place and that she needed to see if things would be easier with someone else.” You shake your head as you sit next to Jean and rub her back with soothing circles. As she starts to sob, you pull her towards you as you do your best to comfort her. Sure, she puts you through a lot but at the end of the day she is Rachel’s mother and she is your childhood friend. You can’t seem to let go of that. No matter how hard you try. 

“Did she say anything else?” You ask when she starts to settle down a bit. Jean nods against your chest. “What did she say?” You want to see what Anna said about the situation first before you say anything about it. Because right now, you want to have her kicked out of the house she is in because she doesn’t own it. 

“She said that she couldn’t see herself building a life with anyone but me. That nothing happened on the date. All she did was listen to the woman yap on and on and that made her realize she only wants to listen to me yap. Which kind of felt offensive but was also very sweet. Then she went on and on about how she loves me and how she would never betray my trust like that again,” she moves out of your arms to blow her nose in the tissues she pulls from the box on your nightstand. 

“How does that make you feel?” You ask as you watch her. 

“Cheated. Betrayed. Hurt,” she sniffles in between each word. You nod as you start to rub her back again. “It also makes me unbelievably angry at her. Because she is the reason we are going through any of this at all. It’s her fault that we’re separated. It’s her fault that my relationship with you is strained and my daughter is confused. I’m just… UGH!” She stands up as she starts to pace around the room. There’s not much you can do when she gets upset like this other than to just sit and listen. If you had said that there was nothing that could bring your mood down earlier, she just turned you into a liar. 

Jean’s rants are cut short when Rachel knocks on the door and asks if she can come in. She freezes and hides in the bathroom while you step out. You apologize to Rachel for worrying her and assure her that you and her mom were just talking. You sit her in front of the television to be distracted while you finish with Jean. Thankfully, when you close the door and Jean comes out, she has washed her face and looks a lot calmer. She pulls you into a tight hug. 

“Thank you for putting up with me,” she sighs with her eyes closed. “I’m going to shower and then I’ll be ready for the fun day with you and Rach. How are we doing with time?” 

You pull away and look at your watch, “We still have a couple of hours before the movie starts. We already bought the tickets. Rachel was certain that you were going to join us because she wants you to be happy today too. So, please, even if you can’t get happy… just fake it for her. She’s eleven, she doesn’t need to put up with your marital problems.” 

Jean nods and agrees to put on a brave face for Rachel. You leave her to get ready and grab something nicer for you to wear and get changed in the main restroom before joining Rachel on the couch. She snuggles up to your side and you smile as you realize that the age of her rejecting you is creeping closer and closer each year. You dread the day that finally happens but embrace this moment while you can still enjoy it. 

“That movie was so funny!” Rachel says as she replays her favorite moments in the movie as the three of you walk out together. She is jumping around and shows off the themed popcorn bucket, happy that she was able to get one. 

“You know you shouldn’t have gotten her that,” Jean quietly says. 

You shrug, “Today is her day to be happy and carefree and look at her,” you point out that she is having fun with her popcorn bucket. Jean laughs at her silly daughter. “Just let her be happy. You’re probably going to have to break some pretty tough news to her soon.” She nods as she lets out a deep sigh. She pushes away her feelings towards her current issues as Rachel runs up to her and asks her what's wrong. Jean looks to you because you’re better at coming up with something on the spot. “Mommy is jealous she couldn’t get one of those. But she is very happy for you!” You tap her nose. 

Rachel groans and rolls her eyes at the boop. “Baba, I’m eleven now. Don't boop me anymore. That’s for babies.” Your heart drops as you see this being the beginning of the end. 

“Oh, my apologies,” you say as you hold your hands up in surrender. 

“It’s okay, you forgot,” Rachel shrugs. “Can we get takeaway for dinner?” She asks as she fidgets with her bucket. “I want to go home and watch the other movies!” 

You frown as you scratch the back of your neck. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat somewhere nice? Or go to the park?” 

“Baba, it’s my day,” she reminds you and you chuckle as you agree. 

“You’re right,” you lift her on your back and hold your reaction when you adjust to holding her weight. It wasn’t because she was too heavy to carry, it was because you were anticipating a lighter weight. You hadn’t realized that she’s grown so much. “This is queen Rachel’s day. And she wants takeaway and the rest of the Despicable Minion movies!” She laughs when you combine the titles in the big old English accent you were attempting. 

“Onward!” She giggles as she uses her bucket to point to the parking lot. 

Jean laughs as she walks behind you. She hasn’t seen this side of either of you in some time. Anna is more focused on what’s better for Rachel’s emotional and physical development. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing if she was silly every now and then. Jean is starting to question if Rachel’s eating habit started because of the overly healthy food that Anna was enforcing around the house and it grew from there. Jean is starting to think that maybe Anna wasn’t as good for them as she previously thought. In the car, you and Rachel go back and forth as you try to beat each other to saying “I love you” first and it makes Jean nostalgic. She hadn’t realized how much she missed days like this. 

Wanda is pacing back and forth, anticipating Carol’s arrival. She isn’t certain it will just be Carol or if she’s planning on bringing Valkyrie with her. Will there be another group call with Agatha and Darcy? She doesn’t know what to expect for this night of comfort. She isn’t sure if she can pretend for more than one person tonight without imploding. 

She only has herself to blame for this predicament. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. She was supposed to be celebrating out loud about the results of last night. But then she felt herself begin to freeze. The pressure of telling everyone that she found someone that she is certain about, again. To then include everyone in every aspect because they all feel invested in the relationship. She didn’t want to make a fool of herself again. Not after the nightmare that Vision is. But she also doesn’t want the responsibility if things aren’t as good as she made them up to be in her mind. 

Wand closes her eyes and stands still in her living room. She counts to five as she takes slow breaths to center herself. She needs to stop spiraling. She needs to be present. Wanda knew that working herself up was going to benefit her performance tonight, but it was going to hurt her for weeks. She doesn’t want to shorten the honeymoon phase with you. She wants to bask in the glow of a brand new relationship a bit longer. 

The knock on her door has her racing to open it in order to get this night over with. Carol rushes past her while holding a plastic bin full of items that Carol has prepared for the night. Valkyrie walks in behind the blonde with a kind smile. She hugs Wanda as she apologizes for the plan failing. 

“Oh it wasn’t anyone’s fault,” Wanda waves it off as she steps out of the hug and shuts and locks the front door behind her. 

“I know, but it’s just… one of those things to say,” Valkyrie shrugs and Wanda nods. She couldn’t argue with that. 

“What’s all this?” Wanda asks as she peeks into Carol’s bin. She is confused by the contents. 

“We tried the natural way, now we’re going to try the witchy way!” Carol says happily. “I got all of this stuff together as per Agatha’s instructions.” She proudly admires the bin on the kitchen table with her hands on her hips. Wanda looks at Valkyrie who just rolls her eyes and mutters something about having tried all day to talk Carol out of it. 

“Agatha put you up to this?” Wanda asks as she rummages through the bin with a frown. Carol nods with a big grin. The brunette nods as she realizes that she is way out of her depth. She expected rom-coms or maybe horror movies. She expected comfort foods and wine. She expected a group phone call where everyone took turns telling sob stories about failed relationships or crushes that didn’t become anything more than that. She did not expect witchcraft as a solution to cheer her up. 

“We are doing spells to either make you fall in love with me or make your next date go terrible, I will keep you posted,” you try not to laugh too hard at the text you receive from Wanda. Included is a picture of Carol and Valkyrie on a video call with someone and a bunch of ingredients for something odd all over the table. You don’t respond as you put your phone back into your pocket. The three of you eat pizza together at the kitchen table with the movie marathon for Rachel playing on the television. She is hardly paying attention to the conversation as she has her eyes glued to the screen, no matter how much you try to bring her focus to the conversation. So you stop trying and Jean moves on from the childish subject. She is currently more curious about your relationship status than she is interested in talking about the camping trip you’re trying to plan with Rachel. 

“I wasn’t expecting you to not come home last night,” Jean says just above a whisper. You freeze and look over at Rachel to see if she was paying attention at all. She was on the edge of her seat watching the movie. 

“Honey, if you promise to be clean. You can eat your pizza on the couch,” you offer so that she doesn't fall over and hurt herself. She cheers as she adds a slice to her plate and grabs a handful of napkins to bring with her to the sofa. You focus on eating your food and ignore the comment that Jean made. But she doesn’t seem to take the hint. She assumes that you sent Rachel away for privacy. 

“Okay spill, what happened? I thought that you weren’t sure where you stood with Nebula?” Jean asks, careful to keep her volume low. 

You sigh through your nose and fight a smile as you think of the events of the previous night. You don’t want to tell her anything about anything. “Yeah, I just needed a night to myself in a real bed. I didn’t stay with anyone.” 

“Oh, I'm sorry. I hadn't realized that you were so uncomfortable,” Jean says as she places her hand on your forearm. You shrug with a small huff of a laugh.

“You never ask,” you remind her. 

Jean nods as she moves her hand back and forth on your arm. “Reading you was never really something I was ever good at. Was it?” 

You shake your head as you lean back in your seat and dust off your hands as you finish your pizza slice. “No, it never was. But that’s okay,” you give her a tight closed mouth smile then you push back on your seat and rise. You grab her plate and yours and take them to the garbage in the kitchen. You keep your back turned to her in the kitchen as you check your phone. Wanda has sent more pictures of the spell casting process. You can’t believe that her friends believe any of it is going to work. She confirms that they’re doing a spell to ruin your next date because the process was easier and you respond by reminding her that she will be your next date so whatever happens she only has herself to blame. 

You put your phone in your pocket and turn around to a surprise. Jean is standing in front of you. She is close and there is a familiar look in her eyes. You shake your head, even though you can’t read her mind, she is pretty predictable. You should’ve known that she would try something when she came back crying about Anna’s date. 

“Please,” she begs in a whisper as she puts her hand on your cheek to keep you in place. There are tears on the brim of her eyes as she gets closer. You put your hand on her wrist to remove her hand but she is quick to kiss you on the lips. You quickly shove her off of you. 

“Jean, I cannot believe you right now,” you say with a stern tone. You move out of the kitchen to keep yourself from exploding on her. She will not ruin your daughter’s day by starting an argument with you. This is a much smaller space than the house. It would be impossible for you and her to argue without Rachel hearing. You join Rachel on the sofa and keep your eyes on the animated movie on the screen. 

Jean doesn’t leave the kitchen for some time. She is having a hard time with her emotions. She hates feeling rejected and lately that’s all she is feeling. From you. From her wife. From everyone except Rachel. If anything, she can continue to be a good mother. She walks out of the kitchen only to bid you and Rachel a goodnight before heading to bed. She holds and cries herself to sleep as she thinks about her recent actions. She doesn’t feel in control. She misses the control. 

The next day, you go grocery shopping by yourself so that you can talk to Wanda about what happened with Jean. You don’t want to hide something like this from her. The first time you call her, you’re in the car. She doesn’t pick up and you decide to wait for her to call you back. You focus on getting to the store safely instead of calling her again. While you’re at the store, your focus is on grabbing the items from the list but you can’t help the anxious feeling of wanting to speak to Wanda. You take a moment to stop in the middle of an aisle to check your phone for any missed messages or calls. You don’t see any so you continue on with your shopping. 

As you’re loading the groceries into your car, that’s when your phone goes off. The moment that you have your hands full of bags of course is when your phone finally goes off. You quickly get the groceries into the trunk and then struggle to pull your phone out or your pocket. You are filled with joy when you see the picture of Wanda with Tommy and Billy and their fresh mullets to match yours at the time. 

“Hey, sorry I couldn’t pick up earlier. I was trying to get Carol and Val out of here. They’re gone now and I’m getting ready to pick up the boys from their dads house,” Wanda says as soon as you answer. You continue to load the rest of the bags as you listen to her ramblings. “Was there something you needed to talk about or were you just missing me?” You can hear the smile in her voice and it warms your heart. 

“If I say both, does that mean your witchcraft worked on me,” you joke as you close the opening of the boot of the vehicle. You walk the shopping cart over to the cart corral because you hate when people leave them in an empty parking spot. 

“That’s funny,” she says with a small reaction to your joke. “We didn’t do anything that would work and if we did, we didn’t do anything that would have you under my spell or whatever.” She corrects your wrong assumptions of the night and you laugh. You climb into your car and warn her that she is about to switch over to the vehicle's speaker system. She points out that she was just about to do the same. The both of you say hello until you can confirm that everything is working correctly. “Okay, so what is it that you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Jean kissed me,” you blurt out almost instantly. You freeze as you wait for her to respond before you even try to pull out of the parking spot. Then you relax a bit when you register Wanda’s laugh. “Did you hear me correctly? Do I need to repeat myself?”

“No, no, I heard you. I just, I’m sorry,” she starts to control her laughter. “I’ve been expecting this pretty much since you told me that she was staying with you and her marriage is falling apart. It’s, honestly, I’m surprised she has held out this long,” Wanda explains her reaction and you can’t disagree. This is very on par with Jean’s actions. You can’t help that you hope she changes but you can’t be disappointed when she shows you who she is. 

“Yeah, well, it happened and I wanted you to know. I know that you know it meant nothing to me but it still felt important to tell you,” you say as you pull out of the parking lot and merge into traffic. 

“Thank you,” Wanda says with relief in her tone. “That, it means a lot to me that you didn’t hide it. I’m glad you told me.” She knew she wouldn’t have to worry about trusting you. She also finds it kind of ironic that you used the example of someone else kissing her and on the same day, Jean kisses you. “And you’ll have to remember how cool I was about this in the future. Just saying,” she adds with a short giggle. 

You roll your eyes but chuckle, “Alright, I will store it in my memory.” You reply sarcastically. The two of you fall silent, each of you focusing on your separate drives. “So, when are we going on this disastrous first date?” You ask as you get close to your apartment building. 

“Hmm, how about next Sunday after I drop the boys off with their father? I know I don’t have them tonight but I don’t want us to have to cut the date short in case there is an emergency.” Wanda suggests. 

“Next Sunday it is,” you agree, you pull into the parking garage and drive up to your floor. “Are we still good to set up something for the kids this week?” 

“Um… yeah. I think we should be. I don’t think I have any projects that will take over my evenings this week. But boy, the lineup for this year is going to be insane. I don’t think I want to work for Tony ever again. He is such a drama queen about the sketches for the next Stark building.” You chuckle as she complains about her former brother-in-law’s behavior about the building she is supposed to design for him. “I have to let you go, I’m close to Vision’s house and I do not have it in me to hear him bitching today.” 

“No worries, love. I need to get the girls to help me with the groceries,” you say as you park and shut the engine of the car off. 

“You can’t give me a pet name right now!” Wanda shouts and you laugh at her reaction. Loving the effect a simple pet name can have on her. “Vision hates when I have joy in my life!” She continues to scold you. 

“Okay, okay,” you say through your laughter. “What can I call you to change your mood?” 

“Ugh, nothing at this point. I really have to get off the phone now,” She says as she slows her car. “Okay, love you, bye!” The car goes silent and you sigh, unable to say a proper goodbye for yourself. You allow the warmth of the way she says her goodbye so naturally settle in your chest. It’s as if that’s how the two of you have always ended a conversation. It fills you with so much joy that this is going to be your new normal. It fills you with excitement that one day you will be pulling into her driveway with a car full of groceries. Either with her or coming home to her. You can see it all now. You want to take the leap and make the fantasies a reality but you agreed to go at her pace. There is still a lot that neither of you don’t know about each other and even though you’re certain that you’ll love her no matter what, you don’t want to rush anything. You’ve seen what rushing a relationship looks like. You won’t make those mistakes yourself.

Chapter 22

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @diealittlesometime @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiofthemultifandom @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters @bittysworld @hopeless-romantic17177 @spongebobtentacles @the-ox-fan20 @shaniiwm @casualreadersstuff @neopolitan-torchwick

[airas-story]

Show Me the World

(An interlude that belongs to the same universe as Give Me the Sky, one of my IronStrange Week 2023 stories.)

The sky was blue the day it happened.

“I’m just saying,” Tony told Pepper. “You should consider blue as one of your colors.”

Pepper and Rhodey were finally getting married, despite the fact that they’d known they were soulmates for over two decades. The two had taken their time, prioritizing first their friendship, then their careers, before they’d decided to see whether they had romantic compatibility.

Which, sure, was valid. But Tony had been waiting for this wedding for decades at this point.

Pepper gave a long-suffering sigh that was more amused than anything. “At least you’re not trying to get us to go with red and gold.”

Tony grinned, because Pepper had been calling his suit an eyesore for years, now. Tony was pretty sure it wasn’t, but since his soulmate was still very much a mystery and he’d still never actually seen his suit in all its glory, he really couldn’t say.

“Blue is classy,” Tony told her. “And there’s so much of it, so you’ve really got all the options in the world.”

Pepper sighed. “You’ve already got James convinced,” she admitted. “Mostly I think he just wants you to be able to see at least one of our colors.”

Rhodey was clearly the best of friends.

“Or maybe it’s because blue is the prettiest color,” Tony countered. And sure, blue and green were the only colors he could see—though never at the same time—but he was still pretty sure it was true.

There was a humming noise behind him. “Tony Stark?” Tony turned. There was a man there, dressed in a blue tunic, wearing a monochrome cape and standing in front of a gray circle of… what were those, flames? “My name is Doctor Stephen Strange and I—“

Tony met the man’s gaze.

The world seemed to come alive all at once, and he jerked back as a cry of pain escaped him. His hands moved automatically to cover his face as the grey-scale world turned suddenly bright with colors.

Across from him the man seemed to be having a similar reaction, jerking back with a startled noise.

“Tony?” Pepper’s voice was loud in her concern as her hand grasped at his arm. “Are you—? Is he—?” He wasn’t surprised she’d realized just what his reaction indicated. Then again, his reaction wasn’t uncommon. The whole ‘color’ thing? Yeah, it was a lot.

Tony slowly brought his hands down to try to take in the world around him. His brain was screaming signals at him, trying to take everything in. The grass he recognized, the sky was familiar, but everything else… Pepper was wearing something… bright? Is that what bright clothing looked like?

“Tony?” Another voice asked, familiar and yet shocking. “What’s wrong? What just happened?”

Tony turned towards the voice. “Bruce?” Bruce was wearing a gray jacket—thank god, his brain decided—and a dark blue shirt beneath it. Nice and neutral and not entirely overwhelming.

“Tony.” Bruce repeated his name as though it was some sort of salvation as he almost stumbled forward and wrapped his arms around Tony in a hug.

“Whoa.” Tony blinked, but hugged Bruce back. It was hard to concentrate though, his head swiveling as he tried to take in everything around him.

The portal thing that the man—Stephen Strange, he’d said, before the world had gone bright with colors—had walked through was bright; Tony thought it might actually hurt his eyes. “Pepper, what color is that?” He pointed at the flames as Bruce pulled back.

Bruce frowned at him, glancing between Tony and the portal before understanding crossed his face.

“Orange.” Pepper’s voice was soft with amusement.

He pointed at her shirt. 

“Pink.”

He pointed at the man’s cape thing. 

“Red.”

“Red?” Tony grinned. “Like my suit?”

Pepper was smiling. “Not quite the same shade, but yes, it’s close.”

Tony eyed the cape again, taking it in. “I’ve got good taste,” he decided.

“You might want to actually talk to your soulmate,” she suggested. “Instead of focusing on the colors.”

Tony wanted to tell her no, actually, because the world felt alive in ways that he’d never thought it could be. No one’s description of this moment did it justice. Overwhelming, but beautiful, almost painful, but glorious.

Plus, he’d noticed his soulmate following each point of Tony’s finger, taking in all the colors the same as Tony was.

“This isn’t the time,” came Strange’s voice, even as his gaze was swiveling to follow the path of a woman jogging by wearing a shirt even brighter than the flames.

“Yellow,” Pepper offered, noticing where both of their attentions had gone.

Strange’s attention jerked back towards them, flushing a little. And oh, that was red on his cheeks, subtle but there. Tony had always wondered what a real blush looked like.

He liked it.

“I need you to come with me,” Strange said, his gaze coming back to Tony. Tony knew already he wasn’t going to like hearing what Strange had to say. “I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that the fate of the universe depends on it.”

All of the joy disappeared, the distractions around him suddenly nothing in comparison to the fear that crowded out any sense of wonder. 

“It’s true,” Bruce said. “It’s… You need to come with us.”

Pepper’s hand found his forearm, squeezing in worry. Tony sent her a smile, knowing his own worry showed through, but that didn’t matter. Whatever this was… well, he had a feeling this was big.

He followed Strange and Bruce through the portal—orange, it was beautiful, even if his eyes were still feeling the strain of looking at it, and he could feel a headache coming on—and into an older looking home of some sort. Or maybe it was some sort of museum? It had that austere feel to it.

He listened as Bruce, Strange, and and a new man—Wong—told him about the threat that was coming, feeling a low sense of unease. Thanos. This is what he’d always known was coming.

Now it was here.

It was perhaps not a surprise when one of the first things he and his soulmate did was fall into an argument, though Tony found himself getting constantly distracted by Strange’s eyes. They were beautiful, just the way he’d always known they’d be. He had the strangest feeling that he wasn’t the only one getting distracted, if the way that Strange watched him so intensely was any sign.

It was really not the right time for it.

And then they were out of time altogether.

[felassan]

Hey so something caught my eye in the latest GI video interview, I was wondering if you'd seen anything more about: "each faction has a follower, as well as an ancillary character we’re calling 'agents', who exist as these, face of the faction." I couldn't find anything else about agents in the original article(s) but I was wondering if you'd seen anything? It sounds like they're different to the companions in our party?

hello! ◕‿◕ answer under a cut (contains spoilers from DA:TV GI cover story).

Mention in the GI video:

John Epler: “The message of The Veilguard is, you’re not saving the world on your own. You need your companions but you also need these factions, these other groups in the world. You help them, they help you. Now, something we wanted to avoid, because, you know, there’s always the trope of, 'oh yeah, I would help you save the world but I need you to go gather 200 wood’, it’s kind of a silly concept, so what we wanted to build is these factions that do want to help you but have realistic challenges, problems in front of them. So narratively, you help them with their problems, they will help you with yours when the time comes, but beyond that each faction has a follower, as well as an ancillary character we’re calling 'agents’, who exist as these, face of the faction. We’re not gonna get too deep into those right now, but we didn’t wanna just say, 'here’s the Wardens, go deal with the Wardens’, we wanted to have characters within that faction who are sympathetic, who you can see and who become the face of that faction, so even if there’s moments where the faction as a whole may be on the outs with you, these characters are still with you, they’ve still got your back. It’s a core with what we’ve done with the storytelling in this game. We wanted to make sure all the content you did felt relevant. Everything you do has a purpose and has a tie back into the critical path. Sometimes it’s more explicit than others, but there is always a sense that you are moving towards the goal of stopping the elven gods, stopping the end of the world, and it’s not just [like how some of the side content in DA:I was]. Helping these people, helping these groups, so that they can help you when the time comes.” [source] <- DA:TV spoiler warning for link

these "agent" characters were mentioned before in this article, where John Epler said:

"Gameplay-wise – each of our classes has a specialization, and each of them is tied to a faction," Epler continues. "But beyond that, each faction has a [companion] as well as [people we're calling agents, ancillarily] who exist as the faces of these factions. We didn't want to just say, 'Here's the Grey Wardens, go deal with them.' We wanted characters within that faction who are sympathetic, who you can see and become the face of the faction, so that even if there are moments where the faction as a whole may be on the outs with you, these characters are still with you; they've still got your back." [source]

but this looks like it's mostly the same quote as the first one (it sounds like the GI video interviews were turned into a lot of the GI text articles). I don't recall seeing anything more on them.

it does sound to me like they are different to the companions in our party though, as they're saying that each faction has a companion/follower + an agent[s?]. this is speculation only, but based on this excerpt from the GI cover story,

"A few moments later, we’re back in the Arlathan Forest, and just before a demon-infested suit of mechanized armor known as a Sentinel can attack, two new NPCs appear to save us: Strife and Irelin. Harding recognizes them, something Dragon Age comic readers might know about. They’re experts in ancient elven magic and part of the new Veil Jumpers faction. The ensuing cutscene, where we learn Strife and Irelin need help finding someone named Bellara Lutara, is long, with multiple dialogue options. That’s something I’m noticing with Veilguard, too - there’s a heavy emphasis on storytelling and dialogue, and it feels deep and meaty, like a good fantasy novel. BioWare doesn’t shy away from minutes-long cutscenes."

I wonder if e.g. Strife and Irelin could be the agent[s] for the Veil Jumper faction? also as an aside, I'd love to see Teia and Viago for the Crows!!

[GI video]

[kevgansey]

couldn't help but think constantly about season 2, like we are getting introduced to new characters (and new cast members 💓💓), but mostly because of annabeth. i've always seen som and botl as annabeth's books, they let you understand her personality, what she wants, what she is.

so there's some of the annabeth's moments that i really exacted/hope to see in the next season cause i know leah would EAT these parts yeah

“we could use your intelligence” “because you have none on your own!”

on princesse adromeda where luke is talking to both annabeth and percy, and he tries to convince annabeth to join him, pushing on something that he knows annabeth is extremely attached to, her intelligence. annabeth tries to stay strong, to don't freak out about how, her long time friend, her brother has turned out. even with this sense of sadness she is always the sassy little queen that we have been introduced in the first book !

CC.

i love the scene at circe's. and i can't wait and i do really HOPE to see the reyna/hilla cameo. i guess this scene is important because in some ways we see annabeth give up immortality for percy. and this is just the first time.

the whole backstrory with cyclops and it will be even better if we get some flashbacks

every single memory from her childhood is important to the construction of her character, there wouldn't be annabeth if there wasn't her memories. i guess this part of her story is important to let the reader (and in future the watcher) think about how much bad things annabeth went though since the age of seven. she has been fighting monsters since she was seven.

the sirens scene

okay, this is mostly percabeth BUT i just love how determined annabeth is in that scene, yeah i know that lot of people would consider her actions pretty stupid but be honest with yourself. first of all she was 13, she was a child, second thing, because of that we are getting introduced to her fatal flaw, pride. in that moment annabeth didn't know if she would had another chance to listen to the sirens so she took the opportunity that she had.

“ Three people sat on a picnic blanket in Central Park. A feast was spread out before them. I recognized Annabeth’s dad from photos she’d shown me-an athletic-looking, sandy-haired guy in his forties. He was holding hands with a beautiful woman who looked a lot like Annabeth. She was dressed casually-in blue jeans and a denim shirt and hiking boots-but something about the woman radiated power. I knew that I was looking at the goddess Athena. Next to them sat a young man … Luke.

The whole scene glowed in a warm, buttery light. The three of them were talking and laughing, and when they saw Annabeth, their faces lit up with delight. Annabeth’s mom and dad held out their arms invitingly. Luke grinned and gestured for Annabeth to sit next to him-as if he’d never betrayed her, as if he were still her friend.

Behind the trees of Central Park, a city skyline rose. I caught my breath, because it was Manhattan, but not Manhattan. It had been totally rebuilt from dazzling white marble, bigger and grander than ever-with golden windows and rooftop gardens. It was better than New York. Better than Mount Olympus. ”

this part is just so extremely dear to me. we see what annabeth really wanted. her dad, her mom, her brother and her biggest desire to create building because she wants to be remembered through them. the things that we don't see in this scene are percy and thalia. thalia, she is gone, annabeth would neved see her again so why even think about her as someone who would come back in her life, and percy. percy, that she already consideres as her percy. she knows that she already has him in her life. this scene is so sad and full of meaning we see the cruelest desire that annabeth has. she wants her family back. she wants to be someone one day. and she wants to feel proud of herself.

[brisquad-unit-4402]

Hello it’s me again! It’s been a while, I hope you’ve been doing okay. I recently have been reading through a lot of angst to comfort and I have an idea for a request!

May I request an Ike fic where reader is a liver in NIJISANJI and has a crush on Ike but knows they have no chance with him. Then one day reader accidentally spills their feelings to Ike and Ike comforts them after hearing about readers feelings?

I hope you’re not tired of me requesting Ike fics (ily him to much) and I hope you have a good day/night! <3

-🖋️

stars above your skin

oh 🖋 we're really in it now

how long have i had this request in my inbox? early march? and now exactly one day after blue light dropped, i give you a ~19.5k word ike fic. much love and effort has gone into this one, only seconded by the massive amounts of brainrot.

so yeah, i'm not tired of ike requests. i'm literally a quilldren that writes fanfic. this is the opposite of a problem

in fact this might be one of my favorite things i've written... the second half is such a good bedtime story for me...!

this is going to get NASTY to read on tumblr—as in my site is lagging so hard just typing these a/n notes. so i'm going to remind you all that not only is liking/reblogging recommended to keep track of this fic, but also that i have an ao3 account (same name as url but without dashsince it's much more accessible than tumblr for long fic. i recommend reading on tumblr if you can because of some formatting but to each their own!

here’s a funny story about this fic. i was working on it while a bunch of people sat behind me, you see, and one of my greatest irrational fears is that people sitting behind me will be able to see my laptop screen and laugh at what i’m writing…! and with these requests i usually title them the fandom name and my name, and a short phrase about the request, and this one was “workplace romance”, and i just got so afraid right then and there i changed it to the first thing i could think of, based off a clip i saw of pomu, selen, aia and doppio…!! and that’s why the wip doc is titled “nijisanji 4402 - pliskin”, and why i will always refer to this fic as "pliskin" much more than the actual title

by the way here’s a cover of iris that was pretty fitting for this fic. you’ll know when to play it. enjoy

tags: hurt/comfort, reader is a niji vtuber, gender neutral reader, off-collab, mutual pining, misunderstandings, fluff, angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, cuddling, everyone in niji is your wingman, implied uki/ren if you squint but it’s mostly because uki will flirt with 80% of the men in this company

cameos: aia amare, alban knox, mika melatika, nina kosaka, ren zotto, uki violeta, vox akuma, fulgur ovid (mentioned)

⚠️ drinking/alcohol (unspecified if reader drinks alcohol)

⚠️ horror/gore mentions (non-detailed), out of context outlast spoilers i guess?

author's commentary here (spoilers) ↣

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

There are dozens of these videos on YouTube, and never have you come across the same one twice. You would know. You have a bad habit of clicking on them. 

After all, they’re labeled with your name on them, and right next to it, Ike Eveland. You are smart enough to recognize it’s not worth your time and just another compilation of the same moments and fans trying to make a mountain out of a molehill, but your heart says otherwise. To be fair, the compilations were a much more recent development than the one you hid under lock and key. 

When you first joined Nijisanji, some of your senpais sent you messages full of greetings and offers to help you get on your feet as a streamer. Ike was one of those senpais, and whenever you popped into voice calls just to hang out, he was easy to talk to, like an old friend. Naturally, a fast friendship formed, and when you debuted, he was one of the first people you collabed with- and the one with the best reception. Your new fans (‘Bookworms,’ they called themselves, after your name Reader) loved how well your humor bounced off each other, and when weeks passed and you announced another collab on your schedule with Ike, your Bookworms rejoiced. 

Even when you weren’t working, you would still talk to him. He told you about his homeland in the past and his novels, both released and unpublished. He was a storyteller even when he was talking about something as minute as making a sandwich, and whenever you brought up your past and interests, he was an excellent listener. You had your differences, but he always knew what questions to ask so he could understand you better, and you loved the opportunity to ramble. 

It had been nearly three months since you debuted, and four if you count the day you were officially hired and began to build yourself as a streamer. Whenever you look at the endlessly long text history between you and Ike, you have to wonder: is it normal to feel so connected to someone you’ve only known for three-maybe-four months? 

You’re not an idiot. You aren’t about to say Ike is the most important thing in the world to you, but he gets pretty damn close. That terrifies you. You shouldn’t be so attached to someone you barely know. 

But then again, you trust Ike. He’s opened up to you about things he would never say to others, and he keeps your secrets buried in the grave. You’ve lost count of how much advice he’s given you, but you’ve never forgotten a single one, and whenever you feel lost about something you know you can count on him to help you out. 

You grimace, sip out of your drinking glass, and press ‘play’ on the next compilation. 

A cute intro plays with the clipper’s name. Above it are the words Pen and Paper, surrounded by puffy pink hearts. 

That was the duo name between you and Ike, but "ship name" was more accurate among fanwork.

You weren’t exactly unaware about it. Weeks ago, you were surfing Twitter and the site’s algorithm granted you your introduction into Pen and Paper. This was shortly after your first collab with Ike, and after you established your shipping rules with your audience (“I’m fine with anything, as long as the other liver is okay with it!”, you proclaimed, totally oblivious to how soon that would blow up in your face). The fanartist posted a messy black-and-white sketch, but you could make out the pattern of Ike’s scarf wrapped around you and him at the same time, forcing your bodies into close proximity with averted eyes and dusty blushes. 

You appreciated the fanartist’s passion and skill, but the thought of you and Ike as an item sunk in your chest like you swallowed a rock. You swiped past. You went back to your scrolling, found some good thumbnails, and retweeted some cute solo fanart, but before the week ended, you made a private account with a fake name and staked out the tags for Pen and Paper to follow that fanartist.

Damn fanartist. You tried to deny it, and told yourself that you followed their art because you liked the style. But their account was full of ship art, and when Twitter gave you similar users that all worked under the hashtag, you had to face facts. If you wanted to look at it optimistically, at least you figured it out early on before anything had the chance to sour while you were still blissfully ignorant of yourself; even then, that doesn’t make it any harder than it already is.

Besides all the texts, the meetings, the schedules and events, and then including the streams and collabs and the art and the fandom… 

“Why?” You ask out loud in the silence of your room. “Why did I have to fall for my coworker?”

And with audiences of over hundreds of people watching you fall for him, nonetheless!

It’s irritating. You have a job that keeps you motivated to work hard. It’s given you a dedicated fanbase, rare opportunities, and coworkers you all recognize as your friends. Really, finding someone to care for because of it should be a blessing, but it’s such a headache. What if your fanbases get jealous, or even worse, outright hate it? Would you be able to keep up a relationship when you and Ike are dedicated to your careers and streams? Why are you even thinking like this? You scold yourself. There’s no way this would ever work out. It’s all fantasy and smoke and mirrors, because fandoms love love. Shipping is never a reflection of the streamers, just the characters you play. You’re delusional if you think your stupid crush could actually go anywhere.

But fandoms love love. The only comfort you have is being able to pretend something could happen. The ship art is a lie, and so are the fanfics, and the clippers that tag their videos as Pen and Paper are just here for a possibility that never could happen.

The compilation is full of little hints and teases, and if you were being honest with yourself, most of it was more like two friends getting along than actual flirting. But you didn’t trust yourself to see your clumsiness for what it is when Ike’s little laughs are like music to your ears. 

Damage control, you tell yourself. It’s like studying how you play your favorite games. You can pinpoint where you stumble and leave yourself open for attack in Apex, Smash, even Crab Game, and then amend those mistakes the next time you pick up the game. Real life should be no different. Just stop acting so dorky all the time by finding moments of dork in your VODs and avoid them next time you talk to Ike.

This clip was from your second collab with Ike. Captions floated along the bottom of the screen. Ike's captions were in his signature blue.

IKE: You know, there’s a lot of content about us two as a duo.

READER: They call us Pen and Paper, right?

IKE: Yeah, my art tag is flooded with art of the both of us. 

READER: Oh my God, look at the chat. Mine’s full of people saying they love us together. 

IKE: Aww, thanks, Quilldren! I’m happy I can play with Reader too. 

READER: Thank you, Bookworms; thank you, Quilldren. Hey, there’s a lot more overlap than I expected.

IKE: They’re like Bookdren.

READER: Or Quillworms.

IKE: Quillworms, that sounds way better. They’re like our children.

READER: www

IKE: www

Never fucking mind about acting so dorky all the time. You kick yourself for bringing up Pen and Paper, and your giggly laugh. You hate it. A neon sign above your head that says “SIMP” would be less obvious than that stupid schoolkid laugh.

But Ike’s laughter is music, back in the moment and now as you revisit it, and his model’s eyes squint with a wide smile.

He really is an amazing man. If you didn’t know him as well as you do, you’d think he’s perfect. But you’ve seen him in moments of vulnerability, the parts of himself that never shows through on stream and even rarer among his friends. Through it all he manages to keep going, and you admire him so much for sticking to his guns even when he’s expressed all his doubts about himself. The fact that he trusts you enough to let his guard down only adds to how honored you are to know him, and at the same time, the fact that there’s so much trust between you two just makes you feel worse for having a crush on him. You hate keeping secrets like this when you let Ike read you like an open book for everything else, and even just wishing you were something more to him feels like a betrayal of all that trust. You wish you could just be satisfied to know him.

The compilation continues. The next clip is a totsu Fall Guys collab hosted by Fulgur Ovid that you and Ike joined in on. Fuuchan got eliminated early in the match, and spectated on you while the other livers ran around Roll On with players tugging them this way and that. 

You moved around the rotating levels at the perfect sweet spot between two rings, and balanced at the top of the roll as the slime level slowly rose.

A longer wall approached, so you shuffled from one level to another, but another player grabbed your bean avatar and dragged you along to the wall even as you yelled out in panic on Discord. You smashed your keys to struggle, but they had an advantage, and it was clear the wall would push you down to the slime for an impending elimination.

That is, until a familiar Miku bean grabbed the other side of your avatar, and pulled the other way towards the ring that would save your life. Resigned, your attacker backed off and barely dodged out of the way while Ike’s Miku bean brought you back to safety.

The other two livers in the game were too noisy to notice you. Fuuchan was commentating every move you made, and when Ike saved you, he said, “Ike coming in clutch, let’s fucking go.”

Your recorded self didn’t hear him at all, though. You swooned, “Ike, my hero!”

Meanwhile in the present, you wanted to puke. You meant for that to sound like an over-the-top joke, but you crush is getting so serious that it sounds less like a bit and more like how you gush about him in private. 

At least Fuuchan’s audio was louder than everyone else, since he was the host, and the other two livers were preoccupied with their own game to notice your lovey-dovey tone and how Ike laughed music at you. It was bad enough clippers transcribed your words in captions, but you weren’t sure how you would handle it if those three picked up on you and your dumb crush. The less that know about your workplace romance, the better.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

“Reader,” Aia coos. Even with audio only, you could tell her eyes were sparkling. “You didn’t tell me you had a workplace romance!”

Well, so much for that plan. You froze over. “Who told you that?”

Mika answers way too quickly. “It’s Alban’s fault.”

“Fuck off, Mika, you brought it up first!”

“You said it though!”

Man, you were already starting to regret joining VC today. You finished your offline work a lot faster than expected, so when you realized that three of your close friends in the company were all online in VC together while Alban privately streamed a rhythm game, you figured you would join the call while you prepared dinner. 

But if that was your greeting, you needed to mentally prepare for the wild interrogation you were about to experience. At least Aia, despite her love for drama, knew how to navigate these sorts of things delicately. And you don’t mean to call Mika and Alban bad friends—they were the exact opposite, in fact—but they were much nosier than Aia ever came across.

“Okay, but Reader just asked who leaked it, and didn’t deny it,” Aia says. “So that means it must be true!”

Scratch that. Aia is the worst out of all of them.

“I hate you guys. No hello or anything, just gossip about my love life,” you lament.

She gasps, and if her eyes were sparkling before, then roses bloomed around her as she spoke. “It’s love?”

Mika shrieks like a banshee. “Oh hell no, you’re in love and you didn’t tell us?!”

“It’s not love. It’s nothing!”

“Nah-uh, Reader, no running away from it, we know,” Alban says. “Better to just get it all out in the open than pretend like nothing’s up.”

“You’re just saying that because you want to snoop.”

“I’m being serious. Keeping stuff bottled up deteriorates you, especially when love’s involved.” He missed a note. “Shit. And yeah, okay, I want some gossip, but I have a point and you know it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, I blew a full combo just to say that!”

“Can I add? In case you forgot, Reader, we’re all in the same company,” Mika says. “Sure, I might be in a different branch, but who knows? Maybe we can help.”

“And fuck you too.” You sigh in defeat. As vitriolic as your shared humor was, these three were still some of your best friends, and you know they don’t mean any harm. “Ugh, I hate this. This is confidential information. Like, CIA levels of confidential. If I tell you guys, you can’t tell a single soul about it. Understand?”

The three all chime in agreement. And unfortunately, you trust them. You take advantage of your coworkers swearing themselves to secrecy to hype yourself up and just rip off the band-aid. “It’s Ike.”

“We know.”

“What the hell do you mean, you know?!”

“It’s obvious,” Aia says. Your heart hammers in your chest. Then she sputters for a moment, like she realized she might’ve hit a soft spot. “Well, you have to focus on it to see it, but once you see it, it’s hard to ignore. You two go well together.”

Alban pitches in. “Agreed. I’m not even gonna be subtle about it, you and Ike have great chemistry. I’m happy for you two.”

“Okay, I guess.” Your eyes drift away from your prepared ingredients to the corner of your kitchen. “But I don’t know. Are you sure? Because I feel like I always act like an idiot whenever I’m around him. And I doubt he’d ever feel the same way.”

“Wait.” Aia pauses. “You’re… not dating?”

“No. Just a crush. Not love, not dating, nothing. And it’s never going to be anything more than that because it’s just a big stupid crush on my coworker, who doesn’t even live close enough to visit, and this is all a recipe for disaster.”

She doesn’t say anything about that. Actually, none of them do. Even Alban pressed pause on his game, and the Discord stream went motionless as your words sunk in. 

Mika is the one to break the silence. “You’re shitting me.”

“That’s the truth. Happy?”

“No, like, you’re shitting me, there’s no way.”

“Mikaaa.” Alban drags out her name as he scolds her. 

“Hey, I’m just saying, that’s crazy, especially since—“

“Don’t tell Reader that!”

“Tell me what?” 

“We thought you were already a thing. You know, dating, in a relationship, whatever,” Mika clarifies. It hits you like a punch to the gut. “Or at least that you had something going on, and kept it secret so it wouldn’t be awkward for everyone else to work with you two. Which, by the way, we’re all chill with, so if, hypothetically, you decided to hypothetically go for it, we would hypothetically cheer you on and set off hypothetical fireworks. I’d rent a food truck.”

Alban resumes his game. “Yeah, what she said. Go get that hypothetical novelist bussy.”

“Don’t hypothetically talk about my brother like that.”

“You’re sure this is okay?” You ask. “Mika, I know you and Ike are close. This isn’t going to make anything weird, is it?”

“You’re fine, Reader. If I had problems, I would’ve cornered you and threatened you over text ages ago when I figured it out.”

“That’s another thing. How did you guys know?”

Aia pipes up first. “I know I said it was obvious, but I think that’s just because we know each other since we’re good friends. You two just go together, you know? It’s hard to explain, but whenever Reader and Ike-senpai are in the same room you think, ‘those two would be cute,’ and then you realize they are cute, right there in the moment. And you talk a lot faster on stream whenever you’re both on the same page. Almost as fast as me.”

 “Plus, it’s really common to see both of you on VC at the same time, and you’re always happy whenever he shows up,” Mika affirms. “Alban says whenever one of you enters the call the other is soon to follow.” 

“It’s true. You talk fast whenever you talk to him on VC too, not just stream. And your laugh kind of changes?”

“Dammit, I knew my laugh was my tell. This sucks. This seriously sucks.”

“It might not be all that bad,” Mika says. “Who knows, maybe things might end up better than you expect. You should tell him.”

“No way,” you fire back. “There no way he’d actually reciprocate. And I know you guys are fine with me asking, but Ike himself is just going to reject me, and it’s going to be awkward, and literally everyone in the company who has ever talked to us will be able to tell something’s up.”

“They won’t be weird,” Aia insists. “We won’t, either, and Ike-senpai is a good guy. Even if it doesn’t work out, he wouldn’t leave you out to dry like that.”

“You don’t know. None of you have ever been in this situation.”

“That’s true, but there’s always a chance.”

“If you ask me, it sounds more like you’re afraid of what you think would happen instead of what rationally would,” Alban says. He’s still laser-focused on his game. “I dunno. If you’re really set on getting over it, then go ahead and ignore it, but that’s just going to eat at you for who knows how long before your crush starts to fade.”

“Well, I didn’t ask.”

“Fine. Forget I said anything.”

You regret the acidic tone in your voice the second you said it, but Alban was off in his own world of music. He’d tell you if he had a problem with how you spoke to him, but you still feel gross about your knee-jerk reaction. 

You’re just… defensive. Yep, that’s the word. Whenever you’re this interested in someone, you put your walls up and protect yourself from letting anyone worm through and hit a weak point. 

Aia hums like an analyst. “Just keep it in mind, Reader. Not everything is out to get you.”

You know your friends just wanted the best for you, but things just aren’t as simple as they’d like to imagine it. It’s none of their business, anyways. It was pure coincidence that they figured out your thoughts on Ike, and that means none of them have any real authority to advise you on your love life.

“I think we’re done talking about this,” you assert.

“Well, you heard ‘em. Pack it up, show’s over.” Mika changed the subject. “Hey, did you guys know if you try to break open a freshly boiled egg, it explodes?”

Alban slams his hands on his keyboard so loudly that you hear the switches over his noise suppression. The stream goes from a string of Awesome! notes to nothing but misses as he abandons the game. “YES. Yes, actually, I DO know.”

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

“MEAT! WANTS MEAT! WANTS MEAT! MEAT!”

“AAAAAAAAHHHH!”

The stream is to the birds. Fuck that noise. Godspeed to the Bookworms, they’ll need it, but not nearly as much as you. 

When you were settling on a schedule, the last undecided spot for the week was Friday’s stream. That simply wouldn’t do. Friday nights kick off the weekend, and the break from school and work is prime time for a wide audience, so pretty much everyone in Nijisanji reserves their juiciest streams for the weekend. You’re no exception.

…Except for the fact that you didn’t have a clue about what to do for Friday’s stream. One Twitter poll and conveniently timed Steam sale later, you published your schedule with a game your fans voted on: Outlast.

You walked in knowing it would be a horror game, and you figured it would be fine. After all, you’ve played games from Chilla’s Art before, and a few quirky indie psychological releases here and there. You wouldn’t call yourself a stone-faced horror lover that can keep a straight face at anything, but aside from a few creepy moments in those game, you’ve kept your cool relatively well. 

Outlast threw all that out the window. You realized almost immediately that you had no idea how to handle the primal fear of the chase. 

Footsteps pound against a metal floor. You plead for help in the emptiness of your home as you smash the controls, as if that would make your character move the cabinet over the door any faster. Screams resonate in tune between you and the chained man in the room with you, and all the while, the howling of your pursuer grows louder and louder as he gets closer.

You finally uncover the door and dash through. Tremors run though all your thoughts while your heart beats overtime. 

You still haven’t gotten used to all the jumpscares, even though you’re at the edge of your seat and ready to start running yourself. A fork in the road approaches, and when you start off one direction, you’re greeted by a bloodied man in the distance. “AAAHH!”

Faster than light, you slam the key to the other hall and book it. You spot a new storage container to shove in front of the door just in time for text to appear on the screen: Look for pushable objects to block doors.

“No shit, why wouldn’t you tell me that before, oh my God, aaaaah!” The screams—from both the voice actors and your own cries—grate against your eardrums while chase music thunders in-between the gasps for air. 

As you grab the container and start to push, you mash the pause button. When the menu appears, you lean back in your chair and run your hands over your face. Your model pouts cutely while the real you whimpers. The mic barely picks it up.

You take a breath before groaning in fear and pain. “Guys. I don’t think I can do this…” Another groan as you trail off. “This game is so much. Give me a second.”

As you raise yourself back from your chair, it’s with a slump forward. Your chat is full of headpat emotes and hearts in your color, along with some quick words of courage. A few are recommending you take a break. “Thanks, Bookworms. I’m so afraid, but I’m committed and I don’t want to just leave it here.”

Your eyes flutter closed as you take a sip of water to clear your head. The cold drink startles you out of the dingy asylum atmosphere, but the screaming still lingers between your ears. “You know what? Who else is online right now? Maybe I need someone in VC to hold me to this.”

The emojis in chat slowly patter out as your viewers go back to text. Looks like most of your Bookworms like the idea of calling someone else while you stream the game. Some of their messages catch your eye. 

gatamiizuus: you can call ike :ReaderHeadpat: 

messXed-up!: ike!!

lunasmortas: what about ike?

A few more chats mention Ike, and while usually you’d be irritated they mentioned another liver out of the blue, your shoulders still relax at the sight of his name. “Wait, Ike? Is Ike here?”

You scroll back in the chat history, and search for any mod messages. Sure enough, barely a minute ago while you were still being chased:

Ike Eveland 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : GANBARE!

You cling onto that message like a lifeline. Ike is familiar. Ike is comforting. And most importantly, Ike would never call you a pussy.

Chat floods over with his name while you check the official Nijisanji Discord server. Almost everyone in Nijisanji sets their status to offline by default, and Ike is one of them, but you still scan through the member list anyways, praying a little green indicator will light up by his icon.

His status doesn’t change, but before you can even click on his profile, your Direct Messages tab gains a notification. He just messaged you.

Ike Eveland: Watching your stream right now

Ike Eveland: Are you okay?

You exhale. Ike is the most dependable guy you know, even when it’s pure coincidence he was watching your stream while you freaked out. 

With your heart still in your throat, you respond.

Me: uuuuuuugh i guess

Me: the game is really scary

Me: i don’t want to cancel the stream but i don’t think i can play it by myself 😭

Ike Eveland: 🫂    | 🫂 1 |

Ike Eveland: Would you feel better if I called you?

Me: i was just about to ask    | 👌 1 |

Me: you don’t have to if you don’t want to tho!! i don’t want to be a nuisance lol

Ike Eveland: Don’t worry I offered to!

Ike Eveland started a voice call.

“Ikeee!” The second the call starts, all your restraint goes forgotten. “Ike, I was so scared!”

You babble on about everything you’ve endured up to this point: the gore, the grime, and the patients in the asylum that hunt you like animals. 

 “I’m here, it’s alright now,” he assures you. “I’m here, okay? Take your time, you’re safe.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m relieved. But it was so scary.” You sink and bury yourself in the collar of your shirt. “You’ve streamed this before, and kept a cool head the entire time, right? How do you do it?”

“Well, it wasn’t my first time playing, for starters. Everyone gets freaked out at first. It’s a horror game, Reader, it’s okay to react to it. I remember the first time I played it, it scared me so bad I had to quit after half an hour.” He giggles a bit at himself. The sound is comforting. “That was a few years ago. I think I had nightmares about it, until I realized I needed to know the rest of the story. ”

Your voice is small. “That was really brave of you.”

“I avoided it for days. I doubt that’s brave.”

“It’s braver than calling someone just to get the guts to play the game.”

“Hey, don’t put my friend Reader down just to bring me up.” He keeps his tone light to let you know you’re allowed to smile. “Being able to face your fears is plenty on its own, and you shouldn’t be devaluing that. How long have you been at it?”

“A little over two hours?” You glance at the stream monitor, and ignore the chat as much as you can. You still register the hearts in your color and his signature blue. “I don’t know. I did a lot of pausing, too, so it’s probably less than that…”

“But you were still able to stream for that long. Remember, I could only play for thirty minutes during my first time! You’re stronger than you think you are.”

You avert your eyes from your stream setup. You feel painfully seen, but the chat is nothing to you. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

“Then I’ll be here to remind you. Is that okay?”

“I’d like that.” You return to the screen, and in the darkness of the blurred labyrinth, you see your reflection stare back. Your hair is disheveled from how you kept thrashing around in reaction to the game and your shoulders are high with tension, but only now did you realize how the corners of your lips rose after the call started. Ike really got to you. “Thank you, Ike, you’re so considerate. I appreciate you a lot. You’re a really good guy.”

He chuckles slowly, soft like a blanket. Your shoulders ease. Ike’s words are just as soft, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s nervous too. “Haha, um. Yeah. Thank you?” He doesn’t take compliments well, but they’re true, and you hope he knows it as well as you do. He clears his throat. “Ahem. Um, how are you feeling?”

“Not great, but better. I want to try again.”

“You’ve got this, Reader, you can do it.” Ike is still quiet, but enthusiastic. “You can do it!”

You go shaky. “Okay, okay, okay, okay, okay.”

But you still press Return To Game.

And when you scream barely five seconds later, Ike is still calm, and you hone in on his voice as you persevere.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Just as you go to bed, you realize that you basically just made a fool of yourself in front of your crush by getting scared at a game he’s already conquered. 

You slam a pillow over your face and groan.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Ike lands an all-out attack just in time to check the chat and the swarm of viewers that just joined. “Oh, Reader! Thank you for the raid, it’s good to see you! Welcome, everybody.”

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : take care of my bookworms for me? i’m getting milk

“Of course. They’re our Quillworms, after all.” You go fuzzy. He remembered the fan name! “Have a good break, Reader! Rest well.”

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : 👍

It was the end of the week, and the stream you just finished was the last on your schedule. You announced a few days ago that you would take a break for a little more than two weeks so you could catch up on offline work as well as rest, and the Bookworms sent you off with a lot of love. It’ll be hard for some of your diehard fans, but you’re sure they’ll manage. You have a feeling it’ll be easier than they expect. 

“Speaking of breaks, I haven’t finished my schedule yet. I think I’ll wait a day or two to post it.” The stream cracks in red and black as Ike’s party in Persona 5 Royal clobbers the enemy Shadows. Monsters bleed out behind the protagonist’s cocky smirk. “I’ll be offline for the next two days, so I’ll have some time to think about it.”

Ike mashes through the battle results, and sets back off into exploring the palace. His stream fades into background noise as you get back to the task at hand. 

You sent a few messages to some of your other coworkers regarding your break. Next was finishing some paperwork for management, and reaching out to others that needed access to the files. Sure, your time off was for offline work, but the work you had to get done would only take an afternoon at most. You wanted to meet even the far-off deadlines as soon as possible so you could be properly free for the rest of your vacation.

By the time you finished your paperwork, your coworkers were able to respond to you. A group chat full of other livers had a new response every minute about the next two weeks, and Aia sent you a QR code that would let you save some time and money on your flight. 

Ike ended yet another super-long P5R stream just a few minutes after you grabbed all your luggage, got to the airport, and made it to your terminal. You had some time to kill, but you were sick of the headphones over your ears.

Not to mention, you were waiting for the fans to catch up on the real reason why you were on break.

Curiously, you log into your private Twitter—you don’t plan to interact with anything but you’re always paranoid about your online presence—and start searching for the code words fans think Vtubers have no idea about. Symbols replace letters and names morph into sounds while emojis speak volumes.  

The Stargazers don’t mention it at all. That’s to be expected, after all. Their oshi goes on break often, so nothing seems too out of the ordinary. Besides, you wouldn’t put it past them to have even more intricate subtweets than what you’re looking for.

Only a few of Nina’s Honeybunnies put the pieces together at first, but then you check Quilldren subtweets. As it turns out, when Ike mentioned he’d be taking a few days off, a few of his fans noticed how Nina was going to be offline at the same time, and a smaller fraction of those compared how Mika had yet to release a schedule. 

Underneath your face mask, you smile. With the career being dependent on both anonymity and your voice, you wore a nondescript black mask through the entire airport in case someone recognized you, just as well as to hide the tiny giggle that always bubbles up whenever you watch your fans scramble around theorizing. They don’t have all the pieces, after all. None of the Aiadmirers nor the Renvaders even considered it.

They’ll figure it out in time nonetheless. Uki and Nina are close to landing, and Aia was the first to disembark her plane. The rest of your friends are set to arrive after you, and besides, Vox should be ending his last stream of the week right now. You’re sure the Kindred will start plotting in the next hour, provided their oshi didn’t give them too big of a hint about his plans for the next week as he’s known to do.

You board your plane and settle into your seat, ready to nap the flight away. You’ll need the rest, after all. It’s about time you join an off-collab.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Nina doesn’t even get the chance to look away from her phone before she gets a rush of replies on her first voice tweet.

She doesn’t bother to read them anyways. She’s too busy howling out the lyrics to “Wannabe.”

It’ll be hard to discern all the voices. Ike’s high range is always easy to pick out, but Vox blends in as a bass, and you can always hear Mika’s grin through her singing. Ren and Aia are the furthest from the phone, and as loud as they sing, they’re still drowned out along with you, Uki, and Nina herself.

Mika chooses the wrong time to look around the karaoke booth. While Aia sings passionately about what she wants (what she really, really wants), her body language crumples and rises like an electrocuted high school theater kid. The ghost has a hiccuping, sweeping laugh that overpowers half of the singers, and then Aia snorts at herself when Mika covers her mouth, which gets Vox to snort even louder, and before you know it, it’s just Uki and Nina doing their damndest not to break. Even then, Nina’s voice wavers along to the Spice Girls as she resists a laugh, and Uki’s eyes are squeezed shut smiling.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The bar stool slides out from the counter so quietly that you wonder if the Airbnb owner knew just how handy it would be for a house full of streamers on vacation. You lean forward while Mika tells a story about how she, Aia, Ren and you went out for a coffee run, and crossed paths with some teenagers with matching Iluna keychains on their backpacks. 

Speaking of Iluna, their represents sat together on the couch. Aia set her plate and fork on the coffee table, not a single pool of sauce left over from the pasta dinner Vox and Uki prepared together. Somehow Ren made enough room in his luggage to bring along a teal ukulele, and idly strums along. Uki sits between Ren and the armrest, swirling the last of his pasta between his fork.

Across from them, Vox and Nina took ownership of two plush chairs that could only fit one person each. Each chair was next to a corner table, and they stacked their plates on top of one another to make room for a jug of orange juice and two cocktail glasses. Ike took a bottle of rum and poured it into his soda, then slid it back to the corner table before pulling up the bar stool next to you. 

“It was like, one of them had a clear phone case and held it out to show the others a video,” Mika says. She perched on top of the counter itself, next to her travel microphone and the second-nastiest kitchen stream setup you’ve ever seen. She was no Scarle, but so many wires stretched across the island and along the way that it was just easier for her to climb onto the polished granite to keep an eye on the chat. “Smack-dab in the center was a PNG of Vox. And then a bunch of tinier Voxes around it. And here’s how you know it’s bad, you could see the color of the phone itself through the case because it’s clear, right? It was red. Red! That’s commitment!”

“I’m telling you, Mika, there’s no way they got a red phone just because of Vox,” Aia says. “That’s got to be a coincidence.”

Vox hums into his glass. “No, they absolutely did. You mean to tell me your fans don’t spoil you rotten and buy new phones just because they’re your color?”

“My color is white, Vox, like every phone ever is my color!”

“Still, I’ve never seen Aia go so quiet so fast.” Ren’s ukulele twangs as he grins. His fangs were just as prominent in real life. “It was awesome.”

“It was scary, but funny,” you say. “We saw the Vox case and the Iluna keychains, and all of us just went silent. And we all had masks, too, so it was like, one moment you could hear Ren’s fuckboy laugh, and the second we saw the case, we all put up our masks and went quieter than the grave.”

Ren palms the neck of the ukulele and mutes the chord in mock offense. “Hey! I’m not a fuckboy!”

“Didn’t say you were, but if you want to out yourself like that, be my guest. They’d chop off your horns and sell them like Kyo.”

“One of them had an Aster keychain.” Ren bitterly resumes playing. Uki sets his plate on the table and drapes himself over the alien’s shoulder as he opened up his phone to check the off-collab’s live tag. The stream was supposed to be a live Q&A, but was so easy to talk to everyone that the questions often turned into conversation before someone remembered the stream. “If Aia or I said anything, we’d be fucked.”

“Imagine how fucked we would’ve been if Vox woke up in time to go with us,” you say.

Ike snickers. “Is it bad that I would’ve paid money to see that?”

The two Luxiem members get into a playful argument over who would win in a fight: all the effort Nijisanji and its employees put into protecting their privacy, or one silly phone case. Ren’s riffing turns into a simple rendition of “Iris” and Nina hums along from across the living room. The ukulele is slow and unique enough to not be mistaken for the original, but you wonder if those two would be able to avoid copyright entirely.

Nonetheless, the vibe is comfortable. You’re miles away from home, but in a room with some of your closest friends in the world, it’s like you never left. Truthfully, it’s more like you’ve finally found your place. The music just feels right, like it was written for this moment, and Aia leans back into the couch while Nina sways in her seat to the jaunty little ukulele. Ren looks as cheery as his instrument sounds, especially with a peaceful Uki nuzzled up to him. 

While Ike and Vox go at it, Mika props her chin up with both hands and watches them like a reality TV show. There’s a glint in Vox’s eyes as Ike drums up a snide response, the only sane man to the demon’s goofiness. He brings his rum and coke to his lips like punctuation, a silent so, what? hidden in the boozy soda. 

Vox knows how to run his mouth, and he launches into one of his patented anecdotes. While all eyes are on the demon and the chat hones in on his voice, you focus on how Ike tilts his head up to drink. His neck stretches out from the collar of his black band tee, and with each sip, his Adam’s apple bobs. 

You’ve always thought he was good-looking on stream, but he’s gorgeous in person, all long lines and graceful features, and cameras can’t capture the tiny little freckles drizzled down the back of his neck. You didn’t even know he had freckles. It was only after you saw him for the first time that you noticed pale, reddish dots all over his nose and cheeks, fading out by his temples and the arch of his lips. Spending the day walking around in the sun from place to place revealed more whenever the wind flicked his jacket collar out right. They scatter at his nape, right below the blue tips of his hair, and meet one another further down his back, or so you’d presume. Without the jacket, you can catch marks spread out along his arms with distance between one another, and his shirt sleeve starts right where the freckles cluster together. You can only imagine how far down they go.

You avert your eyes. You can’t think about what’s under the shirt when you’re sitting right next to him, and certainly not while on stream, even if chat can’t see you check him out!

Unfortunately, the side opposite of Ike is the one with Ren and Uki. Those two are idyllic. Without a care in the world, it seems. You envy how easily Uki can act on what he wants, even if you know he doesn’t see Ren like how you see Ike. Ren doesn’t mind it at all, either. He literally lives by the rhythm of his own ukulele. 

Ike lowers his drink with his eyes closed, as if it would make the refreshing feeling last longer. His eyelashes are the same ashen color as his hair. Gold gleams between his ears and on the chain of his glasses.

Possessed by the music, and distracted by the rambling, you become one with the background and lean along Ike’s arm.

It’s an indulgent dip into the waters, but shallow compared to all you feel for him. Ever since you met Ike in person it’s been easier to control yourself around him, and if anything, you’re reminded that this is the man you’ve gotten the closest to in both career and friendship. The only barrier between your cheek and his body is his shirt sleeve, but your arm rests against his forearm, right where the freckles taper off. There’s no resistance at all as you make yourself comfortable in the crook of his arm. 

But you hold yourself back. Even though the off-collab made you feel gutsier than before, you think that you’d pass out if you tried anything else. Besides, you feel so at peace against his arm, but too afraid to look up and see his reaction. 

The blend of peace and fear churns in your heart as it dawns on you: you were wrong to call this a crush. It runs far deeper than you could’ve imagined.

Vox says something with finality. His voice snaps you out of your thoughts, but the words go unregistered. As he spoke, his eyes drifted around with his body language, but he snaps to look at Ike expectantly. You swear his smirk gets a little more mischievous as he does. 

The air stills, even though you know eyes aren’t on you, just the man you lean on. It stays frozen as Ike waits to respond. You still don’t have the heart to look up at him and break your selfish, unrequited fantasy.

You just want to stay here, unresisted.

Ike deadpans. “Anyways.”

Just like that, the moment is over, and Mika laughing at Vox striking out clears the air around you. But Vox’s eyes fall to you for just a split second as he moves in his seat. Frost settles down your back at the thought that he knows, but there’s a solid chance he hasn’t connected the dots. You pray he hasn’t.

Then you see Fox Mom herself right behind him, and she shoots you a shit-eating grin with a hand over her heart and a glass in the other. 

No doubt about it. You’re screwed. 

The frost turns to glaciers and burns into hot shame all at once. You love Nina, you really do, and you’d always consider her a good friend before coworker. However, she’s known for fishing around for any crumb of fanservice, and she gets straight to the point whenever she eggs it on, not to mention how she loves to tease her kids on just about anything. You are never going to hear the end of this if she can help it.

You really don’t know what you expected. It feels like everyone’s staring at you, even the chat. You can’t help but feel bitter. How come Uki can flirt with as many guys as he wants, you wonder, but I can’t even touch Ike without getting eyed up? 

You know the answer, but it doesn’t do anything to help the bitterness and the embarrassment, and how much you want to hide. On instinct, you take advantage of the warmth and nestle yourself deeper into Ike to hide your face, just in time as he curls his head above yours.

Nina makes a sound kind of like a fork stuck in the garbage disposal for the briefest of moments before smashing her lips together and bringing her glass to her mouth like a mute button. As if you didn’t feel seen enough. 

“Find any other questions, Uki-senpai?” Aia’s nose is buried in her phone, and God, you could kiss her for changing the subject. As much as she poked fun about you about Ike, she was still a total angel and a ride-or-die all at once. 

“Oh, I have questions,” Uki says. Luckily, he’s graceful enough to leave it at that. “Twitter wants to know first impressions for everyone that hasn’t off-collabed before.”

Ren speaks. “I think the only person I’ve done an off-collab with before is Nina, so is it cool if I go first?”

Aia gestures for him to go on. She’s still stuck on her phone as he continues.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, but you ignore it. Then again and again and again, and when you finally check it, you understand why. When Aia, Mika and Alban first heard you spill your feelings for Ike, they made a group chat dedicated to wingmanning—or at least, that’s what they pitched it as. They tease you more than anything else, and as irritating as it gets… you have to admit, it’s nice to confide in them, and nice to know they wouldn’t hold it against you.

Anyways, Alban’s going apeshit. 

Group Chat: 💙 PENANDPAPER REAL 2K4EVER 💕 (4 Members)

Aia Amare: image.png    | 📌 2 |

Alban Knox: AKDHSLSJDKSHSA

Alban Knox: AASDFSDF

Alban Knox: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Alban Knox: AAAAAAAAAA

Alban Knox: HAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAA AAAAAAA KYAAAAAAAA

Alban Knox: 💕💕💕💙💕💙💕💙💙💙💕💙💕💕💙

Alban Knox: 🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳

Alban Knox: HOW ARE YOU GUYSS NOT LOSING YUOR MINDSA BOUT THIS

Aia Amare: I AM

Me: omfg did you seriously get a picture of us 

Alban Knox: WHAT ARE YOU DOINGGGGGGG DONT CHDCK THIS GC    | 👆 1 |

Me: wtf did you expect you’re spamming 

Alban Knox: YOU AR ELITERALLY CUDDLNG GO FOCUS ON THAY JOT US

Me: we are not cuddling

Alban Knox: YOU ARE

Aia Amare: YOU ARE

Mika Melatika pinned a message.     | 🖕 1 |

Me: mika wth you too? 😭 

Mika Melatika: image.png

Me: did you srsly take a selfie with us in the background

Mika Melatika: YES this needs to be immortalized

Me: you people suck    | 🥰 3 |

Alban Knox: GET THAT NOVELIST BUSSY!!!!

Aia Amare: As if you aren’t about to save that picture yourself~

Alban Knox: NOVELUSSY!!!!!!!!!

Fuck, she got you there. You cast a pointed look at the angelic maiden herself, or at least as pointed as you can be with a man you’re scared to love wrapped around you. She looks as satisfied as a cat pushing a glass off a counter. 

You set your phone on ‘do not disturb’ and placed it behind you on the counter with a huff.

“Reader, honey, how about you?” Nina leans forward, half-lidded and as sultry as ever. She swirled her drink around in its glass. “It’s your first off-collab ever, right? I’d love to hear what you have to say.”

“Oh, well, um.” Your brain struggles to catch up. “First impressions, right…”

Aia slips you a thumbs up. You’re going to rip her a new one after this. Her, and Mika, and definitely Nina; this is the most subtle Nina’s ever been but you can tell she’s fishing for an answer here. You can take your friends figuring it out, embarrassing as it is, but you are not about to expose yourself to thousands of live viewers. 

“It’s kind of crazy actually meeting up with everyone,” you start. “I’ve known them for so long, but all online, and being able to match the voice to the face in real life, I don’t think I can actually describe it. It’s kind of surreal, but it feels so nice to just talk to them in person. Aia, Nina and Uki were the first people I met up with, and man, those three are a sight. I know everyone says it, but Uki is absolutely the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. Nina and Aia are really pretty, too. Hey, Aiadmirers, did you know when your oshi laughs, she looks just as cute as she sounds?”

Aia yells. “Reader, shut up!”

“Then stop being so cute all the time, you dork!” 

“I’m not a dork! I’m cool!”

You resume, satisfied with your revenge. “Mika and Vox are both really chill. They’re kind of quiet, so if you’re just walking by, you’d think they’re two normal people just going about their days. But whenever we talk it’s always something insane. Vox sounds like a dignified gentleman and Mika is kind of like that cool girl that you want to be friends with, but if you actually pay attention, Mika’s showing Vox a picture of her insides during surgery while he’s reciting something about the Bite of ‘87. And Ren is probably one of the most straightforward people you’ll ever see. He’s so optimistic, and really expressive, too, even though most of the expressions are all different types of smiles.”

“What’s your impression of Ike?” Nina asks.

What does she expect you to say to that one, that screens can’t capture how the sun glitters through his glassy green eyes? Hearing him say your name in-person sends shockwaves through your body? How you want to kiss every little freckle he’s never mentioned before and keeps hidden under long sleeves, even though it’s the beautiful skin he lives in daily?

“Same old Ike. He’s exactly like how I expected,” you say. A total fib. 

She cocks her head. “Really? Even after all the time you’ve spent together?”

“I’m trying to hang out with everyone.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

Cornered. Nina takes a long, slow drink from her glass as you scramble for a quick answer that won’t immediately out you. “Whenever I talk to Ike, he’s really emotive. You can tell what he’s thinking before he says anything. He also has a good sense of style, so he’s fun to go shopping with, and honestly, fun to do anything with. He’s someone you can always have a good time with, and always makes you feel so comfortable around him. Ike’s magnetic.”

Mika muffles a coo behind you. You’re going to kill her if you survive this stream.

“That’s very sweet, Reader,” Nina replies. “Hear that, Ike?”

“Yes, I did.” He sounds strained.

“Got any feelings about it?”

“Yes? I mean—er, thanks?” You feel Ike’s head rustle. “I, umm. What am I supposed to say about that?”

“I don’t know. I just think that about you, that’s all…”

“Aww, cute. I love that you love each other,” Nina muses. 

Ike spits out, “It’s not like that!” Just as you admit, “Yeah, I guess so.”

You process his words too late, though, and even as you sputter the ukulele music cuts out just in time with Nina and Mika’s unfiltered fangirl squeals. Ren’s palms mute the chord as his eyes go wide. Aia is already on her phone with her jaw to the floor and Uki throws a look at Nina while he mouths, did that just happen? 

“I-I mean!” Your throat goes dry and Ike lurches away from you when Vox gleefully shakes Nina like a rag doll. “I—wh—Ike, I mean, of course I love you—“ Mika screams again— “As a friend!”

When you turn to face Ike, he’s curled up into a ball on the barstool with his shirt collar over his face. Even as you feel the blood rush to your face, you keep shouting. That’s all you have left. You’re live. “Like, we’re best friends on and off stream and I love you!”

He mutters something, but you can’t tell what. Only his neck and the tips of his ears poke out from his shirt. Were they always that red?

You repeat yourself. “I said, we’re best friends and I love you, so much!”

“And I said, I know, thank you, I love you too, Reader!” Ike jerks out to face you as he cries. He looks like a tomato. 

Then he buries his face into his hands and squeaks like how he always does when something’s too cute to handle, or he’s got too many emotions he needs to let out. “You can’t see me, I’m too embarrassed. I’m hiding forever and I’m never coming out.”

You hope the ground swallows you up and you never have to confront this moment again. 

Uki hisses under his breath and muffles Ren's ukulele. You don't know what he said, but you realize all too late that the alien prince himself was laying down the first few notes of “Fly Me To The Moon.”

While you slump and fold your arms over your face on the counter in pure embarrassment, Aia stands up and commandeers the mic. She slaps a hand over Mika’s mouth to muffle the scream. “Man, bummer that Ike-senpai is gone from us forever, but you know what else might be gone forever if you don’t get it now? The sponsor for this stream, our current limited-edition Nijisanji voice packs!”

And as much as you could kiss her yet again for changing the subject, you can’t get over how everything blew up in the last five minutes, and groan into your arms instead. 

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The stream passed, luckily, without a hitch after that. No one asked any questions, but it was pretty damn clear everyone in the room had an idea of what just happened, and the impending shitstorm. In fact, it was so clear that when you stalked off to your room to sulk, no one made a fuss, and when you realized ten minutes into your sulking session that you left your phone on the counter, you figured it wasn’t worth it to show your face again until after you finished your pity party. 

The entire time, you laid in your bed with a pillow over your face so you could pretend like you were being absorbed into the sweet embrace of death. Overdramatic, sure, but you figured you were justified. 

Without your phone, you had no way to check exactly how bad the fallout was on Twitter. The poor Pen and Paper tags were sure to be flooded with fans imagining a happy ending to that stint you’d never be able to experience yourself, like salt in the wound. Not to mention, it was a huge seven-person off-collab! It didn’t just end with the Pen and Paper fans. No, it would extend past the Bookworms and the Quilldren, and certainly to the rest of the fandoms with an oshi in this Airbnb. Maybe even the offshoot viewers who don’t regularly watch your content, but made an exception for the off-collab, or, you know, the ones who have no idea who you or Ike are but can’t get enough of the whole accidental-confession-live-on-stream thing. Forget Nina; the entire Vtuber community is never, ever, ever going to live this down. 

Ike sounded so distraught, too. You wanted to kick yourself for it. Not only did you make a fool of yourself, but he got caught in the crossfire just because you didn’t catch yourself slipping. Not like he’d reciprocate anyways. He’s always been bad at taking compliments, but you keep thinking about how embarrassed he was about you loving him. 

All your frustration and humiliation coursed through the darkness under your pillow, and you stew so bitterly that you don’t even dream when you fall asleep. 

You just wake up groggy and exhausted, but too restless to go back to sleep. You look out the window, and the stars have barely come out to play in the early night sky. 

As much as you’d hate to admit it, that impromptu nap made you tired of brooding. Besides, you can’t hide from your friends forever. Hopelessly in love or not, they’re still your friends, and even if you decided to stream during the trip, this off-collab was always about spending time with them instead of worrying over your online presence. 

It takes you half an hour to hype yourself up, but eventually, you open your door and step out into the hall. 

You can already hear voices further away in the Airbnb. You place one of them as Nina, and after her, a baritone that could only belong to Vox. 

“…Fuck Twitter, they’re going to forget about it in two weeks or less anyways.” You overhear as you walk down the hall of rooms and closer to the living room. You’ve heard Vox passionate before, but never this serious as well. “Besides, what exactly did they say?”

A mumble. You can’t place the words, but you bristle when you recognize the voice. That’s unmistakably Ike. 

“See? Again, I’m so sorry. I was out of line, and I forgot my place. I shouldn’t have interrogated them like that,” Nina says. “But you’re overthinking what they said.”

Another mumble. By now, you’re in the kitchen. You lift your phone from where you left it, and hold your fingers over the half of the screen where your notifications appear as you check the time. It’s barely 11 PM. 

The kitchen and living room are connected, with plenty of seating space all around. That was why Mika’s travel laptop was still on the counter and plugged into the wall from the stream earlier, but on the other side of the wall from the kitchen, you noticed an open window and silhouettes from it. Four people sat on the shallow roof overlooking the uneven ground plenty of feet under the building. A pair of fox ears twitch at the night wind as they watched the stars grow brighter in the sky. 

You look through the fridge. You’re peckish, but if you were to be honest with yourself, you’re trying to stay quiet for a reason. 

There’s a huff. “Oh my god, dude. Just tell Reader already.”

You stand up a little straighter. Mika was with them? Were they talking about you?

“There’s nothing to be said, Mika!” Ike huffs back. “I’m screwed anyways. Just drop it, okay? I don’t need this getting in the way of what was supposed to be just a normal trip.”

“You can’t keep running away forever. Just act like an adult and tell them. It’s going to be fine, I swear.”

“And how exactly do you know that?”

“Well…” Mika trails off. “I can’t say. I just know, okay?”

“Uh-huh. And I know I’m screwed.” The wind rustles outside. You stay motionless. “Just two weeks. Can I please just have two weeks where I don’t have to worry about this until the trip is over.”

It’s a question, but he says it with such exasperation that no one can consider any other answers. 

“Fine.” Nina relinquishes. “Have it your way. I’m just worried for you two.”

“It’s going to work out, Ike. But I’m tired.” Vox stifles a yawn. “Tomorrow is going to be better. Let it go for the night and come back to it once you’re in better shape, and just remember. It’s going to work out.”

“Thanks, Vox.”

“Now get in here.”

You hear shuffling fabric before the two men start yelling. Vox cackles while Ike cries through gritted teeth. “Dang it, Vox, I’m going to shove you off this roof!”

“Get ruffled, idiot! That’s your fault for trusting me!”

“I just wanted a hug!”

You snicker under your breath. Vox loves to ruffle Ike’s hair despite the latter’s protests, though he tends to accept it instead of shove him off like anyone else that would dare. Besides, as dreary as Ike sounded during that conversation, he nearly sounded like his old self as Vox and the others laughed.

“I think I’ll go too. Mommy needs her beauty sleep.”

“Mm, I’m still pretty awake. Wanna keep looking at the sky with me, Ike?”

“Sure. Here, Nina, let me move out of the way…”

Shuffling turns to footsteps, and brings you back to reality. You busy yourself looking through the paltry groceries.

The sound of footsteps gets louder and louder, until they become a hollow click on the hardwood floor. Nina crawls through the window, but stops in her tracks with a startled noise.

You turn around and nod as casually as possible. “Oh, hey, Nina.”

Vox is also halfway through the window, and his eyes go comically wide as he forgets how to move. “Oh. Hey. Reader. Fancy seeing you here.”

“Yeah! Um!” Nina coughs long enough to make you uncomfortable. “What are you doing here?”

“Took a nap. Got hungry.” It’s not a lie. You grope around in the fridge and breathe a sigh of relief when you see a stick of string cheese in your hands. “You guys just hanging out?”

Nina nods. “Yeah, we were on the roof. It’s getting late, though. You should get some rest for tomorrow—“

Vox elbows her. “But not after looking at the sky for a little bit. It’s beautiful. Very clear. Romantic, even. The architects did a wonderful job placing this house right at the perfect angle to watch the stars rise. Did I mention it was romantic?”

You act natural and take a big bite out of the string cheese. “Once or twice. Is it the seniors’ bedtime?”

“You got me,” Vox says. 

“I love going to sleep early and giving my kids private time before bed to reflect and hold deep conversations with one another about their feelings,” Nina says. “And also nighttime face masks.”

“Woo, skincare, what she said.” 

“Hey, by the way, Reader, honey, did you hear anything we talked about?”

“No,” you lie.

“Cool,” Vox says. You eat the rest of the string cheese in one bite. “Good for you. And goodnight, Reader.” He dusts himself off before casting his golden gaze down at you. “Be nice, will you?”

Shivers go down your back. You have a feeling he’s referring to something unspoken. “I will.”

“That’s my sweet thing,” he purrs. “Anyways, I’m going the fuck to beddy bye. Honk shoo, Reader, don’t stay up too late.”

Vox struts off with dark hair flowing behind him and the scent of his aftershave in the air. He leaves you to stand awkwardly next to Nina. 

Suddenly, she takes you by your shoulders and forces you in front of her. You blurt out an unflattering startled noise before she gets right up in your face and stares dead into your eyes.  

“Please be good,” she says darkly. Was that a threat? “Please be so, so good to my baby.”

“I will,” you say, more out of fear than anything else.

She blinks once, then she’s back to the doting mother you know and love. She squeezes your shoulders. “Thank you, honey! Sweet dreams!”

And just like the Voice Demon before her, Nina bounds off to her room. 

Huh. That was weird. Nonetheless, you’re alone in the living room, and you can see the outline of Ike and Mika sitting on the roof in silence. 

You lightly knock on the side of the window. They both perk up at the sound. “Cool if I join you?”

Mika responds quickly. “Sure! Watch your step, Reader. The roof isn’t that steep but it would be awkward if you ate shit.”

“Agreed.” You step onto the tiling, and shift your body to match the angle. You feel like a newborn deer learning to walk. Luckily, Nina and Vox leaving meant that there was more than enough space for you right next to the window. 

Ike sits between you and Mika. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah…” 

‘Pretty’ is putting it mildly. The stars are so clear tonight, and scatter across the sky like sequins. The Airbnb was located further away from the heart of the city, so the darkness only amplified how bright the stars shone against the stark night. A breeze drags through the air and fallen leaves rustle between the grass. 

“This is so nice.” Comfort settles into you like the breeze in your hair. “I love it.”

Ike sighs. “Right? It’s so peaceful.”

“And there’s so many more stars out here than there are in the city.”

“It makes you want to just zone out and cool down.”

“Yeah, totally.” Mika coughs. “Huh! Cool! Well, I’m tired now. Just keep staying out here and enjoy the sky, I’m going to bed. Enjoy yourselves.”

Mika inelegantly shuffles around your bodies and slips back inside before either of you can properly tell her goodnight. 

Ike cocks his head as he watches her stumble through the window. “She just said she would stay out…”

“Hm?”

“Ah, nothing. Just thinking to myself.”

With the extra space, Ike leans back and lays along the roof. The stars cast a dreamy glow over his soft smile as he continues. “It really is something that just makes you want to have a deep conversation, or just think, you know?”

You hum in agreement. You get what he means, but there’s only one topic you can imagine having a deep conversation about right now, and it’s the very one you brooded over earlier that day. 

But Ike is Ike. He’s rational and calm and kind, and laughs at your stupid jokes, and texts you first before any of your other mutual friends. The night turns the tips of his hair bluer than usual, and the stars remind you of the freckles hidden along his creamy skin. His glasses reflect the galaxy above.

Even though today’s stream was embarrassing, you know Ike trusts you enough to tell you if you’ve ever crossed a boundary. After all, it’s commonplace to discuss limits on and off stream as soon as possible, and your friendship was so strong that you’ve both opened up to one another. He’d let you know if the whole cuddling thing was too much. Besides, he didn’t resist. He even rested his head on yours. That has to account for something, right?

You snap out of your thoughts when you feel a gentle tug on the sleeve of your hoodie. It’s Ike. He asks, “Lay down with me?”

A wave of fondness washes over you like the tide. He’s cute when he’s earnest like this. You get as comfortable as you can on the tiling, and when you still, you hear something shift before your hand grows warm. Ike scooted closer to you, and placed his pinky finger over yours. 

This is bliss. A beautiful sight with a beautiful boy next to you. Your best friend. 

“I do love you,” you say. 

It just feels right to say. 

Ike is silent. He doesn’t make a single sound as you stare up at the stars and the blackened sky. The breeze rocks a tree, and as the leaves part, you see the moon for the first time: one thin, waning crescent that blends into the darkness. 

Ike’s head is turned away from you. You can’t tell what he’s thinking at all. 

“…I don’t know what you mean,” he admits. “You do? As a friend?”

“We’ve always been friends.”

“Just that?”

“I don’t know what you’re asking me, Ike.”

“N-never mind. I’m sorry, am I making it weird?”

“No, you could never make it weird.” The colors of the view gloss together. You feel like a balloon slowly deflating. “Feels like that’s all I’m doing lately, though.”

Neither of you say anything. 

This was a bad idea. 

You swear the rustling leaves mock you. 

“Wait.” Ike practically snatches your hand up. “Wait, Reader, are you saying you like me?”

“Yeah. I’m saying that I love you.”

Ike stares at you, and if you had to choose just one word to describe his expression, it’s stricken. His mouth is slightly parted, and his shocked eyes drive holes through your skin, leaving you exposed. The brief stutter that escapes him sounds like it was dredged out from frozen, murky waters. “I—”

He drops your hand and turns away. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, barely audible. “This is… this is a lot.”

“I’m sorry too, this was a stupid idea. What was I thinking?” You get on your feet, but the slope makes what could’ve been a fluid motion into a stumbling, slow rise, as if your legs weren’t jelly enough already. You inch to the window mortified. “I think I should go. Sorry to bother you.”

You don’t dare to glance at him before you step back inside, not even when he calls your name halfway through the window.

Once you’re back in the living room, you cover your face, then drag your hands through your hair. You can’t even begin to describe how exhausted you feel. This is heartbreak, isn’t it?

You blink furiously, and the outline of a figure by the fridge comes into view. 

“Reader?” Mika asks. She has a stick of string cheese in her hand, but walks to you. “Reader, what happened—”

You take her empty hand and pace to your room. You open the door. “Are you okay?”

The second it shuts, your breath hitches. Mika doesn’t hesitate to take you in her arms. She holds you as the first tear falls, and you begin to cry.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You wake up the next day sprawled in your bed, even though the blankets are tucked comfortably around you. On the floor is a pillow and another pile of blankets, and when you recognize the dark hair tied into a loose ponytail, the memories of last night come rushing back.

What an awful night. Awful decisions all day, really, and all of them ones you made. You really don’t know what you were thinking. You groan at the memory.

“Reader?” Mika perks up. Her phone is in her hands, but she sits up level to your face on the floor. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”

Another groan.

“Yeah, I figured,” she says. “Nina, Vox and Ike went out to do their own thing, and I think Ren and Uki are cafe-hopping. It’s just you, me and Aia in the house right now.”

You rub the sleepy out of your eyes. “That’s cool, I guess.” You cast a downward glance to Mika’s makeshift bed on the floor. “Sorry for being a nuisance.”

“You’re not a nuisance, Reader, don’t say that.” She nudges you. “We’re friends. It’s what friends do. Speaking of, do you want Aia to come by? And Alban’s online, so I can call him, too. If you want.”

“It’d be nice…”

Less than ten minutes pass before Aia shows up at your door with breakfast sandwiches and orange juice. All three of you sit on the blanketed floor while Mika voice calls Alban on her phone. A pot of coffee brews over speakerphone as you recount last night. 

“...And to make things worse, we just streamed yesterday,” you explain. “God, I should check Twitter. There’s got to be a million people with eyes on our ship tag, and ugh, I hate thinking about how many weirdos are going to push a ship that can’t work out IRL.”

“I can check it for you,” Aia offers. You hand her your phone. “You remember your Twitter password?”

“Yeah.”

“Cool. Sorry in advance.” She deletes the app off your home screen.

You begin to protest, but she turns off the phone and sets it aside, out of your reach. “You’re off the clock, Reader! Work troubles can wait until you’re back online, and that includes doomscrolling. You can redownload it when you’re in a better headspace.”

“I really hate admitting you’re right.”

“Shit, Reader,” Alban finally says. “He seriously dropped the ball. I’m sorry.”

“I know. I really thought he would get it, but it took him so long to piece it together, like he never thought about us like that before. I should’ve known it was just me. I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid, you’re hurt,” Mika says. “It’s understandable, but that still doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

“Is it wrong that I feel like I deserve it? I mean, I knew day one that this wouldn’t work out. We work together online, and we have fans that ship us with each other and the rest of this company, for fuck’s sake. Getting heartbroken was inevitable and I still went for it. Either I’m a glutton for pain or I’m just plain clueless.”

Alban’s voice is distant from the phone as he messes with his coffee maker. You can’t properly hear him under his breath and over the pot, but if you could, you could’ve heard him mumble, Trust me, you’re not the only clueless one here.

But he returns back at the phone, and you’re totally oblivious. “You can’t choose who you fall for,” he says. “It was really that bad?”

“It took him like a minute to realize I was confessing. And then when he realized it, he apologized to me.”

Aia straightens. “Did he say no?”

“Not really, but why would he apologize if he reciprocated?”

Aia exchanges a look with Mika. Alban grumbles. “No fucking way.”

“Tell me exactly how he reacted,” Aia instructs. She plowed through her sandwich during the conversation, but she left the remaining half on her plate forgotten as she laced her fingers together and leaned forward like a calculated boss. 

“It was like he couldn’t comprehend what I was saying at first. He asked if I meant it as friends, until he asked me if I liked him. And when I told him I loved him in response, he was so shocked that he let go of my hand, so I left.”

“No fucking way,” Alban repeats, and groans as he drawls out his words. You can practically hear him drag his hands over his face. “No fucking way. Ikeeeee. He seriously dropped the ball.”

“I know. I can’t believe it.”

Aia takes both of your hands in her own. “Reader, I’m not even saying this to hurt you, but this is the clumsiest confession I’ve ever heard of.”

You squint. “Right, that makes me feel so much better.”

“I’m really not! You know what this sounds like? Miscommunication,” she declares. “You didn’t get a solid yes or no. So now it’s going to be awkward between you two until you get an actual answer to the confession, or at least some kind of resolution. You wanna know what I think? It sounds like he didn’t even believe what he was hearing before you left. Which, by the way, is a common response to not just confessions but other major news, so chances are you didn’t blow up your friendship as hard as you thought.”

“She has a point,” Alban says. “I believe you, Reader, but Ike isn’t the type of person to just crush other people’s feelings like that. You just woke up, right?”

“I haven’t even left my room yet. Mika says everyone else is out of the house. He’s with Vox and Nina, I think.”

“So then he hasn’t had a chance to talk to you since the confession,” he continues. “And those three are really close. I’m willing to bet they’re helping him manage it, ‘cause it sounds like he’s going through it just as confused as you are.”

You stare at the floor. Hope feels foreign, yet you can’t help but wonder. You struggle to remember the exact way Ike reacted last night, but you really can’t tell what facts were clouded over by the rejection. A rejection that possibly didn’t even happen, mind you. The confusion and regret blurs over everything like water on wet ink.

“You really think so?” You quietly ask.

Aia nods, and Alban agrees over the phone.

Mika pipes up, a glass of juice in her hands. “Here’s my take. We can theorize as much as we want, but none of us really know what Ike’s thinking about, least of all you. Especially since you didn’t actually resolve anything, and that tension is going to eat at you until you get an answer or it actually damages your friendship. You ask me, the next best thing you can do is bring it up.”

She takes a sip of her juice and leaves you to absorb her advice. 

You mull it over along with the memory of last night. “He called my name as I left.”

Alban chokes on his coffee. “He called your name?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t respond.”

“Oh my God. READER!” He shouts so loud that Mika turns the volume down. “I’m going to lose it. I’m actually freaking it right now. Reader!”

“What?”

“Fuck what Mika said earlier, you are stupid!”

“Hey!”

“I’m saying this in the nicest way possible, you are so stupid. He was trying to talk to you!”

Your face goes through a handful of emotions as you sputter. “Are you serious, Alban?”

“Yes! Mika, Aia, back me up.”

Aia crinkles her nose. “I did just say it sounded like a total miscommunication.”

Meanwhile, Mika twirls a lock of red-and-black hair between her finger, distracting herself. She hesitates, trying to figure out exactly how she wants to say her piece, before she simply shakes her head and stills. “Just talk to him.”

“Which is easier said than done.” Your shoulders roll back as you stare up at the ceiling, your hands supporting you as you lean. Even with your friends’ encouragement, the memory of how hard you blew it last night still haunts you. It’s even worse than starting at ground zero; you’ve already tasted failure once, and you’re hesitant to embarrass yourself again. 

That stricken look Ike gave you flashes across your sight every time you blink. What was he thinking when he stared at you like that? You can’t tell if the disgust is true or if your anxieties are getting the best of you.

The best solution to anxieties, however, is looking at the facts—or at least, what isn’t tainted by your bias. Your friends mentioned there was nothing wrong with a workplace romance, and as much as the stream made you want to cringe, no one seemed put off by it. Alban and Aia are set on getting you and Ike to talk, and so is Mika. In fact, Mika spoke with Ike as well as Vox and Nina last night before you entered, and even if you had no idea what those four were talking about, you still picked up your name and that apparently Ike had something to tell you.

Pieces start to fall into place when you consider the three around you, staging an intervention over a late breakfast. Aia always gets you in situations where you can be close to Ike and bails you out when it gets awkward, and as much as he won’t get off your back about it, Alban gave you great advice between all his teasing. Mika was nosy at first when she learned about your feelings, but now that you think about it, she’s been incredibly tactful ever since the off-collab began. 

You can’t help but snicker as you connect the dots. “Is this the first time you guys actually started wingmanning for me?”

Aia purses her lips. “Hey, not the first. Remember when we made that group chat? We’ve always been your wingmen.”

“I know. But you guys are seriously helping,” you say. “Thanks. Though I do wonder, Mika…”

She perks up as you say her name. “Be real with me. Do you know more than you’re letting on?”

She flinches. Alban’s fingers snap over the phone. “Busted.”

Mika holds her hands up like a criminal caught in the act, but there’s a loose, sly smile hanging on her face. “I don’t think it’s my place to say.”

“What do you mean, it’s not your place to say?”

“I’m sorry, Reader, but I made a promise not to spill, and I’ve been doing way too much behind the scenes to break the promise like that. Just do me a favor and talk to the guy, will you? That’s the best I can tell you.” Mika rests her head in a hand, and the smirk looks even more knowing. “And if you can’t figure it out after that, then you’re definitely stupid.”

You bluster. “I’m not stupid!” 

“Still remains to be seen.” Aia gently flicks your forehead. “But you do look a lot better. How are you feeling now?”

Aside from the fading pain on your forehead? You’re surprised at how much lighter you feel now that you unloaded all your worries with your friends. The rejection still stings, and you’re not exactly confident, but, well, you’re smiling. The clean, tangy taste of orange juice lingers between your tongue. Aia and Mika sitting on the pile of blankets reminds you that regardless of your love life, they’d stay by your side until the bitter end, and Alban’s voice keeps you connected with your friends no matter where in the world you are.

You snatch Aia’s half-eaten sandwich off her plate and sink your teeth into the bread. She cries out in protest. “Hey!”

“Better now.” You set the sandwich back where you found it. Even though your future with Ike looks cloudy, the smile doesn’t leave. “Don’t flick me.”

“Speaking of.” Mika picks up the phone and scrolls through her messages. “Nina just texted that she, Vox and Ike will come back in an hour or less. Reader, are you up for this?”

“What do you mean, ‘up for this?’”

“Just seeing Ike again. It was a weird night,” she says. “I stand by what I said, but if it’s going to be too much too soon, then Aia and I can cover for you until you feel better.”

“I don’t know.” That’s what gets your expression to sink from light to thoughtful. “I think I want to take your advice. I just don’t know if I’m ready to talk it out yet.”

“Still wanna hang out with us or take a moment to yourself?”

“I think I’d just go back to moping if I was alone,” you joke.

“Cool. Let me go grab some nail polish Nina gave me yesterday.” Mika rises and strides to the door. “You have a steadier hand than me. And Nina said the color suits me more than her.”

Aia’s face lights up. She happily cries ”Girls’ night!” even though it’s barely noon and Alban is decidedly not a girl, but then he croons something in a valley girl accent so strong you can’t even tell what he’s saying. Scratch that; he’s a girl by association.

When he drawls out one long “Yaaaaaas, bestie!” you can’t help but laugh. Your love life is in shambles, but at least your friendships are solid as hell. You’d give the world for these three.

Mika returns a moment later, travel-sized nail supplies in her arms and a totally unrelated topic on the mind. The sharp scent of the lacquer startles you out of your thoughts as you uncap the bottle and Mika splays her hands out, and Alban and Aia air their opinions on something entertainingly dumb. 

Nina was right: this color is stunning on Mika. You paint Aia’s nails too, and halfway through her second hand, you hear the front door open, the end of an intelligible conversation, and telltale footsteps, each diverting across the house. The girls’ eyes flicker to you. You know they’re trying to read your expression, but you concentrate on how the brushstrokes pool together into one smooth coat. Your thoughts are a storm and you can’t even pick out the emotion commanding it. 

So you keep joking along instead and focus on the nail polish, refusing to give the storm an opportunity to strike. Alban quips off of you, and the moment passes as Mika and Aia return to the conversation. 

That is, until half an hour later when you hear a knock on the door. Mika cocks her head, a silent question, and when you nod she stands. Her nails dried when you finished Aia’s, and dot the doorknob as she cracks it open. A tiny margin of light from the hallway shines into your room, and you realize she positioned herself square in front of the threshold, shielding you from the person on the other side. 

She talks evenly. “Hey, welcome back.”

“Thanks. Is Reader here?”

Your mind thunders as you register the voice. You can only see the leg of his jeans behind Mika, but you recognize Ike’s voice on the other side. 

Aia shuffles by as a second shield. “Need them for something?”

“Kind of,” Ike says. “Do you mind if I talk to them?”

“I don’t know, what’s it about—“

“Aia, you can lay off him.” You call from your corner of the room. “You too, Mika.”

“Whatever you say. Just let me just grab my stuff…”

Mika grabs the nail supplies and deafens on Discord, but doesn’t even think to pick up the blankets along the ground. Instead, she glides to you and whispers under her breath. “We’re rooting for you. Send us a text if you need anything, okay?”

You nod. Aia slips past the threshold, but not without shooting you a thumbs up and mouthing ‘good luck.’ Not even a second later, your phone buzzes, and you catch Alban’s contact sending you an encouraging message in all-caps. 

“See you later!” Aia chirps. “Play nice, you two.”

The scent of the lacquer follows them as they leave, and the sound of their footsteps fade in time. 

Still in the doorway, Ike raises a hand to fidget with the chain along his glasses. “Do you mind if I…?”

“Oh! Come in. Sit anywhere, I don’t mind.”

You stay planted on the floor like how you were with your friends, and Ike sits next to you. You face the wall in front while he gets comfortable.

No words are exchanged as Ike maneuvers around the blankets, and eventually settles down with his back on the floor and head resting on a pillow, staring up at the ceiling. The light is off, but the blinds filter in thin beams of sunlight that cross over the room and the edge of his collar like a grid. 

“Lay with me?” He asks. Then it strikes you like ringing metal; you sit next to each other in the same positions as that night on the roof. 

Suddenly Ike raises his hands like static. “Not that you have to! I just figured it would be good to get comfortable and all, you know?” Ike hastily explains, then clears his throat. “I wanted to talk. About last night, I mean.”

Your chest flutters at the mention of it, but you remember all your friends’ encouragement. Here he is, the novelist of your (heartbroken) dreams, already bringing up the topic you dread to mention. You need to take this chance to face it head-on, now or never. 

You glide down like the ceiling is full of stars. “Okay. What do you want to talk about?”

“A lot, honestly. I don’t know how to go about it, but first of all, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.”

You cross your arms. “You said that enough last night.”

“Not like that! I mean I’m sorry I acted the way I did. I think I made every wrong choice once you said that you… that.” He shovels a hand through his hair. “I’m making it weird again. I should apologize for that, too, it’s just kind of embarrassing saying out loud that you, um, you loved me. Not that you should be embarrassed. I mean, I get it if you are, but that took a lot of guts. You should be proud of that. I admire you for that.”

“Slow down. What are you even saying?”

“What I wish I said last night. More than anything else, I’m sorry I got caught off-guard. I must’ve been so standoffish, because my idiot brain just didn’t believe what I was hearing until it was too late and the damage was already done.” Hair the color of ash and ocean falls over his face. “Honestly, I can’t believe it now.”

“I get it. Bad idea from me. Can we move on from that yet?”

“I don’t think it was a bad idea at all. I just had no idea that you liked me.”

“Give me some time and I’ll get over it, eventually. I’m not going to let it get in the way of working with you, if that’s what you’re trying to get at.”

“No, that’s not it either! I—“

Ike’s eyes squeeze shut. His voice is so quiet, you can’t discern what he’s saying. “…Actually, I’m…”

“Repeat that?”

“I’m happy. Really happy,” Ike says. His pitch rises like a balloon floating up into space, struggling to stay composed. “I’m not good at saying it, but I meant it when I said… when I said it during the stream.”

You wave a hand in the air. “It was weird timing, and I know you mean it like a friend,” you reply. “I didn’t mean to pressure you into saying it, and just being friends is fine. Even though I’m a loser that messed up just about everything.”

The hand catches in midair. Doll-like fingers weave through your grasp, and turn your touch warm as Ike turns to look at you. “Not with me. Don’t say that about yourself, okay?” 

You stare at how easily he held your hand, and how his fingers cradle your heart between the palms. The corners of Ike’s eyes are narrowed, two beads of peridot stone that can see through every little line of text between your pages, but there’s gentleness under his glasses. Something uncertain and fluffy. Softened like a lamb even though he leaves you defenseless. 

You don’t know what to say. Ike is beautiful and kind and handsome and thoughtful when he’s earnest like this. He’s got you stupid in the head and wrapped around his pinky finger, and doesn’t have a single clue.

Peridot sparkles. “You’re so much more than that. You don’t mess things up, Reader. I’m in love with you.”

Your mouth goes dry and your tongue is still tied. Forget speechlessness; the man took your own damn thoughts away. Your hand remains frozen in air with Ike’s. If it weren’t for the light drag of one of his fingernails along your skin, then you would have figured he took your senses as well.

But the drag ends, and the fingers unlace themselves, and chilled air fills in the gaps Ike once held close. The tips of his fingers rest at the curve of your palm for just one second more before they drift away.

The glint in his eyes dulls. His hand falls to his chest, over his heart, just as slow as he parted. The uncertainty took over, and now it’s like staring at a cloud that doesn’t know if it should rain. Ike’s gaze lowers to his heart. There’s a stretch of silence and motionlessness as he stares at where your touch once was, and you’re paralyzed where you lay.

Ike's hand curls in on itself, too loose to make a fist, and his lashes sink over his eyes. His mouth is set into a flat line, but the cheeks are dusted in pinks and reds and peppered freckles in-between, demure and shy all the while.

He turns his face away soon after that. Another break of silence, and he shuffles again, with your vision on his back as if it were a hiding place.

It startles you out of your stupor. The gridded sunlight lets you analyze what you missed. After months of thinking your feelings would never be reciprocated, Ike thought of you just the same. He’s always been in your corner, and you would go to the ends of the earth for him, and everything is in its perfect position. But his back is still turned, and the memory of last night—your confession, and his inaction—it rushes to your head.

So you reach out instead.

Maybe it’s a little selfish. You’re tired of bumbling around and concealing your true feelings, and now that everything's out in the open, you aren’t about to let go without resolution.

But Ike is your best friend, and the man you fell in love with. There was no way you’d ever let go in the first place.

You wrap your arms around his back and hug Ike.

“I think I get why you were so taken aback last night,” you whisper. Even though you’re alone with Ike, you still say it like a secret. “I can barely believe it myself.”

Your warmth is inviting, and every second that passes is another defense downed. Your head perches right above his neck and along his shoulder. It’s not your first hug with Ike at all, but there’s only been so many since you first met him in person that it still feels special, and with your bodies flush to the floor, it’s intimate. His eyes are averted and one cheek lays down on the blankets, but the tips of his ears glow scarlet under his jewelry. 

“I’m glad you were patient with me. I really didn’t think I had a chance with you. You know, the long distance and the company, and you know, the standard pining fare. I’m really lucky.” A smile slips through your words. “I’ll stay with you, okay? So take all the time you need.”

Ike chuckles. Even his laughter is blushy-bashful. “I’m just so happy you feel the same, too. I don’t even know what to do with myself.”

His body curls as he lays, and your legs brush along his as you cuddle. Holding him makes it feel like he was made to fit in your arms. You sigh. “I love when you can’t contain it. It’s so cute.” 

Ike squeaks at that, and unwittingly proves your point. “It feels so good to say that out loud. I mean, you’re okay with it, right?” A nod. “And you’re okay with… I don’t know. Are we still friends?”

“Of course we are, no matter what. You said you loved me first, so let me say this one?” 

You have a feeling you know what’s coming next. You hug him even tighter.

“Reader, let’s go out. I don’t want this feeling to end,” he confesses, and your world turns into rose and blush. “Can we?”

Though you expected it, he still takes your breath away—until he taps you on the hand. “Come on, say something before my heart explodes!”

“Mine already did! I can’t even think straight, and—I’d love that. I really want this.”

Another squeal breaks out as Ike buries his head into a blanket, and your heart soars as he melts. He resembles a swaddled-up kitten, and the rays of sunlight line his silhouette. The fluffy blanket reminds you of an angel’s downy wings along his kitten features. You can’t even see his face between the blanket and his hair, but his squeal continues, muted through the blanket as he swoons. 

Somehow that only makes you feel even more flustered. “No, don’t hide! I want to see you!”

Maybe it would’ve been better for your heart if he stayed put, because when Ike rises—with disheveled hair and glitter in his eyes the color of seaglass, and jewelry that frames his red face, and that galaxy of freckles you hold so dear and shine like stars between his blush—you feel your heart stop. Again.

“When did you start having this effect on me?” You ask, mesmerized, and before you know it you thumb over one of his rosy cheeks. “Your freckles are so beautiful.”

He sheepishly grins. “They don’t really show up online. They’re pale.”

“Never noticed them until I met you in person. I love them. I love you.”

The grin gets a little wider. One of his fingers grazes along the corner of your ear. Has his hand always been along your jawline?

Ike’s eyes are shining under the grid of sunlight. The lashes flit just a bit lower from your gaze. “Reader, can we…?”

You close your eyes.

And when Ike’s lips graze your own, you smile on instinct before you remember to kiss back. 

Ike brings you near, searching for the taste of you as he continues. His touch lodges past your jawline and into your hair, and when one of the fingers grazes along your ear you’re reminded just how much you love Ike. All the yearning you hid for so long bleeds through as you sink down to his level with his head in your hand, gentle yet impassioned.

Then your face bumps against Ike’s glasses. The kiss breaks as you back away.

There’s a brief pause in the aftermath. Ike wordlessly adjusts his glasses, now knocked off-center. Despite finally getting on the same page on your relationship with Ike, you’re still as clumsy about your feelings as ever.

But the corners of your lips curve up as he inspects the lens you squished, then a barely-stifled giggle, and next thing you know, Ike’s laughing along with you, still underneath your body and with one hand in your hair while the other holds his glasses in place. He sounds as charming as he looks, and the fact that he joined you even when you chuckled out of the blue means that his mind is just as charming as well.

Not that it was breaking news. You know your best friend well, and now that you don’t need to deny your feelings any longer, you know you’ve got good taste if Ike’s under you with crinkled eyes and hearty laughter.

When you speak next, the giggles patter out between your words but the quiet delight hangs in your teeth. “Can we try that again?”

Then his lips are on yours again, and the laughter twists between the second kiss, and the third, and the fourth, all the way until you collapse on the blankets with arms around each other, staring up at the stars on the bland popcorn ceiling as adoration fills the space between you. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

bonus.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Starting soon…

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The chat flickers alive as a four-pointed flower, a diamond, and a thorned heart give way to the stream and the novelist behind the stinger. 

Kaidororero: welcome back ike!

Min (Ikey’s Book): 💙 IKEY IS BACK 💙

A normal broom: HI IKE

lunasmortas: 💙💙💙

viperip: ike! :_heart: :_heart: :_heart:

Sun shines through a clear day in Ike’s room onscreen, but in reality, blackout curtains block out the day outside. A sweet smile graces both Ike’s face and his model as the Quilldren welcome him home. 

He greets them, and cracks open a can of soda as he quickly scans through the chat. Obviously, the off-collab is on everyone’s minds. 

juuuuuuuuuus: did you have fun?

Kaidororero: offcollab POOOG

lunasmortas: SO CUTE :_heart: :heart:

Johnclone: Hope you had a good time!

zZirasthingZz: PEN AND PAPER REAL

Hm. A mod will eventually bonk that message. But then again, it’s inevitable that the ship would come up in chat. 

Ike takes it in stride and ignores it like any other shipper, but his heart still skips a beat. Nonetheless, he doesn’t call any attention to it. “How about that off-collab, right? I met up with my friends! Where do I even begin?”

Ike recounts his trip from the beginning, and the Quilldren react to his stories with interest. He was one of the last to arrive, so Nina, Uki and Reader picked him up from the airport, and met up with Aia, Ren, and Mika at the Airbnb. Vox was the only one to arrive after him, hot off the heels of a flight delay, but the demon was a welcome party all his own despite his exhaustion. 

“We went to karaoke once Vox got situated,” Ike explains. “Nina put that song in first so we could all let loose, and so she would have a fun voice tweet for everyone. Might as well confirm everyone that showed up, right?

“But after that, we didn’t want to stress ourselves out to perform for voice tweets instead of just having fun, so that was the only song we recorded. I wish you could’ve heard Uki and Vox’s duet, though. And while we were singing, turns out Ren packed a ukulele with him! Sometimes he would learn how to play along by ear, like a jam session. Mika knows how to play ‘Somewhere Over The Rainbow’ too, so everyone joined in singing that while she played it. It was so much fun.”

Johnclone: Everyone sounded great!

sunblast99: uki’s voice >>>>>> everything else 💜💙

haabinae: :_tskr:

Festersk: WHAT I REALLY REALLY WANT 🗣🗣

A normal broom: what did you sing?

Ike leans back in his chair. He blows a lock of hair out of his sight as he tries to think. “I remember Vox sang something by George Strait, so then we all egged him on to sing ‘Country Roads.’ He only did it once I promised to queue up ‘Toxicity’ by System of a Down afterwards.”

lunasmortas: OMG 💙💙💙

gatamiizuus: ayo?

Y A M: YESSSSSSS :_tskr: :_tskr:

haabinae: I LOVE SOAD :_fanboy:

Thornmy: SO COOL 💙

“Thank you.” He says it out of obligation. If he thinks too hard about the compliments, he’ll get embarrassed. “What else was there? I think there was some Motionless in White, and Spiritbox. Oh, and My First Story. Can’t forget My First Story.”

K. K. Soda: ooooo

Alban Knox 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : what about mcr

asper ch.: METAL SCREAM?

deeboorgur: HI ALBAN

Y A M: MCR YEAAAAA  :_glowstick_1: :_glowstick_2:

“I’m getting there, Alban!” 

Ike takes a sip while the Quilldren greet Alban. He’s not too surprised Alban seems to know more than the other viewers. He’s close with almost everyone that went on the trip, and was super active on Discord during the off-collab. The novelist lowers his soda as the chat floods in orange hearts. He wonders how Alban learned so much as an observer. He should ask. 

But that’s a question for after stream. Ike continues. “Thank Nina for that. She queued up ‘I’m Not Okay’ by My Chemical Romance, and then shoved two mics in my hands and Reader’s.”

And the chat explodes. 

Kaidororero: OMGGGGGG 💙💕

Y A M: PEN AND PAPER SO CUTE :_tskr:

zZirasthingZz: PEN AND PAPER DUET

asper ch.: AYOOOO MCR

gatamiizuus: I LOVE READER

ystariya: PEN AND PAPER MY BELOVED

“It’s a really fun song! It’s almost all clean vocals, but there’s this scream in the middle. Up until then, we sang together, but then I screamed, and Reader picked up the slack and sang the parts of the verse I couldn’t. They’re amazing.”

gatamiizuus: READER SIMPS COME GET Y’ALL’S JUICE

Thornmy: THAT SOUNDS SO GOOD

lunasmortas: 💙💕💙💕

ystariya: READER KARAOKE STREAM WHEN

Kaidororero: AWWWWWWW

The model on the screen doesn’t have the same glint in Ike’s eye when he talks about you. That first day of the trip was all about getting comfortable after long travel hours, and the stories went on as the days went by. Sightseeing with Aia and shopping with Uki by day, and spending the night shooting the shit with Ren until it turns into the littlest hours of the morning.

“Vox wanted to try a bunch of different restaurants with me, but you know me, ya boi is not good with most foods. So Nina usually came along in case I couldn’t finish something. She and Vox would share my leftovers.”

Something fond crosses over Ike’s face. His eyes cloud over in fog descending over a clear-sky day. “We would always talk over food about anything. I appreciate it a lot. They really get me.” The fog stills. “And over breakfast one morning, they gave me some excellent advice over something I’ve been meaning to do.”

ver*batim: ❤️💙❤️

K. K. Soda: MILORDDDDD

nroneo: :_heart:

A normal broom: upcoming project? 👀 

Johnclone: I love Nina Kosaka!

“Not a project, no. It was something I was really worried about, even when I was supposed to be taking a break with my friends,” he says. “But those two seriously helped me clear my head about it. Mika, too. Vox and Nina had a lot of nuanced advice, but Mika told it to me straight, and helped handle what I couldn’t. I’m really thankful to have them.”

His set jaw loosens. “Maybe I’ll talk about it one day.”

The model cocks to the side. Motion blurs the foggy sobriety away. With a lightness to his voice and a knowing gaze, Ike looks straight into the camera and smiles, sentimentality forgotten. The air clears. “But for now, it’s a secret~!

“Ah, now where was I? Spending time with my friends, right? Reader and I hung out often. Sometimes with others, but it ended up being the two of us more than not.”

Birds chirp outside Ike’s window in time with the hum of his PC. The backlit keyboard in front of the monitors glows the same color as the computer, a healthy blue light that tints the tips of his fingers. He usually sets it to a rainbow spectrum in his own time, but static blue is reserved for going live. It gets him in the right mindset for streaming, and makes his little apartment feel fantastical like the noble background that accompanies his model, even if it only reaches his fingertips. 

He’s sure the Ike on the screen has fingertips tinged with blue just like him, an extension of the man outside the screen but without the grittier details. Smooth, pristine hands under gloves where his are callused from guitar playing. Nothing under the model’s eyes but lashes and a line of red that brings out the pink in his eyes, very much unlike the heavy bags and sunken face from an awful delay on his flight back home. No freckles, either, but even cameras rarely pick them up on video call. Nina cooed over them the first time they met, as motherly as ever, but behind closed doors Reader was utterly fascinated with them. They mentioned something about watching blush travel around his face with the smattering of freckles in-between once or twice… maybe more? Doesn’t matter when he’s never heard that before and it repeats in his head when he catches himself daydreaming. It’s one of the best things he’s ever heard.

Vtuber Model Ike’s face doesn’t heat up like how Real Ike’s certainly is now. He clears his throat. “The weather was really nice during the entire trip, so we would always get into good conversations while walking back to where we were staying. And sometimes we didn’t want to end the conversation, so we’d just keep walking past our Airbnb until our feet hurt or it got dark, whichever came first. 

“Oh, here’s something funny. Uki really loves cafes, right? Usually he woke up early with Ren to go check out some cafes in the morning, way before the rest of us would even think of waking up. By the time everyone else woke up, they already finished their breakfast, and Uki would tell Reader about the ones to visit or skip. Whenever Uki recommended one, Reader always wanted to go themselves, so I went along to keep them company.” 

Even as his skin returns to its original shade, the sweetness sticks to his throat like the soda he’s barely touched at all. He’s wistful. He didn’t expect to miss Reader this much; after all, his relationship with them has bloomed so much ever since you first started working together, but two weeks together (including mutual close friends) changes things. It’s only been two days since he returned home, but he feels out of rhythm with them. 

He’s gotten too accustomed to them. Over the last few months, he thought he did a good job putting aside his feelings for Reader, even when Nina would tease him after every Pen and Paper collab and Vox and Mika would be right behind her, hyping him up to make a move. The fear of rejection was what motivated him to keep his close friendship with Reader without ever confessing to them.

“Reader…”

The world around him is nothing. Paused to buffer as he thinks. He can’t remember the last time he felt so happy. Just being in the same room as them makes him feel stupid, and surely he’s been acting like it. Everything he says sounds clumsy when he’s with them. After all, on that day when he owned up to the feelings he repressed for so long that he couldn’t properly react to Reader’s confession, he couldn’t say much more than how happy he was. Words fail to describe what Reader means to him, yet he’s a novelist, for crying out loud! How ironic!

“...Reader is so patient with me,” Ike says. “And they’re so considerate and dedicated. I wish I told them that earlier. It’s hard to say things out loud like this, but you only meet people like Reader once in a lifetime if you’re lucky, and even then, there’s no one quite like Reader.”

ystariya: i love reader

Kaidororero: pen and paper awwww

Y A M: PEN AND PAPER

acklmystafoot: ike is so sweet!!!

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : 💙

“Aaah!”

Ike recoils like his keyboard is flaming lava. The model on the screen leans back and freezes in place while he nearly throws himself out of his chair. “R-Reader! What are you doing here?!”

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : FKJLJJSLKFJDKS LMAOOOOOOOO

Johnclone: Hello Reader!

Y A M: OMG

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : just wanted to say hi

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : hi!

Festersk: LMAO

Ike sputters out nothing but empty air and nervous laughter. “Haha. Um. Hi! Welcome!”

Stupid! He wants to kick himself. He’s made improvement on verbalizing affection, and he’s comfortable with Reader, especially now that there aren’t any secrets left, but he’s still so unfamiliar with affection being returned that his heart is still doing kickflips in his chest. 

haabinae: :_blush: :_blush: :_blush:

juuuuuuuuuus: most normal pen and paper moment

Thornmy: AWWW

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : check discord

A normal broom: Oh?

“Ah, okay! Give me a second.” Ike keeps his Discord on mute, and usually disables desktop notifications when he’s live, so he’s not surprised to open the window to unread messages and some non-urgent pings. Sure enough, Reader sent him something.

Reader: because you were talking about cafes

Reader: image.png (3)    | 💙 1 |

Me: Oh I recognize these from our first date!

It’s been over a week now, but just saying he went on a date with Reader has him squeezing his legs together so his feet wouldn’t start kicking in the air. 

Reader: ahh you remembered! 

Me: I should’ve figured you took more pictures than the ones you showed me

Reader: dw i have more i wanted to show you

Reader: image.png (8)    | 💙 1 |

Me: Seriously how are you so good at photography I don’t get it-

Me: You’re really pretty in this one!

Me: UGHHHH WHY DO I LOOK SO WEIRD    | ❌ 1 | 💕 1 |

Me: I DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE YOU TAKE THIS ONE

Reader: WTH YOU’RE NOT WEIRD

Reader: YOU’RE LITERALLY SO HANDSOME WHY DO YOU  T H I N K  I TOOK THAT PIC

Well, great, now he’s actually kicking in his seat. Ike is inclined to disagree, but when Reader says it, it’s a super-effective attack on his poor little novelist heart. 

Me: Akaslwdnja

Me: Thank you 😭

Reader: anyways i gotta go i stream in 20 min and i’ve barely eaten my food

Me: Go eat! Do you have enough water?

Reader: just refilled my bottle

Me: Good then don’t let me keep you! Have a good stream!

And before he can overthink it, in the moment—

Me: I love you!

His sights are set on his second monitor.

Reader is typing…

Reader doesn’t have to respond. Sometimes just saying it is enough. 

Reader: fdsjdfkl.

Ike’s been trying to relearn that lesson ever since he realized everything he repressed was reciprocated.

Reader: i love you too, ike

Words heard across the world, one of the people he holds most dear.

His heart beats loud in his ears, but he can feel it slow, somehow. Reader is exhilarating, but there’s security in them, too. The nerves kick in until he remembers they’re just as exposed as the other, and the vulnerability generate a sense of comfort. Reader makes him feel understood like no one else in the world does, and he trusts them more than anything.

He does. He does, he does, he does, even if he only has the strength to say it one at a time. Ike is in love.

Reader: i’ll let you know when i’m done streaming, we can watch a movie together after

Me: It’s a date!    | 💕 1 |

It takes him a moment to tear his gaze away from your messages. 

His streaming monitor reflects his movements. The chat moves along. Blue light spreads through his fingertips, just like how he imagines Vtuber Model Ike’s hands resting on his own keyboard, an extension of the man outside the screen, proof of the fantastical.

“They sent me something.” Ike’s laughter is gentle. “I really do love them.”

The chat zooms past, as expected. Surely that would get clipped alongside the off-collab Q&A, but he can’t seem to care. He doubts the fandom would really understand how deep the connection goes, and if they do? Some things are just meant to be private.

Besides, on the day Ike and Reader get comfortable enough in their relationship to go public, he knows the Quilldren have his back, just like Reader and their Bookworms. 

“Reader, if you’re still there, we need to meet up again,” Ike says. “I don’t know when, but one day.”

A flurry of messages, but only one truly matters.

Reader 【NIJISANJI EN】 ✓ : i wouldn’t miss it for the world

The model onscreen grins. It pales in comparison to Ike himself.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊commentary ↣

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

[twisted-tales-told]

Part II

When Regulus wakes up its the sound to a coffee maker grinding beans and hissed cursing. 

He sits up to see a very anxious James Potter about to pull the plug to the coffee machine right out of the wall. 

“It already woke me, we might as well have coffee,” he croaks, his voice still slurry from sleep. 

“Sorry,” James scratches the back of his neck. “I hadn’t seen you until I turned it on.” 

“It’s fine, James.” 

James looks at him with soft eyes and a smile that pulls at something deep in Regulus’ chest. “I missed you saying my name.” 

Oh. 

Suddenly Regulus can’t stop the ragged breath that’s been clawing up from the bottom of his lungs. James’ eyes immediately widen and he puts the coffee mug in his hands down and rushes to the side of the couch. His hands hover in the air like he wants to hold on, do something, but Regulus can’t help but flinch away. 

“I’m sorry,” James’ voice goes soft and pleading. “I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry.” 

“I just—“ Regulus tries to get control back against this wild lurching thing. “I didn’t think you would be here.” 

“Oh.” To his credit, James tries hard to hide the hurt. He always does when Regulus’ words bite. But he’s never been very good at hiding anything on that damn face of his. 

“I didn’t know you and Sirius—“ 

“Lived together?” A watery smile replaces the damage Regulus dealt him. 

“I don’t know why, I only knew his address because of you.” 

James breathes out a laugh, “yeah. And—I mean, just so you know, Sirius isn’t exactly…aware of us talking.” 

“Talking,” Regulus sounds out the word, some of the tightness is starting to leave his chest. “You sending me messages and me not responding doesn’t constitute talking.” 

“Well, apparently it was useful,” James grins, some of his old cheer making it back into his voice.

“Why did you?” Regulus asks, unable to help his curiosity. “Keep texting me, I mean.” 

“I didn’t want to let you go,” James shrugs, standing back up. “C’mon, coffee’ll be ready soon.” 

Regulus trails behind him to the kitchen, finally taking in the apartment in the morning light. The walls are a light tan colour, complimenting the deeper brown of the countertops and cabinets. One accent wall along the stove is a deep red. A window on the side wall fills the whole area up with light. In the window is a glass sun catcher shaped like, well, the sun. Regulus recognizes it instantly.

“I can’t believe you kept that thing,” Regulus murmurs, fingertips grazing the small figurine, making it sway and casting a rainbow throughout the kitchen. 

“It’s a nice memory.” He can hear the smile in James’ voice, but he doesn’t look at him. 

A moment later the coffee machine beeps. 

****

Sirius doesn’t remember the events of the night before until he stumbles into the kitchen to see James and Regulus talking quietly over a cup of coffee.

“Coffee’s ready,” James holds out a mug to him. 

“Thanks,” Sirius takes it, going over to the coffee pot and filling it up to the brim. Something tells him he’s going to need it to get through today. Talking with his brother has never been his strong suit. 

They drink in mostly silence, James talks about his job, which he has the day off from today. He’s a fire fighter, meaning he’s got lots of stories. Sirius has heard all of them before, but Regulus seems entranced. Good. It’s the first time since Regulus walked in through the door that he didn’t look utterly shattered. 

Suddenly Sirius’ phone rings. An unknown number. He ignores it, switching the sound off, but Regulus’ gaze flicks to the sound. “Telemarketers,” he waves it off. 

The phone rings again. 

“Don’t answer it,” Regulus says, voice distant. 

“Regulus,” Sirius starts cautiously. “Did you give our mother my phone number.” 

“No,” he scoffs, “do you really think she can’t find it all on out own?” 

“Right. Second question, why is she using it.” 

“Because I ran away,” he says simply. Like it’s the easiest thing in the world to admit. Sirius’ jaw drops anyways. 

“You ran away,” he echos back. He glances to James, who’s face goes from a smile to blank when he catches Sirius watching. “You…”

“Yes, Sirius I ran away.” 

“Why?” 

“Really?” He narrows his eyes, “do you have to ask.” 

“I mean—they’re terrible, but you—Reg, you insisted you had to stay for uni.” 

“Yes, well, as of three months ago, I graduated.” 

“Congrats,” James murmurs, holding out his hand for a fist bump. Regulus ignores it. 

“I—what?” 

“Okay,” James intervenes, putting a hand over Sirius’ to ground him. “Why don’t you start at the beginning.” 

“The good thing about University is that the records are very secure.”

“And that matters because?” Sirius asks, James gives him a glance that obviously means shut up, but Sirius ignores him. Mostly. 

“It means I could switch majors without telling anyone.” 

“You’re not a business major?” 

“I was, for three months.” 

“And then?” 

Regulus just glares at him. 

“So,” James moves the conversation along. “I’m guessing graduation ceremony happened, and your parents found out.” 

“That they did,” Regulus hums, taking a long drink from his coffee. 

“But that was three months ago,” Sirius argues. “What—“

“The point is,” Regulus cuts him off firmly, levelling him with a cutting look. “They’re looking for me.” 

“Shit,” Sirius curses as his phone lights up again with an incoming call. 

“You don’t think they’d like, file a missing persons report or anything do you?” James questions them both. 

“I don’t know,” Regulus admits, “they didn’t with Sirius.” 

“But they also knew where I was,” Sirius reminds him. “Either way, you’re legally an adult. They can’t drag you back there. They won’t.” He tries to say it with as much conviction as possible. Regulus nods minutely in return.

“I’m starving,” Sirius grins, trying to push down the unease in his bones. “Pancakes anyone?” 

James and Regulus both perk up at the thought, and Sirius moves to start them. 

“Did someone say pancakes?” Comes a tired voice from the hallway. Sirius turns to see Remus shuffling in, a big yawn on his face, which quickly morphs to confusion when he spots Regulus. 

“Reg? What are you doing here?” Regulus opens his mouth to speak but Remus holds out a hand. “Coffee first, actually.” 

[jackedmusclegorl]

Hobie Brown x Pop Record Producer!Reader

The first time you and Hobie met, it was through mutual artist friends of yours. Random Thursday, 9 PM, local pub in Camden.

Needless to say, there was an immediate rivalry!

You and Hobie spent hours arguing on why pop IS/ISN’T the most superficial genre, how pop IS/ISN’T a unique and subversive genre that tells it’s own story, etc etc.

“I mean, those records you make yeah? Pure trash. No soul at all. I wonder how you producers sleep at night churning marketable garbage to brainwash the masses!”

“Christ Hobie, for an anarchist you sure are an elitist snob when it comes to music.”

At the end of the night, you managed to snag his telephone number

The next morning, you hear a ringing that you (mostly) expected, picking up with a bit of a smirk

“Let’s have a bit of a contest, then,” he picks up the conversation as if it never ended, “Show me your favorite records, and I’ll show you mine. Then you’ll understand. Hell, you might even switch your career to punk rock producer. How ‘bout it, love?” You agree. He’s listening to ABBA until his ears fucking bleed.

The next few days is spent exchanging Walkmans (Walkmen?) with Hobie

You get a LOT of Sex Pistols and, cheekily, some of his own stuff mixed in there

He gets (what he perceives as) a disgusting amount of MJ and some other tracks he doesn’t immediately recognize

“Yeah, I mean, the other stuff was all right I guess.” He holds up the several unmarked cassettes you loaned him. “Lyrics about love are a bit over the top, but other than that, ‘s fine. I quite liked it in fact.”

“I produced those. They’re mine.”

Long pause… “Oh, alright…”

During rehearsals and practices he’ll sneak in some of your unmarked cassettes, some of which he added his own titles to, such as: “The One About Teen Romance (Dumb)” and “Stupid Song About Two Twats in Love (Stupid).”

He’ll never admit to listening to them over and over again when he’s supposed to be practicing, lazily strumming along and creating his own off-the-cuff riffs because he knows the song’s melody like the calluses on his fingertips now.

“Whatever, this sucks,” he thinks.

He’ll never admit to secretly hoping you’re in the studio right now, creating some stupid sugary track about love and romance and The One. He’ll never admit to secretly hoping the next track is about him.