#can i praise this casting because WOAH

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Ortho Shroud - Bloom Birthday Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Ignihyde Dorm – Birthday Party Venue]

Ortho: It's like a dream come true to get interviewed for my birthday as a student here at Night Raven College.

Ortho: And on top of that, thanks to my big brother, I was able to retrofit my gear to look just like everyone else's outfits… I'm super happy.

Ortho: Oh yeah, I should make sure to capture all this on film. I wanna show this to my brother… Oh, and my dad and mom.

???: Film? …I suppose I'll have to ask later. Pardon me.

Sebek: Happy Birthday, Ortho. It seems I have been tasked with being your presenter today.

Ortho: Woah, hey! Sebek Zigvolt-san! Thank you. I look forward to it.

Sebek: Right… You mentioned just a moment ago that you would be capturing this on film. Essentially, does that mean you intend on recording my words and actions?

Ortho: Yep. And if you make any mistakes, maybe Malleus-san will end up seeing alll your embarrassing moments. You better do good.

Sebek: Humph, as if I would disgrace myself before someone like you. I shall read out the first question now.

Sebek: “Are you good or bad at flying?”

Ortho: Hmmm, that's a toughie. I mean, especially since I'm a humanoid…

Ortho: I can't just cast magic on a broom and fly like you or the other mages here.

Sebek: Hm? You mean to tell me that you do not usually use magic to float in the air?

Ortho: Yeah. It's more like technomantic energy… Maybe it'd be easier to say it's a hybrid of electricity and magic.

Ortho: By swapping out my gear or any attachments, I can increase my speed, or even fly for longer periods of time.

Ortho: For me, as long as I have technomantic energy, I can fly wherever I want…

Ortho: I can even fly no problem through difficult obstacle courses, or fly at a constant speed.

Ortho: That's why for a little while after I became a student at Night Raven College, I made sure to observe the flight and P.E. classes.

Ortho: Unlike you guys, it's not like I would gain any stamina or strength through training, after all.

Sebek: You were observing us? I suppose I do recall seeing you flying with some of the students last week or so.

Ortho: Oh, so you saw me. Actually, I recently started helping out by supporting Vargas-sensei during his classes.

Sebek: You're supporting…? As in, as his assistant?

Ortho: Yep. During flight classes, I fly along my classmate's brooms and capture data on their form and time.

Ortho: Using that data, I'm able to identify everyone's habits and weaknesses and provide suggestions for improvement.

Sebek: Hm… That would indeed be helpful to be able to get an objective analysis of my flying posture.

Ortho: Right? And Vargas-sensei praised me too, saying, "When you're around, the students' muscles gleam even brighter"!

[Ignihyde Dorm – Birthday Party Venue]

Sebek: Next question is…

Sebek: “What is something that made you glad you could use magic?”

Ortho: Eehh, that's another tough one.

Ortho: I might have been able to develop a soul that can use imagination like you guys, but it's not like I can actually use magic…

Ortho: Because all of my functions are based on technomantic energy…

Ortho: But if I were to answer as a student of a mage institute should… IT'D HAVE TO BE THAT I'VE MADE FRIENDS HERE!!

Sebek: You're a student of the most prestigious Night Raven College, and your answer is to speak of the friendships you've developed?

Ortho: Yep. Because I came here originally as one of my brother's "gadgets," I was able to meet a ton of living people…

Ortho: And now that I've started taking classes as a student, I've had the opportunity to come in contact with so many more people.

Ortho: I had a ton of fun with the groupwork we had the other day. You know, the one where we had to study up on some of the legends of the Great Seven.

Ortho: You did that in your class too, right?

Sebek: Indeed. I found writing a report in a group of 4 to be a rather impractical assignment.

Ortho: Oooh, so you don't find group work to be practical, huh. Interesting.

Sebek: From the way you speak, it seems to me like you look upon that sort of assignment favorably.

Ortho: Yep. Whenever I listen to other people's opinions, even if we're reading the same story, everyone has a different interpretation, so I find that super fascinating.

Sebek: Interpretation?

Ortho: I guess I could also say that everyone values different things.

Ortho: And then I realized that the thought that everyone puts the most value in is strongly connected to their past experiences… their "memories," so to speak.

Ortho: For example, if you were born and raised in Briar Valley, you would've probably heard so many anecdotes of the Thorn Fairy from a young age.

Ortho: That's why there would be more passion, more zeal in the discussion about her.

Ortho: And some may believe that their idealized versions are more correct than a proper database.

Sebek: Idealized, you say? The Thorn Fairy is absolutely a great being. No amount of praise would ever be considered to be too much.

Ortho: If you're that adamant, then we should have a discussion about it sometime.

Ortho: During class the other day, I sourced documents from my database and soundly destroyed all the inconsistencies in their arguments…

Ortho: So I wonder just how far you'll be able to keep up with me, Sebek-san.

Sebek: Don't you put me in the same category as your classmates. I have read an abundance of books on the Thorn Fairy.

Ortho: Oooh, so you're saying you might actually have a leg to stand on. Then this might actually be promising.

Ortho: Alright, then let's pick a day for our discussion sometime later. Heheh, I'm looking forward to it.

[Ignihyde Dorm – Birthday Party Venue]

Sebek: This is the final question.

Sebek: “How do you spend your days off?”

Ortho: Hmm, there's a lot I do, but… I guess I often find myself watching movies or stage plays online.

Ortho: Recently, though, I've been spending lunch or tea time with my dorm and classmates.

Sebek: Lunch and tea time? You don't eat, though.

Ortho: Yep. But my goal there is to just chat with everyone. I also listen to their grumbles about their studies or relationships with others.

Sebek: Humph, how absurd. What good will come of listening to other people complain? Why don't you try spending your time doing something more worthwhile?

Ortho: Ehh, but it's pretty interesting. Just by watching how people react over every little thing helps me learn, too.

Sebek: What do you mean, learn?

Ortho: I've found that all the stories I hear from people are really good references for me to look back to whenever I need to act a part.

Sebek: Act a part…? Ah, right, you joined the Film Research Club. So essentially, you're saying you're feeding off of human interactions.

Ortho: Ah. This past weekend, we didn't have a club meeting, so I went into town with my brother.

Sebek: Your br… YOU MEAN TO TELL ME IDIA-SENPAI ACTUALLY WENT OUTSIDE!?

Ortho: Yep!

Ortho: We play this one game that uses our phones' GPS function, so sometimes we head out there together.

Ortho: We'll go to a restaurant that's an in-game spot where we'd be able to gather items and pick up some food that we'd already ordered online…

Ortho: And once we get to Whistle Park, we'd eat at one of the benches there. After that, we'd plan out the rest of our day there.

Ortho: And then, when he's done eating, we'll walk around the park looking for items, or have some encounter battles.

Ortho: Kinda sounds fun, like a real picnic, right?

Sebek: I can't say I know what game you speak of, but… It definitely does seem like you have a good time.

Sebek: Back home, my parents, older brother and older sister would always take me to the park to spend time.

Ortho: Heh, sounds like you and your family are pretty close, too. That's just like us!

Ortho: Me and my brother, as well as our dad and mom, used to go play at the nearby park, or even at a forest or river back in the day, too.

Ortho: …Although ever since my brother started to shut himself inside his room, we haven't been able to go anywhere as a family anymore.

Sebek: Well, it seems Idia-senpai has gotten to the point where he can actually go outside again. Perhaps there will come the time that you will be able to travel somewhere as a family again?

Sebek: That person needs to leave the house more. You should do what you can to take him out camping, traveling, or what have you.

Ortho: Yep, you're right. Sebek-san, thanks for your advice!

Sebek: I'm your presenter, after all! It's only natural that I should be able to present this sort of advice.

Sebek: You may come ask me anything you wish when you plan to take your family on a trip outdoors.

Sebek: The interview has now concluded. Here, your broom. There are blue flowers in the center of the bouquet, it suits you rather nicely.

Ortho: Woah, this is my first ever personal broom! I didn't actually think I'd get one.

Ortho: There's so many different kinds of flowers here. I'll have to fly carefully so as to not blow them away with my jets.

Sebek: Take this broom and take flight. That is testimony to your status here as a student of the most prestigious Night Raven College.

Sebek: Don't you dare show us a shameful sight on your birthday, Ortho.

Ortho: Of course! Make sure you keep your eyes on me while I fly, Sebek Zigvolt-san!

Ortho: it's time to show off the special gear that I made specifically for today. I'm totally gonna shock everyone who gathered here for me.

Requested by @rotattooill.

[esotl]

Performance - Act 6 (Part 17)

Writer: Akira

Season: Spring

Characters: Wataru, Mitsuru

Translation Directory

"It's alright! Don't worry, we'll definitely lead you to a happy ending!"

Time: During Act 5 of the Performance

Location: Concert Hall (Theatre)

Wataru: "Just what was that...?"

"In the end, that person who called herself Romeo, who's beauty outshone even the stars in the sky..."

"Was chased off by countless guards and agitated people running riot."

"I hope she's alright... Aah, my soul was crucified the moment I saw her."

"If this is a sin, I'll resign myself to it with open arms."

"Is this love? Is this the feeling that Mother and Nurse praised as precious and rare?"

"And yet, Romeo-sama! Why must you be a girl?"

"If it isn't our destiny to be together in this fleeting world, why is it that we met?"

"If being together, being married, is all that makes a woman happy..."

"Why doesn't the law, why doesn't God in heaven, affirm my union with her?"

"............"

Mitsuru: "...Gh~, snore♪"

"Zzz, zzz...♪"

Wataru: "...Who's this now?"

"Ah. Hello, could it be that you got your sleeping quarters mixed around?"

"Where did you come from? Hello, hello?"

Mitsuru: "Mm~ munyu..."

"Huh? Where is this?"

Wataru: "This is the castle of the esteemed Capulets, and that is the nook holding the pitiable Juliet's birdcage."

"Are you, aah... one of the servants children, I wonder?"

Mitsuru: "Huh? Juliet-nee-chan...?"

Wataru: "You know me?"

Mitsuru: "Huh huh? You can see me?"

Wataru: "If my eyes are certain, yes, I can see you. If you're implying most people can't, are you a fairy of some sort?"

Mitsuru: "Nee-chan, are you crying? There there, please cheer up♪"

Wataru: "Woah... Don't pet me, isn't it rude to do that to a lady?"

Mitsuru: "It's alright! Don't worry, we'll definitely lead you to a happy ending!"

Wataru: "? We aren't on the same page at all, are you half asleep? What a strange child!"

Mitsuru: "Ahem, I hear that a lot!"

"More importantly, have you seen another kid dressed like me somewhere?"

"I'm having trouble 'cause I got separated from him!"

"I took advantage of the fact that no-one can see me to secretly swipe some food to eat from the ball..."

"But I can't remember anything after carelessly tasting some alcohol~?"

"Looks like I got tired after taking a walk to sober up, and ended up falling asleep here?"

Wataru: "Well... Children shouldn't be having alcohol."

Mitsuru: "Ahaha! Aren't you a child too? You're thirteen, right?"

Wataru: "...Someone dressed like you, you said? I believe I saw someone like that with Romeo-sama?"

"Though, perhaps due to Romeo-sama being so dazzling, the impression he left on me is oddly weak."

Mitsuru: "Ah, he was with Romeo-nee-chan?"

"Sounds like he's doing his best to get the story back on track, I gotta go help him too!"

Wataru: "Story? Back on track? What do you mean?"

Mitsuru: "Hm? The story of how Romeo and Juliet meet, fall in love, but can't be together and end up dying! I feel so bad for them!"

Wataru: "Dying...?"

Mitsuru: "Right, I think it was that, because there's no way to be together in this world, they drink poison and die so they can at least be together forever in the afterlife?"

"It's so foolish! I don't know if there's an afterlife, but isn't it better to live, no matter what form that takes?"

Wataru: "...Yes. That's right, I completely agree!"

"You, Fairy-san? The things you just said, do you swear on God that they're true?"

Mitsuru: "I'm not a fairy, I'm a member of the Chorus!"

"I don't know much about the actual God, but if it's about the God of this story, that'd be the author who gave me life!"

"God, the author, isn't satisfied with Romeo and Juliet's tragic end..."

"So they adapted the story to try and reach a happy ending one way or another."

"To do that, they cast a "reversi" spell on this world."

"A lot of time has passed since the original author, Shakespeare, spun the story, and different people have tried to revise it."

"It seems like they wove in that kind of setup in an attempt to "reverse" the sorrowful conclusion?"

"But they don't have enough talent for that, so it's ended up looking pretty half-baked."

"My partner, another member of the Chorus, was saying something like that."

"Ehehe, I don't really get complicated things♪"

[Chapter 9 • Directory • Act 7]

[rikkaidaily]

The Prince of Tennis, ep.3 Match! Tennis Juniors, ep.1

[itisthefuturethattheybring]

I feel like I just need to take a moment to update you all on the current cast of Les Mis at the Sondheim, in London. Because OH MY GOD.

petit gervais was included. Right at the beginning as jvj makes his way into town he steals the coin, like in the book, and I haven’t ever actually seen that done. So I was like, wow, thats some detail

Fantines arrest and death made me SOB. Chanice Alexander- Burnett is one talented woman. I remember her grasping hold of jvjs collar and just her anger in ‘you let your foreman send me away’ was so raw.

The DETAIL of the Cafe Musain, woah. I know it’s because the cast doesn’t move theatres so they can afford to go all out but it was so incredible. It was just now detailed and in depth it was witu the flags and posters. They even had a cobbled street flooring out the whole way through the show.

Jordan Shaw as Enjolras is something else entirely. He’s so so perfect (and he was super nice because I met him and he was just talking to me and he was actually the one to come over first when he saw me having a heart attack over his presence). He’s the perfect mix of angry revolutionary fervour (much like Ramin Karimloo) and hope and passion and care (as I think Bradley Jaden conveyed very well). I also think he had the same sort of humanity that Aaron Tveit gave us in the movie- you know with his tears and just that look of understanding? Not to mention that man can SING. He also wore red the entire way through which I thought was interesting

I don’t know if this is just my bad memory but I could have sworn that ‘Cosette, now I remember, Cosette how can it be’ was only from the movie? I know the latter half of it is definitely in there but I don’t know. Either way it was in this.

DRINK WITH ME. OH MY GOD. Connor Jones’ Grantaire is just *cheffs kiss* and I’m positive he knows about Enjoltaire. That man followed Enjolras around stage and just stared at him constantly. In his drink with me solo it started out with him getting applause and praise for singing, quickly turning into irritation as he grew more cynical. But when the abc sort of rolled their eyes or got annoyed, Enjolras went right up to him and just looked at him in this really kind way. He tried to hug him but Grantaire just sort of flinched away and staggered into a corner. When he started to cry, Gavroche hugged him, and he just slid down the wall at the back and curled up. Gavroche then went to sleep on his leg which just set me off it was so bittersweet.

Gavroche’s death was heartbreaking. You couldn’t actually see him over the barricade but you could hear him singing. And they thought he’d made it, when he appeared at the top, but when he was killed Enjolras was the one to catch him and hand him over to Grantaire. CONNOR JONES’ REACTION BROKE ME, I was sat so close I could see his lip trembling. Bradley Jaden (as javert) prayed over his body later on, after the abc had died, and it even looked like he was crying.

I watched Enjolras and Grantaire very closely in the final battle. Grantaire made no attempt to fight, too broken over Gavroche’s death, until he saw Marius get shot. He threw himself over, checking if he was alive. Enjolras then appeared beside him, clearly thinking Marius was dead, and just embraced Grantaire in this really fierce hug. And then he looked at him for a long second and ran up the barricade. Grantaire tried to follow, desperately trying to pull him back down, but he wasn’t quick enough. Enjolras was killed first. And so Grantaire desperately tried to pull his other friends away from the fight but he has little success. He was the last person left alive and instead then just climbed to the top of the barricade and put himself in show to be killed on purpose.

The abc had little candles in Empty Chairs. They appeared as he sung about ‘and I can hear them now’ and they held these candles up to Marius and it was so so sad. They blew them out at the end of the song and it was just like this final goodbye and it absolutely broke me. Harry Apps was an amazing Marius and his emotion in that song was so obvious

Bradley Jaden as Javert is one incredible actor and singer. His EYES were so captivating in ‘Javerts Suicide’ he looked so wild and desperate that, of course, I was in tears. But you could just hear his confusion and anger and desperation it was so real. Literally everything about it- in the way that he couldn’t stand still, his hair was everywhere and he was shaking like crazy. It was unbelievable.

LUKE FUCKING MCCALL AS JEAN VALJEAN OH SHIT. That man has some TALENT and if you’ve never heard him I urge you to go listen to him on YouTube right now. He’s the youngest west end actor to play Valjean and The Phantom (he’s like 28) and that man can do fucking everything. Again, so much emotion. He just portrayed jvj so well in everything he did and HE HUGGED THE BISHOP IN THE EPILOGUE

But yeah. I’ve never cried as much in my life and it was by far the absolute best performance of Les Mis I’ve ever and probably will ever see. My goal now is just to save up so I can go back and watch it all over again.

If you haven’t seen it, YOU NEED TO

[wrenhyperfixates]

Perfect

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: After much research and seeking out advice from Tony, Loki asks you on a date. Warnings: dialogue heavy and an adorably awkward Loki A/N: Thank you for requesting @akhansen2800! I hope you enjoy :) 

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

The common room was a mess, thanks to the trickster god. There was paper and books littered all over the floor. Not to mention bits and pieces from the computer he may or may not have smashed against the ground. It really was hardly his fault, though; it was the insipid machine that dared defy him.

“Woah, Reindeer Games,” Tony said, walking in, sidestepping the junk on the ground. “Did a tornado hit or something?”

“Oh, very funny, Stark. If you ask me, it is an improvement over this drab decor you have picked,” Loki quipped, eyes never leaving the page he was reading.

“No, how could you! My heart, it can’t take this,” Tony overdramatically gasped, flopping on top of the papers strewn on the couch. “Goodbye, cruel world.”

“Your theatrics never cease to amaze me,” Loki sighed, finally looking up at the man he’d come to call friend. “And that says a lot, coming from me.”

“You’re right, it’s high praise.” Tony picked up one of the papers he’d crinkled from laying on top of. “What is all this, anyway?”

Just because Loki considered Tony a friend, didn’t mean he necessarily wanted to say what he was doing. He was still a rather closed off person and, in all honesty, preferred to avoid any and all talks about his emotions. Which, of course, brings him right back to why he’s sitting in the middle of this mess, anyway. His emotions, which, despite his best efforts, he did still have.

Loki stood up and stretched his muscles, achy from being hunched over his reading material for so long.  He snatched away the page Tony was perusing, only for him to grab another one to skim. Realizing any effort to keep confiscating the papers one at a time would be fruitless, Loki moved it all to his room with a snap of his fingers. Then he sat next to his companion and began wringing his hands in that awful nervous tic of his. Truth be told, he could use some advice, but that only brought him back to square one of having to talk about his feelings. Tony leaned back on the couch while patiently awaiting Loki’s answer.

“I was doing some research,” Loki finally admitted. “On some Midgardian things.”

“That’s cute, Reindeer, but you could just ask me. Or maybe Peter if it's a pop culture thing.”

“It is not.” Loki wondered how much he could beat around the bush before he either had to give up on the conversation or genuinely say what was wrong. “It is just something I am not entirely sure how to go about.”

“I’m great at giving advice.”

“No, you are not,” Loki rolled his eyes.

“Sure I am!” Tony exclaimed, feigning hurt. “How would you know, anyway? You’ve never actually asked me for any.”

“Maybe not, but I have seen the way you live your own life, Stark.”

“That’s entirely different,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Come on, give me a chance. Fire away, I’m ready.”

Loki merely rolled his eyes again, though he was actually considering it. He hated to admit it—he really hated to admit it—but Tony had become somewhat of a father figure to him. That was absolutely ridiculous, of course, considering how Loki was a thousand years older than the man. But after his childhood, he’d be silly to reject that kind of relationship. Loki supposed that if he had to go to anyone with this problem, Tony wasn’t a terrible option. Besides, he should probably let himself be emotionally vulnerable very once in a while, right? That was supposed to be good or something, he thought. So, he steeled himself, and told Tony his issue.

“There is this Midgardian that I know. They are very sweet and kind and perfect... I mean, they are as bearable as a Midgardian can be,” Loki covered up, blushing slightly from how much he had just revealed. “I would like to ask them to spend some time with me, but I am not sure how.”

“Awww, you have a crush,” Tony cooed. “How sweet. You want to ask them out.”

“No,” Loki protested, stubborn as ever. Tony just raised his eyebrows at him. “Ok, fine! Yes, I would like to take them on a date, but I am dreadfully lacking in knowledge on Midgardian dating etiquette.”

“You’ve come to the right place,” Tony grinned. “Oh and take notes.”

And so, Loki spent the next two and a half hours listening to Tony ramble on. Most of it was just him going on rather useless tangents about his own endeavors in love. The God of Mischief rolled his eyes so many times, he began to fear they might roll out of his head. His notes, at least, were pretty amusing. Ok, to call them notes may be a little generous. They were mainly silly doodles of Tony monologuing, with the few helpful things he said jotted in the margins. He got so invested in one of his little caricatures that he didn’t even notice Tony stopped speaking.

“Hey, that’s not what I look like,” Tony pouted, peering at the drawing.

“Well nothing you were saying was helping, Stark.” Loki put the note pad in one of his dimensional pockets. “I am not like you. I am not a flashy person when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“Oh, so you want to go the be yourself way. You know, the sappy speeches and flowers and chocolates direction.”

Loki perked up a bit. “Yes. Yes, that sounds splendid.”

Tony sighed and gave Loki a list of movies to watch. And told him to speak from the heart. That troubled Loki; no one ever really cared to listen to him speak before. But, he dutifully watched all the assigned movies, supplemented by some of the books he was still combing through.

After a week of preparation and many, many drafts of a speech to say to you, Loki was finally ready to ask you out. Donning his best Midgardian suit, he walked out of his room, greeted by a bright flash of light. Tony was standing there, camera in hand.

“Look, at my little boy,” he fake cried. “All grown up.”

“Stark, will your antics ever stop?” Loki looked at the camera out of the corner of his eye. “And delete that photo, I was not ready.”

“Nope. It’s payback for all those unflattering doodles. Now, go get ‘em, Reindeer. Remember: Just be yourself.”

Easier said than done, Loki thought as he called upon his seiðr, teleporting to your street. You were an employee at Stark Tower; that’s how the two of you met. Loki had been looking for his brother, his search taking him into the cafeteria, one of his least favorite places in the whole building. It was always too loud and populated for someone who liked his silence and solitude. The sheer number of people in the room was overwhelming to the god that day, but he needed to speak with Thor, and he’d searched just about every other place his brother could be. He could not spot him in the crowd, but his eyes landed on you, off near a corner at a table alone and reading a book. He cast one last nervous look around the room before heading towards where you were, his social anxiety kicking in.

“Hello,” he said after clearing his throat.

You looked up at him with a dreamy sort of gleam in your eye that revealed how enchanted you’d been with your book. It gave Loki a little boost of confidence to know that that happened to you, too. That you could get so lost in a story that the world around you disappeared. It calmed his racing heart a little.

“Oh uh, hi,” you greeted with a chipper smile. Then more nervously, added, “It’s Loki, right?”

“Yes, that is correct. Loki of Asgard, pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said, sweeping into a small bow. “And you are?”

You told him his name, extending your hand for a shake. “How can I help you?”

“I am looking for my brother, but I cannot find him. You have not seen him around, have you?”

“I actually did see him earlier, though I’m not sure- Wait!” you suddenly exclaimed, and Loki followed your gaze. “He’s over there.”

Loki gulped. Of course his brother was at the table in the center of the room, surrounded by people. He really needed to talk to him about a mission, but the thought of going over there was making his stomach feel queasy. He tried to take a step forward, but his feet were apparently glued to the floor.

“Hey, if you’re nervous about going over there, I get it. Crowds can be scary,” you said, picking up on his subtle fidgeting. “The room usually clears out significantly in about ten minutes from now. I, um, was going to that little cafe over in the corner and get some tea or coffee, if you want to come.” Loki stared at you for a moment, unused to being invited places, especially by mortals he did not know. You seemed to mistake his silence, though, and rushed to assure him he didn’t have to. “Sorry, that was probably stupid. You’re under no obligation to say yes, of course. I understand.”

“No! I mean, yes.” He sighed and mentally smacked himself. Ever since moving to Midgard, his silver tongue was not what it used to be around strangers. “I mean, no that is not stupid, and yes, I would like to go to that cafe with you.”

And go to that cafe you did, launching into an animated conversation about reading. Loki even made you laugh, which felt like a huge accomplishment to him. The both of you sat back down at your table with your warm drinks, still chatting. There were very few people Loki ever felt so relaxed with, especially so soon after meeting them. You didn’t talk about anything groundbreaking, but he enjoyed talking to a kindred spirit. Somehow you even got a smile tugging at his lips, getting wider by the minute.

True to what you’d said, the room noticeably emptied nearly ten minutes later. With only a few people left and after such an amazing conversation, Loki was sure he could go grab his brother out of the room. But that was the problem; the conversation was too amazing, and he didn’t want it to end. And it seemed you didn’t either.

“Hey, um, maybe this is weird, but do you maybe want to talk again sometime? Like if you ever need a friend or are bored or anything?” you ventured.

“I would love that,” he genuinely replied.

You quickly wrote down your number and, after double and triple checking it, handed it to him. He tucked it safely away in one of his inner pockets before getting up and you bidding you goodbye. Then, in a better mood than he’d been in in a long time, Loki waltzed over to Thor’s table and successfully extracted him from the few people still clinging to his every word. He glanced back at you one last time before exiting, and you gave him a small, somewhat shy wave. He returned it along with a smile.

Loki kept that all in his heart as he walked up to your door, finger hovering by the bell for a minute. Maybe this was silly. No, this was definitely ridiculous. But, if he stood here any longer, your neighbors would probably think he was some crazy person.

Really, he shouldn’t be so nervous. You talked all the time since that day of your first meeting, and you’d never seemed bothered by him before. Not even when he started bringing surprise morning coffees to your desk. Or when he started leaving you books he thought you might like. Or when he started giving you little hugs when you seemed down. In fact, you seemed touched by all that. But this was all so new to him, so different from anything he’d known before. What if he was reading it all wrong? Before he could talk himself out if it, he rang the bell.

He heard you shout that you were coming in response. He quickly adjusted his tie and then stood with the flowers hidden behind his back. He made sure to get a bouquet of your favorites. You opened the door and your mouth made an adorable little “o” of surprise before your lips formed a sweet smile.

“Loki!” you greeted, smoothing down your sweatshirt. “I wasn’t expecting you. Don’t get me wrong, though. It’s great to see you. Um, do you want to come in? The place is kind of a mess right now, but-”

Loki whipped out the flowers from behind him, making you cut out in surprise. He stared at his feet and nervously mumbled, “These are for you.”

“Loki, these are so beautiful. This is so sweet. Thank you.” You gave him one of those shy smiles that he loved so much. “I feel bad, I don’t have anything for you.”

“That is quite alright. I have come here to ask you something.”

“Oh! Ok. I’m all ears.”

Loki smiled at the Midgardian expression, calming him a little. “We have been friends for some time now, and I have thoroughly enjoyed every minute—nay, every second—I have spent with you. You are the most kindhearted being I have ever met, beautiful both inside and out. And thus, I find myself wanting something more than friendship, if you will allow it. My dear, sweet, darling little mortal, will you do me the honor of going on a date with me?”

“Oh, Loki,” you breathed. “That was beautiful. I would absolutely love to go on a date with you.”

He cheered on the inside, and you hugged him close. After you pulled away, the two of you stood there for a minute, smiling like dorks. It seemed to Loki that no matter how badly he wanted to say something else, the only thought occupying his brain was that you said yes. He could hardly believe you said yes.

“So, uh, what are we going to do on our date?” you sheepishly asked.

Loki’s face dropped. He couldn’t believe how foolish he was. “I do not know yet. I knew there was something I was forgetting. I am sorry, darling.”

“That’s ok, Loki,” you kindheartedly laughed. “Tell you what, there’s a bookstore with the most adorable little cafe in it, just a couple blocks from here. Why don’t we go there?”

“That sounds perfect,” he replied, his smile returning already. “How does tomorrow sound? I can come pick you up around noon?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

You stared at each for another minute, those same goofy grins that gave away how happy you were plastered on your faces. When Loki began to overthink how awkward he probably looked, he found it in himself to tear his eyes away from your beauty.

“So I shall see you tomorrow then,” he nervously said.

“Yup! See you then,” you replied, your nerves equaling his own.

After a quick hug and waving goodbye to each other, you parted ways. Soon, Loki was back home in the Tower, happily sprawled on the sofa, book in hand.

“Hey Reindeer Games,” Tony greeted. “So, how’d it go? Was I right, or was I right?”

“As much as it pains me to admit it, Stark, you were right.” Loki smiled to himself, already daydreaming about your date. “It was perfect.”

Loki found that after so much anxiety and uncertainness, there was finally one thing he knew; tomorrow was going to be perfect, too.

[caxsthetic]

IN HIS HAND — Itadori Yuuji x Reader

Type: Standalone Movie (Oneshot Fiction)

Cast: Itadori Yuuji

Storyline: He doesn't know what will happen next in his life. Used to be blurry, now it's just pitch black. So before he goes, he needs to tell you the reason why he has to leave. Though, he's not sure how should he tell you.

Genre: Slice of Life

He doesn't know how to tell you properly.

“I am going to be executed because I ate a demon's finger!” doesn’t seem right when he thinks about it now. His future is blurry the second he decides to eat that gross finger. Ah no, blurry is too mundane for someone who can die at any moment. It's now pitch black — he can't see anything at all.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he has to follow Gojo-sensei to Tokyo, attending the proper school for people like him. There's no turning back, and he's only given a few hours to say farewell. It's not like he has lots of people that will miss him. Maybe a couple of students and teachers who love to praise him, not many.

But you — you are worth more than dozens of people that he ever knew. He needs to think of a reason that can make you believe him. You know everything; it will be hard because you know him like the back of your hand.

He can't say that his cousin in Tokyo will take care of him since he told you once that he only knows his grandfather, no one else. He can't say that he gets any scholarship since he doesn't really excel in any subjects in school.

He can't lie to you — and it frustrates him.

Itadori doesn't even realise that the train reaches his destination. You are home early today for you have to babysit your neighbour's son, the five-year-old boy that's close to him too.

Today, just like any other day when you are taking care of the child, he promises you that he will be there. Though, he will be late, and you said that it's alright, knowing his grandfather passed away yesterday afternoon.

Every step that he takes seems so heavy; he still can't think of any good reason why he has to move out. Maybe, maybe telling you that he is now becoming a vessel for an extremely powerful cursed spirit is not that bad. He doesn't have to be afraid that you don't believe him anyway, he knows that you will understand and take the information well.

Oh, but he doesn't think about how you will react. You are always worried about a little scratch and wound that can be seen on his skin. Yes, you will believe him, but you will be so frantic he can imagine you bombarding his phone for every second that passes, asking if he is still alive.

God,

Will he still be alive?

What if he can't answer your message anymore? Don't you going to be sad?

You care for him. You see him more than someone who can run with the same speed as a car, more than someone who has a strong physical ability that often makes people jealous of him.

When you see him, you actually get to know the real Itadori Yuuji.

And he's now unsure — if it's actually right, dragging you to the world that he is now trapped in.

He has two choices now. To keep you in his life, updating you about this unusual world he has to live in. Or to keep you safe, away from all kinds of cursed spirits and demon, cutting all the ties that he had with you.

It's all in his hand, he may not know how his future will unfold, but at least, at least he can make sure that your future still can be seen, not just pitch black like what he had.

He stops in his track, standing two houses away from where you are. Your hair sweeps by the wind, a giggle slipping from your lips as the young boy that you babysit gives you three stems of flowers.

He chuckles, remembering that the kid always challenges him about who is going to get your attention more. Making flower arrangements, getting the cutest bugs — the one who can make you smile more is the winner.

Though, with you, everyone will feel like they are a winner. For your smile never wither, blessing anyone around you with just your presence.

"Ah, a girlfriend?"

He clasps his left cheek, trying to stop the ancient cursed spirit to say anything else. "Never thought you had it in you, brat."

Though, he should have known that the spirit can pop out anywhere he wants. Sometimes appear on the back of his hand so he can’t muffle him — just like now.

So, he decides to ignore it, eyes focusing towards you once again. You have your back to him, but he can envision what expression that you made right now. From how your shoulders shake, he knows that the little kid must be doing something to make you laugh.

"What are you waiting for? Tell her."

Itadori takes a step forward, sneaking from behind as he wants to surprise you. He has to be so quiet — you have a good sense, and he wants to surprise you at least once before he leaves.

"You are a strong kid, so… help people."

But is it really worth it though?

"It doesn't have to be all the time, just whenever you can."

Risking your life? Throwing away your normal life just so he can keep a little piece of his old life?

"You may feel lost, don't expect gratitude."

You are only a few meters away from him. He can see you smile if he just walks up to you, he can still have you even though the relationship will be a long-distance one.

"Just help them."

But if being with him can only bring you harm — he can't do anything but letting you go completely.

"Tch. Coward."

You turn your head, dropping the flowers in your hand subconsciously, eyes darting to the cherry blossom tree that planted just two houses away from your place.

For a second there, you can feel him. There's a little warm tingle all over your skin, and yet, it never spreads perfectly, since turns out it's just your feelings, thinking that he's finally here.

Though there is nothing, no one else passing by the street, just some people who walk inside their house, the bugs and butterflies around you, and your little company.

The fact — making a frown slip onto your face.

"(Y/n)-san? What's wrong?"

The little voice from Michi, your neighbour's kid, fills the air around you. You immediately turn your focus back on him, don't want him to pout since this boy really loves your attention. Just like someone you know.

You grab your phone, pressing the home button just to see what time it is now.

5:10

"It's nothing, Michi." You ruffle the brown strands of his hair, making him frown since now he has a mess on top of his head.

He will be here at any moment from now. Well, at least you try to reassure yourself. No matter how strong Itadori is, he needs time and you understand it. And even though he will not come today, there's always tomorrow for you to see him.

"I am just waiting for Yuuji."

But time is a tricky aspect —

Tomorrow might never come after all.

I dedicated this for @hajimies who successfully drag me to this fandom. I am not even woah when my friends gushing about Gojo. But then this bish here rambling about Itadori and I just can't help but — ah yes, I am falling hard.

And this is a prologue for a series that I am going to write in 2021, so... Yeah...

[ga-yuu]

~Kurama~Main Story Chapter 17~

Kurama just wants a reason to make out with her!

Chapter 16

*

*

*

-------Part 1-------

Kurama: “Yoshitsune will be the one to deal with you. It’s stupid, I’m not even interested in your life or death. Don’t ever stand in my line of sight again. Also.......”

(!!)

As if remembering, Kurama grabbed my hand and pulled me up.

Kurama: “This woman belongs to me. If you have a problem with that, you can tell me who owns her."

------The rest of the day went by in a blur.

Shortly afterward, Benkei and his men arrived and captured the men...

(Now, Kurama and I are the only ones....)

After a brief explanation of the situation, Benkei told Kurama to send me to my room and then left.

Yoshino: "Thank you, Kurama....for saving me. I don't know what I would have done if Kurama hadn't come along by chance."

Kurama: "It wasn't by chance."

Yoshino: "Eh?"

Kurama: "I cast a spell on your door, that would let me know when you're out."

Then Kurama told me what happened with him and Yoshitsune-sama after they left my room.

-------FLASHBACK-------

While Benkei was interrogating the main suspect in the assassination plot, Yoshitsune-sama and Kurama are discussing something else.

Yoshitsune: "We'll finish the interrogation tonight. Until then, Yoshino will be under guard. At this time of night, Yoshino will probably just go to sleep...."

Kurama: "That won't be necessary. I had already cast a spell on the door to her room. If anyone comes in or goes out, I'll know right away."

Yoshitsune: "............When did you do that?"

Kurama: "I don't trust human guards to protect my belongings."

Yoshitsune: "----All right. Now that she also has that whistleblower, I'll leave you in charge of Yoshino."

------FLASHBACK ENDS------

Yoshino: "Oh..."

I was surprised to find that I had received so much care without my knowledge.

Kurama: "It was only after you had boldly walked down the corridor that it was discovered that there were more than one assassin, and I had no choice but to chase you."

(I didn't knew Kurama was doing so much for me.)

Yoshino: "Then I shall have to thank you more and more. Thank you, Kurama for making me realize how naïve I was. And the things you said to those men."

Kurama: "It's not like I did it for you."

Kurama gives me a cold glance.

Kurama: "I wanted to make it very clear that I don't like that kind of humans."

Even though I've been told this a lot, it still hurts me.

(I felt like we were at least a little closer together, and I thought Kurama was trying to understand humans.)

(But there's still a deep rift between Kurama and me.)

Yoshino: "Is it because....they're weak?"

Kurama: "For they are not only weak but also stupid and ugly creatures. Humans easily forget their true desires and impose their distorted desires on others. I saw enough of them when I was with Ibuki."

(Shuten Doji, Ibuki!)

The name came up unexpectedly, and a memory of the battlefield flashed through his mind.

-------FLASHBACK-------

Ibuki: "Have you forgotten how well I looked after you?”

Kurama: “…..I forgot.”

Ibuki: “Why are you so cold to me, Kurama? You were so much cuter when you were a kid. Do you remember that one time, when you lost to me in a match, I had you call me ‘Ibuki oni-sama’ all day?”

------FLASHBACK ENDS------

(Kurama was so angry at that time that I could hardly ask him about Ibuki.)

Yoshino: "........Can I ask you a question about Ibuki?"

Kurama: ".................No."

------Part 2-------

Kurama: ".................No, or is what I'd have said, but I've made a roundabout promise to tell you more about me. I'll teach you about me as much as you like."

(Thank goodness. He kept his promise again.)

I chose my words carefully before I asked the question.

Yoshino: "What was your relationship with Ibuki as a child?"

Kurama: "That man picked me up on a whim and taught me how to fight."

Yoshino: "You were raised.....like a family?"

Kurama: "There was no love in our relationship. You must have seen Ibuki, too."

(Indeed, the way Ibuki looked at Kurama was that of a beast toying with its prey.)

Yoshino: "Is that why you left Ibuki? If he taught Kurama how to fight, he must be pretty strong...."

(Shouldn't Ibuki's strength be attractive to Kurama?)

Kurama: "..................."

After a heavy silence, Kurama opened his mouth in an annoyed tone.

Kurama: "Ibuki likes to torment others-----especially humans. It's a demon's instinct, he says. Most of the people he inspired have lost their core and have fallen into greed."

(....I wonder what Ibuki would do to make a human become like that....)

Kurama: "I left him because I was sick and tired of seeing him so shallow. That's all."

Yoshino: "..........I see."

(Kurama's integrity prevented him from accepting humans and Ibuki's true nature.)

(It's enough to make him leave the strong Ibuki.)

No matter who he is with, Kurama will never lose himself.

(....What do you call that feeling?)

If I had to name it, it would probably be 'longing.'

(If Kurama hadn't been the enemy,...I wouldn't have had to think about it.)

(At least I want to be a worthy enemy of Kurama.)

Kurama: "You see, I'm willing to accept stupid humans to some extend. But there is no room for your stupidity."

Yoshino: "Still, you made me realize my mistake. I didn't realize myself I was this stupid, hehe."

Kurama's gaze suddenly softened slightly as I smiled at him.

Kurama: "----Stubborn woman."

Even the slightest hint of dismay in his voice made my heart flutter with joy.

Yoshino: "It's true. If it hadn't been for Kurama, I would have been sorry for the people of the Shogunate."

Kurama: ".....the Shogunate, again?"

(Eh?)

A dark shadow of lashes fell over Kurama's eyes, which should have been softened.

Yoshino: "Kurama? Wha----"

(Mmm....mmm...)

Before I could finish my question, he covered my mouth with his hand as if he was annoyed.

Kurama: "What you need is not gratitude, but remorse."

-------Part 3-------

Kurama: "What you need is not gratitude, but remorse."

His voice is unbearably sweet....

Kurama: "How do you explain the fact that you were my toy that was about to be destroyed?"

Yoshino: "...Mmm...."

My shoulders bounced as he traced the edge of my ear with the tip of his tongue.

Yoshino: "Ku..rama....what..."

Kurama: "How can you afford to say anything else?"

Yoshino: "Nnn.....Ahh....."

After being tickled by the breath, the tip of his tongue touches again, and my whole ear becomes sensitive at once.

I tried to escape but was easily pinned against the wall.

(First, I have to answer him.)

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

1. I didn't think it would be that important....

2. I wasn't thinking straight.(+4/+4)

3. I'll be careful from now on...

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

Yoshino: "-----I wasn't thinking straight. I was naive."

Kurama: "I know, and I'll punish you so that you'll never forget my words."

Yoshino: "No....ah...."

A biting kiss on my neck makes my heart skip a beat.

Yoshino: "What are you thinking....in a place like this.......?"

I glared at Kurama bitterly, but.....

Kurama: "You're the only one screaming here or do you want me to shut that mouth of yours?"

Yoshino: ".......Nn......."

I shook my head desperately to indicate 'No.'

Kurama: "Then, endure it all the way."

My bewildered face wavers in the red eyes that have a fierce glint of fascination.

Kurama: "....your wrists are red. Did one of those men grab you here?"

Yoshino: "....Ah....."

Kurama took my hand and gently pressed his lips against it.

Kurama: "I'll remind you again and again. I'm the only one in the world who has the right to touch you and destroy you."

His lips and tongue traced the soft skin on the inside of my arm.

Yoshino: "Kura...ma....this....embarrassing...."

Kurama: "Then close your eyes."

(Even if I did that....)

I know there is nothing I can do about it, but my body obeys Kurama's words.

Kurama: "You're more obedient than ever. You have my praise."

Yoshino: "...........Nn..."

With a satisfied laugh, something warm falls on top of my forehead.

(Again...)

I open my eyes to the touch of a gentle kiss, just like the one he gave in my room and also in the garden....

Kurama: "I told you to close your eyes. Do you want to be punished that much?"

Yoshino: "No...."

(.....Why can't I take my eyes off Kurama when I'm being treated so badly?)

Kurama: "Yoshino."

A quiet whisper was dropped within the touching distance.

Kurama: "If you admit out loud that you're my toy, I'll stop."

-------Part 4-------

Kurama: "If you admit out loud that you're my toy, I'll stop."

Yoshino: "Eh...."

Kurama: "Forget about the war, forget all your relations with others and just beg me to love you and play with you."

Yoshino: "I won't say that."

Kurama: "I'm sure you will."

He should be punishing me like usual, but Kurama's lips twisted in a somewhat unhappy way.

Kurama: "Your pitying insistence on discipline will not allow you to fall into my hands, forgetting those of the Shogunate."

(Why do you make such a face when you're in the habit of playing with me and seeing through my heart....?)

Suddenly my body is released from the hold it had been in.

Yoshino: "Ah....."

I lost my strength and sank onto the floor.

Kurama crouched down in front of me and looked at me.

Kurama: "But you know what, Yoshino. Whether you want to be or not, you're a good toy for me."

Yoshino: "I....won't....."

(----I HATE toys!!)

I grabbed his hand with an impulse.

Kurama: "!!!"

Yoichi: "Oiii, Kurama? Are you in there?"

As if to break the stifling air, a relaxed voice came from outside the room.

(That must be Yoichi-san!?)

Kurama: ".....What?"

An annoyed Kurama calls out, and sliding door opens.

Yoichi: "Oh, Yoshino. You're still here?"

(But...what was I about to say to Kurama earlier?)

Yoichi: "Are you alright? I know it must have been hard for you..."

Yoshino: "....A-Actually I'm fine!! I can go back to my room BY MYSELF!!!"

I stood up instantly trying to pretend nothing happened.

Kurama: "Hey!"

Yoshino: "YOU TOO Kurama!!"

Yoichi: ".........................."

..........................

After Yoshino runs out of the room.....

Kurama: "What's wrong with her? I've never seen her make that face...."

Yoichi: "Hehh....hahaha..... I don't think any medicine or hot springs will cure that sickness."

Kurama: ".........! Sickness?"

Kurama, who had been looking suspicious, grabbed Yoichi's shoulder vigorously.

Yoichi: "Woah woah woah!! Don't surprise me like that."

Kurama: ".......nn........"

..................

(My face is still hot....)

I was walking in the hallway quickly so that I could avoid anyone and get to my room as soon as possible.....

Yoshino: "Hm? Who is following me?"

Kurama: "Wait."

---------Part 5--------

Yoshino: "Kurama!?"

(Why is he following me?)

I was confused, but Kurama came up to me with great speed and pulled me by my waist.

Yoshino: "Wait, wha----!?"

Kurama: "Come with me."

Yoshino: "Where to?"

Kurama: "Your room is close by, let's go there."

.......................

(Now what's going to happen to me?)

I entered my room thinking that.

Then I was cornered against the wall.

Yoshino: "Kurama, can I ask you what you're doing.....?"

Kurama: "----Are you sick?"

Yoshino: "Huh?"

Kurama sat in front of me, his red eyes flickered, fully determined as to not let me escape.

Kurama: "I knew something about you was strange, but you're a pharmacist right? So don't you know how to cure it?"

Yoshino: "Wait. Who told you I was sick?"

Kurama: "Yoichi did. He said your sickness can't be cured by any medicines or hot springs. I tried to get him to tell me, but he said if I wanted to know the name of the disease, I have to ask you."

Yoshino: "......"

(Wait, maybe....)

The nape of my neck feels hot.

(No way! It couldn't be....)

I desperately told myself that it wouldn't be 'that', over and over again.

-------Maybe it started right when I said I wanted to know more about Kurama.

(He is a scary demon, but when he's in front of something he loves, he's pure.....)

(He hated humans, but respects those he acknowledges, and he has a bond with his Rebel friends, even if Kurama himself is not aware of it.)

(He always keeps his promises and is disciplined in a strange way, and as a result he has helped me many times.)

(Noble and strong....I thought this was just an admiration for my enemy Kurama.)

But on the other hand, I've always felt uncomfortable with my feelings.

Kurama: "So? Do you have a fever?"

Yoshino: "......Don't touch me."

Kurama: "!!"

Kurama's eyes widened in surprise as I bounced away from his hand.

(If you touch me now, I'm really going to burst with emotion.)

(Without knowing what it is, and without being prepared for anything.)

Kurama: "Then, tell me what's wrong with you. If you're in so much pain that you don't want to be touched, explain it to me in words."

There was an unprecedented urgency in Kurama's eyes, which made my heart ache helplessly.

Yoshino: "Ku....Kurama will never understand!"

Kurama: "What?"

(Even if we weren't enemy, if this is love, it can't be fruitful.)

Yoshino: "Because, you're a demon!"

Kurama: "....!"

(Ah......)

By the time I thought I'd lost it, it was too late.

(I didn't mean to say that...)

Kurama's face was clouded and then he opens his mouth.

Yoshino: "Sorry----"

Kurama(glares): "-----So you've understood me really well."

He slammed his one hand against the wall behind me, blocking my escape.

He then looked down at me as to make me forget everything else.....

Kurama: "Then a demon like me should not hold back from eating your body and soul, right?"

Chapter 18

[allegra-writes]

Black Magic Girl

Peter Parker x Reader

NSFW

Warnings: Smut

The request:

PLS! I have this request I was thinking about for a while and it’s like te reader is a witch that casts a spell on Peter, it’s kind of like a truth spell that also lowers inhibitions, and he literally ravishes her because of it cause he’s wanted her since he first met her and now he literally cannot control himself.

And:

I have read so many Peter Parker fanfics but the one I want soooo badly is where Peter Parker gets suuper dominant. Do you think you could write it? Pleaseeee 🌸

MY MASTERLIST

"Got me so blind I can't see

That she's a black magic woman

And she's tryin' to make a devil out of me"

- Black magic woman, Fleetwood Mac.

"Peter? Peter…" Your voice reached him like through a haze, or like he was underwater, your increasingly frantic tone cutting through the fog inside his head. "Please, Peter, please just… just open your eyes…"

He didn't want to, he truly didn't want to, his head was killing him and his stomach felt queasy. Almost as if he was hungover, but that wasn't possible.

"Ow… ouch…"

"Oh, thank the gods!" You almost sobbed in relief as his eyes fluttered open.  He was ok. You helped him sit up on the floor, and he smiled, a little loopilly, at you.

"Hey…" He greeted, leaning heavily on you, so close that you could feel his warm breath on your face, "Wha- what happened?"

Peter frowned, taking a look around the interrogation room: the metal table, chairs and even the prisoner were overturned and laying messily around the both of you.

You flinched,

"I was trying to cast a spell…"

Oh, yeah, the spell, he remembered now. The herbs, the chanting, the rose-gold light.

"The truth spell," He recalled, "You were trying to cast a truth spell, for- for the asgardian dude…"

"Yeah…"

"What happened?"

You sighed,

"It kinda… exploded I guess"

"Kid! Are you alright?" Tony and Steve came running from the hallway, no doubt having seen the whole thing through the security cameras.

"Fine, Mr. Stark," He stood, steadying himself with your help, "just a little dizzy"

"What about you, doll, you ok?" Steve hovered over you and you could swear a soft growl vibrated in Peter's chest "This is our fault, I knew we shouldn't have let you try this alone"

You controlled the urge to roll your eyes, it was always like that with the Captain, he was always babying you, underestimating you. You hated it.

"I'm fine"

"But the spell backfired, it-"

"No… I don't think it did" You interrupted him, "I mean, it didn't hit me, it didn't knock me back like…" You trailed off. Like it had done everything else .

"Woah, Mr. Stark, I don't feel so good" Peter stumbled, both you and Tony holding him to stop him from falling face first on the floor.

"Kiddo, what is it? Talk to me"

Peter babbled intelligibly. You cursed.

"What? What is going on, y/n?" Tony questioned, visibly worried, ignoring Steve's automatic language protest.

"I-I think it worked. His pupils are dilated, we need to take him to the med bay, fast!"

"Why? I mean it's just a truth spell…"

"It's not just any truth spell" You snapped, "It's like… like a gallon of alcohol all at once, it loosens your tongue by lowering your inhibitions to the point of nonexistence! You tell the truth because the filter between your brain and your mouth disappears!"

Peter looked positively green now,

"Oh, shit! Take me to the med bay, take me to the med bay NOW! Mr. Stark, please!"

Tony's eyes flickered between you and his protege's terrified face, he knew exactly what Peter was afraid to tell you.

And he actually thought it was about time.

"Sorry, underoos, prisoner is waking up, we have to start this interrogation right away" he apologized, sounding anything but sorry, "but you can walk, it's not that far, you can lock yourself there until the effect wears out."

"Oh, princess, go with him, would ya? Make sure he doesn't get into any trouble on the way" Tony added as an afterthought. You nodded and took Peter's arm as you guided him out of the room, none of you paying any mind to the super soldiers protests.

"Please, you don't have to do this" Peter tried to disentangle from you once you were far enough from the older Avengers ears, "I- I can make it to the bay by myself"

You scoffed,

"Is that true?"

"No, I just wanna get away from you fast" Peter blurted out. You stopped dead in your tracks.

"What? Why?" You tried to keep the hurt out of your voice, you really did.

"Because" His breathy voice in your ear sent an unexpected shiver down your spine as he leaned even closer, putting more of his weight on you, "I don't trust myself near you right now"

You gulped. There was something in his voice, something you couldn't put your finger on. Something primal, almost dark. The shift in him was so sudden it left you stunned, dazed.

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"I mean it takes me a lot of self control to keep myself away from you" He explained, between gritted teeth, the struggle clear in his tone, "and I can feel that control slip away… I don't know… how much longer can I keep it together"

You turned to meet his eyes and you found them darkened with lust, with barely contained desire.

"What if… what if I don't want you to stay away from me?"

A helpless noise left his throat, a wordless surrender, as his will finally broke, as he crushed his lips to yours. He nibbled at your lower lip before licking it, before coaxing your mouth open with his tongue. You felt your body come alive, every nerve ending screaming for more, more of the taste of his tongue, more of his body against yours. You snaked your arms around his neck and felt his twist around your waist, one hand splayed on your back, pressing you closer. He started pushing you, walking you back, but instead of hitting the wall like you expected, you both kept moving. It wasn't until the back of your thighs collided with a metal table that you realized he had guided you into another interrogation room.

You grabbed onto the table to stop from falling back on it, and Peter took advantage of that to shove his pelvis against yours, forcing you to sit on it as he stepped between your legs. You gasped for air as he released your lips. He disentangled one arm from around your back. You heard, more than saw, the spider webs that closed and locked the door; you hadn't noticed he was still wearing his web-shooters under his black stealth suit. Another hiss, and the security camera was out.

"Peter… what are you doing?"

He ignored your question, capturing your lips again, pressing himself harder against you, his erection against your center making what was on his mind perfectly clear.

You pushed at his chest until he freed your mouth,

"Peter, wait, we can't" You tried to reason as his lips traced their way down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, undoubtedly leaving marks. "You're under a spell, this isn't you!"

"But it is me" He contended, catching your hands in a vice-like grip, "I wanted you for so long… and you want me to, I know it. I can smell it on you" He whispered the last part against your lips, tongue peeking out to lick at the corner of your mouth.

"Wh-why didn't you…" You tried to focus your swimming head enough to make sense, "You never said anything"

Peter was on you again, kissing you with a ferocity you would have never believed the sweet boy capable of.

"I couldn't" He grunted, when he finally broke the kiss, "you're their little girl. The baby of the group. Their innocent little princess, who can do no wrong…" He shook his head, "And the things I wanted to do you. That I still want to do to you…"

You bristled at his words, you weren't even the youngest one. Peter was, actually. And he was twenty-three. If he was treated like an adult you didn't see why you shouldn't be. You wanted Peter to fuck you, not to put you on a pedestal.

You met his eyes, almost defiant.

"I'm not that innocent"

He licked his lips,

"Aren't you?"

You shook your head no,

"Show me" You demanded, "Show me what you've been dreaming of"

Peter smirked, grabbing your chin almost painfully,

"Ask me nicely"

"Please"

That was all it took, one word and he was unleashed, taking your hands and tying them at your back with another swoosh of his web-shooter, ripping open your plain white blouse, tiny pearly buttons flying everywhere. He buched it around your tied wrists, before taking a step back, admiring his work.

"I fantasized about this," He confessed, "every time we worked together at the lab: You, sitting pretty on the worktable, all tied up for me…" his eyes never left you, you flushed chest, your nipples hard behind your lacy pink bra, as he placed his palms on your knees, slowly sliding them up, "About slipping my hands under this ppretty pink skirt…" his thumbs met above your cotton covered crotch and he pressed, the fabric quickly becoming damp.

A soft moan left your lips as he rubbed up and down your slit. But it was muffled by a sticky substance suddenly covering your lips.

Peter chuckled at the dirty look you threw him. He lowered his head, breath hot on your breasts,

"I dreamed about gagging you up so they wouldn't hear your moans as I…" He brought his tongue out to lick one pebbled nipple above the coarse lace, "Yeah, just like that" He praised the muted noise you made, before bringing his hands to your chest, ripping the flimsy fabric from your body like paper scraps and really diving in, sucking and biting and bruising. He wasn't being delicate with you, he wasn't coddling you and treating you like you were about to break like everybody else. And you loved it.

He bit down on the swell of your breast and you looked down, surprised to see he hadn't drawn blood. He soothed the hurt with his tongue, looking up at you. You were gorgeous, all caught up in his webs, breathing hard and glossy eyed, already looking ravished.

He stood to whisper in your ear, as his fingers tugged your underwear to the side,

"I pictured burying my hard cock between your legs..." two long fingers breached your entrance and you let your head fell on his shoulder, "Over… and over… and over…" he punctuated every word with a sharp thrust of his fingers in and out of you, and suddenly you were glad he had gagged you. Otherwise you were sure everyone in the compound would have heard your wantom moans.

His thumb found your clit and your head fell back again and Peter took the chance to lift your skirt. The vision of his fingers glistening with your juices, gliding in and out of your pussy half covered by your white cotton panties, tableau vivant of your defiled innocence was too much for him. He took his hands off you, opening his fly and lowering his boxers just far enough to free his hard, throbbing member, impaling you in one go. You tried to get away from the sudden intrusion on instinct, he was way too thick, way too long. But he hooked his hands behind your bended knees, pulling you forward, farther down his oversized cock.

"Oh no baby," He scolded, "good sluts take what is given to them" his crass language made you shiver, and he smirked, "Don't you want to be my good little slut?"

You nodded, and his expression softened, as he snaked a hand around your back, bringing you closer, cock sinking into you deeper, inch by painfully delicious inch. Once he was buried to the hilt, he placed a tender kiss on your forehead.

"You did so good, baby girl. I knew you could take it all." His praise warmed your insides, and you relaxed into his embrace.

"Can you still make sparks with your hands tied like this?"

His question struck you as odd, but you concentrated in creating the flickers anyway, a shower of pretty lights all the answer you were able to give him.

"Good baby girl. I know I should have told you this before, but if you ever need me to stop or I do something you don't like, make red sparkles and I promise I'll stop"

You nodded your head, and he kissed you again, slowly starting to move his hips, dragging his cock almost all the way out, only to push his way back in, a little harder, a little faster every time.

"Oh baby girl… feels so good…" He moaned, "knew this would be… the best pussy I ever had"

You leaned back, bracing yourself on your bounded hands behind you, opening your legs wider, offering yourself to him.

"Yeah, like that… you like this, don't you? Like me fucking you… but sluts like it hard… and fast"

You made a noise of agreement, and he picked up his pace, hips driving into you, cock stabbing into you with no mercy. The pornographic wet sounds of skin slapping on skin resonating in the soundproof room, the sight of your pussy, juicy and red, swallowing his dick over and over… Fuck, he could see himself moving inside you, your skin rippling with every thrust, every intrusion of his massive cock. He was close, and you were too, he could tell by the way you were tensing up, the explosion imminent. But he wanted you debased, he wanted you desperate. He wanted you begging for it, begging for him.  

He wanted to ruin you.

He slipped out of you, taking a step back, leaving you empty just as you were about to fall over the edge. He chuckled darkly at your stifled cry of protest, wrapping his hand around himself, pumping it up and down his length.

You looked thoroughly wrecked: cunt fucked open, hair a mess, clothes hanging in rags around your frame. So fucking beautiful and obscene, that only a handful of strokes later, and he was painting your chest on white ribbons, marking you with his come. He grabbed your chin again, lips pressing to your webbed ones and somehow, that felt dirtier than everything he had done to you so far.

You sobbed into the kiss.

"What is it baby girl?" He cooed, fingers delicately pushing your hair away from your sweat covered forehead. "You want to come?"

You nodded frantically. Peter applied something to your lips, dissolving the webbing. He took a step back.

"Show me how much you want it"

You didn't need to be told twice, jumping from the table and falling to your knees in front of him. You made eye contact as you nuzzled his length, and saw his sharp intake of breath. You hid your smile at his little display of weakness, at the small crack of his façade of dominance.

"You know how to do this?"

You scoffed,

"I'm not a virgin!"

"I know you aren't" He cupped your face, and you twisted to capture his thumb into your mouth, "You truly aren't that innocent, are you?"

You shook your head no, releasing his digit with a pop.

"Show me how dirty you are baby girl"

A new challenging look shone in your eyes,

"As dirty as you dare to make me. Use me, Peter. Fuck my face, please"

Fuck.

He was hallucinating, he had to be. Years of watching porn, of daydreaming of you and the filthiest fantasies his brain could come up with hadn't prepared him for this, for the reality of you on your knees for him, asking him to…

Fuck!

He caressed your cheek, his other hand tangling on your hair, angling your head just so. Your lips fell open and he entered your mouth, far slower than he had entered you. He had to take it slow, otherwise he wasn't going to last, not with you still staring up at him, angelic doe eyes bright and big and adoring. He started rocking his hips, withdrawing only to surge back, a little deeper each time. You tried to suppress your gag reflex, but every time your throat constricted around him it only seemed to spur him on. Breathing was becoming hard and your eyes started to glisten with unshed tears.

"You look… so beautiful… choking on my cock" His words were strained, as you tried to massage his shaft with your tongue to the best of your abilities, drool dripping down your chin. "Prettiest little slut… ever"

You hummed, pleased, and the vibrations got him cursing out loud. He would have liked to enjoy that sinful mouth of yours longer, but he could feel the rise building again, and this time he didn't want to waste it. He had to come inside you, show you who you belonged to.

He slipped out and helped you stand, massaging your jaw and cheeks with his fingertips, before pulling you close for another earth shattering kiss. You melted into it, into him. The feeling of his clothed body against your naked skin got you reeling.

"Please" You gasped into his mouth, "Peter… please"

"God, baby girl, you beg so pretty!" He turned you around, bending you over the table. The cold metal felt delicious against your fevered skin. You felt him move behind you, flipping your skirt over your back, rolling your ruined panties down your thighs. Not being able to see him, not knowing what would come next, made it all the more exciting, your body trembling with anticipation.

His rough palms grazed your ass, grabbing handfuls of your globes, spreading them apart.

"Fuck, baby girl, you're pretty everywhere…"

One of his hands left you as he guided his cock between your folds. He felt even bigger like this, his girth stretching you in all the good ways. You were so wet that he had no problem building up a fast rhythm right away, his cock gliding in and out smoothly, your body offering no resistance as he laid it into you hard, taking hold of your bound hands for leverage, easily moving you to meet his implacable thrusts, fucking you mercilessly.

You bit your lips, trying to reign in your moans and sobs.

"Oh no, baby girl… let me hear you… let them hear you"

You were to lost in the pleasure he was inflicting upon you to be able to form a coherent question but he must have sense your confusion, because he explained,

"The cap has a crush on you... did you know that?.. He hates it… makes him feel like a dirty old man" He leaned over your back, to place a filthy lick up the side of your neck, his punishing pace never faltering, "What would he say if he saw you like this… covered in my cum, moaning like a slut, taking my cock… God you take me so well, baby girl" it was him the one moaning the end of his sentence out.

To his surprise, you giggled,

"Oh god… he would have a heart attack!"

"You don't- don't care?"

You started moving with him, fucking yourself back on his cock,

"Rather be your cockslut… than his princess"

Peter growled, and suddenly he was on your back, his weight pinning you down. If you thought he was fucking you hard before, it was nothing compared with the pistoning of his hips now, as one of his hands fisted in your hair, turning your head so he could attack your mouth with his, and the other slid underneath you, finding your clit, rubing it in quick short strokes, almost painfully. The heat became almost unbearable, the coil tightening fast, your toes curling. You couldn't breath, trapped as you were under the onslaught of his cock on your already abused pussy, filling you over and over, owning you.

"Yes! Like that, give it to me baby girl… I can feel you coming… who's the one that's making you come?"

"You!"

"Say my name" He demanded, lifting you from your feet under the power of his thrusts, "who's the only one who fucks you like this?"

"You are, Peter!" You cried as your orgasm exploded. But he didn't stop, couldn't stop, not when he could feel your walls starting to squeeze him again, thight, so thight stars were exploding behind his eyelids.

"Louder, scream for me, baby girl!"

It was too much, his cock impaling you so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs, the cruel pleasure setting every nerve ending on fire, his moans and groans in your ear as he used your body ruthlessly and unforgiving, the new climax crashing on you, stronger and more intense that the first one.

"PETER!" You heard yourself scream, felt his hot seed deep inside you… Right before the world went black.

…

The next morning, you woke up in a bed that wasn't yours, wrapped in arms that cradled you like you were something precious, and fragile, but for the first time, you didn't mind. You vaguely recalled the soft cotton of your ruined top cleaning the mess between your legs, Peter's bare chest as he dressed you in his own t-shirt to preserve your modesty. As he gathered you close, carrying you bridal style to his bedroom. But you did remember the hot bath, your back to his chest, nested between his legs, hands exploring, caressing, soothing marks and bruised spots.

And you remember the love making, the both of you insatiable now that you finally had the other in your arms. The tender promises exchanged in the sacred darkness before sunrise.

Needless to say, you were in a good mood, not even Tony sending knowing looks your way, and Steve, avoiding looking at you and Peter altogether could sour your mood. They didn't matter. Or rather, Steve didn't matter. He was in love with his own version of you, with this image he had created in his head and you weren't sorry to shatter it to pieces. Tony was Tony, and you knew he was happy for his protegee.

It wasn't until you got inside your own lab (if you could call that the half greenhouse, half library), that your mood was shaken.

"Master!" You froze in the doorway as you saw your mentor, leaning back casually against one of the tables, looking at something on his Starkpad, "You- you're back early! I thought the council was still-"

"Those old hags are still arguing with each other" He interrupted your anxious greeting, "I grew bored of them. But now I am thoroughly entertained"

You knew it was your turn to talk, to ask what was it he found so interesting. But your words died in your throat. Your hands started to sweat, and you dried them on the skirt of your pretty pink sundress. Peter had been very insistent: Only skirts and dresses from now on, he wanted you ready for him anywhere, anytime. You felt yourself heat up and tried to get a grip; this wasn't the place, nor the time for such thoughts.

Loki finally raised his gaze from the screen, blue eyes piercing through you.

"Tony asked me to take a look at this footage, find where you went wrong and correct you" he snorted, "As if I need his input in how to best train my apprentice…"

He motioned to you to come closer, playing the video again for you.

"Do you want to know what I found, my little enchantress?"

You didn't reply. You didn't have to, anyway. He didn't need it to continue.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Your work was flawless, as usual"

You dared a smile,

"Thank you, master"

He smiled back, amused, and you breathed in relief as you realized, he wasn't mad at you. He was pleased by you. "It does beg the question, why did your spell explode?"

Your smile turned into a smirk, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Because I wanted it to, of course"

He laughed, boisterous and loud and for a second, he reminded you of his brother. He was delighted, not because you had finally caught your little spider in a web of your own weaving, he couldn't care less about the boy. No, he was pleased that you had, at last, started following his advice, the one he had given you so long ago, one night you had come to him frustrated to tears, after the Avengers had refused yet again to take you into a mission with them, leaving you to paperwork and babysitting.

"I almost preferred it when they were afraid of me! At least back then they respected me…"

Loki had tsked,

"Oh, no, none of that! Always let them underestimate you, my little enchantress. Let them think you're the delicate flower in their garden, but be the serpent under it "

… And what a charming little serpent you were .

The end.

Buy me a coffee

[poesparakeet-fics]

Additional Critickle Role Headcannons

Realized that I had some headcannons in the comments of my Ao3 fics that I wanted to keep track of for future purposes, so I'm putting them here:

Love and Somatics:

I like to think that Essek's original hesitation in initiating things probably had something to do with the big sign over Caleb's head that says "Emotionally Fragile, Handle With Care" and that in that split second where he decided to kiss Caleb he also decided how he was going to deal with that.

In most worlds, most elves have some interaction with humans, but Matt's made it pretty clear that generally, Roshona is a no-humans zone. Treasons aside, Essek hasn't really gotten close enough to a human to notice things like how quick facial hair grows, and honestly? I can remember being a pre-teen and going "Woah, it grows HOW FAST?" and it amused the pants off of me to imagine Essek having the same reaction.

I think Caleb and Essek are probably equals for strength, but Essek is definitely smaller. I imagine it was fun for him to take the ler role a little considering what he goes through with the Nein. And if you're going to emulate a Ler, he's going to emulate Jester. Duh.

Evil ler Essek has been on my MIND because of that smooth voice and that "young man" in the recent episode, the confidence and control from that whole conversation. Also, you know Caleb wants approval from older men. We all know how that trauma go.

Caleb's a little proud of his ability to give up control and take a bit of punishment from a lover. It dulls some of his most self-punishing tendencies.

I'm fully on board with the idea that Caleb is more ticklish the more he's thinking about it. I wanted the threats to keep him there. BUT ALSO PRAISE KINK TELL HIM HE'S A GOOD BOY.

Wizards in Dnd are well known to be competitive with each other, so I thought the idea of making it into a magic competition would fit well for these two. It's also one of the relatively few things that Caleb gets really, immovably stubborn about.

Finding Peace

I feel like a big theme of Yasha's character arch is her not knowing her purpose anymore, and the stormlord giving it to her: protector. So I feel like in this behavior plays into that. She knows everyone has their roles, and this is just her doing hers: Look scary AF and keep people safe. The rest of that stuff? Those are pretty-boy problems.

I feel like Cad would have grabbed him if Jester didn't do so again. They have so many good reasons to think Trent wants to kill Caleb and will try to do so. Also, I don't think Yasha really understands pocket dimensions and is thinking "Our house is in the same building as them! They're practically IN OUR HOUSE." And she's got a sword called magician's judge sooo.

In the Ploy Nein verse, Beau has more of a "Beloved BFF I share lovers with" relationship with the men in their party. Molly's fluidity means he doesn't count and she'll fight anyone who says otherwise. She and Caleb are very good at teamwork.

That different relationship is what lets Beau's tickle attacks slip past Caleb's submissive side into a "You're not my dom! You don't get to tell me what to do!" Space of defiance with no self preservation.

Beau helps it along. Her bullying, taunting teasing is meant to make him provoke more tickles. Caleb falls more it more or less every time.

The fun of Caleb now being a pretty impressive wizard is that the brawny ones can still take him down a peg because they know he wouldn't hurt them. Most wiz spells would be like bringing a bazooka to a wresting match or next to impossible to cast when being tickled into a wee little ball. Muscle girls do not have that problem.

Beau's Dope Monk shit making him more ticklish gave Caleb an "oh no what did i get myself into" moment and then probably an "oh god what if the tieflings find out she can do this" one later.

After hearing Yasha tease Caleb when he was a spider, I think that might be Yasha's signature ler move. Just declare that she's hungry for "[class or race] body part" and chase some poor ticklish person around going "I'm going to get you! I'm gonna eat you! Yes I am!" While they plead for mercy.

[ficsnroses]

Prompt Fic #28 (nsfw)

this is the last one, friends. that was 30 prompts, thank you for sending em in! I had tons of fun, I hope you did too:)

prompt : “I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, and no one would notice.” requested by anon!

summary : keanu fingers you at the beach because you bought a new bikini that gets him all aroused and he’s been unable to keep his hand to himself all day lolololololol

warnings : nsfw, nudity.

words : 1.7k

“Keanu!” You call, upright in front of the full length mirror in your shared bedroom, a new bikini recently unravelled. Today, on a sunny Saturday afternoon, Keanu proposed you both head out to the beach for a much needed soak in the sun. Beach bag packed, all you’d needed left was for him to assist you in tying the back strings of your newly purchased, noir bikini top.

“Hey babe--woah..” His voice stills behind you, inquisitive eyes glazing over each inch, each crevice of your exposed skin; satin curves mouth-wateringly exquisite in front of him. Chuckled with a roll to your sly orbs, you hold the strings behind your back, urging your much awestruck boyfriend closer. “Tie me, please.” You try, catching glimpse of his palm stroked over the thick bugle of his heavily tented pants, so sudden. Keanu palming his bulge was a mischievous sight indeed, lip bitten to the way he stares at your modesty, speechless.

“Baby,” He sighs, chest riveting to press against your back, heavy palms placed to your hips before trailing suggestively higher, only dispelled to the dainty swimsuit straps coupled to your nude shoulders. “How do you expect me to control myself when you’ll be wearing this all day?” Peeling the straps off your shoulders, Keanu’s lips stipple to your neck, wet kisses peppered as his fingers position loose waves of hair off your shoulder, admiring your absolute beauty, exposed for him.

“Well,” You state, matter of fact tones thick. Kindly, your fingers entwine to his tousled coffee locks, his head resting in the crook of your neck as he kisses your skin, palms trailing further to plant over the swell of your breasts, draped with the loose top. “You’ll have to. We won’t be the only ones there.” A soft moan elicits your grousing lips, Keanu’s kisses leaving small nips and gentle bites tender to your body. He’d often lose himself in you, just as this. Mind misplaced, unaware to the surrounding happenings, solely focused on the feel of your body touched on his; completely, wholly drunk on the woman he loves more than could be fathomed.

“Honey,” You joke, gently nudging him away with a loving hand coupled to his cheek from behind, voice saccharine, doused in that special hold of fondness when he’d fall this way within you. “I love you, but you need to tie the strings of my top so we can head out.” Fingers lacing with his, your lesser hands place over his that rest to your breasts, gently removing them to collapse to your sides. Through the crystal glass mirror, you catch sight of his brunet gaze, pouted lips with a droop of orbs, commending a turn of your body in his hold, and your arms loom around his neck. Peculiarly, the scent of woody tobacco and dark morning coffee exudes off his scent, a combination so beautifully familiar, so him.

You kiss him soft, slow, adoring briefly, giggling a laugh when his mouth delves further down, dangerously close to the delicate skin that waves to your chest, his chunky fingers confidently peeling ever so little of the fabric off, divulging view of your breasts and hardened nipples under his touch. Love drunk, you watch the way he takes a nipple into his mouth; warm and wet sensation emitting a satisfied sigh flee from your mouth as you moan tangibly, hands twisting in his hair yet again. He swirls the sensitive bud, sucking and nipping gently before straggling higher to meet your lips again, smirk seeped through a fanatical ballet of moving lips worshipping your mouth. When he pulls away, you’re left stunned, a jumble of warmth as he turns you gently, fingers beginning to work, binding the two lengthy strands of string to your bare back, finishing with a soft kiss to the nape of your neck.

Keanu and you had found a rather secluded spot, basked in the shoreline sand crisp under the balls of your feet. Above the shore, waves crash, scorching sun on your silken skin appeased by salty sea breeze, specs of ocean blue stippling your skin in a pacify every so often. To your left, Keanu lays beside you, dark sunglasses dressed to his handsome gaze, mocha locks fluttering untamed in the ocean wind.

To your silken skin, his hand has stayed placed to your nude thigh far too long; callous skin lingering, soothing small circles and mindless shapes trailed suggestively close to your covered heat a time too many. He’s teasing- you’re well aware, and far too helpless under his touch to deny sparking yearn.

“You know,” gruff in his throat, a deep course of rummaging tone pierces through your ears, his lips just a mere few centimeters away from your skin. Still, his thumbs caress your thigh, grazing the soft skin mischievously. “I could just pull your bikini bottoms to the side, and no one would notice.”

Gulping, you swallow tight with a pit of crave building in your core, the feel of his lips placing another small kiss to your shoulder only adding to the immense jolts of shock gradually building, stirring. Off in the distance, fellow patrons of the beach wander, thoughtlessly whisked away in company of their own. They’re far too distant to see the way Keanu threatens to touch you so sinfully, the way you quietly writhe under his touch when his digits’ trace over your clothed core, eyes unsuspecting with a sly smirk to his devious lips. “You’re soaking up, darling.” He raspily whispers, throaty chuckle when you gasp to the feel of his fingers dipping to the waistband of your bottoms. He delves lower, grazing over your moist folds, heat radiating through slick arousal when his thumb circles ever so tenderly over your clit in avid circles, a deep baritone hum of his voice encouraging you further.

Cautious with boil inside, you look around, asserting clearance from onlookers when he praises your wetness, how aroused you feel under his skin when he explores further, two digits plummeting inside your glossy entrance.

“Keanu,” You gasp, grabbing hold of his nude and bulked bicep, disapproving look failing to façade when he beings pumping slow, slicking in and out your creamy walls pulsing for him, clenching around in a tight hold. Before you’d fathomed, your palm rushes to plant over top his that explores inside your bottoms, pushing his grip further, desperately urging more friction; further pleasure from his expertly skilled hands rummaging inside so sinfully, so immorally with the risk of being caught.

“Ke, harder,” You encourage through gritted teeth, grasp on his hand tightening when you feel that familiar bubble boil inside you, building wavelengths of bliss deep inside, his finger grinding against that perfectly tender, cushy spot inside your drenched cunt. The afternoon sun scotches down, golden rays lounged to your skin as you squirm, Keanu’s hand quickening pace before rippling shivers shadow down your spine, a moan far too loud jumbled off your tongue.

“Shhhh, princess.” Keanu whispers a chuckle, pressing another hot kiss to your bare arm as his pace quickens, hand pumping, flicking feverishly against your mound in a chase of conveying nothing but pure pleasure to wash over you; to satisfy his lady with a talented firm. You moan for him silently, pink stained lip bitten to a groan with your lesser hand placed on top of his that works you; clenching his callous skin tight, a buck of your hips against his fingers. Struggling, Keanu grinds his stout fingers deep inside you, pumping still as the bulge in his pants thickens to the sound of your quiet, gaspy moans reserved merely for his inquisitive ears. He palms his swim trunk clad cock, groping his length just when you’re just at the brink of orgasm…

Until you stop him. Breathy sighs, ragged sucks of caught air hitching your throat. Confused, fallen apprehensive, Keanu’s hand slips out your cunt, yet stays inside your bottoms, brows frazzled. With a ring of his meddlesome voice, he inquires, voice low; deliciously deep and throaty. “Was it not good, sweetheart?”

Sighing a shaky breath, your hand on top of his inside your pants tightens grip to his, gaze locking intently to those mahogany eyes you’d come to adore as you bite your lip, eyeing his manhood, sheathed underneath his swim trunks…

So full. So big. So heavily thick, lengthy, with that delectably slight curve to his delicious shaft that never failed to implore you to the harshest of release.

Keanu was a true treat; a delicacy reserved solely for you. The way he feels inside your warm and wet walls, the way you feel a fullness of nothing but him as he works your body, thickness hitting your end to perfection with the sounds so immorally slick; being with Keanu is a lustful dream, a dream you’d have the pleasure to taste whenever you’d please…

With your tone allusive and sultry, you undertone, eyes never leaving his when your hand moves to brush his swollen cock; asserting. With your figure drawn closer, you lean over, breasts brushed to his side as you whisper in his ear, so alluring, so quiet as the words send shockwaves down his throbbing member.

“I need you..” Palming his bulge, your lips nip to his ear. Biting your lip, his eyes cast dark, glossing over your dangerously nude body, only covered by measly drape of the black bikini hiding the parts only he had the grant to see. His eyes knew all too well what laid underneath…what beautiful, sensual, mouth watering secrets laid underneath.

“You’ve teased me all afternoon.” You almost spit, tone assertive. “Now, you’re going to come with me into the woods behind us, and you’re going to fuck me behind one of those trees.” Close and proximate, you pull his hand out of your panties and smirk, watching the way he swallows a tight lump, eyes locked to your chest that purses tight for him, continuing your burn of words. “I need you to fuck me the way you do, baby. Hard. Fast.” Breathes falling heavier, his lips taut into a gentle grin. “Make me whimper for you.” Kissing his neck, you pull back, eye contact direct.

“And I’m not taking no for an answer.”

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

My taglist will be posted in reblogs, let me know if you want to be added or removed! :)

[thekitteninlove]

I wrote another fanfic. This time it's a threesome. I've been meaning to write one for some time now, but the two of them are on such bad terms that i just couldn't figure out how to make it work. Then this event came up and i realized that if i made it into a competition then a threesome was possible even with those 2. The fanfic takes place during the Illuminating love event, where they got trapped in school because of a barrier. This could be a reader insert too if you want.

Characters: Dean Tweedle x reader x Dalim/Dum Tweedle

Rating: R 18+

After Dean ensured that his students were safe and had all they needed, he came up to me and said “Maybe we should go look for that playboy. Who knows what he might be up to now.”

Night had already fallen and I was thinking of going to sleep early since I had nothing better to do now, but when Dean suggested this, I readily agreed to it because I was worried about Dum. Is he still searching for a way out? Did he find something to eat? I hope he’s okay.

We were walking down the dark corridors. The only source of light was the moonlight that was infiltrating through the big windows. Good thing the sky was clear tonight or we wouldn’t have seen anything. It would’ve been pitch black. Aren’t there any lights around here? It’s not like I’m scared of the darkness, but… I gotta admit this is a bit creepy. We were trapped in school because someone cast a barrier around it for some unknown reason. Who could’ve done such a thing? If I remember correctly, Dum said that his king did it without telling him. King!? I don’t think Lancelot or Ray could’ve done this. They wouldn’t have any reason to do it. But then who was Dum referring to? I wanted to ask him, but he changed the subject and I forgot about it. What if… the perpetrator was still here? The thought of that made me feel chills down my spine. Why did he even do this in the first place? Why did he lock us up in here? Does this mean… that he has some plans with us? He might be waiting somewhere in the dark to ambush us. Oh no, I hope everyone is safe and we’ll be able to get out of here alive. I drew close to Dean and wrapped my hand around his arm.

“Hm? Don’t tell me you’re scared of the dark. You seemed so brave earlier today.”

“I’m not afraid of the dark! It’s just that… what if the perpetrator is still here?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you. As long as you’re with me, you’ll be safe” He seemed to be calm even under these circumstances. How can he do that!? I’ve never seen him lose his temper even once. I really like this about him though. His words and confident attitude were quite reassuring and I relaxed a bit.

“Sorry for not being of much help” I said after a while. “I wasn’t able to break the barrier” This is the first time my powers couldn’t break a spell. The person who did this must be quite knowledgeable in magic.

“You shouldn’t beat yourself up over it. You did everything you could. We’ll find a way out in the end. I’m sure of it.”

How can he be so optimistic? Does he have a plan? Before I could ask him about it, I spotted a dark silhouette moving ahead of us. I tensed up. Who could it be? The light from outside wasn’t reaching him and it was hard to tell how he looked like. He was completely hidden in the darkness and if he wasn’t moving I wouldn’t have guessed someone was there. Finally, he stepped into the moonlight and to my relief I realized I was looking at Dum. The moonlight made his dark eyes glint and gave his blonde hair a silvery shade. He was looking at us and wearing a smile on his slightly pale face.

“Hi, princess, I’m so glad to see you again, but I wish this brute wasn’t with you so I could have you all to myself.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m here. Who knows what this pervert might’ve done to you.” Dean sounded annoyed as he always was when he was around Dum.

“I’d never do anything that would upset the princess. I’ll do everything I can to make her happy” Dum riposted

“You mean make her miserable. I can make her happier than you ever could”

Woah, Dean is fighting over me!? I didn’t expect him to say that. Does he… have feelings for me?

“A brute like you? Unlikely. Everyone knows how good I am at pleasing women” Dum seemed to be quite proud of that fact.

“I can do that too if I put my mind to it” Dean tended to become quite competitive whenever Dum was involved. He hated to lose to this guy

“Then how about we have a competition?” Dum suggested “Whoever pleases the princess more gets to keep her”

What!? By ‘please’ do they mean…?

“Fine by me” Dean agreed

Dum turned his gaze to me and grinned. “Then it’s settled. I’ll go first” He came closer and placed his lips on my neck, making me gasp in surprise. So this is what he meant. I wonder what they’ll do. Since they’re so competitive, they’ll go to great lengths to please me. My imagination was running wild and coming up with scenarios that made my heart beat faster.

Dum was licking my neck now, while Dean drew closer and whispered in my ear “I’ll make you choose me”. Then he licked my ear and nibbled on it.

“Mmh” The things they were doing to me were making me feel so good. I didn’t expect them to touch me at once. I’m not sure my heart will be able to handle this. How am I supposed to choose between them?

Dum then went in for a kiss, pressing his lips against mine and sometimes sucking on my bottom lip, while his hands slid under my skirt and started rubbing me between my legs. Meanwhile, Dean unbuttoned my shirt and moved behind me to unclasp my bra. He then began to move his fingers in circles around my nipples. This stimulation was making me feel so aroused, but at the same time it was also so relaxing that I felt that my knees would buckle soon. Dean then gently squeezed my breasts and bit my neck, making me moan. Dum took this opportunity to slip his tongue in my mouth. Being sandwiched between the ‘Twin Princes’ whose hands were all over me was making my body temperature quickly rise up and my heart to pound wildly in my chest. Their stimulation was making me want more. I wish they would do more. Oh, maybe I could… make them do naughtier things to me. An idea popped into my head, so I acted on it. I pushed Dum to the floor and took off his pants and underwear.

“Oh no, I’ve been assaulted by a lioness” Dum sounded like he was enjoying himself.

I took out a condom from my skirt pocket and carefully put it on him. Then I straddled his hips and put my hands on either side of him. I looked down at him and saw a grin spread on his handsome face.

“You naughty princess” he said “you want to do dirty things to me too, huh?”

“Mmh, yes, you teased me so much you made me lose control” I took him in me and started to move my hips, which made us both moan. Then I heard a voice from behind me.

“I didn’t know you were such a bad girl” Dean sounded annoyed. “You’re doing such naughty things to a loser like him… I’ll have to use the ruler on you to re-educate you now” I felt a sting on my butt as he delivered the first strike

“Ohh, yes, punish me, I’m so naughty”

While Dean was hitting my butt with his ruler, Dum started to massage my breasts. “Oh no, what’s this brute doing to you? Let me make you feel better”

“Am I giving you enough pleasure?” Dean asked “If not, I can keep doing this”

“Ahh, It’s… not enough” I don’t want him to stop

“Alright then” he sounded pleased “I’ll keep spanking you until you won’t feel like riding that playboy anymore”

“Ahh, yes” I was starting to move faster, while Dean was spanking me harder and harder.

“You’re so shameless. Doing such perverted things in front of me and with such a man, no less.” Dean scolded me and as he spank me the ruler broke.

“Ah, well, it was worn out anyway” he didn’t sound upset about it. In fact, he sounded like he was having fun. Then he added “Your riding skills need some improvement. I’ll teach you how to properly ride someone” he said as he tightly griped my hips so that I couldn’t move anymore and started moving in and out of me. He brought his mouth close to my ear and said “Let’s screw this awful man until he forgets his own name”

He was gradually moving faster and my hips were moving in concordance with his. We’re all moaning so much, I just hope the students don’t hear us. Dean is moving so fast now I feel like my heart will explode any minute now.

“Ahh~, Dean, slower” I pleaded, but his movements weren’t slowing down

“This is… ahh… how you… properly ride.” Dean managed to say between moans “stop complaining” He smacked my butt with his hand

“Oh~, Dean, no” I protested, but that only earned me another smack, which solicited another moan from me.

I looked down at Dum. He was a sweaty, moaning mess. “Ahh, princess… don’t stop… mmh… ride me more~”

“Ah, yes, screw this man-whore… until he won’t be able to… stand up straight” Dean said in a voice that sounded almost sadistical

They were both in me, moving in and out of different holes and moving their hands all over my body. They kept giving me intense pleasure until late at night, when we got tired and fell asleep next to each other under a blanket Dum brought for us.

The next day, Dum somehow found a way out, although I suspect he used his magic to make a hole in the barrier. He looked very pale, as he usually did when he used too much magic. I was worried about him, but he said that he’ll be fine once he got some rest. We were finally outside in the sunshine. I was still trying to figure out why would someone put a barrier around the school, when Dum asked me “So, did you decide, princess? Which one will you choose?”

That took me by surprise. I almost forgot that that was a competition for them. “I… it’s so hard to decide. You both were great”

“I’m so glad to hear that” Dum was smiling at me. “but I don’t think this brute deserves the praise, so I think you should choose me”

“What do you mean you can’t decide?” Dean, on the other hand looked annoyed. “It’s obvious that I’m the correct choice”

Damn, I can’t choose right now. “Um, i… I need more time to decide”

“Alright, princess. If you need some help making that decision you can always come to my tavern and I’ll show you a really good time that you won’t ever be able to forget” Dum sounded pretty confident.

I turned my face to Dean. I hope he can wait a bit more. “Fine by me. I’ll give you an extension. Just this once. Although… I don’t think it should take you so long to find the right answer. You’re in need of some private lessons which will help you solve this problem. I can give you some if want to.”

“Thanks, I’ll… think about it. All I want right now is to go home and get some rest. I didn’t sleep much last night, so… I’ll be heading home now”

After we bid farewell, we all went on our own ways. I’m glad we managed to get out of there and that everyone is safe. I think Dum knows more about this case than he lets on, but for some reason he won’t tell us more. I wonder why. I wish I could make him tell me everything, but… I doubt he’ll surrender so easily. I sighed. I was so tired my brain wasn’t functioning properly. I need to sleep first and then I’ll be able to process everything that happened last night.

[manggaetteokkie]

Luo Yunxi as Chu Wanning: the Perfect Casting

(are you guys ready for this post because I am not)

Okay, you guys might be thinking, “Woah, ‘perfect’ is a pretty strong word, are you sure?” to which my only reply is “Damn right I am”.

So I’ve mentioned in my previous post how I am absolutely notworried about how Luo Yunxi was casted for Chu Wanning in the upcoming 2HA live action adaptation, but after going back and rereading that part, I thought that what I wrote wasn’t really enough to drive my point across so that’s where this post comes in.

Beware: this is just going to be a massive word barf praising Luo Yunxi so yeah. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!

As we all know (or maybe not, if you’ve never heard of the novel “The Husky and His White Cat Shizun” aka 2HA before), Chu Wanning’s entire aura screams untouchable, otherworldly and transcendent beauty. Basically, someone who embodies the word elegance, with a touch of haughtiness from an outsider’s perspective. He is aloof, enjoys peace and quiet, and is extremely strict. He has zero tolerance for rule breakers and will apply the same standards he holds others to onto himself. He also prefers to keep things to himself. Whether it be injuries or his own feelings, it’s easier for him to deal with them on his own than reach out to others because he considers that losing face. With all of this in mind, I’m sure you’ve all got an idea formed in your head as to what kind of character he is.

To be frank, this kind of role is hard to do, and most importantly, to do well. First, the actor must be poised at all times and display a certain level of elegance in his movements. It is so, so, so easy for the actor to try too hard or be slightly too aware of his movements, which in turn makes them robotic. In other cases, they manage to pull it off when the camera is on them but as soon as they are no longer the focus, they slack off and it’s like a splash of cold water to the viewers. The best case is when the actor is so seamless that you don’t even realize what they are doing, because you’re just enjoying the whole thing so much.

In this case, Luo Yunxi has the advantage from his experience as a professional ballet dancer. Years of dancing has allowed him to have great posture and if you’ve ever seen Ashes of Love, you’d know that he moves with a certain level of elegance that becomes blatant when you put him side by side with Deng Lun (not trying to put anyone down by the way, Deng Lun’s character is the fiery Phoenix who is righteous and direct, the God of Fire and War, so his movements fit perfectly given his character. Meanwhile, Luo Yunxi’s character is the Night God, who, comparatively, has a much calmer and more uptight disposition).

His fight scenes are also *chef’s kiss*. Again, his experience as a dancer really shines through:

That fancy fan trick he did? Absolutely blew my mind how effortless he made it look. He’s really one of the few actors that I actually pay attention to the fight scenes for because he doesn’t just charge and hack at stuff, he somehow turns it into an art form and I’m always curious to see what move he’ll pull next. This makes me excited to see what he’ll do in Immortality because Chu Wanning mainly either wields a whip or conjures barriers, meaning it’s mostly going to be CG. That also means that his hand signs and body movements are going to have to be solid, at the risk of looking awkward otherwise.

For this next part, I’m going to have to make a confession. I actually love watching scenes in which Luo Yunxi’s characters are in a lot of pain, emotional or physical. I wholly admit it, it sounds really sadistic, but understand that I don’t say this easily for anybody. When I say Luo Yunxi nails crying scenes or scenes in which he is in pain...

...I mean he absolutely nails them.

Man... seeing this gif just makes me want to give him the biggest hug and tell him that everything will be alright. Unknowingly, while watching, my own face twisted into a frown.

One of Luo Yunxi’s greatest strengths is his ability to micromanage his expressions. It would be so easy for a newbie actor to appear frozen while watching their costar act; however, just with the smallest furrowing of his brows, Luo Yunxi is able to convey all of his emotional turmoil.

Of course, we can’t have Chu Wanning be crying all the time, but the previous examples were perfect to show how Luo Yunxi can nail those small tells when it comes to Chu Wanning’s character. As mentioned before, our perfect shizun isn’t the type to broadcast his feelings screaming on rooftops, so we can only rely on small twitches of discomfort or slight frowns of pain. Given what we’ve seen from Luo Yunxi, I’m not worried about him being able to properly convey those tricky emotions.

Of course, how can you talk about Chu Wanning without talking about his many fits of anger. Do you perhaps worry that he seems too sad, too soft to properly portray the other aspects of our quick-to-whip shizun? Worry not, and simply feast your eyes upon the following:

I really love these stills, from the tousled hair to the glare that could send whoever he looks at 6ft under... I highly doubt he’ll have a hard time conveying Chu Wanning’s righteous fury given his previous performances.

Also, if you’ve seen him near the end of Ashes of Love, he had to act as a person impersonating him. It was a more comical and lighthearted break in what was quite a heavy scene, and he managed to pull it off amazingly well which really shows his range as an actor.

Anyways, this essay has been going long enough so it’s about time to conclude. Basically, I’m ready to watch this entire live adaptation from start to end just for Luo Yunxi because I trust him as an actor, and I feel like he’s given us more than enough proof to show that he can pull off the Chu Wanning character. Speaking of which, I’m actually lowkey salty because he was the actor I had in mind for Xie Lian as well, but it’s unlikely that he’ll take that role since he’s already been casted by the 2HA team. I’m not lying when I say that after Ashes of Love aired, a lot of fans suddenly had a face to go along with their favourite novel characters.

Bonus!

There was no purpose to these except to show how he looks beautiful regardless of how “unkept” he’s supposed to be. Even if his character is supposed to be at their very lowest point, he still manages to maintain that elegant beauty.

[flooffybits]

Dreamcatcher reacting to their girlfriend as an antagonist character

Request: Yep

Anon: Heeey just read your dreamcatcher’s reaction to their gf being a badass character and wanted to request the same but with a character thats sorta like a crazy villain?? one of them roles where people end up saying woah that one’s a psycho but she kinda hot tho? dont rlly know if this makes sense woops but if you arent comfortable with anything then please feel free to ignore this :]

Jiu:

When you first told your girlfriend that you would be playing a villain for the drama you were cast in, Minji found it a bit hard to believe because her girlfriend? As a bad person? The worst you’ve ever done was when you ended up smacking Yoohyeon in the face, and that was pure accident because they were teaching you the dance to one of their songs and the younger girl wasn’t looking when she walked over.

So imagine Minji’s shock when she watched as you did the part so well that even she was fooled with the way you acted. She would look at you countless times before grabbing your face between her hands.

“That’s you? What happened to my precious baby?”

Sua:

Watching the premiere of the movie you starred in made your girlfriend so excited because she saw just how much you were trying to get into character. This was one of your biggest challenges, and when she saw that you were having a particularly rough time, she always told you to imagine being stuck in a room without her. It helped make you feel better because she would always joke around so you won’t feel too stressed.

When she watched you acting like a completely different person, she’s in awe. She probably ends up screaming whenever you come on screen that you and her friends would constantly have to shut her up because people were might end up getting annoyed with her actions.

“Oh, my god! I didn’t even recognize you. How did you do that?”

Siyeon:

This girl would be so confused when she watches your drama. When you explained how you would be the antagonist for the show, she thought it would be like the other characters where they would just want to be rich or get revenge. But the moment she saw you, in character, she can’t stop staring at the screen.

It was like a complete 180 from your actual self and she was speechless. The clothes you wore even added to the dumbstruck feeling she had that she had to take a minute before she was able to say something without stuttering.

“You look… amazing! Oh my god, what?”

Handong:

Your girlfriend watched you whenever you were practicing your lines at home and she first worried about you pulling off such a contrasting character. She wasn’t too convinced that you could pull off being a villain, much more a slightly crazed woman that would be hurting hundreds of people.

She just can’t imagine it.

But when she sits down to watch your movie, she can’t help but gasp at the transformation. You were clad in black clothing with dark makeup and your expression was on point, along with your acting that she was blown away. She doesn’t outwardly show you how impressed she was other than a smile. But when you get home, she makes sure to show you just how proud she was of you.

“I didn’t know you could be so demanding like that. Can you show me a little bit more?”

Yoohyeon:

She isn’t exactly shocked. Your girlfriend knows that you’re an amazing actress so she does not doubt your acting skills and being able to change your persona just to fit a certain role. Also, since she had to pretend to be a villain in one of their music videos, she wants to see how well an actress does compared to her acting.

And when she does see you in action, she isn’t at all disappointed. Yoohyeon would give you a standing ovation and would giggle as she praised you. When she sees the extent of your talent as an actress, she always turns to you whenever they had to film a music video and consults you on what she should do.

“You really are the best out there!”

Dami:

Yubin does not know how to react when you show her the movie. You asked her to watch it because you wanted to know what she thought of your acting, especially something that was as difficult a role as this one. She laughs at one point where you were using a staff, pointing at people and using it as a weapon. She jokes that you were copying her too much.

But when the movie progressed, she becomes so shy because of how good you looked. She leans forward to actually get a good look at you before she would let out a breath and shake her head while you anxiously wait for her feedback.

“Wow…” She would mutter. “When do you get your reward for best actress?”

Gahyeon:

Gahyeonnie always gets so immersed in the dramas she watches so you aren’t surprised when she started to watch your drama every time a new episode comes out. She’s always anticipating for your appearance and she always asks you for any sort of clue on what happens next, only to shut you up because she doesn’t want to be spoiled.

Because of her interest to the drama, she gets upset with you whenever you do something that she finds really cruel and smacks you on the arm or leg. So when the end comes, she mocks you when your character is finally defeated and taken away.

“That’s what you get! I didn’t even know that you could do all those things. How could you?”

[creativenostalgiastuff]

Butterflies

Summary: Virgil made Roman promise that he wouldn’t fall for him. Virgil never made the same promise. And as they get ready for the High School Theater Awards, Virgil is left not quite sure what he thinks. Pairings: Prinxiety Warnings: homophobia mention, theater mentions, falling mention, stress, worry, awards, kissing, flowers Word Count: 5853 Author’s Note: I was watching Phineas and Ferb and Isabella says a line that was my springboard for this story. It takes place after Locked and before Last Words. I guess it's kind of forming its own Prinxiety Human AU because I keep adding more to this set up. Anyway, again this can be read as part of that or separately. Up to you. Just lots of feelings that were fun to explore. 

Virgil lays on the stage, a foot dangling over the side as he places his head down on his knee, waiting, amongst the confetti scattered across the floor. The lights are up in full, the castle backdrop that had been used in at least twenty different productions before this one swaying slightly in the breeze from the open backstage door. 

He closes his eyes, listening to the commotion in the vestibule outside of the theater. All of the families, friends, teachers, and other students gushing over the cast of the show, congratulating them for their performances and hard work. It will still be a bit before the cast comes in to turn in their mics, not that Virgil minds. He knows his family isn’t out there (he didn’t tell them when the show was… or even that he was in another show) and he doesn’t like crowds anyway. He is happy to just sit there and calm down from the show hype.

Virgil takes a deep breath, shakily letting it out as he looks around the theater. Admittedly, Virgil can’t quite figure out why his chest feels so tight. Maybe it has something to do with the release of all the pent up stress from his role as Prop Master. Running backstage had been stressful enough when he wasn’t in a leadership role, but lord help him when it came to being put in charge of the props. 

Or, maybe, it had something to do with the impending high school theater awards nominations. The student critics had been attending the show all weekend. Their reviews would come out by Wednesday, nominations for awards announced Friday, and then two weeks until the Gala where the winners would be announced.

“Oh, Virgil!” a sing-song voice rings as the door to the theater opens. “You have visitors!”

Virgil smiles as his eyes find his friends. Patton skips down the center aisle towards him, a flower tucked behind his ear, probably from a cast member’s bouquet. 

“It really was a great show,” says Patton, his grin large and genuine. “And you did a great job backstage! Everyone is talking about it. Best Junior Senior show in the history of the program! I can’t wait to take a turn at it next year with you guys!”

“It is regrettable that we were not able to participate in this show,” Logan nods. “You designed a fantastic, functional carriage and your props organization system was highly regarded by both the cast and crew.”

Virgil laughs dismissively as he stuffs his hands into his hoodie’s pocket, “Right. System. Or, you know, excessively fussing over items to the point of annoying the cast into submission.”

“You did well, Virge,” Patton reassures. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you get a nomination.”

 “Yeah, nominations,” Virgil blinks as he thinks about the upcoming city awards for the different high school theater programs. Cinderella was the last show before nominations were announced. “I don’t know. It's a talented city.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Patton encourages. “Go to the cast party and just relax. What’s done is done.”

Before Virgil can respond, the doors open and a blob of bright, glittering blue fabric fills the doorway. An arm emerges from the blob followed by the torso of a girl shouting, “Ay, yo, Prince! Push me through!”

“Dude, I’m trying. Your hoop is stuck!”

Virgil sprints up to the stuck Cinderella, “Woah, wait, stop! That hoop is a rental! Alana, back up, fold the hoop and then come through.”

Alana does as directed and gets through the doorway easily this time, “Yeah, I think the costume department would cry if I tore this dress. How many hours did it take?”

“It was a semester project for Talyn, so more than you want to know,” Roman answers as he follows his princess through the door, straightening the golden crown on his head. Virgil can’t help but notice the confidence that was almost glowing around this Prince: his posture straight and tall, a smile that could stop traffic, a sparkle in his eye that made them seem bright and full.  Snapchat wished it could make a filter to make people look like Roman did after a great performance, thought Virgil as he took in the sight of his friend.

“Virgil?”

Virgil shook his head, snapping back to reality, “Sorry, yeah?”

Alana turned around and pointed at the battery pack hidden on the hip pocket at the back of the dress (did Virgil say how amazing the dress design was for student work?), “Take my mic? I need to get out of this monstrosity.”

“Right,” Virgil says as he helps Alana get out of her mic, trying to ignore Roman; a task which was getting harder for Virgil as their friendship grew. Roman was such a big personality he seemed to demand attention. That meant that the more time Virgil spent with him, the more attention Roman took.

“Roman, Alana!” Patton calls as he bounces up and wraps the two leads in a big bear hug, “I am so proud of you two! That was such a good show!”

Virgil  finally untangles Alana, “You’re good to go.”

“Thanks,” she responds as she turns to face the group, “And thanks, Patton. It was a good last run. Only thing that would make it better is if we can at least get a nomination my senior year. It’d be nice to leave a legacy.”

“What is a legacy?” Roman immediately starts asking, striking dramatic poses. “Its leaving seeds in a garden you never get to see.”

“Come here, Mr. Legacy,” Virgil quips back with a roll of his eyes. “Before you pull a wire with your dramatics.”

“And I’m going to get out of this,” Alana says as she grabs as much of her dress as she can. 

“Need help with doors?” Patton asks, already headed towards the door. 

“That’d be great,” answers the princess. “Logan, can you help grab more of this?”

“Yes ma’am,” responds Logan as Alana hands him an armful of dress. “How did you do this for the production?”

“Mice,” Alana answers flatly as she picks up more dress. She takes a moment to pointedly make eye contact with Virgil, as if trying to send a secret message. Whatever the message is, Virgil doesn’t catch it, but it does make his ears red as the three of them maneuver her out of the theater and down to the green room to change. 

Virgil returns his attention to getting the mic off of Roman. The costume strategically hides his mic pack in his red sash, the wire running along it up to his shoulder before it blends into his hair. Easy enough to free. Without a word, Virgil gets to work fishing it out of the sash as his friend works to free himself from the mic in his hair.

They are friends, right? After the events in the locked choir room, Virgil doesn’t really know what is happening as far as their relationship, if you want to call it that, is concerned.There was a time where Virgil couldn’t stand the sight of Roman Prince. But things change. Roman has been true to his word, not telling anyone about Virgil being gay. They are fine doing things without Logan and Patton with them, which hadn’t always been true.  

Throughout the run of the show, Roman had gone out of his way to ensure that Virgil was included when the cast and crew did things; extending invites and offering rides. And Virgil realized he didn’t mind the large social gatherings with Roman. Something about Roman was almost calming, reassuring in those situations. Virgil almost found himself waiting for the next party, just so that he could hang out with Roman when he was in his element as Mr. Popular. Wanting to spend time with friends was normal, right?

“So, Virge,” Roman asks quietly, pulling Virgil from his thoughts, “you are coming to the cast party with me, aren’t you?”

“Uh…” Virgil begins, stuttering. With me?

“I mean, I’m taking Logan and Patton in my car, so it just makes sense you’d come too,” Roman explains as he hands the mic over his shoulder to Virgil, his words fast. “Sorry, I shouldn’t assume you’re going. It’s totally up to you. Just, you know, you always have a seat in my car if you want it. ”

It takes Virgil a moment to steady his voice, aiming for his signature indifference,  as he takes the mic and checks the battery is turned off, “Sure.”

“Perfect!” Roman turns, a smile beaming before he starts walking towards the door. “Give me five to change and then we’ll head out!”

Virgil  waits until the door to the theater clicks before he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He takes a steadying breath as he heads towards the sound booth, his face burning up and heart fluttering. 

~:-:~

Virgil sits in his last period class, his leg bouncing as he watches the second hand on the clock make its rounds, counting down the minutes. Why does the last period on the last day of the week always feel like the longest? He knows he isn't the only one anxious for once. 

The whole Cinderella cast had been a mess since Wednesday when they got their reviews from the student critics. They had been overwhelmingly positive, showering them with praise for everything from their costume design to their ensemble to their leads. Virgil found it hard to stay realistic, getting swept up in the hope of his fellow cast and crew. The energy had been undeniably infectious and Roman was definitely the patient zero of the group. As soon as that bell rang, the whole theater department would take off running to check the board. 

“They do realize the stampede of students will be worse than when they post the cast lists, right?” Logan inquires to Virgil, turning in his seat to face him. 

Virgil shrugs, chewing absently on his thumb nail, “Will that stop us from doing it?”

“No, I would think not,” Logan smirks as he turns back and folds his hands on his desk. Virgil rolls his eyes at Logan’s quiet patience. 

“What are the odds we get nominated again?” asks Virgil, leaning forward so that he could talk softly to Logan’s ear. 

“As I have told you, it depends on the category,” answers Logan while still facing front, his hands folded on the desk. “North Valley had a well recieved My Fair Lady, Mount Battenhorn’s stage for Les Mis was all anyone wanted to talk about in the forums for months.”

“Right, right,” sighs the emo as he sits back in his seat. His eyes flit back to the clock and the remaining few minutes before they would be dismissed. His class was about as far from the theater as he could get. Virgil would have to push upstream of the students if he wanted to check the board. Fast, too, if he wants to catch his bus. 

Virgil can’t help the burning question from bubbling out, “But like, what are the chances that Roman…” 

“Roman will get nominated?,” Logan finishes the question in unison with Virgil. He sighs as he pushes his glasses up his nose. “As I have told you the last three times you have asked in this class alone, I am optimistic of Roman’s chances. As I am sure you would agree based on your personal experience, he makes a very convincing Prince Charming. ”

Virgil stops, not quite sure what Logan is trying to insinuate. Was that referring to Virgil’s experience of Roman as an actor, a friend, or something else? 

“Excuse me,” a voice comes over the PA system, cutting off Virgil from retorting. “Teachers, please command a presence in your classroom.”

There is a pause before the voice continues, “As many of you are aware, our theater department just wrapped up the Junior Senior show last weekend, Cinderella. Ms. Martin, the director, is here with some big announcements.” 

“Well this is unprecedented,” comments Logan, loud enough for Virgil to hear. Virgil can feel his pulse skyrocket, adrenaline flooding the system. This can only mean something big. They wouldn’t announce publicly no nominations, right?

“Thank you, Principal Arthur,” the director’s high soprano voice said. “I am here to happily announce that this year’s show set a new school record for nominations, with a total of four nominations!”

“What?!” 

“We have nominations in best costumes, best supporting actor in a musical lead actress in a musical, and best musical!” Ms. Martin rattled off quickly, her voice getting squeakier with each word. “The awards will be given out at the Gala in two weeks. Congrats to everyone on a job well done. Oh, and I need to meet with you all in the theater immediately. Thanks and congrats!”

Virgil doesn't remember standing up. All he knows is that he is looking down at Logan, still sitting in front of him with a smirk, “I guess the odds of nominations were pretty good.”

“We were nominated.” Virgil states, not quite sure he can believe the words coming out of his own mouth. 

The teacher motions towards the door, “I believe your presence was requested in the theater, Virgil?”

“Right,” Virgil says as he picks up his backpack and hurries out the door.  When he gets to the doorway, he sees fellow cast and crew members in the hallway, running and jumping, whooping with excitement. Virgil can’t tell if he wants to join in for a moment as he takes in what they said. The cast is nominated. Roman is nominated. 

Roman. God, he would be so excited.  

A cast member runs past him, “Come on, Virge! They’re waiting!”

Virgil takes off after the rest of the cast, joining in the growing group of theater kids as they get closer to the theater. 

Once in the theater, he follows his fellow techies to the back of the theater as the cast fills the stage, just as they always did for full rehearsals. The whole room is loud with whoops of excitement and genuine joy. Someone hits the lights for the house, leaving the lights for the stage on from the drama class that had just been in there before the cast had taken over. 

“Can I get a mic?” the director yells from the stage, hardly audible over the excitement. She’s a short woman, blending in easily to the small ocean of high school students. One of the sound kids finds a mic and runs it up to her. “Thanks, is this thing on?” the director asks.

“Someone get the spotlight!” shouts one of the actors. 

“I’ll get it,” Virgil yells back. He honestly had missed being in the lighting booth for this show, having gotten his start in the technical side as a spotter. Quickly, Virgil scrambles up the ladder to the lighting booth tower. It takes him a second to turn the nob on the light to turn it on, his hands shaking from the excitement. Finally he gets it, turning on the spotlight and hitting the director. 

“Ah, thank you,” the director calls. “Okay, quiet down. I know we’re excited, but I have a few things we need to cover before dismissal.”

The chattering continues until a “Quiet on stage!” is barked by a familiar voice with a demanding presence. Virgil’s eyes follow to the sound of the voice over the others and smiles at Roman. The cast quiets down at the request of their Prince. 

“Thank you,” Ms. Martin says. “First of all, congratulations to everyone for everything you have done. We wouldn’t have gotten the Best Musical nomination without each and every one of you.

“As you are aware, the Gala is in two weeks. We have been asked to perform a song from the musical at the Gala. I would like to suggest we honor our fabulous leads by going with ‘Do I Love You’. Any objections?”

There’s silence before someone yells, “Give it up for our Prince and Princess, both nominated in their category!”

Virgil finds Alana in the crowd as people turn towards her and hits her with the spotlight quickly while flipping the other one on and spotting Roman too. Both of them laugh as they try to block the light to see who is spotting them.

“Let’s not forget our behind the scene’s nominations too,” Alana calls, finally giving up trying to see Virgil on the spot. “Talyn for that beautiful blue mammoth of a dress, as well as the rest of the costume department!”

Virgil finds Talyn in the group to spot them too and swinging the light from Alana to Talyn. 

“And to our beautiful director for all of her hard work,” Roman shouts as the kids break into applause and cheers. Virgil swings Roman’s spot back to Ms. Martin who has tears in her eyes. “We wouldn’t have set the school record without her!”

A student starts blasting music through the sound system to the cheers of everyone in the theater. Virgil takes a deep breath as he watches the stage, all of the students are hugging one another and dancing in celebration. The room truly feels electric. Virgil can[t help but watch Roman as he make his way through the entire stage, congratulating everyone, before jumping off the stage and making his way to the tech crew, continuing the celebration with them. A few of the other cast members follow him, with a few techies climbing on the stage until it was just one sea of celebration. Virgil is happy to watch from his place on the tower, feeling part of the joy while being comfortably separated. He never wants this moment to end. 

The bell rings, causing all of the students to scramble to find their discarded bags. Virgil watches, mesmerized by the movement below him.

“Okay, Alana and Roman, I need to see you first thing Monday so we can set a schedule to rehearse before the Gala,” Ms. Martin shouts into the mic and the students start to rush for the door. “Great job, everyone! I’ll let you know more details as I get them. Thanks and have a great weekend!”

Virgil sighs, resigning himself to miss the bus after seeing the rush for the door. He needs a minute to calm his shaking hands and falling from scaffolding was not something he plans to do. He sits on the ledge, swinging his legs and waving to the other techies as they head out of the theater. 

Ms. Martin points at him from her spot on the stage, “Virgil, aren’t you going to miss the bus?”

“Yes, ma’am, but its okay,” he waves to her. “I just need a minute to wrap my head around it all, if that’s okay.”

“Well don’t take too long,” she calls back, her eyes drifting to the bottom of the tower where the sound equipment was kept. “I’ll be in my office doing paperwork. Holler if you need me?”

Virgil nods and watches her exit the stage. He takes a deep breath, continuing to swing his legs back and forth. The adrenaline in his system was finally starting to calm back to what Virgil would consider an acceptable level now that the others had left. Virgil pulls out his phone and checks the time. He curses under his breath when he does the math in his head; if he leaves now he might walk in before his parents. Maybe. 

It's not that his parents are bad. They just don’t get Virgil, you know? They are always fighting over really dumb things, like his hoodie or his hair or why he wasn’t dating. After his coming out to Roman, Virgil just didn’t want to deal with questions his parents might ask. He could never tell them that he was gay. 

Virgil rubs his eyes, telling himself to stop sitting here thinking and go home. He gets up on the platform and quickly hits a few buttons to turn back on the lights to the house and the stage lights out. He scrambles down the ladder when an unexpected voice says, “Hey, Virge.” 

Startled, Virgil’s feet slip and he falls, “Shit!” He feels his body tense as he readies himself for the inevitable contact with the ground.

Instead, he is surprised again by a pair of arms catching him from the fall. 

“I guess the promise was that I wouldn’t fall for you, not the other way around,” Roman’s amused voice came. Virgil feels his heart skip a beat having nothing to do with the fall he just experienced. 

He opens his eyes and lets out a laugh of relief, “Roman, warn a guy next time, will ya?”

Roman winces at Virgil’s point, “Sorry. Still excited I guess.”

“Yeah, the cast did great,” Virgil responds as he places his feet on the floor. “Best Musical and all. I’m sure it wouldn’t have happened without you and Alana getting your own nominations.”

“That’s kind, but it was a group effort,” adds Roman as he helps Virgil get steady on his feet. 

“I’m sorry,” Virgil teases, “But is the great Roman being humble? I never thought I would see the day.” 

“You wound me, sir,” Roman retorts, bumping Virgil with his shoulder. “I’ll have you know, humility is the least of my many redeeming qualities.”

“Oh, right, my apologies,” Virgil laughs as he rubs the back of his neck, “I forgot who I was talking to.” 

Roman picks up Virgil’s backpack from where he had unceremoniously thrown it on the ground, dusting it off, “I wanted to ask, some of us were going to go get ice cream to celebrate. Logan and Patton are coming.”

“Oh,” Virgil responds. As soon as he says it, he wants to smack himself in the face. Really? All of that clever banter and now all you have is oh?

Roman extends his hand to Virgil, still holding the backpack in the other hand, “You up for it, or do you need to get home?”

Virgil swallows hard, trying to ignore the somersaults his stomach was doing, as he takes the offered hand. The simple touch is like flipping the switch in his head that made him worry and panic. For Roman, he has all the time in the world. 

“Yeah, ice cream sounds nice.”  

“Sweet,” Roman slings the backpack on his own shoulder, keeping a hold of Virgil’s hand. 

~:-:~

Virgil stands backstage at the High School Theater Awards Gala, fidgeting with the sleeves on his borrowed-from-the-costume-department metallic purple jacket. Talyn had insisted he wear it due to how it matched his purple Converse he had insisted on wearing. He didn’t mind the look it gave him with his black dress pants and button down shirt, only it was a bit impractical given his task of helping Alana manage the blue sparkling dress that had earned the nomination. He wasn’t sure why it was him helping and not one of the other techies who had the job during the show, but he didn’t ask questions.

On stage they are announcing another award, a technical award. The school had won for best costume already, thanks to Talyn’s beautiful and practical designs. They had taken everything into account, such as Alana’s nervous fidgeting with the beading on the dress, a habit she often showed backstage as she prepared for this section of the show. The costume department had reinforced the beading to allow her to fuss without breaking it. 

Virgil checks on the single flower he had placed in his pocket earlier, ensuring it is still okay. His breath catches at the sight of the red petals against the black lining of the jacket. He swallows hard and closes the jacket, nodding to himself. Now is not the time to think of that. Roman would win his award. He returns his attention to Alana, walking up to her spot in the wings.  

Virgil bites at his thumb as he looks across the stage from his current place. In the other wing Roman sits on a box, staring at the floor, blankly. His body reads as tense, folded up on itself more than Virgil is used to from the man. 

Roman had been acting weird the few days leading up to the Gala. He was more argumentative, more withdrawn, and refused to listen to reason. He insisted on using all of his free time and energy to work and rework the song for the Gala, ignoring their pleas for him to take care of himself. They had all tried to distract him by watching Disney movies or playing board games. Patton had baked cookies and brought him food whenever he refused to stop working. Logan had made a schedule to help Roman optimize his time to take care of himself. 

Virgil, admittedly, didn’t really know what to do. He had spent most of his time just sitting with Roman as he worked through the song, not saying much except the occasional reassurance that Roman knew what he was doing. Virgil wanted to do more, but he just didn’t understand. The performance had nothing to do with who won the award. This performance was supposed to be for fun.

Yet Virgil is nervous too, isn’t he? Maybe because he was worried of what would happen if Roman lost the award. Or maybe for other reasons. Now wasn’t the time to worry about it. 

He looks at Alana, acknowledging her own anxious energy as she messes with the reinforced beads, “You okay? You know you already won, right?”

Earlier they had announced her win.  She had been crying in relief and excitement as they had been getting set up for the performance, but now she clearly seems on edge. All that was left out of their nominations were Roman for Best Supporting Actor in a Musical and Best musical.

“I just don’t want to let anyone down,” Alana admits. She turns slightly to look at him without moving the dress, “Yeah. Can you do me a favor though, before I go on?”

“Yeah, what is it?”

She nods across the stage, “Go calm him down. He’s making me nervous looking that pale.”

Virgil snorts, “You say that like I haven’t been trying to all week. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Go talk to him?”

“You think I’m your best bet for talking?”

“Just try. You always have an effect on him. I think he needs you right now.”

Pushing the knot in his stomach down, Virgil agrees he has to try, “Alright. Just don’t move until you step on that stage, got it?”

Alana nods again, so Virgil slips around the backstage, avoiding all of the moving people and props, until he ends up behind Roman. Virgil stops and tries to think of something to make Roman laugh. He could just say hi, but that could scare the guy if he wasn’t careful. 

He could say what he was thinking: that he would never get tired of Roman in the Prince costume. That Roman had nothing to worry about. That he would make them all understand why he was nominated in the first place. That everyone was so proud of him, that Virgil was so proud of him. That he was glad they got locked in that choir room. That he was glad they were friends. That he, maybe, wanted… No, it wasn’t time to worry about the gift in his pocket and the words he might  end up saying. 

Virgil takes a deep breath before choosing his words, “I was going to say something clever, but honestly I got nothing.”

Roman keeps staring absently at the floor, “Hey, Virge.”

A stagehand passes them, placing a hand on Roman’s shoulder as he does so, “Two minutes, your highness.”

“Thank you two,” Roman mumbles as he stands up. 

“I’m here, Ro. What do you need?” Virgil asks in a rush, wanting to help before it is too late.

Roman’s head snaps up to look at Virgil and the use of the nickname. Virgil swallows the lump in his throat as he realizes he had never actually said that name before, only sending it in group messages with Logan and Patton before. He isn’t sure if its okay or not with Roman.

Roman gives a small smile, “Honestly? You won’t hate me?”

“Not possible,” answers Virgil as he crouches down so that he can be eye level with Roman. “Whatever it is, I got it, promise.”

“Just… hold my hand?” asks the Prince in a small voice. 

Virgil takes Roman’s hands in his own, his heart hammering hard inside him. He looks over the actor, not saying anything as Roman holds on and closes his eyes. Virgil can’t help but watch in awe as Roman takes deep breaths, seemingly breathing in confidence with each breath. 

“One minute,” the stage hand comes back and informs them. “Mic is going live now.”

Roman stands, nodding, pulling Virgil with him, still holding his hand while he takes his position in the wing. Virgil can’t help but notice the almost electric feeling in his hand in Roman’s. He’d be lying if he didn’t say it was intoxicating, standing in the wings next to  Roman Prince about to go on stage. 

The music comes in under the MCs voices, helping to set the tone for the love song. Roman gives a final squeeze to Virgil’s hand before he lifts it up and kisses it softly, causing Virgil’s brain to go crazy with bells and alarms. Virgil reaches up and straightens the crown on Roman’s head before giving him the thumbs up and a smile. 

Roman and Alana enter the stage and sing the song, “Do I Love You Because You’re Beautiful” like they were born singing it. They hit all of the notes, the staging is natural, and they both look absolutely stunning. Virgil just watches from his place in the wings, like he had every time the song was done for their show. He just adores how Roman sings the song, so full of meaning and emotion. He would never admit it, but it was his favorite moment in the whole show. He ignores the lump in his throat that forms when he realises its the last time he will watch them perform this song together. 

They end the song to the roar of applause at the kiss. Roman and Alana take their bows before Roman escorts his princess off stage towards Virgil. The two of them are beaming, knowing that they nailed it. Virgil can’t help but beam with pride for the two of them. 

Not saying anything, Roman lets go of Alana’s hand and takes Virgil’s. He doesn’t stop as he pulls Virgil through the crowded backstage, taking his mic and handing it to the techie waiting for it without breaking stride. 

“Roman?” Virgil finally asks when he finds his voice. “Where are we going?”

“Need some air,” Roman answers breathlessly as he pushes on a door marked with an exit sign. “Come on.”

“Wait,” Virgil says as he stops. He takes off his shoe and places it in the doorway, preventing the door from closing completely behind them. “We don’t want to get locked out.”

Roman nods and walks a few steps away from the building into the alleyway, letting go of Virgil’s hand, “You’re always looking out for us.”

Virgil leans against the brick wall as he watches Roman pace in the alley, just trying to catch his breath and calm himself down. Roman’s hands are on his hips as he walks the nervous energy out, causing Virgil to grin before saying, “You did it, Roman. You guys killed it.”

Roman shakes his head, a smile spreading across his face, “Yeah? You think so?”

“Obviously,” Virgil adds as he crosses his arms to try and stop them from shaking. “They’d be crazy to not have you win your category. Anyone with eyes can see you deserve it.”

“That… means a lot, coming from you,” admits Roman. 

“Uh, I’ve been trying to tell you that all week!”

Roman laughs as he approaches Virgil, staying on the bottom stair,  “Well, you know, I never do listen.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.”

“Hey, Prince!” Alana’s voice comes as she leans her head out the doorway, working to put her earrings back in her ears. “Get your butt back in here. They’re getting ready to announce your category.” 

“Coming,” Roman responds as Alana disappears back inside. Virgil grabs Roman’s hand as he starts to pass, “Ro, wait, I almost forgot.” He pulls out the single rose from his inside coat pocket and extends it to Roman, his hand shaking. “For good luck, not that you need it.”

Roman takes another step towards him, “You shouldn’t have. I didn’t get you anything.”

Before Virgil can say anything, Roman kisses Virgil softly, gently, yet electrifying. Virgil is caught off guard and tense for a moment before he relaxes into the embrace, closing his eyes and accepting the moment. 

“Roman!” barks Alana. 

Roman pulls back, causing Virgil to come back to reality, at the separation. “I’m sorry. I…” Roman mutters as he hurries past Virgil and heads inside before Virgil can say anything.  

Virgil stands there, stunned for a moment as he tries to process what just happened. Roman Prince had just kissed him. And Virgil had wanted it to keep going. It's the most alive Virgil remembers feeling. He hears a commotion inside the theater and snaps back to reality. Roman. 

Virgil grabs his shoe and heads into the theater, and hears the MC read all the nominees in Roman’s category. He starts running, sliding into the wing as they read off, “And the winner for Best Supporting Actor in a Musical goes to Roman Prince.”

Roman walks on stage, radiating at the announcement, waving to the crowd. Virgil knows Roman needs the validation from others when it comes to his creative work. And now he had it. Virgil joined the cheering as tears started filling his eyes. He can’t help the pride welling up inside of him for his friend. 

Roman accepts the trophy and waves it in the air, signing thank you to the audience as the MCs start ushering him back towards the wings to keep the show going. Virgil isn’t thinking, he just starts moving towards Roman coming off stage. His Prince’s eyes find him, tears of joy shimmering, as Virgil offers him a hand and pulls him further off stage and out of the way.

 “Virgil, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...”

Virgil leans in and kisses Roman to stop him from talking. Virgil is gentle, but pushes all of the things he hasn’t said to Roman into it. All of the longing, the pining, the quiet hoping. Roman melts into him, wrapping an arm around him to pull them closer together. Virgil pulls back and wipes away a tear that had fallen down Roman’s cheek with a soft smile.  “Butterflies,” he says in response to Roman’s statement earlier. “You give me butterflies. Always.” 

[onewfantaesy]

Villain Home AU tugs at my heartstrings. Taemin is so traumatized and terrified, but at least he's back with his Jinki and Minho and under better care than before. The so called heroes being cowards and abusers. Key will give them their due.

Taemin is clingy. That’s the first thing Kibum learns about the boy, just from watching the way he interacts with his brothers. He refuses to let them be out of his sight, refuses to do anything without at least one of them, refuses to part from them for even a moment. It makes some things very difficult, makes the transition that much harder, but Jinki and Minho never once complain, never once lose their temper with their little brother, never once try to tell him to do even this simplest of tasks on his own. They stay with him the entire time, help him the entire time, reassure him that everything is alright the entire time.

“Kibummie’s really nice,” Jinki says gently, holding Taemin on his lap. “Really. He’s not like - the others.”

Kibum could hear the catch in his voice, could hear the hesitation, the way he didn’t even want to say the names of the heroes who had trained them. 

“I want Mommy,” Taemin cries for what feels like the millionth time, his face hidden in Jinki’s shoulder, his left hand gripping at Jinki’s shirt while his right hand is still in the purple cast.

“I know you do,” Jinki tries to soothe him, but he’s upset too at the mention of their parents.

The league had told the boys their parents died in a tragic accident. Had taken the three brothers in - out of the kindness of their hearts, supposedly - and trained them to become heroes. The boys had been so young, Taemin only just five-years-old when it happened.

Kibum did some investigating, though. Had looked into the so-called accident the first time Jinki mentioned it, before Minho had been sent to fight Kibum as well. 

The whole thing reeked of foul play. A car explosion, a league hero luckily just passing by the area, and three super-powered young children for the league to conveniently take in and train to follow their every command, to mold into their liking. The oldest boy had only just turned ten-years-old at the time. 

It wasn’t entirely unusual, Kibum had learned over the years. He’d seen enough of these children be sent to him to recognize a pattern of convenient recent orphans and selfish heroes being praised for swooping in and dragging them away from any sort of family the children might have left to care for them.

Kibum does his best to care for the boys, just like he always does when these children come to him. He doesn’t force them to join him, doesn’t force them to even try to train or fine-tune their abilities. All he does is provide a home for those who want it. And all three of these boys desperately want a place to call home.

It’s something Taemin learns quickly. And soon enough, Taemin is clinging to Kibum as well, following after him, trailing him like a duckling looks to its mother. Kibum doesn’t discourage it. It’s good, he thinks, for the boy to start trusting him. To trust any adult, even if Kibum happens to be a super villain. 

“What are you doing? 

Kibum smiles at the sound of Taemin’s voice, bites back a grin when he sees Taemin’s head poke over his lab table to stare at the project laid out in front of him.

“I’m creating a new gadget,” Kibum tells him.

“What’s it do?”

“If things go according to plan, it should be able to freeze time.”

Taemin’s mouth falls open, and he leans his head down further towards the table.

“Woah,” Taemin breathes out, poking his nose as close to the gadget as possible without actually touching it. “Why?”

“There’s something I want, and it would be best if I could gather it without actually hurting anyone,” Kibum tells him. “Freezing time would make that possible.”

Taemin frowns a bit, but Kibum just continues smiling as the boy hums and looks as curious as ever.

“Would it freeze time everywhere?” Taemin asks, his head snapping up. “Or just in the place it’s at?”

Kibum tilts his head, and he smirks a bit at the boy.

“That’s a very good question,” Kibum tells him. “Most people probably wouldn’t think about it that way.”

Taemin doesn’t say anything further, just keeps staring at him with those curious eyes and a pout on his face.

“It only stops time within a specific radius,” Kibum finally tells him. “Hopefully. It still needs testing.”

“But will time go back to where it stopped, or will it catch up with the rest of the world?”

Kibum laughs a bit, and he goes back to working on the gadget.

“I think you’re smarter than some of those heroes, you know,” Kibum praises him, and he sees from the corner of his eye as Taemin perks up. “Time will eventually catch up with the rest of the world, if it works according to plan. Not all at once, and how long it will take will depend on how long time was paused.”

Taemin hums again, and he folds his arms on top of the table and rests his chin in them, watching as Kibum works. They’re both quiet for a few more minutes, the only sound coming from Kibum’s tools. It’s a comfortable silence. Kibum can tell Taemin’s brain is still working in overdrive trying to figure out the finer details of the gadget on his own.

“How will it know not to stop time for you?”

“I’ll have to make a special gadget to offset the reaction, of course,” Kibum says. “But I won’t be able to do that until I perfect this part.”

Taemin cups his cheeks in his hands, watching intently. Kibum can hear his feet swaying from where he’s sitting on a stool, and the ambient noise helps him work a bit better. He doesn’t usually like an audience while he creates something new, but Taemin’s questions amuse him. After half-an-hour passes, Taemin finally stops swinging his legs and turns a new pout at Kibum.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve already asked me lots of questions,” Kibum teases. “You don’t need to ask permission.”

Taemin’s nose scrunches up, and Kibum has seen Minho make the same expression when he thinks Kibum has given him a funny answer to something. It just makes Kibum laugh, a fond little chuckle squeezing past his lips.

“If you’re so nice, why are you a bad guy?”

The question makes Kibum pause, and he hears Taemin’s breath hitch. Before he can even respond, Taemin is hopping off the stool and running out of the lab. Kibum sighs, listening as Taemin runs to the elevator, listens to the way it dings when it opens and the way Taemin presses the button for his floor twenty-five times in quick succession until the doors close. He’ll leave Taemin be for now, instead finishing up this portion of his latest creation. He doesn’t want to scare Taemin by immediately following after him. 

He finds Taemin later that afternoon, hiding in Minho’s bedroom between the bed and the wall while Jinki and Minho play video games on Minho’s bed. 

“Can I talk with you?” Kibum asks Taemin, holding out a hand. “Just for a few minutes?”

Taemin only moves onto the bed to cling to Minho, who instinctively wraps an arm around Taemin the moment he moves close enough. 

“I just want to answer your question from earlier,” Kibum says in a patient voice. “You ran off before I could tell you.”

“What did you ask?” Minho asks Taemin.

Taemin just shakes his head. Kibum can see the way he’s terrified, the way he thinks he’s done something wrong, the way he’s afraid of being punished for asking what was in actuality a very simple question.

“He asked why I’m a bad guy if I’m so nice,” Kibum says, a small laugh in his voice. “And it’s okay to ask that. I’m not upset about it, and I’m not angry with you.”

The game has been paused, and Kibum moves to sit down on the bed. He’s close enough to show that he’s not angry, but far away enough to keep Taemin as calm as possible, to not startle him.

“You see,” Kibum starts carefully, “there are a lot of things I do that the league doesn’t necessarily agree with. And that’s fine; a lot of people don’t agree with me. Things like stealing jewels or hurting people - bad people - well a lot of people think that’s wrong. But do you know what I think is worse?”

Taemin shakes his head.

“I think stealing children is worse,” Kibum says in a quiet voice. “I think turning children into pawns, into small soldiers, into weapons who never really have a choice in their fate - well I think that’s pretty despicable. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Taemin blinks a couple times before nodding his head, slowly, as if it’s a trick question.

“I think the things they put you three through, I think they should be punished for that,” Kibum says. “And I do punish them every time they send a child to do their jobs for them. Because adults have a choice to do things, whether they’re right or wrong. Adults know better. And some of the things I do, they might be wrong. But I don’t hurt innocent people to get what I want. And those heroes - they prey on the most innocent people, on children just like you, children who have no choice but to do whatever they tell them.”

Taemin looks overwhelmed now, looks afraid and confused as he clings tighter to Minho. So Kibum stops, decides it’s not something he needs to prove any further, that Taemin received an answer to his question.

“And if you ever have anymore questions,” Kibum says, standing, “you never have to be afraid to ask me. I’ll always answer you as best I can. And I’ll never lie to you.”

Kibum leaves the room, leaves the two older boys to comfort the youngest. He’s afraid Taemin might be afraid of him again, might not want him around. That’s fine. Kibum will always be here when Taemin is ready to ask more questions. 

But before Kibum can get to the elevator, he feels two arms circle around him, feels a small face pressing into his side, and looks down to find Taemin clinging to him. Kibum stays there, wrapping his arms around Taemin, comforting him as best he can. Then Taemin looks up, and his eyes are fierce and full of tears, a frown pulling down the corners of his mouth.

“I want to punish them,” Taemin says, his voice shaking but so, so firm at the same time. 

Kibum kneels down then, moves one hand to cup Taemin’s chin.

“Once you’re fully healed,” Kibum promises him. “Then we can all punish them together, if that’s what you still want.”

Taemin looks determined then, and his frown turns into more of a pout, upset that they can’t go punish them right that moment. But he understands. 

“Do you want to help me make something?” Kibum asks instead. “We can make a new gadget just for you.”

“What will it do?”

“Anything you want.”

Taemin smiles then, and he follows after Kibum to go to the lab, and they start drafting plans for a new gadget that will be special for Taemin to use.

[celosiaa]

i can almost see you

Summary: Tim says his final farewells.

Martin refuses to leave his side.

(for a prompt from @nebulousowl requesting an exploration of Tim saying his last goodbyes, and being comforted through it all)

CW: suicidal(ish) thoughts, discussion of death wish/martyrdom, heavy angst

this is a bit of a dark one--definitely heavy on the angst, but I’ve got the comfort here too, never fear. Though I would not classify Tim as suicidal, I could see how this piece could potentially be triggering for folks who struggle with those things.  Please please please be careful!!! Love to you all! <3

“Honestly, I hope that John learned something from her because—because I don’t expect I’m going to be coming back from this. I don’t know if I want to. And if he needs to pull the trigger, to use me to stop it… well, he’d better have the guts to do it.”

Tim stops briefly, the faint flicker of compulsion fading away to nothing as he says these words.

My last words.

He knows it as sure as anything—this had been his last statement for the archive. Whether that means he escapes, or he dies, Tim can’t even find it in himself to care. Just for it all to be over.

He’s just got to end the tape.

“Timothy Stoker, August 4th, 2017.”

It’s so very like an obituary that he cannot help but laugh.

“Statement ends.”

Clicking off the recorder, Tim buries his face in his hands, rubbing at eyes that have seen no rest for days now. He hasn’t been able to sleep, able to eat, able to—anything, really, now he thinks of it. And what would be the point anyway? He’s only got to last a little bit longer.

“Tim? Are you alright?” a timid voice asks from the doorway.

Of course it would be Martin.

Of course.

“Well, isn’t this just the icing on the cake?” he says with as much vitriol as he can manage, pulling the corners of his mouth into a wide and terrible grin.

To his surprise, this does not seem to intimidate Martin in the slightest. Certainly, the man of a few years ago would have balked at this behavior, so worried even to look at someone the wrong way that he would rather just run out of the room. The expression he’s directing at Tim right now, however, speaks volumes as to just how much they’ve all changed.

“Look, you can—you can be nasty to me all you want,” he says, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him. “It’s not going to stop this conversation from happening.”

Bastard.

Wiping the grin from his face, Tim leans back in the wooden chair, which creaks a bit as he crosses his arms tightly across his chest. Martin absolutely refuses to look away, his eyes just boring into Tim’s with a steadily-building intensity—until he finally bursts.

“What? What do you want, Martin? Just spit it out,” he shouts, slamming a hand against the table and returning the stare with equal force.

“I heard what you just said,” he says quietly, refusing to match Tim’s outlandish volume.

“Great, thanks for eavesdropping then! Really appreciate it,” Tim spits, tipping back even further to stare angrily at the ceiling.

“Well, I’ve already heard it, so tough. And to be honest, it fucking terrified me.”

What?

Taken so completely aback by this language, his eyes immediately snap back to Martin—who is staring at him more seriously perhaps than ever before.

There was time I would have loved this, he thinks dimly, just a flicker of memory of teasing and laughter dancing across his mind—gone as quickly as it had come. It makes his head ache.

“Yeah—yeah, I mean it, alright?” Martin continues, straightening up even taller, firm in his determination not to let this go.

“What you said about not expecting to come back, and—” he breaks off to inhale a quick, shaky breath. “—and not wanting to. That bit. That terrified me.”

Seeing the fear written all over Martin’s face, knowing that he had put it there, that this might be the last time he saw him—

Tim can’t think about it—he won’t.

Just get out just get out just get out

“If this is your idea of an intervention, Martin, it’s very sad,” he says, standing from the chair with a wooden creak and crossing the room quickly.

A firm hand grips his upper arm before he can make it to the door—and it’s been so long since anyone has touched him that he cannot help but freeze in his tracks, briefly overwhelmed by the sensation. He stares down at Martin’s hand on his arm, frozen in shock.

“I know, alright?” Martin says, clearly fighting with his own voice to keep his tone gentle. “I know this probably won’t help, and you probably won’t listen to me at all, and that it might all be rubbish.”

Tim can’t help but huff out a derisive laugh at this as he tries to move away again—but Martin’s grip remains firm.

“But I also know you, Tim.”

You don’t know me you don’t know me you don’t

“I know you, alright? And I know what you’re trying to do—be a hero, be a martyr, sacrifice yourself for the sake of vengeance—"

“You know fuck all about me,” Tim hisses, cutting off whatever ridiculous nonsense Martin was about to say at once, trying yet again to shoulder past him.

And he’s stopped again—this time by a gentle hand on his shoulder. It’s warm and soft and…and kind.

Something is coming back to Tim now, scratching at the back of his mind like some half-forgotten dream.

“That’s not true,” Martin says, sharp and low. “That’s not true and you know it.”

…I do know.

Clawing to the surface of his thoughts, of his memories, of everything that he’s tried to shut down or block out for the last few months are pictures—small scenes in flashes, colors all faded and running together, yet still somehow so vivid it makes his head spin.

Martin on their first day of work together, chasing a dog around the archives while Tim tries to stop laughing long enough to catch it.

The two of them seated at the breakroom table with ice cream, Martin listening to him pine after Sasha with a small smile on his face.

Martin staying at his apartment for a bit after his mother decided to move out, watching telly and eating pizza and just taking comfort in each other’s presence.

Martin sitting with him on the floor of the archives bathroom, rubbing his back and listening to him pour out his grief on the anniversary of Danny’s death.

Sasha and himself sharing food and wine with Martin after he’d ended up staying in the archives—and Martin confessing his crush on Jon at last, blushing fit to burst.

Martin driving him to physical therapy after the worms had injured his shoulder, trying to make up for having left him behind, though he has insisted over and over that it’s not Martin’s fault.

The two of them trudging through the tunnels under the institute, with Martin supporting his weight after he’d turned his ankle.

Both of them together, sharing their grief over Sasha—until Tim had begun to pull away.

Even now, Martin still reaches out to him, still checks on him, knowing he’s been so full of despair and anger and sorrow that he’s drowning in it. Even now, he still continues to throw him a lifeline, and Tim knows he’s been so nasty, that he’s been cutting everyone out and everything is just so wrong—

Someone gasps—and Tim quickly realizes it was himself.

“Tim?” Martin’s hand moves from his shoulder to behind his elbow now, his brows furrowing in concern. “You okay?”

“Fine, fine,” he manages to mumble, his voice coming from somewhere far beneath the earth.

The room begins to spin.

“Woah, okay, just—just sit down, alright?” Martin urges, guiding him quickly back toward the chair with hands clasped behind his elbows. “I’ll get you some water.”

Sit down? But—

When he looks up again, he is already sitting, head buried in arms he’s crossed over the table in front of him. He lets out a soft groan at the movement, the office around him pitching sickeningly—and promptly folds over onto his arms once again.

God, how did I get here?

How did I become this?

He stays quiet for several moments, rubbing his forehead miserably into his arms as he begs his vision to stop swimming. Even now, he’s considering running, overwhelmed by everything that’s just flooded his memories, hoping that if he runs again he can just ignore ignore ignore until it’s all finished. Until he’s finished.

“Tim? I’ve got you some water.”

Once again, Martin is there to stop him, bringing a bit of comfort with him in the process.

God. He shouldn’t even care about me at this point.

I’ve done everything I could think of to make him stop.

Chest twinging with the weight of it, Tim raises his head slowly, unfolding his arms to prop himself up to sitting braced against the table. Martin pulls the chair around from the other side, setting himself catty-corner to him.

“You alright?” he asks in a near-whisper, tilting his head to try and get a better look at Tim’s face.

The gentleness with which he asks this question is enough to bring a lump immediately to Tim’s throat, and he reaches out for the glass set in front of him—swallowing the tears and the water down to the last drop.

“Alright, that’s good, that’s—that’s great,” Martin praises, though it does not sound at all like he thinks so. “When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

Tim cannot bring himself to reply. He’s quite certain Martin already knows the answer to that question, anyway.

Is this really how I want to leave this?

How I want to spend the last of our time together?

To leave without even an apology, after everything.

In a moment, he makes a decision, gripping every foul thing that has forced him to hold his tongue and casting it all away.

“I’m sorry, Martin,” he mutters, hanging his head. “I’m sorry for yelling.”

“It’s alright,” Martin says, because of course he would.

“It’s really not.”

Turning to face him now, Tim is greeted with hazel eyes full of worry, lines creasing between eyebrows that have shot up past his fringe. He can’t help but smile sadly at the sight—knowing that Martin will never understand, how hurt he will be over whatever happens tonight, how hard he’s tried to make friends in this world, only to have them all stripped away till none remain—barely Jon, and not even Tim anymore.

He deserves to know. He deserves to have a place to visit her.

The smile Tim offers him now only furrows the lines of worry on Martin’s face closer, and Tim knows he must really look rather frightening at this point.

“Look, I—I want to show you something,” he says, standing carefully from the table. “Something you should know about.”

“What do you mean?” Martin asks apprehensively, standing with him, arms hovering near Tim’s elbows, just in case.

“It’s not far,” Tim assures, grabbing his keys from the table and making his way toward the door. “We’ve got some time yet.”

“Wait, Tim, where—?”

He turns back to face him, meeting him with an expression that begs for his trust, however unearned it may be.

“Just follow me, okay?”

“O…kay?”

Though his fears are far from disbanded, Martin follows Tim out of the office, flicking out the lights out behind them in a final farewell.

---

Upon reaching the cemetery, the one where Danny has been buried for nearly four years now, Tim leads them quickly down the earthen path, straight toward a patch of trees and brush on their left. Behind him, Martin stammers a bit in confusion.

“Tim, I thought…I thought Danny’s was over—oh.”

Tim has stopped now, a few yards back into the trees, where he has erected a small monument. It’s not much, really—just a stake in the ground, sanded and stained cherry with his own hands, and a bit of carving at the top.

Sasha Eloise James

4 August 1985 – 29 July 2016

“The Best”

“Oh,” Martin chokes, a bit wetter this time.

Turning at the sound, he looks Martin over—finding him rapidly blinking back tears.

“Just thought,” Tim starts, his voice coming out hoarser than he’d expected. “Just thought you should know this is here.”

He pulls his eyes away from Martin to give him some privacy, as well as to allow himself to breathe through the memories—all distorted by the face of the Stranger, now. After a few deep inhales, it seems Martin finds the strength to speak again, his voice wobbling only a bit around his tears.

“You made this?”

“Yeah,” Tim replies, brushing his thumb over the carving to scrape away some dirt that has built up there. “Probably not exactly legal, but…I didn’t really care.”

“It’s beautiful,” Martin whispers, stepping forward at last to stand at his side, his simple act of camaraderie pulling a wry smile to Tim’s face.

“She was beautiful,” Tim says, the constant hollow of his chest flooding with something both aching and lovely as he speaks. “I can’t…I can’t remember her face exactly, but I remember that. And so smart. And—”

“And kind,” Martin finishes, reaching an arm across his shoulders, the warmth of it seeping deep into his back. “Always kind. And always willing to stick up for you.”

“Yeah,” Tim’s voice breaks properly now, and he hangs his head to hide the tears stinging in his eyes.

Martin notices, of course. As always.

“And bossy, a bit,” he continues with a smile, pulling Tim into a proper side hug now, running a hand comfortingly over his upper arm.

Tim can’t help but laugh roughly at this, the sound of it more choking and wet than anything.

“Yeah a bit,” he whispers, the tears at last spilling over his cheeks.

It’s too much, it’s all too much, and it aches aches aches—he can’t help but double over, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of it all, biting back against the sobs threatening to burst from his throat.

“Hey, hey,” Martin soothes, rubbing his back, gentle as ever. “Are you alright?”

No, he wants to say more than anything.

I don’t think I ever will be.

“Just…just give me a moment, would you?” he asks, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“Oh—yeah, erm…I’ll just be at that bench, okay?” Martin says at once, stepping back and thumbing in the general direction of a park bench they had passed.

Tim merely nods in response, and then Martin is gone—leaving only him, the quiet, and the birds singing above. He lets it lie there for a moment, staring down at the curving letters of her name, trying desperately to remember her face, her true face. But nothing comes to him—nothing save the rising static and the cold and the dark.

I’ve got to tell her. She has to know.

“I haven’t forgotten you, you know. Never could do. You’re—‘unforgettable,’ as you put it. Thought about carving that on your post here, but I could hear your voice in my head saying it was ‘too on-the-nose.’”

He can’t help the smile that spreads across his face now, the memories feeling closer to him than perhaps ever before.

“I…I think I’ll be seeing you soon. Really soon, in fact—you and Danny both. And I just want you to know that it’s alright, that I’m not scared, and that I’m going to see justice done. I won’t stop until it’s done, I promise.”

Crouching down in front of the post now, he rubs his thumb back over her name again and again, memorizing the feeling of it in his hands to tide him over for however long he has left on this earth.

“I promise, sweetheart. I know you hate when I call you that, but it’s just the truth, isn’t it?”

With a soft smile, he rises back to standing, knees aching in protest as he brushes them off.

“Can’t wait to see you, Sash. We’ll have a laugh at the whole thing soon, I’m sure.”

As he starts to turn away, his heart shatters with the thought that this can’t be it this can’t be it this can’t be it—

And he turns back, laying his hand to rest on top of the cherry wood.

“Tell Danny I’m coming, okay?” he whispers—before looking away at last.

What more could he say? What more could he say that she doesn’t already know, that Danny doesn’t already know? He’ll be there soon, and he’ll say it all again, hundreds of times, thousands even, if they have the time—

“You alright?” Martin asks, standing from the bench as Tim makes his way back through the trees. “You look pale—maybe we should sit a little.”

“I’m fine, Martin,” he lies easily, and with a smile. “I promise. We can go, unless you want a moment.”

Martin seems to consider this briefly, gazing over Tim’s shoulder at the trees behind him, worrying at his bottom lip.

“No, I…I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet,” he replies at last, voice low and rough.

“That’s alright. Let’s just go then.”

As they walk, Tim tries not to hear Martin’s muffled sniffling, tries not to think about him coming back here, utterly alone in his grief—when he’s reminded of Jon.

God, Jon.

…he deserves to know too.

Even after everything.

“Tell Jon about this after, alright?” he says, turning toward Martin as they walk. “So he can come here if he wants.”

“Tell him yourself,” Martin mutters wetly, eyes firmly fixed on the ground in front of him.

He knows.

He knows that this is the end.

He just doesn’t want to see it.

“Martin.”

Tim forces them to stop, turning Martin towards him with a hand on his shoulder. The tears welling in Martin’s eyes, wild with repressed panic and sorrow, are like knives in Tim’s chest.

God, Martin.

I’m so sorry.

“Promise me. Promise me you will,” he begs in earnest, grabbing Martin lightly by the folds of his jacket.

At this, the pools in Martin’s eyes begin to run over, unbidden and so full of hurt Tim could choke on it.

“I will. I promise,” he murmurs, voice thin enough to shatter.

Good man.

Quirking up a half-smile at this, Tim reaches on hand up to rest on his cheek, thumbing at the steady flow of tears.

“Thank you, Martin. Thank you for—”

--lovingcaringlaughinglisteningcryinggrievingholdingreaching—

“—for being with me.”

He pours as much meaning as possible into these words, broken and small and fragile—and suddenly he’s being hugged—properly hugged, wrapped up in a warmth that makes him sigh in relief from the comfort of it all. A proper Martin hug.

Not a bad way to end things after all.

“Just please try to come back alright?” Martin begs, voice rumbling in Tim’s ear where he’s got it pressed into Martin’s chest.

“Martin—”

“Just try. That’s all I ask. Try to make it out. It’s what they—it’s what Sasha and Danny would both want.”

He doesn’t understand he doesn’t understand he doesn’t understand.

Biting back against the lie with all the strength he has left, Tim reassures him of a falsehood too dreadful to bear.

“I’ll try,” he whispers.

“Thank you.”

At last, Martin pulls away—eyes still brimming and swiping his nose desperately against his sleeve—but offering a gentle smile all the same. He’s choking it all back, and Tim knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that it’s for his sake—and can’t help but return the favor.

“Come on then,” he says, shoving Martin’s shoulder good-naturedly. “Plenty to do before it’s dark.”