#him... because the mc looking up to him makes it infinitely harder for him to betray everyone... he can't let mc down...

[kusanagihaku]

if Haku is the spy betraying the ghouls, Haku’s intentions might be good.

okay consider: with all the time loop stuff going around (in view of taiga’s memory issues + taiga saying something about “abandoning this future too”), what if taiga isn’t the only one stuck in the time loop?

what if haku is ALSO in the time loop and in this rendition he’s working with the institute because he’s alr tried every other method and it never worked?

he says in one of the scenes that there’s someone he wants to save, and this is just practice. what if the person he’s trying to save is mc, over and over again, and every single time the mc dies he shudders back awake and has to figure out what went wrong this round? in a way every single loop is 'practice', until he gets it right.

it explains some of what people have termed his 'sus' actions. it explains why he’s there in time in the frostheim arc when mc tried to run away, why he knows it won't end up well for anyone (mc tried that the third loop, he tried to join them the seventh loop), and why he’s there for most of the other major plot points (e.g. what if in one of the previous loops, mc gets swallowed by the barometz when on the obscuary mission with rui? that’s why he’s so insistent on letting lyca out - lyca is meant to save the mc, and he learnt this the hard way), because he already knew what was going to happen and how to stop it.

that might also be why he’s there on the train in the beginning - ostensibly to prevent taiga from yeeting mc out of the train in the first place (as taiga is prone to do), but because in every loop he has to be the first second one to see them, he needs to feel them alive in his arms, he needs to be the one to bring them to darkwick. after all, this is the person he's been reliving this entire loop for, the person he wants to, needs to save from their curse. maybe after living through their nth death and jolting awake again with cold sweat burning his eyes, he just needs to see them alive again, one more time.

it also tracks with the way haku wants to go back to being a normal human so bad... what wouldn't he give to wake up in a timeline where this time, both he and mc get to live? together?

(and of course taiga’s part of the entire timeline loop too, and he's somewhat aware of the changes - this time haku’s acting different and this time he’s working with those slimy fuckers and that's how taiga knows there's something wrong and that there's a 'spy'. taiga's also trying his best this time to save the mc (albeit through ways like ummm eating any anomaly he sees... maybe if he eats them all he'll eat the anomaly that cursed mc in the first place...??), after all.)

anyway i don't think haku's intention is to backstab anyone or to betray the ghouls. maybe his intention this entire time is to just to save one (1) person, and he's decided that he'd do anything to do that.

and this time, it means he has to partner with the institute because their research might be the only way.

or maybe i just have my haku defender glasses on

Please despite all evidence against him do you think (you’re allowed to blatantly lie) there’s a slight chance that Haku is not the spy and will not stab everyone in the back when told to?

Every time he greets me from the main screen (yeah yeah you’re not quite ready, I’ll just wait over there)I just sigh..

Seriously though.. the writers have done a fine job so far. If the main suspect turns out to be the “bad guy” isn’t it a little cheap?

Being able to predict something based on the evidence given isn't really bad storytelling--this isn't a suspense or mystery story where it should be a whole thing to figure out whodunnit after all. Cheap, maybe, but I don't think that's a bad thing.

But I'll share an idea I had recently, while the posts about Haku's family wanting him away were going around.

I don't think Haku is fully committed to backstabbing everyone. Or, rather, his intention isn't bad for the ghouls. His methods, perhaps, but the intended outcome, less so.

Haku himself implied he tried to run away from all of this once and was shut down by the Institute.

He doesn't want to be a ghoul. He wants to be a human again, he wants a normal life, he doesn't even want to work at his family's shrine, he wants to be a normal young adult who can pursue whatever his heart desires, not whatever's been set forth for him by family or destiny--

He can't escape the Institute, though. Not without going back home.

So he works with them. He gets what freedom and control over the situation he can. He sabotages the ghouls themselves. He hurts them himself.

So they work together.

They turn against him, they turn against the Institue, somehow, together, they can make things different! They can get their freedom, control their lives, even if they can't be normal humans again they can at least have enough control over their own existences to get some normalcy back!

Jin will become president, Jin will make things right, Jin maybe just needed motivation to take that mantle in the form of Haku's betrayal, maybe in the Institute's name.

In the end, Haku's plan, perhaps, is to triple cross everyone. Yes, this is self sabotage, neither side will like him in the end and he probably won't make it out of this. At least, if he can't help himself, he can help everybody else.

I think, if Haku is the spy betraying the ghouls, Haku's intentions might be good. He's just made himself the scapegoat to call everyone else into action.

It's not like anyone's waiting at home for him anyway.

[devildomdisaster]

Idk if you read Lore Olympus but chapter 129 gave me an angsty request idea.

So Persephone, who’s the goddess of spring, goes into a hibernation-like state and when her emotions go out of control, she ends up growing her hair really long and her body sprouts a lot of plants from her; to the point of covering her and whatever area she’s in with her plants.

So I would like to request head cannons of the Brothers reacting to an MC who gets really sad whenever the brothers insult or threaten them and after several weeks of being berated by demons it causes MC to shut down and go to their room but mistakes a comfort spell with a plant curse that causes their hair and plants to grow continuously long. The plants fill up MC’s room and while they would normally be surprised at the mistake, they don’t care any more. They allow the plants to to grow, even wrap around their neck and body, and hopes the curse kills them off before the brothers notice as they go in the “hibernation” stage of the curse (The curse causes the victim to grow a lot of plants and vines from their body until they die, which can take a few days).

I’m sorry for being so long and descriptive, I just wanna see the Bros panic and feel guilty that MC felt pushed to do this to themselves but I understand if you don’t want to do it

I don't read Lore Olympus but you described the situation really well so I hope this is something close to what you wanted.

Comfort spell gone wrong

Lately, nothing seemed to be good enough for the demons. No matter what you did one of them would find something to berate you for.

“Mc, your grades are subpar even for an exchange student. You’ll have to try harder in order to not be a disappointment to Diavolo and myself.” Lucifer warned over breakfast.

“Mc, you burned dinner. You should learn to be a better cook.” Beel grumbled. As if you had ever seen any of these ingredients before ending up in the Devildom.

Even Mammon seemed to be in a particularly unpleasant mood. A never-ending string of complaints about how hard it is to protect an ordinary human. “Geez, you’re such a hassle human.”

Taking refuge in the library to study and to give Mammon a break from you proved disastrous and nearly deadly. Somehow you’d managed to spill your cup of tea all over an old somewhat rare text after Asmo had barged in and startled you. Your string of bad luck continued when Satan rounded the corner and saw the soggy tea-stained pages you’d been trying to decipher. In his fit of rage, he’d called you several unpleasant names and asked if you were “capable of doing anything right or if all humans are as stupid as you?” You’d left as quickly as you were able to avoid any more of his wrath.

No matter where you went you kept walking in on Belphie napping and without fail he’d say something nasty to you, that would make tears burn the backs of your eyes.

Levi had angrily called you a “useless normie,” who he wished would “never come back.” and had pushed you from his room with a slam of his door.

Even Asmo who usually just ignored you when he was upset found every reason imaginable to critique your every aspect. Physical and personality. Not a single one of which made you feel any more than worthless.

So was it any wonder when at the end of a long week you’d locked yourself in your room and decided to try that comfort spell you’d heard Solomon talking about? It seemed simple enough. But then your tears had blurred your vision as you’d recited the words and your Latin was still shaky at best. But it was just a few lines! And there was no way you were going to go to one of the brothers for comfort when they had seemed perfectly happy to make you miserable for the last few weeks.

You’d read the spell aloud and curled up hoping that the spell would kick in and you’d feel even just the slightest bit better. The blinding green light and sudden drop in energy was the first and only warning the spell had gone wrong. But being new to magic meant it still sapped your energy, so you didn’t stop to think something might be wrong. By the time you realized what was happening, everything was out of control. Plants had begun to sprout from your skin and the floor around you, growing and growing. With each inch they grew you felt your exhaustion creep up and consume you. You were just so tired. Your eyes fluttered closed. This was wrong! You forced your eyes open again. You need to fix this. The spell! But a short nap wouldn’t hurt, would it? You’d have more energy after you woke up. Then you could go get one of the brothers. Satan would know how to fix this. Or Lucifer! He’d clean the spell up easily. Yes, after you woke up…

Lucifer hadn’t seen you all weekend. He figures you’re most likely studying. But you don’t show up for meals and none of his brothers have seen you either… and oh Diavolo! He can feel the spell from the dining room. How did he not notice sooner? The cold pulling sensation of the spell, like it was sucking the warmth and life from its surroundings.

When Lucifer reaches your door Mammon is already there. Knocking and shouting for you, but there's no answer. He all but breaks your door down, his brothers behind him, and finds you at the center of the spell. Unresponsive and covered in the plants using your energy to grow. The plants had begun climbing up the walls and twisting through your hair, sending out snow-white flowers.

“Beel! Don’t!” Lucifer warns as Beel reaches out to pull a handful of plants from you. “We don’t know what did this and what will happen to Mc if we just rip the spell off like that.”

“Lucifer, Mc did this to themself,” Satan points to the open spellbook. “It looks like they got a comfort spell mixed up.”

Fortunately, your last tired thoughts were correct and Lucifer is able to break the spell quickly. You wake surrounded by the brothers.

Lucifer:

All this happened for a comfort spell? Because you didn’t feel like you could come to him, to any of them?

He’s so sorry Mc. Enough that as he leans down to pick you up out of the mess of withering plants you can feel tears fall onto your face.

“Nothing I did was good enough for you Lucifer. Any of you. I just wanted to feel… I just wanted-”

His heart breaks when he realizes this is his brother’s fault, his fault. “You are always good enough, Mc. Much more than I could ever ask you to be, and if I ever made you feel like you weren't. No, the fact that I made you feel like you weren’t, means I have been truly terrible.”

You’re choking back your own tears now and you curl further into his arms as he carries you down the hall. “You said I was a disappointment.”

“My dear Mc, you have never been, nor could you ever be a disappointment to me. Forgive me for ever making you feel as if you were.”

Lucifer takes you to his bathroom and draws you a bath to wash away the last of the plant matter from your body.

Afterward, he’ll bring you anything you ask for. He wants to wrap you in his arms but doesn’t want to push you, so he asks softly if he can hold you.

He’ll spend weeks trying to make this up to you, even after you forgive him, he’ll be sure to tell you how much he loves you more often than he did before.

Mammon:

Shit human! Why didn’t you come to him? He loves you so much and oh. He made you feel like a burden.

How could he be so stupid when he knows how his brothers make him feel?

Mammon begs for your forgiveness in front of all his brothers.

“Please can ya forgive me? I never meant to make ya feel like a burden. You're the only human I- I want to protect you Mc. I’m so sorry.”

Mammon helps you up and since your room is covered in plants he offers to let you sleep in his room for the night.

He wraps you in blankets and brushes the hair from your face with trembling fingertips.

There are still a few stubborn leaves sticking to your face and in your hair so Mammon takes a warm washcloth and wipes them from your face before gently untangling the plants from your hair.

You’ll be getting little gifts and tokens of mammon’s affections for the foreseeable future.

Levi:

He threw you out of his room when you came to him for comfort and the guilt at seeing you almost die because of it is eating him alive.

He feels frozen

Maybe you would be better off without an otaku shut-in like him. He starts avoiding you like the plague.

You start to think that Levi is so disgusted with the fact that you did that spell that he doesn’t want anything to do with you anymore.

Despite this Levi still checks up on you. He wants to know that you are ok, he just does it without you knowing.

He’ll ask his brothers about you and discreetly glance at you during meals to make sure you’re eating enough and look healthy.

A few days later when your favorite and manga anime start showing up outside your door you confront Levi. “Are you mad at me? Do you just not want to be around me after what happened? Levi, I miss you!”

He is shook, and he can’t believe he messed up so badly.

He’s happy that he can invite you to hang out again, and he makes sure to spend long nights gaming or watching movies with you until you fall asleep against him. He’ll even stutter out how much he treasures his time with you, blushing fiercely all the while.

Satan:

Satan feels anger swell up inside him. How could he have let this happen? How could no one have seen how upset you were?

Once the spell has been dissolved he is at your side instantly. Brushing vines from your skin. His fingers are shaking in anger but his touch is so gentle.

When both you and your room are cleaned up Satan sits at your bedside, book in hand, reading to you.

He just wants to be close to you now. He wants you to know how much he cares about you but is still too worked up to get his thoughts out properly.

Eventually, his thoughts calm and he stops reading in the middle of a sentence. “Mc, I am so sorry. I never meant to make you feel unwanted. Every day I spend with you is infinitely better than a day without you. I know the spell was a mistake but… we almost lost you. I almost lost you.”

He wants to talk about what pushed you to do this. He won’t push but he really does think that he will be better able to help you if he understands.

Satan makes sure to spend more time with you from now on. He makes a conscious effort to check his temper at the door and be with you when you need him.

Sometimes he’ll just read to you until one of you confides in the other in quiet voices.

Asmo:

As you blink your eyes open Asmo gently brushes some plants from your cheek.

You are so pale and his heart breaks as you flinch away from him. You feel like a mess and you know you must look like one too so curl your body away from him trying to hide. Trying to avoid his critical gaze.

This is the moment Asmo knows he screwed up.

He draws his hand back, for a moment, before reaching out to you again. Cupping your cheek and wiping your tears away with perfectly manicured hands.

Lucifer has him take you to his bathroom to clean up while the rest of the brothers work to clear the plants from your room.

Asmo is quiet for a long while as he untangles plants from your hair.

“You’re so loved, Mc,” he says softly. “You are.” he insists when you shake your head no.

“More than you could ever know, and it’s our fault for not telling you. My fault for not making you feel worthy.”

After this incident, Asmo wants to make sure you know how beautiful you are. He starts self-care days once a week that soon turn into whole family affairs. Each week different combinations of his brother attend and you all work to pamper each other.

Asmo makes sure nothing like this happens again, he never wants to be part of the reason you feel unloved ever again.

Beel:

At first, Beel thinks you did this on purpose. Once the brothers realize you messed up the spell he is less angry but no less distraught.

Once you wake up, he wants to take you to get desserts. He’s heard humans eat Chocolate/ other sweets to feel better. And this makes sense to him, food does make everything better.

But you don’t want to go to Madam Screams or the kitchen to make your own. You’re still so tired. Not to mention embarrassed that you screwed the spell up this bad.

And now they are all staring at you like they care so much when none of them had any time to notice how they were making you feel before.

When you become unresponsive to the brother’s questions and apologies Beel scoops you up in his arms and walks away with you.

Something about the way he holds you close to his chest and his warmth causes you to finally let go.

You bury your face in his shirt to muffle your crying.

“I just… I felt so alone! And… I...but no one” you gasp out shakily between sobs.

Beel soothes you with soft murmuring as he gently cards his fingers through your hair and strokes down your back.

Once your crying quiets he starts to speak “Don’t do that again. You can always come to me Mc. I’m so sorry you felt like you couldn’t”

Belphie:

Belphie thinks it’s a joke at first. “Man, how could they mess up this bad?”

Then he sees Lucifer’s panicked expression and it hits him how serious this is.

Belphie is immediately by your side. Hands frantically feeling your wrist for a pulse.

After Lucifer breaks the spell and your eyes flutter open Belphie is filled with relief until a wave of guilt washes through him.

He can’t believe he fucked up so badly again. Sure this time he didn’t directly cause you physical harm, but he did play a role in causing you to almost die again.

“I am so very sorry Mc, I never meant to hurt you.”

He does everything he can think of to make it up to you. Anything you ask him for, as long as it’s within his power, is yours. No questions asked.

He asks permission just to hold your hand for weeks afterward as if he thinks you’ll come to your senses and decide you don’t want anything to do with him.

He wants to comfort you so bad.

To make sure you don’t feel like this again Belphie pulls you away to nap with him as often as he can get away with it. Most likely only a few times a week (much less often than he would like). Sometimes he uses this time just to talk with you. Others you really do nap, and Belphie curls himself around you. Occasionally he enters your dreams while you nap together to make sure no nightmares can touch you.

[mihidecet]

Sbi&CO d&d AU: The Dream Team

Aka: Tibi's MCYT WritingTober, day 29: "A normal day"

Listen the original prompt, from @the-only-gamer-gost 's list, was evidently mc related but I just had to write this. Whops ahah

It's time for you to meet another part of this AU's cast! I do hope you'll enjoy reading this ahahah

George takes a deep breath.

He is in his study: the smell surrounding him is gentle, of old wood and older books, of the flowers he's growing on the windowsill, of the almost empty cup of tea his tutor insisted he drank before practicing - "you can't do magic on an empty stomach, I will not have you pass out like a fresh-faced student with no experience!"

It is quite easy to fall back into his own mind, he's done it so many times ever since he started training, but it is never quite easy to-

A light thump, the sound of a small metallic bead hitting his window, prompts him to open his eyes.

George purses his lips in barely concealed irritation and shakes his head. He has to focus. This is precisely why he wanted to skip breakfast, so that he could start before they arrived to bother him.

He's been meaning to try out a new theory - a new spell - for a while, and it requires him to be at maximum concentration because time is a fickle bitch that does not like being toyed with.

So George closes his eyes again and focuses on the pattern of his breathing. He feels for a moment in complete awareness of every inch of his body, and then he opens his eyes.

In front of him, millions of millions of shimmering particles float, gently, into the air in front of him, as if somebody had decided to hang an infinite amount of pieces of iridescent glass with invisible strings. George could live a thousand years and never get tired of seeing the figments of reality and specks of possibilities that exist in the time dimension.

Raising his hand to touch one of them feels like moving through thick molasses after a day of exercise - his muscles protest, scream at him, and it is such a strenuous act.

But he knows to persist - what's coming is going to be even harder - so after what seems like an eternity, but in reality is no time at all, the tips of his fingers brush against the burning cold of a figment of reality.

A fraction of a second later, George stumbles forward, head ringing as he's thrown out of his own personal pocket in time. In his ears, the sound of another of those damned pebbles against his bloody window.

George lets out a loud curse and stomps to the window, opening it with a gesture of his hand and then immediately raising his arcane shield as another pebble flies right at him - as it had been aimed at his poor window once more.

Filled with a righteous fury, George slams his hands on the windowsill - mindful of his poor and completely innocent Forget-Me-Nots - and leans forward to look down at the recently acquired banes of his existence.

"See, I told you it would work- George! George wanna come train with us?" Calls out the fighter, waving a hand frantically as he elbows his shorter monk friend.

"No! Leave me alone!" George yells back, and instantly closes the window and goes back to his position in the centre of the room.

He closes his eyes, focuses on his breathing, and-

Another pebble. He is going to murder them.

"What do you want?! I told you I'm busy!"

The fighter spreads his arms open - almost hitting his friend in the face, if said friend hadn't ducked down instantly.

"Oh, come on George! It's gonna be fun!"

"I'm not interested! Now, leave before I start throwing spells your way!"

The monk scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest and lifting his chin up in defiance.

"As if you could catch me! I bet you can't, and you're scared, and that's why-" a pale green hand is suddenly covering the human's mouth, its owner looking awkwardly up at George with a tentative smile - as if that douche's attempt at riling him up could have worked.

On a completely unrelated note, George has had enough of that conversation.

"You bother me again today and you will regret it." And with that, he closes the window again.

Definitely not hearing the monk's confused "does that mean we can come back tomorrow?". He is just going to ignore it.

The moment he turns back around, he almost has a heart attack.

Leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and a knowing smile on his face, is his mentor.

"Bloody hell, I didn't hear you arriving." George mumbles, moving to grab him a chair as the older wizard chuckles.

"I figured, you were having quite a spat." Scott comments, sitting down on the armchair and nodding towards the window, looking more pleased than he should be.

George gives a scoff, letting himself slump into his chair.

"They are relentless. I don't know what to do anymore." He mopes, but as he should have expected Scott has no pity to share and immediately tackles a new, equally pressing problem.

"Have you found your teammates for the tournament yet?" He asks, crossing one leg over the other and resting his chin in his hand. About two months ago, George had agreed, after ages of declining invitations and rejecting requests, to take part in the yearly tournament his mentor ideated - agreeing only on the terms that he would be able to choose his own teammates. Which is not that unusual, people can arrive with their friends and form a team. George's main problem? His sadly evident lack of friends - at least, friends that will take part in the tournament.

"Not yet. They're all so … various. And peculiar. I'm-" He halts, hands clasped together and squeezing one another, as if they were stress relievers. Noticing his discomfort, Scott seems to take immediately a step back from his usual flippant persona as his expression softens and his posture relaxes.

"You're free to speak your mind." He reminds him gently, so George takes a small breath and looks away, towards the door, ignoring the awkwardness of his admission.

"I'm worried my purely academic training will make me underperform."

"That is possible. It is also possible that you do well. Has the prospect of failure ever stopped you?" Scott challenges, one eyebrow raising in doubt because this is the thing: Scott chose him as his protégé, he knows what George is capable of. He knows him, how competitive he is, how his pride gets in the way despite how much his self esteem is rather low. But still.

"I never had to fail in front of a crowd."

"I understand. Still, I think it will do you good. You should find people to team with, not many get this opportunity."

"I know! It's just that nobody's stuck out! They all seem like incredibly talented people!" George protests, crossing his arms over his chest and slumping back into the chair - sliding down a little, so that his chin presses up against his chest. So now he looks and feels like a child throwing a tantrum. Splendid.

"Well. I think there are at lest two you know by name." Scott notes, smiling with a conspiratory look, and George feels incredibly stupid that he let himself be played like this - did Scott manage to bring the discussion back to the two dumbasses that have been bothering him nonstop for the past couple of weeks?!

Dream and Sapnap- he has no care for them. None at all.

"Shut up." George replies weakly and Scott simply laughs - ever so rude, laughing at his self inflicted misery - before standing up. He circles the desk between them and puts a hand on his head, messing up his hair with a chuckle.

"I have to go, I have matters that await me. But it was nice to see you doing well. I'll wait for the names tonight." Scott's sing-song voice calls as he leaves with a smirk, closing the door behind him.

George lets out a long sigh and resigns himself to morning of meditating and practice.

It was nice to see his mentor again - he's been worried lately, as if on edge. George figures it's the tournament's fault, but one may never be sure.

A couple of days later, Dream wakes to the feeling of a pillow hitting him square in the face. Followed by a ripping noise. Followed by the feeling of stuffing falling on his face.

"Oops-" Sapnap says above him: when Dream opens his eyes, he's holding his pillow, now with a tear in it and stuffing slowly falling on the ground.

"SAP! What the fuck did I tell you about the tusks?!"

After their morning workout routine - which definitely does not entail Dream chasing Sapnap around their room as the shorter man jumps around on the furniture to escape, and absolutely doesn't end with them rolling on the floor as the half orc holds his teammate in a headlock - they have a quick breakfast and then hurry to the Academy.

Today's the day: they will be announcing the teams for this year's tournament, and they both can't wait who they will be fighting with.

The announcement is a strictly participant-only event, and from that point on they will have about a month to train with their new teammates inside the Academy's facilities.

The Academy is a huge building that looks and feels like those castles they talk about in fairytales: sky high towers of iridescent colours, with strands of various shades of purple and orange connecting invisible points in space - and perhaps time too. There are stairs and bridges connecting different sections, and Dream knows, from stories told by Master Calvin, that it is as tall in the sky as it is deep inside the bowels of the Earth. A magnificent display of arcane power and architectural prowess. As one would expect from the creators of this tournament, but still.

The crowd that gathers around the entrance is one of the most varied assortment of adventurers Dream has ever seen, and he knows Sapnap is thinking the same thing because the human's head keeps whipping from side to side as he stares at the people walking by.

Dream shoots, from time to time, a look around. He's not particularly looking for somebody - he is - and he's not going to let the knowledge of who is competing distract him from trying to do his best - debatable.

But still.

All the participants are directed toward the entry, where after a quick scan - to avoid strangers from entering - they manage to get inside the main hall.

Now, Dream and Sapnap have been told, by their respective masters, about the Academy, but nothing can ever quite prepare you for something this grandiose and extravagant as what they are seeing.

One would expect a centennial arcane academy, built by two archmages and hosting the best of the magical world in terms of teachers, students and knowledge, to be a stuffy, old fashioned institution.

One would be quickly proven wrong, as just the entrance hall happens to be a stunning portrait of multiple colours, bright and radiant, with moving paintings of famous arcane masters casting spells side by side with rather sweet drawings of past winners of the tournament hugging each other and holding out their prizes.

When Master Calvin had first suggested he move for a while to the Academy, in order to fully develop his arcane abilities, he had been skeptical: how could he, when Calvin's house had been his home for so long? But now, seeing all this, he thinks that maybe he could come to like this place.

At the end of the hall, on an apparently clear glass panel, are displayed the names of each team member.

With all the chatter and cheers and noises of people looking for each other - some are already leaving, having found what and who they were looking for - it's hard to catch the sound of Sapnap's sudden gasp.

It is less hard to notice him gripping his wrist and vigorously point at the glass as he lets out an excited laugh.

Dream follows where he's pointing, and-

"George is with us?!" He exclaims, mostly out of pure disbelief, eyes wide open as he looks back and forth between his friend and the list of names on the board.

"We're so going to win this!" Sapnap answers with an elated smile before bursts out laughing, jumping up and wrapping him in a full body hug - Dream catches him, letting out a small "omf" that is mainly due to the unexpectedness of it all.

"I can't believe it, we got so lucky!" The half-orc comments, his eyes skimming through the names listed on the board - some he recognises, more or less unfortunately, and some he doesn't.

"I know, right?! -" Sapnap comments, leaning back and letting go in order to nod with his head towards the floating glass.

"Now we just have to find out who Eret is, I guess."

[sparring-hyena]

Another beccaxmc request ☺️ so i had this idea.. what if becca comes to London at the end of the senior and knocks the door on mc’s apartment but when mc opens becca notices that she’s half naked with a guy sleeping on her bed.. idk how but it ends with a happy ending ? 😬

oof. the potential for angst here is off the charts. thanks for sending it my way. i hope ya’ like what i wrote

-

-

there was an adjustment period, and that had been... hard, to say the least. Alex had spent the first part of her stay in London wallowing in her own heartache, the distance between her and her friends only making it worse. then Abbie had come to visit and that had been nice. had marked a sort of turning point for her.

she’d started going out again for the hell of it. exploring the city and meeting new people. she’d even met a small group of people at some pub tucked in an alleyway a few blocks from her apartment. she hangs out there a lot in her free time. not always drinking. sometimes she plays darts or pool with her new friends, sometimes they just sit and talk, and sometimes—very rarely—she does a little bit of writing.

that’s where she is tonight, actually. at the pub. laughing. talking. and about to win the round of darts she’s playing with her friends. the night dwindles on and they all drink some more. it’s Friday and they’re currently celebrating someone’s recent promotion.

there are empty shot glasses and half-drunk fruity cocktails spread across the dinged up wooden table.

Alex checks her watch, not that she’s able to make much sense of of the time being displayed to her. she’s teetering on the very fine edge of being blackout drunk, so everything’s all a bit blurry. she guesses it’s late though because the pub has pretty much cleared out now, and it’s just Alex and two of her new friends left.

“i think i might call it night,” one of them— Anna says. “you right to get her home or you want a hand?”

“go on, i’ll manage,” Matt, this time, says.

Anna leaves, and then a few minutes later, Matt scoots out of the booth and offers his hand to Alex. “c’mon, time to get ya’ home.”

Alex grumbles out a protest but still takes the proffered hand. she stumbles a bit as they walk, but Matt manages to hold her up.

“did i ever tell you about my girlfriend who’s not my girlfriend?” Alex says, her words coming out slurred and a little jumbled.

“i remember you said you didn’t want to talk about her,” Matt says.

“i only said that ‘cause i was sad. but i think you two would have been friends.”

“because we’re both law students?”

she touches her nose with her finger, or tries to at least. “you got it.”

Matt laughs. “c’mon, we’re almost there.”

-

when Alex wakes the next morning, she realises a few things: she’s definitely more than a little hungover, Matt is fast asleep on her couch, and there’s knocking on her door.

Alex sits up in bed and immediately regrets the decision. her head pounds and she feels like she might throw up. there’s a bucket beside her bed, so she guesses it wouldn’t be the first time. Alex searches her floor for a shirt that reeks a little less of alcohol. she tosses her shirt into the hamper and pads over to the door as she unfolds the new shirt.

Matt wakes up as she moves through the apartment.

“thanks for getting me home,” Alex says. “feel free to use the shower.”

Matt smiles and nods.

Alex opens the door, shirt half on, and when she sees who’s standing on the other side, she very nearly collapses. it’s Becca and she looks broken.

“can i come in?” Becca says.

Alex stares at her dumbly, shirt completely forgotten. and then, in some cruel twist of fate, Matt steps back into view, asking about towels. Alex can see the moment Becca’s entire mood shifts. she’s pissed.

“oh, hi,” Matt says, waving. “i’m Matt.”

Becca gives him a once over, and then says, her voice dripping with venom: “Becca.”

“oh, you’re the famous Becca. nice to meet you. you know, this one” —Matt nods to Alex— “thinks you and i would make pretty good friends.”

“i doubt that.”

“you know what, Matt, do you think you could give us a minute?”

“nevermind,” Becca says. “it’s clear what i have to say won’t mean anything to you. so you two can just pretend i was never here and continue with your morning.”

Becca leaves and Alex is left standing in the doorway trying to piece together in her hungover state how everything just got infinitely worse.

“you should go after her,” Matt says.

“she’s pissed.”

“yeah, but anger is a secondary emotion. she’s only pissed because she’s hurt.”

“when did you get so smart?”

Matt shrugs. “dated a psych student last year. but you should go after her. she wouldn’t have come all this way for nothing.”

Alex nods and is about to run after Becca, only stopping when Matt clears his throat.

“might wanna finish putting that shirt on.”

Alex laughs, puts her shirt on, and then runs after Becca. she catches up to Becca on the corner of the block.

“what do you want?” Becca snaps.

“what do i— you’re the one who came to my apartment!” and yeah, maybe Alex shouldn’t have snapped back like that. “sorry, i shouldn’t have yelled. we aren’t together—Matt and I.”

Becca scoffs. “you two sure looked pretty comfortable.”

“that doesn’t mean we’re together. he’s my friend. one of the first i made here.”

Becca sits with that information for a moment, her frustration slipping from her face. “really?”

“yes.”

“oh.”

a beat passes. cars whoosh by and pedestrians give them dirty looks as they block the path.

“come on.” Alex grabs Becca’s hand, their fingers automatically lacing together, and leads her to the nearby park.

they sit down at one of the benches, hands still together.

“sorry for getting angry back there,” Becca says.

“it’s fine. i probably would have been angry too if i were in your position.”

“how’s London been treating you?”

“it’s fun. took a little bit to adjust, but i’m starting to really like it here,” Alex says, and then a moment later adds: “i miss you.”

Becca squeezes her hand. “me too.”

and then Alex says something that’s been banging around in her head a lot these past few weeks. “i wish we’d tried harder.”

“we still can.”

“yeah?”

Becca hums, smiling. “plenty of people do long distance.”

“it’ll be hard.”

“worth it.”

Alex pulls Becca in for a kiss then and it’s at this moment that she realises how much she’s missed this. missed the way their lips lock together, the way Becca cups her cheeks like she’s something to be treasured, the way Becca doesn’t open her eyes right away after they kiss like she needs a moment to come back down to Earth.

“i love you,” Becca says, voice soft and eyes gleaming.

“i love you too.”

[aka-indulgence]

Little mermaid au where mc us Ariel and black is Ursula. And instead of becoming one of those wierd plant things if she doesn't get prince charming in 3 days, she stays with him forever. And maybe red is prince charming?

Ho. Ly. Shit. Ok, you didn’t know this, but I shouted “YES” like, 3 times in a row when I saw this question. (especially while I’m writing TDtLU again, so perfect timing, thank you for this ask)

So, reader (you!) is one of the king’s daughters, maybe Triton, maybe not.Sans (Black- hey the tentacle colors kinda match!) was banned from the kingdom because of his… Violence.Red is the skeleton from land.

Reader like Ariel, is absolutely fascinated by artifacts from the land, and regularly explores to find more of it for safekeeping. One day, you cross paths with a ship, and unfortunately, a storm blows over. The ship gets wrecked, and one man fell out into the sea. Not wanting to see anyone die in front of you, you save him, finding out that he’s a golden-toothed skeleton. You bring him to shore, and find… Oh wow, he’s handsome. You sing to him but run away before he’s awake- land-dwellers aren’t supposed to know about sea-dwellers.

Red wakes up, remembering when a soft voice had sung to him, gently and caring, caressing his face, checking to see if he’s ok. The touch still ghosting his bones and the sweet melody makes him want to find whoever it is that saved him. He hasn’t even seen you, but already he finds himself smitten.

Back underwater, now reader can’t stop thinking about Red, how… handsome?? he is and how interested she’s become with him. She’s just as smitten with him as he is with her, and starts to long for land.

Now… Enter Black. He used to work closely with the royal family, his knowledge in magic proven very useful… And guess who’s been in love with you all this time? Most people fear him for his unsocial behavior and his… Quiet stares… But you were one of the merfolk that wasn’t afraid of him and talked with him regularly. He became obsessed with you, but not knowing what to do with himself (you’re literal royalty- what was he supposed to do?), his actions become more… Radical. He starts planning and plotting and he becomes more aggressive. On one occasion, one of his plots are found out and the king thought he was plotting against the kingdom, but he manages to keep his place in the palace when he proves he’s not trying to murder the royal family or anything (he just wants one person…). He does get banished for his violence, later on, managing to hurt at least one sea-dweller and… Maybe having a casualty from the land-dwellers. So he’s been agonizing, angsting that he’s far away from you, and all he can do is think on how to get you.

When he sees you starting to swim outside often, looking like you want something, and after stalking you a bit finding out about what you seemed to be restless about.

So imagine his utter hatred and jealousy when he finds out you’ve fallen in love with someone… A pitiful land-dweller. He’s been around far longer than whoever the hell’s up there- he’s watched you for so long, loved you for so long. He had been longing and the sheer jealousy and anger that comes up from this sends him to action.

You hear his voice, from nowhere yet everywhere during one of your outings. Right after the king found out about your wishes to just meet a land dweller shunned. You’re at your low point, and so he strikes a deal… You want to go to land don’t you?

Hurt and hopeful, you go to his cave to meet him… You remember him. You’ve never been told by the king why he was banished, so you come in wary, but not as afraid as someone would if they knew his true history. Black is ecstatic, barely holding himself back from just lunging and latching himself onto you, keep you from ever escaping. He holds himself together, hiding his excitement and pure unadulterated adoration for you, and tells you how he knows a way for you to go to land. And, as @mx-ace said, he gives you a deal. He will give you human legs in exchange for your voice (not just because it will make things harder for you with Red (he will want to be with you as soon as he finds out who you are), but also so he can listen to your beautiful, sweet voice while you’re away). You have to kiss the man you’ve fallen for (He says this through gritted teeth) before the 3rd sunset… Or your legs will turn back into a tail, and you’re “mine.” (Exactly like what Ursula says in the movie, but with a completely different meaning to it.)

Black will do everything in his power to ruin any chance you have with Red, since he lives on a seaport city and will one way or another end up near water. And with magic… He doesn’t have to touch things directly, he can make you trip, make him trip, maybe hurt him a little, just make things go wrong.

But you’re just so happy to meet him… You’ve always wanted to talk to him, land has become infinitely more fascinating when you’re actually seeing it in all its glory, and Red is just as happy to have a pretty, cute lady want to be with him. You both kinda ignore the small mess-ups, and just laugh and continue. The pure happiness makes Black sick with jealousy.

Black already didn’t like the idea of you just liking someone else, but now that he actually sees Red? He hates him with all his being and sometimes, kinda tries to kill him.

Eventually he uses his magic to disguise himself and give himself some legs to stop anything from getting further. The moment you almost become a land-dweller permanently… He strikes. You’re on a fancy-dinner-boat-date and Red’s about to confess to you. Black is disguised as one of the workers on the boat, but when the sun sets too slow and Red’s stressing over himself if he wants to confess to you or not (and starting to finally piece together that you are, in fact, the same person who saved him all that time ago) Black snaps and starts to try to forcibly remove you from the premises, and through a fight with Red, your voice breaks lose of (whatever Black used to keep it, maybe a nautilus shell as well) and your voice comes back. Red confesses finally, and he’s about to kiss you when the sun finally sets, and you turn back into a mermaid. Black turns back to a cecaelia, grabs you, and makes his escape.

Red is outraged, the woman he loved was right there all along, and he had been an idiot all this time, not realizing she was the one he’s been looking for, and immediately orders to take control of the ship and chase after Black.

Black on the other hand, doesn’t have any personal vendettas against the king or royalty or whatever… He has wanted, and only wanted you all along, and he’s finally got you. The contract you made is magically binding, kind of literally making you belong to him, and you won’t be able to leave him. Of course, Red will fight for this, and…

Whoops, now you’ve got two skeletons fighting over you through land and sea.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Fluffy fic where Wrath and MC build a fort out of blankets?

Written by @vampiregirlsblog

It was Avi’s idea to make the blanket fort and I had to give in to his cute puppy dog eyes and enthusiasm. I had just come back because Wrath had asked me to return home and rest after I had drifted off in the library while doing research with the troupe. Those dusty old tomes were boring enough to make me doze off and dream about Ranza and me biking in the desert. I had blushed when wrath caught me dozing with the book under my head but like always she was infinitely gentle and asked me to rest as if ordering a soldier to return to the base after a particularly hard battle, even though my battle was with huge tattered tomes I didn’t even feel bad for leaving the troupe to carry on the research.

Avi pulling my hand brought me back to reality and I noticed a huge pile of pillows and blankets on the common room floor which made me wonder if there was a secret supplies closet somewhere which he had raided for the fort because there was no way there could be so many in just his room. Once we finished the blanket fort and tried to crawl inside, it crumbled on top of us being too small for Ripley. We had to pry Avi from the tangled mess of blankets and pillows and Ripley cooed sweetly to him as he giggled in her arms.

We got to work again, this time making it bigger than before so that Ripley could fit in too. We even took the stools on the bar side to hold the blankets higher and more stable than before making it look like a blanket castle big enough for Avi, Ripley and me in it and still leaving space to add the snacks and extra pillows for comfort. We switched off the lights and propped a torch in the middle to give it a more camping feeling but it felt right in the moment and I went along with it. Avi fell asleep in Ripley’s lap asking for more stories before he went to bed.

I had just came out of the pillow castle with Avi in my arms when the elevator dinged open and the troupe spilled out confused with the darkness of the common room. Malakai switched on the lights and everyone stared at the structure in the middle and Darius whistled at the sight. I shushed him and pointed towards the sleeping Avi in my arms who had thankfully not woken up. Onyx gave a brilliant smile to me and Ripley who had followed me out of the blanket fort and Cal started walking towards me to take Avi to his room when my eyes met Wrath’s who had this little smile with a very warm look on her face as she took the sight of me with Avi in my arms in. I almost blushed at the warmth of her look.

After everyone had left saying good night to the others Wrath and I were the only one left. She still had the same warm look on her face and I buried my face against her shoulder to hide my crimson red face from her warm gaze. She laughed and wrapped her arms around me. We stayed like that for some time basking in each other’s presence and Wrath pulled back with the comment “That’s a very beautiful blanket fort you guys made there.”

I beamed at her and took her arm to take her closer and show off our hard work. She smiled and followed me until we were actually inside it sitting under the blanket canopy of our makeshift castle. She cupped my cheek in her palm and said “Since we are already in this fort–” I interrupted her “It’s our castle and you are my knight in shining armor” when she laughed again I realized that I had said that out loud. I covered my mouth with both hands and blushed. My lovely girlfriend’s laugh sounded once again and I covered my whole face with my hands blushing harder. She took my hands in her warm ones and I saw adoration and love in her eyes. “So since we are already in this castle my princess” she winked and made me smile at that “Why not spend the night in it?” I just nodded enthusiastically. She smiled and went out of the castle making me wonder why she went out.

A few minutes later the lights of the common room were turned off again and Ranza came back inside with a huge bowl of ice cream. We crawled further in and settled down to share ice cream and snacks while I showed her the selfies I had taken with Avi and Ripley with the blanket fort in the background. After a few pictures when I turned to look at her she was already looking at me with so much love in her eyes that a warm feeling spread inside me under the weight of her gaze. I put aside the empty bowl and my phone to cuddle up with her.

We just lay down facing each other, our faces illuminated by the soft glow of the torch light. I closed my eyes to commit this moment to memory. Every little detail was so precious that I never wanted to forget it. The way Ranza looked so calm and happy without the weight of fighting demons, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners as she laughed, the way her gentle caresses made me feel so cared for, the way her eyes sparkled when they focused on my face and the way she glowed in the semi darkness like a goddess who made me feel like I was the center of her world. Low whispers, loving caresses and soft kisses were exchanged all night and it felt like the world had dwindled into this little blanket castle of ours which encompassed us like a warm cocoon of love and the time had stopped whilst this moment extended to eternity.

[rokutouxei]

the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

ikemen vampire: temptation through the dark theo van gogh / mc | T | [ ao3 link in bio ]

The challenge seemed pretty simple: to try to befriend the university bookshop’s most sour employee, Theo van Gogh. As a literature major with a boatload of book recommendations on her back, it ought to be a simple task indeed. But as she uncovers what lies between Theo’s pages, the more she finds it harder to become closer to him without having to put the feeling directly into words. What can she learn from Theo about what it means to stay—and how can she teach Theo about what it means to let go? | written for ikevamp big bang 2020!

[ masterpost for all chapters ]

CHAPTER 5 OF 22

It’s not on purpose.

Theo isn’t intentionally testing her determination or anything of that sort. He just can’t wrap his head around her persistence.

He doesn’t purposefully make himself hard to contact to shrug her off. It’s just that he’s not as fond of social media as the next person. Sure, he does have accounts for the biggest names in the industry—Instagram, Facebook, the works—but he doesn’t use them regularly, or posts on them at all. The easiest and more surefire way to contact him, really, is through the usual, plain old messaging app on the phone, or maybe through a call.

(And he’s not so sure about giving her his number so suddenly.)

He doesn’t give the most roundabout answers to Arthur’s questions to keep her hanging. He just doesn’t want Arthur sticking his nose in business that isn’t his to begin with. He doesn’t find any reason to tell his coworker anything about their book exchange, even if—after Arthur’s admission—this entire friendship began with his orchestration.

He’s not doing it on purpose.

He knows how easily this could lead to understandable frustration. Maybe even the vague feeling that maybe he’s only attending their little book exchange sessions at the Grove because she gets Vincent to tell him. Maybe she won’t have the patience for him. Maybe she’ll just drop it.

But she doesn’t.

And that makes it even more confusing.

“Why are you taking this so seriously?” Theo asks one day, after they’ve handed the next week’s books to one another. He’s looking at her with a stern gaze, as if calculating every minuscule twitch on her face.

She only shrugs her shoulders and looks up at him innocently. “I’m having fun, aren’t you?”

As if the extra steps he’s making her take are not wasted time. As if she sees that she’s already slowly melting ice. It’s not that Theo is shunning her—but it’s safer like this, keeping her at a distance. Theo has his own priorities, and all arrows point to Vincent. The least he can do is make sure the books he lends are good; make sure he has the appropriate insight to bring with him. And she, in turn, sends every pass-the-message text (to Arthur, to Vincent), leaves all the notes in between lent and borrowed books, shows up to every meeting with that unbeatable smile on her face.

And in truth, Theo isn’t sure where this is going. Theo isn’t sure what she’s going to do to him, why they’re doing all this. But for now, he’ll just let her keep on doing this. For now.

They just both have a good feeling about it.

--

There is a certain art of choosing books to recommend to people. There is, of course, the matter of having a certain level of being well-read, as choosing from a hundred books allows more elbow room than choosing from ten.

But she knows better; there is more to it than just that.

If there’s one thing she is absolutely sure about the world, it’s that books—fiction, nonfiction, poetry, name it—all have the ability to bring people elsewhere. It’s magic she wishes she could have in real life. Sneak in between the pages and find yourself transported to an entirely separate timeline of the universe where these things happened. Slip a hand at the center-point and find yourself in a different world, where things are different.

Wouldn’t that be amazing?

But it’s not just about the bringing into, but also the bringing with—what do the books carry with them that will be useful to the reader? Which of its commendable qualities will match the receiver? Is it its storytelling, the way it weaves each character through their growth and journey? Is it the message, the core of it which it carries throughout the text through every plot point that happens? Is it the imagery, the space between the real and the imagined, where the infinite possibilities exist?

This is the tender part. This is the part that feels the most raw.

Romance has never been at the top of her priority list. She’s no newbie to it, but it’s just never been the most important thing in her life. It’s never been on the list at all. Getting into a relationship, the dating scene, being romantically attached to people—she understands the joy of it, she’s definitely dipped her toes into the water, but it isn’t what she wants right now.

She figures choosing books for people is the closest she can get to that feeling for now.

It’s not only Theo, of course—sometimes Arthur asks her for some recommendations too, and sometimes Dazai does, as well. To her it’s nothing more than a way of showing her affection, a little, “I had you in my thoughts,” as she matches a book to its recipient. It becomes more than just another title, not just another author.

She clutches the book Theo’s lent her for the week close to her chest as she crouches in front of her bookshelf to browse her own collection. She thinks, matching their theme to her heart: which book would best suit Theo’s needs? Which things might he benefit from hearing?

Pulls a book out from the shelf and wonders—which one would grace his life with a little bit of stardust?

--

That week, Theo asked her to “lend me the book you wish everyone would read at least once”—and when she answered with ��no, that’s impossible, I can’t lend you 39 books at once?”—he clarified, “the one you’re still coming to terms with.” And that’s a really odd way to describe a book you’d want everyone else to read—Theo himself knew that—but somehow it made perfect sense to her, and the week later she hands him the small bound book.

She had passed onto him Neruda’s Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair.

An interesting choice, really, for that book to have fit under the said category, but Theo’s stopped trying to make sense of the surprises she brings up for him at this point. The book isn’t really lengthy—this particular volume is less than a hundred pages long, and it only took Theo a good hour to go through the contents, even while relishing every word of it. (She does the opposite, speed-running every book as fast as possible, because she “can’t be patient about what happens next”, a concept he cannot understand—“The book is not leaving, why don’t you enjoy what is written?” “I can’t wait! I need to know!”)

It’s not a complicated book.

But it sure has complicated feelings.

So he kind of understands why she had chosen that one.

Theo has a complicated relationship with love. Not that he’s had any sort of traumatizing past relationship or a lingering resentment for an ex, but there was just something about the concept of romance that doesn’t sit…right with him.

It’s not that he doesn’t know what it is, he does. There are books he loves—books he is very thankful for having found in this lifetime. There are food he loves, food that fills his stomach with warmth and makes his heart flutter and makes him feel like maybe world peace is achievable, and it’s in a spoonful of this creamy sugary pancake after all. And most importantly, he loves his brother very much; would like to see Vincent do great things in the future, or, if not that, then at least be happy, and live the life he wants to live—that’s what love is, isn’t it? To enjoy something wholly for what it is, and what it does to you. To want the best for a person.

His problem with love is he doesn’t know what to do with it.

In the same way that he still loves his parents even if they don’t understand why he’d go through such lengths for Vincent. In the same way that he still loves the people who’ve left him behind in the past, friends, old lovers, even when his heart was still pouring. And isn’t that what love is? To love something wholly for what it is, what it does to you, to forgive it of its mistakes and shortcomings?

Even when the cost is yours to bear?

What to do with a love that can live in his heart when the other no longer wants it?

Theo reads Neruda’s poetry book once. And then reads it again. And then reads some of his other books for good measure.

--

It’s pretty common to find Arthur walking around the campus with his hands in his pockets and the many eyes of adoring (or maybe loathing) girls on him—for all the understandable reasons. Today was a little different though, because he is outside the Arts Building in the late afternoon, reading some sort of a flyer.

“Arthur!”

He hastily keeps the flyer into his bag as she jogs up to him. “Hello, little miss. Nice to see you around.”

“What’re you doing here?” she asks, trying to peep into his bag.

Arthur, instead, pushes himself off the wall that he’d been leaning on, smoothly slipping his arm around hers. Months of friendship had gotten her used to him being touchy; she lets him. “Labor of love. Walk me back to the bookshop?”

She’s not surprised, but she asks anyway. “Are you on your shift?”

“It was an important errand to run, no need to be so incensed,” he says, half-laughing. “Let’s go back before your boyfriend has more than words for me.”

Pinching Arthur’s arm, she quips back: “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Why, that’s exactly what he told me! You know you don’t need to keep it a secret from me.”

“You’re the absolute worst, Arthur.” The two of them fall into an even pace walking down the sidewalk. She relies on the silence to get them there, but there is something about the biting intrigue that snags her. “…What did Theo say?”

Arthur smirks. Openly. “Curious suddenly?”

“He doesn’t exactly talk to me about things like this,” she huffs. “It’s just books and literature with him.”

“That just means you haven’t cracked him.”

She pouts. “You’re not supposed to need to crack people.” She tugs at Arthur’s sleeve, insistent. “C’mon, tell me. He has to have told you something, right?”

Confidently, Arthur says, “Theo tells me everything.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“I suppose my information is subpar, then, so why should I—”

“Arthur!”

“Yes, yes, okay,” he says, finally relenting. “He won’t say it to your face, but he really enjoys spending time with you, little bird.”

Her face lights up like a little sun. “Really?”

“Oh, dear. Whatever will he feel, ratting him out like this—”

“Please, we all know you do not care because we are your source of entertainment,” she says, elbowing him. “…I was doubting it, honestly, but that’s a relief.”

“He never stops talking about your book club, actually.”

“No way.”

“Always masked in a complaint, but always about it all the time,” Arthur says, watching the smile grow on her face. “You’re a good influence on him, at least he’s not brooding away in a corner all day long. The customers have enjoyed his new, refreshed presence. All the lovely girls coming in now, what a joy.”

She squeezes his arm as they round the corner. “Why do I feel like this is going exactly according to your plan?” Arthur does not attempt denial. 

--

Theo does not stop asking for poetry books.

Only because he knows that even if she doesn’t voice it out loud, she’d want to lend him poetry books anyway. She, on the other hand, changes genres every week. Poetry, nonfiction, YA fiction, children’s fiction. She jumps from Ariel to A Little Life to The Girl Who drank the Moon to On Earth we Were Briefly Gorgeous. She has so much to say and so much to ask.

It’s just about driven Theo insane.

(It’s a good thing he enjoys her company.)

He won’t admit it, of course, but he shows up anyway. He frowns at every text she sends Vincent but he’s there. Every single Saturday. Reads every stray fast-food receipt note she slips in between the pages of the books she returns. Spends time on the books she lends him.

Ah, what did he get himself into?

Whatever.

Today, he’s brought with him Kerouac’s On the Road because she asked for a book that made him want to go away.

“Why am I not surprised that you brought me a Kerouac?” she asks while taking the book into her hands. She always holds them so gently. “His style is so interesting, though. Is it a shame to admit I’ve only read his poetry?”

“Only a little,” Theo says, but he’s joking because the corner of his lip is curled up ever so gently.

She flips the book to read the summary at the back. “Beat Generation, huh.”

“They wrote about liberation,” Theo says, sounding somehow defensive of his choice of a book. “Gritty and maybe even sloppy writing, but they wrote about freedom. Breaking the norm, finding yourself, facing the reality… doesn’t that fit your criteria of making one want to go away?”

She turns to him curiously. “Have you ever wanted to go away, Theo?”

He doesn’t turn to her. “I’m more the kind of person that stays.”

“Well, being a househusband isn’t bad work,” she comments, to which Theo snorts. “You know, I’ve really found that you have some sort of… classical, helpless romantic kind of aura on you.”

That makes him turn towards her. “What.”

“I mean, the books you’ve lent me—they all have some sort of romantic quality to them, you know? No matter how serious they get. I’m still recovering from A Little Life, you know.” She laughs. “Plus, all you’ve been asking me to lend you is poetry. Have you perhaps changed your mind about poetry?”

He narrows his eyes. “I don’t see how that makes me a romantic.” He sighs. “I didn’t think lowly of poetry, it just wasn’t my priority,” Theo clarifies. “We agreed to let the borrower decide the genre of the book but you’re so insistent on poetry that I’d rather take what you have instead of asking for something else. You’re pretty annoying when you’re insistent.”

She doesn’t deny the fact that she’s always saying about how she already has a poetry book to lend him every week. “I’m not annoying,” she says, pouting. “Geez, Theo, all you need to do is be honest and say you love poetry now and it’s because of me.”

“Is this a cause of yours? Getting people into poetry?”

But then, the banter stops. She falls silent for a moment that feels too long. Theo feels like he has to take back what he says, when, “Yes, something like that,” she says, softly. “They’re like love letters to the universe, I think they’re great.”

“That’s an interesting take.”

She frowns. “Do you not like love letters?”

Theo shrugs. “They’re classical.”

“That’s a non-answer,” she huffs. Holding her palm upward to the sky in a gesture, she says, “I just think they’re neat. It’s like a different experience in every book, every collection. You ever get a feeling that some poems find you, instead of the other way around? Like you were meant to find it at that exact moment?” Theo lightly shakes his head. “Really? Maybe you’ll experience it with some of the stuff I give you.”

He doesn’t know what’s hiding behind that serious expression, that other reason she’s so attached to poetry that she isn’t quite ready to say yet. He can feel it though. He doesn’t have the right to ask yet.

Instead, he raises his eyebrow and says, “You seem awfully confident.”

“I’m planning to make you read hundreds and hundreds of them, so it’s just a matter of numbers,” she says with a grin. “C’mon. Have any of the books I’ve given to you at least had a poem that resonated with you?”

And Theo pauses. Resonated, that’s a heavy word, it carries a lot with it. One could wish what they create would resonate with a lot of its consumers, whether that’s paintings or poetry or philosophies, but it’s not an exact art, and sometimes it’s all just a question of luck. Theo hesitantly shakes his head. “Not that I can think of,” he says. Thinks of the lines he’d copied out of the books to be remembered later. They were good lines, but hardly ones that resonated.

She hums, not sounding too put down by his answer. “Well, that just means we have to keep looking, right? I hope today’s at least gets some emotion in your face, Mister-Statue-Face-With-No-Feelings.”

“Hondje… What did you just call me?”

--

That day, he gives her his phone number.

--

She doesn’t know why everyone keeps asking her about it.

Sure, she had a crush on him, but it was really only entirely out of aesthetics. There was no denying he was hot, but he’s rather rough on the edges and has a rather sharp personality to be someone would want a boyfriend out of. Really, at this point, all she wants is to hang out with him and maybe reads some of the books he reads. Again—she doesn’t have space for distractions right now.

But everyone keeps asking her about it. Non-stop.

When she goes to the bookshop and Theo is at the back, Arthur comes up to her and asks her how The Friendship is going—as if it were something more special than just your regular old friendship. Most of the time she doesn’t know what to tell him, because somehow all he ever says to her after hearing about it is a small hmm like the answer didn’t quite fill in what he wanted to hear. Well, Arthur, sucks to be you, but you’re not hearing what you want to hear, she says to herself. Arthur’s a secret sucker for romance, the playboy that he is, and she’s not giving him a show.

But it’s not just Arthur. Vincent, too, asks her regularly. And considering she spends a good amount of time in the café he works at, the questions aren’t exactly that avoidable. She’ll order her drink and a pastry and Vincent will go, “is Theo being nice to you?” or any other variation of that sentence. (Somehow that feels like Vincent knows Theo is just mean in general, and that’s a kind of relief she doesn’t know how to explain. If his brother thinks he’s regularly mean, maybe that’s really just who he is, and also kind of forgivable.) Of course, she can’t exactly tell Vincent that Theo isn’t being nice to her, but oppositely, Theo isn’t really being mean to her either. He’s tolerating her every attempt to annoy him—or really, not annoy him, just hang out with him—and he hasn’t pushed her away exactly, so it must be going alright, right?

Of course, Dazai is curious as well, despite his earlier misgivings with Theo. (Dazai’s had bad experiences with business majors and romance in the past.) He’s not as persistent as Vincent and Arthur, but every chance he gets—say, an offhanded remark about a book or the bookshop, any little topic he feels he can reasonably steer towards the direction of Theo—he does ask. He asks in the way a friend would be curious of a new relationship—it is one, just not romantic, she insists—all full of worries for said friend. She appreciates this in many ways, because she knows Dazai can give her advice that will be very valuable to her. Still—the attention the thing pulls is kind of ridiculous, to her.

It doesn’t end with Dazai though, and at this point, it’s just going to be a long laundry list of people who are looking for gossip between her and Theo when—there really isn’t any. Despite being a literature major, she’s actually part of the campus’ local astronomy club, because why not? Stars are neat and she can’t quite catch up with the rest of the astrophysics majors that is actually with her, but the stargazing with the telescopes definitely makes it worth it. It’s just that Dazai is friends with their club head for a reason or another—a graduate student in astrophysics, Isaac Newton, and when Dazai knows there really isn’t any much harm, he runs his mouth, so—Isaac’s asked her at least once about Theo as well. Luckily Isaac is more on the awkward side—and they really aren’t that close quite yet, club aside—so he asks once, sees her reaction of despair and exhaustion, and never asks again.

She wonders if Theo gets the same barrage of questions as she does. From Arthur, for sure, but—Theo doesn’t exactly talk about other friends of his. Maybe they just haven’t gotten close enough for him to bring them up. Besides, whether or not people ask him about them or not, he’s sure that he already knows about the little crush—he’s just playing at it. Playing for what, she doesn’t know, and somehow, she’s fine with that.

That was all it was ever meant to be, anyway—a passing crush, a nice face, a sight for sore eyes, something to fall back on to refresh herself after long days of pushing her mind to the limit, working herself to exhaustion.

He was meant to be a breather, not a distraction.

To be friends is more than enough.

She screams into a pillow and grins.

[fandom-collective-writers]

what it means to be brave

Fandom: Ikémen Sengoku

Characters: MC and Masamune 

Genre: Angst

Potential Triggers: Stillbirth

Requested by: Anon

Prompt: 77. “I lost our child.”

Author: @ikesenrambles​ (Click to support me on Ko-Fi)

Notes: I hear writing is a decent way of coping. Right now, I myself am still grieving a recent death... While I was writing, I tried to keep how I felt in mind. I hope I was able to do your request justice. This focuses more on MC and her feelings than anyone else... I hope that’s alright with you.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

A teardrop.

You didn’t even feel it form, but now your vision’s blurring. Prickling at the corners of your eye, trickling down the side of your ruddy cheek... Kojuro reaches for your hand tentatively in a useless effort to comfort you, but you don’t even feel the warmth of his skin - just the sudden cold of the crisp spring breeze setting in your bones.

Before you know it, the child is lifted out of your arms. You clutch onto his little hand desperately, your face finally lifting to meet the medic’s regretful gaze. He gulps, the words not quite reaching his lips, as you stare up at him despairingly, your trembling fingers curling around the child’s arm. A single word falls pleadingly from your mouth: “Please.”

“Princess--” Kojuro interjects, choking on his own words. “It’s… no use…--”

Your fingers fall limply from the child. “My baby boy…” you whisper helplessly. “Baby boy, please... don’t tell me there’s nothing I can do for you…”

The glow of morning light floods your sight, streaming in through the paper of the shoji windows. As songbirds sing and hummingbirds hum in the world outside, the wind carries with it their gentle song.

It’s a perfect day. A perfect, beautiful day… befitting for the birth of a little prince. But despite it all, you are shrouded in darkness. 

“I’m sorry--” are the last words you hear before the world fades away and gives way to nothingness. From the open window, you see butterflies flutter; flowers bloom in the garden. Staring into the face of your stillborn child, you wonder… how could this world still bear to turn while it was crumbling all around you?

***

Spring is beautiful, is it not? Everything is flourishing around you. Baby birds learn to fly; fawns take their first steps. Children laugh and dance, and couples kiss and hold hands. You should feel happy, right?

And yet, all of it fills you with sorrow when you step out on that veranda, alone. The peaceful stillness of the earth is deafening; the quaintness of springtime makes you feel sick. 

Outside, the wind rustles the sakura trees, sending petals to their graceful cascade and gentle landing, to their slow decomposition and ultimate death on the muddied dirt.

You clutch the sliding door with a heavy heart as you stare emptily ahead of you. It’s been weeks since, but it feels like yesterday... and every day grows harder still.

Your hand instinctively moves to your stomach - your face contorts in pain when you feel the emptiness there. “This is where we were supposed to play,” you whisper to no one, fingertips now digging into your flesh as you gaze at the open space before you. A bitter laugh escapes your lips; the sadness in your voice sounds infinite against the silence of the night. “Your father and I were so excited to meet you…”

Then, turning away from the door, you walk back into the shadows of your bedroom.

It’s not fair for you to indulge in spring’s beauty when neither your son nor your husband is at your side.

***

And soon enough, the day is here. The Date are returning from war.

Everyone in the castle is stirring, rushing to make banquet preparations, to welcome their loved ones back from the long and arduous battle, to mourn the fallen.

You had hardly left your room, ashamed of the news that you bear. After the stillbirth, you had insisted that no one inform Masamune of it as to not affect his performance on the battlefield. After all, the only thing that could be worst than losing your child, is losing both your child and his father.

“Kitten,” his deep voice calls unknowingly into the emptiness of your chambers. There you are again, staring quietly out at the veranda, hugging your knees to your chest. The weight of his hand feels unbearable when he soothingly places it on your back, tracing it along your spine before collecting your hair over one shoulder. “What’s wrong, lass…?”

Tears fill your eyes once more. Before you have a chance to turn away from him, he catches your chin and tilts your face toward his. You shake yourself out of his hold, avoiding his concerned gaze. “Masamune…” you whisper hoarsely, “I… I lost our child.”

And just like that, the world is falling apart once more...

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry...”  The thought of losing the love of your life makes you tremble; you desperately grope his arm in seek of his comforting touch once more.

“-- It’s not your fault,” he reassures you in a gentle voice. “It has never, ever been your fault...”

He says the words that everyone else says, but even coming from your husband, they do little to put you at ease. All of it... no matter who it’s coming from, whether the retainers or the maids or the medic or even your husband himself... it all feels insincere...

Perhaps it’s just you. Perhaps it is sincere, and you just don’t feel right being cared for like this right now. No matter what they thought... it doesn’t change a damn thing. Because at the end of the day, you blamed yourself for it all.

“Everyone keeps telling me that I’m strong... is that true, Masamune--?” you ask bitterly, biting back more tears. 

You shake your head at your own words, your voice breaking into a stifled sob. Bloodshot - weeping, weary. There are no words that can describe the piercing pain in your heart, nor speak of the sadness in your regretful eyes. Your tired eyes fill with tears once more as he stares at you. For the first time in his life, he looks as though he’s afraid you just might shatter in his arms.

“--if that’s true… if that’s true, then… why couldn’t I save him?”

Masamune says nothing, just pulls you tight against him, his body fitting to yours. Tears fill his own eyes as the two of you seek comfort in one another’s embrace under the moon’s cold, unforgiving stare. The wind feels so much harsher on nights like this.

“You’re the toughest woman I know…” he tells you, pressing his lips to your hair in a delicate kiss. “I know that you’re a fighter... That’s what I love about you,” he whispers. “But this time, you have to stop fighting.”

Tears blur your vision once more, but you only feel his embrace tighten as he holds you closer. “Masamune--”

“You did all that you could, my brave warrior woman.”

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (8/?)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series. 

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now. 

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

A/n: Have I ever mentioned how undeniably awesome that you guys are? Like, I absolutely cannot believe that there are people out there who keep reading these words that I’m slamming out. This story, I think, is probably my most planned out MC, and I’m too excited for you guys to get to see what’s going to happen! 

Thank you to @resident-of-storybrooke for being my beta, even if she did tell me that she was only doing it so that she didn’t have to wait for updates 💞

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |

Tag list: @royalswan @shey-starsfury @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @snowbellewells @karenfrommisthaven @skyewardolicitycloisdelena91 @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @emmas-storybook @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @wellhellotragic @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @ultraluckycatnd @cs-forlife @andiirivera@jonirobinson64 @mariakov81 @galaxyzxstark @qualitycoffeethings @thejollyroger-writer

-/-

“How’s Roland?” Killian asks Robin as he tosses a ball in his direction, the two of them beginning their early morning workouts to loosen up their arms. It’s chilly this morning, the sea breeze wafting over to the field, but he’s not going to complain when this is his kind of weather.

Perfect.

Everyone should always have a bit of sea in the air they’re breathing even if the salt water gives him flashbacks to the accident if he closes his eyes for too long. Luckily, it’s usually not like that whenever they’re in San Francisco, the city too different than the beach town in Florida where the accident happened. And he’s got baseball to focus on, not memories of the past that he can already see in scars on his arm and feel in the pain in his shoulder.  

“He’s currently mad at me for not letting him miss school to come out here with us.”

“Just get him a bobblehead. Kids love that. Addy and Lucy collect them now.”

Robin throws a ball at Killian, and it thwacks into his glove a little harder than he was expecting. Damn Locksley. “Roland only likes the Yankees. He gets pissed if anyone even mentions another team. I had to have a conference with his teacher about it because there were issues with other kids.”

Killian shouldn’t laugh, but he does, his shaking shoulders affecting his throw as he backs up to put some more space between he and Robin. “I mean, the kid is right. How could anyone ever love another team?”

“If you ever have kids, I’m going to make them Sox fans simply to torture you,” Robin teases. “Maybe even Dodgers fans.”

“That’ll never happen. Addy and Lucy wouldn’t let you.”

“I think I can overpower the two of them.”

Another toss, this one not as powerful as he was intending. “You’d be surprised. Roland could have flown out for the weekend, you know. I’m always happy to watch him on the days I’m not playing.”

“Carol hates flights. She wouldn’t fly out here with him, and we’re not about to let my six-year-old fly across the country unaccompanied.”

Killian nods his head as Robin throws the ball back, a soft thud landing in his glove. He and Robin have known each other for a decade now, and while Rob is probably his closest friend outside of Liam, he doesn’t share too much about his personal life since Marian died. He gets it. It was a tragedy, and Robin feels guilt over it since Marian’s car accident happened when she was on the way to pick him up from the airport when they’d been on the road for two weeks. Killian will never forget walking through JFK, simply happy to be home, and watching his best friend’s entire life crumple before him.

It was devastating, and Robin simply doesn’t talk about it. The only real reference to any of it is when Robin complains about Carol, Marian’s mom. They’ve got an unofficial custody agreement going on for when Robin has to travel for work, and Carol is always attempting to make Robin feel guilty for leaving Roland. It’s a shitty thing for her to do when there’s nothing Robin cares about more than his son, and Killian’s blood boils at the thought of it.

Parents are allowed to have lives and identities outside of their children. That doesn’t mean they don’t love their kids.

He’s not a parent, not even close, but maybe he’s a little sensitive to the thought because of Milah.

Milah.

It’s been…he doesn’t actually know when it is that he last thought of Milah. Wait, no, scratch that. It was after he kissed Emma. He’d been reeling after that, his body and his mind, and after Emma had walked away and told him that couldn’t happen again, his mind ran a marathon trying to piece together just how exhilarating it felt to actually feel something for someone for the first time in nearly four years.

He’d met Milah in a bar. He hadn’t wanted to go out that night, but Will had insisted. The season was over, they were pretty much free of all of the grueling work for at least a month, and they were going to celebrate. She’d been sitting at the bar, long, beautiful brunette curls falling down her back and a bright smile on her face, and he’d been intimately smitten. They’d talked all night, really hit it off, and it all felt natural from there. She was someone who he could tell, for probably the first time, that had no interest in the fact that he was a professional athlete. It was refreshing.

And he fell in love.

But she was married. By the time he found out, by the time that she told him, he was so deeply in love that he didn’t care. He was twenty-three, and he’d found the woman he was going to be with for the rest of his days, consequences be damned.

A year later, though, when he thought that things between them were good, when he’d grown used to the thought, she ended things between them and told him that she had a son. She wanted to go back to her husband, wanted them to be a complete family, and her time being free from her marriage and motherhood was over. It’s all a bit of a blur, that conversation, but he remembers begging her to stay, promising that he would help her take care of her son, that he would be there for the two of them always.

It’s not what she wanted.

He can’t blame her. She had a life outside of him, a life before him, and if she didn’t want to stay, he wouldn’t keep asking her to. So he didn’t.

Killian was too devastated to say anything, to try to fight for his love. She’d lied to him about so much, and he guesses a part of him knew that and knew that he couldn’t fight for someone who was never fully in the relationship the way that he was.

What he did do was start going back out to bars and clubs, drinking too much to numb the feeling and sleeping with too many women to try to get that feeling back. He was lost, desperate, and utterly heartbroken. No part of him cared about the reputation he was making for himself until Liam dragged him off of his bedroom floor and told him that he had to get his shit together before he lost the game too.

That scared him shitless.

There was no way that he could lose everything. Not like that. He needed his job. He needed the game. It was everything to him, and Killian knows that his desperation to cling to baseball after Milah is what made nearly losing it all after the accident so damn heartbreaking.

He’s been such a fuck up.

So why the hell would he ever have a shot with Emma now when she is leagues above him?

“Where’d your head go, Jones?” Robin yells across the field, and Killian realizes they’ve both backed up several feet without him knowing it. He knows that sometimes he can zone out on the field, but damn. This is something else. “You got all glassy-eyed for a minute.”

“Was my arm at least doing the right thing?”

“Eh, it could have been better.”

Killian rolls his eyes as he adjusts his grip on the ball before throwing it, letting it curve right into Robin’s glove. “You know, if you want to bring Roland out on one of our away series, there are plenty of people who would be willing to watch him. He wouldn’t be alone for a second. I can’t reiterate that enough.”

“I’ll think about it, but he’ll be with us for most of the summer anyways. So I think he’ll be alright. You about done for the day?”

“Two more.”

“Got it.”

They end up staying out there for at least ten more pitches between the two of them, each of them wanting a little more work, before walking back across the field to head inside and shower. Neither of them are playing today, but they still got here early enough for practice so that they’d have a bit of the afternoon free before they took stats for this afternoon’s game.

There’s something infinitely peaceful about an empty stadium, no crowds in their seats and only the sound of a bat cracking against a baseball or a ball thwacking into a glove. It’s what helps him get lost in his thoughts, and as he walks past the mound, he starts looking around into the seats and sees one lone person sitting several rows up.

Emma.

He’d recognize her anywhere in her jeans and red leather jacket, blonde waves falling over her shoulders as she looks to be writing in a notebook. He hasn’t seen her since they were in LA three days ago. He thought they were having a good conversation, a good night, up on the rooftop of the hotel, but then something flashed in her eyes, some kind of realization that made her need to leave.

Or want to leave.

No part of him understands her and yet he feels like he does. It’s comfortable talking to her, even outside of work. Maybe especially outside of work. And he finds that his stomach swoops and something unfamiliar gets caught in his throat whenever he’s around her. She makes him feel all of the things he hasn’t felt since Milah, and he doesn’t have a lot of clues as to what’s going on inside of her head. This could all be some kind of pipe dream, a relationship that’s not going to happen, but he has to be fine with that.

Whatever they become, if anything, is as much up to her as it is to him.

“You coming?” Robin asks him, and his head snaps toward his friend before looking back up at Emma.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes, okay?”

Rob clicks his tongue. “Just…don’t get in over your head, okay?”

It’s far too late for that kind of advice, but he nods his head anyways before walking over to the small barrier that keeps fans from getting onto the field, hoisting himself up over it, and then climbing over a few seats to try to get to where Emma is sitting. Al, Smee, and Archie would absolutely kill him if they knew he was unnecessarily climbing over things, but what they don’t know won’t hurt them.

Just him.

He’s two rows in front of Emma when he finally speaks. “You know, Swan, for someone who keeps running away from me, we sure do end up in all of the same places.”

She jumps, her ass literally moving away from the seat, and he chuckles a bit to himself as she pops her headphones out of her ears and looks down at him, green eyes flickering over him. She’s most likely thinking about how much of an asshole he is, but he does have a bit of unfinished business with her, the sweatshirt thief.

“It’s my job, twenty-nine.”

God, he loves when she calls him by his number. It’s got to be some kind of weird primal thing, but he’s going to try not to second guess it.

“Your job requires you to be at the stadium six hours early?”

She shrugs and writes something else down in her notebook. “I like the view.”

“Aw, love, you could have simply asked to see my ass in baseball pants if you wanted.” Emma rolls her eyes, but he can see the slightest smile forming on her lips that has him nodding his head to the seat next to her. “May I?”

“Yeah.”

Quickly, he climbs over two sets of seats until he’s sliding into the seat next to her, propping his feet up on the back of the chair in front of him so that his slightly muddy cleats are propped up next to Emma’s heeled boots, the water at the other side of the stadium in the background. It’d make a nice picture, something he’s sure is floating around out there, but he thinks he’d rather take in the view of it for now.

“I like the view too,” he admits, twisting his head to the side to look at Emma and the way that freckles scatter over her nose and how she bites on her bottom lip while she’s writing what seems to be some kind of notes for work. He’d rather like to bite that bottom lip as well. Nope. He cannot be thinking that. “It’s peaceful out here when no one else is around, when there’s no music playing or fans screaming. It really…it makes you realize how amazing having a job like this is.”

“It’s the dream, right?”

“Absolutely.” He nudges her shoulder into hers, the warmth of her skin somehow making it through her jacket. She kicks his foot in response. “So, I know you’re usually around most of the day, but when we travel, do you ever get to go around and explore the city? I always wish I had some more time to do that.”

Emma closes her notebook then, sticking her pen in the spiral and placing it on the ground beneath them before adjusting herself in her seat enough that her hand brushes against his, chill bumps rising on his skin. “I’m usually my own producer when on the road. Sometimes Ruby comes with me, but that’s rarer now. So I feel like I’m always doing something, especially because my stat keepers never get me reports in a timely manner. But yeah, sometimes I’ll get up early and wander around the city near the hotel. I very rarely get to do all of the tourist stuff, though. I don’t have the time.”

“It’s the first thing I did when I got called up out of the minors,” he admits, messing with his chain and pulling it to rest over his t-shirt. “I had never been on a plane before college. Hell, I’d never been out of Ohio and Kentucky, and in college we didn’t get a lot of freedom to explore. My coach was a hard ass.”

“Al’s not?”

“Only when we’re losing,” he chuckles, glancing over to see Emma smile. “But I pretty much hit every single cliché site that I could as soon as I had the money. I have far too many cheap keychains.”

“You did not.”

“I did.”

“Do you also own an ‘I heart New York’ t-shirt?”

“Well, no, but I had to go buy a new jacket in LAX because someone stole my favorite sweatshirt.”

Blush rises on her cheeks, coloring her pale skin, and she reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear. Maybe he’s warming up to her today. She didn’t seem too happy to see him at first, and he obviously doesn’t know what boundaries are when it comes to her. “It’s a really comfortable sweatshirt. I think I’m going to keep it forever.”

He snorts at that and reaches up to stretch his arms behind his head, resting his neck in the cradle of his palms. “You know, love, I am a very charming man.”

“So you think.”

“So I know,” he corrects, kicking at her foot. “And as a charming man, I tend to make friends very easily, friends who can help me get into your hotel room so that I can get my sweatshirt back.”

“I think that’s called stealing. And possibly stalking.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s what you did with my sweatshirt.”

“That was offered.”

“I don’t think so,” he chuckles.

“Semantics.”

“That is not semantics, love.”

“It totally is,” she laughs, the sound echoing over the empty stadium as Eric and August start running laps around the field. “What time is your flight tonight?”

“Now look who’s stalking.”

“Shut up, Jones.” Infinitely charmed by her. Seriously. “I have the eleven o’clock to JFK as long as the game isn’t monstrously long. If you’re in the airport at the same time, I can give it back to you tonight. If not, I’ll see you back at home.”

“Funnily enough,” he sighs, letting his arm fall over the back of her chair so that his fingers brush over her shoulder and her hair, “I have the same flight with those same conditions since we apparently couldn’t get our charter plane for tonight. Thank goodness or I don’t know what I’d do without my sweatshirt. I obviously can’t travel without it.”

“You’re weird,” she huffs, twisting in her seat so that they’re facing each other, noses less than half a foot apart so that he can smell the mint on her breath. “Everyone thinks that the great Killian Jones is all suave and smooth, but you’re a little dorky.”

He winks. “It’s all part of the charm.”

Emma’s lips press into a soft pink smile, and his mind flashes back to the kiss and how it felt to have those lips moving over his, how it felt to have her body pressed into his. It was exhilarating, made him literally lose his breath, and he aches to do it again. He could do it again if he leaned forward right now.

But he won’t.

“Emma.”

She blinks several times, her eyelashes brushing against her cheeks. “What?”

“Are we going to talk about the fact that we kissed?”

And there it is. There’s the elephant in the room. There’s the elephant in the whole damn stadium.

“I can’t.”

“You can’t talk about it?”

“I can’t do it again.”

“I didn’t – ”

She backs up from him without moving from her seat, and he feels his rapidly beating heart drop to his stomach.

Oh.

“I know that there’s a…thing between us,” she continues, her eyes looking everywhere but at him. “I’m not dumb. I’ve dated before. I know how it all starts, and I know that I do have…something for you, but I can’t date you, Killian. I just can’t.”

What a way to get his hopes up and crush them all in one sentence.

He reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “Because of your job, right?” he prods, the answer seemingly falling into his lap. “God, Swan, I’m sorry. I’m – I’m a fucking idiot, okay? It doesn’t matter how much I know that I’m screwing up with you, I just keep doing it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not…” Emma sighs, something loud and unfortunate and that’s really more of a groan before she leans forward and buries her face in her hands. “I’m really shitty at talking to people, so I’m just going to pretend that you’re not here, okay? Like the grown adult woman that I am.”

“Whatever works, love.”

“I really love my job,” she mumbles into her hands. “Like, I love it. I may not be like you getting to live some childhood fantasy come to life, but I love what I do. I’ve lucked into a lot of things, but I’ve also worked hard for it. People have shit on me about it for so long. People I know. People I don’t. And it’s just – I mean, you know about so much stuff that’s happened after you asked me out. You know how much harassment I’ve gotten, so if I’m seen spending time with you or kissing you, I’m going to get so much shit. I’m going to have every single person question my integrity, my ethics, my ability to do my job. And then what? If we break up, I just know that’s all anyone is going to care about as I work with the team and try to do my job. I want to, Killian. I do. I just don’t think that I can. Dating people I work with is a not so great idea.”

That is the most he’s ever heard Emma Swan talk at one time, and he’s still catching up trying to take in everything that she just said and figure out how exactly it is he wants to respond to it.

Mostly, he wants to punch every single person who has ever made her feel shame about what she does for a living, but he imagines that’s the wrong answer.

“I’m sorry,” he finally replies, knowing that it’s not enough. “I’m…I still hate myself for putting you in the position that I did. I respect the hell out of you, Swan, and anyone who doesn’t is a fucking asshole who doesn’t deserve your time. I would never ask you to do something you didn’t want to or something that makes you uncomfortable. I should have…I’ll keep my distance.”

He gulps down the emotion in his throat, taking a deep breath to try to regulate his heartbeat, and stands from his seat, climbing down to the row in front of Emma so that he can get up and walk away. He still needs to take a shower, and this is obviously not a conversation that either one of them want to be having.

“You don’t,” she starts, leaning back in her chair and moving her hands away so that she can her face and the lightness of her eyes. “You don’t have to do that. I like you, Killian. I am obviously a crazy person for admitting that out loud, but I do. I mean, hell, I kissed you. I just…I don’t know what to do about any of it because I can’t take the chance that I’m wrong about you and mess my career up for someone I don’t know super well.”

The most idiotic idea he’s ever starts to form in his mind, and he’s sure Emma is going to laugh him out of the stadium if he says it. She has to. There’s no other possible reaction to it.

“I know how to keep my life private now, love,” he starts, his fingers working furiously at a spot on his chin. “It’s something I learned after I – well, after I was a little more publicized. And if you’re willing, maybe we could test the waters between us but not tell anyone? I don’t have to tell my family or my mates. You don’t have to tell your friends. The public doesn’t have to know. It’ll just be until we know if we’re working out.”

Emma throws her head back and laughs, something light and joyful and maybe a little deranged, and it’s the exact reaction he was expecting.

The exact.

“Are we a romantic comedy now? Secret dating?”

“I like to think I’m both romantic and comedic, so possibly.”

She wipes her fingers underneath her eyes, a bright smile on her face. Okay, so that wasn’t really what he was expecting. Maybe a little more anger. “You’re serious?” she questions.

“I mean, I know it sounds kind of ridiculous, but if we both want this, why not at least give it a shot?”

“You’re crazy.”

“That’s not the first time that I’ve heard that.”

“So what? Do we go on a date? In one of our apartments? I have roommates.”

“I don’t. And technically I told you I wouldn’t ask you out again, and I don’t want to break that promise.”

Emma rolls her eyes, happiness still painted across her face, and he swears that his heart may as well be glowing like he really is in some kind of romantic comedy. How did he ever forget the feeling of having someone return his affections? It’s been too damn long.

“Are you serious? You’ll propose dating without anyone knowing, but you won’t ask me out on a date?”

“It’d be bad form to go back on my promise.”

“Sometimes I think you’re meant to be a British man from several centuries ago with the way you talk”

“That’s…interesting. Not going to question it, though. So, Swan,” he encourages, placing his hands on the back of the seat in front of him and leaning into her space, “do you want to ask me something?”

Emma chews on her bottom lip, her eyes glancing around him before finally looking at him so that all he can see is green, green, green.

“Fine,” she huffs, crossing her arms like he’s putting her out like this. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“Eh. A man likes to be courted, and I’m just not sure how good you’ll be at that.”

“I will hurt you.”

“I’m kidding,” he laughs, stepping up onto the chair in front of him until he’s back on level with Emma, reaching forward to grab her hand and pull her up out of her seat so that they’re nearly eye level. “Of course I will go on a date with you. Just, come here.”

“Come where?”

He tilts his head to the side before threading his fingers through hers and walking to his right, stepping over discarded beer bottles and hot dog wrappers that haven’t been cleaned up yet, until he’s got he and Emma hidden behind a support pole, none of the players on the field able to see the two of them.

Emma’s chest is visibly heaving, her lips parted and cheeks flushed, and he reaches up with his free hand to tuck her loose hair behind her ear, fingertips brushing skin in a way that lights him up and causes a shiver to run down the length of his spine.

This isn’t real. There’s no way it can be.

“Killian,” she whispers as he leans in a little closer, his forehead resting against hers and their noses brushing together. He’s still holding her hand. Why is that what he’s focusing on? “Why did you just tug me away from my seat and make me hide behind this gigantic pole?”

“Because I’m going to kiss you.”

“Are you?”

“I was planning on it.”

“I kind of like this plan. I mean, I – ”

He doesn’t let her finish talking, dipping his head down and surging forward to press his mouth into hers and finally  feel the softness of her lips against him. Emma gasps, and he can tell that she wants to keep talking, but then she’s parting her lips a little so that he can swipe his tongue against the seam. Killian can feel her pressed into every part of him, can feel those hard lines and soft curves, and his hand snakes into her hair to help guide the kiss all the while her free hand holds onto his t-shirt. It’s slower, softer than their first kiss. A need to keep going, to keep deepening, is there, but he takes it slow as he never wants this to end.

This is damn well near perfect.

Most definitely the best end to a practice that he’s ever had. Honestly, he’d be more likely to show up on time if this was guaranteed.

Emma nips at his bottom lip before soothing it with her tongue, and a growl comes from the back of his throat before he’s pulling back and opening his eyes as his nose brushes against Emma’s. He’d like to keep doing that.

“I feel kind of crazy right now.”

“I feel kind of crazy at all times.”

“Well, that dos fit your personality type.”

He leans in to quickly brush his mouth over Emma’s simply because he can. “That’s the kind of swoon worthy thing I’m looking for as you court me.”

“Again, you’re a man from another century.”

���But I’ve obviously retained my youthful glow.” There’s a crack of a ball against a bat behind them, and he turns to see that the Eric is now practicing with Roseman. It brings reality back to him for a minute, and he sighs, pulling back from Emma a little more as his thumb runs over her knuckles. “We should probably both get back to work.”

“Probably.”

“Are you freaking out right now?”

“No,” she says, the lie obvious on her lips. All he has to do is raise his brow for her to crack. “Okay, yeah, a lot. I feel like this is going to blow up in our faces.”

“Aye, I know.” He brings their hands up to his lips and presses a kiss on the back of her hand. “Just…Emma, can you trust me?”

“I want to.”

“Give me a shot, and if you decide against it, that’s it. We don’t have to try this anymore, and I give you full permission to slander my name in the public eye.”

“That’s a lot of power you’re giving me there.”

“I’m a dumb man.”

Her eyes scrunch up with her smile, her nose too, and it feels damn good to get that out of her. “I’ll see you at the airport tonight, right?”

“Absolutely.”

-/-

The lights are already dimmed in the plane cabin when he slides into the seat next to Emma, jostling her as she looks away from the movie, she’s watching to look at him, surprise evident in her features.

“What the hell, twenty-nine?” she whispers, trying not to wake anyone up. “You are most definitely not the little old woman who was my seatmate.”

“Louise is now happily sitting in first class.”

“Are you serious? How did you do that?”

“Darling, I don’t know about you, but most people don’t turn down free seat upgrades when they get the chance. Besides, I told you I’m charming and make friends all over.”

“You’re weird is what you are,” she laughs, adjusting her blanket over her lap and offering him some of it so that he covers his legs as well. Emma Swan brings her own blankets with her when she travels. Noted. “You wouldn’t happen to be able to talk yourself into getting another one of those cookies from a flight attendant, would you?”

His lips curl up on the side. “I could, but that would require me flirting with another woman.”

“I mean, you already undoubtedly flirted with Louise.”

He snickers, having to turn to the side to bury his mouth in his shoulder to quiet it so no one around them notices. Everyone is asleep or tuned into their movie, and he takes comfort in that.

“Tell you what, Swan. I’ll get you a cookie if you finally give me my sweatshirt back.”

“Oh, so you noticed that, did you?”

“You’re literally wearing it right now.”

“It’s comfortable.”

“We’ve had this conversation before.”

“I know.” Emma shuffles again, seemingly uncomfortable in her seat, but then he feels the warmth of her hand wrapping around his, and she’s twining together their fingers before placing them in her lap under the blanket. “I really was going to give it back when we were waiting by our gate, but I figured it was too obvious in front of the whole damn team.”

“This is true. We’ve got to work on this discreet thing.”

“Trading seats with little old ladies to sit next to me probably doesn’t help.”

“I think it’s worth it.”

“You’re cheesy.”

“I’m a man of many facets.”

“So I’m learning,” she yawns, closing her eyes for a minute. “I’ll give you the sweatshirt back before we land. I promise. You want to watch this movie with me?”

“I think that sounds like a good plan.”

[matsuoclan]

to the nines

Pairing: Jax Matsuo x f!MC Rating: EXPLICIT (minors do not interact): suit kink, riding Summary: Jax tries to get ready for Dracula's party. Someone distracts him. Tag list: @desiree-0816​ @i-only-signed-up-for-fanfiction @choices-de​ @ihaveathingforliterature​ @vaticanwaltz​ @srta-give-me-my-jax-rl​ @lilyofchoices​ @msjpuddleduck​ Notes: Jax in a suit kind of did things to me. So I had MC do things to him.

[masterlist] [read on ao3]

She wakes to the delicious warmth of lips on her forehead and a hand on her cheek. It’s a warmth she’s achingly familiar with, and she nestles further into his hand. “Time to wake up,” Jax murmurs into her ear. “We’ve got a party to get to.”

His hand withdraws and she whines at the loss, cracking one eye open. “No, come baaaack.”

“No, you have to get dressed.” His voice echoes from the bathroom in the suite they’re sharing. “We’re being picked up soon and while I wouldn’t complain if you went in that, I’m not sure that’s how you want to meet Dracula.”

She takes a moment to stretch her limbs and then grudgingly sits up, yawning. “How do you know?” she calls back, smile unfurling slowly as she teases. “Maybe I want to show up to his castle in a slip dress and nothing else.”

“Is that right?” Jax appears at the door of the bathroom, adjusting his jacket cuffs, a matching shit-eating grin on his face. “Might be a bit chilly, don’t you think?”

Her throat goes dry.

He’s in a suit.

Jax is in a suit.

“You’re in a suit,” she chokes out, barely able to comprehend what she’s seeing. Gone is his standard leather jacket and jeans. For the party, he’s dressed in a dark charcoal suit and black dress shirt with a red tie and a matching red pocket square and she is so, so fucked.

Jax’s cheeks color slightly. “Uh. Yeah. Kamilah said the dress code was fancy so I sprung for one.”

“It looks--” She swallows and tries again. “It looks good.”

He gives her a relieved smile, leaning against the doorway. “I don’t look super uncomfortable and out of my element?”

Her eyes track from his shiny dress shoes, up the pants crease, up his chest and finally come to a rest on his tie. The whole ensemble highlights everything: the width of his shoulders, his strong arms, his long legs. It’s a long moment before she realizes he asked her something. “What? Oh, no, you look great,” she croaks. “Tie’s crooked, though.”

His expression pinches slightly as he sighs. “I haven’t worn a tie in probably thirty years,” he grumbles, sitting on the edge of the bed closest to the mirror to start fixing it. “Just spent about 15 minutes now trying to get it right.”

“And you didn’t think to ask me?” she murmurs, almost unconsciously, eyes glued to his broad back and the way the jacket fits just right.

His movements pause, and then he looks up and meets her eyes in the mirror. 

“Let me,” she says, and comes to stand in front of him between his legs. He lowers his hands to rest on her waist, warming her skin through her slip dress, and she shivers as she adjusts his tie. Like this, she feels so exquisitely small; he’s already taller than her to the point that when he’s sitting and she’s standing, he’s barely looking up at her. But something about him in a suit makes him seem that much larger and she likes it that much more.

“Have a lot of experience doing men’s ties?” he asks innocently.

She smirks. “Maybe. But none that looked as good in a suit as you.”

This close, she can see everything. His Adam’s apple bobs above her fingers as he swallows and his pupils are blown wide, eyes trained on her face while she tucks and tugs. His breath hitches when her knuckles brush his neck.

“There,” she says, running a hand down the perfectly laid tie. A beat of silence falls over them, charged and heady, and then she’s yanking him in for a searing kiss like she’s wanted to do since she first saw the suit.

She devours him, licking deep into his mouth, and to his credit Jax responds almost instantly, sucking filthily on her tongue and drawing her roughly onto his lap, hands tight on her waist. “You really like me in a suit, huh,” he pants against her mouth.

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” she says, and then crushes her lips against his again. Her hands fly everywhere, running over his shoulders and down his back and along his thick arms and then over his front to grasp at his lapels, relishing in the smooth feel of the suit under her fingers. His hold on her has her pinned in place against his chest, right where she wants to be.

Whimpering, she grinds down on his cock through the fabric of his pants and then gasps when he bites down hard on her bottom lip with his fangs, spilling blood.

“Sorry, sorry,” he murmurs, drawing back slightly. His eyes are bright red, riveted on her swollen lip, and he leans in and licks it slowly clean. “Accident.”

“You know,” she says, smoothing out his lapels, “if you insist on giving me a permanently sore bottom lip, the least you can do is earn it.”

Jax’s eyes flash. “You saying I haven’t?”

“I’m saying you’ve been holding out on me,” she says against his mouth. “You’re hot in a suit.”

His breath stutters out of him and he surges forward to capture her lips in another desperate kiss. It only breaks when he grabs at the hem of her slip and slides it up and over her head and then she’s naked in his lap and it’s the glorious feel of the suit on her bare skin. Everywhere he touches her with his hands burns and everywhere his suits brushes against her cools pleasantly, a riot of sensation she can do nothing but drown in.

Jax grapples with his tie, grunting frustratedly into her mouth when it doesn’t immediately come off. He pulls harder until it tears, the ripping sound loud in her ears as he completely undoes her work, but she can’t quite bring herself to care. It’s not until he unbuttons his suit jacket and starts to take it off that her wits return and she blurts out, “NO!”

He pauses. “No?”

“No,” she says, swallowing hard. “Leave it on.”

“Ok,” he says, nosing at her jaw and pressing open mouthed kisses into the skin there. “Ok, I will.”

“Good,” she breathes, and then settles more comfortably on his lap, knees on the outside of his thighs. She reaches down for his belt, undoing the buckle with ease, and draws his hard cock out, stroking slowly. His hips snap up but she’s held in place by a calloused hand clamped tight on her ass.

“Fuck,” he groans. “If I knew how much you like me in a suit, I would’ve bought one sooner.”

“Buy more anyway,” she gasps, positioning her cunt over his cock and sliding down slowly. He fucks up into her once, hard enough that she sees stars. “I think we’re going to ruin this one.”

His fingers dig into her skin, forceful enough to leave little fingertip bruises as he drags his hot mouth down her neck, down her sternum, between her breasts and biting down gently at the swell as she rolls her hips, taking him in as deep as she can. It’s harder for her to get a good grip on him this way when he’s in a suit, but it’s an even trade-off the way the fabric rubs cool and sleek against her skin.

“Jax, god--” she says, whining as she fucks herself on his cock. “Saw you in this suit and lost my goddamn mind over it, I can’t believe--” She cries out when he thrusts up, hard, losing complete track of what she was trying to say as he sets a relentless pace and steals the reins away.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he says hoarsely, disbelievingly, as if he can’t comprehend how much she wants him.

She manages to choke out a laugh at that, because in truth it’ll be the opposite if he keeps looking as incredible as he does, but stops abruptly when he shifts his hand down to rub at her clit. All her breath is punched out of her lungs as he keeps bouncing her on his cock, moving her like she weighs nothing. Hot, spiking pleasure coils in the pit of her stomach as it all becomes too much: the slide of his suit against her naked skin, the rough brush of his finger on her clit, the iron grip he has on her hip, and the way his cock splits her open, over and over and over.

“Please,” she whispers, and then he pinches her clit and she’s coming, wailing and shaking in his arms as he keeps on fucking into her.

She clenches tight around his cock, pressing her mouth to the side of his as she slumps against him, and breathes, “Jax…”

He comes with a grunt, hips stuttering and then stilling, breathing hard into the side of her neck where his fangs catch on her skin. “Jesus,” he rasps. His chest heaves as he pulls her closer for a sweet kiss, hands running soothingly up and down her back.

They kiss lazily until their breathing mostly evens out and their heart rates return to a normal range. “Should probably get cleaned and ready,” he eventually murmurs against her mouth. His eyes are brown once again. “We’re probably very late and you need to get dressed.”

Resting her hands on his forearms, she sighs and tilts her head back. It’s hard to remember she’s excited to meet Dracula when staying in this room and having Jax every which way sounds infinitely better at the moment. “Yeah. I guess I have to.”

He leans in for one last kiss and then shifts her off his softened cock and she tumbles onto the bed, legs giving out when she tries to stand. “No, it’s ok,” she says, giggling like mad when an alarmed Jax lunges to catch her. She waves him off. “Go clean up. My legs just need a moment, I swear I’ll be up and ready in a bit.”

He only shakes his head, smiling as he returns to the bathroom. A low whistle follows. “Damn. You really did a number on me.”

“And you loved every minute of it,” she mutters to herself, settling on top of the blankets. There’s something underneath her head and she reaches behind her, pulling his tattered tie free. She sits up to examine it and winces. It’s completely unsalvageable, a rip straight down the back.

“Have you seen my tie--oh,” he says, emerging from the bathroom again except exceptionally more rumpled this time. She’ll have to look for an iron but that thought quickly disappears to the back of her mind. Even disheveled, he looks incredible. “Well, I can’t wear that.”

“Probably for the best,” she murmurs, and he grins.

[rulesofthebeneath]

masala chai (ajay x f!mc, part 4 of A Series)

<AN> Yeet folks we made it!! Here’s part 4. I love you all, thanks so much for supporting me through this crazy series haha. Again, infinite credit and love goes to @lilmissperfectlyimperfect for being LITERALLY MY QUEEN, thank you for all you do. My tag crew is: @euphonyinestetica, @pixelburied, @directorajay, @witchiegirl, @itsbrindleybinch, @anlashokk. Much love to all!! </AN>

Tuesday was miserable for everyone involved.

Ajay took back his place all the way at the end of the table, and refused to look at anyone the entire time. He only stayed at the table for enough time to scarf down his lunch, then he would disappear from the cafeteria entirely.

Grace had retreated entirely from the table, choosing instead to take her lunch in her math classroom, where nobody could find her. Her teacher was more than willing to let her eat there, no questions asked, in return for help grading quizzes. Grace was happy do the work. It kept her mind off Ajay.

Out of the entire friend group, Skye was probably the most stressed. She loved and depended on their friend group more than she was willing to admit, and she hated how it had fractured. She looked across the table to Erin, absentmindedly playing with her food, and cleared her throat to get her attention.

“We have to do something.”

Erin looked up. “Yeah, but what?”

“I don’t know… how can we force them to talk to each other?”

“I’m not sure. Short of locking them in a room together, I don’t think-”

Erin was cut off by Skye’s gasp.

“We should lock them in the auditorium.”

“What?” Erin looked at Skye like she was crazy.

“Think about it! It worked once before. All they need to do is talk it out, and I’m sure they’d at least go back to being friends.”

“Hmm,” Erin considered this. “You might just be right. Let me text James and see what we can do.”

Thirty minutes later, they had come up with a plan. Erin would lure Ajay into the auditorium by saying she had seen someone running around and touching the curtains with cheeto-dust fingers. Skye would get Grace to come by pretending to fulfill her promise about showing her how the lights worked up in the booth. Once they were all in, Skye and Erin would leave through different side doors and lock them while James locked the main doors, effectively trapping the couple.

It wasn’t genius, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And the tension coming off of the two was suffocating, letting darkness and silence fall everywhere either of them went, even lingering after they had left.

Only one day like this had gone by, but even Skye was tired of this.

*****

Ajay ran into the auditorium and right onto the stage. He glanced around before he got his bearings and dashed to the curtain, examining it for orange stains. Not finding any, he moved to the curtains on the other side. Nothing. Nothing except a laugh, a slamming door, and…

“Grace?” he said, more out of surprise than anything else. She stood next to the door, her head tucked down and her arms fiddling with the hem of her shirt. She didn’t respond, didn’t even look up at him, and in that moment his heart broke a little more.

And then he walked away. He released the curtain and turned on his heel towards the side door, only to find it locked. He eyed the main doors, but had a sneaking suspicion he knew exactly what had happened.

They locked us in, he concluded. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, giving the door a few more pointless pushes before giving up and settling in a chair backstage, not sure what to do with himself.

Grace had migrated to the house and was sitting midway through the first row. He watched her from backstage, aware that she couldn’t see him. He watched as she twirled a pink strand of hair around her fingers, picked at the upholstery of the seat she was sitting on, and worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

And god damn it all, it was like he hadn’t learned a thing. He still thought her restlessness was adorable, and all he could think about was how that bottom lip had felt against his, the one time he’d been brave enough to show her how he really felt.

He felt bad for what he’d done to her. He felt awful. Her first time having feelings for someone and he had to come in, ask her out, take two weeks to even kiss her and still not treat her how she was supposed to be treated. He’d just ruined the whole thing she had with Rory, he could see that in how uncomfortable she looked when they were together in front of him.

Ajay sighed and walked back out onto the stage. Aside from a slight shoulder movement, Grace gave no indication that anything had changed. Ajay sat on the floor of the stage and laid back, gazing up to the lights and the system of flies above the stage.

If nothing else, theatre had given him a creative outlet. It had given him a way to see the same situation from many different perspectives. He decided on a whim that he’d try to see this from her point of view.

Having a crush on a costar and then your asshole director asking you out, making you nervous. And maybe you’ll feel something for him, but he doesn’t ever say anything for a long time. So maybe he doesn’t like you after all…

A light came on inside his head. Did she– could she really think he didn’t feel the same way? His mind started racing, reviewing every single interaction they’d had for those two weeks. Hadn’t he all-too-often berated himself for not showing her enough attention? For not kissing her when he wanted to, for not holding her hand, for not giving it all up and telling her how much she meant to him?

He forced himself to calm down and to pick through the thoughts one at a time. Pretend, he told himself, that she liked you, like she said. Just pretend. Now, try and look at this from her point of view.

He did. Then he thought about it again. And again. And again. And...

It all came rushing back to him, and suddenly he could see the whole thing through new eyes.

Through her eyes.

Falling hard for someone (him?) and the emotion itself scaring her, not wanting to push and convinced at every awkward moment that it would all fall apart. Her inexperience giving way to anxiety when he constantly pulled away… making it feel like he didn’t want her. And when he’d actively distanced himself from her after seeing her with Rory—comforting him, like a friend would—god, no wonder she thought he didn’t like her anymore.

He was an idiot. A complete idiot.

“I’m an idiot,” he said to the stage lights above him. He sat up suddenly, turning around on his knees to face the audience. “Grace, I’m an idiot!”

Grace looked up from where her hands were clasped tightly together to meet his eyes for half a second, almost like a reflex, before she looked back down at the floor.

“What?”

“Grace...” he scooted forward to dangle his legs off the lip of the stage. He wanted so badly to get closer to where she sat in the front row of the house, but he didn’t think she’d be okay with that.

“Grace, I’m so sorry.” He cleared his throat and forced the words out. “I was distancing myself from you because I was jealous.”

Her head whipped up but she didn’t quite look at him. Her eyes were trained on the emergency exit to his right. “Jealous?” she asked in a hoarse voice. She cleared her throat. “Of what?”

“Of… of Rory,” he admitted, hanging his head slightly. “I saw you guys talking, and that thing happened at lunch yesterday, and I guess I assumed there was something going on between you two. And like an idiot, like a scared idiot, I didn’t even ask you about it. I just jumped to conclusions. I don’t think I’ve ever been so embarrassed in my life… I’m so, so sorry, Grace.”

She turned her head toward him, agonizingly slowly, taking in the new information. She stared at him for several seconds, her gaze seeming to burn him from the inside out. When she finally spoke, what she said was beyond his comprehension.

“Come here.”

He blinked.

“What?”

“Come here!” she repeated, a little smile growing on her face. Terrified, he pushed off the stage and walked toward her. He settled into the chair next to her, and she took his hand. His heart stopped.

“Grace, I-”

She cut him off with a raise of her left eyebrow. “Let me talk.”

Ajay nodded, signaling for her to begin.

“I don’t like Rory,” she started, making fierce eye contact that Ajay was loathe to pull himself away from. “The last time I liked Rory was like… the beginning of the school year. As we got to be better and better friends, I guess I realized I didn’t like him that way.”

She let out a shaky breath, and he saw her confidence waver.

“I like you, Ajay. I didn’t lie to you, or whatever you thought. I really, really like you. More than I thought I was capable of liking somebody.” Her cheeks turned pink at this last admission. “And I thought you liked me too. But when you started avoiding me… I didn’t really know what to think.”

She shook her head.

“No, I did know what to think. It was pretty clear to me that you weren’t interested in me anymore. Especially in the cafeteria yesterday, when that girl asked about me and Rory and you just left. It felt like you didn’t even care about what was going on between us, like you just wanted to forget about it.”

“So I just wish we could’ve talked to each other more. I know I probably should’ve tried harder to talk to you about it, but yeah,” she finished lamely. “Alright, that’s all I wanted to say. You can talk now. Or... we can just forget about it, if that’s what you want.” She didn’t quite meet his eyes.

Ajay took a deep breath, willing himself to have the courage to speak up this time. She had given him an out, a chance to forget about all of this and move forward as just friends, but he didn’t want it. He’d never wanted anything less.

“Grace… I was selfish. I wasn’t thinking about how anyone felt but myself. I was jealous when that girl thought you and Rory were a couple, and I let my jealousy take control. I kept comparing myself to him, convincing myself that he’d be better for you than I would. I didn’t stop to talk to you about it, to ask you what was going on, to ask you how you felt. And I’m so, so sorry for that.”

“Thanks,” Grace said in a soft voice. “And I forgive you for that, if you can forgive me for being too scared to talk to you about it.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. But I do think—if you’d like to try again—that we definitely need better communication.”

She finally looked up, and her grip on his hand tightened. “I agree completely. And I’d love to try again, I was really hoping you’d say that.” She gave him a tentative smile.

“I really like you,” he said, bringing the back of her hand to his mouth to kiss it softly. “I want to be your boyfriend. I have since I asked you out two weeks ago. Does that sound… okay?”

“Yeah,” she said breathlessly, nodding. “That sounds… amazing.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Okay,” he whispered. He gave her one last smile and turned away, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. He had just stood up from the seat when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around to see Grace, arms crossed in front of her chest.

“You need something?”

“If you really think I’m letting you leave without kissing me…” One corner of her mouth quirked up.

Ajay rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. “Oh my god, you’re so needy.” He pulled her (his girlfriend!) in by the waist, pressing their foreheads together.

“Yeah, I am. Just a little.” She brought her hands up to cup his face and leaned in, kissing him sweetly.

He tugged her even closer as their lips moved together, and felt her melt into the kiss. They stayed like that for several long moments, holding each other tightly, until Grace had to pull away to take a breath. Contentment filled him the same way a mug of masala chai would: heavy, warm and familiar, but intriguing and new all at the same time. He needed more.

“Wow,” she breathed, still way too close to him. He kissed her one last time—a brief, soft press of his lips to hers—then stepped out of her space, bending over to grab his backpack.

“Wow, indeed. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” She smiled softly but her eyes lit up, telling him that that comment had meant everything to her. He resolved to never make her eyes do anything except that again, he vowed to himself that he’d do anything he could to keep the soft smile on her face.

“Now, do you think they’ll finally let us out?”

“I’m sure James is in on this. If he doesn’t let us out, I’ll call mom on him. He’ll cave. Especially once we tell him we’re officially dating. If you’re okay with telling them, that is?”

“Of course!” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, laughing as she turned pink again. He offered her his hand and led the way to the auditorium door, to their freedom.

[endlessly-searching-for-you]

Infinite

A/N: It’s no secret I wasn’t happy with how ES ended. So in honor of Endless Summer Appreciation Week, here’s my alternate ending that powered the whole AU.

Word Count: ~1250

Pairing: OTP. Jake x MC (F!MC)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of suicide/self-sacrifice

Tags: @darley1101 @likethetailofacomet @mind-reader1 @zaffrenotes @brightpinkpeppercorn @mysteli

Everything in its own time.

“What are the options?” The girl asked with a breaking voice, and an otherworldly voice resonated in her head in response.

Rourke's project could be resumed, taking the Earth to a past it never had.

You can preserve La Huerta, making you all safe here forever.

Or you can return your energy to me, allowing me to depart from Earth.

“What should I choose?” Her hands trembled, tears streamed down her face, but her despair had no effect on the spirit.

It's a question only you can answer, Taylor.

***

She woke up gasping and covered with sweat. It's the same nightmare all over again. Or was it just a nightmare?

Where was she? Her hand brushed the ground, fingers digging in the sand. So she's probably on the beach. Okay. That's good. Her eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and she rose to her feet slowly, rubbing her temples. Weird. Her throbbing headache disappeared, the neverending tiredness was gone, even her heart felt lighter. She opened and closed her fists as if learning to use them again and played with the sand, smiling at the little grains shimmering in the moonlight. A stray wave splashed at her feet, and she jumped to her side, laughing with joy. It was something she didn't feel for a long time.

Everything comes at a price.

“No!” She screamed and looked around, searching for the familiar translucent figure, but instead of the island spirit, she saw the vortex over The Celestial. Her heart fell. “No! It's not what happened! It's not happening! It wasn't supposed to—”

She stumbled on something, falling into the sand. No. No, no, no. She knew the red space suit all too well.

“Fuck you, Vaanu! I'm not doing it again!”

Everything in its own time.

***

“I can't.” She slumped to the ground, her shoulders shaking with violent sobs. “I can't choose!”

You're stronger than you think.

“I'm not strong. I don't even know what I am anymore.” Her voice was a barely audible whisper. “Why? Why me?”

You are a part of me, Taylor. You always will be.

She wrapped her arms around her waist and rocked back and forth, wailing like a trapped animal. Vaanu cocked their head to the side. She turned out more human than they expected. Why was it so hard for her to make the right decision? They probed her mind, curious to find the reason. Strange. What made the human pilot so important? She was about to decide the future of an entire planet, and she only thought about this one man. Their mind flashed with a sudden idea, and they reached out to her, a long chain hanging from their hand. She raised her head, recognizing Jake's dog tags.

“You're saying... there's still hope for me? For us?”

Vaanu shook their hand, and she seized the necklace, clasping her hand over her heart.

The memories of all her lifetimes flashed before her eyes. Jake sleeping in the cockpit, calling her Princess out of spite when she woke him up. Their flirty banter. Thousand of their first kisses. Thousand I love you's. Thousand of their first nights together, passionate and fiery, and thousands of nights that followed. She watched herself making all different choices, and still falling in love with the same man all over again.

“You didn't show me the future.” Her voice trembled. “I saw the other visions. My friends'. They all saw the future. They all had something to give them hope, to look forward to. And all I have are memories?”

Vaanu's silhouette turned dark grey.

“Are you trying to say... I don't have any future?” She fought a sob. “It was all for nothing?”

***

She ran up the hotel stairs, taking two, sometimes even three steps at once, cursing Rourke under her breath. “Faster, idiot,” she berated herself. “You can't let them win!”

The rooftop garden was a ruin, but she still hoped it wasn't too late. She was moving in the tight space between all timelines, but she knew she wasn't the only one trapped here. Her friends were frozen mid-action, horror and determination on their faces. Her gaze fell to the lifeless form hugging the crystal pillar. It was her—and at the same time wasn't.

“No! Vaanu, you fucking child of a bitch, I'm not letting you kill her!” She gritted her teeth and reached out her hands to the glowing mass of crystal.

When her eyes got used to the blinding purple light, she finally noticed them. A young woman lying on the ground, broken, crying, holding a hand over her heart, and the translucent figure of Vaanu hunched over her, glittering a myriad of colors, pretending to care about her pain.

What is your decision? She heard their voice in her head, and her hands balled into fists.

“I only want him to be happy. I want him to have his family back. Let me fix this. Let me go back to you.”

“No!” She screamed as her double extended her hand to  Vaanu. “Don't do it!”

She grabbed the clone's hand and immediately doubled in pain. She wasn't supposed to do that, but she didn't care. The physical pain was something she was used to. The mental one was much harder to bear, and she was already sick of it.

Well, well, well. Look who we have here. Hello, Taylor. Or do you go by ‘The Endless’ now?

She spat in their face. “Fuck you. I'm not letting you kill her. I'm not letting you kill me.”

She made her decision.

“You lied to her! She wouldn't choose that if she knew they have a future!”

Vaanu's bitter laugh rang in her head. It doesn't matter. She made her choice.

“You lied to her. You never cared about her. You never cared about me. You only care about yourself.”

That's funny, coming from you.

She tightened her grip, ignoring the flash of pain. “And what do you think you know about me? You made me watch myself die two thousand one hundred and thirty-nine times. You made me love and lose my friends every time. You lied to me every step of my way. What do you think you know about being human? What do you think you know about loving someone?”

She made her choice.

“Because she's a stupid girl who doesn't know any better! She only wants the man she loves to be happy. And you made her think it's the only way.”

There is another one.

“I know.” Her eyes burned with resolve. “We are both your missing piece. You only need one. And you don't care which one you'll get.  Right?”

Correct.

“Then take me.” She closed her eyes. “I'm old. I'm tired. I want to die.”

I thought you liked my parting gift. I brought you back to life. I made you young again. I even gave you your missing hand back.

“I don't want anything from you.” She spat again, and Vaanu's form flashed bright green with amusement. “Laugh all you want, you damn bastard. I suffered enough. Just kill me already.”

If you answer me one last question. They reached for her hand, and she accepted it. Why are you sacrificing yourself? Why not let her do it?

“She wasn't the only one who loved him, you know. But right here, right now.... he loves her. Not me.”

Is it all about love then?

“It's the only thing that matters.”

[barbaravalentino]

“When a Man Loves a Woman...”

Story: The Royal Romance.

Pairing: Drake x MC (Barbara Valentino).

Some of the characters belong to choices, pixelberry. Just borrowing them for a bit.

Here you go @museofbooks hopefully you will like them. Btw, thanks for the ask.

1. Which one picks the other up like lost puppy under the rain?

It was strange when rained poured in Valtoria. Drake and Barbara went on a shopping spree after finding out the gender of their first baby. On their way back from the mall to Valtoria it started to rain, slowly at first. But the time they reached Valtoria it was raining cats and dogs. They waited inside their car for 30 minutes for the rained to slow down, but it got worst.

- “Oh my god! Drake, how are we going to get inside?” Barbara asked with a shock expression.

- “Let’s just wait a few more minutes babe.” Drake said while looking through the sunroof.

- “Drake, we’ve been waiting for almost an hour... I need to pee.”

- “Oh, Valentino! It’s raining cats and dogs outside. You can’t run with your high heels.... by the way why are wearing high heels if you are 5 months pregnant? You know that’s dangerous Valentino.” Drake asked slightly annoyed.

- “I’ll take them off and run to the door, it’s not even that far. And I can use high heels as long as I am careful, so don’t even start.”

Drake shook his head and looked at her for several seconds in silence. “Okay... why don’t I take my jacket off and you cover us from the rain while I carry you to our home.” He asked.

- “Okay. Just be careful babe, the floor might be slippery.”

- “Don’t worry darling.” Drake took his jacket off and gave it to Barbara. He walked out of the car and run to her side. He opened the door and grabbed Barbara’s hand to help her stand up. He gently picked her up and carried her bridal style while Barbara covered them both with his jacket. They arrived to the door and Barbara opened the door for them, he gently set her down. Barbara smiled at him and said.

- “Thank you my handsome husband. What will I do without you?” Before kissing him tenderly.

2. Which one washes the other’s hair?

Drake and Barbara had a long day. They barely saw each other today, the only time they were together was during Breakfast before they went on separate ways. It was 10:00pm when finally they were on their bedroom. Barbara was laying on the bed before Drake arrived tossing his clothes everywhere.

- “Hey Walker.” Barbara said.

- “Hey Valentino.” He replied before sitting on the edge of the bed to take his shoes off, his back towards Barbara. She crawled to him wrapping her arms around him, pressing her breast on his back, she moved her head to one of his shoulders, and kissed his shoulder neck and cheek, while rubbing her hands on his chest down to his abs. Drake closed his eyes and throw his head back to Barbara’s shoulder.

- “Long day?” Barbara asked him. He nodded and kissed her tenderly.

- “You have no idea babe.” He said before kissing her again “Yours?” He asked between kisses.

- “The worst, and our baby is making my days harder.” She said before resting her forehead on Drake’s.

- “I’m sorry darling, just a few months and our baby is going to be here with us. And you won’t be so tired anymore, because I’m going to be helping you.” Drake said before kissing her slowly. “Do you want to take a shower with me?” He asked between kisses.

Barbara nodded and Drake walked to the bathroom to turned on the shower. He walked back to the room and picked her up, and carried her to the bathroom. He pulled his jeans down and gently undress Barbara. He bend down and kissed her belly before whispering sweet nothings to their baby. He grabbed Barbara’s hand and walked her to the shower. They hugged each other and stay on each other’s embrace for a few minutes.

- “Let me take care of you baby.” Drake whispered on her ear. Barbara nodded and Drake picked up her shampoo gently washed her hair, after he grabbed her conditioner and smoothly applied it on her hair. He grabbed the body wash, grabbed the loofah and gently washed her body kissing her sweetly all over her body.

3. Which one does the other’s nails?

It was a Sunday morning, both Drake and Barbara had a free schedule. They decided to stay on their bedroom all day. Barbara was reading and Drake was watching a movie on his iPad. He noticed Barbara looking at her toe nails.

- “Babe is something wrong with your toe nails?” He asked.

- “Yes, they looked horrible. I wish I could get them done, but look at me I look like a whale. I can’t even tie my own damn shoes.

Drake laughed and looked at her “Oh, Valentino! You don’t look like a whale.” He sat up and moved closer to her wrapping her on his arms. “You look gorgeous with your baby bump. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and more beautiful with your baby bump.” He pecked her lips.

- “... I just wish I could do more things. I don’t like when people do the things I can do. I feel useless.

- “Baby... you are pregnant, you have to be careful, especially now that our baby could be here any moment. And you are not useless at all. We like to spoil you, I love to spoil you and you know that. I don’t want you to hurt yourself or get more tired than you already are.” He kissed her tenderly. “Okay?” He said against her lips before kissing her again.

- “... okay. You just said those things to not get me mad. But I know I’m a burden... you did this to me Walker!” She said while pointing at her now 8 months baby bump.

Drake moved between her legs, facing her “Valentino you aren’t a burden to me. I love you so much, you will never be a burden darling. And yes, you are pregnant but we did it together.” He stopped and placed his hand on her belly “The baby it’s the product of our infinite love Mrs. Walker.” He leaned to kiss her, but she moved and Drake kissed her cheek. He laughed and said “I know...”

- “What?” Barbara asked before he could finished.

- “I’ll do your nails baby. Just tell me what color you want.”

Barbara looked at him fondly and asked “Are you sure?” Drake chuckled and said.

- “Yes I am sure. Now tell me the color.”

- “Uh.. red!” Barbara exclaimed and Drake nodded. Before he could moved she pulled him closer to her and kissed him lovingly. “I love you so much Drake Walker, you are the best husband ever!”

Drake chuckled against her lips and said “I love you too Barbara Walker, so much babe.”

4. Which one pulls the other one out of the bed with the blankets when they are late?

Monday morning, Drake woke up earlier than Barbara. He stayed in bed for a couple more minutes before he sighed and got out of bed. He leaned to kiss Barbara’s forehead and let her sleep more. He walked to the closet and put on workout clothes, he went for his morning’s run, after an hour and a half, went back to his room. Barbara was still soundly sleeping, he chuckled to himself and walked to the bathroom, he took a long shower. He walked out of the shower and went to the closet to get dress for the day. As he got out of the closet he heard someone knocking on the door, he walked to the door and opened it and found Barbara’s assistant.

- “Good morning your Grace.”

- “Good morning Natalie.”

- “I just wanted to remind you and Duchess Barbara that you have a flight to catch to the capital for King Liam’s birthday ball that your attendance is required.”

- “Shit...” Drake murmured before asking “At what time is the flight again?”

- “The flight leaves in an hour, your Grace.”

- “Fuck...” he pinched the bridge of his nose “Natalie could you tell the driver to start the car, please?” Natalie nodded and quickly left.

Drake run to wake Barbara up. “Barbara, baby!” He said while sitting down next to her, lightly shaking her awake.

- “Mmmm?” Barbara asked still with her eyes close.

- “Babe, we have to leave for the Palace. We only have 20 minutes to get you ready.”

- Mhmm.” Barbara replied buring herself on the pillow.

- “Barbara! We have to leave now darling.” He got up and run to the closet. Grabbed their luggage and packed all the clothes close to him before running back to the room. He found Barbara still sleeping like a baby. “Fuck.” He said to himself. He walked to Barbara’s side and picked her up, he carried her like a child to the car that was already waiting for them.

- “Baby wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist, because I can’t hold you with both hands.” He said to a half sleepy Barbara. She nodded and did what she was told, but what Drake didn’t know it was that Barbara was pretending to be asleep and was smiling happily as her husband carried her like a little girl.

5. Which one picks in the other’s plate without thinking?

Barbara and Drake were visiting the palace for a few days. It was a Thursday night which meant date night for Barbara and Drake. This time it was Drake’a turned to pick the restaurant of his liking. Barbara’s father made a deal with King Liam to make restaurants and amusement places in Cordonia to bring more tourists. One of the restaurants was an American theme, which meant hamburgers, hot dogs, bbq ribs, fried chicken and all the things Drake loves. They took a shower together and got ready for their date. Drake drove themselves to the restaurant, as soon as they step inside a waitress welcomed them and took them to their table.

- “Hello your Graces. I’m Alicia and I’ll be your waitress tonight. Would you like something to drink?”

- “Yes, may I have a beer, please.” Drake said before smiling at the waitress.

- “I’ll like some natural orange juice, please.” Barbara said.

- “Absolutely. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

The waitress left, Barbara and Drake looked through their menus. A few seconds later Alicia came back with their drinks “Would you like to order? Or should I give you more time?”

- “I’ll like a double burger with cheese, seasoned fries... a chilli-cheese hot dog, two corn dogs, and 10 hot wings... buffalo sauce.” Barbara said before adding “Please.” While smiling at Alicia.

Drake looked at his wife surprised after a few seconds he cleared his throat and said “I want the bbq beef ribs and the spicy baby pork ribs.” He looked at the waitress as she grabbed the menus.

- “I’ll be right back with your food.” Alicia said before leaving and Drake glanced at her as she walked away. Barbara was staring at him burning wholes on him.

- “Why are checking her out? I’m not enough for you? I’m not attractive to you anymore... is it my huge belly?”

- “Wha... what are you talking about Valentino?” He said surprise. Barbara rolled her eyes at him and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

- “I saw the way you smiled at her, and just a few seconds ago you were starring at her ass when she walked away.”

Drake rubbed his forehead and chuckled to himself “I wasn’t babe... I smiled at her because it’s the polite thing to do. And I wasn’t starring at her ass... it’s not even big.”

- “Oh! So you were starring at her ass Drake Walker?”

- “Nooo! I wasn’t. I was looking at... at the decorations.”

- “But you just said that her ass it’s not even big, and you are hesitating with your answers.”

- “Valentino please. Your ass is the only one I look at. You have the perfect ass ever, you know how much I love it.”

- “Don’t lie Walker!” She stopped shaking her head “So my ass is the only thing you like about me?”

- “WHAT? Nooo! Of course not Barbara, I like everything about you.”

Barbara kept quiet for a few minutes starring at Drake. “Now I know why you wanted to come to this restaurant.” Drake nervously chuckled and said.

- “Baby, you know that’s not true. You are the only one woman for me. I married you, and I promised to love you for the rest of my life.” While reaching for her hand.

Barbara looked at him and nodded. “I love you too baby. I’m sorry it’s just this hormones are driving me crazy. I didn’t mean to say those things.” While grabbing his hand.

- “Hey, it’s okay Valentino, I understand babe.” Drake said while tenderly rubbing her hand. “I love you so much.” He said while leaning to kiss her sweetly.

After a few more minutes their food arrived and Drake made sure to only starred at his wife the whole time. They eat while talking, laughing and stealing glances of each other. Barbara was halfway through her food when she reached to grabbed some of Drake’s ribs. He looked at her but remained silenced. A few minutes later she reached again and grabbed more of his food.

- “Is it good babe?” He asked.

- “Yes these ribs are delicious, I’m going to ask the chef for the recipe.” She said before taking a bite.

- “I’m glad you like them. How’s your food?” He asked.

- “It’s good.” She said while reaching for more ribs.

- “Valentino!” Drake exclaimed. “Finish your food first.” She looked at him and put his ribs back on his plate. They eat in silence and Drake knew Barbara was hurt. He looked at her and saw her whipping a tear away.

- “Babe... I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, it came out the wrong way.” He looked at her but Barbara was avoiding his gaze. “Barbara Walker! Please baby.” Finally Barbara looked at him.

- “I’m sorry, I should’ve had asked you for some, instead of grabbing them. I know how much you love ribs.”

- “Hey, it’s fine. It’s just food, we can order more if you want.” Barbara nodded. He smiled at her.

- “Okay baby.” Drake said before calling a different waitress to order more ribs for his wife.

Tag: @kennaxval @mrsdrakewalkerblog @hopefulmoonobject @indiacater @mymandrake @larryssunflower @umccall71 @alesana45 @jared2612 @mrswalkerwrites @shairarhyslykel @shelivesinthewoods @confessionsofabrokegirl @3pawandme @journeytohomesworld @chrisuvans @walkerismychoice @drakewalker8 @drakewalkerstan @walkerisbae @thequeenchoices @andy-loves-corgis @flowerpowell @agent-bossypants @hopefulmoonobject

[blazerina]

Not This Time (MC x Sean)

**Trigger Warning – there is a brief mention of taking one’s own life in this story, thinking about it, briefly. There’s also a lot of talk about death and watching people you love die. I wanted to be up front about this because I don’t want anyone taken by surprise on that.**

Summary: This is Taylor’s point of view after she and Sean are separated by the events on La Huerta, when she falls out of the helicopter and comes face to face with The Endless/herself.

For Sean’s POV - check out my other post/story “Going to Find You.”

Author’s Note: This is somewhat heavy subject material – be warned. Y’all know how I love sadness and angst. Enjoy!

--

I had to run.

And keep running.

I ran until my body was burning from head to toe.  

The fire in my legs was set ablaze by the sparks I felt rebounding within my lungs while they inflated briefly and then contracted again as I frantically gasped for air.

Thoughts bounced around in my head like marbles in a pinball machine. Feelings began to spill out of my head, my heart, my soul…I felt like crying but I couldn’t summon the tears. I was angry and wanted to hit something, but I had no time to stop.  I was too focused on getting away.

I didn’t know where I was going, or when I would stop, but I was sure of who I was running from: myself.

She called herself the Endless.  

In my mind “the Helpless” was a more accurate title.  

Watching and waiting for death to come.  Knowing the infinite hands of time would continue on. Nothing changing. Nothing moving. She sat there. She did nothing.

People were hurting. There was confusion all around. Questions with no answer.  Relationships were crumbling like the molten earth of Mount Atropo.  

All of this chaos was happening in front of her very eyes…and she just…watched.

Did she feel anything? Did she even care? Why didn’t she try harder to stop it all?

Feeling helpless and hopeless is all I know, now as I continue to run.

Faster.

Farther.

Pushing myself harder than ever before.

I jump over fallen logs and dodge low hanging branches.

I have to keep going.

Once I stop.

It’s over.

These awful feelings and memories and truths about my life are what feel endless.  

The me that I just met seems strong and assured; optimistic in the face of what I’ve already accomplished.

But that woman could not be the same as me.  I cannot be this person. That’s not the me that I know.

How could she stand idly by watching her friends perish?

I could never let that happen without putting up a fight. I couldn’t look myself in the eyes, see my reflection, or hear myself speak without condemning myself for what I let happen.

What I let this world lose with each passing of a life.

Cold beads of sweat ran down my neck thinking of (or was I remembering?) the deaths of my friends.

My legs are wobbly now, unable to take confident steps forward.  

How much my body resembles my mind in this moment...powerless to muster up the courage to face whatever it is that waits for me beyond right now – I am shaky, unconvincing…scared.

I fell to my knees, winded and breathless – reaching out for the grass and soil around me as if it could give me life.

Grasping for anything to hold onto, I realize in this moment I just want something, anything, to be there for me, to give me some kind of support, for the great big universe to offer any kind of gift back to me – some kind of sign that I’m not in this alone. That it’s not all up to me…

Isn’t it enough that I’ve given everything I have to this point?

I have no idea what awaits me now that I’ve met the Endless. Now that I AM the Endless.  What does this mean for me?

What if I can’t do it?

What if I end up no better than her?

Standing by. Doing nothing. When people need me the most.

A puddle of water nearby looks tempting. Not only to drink, but to drown.

How much easier would it be if…

I stop myself. My thoughts come to a halt.

Something distracts me, shimmering and shining in the small pool I’ve noticed before me.

On my hands and knees, I crawl closer to it, looking beneath the surface of the water.  

I squint my eyes trying to figure out what it is, but a wave of lightheadedness overtakes me and I collapse, rolling over onto my back, looking up into the sky.

Trying to calm my breathing down, I close my eyes.

I’m so tired.

I listen to the steady rhythm of my pulse against the chaotic pattern of my breath. They are not in sync and it feels as though my body is playing drums against itself.  

How did I get here? How did this happen?

Whatever is to come is nothing more than fate.

Why am I afraid?

It is the same thing that has led me here.  Led me to La Huerta. Led me to this place.  Led me to the Vaanti.  Led me to Sean.

I slowly open my eyes as the thought of him instantly calms me.  After a few moments, I feel the hot prick and burn of tears threatening to fall.

I remember slipping away from him, worried that he would fall out of the helicopter with me.

I’d give anything to have him here with me now. I know he’s thinking this is all his fault…

Staring at the clouds above me, I begin to cry.

This life, what becomes of us, and the people we love is so small.  A mist. Sweeping in and out of this world so fast.  

The outcome of our lives, whether we live or die, sometimes seems as though it is decided by the simple toss of a coin – the end of it all determined with a call of heads or tails.

A coin.

The coin.

I sit up quickly, immediately pulling off my left shoe. I turn it over above my hand and smile as the silver coin falls into my palm.

I knew when I took this coin that I had no right to it.  It wasn’t mine. It didn’t belong to me and never really would. But I also knew when I took it that I would need it. Just like I know I need him.  And if that’s the only thing that pushes me closer to making it through this…

Endless…whatever it is…

And if he’s the only thing that keeps me from drowning…

And if Sean is the man who gives me hope and who reminds me I’m not helpless…

Then taking it was worth it, in the end.

We were at Sean’s house. Surveying the damage that the eruption had caused. He fell to the ground crying about leaving his mom and not being able to protect her.

Funny how that’s how I feel right now in this instant – unable to protect the ones I love.

This coin was sitting out on a shelf, next to football trophies and pictures of Sean winning pee-wee football championships.  This coin is the one they tossed at the state game last year. Something about it called out to me and I had to have it. I knew somehow that I’d need a piece of him with me to get me through this.

Closing my eyes I wrap my hand around it tightly, a few more tears silently falling from my eyes. I kiss the knuckles of my fist and tell myself: not this time.

The past may be full of weird memories and times when I gave up. Memories of watching people die as they fought for life and love…

Not this time.

I put the coin back in my boot and slowly stood up.  I had been close to the edge of a cliff and not even realized it.  

Had I not stopped running…who knows what would have happened.

Sean.

I miss him.

So much that I can almost feel his strong arms wrapped around me right now. Protecting me. Telling me I’m safe.

In an instant, my mind flashes to hearing him scream, as he fell off the edge of a cliff similar to the one I’m standing in front of now.

The sabre tooth tiger had won. I watched it all happen. I was right there.

Regardless of the coin toss, heads or tails, whatever fate thinks it has planned for us – I already know the outcome.  

We will not lose.

Not this time.

[happypledis]

Let’s Talk About: Jason (Nu’est-M)

So, I’m going to start a series titled “Let’s Talk About.” and then I’ll pick a Pledis topic to talk about. Today, we’re talking about Jason.

Who is he?

Since so many Lo/\es are new, most people haven’t heard about Jason. I didn’t know about Jason for a long time, but he was a member of Nu’est’s Chinese subunit (basically, the original members in addition to him). Basically, Jason joined Nu’est-M on October, 8th 2013 when Pledis and Yuehua Entertainment teamed up. In 2014, the companies parted ways--it was always communicated that the subunit would only be temporary. Jason left the group and started acting and is doing well in that field. During the promotions together, the 6 of them had a Weibo (Chinese social media) account under the name Nu’est-M. But after the subunit dissolved, their account name was changed to “Nu’est China” during the rest of their promotions there.

-Jason’s real name is Fu Long Fei, and he was born in 1988 (May 21st), making him the oldest member. His last comeback was as part of the Chinese version of Sleeptalking. He recorded a (really awesome) Chinese version of Face alongside the other members. He basically was the one who talked most in Chinese interviews, helped MC, and improved the overall Chinese promotions with his language skills.

Their relationships:

-In this show, Jason talks about how he feels honored to be able to promote with them, and JR says, “it’s because of him that we can promote so much in China.” Jason later says, “because of our age difference, I often joke that, to them, ‘I’m an uncle.’” (He says that last part in Korean.) -actually way less awkward than you would assume. -in this interview, Jason said he only took 10 Korean classes? (Dang, Yueha. >.<) -Seems closest with Aaron and Minki--I wonder if they shared rooms for that reason, or if it was a result of sharing rooms that caused their closeness. -In the same interview, Jason talks about how Minki invited him to an amusement park. He said “it was a bit hard to communicate, but we used a mix of Korean, Chinese, English, and a lot of hand gestures. It was a fun day.”

Fan reaction:

This one is a bit harder to gauge. -The negative: I saw some negativity in the comments of the subbed videos of Nu’est-M. Basically, these people were happy with the old members and didn’t want a new one. A few comments said “Nu’est as 5!” -The positive: A lot of others said things like “I don’t know him well yet but he’s really cute. I’m looking forward to seeing him more in the future.” Basically, these fans thought he was cute (personality + looks), as well as liking what he offered to  the group’s promotions. A lot of these people did seem relieved he wasn’t a permanent member but I saw quite a bit wanting him to stay. -JaRen had a surprising amount of fan support.

What could have been done better:

-showing behind the scenes of Jason meeting the members, living with them, getting used to them, etc. -had little broadcasted language practices together? -basically, shown bonding between them in order to get more fans attached (although, who knows, maybe Pledis and Yueha avoided this because they always said it was temporary from the beginning and didn’t want fans to miss him too much...? but since when has any company ever cared about something like that lol)

What was done right:

-choosing Jason himself... his voice fits theirs and their style so well. I almost can’t pick his voice out in the Chinese versions just because he fits that well -their promotions in China look really hectic so I’m glad that the had a Chinese member to help them! -the inclusion of a new member in the songs themselves--really seamless and not awkward -the inclusion of a new member in the choreography was surprisingly well done -the Mandarin version of Sleep Talking was infinitely better; also, Face sounds really good reproduced as it is.

[infinitehouseofbooks]

BLOG TOUR - Lone Wolf

Welcome to Shannon Muir’s Infinite House of Books!

DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS by Xpresso Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

Lone Wolf Anne Marsh (A Breed MC, #4) Publication date: May 31st 2017 Genres: Adult, Paranormal, Romance

A sexy new standalone shifter romance from New York Times Bestselling Author Anne Marsh…

I don’t play well with other wolves. The pack needs muscle, and I provide it as their enforcer. My biker name is Gator—after the alligator that chewed my face up. Sure I can make a woman scream with pleasure, but the scars on my face? That’s truth in advertising right there. There’s not an ounce of pretty in me. I fight, I ride—and I do it alone. So chasing the gorgeous marine biologist who wanders into my bayou hunting for wolves is not my smartest move. She’s Beauty. I’m the Beast. That story’s already been told and life’s fresh out of happy endings.

LONE WOLF is a sexy standalone werewolf shifter romance with more than its fair share of humor, dirty sex, and alpha males who fall in love hard.

Goodreads / Amazon / iBooks / Kobo

—

EXCERPT:

Frowning, I tread water and stare up at the man I hit. From my current position, I look up (and then up, up, up some more) a well-muscled chest. His black T-shirt exposes an impressive amount of powerful biceps and forearms, making him more Mount Muscle Man than not. An equally impressive amount of scar tissue snakes across his left arm. Based on the quantity and size of the ropey marks, he’s lucky to still have an arm. Something bit down on him hard.

He grunts. That’s definitely an unhappy sound. “My face is up here, babe.”

Yes, I got sidetracked. Welcome to my universe. I paddle a little harder to stay in place. I don’t think the water’s that deep here, but no way will I put my feet down. God knows what’s lurking on the bottom. Mud, sticks, fanged beasts, and water snakes… I prefer my bayou from a safer, drier vantage point.

I shift my eyes to his face as ordered. The left side of his jaw matches his forearm. I revise my opinion from lucky to have an arm to lucky to be alive.

He runs a hand over his jaw. The scarred side of his jaw. “You swim too long, and you might meet my buddy. On the other hand, you could paddle on over here, and I’ll give you a lift if you ask nicely.”

He makes the choice sound so simple. Stay in the water and face down monsters. Go to him and get rescued. And it’s not like I really have any good choices here. Sure, I can swim to the bank, but getting out is going to be a bitch. I’ll end up scratched to shit, and then I’ll be mosquito bait and miles from civilization. It’s always possible another boater passes by and I can flag them down for a lift, but this particular part of the bayou isn’t precisely Grand Central Station. It’s more like the train-comes-once-a-week depot in the middle of nowhere. I could be waiting for a very, very long time.

But can I trust him?

He sighs. Loudly. “Pretend I’m a fucking Boy Scout, oui?”

  Author Bio:

Anne Marsh is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of more thirty romances. She loves stories about tough guys with marshmallow interiors, protective alphas, and men who live for the women they love. Because you can never have too much of a good thing (hot alpha males… we’re looking at you!), she writes about werewolf Alphas, Viking werebears, US Navy SEALs, and really smoking hot firefighters.

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Remember to join INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS for author interviews, guest posts, book excerpts, and more!

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BLOG TOUR – Lone Wolf was originally published on the Wordpress version of SHANNON MUIR'S INFINITE HOUSE OF BOOKS.