#like i only use you once in a blue moon to say some stupid mundane shit don’t piss me off you stupid bird!!!!

[ayanominitrash]

I See What You See (Shoko Ieiri x reader)

You’re a conspiracy theorist geek who believes in aliens. Your quiet friend-of-a-friend, Shoko Ieiri, doesn’t understand your obsession and almost seems to make fun of you for it. Next thing you know, the two of you gape at each other at an anticipated alien sighting event.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Studying at a local college, you’ve recently been adopted by the ever-animated Satoru Gojo into his own friend group. That being said, you’re only closest to Satoru, and only starting to get to know his other friend, Suguru Geto. The last member, on the other hand, was still a total stranger to you - Ieiri Shoko. 

She’s mostly kept to herself. You find the short-haired brunette either reading a book, texting on her phone, or smoking a cigarette out on the school grounds -  sometimes all of the above at the same time. She’d join the group’s conversation here and there, and most of the time she’d scold the two boys whenever they got too noisy over their usual banter or when they were bickering over something stupid. 

Ieiri would only spare a glance at you to somewhat acknowledge your presence. It felt like she was actively ignoring you and didn’t approve of your new membership into their small circle of friends. One time, you did try to subtly leave and distance yourself, feeling unwanted, but Satoru would only rope you back in. And when you tried to befriend the quiet girl, she would only peek at you over her book or over her phone before tensing up her shoulders, offering quiet and abrupt answers to any of your questions for the sake of conversations. 

You feel a little hopeless. 

While this was your situation with your in-real-life friends, the place where you truly feel like you belong to a community is on your online forums for conspiracy junkies. Yes, that’s you. You’d let your eyes burn in radiation as you read through articles and articles of conspiracy theories, alien sightings, documentaries, backrooms, icebergs, etc.! The tapping of fingers against keyboard keys can be heard until the wee hours of the morning as you share your opinions with other members of the forum. You’d only bring up this obsession of yours once in a blue moon with your group of friends because you’re still unsure if they’d find you weird for this, your mission to befriend Ieiri was already on thin ice.

“Hey, I’m talking here y/n. Are you even listening? This is some important hot pipping tea I’m spilling.”

The white-haired boy snaps his fingers in front of your face as you’re seated on his right in the school cafeteria. You finally look up from your phone and see that Suguru is nibbling on his sandwich with a miserable look on his face, while Ieiri is drinking her juice box, looking bored as ever. 

“I don’t think you blabbering about how Miss Mei Mei and Principal Yaga would look good together is important.” You finally say after observing the scene before you.

His eyebrows shot up over his round sunglasses, “You kidding? Everyone’s been talking about it! Why aren’t you guys into school gossip? It can be so boring sometimes with the three of you.” 

“Satoru,” Suguru says once his mouth isn’t full. “It’s not nice to spread rumors, especially about our school heads.”

“It’s not really that entertaining,” Ieiri adds, talking around the straw in her mouth. “It’s just a bunch of old people not having any action cause they’re too busy with their work. How mundane.”

“See, for once though I didn’t make up the rumors this time. I got it through word of mouth. That counts for something right? Y/n, back me up?” When he notices you using your phone again, he snaps his fingers at you one more time. “Seriously, I’m getting hurt. Are you texting with someone?” 

“Hmm? Sorry, Satoru. I’m just engulfed in this article.” You say without taking your eyes off the phone, making Satoru lean closer to you to check out what you’re reading.

He starts to read aloud, “ ‘This Friday, a predicted sighting of an alien time-traveling portal will appear in this address’ -” The tall man leans back to give you an incredulous look. “There you are again. Are you actually planning to go to this event?” 

As the subject of your obsession is brought up on the table, your eyes sweep across the group to assess their reaction. Suguru only raises an eyebrow inquisitively, and when your pupils land on Ieiri, you feel your heart drop to your stomach.

She was pulling a face, as if she was weirded out by you.

You felt like a creep under her gaze. 

“W-well, I don’t know really know, hahaha…”You start to say, pocketing your phone absent-mindedly now that all of the attention is on you. “I mean, I read stuff like that but, I’m not that into it, you know? It’s just for shits and giggles. To kill time.”

Satoru scoffs at you, “Yeah right. It’s basically your whole being. You probably eat the moon landing farce articles for breakfast.” 

You glare at him, internally cursing at him for exposing you even more and making you feel ten times embarrassed. He only shrugs at your hostile look. 

Suguru closes his lunch box as he finishes his snack. “If you’re thinking of going, you should make sure it’s safe. Do you want us to come with you?” 

Before you can say anything, you’re surprised to hear a third voice. 

“On a Friday night with other geeks? I’d rather get wasted.” Ieiri says, staring directly at you. Suguru chuckles at this, making you sink further into your seat. 

“Ah, if you’re going to the bar, at least have Ioiri go with you.” The raven-haired man says, and you think to yourself that he’s the mother of the group with how much he looks out for everyone. “Or maybe they allow drinks at y/n’s event. Do they?”

With the spotlight back on you, your shoulders reach up to your ears in your humiliation as you start to lie, “Don’t worry about it! I’m not going so you guys can go to the bar. I have a paper due next week and I’ll focus on that so, hahaha…”

Satoru throws his head back in boredom, “Borrringggg. I’m not in the mood to do either of those. Suguru, want to play Animal Crossing instead?”

It was Suguru’s turn to be embarrassed, “Who says I play that? Shut up Satoru.”

As your white-haired friend pouts at Suguru, you try to not meet the only pair of eyes left on you, aware of their curious gaze making your face burn.

The weekend rolls in and you find yourself standing in the middle of an abandoned parking lot just on the outskirts of your small town. It was already night time and the stars glittered up above you as if they were dancing at the crowd of the conspiracy theories enthusiasts growing gradually below them. You can see how some of them dressed up for the occasion, with some going for the galactic theme. In comparison to you with your black shirt with a print of some type of Monopoly Mandela Effect, a short purple-checkered skirt with some low boots on. This simple outfit earned you a couple of compliments here and there. 

You purposely arrived an hour early before the predicted sighting of the portal to meet up with the forum members whom you’d constantly chat with. You stare at the screen if any of them have arrived yet. 

[You]: anyone here yet? 

[You]: sent a photo.

[You]: its early but a lot of peeps already here.

[aLiEnSaREreA]: stuck in traffic :(( 

[FeelinCuteMightTripToTheBackrooms]: waitin for this guy @aliensarereals

[FeelinCuteMightTripToTheBackrooms]: then otw

[IeireadyOrNot]:@you im here. come to the back.

[IeireadyOrNot]: sitting by the wrecked cars.

[You]:@IeireadyOrNot aight.

Trudging through the tall grass and through the sea of your fellow geeks, you make your way to the darkest part of the venue, spotting a silhouette of a small person who seems to be smoking a cigarette while leaning against a run-down car. You bring out your phone again to use the flashlight to guide your path. No one else seems to be at that part of the parking lot so you assume that they’re the person you just chatted with. As soon as you’re within earshot, you lift your phone up to light your internet friend and greet them, but you stop in your tracks with your mouth agape.

Your supposed internet friend was wearing the same look you probably have right now, except they have a lit cigarette in between their lips. 

And except it was Ieiri. 

With green alien ears for a headband. 

You almost drop your phone as your eyes widen at the short brunette. You watch as a read streak across her face immediately forms in her realization and you can’t help but bend at your stomach and start laughing. 

Ieiri lets out an exasperated huff, clouds of smoke coming out through her lips along with it. “What’s so funny?!” Feeling self-conscious, she can’t help but remove the headband from on top of her head, which made your laughter die down a bit.

“No - don’t take it off! Y-you look too cute with it.” Your cheeks are starting to hurt from smiling and laughing too hard. Your hands fly up to place her headband back in its rightful place.

She almost wacks your hands away, “Then what the fuck are you laughing about?”

Her crudeness caught you a bit off guard but you brushed it off. How can you bother yourself being hurt or scared of your shorter acquaintance when she’s got those cute little alien ears on? Or at this point, she might as well be your bestie with how long the two of you chat through the online forums you’re always on.

How ironic. 

“Nothing, it’s just…It’s funny seeing you here, considering how you just made fun of me a few days ago.” You say as you hoist yourself up on the car, sitting on the hood while Ieiri remains standing, leaning her backside against the front of the sorry excuse of a vehicle. 

“I wasn’t making fun of you.” She replies whilst she puts out her cigarette under her shoe.

“Then what was with the face?”

“Face?” Ieiri pauses, humming in thought. “I was just…shy I guess.”

“Shy? Right.” You chuckle, obviously not believing her. You think that she’s a quiet person but not because she’s shy. It’s probably because she has so little patience to deal with anything she thinks isn’t important.

The brunette throws a glare over her shoulder at the sarcastic tone of your voice. “I was! I don’t really talk about this stuff because…it’s…weird.”

“It’s not - “

“Plus, those two idiots will never let me hear the end of it. They’ll just tease me ‘till my ears bleed off.”

“But they were kinda nice about it with me though? Suguru even - “

“They were just being nice, y/n.” She deadpans. “You’re new to the group so they’re still testing the waters with how you respond to their, how should I put this, harassment?”

“Why? Did they say something…er, about me?” There’s a small uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach to think that your friends would make fun of you behind your back.

She catches your nervousness and shakes her head, “Satoru just likes to annoy people. Suguru’s no help either.”

You sigh in relief. When her reply was met with silence, she looked at you over her shoulder and saw you smiling at her. 

“Sorry, it’s just that this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”

The red streak on her cheeks doesn’t go unnoticed and you can’t help but chuckle at how you can still see it even though it was dark. 

“We chat almost every day so I don’t think the statement is true.”

“No, I mean, in real life. You’re always so quiet like you’re purposely doing it because you probably don’t like me.”

She whips her head back at you with a startled look. “That’s not true! I do like you!”

It was your turn to blush. Ieiri realizes the weight of her words and buries her face into her hands. “It’s - It’s - “

“Um, hahaha…It sure doesn’t feel like it.”

“Like I said, I’m too shy.” She says with her voice muffled by her hand covering her face. “Or I just kinda like you too much.”

“Like with me being a friend right? You probably had a feeling I was the one chatting with you. Then why are you so cold to me in real life?”

Ieiri looks back at you one more time, her lips in a tight line, the blush on her cheeks still evident. 

And you think you understood what she meant - what she meant when she said she liked you.

You can’t help but be the first one to break eye contact and move your gaze over to the now full venue. The brunette beauty flits her own eyes to the crowd. 

Not knowing what to say, you try to buy time by pretending to check on your GC’s updates:

[aLiEnSaREreA]: car broke down!!

[aLiEnSaREreA]: adjfhdjf hajdhfan vjkg!!

- aLiEnSaREreA is offline - 

[FeelinCuteMightTripToTheBackrooms]: idk if we gonna make it :((

[FeelinCuteMightTripToTheBackrooms]: if u go through the portal

[FeelinCuteMightTripToTheBackrooms]: tell them i said hi

-FeelinCuteMightTripToTheBackrooms is offline - 

[IeireadyOrNot]: this may be like once in a lifetime event

[IeireadyOrNot]: you guys suck

- IeireadyOrNot is offline - 

[You]: :(( 

“Nice screen name by the way. I don’t know why I didn’t think it was you.” You say as you lift your head up from staring at your phone. The short girl stays quiet.

“Ieiri? I- “

“Shh! It’s almost starting.” She says softly without looking at you. 

Your heart pounds in anticipation as you remember what you were here in this ugly parking lot for. The crowd cheers and starts a countdown. You join in at number 4. 

3…

2…

1…

It all went quiet.

No one moves for a couple of minutes before some start to swivel their heads around, checking for any anomaly nearby. 

Nothing. 

Ieiri lights a cigarette.

You bring your knees up to your chest wrapping your arms around your legs in your disappointment. Your friend eventually sits up on the hood of the car with you and wordlessly offers the lit cancer stick to you. You accept.

After you take a drag, you pass it to her. “Ieiri?”

“Hmm?”

“I think…I think I like you too.”

You hear her hold her breath before her face breaks into a small smile at you with a shaky giggle.

“You like me, or do you like ‘Ieireadyornot’?” 

“Aren’t they the same person?” 

She hums, looking at you with soft eyes as content washes over her expression. Suddenly, both of you freeze in your spots once a commotion in the crowd begins.

The both of you spot Suguru and Satoru amongst the crowd, sporting their matching green alien fur coats. The two of you girls look at each other before laughing, clearly seeing that Satoru is upset about the event being a hoax, and with Suguru only looking at him with his own dissatisfaction. 

“I guess you don’t have to worry about their teasing then!” You tell her, finally settling down from laughing, then intertwining your fingers through hers. “Guess we’re all geeks.”

She squeezes her hand in yours.

“You think they’re the other two people in our GC?” Ieiri puffs out.

You can’t help but laugh again at all the coincidences.

Your internet friends are just the same as your in-real-life-friends.

And your internet crush is also your in-real-life crush. 

Maybe you were the alien. Maybe you were the one who had a secret time-traveling portal because right now, everything feels like you’re in another dimension, one that you can only dream of. 

With Ieiri staring softly at you, her eyes holding galaxies. 

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

(❀❛ ֊ ❛„)♡ reblogs and comments are appreciated//do not repost my work anywhere // I have no idea how I ended up writing for Shoko when I'm supposed to keep writing for Daddy Suguru AHAHAH

[voxnumbskull]

🖤~Nanu Headcanons!~🖤

(Eat up simps, this is a good couple months worth of headcanons. ⚠️NSFW warning up ahead⚠️)

•Only Scorpio seems fitting, let's say November 14th.

•Some of his favorite things:

Food- Sushi

Pokemon- Meowth, and of course his Persian

Snack(s)- Dark chocolate, those chocolate covered coffee beans, dried fruit, coffee flavored anything pretty much, rice balls, taiyaki, and on rare occasions corn chips.

Pastime(s)- Reading, playing with his kendama, taking care of his meowth, reorganizing his desk for the 5th time, watching TV, and of course, napping.

Song(s)- Hotel California (Eagles), Cum On Feel the Noize (Quiet Riot), Blackstar (Bowie), Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High? (Arctic Monkeys), Peace Sells (Megadeth)

Some of his dislikes:

-Loud poppy music with no substance

-Actually having some mundane shit to do as an officer

-Overly boastful trainers

-Just socializing for the most part

-Things that are too sour or too sweet (or both)

-Greasy, fatty foods

-Cilantro

•His meowth are countless like stars, but the closest anyone's gotten to a straight answer ranges from 14-20.

•Almost always covered in meowth hair. Definitely smells like a mix of meowth and some old store bought fragrance.

•Likes bitter flavor, hates sour. Okay with sweet sometimes, but nothing teeth rotting.

•He's a sucker for classic rock and his radio pretty much defaults on 103.5. Some of his favorite bands include Quiet Riot, Arctic Monkeys, and Megadeth.

•Has probably tasted the wet cat food once or twice, although he'd never tell you that. He actually doesn't mind it, but he'd never commit to eating any.

•Loves phrases like "if I told you, I'd have to kill you" "I plead the 5th" "that's classified information" etc.

•Often claims even the most trivial of tips and feats to be an "old agency trick"

•Has very impressive eagle vision despite his age. He's extremely accurate and he can read ridiculously small text.

•Incredibly multilingually talented and fluent in at least 3 different Eastern languages (Kantonian, Hoennian, and Johtonese. Can also speak a little Kalosian he learned from Looker.)

•Though he's not as strong as he once was and tries not to strain his back too much, he's still got some formidable upper body strength, especially in his arms, hands, and shoulders. Has some impressive calf muscles too, but he couldn't crush a melon with them or anything. (You really wouldn't think he's all that though since he's so slender)

•Loves some good vodka shots on weekends, but has a super high tolerance. It takes him anywhere from 5-7 shots to get a buzz. Usually just opts for whiskey on rocks though because it's easier.

•Totally used to play bass in a garage band in his late teens and no one can convince me otherwise. Long hair and everything.

•He's captain of the APD, so naturally he's got eyes everywhere. When something happens, it's guaranteed he's probably one of the first to know about it.

•Takes part in court duty once in a blue moon; fucking despises it because it's usually something stupid (probably property disputes, messy divorces, or custody battles) and he basically just stands there until the court is adjourned.

•Despite separating from the interpol, he still regularly utilizes the training he's received, often getting information from the interpol undetected, or getting important information before they do. He's one of the most incredible officers in his field, although you'd never guess that at first glance.

•Definitely a "secret" badass. Probably a great shot, and not too shabby in hand-to-hand combat.

•Although he usually acts like an apathetic asshole, he secretly cares and wants to ensure everyone around him is safe, whether it be because he actually cares about the person, or he just wants to go home without work.

•Catch him in the right mood, he could probably sweep your team with that shit-eating smirk on his face.

•Absolutely cannot refuse a battle with a powerful opponent- he loves an opportunity to go full throttle.

•In the situation you become someone he cares about, he becomes very protective, almost like a guardian figure in your life. He'd definitely kick ass for you and be able to cover his tracks.

•His weakness is the sweet and salty type; he can't possibly say no to that face, but loves seeing that secret dark side. Bonus points if you genuinely enjoy his company.

•He might offer to take you out for sushi every once in a while. If you like sushi he definitely recommends the Z-Kaiseki Ronin Set. If not, though at first he'll probably poke some fun at you, he doesn't mind and will help you understand the menu and pick something you'll like.

•Probably has clothes with bullet holes in them from his work in the agency. He decides not to throw them out, though, and he could probably tell you when and where he got shot, who shot him, what gauge the bullet was, and what kind of gun they used.

•Yet in the same vein, he's probably terrible with names.

•He prides himself on his wry, sarcastic sense of humor, but if someone reciprocated a similar style of joke he'd probably be a little surprised. You'd more than likely get a good chuckle out of him, but on the off chance you could catch him off guard, you could probably get a laugh.

•Honestly, just start talking about cat pokemon. You'll have his full, undivided attention for a good while. Either cat pokemon, shitty stuff going on around the world, or even just the mention of his favorite music genre, coffee, or taking a nap, and you've got him.

•Friendship is never really his main focus, but if someone he actually liked asked, he absolutely wouldn't say no. Despite this approach to friendship, he's devoted and loyal as hell, but he doesn't always give great advice.

•Honestly overprotective of his friends due to overcompensation- he doesn't want to be "responsible" for (another) death.. (he still has nightmares about what happened even after all these years..)

•He takes mental health very seriously (considering he's probably battling a few demons of his own) and he'll go out of his way to make sure you're doing okay and taking care of yourself. He won't poke fun at you as much if you have self esteem issues, and he tries to learn what your triggers are so he can avoid them at all costs to make sure you're safe.

•Do not ever "no balls" this man with social interactions because he does not give a single fuck. He will go way out of his way just to embarrass the fuck out of you.

Romantic Relationships:

•Doesn't really like to put labels on himself ("I like what I like."), but he's probably somewhere close to pansexual, panromantic.

•He's not really the type to have a crush all that often. He always used to be the go-getter if you will; however after his time in the agency, he's a bit wiser and more picky about potential partners. On the off chance he did meet someone he liked, he might not know how to talk to them for fear of scaring them off.

•Eventually telling him you liked him would be a trip. He'd absolutely be stunned, and honestly confused. You had all these options and you chose him? Of course, he doesn't give himself enough credit, and once you finally convince him you're not going anywhere, he'd get super nervous and a little flustered. He'd have a hard time breaking down the walls he built around himself.

•Enjoy the awkwardness while it lasts, because you can get away with a lot in this time frame before he gets comfortable and starts kidding around with you endlessly. From stupid one liners to full on embarrassing you in front of company.

•Pet names are okay. He doesn't really mind them, but they are still appreciated.

•He doesn't really like cutesy pet names though; he appreciates more traditional monikers (i.e. dear, hon, sweetheart, love, etc.)

•On the contrary he will absolutely call his partner cutesy pet names. One of his favorites is "kitten" or "kit" for short.

•Would absolutely set his name to "Daddy" in his crush's/partner's phone to embarrass them.

•He'll treat his partner with such an overwhelming warmth and tenderness it's almost hard to believe he's still the same Nanu, but his partner is the only one who will ever see him like that and it should never be taken for granted. Never make him regret showing vulnerability.

•He loves to hold his partner. He loves knowing that they find safety and comfort in his embrace. Not to mention he thinks they're cute as a button and always deserves a good squeeze.

•Likes to leave small nonchalant kisses. His most frequented spots include the forehead, ears, cheeks, jaws, neck, and shoulders (and don't forget those lips!! >///<).

•Even if it doesn't mean much to his partner, every little gesture of affection means the world to him. Anything from fixing his hair, adjusting the collar of his shirt, little pecks on his face here and there, etc.

•Absolute mama bear when it comes to his lover. He doesn't like anyone getting too close for comfort, any sort of conflict is quickly dashed by him if he's close enough to hear it, and Arceus help anyone that decides to get physical with them in any way. He prides himself on being his partner's hero, and he doesn't slack off on this self-appointed duty.

•Has a bit of jealous tendencies. He's afraid his partner might meet someone better for them and leave him alone. Of course, he'd never tell his partner they couldn't talk to anyone- he only wants the best for them. However it does get his gears grinding when his partner talks to one person an awful lot (bonus points if it's a dude).

•He HATES it when people hit on his partner. He tries to humiliate that person in front of everyone and destroy the ego that made them think they could talk to his partner that way.

•Is nosey as hell and will absolutely get up in his partner's business every now and again. He wants to know their likes, interests, what they think about, what they want to do, and sure asking questions is easy enough, but it won't get you everything. He wouldn't call it snooping though; he prefers the term "intimate research". Of course he can just do this over their shoulder most of the time, but once in a blue moon an interest of theirs will take him by surprise and he'll wanna know more. (and no, this man is not above reading journals/diaries, but he still regrets it if he reads something he shouldn't have. It doesn't stop him though.)

•Likes to cook for his partner every so often. Usually something like (proper) ramen or something grilled on a flat iron. But he NEVER uses anything out of a can. He thinks it tastes gross and he doesn't want his partner to eat that nasty shit.

•Inversely, he gets a little embarrassed and feels slightly guilty if his partner decides to do anything for him. He never expected them to go out of their way for him, and he doesn't want them to think that they have to, but seeing the smile on their face when they get to surprise him is enough for him to let it slide.

•One of his favorite things to do is just listening to his partner talk. They could be talking about literally anything from the weather or how their day has been, to passions and childhood memories. He loves the sound of their voice and loves that they feel comfortable to confide in him. (bonus points if they're a songbird. Doesn't matter if they're the best at singing or not, he just likes to listen)

•On the contrary, he doesn't talk about himself much unless his partner bugs him. He'd eventually start using this to his advantage though, i.e. "not telling you about my day before I get a kiss" "I'll tell you a story if you grab us a blanket and come sit on the couch with me a while".

•Though he's mostly a homebody, he likes going out with his partner every now and again, usually during the week when a lot of people are working so the shops aren't as busy. It gives him less to worry about so he can focus more on his partner; plus he likes seeing the cute little outfits his partner puts together, and he really likes when his partner gets excited about something.

•Might develop a slight dependency on his partner. Of course, he's an adult and he's perfectly fine without them for a long while, but small things like how quiet the house is get to him a little bit. It's especially bad if he ends up going to bed by himself; without his partner there to distract him, the nightmares become more frequent again (about the ultra beasts), and he usually doesn't get much sleep when they're away.

❤️NSFW:

•Is a hard top. Don't think this man has ever been bottom a day in his life.

•Has slightly sadistic tendencies, but nothing that would ever get his partner hurt.

•Likes having complete control in the bedroom. He enjoys the thought of his partner's sexual pleasure being his complete responsibility. He really enjoys pinning his partner down, too.

•Absolutely loves putting a naughty, impish bottom in their place, especially if they try talking back.

•Likes teasing his partner to get a reaction (i.e. whining, begging, squirming, etc.) He especially likes playing around with his partner until they get impatient. The more impatient they get, the slower he paces himself until they crack.

•He loves trying to get his partner to beg. But if they won't budge, he knows he can just tell them to.

•Is really gentle unless asked otherwise. He's not sure of his own strength and he's scared of hurting his partner (for real).

•Really values some time to talk in advance, sometimes up to 2 days notice. He wants to get to know his partners preferences, what makes them uncomfortable, what hurts, etc. He's a fantastic pick for a first time.

•Doesn't really care much for pet names- he finds hearing his own name is much more arousing for how personal it is. You could call anybody "Daddy", but you can't call anyone else "Nanu"~

•Not usually very vocal, but if you manage to get him fired up in the right way he enjoys dirty talk and (with their consent) calling their partner some vulgar names. He might even growl sometimes, though he's a little more embarrassed about that one.

•Yes, he bites. He leaves marks. On purpose. He likes marking his partner so no one else will try anything with them. Almost like writing his name on them.

•On the opposite, he loves making love to an insecure partner. Whereas before he'd usually have quite the dirty mouth, on a bad self-image day, he'd call his partner sweet names and constantly tell them how beautiful they are. He'll even point out some of his favorite little things about his partner i.e. a cute little mark here, some Arcanine stripes (stretch marks) there, maybe a sweet battle scar, or even a big kissable nose.

•Was very "well endowed" (8.3" at the most, and I'd say maybe 6" at the least)

•Likes being ridden or receiving oral sometimes so he can admire his partner. Inversely, he likes just using his hands to please them too. He uses it as an opportunity to find the best spots to make them go crazy, and he also just likes watching them squirm.

•Amazing at giving head. He's super gentle, but absolutely makes sure to stimulate his partner in the best way. (and especially for afab partners, he knows how to fucking WORSHIP a pussy with that mouth 😩🙏)

•Likes cumming inside WAY too much, but absolutely won't do it if his partner isn't safe. He's huge on safe sex.

•He likes taking care of his partner after a rougher go, going as far as to get them a cold drink, let them wear some of his pj's so he can throw their clothes in the wash, even running them a bath, etc. He prides himself on taking care of his "things".

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Fic: What We Don't Know Can't Hurt Us

Fandom: Triple Frontier

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Librarian!Reader (cishet female) meet-cute

Warnings: No warnings really, some language and mention of masturbation and sex. Reader doesn't like kids. Yearning. Frankie is a TOTAL DILF SWEETHEART. Sad ending.

Summary: Reader is a librarian who has to temp at the kids' section desk from time to time which is a pain because she doesn't like kids. And who is a regular if not a very hot, scruffy-looking dad with the very polite and mild-mannered daughter? Sparks fly but some things maybe aren't meant to be.

Words: 5,155

a/n: Just to be clear, this one doesn't end well. I just wanted to write something sad, I guess.

Oh, shit, there he is again. The Hot Dad.

You straighten a little in your chair and once again curse the fact that you’re working in the children’s section at the library: the only desk that isn’t adjustable. You prefer to do your service desk duties standing up, not only for ergonomic reasons but because you hate how patrons look down on you – literally – when you’re seated by the desk. Also, you tend to slouch and it’s not an attractive look. And at the kids’ section, you’re all supposed to work on the same level as the little tykes. And you’re not particularly keen on those.

You are, however, keen on hot dads. God knows you only get them once in a blue moon and if they show up, it’s usually in tow of a whole clan of children and a wife. But this dad has been in once before when you’ve had desk duty and you saw him stop at the shelf for picture books about divorce and pick out a few. You also heard him tell his little girl that she shouldn’t bring the books she chose to her mom’s. Divorcee, so fantasizing was even more allowed – although he probably had a girlfriend. Guys like that always do.

“You don’t want to lose them, sweetie,” he had explained patiently to his daughter. “You can keep them in your room at my place but if you take them to your mom’s there’s a risk you lose them and that means I have to pay for them. You see, we’re only borrowing these books, that’s what you do in a library.”

You had smiled an inwards smile when listening to him. There was nothing you loved more than parents who actually seemed to understand that all the material in the library was free at one simple condition: return it in time, in the same condition as you borrowed it. A lot of people did not seem to grasp this and made a huge deal when they failed to meet these conditions and were faced with late fees or even had to compensate for lost books. But when parents who knew how to use a library include their offspring, explain how it all works for them, well, that’s how you foster a new generation of good library patrons.

This dad did just that. And he was very careful with the books, prompting his daughter to be the same. Every book she pulled out of the stacks, he helped her put back in the right place. That’s practically marriage material right there and it was enough to make you weak at the knees, to be honest. After almost ten years working in a public library, you were disillusioned about people in general and their intelligence in particular. Sure, you liked your job enough to not cry in the mornings when you had to leave bed, and you did enjoy the work itself (mostly), but… having to deal with people was exhausting. Having to deal with little people even more so, and the worst was having to deal with adult people who had little people with them. Parents.

Hence your absolute obsession with Hot Dad who was soft-spoken, really good with his kid, understood to appreciate the library and its services, nodded his hello to you when passing by the desk, didn’t make a mess, clearly read to his kid regularly and encouraged her to read for herself. You just didn’t get to see people like that so often, and it triggered your interest. You allowed yourself to daydream about him.

Francisco Morales. You remember his name from his last visit, when he and the kid came up to the desk with their haul. You always encouraged patrons to use the self-service check-out (the less you had to do deal with them, the better), but for this guy you were more than willing to go the extra service mile, even with the kid staring at your every move from across the desk as you registered all the loans. You silently gave her plus points for not trying to “help” like some kids did, and for the quiet but clear Thank you she gave you without prompting from her father.

You’re busying yourself with the returns, loading them onto a cart, when you hear a soft, deep voice go Excuse me behind your back. You twirl around and see Morales, pulling his baseball cap off his head to reveal curls that would make any hair model cry of envy.

“Sorry to bother you,” he offers. Take me now, you think to yourself but instead, you give him your brightest customer service smile, the one you rarely give patrons.

“No worries, how can I help?”

“We’re looking for picture books about farm animals. You don’t happen to have those separated? I noticed you have some subject areas separated.” He gestures back towards the picture book stacks where his daughter is quietly perusing.

“We don’t, but I think we have some Julia Donaldsons available, let me come and have a look.”

You don’t always offer. With most patrons, you’d tell them to look under D for Donaldson and then smile sweetly and ask them if they’re okay to do it themselves. You can’t do everything for everyone, that way they’ll never learn. But for Francisco Morales and his well-behaved little girl, you’re absolutely willing to make an exception.

There are some Donaldsons that the girl, whose name you learn is Sofia, eagerly accepts when you present her with them.

“I love fawm animals,” she sighs happily as she browses the first one. “Do you?”

“Who doesn’t love animals?” You make the effort to small talk although communicating with kids usually makes you awkward.

“What’s youw favowite? Mine is bunny. And howses. And lambs.”

“Goats! I love goats, they’re so cute and sweet and playful.” You almost add something about goats being the devil’s favorite animal as well but manage to stop yourself in time.

“Is there something else you want to ask the librarian?” Morales asks his daughter. “If not, I’m sure she has a lot of work to do, and we shouldn’t keep her any longer.”

“I’m here to help,” you shrug and give him a little smile: not a polite, impersonal one that you’d give a patron, but a more intimate one. A flirty smile. “You just need to ask.”

The smile he gives you back is warm and grateful, and you realize that he doesn’t have different facial expressions for different people. He doesn’t work in customer service because if he did, he’d know the difference. Not that you ever thought he worked in retail or anything like that, well, maybe a hardware store, but no. He just doesn’t seem like the type. The way he moves his body suggests something a lot more physical.

Oh, you’d like to get physical with him, alright…

All the sucky library-themed pick-up lines flash through your head. Can I check you out as an overnight loan? Can I insert my private collection into your empty stacks? My reference desk or yours? Am I being too loud, well, you’ll just have to shush me with your lips. You’re like an overdue library book because you have fine written all over you.

Worst part is, if Hot Dad Morales tried any of these on you, you’d probably forgive him and go for it. Maybe. You’re really not that simple, but a girl can dream, right?

The kid thanks you and you return to the relative safety of the desk and the mundane task of alphabetizing returns. You need to calm the fuck down and act professional. Daydreaming is fine but you’re barely toeing the line.

God, you need to get laid. As if that’s something that one can remedy just by walking into a store and ordering a medium dick with a side of hands and tongue.

📚📚📚

The next time you see Francisco and Sofia Morales, you’re taking your lunch break in the small park outside the library. It’s a sunny day and you didn’t fancy sitting in the breakroom with your salad, listening to colleagues talking about who cares what. So you took your lunch box, fork, and water bottle, and went to sit on the park bench the furthest away from the swing set and sandbox. The weather is nice and you enjoy yourself and your break from the library’s chat service. You never know what you’re gonna get when you work the chat: a stupid question about opening hours which anyone could google the answer to, or something more complicated like requests for books with partial or no titles, rarities, or subject areas that you don’t know much about. That’s when you get to use your whole competence and really dig deep, think outside the box, solve problems. You love it but it’s challenging at times, and takes a lot of energy. Your outdoor break is welcome.

“Hi!”

You hadn’t noticed the girl walking up to you and the greeting startles you.

“Oh, hi.”

“We’we wetuwning the animal books,” Sofia informs you seriously. You have to smile.

“Good job. You want more of those or something else this time?”

“Mowe. Will you help me find some?”

“I’m not working the desk at the children’s section today but my colleague there will absolutely help you. Just ask her.”

Now you see Morales walking towards you from the swing set, carrying the large, flowery canvas tote that says “book bag” he always brings to the library.

“Hello,” he nods with that warm smile that he definitely gives everyone. “Sofia, don’t disturb the lady on her break. I’m sure she wants some peace and quiet before she has to go back to work.”

Jesus fucking Christ. How does this man just know shit like this?

“I’m sowwy,” Sofia immediately offers. “I wanted to say hello.”

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” you allow, although technically, he’s not wrong. “I’m almost done. It was nice to see you. I hope you have a good visit to the library.”

“Thank you!” She skips along and Morales chuckles as he takes off his baseball cap and scratches his head, swipes his long locks out of his forehead, then puts the hat back on.

“You’re her favorite, you know,” he tells you. When you raise your eyebrow, not comprehending, he hurries to elaborate. “Of the librarians. She says you’re the best.”

“Thank you, but whatever for?” You know you do a good enough job at your usual position and that your regulars appreciate you, but you are also very aware of not being at your finest in the kids’ section.

“You have to ask her,” Morales grins as he looks out for his kid, who has returned to the swing set and is pumping her legs on the swing, brows knitted in concentration. “But she’s very taken with you. I think it’s because you’re very calm and focused with her.”

Calm and focused??? You almost laugh out loud. That’s everything you’re not when you’re at the kids’ desk.

“Thanks,” you manage, because you have to say something.

“She’s also really interested in your tattoos and I definitely think she wants to get her nose pierced now,” Morales goes on. “I told her that we don’t comment on people’s appearance, but just a heads up, she might ask you about those.”

Ah, the unpredictability of children.

“I appreciate it.” You really do. You don’t mind talking about your tattoos or the septum ring you have but if a kid suddenly asks about it, you’d rather be prepared.

“Anyway, sorry to intrude on your lunch.”

“No worries,” you reassure him. “You can… sit down for a while if you want to? I have ten minutes left.”

Your heart beats faster at your proposal. It’s not exactly appropriate but you just want to enjoy his company for a moment. And discreetly sniff him because he smells so fucking good, woodsy and smokey but with a hint of… vanilla? You’re terrible at recognizing smells but it reminds you of some aroma reeds you had a couple of years ago that smelled like a wood cabin with vanilla sugar spilled on the floor. You loved it but like everything you love, it was discontinued.

Morales looks over at his daughter before nodding, the book bag slipping down from his shoulder as he places it next to the bench.

“If you’re sure?”

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t.”

He likes your straightforward answer, you can tell from how his eyes crinkle a little and how relaxed his body language is when he sits down.

“I’m Frankie, by the way,” he says, like he just remembered that introductions are a normal part of human interaction. He extends his right hand to you and as you accept it and tell him your name, you can’t help but marvel at how huge his hand is. Big, warm, slightly damp but not in a weird way.

“Nice to meet you, Frankie.” Frankie. Francisco Morales is Frankie. It suits him better than Francisco, to be honest.

“And that’s Sofia.” He points to the girl who seems content swinging by herself. You realize you’re expected to say something nice about her to the proud dad.

“She seems sweet.”

“Yeah, she’s awesome. And she loves coming to the library, it’s all she talks about when I have her.” He clears his throat and adds: “Her mother and I got divorced quite recently. I only get her five days every other week.”

“Sorry to hear that.” Shit, it’s divorce and custody talk from the start. You have no idea how to respond to that.

“That’s life,” he shrugs, “but I figured that going to the library every time I get her could be a good routine to ground her. And then we have books that we can read together for her entire stay.”

It’s definitely a good routine as far as you can tell.

“When I was between nine and thirteen years old, my dad would take me to the local library every Monday evening,” you tell him, smiling at the memory. “My dad never opened a book in his life but he patiently read the auto and tech magazines while I collected half the kids’ section with me. When I went to tell him that I was done, he always pretended to object to the amounts, but then he’d help me carry it all to the car.”

As you tell him this, you’re looking at him, no, staring at the patchy, grey-splashed beard he’s sporting. It’s the most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen. What’s the story there, why doesn’t it grow evenly? Is this a thing? You don’t have enough experience in the field of facial hair. Is it genetic? Is it always like this?

He keeps looking at his daughter as he listens to you with a small smile on his face, clearly enjoying your little anecdote.

“That’s lovely,” he says, turning his attention back to you when you’re finished. “Dads and daughters, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

You pick up your phone to check the time. Shit. You have to return to the chat.

“I gotta go. Lunch break’s over.”

You collect your things and stand up, brushing off your skirt. Frankie stands up as well and picks up the book bag.

“I’ll see you in there?”

“I’m not a the desk today.”

“Oh.” He seems disappointed, his eyes flickering from you to the ground. “That’s too bad.”

“And the kids' section isn't my primary department.”

“The bad news just keep on coming, don't they,” he jokes as the two of you start to walk towards the entrance. Sofia jumps from the swing and comes running.

“She's not at the desk today, daddy,” she tells Frankie precociously.

“I know, mija. We'll have to ask someone else about the animal books, okay?”

Sofia doesn't seem too happy with this solution but nods. You take your leave before she has the opportunity to ask about your body modifications, and disappear through a door marked “Staff Only”.

📚📚📚

The following weeks you seem to see Frankie everywhere. You run into him at the supermarket and get drafted into advicing him on what cereal to buy for his kid. “Something healthy, but good so she'll actually eat it.” How the hell should I know? you want to scoff, but you're simping for him enough to help him choose something you'd never in a thousand years touch yourself. You see him in town one afternoon when you're running errands and he suggests you grab a coffee - holy hell, in your book that's a fucking date - but you decline as kindly as you can, citing a busy schedule when in fact you're mostly just scared out of your mind. The daydream is becoming a little too real and you're absolutely not ready for that, especially not because of the kid. If it wasn't for Sofia, you could have dared the leap, but dating a guy relatively fresh out of a marriage, and with a kid to boot? No, that's asking for trouble and you don't want trouble.

One afternoon at the kids' desk, you once again get to help Sofia find books, this time on sharks.

“She went from farm animals to sharks in one week,” Frankie confides in you when the girl is sitting quietly in a reading nook, carefully studying every page and occasionally widening her eyes at what you suspect is pictures of shark teeth. “It's sharks this and sharks that. She asks if there are sharks in every body of water she sees, from the pond in the park to the ditch outside my parents' house.”

“Have her watch Jaws and she will never want to think about sharks ever again,” you suggest, earning a laugh although the idea was probably a little bit on the morbid side.

“Maybe, but that would probably scar her for life. I actually want her to learn how to swim.”

“Then best not.”

You pick up a couple of books someone else left behind on a table and make a gesture that says I have to re-shelve these, come with and Frankie follows you to the right shelf.

“You know, she talks about you as her friend at the library.”

Now, some people would find that adorable but you don't. You're not friends with this kid, you're in a position where you could possibly influence her keenness to literature and literacy but you will always risk critique from her guardians. Being a children's librarian is like a hybrid between being in customer service, and being a teacher. You get to form young malleable minds but you are always subjected to criticism, even when you've done nothing wrong. Kids are patrons, like adults, and to have them see you as friends is only going to complicate things.

“That's nice,” you reply carefully, not really sure what else to say. It's so hard to talk to parents sometimes, one wrong words and you're basically Satan, you can't know because you don't have kids yourself, how dare you not worship the ground my offspring just vomited all over?

“You're definitely her favorite librarian.”

That you can take. You have a couple of adult patrons who come in regularly and prefer to get their reading recommendations from you. They always have time to discuss literature and they bring you a box of chocolates for Christmas.

“Well, she's easy to help. She always knows what she wants and she's polite. And quite easy to please,” you smile, meaning every word. You don't mention that the only time you like kids is when they're like Sofia is right now: reading quietly in a corner, handling the books with care.

“You're my favorite librarian as well,” Frankie adds, and now that sweet smile he's always wearing when you see him is shy. There's definitely a red tinge on his cheekbones as well and it makes you want to lean forward and kiss him on his goddamn mouth with that goddamn full lower lip that he sometimes sucks into his mouth or fucking licks...

“How many librarians do you know?” you ask and manage to sound easy-going, or at least you think so. The laugh Frankie produces is low and rolling and it makes your stomach coil in on itself. Fuck him and that deep voice he rode in on!

“Got me there. It's basically you and Mrs Wilkerson, the school librarian who scared the shit out of me when I was in elementary school. She made sure I didn't step foot in a library until, well, now.”

“Oh, I so wanted to be a librarian like that when I was a kid!” You grin at Frankie's horrified expression. “No, no, hear me out! I always had this idea that those librarians led these super rich, fulfilling lives as night-time vigilantes or that they were actually millionaires who spent their free time floating around in pools with fancy drinks in hand.”

“Were you... a normal child, besides these illusions?” Frankie teases you and before you can stop yourself, you're slapping his arm playfully. Like a girlfriend would. Or someone more intimate than a Favorite Librarian, at any rate.

“I'll have you know that the voices in my head are saying that we had a very normal and healthy childhood,” you reply with as much dignity as you can muster, while desperately wishing for the phone to ring or another patron to ask for your help. But no, the ones present seem to be managing on their own - except for one mom who seemed to have overheard your joke because she is now staring at you with hesitation in her eyes.

It's Sofia who comes to your rescue with her request of being taken to the bathroom. By the time she and Frankie are done there, your colleague has come to relieve you of your duties at the children's section.

📚📚📚

You knew of course that it was coming. You may not be that experienced in the terms of dating and relationships but you weren't stupid and you had some experience: Frankie was going to ask you out. It had to happen. Technically, it had already happened that afternoon in town when he asked you out for coffee. He maybe didn't see it as a date, but you certainly did.

It happened when you had just started your shift in the children's section and it was a fucking mess. A class of kindergarteners had just left and the teachers hadn't bothered to keep them in check, so there were not only books on every available surface, they were also put in the wrong way and in the wrong places. Your colleague who you were relieving stayed behind to help you, feeling too bad to leave it all to you.

That's when Daddy and Daughter Morales showed up. You weren't really happy about the existence of kids in the first place but made an effort for Sofia, who brought you a drawing she had made in preschool that day. It featured some figures in green, slightly reminiscent of animals and one human but you wouldn't be able to tell. Luckily, Frankie explained it to you.

“She's waited all day to give you this drawing of you with goats.”

“Wow,” you manage. “Thank you, Sofia, this was so kind of you.”

The girl is beaming with pride. “Will you put it on the wall?”

“Super probably!”

“I can see you're busy,” Frankie notes and ushers Sofia along. “We won't distract you. Come on, honey, let her do her job now and maybe you'll get to talk to her later.”

You nod your thanks and focus on cleaning up the entire department before you colleague leaves and Frankie and Sofia come to the desk to borrow this week' picks. Sofia seems uncharacteristically giddy.

“Do you want to come with us to the awbowetum?” she asks with a wide, expectant smile. Fuck shit ass hell.

“We're going on Saturday,” Frankie fills in, “and we were both hoping you'd want to join?”

Saturday. Thank goodness.

“Sorry, I work on Saturday,” you say, trying to sound rueful. It's true and you're relieved about not having to lie. “But thanks, it's sweet of you to ask.”

Sofia is clearly disappointed and so is Frankie, but he masks it better.

“Some other time, yeah?”

If it were only him, you'd tell him it wasn't a good idea. But you can't say that with the kid right in front of you. You may not like kids but that doesn't mean you want to scar them for life.

“Yeah, maybe.”

You loan them the books and as they leave, Sofia waves happily at you and Frankie shoots you one last smile that makes you press your thighs together in your seat.

Come Saturday, you're by your usual desk in the section for adult fiction and you almost fall off your chair when you see Frankie come up the stairs and straight up to the desk.

“Hi.” He's had a haircut and a shave and looks different. Still good, but very different. The dark locks of his hair are more tamed. The mustache is still there but you miss the patchy beard.

“Um, hi? Where's Sofia?”

“In the car, with a friend. We're going to the arboretum.”

“Right. I hope you have a good time, the arboretum's lovely.” You still don't understand what he's doing here and he seems to have some difficulty in telling you. Moving his weight from one foot to the other, he scratches his neck and looks down - why does he have to be so freaking cute? - before looking up at you.

“About that... I wanted to apologize. I wasn't sure it was a good idea to ask you to come with, but Sofia was so persistent. She likes you so much. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. I'm sorry.”

“That's alright,” you brush it off because there's not really anything else you can say. “Don't think about it, just go have a good day.”

“I also wanted to ask if you wanted to go grab a drink with me. Just me. Maybe next week when Sofia's at her mother's.”

Fuck, there it is. His hopeful face makes you hate yourself for the answer you have to give.

“I'm not sure that's such a good idea, Frankie,” you begin carefully. “I'm really flattered, but you're... recently divorced with a kid. That's a lot of baggage and things could get complicated. I don't want to get caught up in that.”

You've practiced this speech at home but it still breaks your fucking heart because Frankie is so good-looking, kind, funny, and sweet. You would've asked him out yourself already if it wasn't for the baggage. Fuck, you masturbate to the thought of him, for crying out loud! You imagine what it would be like to be with him, to make dinner together and watch movies and go to bed and wake up in each other's arms. You think about sex with him a lot. You make an effort with your appearance those days you know he'll show up at the library, you don't even mind the kids' section that much anymore because you get to talk to him.

You are fucking in love with him, or at least the idea of him because you don't know much about him, only that he used to be a pilot in the special forces but now he trains new pilots, he has best friends who are like uncles to Sofia (and who have been asking about this mystery librarian she always keeps talking about), he likes cooking and loves baking with his daughter, he hates working out but knows he should take better care of himself, hell, you even know what brand of milk he buys.

He's clearly disappointed but keeps a brave face, one that you can see right through because he wears his heart on his sleeve.

“I understand that,” he says quietly, mildly. “I'm sorry, I hope I didn't embarrass you.”

Jesus fucking Christ can this man not???

“No, don't worry. I'm sorry I couldn't give you the answer you wanted. It's just... not a good time.”

Shit. You shouldn't have said that. Now he might think it could be a better time later.

Frankie nods and smiles sadly. “Yeah, you're probably right.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

He clears his throat and nods. “I better be going. You have a good weekend now.”

“You too.”

He shoots you one final smile before he turns around and leaves. As you watch him go down the stairs to the exit level, you just want to call his name, do your run through the airport and hurry after him, throw yourself into his arms, kiss him, Jesus, imagine that somewhere there's someone who'll get to kiss him some day, tell him that you made a huge mistake and you want to go out with him, you want to have drinks with him and dinner and breakfast and lunch for the rest of your lives because nothing would make you happier than making him happy. You want to be the reason his eyes crinkle and his cheek displays that little dimple that makes you lose your train of thought every time you see it.

But it's not for you. People with kids need to prioritize their kids and you know that you can't be anyone's number two. You don't want to get caught up in custody disputes, you don't want to be "your father's new slut", you don't want to be anyone's stepmom. You don't want to have to spend five days a week in the same house as a five-year-old. Being in a relationship is difficult enough as it is and if you can make choices that avoid some of the problems, you're going to make them, no matter how much it hurts.

And it hurts. A lot. But so much in life hurts and you've made it through before.

He must already be out the door, probably in the car. Does he say something about this to his daughter and friend? Is it a female friend? No, it must be one of his army buddies, probably one of the brothers.

You pull up Frankie's profile in the library database and see his phone number. You could call him anytime. Or send a text. Keep talking to him, flirting.

Shit. It's a bad idea.

A patron approaches the desk and you force yourself to look mild and service-minded.

“Hi, do you have Hate To Want You by someone called... Ray, I think?”

“Please hold a moment, I'll check.” You stifle the sigh that threatens to escape you and hope that the day will be busy so you won't have time to think about Francisco Morales again.

[ships-for-you]

May I request a matchup 💕

For Diabolik Lovers and Black Butler?

I’m a 5’3/4 female with black and blue braids. I have a dark skin tone and I’m kinda chubby and on the thicker side and have very dark brown eyes. I’m shy but very blunt, I’m often seen away from crowds! I try to learn as much as possible and enjoy reading Edgar Allen Poe stories and poems. I like to read peoples way of thinking . I also enjoy drawing every know and then. Im always ready for competition.I also hate cringing cute things.’I’m an INTJ, and a Aries sun, Libra moon with a Scorpio rising. I’m fairly new to this app but I quite enjoy your blog!! Thank you for your time and have a wonderful day!

Thank you for being so patient, I apologize for getting to this so late. I will make an effort to be more consistent with these entries.

Nevertheless, onwards to your ship!

From Diabolik Lovers, I ship you with Ayato Sakamaki!

I personally think Ayato would be a good match up with someone like yourself

Not the same can be said about the opinion of the aforementioned character though,...

He finds you too different from his usual craving, if he’s going to drink, he’s at least drinking from a pretty vessel. That’s sort of his psyche in this

Ayato’s type usually consists of those who are on the smaller side, paler, much like the rest of the triplets, purely for aesthetic purposes

You know the stereotypical Japanese woman? That’s their type. Easy to push over, easy to force into submission, easier to see their reaction...I think you understand the gist of it

I don’t particularly think he pays any attention to anyone, and he definitely won’t pay attention to you if he has no reason to

That’s where he actually notices you. Probably competing for an “in-classroom” game to help the students focus more in class by riling them up a bit.

It was practically a game of “Jeopardy,” what the teacher chose

Having been knowledgeable in a variety of common topics, you easily answered the words and names asked in record time, leaving your classmates to wonder how, and why you knew so much

Including this red-head

Well, it’s more a question as to why, “The great ore-sama” is losing “this stupid game” and we all know the answer to that.

I don’t particularly think he’s stupid, it’s just that he doesn’t find interest in mundane activities such as reading up on history when he’s lived it, and reading poems about things that don’t concern him.

He views you as competition, but not as “common competition”

He doesn’t have to worry about competing with you since he’s almost sure to win in every given task

...Just not Jeopardy....

I believe it’s his strong sense of competition that does actually bring him to pay more attention to you

Not just through competing with you

But for competing with others for your attention

Maybe it’s due to your more vibrant aesthetic that trumps the other students, but you attract a fair amount of attention

From both men and women alike, some positive, some negative, but that is to be expected

They think your hair’s pretty, and they’re also curious as to why you body is fuller and more formed than theirs

The little twerp is initially jealous because he’s not the center of attention, then it just evolves to wanting your attention. It’s up to you to imagine how he does that

You don’t necessarily like the flocking of the other students, but you don’t really turn them away. Doesn’t mean it doesn’t exhaust you though

When Ayato thirsts for your attention, and everyone else’s, and is desperate for it, (though he’ll vehemently deny it) you assume that he was missing that in the crucial parts of his childhood

Not the psychoanalysis—

I’m not necessarily sure if he’ll find further reason to associate himself with you, let alone let you know of his nature, unless the situation calls for it

So when you end up standing in front of a pair of dark and heavy doors to your new place, you’re not entirely sure what might happen—

For Black Butler, I ship you with William T. Spears!

I personally think that although William doesn’t quite concern himself with trivial matters such as romance, he at least has a type.

A person who can do their work efficiently is convenient for him.

Someone who knows when to hold their tongue, yet is honest when they do speak is also a characteristic he finds himself being drawn to.

He likes the idea of his partner exuding an air or responsibility as they would better understand his point of view

He’s also already surrounded by multiple characters with loud inside voices, and even louder outside voices. So he appreciates your more quiet nature.

It also inadvertently makes him cherish your words, or hold them to higher regard.

They’re also best for describing his disappointment whenever the other reapers that work under him are more rowdy than usual.

He likes your curiosity and interest in the world, especially because he doesn’t find much interest in it himself.

Although, there must be a reason as to why you’re currently working a reaper, he just doesn’t know, and does not intend to.

At least not until he sees his interest in you is beyond simple business curiosity and judgement.

The serious reaper also finds himself looking forward to your input on your current reading material

In the rare occasion that both of you are free and do not have any further work to finish, he allows himself to be somewhat comfortable in your company

In those few instances, he takes the time to study you more

He usually finds those donning bright colors in the industry too flashy, and irritating

Though he likes the blue accents in your braids, he thinks it suits the undertones of your skin and work well with the usual dark uniform you’re all prescribed to wear.

He won’t prioritize you over work, and he expects the same outlook from you

If he must go overtime, he will, and does not want you to bother or hinder him from competing his tasks.

If you’re both going overtime, he’ll take the time to listen to your woes and interests or new topics of discussion as he walks you to your respective private quarters

Your illustrations to him is a waste of precious resources, in his opinion, but he won’t deny that they’re interesting enough to be spared a second glance

Disputes or competition rarely transpire between the two of you.

This is only natural as William doesn’t particularly have the drive for anything and simply enjoys listening or watching

That rare occasion of competition really only happened due to your reports. He once commented about how your reports could use proper revision and that it didn’t seem worth passing to the higher ups

He didn’t intend to sound as rude as he did when he informed you of this, it’s just that he doesn’t have much tact

In the instance he would attempt to court you, which is highly unlikely, he would initially present you with various trinkets he’s seen women from “upstairs” enjoy

Naturally, you weren’t quite taken with his choice of items, and informed him as such

He’s learned to comprehend that not all women liked things of that nature, he most certainly doesn’t

Though the concept of romance is already something he doesn’t like. He finds it incredibly impractical, especially in your collective line of work

Your duration of punishments as service may be different and unpredictable, so he wants to associate himself with you as much as possible until then

In moderation, of course

Always in moderation, says the B average cretin

~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~|~

[eldonash]

Ulfric & Orobas || Tiny Hats and Big Bow Ties

Timeframe: During the carnival Who: Orobas and Ulfric @big-bad-ulf Summary: Ulfric, in wanting to be sure Orobas and him are still on good terms after the Layla incident, takes Orobas to the carnival. They play a game and the photo of the century is taken. 

Ulfric drummed his fingers impatiently against his truck’s steering wheel as he waited outside the downtown highrise. Of all the messages the wolf could have received from Orobas following the tense note on which their last conversation had ended, he could safely say ‘Come pick me up? lets see what the humans are up to at this carnival,’ was the most surprising. He was aware that his request for the higher vampire to use his compulsion to help calm Layla had pushed the limits of their agreement and caused offence, and was expecting to have his own loyalty tested in some way in return. He’d even been psyching himself up to attempt to grovel a small amount. But the carnival? Really? He supposed the pedestrian thrills on offer could be pleasant in the right company, and Orobas was certainly always interesting to be around, but the two together made for a jarring fit. Ulfric couldn’t imagine an ancient vampire of legend wanting to share a stick of cotton candy and ride the ferris wheel unless he had some kind of ulterior motive or agenda, and that’s what had him so apprehensive. The sooner the vampire showed the sooner he’d be able to figure out what this was really about, and gage how much he needed to do to get back in his ally’s good graces. Finally spotting Orobas exiting the lobby of the apartment building, Ulfric honked to the truck’s horn once to get his attention, rolling down the window as the vampire approached to say. “If you want to observe humans, it would be best to try and abide by a human schedule. The night is not young,” He indicated the clock on the dashboard. “Let’s not dawdle.” 

Orobas had to peel Haxian’s grip from his wrist, one finger at a time. Tonight had called for three hours of preparations to convince his master to let him go. Orobas hadn’t had to deal with this version of Haxian since before White Crest, and with the pressing issues in the background, the ones only the two of them suspected, Orobas currently felt like his mind was heavy. He had finally watched Haxian walk away, waiting for Ulfric like some knight in shiny armor-- though in this case, it was a bushy bearded werewolf pulling up in a truck. Looking at the wolf, Orobas seemed unaware time was on his mind. “Are you in a rush?” He inquired, tone lacking any of his teasing energy that sometimes crept up when he was amused. Orobas sat down in the passenger seat, wearing a black t-shirt, and jacket, and dark blue jeans. His gaze drifted out the window. “How is the lil one?” 

“Not exactly, I just didn’t want you to be displeased if the place was already emptying out of humans when we got there.” Ulfric stated matter-of-factly as he pulled away from the building, noting from the lack of humor in Orobas’ tone that he was, as anticipated, already displeased. “Which one?” The werewolf answered his next question out of habit, though it was only logical that he’d mean Layla. There was a lengthy pause as he considered how best to approach the subject, though he did his best to make it appear he was just focussed on driving and taking his role as vampiric chauffeur seriously. “Layla’s returned to herself, not quite her usual self, but she’ll get there. In no small part thanks to you. How are your--” He hesitated, searching for an appropriate word, slightly uncomfortable referring to the teenagers who work at Cryptid Corner as his toys even if Orobas himself had. “Your employees?” Ulfric settled on finally, the fog that had settled the town in recent years fading until it was replaced by the flickering lights of the carnival through the windshield as they arrived at their destination. He supposed they were meant to stir up a sense of excitement in the human attendees, but with his lack of colour perception and enhanced night vision they just sort of stung. “So, what were you looking for here, Orobas?” He queried, turning to his passenger to let him know he was incharge of the itinerary for the evening (within reason), it seemed as good a strategy as any to start repairing the alliance they’d forged. 

“So you do have a few,” Orobas chuckled faintly. “You sure do have a nice little family now, Ulfric.” The comment wasn’t negative sounding, but did seem to hold envious weight. “My employees? Who cares about them--” he waved lightly, before leaning back, the usual up tight and proper sitting position dissolved further with his leg pulled up and his foot rested on the seat so he could hold it. “They work, I have a new daytime general manager, she is perfect, which makes me suspicious, but at least I don’t have to spend my first few hours playing catch up every night.” Business talk was easy, and Orobas could continue on the ramble while they drove if it came to that. When the light surfaced he grimaced as well. “Mhm, mostly curious to see what humans like. Steal some of the ideas and incorporate them into Cryptid so they will stop bitching at me. Or, maybe I just wanted you to take me out somewhere.” 

Ulfric decided to ignore the comments about his ‘family’, not wanting to dwell on the fact that he may have deliberately overemphasized how packs could act as a combat task force rather than focussing on their function as a nurturing community when he’d first pitched an alliance between the werewolves and vampires of White Crest. “Scoping out the competition, that makes good tactical sense,” he nodded in agreement with Orobas’ plan as he stepped out of the truck and locked it behind him, “If this was just a social call, surely we would’ve gone somewhere less mundane?” And less… shrill. Even with his hearing at the duller end of the range he experienced with it being so close to the new moon, the torrent of screaming and laughter from the carnival-goers elicited a dull throb of pain between his ears. Despite his discomfort, he surged ahead through the entryway into the grounds, plucking a map from the information stand that greeted them with a single-minded determination to show Orobas he was willing to do what was asked of him, and do it well. His eyes flitted back and forth rapidly over the map for a moment, before folding and stuffing it in his pocket, confident he’d gleaned from it everything they needed to know. “I’ve deduced that the organizers have broken down their efforts to entertain these-- happy customers into three categories; attractions, games, and thrills,” the werewolf informed his vampire companion, catching himself just before referring to the crowd as humans again, since the patrons swirling around them were potentially close enough to overhear. “So, pick your poison.”

Orobas wanted to hear Ulfric’s loud, stupid laugh. He was being formal with him, and maybe it was his own mood spilling over to cause it. Pulling out some sunglasses, he tucked them on his nose to dim the lights and cheerfulness. “This is why Cryptic is the way it is, this is too much. I hate it,” he commented, glancing around at everyone. It seemed they were having fun on the surface, but everything here was laced with something more. How many would die here? He wondered. Or disappear without a trace just like it surfaced without one. Humanity had to live in the moment, and their happiness was so easy to take. “Games, those do well for me business wise. I’d like to see their prizes and I want you to win me something.” His voice still didn’t hold anything to it, this monotonous tone. He began to follow Ulfric since he saw the map, and the more he saw, the more he wanted something far more interesting to happen. What if the ferris wheel stopped? What if the rides jarred and caused someone’s neck to crack in pain? Where was the fae running around his park with their wings out. Yet, they were here. Enjoying themselves in the bright lights, and the terrible music. It rather made him realize humanity was quite ridiculous. “What game are you good at?” he asked, purchasing tickets for them and handing them all to Ulfric. 

Ulfric chuckled at the thought that something could seem like ‘too much’ to someone who usually carried themselves with such flair. “I’d have to agree with you.” The werewolf pulled out his own pair of dark tinted shades from his pockets, relieved Orobas had been the one to relent and seek to block out some of the offensive barrage of sensations first. “The patrons with duller senses seem to be enjoying this level of stimulation though. It might be worth keeping that in mind if you’re looking to appeal to them,” he advised with a shrug, wondering again why of all the people he had been the one chosen to help him understand humans when his own understanding of them wasn’t in-depth. At Orobas’ proposition, he smiled more genuinely. It was a glimpse of the more playful vampire he was accustomed to dealing with. “I don’t know, this doesn’t seem like the kind of fair where they’d host woodcutting competitions…” he wondered aloud as he took the ticket and wandered along the row of gaming stalls. There was one stall where people were pushing ping pong balls into the mouths of plastic rotating mime heads, and he immediately eliminated that as an option because while he would happily feast on another mime creature if it happened to cross his path on a full moon, he wasn’t inclined to feed one himself. A stall where people shot fake guns at a pop-up display of a variety of woodland animals, including poorly drawn cartoon wolves, was more off-putting still. “This one.” The werewolf finally stopped at a booth with a back wall covered in balloons, some of which almost appeared to be pulsating, and a display that read, ‘Pop five in a row and win a prize! But for each one you pop, there’s a guaranteed surprise!’ Ulfric handed over a ticket in exchange for a set of five darts. “Are you sure you just want to watch?” He turned back to Orobas to ask, “It might be more entertaining to compete, make this an actual challenge.” 

Orobas wasn’t surprised at the mime games, but he was over it since the sludge incident and that horrid woman who always felt the need to bother him online. Though, knowing that Ulfric had eaten a mime, one that hadn’t entirely been human, made him smile gently. It seemed his werewolf companion wasn’t satisfied with any of the games they were passing, but finally, their steps paused and end up at a balloon popping one. He chuckled. “That’s your instincts, not mine. But I will humor you,” he took some darts, rolling them between his fingers, watching the cheap feather on the ends twirl. Wishing it was heavier or a dagger. He threw two of the darts at once, each one striking the same color balloon that exploded in green slime. ‘Whoa, gross! You get a special prize for two slime ones, lucky,’ the young person said behind the booth. Orobas was promptly handed a teeny tiny black top hat that was dotted in glitter. He held it in his hands confused. “What do I do with it?” he asked the person, and they took it back and gestured him forward. He leaned in, the darts in his hand grouping up and tightening in a hold as a weapon should he need it. They set it on his head, clipping the side so it stuck to his hair. He looked at Ulfric, though with the glasses on his staredown, it was easy to feel. “Hm--”

“It suits that big head of yours,” Ulfric taunted, after taking in the image of the vampire in his tiny top hat. Though even as the aura of competition began to heat his blood, the teasing didn’t have quite his usual confidence, still unsure how solid the ground the two of them stood on was. He turned back to focus on the game, not wanting to let on how impressed he had been by the simultaneous double strike, though it probably showed in how seriously he took to aiming his darts before he let them fly free. The first hit a balloon which burst with a wet splat as something that looked very similar to blood poured out, though it lacked the distinctive smell, so surely it had to be fake…? There was something off about this carnival, or else humans had become distinctly more morbid since he’d last attended a similar event. The second exploded in a shower of glitter, twinkling in the lights as it coated him, the attendant and half of the booth in a light dusting. Unphased, the attendant whipped an oversized clip on bowtie out and clipped it to his collar with alarming fast reflexes. “Is this what you wanted?” The werewolf turned to the vampire, wearing his new prize and flakes of glitter stuck in his beard. “I’m beginning to suspect your true motive for inviting me here was to see me humbled.” He held up the final dart in askance. “Still want me to win this game for you?” If that was still the vampire’s wish then he could regain at least a small slither of his dignity through the small victory. 

“Thank you,” Orobas had no idea how something like this could unfold, but when the large bow tie tucked under that bushy beard, his cold exterior cracked. A laugh huffed out, his smile genuine over it’s usually forced, creepy edge, and more real than anyone in his entire life has witnessed. The glitter was everywhere, dotting his cheeks, shoulders as well. He handed his phone to the attendant with compulsed demand, “take our photo.” The person fumbled a little with the device tossed his way, but quickly snapped a few shots that Orobas actually smiled in. Orobas glanced at the photo, he had none of him and Haxian hung up on the walls at their home. Nothing of him or Francesca with incriminating blood staining their cheeks, or even Morelia, while she had slept by his side, he should have taken one. He stared down at it, his fingers tightening subtly as a difficult feeling settled in his hallowed, still chest. “Yes,” he responded and handed him the last of his darts. “That--” he gestured to the small bat plushie with the vampire teeth hanging from the top of the stall, likely something that was hung from the rearview mirror in a car. “For your truck,” he cheekily added.

For what? Ulfric almost retorted, but bit his tongue when he saw Orobas break into a surprisingly non-disturbing smile. He got the feeling whatever cracks had formed between them when he’d called in his request for the vampire to aid Layla had begun to be repaired, and he’d only had to mildly humiliate himself to achieve it. So that counted as a win. He moved into position next to his undead companion just in time for the first flash of the camera, posing for a thumbs up. Ulfric rolled his eyes at Orobas’ choice of prize but couldn’t stop a small grin from forming on his face along with it, pleased that some of his ally’s former mischievousness was returning. “As you wish,” He declared, before sending the final dart sailing into a balloon in the centre of the board that explored into a puddle of perhaps the most unsettling surprise of all; mayonnaise. The attendant still slightly dazed from the compulsion, fumbled for the little bat toy but eventually deposited it in the werewolf’s hand. “A token of our comradery, I swear I’ll leave it on prominent display.” At least when no one else was in the truck with him, he thought. “Can we consider this recon mission a success, then, and get out of here before my ears start to bleed?” He asked, stashing the prize in his pocket, “Though on second thought, you’d probably enjoy that.”

“Liar,” Orobas chuckled. “Yes, I do think this is enough. I’ve gotten little answers as to why they enjoy this place filled with oddities, but whine about the amusement park.” He started to walk with him, a sly grin that yes, he’s always okay with a little suffering, but didn’t comment on that piece. He began to walk the way they came. Orobas wasn’t able to elaborate on the feelings he was experiencing right now. Everything still felt so numb to his person, this emptiness in him that didn’t want to explain why it was there. “Ulfric, there is an vampyric adversary coming into town that Haxian and I know very well. We’ve attempted, in the past many times-- to dispose of them. They were always tricky. Sly with their contacts, knowing how to pin us down somewhere with their kin.” Orobas looked towards the rides in passing, and rolled his eyes. “I am unsure who I will involve in dealing with them. This is what happens when you don’t rid the world of your enemies. They circle back. But I do wish for you to know. It’s-- a dangerous situation I’m not taking lightly.” 

“People tend to flock to what’s new and exciting, even if it’s not so different from what they’ve already got,” Ulfric explained, keeping in step with Orobas and shrugging, sending a small flutter of glitter to the ground. “You should know that by now.” What with his advanced age and all, he thought,  but being surrounded by so many townspeople in close proximity kept him from being able to use the best of his barbs, since Orobas appeared to be younger than him. His expression turned more serious as the vampire explained the threat he was facing, ignoring the jab about sparing enemies under certain circumstances that no doubt arose from their previous argument on the subject. “And when he rolls back around I’ll be ready to face them with you, as promised.” The werewolf assured him, clapping Orobas on the shoulder. “I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to fight a vampire.” Already dead, they’d have little reason to fear it, and their unique abilities and lack of weaknesses such as needing to breath would surely make for a challenge. Although Ulfric never enjoyed killing, he would’ve been lying if he said there wasn’t a lot of satisfaction to be gained from coming out on top after a hard-won brawl. “It’s a good thing we’re friends.”

A chuckle. Ulfric could be lured easily into a fight, even without having all the details. The clap on his back brought back a rush of old memories, of different wolves, of other times. “If you ever want practice let me know. There are always a few newborns that just need to go-- beyond training, or assistance. I usually kill them myself. This one though, hmm,” Orobas seemed to slip into thought for a moment, quiet, and still as he usually was, even with his steps going forward. “We will need at a dozen or more people,” he said with a grit of teeth. “It’s that level of dangerous, unfortunately. Some of us will perish, for it’s not a vampire we are fighting. It’s an Elder who has a petulance in making spawn over higher vampires. It will be messy.”

“If they’re running rampant, I could kill two bats with one stone, I suppose...” Ulfric mulled the suggestion over with only a slight grimace. Pragmatically, it would be good to stay on top of his game, and if leaving them to roam the town was an exposure risk then someone was going to have to exterminate these vampires. But he also wasn’t sure how much he liked the idea of becoming the White Crest vampire community’s garbage disposal. That was uncomfortably close to hunter territory. “I prefer to work in a team anyway,” he shrugged at the description of the battle plan. “the lone wolf trope is just that. But are you not... also an elder?” The werewolf arched an eyebrow at the 400-odd-year-old next to him. “How ancient is this thing?” Just then, a juggling carnival worker riding a unicycle drove down the aisle between them, reminding him of their setting. “I realize this fair doesn’t seem entirely mundane,” he lowered his voice and stepped closer to Orobas glancing around them at the crowd as they passed by chattering animatedly or milling in queues to the supposed ‘thrill’ rides, “But are you sure this is the place to discuss this? It might be best to reconvene somewhere more discreet.” 

“No, my master is though, you have to be over five hundred or so. It’s a gradual change, and the more time that passes, the more dangerous they can be if you aren’t on their side. This person was old when I met him two hundred years ago, so I can only imagine.” Orobas didn’t normally give that type of information out, but it was Ulfric. “Vampires will always fight with each other. We like our territory, and we like what is ours.” He glanced around, meeting the passing eye of a few people behind his sunglasses. “You are always paranoid about that. Probably though, I was lost in thought. We can speak later on details. I have a busy week ahead anyway, and I could still use your aid in snuffing out that human who visits during the day.” 

“You mean sniffing them out,” Ulfric corrected lightly. Orobas could do the ‘snuffing’ if the human’s mind was truly warped so badly by compulsion that they were beyond help, though the werewolf was still keen to verify that part for himself. Not so much because he didn’t trust the vampire’s word on it, but just because if such a thing was possible then he wanted to know, really know, and you only learned the tough lessons by making yourself look directly at them. “But yes, I will help,” he held his hand out for Orobas to shake, a deal re-struck. “I do keep my word.” As they neared the exit to the carnival grounds, he pulled the bat toy out of his pocket and let it dangle between his fingers in front of the vampire’s eyes. “I’ll even let you hang this in my truck yourself to prove it.” 

Orobas laughed a little. “Yes, that--” he poked his nose lightly. “Way better than mine.” He shook his hand and promptly snatched the silly toy before Ulfric could joke around and take it back. “Will do,” he spun it around his finger, and made towards the truck. The mood lighter.

[raewrites98]

it’s a start

“Magnus, are you almost ready?” Alec’s voice echoes from the living room.

Magnus’ grip on the sink tightens, his knuckles turning white. “Just a minute,” he replies. He takes a deep breath and looks up. Dull brown pupils stare back at him, the bruises under his eyes a true testament to how little he’s slept these past few days. He tried covering them with some makeup, but there’s only so much concealer can do. With a resigned sigh, he runs a hand through his hair one last time and straightens his collar.

Alec is standing at the front door, their coats draped over his arm as he’s looking down at his phone. He’s wearing one of Magnus’ shirts, a deep blue with silver details. “Here,” he says when Magnus walks over, handing him his coat.

“Thank you,” Magnus says. He undoes the first button on Alec’s shirt, smoothing his hands down the front with a slight smile. “Good choice.” He then feels around in the pockets of his own jacket, a frown settling on his face. “Where’s the gift? Is it still in the bedroom?”

Alec helps Magnus into his coat. “I’ve got it. I had a feeling you’d forget it.” He grins and  leans down to quickly kiss away the look of betrayal on Magnus’ face.

“How thoughtful of you.” Magnus rolls his eyes, though not without a hint of fondness. Once they are both bundled up, they head out onto the busy streets of New York. The sun has settled beyond the horizon. People huddle close together on the sidewalk as they try to fend off the sharp winter air. A light snowfall covers the rows of cars and windowsills. Magnus hides a hand in Alec’s pocket, entwining his fingers with Alec’s calloused ones.

They are on their way to the Hunter’s Moon for Maryse’s birthday. She wanted to keep the partying minimal and invited both friends and family for a few drinks at the local bar. With the events of Lilith’s downfall still fresh in everyone’s minds, Magnus thinks they could use the distraction. He knows he sure can.

It’s only been a few weeks since Magnus’ deal with Asmodeus, but his whole world has been turned upside down because of it. He feels utterly useless without his magic. It leaves his heart aching in his chest.

“God, it’s freezing,” Alec says. He hides his nose in the collar of his jacket, taking brisk strides through the white-brown sludge covering the pavement. His injuries are long gone, thanks to powerful shadowhunter runes and Catarina’s infallible healing. Though he is as good as new, Magnus can’t help but watch him like a hawk from the corner of his eye, looking for any signs of lingering discomfort. He still has dreams about finding Alec in the alley that night.

A sudden bitterness rises in Magnus’ throat. If he still had his magic, he could have spared them the walk through the biting cold. It’s another stupid example of how utterly mundane he is like this. It’s pathetic.

As if sensing his inner turmoil, Alec squeezes Magnus’ fingers. He pulls him closer. “I know,” he whispers, placing a kiss on Magnus’ head. His eyes speak volumes, but the most significant part is easy to decipher. We’ll get through this together.

Magnus swallows. He blames the wetness in his eyes on the sudden gust of wind that pulls at his scarf. He squeezes Alec’s hand in return. Thank you.

When they reach the Hunter’s Moon, Alec holds the door open for Magnus.  The rush of warm air that hits them is a welcomed change from the freezing cold. Inside, it’s as lively as ever on a Saturday night. Downworlders are stuffed in booths or leaning against the bar as they attempt to get Maia’s attention. Others are gathered around the tables scattered around the room. The scent of cigarette smoke and beer lingers in the air.

The rest of the group is easy to find. They managed to claim a table at the back of the bar, where Maryse and Izzy are laughing over their glasses of wine. Jace is at the pool table trying to convince Simon to play a round against him. Clary promptly scores a point while they aren’t looking. Luke is at the bar talking to a colleague.

“My boys,” Maryse smiles as they head over. “I’m so glad you could make it.” She pulls both of them into a hug.

“Happy birthday, mom,” Alec says. He pulls a chair out for Magnus and takes the seat next to him. He then hands her their gift. It’s a small, black box with a golden bow for decoration. Simple, but elegant.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” Maryse beams. She pulls out the ruby inlaid necklace, admiring the way it gleams in the light. Isabelle helps fasten it around her neck.

“It was Magnus’ idea,” Alec confesses.

“I think we can all agree that rubies suit the Lightwoods quite well,” Magnus says with a smile. He chuckles at the wink Isabelle sends him.

The rest of the group joins them after their game of pool and they spend the evening chatting comfortably. Magnus watches the people around him converse, tracing the rim of his glass with a polished finger. Even when surrounded by all this happiness, he can’t help the grief that weighs heavy on his heart. The loss of his magic has left a hole inside him, aching to be filled.

Alec notices his quiet mood. He leans towards Magnus and whispers, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Magnus replies with a small, forced smile. Because Alec doesn’t look entirely convinced, he quickly gestures to Maryse and Luke in an attempt to divert Alec’s attention. “They seem to be getting along quite well.” The couple is huddled together towards the end of the table, wrapped up in some meaningful conversation.

“That’s a surprise,” Alec hums. He sips his drink, unable to repress a wince at the taste. It reminds Magnus of the first night they met, which almost makes him smile. “I hope he makes her happy.”

They watch the couple for a moment longer. Maryse laughs at something Luke says, her head tilted back and hair tumbling past her shoulders. Luke watches her with a gleam in his eyes, smiling from behind his glass. 

“I think he does,” Magnus says eventually.

“I’m going to get some more drinks.” Alec stands up, placing a hand on Magnus’ shoulder. “Do you want anything?”

“Just the usual,” Magnus says. He brushes his fingers against Alec’s hand before it disappears and watches him head towards the bar. He turns back to find Maryse watching him, a soft smile on her lips. She moves closer, so they are sitting opposite of each other.

“Thank you for the necklace,” Maryse says. “I haven’t worn jewelry this nice in years.” Her expression grows softer, sadder. She thumbs the skin of her wrist, where Magnus imagines one of her runes once were. Then she clears her throat and straightens her back. “How are you?”

“I’m wonderful,” Magnus says, the lie rolling off his tongue with well-practiced ease. It tastes bitter at the back of his throat. Or perhaps that’s the alcohol. He can’t tell anymore.

Something must show on his face though, because Maryse leans forward, her hand inches away from Magnus’ own. “Magnus,” she says, soft yet hesitant. “You don’t have to pretend with me. I understand.”

Do you? He wants to scream. Do you really understand? He doubts anyone could possibly know how devastating it feels to wake up in the morning, yearning for a part of him that no longer exists. 

Then Magnus looks up. The breath is punched from his lungs when he is met with that familiar, overwhelming grief, that all-consuming sense of loss in her eyes. He sees it in the mirror every morning.

Magnus can’t help but let his eyes wander over Maryse’s face and arms. She once wore the runes of a shadowhunter with pride, her head held high like the marks on her body meant she was invincible. That pride had been ripped from her grasp when the Clave had her deruned. Now her skin is smooth, unblemished.

She doesn’t shy away from his gaze. In fact, she gives him a small, knowing smile. It’s filled with regret and grief and acceptance, so many emotions all at once that Magnus has to look away, down at his drink where he swirls the ice around in his glass.

“So,” Maryse says. “Let me ask you again. How have you been?”

Magnus inhales slowly. For just a second, he stops pretending. His shoulders drop, and a small, bitter smile finds its way to his lips. “I’ve been better,” he says.

It’s not much, but it’s a start.

[daoimean]

Pink in the Night | Chapter I: Sleepover

Chapter II | Ao3 Link 

Summary: 

Fellas, is it gay to be madly in love with your gal pal? As war rages and internal demons fester, Glimmer struggles to come to terms with her feelings.

Chapter Summary: 

Come on, let's sleep in my bed Can I just be in my head with you?

Pairings: Glimmadora (Glimmer/Adora)  Warnings: None 

Word Count: 1,576 Sleep isn't coming easily tonight, and Glimmer isn't the only one who thinks so.

 She knows who it is as soon as the door creaks open; pretends to be asleep and undisturbed by the approach of tentative footsteps, not reacting even as the bed dips to the extra weight next to her. 

  It's become kind of an unspoken rule, one of many that's formed between them in the time they've fought together, been together (not in that way—), that Adora is welcome here whenever she likes. It's also an unspoken rule that they don't really talk about it, don't really address the underlying layers of these impromptu sleepovers, which she isn't sure is for the sake of Adora's dignity or her own. 

  What she does know, though there's some vague anxiety holding her back from fully admitting it, even to herself, perhaps of coming off selfish, or maybe just a little weird— is that she's actually come to miss Adora on the nights she's not around, and sleep tends to come a little easier when she is. 

  Not tonight though, apparently. 

  A sleepless eternity drags, and then some. She doesn't need to look at Adora to know she isn't having much luck either.

  "Hey," she murmurs eventually, shuffling round to face her. She’s groggy, squinting in the lack of light, and doesn't quite manage a smile until Adora reaches across the minuscule space between them to poke her nose, her own lips curling into a mischievous little grin as Glimmer recoils, pulling a face before breaking into giggles herself.

  "Hey," she whispers, probably reminiscent of late nights in the Fright Zone's dorms, "shouldn't you be asleep?" 

  "Probably," says Glimmer, quirking a brow at Adora's hypocrisy, "shouldn't you? " 

  This is usually to be the point their sleepovers turn into, well, actual sleepovers. The kind that involve chatting, laughing because everything is somehow funnier this time of night, deep discussions about everything and nothing, save for the actual serious topics that have come to dominate the daytime hours and catch up to them thereafter, because everything is somehow smarter this time of night too— and, still, not a whole lot of actual sleep, but at least the weight of the world feels a little lighter by morning. 

  She wonders, sometimes, what it would be like to have Adora here every night, sleeping or no sleeping. Sure, their nights together wouldn’t really sleepovers anymore, but does that matter? It’s hard to tell what pushes the boundaries of her and Adora’s friendship when her only reference point is Bow, and it’s so...different with him. Sure, she loves Bow, of course she does, just…

  Not like she loves Adora. 

  There's a weariness about her tonight. It dulls her eyes even in the dim light, pulling at the edges of her smile until it falters, momentarily betraying what lies underneath. That smile returns, though, when Glimmer pokes her nose. "Yeah," she shrugs, "probably." 

  Glimmer sits up, stretching her stiff limbs. Adora does the same, and Glimmer has to restrain herself from watching. "Come on." She holds out her hand. "Let's go on a midnight adventure." 

  It's actually well past midnight, and staying within the safe confines of Castle Bright Moon at these spooky hours is one of the few stupid mom rules Glimmer's actually pretty happy to abide by, so it's not going to be much of an adventure either. But she teleports, Adora in tow, to various locations of the Castle's outdoor areas, balconies and courtyards and even the Moonstone Tower itself, until finally, on an unmanned parapet, she finds herself, surprise surprise, all out of teleports. 

  "I...need a minute," she says to Adora, catching herself on a wall as her legs threaten to give way under her. She'll stay here until the world stops spinning.

  Adora just playfully rolls her eyes, nodding towards the Moonstone Glimmer just teleported them away from. "You could have recharged over there, dumbface." 

  "Yes," Glimmer groans, " thank you , dumber-face." 

  Compared with the near-suffocating summer heat of Glimmer's room, the nighttime breeze up here provides some much needed relief. She watches as it tousles Adora's hair, lifting the strands that must have fallen out of her ponytail from hours of tossing and turning. The bags framing her eyes tell of countless sleepless or sleep-deprived nights; the slump of her shoulders, the lost, despondent look that resumes over her features when she thinks Glimmer isn't looking, tells of the kind of tiredness no amount of sleep is going to solve. 

  Glimmer doesn't say anything. But she does approach her once the dizziness subsides, leaning her head on Adora's shoulder, placing her hand over Adora's where it grasps the wall, tight enough for the white of her tendons to strain through. Adora exhales, and the grip seems to slacken, as she rests her head on Glimmer's; it's among the few instances Glimmer's actually kind of glad for the height difference. 

  "Sorry," she mutters, though she's probably no more sure what she's apologising for than Glimmer is, "I'm just... really tired." 

  "I know. It's okay." Glimmer soothes. She runs her thumb over the back of Adora's hand, across the purple and blue bruises that bloom across her knuckles, hesitating, swallowing. She feels compelled to ask. "Are you...sure it's nothing else?" 

  Adora is quiet for a while. She draws her hand from under Glimmer's, folding her arms and resting her chin on them, gazing dazedly over the expansive view of Bright Moon before her. The moons and the Moonstone are still the sole lights of the sky, the silvery gleam dancing across the clear waters below, illuminating the rolling hills and vast cliffs that circle the queendom like a protective wall, like the safe arms of a lover. It's all mundane to Glimmer, it's all she's ever known, but it must be a far cry from the view Adora is, or was , used to. 

  Her response, when it comes, isn't what she expects, but it also doesn't surprise her. 

  "Is it bad I sometimes miss the Horde?" 

  She says it very quietly, tentatively, like she's ashamed of the fact, afraid of being chastised for admitting it. After everything the Horde have done to Etheria, to the people of Bright Moon, to her— how dare she harbour any sentiment towards the enemy, right?

  Glimmer isn't angry, though. She puts her arm around her to assure her of this before she verbally does so, gently squeezing her shoulder. "No, of course it isn’t bad. You grew up there, right? You had friends, you had Catra— it'd be weird if you didn't have some good memories." 

  "Yeah. That's the thing." Adora sighs. "I don't regret leaving, obviously, I just... sometimes I wish I'd left on better terms, you know? The Horde raised me, these people were basically my family , even Shadow Weaver had...her moments, sometimes, and I feel horrible acknowledging that after how she treated Catra. At the end of the day, I...I wouldn't be who I am now without them, I feel like I owe them more than just...upping and leaving. They deserve closure as much as I do. Probably more , actually." 

  "Adora." Glimmer's tone still isn't angry, but it is much more firm. "You don't owe the Horde anything , okay? Not your old friends, not Catra, and definitely not Shadow Weaver. You were only a baby when the Horde took you in, it's not like you asked for any of this." 

  "Hmm." Adora doesn't seem convinced. "I guess you're right." 

  She knows, from piecing together what she's been told, the gist of Adora's upbringing, and she can use that to trace the roots of her turmoil. 

  She knows, but that doesn't mean she understands. 

  Glimmer hasn't been conditioned to fight from the moment she can stand. She hasn't had her entire reality ripped from beneath her feet, found out that everything she came to understand about the world is based on a lie; she hasn't had to turn against everyone who raised and were raised with her for the sake of her morality; and she isn’t now stumbling into the cusp of adulthood tasked not only with rebuilding herself from the ashes of her previous life, but also carrying the burden of Etheria's very fate on her shoulders. How can she even begin to understand what that's like? 

  "But then again," Adora adds, "I didn't choose to be She-Ra either." 

  In a lot of ways, Glimmer feels like she's known Adora for years. 

  In many others, it's like she doesn't know her at all. 

  "I'm sorry," she responds, quietly, pathetically, for lack of anything else to say. 

  "Don't be, it’s not your fault." 

  But maybe this is okay. 

  Maybe what they have now is fine.

  Adora is Adora, Glimmer is Glimmer. They exist in separate spheres that sometimes overlap. They fight the Horde together by day and their own demons by night. Glimmer is here if Adora needs her as a silent comforting presence, or a distraction, and she's sure if the need arises, Adora will return the favour. Because that's what friends are for, right?

  But then, as Adora turns to face her fully, leans in as Glimmer's arms slide around her in a full embrace, and they're so close Glimmer can feel Adora’s breathing, hear her heartbeat through her nightshirt until it seems to meld or sync with the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears— she finds herself face-to-face with those boundaries once more. 

[the-darklings]

earth is warmer when you laugh [2];

pairing: connor x reader

chapter summary: “Aim for the moon, even if you miss you’ll land amongst the stars.”

word count: 3.8 k+

a/n: You guys are honestly the most amazing people ever. Thank you so much for all your supportive messages/likes/reblogs (the first part broke 700 notes I *cry*). I was scared stiff to post this because I wasn’t sure if my writing was any good, especially after not writing for so long but I’m so glad that you all enjoyed it. And due to popular demand, this will now be a full length story. I’m cross-uploading it on Ao3 as well if some of you find it easier to read it on there. Hope you enjoy part 2!

FIRST  | AO3 | THIRD

———

“Lieutenant’s desk is this way.”

Immensely grateful for the guidance, you quickly followed Connor as he led you deeper into the office space. Unfortunately, you were not oblivious to glares and cold looks directed his way when he walked past.

Perhaps it was understandable. Connor was clearly the first of his kind; in a sense that he was directly involved with investigations, an unheard of feat for any android. While police did use androids for general work being so involved with cases clearly made people uneasy, and with that unease came distrust and anger.

Nevertheless, the idea of people treating their computers or phones with more respect than androids made anger boil in your veins. Androids may not be humans—not in a physical, tangible sense—but they were still alive, and deserved at least some measure of respect.

“Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor’s voice rang out as he halted before a desk, causing you to almost bump into him. “This is your newest assistant (Name).”

You glanced over his slim shoulders to look at the man seated behind a desk. He looked weathered, his grey hair unkempt and beard untrimmed. A crushing sort of weight seemed to weight him down, the slumped set of his shoulders rising briefly as if he tried to fight off irritation.

The man finally lifted his head, bright blue eyes narrowing upon spotting Connor before sliding slowly towards you. His bloodshot eyes narrowed even further, accenting the deep bags under his eyes.

It was as you stared at the deep age lines on his face that you realised something absolutely ridiculous.

He’s completely hungover.

Taking a step forward, you extended your hand towards the man, shooting Connor a quick glance. He appeared unsurprised by the state of their supervisor and observed your interaction with mild interest.

“It’s pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant,” you began, “My name is (Name). I hope to learn much under your command.”

Anderson looked you up and down without taking your hand, “Oh yes, Seattle’s youngest and brightest,” he stated voice full of disdain. “How old are you anyway kid?”

Letting your hand fall, you stared at the man in front of you incredulously. Ignoring his judgemental stare you replied with a slight smile, “Age is no guarantee of efficiency,” you told him before adding, “sir.”

Anderson snorted, bending down to his work again; a clear dismissal that stung more than you expected. You’ve been so excited to work with this man. He was a high profile detective, or had been, once, before alcohol clearly unmade him like it did so many others.

“My age does not reflect my ability, sir,” you explained hastily, “If you would just listen—”

“No kid, you listen,” Anderson cut you off. “It’s bad enough they forced this tin can on me, now some rookie from Seattle? I don’t care if you think you’re some big shot over there, okay? Here you do what I say and we take it from there. Understood?”

“Yes, Lieutenant Anderson,” you acknowledged coolly. “But you should know that I’ve been looked down on before and it will not stop me from proving my worth.”

Anderson blinked a few times as if shocked before his eyes widened. “Jesus, kid. That’s not what I meant,” he explained, running a hand over his face with exasperation. “Just keep your head down and work hard. And call me Hank.”

Anderson—Hank—stumbled to his feet and grabbed his phone before turning to you, gaze suddenly focused on Connor who still hadn’t moved from your side. You had almost forgotten he was there.

“You show (Name) around, got it?” he directed his words at Connor who nodded marginally.

“Certainly Lieutenant,” he replied swiftly. “Are you departing already? I must remind you that we still have unfinished reports to deal with.”

Hank rolled his eyes and shooting an irritated look the androids’ way marched past you both.

“Then finish them,” he snapped gruffly, and then he was gone.

You stared at the closed elevator door in mild disbelief.

“That was—he—”

You couldn't finish your sentence, completely lost for words. It wasn’t that Hank was unkind, but you did not expect him to be so...irritable, or hungover.

“Yes, as far as first meetings go that was not the best one,” Connor pointed out drily.

Despite yourself, you chuckled weakly at his poor attempt at humour.

—x—x—

Detroit was beautiful in the early morning sun.

The vast contrast between the modern and the old was striking. It was like the city was divided into two different factions, not quite settling on either. One turn led to skyscrapers and busy concrete pathways while others to abandoned, boarded-up shop windows with dirty alleyways.  

Still, you preferred to avoid big crowds if you could, so doing your shopping in the morning was much preferable. You still needed some basics for your new flat. Mundane, uninteresting things like a kettle and a toaster.

Wrapping your coat tighter around yourself to battle the early morning chill, you gazed thoughtfully at different shop displays. After a quick search on the internet, you found that this Shopping Center was closest to where you lived; a pleasant 10-minute walk to be exact. It was both a good way to stretch your legs and see more of the neighbouring area.

Humming to yourself, you were in the middle of comparing two different toasters when the sound of a commotion reached your ears.

Turning quickly, you spotted a group of anti-android protestors not far from you. Their leader, a tall, sneering man was violently manhandling an android.   

“Hey,” you snapped angrily when you saw the man roughly push the android over. “What the hell are you doing?”

Running towards them, you pushed your hand against the protester’s chest who was readying himself for a kick.

��Get the fuck out of my way,” the man growled lowly. “I'm going to show this stupid machine where its place is.”

You pushed yourself in the man’s path, pulling out your new badge. Few protesters recoiled upon noticing the police badge but the sneering man looked untroubled. If anything his expression seemed to tighten even further, a scalding sort of fury in his eyes.

“You touch that android and I'll arrest you and all your buddies for destruction of property,” you replied coldly. “Disruption of peace and breach of android law number 38. You really want that?”

Truthfully, you would only be able to arrest the man since he was the instigator of the attack but it would be easier just to scare them all off.

The man took a sudden step towards you and you tensed, reading yourself for a fight. But he only leaned forward, towering over you, only a breath away from your face. His expression was hateful; all pinched mouth and sneers, no sign of kindness or compassion to be found.

“I despise people like you,” he snarled quietly, his words meant only for you. “Protecting these machines, treating them as equals. You make me sick. One day when those things take over your job and leave your family hungry and desperate... I hope you'll remember this moment.”

With that, he shoved past you roughly, his shoulder colliding with yours. You managed to keep your expression neutral though your body refused to relax as you watched the man and his friends walk away. Angry people often did stupid things, you knew this from experience, and that man struck you as the type to lose self-control. His words, while undoubtedly bitter, did not hurt you nor did they make you question yourself. You were proud of your resolve and refuse to change your mind just because so many thought you should. Maybe if people just stopped being so angry things would be better.

Sighing, you pocketed your badge before turning your attention to the fallen android. He was on his knees, staring blankly at the slight bruise on his palm.

“Hey, are you injured?”

The android moved his head up so you could see his face, his bright green eyes startling you for a moment. He only gazed at you patiently, not saying a word before you knelt before him, carefully touching his palm.

“What’s your name?” you inquired patiently. “Is there anyone I could call?”

The android shook his head once, a precise and practised motion before he answered, “I am detecting no internal damage,” he told you before adding, “My name is Markus.”

You nodded, gingerly picking up his fallen parcel.

“It’s nice to meet you, Markus, I’m (Name),” you introduced yourself as you got to your feet, outstretching your hand towards the fallen android.

He peered at you unblinkingly for a moment before placing his hand in yours. You knew the gesture was unnecessary since the android stood up in one fluid motion, but you still wanted to make sure that he was truly alright.

“I’m very sorry about those guys,” you said regretfully. “Are you sure you’re going to be alright getting home?”

“Violence is not an uncommon response to my kind.”

You felt anger ring through you at the casual, matter-of-fact way he said it. Like it was to be expected. Like it was normal.

“I can understand their anger,” you countered immediately, frustration clear in your voice. “But it absolutely does not give them the right to attack the first person they see. It’s not right.”

Markus tilted his head to one side sharply, eyes focusing on you for one uncomfortable moment. It was like someone had pressed the Pause button on his entire existence. After another few seconds, you started to grow concerned for his well being, wondering if he was truly undamaged in the fall.

“Markus?”

The android blinked a few times, and only then did you notice his flickering indicator; a clear sign that he was processing something.

“I apologise but I must return to my owner now.”

You jumped slightly at his abrupt reply, “Yeah, of course.”

His gaze shifted down and you suddenly remembered that you still help his parcel in your hands.

“Sorry,” you said with a slight, embarrassed laugh. “There you go.”

But as you extended the parcel towards him, you caught the name printed on the packaging and faltered.

“You paint?” you questioned excitedly, an enthusiastic grin breaking across your face.

Markus shook his head in reply, gently taking the parcel from your hands. “I do not, but my owner does.”

“My best friend Steph paints as well,” you divulged happily. “She is really good too! Had a show in Seattle last year and everything. She mostly paints still life but it’s so inspiring—”

You trailed off because thinking about Steph made you think about Seattle and how different things were now. How much you had lost, including Steph—especially Steph. Markus was still staring at you. Expression almost eerily familiar to the expression on Connor’s face yesterday. Like something incredibly difficult and confusing was placed before them that they could not figure out.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't hold you any longer.”

Markus hesitated, a moment of brief uncertainty crossing his face before he nodded again in that felicitous manner.

“Please be careful,” you shot his way with a brief wave before turning in the opposite direction, starting your journey towards work, earlier shopping trip post-noted for now.

Just before you turned the corner, you glanced back and almost stopped when you realised Markus had not moved.

In fact, he was in the exact same spot, bright green eyes focused on your retreating figure.

—x—x—

“Good morning Bob!”

The android in question raised his head slowly at your jovial greeting. The redhead woman from yesterday sneered at you as you stopped by the desk. Crinkling her nose in distaste, she turned back to face her computer, trying to pretend she wasn’t listening to your conversation.

“It is indeed morning Miss (Name),” was the androids dispassionate reply and you grinned at him. Bob was clearly an older model. DH-230 was one of the oldest models still in circulation by CyberLife and you couldn't help but be surprised that the police department still used such an old model. Bob’s model lacked adaptability and ease the newest models—Connor came to mind almost immediately—had.

“Are you alright?” you questioned easily as you placed your palm against the scanner.

Bob blinked slowly, his indicator flickering for a few seconds before he dipped his head once.

“I detect no system errors,” he finally concluded.

The redhead snorted loudly and you shot her a hard look before turning your attention back to Bob. “I’m glad to hear it. If anyone tries to pick a fight you tell me right away, okay?”

You spoke purposely loudly, casting a meaningful look in the redhead’s direction. The not so subtle hint seemed to fly over Bob’s head, however, his face an unshifting mask of indifference.

“I will be sure to inform you of any transgressions Miss (Name).”

“Good.”

With last firm glance at the woman, you waved at Bob who only watched you silently as you walked towards the elevator. Pressing the familiar button you relaxed, allowing your mind to wonder. While yesterday was all about getting settled in—something Connor graciously helped you with—there was still much to be done. Real work would start today and there was a lot to cover if Connor’s offhand remarks were accurate. With Hank’s...issues, it was perhaps no surprise that they assigned an additional person to the investigation.

When the elevator halted to a stop, you immediately stepped out, allowing other people in before you moved towards your table. Thankfully Connor suggested simply sharing the workspace since according to him he did not require much space. The idea of sitting by yourself somewhere else on the floor did not exactly appeal to you. As such, you were happy you managed to work out a better solution.

Speaking of the android, you spotted him almost instantly, his jacket sticking out in a sea of mundane clothing. When you got closer, you had to suppress a laugh at the stiff way Connor sat in his chair, hands folded carefully in his lap. It was perhaps the most un-human thing you’ve seen him do so far—and considering the near frightening way he could adapt and mimic human interactions—it said a lot.

“Good morning Connor.” you greeted pleasantly.

Your slight smile grew when you noticed how Connor immediately turned towards the sound of your voice. The neutral expression on his face lifted slightly, something almost pleasant flickering across it before he inclined his head in greeting. “Good morning (Name). I trust you had a pleasant night’s rest.”

“It was good, thanks,” you answered, taking off your jacket, eyes sliding towards the empty table in front of yours. “Lieutenant’s still not here?”

Connor replied without looking away, “Indeed not. We should not expect him until noon, if at all. As such, may I suggest we get started?”

Exhaling in astonishment you only nodded, almost falling into your seat. The pile of documents you had to go through was...substantial to say the least. The sooner you started the better.

Unfortunately, it took you only ten minutes of work to come to a sickening realisation.

“This is completely unbelievable,” you muttered in shock, Connor pausing his work beside you, inquisitive gaze focused on you. “This is isn’t just a problem. Deviancy in this city is more of a—I don’t know, an epidemic? Is it really this excessive?”

Connor blinked silently, still focusing on you. “It is,” he told you simply. “It’s the reason CyberLife sent me in. With my involvement, they believe this investigation will be solved quicker. I can only assume that is the reason you were assigned as well.”     

You glanced at him curiously. He told you yesterday how he was a prototype designed specifically to adapt and learn in order to make integration easier. He was designed for police work that much was clear but he was still unlike any other android you’ve ever seen.

He was expressive for one. Even now his face shifted between micro expressions; a slow shift of his facial muscles, a few blinks, a crease between his brows or shift of his shoulders. While he was still so clearly an android something about Connor was inherently different.

“(Name)?” he prompted faintly.

Blinking rapidly you snapped your gaze away from him, “Sorry, really spaced out there,” you explained with a weak chuckle.

You fell back into work easily, making good progress on the giant pile on your desk before noon. Which is ironically when Hank decided to slip in, a troubling sort of stumble in his step. Even from the distance, you could smell the acidic sting of alcohol. If anything he looked even worse than he did yesterday; bleary-eyed and scowling like the world was out to get him.

“Good morning Lieutenant,” Connor greeted drily. “How are you this afternoon?”

Trying, and failing, to smother your grin, you glanced at Hank who shot the android a furious glare. He muttered something angrily under his breath before seating himself down heavily.

You and Connor continued looking at him before Hank looked up and snapped, “What are you two looking at?”

You sighed wearily before muttering, “Would you like some painkillers, sir? You look like you need them.”

Hank scowled at you fiercely, looking like he was about to unload some not-so-kind words towards you before, eventually, nodding reluctantly.            

Ignoring Connor’s unwavering gaze, you fished out a few tablets that you passed to the man. Still scowling, he swallowed them dry before getting to his own pile of work with a pained expression. You shared a brief look with Connor before focusing on your own work once again.

There was only silence after that, but silence was better than tension.

—x—x—

Hank only stayed till 5 before declaring that he had “things to do” which you were starting to realise translated roughly to “getting drunk”. He at least looked more human than he did when he walked in. Connor met his words with a flicker of distaste on his face but did not comment.

“Don’t worry I’m not going anywhere,” you told him tiredly, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “There’s still way too much to go through.”

And there was. The list of leads, evidence, and anonymous tips seemed endless. Reports that needed to be written or altered or archived even more so. Police work always involved paperwork, it was just the way it was, but this was getting irksome.

Together you worked tirelessly for another few hours, the station almost empty now before you realised that your eyes felt like sandpaper and the words before you were blurring. You leaned in your chair with a sharp exhale.

“I think it’s time to call it a day,” you concluded, exhaustion clear in your voice. “We can pick it up tomorrow.”

Connor tilted his head to one side, the gesture making him look young—almost bemused—before he rose from his chair. He looked exactly like he did this morning, not a single crease of tiredness or fatigue to be found on his face.

Another reminder, you thought to yourself silently.

“Thank you for today Connor,” you mentioned thoughtfully, tidying your space. “I’m starting to think that you’re godsend.”

It was true. Connor was staggeringly efficient. Without him, you doubted you would have gotten through half the pile. Now, less than half remained.

Connor shifted his focus to you, rubbing his hands together in a manner that made you pause. It was—it was such a human tick to have, something someone may do if they were nervous or uneasy.

Another oddity, you thought perturbed.

The familiar crease between his brows was back, a tiny flicker of his indicator showcasing his unease with something.

“You are welcome,” he replied, gesturing for you to walk in front of him. “We made good progress today.”

He appeared pleased about that as he fell into step beside you. You both exited the police station side by side, the nippy autumn air instantly biting at your nose.

At least it wasn’t raining.

In fact, the night was cold and clear, full moon hanging like a silent, sentient guardian in the sky.

Walking down the steps you spoke, “We make a good team,” you mused with a slight grin. “Although I do admit this was not what I expected when I transferred here. I guess it will look better on my resume if I stick with it.”

Connor paused, staring towards you curiously, “Was Detroit not your intended destination?”

“Oh no,” you quickly replied, coming to a stop. “It was. It’s definitely a step up from Seattle. But my dream is to work in Washington. I would like to join the FBI one day. But it’s not that easy, you know? Especially when you don’t have much field experience.”

“Your ambition is admirable.”

You blinked a few times before a startled laugh left your mouth. Glancing towards the sky, you stretched your hand forward, covering the beautiful and glowing moon, “When I was little my grandmother used to tell me: “Shoot for the moon, little one, even if you miss you'll land amongst the stars.” And now I always do.”

“Norman Vincent Peale.” was his immediate retort.

You felt, rather than heard, Connor come to stand beside you. You didn’t look away from your outstretched hand, but you couldn't help but smile wider when you felt his focused gaze on you.

After a second your smile faltered, a bloom of sadness taking root in your soul. “My mother used to call me a dreamer,” you began faintly. “A dreamer of impossible dreams. Of course, for her, that was just synonym with a naive idiot. She wasn’t wrong but—”

“I was under the assumption that human determination is one of their biggest strengths,” Connor said with unexpected firmness in his voice. “Our world was created by dreamers after all.”

Your hand shook slightly and you hastily dropped it, your fingers tightening into a fist. The moon, beautiful and visible once again, shone down on you and for one bizarre moment, you couldn’t speak.

You wondered if Connor knew how much those words meant to you.

You glanced up at him, only to see him already peering down at you with something like confusion on his face. His indicator fluttered every few seconds and you couldn't help but smile at him faintly.

“Thank you for that Connor,” you told him very softly, genuine warmth filling your chest and tone.

A brief flash of yellow flared through Connor’s LED but before he could reply, you turned around and started your trek home.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you called over your shoulder with a muffled chuckle and a wave.

You gave him one last glance and almost laughed at the bewildered, intense look on his face as you walked away. 

———

an: I hope you don't mind a denser, longer chapter as I wanted to get some background/plot stuff established. It's very interesting to balance Connor at the beginning because he still has to come off cold/neutral/indifferent like he did at the beginning of the game. But don't worry with Reader's positive influence he's going to start warming up eventually. :) Once again thank you for your feedback and I'm always open to suggestions/constructive feedback. Or if you have any questions feel free to shoot them my way! Love you all. <3

LOVELY PEOPLE: 

@katherineschild @dpslover4life-blog @yraneya

(let me know if you want to be tagged in the future! :D)

[narniaandplowmen]

i carry your heart with me

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier Also on AO3 1678 words.

General Audiences / No Archive Warnings Apply Complete

Part 5 of Half a Century of Poetry

Small scenes from Jaskier's and Geralt's life on the Path, where they vocalise their love through all five languages.

Gifts

The door of the pub slammed open just as Jaskier finished his latest jig, a retelling of Geralt’s victory over a bruxa just over a month ago. He didn’t even have to embellish the story too much, as the actual fight itself had been extremely adventurous. The bruxa had inhabited a burnt-down stronghold, preventing workmen from rebuilding the place. Geralt had had to run through hallways and hide behind statues in order to surprise the creature, and, to Jaskier’s satisfaction, there were surprisingly many rhymes and half-rhymes for hall and throne

‘There he is, the famed man whose praises I have been singing tonight, Geralt of Rivia!’ Jaskier announced, turning to the audience after a brief glance at the Witcher reassured him the man was doing okay. ‘He has taken care of your drowners for you, so your lovely village is safe once more. So,’ his fingers found the familiar cords and started strumming. ‘Once a humble bard-’

As he played, Jaskier turned to look at Geralt once more. Covered in mud and soaking wet, the man somehow didn’t make his way towards the staircase in the back, where Jaskier had prepared a bath for him, ready to be heated with a simple, single igni. Instead, Geralt moved his way through the crowd towards Jaskier. The bard continued playing but stopped singing, letting the crowd shout the well-known refrain on their own. ‘Are you okay?’ A single nod from the Witcher calmed Jaskier’s sudden worry. ‘I’ll be upstairs soon, this is the last song.’

‘Hm.’

Jaskier blinked in surprise as the Witcher pushed his clenched fist forward, holding-

‘Flowers!’ Temporarily ceasing his strumming, Jaskier took the blue and yellow wildflowers from the Witcher’s outstretched hand. ‘They are lovely!’

‘They reminded me of your eyes,’ Geralt grunted, turning around and storming away, leaving Jaskier with flowers in his lap and a smile on his face.

- x - x - x - x -

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;

- x - x - x - x -

Acts of Service

By the time Jaskier arrived upstairs, the flowers in an ale jug filled with water in one hand, his lute and a bag of money in the other, Geralt had already settled in the reheated water.

‘Thank you for the flowers.’

‘Hm.’ The grunt has a warm, loving tone.

‘I love you too.’

After safely putting away the lute and money, placing the flowers next to the bed, Jaskier turns back to Geralt.

‘How did it go?’

‘Good. This time, for a change, there weren’t as many as the Alderman thought. Can you do my hair?’

‘Of course, my dear.’

Mundane conversation and the splashing of water filled the silence of the night.

xox

Jaskier woke up from the sound of a gentle voice next to him, accompanied by the smell of freshly baked bread.

‘Goodmorning.’

‘Gmrninggg gerl-’ Jaskier yawned. ‘Whud time-’

‘10 am.’

Jaskier shot up, and if not for Geralt’s Witcher reflexes he was sure they would have accidentally knocked each other out. ‘TEN? We should have left two hours ago! I’m so sorry, you should have woken me up!’

‘Calm down!’ Geralt grabbed the panicked bard and dragged him back in bed. ‘The contract went well yesterday, we can relax today. I let you sleep in. Here’s breakfast.’

‘Oh. OH! Did I miss our anniversary? What date is it? Is it your birthday?’

‘Calm down,’ the Witcher repeated. ‘There’s nothing special. I just thought you would- It’s stupid, I know. I’m sorry I-’ The rest of his words were cut off by Jaskier’s lips on his.

‘I love it. Thank you.’

- x - x - x - x -

and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

- x - x - x - x -

Touch

‘You don’t have to hold my hand, you know,’ Jaskier commented as he stepped over the faint outline of a branch on the middle of the road. ‘I know you can see better in the dark, but it’s not like I’m completely blind.’

It had been a week since the last inn they had stayed at, and the flowers Geralt had given him were now pressed in his notebook and his heart. It was getting dark quicker now, the cold air another sign of the rapidly approaching winter.

‘I know,’ Geralt simply replied, squeezing Jaskier’s hand a little harder. ‘Be careful with that hole there.’

Jaskier jumped over it, swinging the pair’s clasped hands up and down to the rhythm of an inaudible song. A sudden sound froze his movements. ‘What was that?’

‘Owl.’

‘Oh,’ Jaskier nodded. The sound, a screaming noise as if a child was being murdered, repeated. ‘You sure?’

‘You’re safe with me, Jask.’

The bard nodded, but closed the distance between the two a little. ‘There’s a leaf in your hair.’

‘Oh.’

Geralt stopped walking, and, with his free hand, carefully reached over, grabbing something out of Jaskier’s hair and throwing it on the ground. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to ride Roach instead?’

‘She’s carrying all our stuff, and she has had just as little sleep as us. I’m fine walking.’

‘Hm. Don’t hit yourself on that stone.’

Jaskier laughed. ‘If you’re so concerned about me, why don’t you carry me yoursel-’ he yelped as the Witcher suddenly picked him off the ground and carried him, bridal-style. ‘This can’t be comfortable for you, Geralt.’

‘It is.’

‘Liar.’

‘I don’t know how you’re not afraid of me.’

‘Why would I be?’

‘I can easily carry you. That means I can easily crush you, or drop you, or hurt you, or-’ Jaskier’s clumsy lips prevented him from finishing his rather endless list.

‘But you won’t.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘Because you love me.’

‘You didn’t fear me before you knew that either. Everyone’s afraid of me. Except you.’

‘I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. I could see it in your eyes.’

‘Hm.’

‘I love you.’

‘I don’t deserve you.’

‘Shhh. You do.’

- x - x - x - x -

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)

- x - x - x - x -

Words of Affirmation

The fires at Kaer Morhen were warm, but even without those Jaskier was sure he would be comfortable and cosy beneath the many blankets piled on top of him. ‘Goodmorning beautiful.’

‘Made you breakfast.’

‘Didn’t Vesemir say that it was time for me to come down for breakfast, rather than you bringing it up? I believe he said “I raised a wolf, not a puppy”,’ Jaskier’s eyes sparkled mischievously at the memory.

‘Tomorrow. I wanted to treat you today.’

‘You are the kindest, most wonderful person on the Continent. In the World. In all of existence. And don’t smile that smile! I know that smile. That’s your “Jaskier I believe you’re lying”-smile.’

‘Because you are.’

‘Am not,’ Jaskier retorted. Now sitting up in the bed, he folded his arms like a petulant child. ‘You are the most gorgeously stunning, kind, loyal, attentive, smart, amazingly perfect spouse anyone could ever wish for.’

‘But-’

‘We’ve been over this! You are, I mean it. Oh!’ Geralt had to safe the mug of water from falling over and spilling its contents all over the bed after the bard’s sudden movement. ‘That Axii thing you and Lambert were practising yesterday-’

‘No.’

‘But if you did that and told me to say exactly and truthfully how I felt about you then-’

‘No,’ Geralt repeated, this time more forcefully. ‘I can’t take away your agency. That’s not right.’

‘Well then, do you agree to believe me when I say you’re stunning? Beautiful? My sun, my moon and all my stars?’

Geralt rolled his eyes. ‘If I say yes, will you eat your breakfast?’

‘If I eat my breakfast, will you join me in bed so I can show you what I think about you?’

‘Hm.’

‘I’ll get you to use Axii on me sometime in the future. Do you know how hot that is?’

‘Shut up and eat, Jask.’

- x - x - x - x -

i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

- x - x - x - x -

Quality time

‘Are you sure you want to join me?’ Jaskier asked, for the forty-fifth time. And Geralt, for the forty-fifth time - he had counted - nodded. ‘There are only going to be boring nobles at this feast. The exact people you hate.’

‘I know.’

‘Then why do you want to be there?’

‘I just want to.’

‘And you’re sure you don’t want to be there because there is some monster to kill, and I am the unwitting bait?’

‘I did that once, Jaskier. Can you still not let it go?’

‘I almost died!’

‘But you didn’t.’

‘I could have! And then the world would have to live without my music!’

‘That’s what you’re concerned about?’

‘Okay, and I assume Ciri would be sad too- Ow! Hey, I need that arm to play!’

‘Then don’t be a brat.’

‘You love me for it. Why do you want to join me, be honest? You hate these kinds of banquets.’

‘I want to be with you.’

‘Oh.’

They walked the rest of the steep road up to the large mansion in silence. Before they reached the large, iron gates, Jaskier stopped and tugged on Geralt’s arm to signal him to stop too.

‘Thank you for coming with me.’

‘You have my heart, Jask. I don’t ever want to leave your side.’

‘I thought I was supposed to be the poetic one.,’ Jaskier smiled. ‘But thank you. You have my heart too, and I carry your heart with you in mine. Now, let’s show those nobles what music really is. I heard they invited Valdo Marx to perform in the previous banquet. Can you believe it?’

- x - x - x - x -

here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

- x - x - x - x -

[pathos-logical]

Hello I've already screamed about this but now you have to deal with it again :)

THAT WAS FRICKING BEAUTIFUL AND IT WAS SO SO GOOD I LOVE YOU SO MUCH???????????

"that was logan's favorite part about their friendship, they could just exist around each other without any pressure to perform social cues like small talk" Peaceful coexistence is at the CORE of analogical this is so GOOD

"“Thank you” he mumbled, shifting closer to his friend “i needed this” virgil swallowed roughly, laying his head closer to logans as they watched the stars" Do you ever SOB (Logan's like "god Virgil's such a good friend" and Virgil's like "CUTE BOY PROXIMITY ALERT??????")

God this means Virgil saw news about a meteor shower visible in their area or something and went "Logan's been looking sad lately I know what to do" amdjskfjsmfkksfksjfkskdkskkd

"They had to be in someone back yard or private property, but with a field so vast and expansive who would know to say anything" Also this is very good, be gay do minor crimes and stargaze baby

"It seemed as if he found every even remotely soft thing in his apartment and shoved it in the car." This is SO soft, pun freaking INTENDED

"“Life.. do you think we're alone here?” Logan wanted to say no with a definite certainty that Virgil was looking for, but that would be irresponsible to answer with a certainty he didn't have." Oh he's so good.... they're so good..... Logan desperately wanting to believe in aliens but not wanting to betray his own values in honesty or lie to Virgil..... I DIE.......

Also the quote he used was so good :')

I didn't notice the stupid asterisk the first time at 32 and dksmfmsknfksjfkskfkskfkskdkskdkdkdkd

"So mundane, and yet virgil had seemed to romanticize the smallest things around logan." <33333

"“I think..” virgil continued, once they were out of the truck and on top of it “that it's different for everyone." I really really REALLY love this, I think it matches up very well with my own philosophy and :')

"all the stars feel so close i could touch and yet impossibly far away." If you somehow aren't aware yet, this is my constant mood

"I can't see a horizon from here, it feels like I'm in the middle of all of them, here with you.”" Wow can you believe they invented romance :'))))))

“I think that's what i'm choosing to do with my existence, what are you choosing to do with yours?”" ahhhhhHHHHHHHHHH

"“If we get to choose what we do with our lives then i wanna spend mine like this, with you, and i've wasted too much time thinking.”" WOW CAN YOU BELIEVE THEY INVENTED ROMANCE!!!!!!!!!!

"* (+ 53: have your first kiss)" MY HEART NEARLY EXPLODED OUT OF MY C H E S T SCREW YOU???????

THE FRICKING. EVERYTHING ABOUT "AND YOUR SECOND / AND YOUR THIRD / AND MANY MANY MORE" MJFKDKFKSKKFKD JUST TAKE MY HEART ALREADY WOULD YOU IT'S ALREADY BLEEDING

They really.... they really bought the field and built a cabin there..... gay mf rights..........

"Fireflies and the moon are their only real source of light so far out in the field. " This is the only ambience that's real actually

Fricking. Virgil distracting Logan by making him look up and list the constellations. And only pulling out the ring when he gets near the end of the list (and that must've taken quite some time indeed). And what that implies about how long it took him to get up the courage to interrupt. And maybe just taking a second to revel in Logan listing the things he loves while lit by the moon. And. And oh my god Ghost oh my god

The navy blue ring box was already so so good but god the description of the RING like AHHHHHHH

"“Do you remember when you said you wanted to spend your life with me under the stars?... will you make that official with me?”" STOP STOP I'M ALREADY DEAD???????

"having to bend a little to accommodate for the height difference." :)

Roman being more nervous than Logan was so fricking GOOD

"Fairy lights shone just enough to allow the guests to find their seats without hassle, but not too much as to outshine the stars." This sounds so PRETTY I am going to get married just for this aesthetic thank you for the idea

"He was getting married… to the most beautiful man on earth, under the stars, in his own backyard with all his friends… holy shit" This is so good this is so good this is so good this is so g

"He wore a velvet deep purple suit with black trims and converse sneakers, hair freshly dyed from a week before, and on top of his head sat a small crown with diamond stars." I. Love. EVERY SINGLE DANG THIS ABOUT THIS. First of all the suit sounds so GOOD, and then he's wearing CONVERSE and he just dyed his HAIR and he's wearing a STAR CIRCLET?? THAT HE BORROWED FROM ROMAN??? This is so GOOD Ghost I'm kdkdkdjskdkks

"Logan didn't think the concept of “handing off the “bride ``'' was appropriate here, but neither of them could deny Patton's puppy dog eyes." This is so SWEET I'm so happy for Patton kdkdkdkskdk

"and in the center of it all was stars. The decorations, the rings, the vows and the night sky, all of it was perfect." Ohhh my goodness oh my goodness

THE FJSKJFKSJFKSJDKSBDMSMFMKSKSKSLD E N D I N G

OKAY???? OKAY????? OKAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS AND I LOVE YOU!!! SO SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!

100 things to do under the stars

(Analogical, no warnings)

1: stargaze

  Virgil dragged Logan out from the warmth of the truck and into crisp fall air. They were in the middle of nowhere, it was nearly midnight, and the clouds were practically nonexistent. There wasn't a light for miles, aside from the still dimming headlights of Virgil's pickup truck. They had to be in someone's backyard or private property, but with a field so vast and expansive who would know to say anything. 

“Virgil-” Logan started before swiftly getting shushed by Virgil. He jerked open the door to the backseat, pulling out piles of blankets and pillows. 

  “Lo, i'm gonna need you to ignore how sketchy this looks and help me pad the bed of the truck, there's a meteor shower tonight and i want you to see it.” Virgil tossed him some handfuls of quilts and stuffed animals. It seemed as if he found every even remotely soft thing in his apartment and shoved it in the car. They passed the truck bed and Virgil hoisted him into the makeshift bed, before bracing the side of the truck and hoping for himself. 

 They stayed silent as they got comfortable, that was Logan's favorite part about their friendship, they could just exist around each other without any pressure to perform social cues like small talk.. They could just be. Logan reached down and intertwined their hands, making virgil's heart skip a beat. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled, shifting closer to his friend “I needed this” Virgil swallowed roughly, laying his head closer to Logan’s as they watched the stars 

7: contemplate existence + 11: drink coffee

 “Do you think there's something else out there?” Virgil asked after a long stretch of comfortable silence. This time, they sat on the roof of the truck, coffee in hand and feet dangling off the edge of the truck. 

  “Be more specific.” Logan took a sip of his coffee, bringing it to his mouth with both hands. It provided a nice warmth against the chill of the night, something his black wool coat was vaguely failing to provide.

   “Life.. do you think we're alone here?” Logan wanted to say no with a definite certainty that Virgil was looking for, but that would be irresponsible to answer with a certainty he didn't have. 

   “Arthur Clarke once said ‘Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.’” he settled on instead. Virgil grimaced and pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged and turned his body to face Logan. He tried to make eye contact with him, but Logan continued to look up into the abyss.

  “That's not what I asked,” he said “I wanna know what you think.” Logan took another slow sip of his coffee to stall. Eventually, he brought it away from his mouth and turned to face Virgil

   “I dont know..” he admitted “it seems.. impossible that there's an infinite universe beyond our capability of comprehension that is simply empty. I don't believe there will ever be certainty on our end, so,” he put the coffee down and laid down, putting his eyes back on the stars “i'd rather not worry about it.”

32: question your own mortality *

   “What do you suppose the point of it all is Virgil?”  he had become rather acquainted with the empty field he and Virgil spent nearly every clear night in. They hadn't even got out of the car this time before Logan started their nightly talks.

   “I thought it scared you to talk about things like that.” Virgil jokes to mask that he didn't have an answer. He jerked open the door but didn't get out. 

    “Do… Do you ever question why we're here?” Logan knew the answer to that, and Virgil constantly thought about his life and his purposeless existence. Virgil took pity on him when he noticed his big brown eyes sparkling in the light the car turned on. So mundane, and yet Virgil had seemed to romanticize the smallest things around Logan.

    “Get out, I wanna show you something,” Logan followed wordlessly. “I think..” Virgil continued, once they were out of the truck and on top of it “that it's different for everyone. For me, I just want to spend my short existence here experiencing life for what it is. Good and the bad, mostly good.” Virgil smiled softly as he laid down on the roof “ look at that… all the stars feel so close i could touch and yet impossibly far away. I can't see a horizon from here, it feels like I'm in the middle of all of them, here with you.”

    Logan laid on his side beside him, still not fully getting it. “You think you were put into existence to look at stars?”

    Virgil hoisted himself up on his elbows, craning his head back to continue looking at the abyss. “I think that's what i'm choosing to do with my existence, what are you choosing to do with yours?” Logan stayed quiet for a long time, just looking at Virgil and thinking before he jutted his head forward and kissed him. Virgil pulled back, heart beating  a million miles a minute. 

“Logan?” he whispered.

“If we get to choose what we do with our lives then i wanna spend mine like this, with you, and i've wasted too much time thinking.” he almost had tears in his eyes as he leaned forward again, letting Virgil close the gap this time. 

* (+ 53: have your first kiss) 

65: and your second

72: and third

83: and many many more

99: propose

    They continued going to their favorite spot for years, when they got older they bought the plot of land that they called theres and built a tiny cabin on the edge of the field. And one night, after 5 years of dating, virgil pulled logan into the middle of the field, walking this time. Fireflies and the moon are their only real source of light so far out in the field. 

Logan giggled as he attempted to keep balance while Virgil swung him around 

“What's got you in such a good mood?” Logan laughed, getting pulled into a nervous kiss by his boyfriend 

    “Virgil!” he smiled a little wider, “what's the occasion?”

   “Look up, and name all the constellations you can see,” Virgil asked quietly, hands fisted in his jacket pockets. Logan looked suspicious before doing as he was told, listing all he could remember the name of. Just as he was getting to the end of his list, Virgil cut him off. 

“Hey Logan?” When he looked back, Virgil was kneeling on the ground with a small navy blue box in his hands. “Can I ask you something?” 

Logan did not consider himself overly emotional, he nearly prided himself on it, and yet he couldn't seem to stop the hitch in his breath and rush of tears to his eyes. He wordlessly nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

    Virgil opened the box and revealed a ring with a simple diamond in the middle of a black band with stars engraved into the side. He stayed silent as the tears started cascading down his face. “Do you remember when you said you wanted to spend your life with me under the stars?” Logan  had to pull his hands to his mouth to contain the sob of happiness he couldn't. Virgil was also crying, a wide nervous grin on his face “will you make that official with me?” 

    “Yes!” Logan choked out, nodding profusely and collapsing into Virgil's arms when he stood up to hug him. He pulled back and kissed him, he kissed him for the millionth time with all the passion and love of the first. He pressed his forehead into Virgils, having to bend a little to accommodate for the height difference. 

“I love you” he mumbled, tears starting to end their freefall, even if only for a minute. “So so much”

100: get married.

    Roman bustled around their small cabin with the kind of nervousness more reserved for the grooms than the best man. He had been preparing this day- well, night- for months and had been more of a bridezilla than either of the actual men getting married. Guests were starting to arrive just after the sun went down and the stars were starting to peek through the darkness. Fairy lights shone just enough to allow the guests to find their seats without hassle, but not too much as to outshine the stars. 

    “Are you sure everythings ready?” Roman asked Logan once again, meeting a hard eye roll with an exacerbated grin. 

    “Yes Roman, I'm positive.” He couldn't help the feeling of joy riding in his throat when he checked his watch. He was getting married… to the most beautiful man on earth, under the stars, in his own backyard with all his friends… holy shit

    “Logan!” Patton called from the doorway, excited to be helping even if he'd been there since noon “its time! Come on “ 

    Virgil was…. He couldn't think of the right word.. Gorgeous, ethereal, amazing, perfect, genius, beautiful, unreal, indescribable… Logan felt in his heart as he was walked down the aisle by the designated group dad friend. He wore a velvet deep purple suit with black trims and converse sneakers, hair freshly dyed from a week before, and on top of his head sat a small crown with diamond stars. As much as he despised wedding traditions, this was his “something borrowed” generously lended by Roman to tie in the night theme. The wedding was small, neither of their families even invited to attend, and their friend group tiny but close knit. Patton bounced down the aisle with Virgil's arm intertwined in his, Logan didn't think the concept of “handing off the “bride ``'' was appropriate here, but neither of them could deny Patton's puppy dog eyes. 

The rest of the night went off without a hitch, dancing, kissing, crying, a small potluck with a modest red velvet wedding cake, and in the center of it all was stars. The decorations, the rings, the vows and the night sky, all of it was perfect. When all the guests left, and Virgil and Logan were finally alone, Logan pulled out a wedding present he had gotten for virgil. 

“What's this?” he asked, still riding the high of “Holy shit i'm really married” 

“Open it.” virgil undid the navy wrapping paper, and opened the box. Inside, there was a book titled “100 things to do under the stars, by Logan Cade” 

Virgils heart jumped when he realised logan had used his new last name.  

[satuwrites]

13. Like the moon we borrow our light, I am nothing but a shadow in the night.

A quick author’s note: It’s only fitting that this story is a follow-up to this one, just like Part II is a follow-up to Let the Flames Begin. It’s recommended to read the first story before this one.

Maybe it would have been a good idea to open the bottle of champagne before they came outside to wait for the fireworks and she was supposed to go through with her plan. But she had convinced Sydney the bubbly drink could wait until after the turn of the year, had managed to talk her into coming to stand in the biting cold twenty minutes before midnight because it was all part of her plan. According to her plan, they would have a more significant reason to celebrate after they returned inside so why waste an expensive bottle for something as trivial as the passing of another year. What she hadn’t planned for was how she would’ve needed a glass of that champagne to stop her hands from trembling where they were resting on her girlfriend’s waist or to calm her rampant thoughts because what if she says no?

It was ridiculous. Rationally, she knew it was absurd to doubt because they had discussed this. They had lied in bed late at night on numerous occasions and discussed their hopes and dreams with hushed whispers and secret smiles, their intertwined fingers a comfort and a promise of a shared future. She shouldn’t worry because on those nights when they had felt like the only two people left in the world, they had agreed that maybe marriage didn’t sound like such a terrible idea after all. It would simply make a truth they held close to their hearts official in the eyes of others as well, and wouldn’t it be a waste not to take the chance that had been denied from people like them for generations?

Their discussions of the future always ended with slow kisses and assurances of someday and that was more than enough because they knew they were not empty promises. It was just a matter of taking the final plunge. A plunge that she had been preparing for the past few months, and now here she was, waiting for the year to turn with the woman she wanted to spend the rest of her days with. Somehow she felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at the calm waters a hundred feet below. She had practiced for this jump and knew with almost absolute certainty she would land safely into the warm embrace of the sea. And yet there was a small but terrifying chance of a rogue blast of wind that would push her off course and make her crash into the sharp and unforgiving rocks instead. It was this possibility that had her heart beating wildly against her ribcage and made her afraid of uttering the words she had written weeks ago and memorised during the long shifts her girlfriend worked at the hospital.

She took a deep breath to calm her erratic pulse, hoping Sydney couldn’t feel the rapid beat where her face was nestled against her neck. The seconds were ticking by and she really needed to start with her speech if she wanted them to start the New Year as something more than girlfriends. She wanted to be able to kiss her fiancé silly when the clock struck twelve, and in a year or two, her wife. The thought made her giddy, and suddenly her heart was thumping rapidly for a completely different, and much better, reason: excitement.

Sydney shivered slightly from the cold and pressed more tightly against her, mumbling something about a stupid idea, sprinkled with a few choice curse words. The movement of lips against her neck sent a shiver of her own running up and down her spine, and she marvelled at the reaction the other woman could spark in her even after six years of dating. There was never a day when the simple act of saying I love you didn’t thrill her to the core or seeing her partner smile fondly at her didn’t lead to a team of butterflies practicing aerobics in her stomach. She didn’t understand how people could claim that the act of loving eventually becomes mundane because whenever she thought she had finally fallen as deeply in love as possible, the ground crumbled beneath her feet and she found herself falling once more. The love she felt for the woman in her arms was as endless and eternal as the bottomless night sky above them, and she never wanted to take it for granted.

After pressing a soft kiss that Sydney probably couldn’t feel on top of the mustard yellow beanie, she turned to look up at the dark sky. She was glad to notice the weather forecast had been correct in predicting a clear night. After all, the moon casting its silver light on the world around them was an integral part of her speech, which would have lost some of its impact under an overcast sky. Everything was as it should, and now she only needed to force the words out.

Here goes nothing.

“You know,” she started, voice trembling a bit too much for her liking. She cleared her throat and continued, squeezing Sydney closer in order to mask some of her nervousness, “I’ve been doing some thinking – a shocker, I know – and I’ve come to the conclusion that there are two types of people in this world. The first type includes people like me, and I’ve come to call us ‘the moons’ because we circle around this thing called life, not really doing much. We’re just there. And maybe sometimes we engage in the happenings of the world and actually manage to achieve things, but mostly we’re as useless as a huge ball of rock in the sky that not a lot of people pay attention to.”

Sydney leaned back to look at her with a confused frown on her face while pulling away a few strands of blue hair stuck to her mouth. She had gone through all the colours of the rainbow during their time together but always seemed to gravitate back towards the electric blue that she had sported on the night they first met. Sydney claimed it was because the bright blue complimented her copper skin the best after her natural brown, but sometimes she wondered if maybe the other woman thought back to that night as often as she did, and the way it had changed everything.

“Where are you going with this?” It’s not like her girlfriend wasn’t used to her random bouts of philosophical talk that often were interrupted by a forceful kiss, but she had caught on the way her words were too careful and soft for this to be another speech that went nowhere.

“You’ll see soon enough,” she reassured and nudged Sydney’s nose gently with her own before resuming. “As I was saying, the moons aren’t usually that remarkable. But there are times when even we can shine, but we can’t do it without help. Like the moon, we borrow our light. And here’s where we come to the second type of people: the suns.” Because it was so cold they could see their breaths, she saw more than heard the way Sydney’s breath hitched at the words. She decided to take it as a good sign. “They are the people who make everything happen; they are the leaders, the inventors, the doctors. Without them, there would be no life. And just like the sun, they exude so much warmth and light that they can spare some even to the moons around them, allowing them to reach their full potential. The suns burn brightly, and you, my love, are the brightest sun of them all.”

She had expected the tears that started forming in the brown eyes that shone a light as warm as the setting sun (and wasn’t that fitting?). After all, Sydney had never been good at hiding her emotions. They always surfaced through the cracks in her poker face she sometimes attempted to keep when she was upset or the situation called for seriousness that was unnatural to her. It was the exuberance that had initially drawn her to the other girl in that club years ago when she had craved for even a speck of light in her dark life. Never in a million years would she have thought she would find the sun.

She took Sydney’s hands into hers, tracing mindless patterns on her knuckles as she tried to keep her voice calm for the rest of the speech. “Before I met you, I was a moon without a sun; nothing but a shadow in the night. To me, the world was a hopeless place full of never-ending darkness and loneliness. And every time I tried to reach out to people, I was only met with black holes who wanted to suck out the last of the light left in me. So I accepted that all I would ever get was eternal night.” The tears were now running down Sydney’s cheeks, but the grip on her hands was strong and sure. She fell in love all over again. “When you asked me to dance in that nightclub over six years ago, it was like I saw the sun for the first time after a polar night. The force of your spirit melted away the ice and brought the world around me back to life. You brought me back to life, as cliché as it sounds.”

The night of their meeting was still clearly etched in her memory as if it had happened the day before, not years ago. She remembered the way she had been skidding towards a panic attack as she took in the mass of people dancing wildly in front of her and blocking the exit, the flashing lights and loud music forcing her heart into overdrive. She had felt the overpowering need to run away and hide before everything became too much, but then Sydney had appeared and her panicked thoughts had quieted down and everything was calm. Sydney’s warm presence, she had quickly learnt, was something that could always soothe her, and with her help the panic attacks became much more infrequent visitors. Not that they ever disappeared completely, not after years of incessant bullying, but she had gained back the control over her life, and for that she was eternally grateful.

She let go of Sydney’s right hand to stuff hers into the pocket of her coat and wrapped her gloved fingers around a small, velvet box that she had stashed there early in the morning. Watery eyes followed the movement, and they were both aware of what was coming, but she had one more thing to say.

“I know you’d like to argue that I’m not dark and lifeless like the moon without the sun, but that’s only because you can never see me without the sun. You are my sun, and whenever I’m with you, I glow like the moon on a night like this. See?” With a nod of her head, she urged Sydney to turn her gaze to the sky where the full moon was shining down on them. “That could be me, burning with the strength of your light. You are my sun, and if you’re willing, I’d love to bask in the light of your love for the rest of my years. And that leaves us with one question,” she knelt down onto one knee, pulling the ring box out of her pocket and opened it with shaking hands. Sydney turned back to her with wide, gleaming eyes, and the soft light around them made her almost ethereal.

“Will you marry me?”

The ease with which the question rolled off her tongue assured her that this was the right decision. It felt like coming home and she couldn’t believe she ever felt nervous about proposing because this was Sydney. The one person who never made her uncomfortable, who was always ready to stand by her side through thick and thin, and who she would do anything for.  She knew with aching certainty that this was it, this was the course her life had taken the moment she had looked into Sydney’s eyes for the first time. Maybe it was sappy to think that way but she didn’t care because she was so unfathomably, indescribably happy.

It took almost a minute (54 seconds to be exact, not that she was counting) for Sydney to form an answer, but she wasn’t too worried. She knew what the answer would be, had gathered it from the way her partner’s breath had hitched earlier during the speech. The response started with a slight nod of the head and then her soon-to-be fiancé was radiating, her full lips stretched into a wide, stunning smile that almost knocked her to the ground.

“Yes,” Sydney exclaimed, her voice breathless with delight. “Yes, of course I will.”

They struggled getting the rings onto their fingers because their visions were blurry with tears of joy and their hands were shaking. Once they were both happily burdened by the new weight and Sydney had had a chance to marvel at the simple beauty of the silver band, they crashed their bodies and mouths together. The kiss was familiar but there was also something new and exciting in it, a deeper level of significance that they were more than happy to explore together.

When the first firework flew through the sky and burst into a brilliant shower of green and gold, they pulled apart for just a moment to catch their breath.

“Happy New Year, fiancé,” she whispered, giddy with the way the word tasted in her mouth. She could only imagine how wonderful it would be to replace the word with wife.

One day.

“Happy New Year, moon of my life.” And just like that, she found herself once again falling in love a bit more deeply with this woman who would quote Game of Thrones at her a few minutes after getting engaged.

She couldn’t wait to marry her.

Song lyrics from Part II.

[a-lbeit]

april 2017 faves

this one’s fucking long lmfao

planning for spring break 2018: i’ve mentioned a couple of times that i plan to drive to mount rushmore and, more central to my plan, the badlands in south dakota during the 2nd full week of march next year, during the last spring break of my undergraduate career. i think about it a lot, and now that it’s less than a year away, i’ve begun to primitively map out a route for myself–where to stop overnight, how many days to spend doing what, estimated costs, and so on. i plan to drive through cleveland and stay there for a day so that i can visit the rock and roll hall of fame and museum, and then take another night somewhere cheap in between it and my ultimate goal of western south dakota. it’s been really enjoyable for me to look at the map of the us and think, wow, if this really works out, i’m going to do something that i’ve dreamed about for years–driving (halfway) across the country and going to a really beautiful national park. especially recently, i’ve become a bit enraptured with national parks in general (after the rise of the alt nps), and going to the badlands is probably the easiest one to reach that’s also really high up on my list of parks to visit (i’m more into the western ones than the eastern because i love the environment of the west–all those mountains and deserts). so, although nothing will even start to be concrete until at least the start of the fall semester, i’ve been loving sussing out how my plan will work–hiking in the badlands and driving along the designated scenic roads, and of course the journey itself. i love driving so much, and i’m extremely excited by the prospect of getting to drive along 24 hours’ worth of (mostly) midwestern highway, listening to wonderful music and fulfilling what is honestly a dream. 

doughnuts from sainsbury’s: they’re sugar coated, you can get rings or jam filled or vanilla filled or chocolate filled, and you get 5 for 65p. they’re fucking good, especially when they melt in your mouth because they’re so fresh.

old crow medicine show: my parents kindly bought me a ticket to see ocms performing blonde on blonde in manchester right before i come back to the states, which i am SO excited for, and i’ve recently just really been appreciating the group as musicians. i’ve liked them for a few years, probably since about the beginning of 2014, and although i still don’t know too too much of their repertoire, the 25 or so songs that i do know are honestly pretty astounding. i’m in love with that kind of sound, and i think they do their craft perfectly. here’s a little side story from a few months ago: after watching inside llewyn davis right at the beginning of this year, i naturally watched the little concert documentary thing that goes along with it, another day, another time: celebrating the music of inside llewyn davis. one of the performances is by gillian welch and dave rawlings machine and i think someone else, as well–maybe willie watson, ironically enough–doing a medley of a song called “i hear them all” with “this land is your land.” for about a month, i thought that “i hear them all” was another one of those classic, standard folk songs like guthrie’s song is–you know, a song that is pretty universally regarded as important both politically and in regards to quality. particularly the lyrics “i hear leaders quit their lyin, i hear babies quit their cryin, i hear soldiers quit their dyin, one and all” were ones that certainly could have been written nearly a century ago by a contemporary of woody guthrie or maybe even guthrie himself, and that i was just a bit ignorant in my knowledge of old folk music. however, after looking “i hear them all” up to listen to the original, i learned that that song was written by old crow. a song that i really thought had probably been in existence for decades was actually written by a current band about 10 years ago. and that is the reason i admire them so much. they and artists like them are sort of carrying on that era of music, which is just nice to know and to be able to appreciate.

kitty the truck driver from “springsteen and i”: tbh i haven’t finished that documentary yet lmfao and this fave is really random but i was kind of struck by this girl named kitty who was included in the allotment of fan videos explaining their love for springsteen. she’s a young and, more surprisingly, female truck driver, which is obviously something that you don’t see too often. as someone who has thought about what it would be like to be a truck driver (and who has even had pieces of a desire to become one–getting to drive across the country for a living sounds truly incredible), i appreciated being made aware that people like her exist. naturally, representation is such an important thing, and it’s nice to know that if i ever did fully commit to wanting to be a truck driver, there are other young females who are in the same field. and, of course, hearing her anecdotes about why she loves springsteen was great, as well. 

into the wild and wild: these two movies are similar and wildly different at the same time. they both deal with having to rely on nature for survival, but wild ends on a much happier note than into the wild. i’m going to talk about them individually because it’s easier for me that way. i watched wild first, and it was captivating throughout. i cried a lot and it was quite hard to watch at times. the incorporation of cheryl singing songs to herself was something that i especially enjoyed, and of course her strength and perseverance were admirable and inspirational. i don’t think i could ever go on a hike like that, but both the plot and the cinematography were really good at getting me into an outdoorsy spirit (not that that was even remotely the point of movie). i really think that that film is important for everyone, especially women, to watch, and i plan on reading the book soon (and i want to read the book that inspired into the wild, as well). as for into the wild, which i watched a few days after wild, i didn’t like the main character, chris/alex, as much at first, but he really grew on me, and i loved the more “mundane” (which i put in quotes because no part of that movie is mundane, but some parts are more so than others) parts of the movie--going with kristen stewart’s character to salvation mountain, talking with ron at ron’s house. now, to discuss the ending--the last 15 minutes or so were very emotionally draining, and i think that the outcome really affected me, but it was obviously crucial to include his deterioration, which was (objectively speaking) the most hypnotising part of the movie. i think the fact that the whole story can even be told is astounding, considering that chris died in a very remote location and very alone. that people found his body probably 2 weeks after his death is, i think, something of an act of god, an event that happened so that the world could be educated on both his stupidity and his courage. yeah, i think that into the wild is truly one of those stories that are only made visible to the public once in a blue moon. at any rate, both into the wild and wild were awfully impressive, and they’re probably going to be in the back of my mind for a long time.

the descendants: i’ve loved this film for years, having seen it with my parents when it was in theaters. they dragged me to it, of course, but after the showing, i secretly fell in love with it. i’ve seen it multiple times since. but about a week ago, i decided to watch it again (i don’t think i’d seen it for at least a year), and i haven’t really been able to stop thinking about it. i finished it at about 2:30 in the morning, i think, and although i don’t particularly enjoy talking about my sensitivity, i need to say that i cried for at least half an hour after i finished it. i don’t think it was really because of the plot of the movie, although it certainly does end on a melancholy, yet somewhat sanguine note that i’m sure did increase my emotional imbalance. the music in that film definitely captures the feelings of the film in a way that not many soundtracks have accomplished (side note: i love every song on that soundtrack and i could talk for longer about just the music), and i think it also was a part of why the movie affected me so much. however, i think this particular viewing got to me because the descendants takes me back to a really specific time in my life that i get very nostalgic for. i still had a few years in high school left, so i could still be comfortably a kid while getting more privileges (like being able to drive, although my parents certainly didn’t give me carte blanche with that, let me tell you). it reminds me of charleston a lot not only because i watched it at a good time in my life, but because of the hawaiian setting--being on the beach, having the characters casually dressed, and so on. it made me want to walk for hours on the beach just like the scene in the film where the whole family searches for brian speer and matt tells his kids (and sid lmfao) nice stories about the times he and their mother had and what a character she was. i felt homesick more heavily than i ever have (in the sense that i have never really felt homesick lmfao), and i wanted so strongly to be in charleston. i looked out my window into the heart of fucking camden and felt rather ungrateful, but i couldn’t help it. at any rate, the descendants made me actually long for charleston, which i never thought would happen, and it made me excited to go back. and, of course, the film itself is so perfect--the characters, the story, the cinematography--and i think that it really is one of my favourites of all time, if not my number one.

“racing in the street,” bruce springsteen: this song is very low-key and relaxed while maintaining a lot of meaning, and that goes a long way. i think i read that a lot of people, including bob dylan, say that this is springsteen’s greatest song. i don’t know if i would necessarily agree with that, but it really is a great track. the imagery in the lyrics and the mood changes (both in his voice and in the instrumentation) are so intoxicating, honestly, and you end up with another great story of a blue collar life. fave lyrics (there are a couple): “summer’s here and the time is right”--i know that this isn’t really what this lyric is trying to convey, but with summer being just around the corner for me, it really speaks to me in terms of the endless possibilities of what i can do with this vacation. “she stares off alone into the night/ with the eyes of one who hates for just being born”--i do think that this is one of the best lines springsteen has ever written. it’s eloquent as fuck, and the concept of hating for just being born is something almost universally relatable that isn’t very often said like that. "tonight my baby and me, we’re gonna ride to the sea/ and wash these sins off our hands”--i really like this idea of being purified by a body of water. it’s an ancient idea, and tying in a small journey (i.e., driving, perhaps with his damning racing car) in order to reach a better place isn’t novel, but it is a way for the character and his girlfriend/wife to be jointly better.