#nobody can know he's a lovesick fool when no one's looking

[greeniebeanieships]

That fucking goober right there ↓

Tough f/os that come to you when they get pissed off because they know only you can calm them down. Serious f/os that only let themselves be embarrassing and soft around you because they trust you. Cocky f/os who let themselves be whiny and needy because they know you won't make fun of them. You're the only one that can soften them

PROSHIP DNI

[synthetickitsune]

svt + when they see you walking down the aisle a/n: a tiktok i saw sent me down a delulu spiral

Seungcheol ❧ His world stops and the universe crashes down and the stardust settles in his eyes as he watches you approaching him slowly. It’s just stars. It’s not the lights reflecting in the hint of tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. Love is pain, Seungcheol realizes. His cheeks hurt so much from the effort to keep himself from smiling too widely, too like a lovesick fool that he is. He can’t take his eyes off you, which makes it hard to keep a straight or at least decent face that won’t betray how embarrassingly excited he is for this moment. Then again, maybe that’s good - he thinks when he notices you biting back your own smile. You didn’t want him to see the final look before the actual thing and would it be too inappropriate to tell you how gorgeous you look and kiss you before he gets the blessing? Perhaps, and he wants your wedding to be perfect so he’ll be patient but you’re making it ridiculously hard. He’s already failing to hide how unbelievably in love he is and how impatient he is to put that ring on your finger.

Jeonghan ❧ His lips part and he loses his breath. His racing mind comes to a stop, the time does too. He doesn’t care that he’s showing all the people around his rawest emotions, because he knows nobody is looking at him. They’re all looking at you. They must be. What could be more important than you right now? You coming towards Jeonghan slowly. You, who will be his - who chose him, who accepts him. He swallows the lump in his throat and looks towards his friends for support. Does he deserve this? He wants to have the ring on his finger already. Something, anything to reassure him he’s not dreaming. Maybe he’s not ready. Is he enough? He can’t cheat his way out of this one. What if he tricked you into believing he’s worthy of you? He’d never lie to you, but what if he did this entire time and you fell in love with someone he isn’t? You’re perfect. You’re perfect to him, and you’re perfect with him. He wants to tease you, even here and now, like he always does but he can’t. He gets too bashful when you look at him with this much adoration.

Joshua ❧ Standing straight and awaiting the moment the love of his life will appear and walk down the aisle towards him, towards your shared future, Joshua doesn’t feel nervous at all. It’s fate, it was all predestined from the beginning until now. You will exchange your vows and seal the promises with a kiss. There’s no reason for anxiety, no reason to feel nervous. Yet the moment the music plays and he sees you, he can’t help but swallow thickly and feel a pang of displeasure at the strained way he smiles. He doesn’t want to be nervous, but his hands start to tremble. You’re so beautiful, you’re glowing like the sun. It’s blinding him but he can’t look away. He can’t because he needs to take you in, and he needs to know it’s real and you’re not running away. He knows you won’t. He knows it, but what if? He’s too blessed, something is bound to get ruined - and he prays it won’t be you and him. You’re everything he wants, isn’t it unfair he gets to achieve his dream? You always tell him to be more selfish. Perhaps he should listen to you more and doubt himself less.

Jun ❧ He barely stops himself before he can move towards you, his hands twitch subtly in their longing to hold you. Jun knows he can’t mess this up - you’re supposed to be given away to him, you need to be the one to come to him. That’s the whole point. He knows you love him, feels blessed for it every second of every day. He has no doubt the ceremony will go just as he imagined - better even because it’s real! No one will take you away from him, there’s no evil plot in place. It’s just a ceremony - it will take a while. But he simply wants to hold you already. You must feel so awkward in the unfamiliar clothes you’re wearing. The shoes look uncomfortable too - what if you stumble? Wait. You’re so beautiful. He finally focuses on looking at you and not worrying about you. And suddenly he can’t move. It would be too daring to approach you. Is it really alright to let someone else guide you for the last time before you’re his to protect for a lifetime? He’ll have to take it this time, but never more afterwards. His lips stretch into a proud smile. You’re really his, and it makes him giddy like a child.

Hoshi ❧ He’s breathing slowly and deeply to calm himself, to stay still despite the waiting stretching on forever. He thinks he’ll feel relief when he sees you, but when the moment arrives… Soonyoung laughs, blinking up at the ceiling to stop the tears that flood his eyes from spilling. He does feel relief, but more than that he feels overwhelming joy, gratitude, and pride. He needs to be fast with his little breakdown because he needs a second look. He needs to enjoy the opportunity because it’s only today that he’ll get the chance to experience it. You’re blurry through the unspilled tears but he still sighs a soft woah that makes his best man sigh in exasperation that he ignores completely, desperately wiping away his tears. He’s beaming at you, and he envies you for looking much more composed than he is, with only a slight pink blush adoring your face. He wants to kiss it away. Would that be too improper to do? Yes. So would be screaming for the whole world to hear that you’re marrying him today, so suck it up everyone who isn’t him. Yet that’s what he wants to do the most - right after saying the ‘I do’.

Wonwoo ❧ It feels like the first time he saw you. You wear the same bashful smile, nerves just radiating off you like you can't believe he's waiting for you. Wonwoo remembers that back then he felt the same - in disbelief you'd actually come. He feels no such foolish feelings today as he smiles at you warmly and appreciates how beautiful you look. His chest is filled with pride knowing you chose him, and that the people that matter the most to him will witness the moment that you become his in yet another way. It's not the most important, he tries to think, just a formality. What matters most is that you agreed to spend your life with him, this is just a celebration. Yet with all eyes on you both, it's impossible not to feel pressured. Maybe he lied. He is nervous like he was back then, but now he can look at you and find the promise of a future filled with love in your eyes. He has it all planned out - the peaceful mornings and quiet nights. Bickering about new furniture, sharing chores. Forever suddenly doesn’t sound so scary - it sounds like too short of a time.

Woozi ❧ He needs to look up, but he knows that once he does he'll be damned. He waits for the moment the music starts with dread that has nothing to do with any doubts and everything to do with the fact he feels himself getting emotional. Jihoon refuses to cry. He’ll make an exception for you, as he always does, and he’ll allow his emotions to show but he will not cry. And yet the moment you appear, he almost feels his efforts go to waste. You’re so beautiful, and he’s hit with memories from your first meeting all the way to where you’re now walking towards him. It feels more like the reverse is true - like he’s the one running towards you, towards your embrace that he learned to call home. He takes a deep breath, lets it out in a wistful sigh that gives him enough strength to smile without cracking. It feels too much like he’s showing off. He told you before that he could’ve lived forever and he’d still feel he didn’t do enough to deserve the privileges he can currently enjoy. You most of all. How did he get so lucky? He won’t cry. So why are you looking so blurry…

The8 ❧ Breathe in, breathe out. Slowly, methodically. Minghao is nothing if not a master of self-control. So he doesn’t allow his cautious excitement to be ruined by his rising anxiety. It’s just the expectation of everyone. He’s not performing, but it almost feels like he is, and he feels guilty for putting so much pressure on you too. On the other hand, he feels his chest swell with pride just seeing how many people will witness you and him intertwining your lives together until death do you apart. As much as he wants to appreciate how breathtaking you look, he holds your gaze. You need his support, and he can worship you later too. He smiles without realizing. It finally feels real, and he feels calm. His life is finally clicking in place. He sees nothing but trust in your eyes, and it’s all the reassurance he needs that everything will work out. You trust him to take care of you for the rest of your life, and he knows he can rely on you to do the same. He can’t wait to grow old with you. All those years later, he’ll still tease you for telling him he looks handsome before he could compliment you first.

Mingyu ❧ He knows there’s a bet in place whether he’ll cry or not, but surprisingly for everyone (including himself) Mingyu doesn’t feel anywhere close to tears. What he feels is a sense of accomplishment. He has the love of his life walking down the aisle to where he’s waiting at the altar, both of you looking immaculate - although if he’s honest, he feels like he’ll look like a fool next to you. Like a piece of dirt next to a diamond. Honestly he forgot about the room. He can’t take his eyes off you, but he’s worried he’ll say something embarrassing if he doesn’t look away. The ground is nowhere near interesting enough though, so he bites his tongue and looks up again. You look even more beautiful. He grins at you at least, because he needs you to know that he’s obsessed with you - like you (or anyone in the room) can not see the heart eyes he’s giving you. It’s not his nature to be possessive of you, but something in his chest can’t stand that he’s not the one leading you down the aisle. Showing off his pretty love like that? Boasting who he pulled? Unthinkable. He would’ve cried then.

DK ❧ He is trying to get it together, he swears he is. He told himself he won't cry, he told his friends he won't cry. But damn, is it hard when he hears the music… and it's impossible when he sees you. Seokmin knows you're everything he ever wanted and everything he'll ever need when he sees you and the tears come way too easy. Barely stopping himself before he can ruin his suit by wiping his eyes with his sleeve, he laughs and just keeps looking at you. There’s nothing he can do, he’d just keep crying anyway. He sees how you try to speed up, to be given away to him if just a second sooner, but the person next to you won’t let you, and he chuckles. Just like he always runs to you when you need him, you always do the same for him too. Did he forget that when he cries, you cry as well? He tries to calm down, you can’t both be a mess. He wouldn’t do that to you. Suddenly he wishes it could be just you and him. Would that be not enough? You started calling him your husband a long time ago anyway.

Seungkwan ❧ He's been a mess since morning. He's probably been bottling it up for months though - through the chaos of wedding planning and everyday life, all the way until now. The moment he sees you, the dams just break. He reminds himself to breathe, manages to smile at you, and even watch every step you take through the tears. You are gorgeous. You kept hyping him up for this moment but Seungkwan will need to have a talk with you - how could you fail to mention he'll be overwhelmed by love and adoration the second he lays eyes on you? He wipes off his tears carefully and hopes he still looks presentable. He'd hate to ruin your photos. He doesn't know what to do with himself. Even out of the spotlight, very honored to stand in your shadow, he feels nervous. It feels silly to stand and wait, he can't stop his racing mind that floods with memories of you two. Your loving gaze on him does little to help. Your smile is so bright, and he realizes that despite the tears he's smiling too. He wants to kiss you already. It feels like a waste that he can't, but perhaps he'll talk you into making it up to him later.

Vernon ❧ It's not a big deal. He promised that to you and he promised that to himself. So why is he getting nervous? The crowd is full of familiar and supportive faces, and yet the one who'd chase away his nerves is missing. Tension keeps building up in Vernon's body all the way until the music plays and he sees you lead in to be entrusted to him. That might be a tad dramatic, but it's an interesting part of the ceremony nonetheless and he can't wait to mention it to you and get your opinion on it. Your lives are merging, so why act as if you're being given away, as if you're a burden to be passed around? You could never be a burden to him, which is rare for him but then again you are a miracle. He feels his cheeks burning. All it took was one look at you and suddenly the tension is gone, isn't that crazy? How are you his anyway? You're so beautiful he would've approached you even if you were strangers. Again - you are a miracle. He feels a smile settle on his face and he thinks how you're the only one to make him smile by simply existing. He's in for a good life, that's for sure.

Dino ❧ His chest is filled with pride and his entire life flashes before his eyes in the few moments between the music start and you entering. Chan feels lucky. Not for the first time in his life, but the feeling now is so intense his whole body tingles. He sees you and he sees the rest of his life. He loves you unconditionally, the feeling washes over him just as strongly as when he first realized it. Isn't it foolish that even though you'll exchange your vows in just a few minutes, he wants to propose again? How can he let you know how much he loves you? He knows loving takes time, and he’s excited beyond words to spend the rest of his days loving you. He can’t wait to spend his time with and on you. But what can he do right now? He wipes under his eyes, laughing at himself before standing straight again. He'll be the best man he can be for you, and he’ll start right here. His smile is wobbly, but he hopes you can feel its sincerity. He runs his vows through his head again, but he thinks he'll improvise and add more anyway. You look too beautiful not to promise you the stars - a promise he will keep.

[doki-doki-imagines]

Can I ask Johnny, Tomas and maybe some others being mind numbingly in love with the reader??

Like theyre so in love they don't know how to act so they always make a fool of themselves and feel so stupid after???

author note: love this prompt. Added Liu Kang so I could write for my 3 fave boys🫶🏻.

Johnny Cage: -He doesn't leave you alone. His eyes always search for yours even for just a brief glance. -Johnny smiles way more around you and also listens to you like the universal truth is flowing from your lips. -Everybody can tell he has a crush on you. The problem is that nobody takes him seriously. -When you talk to Johnny face to face, he totally gets lost looking at your face. He has a dreamy expression and will totally bite his lower lip. -Damn, he doesn't remember a word you said, but he could listen to you the whole day. -Johnny shows off every time you get near him, blabbering on how good he is at everything. How can you not fall for such a dripilicious guy? -"Look at me, I'm winning this for you!" He's gonna lose. -But you can tell his sentiment is pure. Maybe calling it love is a stretch, but Johnny isn't joking…most of the time. -Even if he keeps failing wooing you, Johnny not gonna stop. He doesn't have any shame, so he doesn't mind failing. The moment of dejection always lasts very little.

Tomas Vrbada: -The guy gets obsessed. -He keeps glancing at you, but the moment you look back, Tomas turns his head down like a kid getting caught stealing from the cookie jar. -You fill his brain. Tomas trains? He thinks of you. He eats? He thinks that he'd like to share this delicious food with you. -And damn, when Tomas doesn't have any important mission going on, his mind starts to wander. He is like a schoolgirl jiggling and kicking his feet in the air every time you are just normally kind to him. -The kind that hugs his pillow when sleeping, thinking it is your body. -Tomas is down deep, so deep it reaches his knees, and he can't move. -He is a sweet guy, it happenes to him to stutter and for his cheeks to get tomato red, but Tomas is reaching new peaks. -Once Tomas was talking with Liang at Wu Shi Academy. He turned his head and his grey-ish eyes locked on yours, Tomas then missed a step and fell down the stairs rolling directly at your feet. -Tomas knows he looks like a fool, but it's not like he is doing that on purpose. He'd gladly smash his head against concrete if that would make him go normal. -Thankfully, Tomas will get normal, that you like him back or not, but before reaching that point, there is a long road ahead…

Liu Kang: -After living for so long, after shaping so many timelines, Liu Kang thought to have learnt from his and others' mistakes. -You never have a part in his life, that's why it comes as a surprise when you both start to work together. -It wasn't planned, Liu Kang didn't have to pull any strings. You just…happened. -And something blossomed in Liu Kang's heart, a feeling he once felt but forgot for aeons. -He is in love. -Liu Kang may have lived for centuries, but he didn't gain any rizz. His good boy charm long forgotten since he became a god. He is still nice but much less loose. -And it shows. -Should he give you gifts? But what should he buy? Looking at your life in the hourglass wouldn't be right. But the temptation is high. -At times, Liu Kang is just chatting with you, and something shiver inducing (and not for pleasure) slips out his mouth. Obviously, Liu Kang notices but a minute to late. He'll gladly dig his own grave with his bare hands. -He is so fucking sure one day you'll tell him to stop bothering you. -Liu Kang desire to touch you is immense, but you still haven't reached that point in your relationship. -When you sit next to each other, drinking a hot beverage, every fibre in Liu Kang's body screams to touch you. Tracing the lines of your face with his fingertips, brushing away the hair that hides your face, losing himself in your eyes. -Liu Kang is lovesick. -Every step to make you close is really hard for him, so blinded by his own feelings that he doesn't see that they are reciprocated. -You'll totally need to take the first step.

[raivenantcravings]

Round 6 Reaction/Analysis

SDFFSDHFLSDHF ROUND 6 FSDHKFDSH ROUND 6 FSDKFSDHFDS ROUND 6

I woke up to twitter analysis saying that Till never even looked at Ivan until his final moments. And I made pre round 6 fanart titled "look at me." Couldn't manifest it. He never looked at him in the end,,,

broo dont look so happy. oh my god you lovesick fool.

reaction and analysis under the cut

First detail I noticed was that are the mics clear because both Ivan and Till are being vulnerable? They have nothing to hide anymore, so they'll show the world their whole being.

Anyways, to my main point,,

My interpretation of the ending was that Ivan was really trying to "cure" Till.

Till opens up with wanting to feel pain, to feel hurt.

"Please, leave me scars"

"Please, hurt me so that not a single drop of me remains"

Which, I realize he's talking to Mizi, but it's a cry for "help" either way.

Ivan's part goes:

"Notice my pain and mend me right now"

Again, he's talking about himself, but I think it could apply to what he does to Till.

So they kiss.

And, I've seen a lot of other people already say this, but I also do feel the kiss was not only meant to be for Ivan to selfishly show his love for Till.

Like bro don't go nonconsensually kissing your crush, what are you doing!?

When the scores came out, Ivan was much lower than Till than I expected. I thought it'd be a Mizi-Sua situation where the scores were close, but Mizi barely edged it out.

But Till almost had 20 points over Ivan.

And I know it's because Till is a rising star. And his new image change would really garner the attention of everyone. But it's not like Ivan is a nobody either. I didn't expect the scores to be so different.

I do think its because Ivan kissed Till. As a final nail in the coffin that guarantees his loss.

Alien Stage is commentary on the idol industry. One of the most prevalent issues in the idol industry is the romantic lives of the idols. Idols are not supposed to be in relationships, at least not outwardly. Their whole image is for the fans. Nothing they do should ruin that public image as an idol.

Much less in a in a queer relationship.

Now I don't believe the universe of Alien Stage cares about LGBTQ+ issues because there's bigger issues surrounding their human pets. But I think that it is an issue that Vivinos is trying to address because they certainly never shy away from queer issues in their other works.

And I feel the idea that idols/pets should not be swayed by their romantic emotions is still prevalent in their society.

So for the audience to see Ivan kiss Till, in one of the most outrageous and public displays possible, further pushes the votes in Till's favor.

And yeah, I also do believe that he kissed Till for him to finally look at him, but I also feel that it was a self-sacrifice too.

And then Ivan violently chokes Till.

Possibly, as another way to give Till votes. Since when Mizi started punching Luka, the audience was outraged at her actions.

Violence is definitely frowned upon on the stage.

More on the choking scene,,

I also saw some people saying that it's because Ivan wanted Till to die with him, which may be part of it. I don't think everything Ivan did was completely selfless.

But

Till accepts it. Earlier when he is at the bar (party? venue? the private show either way), he fights the alien who tries to punch him.

He did show him Mizi's missing image, so he is enraged in this moment, but he does have fight left in him even then.

He doesn't resist when Ivan chokes him just closes his eyes and awaits death. Perhaps if Mizi was already dead, he can just join her in the afterlife since he had no way of knowing she was still alive.

In this way, Ivan is his savior. The one who is finally freeing him from all this pain he felt after losing Mizi. This is his "cure."

And for Ivan, he sorta wants to be a savior to Till. He has freed him on multiple accounts from his shackles. Even helping him run away with him, so they can experience freedom together.

They both get what they want, but,,

Ivan lets go of Till and Till, with an expression that feels like shock, finally looks at Ivan.

Killing him would not give him the freedom that Till needs

that Ivan wants Till to have.

So, like the countless times Till has been chained around his neck, Ivan gives him his chains:

hurting him like he desires.

A scar around his neck.

(Where the scar from his name is)

And mending him,

by taking away the final chain that Ivan could release from Till.

His "cure."

It felt like his final desire was to get Till to snap out of it, to realize that he needs to find true freedom, to not get apathetic at the situation, to keep on going and to live.

He really, truly loves Till even if Till does and never will understand it.

Also final thoughts, is it not strange that Ivan is able to release Till's bindings so easily?

No one else is shown releasing the bindings, so maybe it is just as easy as a press of the button. Yet, I don't feel like it's just poorly designed if that's the case. Because you literally have a person like Ivan releasing a dangerous human like Till. Shouldn't a cautious society like the world of Alien Stage made sure it wouldn't be super easy to get out of.

If there is more to it, I wonder if that'll be a plot point later on. With Ivan leaving behind the secret to getting out of the bindings for Till. So, when a character maybe Till or even Hyuna or Mizi have been captured, they're able to escape since they know how to remove them.

Maybe, I'm just being delulu

And final final thoughts, the kiss was great and definitely made me almost scream. But the way Ivan nuzzled Till has got me acting up.

Like, it's just so soft and sweet and not a big show of it like when Ivan kisses Till on stage.

It feels so intimate, so personal, so full of love.

I just, I just can't. They'll be the death of me.

[ddollfface]

Hii~ it's me again.

You said The Athlete has siblings right? How is he with them? Or just generally with his family, as of current day?

Also, (with Childhood bestf Darling) what would he do if they had a crush? What if it was one of his other team members?

Nobody can convince me that the absolute black cat of a darling I have in mind would ever have a crush in a normal way.

At first, darling is crushing hard on someone, doesn't really realize it, but a certain other guy does. Then, when darling does realize, they do everything in their power to push that person away and I imagine he's right there, on calls with them late at night as they complain about their crush, because-

"he's horrible, right? And he doesn't even like me. Ugh. I hate him so much. He's cruel, and selfish, and arrogant, who'd like a guy like that?"

Insert our boy with the sweetest, "Of course, pumpkin. He's horrible, you know what he did last summer..." (Cue him telling darling about the most atrocious thing darling's crush ever did.)

- 💗 (Making an OC to ship with him is not a want, it is a need. Also, I absolutely love your writing style. The way you slip from third person writing to first person dialogue is really cool.)

𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚��

𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗦𝗶𝗰𝗸!𝗔𝘁𝗵𝗹𝗲𝘁𝗲 𝘅 𝗳𝗲𝗺!𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

"When I looked into his eyes, I knew he was the one." Trigger Warnings; bad writing, spelling errors, vague baby trapping, reader can get pregnant, both yandere and reader have baby fever (self-insert lol), reader and yandere are 18+, descriptions of sex, sex is brought up, talking about yandere's bad childhood, yandere is a lovesick fool, 18+ If I missed anything, then please let me know ♡ I'm splitting this ask into two different things 'cause it's easier on my tiny brain (I also think they're two completely different asks, so yeah). Also, my writing style (where I slip into thrid person) is inspired by @depravitycentral's writing, their literally so good, please go read it:)))

Okay, okay, so let me tell you about LoveSick!Athlete and his childhood, more so his siblings. LoveSick!Athlete is the oldest, though he does have an older half-brother. He's not too close to him, and he was never around. This means, that in the family dynamic, LoveSick!Athlete was the oldest.

Now, after him, he has a little sister, who he is very, very, very close to. Her name is Nayda and she's only a year or two younger than him, they have the same dad, who is a complete scumbag btw.

After Nayda and LoveSick!Athlete there's the twins, who are only two years old. They have a different dad from Nayda and LoveSick!Athlete. They're interracial babies (meaning they're a mix of black and white, in this situation), and this has caused a whole bunch of issues for LoveSick!Athlete and his mama. Especially since where he's from, people aren't the most accepting of interracial couples. There have been far too many times when these old ladies will make too many assumptions with their grabby-ass hands, leading to a whole assortment of problems.

LoveSick!Athlete is close with his family and he feels very protective over them, particularly toward his mama and sister. This is partially because they're women and he has a, slightly, closeminded view of women. He sees them as something he needs to protect. He was raised to never, ever hit a girl, ever. That was seen as unacceptable and it was something his mama would be pissed over.

However, this doesn't mean that he thinks women shouldn't work or anything, it's just that he feels an instinctual need to protect women, even if they can handle themselves. This stems from his unstable childhood; how he would see his mama struggle, both financially and romantically. Because she was the only woman he ever really interacted with, rather than his sister, he grew this instinctual, primal even, need to protect women based on his experiences of watching his mama.

Then there's the twins, Bijan and Abbas, who LoveSick!Athlete isn't too close with. Of course, when he's home for holidays, he always, always helps his mama and stepdad with taking care of the unruly toddlers. He enjoys taking care of them, but he doesn't really see them as his siblings, seeing as he was already out of the house by the time they were born.

Though, LoveSick!Athlete does have a good relationship with his stepdad, seeing as his stepdad is a far better man than his pa ever was. His stepdad was his mama's therapist (ooo interesting dynamic), and he really helped his mama through the filling of a restraining order process (it was against his pa). He even calls him dad, something he never did with his pa. LoveSick!Athlete's mama always makes them have "bro-time", as she calls it. She wants her two favorite boys to get along, and it warms her heart every time she sees them sharing a moment, usually, it's a conversation relating to her.

LoveSick!Athlete respects his stepdad as both a man and a person; he believes that he'll take good care of his mama when he isn't there, which is his top priority. He wants his mama to have a stable life, for her to get out of the projects, and have a nice home. LoveSick!Athlete, no doubt, is a mama's boy and always has been. He loves his mama to death and would love for you to meet her. He thinks she'd absolutely adore you, and she does (from what she's heard about you).

Due to how many siblings, and cousins, this man has, he's very, very, very good with children. Out of all of his cousins, he's the third oldest, meaning that he had to take care of all the younger kids. He was always left giving the baby the bottle or picking the twins up from school.

It wasn't his favorite thing in the world, being a babysitter, but it never bothered him too much as he's very good with kids. Babies seem to just relax around him, giving his mama much relief. He just has this atmosphere around him that kids just seem to love.

LoveSick!Athlete likes how energetic kids can be and how they seem to have a rose-colored view of the world. Their overall optimism really brightens his day and he can't help but let his mind wander, thinking of what your children would look like. Would they have your eyes? He hopes so; he really thinks your eyes are beautiful. The way your iris shimmers under light; how he can see his reflection in your eyes. It's like he can see right through you; your every emotion is reflected in your colorful eyes. Whatever you're hiding or refusing to tell him, he can see in them.

Sometimes, LoveSick!Athlete will just sit there and stare at you, without your knowledge, of course. While you two are on a date, he'll just watch you stuff your mouth, unaware of his peering gaze. He just can't rip his eyes away from yours; he sees his future in them, your future together. You'll catch him, eventually, staring at you like a lovesick idiot. And he'll just shrug, after all, he can't deny my feelings, sweetcheeks. You're far too easy on the eyes to not stare at! Don't derive a man from a good view, yeah?

He'll smirk, leaning his cheek against the palm of his hand, and smile slyly.

He's very subtle with his little baby fever spurts. He'll periodically have moments where he'll feel this overwhelming need to breed you, to make your tummy swell with his children. He wants to make you the mother of his kids, to make you a sweet, little mama. He knows you'd be great; you'd be such a good mother, he thinks.

When the two of you are cuddling, he'll absentmindedly rub his hand up and down your midriff, letting his calloused hand trail down to right above your center. LoveSick!Athlete would hold your waist a little tighter, the thought of you all stuff with him, him, him makes him go insane.

He'll hint it to you when the two of you are going at it; your legs hiked up on his shoulders; he's plowing through you. He's never quiet when making love, as he calls it, but when the baby fever is hitting hard, he's never closing his mouth. Little gasps and pants leave his mouth, going on and on about how you're the one for him, baby. God, you'd be such a pretty mommy. Mhm- let me make you a mama, c'mon, angel, I know we're young, b-but I'll make, make it happen. Umgh- for you.

And he'll pout and whine when you refuse to let him go raw, forcing him into a condom. He'll put every excuse in the book. It's too small, 'm too gifted for this tiny rubber, babes. Just lemme go in there, I swear I'll put out(((

He won't, that was a lie, but once you get to that point, where you're all sweaty, sex is heavy in the air, and your mind is all fuzzy, you won't care. You'll forget all about that stupid condom you were so adamant about a few minutes ago. And he's so, so, so glad you did, 'cause now he can let you have all of him, and I mean all of him. The thought of you all stuffed with his cum spurs him on, causing him to tighten his hold around your, already bruised thighs, and kiss up and down your belly, his muscular form hunched over your sweaty one.

LoveSick!Athlete just wants to be a daddy :( And you won't lie, the way he dots on his younger siblings causes your heart to clench; the idea of having a family, though you're both so young, becomes more and more appealing as the days pass by. You just know he would be a good father, you can tell by how his gaze softens with he sees a woman pushing a stroller or a toddler babbling on and on about some random bird they saw.

And he knows the same thoughts are flooding your mind, and he begs you to give in to them, but you always deny it, pushing his face away from yours. You are in college, trying to pursue a career, that you haven't even started, you don't have time for a family yet, you tell him, but all he hears is that you want to have a family with him, at some point. LoveSick!Athlete just has selective hearing, I suppose, as he just grabs your shoulders and gives you an excited smile. He leans close, whispering in your ear, so you do want to have kids? Yeah? I can make it happen; I can take care of you, just wait. I can wait, just for you. We'd be such good parents, babe.

Just wait, he'll convince you, eventually. He's very persuasive, me thinks ;)

[kmomof4]

A Scoundrel... Or a Gentleman? Ch. 5

We are back everyone!!! I've been waiting for this chapter for several reasons and I so hope you enjoy it! Thank you again for coming along on this journey with me! It means more than I can say!

Thank you as well to @jrob64 for all her help in crafting this story and to @snowbellewells and @motherkatereloyshipper for the artwork they made to accompany it!! Love all you ladies to bits!!!

Words: Almost 6300 of approx 59,5K

Rating: M (smut in later chs)

Tags: Regency Romance, Inspired by Francesca Bridgerton's Story, Smut in Later Chapters.

On ao3 From Beginning / Current Chapter

On Tumblr Prologue Ch2 Ch3 Ch4

Tagging the usuals. Please let me know if you'd like to be added or removed.

@jrob64 @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @jennjenn615 @donteattheappleshook @undercaffinatednightmare @pirateherokillian @cocohook38 @qualitycoffeethings @booksteaandtoomuchtv @superchocovian @motherkatereloyshipper @snowbellewells @pirateprincessofpizza @djlbg @lfh1226-linda @xarandomdreamx @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic @anmylica @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate @gingerchangeling @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @stahlop @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite @captainswan-kellie @soniccat @beckettj @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @thisonesatellite @jonesfandomfanatic @elfiola @zaharadessert @ilovemesomekillianjones @mie779 @kymbersmith-90 @suwya

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

The rest of the week passed in a nauseating blur of flowers, candy, and badly recited poetry by lovesick suitors. It was enough to make Killian want to vomit. Preferably on the lovesick suitors.

Emma was apparently putting all the young debutantes to shame. Her number of suitors may not actually be doubling every day, but it certainly felt like they were, as Killian had had to remove himself from Kilmartin House each day to keep from constantly tripping over the latest besotted fool.

And God above, could not a one of them conceive an original thought? Of course they all made mention of her eyes, but was there anyone with an ounce of creativity in their brains that they might compare them to something other than the green grass of Hyde Park? If anyone had bothered to really look at the color of her eyes, they would clearly see they were a shade all their own. And their hue would change based on her mood - the sparkling green of an emerald when she was happy or laughing, or a more muted jade when she was melancholy.

And everything was worsened by the memory of his conversation with Will. 

Marriage to Emma. 

Marriage to Emma.

Marriage. To Emma.

He’d never really allowed himself to consider it. But now it gripped him with a fever and intensity that burned as hot as his love for her ever had.

And Will knew. 

Of course he knew. Will may not have known for sure when he first made the suggestion, but there had been no way for Killian to effectively hide everything that went through his head at the suggestion. Will was shrewd and nobody’s fool, so there was no doubt in his mind that Emma’s brother would have accurately deduced his feelings just from his utterly flabbergasted response. The question now was, would he tell Emma?

It was something his mind wouldn’t let go of - like a dog with a bone, gnawing at every side - even as he stood watching her on the dance floor at the Fisher ball a week after the original conversation.

“She looks very beautiful tonight, doesn’t she?”

A soft smile touched his lips when he heard his mother’s words.

“Doesn’t she, Killian?” she repeated, when he didn’t answer right away.

“Of course,” he replied quickly. Hopefully quickly enough that she’d think he was simply being polite.

“Green suits her.”

Everything suited Emma, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud to his mother. The deep green velvet she wore, coupled with her golden tresses, made her look like a rare and sparkling jewel.

“You should dance with her.”

He cleared his throat and took another sip of champagne before speaking. “Oh, I will,” he assured her. “After I finish my drink.” Even if the only thing he wanted to do was march right over to her and forcibly remove her from the arms of the latest gentleman dancing with her.

Alice huffed. “Her dance card will surely be filled by then. You should go now.”

Killian gave her his signature smirk, designed to make her forget whatever she was fixated on at the moment, and set his glass down on a nearby table. 

“Now why would I do that,” he said, gallantly with a deep bow, “when I can dance with you instead?”

Her expression changed quickly to amusement. “You rascal.” But she didn’t protest when he led her out to the floor. 

He knew he’d pay for this tomorrow. The society matrons were already circling him for the kill, and there was nothing they loved better than a rake who doted upon his mother. 

The dance was lively, which left little room for conversation, but he still managed to keep Emma in his sights. Until the end of the dance, when he was forced to make one final turn away from her.

And when he turned back, she was gone. Technically, it was possible she’d excused herself to the ladies retiring room, but as he knew she’d done that only twenty minutes earlier, it seemed unlikely. He finished his dance with his mother, bade her farewell with a deep bow, then made his way to the north side of the room, where he’d last seen Emma.

As he got closer, he noticed tall French doors, probably leading to the gardens, closed and curtained. It was not terribly surprising as it was only early April and not warm enough yet to keep the doors open. But he was still suspicious. He’d spent far too much time out in gardens himself with various women to not be fully aware of what could happen in the dark of the night.

He slipped outside. As soon as the door shut behind him, the sounds of the music and three hundred bodies dancing and talking and laughing inside were muted.

Then, he heard her voice. She sounded happy, absolutely content to be in the company of whoever had brought her out here and the thought felt like a punch to his solar plexus. He should leave. Emma wouldn’t want him here. But he couldn’t bring his feet to move. 

He’d never spied on Emma with Liam. If he’d ever stumbled across them during a private conversation, he’d removed himself immediately. But now, something was different. And he couldn’t explain why. But he couldn’t make himself leave.

Just one more minute, he told himself. Just one more to make sure she really was enjoying the man’s company and was not in a dangerous situation.

“No, no.”

Emma’s voice. 

His ears pricked up. She didn’t sound upset, but she was saying no. Of course, she could just be responding to some tidbit of gossip or laughing at a joke.

“I really must… No!”

And that was all it took for Killian to move.

~*~*~

Emma knew she shouldn’t have gone out on the terrace alone with Sir Walsh, but as a widow, she wasn’t subject to the same rules as the debutantes and she was a trifle warm inside, so the cool night air was welcome. 

It had been perfectly pleasant for the first few minutes. Sir Walsh had made her laugh and made her feel beautiful, and oh! how hard was it to admit that she missed that? Was it so bad to want to feel beautiful and desired? 

Maybe they were all only after her notorious double dowry, or maybe they were seeking an alliance with two of the more well-known and powerful families of the ton - Emma was a Nolan and a Jones, after all. But for this one evening, she was going to pretend that it was all about her.

But then Sir Walsh had stepped closer. She moved back a step as subtly as she could, but he took another step in her direction. Then another. And another. And before she knew it, she was pressed back against the trunk of a large tree and Sir Walsh was much too close with both hands on the bark on either side of her head.

“Sir Walsh,” she began, as politely as she could. “I’m afraid there has been a misunderstanding. I’d like to return to the party now.” She kept her voice light, not wanting to provoke anything.

“Now, why would you want to do that?” he murmured, his head dipping closer to hers.

“No, no,” she protested, ducking to the side to avoid him, “People will be missing me.” Dash it all. He wasn’t backing up. She was going to have to stamp on his foot, or worse, unman him in the manner her brothers had shown her when she was but a green girl. “Sir Walsh,” she tried one more time for civility, “I really must…”

And then his mouth, wet and insistent, and not at all welcome, crashed against hers.

“... NO!” she managed to squeal.

But he was quite determined and was much stronger than she gave him credit for. She twisted and turned trying to position herself so she could bring her knee up where it would hurt him the most, but before she could, he was gone.

“Oh!” The surprised sound burst from her. There was a whoosh, the sickening sound of knuckles on flesh, and a cry of pain the likes of which she’d never heard. By the time Emma realized what was going on, Sir Walsh was on the ground and a large man loomed over him, his boot planted firmly on Sir Walsh’s chest.

“Killian?” Emma asked, unable to believe what she was seeing.

“Say the word,” Killian said, in a voice that she’d never heard cross his lips. A voice she’d never dreamed he possessed, “and I will crush his ribs.”

“No!” Emma said quickly. She may not have felt the least bit guilty about kneeing the man between the legs, but she didn’t want Killian to kill him.

And from the look on his face, she knew that he would. And not think twice about it.

She moved quickly toward him and touched his arm. He looked at her, a feral gleam in his eye and Emma caught her breath. “Could we just, perhaps, ask him to leave?”

Killian continued to stare at her. Hard. With an intensity that made it difficult for her to breathe. He ground down on Sir Walsh’s chest just a little bit harder, enough to make the man grunt in pain.

“Are you quite certain?” he asked, his voice still low and full of fury.

“Yes,” she said, “there’s no need to hurt him. I shouldn’t have come out here with him.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t give him leave to force his attentions on you.” His voice was harsh, but she wasn’t sure if it was because of her behavior or Sir Walsh’s. Killian suddenly removed his foot from the man’s chest and hauled him up by the lapels of his jacket, pressing him against the tree he’d trapped her against, then moving in close until they were nose to nose.

“Doesn’t feel so good to be trapped, now does it?” he taunted. Sir Walsh remained silent, just staring at Killian in terror. “Do you have something to say to the lady?” Sir Walsh shook his head no and Killian shook him before slamming him back against the tree. “Think harder!” he roared.

“I’m sorry!” Sir Walsh squealed.

Rather like a girl, Emma thought. She knew she wasn’t really interested in marrying him, much less bear his child, but this just confirmed it.

But Killian wasn’t finished with him yet. “If you ever come within ten feet of Lady Kilmartin again, I will personally disembowel you.”

Even Emma flinched at his words.

“Do I make myself clear?” he growled.

Another squeak of acknowledgement and Sir Walsh sounded like he might cry.

“Get out of my sight,” Killian said, all but throwing the terrified man away from him. “And don’t let me see your face in London for at least a month.” Sir Walsh got to his feet, his face pale with shock. “Unless, of course, you want to meet me at dawn.” Killian shrugged an insolent shoulder, but the gleam in his eye and the smile on his face told her that he’d like nothing better than to meet Sir Walsh on the dueling field.

Emma realized she was holding her breath. Killian was terrifying. And magnificent. And it was a true shock to realize that she’d never imagined Killian had this in him. That he could be like this.

Sir Walsh ran away as fast as he could, heading across the lawn to the back gate and leaving her alone with Killian. And leaving her, for the first time since she’d known him, without a thing to say. 

Except perhaps, “I’m sorry.”

Killian turned sharply back to her. “Don’t apologize.”

“No, of course not,” she agreed. “I should have known better.”

“He should have known better,” he bit out.

It was true and Emma’s mouth shut with a snap. It wouldn’t do to feed his anger any further. She’d never seen him like this. Truly, she’d never seen anyone like this. So angry that they looked like they might shatter at the slightest touch. As he’d dealt with Sir Walsh, she’d thought he was out of control, but she now realized the opposite was true. He was holding on to his control with both hands, and perhaps his teeth as well. If he wasn’t, Emma was quite sure, Sir Walsh would be dead.

Emma opened her mouth again, but found she still didn’t have anything to say. She could do nothing but stare at the man that she thought she knew so well.

There was something spellbinding in the moment and she couldn’t look away from him. He was breathing hard, struggling mightily to keep his rage under control, but his eyes were far away, as if he wasn’t really there.

“Killian?” she asked in a whisper. 

No response.

“Killian?” she tried again, this time lightly touching him on the arm. He flinched and whipped around toward her so quickly that she stumbled backwards.

“What?” he snapped.

“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head sharply. She didn’t know what she meant to say, but the look on his face left her shaken. And desiring something comforting and familiar, which at the moment, Killian was not. “I’d like to go home please.”

“Of course,” he said. “I’ll make your apologies inside. Would you like me to escort you through the back gate or the ballroom?”

“The back gate please. I’ll send the carriage back for you and Alice.” The words were formal and necessary to keep her mind away from what all had transpired. He led her toward the gate, his hand on the small of her back, burning through her gown the entire way. When they arrived at the carriage, a thought suddenly occurred to her.

“How did you know I was in the garden?” she inquired. He didn’t answer right away, but his gaze was intense on her and Emma caught her breath. “Were you watching me?”

His expression didn’t change a whit. “I’m always watching you.”

She had nothing to say and climbed into the carriage. But she knew his words would keep her awake long into the night.

~*~*~

Three hours later Emma still lay awake. Alice had returned some time earlier and had informed Emma that Killian was spending time at his club before returning home. Emma wasn’t prepared for the despair that rolled over her at her mother-in-law’s words. 

He was avoiding her. When he’d saved her earlier this evening, he was every bit the dashing romantic hero she secretly swooned over in the latest novel. But by the time she left the party, she had the distinct impression that Killian wanted to get away from her. No matter his last words to her. That his heroism was nothing more than something that he had to do, rather than something he wanted to do.

And even worse, that while she thought of him as a cherished friend and her closest confidant, she was nothing of the sort to him. Nothing more than someone whose presence he endured.

And that hurt. To the very depths of her soul.

She finally heard the carriage roll up outside, then the front door open and close. He was home. And the evening could now officially end. She should at least try to sleep. Perhaps listen for a moment at their adjoining doors. She had no idea what she’d be listening for, but something had changed between them tonight and it left Emma feeling unsettled. Perhaps listening to him ready himself for bed would settle her nerves, help her convince herself that everything was fine between them.

But when she heard his boots on the stairs, she couldn’t stop herself. She wasn’t thinking, she was only moving. To the door of her chamber and out into the hall, her bare feet making hardly a sound on the carpet runner. He stopped when he saw her, surprised, and Emma caught her breath. He was literally breathtaking in the pale glow of the moonlight spilling through the window at the end of the passage.

He looked completely exhausted, but his blue eyes still glowed in the night and his dark hair was tousled over his forehead, inviting her to brush it back into place with her fingers. He was utterly beautiful and she was suddenly conscious of it, almost as a physical caress against her skin.

“Emma,” he said, wearily.

And she, of course, stood there like a fish out of water, gaping at him and not saying a word.

“Emma?”

She shook herself. “K-Killian…” she stammered. “Good… good evening.”

He just stared at her, his eyebrow rising in inquiry.

She took a deep breath and tried again. “I… I just wanted… to see if you were alright.”

A weary sigh left his lips. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“I didn’t thank you earlier,” she said, the words bursting out of her before she could think about the wisdom of that statement.

“For what?”

“For coming to my aid.” She would have thought it was obvious, but maybe he was just too tired to really think about it. “I would have defended myself…” She trailed away when Killian raised a single brow in disbelief. “My brothers showed me how.”

He chuckled and looked down for a moment. “Then I have no doubt you would have rendered him a soprano in moments, had I not intervened.”

“Yes, well, I do appreciate not having to, ahh…” She was blushing. God above, she hated it when she blushed.

“Knee him in the bollocks?” Killian supplied helpfully, the corner of his mouth lifted in a mocking smile.

“Indeed,” she murmured, quite convinced that her cheeks now flamed scarlet, skipping all the shades of pink completely.

“You’re welcome,” he said abruptly. “Now, if you will excuse me.” He moved toward her, but she couldn’t let him go - not yet.

“Wait,” she called, turning around as he approached his bedchamber door.

He sighed, the exhaustion clinging to him like a coat. “Yes?” But she could think of nothing to say. He huffed in exasperation. “Can it wait until morning?”

“No! Wait! Please!” And this time she moved toward him and grabbed his arm. He froze. “Why are you so angry with me?” she whispered.

“What?” His confusion was all over his face, and if she hadn’t been so upset and caught up in her own head, she might have found it humorous. He looked at her like he couldn’t believe what she’d just said.

“Why are you so angry with me?” she repeated, a bit stronger this time. Something wasn’t right between them and she had to know why.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered. “I’m not angry with you. I’m merely tired and want to go to bed.”

“You are angry,” she insisted, “I know you are.” And she did. He was quite adept at hiding it, but there was ire in him and it was directed at her.

Killian placed his hand over hers and Emma caught her breath at the heat from his touch. He lifted her hand from his arm and let it drop. “I’m going to bed.”

She was speechless. She watched as he opened his bedchamber door and entered, then shut it behind him.

“No!” she cried. She dashed after him, unthinking, unmindful… right into his bedroom.

If he wasn’t angry with her before, he definitely was now. “What are you doing here?” he barked.

“You can’t just dismiss me like that, Killian!” she protested.

He stared at her. Hard. “You are in my bedchamber, Emma,” he said in a low voice. “I suggest you leave.”

“Not until you tell me what is going on!”

Killian held himself perfectly still. His every muscle frozen. It was truly a blessing, because if he allowed himself to move, he’d lunge for her. And God knew what he’d do when he caught her.

He’d been pushed to the edge. First by Will. Then by Sir Walsh. And now by Emma herself. Standing there, confusion and hurt rolling off of her, and without a bloody clue.

His world had been turned upside down by one simple suggestion.

You could marry her, you know.

It dangled before him like the choicest of fruit in the Garden of Eden. A wicked possibility that shouldn’t have been his to take.

Liam, his conscience reminded him. Don’t forget Liam.

“Emma,” he said, his voice low and even and perfectly controlled. He swallowed hard before he continued. “It is well after midnight. And you are in the bedchamber of a man to whom you are not married. I suggest you leave.”

But she didn’t. She didn’t move. Damn her. She stood there, a vision in her nightdress, her hair loose, staring at him as if she’d never seen him before.

“Why are you angry with me?” she repeated a third time. “Is it because I want to remarry?”

Killian just stared at her dumbfounded. He couldn’t have been more surprised at her words.

“You think I’m betraying Liam’s memory, don’t you?” she accused.

“No, Emma,” he said wearily, scrubbing his hand down his face. “I would never…”

But she wasn’t listening. “You think I should mourn your brother forever. Do you think I don’t? Do you think that I don’t think about him every single day? Do you think it feels good to know that when I do marry, I’ll be making a mockery of the sacrament?”

He looked at her. She was breathing hard, the color high on her cheeks, tears glistening in the corner of her eyes.

“What I had with Liam,” she said, her entire body shaking now, “I am not going to find with any of the men of the ton who have been sending me flowers. And it feels like a desecration - nothing more than utter selfishness that I’m even considering remarrying.” She turned away from him and grasped the edge of his chest of drawers. “If I didn’t want a baby… so damned much.” 

She stopped then. He couldn’t move. He should move. He should comfort her. And if they’d been in any other room than his bedchamber, he would have. But it was all he could do to control his breathing. And himself.

“You don’t know,” she whispered. “You just don’t know.”

It was more than he could take. She was the one who barged in here, uninvited, demanding answers, when she didn’t even understand the questions. She pushed him to the limit, and now she was going to turn her back on him and tell him he didn’t know?

He crossed the room on silent feet until he stood mere inches behind her. “Don’t know what?” he demanded softly.

She whirled around. “Killian,” she breathed. She was as still as marble, the only sound her breath feathering over her lips, her eyes never leaving his face.

His fingers tingled, his heart thudded in his chest, his breath stuttered. 

His body burned. 

She was as close as she’d ever been to him. Her eyes were glazed, her chin slightly lifted making her mouth open gently. If she’d been anyone else, he would have sworn she wanted to be kissed. 

The moment was endless. 

A whisper crossed his lips, her name, maybe. His head bent toward her and suddenly the impossible became the inevitable. There was no stopping it. He gathered her in his arms and claimed her lips with his own. Sealing his fate… and hers.

When she thought about it later, she could only say that she hadn’t heard him approach from behind. Because if she had, she never would have turned around. But she did turn, his name a whisper of breath.

And he was right there.

So close. Closer than he’d ever stood to her. Closer than anyone but Liam had ever stood to her. And never Killian.

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but breathe as she watched him, realizing with awful certainty that she wanted him to kiss her.

Good God. She wanted Killian to kiss her. She wanted Killian.

The knowledge was like a lightning bolt, electrifying her nerve endings and leaving her trembling in anticipation. She wasn’t supposed to want anyone. But Killian…

She waited for him to move. She could do nothing but moisten her lips and wait for him to move. Because she knew when he did, it would be perfection. 

And it was. 

He claimed her lips with his own and she melted into him. His hand found its way to the small of her back and while he didn’t pull her into him, the barest pressure was there and the distance between them slowly disappeared until she could feel the scrape of his evening clothes through the silk of her dressing gown.

His lips grew more demanding and Emma opened to him, a low moan coming from her as his tongue fully explored the recesses of her mouth. His passion left her weak until she had to grab his arms, to touch him of her own accord, to fully participate in this kiss. To acknowledge that she was a part of this. That she wanted this. That she wanted him.

He murmured her name into her lips, his voice gravelly with desire and need and something more she dared not think about. She could do nothing but cling to him and kiss him as he was kissing her.

Her hands raised to his neck and her fingers buried themselves in the silky soft strands of his hair. His hand moved up her back, trailing fire in its wake, and moved around to her breast. Emma froze, but he was too caught up in his passion to notice. A moan broke from him as he squeezed the tender flesh.

“No,” she whispered.

“Emma,” he moaned again as he trailed kisses up her neck to gently suck at the skin just below her ear.

“Killian,” she begged. “We can’t… I can’t… I can’t do this.” She wrenched herself away from him and opened her eyes, immediately wishing she hadn’t.

His pupils were blown with desire, only the thinnest rim of blue still visible. His hair was even more tousled than it had been and his lips were red and parted. He stared at her, the intensity threatening to consume her.

“I can’t…” she repeated. “I can’t do this…”

“Then go,” he ground out.

She fled to her room. Then the next day, she fled to Number Five.

And the day after that, she fled all the way to Scotland.

~*~*~

Emma had always been a sly one, and she could lie with the best of them when the occasion called for it, but even Killian was rather taken aback at the note full of lies she’d left for his mother when she’d gone to Scotland.

She described the disease spreading amongst the livestock in remarkable detail, all while assuring Alice that it wasn’t necessary for her or for Killian to follow her. She was fully capable of handling the emergency and would return to London just as soon as she could.

His own letter from her was far less wordy and more to the point.

It was wrong of me. Forgive me.

Although what she thought she needed to be forgiven for was quite beyond him. He had kissed her. 

Not exactly the kind of behavior he should be engaging in if he wished to keep his true feelings secret. She may have barged into his bedchamber, but she hadn’t done it expecting him to kiss her. She’d been concerned about their friendship. She thought he was angry with her, so she had acted rashly. But only because she cared about him and their relationship.

Was it possible that the reality of her kiss would so completely surpass every fantasy he’d ever had? And with six years worth of dreams behind him, he’d envisioned some truly spectacular kisses. But, yes. Yes, it was possible that his fantasies had been so lacking, it was almost laughable - if he was capable of laughing. And it was over now. Never to be repeated.

So now he was truly miserable. He’d only thought he’d been miserable the last six years. But no. Now that he’d tasted her, and actually experienced the far superior reality, his torment knew no bounds. He knew now exactly what he was missing. He understood with agonizing clarity what would never be his.

And nothing would ever be the same again.

They couldn’t even remain friends after this. Running to a different country in order to avoid him? Hell, he knew Emma. If she could have run to the moon, she would have. A woman couldn’t send a clearer message than that.

He still wasn’t quite sure how it’d happened. When she’d turned away from him, something had snapped in him and he moved. That was when everything between them changed. And then when she’d turned back to him, he was lost. There was no escaping it. The lid he’d kept on his love and desire for her had simply disappeared and there was nothing he could do but fall into her. There had been no choice involved. No free will. She’d simply waited, her stuttered breath the only thing between them. Waited for him to come to his senses and walk away? Or waited for him to kiss her? It didn’t matter. The result was the same.

The floor around his desk was littered with crumpled sheets of paper. He was in a destructive mood and they were easy targets. He grabbed another from the surface of his desk and prepared to do the same when he realized it was an invitation. He looked closer and saw it was for tonight. He inhaled sharply through his teeth. He’d probably answered in the affirmative when it’d arrived, but he was not in the mood to endure an evening of polite company. He crumpled the invitation in his hand and dropped it to the floor with its fellows. He rose from his desk and decided that he’d handle his problems the way he had so often before. By finding himself a woman.

~*~*~

A couple of hours later he found himself at the door of his club in as foul a mood as he’d ever been. He’d visited one of the higher class brothels in town - one that ensured the women were clean and there of their own free will - but had a difficult time deciding on one. Too short, too lean, too blonde, not in the mood for a brunette or redhead. In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to choose. There was no reason to seek out someone who would just leave him feeling emptier inside than he already did.

So now he was here, where he’d be confronted with not a single female, hoping that alcohol would be successful where La Belle had failed. He walked in, but hadn’t even made it to the lounge when he heard his name.

“Kilmartin.”

Will Nolan. Damn, damn, damn! Anyone would have been preferable to a Nolan. Even Napoleon himself.

“Nolan.” He tried to inject a pleasant tone into his voice, but seriously doubted he was successful.

“Join me,” he invited, motioning to the seat across from him. There was no avoiding it. Killian could only hope Will had a pressing engagement that would require their impromptu meeting to be cut short. In about a minute and a half.

Will was silent until Killian’s drink was delivered. “I understand Emma has returned to Scotland.”

Killian grunted and nodded. 

“Surprising, isn’t it?” Will mused. “With the season just getting started and all.”

“I don’t pretend to know her mind,” Killian grit out.

“No,” he agreed. “There’s no understanding a female mind. Particularly Emma’s.”

As foul of a mood as he was already in, Will’s words made it even worse. “I seem to remember telling you during our last conversation that Emma deserved respect,” Killian growled. “And I would tolerate nothing less. From anyone.”

The warning in his tone was evident but Will was silent and just continued studying him.

“Have you thought about what I said?” he asked, changing the subject smoothly.

Killian held himself very still. “About what?”

A corner of Will’s lips rose in the beginnings of a smug smile. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing and Killian would have loved nothing better than to punch him.

“About Emma.”

“Didn’t we just confirm that she’s left the country?”

“Scotland isn’t that far,” Will observed.

“Far enough,” Killian muttered. Far enough anyway to make it abundantly clear how she felt about him.

“She’ll be all alone up there,” Will sighed.

Killian just stared at him, narrowing his eyes.

“I still think you should…” Will shrugged, “Well, you know what I think,” he finished.

Killian was done being polite. “You don’t know a damned thing, Nolan,” he growled.

Will raised his brows at the snarl in his voice, but the smirk didn’t disappear. “Funny, I hear that all the time,” he murmured. “Most of the time from my sisters.”

Killian was quite familiar with this tactic. He’d often used it himself. And it was probably why the desire to punch Will in the face was now manifesting in his clenched fist under the table. Nothing had more power to irritate than one’s own behavior showing up in someone else. And Will’s face was tantalizingly close.

“Another drink?” Will asked, motioning to Killian’s empty glass.

“No,” Killian bit out and rose from the table. He may have been happy to drink himself into oblivion, but he was certainly not happy to do it in the presence of Will Nolan.

“You do realize, Kilmartin,” Will said, his voice low and intense, “There’s nothing keeping you from marrying her. Nothing at all. Except of course,” he added, shrugging indifferently, but with his steady gaze not leaving Killian, “what you come up with yourself.”

Killian’s heart ripped in his chest. But he’d grown so used to it, it was a wonder he still noticed. And Will just wouldn’t shut up.

“Now if you don’t want to marry her…”

“She might say no.” His voice was no more than a whisper and damn it all, if Will hadn’t known his feelings for Emma before this conversation, he certainly did now.

Will shrugged again. “She might. Most women do, the first time they’re asked.”

Killian raised a brow. “And you know this how?”

Will’s gaze never wavered from his as he answered, “Oh, just hearing it around the ton.” He waved his arm about, rather aimlessly. “Because I’ve only asked once. And we both know how that turned out.” His grin now was genuine and a bit lovestruck, but seeing the happiness on Will’s face did nothing to improve Killian’s mood. Will’s eyes focused on him again, his gaze open but also calculating. “But speaking of, the wedding is being moved up.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My wedding,” he repeated. “To Belle. We’ve decided to move up the date.”

“To when?”

“Two weeks.” 

Will’s gaze still hadn’t wavered, but now there was an amused satisfaction in his eyes that had Killian’s eyes narrowing, even as an idea began to form in his mind. “Emma will need to be informed.”

Will nodded. “Yes, she will. I’d go to her myself, but I’ll be a tad busy the next couple of weeks.”

“You will,” Killian acknowledged. “And your mother will likely be too busy to send a note as well.” Will nodded silently, his dark eyes dancing. 

“I’ll go.” 

It was the only conclusion to the little dance he and Will were engaged in, however unwilling he was as a participant. Will may have thought he was cleverly manipulating Killian into going after her, but he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t desperately want to follow her to Scotland, and now that he had a reason to, nothing would stop him from doing so.

Will raised his drink in salute as Killian rose from the table.

“Safe travels.”

~*~*~

Several days later, Killian stood at the door of Kilmartin, his childhood home. Spring had yet to arrive in the Scottish highlands and the bite in the air reminded him that this - not London, and certainly not India - was home. No matter how long he’d been away from it. But this sense was little comfort as he prepared himself for what lay ahead.

He had to face Emma.

He’d envisioned it a thousand times during his journey north. Imagining her reaction to him showing up, the words she might say, the words he’d say to her. Besides the message he’d actually been commissioned to bring her.

He was going to marry Emma.

He was going to have to convince her of it, of course. It had taken ten days - ten tremendously difficult days - for him to get his mind wrapped around the prospect since that first cataclysmic conversation with Will. But, that had been because he loved her so completely, and been so thoroughly convinced that she’d never belong to him, it had taken a while for him to accept it as even a remote possibility. Emma felt nothing of the sort for him, and so would undoubtedly see the advantages he was prepared to lay out for their union. She was an imminently sensible woman, and Killian was sure he’d be able to convince her to marry him.

And it would be good. It would be heaven. He may not have her heart, but he’d have the rest of her. And that would be enough.

Wouldn’t it?

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing! Next ch will be up late Friday night before I go to bed.

[wannabepoeticischiya]

if I can stop one heart from breaking

[ 04 ] — the flares of the sun

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He existed in the morning dew, in the afternoon haze, within the illusions of twilight. He was there. In the silence of midnight, in the wake of dawn... he was there.

Hoshina Soushiro was everywhere... except right here. He existed in every corner of the cosmos-just not in the space beside her.

[Name] treaded the empty hallways of the Hoshina estate. Faint, rhythmic thuds of clothed feet making contact with the wooden floors resonated in the elongated space. Sunlight streamed through the gaps made by the opened screens, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the air.

This time around, she dressed elegantly in a yukata dyed in a gentle hue of periwinkle—a far less pressuring choice of clothing than the one she wore eight days ago. When she oh-so-ceremoniously dropped both her mass and her kimono’s load on Hoshi—err, Soushiro.

A small noise echoed her footfalls, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once, startling the once deathly calm waters of her soul. It shook her body awake. Because even when she ceased her strides, the vibrations only grew—stemming from the center of her chest to reach every branch and root of her being.

At the mention of his name…

[Name] thought that she looked like a fool: standing in the middle of a barren corridor, covering her face that was probably steaming red because her heart would not relent its incessant longing for that—

“Hoshina-sama!”

The Uehara shamelessly turned her head so eagerly at the call. An instinct, a tug, a hurry to steal a glimpse at the face she yearned to see—whatever it was, it didn’t matter… all that occupied her head was that: ‘This is my chance’, and ‘Don’t blow it, act cool…’, with the addition of ‘Not like you’ve been stalking him all week to try and bump into him or anything’.

[Name] closed her eyes and heaved in a breath, putting a hand over her chest in an attempt to try and placate her heart’s erratic cries. What am I doing? I’m acting like a lovesick middle schooler! Pull yourself together!

As the curtains that fell on her irises finally rose, [Name] came to terms with the fact that she was an idiot. See what your twitterpated behavior brought home? Foolishness! Everyone here is a Hoshina! [Name] tried to conceal her chagrin, yet a frown still managed to carve its way onto her face at the sight of some nobody at the end of the hall.

He possessed the same narrow eyes and the thin eyebrows nearly every person in this Hoshina-infested place had, but his hair gave away that he was not the person that plagued [Name]’s dreams.

The person in her visions grew a field of heliotropes on his head, a shade of violet dark enough that it embraced the warmth of the sun… but this one had threads shaded in daffodils that only faded into lavender at the ends of their journey, entwined with one another like the cords of a bracelet.

[Name] did not deny that the man who stood at the opposing end did bear a resemblance to the Hoshina she was searching for, but then again… everybody here did. The Uehara let her illusion of apathy shatter, letting whoever decided to look her way know that ‘it wasn’t you who I wanted to see but here I am seeing you anyway’.

“Soichiro-sama?”

Soichiro paid no mind to the servant addressing his return, instead, he turned his attention to the figure of a woman walking down the section of the estate that would lead her to the dojos.

The silver-haired Hoshina tilted his head in wonder at the sight of the stranger who stood out like a sunflower in a meadow filled with asters. Despite not sparing a single glance in her general direction, he felt every stab and cut of her sharp stare. When her head rose like daybreak, gaze akin to sunshine piercing through clouds at the mention of his name, the stranger appeared as though she longed for someone to say that, like she wasn’t in a place where everybody can be called by that name—or perhaps she hoped that by some miracle, the bearer of the name was the person she was seeking.

Seeing as she brazenly displayed her disappointment at the sight of him, as though he was some revolting nobody, he could safely assume that he wasn’t the one on her list.

Still, a thought blossomed in his mind that maybe he’d run into her again… perhaps then, he might be able to help her find the right Hoshina.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

[Name] was close to giving up, in fact, she wasn’t even sure why she was doing this in the first place. More than a week ago, she was sure that this whole endeavor was going to burst into flames within the first few days, but here she was… actually enjoying the warmth brought upon by the stars.

A small smile grazed her face at the memory, no longer tormented by the embarrassment she had to put herself through to step foot into that scenic moment. But how am I supposed to make this work when I can’t find him anywhere? She internally yelled, fisting her digits and drumming them in the air, looking like a toddler having a silent tantrum.

The woman sighed, her head mirroring the image of a wilted plant: downcast, devoid of hope, sad.

Honestly… what in the world am I doing?

Her muffled footfalls continued to echo within the corridors, travelling from one shoji screen to another before they clashed with the frantic melodies of wood colliding with each other. Bokuto?

For the first time since her previous dismay, [Name] let her eyes drink in her surroundings, finding herself nowhere near the gardens she had come to love. In the place of grass and vermillion leaves were wooden statues accompanied by racks of traditional weaponry. Training grounds.

The sound of lumber knocking against lumber continued to ring, filling the void left by the soullessness of the place.

“As expected of you, Hoshina-sensei!” [Name]’s ears perked at the name, feeling that all too familiar warmth bubbling in the oceans of her soul—right before her earlier half-wittedness came back to laugh at her face. Everybody here is a Hoshina, you loopy, lovesick loser! Get a grip!

A resounding slap blanketed the atmosphere for a moment not lasting more than a second, nearly overpowering the relentless sound of training swords parrying one another. C’mon me, you’re better than this! The sting on both sides of her cheeks helped ease the tremors in her heart. Towering waves of fervor crumbling at the sensation.

“Not bad, but you left yourself wide open.”

Everything fell silent after that. And for a moment, even the zephyrs ceased their eternal waltz, the waters that rushed through the gardens lulled to a dreamless state, rustling of what was left of summer that adorned the trees remained inanimate; a movie put on pause.

You’re… here.

With slow, calculated steps, [Name] drew closer to the one thing separating her from the person haunting the illusions of her everyday life. From the first light of dawn to the noontime haze, phantasms of the eventide, all the way to the fragments of the dead of night.

Her hand, unsullied by the hardships of life, reached for the screen that was opened halfway. This was her chance. Finally, after spinning in the never-ending vortex of asking the universe where he could be—he… he was finally here.

For a moment, [Name] felt the pieces of her hope waver, the threads keeping them together snapping one by one, allowing the vines that flowered doubt to bloom in their midst. Her hand suddenly weighed more than what she could bear, and in the place of her ardor, fear had triumphed. It’s been more than a week, what makes you so sure that he will be waiting for you behind this door? He’s avoiding you—

“Oh! Are you here to train, too?”

[Name] was just about ready to jump straight out of her own skin, startled beyond her wits as her eyes darted in every single direction to try and look for a face to attach to the voice. Her blood was pumping far too fast for her mind to reach, tunneling her vision to a single point. When she turned, nearly tripping over her clothing, she was met with the eager irises belonging to a young boy not older than the age of twelve.

“Hoshina-sensei—err,” the boy faltered, and the Uehara—even through the fuzziness in her ears—could have sworn she heard him mumble: ‘That’s weird, I’m a Hoshina too’.

Nonetheless, the child held a cheerful character, and when he spoke… it was as though the person he praised rivaled even the majesty of the gods above. “Soushiro-sensei is the greatest swordsman the whole clan has ever seen!”

So… you are here.

[Name] could only stare as the child talked animatedly about his teacher, trying his best to imitate the movements he saw the older Hoshina perform. “And he would go like bam and wham then whoosh! Sometimes, he would go zoom and before you know it, Sensei’s got you at the end of his weapon!”

The boy kicked and punched the air, swinging his arm in a fluid motion that remained as a mere shadow of its actual glory. [Name] paid no mind to it, after all, she was being told of its tale by a child when the doer of the action had many suns and moons ahead of him to burn those routines in his muscles. The woman spared a fleeting glance at the space that holds the wielder of those achievements before she followed the child who now stood in the center of the open grounds.

Warmth blossomed in her chest, as she found herself smiling fondly at the boy.

“But you know, lately he’s been acting weird!” He paced around the space he occupied for himself, startling the sand underneath his feet.

“Really? Why’s that strange?” she asked, reaching to smooth out the hair that managed to stick upwards because of his frantic movements.

The boy shook his head, as though the mere thought of his teacher’s strange behavior was a phenomenon even the most accomplished experts would not be able to elaborate. “I—I don’t really know his how to say it—”

How could a child speak of the way his teacher lags in his steps, like he was deliberately slowing down to wait for someone? The glances he’d spare to every open panel when he was the one who drilled into their heads the importance of never looking away from an enemy. His stutters in movement when soft strides would echo down the halls—or a distant echo of a woman’s laughter in the distance.

The younger Hoshina cut his sentence short and turned his gaze to the entrance of the dojo. And in his head, a lightbulb flickered to life.

“C’mon, I’ll show you.”

As he was about to grab the older woman’s wrist, he hesitated, glancing up to shyly meet her gentle stare, as though he was silently asking if it was alright for him to hold her so forwardly. Listen to me, Shin, we have a guest here. If you meet her, don’t go dragging her around without asking if it’s okay with her, do you hear me? I’ll know if you do that and you’re gonna get ten laps around the estate as punishment.

“Uhm… o-only if it’s cool with you.” Shin scratched his nape in an effort to hide his embarrassment, feeling his face burn a thousand degrees. His teacher��s words echoing in the valleys of his mind. He will know… he always does.

[Name] smiled at his shift in attitude, finding it oddly familiar—as though she’d seen someone dear to her act the same way.

“Of course, lead the way.” She gestured to the space before her only to feel something pull at the tips of her fingers. The force compelled her to put a foot forward, until the two of them stood with their heads peeking over one another, acting like creeps peeping into the public bath—or in this case, a dojo.

“Watch.” [Name] craned her head to behold the sight that left the child in puzzlement.

But all she saw was the face of the man she had longed to see for so long that it drove her to the brink of wanting to commit a crime (stalking). What would she even say if Soushiro was to catch her spying on him like this? She wanted to run. This was a bad idea. Stalking Blade Instructors wasn’t the reason she was brought to stay in this estate!

“I’m not really sure what I should be seeing…” she whispered, holding the shoji frame tighter as she silently planned her escape.

Soushiro’s steps were accounted for, every twist of his body, the parry his weapon would make—they made it so that the tides of the spar would favor him. When he raised his arm to land a strike at his opponent, the boy’s earlier imitation dimmed in comparison to witnessing the beholder’s execution. His action was fluid, firm, not a breath out of place—even as his hit was countered. Watching him felt like seeing the stars flicker to life one by one: the movement of his feet as he shifted his weight, the bends his wrists would perform when he gripped the blade at a different angle, pivots his heel would do when he dipped to catch his opponent off-guard and strike from below.

The Soushiro in the gardens dyed in golden sunrays had vanished. Here, in his place, was someone who looked like the welkin littered with a thousand lights.

[Name] was enamored all over again, fingers easing in on their deathly grip on the frame, taking with them her plans of fleeing.

But as soon as she faltered, Soushiro was on the floor with the weapon of his previously overwhelmed opponent pointing directly at his throat.

“See?” the voice below her pressed, dragging her back from her trance. [Name] averted her stare to look at the pensive expression decorating the face of her companion. Unsure of what to make of it all.

The Uehara Clan is indeed renowned for its skill with a blade… a hundred years ago. Only a select few still practice the art now, opting for the more practical approach of firearms and heavy artillery. [Name] wielded a blade, but she was never taught the depth of it—deemed unfit a knowledge for a lady.

So, when Shin expressed his troubles—even when he tried so hard to make it easier for her to understand, [Name] could simply not grasp what creature morphed from the nature of the instructor. And it crushed her heart to know she could not help him.

Perhaps it’s because Shin drank in everything his teacher did with the wishes to someday be like him, to follow his lead.

Or maybe, [Name] simply did not know where to look. Choosing to hide behind her ignorance instead of staring at the truth head-on. That she didn’t know what to see because she never witnessed what had changed.

“Something is bothering him, for sure! Seita sucks so bad that it’s actually kinda sad but he’s beating Soushiro-sensei even if it’s just barely because he sucks—”

“I can hear you, Shin.”

Seita, or so Shin had called, offered a hand to an exhausted Soushiro and hoisted him to his feet. He was the same trainee who was at the receiving end of Shin’s grievances—claiming he ‘sucks’ but still managed to outpower Soushiro even if it was by a hair’s breadth.

“Stop hiding behind the door.”

To [Name], everything felt like it was beginning to be coated in frost—like the world, or rather [Name], was trying to get everything to freeze. The Uehara had no words saved for this moment.

What was she supposed to say?

When Shin slides the door open, she’ll be unveiled right then and there with him. Soushiro will see her, and he’ll wonder what in the world is she doing here, standing next to his student like a weirdo. [Name] couldn’t even begin to formulate a single coherent thing to say to him! What a joke. Uehara [Name], famed within her clan to have the sharpest tongue, the princess who always had something to say, the one who feared no judgement… had been rendered speechless.

The sole slate of thought that formed in her head was that [Name], under absolutely no condition, let Hoshina Soushiro know that she was looking for him all week long.

Everything was thawing, and fast.

She had to play it cool, as though she wasn’t gazing out her window every chance she got to see if he would pass by. Or that violet began to be her favorite color seeing as she looked for it everywhere she went. And certainly not the secret desire she held in her heart—bracing herself at every corner she turned because she was hoping that he’d bump into her.

If she had to play as the coy woman, then so be it. This will not be a battle won by Soushiro—not when she had spent the past days drowning in the sea of missing him!

The shoji screen collided with the jamb, causing a loud thud to resonate in the room. In that instance, [Name] had already built the walls that would hide her lovesick soul.

A chorus of what sounded like bare feet meeting wood joined by the ruffling of clothes filled the void left by their intrusion. The students who were once seated had now stood at a certain pose: feet separated at a standard distance, hands held behind their back, eyes gazing forward. Even Shin, the boy she met in the hallway, had joined the line of his fellow trainees, standing next to Seita whom he had berated for his lack of skill.

Now’s not the time to gawk at all these Soushiro-looking youngsters, [Name]! He’s right there!

[Name] was left there to stand like a fool once more. She stood out like a sore thumb. In the sea of narrow eyes and thin eyebrows, she really felt like an outsider with her wide eyes and overwrought demeanor. It did not miss her stare that a few of those supposed ‘eyes ahead’ drifted in her direction.

How am I gonna go about this? She internally screamed, why do you have to open the door all the way, Shin?

“Oho~ I thought that the great Soushiro-sensei was nifty with a blade?”

What the hell was that? You idiot! [Name] wanted to run. She wanted to disappear. She was embarrassed beyond all rhyme and reason—even if her tone betrayed none of her internal turmoil.

Her voice sounded like it went on forever, waltzing in between the skies of these swordsmen until it finally found its way and sunk into the horizons of his heart.

Soushiro’s breath staggered at the melody of her presence, his heart thudding desperately against his ribcage… like it always had been for the past week.

His head, his soul, his everything—he was so full of her that he could hardly have time to be himself.

In the break of dawn, his first ray of hope is to see her again, like he didn’t just spend the duration of the sun basking in her grace. The shimmer of the afternoon heat would beckon his mind to conjure her image, causing his body to break free from the shackles of his routine. Using wooden swords didn’t make the impact hurt any less. When dusk would settle, her shadows loomed everywhere. Even the midnight sun shed its curtain of clouds to gaze at him through his window.

His foot swiveled in a manner that should have been no less than second nature, for he had done it on so many occasions: in training, times when he would go back halfway because he forgot something, or those pride-shattering, heart-wrenching moments when he would turn so fast all because he heard a voice speak—a voice he could have sworn belonged to the person standing at the threshold of the dojo.

The image of her here, right where he is, was something not even his most fervent dreams could ever begin to replicate.

But he couldn’t let her know that.

So, he smiled. Bridging the distance that held them from one another like a leash. Then he spoke, his usual tease present, yet brought alongside it was a whiff of relief—like he had been waiting for this day to dawn on him.

“What? Like you didn’t magnify me the other week; sayin’ I was an assassin for the Sovereign Ruler of the Darkside?”

The Uehara blushed a thousand shades of red at the reminder of her nerdiness. It’s not that she was ashamed of what she loved—but when he said it like that, like there was no other person better fit for the description other than him, it sent this hurricane of colors in her head.

“I just didn’t want to hold the rumors above you, that’s all.” She tried to cover, crossing her arms over her chest. “I had to see for myself what you were truly capable of.”

If his students did hear their exchange of words, [Name] was internally grateful that they did not act like it. It would eat away at what was left of her dignity, and she would be left with no other choice than to move to a new country, change her identity, and live her life as an entirely different person from before. In theory, of course.

“Now you’re lookin’ down on my abilities? I’m hurt.” He pouted, taking one step closer to gibe at her from a nearer distance.

[Name] scoffed, waving her hand dismissively at the swordsman’s accusation. “Hardly,” she said, trying to ward off the fires that threatened to set her face ablaze.

“And please refrain from making that expression, it’s quite a disturbing sight to see.” With her arms still twined with each other, her eyes sifted through his face—it wasn’t disturbing in any way. Before she could delve into her world littered with stars, a voice rose like the moon.

“Soushiro-sensei, who is this?”

“This is Lady [Name].” He introduced, and Soushiro made no grand actions. There were no exaggerated hand gestures, no extremities such as having his students bow with their foreheads kissing the floor to revere her as though she was a member of the Imperial Family. He didn’t even turn to address the person who had spoken without permission.

He simply kept his gaze fixated on her—weary that the image of her would shatter should he look away.

And [Name] could only wonder if he had stopped there because of her request (that he calls her by her first name), or because there was nothing left to say.

But to Soushiro… she is [Name].

All the formalities—or any other name—only fell deaf on his ears.

[Name] was her… and she was [Name].

In the face of that… nothing else mattered.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance.” She politely bowed, raising her head a breath later, and continued, “Please do not hesitate to inform me if your instructor here is lacking in any way.”

Soushiro vividly remembers the sensation of staring at something incredulously bright—like the sun, for instance. Everything around him would bleed into darkness until it was only him and that big ball of gas in the sky.

In the place of that heavenly body in the sky was [Name], smiling haughtily at him. When all he could do was look at her, frozen. Like he was carving to memory the image that would last him a thousand seconds before it would crumble again, and he’d be left burning with the desire to see it again.

Soushiro was usually the one with the teasing remarks, the one to rile her into bursting into flames but here, in his own territory, he yielded defeat.

He could only smile and sigh, raising a hand of surrender hoping that it would halt the barrage of taunts [Name] had in store. “Don’t patronize me.”

[Name] laughed and Soushiro’s heart exploded like a star.

“Okay, I’ll stop.” She smiled, then she stole a glance at someone else. “Your student over there was worried that you’d lost your groove,” Soushiro followed the trails of her stare, “up your game a little, Soushiro-sensei~” finding that it led to one of the youngest present in the room, “or Shin-chan will sweep you right off your feet.”

If Soushiro could snarl at the kid, he would. But he was the adult and he had to be responsible. So, he chose to give him the message that Shin would be running those ten laps around the estate after all.

“Don’t worry, Shin… you’re gonna hafta run and train for many, many years to come before you can even think of holding a blade against me!” His cheery tone did not match the spirit of his message, leaving the recipient unsure of how to take it.

Shin felt far too terrified to meet his teacher’s gaze, so his eyes made a beeline to look at [Name] instead. As he did in the courtyard, his irises reflected the words he could not convey through his words, a voiceless cry for help. He’s gonna work me to the bone! Sensei is a hard worker because he’s gonna make everything harder for me!

How [Name] got all that, she wasn’t sure. How she was keeping her calm display, even more so! She was just about ready to combust right then and there. Her body felt like fire, flaring all around her. She feared she would set the place in flames.

“Don’t be so harsh on him, Sou—” Whatever was said after that, Soushiro no longer heard it. Even the fall of his name from her lips had come to a standstill. All he felt was the warmth blossoming on one side of his face, the pads of someone’s fingers brushing against the underside of his eye, grazing the curves of his ears.

“People are only that observant because they care. And you shouldn’t fault someone whose only intention was to make sure you’re alright.”

Her words were said in a faint whisper, so fleeting that he wouldn’t have caught them were she not standing so close to him.

Soushiro was plunged into freezing depths, like fire ceased to exist—or maybe it was [Name] retracting her hand and moving a few paces back. The same smile painted on her face, similar to the one she gifted him earlier, but this one was kinder by a mile. Soft. Warm. And he feared this one would only last him a hundred breaths before he would yearn to see it again.

“I’ll see you around, Soushiro-sensei.” [Name] raised a hand in farewell, her footfalls fading into a distant hum; shadows drawing down on him like a pen bleeding on paper.

Uncharacteristically, Soushiro let out a loud groan of annoyance before he padded to the doorway and slid the screen shut. Echoes of [Name]’s touch remained in his system, reaching his ears that were still shaded a hundred colors of red.

What are you doing to me?

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[toomuchracket]

what about the first actual date with flatmate!matty after you guys got together? is it sweet? loads of nerves??

(also nobody asked but my coffee machine jammed and im p angry rn)

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

(i am so sorry about the coffee machine. frankly if mine broke i would break too)

the first actual date is SO SWEET. regardless of the fact you guys are Confirmed In Love and you've essentially been going on dates for years already at this point, matty is so so nervous to actually ask you to go on one with him; i think he asks you the day after condom-gate, while you're both making dinner, like gets all bashful and just blurts out "heydoyouwanttogoonadatewithmetomorrow". and you're like "hmm?" and matty takes a deep breath and says "do you want to go on a date with me tomorrow? i was thinking we could go for brunch at that cafe. the one with the pancakes. i know they're your favourite", and you just grin and kiss him softly (he goes all gooey and blushy) and say "i would love to go on a date with you tomorrow. thank you for asking" and then you guys make out for a minute before you're interrupted by the pasta boiling over and making a mess lmao. and i think you definitely turn the flirting up a little bit that evening, just because you find it so cute how flustered matty is about this little date - after dinner and some snuggling, you announce that you're "gonna have a shower, and i might be in there for some time". and matty immediately goes "baby, you don't need to get yourself off in the shower anymore, you have me ;))", to which you giggle but roll your eyes and say "nooooooo, i'm going for an Everything Shower. what if i get lucky on my date tomorrow? i need to be prepared" and wink and walk off to the bathroom, leaving matty blushing and grinning to himself like the little lovesick fool he is.

you guys get ready separately the next morning (that is, after you've spent like an hour making out and grinding in matty's bed, which you're now sleeping in) to make the date seem more official, and you both wear like slightly nicer versions of casual outfits and make sure your hair looks presentable - you're making an effort! and when you're ready, you meet matty in the hallway; he immediately tells you you look beautiful and presents you with flowers (you have absolutely no idea how or when he got them, but you don't question it, you just appreciate), you return the compliment (he blushes again) and then you're on your way. it's so lovely walking hand-in-hand with your boyfriend (!!), talking about anything and everything, and that continues in the cafe too. you both get pancakes, but different toppings, and when matty asks you if yours are nice you literally feed him a little bit from your fork, which makes you both giggle stupidly. there's even a teeny bit of pda - you get a bit of chocolate on your lip, and after matty points it out he leans over and quickly kisses it off, which makes YOU blush this time and makes him grin. matty pays - he's like "chivalry is alive and kicking and i need to do my bit. sorry babe but i literally will not argue with you on this", and you sigh and say "well, i'll get the bill next time then", and matty makes a silly little joke like "fuck yeah i'm getting a second date", to which you're like "oh, you're getting far more than just one other date. you're stuck with me now, healy", and matty honest to god nearly cries before you exchange i love you's and have another sneaky little kiss. then he's all funny like "can i walk you home?", and you're like "i mean yes but we do need to go to tesco first, darlin', we're out of milk lol". but even that ends up being romantic - you pick out ingredients for a nice meal and get a good bottle of wine, and the date continues that night in the flat, with a romantic dinner/movie night under a pillow fort in the living room. and then yeah, because it's you two and you have a lot of catching up to do, you end up "making love" (matty's words, not yours) in said pillow fort - matty's like "not to be dramatic but this is the best day of my life like do you know how long i've wanted to not only take you on a date but also have sex with you in a fort like this", and you're like "well thank god i had that shower last night and shaved lol", and then it's just a lot of giggling and more sexy stuff happening before you go to sleep in each other's arms <3

[finnified]

“so,” finn mutters demurely, staring fixedly on all the little engravings in his metal spoon. “the henderson kid. are we all just,” he gestures vaguely, “letting that happen?”

lazuli looks up at him with an innocently quirked eyebrow from her seat across the table from him, the noise of the small, brightly-colored restaurant they’re packed into bustling behind her. “whatever do you mean, letting that happen?” that noise is almost-oppressive as the siren leans in, her claws elegantly resting on divots in the table. “i thought it was taken care of.” 

finn blows out a gruff breath, leaning back. “no- you know what i mean.” it crosses its arms over its chest, looking over at jo, who is sandwiched between her children at the adjoining table. “i’m a bit unnerved by how unconcerned we all were that tabitha tried to drown a boy. that we are rewarding it, no less.” 

lazuli raises her eyebrows, and for a moment finn feels the familiar itch of regret that he hasn’t told more people what he’s gone through at the hands of achuart. if he was having this conversation with joanna, he’s sure she would at least understand what his concern stemmed from. 

“she was only getting back at a rotten little bully, finn, can you really blame her?” lazuli ponders, shifting her legs at the bench so she can rest her ankles on the table. of course lazuli thinks this is fine- lazuli who fought with him within a minute of their meeting.

yes, i can blame her, finn thinks easily, but all he gives in outward response is a noncommittal shrug of shoulders. 

“ah, don’t be such a spoilsport. the henderson kid’ll be fine, plus he’ll have learned a lesson, and the rest of the little tykes too.” lazuli waves their spoon around as they talk. “besides, we’re pirates- what good are we without a little terror around once in a while?” 

finn considers this for a moment with a deadpan, caught between scolding lazuli and plain standing up and leaving when inigo suddenly slides into the seat next to it. the kite quirks a brow at him, but he’s still grinning like a fool, the way he always does when joanna does literally anything. 

“jo wanted to talk to the kids by herself, and who am i to decline my wife something she asks for?” finneas immediately gags with slightly more vitrol than necessary, making a huge show of scooting down the bench from inigo. lazuli just laughs, waving her spoon at the newly created gap between kite and kestrel. 

“now, now, inigo, you know the rules!” the siren proclaims sharply, although the effect is undercut by her continued laughter. “how could you continually subject poor finneas to this?”

finn deliberately crosses his arms and scowls at inigo, its previous worries starting to leak away. inigo just rests one elbow on the table and stares across to joanna, who’s speaking to tabitha in a manner hushed enough that nobody else can hear. “hello, ocean to inigo?” finn waves a hand in front of the kestrel’s face. “you’re missing out on a very important scolding here.”

a lovesick sigh emits from inigo’s throat. “isn’t she just great?” a cacophony of laughter and groaning follows immediately, more laughter from lazuli and groaning from finneas. the noise attracts joanna’s attention, and she gives inigo a stern look across the table which illicts another hysterical round of cackling from lazuli. 

finn lets him relax as the energy lightens. he feels a little bad, now, for being so upset- he should know by now that he can trust his friends to be sensitive, and funny, and- well, trustworthy. 

“oi, finneas, what’s the dopey grin about?” he doesn’t even realize his thoughts have reflected on his face until lazuli teasingly points at him. 

“oh, y’know, just-“ he shrugs, not quite able to force his face into neutrality. “just happy to be here.” 

——

hey gang! i finally managed to finish one of my like, four pirates wips! Isnt that crazy!! as always, mentioned characters belong to the ever-lovely @pacificwaternymph and @stuckwithcats !

[juliapark13]

Something that I will never understand in this fandom is how you all fight tooth and nails to prove that the guys are almost perfect, have exactly 0,1 amount of negative personal traits and will never do anything wrong in their lives (and if they evee done then they learned the lesson, changed their mind 180 degrees). First and foremost, they are people. Ordinary people. Yes, hard working, yes, attractive and charismatic. But still people. Flesh and bones and physical needs. I've been an admirer of them since 2016 and during my obsessed era managed to watch EVERY their content since even before and from their debut. Every, every one of them has negative, unattractive, repulsive traits. I could list it all if needed. The idealization of them is insane. The idealization of them by the shippers is even more so.

Just like the fandom idealizes the guys to the max so do you, shippers, ultimately idealize your ship. Love to death, never seen before strongest love, absolute adoration between them, can never do anything wrong to each other, will never look towards another person, can never hurt each other in any way, intended or not, public image or personal, deep feelings. It's always a projection going on. The entertainment industry is basically built on projection. And the love that you claim jikook have is what YOU created, YOU believe they have. You created something that makes your heart flatter and days brighter and more tolerable and went along with it. Because in all honesty and objectivity you and i will never know what happens behind the scenes. Yes, they do have a great chemistry and a romantic fleur flying around them but, unfortunately, it really doesn't mean much. When 2 romantic, passionate, sensual, naturally flirty people meet each other and become closely acquainted, they just happen to radiate this energy. Speaking from many instances I've seen it in real life.

Could I be wrong? Totally. They could be banging each other and saying lovely words to each other. Could you be wrong? Of course. They could be passionately in love with some noncelebrity and we'd never know it. They could be going around courting someone else. Even if you believe they arE nOt LiKe ThIs, jK wOuLd nEvEr ReLeAsE gCfT jusT fOr tHeM tO bE fRiEnDs, hE'd nEvEr pLaY uS lIkE tHiS, you will never know them personally, you never know what goes in their head. Why you all feel so fucking entitled to their personal life, emotions and feelings? Why do you think you know what's in their head? Just recently A LOT of shippers and armys swore death that Jimin doesn't want solo activity, that he doubtly would do something solo but here we are, 7th of february.

tbh, for quite a long period jikook fandom was my safe zone, im a sucker for romance and a lovesick fool, sue me. Your idea of this couple and romance was just my brand and jikook being soft and caring did things to my poor heart. So i have spent some time going around, silently observing. And you know what? Jikookers are slowly becoming taekookers. Yay to the taekookification of jikookers! Maybe some of you all don't notice it but that's a fact. Theories and assumptions all day long, drama, tragedy and dumbassery. I literally saw postS about jk going here and there to spend time with th and others friends to hide his relationship with jm because they'll be gone to serve in the military soon. That's how bad it's become in some of yalls head.

but anyways, back to idealization. Yeah, you all idealize the shit outta this ship. You think jk and jm could never do anything wrong and bad to each other, do any harm, intentionally or unintentionally. Which erects a question. What is then about the rise of taekookers? I know you all gonna defend jk and th and tell that they are kind, they love jm wholeheartedly, tHeY wOuLd SpIt oN mE/bUrN tO kEeP jm WaRm, it's not their fault taekookers are deranged and unhinged, internet is not reality, jm is okay with it, in reality jm is very loved and nobody would ever try to hurt him, it's not jk and ths fault, they have every right to interact however they wan, what, should brothers/besties not interact anymore at all???? All of aforementioned, every single word would be right if you all said it in 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, 2019 and even 2020. Those years, you would be absolutely right if you replied to me that jk and th have every right to interact. But guess what, the world and the fandom changes. What simply was a ship war years ago is a serious deal now, with serious consequences that have a high probability to be destructive and damaging. People on the internet are real, they are not something that can be shrugged off. Accounts of twitter and yt are not just pictures with a bot behind them, their posts are not AI-generated bunch of random words, it's their mind, real thoughts. They log out of twittr and go shop for food with these thoughts going in their head, they go to work, interact with othrs, consult, service their clients and still have these thoughts in their head. Do you even know how many times my bts-fan friends had gone to fandom meetings and then told me there were hella lot of shippers and many of them claimed jimin to be a tkk homewrecker? Hint: every single time they went to a fandom meeting. Oftentimes there would be other slurs used against jm.

I know you all dont want to hear it and don't want to even consider it because of idealization but the guys do feed ships, do feed some fandom narratives, do some controversial things. And yes, recent taekook live is one of them, either people wanr to admit it or not. Even jikook had some moments to intentionally stirr up the crowd (the famous jimin sitting on jks laps on a concert moment). They are entertainers in the first place. It's their job to keep an audience engaged. But that's okay, that's not what bothers me. What bothers me is that you all fight tooth and nails to defend jikook. It's weird how you all claim jk to be a genius, an overly intelligent person (and i believe he probably is), smart and grown up man but turn a blind eye to the fact that his certain desicions do harm jimin's image and potentially his well-being. Jk has greatly graduated with a degree in media. I do believe he's a gentle soul and probably has a nice and kind personality, and is quite smart and creative. But he does involve himself in an activity that does nothing but feed the harmful type of delusion, the one that a potential to become dangerous for the person he claims to be someone he's close to. I myself am getting a degree in a field that involves media, mediaplay and pr and let me tell you, masses are quite easily moved, the mass narrative is changable and flexible. Celebrity like bts have a huge power over people and their minds. They literally can integrate any narrative they want and it wil be successfully integrated, soon or later. Jk literally has an almost flawless image and brand power. He is potentially able to say whatever he wants and people will be on his side. If he wanted, he could end shipping, soon or later, eventhougg there still will be a small percent or highly radicalized shippers. Again, any mass narrative is movable and changeable, ANY.

So here we have, a highly respected artist, with a great public image and brand power, who's claimed to be very smart, intelligent, who graduated with honors with a degree in media. This certain artist has a part in his fandom of people who spend their days and nights to make up theories. These part of the fandom keeps on trying to ruin the artist's bandmate's (close friend/brother/lover/whatever you consider them) image and brand (either you want it or not but public/brand image is important in the industry), and potentially has quite a high probability to be harmful to that bandmate's well-being. The artist doesn't adress the problem, the artist keeps getting himself involved in that deranged part of his fandom, thanks to the artists' decision makings the deranged part keeps thriving on, getting bolder and more vile.

Like, I'm not asking jk or th to say he has a girlfriend/boyfriend/partner, it's their personal life, for god's sake, nobody should ever have word in it. But god, it's not hard to openly and straightforwardly reply to one of the millions' of deranged comments and say that you are not romantically involved with any of your bandmates (which would start an anti-shipping movement in your fandom). There would be left a small percent of the most radical deranged breed, the proccess of purification would probably go slowly, but when an artist is stubborn and he really tries to change a narrative, he would eventually get what he wants.

It's not hard to say that you don't want to be shipped with someone, it's not hard to say that you are not in a relationship with your bandmates. I know, there will be people saying he doesn't have to do it, it's not their fault and he has nothing to do with shipping but man, taekookers have gone too far, have become too bold and harmful. You can't keep your silence forever when you are the center of this fucked up delusional harmful created love triangle and your words are valued by both sides. Can't keep silence at least from the ethical standpoint. Like, dude, your bandmate is literally being targetted here and there, how is it okay?

What a long essay. 😄

Do I think they are perfect? No.

Do I think they’ve never had any fight or difficult time? No. They definitely had.

I still think their relationship is extraordinary and their love is something else, because it’s obvious even from the small fraction of their lives we were able to see. I don’t wish for them to be more than friends. I see what they are trying to show us and I don’t ignore it.

BTS members don’t see everything we see. They know about the hate, but they don’t have to know about the amount and level of toxicity. We don’t know how much of this toxicity they’ve seen. They aren’t invested in it like we are. Like you said we don’t know what’s going on behind the closed door.

You should finally get the fact Jungkook isn’t responsible for that. Try to imagine yourself in his place. Would you calculate all your actions and words? He literally doesn’t have to come online and say ‘Me and V are only friends, get over it finally.’ If you hate him because you think he is obliged to do that, you are toxic. Who are you to judge him anyway? You aren’t one of the most famous people in the world. You have totally different life. You can’t even imagine how different everything is for them.

Just we would never agree on this. It’s not worthy for me to continue.

And don’t ever compare jkkrs to tkkrs. The difference is incomparable.

[dylanobrienisbatman]

I sort of feel like the people saying Colin sucked this season missed the point of his arc?

So at the end of season one, Colin left London for his trips completely embarrassed. He had proposed to a woman he believed that he loved, gotten publicly engaged, only to be made the fool of the ton when Lady Whistledown revealed Marina's pregnancy. Everyone knew he had been taken advantage of, that is the only reason that he and their family were able to avoid ruin from the whole situation. Colin left London to flee the situation he found himself in, specifically the social blow back.

But he still comes back early? He ran away, and he didn't find the relief, the freedom, or the happiness he was seeking. He went on a grand tour of Europe and saw amazing things and met amazing people, and he comes back resigned to stay away from women and still thinking about Marina Thompson and the life he had imagined with her. At the end of the dinner he shared with Marina in episode 4, he reveals that he spent his travels thinking of her, thinking of how they ended things, thinking of how their lives could be different if they had just said or done different things. He is still entirely caught up in their relationship, he was never able to get away from it, no matter how far he ran.

Lady Featherington brings up the broken engagement in episode 7 and Colin still visibly recoils and becomes uncomfortable. He is still hurt by it, and he knows it is still a subject of gossip and you can tell that bothers him significantly. He goes to visit Marina, and it's clear he hopes it will provide him with some level of clarity but instead he just gets told that he's acting like a child, and needs to grow up. He is still in the shadow of those choices, and of his elder brothers, and he doesn't know how to fix it or change it.

So he fakes it.

That's the whole point. His endless, exhausting stories about his travels are his mask, you can tell because we, the audience, never actually hear any of the stories in full. We hear snippets, and hear how everyone around him is fed up listening to him. This is by design, by both the show and by Colin as a character. Everyone will ignore the fact that he is, in fact, quite miserable, if he is so irritating about his trips that nobody wants to talk to him anymore. If he answers every question with a statement about some flower he saw, or the stars over some city, he will be able to fool everyone into thinking he's happy with his life, instead of still lovesick over a girl who made a fool of him and resigned to missing her and being miserable instead. You see it throughout the season, in his interactions with a myriad of characters.

"It sounds like a remarkable journey." "Remarkable, yes. In that I seem to have many remarks about it."

His comments with Marina really highlight this. He's not actively excited or thrilled about getting to share these stories, it is just something to say, to pass awkward moments and to maintain conversation. He doesn't feel like anything he did was actually all that interesting, but he was a man who went on many travels, so he must speak about them, right? And then she calls him a boy, and tells him that he's lost in fantasy and unable to truly be a man and make choices for himself. She basically reaffirms exactly what he has been feeling about himself. He is visibly upset the next day when he talks to Pen, still wondering and blaming others for the disappointments, but resigning himself to look forward, but with no real fervor.

You see it in moments with Benedict. When they're playing Pall Mall, Benedict mentions his application and says "well its no grand tour" and Colin doesn't preen or make any comments about his travels, he just looks sad and a little uncomfortable. Benedict believes Colin has "distinguished" himself, but it's obvious by his reaction that Colin doesn't feel that way at all, and he spends the back half of the season showing it.

You also see it when he's with Penelope, because he doesn't talk about his travels with her at all. He talks about how he is feeling, and to some extent he is still masking how he feels, but at the wedding he talks about how everyone needs to find a purpose, and when Pen finds him later in the episode it is clear he is still miserable. He asks her if shes found her purpose, and he engages with her about it, and he is really taken with the way she talks about how her purpose will not be about who she is but who she is meant to be. He likes this idea that he can still find out who he is meant to be.

This is also why he first takes up interest in the gemstone mines as an investment. He hopes he can make a name for himself and benefit his family in some way, he is trying to find purpose and find his footing, and he's grasping at straws. When he discovers the falsehood, he sets out to make it right and he does, and in a way, at the end of the season, he seems a little lighter because he was able to help people. He helped the Featherington's by exposing their cousin's scheme and he ends up helping Will Mondrich by bringing a group of his friend Will's new club. Its the first actual moment of lightness we see in Colin all season, when he finally exposes Jack and when he arrives at the club. A slight shift has been made, Colin has found himself useful and made a difference and I think that helps him feel a little less lost.

Colin in this season is entirely lost, and he's hiding it from everyone around him. He wants his family and his friends to think he's happy and thriving after his travels, but in fact, he left his trips early to come home and mope about with his family. Benedict gets into art school, Eloise is attending scandalous political events, Daphne is a Duchess, Anthony is finally getting married and has long been established as the Viscount, and Colin is just... floating. He speaks only of Greece because he has nothing else to say, because he has nothing else happening in his life that he finds worthy of talking about. Because, on the inside, he still sees himself as just a sad boy who was publicly embarrassed when had his heart broken by a girl and now can't get over it.

Colin is in a super dark place all throughout s2, and his insufferable attitude about his travels is how he is masking that from everyone around him. His arc in s2 was a layered emotional arc about hiding how he really felt and trying desperately to prove to everyone, including himself, that Colin Bridgerton was someone worth caring about.

[pennylaneforthoughts]

Okay but episode 4 from Mobius' perspective is literally the saddest thing if you let yourself think about it for too long.

Imagine you're Mobius and you have a huge massive crush on Loki, and by the end of episode 2 you feel like you've bonded so well, and you know, maybe there's a chance he likes you back. But then he betrays you, runs through that time door after Sylvie and everyone is telling you he's just yeeted out Like Always but you're like "No there's gotta be another explanation. We were friends. Really friends. We had something."

And then you find out that not only did he yeet after Sylvie, as you're dragging them through the halls, all they look at is each other, and it's not until Sylvie's down another corridor that Loki even pays you any mind or says anything to you. And you're just absolutely seething because of course everyone else was right. How could you be so stupid to think Loki could ever like you back? Hes a literal god. You're just some random guy, a bureaucrat. Of course he would rather be with some crazy, stab-happy version of HIMSELF than you.

And you feel so jealous, so angry, so unwanted you can barely think straight. But you still have to do your job even though you feel like this, so you lie and sneer and poke and prod because you're angry and hurting and a part of you wants Loki to hurt too. And then as you're interrogating him, you see him get all teary eyed over Sylvie, and you think, "How horribly painful and awful is this?" He'd cry over this girl after knowing her for less than a day, but he'd leave you without a care in the world. Not a goodbye or any sort of explanation. Would he even care if someone had told him you were pruned? Unlikely.

And you're so upset that even when Loki's yelling at you, desperately trying to make you see he's telling you the truth, it doesn't relieve you to see so clearly in his eyes that he's not lying, because those are the same eyes that you just saw worried over and crushing on Sylvie. So you slam your face directly into denial because how dare he? How dare he be honest now? And so you run away before you let yourself get sucked back in by those eyes, but it's too late, the damage is done. And even though you're angry and bitter and kind of wish Loki would just disappear, you can't deny he was being honest for very long. So you go and stick your neck out and investigate anyway, because you're nothing if not a lovesick fool, and even being angry at him isn't going to change that, no matter how much you try.

And if you're being honest with yourself, something really has been off about this whole thing, and Loki's rare honesty was the proverbial straw that broke your camel's back in this whole mess. After all, you've never been good at denying him when he looks at you like that. You were bad at it when he wanted to go to an apocalypse with you, and you're bad at it now. So you steal Ravonna's tempad and look for yourself. And where else could you go except to the archives where you and Loki had spent so much time together hidden away? It's only appropriate. And what you find just makes your heart sink.

Not only was Loki telling the truth, it's so much worse than either of you realized. Ravonna had killed C-20. And she had lied to you. And what beautiful, horrible irony that the person who was supposed to do nothing but lie was the one being honest, and your friend for nobody even knows how long is the one lying to you. Your whole world starts crashing down around you, and it's too much. You were already emotionally wrecked by everything going on with Loki. You didn't need this too. And oh God, the implications of it.

This means that everything you've done and said your whole known life has been wrong. And more importantly, it means you've hurt and killed for nothing. And that guilt just eats at your soul as you remember what you've said even just to Loki.

"You were born to bring pain and suffering and death. All so that others can be the best versions of themselves."

What have you done? How much damage have you caused? And it's this thought that spurs you forward. Because screw ideology. Screw glorious purpose. What even are those in the face of a person in pain, much less the person you've found yourself caring about more than anything else?

So you run. Almost on instinct. You run to Loki knowing exactly what memory you've looped him through out of bitterness and jealousy and spite, and you're praying you haven't caused irreparable damage.

"You deserve to be alone, and you always will be."

No, no, no, of course he doesn't. He has you. He'll always have you if you have any say in the matter. He has...

Sylvie.

You remember her. Them. The nexus event. And you have a theory. A theory you hate so much it makes you want to crawl out of your own skin and die, but it makes too much sense, and unfortunately, it could work. So as you step into the time prison, you ask.

"Do you really believe you deserve to be alone?"

And he says he doesn't know, but you can see he just doesn't want to admit that yes, he does. And it breaks your heart because you know that you've had a part in that. So you apologize in the only way you think Loki could begin to accept.

"You can be whoever, whatever you want to be. Even someone good."

And part of you is saying that to yourself too, because heaven knows you need to hear it just as much. And Loki's words are still ringing in your ears.

Friend.

How bittersweet. But you're an adult. You know you can't demand Loki's affection as much as you selfishly want to. If he wants to be with Sylvie, you'll force yourself to find some way to cope with that. It's fine. It only makes sense. You'd rather have Loki in your life as a friend than nothing at all. And you're happy to be reconciled at least a little.

But then you step out into the Time Theatre and everything stops. Ravonna is standing there and she's obviously pissed. She knows. You deflect, you lie, try to be as Loki as you can to get out of this. You're surrounded by Minutemen and pruning sticks but all you can think is you can't let Loki get hurt. Not now. He's the key to taking down the TVA. And it's clear Ravonna is having none of it. But you know her. You were friends. Good friends. And you know she's more angry at you than Loki at the moment. So you realize what you have to do to keep it that way. To protect him.

So you press the button you know will hurt her the most. You answer her question from just a short while ago. You bring all the focus onto you, knowing what it'll likely mean. Knowing it'll hurt her and make her lash out. You're not stupid. You're good at reading people. That's why you're an analyst. And if it means protecting Loki, you know you'd have been willing to die much longer ago than is probably reasonable.

You don't even try to avoid the pruning stick. And honestly? It's not even the most painful thing you've experienced today.

And besides. It's better this way. Now Loki can be with Sylvie, be happy, and you don't have to feel a dagger through your heart every time they look at each other. And it's not like Loki will really miss you.

It's better this way.

[cdroloisms]

i think that although the theories/aus of puffy's son dream and wil's brother dream are interesting to think about, especially the implications, the (probably) canon statement that he really has no family to me hits the hardest. because it's just dream, you know. his friends hate him, he has none (p relatable), but i can't really imagine,, both not having friends and not having a family. that's kind of what keeps a lot of us sane and okay ( - quill anon (same anon from the c!tubbo c!wil ask) )

ouch quill anon ,, this ask Hurt. it’s true - usually, it’s our family and friends that keep us going, that are the ones that we fight for and live for and love for. c!dream’s “family” was his reasoning behind ,, a lot of the stuff he did, good or bad, and even now you can hear his desperation in getting someone, anyone to visit sometimes, in wanting to know how people are doing outside the cell. 

at the same time, he’s a character very much defined by his solitude, by his isolation, by all of the time he has spent,, alone. by the alliances that had been broken, betrayed, forgotten. by how- at the end of the day - he sits for hours on end in an obsidian box with nothing but his thoughts to accompany him. it’s awfully ,, sad, despite everything he’s done. through it all, he’s alone. he survives the horrors of the vault (until this current arc) alone. nobody’s there to hear his thoughts. nobody knows his mindset, or feelings, or wants, or anything that really makes him human. for someone so driven by people, he spends so much time completely isolated - and it’s. honestly really, really tragic. 

anyway, this is a sad little drabble set pre-roommates arc abt c!dream in the prison, alone, bc he makes me Sad. 

tw: mentioned torture, abuse, violence, broken bones, blood, injuries, mental deterioration, isolation, panic attacks, self-deprecation, trauma, memory loss, death, contemplations of death, dark content, dark imagery

The blank book in his hand stares at him stubbornly, the stark white of the untouched pages nearly burning his eyes, used to the dark walls and floor of the cell. Dream’s hand shakes around his quill, ink splotches marring the pages from where his too-unsteady hand had let the nib brush against the paper and left freckles of black spots behind. He pulls his thumb back from the bottom left corner, hissing slightly when it leaves a dull red fingerprint behind, a smudge of half-dried blood further dirtying the paper.

He’d pulled out one of the books for some reason, probably on a whim, letting his hands run over the leather spine and along the thread of the binding absentmindedly after Quackity left for the day. He hadn’t touched them in a while - he liked to save them, at the beginning, just in case visitors came and he wanted to thank them or if he needed to communicate (though he hadn’t gone silent since Sapnap left, ‘cause Sapnap wanted him to talk and he doesn’t know why he still clings to that visit when it’s been months and he still hasn’t come back, but he promised that if Dream behaved he’d visit again and - it’s stupid to hope, but Dream can’t give up, not yet) and then he kept them because he would need them for the revive book and the Warden would confiscate them, anyway, so it was better not to get attached. Regardless, he’d stubbornly ignored the chest of books for a long time, let the remain closed and the clasp go unlatched as he wasted his days away watching the walls drip bright purple and pretend he didn’t miss his clock.

Until now.

He runs his fingers along the surface of the paper again, ignoring the red and black smudges they leave in their wakes, ruining the previously unblemished pages. The paper is smooth, bearing a very slight grain, and smells clean and woody - this book must’ve been a newer one the Warden replaced into the chest. He’d counted the pages a few times, front and back - there are fifty sheets, so a hundred pages to use as he sees fit, completely empty and untouched. The quill shakes in his hand, the tip pressed against the paper, unmoving.

What is there to write?

He’s forgotten why he pulled out the book in the first place, already - his head keeps getting fuzzier, memory impossibly fragmented and seemingly worsening with every passing day. He knows he had a reason because he’d been very determined about it, had spent what must have been hours dragging himself along the obsidian floor with a broken shinbone jutting out of his right leg and a dislocated left shoulder that he’d taken an extra few minutes to jam back in place by pressing it against the floor. Something had come into his head, probably in the middle of Quackity’s daily session, and he’d found himself desperate to write it down before he forgot despite the throbbing of his head and the pain in his chest making it impossible to take a full breath.

(He must have talked back, or acted defiant, or something - he doesn’t remember much besides the look Quackity had given him after, dark and angry and tight with rage. There had been a hand tangled in his hair, a blade jammed right up against his throat, curses and screams in his ears dying into a singular ringing echo as the blade was pushed deeper and deeper. It wasn’t until a few minutes later when Quackity realized that he’d gone too deep and that Dream was choking on his own blood - his memories shatter, and there’s nothing but more screaming, red and black and blood everywhere, warm against his skin, the sweet-sour taste of glistening melon on his tongue, a healing pot desperately stitching his skin together and bringing him back from the darkness that he’d swelled in the corners of his vision - mostly, he remembers everything going cold and numb and he’d realized, halfway into the Void, that he would never leave the Vault alive.)

His hands tighten on the book as he breathes a shallow, harsh breath through his teeth, because - oh. Oh. He looks back at the trembling white plume in his hand, at his shaking fingers clenched tightly near the end, and he swallows the thick, heavy feeling in his throat. Quackity had- and he had- and then-

Right.

He forces air into his lungs steadily, counting the seconds off in his head. He’d learned how to stave off panic attacks on his own ages ago, and the knowledge had come to full use in the Vault - the struggle to stay calm seems harder with every passing day, but he can’t exactly risk himself passing out every three seconds when he’s inevitably set off by the smell of blood or a twinge of pain or any of the million other triggers crammed into this tiny box that’s been the source of all of his torment for months. He keeps up the slow, steady breathing for another few minutes, just enough time to pull back the darkness creeping in from the edges of his vision, and looks back down at the blank paper.

It stares back at him, almost judgmental of his hesitancy. You opened me up, it seems to challenge him, why aren’t you writing? The quill still shakes in his hand. He doesn’t know if it’ll ever stop shaking again.

Dear, he begins, almost in defiance, proof that he Is Going To Write Something, thank you very much, he isn’t just going to chicken out and leave it a blank book (like you have before?) but the quill tip digs into the paper as he grinds to a sudden halt, the empty space next to the first word nearly taunting. He feels his mouth dry, heat rising behind his eyes - the book, silent and blank as ever, stays imprinted in his vision even as he squeezes them shut.

Dear, what a stupid, sentimental way to start a letter. He can’t even fool himself into thinking of it as a business venture, turn it into an elaborate plan to escape and address it to either Techno or Wilbur (who would never receive his message anyway), not without admitting his regard for the two edged past his pretense of professional interested and owed favors. He can hardly write it to Ranboo, not without compromising their already fragile alliance (if it even exists, anymore. The enderman hybrid had yet to visit for months - and sure, it was probably for the best, who knows how Quackity would react if he found out about the nature of their relationship, but that didn’t make it sting any less.)

In the back of his minds, name rise from where he’d kept them carefully buried despite his best efforts. Punz. Bad. Puffy. Sapnap. George. He shakes his head, trying to wave away them from his thoughts, but the effort is as fruitless as it has always been - he stares at the first word angrily, like it has betrayed him, and receives no response. The words are messy, shaking, his script overly looping and rounded like a child’s. He hates it, hates how cheery it looks, even on the bloodstained page - it looks like the beginning of a birthday card, or a perhaps a particularly dedicated Halloween party invite. Like he’s some sort of lovesick teen, writing letters to crushes that would never pay him a second glance. He laughed a little, without any real humor - minus the romance, that description isn’t all that far off.

Because- well. His memories might be shot to all hell, but he doubts he’ll ever forget the hatred on Sapnap’s face, a loaded crossbow pointed between his eyes, George’s expression set in disinterested apathy - “George, you can give the word.” Bad’s face, twisted in pity and resignation, voice carefully measured as he looks away and gestures at the cell, “you did do some pretty bad stuff to get put in here though, Dream,” the hidden “you deserve it” that he’d heard, just as clearly behind the words. Punz - “you should’ve paid me more” - jaw set stiffly as people poured through the portal, watching, wordless, as Dream bled out twice on that blackstone floor. Puffy, poorly hidden disgust flickering over her face as she looks away from him being dragged away in chains, sword held steady in her hands. Sapnap, that same fiercely determined expression on his face so familiar that thinking of it aches, even now, “it’s gonna be me, who takes your final life.” Months and months and months and months, alone.

Always, always, alone.

The page makes a quiet, complaining groan under his pen - he looks down to see it torn under the tip of his quill, the word completely unreadable under line after line of black ink scratched over it, each one deeper than the last. He stares blankly at it for a few minutes longer, the brief flash of anger that had seared through his body settling into numbness once more.

To whoever may find this: he scratches the words on the page slowly, keeping his print deliberately blocky and neat. The heavy feeling in his throat returns, stronger than ever, and he ignores it as he pushes on.

He pauses for a moment, wondering what more to write. Apologies? Accusations? He could detail every second that he remembers from Quackity’s visits, describe every inch of pain that had been pulled from his aching lungs, every line etched into his skin. He could apologize for every act of cruelty that had ever been caused by his hands, every bridge he’d ever torched to light the path to a better future. He could explain - everything, every tortured thought that had circled his head for hours on end and every night that had passed without any sleep and every time he’d pushed on without complaint or hesitancy because it would be worth it, even if he was the only one who saw it, it would be worth it because he’d sacrifice too much for it to be anything but. He could- he could, he could write and write until he’d filled every page of every book back and front, and would they even believe him? Would it even matter?

Goodbye, he writes at last. It feels strangely final. (He won’t be leaving this Vault alive. He knows this as surely as he knows that he will leave this world uncared for, unheard. As surely as he knows that he’ll always be alone.) With a quick snap of magic following the signing of his name, the book is preserved, shining slightly with a purple glow as he sets it back down in the chest. He looks around, the cell once again stiflingly quiet without the book to busy him, Dream once again completely alone as he’s been for - well.

(Pandas, eyebrows drawn in uncharacteristic seriousness from the usually painfully spirited eight-year-old, pinkie raised between the two of them, solemnity belied by the gap in his front teeth poking out between his lips.

“We’ll be together forever,” he whispered with the volume control you’d expect from a kid that age, which is to say that it wasn’t much of a whisper at all, but Dream, newly ten years old, remembers being particularly moved by the gesture anyway, moving to hesitantly hook his own pinkie in the other’s.

“And we’ll never be alone ever again,” he’d replied, voice faraway with a disbelieving sort of awe.”

“Never,” Pandas’ voice had been just as firm as his first statement, twisting his wrist to tighten the grip of their linked fingers further. “Best friends for ever and ever, right?”

“For ever and ever.”)

“For ever and ever,” he whispers, eyes fluttering shut as he slumps down against the floor, and only the lava bubbles in reply.

[neon-junkie]

“Nice plan.”

Summary: There's an enemy tailgating you and Crosshair through the busy streets of Coruscant, and you spontaneously come up with a plan to show the stranger that your two aren't a threat.

Pairing: Crosshair x gn!Reader

Rating: SFW

Word count: 1617

Tags: First kiss, Surprise kissing, Friends to lovers, Missions.

Notes: If you like my work then please reblog it!! xx

Being in the heart of the battlefield is common for you, but not for your associate; Crosshair enjoys his comfort up on cliffs, tucked away, viewing the world through his rifle's scope. Sure, he's been shot at before, and he's got the wounds to prove it, but the world is extremely different for him, now that he's trailing behind you through the centre of it. Well, soon to be the centre of it. Everybody has split up, taking their positions and waiting for said target to arrive. The streets of Coruscant are busy, as always, making it easier to weave through undetected. You're trying to find a ledge to overlook the club that the target is in, and once you're ready, you'll com Hunter and watch as he goes inside to draw the target out. The only problem is that there's a lack of ladders around these buildings, and you can't exactly scale up one of the walls without looking... odd.

So, you and Crosshair continue peering down alleys, searching for something to give you that boost to the upper levels. You can sense how tense Crosshair is; he's not fond of people, nor crowds, and thankfully they don't pay him much attention, despite being fully kitted out - Coruscant is used to the sight of armoured men, clone or not. You overhear Crosshair grumble under his breath, his patience running dry as you turn another corner to find nothing of use, only people mindlessly wandering by. However, an unfortunate thing does cross your eye as you go to turn around the next corner, only to stop in your tracks, letting out a sharp exhale as Crosshair accidentally bumps into you. "Why have you stopped?" he questions, and you can hear the annoyance in his tone, despite his voice being distorted through his helmet. You peer behind the corner again, double-checking what thought you just saw. Yep, your target's friends have begun heading your way, presumably going to meet up with the target in the club. "We have company," you explain, and begin heading back down the alley you just came from, Crosshair following behind. Thankfully, your target nor his friends know about you and your posse, nor do they know that they're being tracked - soon to be captured. You have the advantage of being anonymous, another pair of strangers throughout the sea of people that cover every square inch of Coruscant, but you still don't want to do anything that may draw attention - such as trailing them. "Just let them walk past, they don't know who we are," Crosshair suggests, walking beside you rather than behind. "And we should keep it that way. We don't want to look suspicious-" "-Doesn't this look suspicious? Coming back the way we came?" He has a point. Another small alley catches your attention, one that you're yet to go down, and you drag Crosshair by his wrist, pulling him down the surprisingly quiet passage. It backs onto a bunch of shops, with loth-cats rummaging through bins, and strangers sat on their back porches. "Are they still following us?" you question. Crosshair peers slightly over his shoulder. "Yes," he states. "You're taking us down an alley that leads to the back of the club. Have you not been paying attention to where we've been walking?" "I was more focused on finding a ladder." Crosshair lets out a defeated sigh. "We should have scaled a wall. It's Coruscant, people do weird things here all the time." As true as his statement may be, your target and his friends would definitely suspect something if they saw two strangers scaling up a wall, especially when they have bounties on their heads. A ladder it is, hopefully. Your comlink flashes, and Hunter questions what's taking so long. After explaining that Coruscant is lacking in the ladder department, and that your target has a few broody looking friends, he suggests that you two find somewhere safe to hide instead. Hunter needs to draw the target out before his buddies arrive, so the mission goes on without you two. No bother, this isn't the first time they've had to leave one of you out, or two... The alley finally leads to the back of the club, and there's a hefty crowd of people. This is the smoking area, possibly? But the sight of another alley catches your attention, a thin one, somewhat safe and hidden behind the thickness of strangers. You two begin weaving your way through, eventually coming to a halt between the tight walls. You prop yourself against one, and Crosshair takes the other, your feet touching subconsciously. It's a tight squeeze. You let out a deep breath, thankful that you're not buried under a helmet or a heap of armour; Crosshair seems indifferent, looking out over the sea of people and watching as the targets friends begin heading inside the club. Phew, you went unnoticed, just two strangers making their way through the universe.   "One of them is coming this way," Crosshair unfortunately announces, his eyes meeting yours under the thickness of his visor. "I told you we shouldn't have come back the way we came." Shit. Ugh. Hunter told you two to stay safe and hidden, and this is definitely not heading in the direction that you want it to go. You look at your surroundings, attempting to find an escape route, but all you can see is a variety of strangers, busy chatting away, mingling, unaware of the danger that surrounds them. Wait. Maybe you can make it look as if you're just another pair of strangers in this crowd, and it'll be hard for your tailgater to begin asking questions and making accusations if both your mouths are occupied. "Take off your helmet," you order, and frown as Crosshair laughs from beneath it. "This isn't a very smart plan. I'd prefer having my helmet on if this stranger is going to start-" "-Just take it off! Trust me!" You cut him off, and watch as Crosshair grumbles whilst removing his helmet, cooping it beneath his arm. "Now what?" Crosshair questions, unimpressed as ever. You peek over the crowd and pull a worried expression as the stranger continues nearing, struggling to get through the thickness of people, and even barging a few clueless people out of the way. People always seem to forget that manners are a blessing. There's a sickly feeling in your stomach, both nervous about kissing your associate, and nervous that he'll reject you. How are you meant to explain this plan? Ask him to kiss you? Attempt to explain your silly thoughts to him? There's no time, and words fail you. Crosshair raises a brow as you babble "sorry," split seconds before stepping between his feet, placing a soft hand on his armoured chest, and pressing your lips to his. Crosshair freezes. He's tense, thick, eyes widening. You're kissing him. If his lip weren't occupied then he'd laugh and comment "brilliant plan," because it really is, but instead he stupidly stands there, as if he's forgotten how to function, let alone kiss back. And unknown to you, he has butterflies churning in his stomach, along with a thick lump in his throat. But he finally kisses back, his spare gloved hand moving up to cup the back of your head as he moves his lips against yours. Just in time, too, as the stranger who was about to begin asking questions realizes that you're just another pair of lovesick fools in this sea of people. He rolls his eyes at the sight before beginning his journey back through the crowd, heading into the club to unfortunately find that the rest of his crew has gone missing. Neither of you peek open your eyes to wonder if the stranger has gone away, but nobody has attempted to catch your attention, meaning the stranger must be gone. He's gone, you two are safe, and neither of you are moving away. The grip on the back of your head tightens, and Crosshair gambles a bold move by lightly running his tongue across your lower lip, only to be welcomed into your mouth. You can feel the corners of his lips move, turning upwards, smiling as you allow him to make the kiss messier. It's needy, desperate, and something that you've both been craving for a long time. "I think he's gone," Crosshair quietly mutters against your lips, not giving you the ability to answer as he kisses you again. Sadly, the sound of your comlink beeping forces your lips to part, and you remain pressed up against Crosshair as you answer. It's Hunter, ordering you two to return to the ship. They have the target, the mission was successful in every aspect. Every. Aspect. "We should get back. You know what Hunter's like if he's kept waiting," Crosshair comments. His hand removes itself from the back of your head, and he gives your hip a comforting squeeze before fully moving away. "Yeah, come on," you sigh, and unwantingly pull your body away from his. You're about to begin heading through the crowd once more, but Crosshair lightly tugs your wrist. "Nice plan," he comments, a smug expression across his lips. The expression disappears as he puts his helmet back on, although you know he's going to be looking smug for a long time. You did kiss him, after all, but he also kissed you back. "Thanks," you reply. "You played your role well," you jab back, earning your own smug expression before turning your focus to heading through the sea of people, overhearing Crosshair laugh behind you, his hand slipping down your wrist to entwine his fingers between yours, keeping you close.

[ms-starflower]

Spook-tober Maribat — Day 3 — Bats

@maribat-october-rarepairs

So, here is my first try at a non-platonic Jasonette! I really, really tried to write with someone that wasn’t Marinette. But I couldn’t. I’m sorry, I’m weak for Marinette.

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

“Is that a bat?” A woman said, cutting through the silence of the night.

Red Hood’s head turned toward the direction of the voice slightly startled. He had been sure he couldn’t be seen from the street here, it’s why he chose this spot for his break in the first place.

“What?! Where?!” A second voice answered, panic noticeable in her tone. Jason couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that; the people panicking at their sight were usually criminals, but the first woman hadn’t sounded afraid.

“Here, on the wall. Are you alright, Mari-hime?” The first woman replied, her tone now mildly curious.

“Oh god, Kags, you were talking about a bat's graffiti?” The second woman (Mari?) asked with exasperation. Jason leaned slightly over the edge of the rooftop, looking in their direction. It was two women with dark hair, they were standing in the alley, both giving him their backs.

“Well, yes,” the first voice, that Jason now identified as the taller one, said with confusion. From where he was, Jason could see her head tilt slightly. “What else could I have been talking about? Bats don’t usually thrive in urban settings.”

“Oh my god, Kagami. We are in Gotham, remember? The city of The Bat. I thought you were talking about Batman or one of his broods!” She exclaimed, turning toward her friend while moving her hands around her. There was something vaguely familiar about her profil, but Jason couldn’t put his finger on what.

“Ah. I see why my sentence could have been misunderstood,” Kagami said, her tone still somewhat judging. Mari clearly heard it too, because she raised her arms in exasperation. “Still, I don’t understand why you sounded so panicked, we are not doing anything that could elicit Batman’s anger. Or his… broods’.”

“That’s— That’s not the point!” Mari said, moving his hand around, making something tingle in Jason’s mind again. But whatever it was, it stayed just out of reach.

“It kind of is, Hime. You were flustered by the mere mention of a bat, I would like to understand why,” she told her, and even though Jason couldn’t see it, he would bet all of Damian’s katanas that she was raising an eyebrow. It probably looked judgmental, too.

“I— I— It’s just that, well,” Mari stammered, pulling on her braid nervously. Jason probably shouldn't get so much entertainment from their conversation, but damnit if he wasn’t invested now. “It’s Batman?”

“What about Batman is putting you in this state? We literally talked to Superman three days ago, and you were perfectly fine,” Kagami said with curiosity, crossing her arms.

Jason raised an eyebrow at that. Why would they talk with Superman? Did they get themselves in the middle of something in Metropolis?

“It’s because there is something cryptic about Batman!”

“Something… cryptic,” she repeated, now clearly judging her friend.

“Yes. Now can we stop talking about the Bats? You are going to summon one of them here!” Mari hissed, making Jason grin devilishly. He really, really shouldn’t do that, but he really, really wanted to crash their conversation now.

“Summon them? What are they, demons?”

“Oh my god, no. But you don’t talk about the bats in the middle of the night, in an alley of Gotham, if you don’t want them to appear!”

“Appear? This reasoning makes no sense, Mari-hime.”

“It does,” Mari hissed.

“It’s irrational,” Kagami countered calmly.

“It isn’t!”

“It kinda is,” Jason said, choosing this moment to make his presence known and jumping from his perch on the roof in the alley, using the fire escape.

The reactions were as entertaining as he had anticipated.

Kagami, the tall one, turned swiftly toward him, taking on a defensive stance, hand going toward her hip like it should have held a weapon. Huh, interesting. But what made him laugh, though, was the smaller woman's reaction.

Mari screeched like a demon outta hell, jumping out of her skin before turning toward him with a fist raised. Both women froze when they realized who he was, Kagami raising an eyebrow with a contemplative expression; probably wondering if there wasn’t some truth in her demon theory.

“Holy hell, Red Hoodie,” she hissed, making him pause. “Don’t do that for fuck’s sake!”

But Jason wasn’t really listening anymore, too busy staring at her. The slightly dramatical pose, hand on her chest and torso slightly leaning forward, her hair and eyes colors, her height. Her body language. Her semi-familiar profile. The fact that she just called him Red Hoodie.

And, well, it clicked.

Of course she was familiar, he had spent the last two years pining over her!

“Pix?” He asked softly, making both women straighten. From there, he could clearly see panic seep in Mari’s, Ladybug’s, eyes.

“What?” She asked with a high pitched tone, making Kagami beside her close her eyes with exasperation. “No, of course not! Who is Pixie? Not me!”

“Sometimes I wonder how you managed to keep your cover for more than a decade, Hime,” Kagami told her with an exasperatedly amused tone. “But then I remember that magic is involved.”

“Yes! What about the magic!” Mari said, turning toward her friend. “Why did the Miraculous’ hocus pocus didn’t stop him from recognizing me!”

“Well, even magic has its limit, hime” Kagami answered, and Jason was only mildly offended to be that easily ignored.

“Hey,” he said slowly, raising his hand in front of him. “I can just, like, forget about it? If you want?”

“You couldn’t just forget about it, Red,” she said with a smile. “But no, it’s fine. I, uhm, I trust you.”

Jason forgot how to breathe for a second there.

He had met Ladybug a little over two years ago, when she and her partner, Chat Noir, transferred from the Justice League Europe to America. Red Hood wasn’t exactly a JLA member, but he helped out for some ‘All Hand on Deck’ situations, and that’s when they met.

Ladybug was smart, witty, and absolutely badass. Jason couldn’t not like her, and if, after that, he would come up to the Watchtower more regularly, well it was nobody's business now, was it.

Still, in the two years he had been pining like a lovesick fool (Dick’s words, not Jason’s), he never made any move to try something with her. Mainly because Ladybug took her secret identity extremely seriously. The only JL members who knew her civilian name were Wonder Woman, because her mother and Ladybug were apparently friends, and Batman, because he was a noisy bastard.

(Alright, in Bruce’s defence, he actually asked Ladybug if he could look into it, and she accepted, if only to know if there were any leaks and how to stop them. But Jason didn’t feel like taking Bruce's defence at the moment so, heh.)

And Jason hadn’t wanted to go out with someone he would know only on one side of the mask, and he equally didn’t want to pressure her into unmasking herself. So he didn’t make any moves.

So, hearing from her that she trusted him with her identity. He felt a small, fond smile curl his lips and took a step toward her.

“So, you’re in Gotham,” he started, trying to find the right word. Not an easy thing.

“Um, yeah,” she said with a smile, and Jason wasn’t sure if she was blushing or if he was just seeing things.

Deciding to just say fuck it, Jason looked into his pockets, taking out an old receipt and a pen. Under her curious gaze, he scribbled quickly on it and gave it to her.

She looked down at her hand curiously, before looking up at him with a frown.

“It’s my number,” he told her, rubbing the back of his neck, before wincing under his helmet at how awkward he sounded. “I was thinking that I could, like, take you out? While you are in town?”

“Like— Like a date?” She asked, eyes wide, and Jason was starting to regret his forwardness.

“Uh, yeah? If you want it to be a date?”

“I— Uhm, I don’t,” she started, and Jason felt something inside him freeze. He should have continued with the pining from afar. “I don’t, you know, date under the mask?”

“Oh. Oh,” he exclaimed, relief shooting through him. “No, no. I wasn’t thinking about coming as Red Hood.”

“You weren’t?” She asked with surprise, blinking at him.

“Nope,” he told her with a smile, before nodding toward the paper in her hand. “Look at it.”

“Oh,” she mumbled when she saw that he had written down his name, along with his number, a deep blush creeping up into her cheeks. “Oh. I— I, um, I would like that very much, then.”

“As a date?” He asked with a smile, just to be sure.

“As a date,” she answered with a grin.

“Well,” Kagami said with a smirk, making the both of them startle and turn toward her. Fuck, Jason totally forgot she was here. “Now I understand why the mere mention of Bats flusters you, Mari-hime.”

[dreamiesdotcom]

insomnia | h.rj

Summary: He thinks of it — eyes that look at thunderstorms in awe, hands hurriedly writing down words to describe it. Renjun can't sleep.

Word Count: 1.2k

Renjun can't sleep.

"What's so scary about being friends with me?" He remember himself asking, "What's so sca—"

You closed your book, sighing loudly as you took one glance at his face. You smiled at him sweetly, eyes glinting with something completely different. It's not a sight he's used to — you were pretty, sure, but you always looked serious, and you always looked void of emotions, but this one is too... rawly human. No masks, just skin — fragile, fragile skin, cold to the touch as if protecting itself from the world.

Renjun tried to not look as anxious as he felt — "What's so scary about having friends?"

You smiled.

"Loss."

Renjun doesn't think he's ever saw someone as lonely.

Very similar to now, he couldn't sleep that night too. He kept on wondering, he kept on dreaming awake; it's raining outside. He looked at you and knew you loved thunderstorms, and now he can't sleep through its calm; lovesick fool he was, he kept thinking of you.

"I—" a soft sigh, "I'm sorry. For brushing you off."

Renjun looked at where your hands grip at his wrist, shocked. He then laughed, "It's... it's alright. I shouldn't have been pushy."

"Take this, anyway," you said, handing him some of his favorite candy. "You were being nice. I... sorry."

Renjun never knew the reason you looked miserable that day, and he never asked.

To him, you are the brightest star — beautiful and distant, never at your reach but he wants you anyway. Harsh and tragic but very beautiful. You shined so bright it remained in his eyes.

The curtain swayed with the wind and change has come. Renjun finds growing up with you bittersweet — each and every day, this feeling in his chest remains stubborn and curious. He looks at you and everything around him doesn't exist, his chest seemingly a cage for a bird thirsting free flight. Change has come, and it came with fleeting butterflies and sweeter smiles.

It felt like being in love — not like he knew what it was, but he thought at that time, this must be what falling in love is.

Renjun hated every bit of it. He found you lovely — he didn't want to fall in love with you because oh, you're sweet. And you're haunting. You're devastatingly too good to be true, and once he fell in love with you, how can he even stop falling?

Renjun thinks that it's when you were standing under trees of autumn and they start falling in a way that could only be seen in ethereal dreams, when the sun rays seep through the auburn leaves and the wind blows ever so gently, making every movable thing dance, alongside same hearts — it's when it hits you.

That's when it hit him, at least. He remembers focusing his lens at the view in front of him and smiling a little, the perfect angle, and the perfect time; Renjun realizes that it's love, romantic more than anything else, that he feels when you smiled and turned to the camera.

"Renjun!" You squealed then, making him laugh. "I look bad!"

"No," he said softly. "You look beautiful."

Beautiful and scary, scary because loving you is an endless maze. Beautiful and terror. Beautiful and lonely. Tragic. Warm. Renjun didn't realize how much he wanted to hold you up until Lee Jeno's birthday party, the both of you swallowed by the high of winning a game that he ends up hugging you. He ends up kissing you.

You kissed him back, so he didn't think of it that much — but now, now that he knows... he thinks he should've been.

Once you step down from the euphoria, you pushed him away and ran outside.

He looked at you with pleading eyes, "Did I cross the line?"

He remembers kissing you. It was wonderful and saccharine, melancholic, confused. You felt as confused as you look with tears in both eyes.

"There —" you whispered weakly, "There is no line."

"There has to be," Renjun whispers with equal strength. The ground seems to sway and the next thing he knows, you're walking away.

You didn't talk to each other for at least two weeks. He found himself weak at the thought of you forgetting him. He found himself sorry for the things he did, but mostly he found himself regretful for the things he did not — he should've told you to stay, should've apologized, should've told you he loves you.

You call him on Friday. Renjun rushes to your home.

"Pizza sucks without you," you stated, a slight chuckle in your voice. The atmosphere remains as cold as it had been

"You mean it?"

"Of course I don't, pizza always tastes great," you even raise both slices slightly, "but yeah, I missed you."

"You... You're not mad I kissed you?"

"I... I needed time to stop. Stop being mad at you. For not telling me," it's fleeting, but you smiled, "I love you, and you hold me, and you won't let me go now, alright? I wi—"

Renjun does this one thing right — he kisses you again, and this time you don't push him away. Tonight, you let him stay. The butterflies in his stomach rise again, flying in some twisted fashion.

He couldn't fall asleep that night, too. Finally. He finally told you he loved you, and you love him back. The stars finally aligned, and for a moment, fate took his side.

Cuddled on the couch was a tangled mess of complicated roots and blossoming flowers — one, having been raised in a family that lived in a house that was never a home, another who nobody seemed to be able to look at the eyes of every year since six. An unlikely match of mismatches, misfits, ruined pasts, and bright futures. This is safe — it is safe, it's warm, feels oddly contented for two broken wholes connecting and meeting with seemingly the sole purpose of loving, of complementing, of being the courage needed to fix oneself — with each other. It was fate.

It was fate — it had to be.

"Love," you whispered. "I can't let you go,"

Please don't, he wanted to say, but instead, he asks: "Why would you want to let go of me?"

"I can't make you as happy as you were before I happened," you tried to cheekily smile, "I can't make you happy enough, and I can't let you go either."

"Don't," he whispered, and he didn't know what he meant, but it was genuine. "Don't let me go."

You looked at him with such bright eyes, innocent and charming and breaking his heart. It felt like first love, like falling once again. He gets that sinking feeling in his stomach, his heart beating erratically. He remembers how he hugged you close enough that you forget how it is to hate yourself.

And now, all he wants is to do that again.

He can't.

You two broke up months ago.