#oh yes sure it was a good idea to rewrite from scratch :^)

[beevean]

Under the read because it's long

ENG, first draft:

He isn’t a boy anymore. This time, he doesn’t take nearly as long to understand that they’re falling in love.

It’s in the way Rosaly can’t look at him without giggling, in the way her hair shines gold when struck by the morning light, in the way her nimble fingers carefully fix the collar of his shirt, in the way the house feels so cold when she leaves to do her errands, in the way she tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, and her light touch lingers on his skin, like the heat coming from the hearth of the house.

She wouldn’t let him go. She worries about him, about this stranger whom she welcomed without any strings attached – why, he can’t begin to guess, but he already learned to accept things he couldn’t understand.

(Hasn’t this happened already? Should he risk it again?)

Rosaly smiles the sweetest of smiles when her gaze falls upon him, and his debt has been repaid in full, and he doesn’t want to leave her either.

ITA, rewritten:

Non è più un ragazzino. Questa volta, riconosce fin da subito i segni.

Si celano nel modo in cui Rosaly non riesce a guardarlo senza ridacchiare, in cui i suoi capelli splendono dorati quando colpiti da un raggio di sole, in cui la casa è così fredda quando lei è via, in cui le sue dita affusolate gli aggiustano il collare della camicia, in cui gli sposta una ciocca di capelli dietro l’orecchio, in cui gli tira le maniche per portarlo con sé e si dimentica di lasciarlo andare; e il suo tocco leggero gli rimane sulla pelle, come il calore che viene dal caminetto, e le prime volte Hector trasaliva e voleva sottrarsi, e ora non può più farne a meno.

Hector è guarito quasi del tutto, può muoversi senza difficoltà, e sono solo le tre cicatrici al petto che ancora si fanno sentire. Non ha più bisogno di Rosaly. Ma lei non vuole lasciarlo andare.

Si preoccupa per lui, per questo forestiero che lei ha accolto senza chiedere nulla in cambio – perché, Hector non lo comprende, ma non è la prima volta che accetta qualcuno che non comprende. Si sentono brutte voci, dice Rosaly, le persone parlano di epidemie ed eretici e litigano e si fanno del male e non voglio che anche tu venga coinvolto, rimani qui, ti trovi bene, non è vero?

Neanche Hector ha fretta di lasciare la collina, il suo rifugio,

(la sua casa, potrebbe quasi dire)

e la consapevolezza lo spaventa.

Non può, non può, non può commettere lo stesso errore, già si fidò di una persona che era così buona con lui, già diede tutto sé stesso, consegnò il suo cuore e fu trafitto…

Ma Rosaly non è come lui.

Gli sorride il sorriso più dolce quando i due incrociano gli occhi – ha il cielo mattutino nelle iridi, è il sole che ha accolto Hector nel mondo degli umani – e lui non può non ricambiare, e come potrebbe dirle di no?

Si trova più che bene, insieme a Rosaly.

ENG, retranslated:

He’s not a boy anymore. This time, he recognizes the signs right away.

They're in the way Rosaly can’t look at him without giggling, in the way her hair shines gold when struck by the morning light, in the way the house feels so cold when she leaves to do her errands, in the way her nimble fingers carefully fix the collar of his shirt, in the way she tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, in the way she tugs his sleeves to lead him somewhere and there her hands stay; and her light touch lingers on his skin, like the heat coming from the hearth of the house, and the first few times Hector flinched and wanted to get away, and now he longs for nothing else.

Hector is almost completely healed, he can move with ease, and only the three scars on his chest flare from time to time. He doesn’t need Rosaly anymore. But she doesn’t want to let him go.

She worries about him, about this stranger whom she welcomed without any strings attached – why, he can’t begin to guess, but it’s not the first time that he accepted someone he doesn’t understand. There are bad rumors, Rosaly says, people talk about epidemics and heretics and they fight and they hurt each other and I don’t want you to get involved, please stay, you’re happy here, aren’t you?

Hector is not in a hurry to leave the hill either, his sanctuary,

(his home, he could almost say)

and the realization freezes him.

He can’t, he can’t, he can’t make the same mistake, he already trusted a person who was so good to him, he already gave all of himself, he gave his heart and it was speared through…

But Rosaly is not like him.

She smiles the sweetest smile when their gazes cross - she has the morning sky in her irises, the sun that welcomed Hector into the human world - and he can’t help but smile back, and how could he say no to her?

He is more than happy with Rosaly.

(she’s not like him)

[fe-fictions]

do you still have that story where saizo and corrin have a baby girl and he's worried about how he's going to raise her? it was soooo fluffy and one of my favorites 🥹🩷

(This is one of my favorites so I really wanted to repost it, which means I got to rewrite it from scratch!! Hope you enjoy)

You were both shocked when you discovered you were pregnant a third time. There were never been plans to expand the family further, as you were quite satisfied with your two boys.

Asugi and Kana were over the moon at the prospect of another sibling. Someone else to cause mischief with.

While Saizo was initially floored upon the discover, he was also quite eager. That is, until Azama and Sakura started gossiping about how different this pregnancy was.

How you were more irritable and ache-y than before, and that your physical and emotional struggles were much harder. It was deeply worrying for Saizo, but the healers assured him it was normal; and that it was incredibly common to see when women were pregnant with daughters.

They were quite certain it was a girl, not a  boy.

He didn’t believe them, of course. The Saizo line had never produced a daughter. Surely he wouldn’t be the first to do so! 

But then Orochi started foreseeing a lot of dainty, delicate clothes in the future; and him and his boys glaring at all sorts of potential suitors for this new child.

It only meant one thing, really; there must be a girl on the way.

Saizo had been stressing about it for weeks leading up to the birth. It was only in that moment you could know for sure. Because if he found out it was a girl…well, he had no idea what to do.

The day of labor came, and you were pushing, fighting to bring that baby into the world for all you were worth. It was a difficult birth, which convinced Saizo that three was more than enough.

The labor was finished off and the baby was finally delivered. He heard the sharp cry through the doors, which silenced all other mumbling and murmuring nearby.

The third-born of Saizo and Corrin officially arrived.

“Oh my gods, everyone!! You'll never believe it- Corrin has a new baby girl!!” Elise exclaimed, bursting out of the delivery room with sparkling eyes.

Everyone cheered, save for Kaze and Saizo.

The green-haired ninja eyed his brother warily, knowing that he had been squeamish at the thought of a daughter.

Now it had become his reality.

“Saizo…are you all right?”

He could not form words, speechless behind his mask. Kaze put a tentative hand on his brother’s shoulder.

“It will be all right, Saizo. My Midori is a wonderful little girl. I’m sure your daughter will be, too.”

“My…daughter.” He echoed, the words bringing him back to his senses. “My child- my wife, are they…?”

“They're both just fine, Saizo!” Elise informed him, “Corrin is awake, and in good spirits! Would you like to see them before we take the baby for her assessment? Corrin really wants you to come in!”

“Yes…of course.” He quickly followed her into the delivery room, the doors shutting behind him. And with it, silence followed. Now that he was there, time slowed to a stop; just mere steps away was his child. A girl. He wasn't sure if he was brave enough to face it.

“Saizo,” Your voice was weak, and strained hoarse. It was no wonder, from all the fighting you had to do just moments earlier. 

The quiet call broke his spell, drawing him back into reality so he could swiftly go to your side.

Saizo bent over, touching your hair and brushing it away from your face. You leaned into his touch, but you did not bring your hands up to meet his. They were preoccupied.

“Are you all right?” He asked you worriedly, looking you over to ensure you were not in any immediate danger. You nodded with a deep breath, tilting your face towards the child on your chest.

“We’re both okay. We…we have a daughter, Saizo.” You whispered to him, “Isn’t she beautiful?”

“I…” He trailed off, swallowing in a feeble attempt to steel himself. 

Nestled in a bundle of blankets was a very tiny, new ittle girl. She had a shock of crimson hair, just like him. There was a deep warmth that bloomed in his chest, gazing at his third-born child.

But with that warmth came a very real, very concerning spike of worry.

“Saizo?”

“Ah…yes. Yes, she is very beautiful.” He confirmed with a pinched frown, “But I worry.”

“You worry?” You reached up to cup his cheek, in tandem shifting the little girl so he might better see his perfectly healthy daughter.

“Of course I do- she’s the first daughter to ever be produced by the Saizo line.”

“That is a great honor.” You pointed out with a soft smile, quite proud to have been the first to make history in his family.

Well, aside from being a princess and a dragon. That also raised the stakes a little bit. But Saizo was far more concerned with other things.

“It is unprecedented; quite literally. How…how am I supposed to- how do we raise a girl?”

“It’s pretty straightforward, dear. Like the boys, but a little different.”

“There are no guides on how to train a Saizo in the secret family arts- not for one that is a girl!! All of our techniques, the flaming ninjutsu- they were created and perfected strictly for men!”

“Then we will find a way to teach her differently. She will adapt- she’s your daughter.”

“But she will be smaller than Asugi and Kana. Which means she may be more fragile, and have less stamina, and strength, and-”

“If you went toe to toe with me, do you think you’d be able to overpower me without a dragonstone?”

“...Perhaps. It tends to be an even match when we duel.” Saizo hummed, brow furrowed as he considered it. You gestured to your snoozing newborn.

“She will be no different to me. Besides; Kagero, Orochi and Rinkah are all exemplary warriors. No matter which path she chooses, I know she’ll be an excellent warrior with your tutelage. Though I doubt you’d let her go far from the ninja way.”

“I would prefer she grew up like Kagero in terms of skills, it’s true.” He admitted, but the worry lingered. You frowned some, seeing he had yet to be comforted.

You raised your hand, gently lowering the mask to reveal a deep frown on his lips. 

“What else are you worried about? It’s better to get it all out now than later, don’t you think?” You joked some, tilting your head towards the baby.

Saizo frowned softly, “I worry that she will be vulnerable…and her face…her hair! She will look just like me!”

“Is that bad?”

“Yes!! Think of all the suitors she will have-- the boys and girls!! Can you imagine the kind of trouble that we’ll have to protect her from?!”

“Ohh…” Your smile broadened, “You want to protect your little girl already?”

“I just…it will be difficult for her as she gets older. Especially as the first and only daughter of a Saizo. I worry about many things…some I cannot even begin to think about- I do not know how to raise a daughter, o-or what she will need from me, or the best way to train her, or…there are too many unknowns, Corrin!” He cleared his throat, looking away. 

You shook your head, carefully shifting the baby up for him. “Why don’t you hold her? I know it will make all your worries fade away.”

“N-no, I…I don’t think I should…” He trailed off, just as you passed the little bundle right into his arms. 

The instant she landed in his arms, it was like his whole world shifted.

His little girl was hardly the length of his forearm, but just the sight of her filled his chest. He held her close and snug, right to his heart. 

She was perfect.

And it made all of his fears fade away in an instant.

“See?”

Your voice was almost faded in the background. He was utterly enraptured by his daughter. The first daughter of the Saizo line.

And she was so beautiful.

You were beaming, a single tear slipping from the corner of your eye as you watched your husband fall even deeper in love with his daughter than he ever thought possible.

“I…I can’t even remember what I was so worried about.” His voice was shaky. Just like he was when he held his baby Asugi and baby Kana.

You held out your hand, which Saizo was very quick to take. 

He squeezed your hand, carefully shifting so that he was sitting right on the edge of the bed, bringing his daughter to rest between her mother and father.

“You were right.” He murmured softly, and leaned down, kissing your forehead. “I’m so proud of you…you’ve done well.”

“Heehee…” You tilted your chin up, prompting a proper kiss. “I hope you won’t mind handling the boys while I recover. I think we’ll have our hands full for a while.”

“Do not fret. I will take care of everything. I will make sure that my wife, my sons and my daughter are all well tended. You have my word.”

“As a Saizo?” You grinned at him, and he chuckled softly, hugging you and your little girl to his chest.

“As your Saizo. Both of you.”

[thewertsearch]

Asks Compilation 16/10

The old finale of SBaHJ. (201?-201?) Gone, but not forgotten.

Homestuck is SBaHJ #55. Dave's trying something new this time.

Honestly, spam away. It's become a lot more easier to handle asks now that I'm doing them every weekend.

WTF, SBaHJ historians rewriting history!

Well if that ain't absolutely perfect casting. Grey's Mandy would be a perfect Rose, and honestly, her Azula is a pretty flawless Vriska.

Both of these ideas for Dave's modus refer to him dealing with arbitrary restrictions - and I have talked before about how Dave seems pretty good at working within Sburb's.

The Tree Modus is harder to untangle, though. Trees are such a general symbol (and John's the one with the apple symbolism), and as a data structure, they're awfully abstract. The fact that she calls it elegant when it's obviously as janky as all the others is a good metaphor for her own feigned elegance, though.

I do really like the idea of analyzing people's modi, so I'm going to keep doing it.

[ this is actually true, I didn't know! it was announced in April 2021 apparently, this is what you miss when you stop following the fandom 😂

"In early 2020, Hussie officially left What Pumpkin to work on new projects unrelated to Homestuck. In the time since, they completed a new project called Psycholonials. The final chapter of this visual novel was just posted today, and is available on Steam and mobile platforms. While Hussie still retains ownership of the Homestuck IP, they decided last year to fully discontinue their creative involvement in any future Homestuck projects, and instead plans to continue independently developing more projects like Psycholonials." ]

No kidding?

It's kind of weird to be liveblogging the heyday of a comic which has essentially been orphaned by its author. It's a little sad, to be honest - it means that eventually, I'll run out of original Homestuck material, and there'll never be any more. Well, what can ya do.

The worldbuilding, of course, I'll love, but it'd also be fascinating to read a deconstruction of a fandom I was never part of. Maybe I'll try to reverse-engineer what the fandom was like from the fic itself.

I'm building up a proper list here! I'm going to have to make a page for it on the blog, I think, so I can compile my recs.

We know he's not really omniscient - and so does Terezi, actually - but it seems as if Vriska completely buys into it. I'd still call it an assumption, but it's a completely reasonable one, given the circumstances, and especially given that he's trying to mess with her head.

It's interesting, because if Vriska really believes he's 'never wrong', then how could she possibly expect him to lose at Battlefield-chess? Is she just that competitive? Why am I asking a question I already know the answer to?

Shit that's good. I'd love to get my hands on a compilation of these ship names.

Oh, I actually didn't catch the pool reference! And it's funny that someone whose name alludes to the Father Of Lies claims never to lie...

So that's the scratch explained, but what about the doc? He sure ain't healing anyone, and the 'omniscient' have no need for research.

The table actually kind of makes sense, since he wears an enormous, green, rectangular-looking coat. It's also fuel for my half-serious 'Felt megafusion' theory - all the cueballs are in the pool table at the end of the game, after all.

Yup! Hass (I presume) knows how to name 'em.

If it helps, Notepad++ is what all my initial notes go into as I liveblog. In a way, it is a wertsearch application!

Hell yes! I find it weirdly complimentary that anyone would pull a late-nighter to read my ramblings. Hope the rest doesn't disappoint, and welcome to the live readers' club!

[btsxmalereaders]

☆ Even in zero gravity, I would still fall for you!

♡ pairing — bang chan x male reader

> genre — fluff | f2l

> word count — 4.3k I don't know how this happened

> summary — chan realises he likes you by not being able to use pickup lines on you

> a/n — i saw a tiktok where chan says he's gonna use a pickup line on felix and my love-deprived self ended up writing this lol i hope you all like it

| 05282021

| Please keep making more whosfan accounts and keep streaming WOLFGANG on the correct platforms!

"Hey, how you doin'?" Chan casually says as he enters the kitchen, trying not to grin and start giggling right away. He even places his hands over the table and tilts his head a little in an attempt to look confident. Felix takes his attention away from the food he is cooking and turns on his feet to look at him with an eyebrow raised.

"Good?" He answers with an air of suspicion. "Why?"

Chan finally lets out a small giggle, "Oh nothing, I was just thinking that... I am not a photographer, but I can picture me and you together."

And Felix thinks it's a creative pickup line, funny even, but what ends up making him laugh is the way his best friend bends over to start laughing louder and the way his cheeks turn reddish at the embarrassment he's probably feeling.

"That was a good one, I must say," He chuckles. "Not as great as the Optimus Fine one, though. Even if it made you laugh for ten minutes after you said it."

And Chan can only laugh harder at the remembrance, placing his hands over his slightly aching abdomen and gasp for air when he can't handle it anymore. Felix giggles as well and denies with his head, going back to stir what's on the pot.

"Stays keep getting creative when it comes to flirting with you," He speaks again as the laughter finally dies down. "They probably think you might use it on someone you like, and you're here almost crying because you use them on us."

Chan hums, "Well, I don't really like anyone right now."

Felix turns off the stove and makes a -dramatic- pause, turning again to face Chan as he gets closer and squints his eyes. "I don't believe it."

"What?" Chan laughs. "Why would I lie?"

"I don't know, but I don't buy it. Maybe it's the love songs you have as drafts in your laptop."

"Ah, that doesn't mean I'm in love," He explains and takes a seat in front of him, nervously scratching the back of his neck. "That's why they're still drafts, though. They don't convey the feeling of being in love because I am not in love, you know?"

"Good point, but it still doesn't convince me."

"Why?" He asks again with a chuckle, a little embarrassed by the sudden interest in his - nonexistent - love life. "You know our activities barely give us time for ourselves, so it's almost impossible to have a relationship with someone. At least a formal one."

"You can still like someone and not be with them." Felix shrugs. "So spill it. Who is it?"

And Chan knows he's just messing around with him, but he can't help but feel flustered. "No one! I think so." He almost says it in a whisper; however, Felix doesn't comment on it.

"I still want to listen to those drafts," He stands up and smiles. "Why don't you show me?"

This was not the way Chan expected the conversation to go, so he hesitates a bit about his friend's request. Well, it wasn't unusual anyway, at least Changbin had heard a couple and also helped in the composition of the songs, so having someone else hear them wouldn't hurt. He might even listen to ideas on his part to improve them.

"Okay, I can do that. Next week Y/N will come to the studio and work on something, why don't you pop-up at some point and I can show you?"

Felix nods, "Sounds good! Y/N asked for help for his new album?"

"Yeah, he wants me to listen to some tracks he has been working on." He casually comments, taking his phone from his pocket and leading his attention to the device, so now Felix can't see the slight blush on his cheeks.

"Hm, I haven't seen him in a while. Why hasn't he come to the dorm lately? We should invite him."

"He has been busy with his album, that's why. If you think I leave late from the studio, that's nothing compared to him, he truly spends an ungodly amount of time there."

"So you see him often?" Felix asks with sudden interest, now being aware of how Chan's ears are tinted pink.

"You could say that, yeah. He also spends time on my studio whenever he has the chance. And vice-versa." He shrugs, not finding it odd. You two were really good friends, so it was a normal thing for you to do. "Why?"

"Nothing, I was just curious." He mischievously laughs. "So, next week, you said?"

After a quick glance at the time on your phone, you decide to stand up and stretch your body. It's been a long time since you started working, and you still have a lot to do; and on top of it all, the progress you've made tonight doesn't totally convince you, and that just meant you'd be spending more time in the studio.

As you take your phone again to read your notes, a notification pops up on the top. You weren't supposed to meet up with Chan until later, but in the new message you just received, he tells you that he's free from working on his stuff and you could go earlier if you wanted.

You decide to go; after all, it was nearly impossible for you to concentrate again, and you truly needed to know what does he think about the tracks you sent him a few days ago to finally make an advance. So you grab your laptop after making sure you've saved the changes and the cup of half-drunk coffee, walking out to the long hall and taking the elevator to an upper floor.

The soles of your shoes are dragged across the floor all the way to the studio's door, where you softly knock a couple of times before remembering you already know the password to enter. Your fingers press the buttons, entering code you know by heart at this point, and the door quickly unlocks, making Chan to look your way and greet you with a smile.

"Hey, how have you been?" He sweetly says, seeing you entering the room and placing your belongings on top of the big desk in front of you and taking a seat on the couch behind him.

"Busy. And tired." You murmur and let out a sigh. Chan immediately plays a song at a low volume and takes seat next to you.

"You're still struggling with the track you told me about?"

You nod as an answer and pout, "I am desperate. It's like, no matter how many times I rewrite the lyrics or change the beats, it still doesn't convince me at all and I hate it."

"I get it," He sighs. "But don't worry about it, I'm here to help you out."

And Chan isn't someone who breaks his promises, so the following hours are spent listening to your music, carefully reading everything you've written so far, listening to your ideas and giving you advice.

In between work, he tells you every other joke to make you laugh and feel at least a bit less stressed; and it works wonderfully since he has a long list of dad jokes that take you off guard, plus his laughter is contagious, so not laughing with him is impossible.

It's no surprise that his advice and opinions are so accurate to the point of clearing your mind and helping you out of your creative block. Chan has always been hard-working and so good with words that every time you engage him in conversations, you feel more relaxed and less burdened. No matter what situation you had a problem with, Chan would always help you find the best solution for it. Maybe that's why you admire him so much, maybe it was one of the many reasons why you didn't hesitate for a second to go to him and find security in his presence and words... Maybe it was one of the thousands of reasons why you had romantic feelings towards him...

"Is it better now?" His voice takes you out of your thoughts. He's sweetly smiling at you; he probably realized you got lost on the way his lips were moving as he told you his thoughts on the recent draft of your song.

"Yeah, yes, honestly, you've helped me so much. I don't know what I'd do without you." You smile and go for a quick hug, taking the opportunity to ruffle his hair. Your fingers sliding between his soft and messy curls and making him fondly smile in the process. "You're my hero. I mean it."

Chan chuckles and can't keep his eyes off you as you type something on your laptop and hum. He recalls the conversation he had last week with Felix, and that ambiguous feeling settling on his chest makes him wonder if, after all, his friend was right. He doesn't remember when was the last time he felt the urge to hold someone in between his arms and dearly appreciate, and he wants to know why he smiles and feels his stomach tickling when he sees you.

Maybe it's because you spend a lot of time with him, a voice inside his head says. But he doesn't feel this way with any other friend.

Maybe it's because you have known him for a long time and you just appreciate him a lot, the voice tries again. Maybe. He finally gives in at the last thought. He'd have to figure it out.

His phone buzzes inside the pocket of his jeans and he takes it, knowing for sure it's a message from Felix.

"Felix is arriving in a few minutes." He murmurs, making you take your eyes off the screen. "He wants to listen to some songs I have, is that okay?"

"Of course, it's your studio, silly." You giggle. "I am almost done with this, so if you're gonna be busy I can go back to m-"

"You can stay, if you want to." He quickly adds. "Plus, he says he wants to see you, you know... He misses you." Chan laughs. He wasn't lying, but that wasn't the only reason he wanted you to stay.

"Okay! Sure, I haven't heard from him in a while, either." You nod and keep making changes on the file you have open.

Just as he said, Felix enters the room just a few minutes later, smiling brightly and immediately running to give you a big hug once he sees you.

Soon, the room was filled with laughter and long conversations to catch up on everything around your lives. Felix tells you about the new pastries he baked last week and that he was waiting for you to come around and bake with him, the new video game Jeongin bought and has been playing with Hyunjin, the new songs Changbin and Jisung have been working on and how Seungmin was learning to play piano, playing songs at night for everyone at the dorm.

"And you know? Chan hyung has gotten better at flirting." He laughs as the latter gives him a threatening glare. "He can't stop saying pickup lines whenever he has the chance."

"Ah, really?" You chortle. "You haven't said one in all the time we've been here."

"Well, we've been working, and I've told you many other jokes... Besides, it's not like I come up with them out of nowhere."

"Yes, you do!" Felix says. "You do that all the time, what are you talking about?"

You glance at Chan, who's currently blushing and at the loss of words. Felix, on the other hand, seems to be happy to see what he just provoked. And he'd definitely enjoy every part of it.

"I want to hear one! C'mooon!" You laugh. "Please?"

Chan rolls his eyes and tries to look confident as he would normally do. He clears his throat and thinks of a good pickup line he hasn't used yet.

"Alright," He says and smiles, he even thinks it's gonna start laughing before even opening his mouth, but the very moment he looks into your eyes, it's like he forgot every single word on his vocabulary. "Uhm, are you, no. Did you-? Wait! I forgot what I was gonna say-"

Felix can't help but burst into laughter, and you only look at him, as if you couldn't believe it. Was he nervous or was it because of the fact that Felix was in the same room? Would it have been any different if he weren't there?

You end up laughing at Felix's loud laughter, as well as seeing Chan blushing up to his ears and hiding his face behind his hands, probably also in an attempt to cover the huge grin he now has.

"Wow, that was an epic failure. And I thought you were the biggest flirt on earth." Felix teases him, to which Chan ends up groaning.

He continues talking about other stuff while Chan stops feeling embarrassed, even though he's not able to look in your eyes for the entire time until you have to go back to work.

You close your laptop and stand up, throwing the now empty cup of coffee on the trash bin. After thanking Chan for his help and promising Felix you'd drop by their dorm soon, you walk out of the studio with a smile and feeling your heart beating fast. There was no way you didn't have feelings for him.

"Oh my god, so I was right!" Felix says a few seconds after you left. Chan's first instinct is to cover his face again. "Look who got nervous so suddenly."

"Stop, I- I don't even want to talk about it." He murmurs, feeling flustered and avoiding Felix's gaze. He types something on his laptop and presses the play button, hoping that this way, his friend would forget about what just happened and could focus solely on the music.

And Felix doesn't talk about it anymore. The next few minutes are set by the music coming out of the speakers; the room filling with Chan's voice, singing the love songs that probably no one else would listen to. Felix seems to be concentrating on the lyrics, but Chan's thoughts are solely about you. As he listens to the songs, he is aware of how his skin bristles every time his hands accidentally touch you, the times when your eyes connect with his and you give him smiles every time it happens, all those times when his heart would race when he hugged you.... It's as if all those songs that professed a love he said he didn't feel, started to make sense.

He feels overwhelmed. Maybe if he was aware of it before, maybe if he listened to his heart instead of his head, this wouldn't be a big revelation to him.

Chan pauses the music, and before Felix can ask what's going on, he speaks up: "Why- why did I do that?"

"Did... what, exactly?" Felix asks, confused.

"The pickup line thing!" He blurts out. "I mean, I do that all the time, right? Why did I just forget how to even talk?"

Felix giggles, "Well, have you considered it's because when you use those pickup lines on us you just do it for laughing? To joke around with us, and with Y/N it's because... I don't know, you have feelings for him and it gets real? Like you're flirting with him."

Makes sense, he thinks. He remains in silence for a moment, processing everything that just happened and finally connecting the dots.

"Wait, you just had your epiphany?" Felix jokes. "It took you too, too long."

"I can barely fall asleep, how was I supposed to know I was falling in love?"

"Fair enough." He says, comprehensive. "Are you telling him?"

"Should I?" Chan's eyes sparkle, but he still feels confused. Should he even try? It's been so long since he last felt this way about someone, and given the circumstances of his life as an idol, he felt more reluctant to take the next step. Even more, considering he had just taken the first one by accepting his feelings a few minutes ago.

"I was right all this time by you being in love," He says. "And I am also sure that it's mutual. I've seen you two for a while, you know? I am surprised you didn't come the realization way earlier than this."

Chan giggles. "Alright, I get it."

"But it's up to you now, I guess. All I know is that you deserve to be happy, and you deserve good things... And Y/N is a great person. You should give yourself an opportunity on love."

Chan feels chills as he hears those words. Tonight's even have been too much for him to process, so he'll think deeply about it later.

"Okay," He nods. "Thanks, Lix. You've been really helpful."

"I know, what would you do without me?" Felix laughs. "Now let's keep listening to the songs, I am loving all of them."

Fortunately, the help Chan gave you really made it possible for you to finish the songs in no time. You are just now walking out of a meeting with your managers and the people in charge of the release of the album to set the final details, and you quickly send a message to Chan to let him know the news.

In the meantime, you drop by your studio to clean up a little and maybe write down some ideas for new songs that have been in your mind for a while. After a few minutes, you hear a knock on the door, snapping you out of your thoughts and then feeling confused. You weren't expecting anyone to come. So you slowly open the door, and a smile spreads across your face the moment you realize it's Chan.

"Oh, hi!" You greet him with a hug, immediately letting him in afterwards. He shyly gets inside, taking a seat on a chair and placing a bag on the small table behind him. "What brings you here? I thought you were still busy with you guys upcoming album."

"It's okay, Changbin is working on his stuff now at the studio, so I took the chance to come here and celebrate with you!" He grins. "Congratulations on making your first self-produced album!"

He starts clapping, making you smile; he truly was the sweetest person you've ever met.

As soon as he read your message he went to the nearby cafeteria and bought your favorite drink and pastries, claiming that it was a special occasion and should be celebrated.

"For all your hard work and the success of this album!" He makes a toast as he raises his cup of tea.

Soon you find yourselves immersed in a long conversation about everything that went into creating this album; from when you had the first idea for the concept, to those sleepless nights when he helped you without hesitation. Chan was definitely an essential part of this whole process, so to be celebrating with him right now felt right. It was how it should be.

"You know," Chan clears his throat as another song starts playing. "These past days I've had this thought in my head, and after talking it out with Felix... I am certain about it. And I want to tell you about it. I know I have to."

You frown, feeling curiosity, especially since his semblance has changed to be a bit more serious. He still has a small smile that gives you some kind of tranquility, but another part of you can't help but feel nervous as he gets a little bit closer.

"Of course, what is it?"

"So, uhm" He starts. "Some weeks ago, when Felix came to the studio and we were talking with you... Well, the reason he came was because he wanted to listen to some love songs I've worked on. And, after listening to all of them I figured out why I didn’t like them. I was sure I wasn't in love. That's why, to me, they all sounded plain and didn’t convey the feeling of love... But then..."

He makes a pause, catching his breath as he feels more and more nervous. He knows for sure his ears and cheeks are red right now, and it's impossible that you haven't noticed it. His hands slightly shake behind the table, anxiously looking for yours, but refraining from doing it because he doesn't know how this was going to end. You don't want to interrupt him, so you give him his time to clear his head and talk again.

"While listening to those songs, the only thought I had in mind was you." He finally confesses, with his gaze now fixed on his lap. "I guess that for a while I didn’t realise that I started to, uhm, catch feelings for you. And, it's okay if you don't feel the same way about me. I just really wanted to let you know because the thought has been on my mind for so long and I needed to let it out."

For a moment, the only thing that can be heard in the room is your voice coming from the speakers along with a sigh from Chan, who still didn’t dare to look up and face you.

"So... what you're saying is..." You speak up, feeling incredibly shy, trying to process the words addressed to you.

"What I am trying to say is that I am in love with you."

And you swear you could start screaming to the top of your lungs right now, but you try your very best to stay calm and finally grab Chan's hands. With that, he looks at you again.

"Channie," You softly say, looking at him in his precious eyes and dearly smiling. You don't even know where to begin, but a voice inside you begs for you to give him a hug. So you open your arms and embrace him tightly, feeling instant comfort and love. "I am so glad you feel this way too. I love you too."

Chan sighs in relief, placing his hands on your waist and pulling you closer; his nose pressed against the crook of your neck and closes his eyes, melting between your arms and enjoying every single second of that gesture.

"Wait a minute," You say out of nowhere, so he separates a bit from you and tilts his head. "That's why you couldn't even say a sentence when you tried to say a pickup line?"

You laugh when his expression changes to look ashamed, his lips frowned in a pout and his gaze avoiding your eyes again.

"Try again, I'm sure you're good at this." And Chan's head only comes up with the dozens of lines he has read, but seeing you smiling right in front of him and your arms over his shoulders, he can only think how lucky he is. He can't possibly say anything to you. "Alright, let me try instead."

You hum and recall all the pickup lines you've read and have been told before, "Hm, can I borrow a kiss? I promise I'll return it."

And you expected Chan to start laughing out loud, instead he starts blushing again and giggling, covering his face as he feels nervous.

"C'mon! Seriously?" You laugh and wait for him to stop being shy.

"You make me nervous, give me time." He excuses himself and laughs some more. "That was a good one, and you know what? You can borrow all the kisses you want, as long as you keep your word and return them."

"See? That's what I'm talking about!"

Chan fondly smiles at you, placing his hand on your head to pet your hair for a moment. You close your eyes as he does it, feeling his soft touch traveling all the way down to your chin. He rests his thumb on your cheek and after a few seconds you decide to open your eyes.

"Can I?" He murmurs as his gaze shifts from your eyes to your lips.

"You don't even have to ask."

And just as you give him permission, he breaks the distance between you two. He starts carefully, placing his lips against yours in a tender, chaste way, barely there pressure that makes you exhale through your nose as if you had been holding your breath all along. One of his hands still holds you by the waist, so he takes the opportunity to slide it to your lower back, carefully holding you and sending you shivers to your entire body.

You lean forward barely a few millimeters, but it's enough to feel more pressure over your lips. Chan angles his head and traps your bottom lip, tongue trying to dart out of his mouth to taste more of the sweetness of yours. He, however, contains himself and smiles in between the kiss, instead. He was probably gonna be the death of you.

The deep kiss loses intensity as a minute passes by, so you two end up giving smaller kisses and share smiles, your noses constantly touching in skimo kisses. And you think it's perfect; it's way better than what you one day imagined.

Chan can't miss the chance to make you sit on his lap, so now your head rests over his chest. Your fingers fidgeting the hem of his hoodie and shyly longing to intertwine your hands.

"Hey, Y/N?" He grabs your attention and smiles. "Are you a parking ticket?"

You raise an eyebrow, "Why?"

"Because you've got fine written all over you." He ends up with a muffled laughter.

"Oh no, what did I just get myself into?" You joke around, this time finally making him burst into a louder laughter. "You just declared war on me about pickup lines, you know?"

"Oh, so you got some lines, too? Can't wait to hear all of them, then."

And for the rest of the day you let yourself be held in between the arms of the person you loved the most. Later you'd find the way to flirt with him and make him feel flustered when he least expects it.

[kanene-yaaay]

Sentence Starter - Part 2

I decided to gather all my Sentence Starters in a post. This is the second round!

I know I already said thankys before but, really, thank you so much for your support, it means the world for me. <3

[~.~]

[Gee these covers are lumpy, better fix the covers up!]

"Gee, these covers are lumpy, better fix the covers up!" Mina wormed her hands under the giggly boy, fishing a loud shriek as she vibrated her thumb between his shoulder blades and her other hand squeezed his sides, resulting in a more desperate wiggling from her victim. "Squish, squish, squish the squirmy Ojiro to fix all the lumps!"

"I AHAHAM NOT A COHOHOVER!"

"Hmmm, I don't know if I am convinced," her eyes glinted when the blond arched his back and her hands immediately dashed to scratch his incredibly, horribly ticklish lower back. "I mean, why else would I find such a cute squeaky toy, oops, I mean, cover in my bed?" Bubbly squeals painted Ojiro's laughter almost as strong as the red that painted his cheeks as he shook his head, protesting.

"I ahaham not s-squeheheaky!" Mina's nails scribbled and grazed on his ribs, the quick, high pitched sounds that flied from his lips contradicting his own words. "That doesn't prove anything!" The tailed teenager managed to breath out before descending in belly laughter again.

His pink friend matched his laughter in response, slowing her silly tickly attack as tears began to form on the other's eyes, pinching and poking his tummy in order to keep the adorable giggles filling the air. The cute wiggles from him and his tail were a bonus, as well.

"Hard day?"

Ojiro nodded, a smile still plastered on his face.

"It was. Your behed is fluffyhihihi. Sorry fohohor intrudihihing."

She waved his worries off, "it's no problem! Just give me a warn next time so I won't lay on you again, okay?"

Ojiro snickered, remembering the scared screams from they both when a few minutes ago Mina decided to jump on her bed and didn't even realize the strange lump that was Ojiro sleeping under all the comforters and plushies.

"I will."

"Good." The pink haired girl then cracked her fingers, a dangerous smirk spreading on her face, probably an effect of being Bakugou's friend, and making goosebumps ran freely on Ojiro's spine.

"No no nohoho!" He shot his hands up in an a placating gesture, excited giggles already falling from his mouth. "I already agreed with you! Please!"

Mina pouted in faux empathy. "Sorry, friendo, but your squeaky squeaks and wiggly wiggley wiggles are just too much cute for me to not tickle you again!"

"Ihihi don't," a snort cut his sentence, "I don't dohoho any of that!" He says, in between his wiggles and squeaks.

"Well," She attacked his armpits, a blinding smile taking over her features as the other began to giggle and snicker non stop. "I am sure we can compromise, eventually."

[~.~]

[I wouldn’t say that with the position you’re in, star student]

"I wouldn't say that with the position you're in, star student." Sero grinned, the non said threat falling heavily between them.

Todoroki blinked, stopping his struggles to lay limply on the floor, still staring the black haired friend on top of him, the fake dagger pressed on his neck.

"It doesn't make sense." Sero threw his hands up, exasperated. Shoto turned to look at Momo, who signalized at Jirou to stop the filmation. "If he's just got into my house in the middle of the night to kill me how does he know about my grades?"

"Well, maybe you just look like a super genius or something!" The other actor retorted, shoving his face on his hands and then on the floor as Todoroki stared at him with an unconvinced expression.

"Or," Kaminari jumped in, ignoring his friends dramatics "he can be his archenemy, building his hate and revenge plan since Todoroki did.... Something bad at him in the school."

Todoroki piked up at the opportunity to put another conspiracy in the movies' plot. "That could make sense."

"Don't encourage him." Jirou smirked at the protesting 'hey!' shouted by the other, preparing another snarky remark before being cut by Momo's voice.

"We're not making any more changes on the plot. We will just remake this scene and then everyone can go home, okay?"

"I think Izuku would lose it if we asked for him to rewrite another part." Nods and mumbles of agreement to Sero's words filled the room as all the occupants remembered the boy's determined rant of why the dagger's blade shouldn't be completely straight nor silver. "Anyway, I still need to buy that new Fatgum's game that came out. Let's move on."

"I can't," the dual haired actor claimed, a blank face "you're sitting on top of me."

And, for a moment, as the pun sank on his friends' brain, only silence met him.

Then Jirou and Kaminari immediately broke in loud laughter, Momo hiding her own chuckles behind her hand.

"Oh my god," Sero bit his own laughter in order to try to look at least a bit serious as he attempted to glare at Shoto. "You think you are so funny, don't you?"

Smugly, Todoroki let the corner of his lips twitch.

"Let me help you to show what is funny, then!"

"Wait-" but he was too late, before the words even came out from his mouth Sero was already dancing his fingers on his sides, switching between squeezing them quickly to scribbling and prodding at his ribs, yelps and guffaws already spinning in the air. "Dohohon't! Wait, wahahahait!!"

The black haired friend laughed with him, his blinding smile and uncontrollable giggles being too much adorable to resist. "I think you actually meant 'I am very sorry for ever complaining about your great performance, my amazing friend Sero.', right?"

Todoroki shook his head, gasping and squirming harder when Sero experimented clawed at his stomach, a series of quiet nononono's and pleaseplease's spilling freely from his lips.

"Tsk. Not even close, man. But don't worry, we have aaaaall the afternoon." A snort escaped from Todoroki and he hid his face on his hands, making Jirou 'aww' and Kaminari shout a 'wait wait make he do it again!' "So take your time, OK?" And then, in a quieter voice "If I go too much far just hold my wrists and I will stop."

A barely there nod showed that the other had heard him, however, as his hands continued to hid his face, bright laughter and shy giggles still filled the studio for much more time.

[~.~]

[Oh yeah! I told you’d they’d win! Ha! Pay up, Midoriya!]

"Oh yeah! I told you they'd win! Ha! Pay up, Midoriya!"

"B-but this is not fair! Tokoyami bought the victory by offering to do Shoji's dishes! That is not a-!

"There is nothing against this in the rules." Tokoyami shrugged, still panting from the sparring. "And I just remembered there is Midnight-sensei's paper for tomorrow that I didn't even start."

"Sorry, Midoriya. But we will have much more training in the future, still, and your analysis really helped me! You're right, maybe starting to use some weapon, since a hand to hand combat can give my quirk some damage, will be a good advantage." The taller teenager waved at them, Dark Shadow mirroring him enthusiastically as they followed Tokoyami back at the dorms. "I should search for options before choosing. Thank you for the cheering."

Kaminari waved back before turning to Izuku, his smile getting bigger as he saw his protesting pout. "Aww, is someone angy?" He hugged him from behind, snickering when he saw a glimpse of a smile on the other's expression before an exaggerated frown took over, green eyes deviating from his teasing grin.

"I know you want to smile. ~" Denki delivered a couple of pokes on his stomach, an evil idea full of wiggly fingers and giggly squeals blossoming on his mind. "Maybe the 1-A sunshine need some cheering up after being such sore loser? ~"

Midoriya turned on his embrace, now being face to face at him, determination burning on his features.

"Maybe I do!"

And then he blew a raspberry right on that spot where his neck and collarbone met. A loud, surprised squeak answered him and he was quick to dig on Kaminari's hips, being so careful and so mindful to give plenty of attention and tickles to every sensitive inch of flesh, don't forgetting to still deliver smaller raspberries at random spots on the blond's neck, successfully ending with all his coordination to get revenge.

"Whahahahat!! That is nOT-" A snort, more bubbly giggles. "That is not fahahhair!!!"

"But you're helping me to cheer up. See, I have no more pouts and no more frowns thanks to you!"

"Then stop!"

Kaminari tried to squirm his way out of the ticklish embrace, finding that maybe bringing Midoriya to his lap when he decided to tickle-hug him wasn't his best idea.

"I don't know. I think I am still a bit grumpy..." He stopped his attack in order to gently trace that spot right on the blond's right third rib, drawing circles around it and trying to not giggle together when Denki's bubbly snickers filled the air. "Maybe you amazing laughter can help me with that!"

[~.~]

[You know, this fluffy duster feels a lot like your tail...]

"You know, this fluffy duster feels a lot like your tail..." Izuku said, thoughtfully, a particular idea shining on his mind that may or may not was inspired by yesterday's Great Tickle Fight.

"Really?" Ojiro, (un)fortunately, didn't notice the danger hidden on the smaller's words, petting the duster and the fluff on his tail for a bit in comparison. "It really is. But it's not stronger like mine tail!" He made a show of flexing the aforementioned, both chickling at his silliness. "Oh, are you going to clean the curtains? I can help!"

A plan formed on Izuku's mind. He controlled his features to not show the playful grin that threatened to take over his face.

"Yes. Could you hold that part right there?" He pointed to a high spot on the fabric. "I can't research it."

"No problem!" The blond smiled and did as asked, not realizing the way Midoriya stepped closer nor how his shirt exposed a small patch on his stomach with his new position. "Like this?"

"Yes!" Izuku, then, shoved the fluffly, soft, tickly duster under his shirt, instigating a loud squeak to escape from the other.

"Midoriya!!"

But he didn't let go of the curtain, a smile spreading on his face.

"Yes?"

"Dohon't"

The green haired boy slightly moved the duster, quick enough to make the bristles of the feathers to barely tease the skin, but only that. Another yelp and a few giggles leading Ojiro to try to hide his red face on his shoulder.

"Don't what?" He beamed.

A small shook of head, a shy giggle. "Ihim not falling for thahat."

"Aw. But I am going to tickle you anyway!" Ojiro yelped, trying to curl on himself, however immediately regretting his decision as the movement shot light shocks across his torso, every feather following his squirms. "Yes! I am going to tickle, tickle, tickle you until all those cutes squeals and nice laughter trapped inside are free. As a future hero, it's my job to help them!"

"Dohohon't say that word." His words were in vain, especially because now Midoriya carried that determined look, thoughts racing on his mind as his hands continued to keep the duster on the same place.

"Maybe I should try to tickle his stomach first? I could start wiggling the duster there and then change to his sides and ribs or maybe I could start on his sides and ribs going up and down a few times and then tickle his stomach as I change from a side to another. The element of surprise is always a powerful tool so I should always change from going extremely soft and low to more quick attacks! I wonder if I can try it on his tail too? I could-"

"Ihihizuku, please!" The one being called snapped out of his rambling by a very flustered, giggly Ojiro, who still held the curtains as if his life depended on it. "J-juhust do it already, plehease."

And Izuku was happy to oblige.

[~.~]

[As nice as this is, we really should get up]

"As nice as this is, we really should get up." Tokoyami said softly, patting the green hair of the head which rested on his shoulder, - it was really as fluffy as it looked! - almost snorting when Midoriya squinted his eyes at the credit's playing on the screen. "Everyone else already went to their room."

Izuku looked around, as if he just realized all his friends decided to call it a night when President Mic - who has been called both due his good taste in movies and to keep an eye on them and their ability to cause chaos - woke up half of the class as he fell asleep in a bad position and started snoring, accidentally activating his quirk.

"It's not-" A yawn cut Izuku's words and pulled Tokoyami away from his thoughts. "It's not a movie night if we can't watch at least five movies."

"Oh no, the horrible punishments that the Universe will bought upon us after such terrible offense. What we shall do in the face of that helpless fate?"

Midoriya lightly shoved him away, a sleepy smile taking all the seriousness from his frown. "N't f'nny."

Tokoyami started to softly scribble his fingers on the other's neck, following him as he tiredly wiggled away, no real fight on his movements.

"Then why are you laughing?"

"Tohohokoyami! Naha!"

"What? Wait... Is this the punishment from the Universe?" Maybe it was because it was so rare for his friend being this playful, or because the drops of faked seriousness painting his words, but Midoriya found himself giggling harder, a bubbly tittering escaping as the tickling traveled to behind his ears. "Giggling and wiggling until we inevitably give up and decide to watch movies until the end of our brief mortal existence, oh, the pain."

"You're so sihihihilly!"

"Me, the embodiment of darkness ‘silly’? Oh, Midoriya, what have they done to you?" His tune was bathed in faux pity.

"Plehehehease!" Tokoyami decided to travel to the smaller boy's sides, scratching and poking them lightly enough to keep the flow of airy laughter and rare squeaks as a reward for the sudden, quick pinches. "It tickles! It tickles so much!"

"The Universe is tickling you? Will the cruelness ever end? Ah, the struggles someone as ticklish, so, so ticklish as you must be going through... Do not give up, Midoriya!" He did his best to not huff in amusement as the aforementioned hugged him, hiding his face oh his chest and muffling his louder laughter due the teases. "Don't let its darkness to dim your light."

His fingertips grazed the back of his ribs, Izuku only giggled harder, "Okahahay, Okay! We- no, not there! - we can go slehehehep!"

Tokoyami stopped the light tickling, waiting for the moment green eyes locked on his before proceeding, a deadly serious gaze on his face.

"Don't." Izuku warned.

"But the Universe's punishment-"

"O-oh my GOD!"

[~.~]

[i did not say that!]

"I did not said that!" But the giggles were already spilling out.

"Yes!!" Izuku, the traitor, couldn't be any more happy, basically sparkling as the feathers of his wings fluffed up in amusement. "You did! You did! You did! I am totally going to do that, now!"

Kirishima was quick to retrieve a pillow and prepare it to a fight, pointing it at his guardian angel with a half groan, half giggle. "That is not fair, man!! You can't ask questions when I am about to sleep, I always say the first thing that pops in my mind!"

"It wasn't really my original intention," the angel smiled sheepishly. "Humans' need to sleep are still confusing to me... But!!" He crept closer, fingers wiggling. "That only means that when you said yesterday..."

"No."

"That you likes when I-"

"No!" Big smiles, small giggles. "Come on. Shut up!"

"-that you like when I tickle you-" The rest of the sentence was a squeak as the red haired boy jumped at him, his soft weapon firm on his hands, and both dashed across the room in a chase. "I knew it!" Izuku laughed, - laughed. Not shyly giggled or awkwardly grinned, - pleased that one of his theories about his protected human (and friend) was right.

Damn, Kirishima wanted to at least fake a pout and put on a real fight, but how could he when the magical being was acting so happily? When he was so full of joy?

That didn't stop him from tackling his friend on the floor, both rolling in a playful roughhousing and playing fair until Kirishima felt something incredibly, impossibly soft on his neck, wide eyes as he realized only now how Midoriya's wings were stretched around him, almost engulfing both beings on its length.

The soft feeling came back, now scribbling all over his neck, sending tickly shocks through his body and weaking his strength, something which allowed the other launch his arms around his waist, hugging Eijirou from behind and leaving him to freely stare at some free feathers that slowly swung on his direction, aiming for his tickle spots.

Izuku felt a bit worried when the human stopped squirming.

"If I last 30 seconds without laughing you will let me go to that Parkour classes on Monday."

"But they're dangerous," Eijirou interrupted him, "you can use your magic feathers."

He could almost feel the angel thinking, analysing his options.

"Forty-five seconds."

"I will get you back and ask Shinsou to help me."

Pout. "You're mean."

A feather wriggled on his bellybutton, cutting any snark answer that the human had to that.

More feathers appeared in front of him. Adrenaline ran on Kirishima's veins at the idea of his new challenge.

"Deal."

[...]

Sidenote: Shinsou is Kirishima's cat. He loves to randomly lay and nap on the angel, but for some reason his purring tickles Izuku. He likes to purr a lot. Izuku is almost sure the feline knows what he is doing. Kirishima think the whole situation is hilarious.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Productivity

Prompt: if you’re still open to prompts could you write some Roman-centric hurt/comfort? Maybe with him overworking himself and Logan finding him?

Thanks for the prompt, babe!

Read on Ao3

Pairings: Logince, can be platonic or romantic you decide, implied mociet, implied parental anxciet and moxiety

Warnings: Roman’s pretty hard on himself, so self-doubt, self-destructive tendencies, can be interpreted as self-harm if you squint but nothing graphic/explicit, self-esteem issues, sympathetic dark sides

Word Count: 5850

Roman is loud. Roman is extra. Roman is brimming with all the trimmings and trappings of an extravagant parade and it is impossible to ignore him when he walks into a room.

 After all, when you’ve only got 0.5% of a day to make yourself count, you learn not to let a single second of it slip by.

Roman has to be perfect for that 0.5%. He can’t slip up even once or he risks that 0.5% slipping away entirely. He has his ideas, he has his witty barbs prepared, he has his improv skills ready, and he never stops moving. Which means the other 99.5% has to be used very wisely.

 He has to get the ideas thought up, drafted, edited, and ready to be passed off. He has to be primped and coiffed and never look for a second that he’s been caught off guard. He has to work.

 Logan’s the one with the schedule, anyone will tell you that. It’s up on his wall, perfectly ordered and color-coded with half a dozen dry erase markers and post-its next to it, all ready to go the instant it needs to be adjusted. Logan’s discipline is evident in the way he speaks, dresses, acts, it’s right there for the world to see.

 Roman’s discipline is in the hours and hours he spends in front of his computer, or with a pen in his hand, or with the sword at his side. It’s in the way his fingers beat out anxious rhythms against the keys or forget what letters are supposed to look like halfway through writing a word. It’s in the way he can sit down for six hours and write and write and write until his eyes are strained but the words are here.

 Patton worries when that happens, knocking on Roman’s door with his voice full of concern, food, water, even just a hug. Roman always hollers at him to come in only to bounce from one corner of the room to the next as he tries to figure out what to write next, how to hit the next plot point, or barely looks up from his frantic typing as he assures Patton that yes, he’s fine, thank you for asking, yes, he’s taken breaks, he’s just so close to a stopping point then he’ll give him a hug, okay? Patton leaves reassured and Roman’s fingers fly. He doesn’t come by that often so it’s okay.

 He can’t start tasks and not finish them. He has so much to do that it’s not worth starting one thing and leaving it off because he’ll forget it. Better to sit there and see something all the way to the end than get interrupted and start something else and risk forgetting what he was going to do. So he has to work through it, get into that zone where all he has to think about is the rhythmic click-click-click of the keyboard and making sure his words machine is going going going. And if that means sometimes he looks up and it’s only been ten minutes or he looks up and it’s been a whole hour, well. Push through. Once he’s in the zone he can just go. It’s just a matter of getting there.

 Roman’s quite proud of the way he’s built his schedule, if he does say so himself. Once he gets into the zone and works he can get all the projects he needs to get done in a day dusted and dried, set aside for review or further brainstorming. After all that, it’s normally near his 0.5% time, so he dusts himself off and wears that big smile and rides the high of a job well done to fuel his princely persona until the 0.5% is over. If it’s just dinner, it’s done by the time the meal is over. If he’s spending a little time with the others, they normally tire of him before it runs out. If it’s movie night, well…it’s dark. And he can sit away from everyone else.

 It’s a very efficient system. Logan would be proud.

 Except, well…

 Okay. Here’s the thing.

 Roman’s Creativity, yes, but he’s also Passion, Desire, Romance, a lot of things.

 He’s also the Ego.

 That makes him…squishy.

 It’s not that he can’t take criticism, far from it—criticism and feedback is one of the things that makes everyone better. It’s just that he…okay, this is going to sound really stupid, but he’s just…he’s just very bad at receiving any sort of feedback, okay?

 Compliments are wonderful and make his chest all warm and fuzzy but they also make his face flush redder than his sash and make him want to be very, very small. Positive feedback makes him want to skip to the end to find out what else he needs to do or shrink away from the bright spotlight he’s suddenly found himself in.

 No feedback is awful. He wants to make a difference, to do something, talk about something with someone. He wants to be here, to be present, to talk and listen and create. He can’t create in an empty room.

 Constructive criticism is…hard.

 It’s so fucking stupid. He knows everything isn’t perfect. Nothing’s ever really finished, it just gets to a point where you’ve used it to say what you need it to say at that moment and you let it go. And he needs help to get it there before he gives it up, he knows this, he knows this.

 And it’s not even that it comes as only things he needs to work on. It’s always both strengths and weaknesses—sorry, things that could be better—it’s not like it's just a pile of ‘stuff you did wrong.’

 And most of the time it’s good feedback. It makes him a better creator, helps him understand his audience more. And it’s genuinely really insightful, like they obviously took time to understand the work and think about it and want it to be more like what he wants it to do. They care and it’s obvious and it shows and Roman really should understand this because he makes fun of the things that he loves.

 So why, please, Roman would like to know, why is he hunched over his desk with his head on a book as his throat tears itself raw?

 His lungs are screaming at him to get air and he’s gasping at nothing, his nose way too stuffed up to do anything other than dribble horrifically all over his work. His gaze is focused on nothing. The letters in front of him blur into meaningless black squiggles. Spit drips out the side of his lips. His hands clutch at nothing. And his chest aches so so bad.

 One of his hands comes up to clutch at the front of his costume. The sash groans in protest. He can hardly feel the indents of his knuckles. He pushes harder. It still just hurts. Why does it hurt?

 He spent six hours writing this idea from scratch. He poured over and over this thing until his eyes felt like they were going to fall out of his head and he worked so hard. And he—he thought he did good.

  It’s did ‘well,’ Roman.

 Roman winces, another wave of—oh hey, he’s crying. When did that happen?—another wave of tears spilling behind his eyes, making them ache too.

 It was the only idea of the last batch that everyone wanted and—and Thomas asked for it to be done and he wanted to have time to work on the other things that Thomas wasn’t sure about and make it so Virgil didn’t have to stress about everything and he worked so hard on it and it was—he thought it was good and he’s being so fucking ridiculous right now.

 Logan has said parts of it were good. He’d complimented Roman on how much he’d been able to write in such a short amount of time. He’d asked if Roman would want to talk about some of this stuff in greater detail at a later time because he’d been interested and obviously Roman had opinions and things to say about it.

 And that counts for something, or at least it should.

 But…but Logan had also said that the framework was wrong.

 The framework was wrong. That—that was the whole point of the story. The framework was supposed to convey the message and the message was supposed to come across and it doesn’t matter that Logan thought some of the stuff was good because it was made to suit the framework that Roman thought they wanted but it’s not which means he has to rework the whole thing entirely because it’s not what they wanted and—

 And Logan said it should be reorganized which is not how a story works because he can’t just cut and paste things to fit where he wants them because he has to make sure it works and it makes sense and if he has to rewrite the structure and the message then he—he—

 He has to start over.

 A wracked sob tears its way out of Roman’s throat, right into the pages of the book. Six hours. Six hours. Down the fucking drain. He could’ve—he could’ve spent that time doing other things or fixing other things or—

 Or, he thinks bitterly, one hand still clutched to his aching chest, you could’ve just done it right the first fucking time.

 God, he’s going to have to do so much work to catch up. He’s—he’s going to have to put off writing that short story, making sure that idea was polished, making sure that—

 He has so much work to do.

 By the time he raises his head from the book, his head is tingling. His fingers lose sensation as he moves and his entire chest feels like it's held together by the weakest threads. He has to let his head drop back to the gross wet spot he’s left in the book just to avoid a horrible head rush. A few slow, shuddering breaths later, and he sits back in his chair.

 He’s actually quite proud of himself, he thinks absentmindedly as he looks for his tissue box. He does remember when he started crying. It was during the feedback with Logan.

 Logan said that entire sections needed to be cut. Something in Roman’s chest had snapped when he heard that. They were…this story was his darling.

 They’re all his darlings, but this one, so new, so…so fresh was still living in his chest, right next to his heart.

 His voice hadn’t slipped once. Even as tears ran down his face he hadn’t slipped. Then Logan had realized it was later than expected and apologetically left Roman in the common space. Had to get to another meeting. That was fine. Roman could get away with a much terser goodbye and Logan didn’t look too hard at his face.

 He has so much work to do.

 If he puts it off he’s never going to want to pick it up again and the dread of it will poison him. Poison Thomas. He can’t have that. They’re already behind schedule. He’s already behind schedule.

 If he starts doing this now he won’t be able to stop. He’s not in the right space and he doesn’t know if he can force himself into the one he needs to be in. Just the thought of looking at his notes, with the handwriting getting worse and worse is enough to make his fingers tremble. The thought of looking at Logan’s precise comments in bright, bold, unmistakably incorrect red pinches right under his throat.

  It’s alright, Roman. You’ve done good work. Especially for a rough draft.

 This wasn’t supposed to be a rough draft.

 He glances at the clock. It’s been too long. He has to do something.

 He doesn’t wash his face off or drink water. He doesn’t eat. He has somewhere to be in half an hour and he has to do something.

 Roman’s fingers are clumsy on the keyboard. The words aren’t words. He opens the draft and shakily creates a copy. He can’t hurt his sweetheart. He can’t.

 He can maim the fuck out of a copy, though.

 Each section that disappears in a merciless click of the delete button makes the ache in his chest worse. So much work. So much time. So much of Roman. Gone. Not right. Worthless.

 He has so much work to do.

 Roman pointedly covers the clock on his computer with a folded up post-it note and sets an alarm for when he needs to get ready to go meet with Remus. He puts his head down and works, blinking when he can’t see the screen through his tears. He…he can’t make this work, not with the corrections that Logan wants, not with the time he needs to make up. He has to start over, almost completely, which means back to the drawing board. New outline, new readings, new interpretations, new everything. Because it’s not what they wanted and Roman has to be what they want.

 Two minutes until he has to go meet with Remus he gets up and blows his nose. Quick glance in the mirror, it doesn’t look like he’s been crying. Grab what he needs to. Make sure this is in fact what he’s supposed to do.

 Roman’s one act of true cowardice is making sure Janus isn’t around.

 Remus doesn’t notice anything wrong, and if he does, he doesn’t say anything.

 Good.

—————————————————————

 Logan sighs, adjusts his glasses, and closes his laptop. It’s been a productive day and he has precisely thirteen minutes before he’s required downstairs to bake with Patton. They’re making blueberry muffins tonight, as requested, and Logan has secured permission to be absent from the movie marathon.

 He gets up and makes his way to his schedule wall, picking up his pack of markers as he goes. Light blue for Patton, dark blue for himself, purple for Virgil, yellow for Janus, green for Remus, and red for Roman. He frowns, noticing that he has to press a little harder than anticipated to get Virgil’s marker to show up.

 Logan sinks out to Remus’s room, ducking a chunk of flying viscera and quickly conjuring an umbrella for himself.

 “Remus?”

 “That is me,” Remus cackles, hanging upside down from…what looks to be a chandelier constructed entirely out of viscera and a partially decomposed sperm whale skeleton. His face appears under the brim of Logan’s umbrella. “What brings you here?”

 “Do you still have the pack of markers I lent you?”

 “No! I used those up ages ago.”

 Logan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dare I ask why?”

 “You remember how we talked about how if you do the simple science experiment of emptying a highlighter into water then putting flowers in it to make them glow in the dark?”

 “...yes?”

 “Did you know you can do the same with octopuses?”

 …now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that…

 “Enjoy your chandelier, Remus,” Logan sighs, sinking out and promptly disposing of the umbrella. He adjusts his tie and makes sure nothing splattered his glasses and starts toward Roman’s room. He would ask Patton but that might lead to starting the baking earlier than expected and, if he’s being honest, Logan does not currently have the wherewithal to do that quite so soon. He just needs to pick up a new purple marker and go back to his room.

 He doesn’t actually know what he expected to find.

 Maybe it was a Roman sprawled across his bed, idly toying with something, or across the floor with several pens strewn about him. Or at the computer, laughing at the screen with his feet up or fiddling with something.

 Maybe it was an empty room, Roman in the Imagination, or even Roman upset about some of the comments he’d made earlier.

 He knocks on the door and frowns when it creaks open.

 “Roman?”

 Logan pushes the door open and looks around. Roman’s not here. There’s water running in the bathroom. He knocks on the door louder.

 “One moment!”

 The bathroom door opens and Roman appears. “Logan. Is there something wrong?”

 “One of my pens has dried up and I’m seeking a replacement.”

 Something flashes across Roman’s face too quick to accurately pinpoint and in a flash, a new pack of markers sits in Roman’s hand.

 “Thank you.”

 Roman nods and turns, sitting at his desk and shuffling through a few papers. When Logan doesn’t move for a few moments, Roman looks back up.

 “…is there something else?”

 “No, I just…” Logan tilts his head. “Are you alright, Roman?”

 “I’m performing within acceptable limits,” Roman jokes, even as his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, “just…trying to get this done before the z—um. Before we have to go downstairs. Thanks for baking for tonight, I, uh, I know you won’t be staying for the movies so I should probably say thank-you now, right?”

 “Roman,” Logan interrupts softly, “Roman, what were you going to say?”

 “Hmm?”

 “You cut yourself off. You were going to say ‘before’ something that wasn’t going downstairs.”

 “Was I?”

 “Roman.”

 Roman’s fingers falter on the keyboard for barely a second. “Don’t you want to get in some more rest before baking,” he tries, “I know you’ve expressed that helps you before.”

 “I would, but I would also like to know what you were going to say.”

 Roman worries his bottom lip. “…can’t I just finish working, please?”

 Logan looks around. Something is wrong.

 The door barely squeaks as Logan shuts it, glancing around to make sure no one else is sneaking by or within earshot. He turns back just in time to see Roman recovering from a horrible flinch. Without meaning to, a soft comforting noise escapes his throat.

 “Roman, what’s—“

 “I’m fine, Specs.”

 “Yes, I can tell from that tone of voice that you are completely and utterly fine.”

 “You know I’m pretty sure sass is an emotional response.”

 The corner of his mouth quirks up and he walks closer, setting the pack of markers down on the corner of Roman’s desk and folding his hands in front of him.

 “Roman,” he tries again, “what’s wrong?”

 Roman’s hands tighten into fists on his keyboard. He barely glances up at Logan. “It’s nothing, Specs.”

 “If it’s upsetting you it’s not nothing.”

 “It’s nothing you need to be concerned about.”

 “It’s upsetting you, Roman, that means it’s something for me to be concerned about.”

 Roman huffs. “Give me a little credit, Logan, I promise I can operate under distress without compromising Thomas or the rest of you, I’ve had enough practice.”

 “…I must admit I’m not sure if you expect me to be reassured by that.”

 Silence.

 The clock in the hallway ticks.

 Roman takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulders back. “The 0.5%.”

 “Excuse me?”

 “The 0.5%, Logan,” Roman repeats, “that’s what I was going to say.”

 Logan frowns. What—why would Roman say—0.5% of what?

 Roman gives him a disbelieving smile when Logan cautiously broaches that question. “You should know, Specs. Your chart, remember?”

 Logan’s eyes widen. “Roman, what—what does that have to do with this?”

 “What does the fact that you’ve only given me 0.5% of each day to run things have to do with me being upset?”

 “Roman you—you’re allowed to do things, I didn’t mean it like that, I just—“

 “Stop, Logan,” Roman says with a soft fury, reaching out to lay his hand on Logan’s arm only to stop. His hand closes into a fist and returns to his side. Goosebumps raise on Logan’s arm and he suddenly feels very, very cold.

“Stop,” he says again, “it doesn’t matter how you meant it. I understand.”

 “But clearly you don’t,” Logan protests, “if you believe that you are only allowed to exist for 0.5% of each day—“

 “That’s not it, Logan.” Roman turns in his chair. “I get 0.5% to exist around you each day.”

 “I don’t see the difference!”

 “It means I have to perform for 0.5% a day.”

  Perform.

 Logan’s mind stutters to a halt. No. No, no, Roman…

 “Roman,” he starts, “Roman, why are you doing so much work?”

 “Well, when you only have 0.5% of a day to present, you’d better have some damn good stuff, shouldn’t you? After all, it’s not like you’ll get much time to talk it through before you have to—“

 “Not…not just that,” Logan interrupts, “why did you call it ‘performing?’”

 Roman stares up at him, his head tilted to the side. “…do you actually believe that I’m…like that?”

 The fact that the ‘yes’ came so readily to the tip of his tongue makes Logan sick.

 “When you only have so little time,” Roman mumbles, “if I don’t…if I don’t take up all the space I can for that amount of time, I’m afraid it will just…slip away.”

 Before Logan can even begin to talk about how awful that is, Roman blusters on.

 “That’s why I have to get back to work. I have to get this done before the 0.5% starts so I can make the most of it. Thought you’d be happy, Specs,” Roman says, flashing the fakest smile Logan’s ever seen, “about how efficient I’m being.”

 Logan is many things right now, and ‘happy’ is not any of them. His mouth opens and closes, trying to look for words, for something, anything to try and override this, make Roman see sense, make Roman see—

 He stops.

 Roman wasn’t expecting him. He’s been surprised.

 His hands are shaking as they type. He keeps having to hit the backspace key. There are twitches in his arms that aren’t normally there and he keeps trying to scoot away from Logan.

 Logan reaches out to cover one of Roman’s hands.

 Roman flinches so hard he almost knocks his laptop off of the desk.

 “You’re panicking,” Logan murmurs, “take a deep breath.”

 He holds Roman still until some of the mania goes out of his eyes. He lifts his hand away.

 “That’s enough work for today.”

 “What? No, no, I’m so behind, I have so much work to do, I have to—“

 “What have you done today, Roman?”

 “Not nearly enough, I have to—“

 Then Logan catches sight of a stack of paper with red annotations. He frowns, moving around Roman to take a look, ignoring the soft noise of protest. This is the feedback he gave Roman earlier, these are his annotations, that’s his red pen he uses for Roman, that’s…

 …oh.

 Oh, no.

 No, no, no, no…

 “Roman,” he murmurs, turning to look at him, “why is this wet?”

 Roman takes a breath and Logan blinks.

 Roman looks so small.

 “…I have so much work to do.”

 Something in Logan hurts. Think. Think. Think.

 He glances around frantically, spotting a stack of looseleaf paper. Aha.

 “Roman,” he manages around the lump in his throat, “if we make a list of things that you have to or have already done today, will that help?”

 Roman nods, watching as Logan hurries to grab a sheet of paper and fetch the red pen out of the marker box. “…do we have to use red?”

 Logan pauses, yet to uncap it. “Is there something wrong with red?”

 The costume makes a few rustling noises as Roman shifts in the chair. Logan holds out the pen until the cap lies next to the bright red sash on Roman’s chest. “Red’s your color, isn’t it?”

 “…wait, that’s why you always use red?”

 “That’s why I use red for you.”

 “…oh.”

 As he makes the list, he keeps an eye on Roman. Has he…have they never truly looked at Roman? Logan’s sure Janus knows at least some of this, if not all of it, and Remus has absolutely no filter any of the time but especially not when it comes to Roman.

 They’ll have to be better about that.

 Roman’s face perks up a little when Logan finally passes him the list, only to fall almost as quickly when he sees the number of things on it. “L-Logan, I—“

 “Have a look at each of them,” Logan interrupts softly, passing him the pen, “and mark off the ones that you’ve done already.”

 “…am I supposed to do all of these today?”

 “Ideally, yes.”

 The grim look of resignation and determination on Roman’s face is enough to make Logan want to take it away, but he can’t. Not before Roman sees.

 Sure enough, as Roman starts to scan down the list, his brow furrows. He glances up at Logan who simply nods toward it.

 “Um…”

 “Read out the ones you’re having trouble with,” Logan offers, “if you like.”

 “…'get out of bed?’”

 “Did you do that?”

 “Yes?”

 “Then cross it off.”

 Bemused, Roman does. He consults the list again. “Are all of these—am I supposed to—“

 Logan nods when Roman can’t finish his sentence. “Check off the ones you’ve done and then we’ll see how productive you’ve been today.”

 It’s strange, Logan thinks as he watches Roman go down the list, he’s never been so…gentle like this before, especially not with Roman.

 Maybe it’s time to be better about that too.

 “All finished?”

 “I think so…”

 “How many do you have left?”

 “Um, just…drink water, save current works, eat dinner, and, um…” Roman squints at the page, then up at Logan, “…receive emotional support.”

 “Well, those don’t seem to be too difficult.” Logan folds his arms and smiles. “I’d say you’ve been very productive today.”

 “But I need to rework the entire idea for tomorrow,” Roman argues, “I haven’t even made a dent in it, I—“

 “Wait, why do you think you need to rework it completely?”

 “…you said the framework was wrong and you need it reorganized. Which is fine,” Roman hastily defends, “you’re not wrong, but that basically means I have to start over.”

 “You don’t have to start over, Roman,” Logan reassures, “and that’s not what I meant. Why don’t we check off the rest of the list now and then we can have a…redo of the feedback session tomorrow?”

 “Logan, I’m really confused right now,” Roman blurts out, clutching the list like a lifeboat.

 “What’s confusing?”

 Logan takes a step closer, resisting the urge to smile when Roman doesn’t back away.

 “…not that this isn’t appreciated,” Roman manages finally, “but I—you—you’ve never done this before.”

 “Perhaps I didn’t realize that it was necessary.”

  Wrong thing to say.

 “Wait, you don’t have to—I can—I’ll be fine on my own—“

 “Not what I meant, Roman, I am perfectly aware that you are capable of taking care of yourself,” Logan soothes, “but…it seems that my actions—or lack of actions, perhaps—has been hurting you. And I apologize for that.”

 Roman swallows heavily, the list still wrinkled up in his hands.

 “I want to have this conversation properly,” Logan murmurs, taking another step closer, “and when you feel comfortable enough to tell me what’s really going on. That’s not now, and that’s okay. Will you take my word if I tell you that you don’t need to do as much work on your story as you think you do?”

 “…sure.”

 “I’m pleased to hear that.” Logan gestures toward the door. “Why don’t you save your work and we’ll go downstairs?”

 “Aren’t you baking with Patton in like—now?”

 “I was, but Janus has also expressed interest in baking tonight, and…” Logan smiles. “I do not think he would be upset to learn that I wished to postpone for this reason.”

 The smallest smile comes to Roman’s face. “…since when have those two been…”

 “I don’t know.”

 “Have you noticed that they— with Virgil—“

 “Oh, don’t even get me started.”

 “It’s like watching a sitcom sometimes, isn’t it?”

 “Quite.”

 It makes Roman chuckle and Logan feels his shoulders relax. Then something passes over his face again.

 “What is it?”

 “Nothing, nothing, it’s just the um, the last thing on the list of receiving emotional support…” Roman absentmindedly smoothes out the paper. “…don’t know how I’m going to get that if, um…well, movie night’s still a thing.”

 …that is not the kind of emotional support Logan was referring to and they both know it.

 “Well,” Logan says, adjusting his tie and valiantly ignoring the heat rushing to his face, “there is another option.”

 Roman’s eyes widen. “…you’re serious?”

 “Of course.”

 “But you…when you ask off movie night, that’s—“

 “Roman.”

 Roman stops. Something flickers over his face. Logan frowns.

 “What?”

 “…you’ve said my name a lot today, Specs,” Roman mumbles, looking away.

 “Is that a problem?”

 Roman shrugs. “…kind of reminds me of when I, um, mess up.”

 “…what?”

 “You, um…” Roman fiddles with the list. “You don’t normally use my name unless you’re talking about me. And you don’t, uh, you don’t normally do that unless I’ve done something wrong. But that’s not your fault.”

 “…thank you for telling me.” Logan tilts his head. “Is there something you would rather I call you instead?”

 “Not particularly.”

 “Princey?”

 “No thanks.”

 “Kiddo?”

 “You’re not Patton.”

 “No, it sounds strange, doesn’t it?”

 “Yeah.”

 “…I’m guessing Creativity would be…”

 “…yeah.”

 “I’ll think of something,” Logan murmurs, “but yes, I would be happy to spend the evening with you.” Roman still looks unsure. “Why the hesitation?”

 “You don’t like being touched,” Roman blurts out, the list in his hands about to rip.

  Ah.

 Logan reaches forward and carefully extricates the list from Roman’s grasp. He sets it on the desk. Roman watches him, eyes wide, as Logan rests his hand on his shoulder.

 “I don’t like being touched when I don’t expect it,” Logan says quietly, “or when it’s not on my terms. When it is…and especially when it’s helping someone, I don’t mind at all.”

 Roman’s staring at his hand like he’s never seen it before. His shoulder feels so…small?

 Is Roman shaking?

 “Hey,” Logan calls softly, “hey, can you look at me?”

 Roman doesn’t move.

 “Come on, just…just look at me.”

 Roman turns his head and oh—

 “Oh, dear,” Logan breathes, his hand moving up on instinct to wipe away Roman’s tear, “oh, dear, it’s okay, it’s okay.”

 Roman’s eyes fall shut as more tears brim on his lashes. He squeezes them tightly and turns his head, almost nuzzling into Logan’s palm, as if he doesn’t believe it’s really there.

 Oh.

  Oh.

  Oh, no.

 “You’re touch-starved,” Logan whispers, mostly to himself, stepping closer and cupping Roman’s face firmly.

 “Haven’t exactly had time to—“ a breath rips itself out of Roman’s lungs as Logan pulls him closer— “to—to—I—you’re really warm, Logan…”

 “You’ve been overworking yourself,” Logan says firmly, “and you don’t have to. Not ever again.”

 Roman’s eyes flutter open cautiously, staring at Logan with such unabashed hope that it makes his throat clench.

 “Hey,” he murmurs instead, “there you are.”

 “…sorry.”

 “No need to be.” Logan brushes away another tear. “Why don’t we go downstairs, get something to eat, something to drink, and then come back?”

 Roman nods, but his eyes glaze over a little as Logan keeps stroking his cheek. Logan shakes his head, smiling fondly at him. Oh, Roman…

 “Hey,” he calls again, giving Roman’s face a little shake, “hug me.”

 “W-what?”

 “Hug me,” Logan repeats, opening his arms, “come on…”

 The time it takes for Roman to step forward and carefully, carefully place his arms around Logan’s shoulders like he’s afraid of ruining him feels like an eternity. As soon as it’s clear Roman’s not going to do any more than lightly rest the weight of his arms on Logan for just a moment, Logan moves.

 He wraps his arms firmly around Roman’s waist and pulls him until they’re flush. He smiles a little at the gasp of surprise, only to soften instantly when Roman lets out a keen.

 “I said hug me, dear heart,” Logan whispers, the pet name rolling off his tongue before he can stop it, “come on, now, you can do better than that.”

 Poor Roman is shaking so badly Logan feels himself almost thrown off balance. He spreads his feet a little wider and holds him, rubbing his back and lifting his chin a little higher. Roman feels so small and cold in his arms that he doesn’t try and playfully coax him into hugging tighter. Instead, he hooks his chin over Roman’s shoulder and tightens his grip, softly encouraging him to breathe, to relax, it’s alright.

 “That’s it,” he murmurs when Roman finally sags into his arms, “that’s it, dear heart, good, I have you, I have you.”

 Roman turns his head into Logan’s neck and Logan makes a soft sound at the slight dampness. His arms still tremble slightly, but he’s leaning most of his weight onto Logan now, almost hanging off of him with the grip he has on his wrists.

 “I’ve got you,” he promises, “I’ve got you.”

 When his arms start to ache pleasantly from the strain of keeping his grip, Logan eases back, making sure to keep one hand on Roman’s face.

 “If we stand here any longer we may fall asleep,” he whispers, “let’s go downstairs, and then we can come back, hmm?”

 Roman, the poor thing, is so exhausted that all he can do is fall forward a little, just so their foreheads rest together. Logan chuckles.

“Just for dinner, then we’ll come back and I’ll cuddle you some more, okay?”

 “…yeah, okay.”

 “You can have a chance to hug me properly too, hmm?”

 Roman huffs a laugh. “I’ll show you.”

 “I’m sure you will, dear heart.” When the face against his suddenly grows much warmer, Logan tilts his head. “Is that alright? Dear heart?”

 “Yeah, yeah, it’s alright. More than alright.”

 “Then come on, dear heart, let’s get those last few things checked off the list, hmm?”

 Patton, of course, has absolutely no objections. Virgil tips them a lazy two-fingered salute. Remus doesn’t quite tackle his brother into the wall but it’s close. Janus makes eye contact with Logan and gives him a nod. Right. They should talk too. But not tonight.

 When Roman’s door closes again and Roman crosses the last item off the list, Logan takes it from him and sets it aside, holding out his arms.

 “Come here, dear heart.”

 This time, Roman wraps his arms around Logan without hesitation. Logan hides a smile in Roman’s shoulder as he sits them on the bed, lies them down, tucks Roman in close.

 Roman is quiet. Roman is soft. Roman is an excellent cuddler. He fits perfectly into Logan’s arms. He’s perfect.

 It’s been a very productive day.

General: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @marshmallow-fluffy @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious  @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thefingergunsgirl @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme

If you would like to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

[tickly-trashcan]

Fortune Cookies {ObaMitsu}

A/N: okay this started out as a decent idea but i’m not super happy with how it turned out. I just needed some obamitsu content and i think it ended up a bit too forced but oh well, i don’t have the energy to rewrite it lol. I also started this like two months ago and dropped it for a bit, so it’s pretty rough,,, Anyways, hope you guys wanted some demon slayer content cuz i sure as hell did. Enjoy! (also pardon the editing skills in the picture, i’m still figuring out editing and panel coloring)

Summary: Obanai and Mitsuri are out at a restaurant when Mitsuri gets them some fortune cookies. Obanai refuses to tell her what was on his, and Mitsuri intends to get it out of him no matter what.

Word Count: 2.6k (under the cut)

“Ah, this is delicious!” Mitsuri exclaimed after taking another bite of her food, a bright smile on her face. Obanai looked at her from where he sat next to her, a small smile growing on his lips, though it was hidden by his face covering.

“I’m glad you enjoy it, Kanroji,” He said softly, pushing another plate of food towards her. “Please, have as much as you like.”

Mitsuri nodded eagerly, mouth full. She had always been embarrassed about her eating habits until she met Obanai, who was open about everything with her and made her feel safe and content. 

“Do you want some as well, Iguro?”

Obanai shook his head, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming. “I’m content just sitting here with you.”

Mitsuri blushed faintly at his words but nodded, reaching again for a new plate of food as she continued to eat. 

They continued like that for a while, Mitsuri gabbing about her pet rabbit or the other pillars while Obanai listened intently, taking in her every word. He was always entranced by her, no matter how simple a task she was doing, and he loved to listen to her voice, ringing through his ears like soft bells.

“You haven’t eaten at all today, Iguro! Here, have some of this! Say aaah~”

“Ah, I’m alright Kanroji, thank you though,” he said softly, holding up a hand to the food Mitsuri held close to his face, blushing. Mitsuri pouted, but quickly changed back to a smile and ate the food instead, letting out a satisfied sigh before turning to Obanai.

“That was really delicious Iguro, thank you for treating me!”

Obanai nodded, standing up with Mitsuri as they began to walk out of the restaurant together. Mitsuri looked towards the front desk of the restaurant, seeing a bowl of fortune cookies that sat in front.

“Ah! Iguro, would you like a fortune cookie? I’ve heard they’re very accurate with their fortunes!” Mitsuri said, clapping her hands together.

“If you’d like one feel free to take one, Kanroji,” Obanai said simply, opening the door to the restaurant, ready to leave.

“I’ll grab one for you!”

“Ah, you don’t have to-”

Mitsuri was already excitedly reaching into the bowl, grabbing a fortune cookie for both her and Obanai. She handed one to Obanai, who took it gingerly from her hands. They walked out of the restaurant and Mitsuri immediately opened hers.

“‘A lifetime of happiness awaits you.’ Ahh, how wonderful! Iguro, what does yours say?” 

Obanai hesitantly lifted up his fortune cookie, cracking it open. He pulled out the thin sheet of paper from the cookie, staring at the words as his face practically lit on fire with a blush as he crumpled it in his hands, stuffing it in his pocket.

“Here, you can have the cookie, Kanroji,” He said quickly, handing the cookie part to Mitsuri who held it gently, looking at Obanai and noticing his bright red face.

“What did it say, Iguro?”

“N-Nothing,” He stuttered, surprising Mitsuri. She didn’t say anything as they walked down the road of the town, curiosity nagging at Mitsuri.

“Iguro, what did your fortune cookie say?”

Obanai’s face went slightly pink again and he averted his gaze, staring at the ground as he walked a tad bit faster.

“It wasn’t important,” He said quickly, Mitsuri speeding up her pace to keep up with Obanai. They reached the outskirts of the town quickly at that pace, and Mitsuri pouted.

“Igurooo, I wanna know!” She whined, speeding up a bit more to walk in front of Obanai. He stopped, the blush on his face rather apparent now as he turned, walking back to the town as Mitsuri whined again, reaching out to grab Obanai’s arm, but missing and instead grabbing his side. 

Obanai gasped, jumping away from Mitsuri, immediately reaching to cover his side as Mitsuri stared at him, slightly baffled at his reaction. She slowly put two and two together and her face lit up with excitement as Obanai cringed in fear.

“Are you ticklish!?”

“N-No! I mean, that’d be silly. A Hashira, ticklish? Absurd. You only startled me is all.”

Mitsuri grinned, knowing easily that Obanai was lying. She knew that man like the back of her hand considering their closeness, he wouldn’t be able to get away with lying to her.

Mitsuri nodded softly. “Alright, I startled you, sorry about that!”

Obanai nodded, his face still slightly pink as ideas swarmed in Mitsuri’s head. This might be a good way to get him to tell her what was on the fortune cookie… 

Mitsuri would need to wait for the right moment though, because Obanai was quick and always had his guard up. Mitsuri smiled sweetly when Obanai glanced at her, quickly turning his head and continuing to walk down the path with her.

They eventually arrived at the Butterfly Estate, where they had been planning to meet Shinobu before heading out on a mission together. Mitsuri figured this would be the perfect opportunity to finally get what she wanted out of Obanai.

They walked inside, waiting in the front room for Shinobu who was still checking in on some patients. Obanai scratched Kaburamaru’s chin and looked around the room that Shinobu had them waiting in. Misturi scooted closer to Obanai, glancing over at him without turning her head. Obanai glanced at her as well, quickly turning his attention back to Kaburamaru who kept nudging his cheek for more chin scratches.

“Hey, Iguro,” Mitsuri started, leaning forward slightly to look at Obanai.

“Yes, Kanroji?”

“I really want to know what your fortune cookie said.”

Obanai sent her a soft glare and sighed, shaking his head.

“I already told you that it’s nothing, kindly drop the subject.”

Mitsuri shook her head, scooting closer to Obanai who backed away slightly.

“If you don’t tell me I’ll make you,” She threatened, grinning as she raised her hands. Obanai immediately caught wind of what was going on, remembering earlier, and jumped up and bolted.

He was quick, but Mitsuri was quicker, grabbing his wrist easily and pulling him back into a hug with her insane physical strength. She pulled a bit too hard, though, and they both went tumbling down, causing a huge ruckus in the room. 

“Kanroji! Stop this!” Obanai yelled, struggling in Mitsuri’s ridiculously strong grip. She shook her head. She and Obanai were currently rolling around on the floor, Obanai trying to escape the arm Mitsuri held him in. They looked quite ridiculous, and Obanai was beyond embarrassed being this close to Mitsuri, especially with her practically pressed up against him.

Mitsuri was also slightly flustered, but she quickly enacted her plan, pressing her free hand to a wriggling Obanai’s side, giving it a squeeze as he gasped, immediately slapping a hand over his masked mouth.

“I’ll give you one more chance, Iguro - What was on the fortune cookie?”

“I-It’s nothing. Kanroji, please, don’t do this,” He said, trying to keep his voice level. Mitsuri shook her head, immediately scribbling her fingers around Obanai’s side, making him roll around again as he huffed.

“K-Kanroji, I’m sehe-serious! This isn’t funny!” Obanai said, trying to hide his laughter. Mitsuri grinned, pushing Obanai down onto his back, quickly sitting on top of him before he could get away.

Obanai blushed several shades of red as he looked up at Mitsuri, quickly shaking his head.

“Don’t,” He said, a hint of desperation in his voice. Mitsuri only wiggled her fingers, slowly lowering them down until they made contact with Obanai’s tummy. He held his breath and shut his eyes, waiting for the horrible sensations to start…

They didn’t. He cracked open his eye to look up at Mitsuri, who smiled sweetly. Was she going to let him off the hook?

No sooner had he thought that did he feel Mitsuri’s hands immediately start to scribble up and down his tummy, Obanai quickly slapping a hand over his clothed mouth as he held his breath, trying desperately not to laugh.

“K-Kanroji,” He muttered, inhaling sharply when Mitsuri tweaked his side. She hummed, focused on getting Obanai to laugh as he struggled to keep himself from even chuckling beneath her. 

“Just tell me what was on the cookie and I’ll stop, m’kay?” She said sweetly, skittering her fingers across his ribs as he gasped, biting his lip now to keep himself from laughing as he huffed softly.

“I-It was nothing,” Obanai managed to get out, a quiet squeak escaping his lips when Mitsuri poked his upper ribs. Mitsuri raised an eyebrow and grinned.

“Kanroji, you’re being - you’re being ridiculous,” Obanai sputtered, huffing out a short breath of laughter as Mitsuri grazed over his underarms, immediately making him clamp down his arms.

“Hehe, I’m - I’m serious, Kanrohoji,” He giggled softly, and Mitsuri beamed.

“You’re giggling! Come on, I want to hear more!”

The gentle tickles that Mitsuri had been performing before halted, and were immediately replaced with rougher tickles that caught Obanai by surprise. His chuckles escalated, and he quickly went to put his hand over his mouth again, only for Mitsuri to grab his wrist and pin it next to his head.

“Nuh-uh! Tell me what was on the fortune cookie and I might stop before I really get you laughing,” She said, giggling as Obanai writhed underneath her, desperate not to make any noise as Mitsuri deeply prodded his sensitive ribs. She trailed her fingers up, twirling them around Obanai’s underarm, making him gasp and squeeze his eyes shut as he tried to keep his laughter in.

“Kaha - Kanroji,” He huffed, trying to hold his laughter in.

Mitsuri chuckled, dragging down Obanai’s upper arm down to the hollow of his underarm excruciatingly slowly, teasing him as he shook with withheld laughter.

“Stop holding back already, you’re gonna pop like a balloon if you keep that up,” She teased, starting to scribble her fingers under his arm.

Obanai continued to struggle to hold his laughter in as Mitsuri egged him on, trying to get him to break. He figured if he held out just a little bit longer that she would get bored and give up, there was only so much her attention span could handle.

She sighed as she scribbled all over his tummy, poking and prodding at it as Obanai continued to shake with quiet laughter, managing to keep it from Mitsuri who was indeed growing bored.

“I can tell you’re ticklish, why won’t you just laugh?” She whined, tweaking Obanai’s hip experimentally. He jumped, yelping as Mitsuri lit up, noticing how different his reaction had been compared to the other spots she had tried. Obanai looked at her fearfully.

“Kanroji, don’t you dare,” Obanai tried to sound threatening, but when Mitsuri squeezed his hip again and he squeaked, his previous threat was lost in the wind.

Mitsuri immediately dug her thumb into his hip bone and kneaded them, Obanai squirming around wildly beneath her as he grabbed onto her wrists, trying to peel them off.

“K-Kahahahanroji! Stop it!” He laughed breathily, making Mitsuri positively radiate joy as she listened to his laughter.

“Your laugh is so cute! Ah, I’m so glad I got to hear it!”

Obanai blushed madly. He wasn’t expecting her to tickle him in the first place, let alone find the one spot that got him laughing like a small child. The gods were not on his side today, and he could definitely tell there was no getting out of this.

He was worried, despite his laugh being relatively quiet, that Shinobu would hear in the next room as she took care of patients. He could handle Mitsuri knowing about this, he trusted her, but none of the other Hashira would be allowed to live if they found out.

“Just tell me what was on that fortune cookie and I’ll stop right away, I promise!” Mitsuri quipped, one hand still squeezing his hip as her other hand ran back up to his ribs, poking between each one as Obanai jolted.

“I-I cahahahahan’t! Kanroji, stohohohohop!”

“Yes you can! Just tell me what it said!”

Obanai shook his head and Mitsuri pouted.

“Time to see just how ticklish you are then!”

“Nohohohoho!”

Kaburamaru had slithered away from Obanai long before the tickling had started, but the small snake was intrigued by the reactions of its owner. He slithered over and flicked his tongue at Obanai, watching as Obanai squirmed wildly and cackled. 

“K-Kaburamahahahahahaharu! Hehehehelp!”

Kaburamaru looked up at Mitsuri, who was laser focused on tickling Obanai, and the small snake slithered over to her leg and nudged her.

She turned to look at the white snake, who was currently headbutting her knee. She thought it was cute that Kaburamaru had so much compassion, and ceased her tickling for a moment to pick up the small creature and give it a quick peck.

Kaburamaru wriggled around excitedly, slithering out of Mitsuri’s hands and flicking its tongue again at Obanai, making him giggle and swat at the small animal.

Mitsuri laughed at the two happily, placing her hands back on Obanai’s hips as she looked down at him, waiting for him to catch his breath.

“Do you wanna tell me what was on the fortune cookie?”

Obanai flushed, but decided that telling her what it said would be better than suffering through any more of that cruel tickle torture and risking Shinobu walking in on the two.

“It said… It’s time to tell them how you feel,” Obanai said, his face now bright red.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Mitsuri started, though suddenly a pang of sadness hurt her chest. What if it wasn’t her…?

“You should… tell them,” Mitsuri said slowly, Obanai sitting up and looking at Mitsuri, who looked down. Obanai instantly picked up on the drop in her mood.

“Kanroji,” Obanai started, leaning towards Mitsuri. She looked up at Obanai, only to be surprised as Obanai lowered his mask and pressed his lips gently against hers. She was taken aback by the sudden kiss, but her defenses slowly melted as she shut her eyes, reaching her hands up to hold Obanai’s face.

They pulled away eventually and Obanai put his mask back up, turning away from her, bright red as she stared at him, her own face turning bright red as she processed what had just happened.

“I-Iguro,” She said softly, lowering her hands as Obanai glanced at her.

“Do you feel the same, Kanroji?”

Mitsuri could barely contain her emotions, and she quickly hugged Obanai, nodding her head vigorously as Obanai slowly hugged her back.

“Yes, of course I do! I’ve felt the same since the day I met you! You’ve been so sweet, so kind… I love you,” She said, whispering the last bit. Obanai smiled softly under his mask, squeezing Mitsuri tightly as they embraced for several moments, happy for their feelings to finally be spoken.

“Ara ara~ What do we have here?”

Obanai and Mitsuri froze, and Obanai stared up at Shinobu who grinned smugly at the two of them. Mitsuri quickly let go of Obanai and spun around, shaking her hands in front of her, face bright red from embarrassment.

“K-Kochou! Uhm, hello! We were just - uhmm,” Mitsuri floundered, quickly realizing she was still sitting on Obanai and quickly jumped up, blushing madly.

“We were just waiting for you,” Obanai said calmly, standing up as well, picking up Kaburamaru and settling him back on his shoulders as Shinobu continued to smile at the two of them, clearly knowing what was going on.

“Took you two long enough. Anyways, it’s about time we headed out, isn’t it? Let’s go,” She said, winking at them as she turned. Obanai’s face burned, though Mitsuri didn’t seem to catch onto what Shinobu had said.

Obanai laced his fingers with Mitsuri’s glancing at her. “Are you ready?”

She blushed at the sudden contact, but nodded, smiling eagerly.

“Ready!”

[one-leaf-grimoire]

HI PEN PALS AU W MARX MY BELOVED?? maybe meeting for the first time?? shop around the corner kinda idea??? WAHH I LOVE YOU

YES YES YES ooooh this is such a cute idea fjadksl. Enjoy!!! au ❧ pen pals pairing ❧ marx francois x reader

It started with a complete coincidence. A letter in your mailbox, placed there completely on accident. You knew as soon as you saw the address; it didn't belong to you, and you didn't recognize where it lead. However, with curiosity getting the better of you, you opened it anyway, and were shocked at the contents. This... this looks important! The letter was detailing some sort of important business with the Magic Knights, which you were not a member of. It had a stamp of approval from the Wizard King himself!!! But the letter had been written by a man name Marx Francois. You didn't really understand how you would have gotten this letter, but you decided to write back and let them know that they needed to resend the notice. You have very neat handwriting, Mr. Francois. You seem like a very organized person, so I'm sure your letter will reach the right address next time! You thought that would be the end of it, but no. A few days later, you recieved another letter with the same seal, but this time it was addressed to you. My goodness, thank you for sending the letter back with your note!! It seems like our spatial mages in the mail department need to be more careful with where they are throwing my letters! You smiled a bit at the busy-body tone. It was cute. And thank you for the compliment. My boss has chicken scratch handwriting so I often have to rewrite his notices myself. Your handwriting is most lovely as well. I wouldn't mind getting letters from you more often. As you read, you felt your cheeks heat up pleasantly. Thank you, sincerely, Marx. Just, Marx, this time. And as he suggested, you kept writing letters to him. Despite how mundane your life seemed to you, Marx loved hearing all the details, explaining that it had been a long time since he had had a chance to relax and take a walk around town without any business to attend to. I would love to see your hometown, it sounds like the perfect combination of quaint and lively. If you are comfortable meeting me, of course. Your hands shook with excitement as your wrote your response. Of course I would love to meet you! Our correspondence has been a highlight of my day. Let me know when you have a day off, and I'll plan to meet you! And so, it happened, at long last. You stood nervously outside your house, checking your watch as you waited for the man to appear. You didn't know what Marx looked like, but something deep inside you knew that you would recognize him when he appeared. You looked down the street, and spotted a man wearing a plain brown cloak around his shoulders, and with a head of blue, carefully trimmed hair. You had never seen this guy around town, but the moment your eyes locked, you could tell. He had that aire about him; the busy, stressed, yet refined and polite man that you had been talking to for weeks now. Then, he smiled, his gold eyes twinkling in the sunlight. You felt your body relax, as you turned towards him and approached. "Marx?" "That's me!" He bowed his head in respect. "I've been looking forward to this day. You..." He straightened up, and you saw that his cheeks were pink. ...CUTE!!! "You're as lovely as your handwriting." You giggled at the compliment, and took his arm when he offered it. "Thank you~ Now," you looked up ahead. "There's a nice coffee shop up around the corner, would you like to have some breakfast there?" "Oh, yes!" Marx grinned. "I subsist on the stuff, but I'm sure this will be better than the stuff I brew in the office." "We'll have to see." You gave him a wink before the two of you walked off, arm in arm, chatting happily like two old friends.

[uwuwriting]

The writings on his skin Shinsou Soulmate au

Soulmate au with communication via writing on their skin.

Oh god this is bad, I’m not happy with it at all. My original draft got deleted and I had to rewrite this at 2 am and I’m dead. I didn’t proof read it because I swear I’m gonna pass out so I’m so terribly sorry for butchering this. I love Hitoshi to the moon and back I hope he has the most wonderful birthday I LOVE HIM. Hope this doesn’t suck that much. Love ya. 💖💖💖💖💖

Rules 

warnings: mentions of bullying, some angst, fluff

When Hitoshi was young he used to believe in soulmates. He couldn’t wait to meet the person that would fit him like a puzzle piece. In the early age of five, Shinsou Hitoshi was filled with positivity and hope. Hope that in the future he would get to enjoy all the things he liked with someone special. 

He was so excited for the first day of school. some of the kids from his neighborhood would be in his class; they didn’t like him they were really afraid of his quirk and would make fun of him all the time, but he didn’t care. He would make new friends and just ignore them. Stepping into the classroom he was met with about 18 new faces. 18 possible friends. A smile spread across his face as he made eye contact with one of the kids. The boy was playing with some LEGOs as Hitoshi made his way to him. 

“Hi I’m Shin-”

“AHH IT’S THE MONSTER!!!” the boy cried out as he stumbled backwards putting a respectful distance between them. The whole class turned to look at them and one by one all the kids slowly took a step back. They were all afraid of him. They all wanted nothing to do with him. They-they.

“He’s a villain!!!”

“Someone call All Might!!!!” 

More children joined the mocking and the cries for help. A group of boys, two of which he knew, walked up to him growls leaving their mouths as -even though Hitoshi was a tall child- they towered over him. Pushing him to the ground, one of them snatched his backpack emptying the contents on him before throwing it at a corner of the room. 

“Villains are not allowed here! Jihiko-sensei will kick you out, villain!” Right on cue, Jihiko-sensei stepped into the room, her eyes landing immediately at his wide eyed face and trembling form. 

“Boys that’s rude!” grabbing his backpack she started putting back his scattered supplies.“Apologise to Shinsou right now!”

Reluctantly the four boys bowed their heads, mumbling an apology before rising their noses up in the air and walking away, leaving a terrified Hitoshi on the floor. 

During the first day of school he knew that he wouldn’t be getting new friends and with that his doubts of even having a soulmate bloomed to life. 

Middle school was not as bad as elementary. He had gotten used to the teasing and the name calling. He couldn’t say that it didn’t bother him; it really did but he had learned not to show it. Even now, years after that fateful first day in kindergarten, he had no friends. All of them pushed him away, some more politely than others, leaving the word ‘villain’ lumming over their heads as they turned him down. He was fine though. No soulmate mark had appeared but at this point he couldn’t really be disappointed. After all, someone like him -a monster, a villain- didn’t deserve to have a soulmate.

It was a normal day in his boring middle school. So boring that Hitoshi had turned to doodling on his arm. It was not a habit, he hadn’t done it before since he saw the doodles as tattoos and he didn’t want to give others more reasons to call him evil. Plus he liked his arms clean. But he was bored and it was hot and he wasn’t functioning correctly. At some point during his history class, he fell asleep. He woke up to a light tickling sensation running up his arm and a dim shine appeared on a spot near his wrist. 

‘You can’t draw….’ 

He blinked once, twice expecting the words to disappear but they didn’t. They didn’t fade, they were real. Bold black letters stared back at him as he marveled at the sight. He … he had a soulmate and he could actually speak to them. Snapping out of his trance he scrambled for a pen and thought of a response. He didn’t wanna seem desperate. Deciding on sarcasm he wrote beside their own message. 

‘Well excuse me Picasso’

 He waited for a response for what felt like centuries. This was amazing, incredible, astonishing all of those long pretty words writers use to describe their female characters in poems. Would they want to meet him? Did they live nearby? Were they the same age? So many questions swirled inside his head he almost missed the mandala pattern that appeared on his wrist. The design became more vibrant and visible as the minutes ticked by. It was beautiful. 

‘What’s your favorite color?’

‘Purple….why?’

‘Be patient sweet soulmate of mine, you’ll see.’ 

His heart skipped a beat. Oh lord he hadn’t even met them yet and he was already getting butterflies in his stomach. Slowly purple highlights started to appear on his skin, matching the black outlines perfectly. They truly were a Picasso. 

‘There now you have true art on your hand.’

‘Confident are we?’

‘Only when it comes to inter-soulmate communications.’ 

He liked them. He knew that from the first moment. A smile took its place on his face as he saw new letters forming on his skin, warmth blooming in his chest as he stared at their conversation. Soulmate...maybe he wasn’t so lonely after all. 

UA High. This is it. He was finally here. A place where heroes were made. It’s his time to show all those pesky brats that called him a villain that he could be a hero. A fine one at that. Getting placed in the general department was a disappointment and kind of a let down. He thought he did well on the exam. Apparently, having a grape quirk was more hero material than his brainwash. He wasn’t fazed though and neither was his soulmate. They hadn’t stopped speaking since their first conversation back in middle school. His day would start with a small, sloppy good morning scribbled on his wrist. They were there for him whenever he needed someone to rant to and he was always their shoulder to cry on. Well inky shoulder? They had agreed to keep their identities a secret along with their gender leaving everything to the hands of fate. 

‘She shall bring us together, babe.’ They always called him that, not that he minded. 

‘Well she should hurry up kitten.’ And he in return he given them that pet name. They never complained. He hadn’t mentioned which school he applied to, only that he would be becoming a hero. So when they mentioned something about a Bakugou Katsuki he was intrigued. 

‘Yeah he is in my class. Super annoying 0/10 would not recommend.’

 They went to the same school. What a coincidence. Maybe fate did work fast. Choosing his next words wisely he replied. 

‘So you are in class 1-A huh? Funny.’

‘How do you know that?????’

‘I’m in the general department that’s why.’

There was no response for some time. He knew Aizawa was a harsh teacher when it came to discipline, he gets a taste of his discipline every afternoon at six,  so he didn’t write anything else. Later that day, during his training, the familiar tingle distracted him. Glancing down on his arm, he totally missed Aizawa’s capture tool coming straight for his leg. Before he knew it, he was swiped off his feet and started hanging upside down from a branch of a nearby tree. 

“You are distracted Shinsou!” Aizawa sighed below him. Hitoshi read the message quickly before turning his attention back to his teacher. 

“I’m sorry Aizawa-sensei.” 

“Yeah yeah just don’t be like that during your training with my class. You remember that it starts tomorrow right?” Aizawa said as he got him down, letting him fall with a loud thud. 

“Yes sensei I know.”

“Great, now go get some rest I don’t want you passing out the moment you step in the forest.” 

Shinsou had never gathered his things quicker. Draping his jacket over his shoulders he sprinted to his dorm, an idea forming in his mind. He didn’t know if you wanted to meet him yet but he sure as hell wanted to see you. Grabbing a pen from his desk he scribbled under your previous message. 

‘Can you draw one of your mandalas on my wrist?’ 

Y/N was late. Like super late. She had missed her first alarm and had only gotten up because of the pounding at her door. She had stayed up the previous night drawing something for her soulmate. She kept messing up and redoing her work one too many times. Reaching her classroom she slid the door open and tiptoed to her seat seeing as Aizawa-sensei hadn’t gotten out of his sleeping back yet. Sitting down she let out a sigh of relief as her friend leaned over to her. 

“Late night with your soulmate???” She sang teasingly which only made Y/N roll her eyes. 

“Shut up Sky!” Soon they were instructed to put on their hero costumes and meet their homeroom teacher at the edge of the mini forest right in the outskirts of the school grounds. 

Skipping out of the girls locker room she looked down at her wrist where the mandala from last night looked back at her. She ran her fingers over the lines wishing she could see the design on the recipients skin.  

“Come on man! We’re gonna miss the intro move your ass!” Sky grabbed her arm and yanked her forward, ruining her moment of longing as they made their way to the forest. 

Aizawa-sensei was accompanied by another person. A boy almost at his height with vibrant purple hair and the most tired eyes Y/N had ever seen. He was staring at the class giving small nods when someone asked him something. 

“This is Shinsou Hitoshi. Most of you will know him from the sports festival, he fought the problem child.” Midoriya hid his face in his palms at the name. “He will be joining the hero course come next year so have fun training with him.”

Shinsou raised his hand to scratch his neck, a nervous habit Y/N concluded, when she saw the intertwining lines on his wrist. The purple stood out. It was more vibrant on her design, slightly losing it’s shine on his pale skin possibly because he received it. Was that? Was he? 

“Who wants to pair up with him?” at that her arm shot up instantly, without even thinking. Aizawa motioned for the rest of the students to find their partner as she made her way to him. He was taller up close, her head barely reaching his chin. Extending her drawn on hand she greeted him. 

“Y/N L/N, nice to finally meet you Shinsou.”

Bonus:

The house was quiet. Oddly quiet. Hitoshi let his bag drop next to the coat hanger as he took off his shoes. The TV could be heard playing from the living room but no voices accompanied it. Where was she? Making his way to the kitchen he found a bowl full with steaming soup that looked like it had just been made. He left it on the table, his first priority being to find the girl he was looking for. Slowly walking up the stair he heard a humming coming from the room down the hall. 

Once at the top he made his way to the pastel violet door, grasping the knob and pushing it open. He was met with the back of his soulmate, humming the soft tune he had heard earlier as she rocked steadily back and forth. The mess of purple hair on her shoulder raised its head revealing those stunning e/c eyes he adored so much. 

“Daddy…” the little girl in Y/N’s arms let out a low sleepy mumble. Turning around she saw her husband standing in the doorway of the nursery, a smile adorning his face as he looked at Kei. Kei, at the sight of her father, started doing grabbing motions trying to leave her mother’s embrace. Hitoshi let out a low chuckle as he took the two year old in his arms, letting her wrap her chubby arms around his neck and nuzzle into his neck. 

“Happy birthday Toshi.”

Shinsou Hitoshi could have never imagined he would be here today, holding his daughter as his soulmate stared back at him. He was happy, beyond happy actually. Words could not express. Extending an arm out to her, she took it tucking herself under his chin as one of her hands came to rest on the back of her baby. Kissing both of his girls, he squeezed them closer to him.  

 “Thank you kitten. For everything.”   

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​

[anxiousstark]

S2 06 | Frenemy

BIG MASTERLIST | TW REWRITE

Stiles Stilinski x Reader! Half-sibling!Mccall

Word count: 2260

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, murder, swearing (always).

A/N: This is more likely a filler chapter. I swear as chapters go on they get better! I’m so excited for those ones to come out!

↪ PLEASE RESPECT MY WORK. DON’T COPY, TRANSLATE OR CLAIM THEM AS YOURS. NOT ON THIS WEBSITE OR ANOTHER. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED.

"Couldn't get anything out of Danny." Scott got inside the Jeep after talking to the said boy, who was in the back of an ambulance. After I told them that Jackson was the kanima, they both ended up following him into a gay bar. Of course, not being a boy meant that I had to stay in the Jeep.

I was trying not to sit on Jackson as he was laying down on the back seats while I sat down on a little space in the middle, clutching into the front seats. Not safe.

"Okay, can we just get the hell outta here now, before one of my dad's deputies sees me?" Jackson had done some shit, and almost everyone inside ended up paralyzed or not being able to breathe properly. That's why now the outside of the club was full of ambulances and cops. Before Stiles could start his car, the Sheriff pulled over in front of us. "Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Could this get any worse?" As soon as he said that, Jackson started groaning, moving his head. Stiles turned around, yelling. "That was rhetorical!"

We started getting nervous. "Get rid of him." Scott bit his lower lip.

"Get rid of him? We're at a crime scene, and he's the sheriff."

"Do something." Stiles got frustrated by his friend's words, moving his arms aggressively on the air, and going out of the Jeep.

"What are they saying?" I asked the other McCall. Sometimes I was able to listen to conversations that were off my hearing range, but I couldn't control it, and I didn't know how to 'activate' it.

Jackson started groaning again, asking where he was. Scott asked him to be quiet, but he continued moaning, trying to sit up. "Not sorry about this." I punched him on the face. He fell unconscious. "That's for trying to drown me two times!" I grinned. To be honest, that felt great.

He sighed. "He told his father that he is gay."

I chuckled. "Not dressed like that." I could feel my half-brother's eyes on me, grinning. "What?"

"That's exactly what Mr. Stilisnki said."

After telling his father that they were there to accompany their friend Danny, we were free to go. Mr. Stilisnki saw me in the back of the car, sending me a smile while Stiles adjusted his body on his seat. I greeted him back, waving my hand.

"Uh, what about your house?"

"Not with my mom there. We need to take him somewhere where we can hold him long enough to figure out what to do with him. Or long enough to convince him he's dangerous."

"I still say we just kill him." Stiles looked through the rearview mirror, glancing at me, avoiding his best friend's gaze.

"Honestly," I interfered. "He tried to kill Stiles, and he tried to kill me two times so, payback is a bitch." The Hazel-eyed boy snickered at me, and I winked which made him blush a little, which in return made me blush.

"We're not killing him!"

"God, f - Okay, okay. I got an idea."

"Does it involve breaking the law?"

"By now, don't you think that's a given?" I sighed.

"I was just trying to be optimistic."

"Don't bother."

Stiles's idea was probably the worst. But at the same time, quite a good idea, and the only one we had. He stole the vehicle that was used to transport criminals to prison.

The three of us were in the woods, Jackson still unconscious while we tried to talk about what we had to do next.

"I'm going to go buy something for him to eat." He claimed that he would be fast due to his werewolf's abilities. "Keep an eye on him." We both nodded.

"So, you were trying to tell us that Jackson was the Kanima?" Stiles asked while resting his back against the trunk of a tree. I nodded, laughing a little. "I'm sorry. We were so busy freaking out that we didn't listen to you."

"It's okay, Stiles." I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to keep my body warm. "I wasn't sure if he was the Kanima." He glanced at me confused. "I mean," I swallowed. "I was almost entirely sure that it was him, but I had another person in mind."

"Who?"

"Me." I gulped again, a lump forming on my throat. It could still be me.

"You aren't the Ka-"

"We don't know that." I interrupted him. "Okay, last night, it was Jackson. We all saw him, but what about the other things that happened?" My hands went to my head, grasping my hair between my fingers. I stared at the ground, trying to ignore Stiles's gaze on me. "The times I drowned or that I was there with you guys, it's obvious that it was Jackson. But what about other times? At night nobody would see me. Jackson wasn't conscious of what he was doing. It could be the same with me." I finally looked him in the eyes. "There could be two Kanimas, Stiles. We were scratched by the same beast. We both are abnormalities and-"

"I'm stopping you right there." His hands grabbed mine, trying to take them off my hair so I wouldn't hurt myself. "You aren't THAT thing. Derek told you, he told you that you didn't smell like him. He would have told us the other night that you were one. You aren't a Kanima. I'm so sure. I'm sure you aren't." His eyes studied mine. "You aren't like that, okay? You have fought with us, not against us." I nodded my head. His thumbs were caressing my wrists. His voice was now a mere whisper. "We will find which amazing creature you are." He sweetly smiled at me, and I couldn't help but beam back.

"Thank you," I murmured.

His right hand stopped holding my left wrist, going to my cheek, caressing it. I had a tiny scar from fighting with the kanima. His eyes went from my eyes to my mouth. My heart started beating like crazy, and I was sure I could hear his own heartbeat. Both of them seemed to go at the same quick pace.

Whatever was going to happen was interrupted by Scott coming back with sandwiches, and Jackson shouting. I bit my lower lip, and Stiles groaned in frustration. "Let's go." Scott went back to school, trying to discover why Jackson would try to kill Danny.

"Scales? Like a fish." Jackson stared at us.

"No, more like a reptile. Um, and, uh, your claws have this liquid that paralyzes people, and you have a tail."

"I have a tail?" He calmly asked.

"Yeah, you have a tail."

"Mm. Does it do anything?"

"No, not that I know of."

Jackson moved forward, thankfully he was strained by cuffs, but I still got defensive thinking that he could hurt the boy sitting next to me. "Can I use it to strangle you?"

"Yeeeeeah, you still don't believe me. All right. The night of the semi-final game, what did you do right after?"

"I went home."

"Are you sure about that?" I asked while crossing my arms over my chest, resting even closer to Stiles. Our thighs touching.

"Yes, you idiot." He snapped at me, spitting. I glanced disgustingly at him, wiping my cheek. "What the hell else would I do?"

"You tried to drown her in the ice rink." Stiles pointed at me. "You attacked me and Derek at the school, and you trapped us in the pool," He again pointed at me. "Tried again to drown her. You also killed a mechanic, right in front of me, by the way. That was lovely. And one of Argent's hunters. Oh, and last night, you tried to kill Danny."

"Why would I want to kill my best friend?

I answered before Stiles could. "Well, that's what Scott's out trying to figure out right now."

"Mm. Well, maybe, he should be trying to figure out is how he's going to pay for a lawyer when I prosecute your asses all the way to jail!"

"All right, well, tell me this. On the night of the first full moon, what happened?"

"Nothing." He gazed at the floor. Bad move, Jackson. I know you are lying. "Nothing happened."

Allison had come to the forest, searching for us. They knew. Jackson's parents knew that he was missing. It seemed like Stiles texting him with Whittemore's phone hadn't worked out. This meant that we were completely fucked up.

"If Jackson doesn't remember being the kanima, he's definitely not gonna remember stealing Danny's tablet."

"Why would he steal the thing if he doesn't even know what's on it?"

"What if someone else took it?"

"Then somebody else knows what he is."

"Uh, which could mean someone's protecting him."

"Like the bestiary says, 'the kanima seeks a friend', right?" I wanted Allison to shut up. My mind was going crazy. Someone was trying to protect Jackson's identity.

It felt like my mind went back to the store; the first time I stepped in Beacon Hills. We both got attacked by the same creature, but what we were was modified by our minds. As Jackson had said before; everything had to with our mental health. I could tell you mine was fucked up. So could I be the one doing whatever it took to protect Jackson's Whittemore identity?

If he didn't have any memory of being the Kanima, why would I have any memory of helping him out? It could be me.

"Okay, hold on. So, somebody watches Jackson make a video of himself turning into the kanima, and then just erases part of it so he wouldn't know? I mean, who would do that?"

"Somebody who wanted to protect him?" My hands started trembling, my legs shaking. Stiles seemed to know what was going on as he clutched my hand discreetly, using his strength to keep me standing.

"There's something else. You said the only thing you found online about the Kanima it's that it goes after murderers. What if that's actually true?"

"No, it can't be. Tried to kill all of us, remember? I don't know about you two, but I haven't murdered anybody lately." I chuckled. He squeezed my hand, fingers now interlocked.

"But I - I don't think that it was actually trying to kill us. Remember when we were at Isaac's the first time, it just went right by us, didn't it?"

"You're right, it just ran off."

"And it didn't kill you in the mechanic's garage."

"Well, yeah, but it tried to kill me and Derek in the pool." He made a gesture with his head. "And it tried to kill her."

"Did it?"

"It would've. It was waiting for us to come out."

"What if it was trying to keep you in?"

"Why do I feel so violated all of a sudden?" Stiles' body shuddered.

"Wait," They all gazed at me. "Maybe it didn't try to kill you, but it tried to kill me. Two times if I'm correct."

"Three if we count when it threw you off the roof and you landed on me," Stiles added. I playfully glared at him, he apologized while stuttering.

"Did it tho?" Scott asked. His eyes went to our interlocked hands, a little grin forming on his head, but quickly disappearing. "Let's forget about the roof, okay. The water, both times in the water." He continued when he saw that the three of us were completely confused. "You said when it forced you inside the water, it demanded you to breathe, and you were able to do so."

"Gosh," Allison nodded. "It was trying to help you." I was dumbfounded. "I mean, okay. Maybe not the best way to help you out, but he was trying to show you what you are or what you can do."

I peered at Stiles who was now looking at me. "Now, I'm the one feeling violated." He nodded, grinning, moving a strand of hair out of my face. The simple touch made my heart speed.

Stiles suggested that we should kill Jackson, again. But Scott said something that made us think. He had risked his life to save us from Peter Hale, and we had to try and help him. The McCall boy mentioned Lydia, my fingers started trying to get away from Stiles's hand, but he grasped it firmly. Uh?

Scott and Allison went back to the car, wanting to have some time for themselves. I felt bad for them. Knowing they were meant to be together, but also being ripped apart by the Argents. I had heard Scott sob some nights in his room, while softly whispering how he wanted to be able to live harmoniously.

"Maybe we should tell our parents." Stiles snapped me back to reality. "Before anyone else gets hurt. I don't know." His dad was the only person he had, I meant blood-related.

I sighed. I couldn't completely understand. But know, I had Stiles, Scott, Allison, and even Lydia. I would do anything that I could to protect them. My heart ached thinking about something terrible happening to them.

I stepped closer to Stiles, my arms going around his waist, embracing him. My head resting on his chest, closing my eyes while I felt the vibrations of his chest as he hummed, pleased, hugging me back.

But our moment was interrupted. Jackson had escaped. A thought came into my mind. What if the Kanima was not being protected but controlled?

.

.

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People in bold means it doesn’t let me tag them.

[unitchiefs-blackbirdphoenix]

Truth And Awakenings Ch. 2

Summary: A Jemily rewrite of certain scenes in 14x15-15x02, with a few additional scenes :)

Chapter summary: JJ is in love with Emily, but everything is too late (or so she thinks).

(Huge thanks to @bridget19 for beta-reading the first two!!)

Read on AO3

The next day came and it was Rossi’s special day to remarry his ex-wife, Krystall. From the bar, JJ saw Emily arrive with a gift for the couple and stared at her. She was wearing a blue-grey dress with her shoulders showing, hugging her curves in all the right places. She had her grey hair curled and tied in a bun, showing all of her features. It was something that was very much different from her work attire, and JJ thought she looked absolutely stunning. But you can’t have her. Everything’s too late. She turned her attention back to Penelope speaking to a few of their colleagues.

“...It’s a little sweet with just the right amount of bite,” Penelope finished. She was behind the bar counter, creating a drink for her friends, apparently called “The Rossi”, in honor of the man getting married.

“Will it get me totally drunk?” Tara asked.

“Totally.”

“I will take a double,” Tara decided.

“Done.”

“Ooh, make that two,” JJ said and tapped a hand on the counter.

“Alright. You got it. Two glasses coming right up! One for my favorite doctor, no offense, Reid, and one for my beautiful blonde badass,” Penelope fetched them two glasses and poured the mixture inside. “Oh,” she turned to Spencer. “And, um, I came to this wedding by myself, but I will not be dancing by myself. Do you understand me, Dr. Reid?”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Ok,” Penelope smiled.

Afterwards, they all gathered around to witness Krystall and Dave officially tying the knot. JJ glanced at Emily during the wedding vows before looking away as to not get caught. A second later, Emily looked at her and bit her lip then focused her attention back on the now re-newlyweds.

“When Dave got engaged, he pulled out all the stops,” Emily started. “Some of you might not know this, but he proposed to Krystall in our elevator at the FBI, which was perfect. If she said no, he could just go back to work and she had a built-in escape. But she said yes, and here we are. Of course, our good friend David Rossi has been here before. This isn’t his first rodeo, as they say. Strangely enough, though, he has never been to an actual rodeo. But I digress. Penelope says that this was fate, that their marriage was in the stars. Dave and Krystall are twin flames.”

Emily’s eyes quickly glanced over to JJ as she said her next words, “Two souls that are always meant to be together. Sometimes it takes time, sometimes it takes a parallel universe or something, but the thing about twin flames… is that nothing can keep them apart. They are a magic unto themselves. And together, they light the way for all of us.”

Little did she know, JJ paid a lot more attention to her once she heard, “Sometimes it takes time, sometimes it takes a parallel universe or something, but the thing about twin flames is that nothing can keep them apart.” She furrowed her eyebrows as she tried to find some meaning behind that statement.

Spencer quickly looked over at JJ and saw her frowning at the ground in thought. His eyes went to Emily, who was glancing at JJ for a few seconds. Did she love her, too? he thought.

“To David and Krystall,” Emily raised her glass, prompting everyone to follow.

“To David and Krystall!” They clinked each other’s glasses in celebration.

After a few more wedding toasts and guests dancing, Spencer walked over to the bar. “Can I have a water?” he asked. The bartender nodded and retrieved his order. He saw JJ approaching and giving him a smile.

“Hey,” she greeted. “So I didn’t get a chance to say it back there, but thank you for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome,” he nodded. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “But Luke was right, though. Two guns, huh?” she chuckled, giving a pat on the arm and feeling proud of her friend. “How long have you been wearing an ankle holster?”

“Around the time I got out of prison,” he answered shortly.

JJ nodded, “Right.” Her eyes darted around for a few seconds before breaking the silence, scratching her head. “Look, so, um, what I said back there-”

“Jennifer,” he cut her off, surprising her. JJ’s eyes widened and panic arose. She may have told Spencer her secret, but a part of her wanted to take it back, for fear of embarrassment. “Truth or dare?”

Shrugging, she quietly answered, “Truth.”

“Did you tell her?”

JJ slowly rubbed her fingers under her jaw as she slightly turned her head to look at Emily from across the room. Emily looked so beautiful. All JJ wanted to do was to hold her in her arms and kiss her, but she’s already taken.

Sensing his friend’s demeanor, Spencer said in a soft tone, "I think it might be best to tell Emily how you feel.”

She sighed and waved a dismissive hand. "I can't. Emily deserves to be happy, I can't ruin that for her.”

He gave a sympathetic nod, “It’s ok.” Spencer knows JJ wouldn’t purposely try to hurt someone, which may be the reason why she divorced Will in the first place. Her guilt might’ve been getting to her, so she made that decision when she felt completely sure of her feelings. He now realized how hopelessly in love JJ is with Emily, even if their grey-haired unit chief didn’t know that.

“Thanks, Spence,” she smiled, thankful that he was understanding about her secret.

Meanwhile, Emily was looking at JJ from afar with so much adoration in her eyes. She’s so beautiful. Rossi came up next to her and quietly asked with an almost proud smile. “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

Emily snapped out of her trance, eyes widening. “I- uh… I-”

The older man shook his head and laughed. “It doesn’t have to take a profiler to see it, Emily. I know what that looks like. And as a result, we are at my wedding.” In the years he’s known Emily, he’s noticed the longing looks she had given JJ when she thinks nobody, including the blonde, is looking.

Emily snorted, “Yeah. For, what, the fourth time? And to one of your ex-wives?”

Rossi just shook his head and let out a deep chuckle. “So, you and Andrew broke up?” Emily and Mendoza had broken up due to super hectic schedules and Emily thinking he wasn’t the right person for her. Rossi was the only one who knew about the break-up and found that oddly suspicious.

“Ah,” Emily held up a warning finger. “Don’t get any ideas, Dave. Just because we broke up, doesn’t mean I should intervene in JJ's marriage.” Her eyes drifted towards the blonde in question, tapping her finger against her champagne glass. “She has her life now, right? I don’t wanna destroy that for her.”

The rest of the wedding to JJ and Emily became time spent stealing glances when the other person wasn’t looking. Dave and Spencer were the only ones who knew about their single lives and were waiting for one of them to make a move.

[janicho88]

Fire, Fur & Mistletoe Chapter 5

Pairing- Eventual Dean x Female Reader.

Word Count- 2,497

Warning- Mentions of car accidents, fires, and alcohol.  Possible swearing. Fluff.

Summary- A rewrite of the Nine Lives of Christmas, Hallmark movie. AU, Dean is a firefighter who doesn’t do commitment, the Holiday’s don’t mean much to him.  Coming home after a shift he finds a dog in trouble.  The reader is a veterinary student who works in a coffee shop trying to make it to graduation, until someone causes problems there for her.  She isn’t interested in finding anyone other than her own dog until after she finishes school.  Do their four legged friends have other plans?

A/N- This series is written for @spnchristmasbingo​.  The square filled for this chapter is the free space, Christmas cookies.  The first two chapters will stay closer to the movie than the rest will.   This has its own tag list and it is open.  That way I am not tagging anyone who doesn’t want to be tagged in Christmas stories.   This story is unbeta’d.

Header by the amazing @winchest09

Divider from freepngimg.com

Series Masterlist

Dean went in for a shift the next day taking Miracle with him and you went back out job and apartment hunting.  Still no luck on either front.  Heading home to Dakota you got out a few more Christmas decorations you had in boxes and added some in the kitchen, and up the wood staircase, being careful none of Dean's hard work got scratched. 

You were heading upstairs to your apartment when the front door opened. Turning around quickly you saw a blond woman walking in who seemed almost as surprised to see you as you were to see her.  Maybe Dean had found another girl to go out with and was keeping it a secret. 

“Hello.” You greeted her.

“I thought Sam was joking, if I had known he wasn't I would have knocked instead of using the emergency key.”

Not entirely sure what was going on you kept quiet.

"I'm sorry I didn't catch what Sam said your name was. Like I said, I thought he was joking about Dean's girlfriend moving in." 

That got your mouth semi working. "Not Dean's girlfriend, just friend. Just sleeping together. No, not sleeping, living, I mean staying. I’m staying in the apartment. I'm Y/N."

"Nice to meet you Dean's not girlfriend, I'm Jess."

"Oh your Sam's girlfriend."

"Yeah, actual girlfriend. We live and sleep together too." She says with a teasing smile. 

"It's nice to meet you, Dean's told me a little about you."  You told her about your eviction and Dean offering you a place to stay and the brothers moving you out.

She was extremely nice and had a very bubbly personality.  She was someone who would be friends with everyone. 

"I came over to look at something for Dean's Christmas present, but I don’t want to bother you.”

“No, your fine.  I just put a few more Christmas decorations out, I was going back to the apartment.  Do you need any help?”

“Do you know where Dean’s tools are?  He was telling Sam he broke something and we were going to get him a new part for Christmas.  I just need the model number.”

“Yeah, I can show you.”  As you led her past the living room she froze looking inside.

“I can’t believe there is an actual tree in here, with presents underneath.  In the years I’ve known Dean he doesn’t do much for Christmas at all.”

“I asked if we could, I’ve always enjoyed having a Christmas tree.”

She looks over at you.  “You’re good for him, girlfriend or not I think he really needs someone like you in his life.”

You weren’t sure how to respond so you just smiled and led her down the hall.

The first half of Dean’s shift kept the guys moving.  One small restaurant fire, then car accident to a residential oven fire.  When things finally calmed down and it seemed like they might get a few minutes peace Dean headed to the bunks to try and get a some sleep with Miracle following along behind him.  After Dean layed down he was soon joined by his faithful companion. The boys managed to get a few hours before the alarm went off again.  Coming back this time they headed to the kitchen to find some food. Bobby would sneak Miracle some scraps when no one else was looking. Sitting around the table Sam turns to Dean.

“Get all your Christmas shopping done?”

“Yep, done and wrapped.”

Cas looks between the brothers, “I think I missed something, Dean went shopping?”

“Yep, Y/N got him to go to the mall with her.”

“Does this mean no gift cards this year?” Cas wanted to know.

“They sell gift cards at the mall.”

“I would laugh at that, but knowing you that’s exactly what you bought,”  Sam stared at his brother.

“Have to find out when you open it.”

“Oh yeah, that’s definitely what he did.”  Benny injected.

“Alright you idjits” Bobby starts talking as he walks back in.  “Don’t forget the fundraiser party is in a few days.  Winchesters, you both are on deserts, aka Christmas cookies.  Benny and Cas have drinks, preferably not alcohol.”

“Hey Chief, why am I on desserts this year?”  Sam wanted to know.

“Do you remember last year's party?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you remember last year’s egg nog at the party?”

Sam’s smile gets bigger, “Yeah.”

“That’s why.  Most of these people are driving home, we don’t need them buzzed before they finish their first drink.  The list the other shifts are bringing is on the bulletin board by my office.”  He starts to walk away, “Oh and Dean.”

“Yes Bobby.”

“An edible dessert would be nice this year.”

“Hey, at least they looked good last year!”

Bobby left the room muttering about being surrounded by idjits on his way out. 

Dean arrives home to find you going through the cupboard, “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Alright, I was just making a grocery list.  Is there anything you need?”

“Yeah I actually need to pick something up, I’ll come with you.”

Getting the dogs settled the two of you are off to the grocery store.  Going through the bakery section Dean stops and looks at the premade desserts.  “

Holding up a package of frosted sugar cookies and one of cupcakes he turns to you. 

“Do you think either of these are edible?”

“I would hope so since that is what the store is selling them for.”

“Well do you think they are any good, that they taste alright.”

“Probably, yeah.  If you want one, just get it.  I thought you were more of a pie lover though?”

“Oh I am, these aren’t for me.  We have a fundraiser party for the station and I’m on desserts.  I’m supposed to bring Christmas cookies.”

“And you want to take those with you.”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

He looks down at the cookies with such disappointment.  “Okay then one of those packs instead.”

“Dean, you aren’t going to buy a pack of cookies to pass off as Christmas cookies.  You need to make those.”

“Not a hundred percent sure they would be edible then.  Bobby said they had to be edible this year.” 

“I’ll help you don’t worry.  It’s another Christmas activity for you.”

“I really think buying those on the table would be easier.” 

Finishing the rest of the shopping you take Dean down the baking aisle.  “So what kind of Christmas cookies were you thinking.”

“I don’t know, I was thinking whatever kind I could buy in the store.”

“Alright.  How about Sugar cookies to start with.  How many do you need?” 

“There is usually a good number of people there.  Both Sam and I are bringing them.  Probably need a hundred each, maybe a few more.”

“What is this for exactly?”

“It’s a fundraiser we have down at the station.  People donate toys, and other needed items.  Santa is there for the kids.”

“Okay a big group of people take peanut butter out, don’t want to risk an allergy.”  You thought through your mental list of Christmas goodies.  “You could do the cranberry bliss bars I used to make at work, those are always a hit, and I have a recipe for white chocolate ginger cookie that’s really good.  If any of those interest you?”

“You would really help me bake all that?”

“Yeah, I like baking and I have nothing else to do.  Plus you are still letting me stay with you and won’t take my money when I try to pay you.”

“I’ll accept your payment in cookies.”

“Great.”

The two of you grab what you need from the aisle before heading to the checkout.

After arriving home the groceries you don’t need right now are put away.  The Cranberry bar is made first, so that it can cook while you roll out the sugar cookies.  He was chopping the dried cranberries into little pieces for the cake, and having way too much fun with the knife.  Miracle and Dakota joined you in the kitchen hoping to catch anything that fell. 

“I think the cranberries are small enough Dean.”

“Are you sure?”

“Um, yeah.  Any smaller and they are just going to be red dots.”

Your plan was to keep it simple and just do round sugar cookies, but someone had other ideas.

“Where are the shape thingies?”

“What thingies?”

“You know the things that make snowmen, Santa and stockings.”  Dean’s hand was going up and down in the air, almost miming cutting out cookies.

“You mean cookie cutters?  I can go see if I can find mine.”  Heading to the apartment you looked through the boxes to see if you could find any.  Luck was on your side, finding a bag of cookie cutters and a rolling pin you made your way back to the kitchen. 

He rolled it out the first time and got it so thin you swore the cookies would have burnt the moment you put them in the oven.  Getting it all back in a pile you showed him how thick he wanted it to be before you started cutting out cookies.   He went through the bag of cookie cutters finding the ones he wanted to use.  Grabbing out a stocking, snowman, tree, and a dog bone.  To his disappointment you didn’t have Santa.

“Guess, I’ll have to get one for next year.”

You watched him do a few, “Okay I have to ask, what is with the dog bone cookies, how are they Christmassy?”

“Those are in honor of Miracle. We can decorate them red and green.”

“Okay.”

When the bliss bar came out of the oven Dean came and looked it over.  “Do you think it’s edible?”

“Do you mean right this minute, because it needs to cool first then it gets frosting.”

“I mean in general.”

“Yes, it’s edible.  I made these at the coffee shop all the time.  Why do you keep asking if things are going to be edible?”

“Bobby, the Chief, told me I needed an edible dessert this year.”

You looked at him a moment,  “Okay I have to ask, what did you take before for a desert that wasn’t edible?”

“Last year I went to the store and saw this container with what looked like cutout sugar cookies.  Some had frosting, some were decorated with just sprinkles.  They looked really nice.”

“Uh huh.  How did they taste?”

“Like bitter disappointment mixed with the tears of children.”

“Oh my.”

“They were so hard you couldn’t even bite into them and if you managed to break off a piece to eat, it had a sour taste to it. Guess that’s why they were on the sale rack.”

“That sounds,” You were trying to control your laughter. “Sounds very delightful.  I’m sorry I wasn’t here to try them.”

“Yeah yeah, laugh all you want. They looked good at least.”

“You are trusted with cookies again this year?  Aren’t they afraid of a repeat?”

“Apparently not as much as they were with Sam and the eggnog.  He dumped a whole bottle of rum in it last year.  He was moved to cookies this year.”

“Getting the guests drunk to be able to eat the food, sounds like the Winchester brothers put together an interesting Christmas party.”

Dean just laughs “Yeah we can get a little crazy now and then.”  

“What do your Christmas plans usually include?”

“It’s just my sister, her husband and I.  Donna is the under sheriff and some years she has to work part of the day.  This year she works in the morning, and I’m volunteering at a pet adoption day in the park.   Then we are having dinner at their house.

While the sugar cookies were in the oven the two of you worked on the batter for the ginger cookies.

“I’ll be honest,” Dean started to say.  “I don’t like gingerbread cookies.”

“Me neither.”

“Then why are we making them?”

“We aren’t.  These are ginger cookies, slightly different.  I promise they are good.  They will also be edible.”

Dean gave you a hard look before going back to the mixing bowl grumbling.  “They smell like gingerbread cookies.”

“They smell like ginger.  But if you don’t like them, you don’t have to eat them.”

While the last of the cookies were in the oven you started on the frosting for the cranberry bar.  Dean kept trying to stick a finger in the bowl.  

“Stop it, what are you five?  You can have the bowl when the bar is done.”

“This doesn’t take like regular frosting what’s in it, cream cheese, butter, vanilla, powdered sugar, orange juice, and white chocolate.  It’s the last two that make it a little different.”

“It’s actually really good.”  You glared at him.  “Not that I was doubting your baking abilities at all. Mine 100% doubtable, but you’re great.”

Finishing that you two moved on to the sugar cookie frosting Dean poured a little too much powdered sugar in to mix and ended up with it all over the counter and on the dogs laying at his feet.  He snuck them each a cookie to make up for it.  Adding some red and green food coloring to two bowls then getting sprinkles out the two of you went to town.  

The last job of the night was dipping the ginger cookies in white chocolate.  When one had hardened up you gave it to Dean to try.

“I’m not sure I want that, I would rather have pie.”

“Just a bite, if you don’t like it you don’t have to eat it.”

“Fine.”  Taking a bite he chews for a minute.  “Actually they aren’t bad, the chocolate tames some of the flavor.”

As the two of you worked together to clean up the kitchen, Dean suggested ordering dinner so you wouldn't have to clean up another mess tonight.  

“Sure, that’s fine with me.”

While he was gone to grab dinner you took out a few other items you bought at the store.  Quickly whipping up a pie crust you grabbed the cans of filling.  Just not enough time tonight to make some.  Putting some crumble topping on, the pie was in the oven before Dean made it back. 

When he walked in a short time later he came in the kitchen with his nose in the air.  

“The cookies make it smell really good in here, I didn’t notice that earlier.”

“That’s not all the cookies, I may have a cherry pie in the oven for you.”

Oh his eyes go so big.  “Really?”

“Yeah, you’ve been talking about one lately.”

“Man, you are amazing.”

Finishing dinner you took the pie out to cool.  That lasted about five minutes before Dean cut himself a giant slice.

Trying to get some work on the house done the two of worked together painting one of the spare bedrooms before the four of you headed to the living room to watch tv.  

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 6

Tags- @winchest09​  @waywardbeanie @whatareyousearchingfordean​  @flamencodiva​ @deanwanddamons​ @jensengirl83 @abuavnee​ @lunarmoon8​ @amyzombie1013 @akshi8278​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @mandalou29​  @igotmadskills​  @440mxs-wife​ @paryl​ @supernatural-love14​ @krazykelly​ @anotherspnfanfic​ @bobbie3939​ @deanwinchestersnightmoves​ @winchestergirl2​ @thoughts-and-funnies​

[nikkithebard]

Your Angel Ellipsis

Geraskier short fic, post S1E6, post mountain-break up, hurt/little comfort, fix-it-fic, angst, angsty thoughts, featuring HSK, open ending, 2.6k words

Rating: T (Mature language)

A/N: I am totally 100% open to fic ideas if anyone wants to share some. Feel free to send an ask with a prompt, I don’t mind in the slightest. (I have never uploaded my work here before)

The bard moved with about as much grace as a broken-legged turtle, holding his lute case close to his chest. It was the only thing around him that felt even remotely real. Everything else had faded into whispers across his skin. The wind, the dirt, the others who remained on the mountain still. The soles of his boots had been worn thin, slipping over the rocky dust of the ground. Jaskier ignored it. He was far too disinterested in anything that wasn’t the very person he was distancing himself from.

Jaskier cared for Geralt of fucking Rivia.

And all he had gotten was shouts, demeaning language, and a wish fit for a djinn.

Oh, how far he’d thrown himself into this wolf’s den. He feared he’d die of heartbreak--again--if he didn’t die from the hunger and dehydration that came with getting lost climbing down a fucking mountain. How far had he gone? Felt like he had been descending in circles rather than going straight down.

Jaskier heard his own words in his mind, reverberating.

You did your best. There’s nothing else you could have done.

Who would have known the words were better suited to him and not the witcher? But, it was true. There was nothing else the bard could have done to change the outcome of this dragon hunt. He tried to talk Geralt out of this, tried to convince him this was too dangerous a task. As per usual, Geralt cared little for Jaskier’s opinion and carried on. Was that his fault, too?

His foot slipped on a larger boulder and he fell. Catching himself before he could do any serious damage, Jaskier decided to take a seat, the sun beating down on his back. Rivulets of sweat pooled around the collar of his chemise. Opening the case, Jaskier made sure his lute was alright. Of course it was, but a peek wouldn’t hurt.

The lute, as it always did, sang back at him through its dark wood, enchanted to no end. Pointless to think it would ever break, really. He withdrew the instrument, strumming the melody he had been crafting for weeks now. It had started out as a metaphor for some sort of unrequited love. As of late, it had been slowly turning it into something much sourer. With naught but the help of a sorceress he watched portal herself away nearly an hour or two ago. Jaskier was still dumbfounded that Geralt was so entrenched in the most awful example of the fairer sex.

“The fairer sex,” Jaskier mumbled to himself, strumming to the opening melody of his latest tune. “How, when she’s as unfair as a thief? A bandit?” He tilted his head, pondering. “A crook?”

Very rarely did lyrics fall into his lap so perfectly, yet the poet learned early on in his life to not look a gift horse in the mouth. Taking out his pen and notebook, he scratched off the first line of his original ballad, writing in the better one.

Jaskier sighed, unable to keep his mouth shut even if there was no one around to listen, “Bollocks, there I go again, rewriting yet another love ballad. Not that it matters, when you spend over twenty years stooped in what others would refer to as a pile of shit, perhaps every tune comes off as identical, yeah? All the words collide and all the notes fall into unbridled repetition--” He stopped, his own voice crashing into his ears, “Twenty years? Is that right?” He scoffed, fingers absentmindedly moving over the strings of his lute, “Can’t be, I don’t even--I can’t be over forty, can I?” He tried to shake the thought from his mind, yet he simply couldn’t get away from the passage of time. The time he had spent trailing a witcher that threw him away like a tankard of spoiled ale. “What...am I doing?”

Over twenty years, Jaskier had spent chasing a man for nothing. For nothing, because there was nothing else he could have done. The years dripped into his mind, at first a simple leak. In seconds, a stream. In minutes, a broken dam of thoughts and images dancing across the landscape of his brain.

At first, he had only longed for a muse after a particular dry spell of wordless thoughts that had plagued him after he arrived in Posada all those years ago. Jaskier had been coming down from a small bout of fame he founded for himself and the money had run out too quickly. And it was then that he had caught sight of the White Wolf. Only, then, he had nary a clue of who the man was. Jaskier saw armor, swords, a very interesting shade of hair. He was intrigued. As the day passed and Jaskier crafted the song that shot both of their names into the stratosphere, he realized he cared little for the money, the recognition, the women. Yes, it was damn welcome, but he found himself missing something.

It didn’t take him very long to admit the thrill of the adventure--wanderlust, to be specific--was the answer to a question he asked himself too many times. And so, when he and Geralt found each other again, he made it a point to tag along. Geralt didn’t appear to care all that much and let Jaskier do as he pleased. Only when Jaskier droned on and on about any random crap that came to mind--which was purely to spur any sort of response from the silent witcher, he wanted to get to know him--did Geralt stir enough to shut him up.

As time went on, years apparently, Jaskier found himself caring less and less for the songs. He just wanted to follow the witcher. His friend, though Geralt refused to verbally reciprocate the fact. After a while, he only wished for his company, to hear the incredible feats and adventures that befell the witcher. It wasn’t until they started to become tight on money and ended up sharing rooms together that Jaskier realized his fascinations went beyond friendly. When they were alone, with a roof over their heads and safety in their minds, Geralt would always relax a bit. He would speak, joke, smile even.

Jaskier thought he was insane in the beginning. To think he could feel anything more than a curious nature. But, no, it became quite apparent.

Jaskier cared for Geralt of fucking Rivia.

And it had become his fatal flaw.

Geralt, it seemed, truly cared nothing for the troubadour that brought him fame and coin.

And it was painful. Of course it was. The two had fought a multitude of times in the past, but this was different somehow. To blame his own destiny on the bard that had only wanted to leave this damn mountain, to leave the witch to her inevitable demise, wanted the witcher to be safe.

Perhaps that was why he had very obviously confessed himself to the witcher. Using the excuse that he had to work out what pleased him when he had done so years before. All to stave off the knowledge that his confession had been viewed as material for his next song. That his love was nothing more than musings to be ignored.

Jaskier never thought he would be faced with his unrequited affection so harshly, though he figured it would come down on him eventually. He strummed the lute, an acute anger creeping up his spine.

The fairer sex, they often call it.

But, her love’s as unfair as a crook.

It steals all my reason,

Commit every treason

Of logic with naught but a look.

He had written a majority of it a night or two ago, when Sir Eyck had gone off to shit in the woods and Yennefer had gone off to “get her beauty sleep”. Scratching off lines and writing over them, as he had gotten so used to for a long time.

Never getting the chance to tell Geralt how he felt, what he wanted, what he needed. Came to a point where he no longer thought it was ever going to happen. Watching Borch, Téa, and Véa fall to their presumed deaths--and nearly watching Geralt follow suit--changed that. He knew there would never be such a delight as “the right time”, especially if this hunt had proven to be so deadly. Jaskier wanted to say his feelings outright, hoping a song would help him in that regard. Alas, nothing ever worked out that way.

Jaskier settled for asking Geralt to allow him the opportunity to prove himself as a worthy travel companion, stretching his tone across the word “companion” to give it a different meaning. Geralt did not catch on and if he did, made no move to show it. And he was shot down.

It made him upset, knowing he had lost the battle for the witcher’s affections long before the bard had even agreed to take part. Rigged and unjust, but he should have known better than to love someone he knew damn well now didn’t care.

A storm breaking on the horizon,

Of longing and heartache and lust

She’s always bad news,

It’s always lose, lose

So tell me love, tell me love,

How is that just?

But, Jaskier cared for the witcher before they had met the witch. And, still, he had lost. He had nothing else but their friendship, and even that was gone now. It wasn’t his fault. Not this time. All at once, everything had gone to shit, more so than it had before whenever Yennefer’s influence on Geralt made his vision turn red. Always lashing out at everyone, always angry, never ever good for him.

The lute was strummed harder, the instrument making the troubadour’s emotions known to anyone within range.

But the story is this,

She’ll destroy with her sweet kiss, her sweet kiss.

The bard repeated the line, filling the melody appropriately. There was nothing else he could do but let the song continue. He was a bard, all he knew was to let the music escape him, else he might explode. Jaskier heard rustling behind him and chose to ignore it, too caught up in his emotions to stop the tenor of his own voice. If he could just finish the damn song, he would feel better.

He wouldn’t be so angry that he had completely wasted over twenty years of his life. Destroyed his own path whilst following Geralt down his. Getting them free rooms, free meals, making him famous, helping him scrounge up coin for better armor, making him hair tie after hair tie from the leather of old strappings. Fixing baths, cleaning and stitching up wounds, sleeping in the same fucking bed together. And he still lost to a lusty bitch with a hankering for destruction.

Jaskier had lost to a woman that never spent more than a few hours with the witcher at a time. A woman that caused him pain, not healed him of it. A woman that would outlive him and still cause Geralt heartache without respite. Melitele damn her.

Her current is pulling you closer

And charging the hot, humid night.

The red sky at dawn is giving a warning, you fool!

Better stay out of sight.

The troubadour's tune faltered, voice breaking as memories of the past flooded through him again. Asking Geralt a favor in bodyguarding him while being told he was not the White Wolf’s friend, which stung despite the bard’s nonchalance. Learning that Geralt needed nothing out of life. Jaskier telling the witcher that someone--the use of a gender-neutral pronoun had been a flirt, but still remained true to his heart--may want him. “I’m weak, my love, and I am wanting.” Jaskier’s tone changed, filling with longing and desire. He knew he had a penance for lofty things. Good clothing, fine wine, upstanding company. But, he steadily gave it all up, choosing a life of grime and dirt and blood. The rustling behind him came closer.

If this is the path I must trudge,

I welcome my sentence,

Give to you my penance,

Garrotter, jury, and judge.

And his chorus repeated over and over, driving home his emotional distress at losing the one person in this godsforsaken world that was still willing to deal with his bullshit. Jaskier knew, now, that Geralt had never truly been willing and was only ever acting in line with his morals. Geralt only saved him from the djinn because it was the right thing to do. Geralt chose not to harm Jaskier out of pure annoyance because it was simply wrong and unjust.

Yet, Jaskier couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps Geralt sometimes acted outside of his moral compass. The banquet, the event that had really changed the course of the witcher’s life, had been the only inexplicable act Jaskier could not explain. The witcher had helped him free of his coin, in the most minute way. Nothing in their initial understanding of the event had even the slightest to do with what was the textbook definition of a witcher.

Was it due to the fact that, even if Geralt would never admit it, they truly were friends?

Jaskier had little time to continue his reverie, a soft hum from behind breaking through his thoughts.

“I will never understand why I am oft referred to as a ‘garrotter’.” Gravelly voice, low toned, and calm. Jaskier froze, music stopping. How much had he heard? And even more, he caught on to the metaphor immediately.

Jaskier cleared his throat, refusing to look, “It also means ‘killer’ or ‘hunter’.” He said plainly. “Not to mention your name matches the sound of the word a bit.”

“Hmm.” Geralt said, “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that.”

It was a wonder they were even speaking. Jaskier was always so quick to forgive the witcher, though. Yes, he was still hurt and angry. On the other hand, he would fight to keep their friendship and wouldn’t let their squabbles get the better of them. He would just have to bottle his pain, again. Well, maybe put the cork back on the bottle if he was being truthful. He’d let enough spill out of him over the last few days and the song didn’t help.

Geralt walked, moving in front of the bard, gear in hand, “The long way down is safer, but we have a lot of ground to cover.” Face emotionless, golden eyes stared down at the distraught bard.

The bard shook his head, not knowing how to proceed, “Geralt--”

“I’m sorry, Jaskier.” The witcher cut in before the troubadour could make a long-winded speech. His name always sounded intimate when it crossed over the witcher’s lips. Never casual, always private and personal.

Jaskier gave a pained smile, blue eyes still rimmed red with sadness, “Good, that’s all I wanted.” No, it wasn’t. He kept that bit to himself. He stood, placing the lute back into its case and placing the strap on his back.

Geralt gave him another straight look, but his eyes always displayed the man’s thoughts and emotions. He knew Jaskier was lying, especially if he had been paying attention enough to know the truth behind the bard’s lyrics, “Hmm.”

They continued down the mountain together, both silent for once. It wasn’t until they had reached the bottom that Jaskier finally fell into a mindless chatter. His thoughts were becoming too heavy and it wasn’t appropriate when he had company.

They didn’t talk about the song, not for a long time. And when they did, there was no turmoil or miscommunication on either end.

There was only an understanding.

[wordsfromthesol]

Character Model

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader Summary: You may or may not have been following Jason Todd around a bookstore so you could model one of your story characters after him. He may or may not have noticed. Warnings: Language? Word Count: 2k A/N: Just a story from my drafts folder. Sorry I haven’t been able to write any of the wonderful requests I have sitting in my inbox...work has been running me ragged. But they are coming! Love you all 💛

You had no idea where this man came from, but he was perfect. Exactly what you envisioned the assassin prince in your newest story to look like, and he just waltzed into the bookstore. First, you tried to ignore him…after all it would be kind of creepy to stare at this man while sketching him and jotting down little details about the way he walks, talks, runs his fingers through his hair. The more you thought about it, the more you couldn’t get him out of your mind. As you watched his mannerisms, he just became more perfect. Fuck it. You got up from your seat and moved closer to him, pretending to look at the books on the shelf. It wasn’t a very good cover story, as it was quite obvious you were drawing him. I will never see this man again, who cares.

You were never the best artist, but the image got the message across. Once it was complete, you continued following him awkwardly around the store jotting down notes. His interest in certain books, the way he seemed to survey the bookstore…Maybe he is an assassin prince? Those didn’t actually exist right? You ignored those thoughts as you commented on his gait. Wrapped up in your descriptions, you didn’t realize he was now watching you. That is until you looked up again and saw his steel blue eyes staring into yours.

“What are you profiling me for, doll?”

You spun around, hoping he wasn’t talking to you. No such luck. “Oh, uhm, I wasn’t?”

“Hmm, sure does look like it. Can I see that sketch?”

“Heh, you saw that?” He raised his eyebrows. Of course he saw it, Y/N, you are being creepy. “Okay, I swear I’m not stalking you! I just…gosh this is going to sound so stupid…you look exactly like how I envisioned this character in my head…for a story.”

“You’re a writer?”

“Some people would beg to differ, but I guess technically.”

“So what’s the character then?”

Okay now he’s going to be offended. “Uhm…an assassin? But he’s also like prince to the guild thing. It’s kind of complicated.”

“So I look like an assassin?”

“Kind of…?” To your surprise the man chuckled.

“Not gunna lie, I’ve been called so much worse.”

Why are you so awkward? “Well sorry for being creepy…” You turned to leave and didn’t notice the man following you until you nearly slammed the front door in his face.

“I think I deserve to see that sketch after you followed me around for an hour AND tried to knock me out with a door.”

“Oh my go – I’m so sorry, I figured I’d thoroughly…embarrassed myself, so I left…why are you following me?”

“Thought I’d return the favor?” You gave him a nervous smile, the thought of this very large strange man walking you home, at night, in Gotham, did not provide you with much peace. “Relax, you look just like a character I imagined…” He quipped, trying to ease your obvious discomfort.

“Not funny.”

“Really though, it’s dark and getting late and this is Gotham.” You eyed him suspiciously, this still probably wasn’t the smartest move on your part, but you relented and motioned for him to follow.

“Don’t make fun of it, I’m a writer not an artist. This is purely for research.” You commented as you passed him the sheet of notebook paper.

“It looks good, I especially like all the little notes about me. Ruggedly handsome? Piercing steel blue eyes?”

Shit. I forgot about those. “Uhm, yeah.” You tried to snatch the paper back, but he could easily keep it from you. “It was research!” Huffing, you remember some of the descriptions were not very complimentary. Watching his eyes scan the page, you tried to explain. “Some of them are just for the character, don’t take it…”

“No, they are all…pretty spot on I’d say.” His voice turned solemn, almost sad, as he passed the paper back to you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah,” he waved it off, picking back up his nonchalant timbre.

The two of you mindless chatted about your favorite books until you arrived at your apartment building.

“Well, this is me. Thanks again…” You had just realized the two of you never exchanged names. “My name’s Y/N, by the way.”

“Jason. I’ll see you around. Try not to stalk anyone else.”

“No promises!” You called out as you entered the apartment.

**

It had been nearly a week, and honestly you didn’t expect to see the stranger again. After all, how would you? No numbers or last names were exchanged. Yet there he was, sitting across from you at the coffee shop, face buried in a book. This man is actually reading in a coffee shop. He looked so out of place compared to all the usual suspects. It would be creepy if I remembered him, right? I’m just going to ignore him. Your plan didn’t last long, as Jason soon came up and sat beside you.

“Stalking anyone new today?”

“Oh, I uhm…no. Writing about you actually…the character! The character not you.” God, you’re so smooth. You thought as you brought your hand up to cover your face.

“So how is assassin me doing today?”

“Honestly? You’re kind of being a bitch. Like how am I supposed to know how you will react if you are refusing to tell me?”

“Uhm…isn’t that the part you’re supposed to make up?”

“No, I made up you…the assassin…now you’re…they’re supposed to tell me what they want to do.”

“Uh huh. Right. You know they aren’t real right? Like I’m not actually a killer prince.”

“Heh, yeah I know. Wouldn’t that be cool though?”

“I just think you’d be assassinated.”

“Ohh, harsh. Though, sadly, I would just be murdered.”

“No, I had it right.” Jason gave you a smirk as he got up from the table and walked out the door.

Did that actually just happen? You quickly gathered your things and threw them into your computer bag, racing after him. “WAIT!” You noticed he had stopped just outside the door and well before you called after him.

“Walking home?”

“Uhm, yeah. Can I ask you some questions first?”

“How about you can ask me questions until we get to your apartment building?”

“Deal.”

It was a short ten-minute walk, but you picked his brain. Giving him situations to see how he would react. This was way easier than you rewriting the scene, or going back and forth for hours before giving up and not writing anything at all. In fact, his reactions were eerily similar to that of your murderous character. You weren’t accidentally copying his life, right?

**

The next time you saw him, you were out with friends at some random bar. He sat there stoically on the bar stool, staring into space. This was so…like if your character had just murdered someone. No, he couldn’t have. Probably just a bad day. You excused yourself from the group of friends and slide in to the stool besides Jason.

“So, Jason, bad day?”

“Oh, Y/N. I didn’t…you’re here.”

“Yeah, I try to have a life sometimes. Albeit very rarely.”

“Hm, well, don’t let me keep you.”

“That’s alright, they are content without me.” You pointed towards a group of people. “And plus, you look like you need some company.”

“…”

“Man, riveting stuff. So, what are you drinking?”

“Whiskey.”

“Just…straight? Alright, spill. Remember I know you.”

“I…just had a bad day at work. I’ll get over it.”

“I’m sure whatever happened wasn’t your fault. Some situations are inevitable.”

“I guess.”

“So what do you do, exactly?”

A sad, solemn smile laced his lips as he got up from the bar. “Another time. Get home safe, Y/N.”

“That wasn’t an answer…” you mumbled as you made your way back to your friends.

**

Just the next day, you were mindless going aisle by aisle in the grocery store, when you feel someone slightly bump into you. You whipped your head around to see the culprit, when what you saw was Jason with a big grin on his face.

“I’m starting to think you never stopped stalking me.”

“If anything, you’re stalking me. This is the closest grocery to my apartment…which you know the address of. I have no clue where you live.”

“Fair enough.” He looked down at the assorted items in your cart, “got a plan for those?”

“Honestly, my version of cooking is throwing some things in a pan and hoping for the best.”

“Hm, well, I could come over and show you some things?”

“Jason, I don’t know your middle or last name, are you offering to cook for me?”

“Peter Todd, and yes, Y/N  Y/M/N  Y/L/N, I am.”

You looked at him with surprise, “See, now who’s stalking who.”

He started to trail off with a smirk, “I’ll be at yours at 6!”

Did that seriously just happen? How did he know my name? Once you were done you raced home to clean. You were so not prepared for guests, with your scratch paper and sticky notes strewn about the apartment. As soon as the clock struck 6, you heard a knock at the door.

**

Jason tried to show you what he’s doing in the kitchen, but you couldn’t care less. You sat on the counter, pretending to listen to the instructions, while sipping on the wine in your hand.

“You’re not retaining any of this, are you?”

“Hmm, not really. But I’m quite enjoying watching you do it.” You motioned for him to continue preparing the meal.

“Are you just trying to get a free meal?”

“Well, technically I paid for the food, I’m just after the free chef…that was…I meant like after the preparation of the food…not after you…” Shut up Y/N, you are making it worse.

“That’s alright, I’m just after the free writer.” He looked over his shoulder and winked at you before returning to the stove.

“Does cooking always take this long? It’s nearly 7!” You were trying to quickly change the subject and forget the embarrassment you had just endured.

“Calm down, doll, it’s nearly ready. Grab some plates.” You hopped off the counter and took two plates down from the cabinet, placing them next to the stove before sitting at your kitchen island patiently waiting to be served food.

**

“Okay, this is amazing. MAYBE worth the hour wait.”

“Oh well MAYBE I’ll take it back then.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Though both of your plates had been empty for hours, and the mess in the kitchen was staring you in the face, neither of you could seem to move. You found anything and everything to talk about, well almost everything. For some reason he still wouldn’t tell you what he did for a living. Which annoyed you because whatever it was clearly took its toll.

“Okay, fine! Don’t tell me, some big ole secret. I’m beginning to think you actually are an assassin prince and your consciousness just went into mine…so now you’re a character in my book.”

“I guess I’ll just have to read it and let you know.”

You side-eyed him, “You can read it when I find out what you do?” You knew at this point there was no hope in getting an answer.

“Tempting. Perhaps you can tempt me further Wednesday night.” Jason rose from the stool and traipsed over to the door. You quickly followed him, mainly out of sheer confusion.

“What’s Wednesday night?”

“Well, I figure those leftovers will last about two days. Can’t leave you without your free chef.” At this point his face was inches from yours. “I’ll be here at 6.” He whispered as he quickly spun on his heel and left.

[mallowstep]

Just saying on the whole: I decided on Brackenpelt and Mintfur's personalities, this blogs anon's (and a bit you, no offense) literally decided to kick canon Reedwhisker to the curb, he now looks like Oakheart, and he's a sweetheart and a bit of an idiot who tries his best to protectand tell on Hawkfrost? (I've not read past TNP, so idk if he's actually like this so if he is forgive me.)

oh my god i. i can't.

okay so i have this thing that. is kind of long and convoluted to explain and also i neither want nor have to but i have this thing about repeating work. i can't do it. like i physically cannot make myself do it. if something interrupts what i am doing, and i lose what i wrote for an ask, i cannot make myself rewrite it. the thought alone is enough to make me want to cry.

so. i was. god. i can't even -- even summarizing what i wrote is very difficult for me. so i'm just going to jump in to where i was writing, maybe back up a little, because i was having fun talking about character arcs, and -- y'all can just deal.

(n.b. when i bring this up, people tend to suggest things like drafting responses to asks in software with autosave, or just saving responses to asks as drafts periodically. the answer is always, "i know that's an option, and it doesn't work for me for any number of reasons." while i appreciate the care, i'd rather save us all the time.)

(but to respond as quickly as i can to your actual ask -- i change background characters all the time, and no one has ever commented on it. secondly, while i often enjoy what anons offer me from different ideas, i'd prefer if we don't -- treat them as mine, perhaps? hm. not sure how to phrase that well and i want to move on now.)

anyway, basically, i'm rambling about decisions anons make and why i wouldn't personally make them. because i was in the middle of a thought, i'm going to have to back up a little, but -- i'm going to try to save myself some time and pain and just make one starting statement and then move on.

while i'm about to explain why i wouldn't make the following choices, that does not make them bad choices. in fact, i often enjoy responding to your asks with snippets utilizing these choices. they're just not choices i would independently make, but that doesn't make them bad. i just like to ramble about character arcs, and this gives me an excuse

reedpaw interfering with hawkpaw's dreams of the dark forest

the arc i have planned for hawkfrost revolves around no one knowing about the dark forest. it is essential to tigerstar's manipulation of him that no one knows. it is fundamental to his character arc.

so -- i can't just throw in reedpaw interfering. it would change every character's arc. and i like my arc for hawkfrost. i do not think it is benefitted by reedpaw interacting with it.

(this is kind of what i mean -- i've greatly enjoyed writing the drama that comes of reedpaw interfering, but i would never choose to have him interfere in independent content.)

reedkit being born not long after hawkkit, mothkit, and frogkit

this is the piece i'm most angry to have lost. i had -- guys i had a very good explanation of this one. it's. i will do my best because -- i don't know.

i am very -- the misty au matters to me. unlike the other aus, the misty au is mine. it is not some web of ideas, it is my au, and while i adore seeing everyone play with it, it often feels like -- handing someone a rubiks cube, watching them fiddle with it, and then, when they give it back to you, you solve it in a few moments. (i did speed cubing personal best was 27s, although i doubt i could get anywhere close to that now.)

like, you hand me this idea. mistyfoot has another kit about six moons after hawkkit, mothkit, and frogkit. i nod as you explain, am excited to see you so excited about it, but i cannot simply leave the cube unsolved. it is a compulsion of a sort. you hand me an unsolved cube, and i will solve it. i don't mean to, sometimes. it is simply that i know the patterns so well, and the process of observing and solving a cube is so instinctual, that i look for the best cross without realizing what i am doing, start to solve without meaning to.

and -- in this case, this is me solving the cube, this explanation. i have inserted this metaphor in part to explain why i feel i must try to explain this once again, why i am -- now that the chance, the idea of covering this topic has been raised, i cannot set it down.

so. although it is difficult, i want to tell you why i wouldn't choose to do this. again. there will be less couching this time, as there always is, so review my -- i don't think you're wrong, i just wouldn't make these choices -- above. i mean it.

reedkit being born changes every character's arc inherently. i've mentioned this in passing, but it fundamentally changes every single character's arc. for the main seven, it is a direct and tangible change, and for others, it is a ripple effect, and no stone is left unturned.

but i will use mistyfoot's arc as a catch-all, to explain my reason for not making this choice.

mistyfoot -- okay, if reedkit is born, mistyfoot's primary focus is no longer feathertail. i'm not one for "one child is loved more" stories. i don't like writing them. so. mistyfoot's focus is split between reedkit and feathertail.

and that is a problem. because -- feathertail is the most important thing in the world to mistyfoot. in an unhealthy way at first, but in a healthy way, later on. it is Unhealthy for mistyfoot to base her every action around how it affects feathertail; it is healthy for mistyfoot's top priority to be feathertail. codependency vs being a parent.

so. why is that a problem? well -- because it changes a lot of things, but most importantly, or at least, most close to the main time period the misty au covers, it changes how mistyfoot builds a relationship with hawk, moth, and frog.

because -- well, let's back up for a moment.

mistyfoot does not go in the nursery once. despite the fact that it is feathertail, that before and after this, they are nearly inseparable (unhealthily before, heathily after), she does not visit feathertail in the nursery a single time.

[insert a tangent about mistyfoot being in the nursery with reedkit i cannot bring myself to rewrite]

her interactions with the kits, once they are weaned, are either highly structured, or incidental moments she avoids and escapes from as fast as she can.

but -- feathertail is always there as a buffer. feathertail brings them out to mistyfoot as her kits, as a form of -- presentation, almost. or, mistyfoot and feathertail are talking, and one of the kits approaches momentarily.

because she can't do it anyway.

[insert tangent about mistyfoot being a good mother and how in this instance, that means not being around them]

and as the kits grow up, it is through feathertail that mistyfoot manages to build a relationship with them. the fact that they are feathertail's kits is how she does it. in part because -- it is a degree of separation that she is afforded. if things are too much -- she is not their mother. she can back off. but also because -- they are important to feathertail, and that makes it easier for mistyfoot to want to know them.

this is -- core to all five arcs at hand, here.

she sees hawkpaw seek out feathertail after a nightmare, and she sees a kit, who loves, who feathertail loves. she sees -- it makes it easier to forget his father, if he can simply be a child, sleeping with his mother to ward of nightmares.

hawkfrost is -- will always be the one she has the hardest time connecting to. this has little to do with his appearance (while he looks similar to tigerstar, he is not a clone -- he has more contrasting markings, a white chest, blue eyes, a narrower build, sleeker, glossier fur, and so on), and everything to do with the grief he causes feathertail as an apprentice. she worries over him, and mistyfoot doesn't know what to do.

frogheart is easier, or at least more straightforward. he bonds with mistyfoot when he's carrying feathertail down the mountain. there's -- two levels. first, he's doing a great service to the most important person to mistyfoot. second, this is a very hard time for feathertail, and mistyfoot wants to be with her for it. so -- they walk down together.

mothwing is -- she starts to be more and more responsible for feathertail's healthcare. and -- mistyfoot is. pretty much always with feathertail for that. even something as simple as marigold on a scratch, or getting a thorn pulled out -- mistyfoot is there.

it is an Anxiety Inducing Time. feathertail associates being treated with very bad things, and avoids going to the medicine den, so like -- mistyfoot has to be there to actually get her to go.

so while mothwing is learning to deal with -- a bit of a role reversal, in that she has to take care of feathertail. as a doctor, yes, but feathertail -- requires a lot of patience, cajoling, and creativity. and you know, that's hard. it is hard to see the cat who raised you like that. that's a big theme for mothwing.

but it means she starts to build a relationship with mistyfoot.

so -- why does it matter?

well, putting aside a long list of reasons that mistyfoot having reedkit then is so angst inducing (she's grieving for her first litter, she's not in a place to voluntary have another child, she's still coping with the trauma of a forced pregnancy, etc), if her focus is split between reedkit and feathertail, the weight of all of this is decreased.

not -- by half, or anything. love is not some finite resource. but mistyfoot no longer avoids the nursery, and she has many more early interactions with the kits. when feathertail leaves, she has another kit that means she can't fall apart in the same way. and -- that means that frogpaw, hawkpaw, and mothpaw's initial impression of her never changes.

when feathertail vanishes, they start to gain a deeper understanding of mistyfoot, which enables them to be able to start connecting to her.

other stuff

i'm doing this thing where i try to go to bed before 3am, so unfortunately, not right now.

oh wait i lied real quick

tawnypelt

i think this is because you haven't seen her pov yet, but a lot of asks about her tend to misunderstand her internal thought process. or at least -- they don't characterize her the way i intend to.

[blushie14]

Stupid With Words [Skephalo]

🥺👉👈💌💕 (10/10 plot summary am I ri-)

Knowing him for a while, Darryl has gotten used to Zak’s unpredicticality. Of course, there are still many times where Zak can still surprise him or catch him off guard with his weirdness. But for some reason, he couldn’t help but think that he’s been acting odder than usual.

It didn’t really start off with anything strange at first. In fact, nothing about what Zak was doing was strange at all. He was only writing something in what looks like a little notebook planner, and Darryl didn’t even pay any mind to it.

It would’ve stayed that way if he didn’t realize that Zak was trying to hide the notebook from him.

Every time Darryl walked into the same room as him while he had his notebook out, he would immediately stop writing in it. Zak would frantically hide it anywhere like under a table or under his sweater. He would try to play it off like nothing happened by either striking up a conversation or by pretending to do something else.

Darryl always tried to do the polite thing and never brought it up whenever it happened. Whatever Zak was doing, it was something that he didn’t want him to see. He still cannot help but wonder why though. Why would Zak want to hide something like that from him?

Whatever the reason was, Darryl just hoped it wasn’t for a bad reason. After all, he can trust him with anything.

That’s what happened for a couple of days until today.

-

Darryl walked into the living room and paused as he looked at the surroundings in bewilderment. Pieces of paper were scattered on the table, couch, and floor.

He looked at Zak in confusion. He was sitting on the couch, once again writing in his notebook. Zak didn't notice him as he furiously scribbled on the paper before tearing it out, crumpling it into a ball, and leaving it on the table.

"Oh my goodness. Zak, you're making a mess."

Zak got startled and immediately closed his notebook. "Ah! Jesus, where did you come from?!"

"Um… I came from the hallway?" Darryl laughed a little before picking up one of the paper balls out of curiosity and took a look at it. "What's with all of this paper laying around?"

"Uhhh haha, yeah don't worry about it." Zak nervously laughed before standing up and taking the paper from Darryl. "Might not wanna look at that either."

Darryl was puzzled. Whatever was written in that paper was so scratched out that he could barely read it. He only recognized some words, but something also caught his attention. Was his name written in it?

"Why? What was that? Are you trying to write a journal or something?" If it was something private like a diary, he doesn't want to be nosy about it.

Zak grabbed his notebook and held it close to his chest. "Well.. no it's nothing like that."

Darryl looked around the room more. "Oh my gosh.. that's a lot of paper. How much did you write?!"

Zak realized how thin his notebook became and exactly how much paper was scattered everywhere. He flushed up in embarrassment.

"I um…heheh. Sorry, I'm having a hard time trying to get THIS." He waved his notebook in the air for a second. "this thing right. I promise I'll clean up everything I swear."

Darryl feels like he's missing something important. "Trying to get what right?"

Zak giggled. "To write right."

"Huh? Right! ...right?

"I wanna write right!

Darryl started to smile. "Well I can help you. Do you need help to write right?"

"NO!" Zak felt his face burn up as he laughed out. "Oh my god just- you can't look at what I'm writing!" He sheepishly smiled. "Not yet anyways."

"Not yet? Wait wh-"

Before Darryl could finish he felt Zak gently pushing him away. "Hey! What are you doing?!"

"Making you move away so I can be alone! Get out!" Zak laughed.

"What?! This is my living room too you- quit being a rude potato!"

"I need my privacy, sheesh! You're invading it!"

"Privacy!? I-.. Oh whatever, fine! Clean up the mess here first you fatty!"

"I will! Just go already!"

"Okay! I'll be in my room if you need me!" Darryl walked back to his room and giggled to himself. "Muffinhead.."

Once Darryl was out of sight, Zak took a deep breath and let it out, opening his notebook again.

-

A few hours passed. Zak finally felt like he was finished writing. Gripping the notebook tightly in hands, he slowly walked over to Darryl's door.

Once he was there, he silently cursed to himself when he saw how shaky his hand was when he reached for the doorknob. Anxiousness and doubtfulness grew within.

Despite that, he decided to push himself and opened the door. "Hey, Darryl?"

Darryl was on his computer as he turned to look at him. "Oh, hey man. You need something?"

"Yes and uhhh.. are you recording or streaming right now?"

Darryl shook his head. "No, why?"

"Here." Zak walked over to him and held his notebook out, struggling to not seem nervous in front of him. Darryl was confused for a moment until he gasped.

"Oooh! Are you finished writing?" He gently took the notebook. "So what did you write? Is it some kind of story?"

"Um just.. read it so you can find out." Zak bit his lip. A part of him really wanted to leave. His mind was basically screaming “Abort! Abort mission!,” but he stood firmly still. He already made up his mind as Darryl started to read.

"Darryl. I've been thinking about doing this for a long time and I finally brought myself to do it. It's something that's serious and very important to me."

Darryl paused for a moment and looked at Zak for a moment. He wasn’t exactly expecting this or to see Zak looking a little on edge. He wondered if he should be concerned, already feeling a bit worried, but he kept on reading.

“I'm kind of kicking myself in the head right now and I probably will still hate myself for doing this later on. Heck I’m probably kicking myself in the head right now while you read this. The thing is I know that it would be better if I just speak to you about it instead. I want to tell you how much you mean to me but we both know I’m very stupid with words. So I’m writing it out instead.”

Darryl couldn’t help but smile wide at this as he thought to himself. “Aww this is.. He didn’t have to do this..” He almost stopped reading to ask Zak what was this even for, but he kept reading.”

Meanwhile, Zak was internally freaking out in more ways than one. He saw Darryl’s smile and took it as a very good sign. It made him feel a little bit relieved, but then he went back to panicking on the inside as he recalled every single word he poured his heart into.

“We’ve known each other for so long and I just want to start off by saying I’m really happy we became friends. I know when we started off I messed with you a whole lot. And I know that we like to get on each other’s nerves. But I’m so happy you stuck by me. You’re probably the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

Darryl’s smile didn’t fade while he continued to read, feeling his face warm up and heart beat fast. He was adoring everything about this so far, loving every heartfelt word, As a few more seconds of reading went by, his soft smile slowly turned into a look of surprise as his face burned up.

“I’ve been really scared to say this for the longest time. But I eventually had to be honest with you. Darryl. I really like you. Would you like to go on a date with me?”

He felt like he couldn’t breathe for a moment and paused to look at Zak again. He could tell that Zak was a nervous wreck. He seems shaky, looking away from him as he was fiddling with the strings on his hoodie. He re-read that line to make sure he wasn’t seeing things and continued.

“You mean the whole world to me and I really cannot imagine my life without you. You’re my favorite person to spend time with and I wouldn’t have it any other way. If you don’t feel the same way I’ll understand. I hope you’ll always be my best friend at least. Whatever happens I’ll love you forever and always. -Zak”

Darryl slowly closed the notebook. His face was still red and he was speechless as he struggled to find his voice. Zak looked at Darryl as soon as he noticed he stopped reading. He immediately felt worried as he couldn’t tell if that look of shock was a good thing or not. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god SAY SOMETHING DUDE!” Zak’s mind screamed out.

Zak decided to speak up first. “I know that that was kind of dumb and really really cheesy, but I-I.”

“I love you.”

“...Wait h-huh? What-”

Zak let out a yelp as Darryl suddenly squished him with all his might. “THIS IS THE BEST THING EVER!” He squeaked out.

Zak felt a mix of disbelief, excitement, and relief all at once for a moment. “You like it!? Is that a yes!? Is.. is it-”

Darryl said nothing as he happily intertwined Zak’s hands with his. He wiped the tears starting to well up in his own eyes, having the happiest smile Zak has ever seen on his face.

It was Zak’s turn to smile like crazy, feeling as if a huge weight was lifted from his chest. He began to break down into laughter as he hugged Darryl so hard that the both of them almost lost their balance. Darryl squished him again. Neither wanted to let go for the longest time.

“Dude! I- You have NO IDEA how stressful that was oh my god! I can’t even- Where do I even begin!? I’m- I’m so happy right now..”

“Wait! So- Every time I saw you writing, you’ve- You’ve been trying to write this for the past few days!?” Darryl squealed out.

Zak suddenly became flustered. “No!… Maybe?… y-yeah.”

“And you kept rewriting i- Awww! Oh my goodness, that’s so adorable!”

Zak hid his smiling face against Darryl’s shoulder. “Nooo shut up it isn’t..”

“Yes it is!” Darryl giggled. “I loved it..”

-

Almost an hour went by. Zak grabbed his coat and walked over to Darryl. “Hey, so I’m heading out. Do you want anything when I-” He suddenly stopped talking and laughed a little as a blush crept up his neck. “Are you seriously reading it again?”

Darryl was leaning against his hand with a smile on his face, staring at the notebook Zak wrote in. He looked up at Zak and giggled. “What? Don’t judge me!”

“Oh my god..” He hid his face in his hand. “I still can’t believe you’re actually keeping that thing.”

“Oh come on, why wouldn’t I?” Darryl softly smiled and let out a small sigh as he looked at the notebook. “Of course I’ll treasure it..”

Zak smiled and continued to talk. “O-Okay… Anyways, do you need anything when I get back?”

“Nope! I’m good!” Darryl happily continued to read Zak’s confession once again until he noticed that Zak was still standing right next to him. He looked back up while raising a brow. “You want something?”

Zak quickly pecked him on the cheek and smiled brightly afterwards. “Not anymore! Byeee!” He ran off giggling to himself.

Darryl stared off into oblivion with a flustered look on his face, processing what just happened. He broke out into a goofy smile when the realization hit, and hugged Zak’s notebook tightly.

“I love you too…”

[End]