#pardon my sleep-deprived dramatics

[novelconcepts]

what if I just never finished a story ever again

would that be neat. that could be neat.

[wickedw3asleys]

Late Night Talks (blurb)

bestfriends!/platonic! Fred x Reader x George

AN: Good night everybody! I thought about this before going to sleep so I decided that since I wasn't able to post my writings for a few days I decided to give you this small blurb of bestfriends!fred and george, so i hope you'll like it!❤️

WARNINGS: nothing... kind of fluffy i guess... it's just a scene of what i imagine doing being the twins' bestfriend :3

You opened the twins' door to their bedroom and rushed into it, not even bothering to knock or say anything.

"Y/N!", George screams, covering his naked chest.

"Georgie, I have seen you in worsts attires, darling...", you sigh, jumping on his bed.

"You should quit that nasty habit of yours of entering our room without knocking first!"

"What's wrong?", asks Fred, joining you on his brother's bed.

"I can't sleep... again... and now I'm mad about it, and I know you guys are sleep deprived too, so you're keeping me company", you say, opening the book you've previously had brought with you.

George put a shirt on an sat next to you and Fred on the bed, "Give me that!", he says, aggressively taking his pillow from under you.

"Merlin, boy, you surely chose violence tonight...", you laugh.

He sighed in fake annoyance and put his pillow on your legs, just to lay his head on it and silently ask for you to caress his hair; a habit he quickly took whenever he was sad or in a bad mood, or even to just relax.

Fred laughed at his brother and slightly kicked him in the ribs, earning a whimper from him.

You loved going to their bedroom late at night when you had nightmares or you couldn't sleep at all. You knew they also had very bad sleeping habits so they are usually awake for most part of the night, unless you came to their room. The moment you get in, you start your usual late night talks and soon end up sleeping all together in one bed, as if you brought them the comfort they also brought to you to finally sleep comfortably.

"So, what's today topic?", Fred asked, stretching his full body and laying down next to you.

"I may have or may have not seen Harry snogging your sister earlier today...", you say nonchalantly, leaving the twins speechless.

"Pardon me, you WHAT?", George says, suddenly getting up from your lap.

"Huh? What?", you say as if nothing had happened.

"Oh, don't play innocent with us, you sneaky harpy!", Fred exclaims, pointing his finger at you.

"Come on! Spit it out!"

You nervously laughed at the two insisting pairs of eyes on you.

"Well... I may or may have not heard that Ginny had a slight crush on him for a few years now... And well, I suppose it was the same for Harry... So... They started dating..."

"NO! That does not give him the right to snogg her! AND DATE HER! What if she was forced?! HUH?!", George starts panicking.

"He's so dead!", Fred gets up from the bed, but got quickly interrupted by your hand firmly grabbing his arm.

"Boys, calm down! No, she was not forced and no, you're not going to kill Harry!", you say, helping Fred sit down again, "They finally talked and after your sister's big disaster with Dean, I think Harry can be good for her! So calm down!"

"B-but-", George starts objecting.

"But nothing! I truly think so...", you warmly smiled to them. You always loved the way they were so protective of Ginny, but they could get pretty dramatic sometimes... Way too dramatic.

"How long has all this been going on?!", Fred asks, his face now between his hands.

"Uhm... A few weeks... A month, perhaps..."

"A MONTH?!", Fred cries dramatically and pull his face down with his fingers.

"Come on, you're going to hurt yourself...", you take his own hands away from him.

"How come no one has told us?! Does mom know?! DOES DAD KNOW?!", George gets up, visibly frustrated.

"Yes, yes, they all know! And you're the last ones to know about it because you two are insufferable dramatic gits that would have started screaming bloody murder the second you'd see Harry even holding her hand", you firmly say.

Fred and George lower their gaze, knowing that you're right. They supposed that they were happy for her; they had been there for Ginny when she and Dean broke up, and made sure Dean would definitely remember it... But they knew Harry wasn't like him. Knowing him like they did, they were pretty sure he would be almost as protective as them of Ginny.

"Are they doing okay?", Fred asks, finally relaxing and laying down to his inicial position.

"Yeah! They look pretty happy together; of course Harry is still that awkward boy we all know, and she's good for him. And he's good for her, he knows how to treat her..."

"Yeah, he better do...", George says, laying his head on your lap again, arms crossed.

"Leave them time... It's too soon to say more anyways...", you say, caressing the boy's hair again.

"Do you think Ron will talk to Hermione too?", Fred asks.

"Ron? Why would he talk to her?", you laugh.

"You're joking, right?", George laughs too, "He's been deeply and madly in love with her for YEARS!"

"You're mad!"

"It's true!", Fred sits up again.

"Oh, yeah? And says who?"

"LITERALLY EVERYBODY!", he exclaims, throwing his hands in the air, "He drools every time he looks at her"

"Come on, you're seeing things"

"No we're not! You'll see when he finally declares himself!", George boops your nose.

"Whatever you say..", you laugh, slowly sliding down on the bed so you're laying down, never pushing away George's head from -now- your stomach.

The three of you took a deep breath, relaxing a bit more and chatting for a few more minutes, before you saw Fred being the first one to fall asleep.

"Come on, Georgie, time to sleep", you slightly slapped him on the forehead, chuckling.

"I was about to, until you interrupted me, you brat!", he gave you a slight slap back.

"Okay, shut it now", you say, slapping his forehead again.

"Y/N, I swear on Merlin's name-", he starts before getting interrupted by your fake snores, "You're unbelievable..."

He chuckled and turned on his other side, head still on your stomach and now facing you; he looked at you one last time and closed his eyes too, thinking about how lucky he was to be able to live and cheer these kind of moments with you... and his brother, of course...

[thekatebridgerton]

Hey, I saw a post of aspoonfuloffiction arguing about that in the show there are no stakes for Benedict or the other siblings giving all the shit Anthony did, I wonder what is your opinion on that?

First of all, anon, I hope you meant this post.

because currently @aspoonfuloffiction is riding their HOD/ Star wars phase (which honestly #Same although my HOD/ Star wars phase is just me simping for Daemon and Obi-wan) and I had to go digging to find out what you were referring to.

And to add my comments, I think I've said this before, and I'll say this again, the Bridgertons are the main characters, at least on screen they're made of scandal teflon. The show has a weird way of cherry picking which of their actions have and don't have consequences worth noting. (Yes, I'm still not over Eloise wearing the family jewelry to go what was basically ye-olden-times-even-your-servants-are-afraid-of-this-place district).

We just have to accept it. As contradictory as it sounds, no stakes is sort of what the viewer wants to see. Or at least, everything resolved in the end with a cute bow. Is what they think the viewer wants to see and admittedly yes, we were all happier in the era where none of the Marvel superheroes ever died (so much there were memes about coulson).

I just think that the collective outrage isn't that there are no stakes, because there are, Anthony and Kate wouldn't have spent so much dramatizing their lack of scenes together for nothing. But rather the fact that the way that things get seemingly so neatly resolved feels too much like a cop out, or a plot device thrown in last minute after the writers backed themselves into a corner.

But what do you do when you write a wedding organized by the queen? how do, the writer you undo that? what happens between the wedding and the groom marrying the bride's sister?. Well, the sister could stop the wedding, make a declaration of love ala Taylor Swift. Except, there's the queen to think about.

Okay then, the groom or his siblings stop the wedding...There's the queen to think about.

Fine, the venue burns down, the wedding must be postponed...Who's going to insult the queen by telling her that the one the groom wants to marry is the sister. Edwina? oh yeah that could work...maybe

oh I've got an idea, maybe the pope is casually visiting England this time of the year and declares that God told him that the queen is wrong and that this wedding can no longer proceed.

Oh gosh.. Now we have offended the pope by pulling an Anne Boleyn vs Mary Boleyn scandal!

But umm the King could intervene right?. Nope the king is mentally ill.

Can you guys think of any scenario, aside from the Queen granting what was essentially a royal pardon, that could help a writer come out of that nasty corner they wrote themselves into?.

Maybe I'm too sleep deprived to think of a creative way around it, but make no mistake, the stakes were there for the Kanthony and the Saphne season, but it's the conflict resolution plot device they used that absolutely failed to live up to expectations.

Altough, Daphne breaking off her engagement with the prince was slightly less problematic, since historically speaking, when the girl broke off the engagement to marry another man of high standing, the scandal wasn't so big and was treated as a 'she changed her mind' sort of situation among noble circles.

(note, that this doesn't apply IF the lady didn't have ANOTHER guy lined up for her hand, the shame was indeed big if she rejected him just to stay single: see Anne Elliot)

So Benedict and Sophie, they're going to be okay anon. You'll see.

And that's my opinion about it.

[punkbirdwitch]

Sweet Mother Sappho

A longer poem about learning through history, self-discovery, etc. It’s a rough draft-- I’m not 100% satisfied with the storyline-- but, eh, here ya go.

---

Oh, Mother Sappho, though I’m not sure who you are,

I just found you in the trunk of my dad’s old beat-up car,

In a pile full of other stuff he used to want but doesn’t,

So I figured now would be the time to give myself a present.

I must admit that I’m not well-versed with verses,

Haven’t seen stanzas since Kwanzaa, and my rhymes could use work-- but!

Your face is on the cover and you look like you’re nice, so

I think I’ll come and read you-- only once or twice, I swear!--

And only when I’m curious about Aphrodite’s weaving,

Or carpenters and roofbeams or Gods who like deceiving!

I’d hate to be a bother with all of my incessant reading,

There’s just something ‘bout your passages I can’t help but find intriguing--

But maybe it’s just that my curiosity took

When I noticed finely scrawled within the tiny nook

Between the front cover and the page--

Faded some with age--

In graphite on the page, it reads, “Steph…

...

I hope you like the book.”

… My name’s Chris, by the way.

-

Oh, Mother Sappho, I know it’s only been one day,

But after our first meeting I can’t tear myself away!

And on top of that I realized that I’ve been a little flippant.

Dad always says that when I talk, my brain gets sorta distant.

My name is Chris, as I surely said before,

I’m 15 years old, born in the year Two Thousand and Four,

Which to you must seem like, I dunno, a billion years away--

If only you could see all of the stuff we have today!

My dad’s a docent-- uh, which means he works in a museum,

And I remind him he’s a nerd just about every time I see ‘im.

He takes folks ‘round to see the history, the time when you lived--

And money can be tight, so sometimes he works the graveyard shift.

I guess they save some headache by keeping the same guy

To glide across the floors by day and scrub ‘em by night.

But hey! I’m not complaining, and neither is he,

‘Cuz Empty Halls + Father/Son = Happy Memories.

I spent a lot of nights playing next to history,

Though how I (almost) never broke stuff still remains a mystery.

I played tag with the Huns, roshambo with Tommie Smith,

(A game I always won since he would always raise his fist).

My father told me tales from ancient times-- (Never quite PG)--

Then quizzed me on Mythology ‘til my mind was at its apogee!--

I’d hunt with Davy Crockett and paint with Vince van Gogh--

Might explain why a dead poet makes the second-best friend that I know. Ha!

But my favorite-- yes, the best-and-kindest figures of all

Were the warriors whispered about in the Women’s History Hall.

This was before they spread the female figures throughout the exhibits,

But in that hallway you could sense there was rebellious spirit.

Wollstonecraft and Curie, Shelley, Earhart and d’Arc,

I danced with Josie Baker, had some chats with Rosa Parks--

I fought entire wars with them as a tactician of sorts,

Then settled it with kindness, like you read about in books--

And it’s true that my childhood would have been less sleep-deprived

If I stayed at home while daddy made the money to survive,

But I’m a night owl through and through, a real child of Nyx-- (Still got it!)--

Which is why I’m sitting here with you at, like… 3:06.

… A.M. Yikes-- Mother Sappho! I’ve got to get to bed,

But thank you oh-so-kindly for the poetry I’ve read.

I hope that you don’t mind if this becomes a regular thing,

Like when I used to read soliloquies to Dr. Martin Luther King (‘s statue)--

God, with all that museum time, it’s weird I never met you.

But without further ado,

I’ll say good night to you.

… But Mother Sappho-- one thing keeps me awake,

A little shred of curiosity that I have yet to slake.

It pulls me in like the aroma from the master dish of a chef,

Oh, Mother Sappho…

… Who’s Steph?

-

-

Oh, Mother Sappho! Julie’s coming by tonight,

And whenever she comes over she just has to steal the spotlight!

Not that I mind-- I’m cool with being quiet at the table

While my childhood friend fills my open head with fables.

Our Hellish Elementary formed our crucible as friends,

And though it sucked, we only came out stronger in the end.

A nerdy girl, a “cissy” guy, playing sci-fi with dolls--

Didn’t really resonate within those tiny halls.

And of course I’d be remiss to not show her my new find--

I always try to have a new conversation topic each time

That she comes over-- Which she’s done quite regularly

Since she became my friend when no one else

Would hang out with me.

… But anyway-- She says she loves you, which is not a surprise,

It’s always been dead-dramatic ladies for whom she’s had eyes--

Not saying you’re dramatic, Sappho, I’m just trying to say,

That I’ve recently been wondering if you might’ve been gay?

I’m just saying! that’s the conclusion that I came to next

When the subtextual did floweth over into the text.

(O it makes my panicked heart go fluttering in my chest,

for the moment I catch sight of you there is no speech left

in me--) You see? You can’t blame me for thinking

That it was rainbow-colored nectar you and your friends were drinking.

 And while Julie’s father has a chat with my dad,

I tell my lifelong friend about the conversations we’ve had--

And I can’t help but hear our fathers talking in the afternoon air,

Two strong voices rising through wood and laughing as a pair…

Though what they talk about’s a mystery-- dad says it’s “Nothing much--”

It’s rare for friends to have their dads like each other this much,

Aaaand I just rhymed “much” with “much”-- I told you I’m rusty!

But I think I’m getting better, you’ll-- just have to… Trust me?

Ugh.

 -

-

-

 Oh, Mother Sappho, I’m addling my brain--

If I don’t find out who this “Steph” is, I might just go insane--

Short for Stephanie, I’m sure, but why is it in my father’s hands?

And why would he discard in the back of our sedan?

Is there some pain within my father’s past he’d rather I not know?

...

You know-- I never had a mother, Mother Sappho.

 -

-

-

-

 Oh, Mother Sappho.

Oh, Mother Sappho.

 I spoke with Julie today, Oh, Mother Sappho.

Sweet Mother Sappho.

I had something to say, “Oh--

“You know,” I said, “I think that I would like to be a girl,

Even if not for forever, I’d still give it a whirl.

I’m unversed in verses-- It’s hard

To explain in the wrong key

But I get the feeling that not everything

Is quite all right with me.”

And she turned to me and smiled and said “Silly-- you can be.”

 .

 Oh, Mother, Sappho.

Oh, Mother, Sappho.

I’m addling my brain.

There’s something here inside my heart that I just cannot contain.

It doesn’t feel right--

And yet

It doesn’t feel wrong.

It just feels like I’ve

Never quite

Belonged.

And now I’m not sure where I’m at or what to do.

Mother Sappho, I don’t know what to do.

Oh, Mother Sappho…

…

Sweet Mother Sappho…

 -

-

-

-

-

-

 (Oh, darling daughter, I hope you know that you are strong

And that as you sat there rambling, I was listening all along.

Please pardon my language-- I’m afraid I’ve not rehearsed.

In this meter, I’m afraid that I’m the one unversed.

 (You’re green and dainty, child-- what better thing to be?

And though your heart is violet, you’re as sturdy as the tree.

I hope you know I love you, no matter who you are,

For your soul is far more radiant than all the highest stars--

Now show them who you are--

My child, show them you are.

...

(And know

That you have nothing to fear.

You’ll know

When you understand how near you were

And are

To people just like you.

To people who love you.)

 -

 Oh, Mother Sappho, I hope you know you haven’t been misread,

And I think I found the meaning in that thing that you last said.

I realized what before I would not have believed in, ‘cuz--

“Steph” is short for Stephanie-- but is also short for “Stephen.”

 I think my dad and I might need to have a talk--

In the morning. It’s 2:04, and I’m still sort of in shock.

Maybe once I tell ‘im, I can help him get a date.

Ha! Maybe…

It’s late.

 Thank you, Mother Sappho, and just to set things straight-- (Which I guess I’m not, now, huh, Ms. Sapphic?)

You can still call me Chris-- it’s gender-neutral, yeah? It almost feels like fate.

Oh, Mother Sappho, I think that this feels right.

Thanks, and-- good night, Mother Sappho.

 -

(Good night.)

[ourlittlesecretokay]

I’ll go for fluff 6&7 if we need a break from the angst 😊

“Can we stay like this forever?”

“Please just kiss me already.”

“Scoot over,” she tries to shove his leg off the couch.

“No, I'm already comfy,” groaning, he pushes back, refuses to move.

“Come on, I'm tired too.”

“Here, come here.” Opening his arms, he beckons her forward.

Climbing over him, she curls against his side, laying her head on his chest. “Your hands are cold.”

“I know.” For the simple sake of being a pain, he presses a hand beneath her sweater, against her lower back.

With a shrill sound, she kicks, “Asshole!”

“It's the price for taking away space. All tenants must pay rent.”

“In body heat?”

“In body heat.” Resettling, he brushes her hair back, kissing the top of her head.

“Why are your hands so damn cold anyway? What were you doing?” Taking his free hand, she holds it between her own.

“I don't know. Drinking. Writing.”

“Anything good?”

“Scotch and screenplays.”

“Were you successful in revolutionizing the art?”

“Darling, I already have.”

“Oh, of course. You literary genius.”

“Yes, well,” he sighs. “You don't make it easy.”

“And what does that mean?” Lifting her head up, she looks at him in mock offense.

“It means you're an entire handful, Countess. I can't even rest without you bothering me.”

“My apologies, but I believe you've already missed the window for ‘beauty rest’ by a few years.”

“Hey, now.” He frowns. “I happen to be an extremely handsome man.”

“Oh yes?” She rolls over, rests her chin on her hands, flat against his chest. “You just clean up well, or?”

“You wound me, Darling,” he groans, wraps his arms around her. “Always so cruel.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Fine. You want to play dirty? You leave me no choice.” Quickly, he shoves his hands beneath her sweater, icy fingers pressing to her ribs.

“No!” She wriggles back, trying to get away, but it is too late, and she's already trapped. “Let go, you bastard!”

“Say you're sorry!”

“No!”

“Say I am handsome and dashing and talented!”

“I'll die first,” finally getting purchase, she manages to get to her knees, sitting overtop him. He slides his hands to her hips, pulls her sweater back into place.

“And you don't think you're being the slightest bit dramatic?”

“You'd know all about that, wouldn't you?”

“So mean today!” He clicks his tongue. “Tell me, cruel lady, what crime am I being punished for?”

“Refusing to share the couch!”

“I am sharing! This,” he gestures between them, ���is sharing.”

“If you were a real gentleman, you'd give your spot to the lady.”

“If you were a real lady, you'd know better than to talk back to your man.”

“Oh, my man? You're my man now, huh?” She rolls her shoulder back, making a show of the word.

“I've always been your man.”

“Yeah? And what does that mean?”

“That I'm the lucky bastard that gets to clean up your messes.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course.”

“What messes am I leaving?”

“Violet,” he shakes his head slowly. “You get into more trouble than anyone I've ever met.”

“I can take care of myself just fine, thank you.”

“I know, but I like doing it,” his voice is low, tired.

“Oh yeah? Why's that?”

“You're my girl, aren't you? Terrible behavior and all.”

“Terrible behavior?”

“Terrible.”

“You’re an idiot for wanting me, then.”

“What can I say? You bring my genius to its knees.”

“Now you’re just making fun of me.”

“Making fun? Never. Not me.” Sighing he tucks her hair behind her ear. “Surely I would know better than that.”

Catching his wrist, she holds his hand to her face, “Because you know you’d lose?”

“Because one should never speak so unkindly to tricky nymphs.”

“I’m a nymph now?”

“You’ve always been a nymph.”

“Aren’t they supposed to me impossible to catch?”

“Yes. Which makes me the fool who managed the impossible just because he didn’t know it to be so.”

“Olaf.”

“Yes?”

“Please just kiss me already.”

Smiling, he cups her face, pulling her down until he can finally reach her lips. Impossibly warm, she kisses him back, braced above him like a small sweater-clad gargoyle, hellbent on causing him nothing but trouble.

“Come lay down with me. I promise not to warm my hands on you,” he brushes his fingers through her hair, murmuring against her lips.

“You can warm your hands. I don't mind,” she places a peck on his lips.

“No?”

“No. In fact, let me warm you all up.” Laying down again, she fits her head against his neck, planting a kiss on his jaw.

“What a selfless little wife I have,” he hums, running his fingers over her shoulder.

“I can't help it. You're just so handsome and dashing and talented.” Walking her fingers up his chest, she ends with a tap against his nose. He smiles, putting on a show of a sigh as he rewraps her in his arms in mock exasperation.

“What am I going to do with you?”

“Rather, what would you do without me?”

“Get some sleep, for one.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, an I keeping you up? Are you trying to rest? Is this bothering you?”

“I will give you whatever you want if you let me sleep for ten minutes.”

“Should have thought of that before you locked yourself away in your study all day.”

“Pardon me, Countess, but are you saying you missed me?”

“No, I'm just saying it's been so long since I've seen you that I've adjusted to living alone.”

“Well then. How can I ever repay the debt of depriving you of my company?”

“Give up work for the evening. Stay longer than ten minutes.”

“You want to spend an entire evening torturing me?”

“Is it really torture?”

“No.” He smiles, brushes back her hair. “You know I'd like nothing more than a constant hold on you. It isn't my fault you refuse to be a lap dog.”

“Oh my god-”

“Am I wrong?”

“You know what? Go to sleep. Take that nap you've been threatening and just shut up.”

“But am I wrong? You're some sort of… I don't know, wild dog. You can't stand being kept inside too long.”

“I'm with you now, aren't I?”

“That you are. We'll see how long you stay.”

“How long do you want me to stay?”

“How long do I want a beautiful if stubborn lady to lay on top of me and give me kisses?” Squinting his eyes, he pretends to think. “I don't know. Can we stay like this forever?”

“At least until dinner,” she tilts his face towards hers, smiles as she kisses him. “Now hush. I'm trying to sleep.”

[lindaspark]

the sound that we make is thunder

the westallen neighbor / enemies to friends to lovers au, nobody asked for!

(ao3)

“Your neighbor is like ridiculously hot.” Iris rose an eyebrow at her friend. “Objectively speaking because-”

“Wally is your type and you find my little brother so hot, yes I know you guys drool over each other every time one of you tags along while I’m with the other.”

 “Iris!” Her friend hit, fuck pretty hardly.

“Hey, I’m just stating what I see..and besides said hot neighbor is a sad, dude who comes in late, locks himself in his apartment and stays up all night listening to music, fucking loudly, and it’s not even like basic guilty pleasure pop songs or whatever, it’s hardcore shit that doesn’t let you sleep like Fall Out Boy’s Uma Thurman.”

“Fall Out Boy’s prime to be honest.” Iris looked at Linda from her spot on her bed.

“Oh right. Not helping, have you ever tried maybe I dunno know, telling him to turn it down a bit?” Linda said while scrolling through Iris’ new article to check for odd things, things that were out of place.

Iris let out a sigh. “I just moved in, I can’t be all over the place screaming at my neighbor and telling he’s hot.” Well technically, she moved in a month ago, but yeah she didn’t want to cause some kind of fight already, she wanted to stay on the low and be invisible. And besides she barely saw him, either seeing his feet before his door slammed shut right when she got home from CCPN, or his back when he made his way out of the little building every morning at way too fucking early in the morning. And she only saw him because he made so much noise, the amount of noise he made kept her awake at night, which was good in some cases, you know to finish articles, but other times like at 5 in the morning? Not really. 

Iris was so deep in thought she didn’t see the dark haired girl near her desk looking at her with smug eyes. “What?!” Iris asked with concern.

“Nothing, I was just talking about him making noise, not you telling him that you find him cute..”

“Linda!” at that Iris threw her pillow at her friend, and she responded by throwing pencils and pens from Iris’ desk. Iris ducked and the pens hit her wall pretty hard.

“You broke them Linda what the fuck!” Iris said while laughing, trying to keep herself from curling over.

Linda started out laughing too. “I’m sorry you know how competitive I can get, it’s an ex sports reporter thing.”

Iris rolled her eyes, there’s no such thing as that Linda Jasmine Park.

Oh you’re using my full name now? I see Iris Ann West. She said while standing up and slowly making her way towards her.

“No-” And then she started tickling Iris. They both screamed and laughed until something bumped or hit her wall.

“So what he can make noise at fucking 3 in the morning but you doing it at 6 pm is a problem, your hot neighbor’s shit, Iris.” Linda said while getting up, and putting on her coat.

“Told you!” 

Linda laughed. “Yeah you did tell me he was hot already.” 

Before Iris could throw her whole bedset at Linda, Linda made her way outside of her room, and her apartment. 

Around 2 in the morning Iris woke up to the beginning of some guitar instrumental, then she felt her wall, her surroundings start vibrating, it wasn’t an instrumental he was truly playing a guitar, an electric guitar, at 3 in the morning. It was slow at first then went to town. like really just off. She was about to hit her wall repeatedly but stopped when she heard the guitar’s notes suddenly slow down to it’s initial pace, and then a soft voice, she couldn’t hear anything clearly, it was muffled, so she pressed her ear against the wall above her bed. “Her frame of steel demands a spark. Now I know that I'm protected though we're worlds apart”

And then he went hard on with the guitar, using it’s full effect and sound. Then roughly sang:  When I fall. You save me baby.

Something about his range, and the change from the soft to rough tone, made her body tighten and her heart beat a bit quicker than usual.

“So your hot neighbor can also freaking sing?! What the hell Iris you hit the jackpot.” Linda said while sipping her usual from Jitters as they walked towards CCPN.

Iris scoffed. “I didn’t hit anything.”

“Yet.”

“Miss Jasmine may I remind you, you are currently this close to screwing my little brother?” Iris said while holding up her thumb and index finger to form a not yet closed circle.

Linda laughed, and it was really the best thing, she ever heard. “West, I swear to God.”

“You’re not denying it, so I guess it’s true.” said Iris while showing off her pearly whites.

“You’re lucky I love you and your brother.” The other flower told her as she slung her arm around her shoulders.

Iris’ day went by quick after that, from Scott’s approval of her article to her receiving more assignments, and a first interview opportunity, Iris was exhausted. All she wanted to do when she got home was turn on Netflix and sleep through the show she ended up choosing.

But her plans of sleeping were cut short due to the..Is he fucking kidding me, she thought.

It’s only 9:45, it’s not that late, maybe he’ll stop?

He didn’t. 

It was 11 now almost 12 and his music, was still playing, way to loudly. Maybe she was overreacting, why weren’t the other neighbors complaining, or reporting this dude?

You guys are the only people to have an apartment on the last floor of the building, genius, her brain reminded her.

She tried just brushing it off, but 1 in the morning she was done with this nonsense, she needed to sleep or Linda was going to kill her hot neighbor and Scott was going to snap at her looking dead at work.

She hit her wall a couple of times. The music abruptly stopped at her banging. She heard shuffling, and then 3 loud bangs against the spot she just hit, from the other side. The jackass.

And then he actually started hitting the wall from the other side, in some kind of musical piece, rhythm?

That’s it.

Iris made her way towards her front door, and went to bang on his door, but before she could even touch the wood, he opened the door.

God. Okay hot was understatement. His hair was all rumpled, eyes, green, oh so very green, freckles dotting from his face to his neck like constellations. His eyes scanned over her face, and body. He put his arms up and held the door frame with his hands. He’s also tall. The stretching, made his sweater ride up, and give her a brief view, of his sweats hanging low and..She felt her face heat up and instantly look up.

“How may I help you?” He asked politely, not even acknowledging the childish shit he just pulled. 

Iris realized her hand was still up in the air, from wanting to break his door with her knock. She pulled down her hand and tried acting casual.

“I- I came here to ask if you could turn your music, down, it’s pretty late, and some people actually have to work and do productive stuff you know so, please.”

He scoffed. “How do you know I don’t have work to do? Judgmental aren’t you newbie?”

“Excuse me, I moved in a month ago, I’m not a newbie, also pardon me for thinking the mister here, doesn’t have a job, because he spent his nights for almost every day of the month I moved in blasting, music, and singing at 3 in the morning.” She snapped back.

Give her a break, she was sleep deprived.

He blushed a bit at the mention of her hearing him sing.

He was clearly cut off guard because he stayed silent for a couple of seconds.

So instead of waiting for his reply, she said quickly “Just turn the volume a tad fucking bit? please.” Before walking quickly, almost running, back to her apartment. 

Once she was in bed she heard him move around the opposite room, and lower the volume. And she smiled to herself.

Of course the next morning she woke up late.

Iris rushed to put on her clothes, pack in her laptop, put on her heels, and make-up. 

Linda and Scott were going to kill her. Super. fucking duper.

She ran towards the elevator, frantically pushing the ‘rez de chaussée’ button. The doors were about to close, but a hand stopped them. 

Iris unconsciously let out a loud groan, of course the neighbor she screamed at had to take the same elevator down, as her. Why did the fates hate her so much.

She tried ignoring his presence, tired ignoring his form fitting jeans, fancy little leather jacket, him running his hand through his hair, the fact that he rolled his jeans up so we could see his socks a bit, she tried ignoring them all by focusing her energy on the assignment Scott had given her for today. She had to visit? CCPD? To get inside scoop from a new CSI, that was the key to help find a big underground crime lord? Yeah that’s right, that sounds right.

she was brought out of her stressful thoughts, by a light constant tapping. Of course.

She grunted. “Can you please stop that, I’m trying to focus.”

He scoffed. “So I can’t make a bit of noise in my own home, and now I can’t make noise in the rest of this building? Guards take me away.” he said dramatically while putting the back of his hand on his forehead.

She refrained herself from snapping him into two. 

“Smart, you take drama classes, alongside your how to be obnoxious and loud at night classes?

That shut him up.

The elevator finally dinged, letting them both out of their misery. Or so she thought. He had to have the last word this time.

“Well it was nice meeting you miss West.” he said right before running out of the elevator.

Miss West? How does he even know my name, she thought to herself.

It didn’t matter because just like him, she had to run, she was going to be late. 

She got to CCPD, out of breath, feet sore. 

She let out a breath and then she felt someone touch her shoulder lightly. She jumped at the contact.

“Iris what has gotten into you? It’s just an interview with a newbie, they won’t bite off your head.” Her father then looked down at his watch, and told her she was 15 minutes early. Iris took that as a cue to go retouch, her shitty make up, due the morning’s speed dress up game.

After fixing her eye-liner, mascara, and lipstick, she headed out. Her father pointed his head towards Singh’s, the captain's office. He’s in there.

Her father, and Scott had reminded her, that his name was Barry Allen. Okay so start with good morning Barry Allen. Yeah start with that.

She prepared her recorder and opened the door that led to Singh’s office. 

Inside she found a tall man, with chestnut hair, jeans rolled up a bit at the bottom, and a familiar fancy black leather jacket, turned towards the windows.

“You.”

He turned around smiling at himself. “Miss West, what may I help you with?”

“How did you- I thought you were some kind of-?!” She let out quickly, mimicking the pace she had last night.

She stopped herself and looked at him, the jackass was holding himself back from laughing.

“How did you know my name? Were you stalking me, you creep?”

He looked at her with disbelief. “Excuse me? You’re supposed to be an investigative journalist? Yet here you are reaching so high. Well not that high considering your height and all.”

Oh that was it. She ran towards him and started hitting his shoulder. 

“You. Do. Not. Get. To. Mock. Me. Music boy!” She said with every hit.

He shrieked. “Ow, Ow, OW! Dammit, stop it Iris!”

Him saying her name, made, her feel what she had felt, when she heard him sing. She pushed the feeling down, deep inside. 

“Well you started it, jerk! Now tell me how you knew me before this interview, and how you knew your neighbor was going to be interviewing you?”

He rubbed the spot she just hit, wincing forcefully.

“Did you really have to hit me to ask me a simple question?”

She rose her eyebrows. And he got the hint. Shut it.

“Well it wasn’t hard, after I solved the thing, I heard the people in the office talk about this West person, that was going to interview me for my heroics or whatever. And then I remembered, that a while back someone amongst the detectives said that a person with West in their name, was about to move into my building, and live on what it is now, our floor.”

She was shocked. Kind of flattered, weirdly?

He saw her take a few moments to process everything in, and smirked. 

“Stop that!” she hissed.

He looked at her innocently. “Stop what!?”

“Stop doing that thing with your eyes! Your face! Your mouth!”

“So you’re telling me to stop being me? Wow that’s harsh Iris, I thought we were on better terms than that.” he shot back with fake sad smile.

She let out a sharp scream, and dropped her arms to her side. Curling her fingers into a fist, to hold herself from strangling him.

The door behind them opened suddenly, they both jumped a bit, at the movement, Iris moving more towards Barry.

Joe poked out his head and look between the two of them.

He raised an eyebrow at Barry. “Bear, why does it look like she’s about to rip your head off?”

He put his hands up, to indicate that he had no clue, but before Joe could fully register it, Iris let out a strangled noise and screamed, quietly “He’s infuriating!”

Her dad brought or rather dragged her before she could strangle Barry, near the main hall of the department, trying to reason with her. “Iris come on, he’s a sweet guy, just tough on the outside, give him a chance, he saved a lot of people with his quick thinking.”

She was about to protest, but stopped when she saw him giving her a forced frown and puppy eyes through the glass that separated the main hall from the actual department. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back towards her dad. 

“...Listen just give him a chance, and if I’m not wrong you actually need to do this for your assignment?”

She whined loudly. God why. She had completely forgotten about Scott’s assignment while arguing with that ass.

She sighed. “Okay. But I won’t do it right now, I’m tired.” He kissed her forehead and waved her goodbye. 

She stood in the hall, taking out her phone to text Linda, and make her convince Scott, to give her 1 more day to get the interview. Right after she sent the message, she heard a whistling come closer towards her. She rose her head and saw him. Keys swirling on his index finger. 

“So West, want to finish this interview, I can’t bear to suffer more with the sound of your voice later.”

“Actually no. You’ll have to suffer more, I’m tired, you’ve drained me completely and I need some space from you. So later.”

“Okay so come by my place at like 9 so we can get this over with.” He added  nonchalantly.

She was about to open her mouth to protest once again, but he held one of his hands up in the air. “I know, I know bothering me, must really worry you but I can make time, for Joe’s daughter.”

This time she didn’t hold herself back, she rushed forward and punched him in the shoulder.

“Ow! West!-”

She turned away, walking towards the elevator.

“I know where you live! I can call the cops on you!” She could practically hear his smile.

“Well so do I, asshole!” She shot back while shoving her middle finger in the air, not needing to look back to know that half of the precinct had their mouths hanging low, and Barry holding himself back from laughing.

As the elevator doors closed she saw Barry scratching the back of his head, trying to explain to a very mad Singh why they were screaming.

A small smile find it’s way on her lips. What a dumbass.

[lecterly]

Nygmobblepot with Ulmus and Yarrow, please. 💜💚💜

two gay idiots + ulmus; royalty, strength, age & yarrow; cure for a broken heart.

Oswald has learned to love Ed in every light and every darkness. But here, in the dim fire glow of the mansion, Ed is particularly beguiling.

Ed rests on the floor, leaning gently against Oswald’s crossed legs. He’s sleep deprived, drowsing despite himself and twitching awake again when Oswald’s fingers card softly through his gold-limned hair. Oswald presses his fingertips just so into Ed’s temple, where the roots have started to grow in grey.

“We ought to retire for the night,” Oswald suggests carefully.

“I’m fine, Oswald. I just need a moment to rest my eyes.”

“At least join me up here. You can’t possibly be comfortable on the floor.”

“Don’t tell me where I’m most comfortable,” Ed grouses, sliding a hand around the back of Oswald’s knee stubbornly.

“Well, if you insist on holding me hostage here, you might as well talk to me so I don’t waste away from boredom.”

“Any preference on subject?” Ed’s hand meanders down to settle on Oswald’s ankle, tracing the hem of his umbrella sock with a thumb.

“I’m in the mood to reminisce. Remind me of something nice.”

Ed is silent for a handful of soft, even breaths, and Oswald is worried he’s fallen asleep until Ed says, “Do you remember the day we fought Batman at the water plant?”

“Mm. I’m not sure.” Oswald cups a hand against Ed’s pronounced cheekbone, pinkie tracing the straight line of his nose. “What about it?”

“I’d never seen you so wound up, and that’s saying something,” Ed says, grinning when Oswald pinches the shell of his ear. “The whole ride over you were… gesticulating and screaming, I’m going to give that Bat a piece of my mind! You’ll see, Ed, I’ve had quite enough of this flying fiend!”

Ed’s impression of him leaves something to be desired, but it makes Oswald’s cheeks heat pleasantly all the same. “Yes, I seem to recall a thing or two about that day now. Please, continue.”

“Well, when we got to the plant, Batman was nowhere to be found. Typical. But you wouldn’t let it go. It was about thirty degrees out and you marched around with your gun drawn, scarf up to your eyeballs.”

Oswald sighs. That was not his most shining moment. “You followed me the whole way.”

“Even when you decided to take five flights of those rickety stairs up to get a better look at everything. I thought we’d have to airlift you out of there.”

“Oh, honestly. Give me a bit of credit. I made it down in one piece.”

“You did,” Ed agrees, nuzzling at Oswald’s knuckles. “But that’s not my favorite part.”

“And what is?” Oswald’s heart is beating fast, which is entirely ridiculous. It’s the game of it, he suspects, Oswald baring his palm for memories and Ed indulging him so effortlessly.

“When Batman finally showed up, of course. You were shaking with rage, and you didn’t hesitate to confront him. Even though you come up to about his elbow.”

“Edward.”

“Let me finish.”

“Ah, pardon me.”

“Anyway, there the Bat was, an indomitable wall of strength, armed head to toe. You had a handgun and an overcoat so thick you could barely raise your arms. I was already calling Olga to arrange us both ice baths, if we were lucky enough not to end up in the hospital.” Edward pauses for dramatic effect needlessly. Oswald can feel Ed’s smile pressed into the fabric of his pants.

“You marched right up to Batman, and without a word, slapped him clean across the face. It was loud. I mean, his head hardly moved, but to this day I’ve never seen him so stunned. Then you turned on your heel and walked back to me. You said, ‘we’re done here, Edward.’ And you were right. He just let us get back in the car and go.”

“That’s not exactly how I remember it,” Oswald says, rolling his eyes to compensate for the delighted butterflies. Ed twists around then, planting a hand on either side of Oswald’s hips on the couch and pushing himself up, the way you might climb out of a pool. He kisses the corner of Oswald’s eye and rolls to the side, slumping into the cushions.

“Now I’m ready for bed. Oh, Oswald, I’m so weak. You’ll have to carry me.” Ed drapes an arm over his eyes tragically.

Oswald believes that heartbreak is an irreversible damage. The pieces can be rearranged, but they’ll never fit together quite the way they did before.

But here, as he slips both arms beneath Ed’s posed form and pretends to try to lift him up, as Ed curls away with a fretful gasp and an Oswald, I wasn’t serious! As they dissolve into muted laughter that turns into a kiss, and then another, and then another–

Oswald thinks his heart has started to mend.

[toxinwing]

You know, I could be down about the fact that Renault has been having issues throughout testing, or that Sauber and Toro Rosso are still a bit slow, or that we’re just waiting for the Mercs to unload the sandbags, or that McLaren is still having engine-related problems...

But, rather than being down, I will instead be happy about a few little things.

Specifically that Felipe not only was tied with Seb for most laps put down today, but also that he got today’s fastest lap! Hooray!

...Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. “Testing doesn’t mean anything Nick, stop getting your hopes up.” Let my heart be warmed and let me be momentarily happy for a certain tiny Brazilian! (Not that I’m ever not happy for him, of course)

[dollofdeath]

Déjà Vu [7/9]

Series: Joker Game

Characters: Kaminaga/Miyoshi; our guy Sakuma is here too

Rating: G

Summary:  Four missed encounters between Kaminaga and Miyoshi and the one time they finally meet (again).

Words: 3411

Notes: Modern AU/Reincarnation AU; I am (barely) still alive, but here’s not one, but two updates!! \o/ Not really sure what else to say but things are coming to an end ;w; hopefully things make sense ^^

Ch.1 | Ch.2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6 | You can read this on AO3 | Ch. 8 is over there also ^^ Thank you guys so much for reading, I hope you enjoy~!  ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

Ch. 7 - Kaminaga IV: I’ll See You Soon

Though Kaminaga was setting off for his mission today, the fact that he was leaving had still yet to hit him. It felt like tomorrow would follow the same routine of waking up and going through the training regimen Yuuki had in store for them, a day filled with the banter and antics of the men he'd come to call allies (and dare he say "friends," not that he would admit that -- could say that -- out loud). But he supposed things haven't been like that for a while.

Despite not quite getting along with him, there was something unnerving about Sakuma's absence after he was transferred. Odagiri resigned shortly after he failed his mission and though he wasn't one to talk much, it felt wrong to only see six other men. Hatano had left back in June, followed soon by Jitsui; the Cultural Society felt less welcoming without Hatano's short temper and Jitsui's cutting remarks, and though Amari, Tazaki, and Fukumoto had been assigned domestic missions, they were out more often than there were in. The only one constant was Miyoshi, whose only duty so far was to handle some missions. Though Kaminaga knew Miyoshi longed to leave the premises, to go out into the world already, the selfish part of him was thankful that he had more time to spend with him. The only regret he had now was leaving before him.

"Already leaving?"

Speak of the devil. Just as he'd finished the last of his preparations, Kaminaga turned around to see Miyoshi leaning against the doorway. Even if he gave the air of disinterest by inspecting his fingernails, there was the slight downward curl of his lips that told Kaminaga otherwise.

"Gonna miss me?"

Miyoshi shrugged and pushed himself off the door frame, taking a seat on Kaminaga's bed.

"The peace and quiet will be a welcome change."

"Ouch," Kaminaga said, clutching his chest as he sat beside Miyoshi. In the solitude of the dormitory, their shoulders brushed against each other and Miyoshi leaned into his touch. "This is our last moment together for who knows how long and that's how you wanna spend it?"

"Oh, please," Miyoshi said. "You're acting as if you're going to die."

"Ah, I see." Kaminaga grinned, bumping his shoulder against Miyoshi's. "You're gonna miss me and you're worried."

Tilting his head away, Miyoshi huffed.

"I said no such things."

His response reminded Kaminaga of years past, before Kaminaga and Miyoshi existed, of a young man who hated being left behind as much as the man sitting next to him now. If the circumstances were any different, Kaminaga could imagine Miyoshi pouting much like then, the thought of it eliciting a chuckle out of him.

"Sure, sure. Just don't do anything too rash while I'm gone, okay?" He said, remembering how that same young man managed to follow him into the city despite his father's orders.

"I believe I should be the one saying that to you." Miyoshi bumped him back. "We don't need you fooling around in London."

"Hm, sounds like you just don't want me having fun without you."

Miyoshi narrowed his eyes at him though they lacked any real indignation.

"I bet you wish you were leaving with me, huh? Or maybe you want the mission for yourself?"

Though his lips twitched, Miyoshi refused to give into his taunts. Still, Kaminaga smiled and took Miyoshi's hand in his, to which Miyoshi entwined their fingers together.

"How's about I tell you all about my mission when I get back? It's not the same experience but it's something, right?"

With an amused expression, Miyoshi raised one perfect eyebrow.

"Breaking the rule of confidentiality for little old me?"

"No one needs to know."

Miyoshi hummed as if he were actually considering rejecting the offer.

"I'll hold you to that. I suppose I'll just have to do the same when I get my mission." A pause. "Then we'll see who's the better spy."

He'd said it so casually, as if it were only the natural course of things; leave it up to Miyoshi to turn everything into a competition. Kaminaga grinned, ever eager for a chance to beat Miyoshi.

"Oh, you're on."

Miyoshi said nothing more, his smirk daring him to do his worst, but his expression soon softened as the quietness settled in. There was a lot more Kaminaga wished to say but he was running out of time and the current conditions restricted him from saying any more. For now, Kaminaga burned the image of Miyoshi he saw now into his brain -- how his fox-like eyes bore into his, the way his fringe curled, and how his red, red lips pressed together -- because if a picture was worth a thousand words, Miyoshi's was priceless.

"Your flight's in a few hours, isn't it?" Miyoshi asked, his voice quiet. Still holding onto Kaminaga's hand, he stood up. "You should get going."

Kaminaga squeezed his hand, not wanting to let go just yet.

"I was just about to be on my way until you came along."

"Then don't let me keep you." Slowly, he untangled their fingers and Kaminaga's hand grew colder as Miyoshi let go. "Don't screw up out there."

"Who do you take me for?"

Miyoshi shook his head in exasperation, hesitating before moving to leave the room. It was when he was halfway out the door that he turned back.

"Kaminaga."

"Yeah?"

"Don't keep me waiting."

Kaminaga blinked, taking in his words before smiling. It was a demand he'd heard many times before and one he'd always oblige.

"Of course I won't."

When Kaminaga saw Miyoshi for the fourth time, it was a moment that ended much too soon but that was enough for the time being.

In the hours following the Incident™, Kaminaga hardly left his room no matter how much Amari and Tazaki tried to comfort him. Solitude wasn't his typical mode of coping, but he didn't want any reminders of what he'd seen earlier as discreet as Amari and Tazaki tried to be. Maybe he was being over dramatic but he couldn't care less. With the prospect of Miyoshi no longer being hi s Miyoshi anymore, all the things left unsaid ran through his mind.

He hadn't been able to tell Miyoshi about his mission in London, he couldn't tell him how much he meant to him, he never told him he loved him. To think that those feelings transcended a lifetime to the point where it made him his upset over losing Miyoshi again, he wondered if whatever deities out there found enjoyment out of his suffering. Kaminaga thought he'd made peace with those feelings a while ago, when he'd begrudgingly came to terms with the idea that Miyoshi wasn't around this lifetime. Going about his life as it was didn't seem so daunting then, when Miyoshi had merely been a memory and not reality. But now that he knew otherwise, those feelings resurfaced like a typhoon hitting the islands.

Perhaps it'd be better for him to move on. After all, Miyoshi wasn't bound to the choices he made in the past life and neither was he. But then he had to wonder what was the point of a second chance if he wasn't going to take it? For once, Kaminaga was unsure of himself and those thoughts plagued his mind.

The following days saw Kaminaga distracting himself as much as he possibly could. He was rarely in the house, coming home late after a day's worth of photography and drinking. For a project, he told Amari and Tazaki; while not completely false, it was an excuse to stay up. Sleep brought memories of Miyoshi, sobriety brought reminders of the possible reality. It wasn't long before Thursday rolled around and the possibility of seeing Miyoshi again popped up. Part of him wanted to see him again, to talk to him and clear things up. If he were to be rejected, at least he'd have a straight up rejection rather than living without closure. But when some girls in his visual and media studies class asked him to hang out that afternoon, he accepted with little hesitation.

While playing the role of charming playboy as well as he usually did, his heart wasn't entirely into the outing. The minutes dragged by and as sweet and cute as those girls were, he didn't really feel much for them. It was well past four o'clock when he parted ways with them and Kaminaga was tempted to find another excuse to stay out even longer but sleep deprivation was beginning to take its toll on him; his steps grew sluggish and his thoughts muddled together. Two hours of sleep for the past three days probably wasn't his brightest idea, but what was done was done. However, on his way to the train station, his phone buzzed.

Kaminaga really hoped Amari wasn't planning on staging an intervention or something.

A beat.

He squinted back at the text, as if Amari could see him questioning him, but didn't bother thinking about it more than he had to. All he wanted to do now was collapse onto his bed and maybe cry a little bit. But it seemed that fate wanted to keep him from getting there as soon as possible because as he was putting his phone away, he bumped into someone.

"Oh crap, my bad."

"Sorry, pardon me."

Hearing that voice, Kaminaga froze. It was a voice he hadn't heard in literally years and one he didn't want to hear again after the Incident™. When he looked up, he was greeted with the sight of a slack-jawed Sakuma staring at him with wide, blue eyes.

"K-Kaminaga?" Sakuma asked, breaking out of his stupor first.

At the sound of his name, Kaminaga plastered a smile on his face and clapped Sakuma's shoulder.

"Sakuma!" He said, straining to keep the levity in his voice. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Yeah." Sakuma rubbed his shoulder, returning his smile with one of his own. "I didn't expect to see you here."

"You don't say. Haha, I didn't even realize you were alive," Kaminaga said through clenched teeth. Before Sakuma had the chance to speak again, he asked, "So where're you headed?"

"Uh, the train station --"

"Cool. Same." Kaminaga wrapped an arm around Sakuma's neck, pulling him in as if they were old pals and began leading him towards their destination. Call him petty, but seeing Sakuma in slight discomfort made him feel better. "Let's walk and talk then. So what've you been up to?"

"Nothing particularly exciting," Sakuma said as he removed himself from Kaminaga's hold as politely as possible. "I'm just a second year, studying criminal justice."

"Oh, nice!" It was fitting for a man like him, to be honest. "So you wanna be like a cop or something?"

"It's something I'm considering," Sakuma said, puffing his chest out a bit. "And yourself?"

"Eh, nothing as heroic as criminal justice." Kaminaga shrugged. "Third year, visual arts. I guess I wanna be a photographer."

"Photography is good, too." Sakuma nodded and there was a pause before his eyebrows shot up. "Oh! That reminds me, I saw your Instagram. You're quite talented."

"Aw, did you now? Thanks," he said, giving Sakuma a genuine smile before his words truly sank in. Then Kaminaga stopped still, his features scrunching up as he tried to process what he'd just said. Sakuma gave him a concerned look as he pulled him to the side to avoid the glares the passersby gave them for blocking the train station entrance. Kaminaga blinked once, twice, three times before finally returning to his senses. "Wait -- you saw my what?"

"Your Instagram...?"

"How?"

"Miyoshi showed it to me."

What.

"What?"

"Miyoshi showed it to me," he repeated before sympathy crossed his face. "Oh, do you know that he's... alive also?"

Kaminaga stared at him.

"Kinda." His voice cracked a bit in the second syllable and he cleared his throat before saying, "Yeah."

"That's good to hear." Sakuma sighed in relief. "He's been looking for you."

There were so many thoughts racing through Kaminaga's mind right now, like Miyoshi was aware of him , Miyoshi talked about him , and Miyoshi saw his freaking Instagram holy crap, but the only thing that came out was:

"Why?"

"Because he misses you," Sakuma said as if it were an undeniable fact -- the sky was blue, grass was green, and Miyoshi missed him.

"And you're okay with that?"

Sakuma furrowed his eyebrows.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

Sooner or later, Kaminaga would've had to confront the matter and it seemed that the time was now. While he would've preferred to hear things from Miyoshi, Sakuma would have to do. He took in a breath before speaking again.

"Y'know, I... saw you two together on Monday morning," Kaminaga said, locking eyes with Sakuma. Sakuma's lips pursed together as his brow creased. "I thought that maybe you guys were together or something."

Sakuma said nothing for a moment before nodding solemnly.

"Kaminaga, you have nothing to worry about." He paused. "We dated before but that was a year ago. There’s nothing going on between us now. What you saw that day was just... Miyoshi being Miyoshi."

"Just Miyoshi being Miyoshi, huh?" He echoed. And to be fair, now that he thought about it, it really was a Miyoshi thing to make Sakuma squirm as much as possible and Kaminaga couldn't help but let out a dry chuckle. In another time, in another place, maybe he'd have found it more humorous, but at least that eased some of his worries. Still, he had one more question. "All right, but you said he showed you my Instagram.Why hasn't he talked to me yet?"

"He said he wanted to meet you in person first, that it meant more to him that way." In a softer voice, he continued: "He really does miss you. You won't hear this from him, but he always talked about you when we were younger."

Hearing that, Kaminaga was stunned into silence. To think that Miyoshi, who took what he wanted whenever the opportunity presented itself, was waiting to see him . His lips quirked up at the thought of that. Shame on him then, for keeping Miyoshi waiting for as long as he had been; it was a reunion long overdue.

"I see." Kaminaga nodded, his thoughts coming to some sort of stability. "Thanks for telling me." Then he clapped Sakuma's shoulder, though with less force than he used the first time. "You're a pretty cool guy, Sakuma."

"It's no problem," Sakuma said, sheepishly rubbing his neck.

"So that's enough about me," Kaminaga said, moving towards the train station. "You got any emotional baggage to dump?"

"Well, no," Sakuma said, walking in step with him. "But this did happen..."

And as he and Sakuma made their way to the platform, Kaminaga felt lighter than he did earlier. It'd take some time to completely get over it, but he couldn't bring himself to stay bitter at Sakuma right now. Not when they were finally having a conversation without any pretenses, not when he was finally learning that the others were also around, and especially not when he knew Miyoshi would be there for him. He didn't want to wait for too long, but this was enough for now.

It was when the train pulled into the station that his phone buzzed again with a message from Amari.

Furrowing his eyebrows, Kaminaga looked back onto the platform. He and Sakuma had already settled in and the doors were set to close any second now. Then he saw Amari come into view as he ran up the stairs, but that wasn't what caught his attention. His eyes followed Amari's outstretched hand and on the other end of it was --

Miyoshi.

Hopping up from his seat, Kaminaga rushed to jump off the train, earning him looks from the other passengers but they didn't matter at the moment. What mattered was that Miyoshi was but a few meters away, so close that he could capture him in his arms as soon as he got off the train. The closer he got, the better he could see Miyoshi which only spurred him on to move faster, but just as he met him halfway, the doors slammed shut, keeping them apart once more.

Kaminaga met Miyoshi's gaze and if not for the barrier between them, he could've reached out and push his fringe back to get a better look at him. Even if Miyoshi's hair was tangled and all over the place, his mouth agape as he breathed in and out heavily, and his face flushed from running, he was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen; Kaminaga wished he had enough time to take his camera out and take a picture of him. Without thinking, Kaminaga's hand moved towards him only to be stopped by the cold piece of glass that separated them. Miyoshi had mirrored his move and their palms matched almost perfectly against the window; even now, Kaminaga could remember the soft roughness of Miyoshi's hands that only he could attain and how his hands belonged in his. However, the moment was over much too quickly for his liking and soon Miyoshi was out of sight as the train sped off.

"Was that Miyoshi? And Amari ?" Sakuma asked as he joined him, breaking him out of his daze.

"Yeah." He grinned. "It was."

"...Are you all right?"

Kaminaga nodded and turned back to Sakuma.

"Of course. So back to what you were saying -- Odagiri did what now?"

Amari arrived home about half an hour later than him, just as he'd dozed off on the couch. Kaminaga would've snapped at him for waking him up, but Amari had that same cheerful look on his face whenever he was with Tazaki, thinking about Emma, or getting a good deal at the supermarket on his face, and so he decided to humor him.

"I'm home," Amari said. "And I have something for you~"

"Welcome home." Kaminaga yawned. "Is it chips? Because I kinda ate all of them."

"Even better."

"Even better than chips?"

Amari nodded, taking his phone out.

"So you remember how I told you to wait at the train station and you didn't?"

"Yeah." A smile grew on Kaminaga's face as he remembered the image of Miyoshi at the station. "In my defense, you didn't tell me why."

"Fair enough. I ran into Miyoshi today and was planning to have a surprise reunion but --" He handed Kaminaga his phone. "-- I guess his email will have to do."

Kaminaga stared at it and Miyoshi's email address stared back. It would be so easy to take it and start texting him now, and to say that he was tempted to do so was an understatement. But that wasn't what Miyoshi wanted. And to be honest, he could see why. It was a lot more fulfilling if they could see each other in person first, to speak face-to-face rather than through cold text. If that was how Miyoshi wanted things done, he'd play it his way.

"Thanks," he said, shaking his head. "But no thanks."

"Hm?" Amari pouted. "Why not?"

"I want to see him for myself first."

Amari took him in for a moment before grinning.

"How funny. That's what Miyoshi said too."

Kaminaga smiled back and just as he was about to hand Amari his phone back, an idea hit him.

"Actually..." He opened up a new message to Miyoshi. Technically it wasn't from him if it was through Amari's phone, was it? "Hold on a sec."

"Here," he said, giving the phone back to Amari.

"That's cute," Amari said as he read the text and before Kaminaga could very maturely tell him to shut up, Amari excitedly shook his shoulder. "Oh! He responded."

Not wasting any time, Kaminaga snatched the phone back.

Kaminaga chuckled, remembering how Miyoshi had said this to him on more than one occasion. He could still hear him saying it clearly even now. While he didn't mean to reply back, his fingers moved faster than his mind and he sent him a winking emoji.

"You can keep it for a while, if you want," Amari said.

Kaminaga looked back at the conversation but shook his head and returned Amari's phone.

"I'm good," he said with a huge smile on his face.

After all, he had so much more to tell him when they finally met again face-to-face.

Proceed to Ch. 8