#so him wishing her good luck almost seems like he's saying a little prayer that she stays safe

[liam-summers]

1.02 | 2.01

Responding after the other has already left

↳ Requested by @oveliagirlhaditright

[ootahime]

analyzing every gojohime moment in the manga 😈

this series will probably have more than one part because tumblr only lets me upload ten images per post </3

warning: there are disgustingly long paragraphs in here and delusions

chapter 32

utahime’s first introduction!  akutami lets us know right off the bat that she thinks gojo is an idiot (so true).

chapter 32

i love the contrast between miwa and utahime’s reaction to gojo’s appearance.  

chapter 33

NAH BC TELL ME WHY HE WENT OUT OF HIS WAY TO NOT GET HER ONE LMAOOOO!!  when he traveled overseas to meet with yuta, he picked up the tribal protection charms and thought to himself, “let’s get enough for the kyoto students as a gift since i am such a great and caring teacher, after all.  mmm, i should skip utahime to make her mad~”  this guy puts way too much effort into getting on her nerves.  his mind = utahime brainrot

chapter 33

she’s laughing at him here because he’s getting disciplined for being a lil shit.  i wonder...what would he say if he saw her laughing at him like that?  

chapter 33

this interaction between them is a little strange don’t you think?   i feel like over the years he’s learned how to pick up her mood based on the way she’s acting towards him.  you’re probably thinking, “well any person can figure out how a person’s feeling based on the way they’re talking or acting.”  yes, that’s absolutely true, but it’s kind of different with this.  she’s acting normal.  utahime has a rather indifferent expression on her face and what she says is spoken in a calm tone, but gojo still asks her if she’s mad at him.  it’s likely that he knows her well enough to be able to notice these subtle things.  even if she wasn’t actually mad at him, he was being considerate for a split second, then he went and said, “of course.  i didn’t do anything wrong and all.”  what a guy LOLOL.  to me, this implies that maybe he made her genuinely angry in the past to the point where he realized that he went too far, and thus decided to be more careful of her feelings.  she has definitely gotten annoyed at him so many times after that so whenever she seems angry, he probably asks himself if he took it too far.  i’m curious to see if he can pick up if she’s upset with something that’s not involving him.  would he console her?  how does gojo satoru console someone?  

despite him always annoying her, she’s still courteous and brings him a cup of tea during their talk.  she didn’t have to go out of her way to get tea for him but she did.  that’s the kind of person utahime is.  a kind and caring woman who would never put her students in danger.  in the anime they were sitting far away and not facing each other like they’re doing in the manga.  she also has her own tea cup.  i think that little panel of her placing the cup down on the table and him picking it up to take a sip is a nice little detail.  it just proves that her hating him most of the time isn’t actually pure hatred but annoyance because of his shenanigans and teasing.

chapter 33

i touched upon this a little bit in my previous post, but i wish to go more in depth about this panel.  first of all, he ends the sentence with her name twice.  two times too many, mr. gojo.  i like how they can be serious with each other too LOL.  i wish we got to see them talk about the traitors because they did figure it out together after all.  does it always end in bickering?  can they interact with each other like adults all the way through?  somehow, i feel like that’s not possible when it comes to these two.  furthermore, notice how gojo confides in utahime about his suspicions.  from what we know, she is the first person he brought it up to.  i mean, i guess he has to start investigating the schools and would need extra assistance to save time, but he could have done it himself if he really wanted to.  by deciding to ask for her help we know that he thinks she’s trustworthy, smart, and strong enough to face whatever considerable risks this task may entail.  

i didn’t point this out in my other posts but see how he makes a hand sign in the last panel when she throws the cup at him?  gojo is manually activating his infinity.  why though?  about a year after the whole star plasma vessel incident happened, gojo develops the ability to keep his infinity up at all times by using the reversed curse technique to consistently heal himself to prevent exhaustion.  this means that it really makes no difference whether he leaves it on or off.  there are a few times where we can witness someone actually touching gojo.  for example, yuuji giving him a hug.  did he turn his infinity off, or was it able to deduce that yuuji was not a threat?  the erasers and pencils shoko and geto threw at him during his demonstration of his new ability aren’t dangerous normally, but is it the speed that makes them dangerous?  even if it did hit him, it wouldn’t hurt.  how does the infinity know when to allow an incoming object to touch gojo?  i believe it is up to gojo himself to let things touch him; his infinity restricts anything and anyone.  some people say it could just be the fact that water is not dangerous to him, so therefore, he has to manually put his infinity up.  i thought this was a reasonable explanation as to why he put up the hand sign when the tea was thrown at him, but then i realized that it couldn’t be.  remember the second opening?  it’s raining and everyone is carrying an umbrella, then it pans to gojo with a bouquet in his hand and rain drops slipping off his infinity.  if he DID manually put his infinity up to prevent getting soaked then that implies that he chose to turn his infinity off.  you can argue and say that jujutsu high is a safe place with students so there’s no need to have his infinity there, but do you remember when he stepped on the ants in front of gakuganji and yaga?  the ants were perfectly fine after which insinuates that his infinity prevented his shoes from crushing the ants.  he most likely had his infinity on during the baseball game even though he was in a safe environment.  how does this long tangent relate back to utahime?  well, it simply indicates that gojo trusts utahime so much to the point where he can be vulnerable around her.  turning off his infinity symbolizes completely letting down his guard  in a way.  

how about what happens next?  utahime throws the tea at him, he turns on his infinity to deflect it, and he responds with, “scary!  hysteric women aren’t popular, you know!”  why would he even say that LMAO??  utahime doesn’t even try to deny what he said either.  she just hits him with the good old, “i am your senpai!”  could it be that he’s trying to poke fun of her relationship status?  maybe, maybe not.  doesn’t he like people a lil crazy?  he did say that all jujutsu sorcerers have to be a little crazy because they’re willing to put themselves in danger constantly.  

chapter 0 p.1

i wonder who he’s thinking of when he said that.  could it be utahime?  it seems like he’s reminiscing or thinking about someone.  he wears an amused expression on his face as he laughs - almost like he’s seen his fair share of how scary women can get :>>

chapter 34

the pattern behind gojo and utahime is called yagasuri “fletching,” a traditional japanese design.  this design is inspired by arrow fletching.  it's a lucky charm for weddings and other celebrations since it's based on the Japanese belief that an arrow shot once never comes back.  brides were given kimonos with this pattern for good luck during the edo era (1603–1868) to ensure they would not have to return to their original family home.  this pattern can have numerous meanings such as steadfastness or determination to achieve a goal, or a wish for the happiness of the bride.  there is a belief that a bow and arrow represent the fight against evil.  honestly, this meaning fits the narrative of the story.  utahime and gojo are unearthing the traitors that are feeding intel to the curse users and cursed spirits.  they are in the middle while the kyoto students surround them, which could mean that it’s their job as adults to protect these children from the grasps of evil slowly making itself more prominent.  do you also notice that the arrows are pointed toward utahime from gojo?  from all the images i’ve seen, the arrows are usually pointed downward.  what could this mean?  is gojo trying to protect her (in the future (?)) or does he have a big fat crush smh...

i think it’s a good time to mention utahime’s clothing.  she’s wearing miko attire.  miko are shrine maidens who were once thought to be shamans (you connecting the dots?).  in their service to shrines, miko used to perform spirit possession and takusen (in which the possessed person acts as a "medium" (yorimashi) to communicate the divine will or message of that kami (god) or spirit; also included in the category of takusen is "dream revelation" (mukoku), in which a kami appears in a dream to communicate its will).  this was back in the old days, of course.  to become a miko back then (shaman), one needed to have potential.  neurosis, hallucinations, odd behavior, and hysteria (HYSTERIA HELLO???) are some of the signs that a person is being called to shamanism.  when a miko is communicating with a kami (god) or spirit by acting as a medium, she is in a trance-like state, and so she must learn techniques to control herself when this happens.  chanting and dancing were used to accomplish this, so the girl was taught melodies and intonations that were used in songs, prayers, and magical formulas.  all of this could give us insight about utahime’s technique and explains why she’s good at singing :)  maybe she can’t control herself when she uses her technique which is why she isn’t shown using it because it should be used for dire situations.  i imagine being possessed by a spirit or god must consume a lot of cursed energy.  it makes sense that utahime and gakuganji wear traditional clothing.  they’re the staff of jujutsu high’s kyoto branch.  in chapter 0, kyoto is known as the sacred land of jujutsu.  it’s more traditional compared to tokyo.  if you want to learn more about miko, you should check out the wikipedia page!  

chapter 34

i swear he tries to annoy her every chance he gets.  i bet he sets a goal for himself to see how many times utahime lectures him about respecting his seniors every time he’s within the same vicinity as her.  at least he called her utahime-sensei!!!

chapter 40

this isn’t even a gojohime moment tbh...i just wanted to share a pic of them sitting next to each other HEHE.  why are they sitting next to each other anyway?  it’s not like they have assigned seating.

----

that was so long and i apologize for the gargantuan paragraphs you guys had to read through.  i’m writing this at 4 in the morning and i’m feeling borderline delirious so i apologize if there are any errors.  i’ll edit this when i have time <3

the next part should come shortly.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Secret Santa

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: When you pick Loki’s name for Secret Santa, you are at a loss for what to get him. Some quality time with the God of Mischief sheds some light on the situation. Warnings: pure, unadulterated fluff; very long A/N: It’s almost Christmas now; less than a week to go! And a big thank you to my best friend @lokistan​ for writing the beautiful poetry for this story. I love you my bean! Happy reading all :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant​​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​ @lokistan​ @thelokiimaginechroniclesficrecs​ @gaitwae

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

“Oh my gosh, thank you Nat!” you said, throwing your arms around her shoulders in a hug. She had been your Secret Santa and gotten you the expensive jacket you’d been wanting for months. “It’s perfect.”

Christmas Eve in the Avengers Tower was full of laughter and drinks as the team exchanged Secret Santa gifts. Tomorrow morning you’d be opening regular presents, so it was tradition to set this aside for the night before. It was more fun that way, maybe because you could focus solely on the excitement of learning who had picked your name.  

“You’re welcome. I know you were nervous about being able to pull it off, but it’ll look great on you,” she reassured, hugging you back. “Ok, now it’s your turn.”

You shot a nervous glance at Peter, who flashed a thumbs up. Thor, who was sitting next to you, pat your back. You stood and picked up the carefully wrapped package, all decorated in gold and green. You were nervous about what you had picked, but whether the recipient liked it or not, you were happy that this anxiety of if it was good enough or not would be over. You’d rather know. After all, you’d been feeling this way ever since you’d picked the name a week earlier...

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

“Alright everyone,” Tony said, holding a stocking filled with little pieces of paper. “It’s time for Secret Santa. And remember, if you get me, cash is accepted.”

You gathered around with the rest of the team as they started to pick names. You said a little prayer that you would get Peter, your best friend, seeing as you already had about thirty different gift ideas for him. Wanda would be pretty easy, too, as you were also really close with her. In fact, looking around, you were able to come up with at least some scrap of an idea for almost everyone. Almost being the operative word.  By the time Tony got to you, there was only one slip left. As you stuck your hand in the stocking, you made a silent wish that it wouldn’t be the one person you had no clue what to get for.

Please, you thought. Please be someone I know. Please don’t be...

Loki.

“And that concludes the name picking process,” Tony announced as you cast a dismayed look at the four-letter name on the paper. “You have a week to figure it out, so good luck.

“Remember, no swapping!” Steve added as the group began to disperse.

You looked around for the trickster, wondering why he was even participating. It’s not that you didn’t want him to, just that it didn’t seem like his kind of thing. From the way he was clenching his fists and scowling, you still guessed it wasn’t. Not like you really knew him all that well, unfortunately. When he’d come to the Tower, Loki seemed like he preferred the solitude. You often wondered if you should have made more of an effort to be his friend, wished that you had. There was this one time you were both reading Macbeth in a common area and had gotten into a very animated discussion about it. Nothing more ever really came of that, though, as he left for a mission the next day and didn’t return until two weeks later. By then, you’d both moved onto different books.

Later, you made a trip to the library, hoping to solve the enigma that is the God of Mischief. You were the only two people who went in their regularly and more than half the conversations you’d had with him had been held in that room. Granted they were all short, but you figured it was a start. In fact, you found yourself rather wanting to have a conversation with him right now. Yes, because of the Secret Santa thing, but also because they’d been getting more frequent recently. With every one, you realized how much you enjoyed talking to him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t in his usual spot by the crackling fire. You considered just leaving, but decided you should at least make some use of this trip. You’d seen him reading some works by James Joyce most recently, and you went to go look for the one he’d had last. Maybe seeing what he likes to read could give you some gift ideas. Your eyes scanned the shelves, but you couldn’t find it. It was possible you were just remembering the cover wrong. Just as you were about to give up, someone tapped your shoulder.

“Pardon me,” Loki said as you whipped around. “I think you may be looking for this.”

He held out the copy of the book you’d been looking for and raised an eyebrow when you just stared at him blankly for a second. Who could blame you, though? He was standing rather close, and he was... Well, quite frankly, he was hot. With his raven black hair framing his smooth, pale skin, and with striking blue-green eyes that stare into your soul, he was the most handsome man you’d ever met. Then again, he wasn’t really a man, was he?

“Oh, uh, yes. Yes I am,” you said, coming to your senses. “Thank you. Did you enjoy it?”

“Very much so. I have read it five times now. I apologize for that, if you were looking for it.”

“Don’t worry about it. You have nothing to apologize for.” He looked rather surprised that you would say such a thing, and you briefly wondered how many times people had made him apologize unnecessarily. “You could even just keep it if you want.”

“No, that is alright. At least, not until you have gotten to read it, too. Perhaps we could discuss it?” he said hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure if he was overstepping.

You looked at the title in your hands. Dubliners. You’d read a few of the short stories in high school and hadn’t enjoyed them much. But you were older now, so maybe your tastes had changed. Either way, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to have another conversation with Loki. That slight smile and those intelligent eyes were just too captivating.

“That’s a wonderful idea. May I ask what your favorite is?”

“A good question. I think I will have to say Eveline. The way she ends up trapped, the mere emotion in the implication... It’s exquisitely done.”

“Wow, Loki, you have such a way with words. You’re beautiful,” you told him without thinking. As his eyes widened, you realized what you’d said and tried to cover it up. “I, um, I meant that that’s beautiful. The, ah, way you weave words. Sorry, I obviously don’t have the same ability.”

“It is quite alright. They do not call me silver-tongue for nothing, you know,” he said, though he was blushing now. “Still, I look forward to hearing your thoughts. But for now, my dear mortal, I must bid you goodbye. I have a sparring session with my brother to get to.”

He swept into a small, princely bow that made your heart stutter. Hugging the book to your chest, you waved goodbye, feeling much more awkward than he had been. You were also about a hundred times more determined to get Loki a perfect gift. You looked at the book again. It was a special first edition, unfortunately, and you couldn’t really do better than that. Besides, you got the impression he appreciated books more when they were well-loved. So, you could scratch that idea off the list.

You sighed and headed to your room for the night. Maybe an inspiration board could help you figure things out. Unfortunately, that led to you having a poster board with pictures solely of Loki. You’d meant to add other things, but you’d gotten so caught up in how beautiful he looked with his soft pink lips and carefully styled hair and... Ok, maybe you had the slightest, tiniest crush on the trickster god, but it was silly. You’d hardly even been friends for half a year. And yet, he was very hard to resist. You ended up destroying your project, cringing at the idea of anyone finding it and taking it the wrong way.

The next morning you woke up just as idealess as you had been the night before. You had been hoping that you could figure something out if you slept on it, but to no avail. Frustrated, you kicked your blankets off and got ready to attack the day. You absolutely hated the fact that you couldn’t come up with a gift idea on your own, and the last thing you wanted to have to do was ask someone else.

Splashing some water on your face, you had another idea that you quickly shut down. You’d thought for a second that maybe you could buy him some cologne, but then you realized you had no idea what scent or brand he used. In fact, you weren’t sure he used and fragrance at all. The smell of leather, pine, and old books that he had just suited him so well you couldn’t help but wonder if it was just a natural thing. Either way, he always smelled so safe, so wonderful. You cursed yourself for letting your thoughts take that turn again. It was a lot easier to ignore this crush when you didn’t have to be thinking about him 24/7.

Traipsing into the kitchen, you found Peter and Thor having an animated conversation about what was better, pecan or pumpkin pie. You wondered if you could bake something for Loki as a gift, then you realized that still required knowing what he likes. You would get him tea, but you already knew for a fact that was what Thor had gotten him as a regular present. Plus it was a special Asgardian blend, so there was no way you could top that.

“Good morning, guys,” you greeted as you tried to decide what to eat for breakfast.

“Morning,” they chorused back.

You bit your lip, coming to a split second decision. “Can I ask you two a question. It’s about Secret Santa.”

“Sure, go ahead,” Peter said while you took a seat across from them.

“Ok, this is top secret, right? So don’t tell anybody.” They both eagerly nodded their heads. “I know you’re both friends with Loki, and well, I picked his name. I have no clue what to get him, though. Any ideas?”

“I have the perfect idea!” Thor declared as you motioned for him to keep his voice down. “Get him some causal Midgardian clothes. You have excellent taste, I am sure he will love whatever you pick out.”

You wrinkled your nose. “Are you sure that’s not just what you want for him? I mean, he seems plenty happy to wear his Asgardian clothes around the Tower. And there’s nothing wrong with dressing up when you go out.” You sighed when Thor just seemed confused by your words, not understanding that his brother had embraced the Midgardian style as much as he wanted to. “I’ll just consider that a back-up plan for now. What about you, Peter? Any thoughts?”

“What if we just went shopping together?” he excitedly suggested. “Then if we see something we think is good, we can just point it out.”

You hurriedly agreed, anxious to get the gift-buying out of the way. The plan was to head out right after your training session with Nat and Steve. Unfortunately, that meant you were distracted nearly the whole time, leaving you with a few more bruises than normal. You loved your teammates to death, but boy did they ever need to learn how to ease up a little in practice. You stayed a few minutes extra to do some cool down stretches, and in waltzed the trickster god who had been occupying so much of your brain space recently. The way he was flipping and catching his daggers as he walked was slightly mesmerizing.

“My apologies,” he said, noticing you. “I did not think there was anyone else in here. I can come back later if you still need the space.”

“No!” you shouted as he began to turn away. It was a bit louder than you had meant to say it, and you mentally kicked yourself. “I mean, I was just on my way out, so please, stay.”

He smiled and set his things down on the bench next to yours. You eyed the daggers that had just been wielded by his expertly trained hands moments ago.

“May I?” you asked, gesturing to them.

He picked one up and handed it to you. Turning it over in your hands, you noticed that handles were slightly worn, but it was still excellently crafted. The blade had obviously been sharpened a great number of times before and was looking like it might need to be again. You’d never personally used a dagger in battle, but the way Loki was so graceful with them made a part of you want to.

“To be very precise with such a weapon,” Loki began as if reading your thoughts, “requires great focus and skill. There is no room for error when used to block another’s attack, and to deliver a powerful blow, you must strike in just the right spot.” A shiver of excitement shot down your spine as he picked up his other blade and began adeptly demonstrating, moving like a flowing river as he sliced the air. “It is much smaller than most weapons, sure. However, it is just as deadly. And if the sword is an extension of your body, the same can be said for the dagger tenfold.”

You blinked a couple times, beyond impressed by his majestic, fluid movements. It was breathtaking. He was breathtaking. Now you just had to find a way to say that without sounding obsessed.

“Wow, Loki,” you finally gasped, unable to hide your amazement. “I don’t know how you do it, but you even make weapons sound beautiful. And you’re very talented, too. I could never,” you nervously laughed.

“You are too kind to me, my dear mortal,” he said, and you felt a spark of pride in your chest that you were making him blush yet again. “You are not kind enough to yourself, though. I am certain you would be excellent. Perhaps you just need to find a teacher.”

“Would you teach me?” you asked, oddly worried to do so. You tried to calm your swelling nerves.

“Well, I did not mean to imply that I should be your instructor, for I fear that I would not be very good at it.” He watched your smile falter just the tiniest bit and found himself rushing to bring it back to full strength. “However, if you so desire, I can certainly try. I must warn you, it will not be easy.”

“Loki, you’d really do that for me?” Your heart beat a little faster in your chest as he shyly nodded his head yes. “I would love to. And don’t worry about going easy; I want to be as good as you.”

“Excellent! We shall have out first lesson, say, at the start of the New Year?”

After the plans were set, you excused yourself so you could meet your friends for shopping. You were late as it was, and you still had to go freshen up. The whole reason for the trip was you, and you’d feel bad to keep them waiting much longer. Still, you stole one last glance at Loki before exiting.

Hours later, you still had no gift for Loki. You barely even had an idea, much to your dismay. Peter and Thor kept pointing out little trinkets, a couple of which you did pick up as a regular gift for him, but your Secret Santa gift had to be a showstopper. Something about him drew you in, and you wanted to give him the most amazing present you could. If only it weren’t so difficult.

You were walking down a street when you happened to notice the trickster god himself in one of the store windows. You waved your companions on with the excuse you wanted to check something out for one of them and entered the shop Loki was at. For a second you considered just watching him to try to get some ideas, but that was quickly dashed when he let out a sigh of frustration. He just looked so perplexed and adorably aggravated.

“Hey, Loki,” you greeted after clearing your throat. “Funny running into you here. Are you alright?”

“Hello, my dear mortal. Thank you for asking,” he said. “I am alright. It is just this blasted Secret Santa.”

“I know what you mean,” you replied before you could help yourself. “But I’m, uh, not going to say who it is. I mean, you can tell me if you want to, but I’ve already told so many people it’ll hardly be a secret if anyone else knows,” you covered your tracks.

“Ah, I see. It is supposed to be a secret, and I do so ever hate to crack under the pressure, but I find myself in dire need of assistance. Do you suppose you could help?”

You beamed at him as you realized you’d talked with him more in the past few days than you had in the last three weeks. If there was one thing you knew, it was you had better be careful, or you’d get addicted to the sound of his voice. You were on thin ice with this crush as it was, you really shouldn’t let it blossom into more.

“Sure! I’d love to. Who do you have?” you finally said, looking around the store. “Wait, let me guess. Steve?”

“Stark.”

“Oh. Well, he did say cash was fine,” you giggled.

“Believe me, I was tempted,” Loki chuckled along with you. “But I promised Thor I would make more of an effort this time around. I do not know what he is talking about, though. Bruce loved his socks last year!”

You slapped a hand over your mouth as your loud laughter garnered a few stares from other shoppers. Loki’s eyes held only soft admiration, though, and your hands got a little sweaty from how nervous that made you. You subtly wiped them on your pants as you calmed down.

“Well, it you want to get something more personal, I might have an idea.”

“By all means, do tell,” he urged.

“You know that tool set he was talking about the other day?” you questioned, but were met with a blank stare. “I’ll take that as a no, but he was saying he didn’t want to get them because he doesn’t actually need them.”

“When has that ever stopped him before?” Loki scoffed.

“I guess he’s trying something new,” you shrugged. “But anyway, if you got them it would show you were thinking about what he actually liked and stuff. Or maybe that’s dumb, sorry.”

“No, no, it is a splendid idea!” he was quick to reassure you. For a second it seemed as if he was going to reach out and touch your shoulder, but then he thought better of it. “You do not happen to know where they are sold, do you?”

You nodded and led him out of the store you were in, towards the place where he could buy them. You were waiting at a corner for a light to change, amicably chatting. Nothing groundbreaking, just small talk. Regardless, it made your heart beat just a little faster. Still engrossed in the conversation, you took a step out into the crosswalk when the light said it was safe to go. You didn’t notice the car speeding towards you until Loki grabbed your wrist and pulled you back into his chest. You gasped as he glared after the driver, who gave no acknowledgement or apology to you. The god’s arms were wrapped around you in a protective manner, and you looked up at his face, appreciating his beauty at this close angle. Given what had just happened, probably not the thing you should be focusing on.

“My dear mortal,” he fretted, looking down at you, not yet letting go. “Are you alright? You are not injured at all, are you? Shall I take you to the hospital wing to make sure?”

“I’m ok,” you reassured him, though a part of you didn’t want to. He seemed about ready to scoop you up and use his godly strength to carry you home. Alas, your moral compass decided that wouldn’t be very fair to him. “Just a little shaken, but you saved me. Thank you, Loki. That doesn’t really cut it, but thank you so much.”

“Do not mention it. I am just glad you are alright,” he replied, though his voice did still have a tint of worry to it. Maybe you were imaging it, but he seemed almost reluctant to let you go from his tight embrace. “Now, you may carefully lead the way. Carefully,” he emphasized.

With a giggle, you brought him to the store where the tools were. After browsing the aisles for a few minutes, the two of you found the shelf they were on. With a frown, you examined the price tag.

“Sorry, Loki,” you said. “I didn’t realize how expensive it was.”

“It is fine,” he replied, looking at the cost himself. “This is actually plenty within my price range.”

You waited outside of the busy store while he made his purchase and checked your phone. You felt a pang of guilt as you noticed a number of missed texts from Peter and Thor.

Sorry guys, you texted the group chat. Ran into someone I know and got carried away. Carry on without me.

Don’t worry, came Peter’s reply. See you back home :)

You pocketed your phone as Loki walked back out, giving you a smile. You looked at the ground to keep yourself from saying something stupid.

“I hope I am not keeping you from anything,” he said as you started walking back towards the Tower. “Is there any shopping I can assist you with?”

You lamented the irony of the situation. Despite the entire point of this venture being to buy a gift for Loki, you were still empty handed. It was tempting to try to ask him what he wanted, but you were sure he was far more clever than you were subtle.

“No, I’m good, thanks. But if you don’t mind my asking, how do you have so much money?” you asked to satisfy your curiosity. “I mean, Tony’s always complaining about how you use his credit card.”

“That, my dear mortal, is simply because I can,” he replied as you both laughed. “I have been around for much longer than you might imagine. I have amassed a certain amount of wealth in my many years.”

“Wow, that’s pretty cool, actually. You’re making me wish I was an immortal being,” you joked.

“And tell me, my dear mortal, if you were to treat yourself to something nice, what would it be?”

You thought about it for a moment. “Maybe I’d go to a nice restaurant,” you finally said. “It doesn’t have to be anything too far from home. Oh! Like, Nobu has really good sushi.”

“Well then, perhaps I will have to pay for us to have a meal there sometime.”

“Yeah! I bet the team would really like that.”

“Actually,” he sheepishly said, bringing you to a stop on the sidewalk, “I meant for just the two of us to go. That is, if you would like to. Maybe one day after we start our training. You are not obligated to say yes, though. The offer for me to pay is still open if you would like to take another friend instead of me.”

“Loki, no. That’s so generous, of course I’d love to go with you,” you reassured him, settling a hand on his arm. Though, admittedly, you were beyond flustered, especially when you realized how that last sentence sounded. “I mean as friends, of course. It sounds amazing, thank you.”

“Well then, I look forward to it.” He brought his hand to rest on yours, and goosebumps erupted on your skin, not only from his cold touch, but the wave of excitement you felt. “And speaking of our lessons, I was thinking you may want some daggers of your own. We do not have to get them now but-”

“That’s it!” you suddenly shouted, then apologized for cutting him off. “Can I borrow your daggers, Loki? To go get myself a pair?”

He offered to come with you, but you waved him off, saying you’d be fine on your own. It was a little suspicious, he thought, but decided to drop it. Handing you the weapons, he bid you goodbye. As soon as he was out of eyesight, you examined the daggers, trying to get a clear picture in your mind of what you wanted.

A few quick stops later, and after gaining permission from Tony, you were in the lab, carefully crafting Loki’s gift. It took a few days, and you were by no means used to doing this kind of thing, but you were finally satisfied with the finished product. You wrapped it and then hid it with the rest of your presents, just waiting to be given to their recipients. With only a few days left until Christmas Eve, you were filled with an anxious excitement to give Loki his gift. There was nothing left to do but hope that he likes it.

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

...You looked everywhere but at Loki as you approached him, nerves bubbling in your stomach. By the time you reached him, his mouth had curled into a soft smile. It occurred to you that you’d never seen him look that way at anyone but you. Building on the confidence that thought brought, you held out the gift.

“Here, Loki,” you told him, averting your gaze again. “This is for you.”

You perched on the edge of the coffee table across from him as he accepted the package with a thank you. There was some light chatter coming from the rest of your teammates, but it felt like the only people in the world at this moment were you and Loki, his fingers skillfully unwrapping the present. You sat on your hands to keep from fidgeting with them. It took all your focus to keep your eyes on Loki and not wandering the room in anticipation. As he opened the lid of the box and revealed what was inside, his mouth formed into a surprised “o”.

He picked up the gift, a pair of new daggers, each with a gold hilt. His name was engraved on it, and there was a band of emeralds at the top and bottom. You’d made them the same dimensions as his old ones.

“My dear mortal,” he breathed in awe, his eyes full of sincerity, coming up to met yours. “This is so thoughtful, so beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Loki. I’m really glad you like it.”

“I do. I love it,” he replied, taking your hand in his for the briefest of moments. He pulled away before anyone could really think anything of it. Neither of you said anything else, instead just staring into each other’s eyes.

“Ok, Reindeer Games,” Tony said, interrupting the moment you were sharing with Loki. “Now it’s your turn. So, who’d you get?”

“Well, actually, I picked your name, Stark. Here,” he said, nonchalantly handing over the gift. Though he seemed completely uninterested, you could tell he was a little nervous. “For you.”

“Alright, let’s see what it is. I swear, this better not be socks or-” Tony cut off, seeing the very thing he wanted. “Wow, Rock of Ages. This is really thoughtful. Thanks. I had no idea you actually listened,” he finished with a laugh.

“You are quite welcome,” Loki said, but he was more looking at you than Tony.

Later that evening, after all the gifts were given out, you were sitting by the fireplace, waiting for the flames to completely die out. You were curled up in the corner of the couch, your feet pulled up next to you, a blanket draped over your shoulders, and a book open on your lap.

“My dear mortal,” Loki’s voice suddenly said as he appeared in the doorway, pulling you from the words on the page. “I thought you were supposed to be in bed, lest Santa skip this house and move onto the next.”

“Yes, but I have to make sure the fire goes out so he can get in,” you laughed, playing along. “As long as I’m up, I wouldn’t mind some company. Care to join me?”

Wordlessly, he sat down, and you closed your book. The both of you just stared at the dying flames in a peaceful silence for a while. Your mind seemed to be content to be filled with thoughts of Loki; the way he was sitting so close, the way his hands kept brushing his hair away from his face every few moments, the way he’d looked at you earlier when he’d received your gift. After you weren’t sure exactly how long, he gently said your name, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Yes?” you replied.

“I truly do your love your gift. It is beyond lovely, your generosity and thoughtfulness a true reflection of what is in your brilliant soul.”

“Loki, I can’t even express how happy I am to hear that. And thank you for your beautiful words.”

“Speaking of,” he nervously said, “the gift that I have for you, it is, well, my words. A poem. I am sorry to say, I would be a little self-conscious to give it to you in front of everyone else. Would I... Would I be able to recite it to you now?”

“Of course, Loki. Whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m just grateful that you’re willing to share it with me.”

“Alright then, my dear mortal. Here goes nothing.”

You shifted to a more position as he took a deep breath and opened up a journal. You waited with bated breath as he began to speak.

“From your eyes that shine as the brightest stars, to your smile that's a reflection of your radiant heart. From your gentle hands that fit as though they belong in mine, to your laugh that stops my perception of time. You've shown me kindness when I didn't feel I deserved it, you welcomed me into your world with a caring embrace and showed me I am not my mistakes. My heart beats stronger for you, the love that I feel couldn't be more true. If you will have me, I will show you the world, for you have shown me the universe, the place also known as your touch, as your mind, as your heart, as your soul. You, you are my universe.”

He looked at you expectantly, but with a hesitation understandable given what he’d just confessed. You wanted to tell him how you felt just as eloquently, but were dumbstruck that the feelings were even reciprocated.

“Loki,” you said, holding his cold hands in your warm ones. “That’s so beautiful and I-I love you, too.”

He seemed just as shocked as you that the feeling could be mutual. He squeezed your hands, at a loss for words for the first time since you’d known him. With no one to interrupt you this time, you remained lost in each other’s emotion-filled eyes. It was Loki who broke the silence.

“My dear mortal, I... May I kiss you?”

You answered by surging forward and pressing your lips to his. His hands came to cup your cheeks, and yours found his hair, tangling themselves in his dark locks. He tasted like heaven, and you sighed against his mouth. You could have stayed that way forever, and yet it could never be enough. Sadly, you had to pull away, but Loki was quick to pull you against him, holding you to his chest as if he didn’t believe you’d stay, didn’t believe he could have something so wonderful.

You stayed like that for a while, conveying things even words couldn’t say in the silence, just holding each other. Eventually, you began talking, enjoying the way a light conversation was flowing between you. Your eyes were drooping shut as you snuggled against his chest, the final embers of the fire going out. You glanced at the clock and saw that it read midnight.

“Merry Christmas, Loki,” you whispered. “There’s no one I’d rather be with than you.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, my dear mortal. I could write you a thousand poems, and still I would never properly express how much I feel the same.”

As sleep slowly claimed you, it occurred to you that you may have never even admitted how you feel without the whole Secret Santa ordeal. It seemed that it had revealed more secrets than you’d ever expected, and for that, you’d be forever grateful.

[justasillybear]

Is that a Dog?

It all started, as did many of the things that went wrong in Percy’s life, by not asking the right questions.

In his defence, it hadn’t seemed necessary to ask Grover anything other than “Can I have one” when his best friend and roommate had pulled out some freshly baked brownies from the oven.

First mistake.

The second mistake was sneaking two more brownies while Grover hadn’t been looking.

It could be said, as Percy would later point out, that Grover was the one responsible for everything that happened after that. Months later Percy would look back on that moment and realise Grover hadn’t even attempted to warn him that there was weed in the brownies. Then he’d shake his head and think wow Grover really screwed me over. But that was months away.

In the present, Percy felt like he was floating, everything felt bright and new, and Grover was driving him to go get a milkshake. How could he be mad at Grover when he was the reason Percy felt so at peace? He could hear Grover’s Michael Franti CD playing, and his soft voice singing along, not quite drowned out by the loud honks of irate drivers stuck like them in New York traffic. If he were in a clearer state of mind, Percy would likely have realised that Grover had also eaten one of the brownies and shouldn’t have really been driving. But he wasn’t, instead he let his eyes drift out the window up towards the perfectly blue sky. So blue it almost looked like the ocean and Percy wondered if he just reached up would he fall in and-

What?

Holy. Shit.

“A puppy!” Percy screeched, starting out of the window and at the car a few places ahead of them to the left. He turned to Grover and pointed to the little golden retriever that was poking its head out of a car window. It’s tongue was hanging out of its mouth and Percy felt his heart clench at the sight. He hadn’t known it before, but now he realised that was what he’d been missing in his life.

“Nice spot, what a cute dog.” Grover approved, peering over, his eyes looking slightly red and heavy-lidded.

“He looks... Like he gives good hugs”. Percy mused. He desperately wanted to test out his theory. Percy sent up a quick prayer asking for help, and was elated to find the traffic moving. He waited with bated breath while their lane moved forward until they were parked next to the dog. “Fuck yes!” he virtually screamed. Today was the best day!

“He's so tiny?” Percy mused, eyes continuing to stare dreamily over and then… the puppy looked at him and BARKED. And Percy just knew he was calling out to him. Asking to be petted.

Percy unbuckled his seat belt and rolled down the window, decidedly ignoring Grover’s confused exclamations. “He wants to be petted!” Percy offered as he reached out to touch soft golden fur. The dog yipped happily in response, pushing his small wet nose into the offered hand. Percy could feel his eyes growing misty again. He loved dogs so much. He’d always wanted one growing up, but Gabe had never allowed it. His mum had felt bad about it, getting him a fish instead which he’d loved - but it wasn’t the same. Don’t get him wrong, fish were awesome and that gift had been one of the reasons he was now studying marine biology. But… no fish had ever given him this moment. The moment where they look at you with adoration in their eyes and promise to love you forever. Percy hoped the puppy knew that Percy felt the same way.

“Um, Luke. A stranger is petting your dog.”

Percy looked up from the deep blue eyes of his new ride-or-die bestie and saw a blond girl who looked to be around his age staring at him like he was crazy (which Percy thought was a little rude.)

“Is he your dog?” Percy questioned, reluctantly removing his hand away realising that he should probably have asked the owner’s permission before sticking the upper half of his body out of the car to pet their dog. Even a dog as friendly as this, with beautiful and kind blue eyes.

“No. He’s-“

“Mine.” A deep voice cut in, pulling Percy’s attention to the driver seat of the car, where a young man with bright blue eyes, soft golden hair, and a truly wicked smirk was staring at him. The guy looked around 19 with a gnarly looking scar trailing down from his eye to his chin. Which … Damn! The scar should have detracted from how unfairly attractive he was, but instead, it made Percy want to lean over and touch it. He wondered how it would feel. If it would be rough?

Focus Percy!

“Wow, Annabeth, you didn’t say he was cute”. Percy felt his cheeks flush, and he could hear himself spluttering out nonsense for a good few moments, searching for an appropriate response.

The guy kind of looked like his dog, which was weird. What was even weirder was that the realisation made Percy want to reach out and pet his hair too, to see if it was just as soft as his dogs.

“Uuuh, noo..what, not? I’m not… you’re the one that’s. I don’t – cute! Grover. This guy thinks I’m cute?” Percy managed eventually, much to the growing amusement of the man in question. He quickly averted his eyes, turning to Grover who stared back giggling softly. Traitor.

“Percy, you’re very cute. Now you need to sit back down. We could move at any moment.”  Grover managed between breathy giggles. He didn’t sound very concerned, so Percy decided it was safe to ignore his warning for now. If Percy had to choose between personal safety and the opportunity to spend time with a cute dog and an equally cute owner, well, safety didn’t stand a chance.

“Okay, Grover,” Percy said in a peaceful tone, turning back around to once again pet the head of the puppy, “but I’m in the middle of something very important right now.” At this Grover’s laughter got louder.

“You!” Percy pointed at the driver, “Have a nice face. And smile. And eyes. Grover and I are going to get milkshakes, would you and your puppy like to join us? We could hold hands and talk about your dog and how all three of you are rocking the blond blue eyes thing-”

“Percy the traffic is moving…” Grover butted in.

“Grover, a moment!” Percy begged, yelping when Grover started to inch the car forwards with the traffic, Percy’s torso still half out of the car. Luck seemed to be on his side today however as the other lane was also moving slowly alongside them, so Percy decided to just continue to pet the dog's head. He shot a quick glare at Grover for good measure though.

“Hey idiot, you need to listen to him and get in the car. What if traffic picks up?” the girl warned, mumbling to herself about high idiots.

“Percy is it?” the driver asked, drawing Percy’s attention away from Grover and back to his unfairly handsome face. Percy could feel a grin stretching across his lips.

“How’d you know my name?” he wonders, feeling pleased. He liked the way his name sounded coming from the older guy, all deep and slow like he was savouring each syllable. The guy laughed at the question.

“Your boyfriend there’s said it a few times.” He explained, and Percy nodded vigorously in understanding, and then begun to shake his head equally as energetically. “Grover? No! He’s like… a brother. Definitely not my boyfriend.” Percy explained forcefully, He really didn’t want the hot guy to get the wrong idea. Grover was his best friend, but he’d rather jump into the harbour than date him.

“Why the harbour?” the guy asked through chuckles. Percy hoped he’d keep laughing, the sound was making his head feel as light as the brownies had.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yup, green eyes, you did. And I’m sorry, I’d love to hang out more, but I need to drop my sister off at her girlfriends.” He said, pointing a finger at the girl in the backseat. Percy turned to look at her with sad eyes. The girl with golden curls looked like she couldn’t decide if she should smile or scowl. He was disappointed to note her eyes were more grey than blue.

“Oh, that’s sad.” Percy pouted, retreating back slightly into Grover’s car. Before he was fully in, the guy reached out a hand to stop him. He had nice hands, they were large and calloused, and Percy wanted to hold one.

“Wait. Um, maybe I could give you my number, so I know you got home alright? My name's Luke Castellan. C-A-S-T-E-L-L-A-N. We could get that milkshake another… less traffic-bound time?” Luke asked, looking nervous for the first time, making Percy grin. He quickly whipped out his phone and typed in Luke’s details.

“yes! .” He cheered, once to Luke, and then once again to the dog who was still nuzzling his hand. “So, I’ll see you both soon?”

“I’ll hold you to that, Percy.” Luke teased and Percy felt himself nodding.

“Promise,” Percy said firmly, sliding back into the car to Grover's relief. He waved at Luke once the window was rolled up, pleased to see the guy was still staring over at him. He looked like he was saying sometimes but Percy couldn’t tell what. Whatever it was, it made the girl in the backseat lean forward and smack his shoulder. Luke waved one final time before turning his eyes back to the road. His face looked bright and carefree, and Percy wanted to look at him forever. Then the traffic moved and Luke, and his puppy, were gone.

Percy tried not to feel too sad, but he wished he’d taken a picture.

“Only Percy-fucking-Jackson could get a guy’s number after molesting his dog while high in traffic.” Grover giggled, and Percy allowed himself to be dragged away from his thoughts.

“What can I say. I’m irresistible”. He stated, smirking over at his best friend. Grover just continued to giggle. Laying back in his seat he looked back up to the perfect blue sky and thought of Luke's eyes. Luke Castellan, Luke Castellan, Luke-

Maybe he wouldn’t blame Grover after all.

[faulty-writes]

Big 3 headcanons with a crush on a student of a first or second year?

It was near impossible for a lowerclassman not to have heard of The Big Three. Watching them perform was a privilege and if you happened to be lucky enough to learn under one of them. Well, it earned you a little respect. If a Big Three member happened to have a crush on you...it was a different story. 

Mirio was argued to be the most popular member of The Big Three and often volunteered to help the first-years with their training. You originally refused to partake in such a thing, believing training on your own brought more self-discipline but Izuku insisted you go anyway. Something about respect for future Pro Heroes. 

The overly energetic boy wasn’t expecting to fall for a first-year, but somehow or another during the training session. He found himself staring at you and when he went to speak to you. He got a little tongue-tied, he honestly didn’t know what was wrong with him.

The answer came later when he saw you passing through the halls of UA, butterflies filled his stomach and his heart sped up. He went as far as to try and hide from you because he was too afraid he’d make a fool of himself if he didn’t. Of course, you were completely unaware of this. 

It wasn’t until Nejire pointed his feelings out to him, which was during lunch no less. It was kind of obvious that he was crushing on you. “Why don’t you just ask them out? I think their name is Y/n and I’m sure they’ll say yes!” she blurted out which caused Mirio to jump. “W-What? I...I uh, sorry. I don’t think I can,” Mirio replied as his face turned red and he quickly excused himself from the cafeteria. 

Though he couldn’t deny it, he would love to ask you out. But, would that be too weird? A third-year and a first-year? There wasn’t much difference in age, but people would still talk and Mirio didn’t want you to get harassed or anything. But, damn. He really did like you, maybe he should confess his feelings. But then again, that raised the question of how.

But he made the choice to finally talk to you when he saw you at your locker. He hesitantly approached. Despite the butterflies going wild in his stomach and his mind racing a mile a minute, his legs felt like jelly and he swore his tongue was swollen. “H-Hi!” he screamed which startled you and nearly caused you to drop your books. You looked at Mirio wide-eyed, “Uh, I’m M-Mir-” you nodded. “Mirio Togata, nice to meet you. I’m Y/n,” you reached out to shake his hand. 

He loved getting to know you, but the urge to make you his was still there. He needed to make a move quickly before someone else snatched you away. So, one day after school. Mirio arrived at the first-year dormitory and asked for you specifically. His courage nearly left him when you stood in the doorway and smiled at him. But before you could say anything, he blurted out “WillYouPleaseGoOutWithMe?!” it was a relief that you even heard him correctly, “Uh...sure,” you replied, a little stunned. But, it was almost worth it to see the way he smiled. 

Nejire and yourself had crossed paths before, considering you were both hero students. The only difference was you were in your second year, while Nejire was in her third and part of The Big Three. But that never intimidated you. All heroes, including those in training, deserved mutual respect. 

It was no secret that the hero students in each grade had collaborated training sessions. Supervised by the teachers of course, but apparently, the teachers had decided that merging upper and lower classes would be a good idea. That’s how you ended up meeting Nejire Hado. 

You never expected the third year to be taken with you, Nejire seemed to make it a point to get to know the lowerclassman. But, it was a tad distracting when she greeted you in the hallway or stopped by to wish you luck on a test or exam. You were beginning to get the feeling she was either desperate for friendship or somehow liked you. 

Truth was, Nejire found you interesting and certainly wanted to know more about you. When you had trained together, she found herself captivated by your looks, talent, and overall heroic spirit. From there, she found herself thinking about you and decided to follow her feelings. After all, that was the next logical step. Get to know your person of interest. 

Despite knowing how busy a second year student could get between their studying and intense training. Nejire still wanted your attention, but she thought going to the second year dormitory would only cause an unnecessary fuss. Regardless, she kept her spirits up and believed she’d eventually find a way to capture your heart. 

She was happy she got that warm and fuzzy feeling whenever she was around you or whenever she saw you passing through the hallway or walking to your dormitory. Mirio and Tamaki took notice of this and Nejire being the open and prideful person she was, admitted she had found someone she wanted to be with. Even if she was on her way to becoming a Pro Hero. “I just know I can be the one for them! I won’t give up!” she declared and of course, the fellow Big Three members supported her. 

When the time came for the school festival, Nejire was overly hyped to enter the beauty pageant. Determined to be the victor, of course when you walked into the room with Izuku and Mirio. She nearly lost her focus, “H-Hi! Y/n, you look lovely!” she blurted out, despite wanting to slap herself as soon as those words left her mouth. But you didn’t mind, in fact, you smiled, “Thank you, Hado. You look beautiful in that dress,” her cheeks flushed furiously at your comment and she was more determined than ever to win that crown and impress you. 

After the school festival was over. She sought you out, “So, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say,” she began, it was unusual to see Nejire nervous and it immediately concerned you. “I’ve...honestly had a crush on you for a while now and I know this may be weird to say, but I think we’d work really well together. If you reject me, I understand. But, I’m going to ask you anyway. Y/n, will you go out with me?” she questioned as she handed you the flowers she had gotten from the pageant. Could you really say no? 

Tamaki Amajiki hated attention in every sense, he was an introvert and preferred to stay within his own comfort zone. He hadn’t given much thought to romance, but it figures you’d change that. Turn his whole world on its side, how could he handle having feelings for a first-year support student? 

He couldn’t. As the timidest member of The Big Three, he was often underestimated despite his skill in combat. He wished he could have that same courage when it came to you. But instead, he’d always run away when he saw you, in school or in public. He couldn’t handle the pounding in his ears from his rapid heartbeat or the way his stomach twisted and made him nauseous when you were around. He even became paranoid that he’d end up passing out the next time he saw you. 

He was constantly conflicted over the fact that at any given moment, someone would catch onto his feelings for you, and then what would he do? He knew he’d have an anxiety attack if rumor spread he had a crush on you, after all, it was embarrassing when others knew your feelings toward someone. But, he knew it was bound to happen. It was his luck, should he just come clean? Oh right, then there was rejection to worry about. In short, Tamaki was a mess. 

Still, he couldn’t help himself. He admired your intelligence, the way it seemed like you could craft anything. Similar to Mirio, in his eyes, you had a certain glow around you. Something he couldn’t hope to compare to, but even that wasn’t enough to stop his feelings for you. Part of him wished you would notice him or that he had the courage to talk to you. 

His prayers might have been answered too soon, “Heeeey Suneater!” Eijiro screamed as Tamaki entered the Fat Gum Agency. “Check it out! Y/n over here is going to make me a new costume!” he declared and Tamaki stopped dead when he saw you. He felt his mouth go dry as you scolded Eijiro to stand still. “Uh, Suneater, you okay?” Eijiro questioned as he watched Tamaki step back and quickly shake his head before facing the nearest wall. Eijiro assured you Tamaki did this often and in a way, you almost found it adorable. 

It was humiliating the next few days at school and you got the feeling Tamaki was purposely avoiding you. Of course, when you spoke to Eijiro about it. He made some excuse that Tamaki was just busy but in reality. The redhead was trying to convince the third year to at least try to talk to you. Of course, Eijiro didn’t know of Tamaki’s feelings for you but he had a hunch he liked you.

Despite not wanting to push Tamaki into telling him, Eijiro made sure the shy boy knew he could tell him anything. After all, friends took care of each other and Eijiro was always willing to listen to whatever problems his friends were having. His words paid off in the end and Tamaki confessed he had a crush on you, “That’s awesome man! You should ask them out! Come on! You’re super manly! There’s no way they’ll say no!” Tamaki of course, couldn’t find the courage to do such a thing, and Eijiro might have gone behind his back and told you. 

In fact, Eijiro helped convince Tamaki to meet up with you. Given, he had gone to Fat Gum for advice and Fat Gum welcomed the love confession to happen at his agency so he could see his little Suneater grow. The look on Tamaki’s face when he saw you was something of dread and he tried to run away but Eijiro had a grip on him. Tamaki then proceeded to hide his face behind his hood and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the scene. You walked over and smiled, “Uh, Amajiki...do you want to go out with me?” Tamaki looked at you with wide eyes, maybe it would take time to build your relationship up. 

[fanfic-archive]

A Little More than an Alliance

Eivor Wolf-Kissed x Female Reader

Summary: Eivor has been travelling all over England, forging alliances and making a name for herself. Now she comes to your little kingdom in the hopes of forging an alliance with the king, your father.

Word Count: 3299

It was impressive, the amount of allies the Raven Clan had forged since arriving in England, and that news eventually reached your town. So, you had certainly heard the name ‘Eivor Wolf-Kissed’ before, and you supposed it was only a matter of time before she stepped foot in your little region of England. 

When news of Eivor wanting to meet with the king got around, your father agreed to a talk. You, your father, and his most trusted men gathered in the throne room, waiting for the Viking to arrive.

As soon as the Dane stepped into the hall, your full attention was on her. You couldn’t help it, of course you have heard of her but you still had no idea what to expect in many ways. Now, she stood in front of you and your father.

You felt foolish, never before have you been so captivated by a person. Your father and her spoke, while you took in each detail of her appearance. Her clothes, her braids, the parts of tattoos and scars that were visible, the way she held herself and walked into the hall with purpose, like she owned the place, how she showed respect while simultaneously demanding it with just her presence.

Eivor must have noticed your staring because she glanced over at your, making eye contact for just a moment but it was enough to turn your cheeks a light shade of pink and tear your gaze way from her.

Your father, the king, had never been too fond of the Danes but you had always been more open minded, simply curious about them. The truth was, you wanted to learn more about them, preferably from Eivor. 

The meeting between Eivor and your father didn’t go so well, your father didn’t seem interested in any sort of alliance but you knew that she wouldn’t give up that easily. 

Once the meeting ended, your father retired to his chambers while Eivor headed out of the hall. Deciding to try your luck, just a little, you followed after the Dane. 

“Excuse me” you spoke as you caught up with her, your voice making her pause and turn to you. “I’m sorry for my father’s rudeness” you apologised on the king’s behalf. 

“He isn’t the first leader to protest, but I’ve never let it stop us before” she shrugged slightly. 

“He isn’t...a fan of your people but I want you to know that we don’t all think the same way and that I think he will come around in time” you assured her. 

“I’ve won over stubborn Saxon’s before, I’m sure I’ll manage it again” she nodded in agreement. 

“I hope you do” you admitted, glancing over at the pair of your father’s men who were watching you both, likely wondering why you were talking to her without your father’s presence. “Would you walk with me?” you asked, wanting to get away from the curiously men. Eivor nodded, making you smile before you both left the hall together. “I believe an alliance between our people will benefit us both...and I confess you and your people intrigue me” you told her as the doors closed behind you. 

“Is that so?” Eivor asked with a small hum, walking through the streets of the town with you. 

“My father believes that your belief in multiple Gods is heathenism and therefore damning, though I imagine our belief in a singular God confuses you just as much” you shrugged. 

“It’s not the belief that confuses me, but the way you worship” Eivor confessed, a little curious about what you had to say. 

“We must humble ourselves before God” you explained simply. 

“We seek glory in the name of our Gods, I doubt you would consider that humble. We should take pride in our glories” she shook her head, clearly disagreeing. 

“Pride is a sin” you informed her playfully. 

“Another confusing concept of yours: sin. Your people make sins out of our nature. It is honour that decides our fate after death” she told you. 

“Your Valhalla?” you asked and she nodded in confirmation. “Now that is something I don’t understand. The feasting and celebrating sounds like a wonderful end but the continuous battles I may never understand. After everything you earn in life, don’t you want the next one to be...peaceful?” you pondered. 

“And your afterlife is that?” Eivor questioned. 

“...I suppose we can only hope” you sighed softly. You had faith and you trusted that faith, but nobody could know for sure. 

“You are a curious princess” she smiled slightly to herself, curiously looking you up and down, which definitely made you blush again. 

“Thank you” you smiled softly, hoping that your flushed face wasn’t too noticeable. “I wish to further understand your people. Understanding and respect are the only things that can bring us together” you insisted. 

Eivor went to speak but was interrupted by a man calling your name. The two of you turned to see one of your father’s most trusted men, one that you had known since you were a child, approaching you both. “Your father has requested your presence” he told you. 

You nodded before turning back to Eivor. “I have to go” you sighed, sounding disappointed. “But I enjoyed our talk and I trust you don’t plan on leaving until you have formed an agreement, so perhaps we could talk further when you have the time?” you looked up at her with a hopeful gaze, and she had to admit that she wouldn’t mind speaking with you some more. 

“It would be my pleasure” she nodded, smiling at you. You returned her smile before heading off to speak with your father. 

Eivor watched you walk away with a small smile on her face, just has she had captured your attention, you had captured hers. 

-

Unsurprisingly, Eivor did stay, continuing to speak with your father about possible alliances. 

Though, she spent a good portion of her days speaking with you instead. She told you all about Norway and her life there, why she and her clan came to England, and their journey here. Your favourite stories where the ones she told you of her Gods, even they were flawed being and you found that you liked that.  

Of course, you told her about your life growing up in England, laughing at the vast differences of your experiences. She told you about her experiences, but they were things you could only imagine. Your stories just didn’t compare in your eyes, they weren’t nearly as interesting in your opinion. 

Eivor just had so many stories, either from her life or about her Gods, and she told them so well, so poetically. Each and every one held your fascination, you could just listen to her for hours on end. 

You had offered to give her a proper tour of the town, the two of you got some curious looks from the people you passed, the Saxon Princess and the Danish drengr, but neither of you cared much. She had even taken you out of town for the day, without your father’s knowledge. It had proven surprisingly ease to sneak around to spend time with this fascinating woman. 

All the while, Eivor was making impressive strides in forging an alliance with your father. She wasn’t doing it alone though, you were helping, trying to convince your father to consider the proposition. 

-

It wasn’t too long before your father realised that both you and the Raven Clan had a shared enemy, Kind Alfred. So, your father set the terms of the alliance, if Eivor could help him and his men eliminate Alfred’s control over the region, she would have him as an ally. 

Your father had only recently left for the camp that they were going to regroup at, leaving you with a goodbye and a promise to return. 

Now you stood alone in the empty throne room, which would undoubtable be the place you waited until they all returned safely. You were just about to sit down when the front doors opened and Eivor walked into the room. 

“Eivor, you haven’t gone yet?” you were definitely surprised to see her here, having assumed she would be one of the first at the camp, preparing for battle. 

“I wanted to come and tell you that we’d be attacking Aelfred’s men tonight, I am meeting your father at the camp soon” she explained her presence. Knowing that she had come to see you just to say goodbye made you smile just a little, you would have smiled more if you hadn’t been so worried. 

“I know, he just left to prepare” you nodded, walking towards her so that you both met in the centre of the hall. “Tell me, Eivor, are you even better in battle than you are at diplomacy?” you asked. 

“The battlefield is almost like a second home to me” she nodded, her brow furrowing in confusion and curiosity at your question. 

“Good...then I suppose I have nothing to worry about” the answer didn’t really do anything to put your mind at ease, you already knew about her prowess on the battlefield, you had heard the stories...and yet you still worried about her. 

“You’re worried we won’t succeed?” Eivor questioned you with a small frown. 

“Well...yes, but not because I’m doubting your abilities. I’m more concerned about your safe return” you confessed. 

“I’ll be fine, we’ll likely be back sometime tomorrow” she promised you, sounding confident in it. 

“And you’ll look out for my father, it’s been some time since he saw battle” you requested. He had never been a coward in a fight but you still worried about him, he was family after all. 

“I will, I promise” she nodded before turning to leave. 

You hadn’t expected her to try to leave so suddenly, there were still things you wanted to say to her. 

“Eivor” you swiftly caught her hand in yours, making her stop and turn back to you. She looked at you expectantly, seeing the worry written on your face. “Please be careful” your voice was soft, like a quiet prayer. 

“You don’t need to worry” Eivor raised her hand, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear with a surprisingly soft smile on her face. 

Both her smile and gesture were gentle, more gentle than one might expect from a drengr such as herself. You had learnt during your time with her that she certainly did have a gentle side to her, one that she had been kind enough to show to you. 

“I’ll be back soon, after we claim our victory” she assured you, her hand slipping around to the back of your neck before pulling you closer. 

You went to speak, to question her, but you where quickly shut up. Your eyes widened slightly as her lips pressed against yours firmly. Slowly coming out of your surprised stated, your eyes fluttered shut and your hands rested on her arms as you returned the intense kiss. You had never felt so much heat and passion in a single gesture...or at all for that matter. 

Eivor broke away from the kiss, leaving you breathless. She brushed her thumb over your cheek before pulling away from you completely, walking out of the hall to prepare for battle, leaving you standing in the middle of the throne room, slightly stunned by the sudden development. 

-

The next day your father and his men returned, just like they all promised. Your father had greeted you with the good news and a hug before taking his place on his throne, you standing by his side as he spoke to two of his men. 

You had been paying attention to the conversation...until Eivor walked into the hall. As soon as you saw her, you were solely focused on her, and you were sure that your face just lit up at the sight of her. 

The truth was that you just wanted to run to her, but you knew that you couldn’t. So, you stayed put, just grateful for her safe return. She seemed glad to see you as well, greeting you with a nod and a smile, both of which you returned.

Everyone had returned, the dead had been honoured, the battle was won, and an alliance had been forged. So, it was time to celebrate, and everyone did so with a feast. 

As the men, Saxon and Dane alike, celebrated with food, drink, and music, your father sat up on his throne looking on with pride. 

You had left your father’s side, approaching Eivor, who was leaning against a wooden post in a quieter part of the hall. “Your people seem much better at celebrating than mine” you commented, getting the woman’s attention. 

“I’d have to agree with you” Eivor nodded as you moved to stand beside her, the two of you watching the more rowdy Danes attempting to bring out the worst in the more reserved Saxons. 

“...it looks like fun” you sighed. 

“It is. Why don’t you join in?” she asked, looking down at you. 

“I can’t” you shook your head, sounding displeased. 

“Of course you can. You’re a princess, you can do whatever you want, especially if that thing is celebrating” Eivor chuckled a little, seemingly not understanding your claim. 

“My father considers it indecent of me to join in with the festivities” you told her, making her roll her eyes.

She seemed to think about something for a moment before looking back at you. “Come on” she nodded at you to follow her before walking off. 

You frowned slightly in confusion but followed after her anyway. She grabbed two tankards off of a table, filling them with mead, before heading for the front door. You were still none the wiser as to what was going on in her head but you didn’t question it, you only followed curiously. 

Following her outside, you let the doors close behind you both before coming to a stop around the side of the building. It was dark outside now, the night sky lit up by the moon and the stars, the glow from the torches lighting up the town. Everyone else was in the hall, so it was just the two of you were out here, making it all the more peaceful. 

“I guess you’ll be returning home now” you realised with a dejected sigh, taking a sip of your mead. 

“I will. I’ve finished my business here, and I am needed back in Ravensthorpe” Eivor nodded, drinking from her own mead. 

You have had some time to think about what you wanted out of life and you knew that now was the only time you might get to ever seek something new. “Would you take me with you? Back to Ravensthorpe?” you asked, knowing that the question was probably surprising. 

“Now, why would you want that?” she did sound curious but she seemed to hide her surprise pretty well. “I love my father and I love our home, and I don’t plan on cutting all ties, but I don’t think my place is here anymore...I think there’s something more for me out there” you confessed, looking over at her and attempting to disguise the longing in your gaze. You succeeded...partly. 

“I’m not one to try to talk somebody out of following their fate but I have to ask, why don’t you think your place is here?” she didn’t sound judgemental, she just wanted to better understand. 

“I will never be considered for the throne and I’m okay with that, I don’t think I even want it, but if I am not here to be my father’s heir...there is no real role for me here” you explained honestly. 

“And what would your role be in Ravensthorpe?” Eivor questioned and you paused for a moment. She made a fair point, what use would you be to the Raven Clan? 

“...I guess I’ll have to figure that out” you confessed with another sigh, looking out at the quiet town in front of you. Surely, she wouldn’t accept your request, she had no reason too. 

“I’m sure I can think of a place for you” she reassured you casually, taking another drink. 

“Really?” your head shot round to look at her with widened eyes. “Is that you agreeing?” you asked. 

“Will your father allow it?” she answered your question with another question. 

“He won’t like it but I don’t think he could stop me, nor would he break his alliance with you. He never was too fond of Danes but he is a man of his word, plus I believe you have won him over on your people” you told her. 

“Tonight we celebrate, we leave tomorrow morning...we’ll speak with your father then” she nodded, not even questioning her decision. 

“Before we leave, I must ask...before you left to fight Alfred’s men...” the confidence you just had, asking to leave with her, faded as you brought up the subject that you really wanted to talk about.

“Yes?” a small smirk tugged at her lips. 

“What was that?” you asked. 

“What was what?” she was teasing you now and you knew it, she wasn’t even attempting to hide her smirk. 

“Eivor” you groaned in frustration and embarrassment, but she just chuckled. “The kiss, what was that?” you asked, a light blush spreading over your cheeks as you hung your head slightly to avoid her gaze. 

“Did you not enjoy it?” Eivor asked but it didn’t really sound like a genuine question. You guessed that she already knew the answer, she was just teasing you. 

“Yes, I...of course” you assured her quickly, making her smile. “I was just wondering what it meant...” your words drifted off again. 

“Well...” Eivor smiled as she placed her tankard down and turned to you, “...I meant...” she reached out tenderly and pushed some hair out of your face, reminding you of your encounter before she left for battle, “...that I would like it if you joined me in Ravensthorpe.”

Her answer made you smile, glad to hear that you meant as much to her as she meant to you. This time you were less surprised when she cupped your cheek in her hand and lent in to capture your lips in a kiss, her other hand resting on your waist.

You placed your tankard down as carefully as you could as you returned her kiss, bringing both of your hands up to cup her face. The hand against your cheek fell to grip the other side of your waist as Eivor pulled you closer to her, making you wrap your arms around her neck. 

This kiss was even better than the last and you hoped that there would be many more in the future. The way she kissed you, the way she touched you, even the way she looked at you, lit a fire in you that you had never experienced before and you didn’t ever want to lose that feeling. 

You reluctantly broke the kiss but didn’t pull away from her. “Come with me” you practically whispered as you took her hand in yours, stepping away from her. 

“Where are we going?” Eivor asked curiously, letting you guide her around the longhouse, towards one of the doors around the back. 

“Tonight is about celebrating, is it not?” you asked, looking back over your shoulder at her with a small smirk of your own. 

Eivor smirked in return, quickly catching on to your plans for the evening, letting you sneak her back to your chambers.

Once you reached your chamber, you closed the door and returned to Eivor’s embrace. She instantly pulled you into another kiss, and before you knew it she was lowering you onto your back on the furs of your bed.

[halloweenhoneylover]

the closing shift

summary: coffeeshop au babey!! spencer and reader are nerds in love who also work at the campus cafe together (spencer reid x fem!reader)

word count: 2.7k

author’s note: this one’s for u, anon!!! sorry if this is lame, i normally don’t like coffeeshop au’s but here we are. also a warning: there is a lot of doctor who junk in here and also it’s incredibly self-indulgent but i don’t care :)

“So what you’re saying is you don’t like the power of love and human goodness?”

Spluttering frustratedly, Spencer frowned at you, “Of course, that’s not what I’m saying. I just think that the special effects were cheesy and the plot was sometimes a little silly!”

You narrowed your eyes at him for a moment before relenting with a sigh, focusing back on the counter you were wiping down. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit that the Slitheen really did not look good, and that maybe ‘Love and Monsters’ was one of the stupidest episodes of television I’ve ever watched, but you have to admit that Ten’s monologue in ‘The Satan Pit’ was one of the best pieces of writing in the whole show. ‘If I believe in one thing, I believe in her?’ How were you not screaming at your TV when you watched that!”

Spencer lips curled into a small smile as you continued rambling and absent-mindedly cleaning the counter. You were not doing a very good job, but he wasn’t about to stop your spiel. It wasn’t often he was on the receiving end of a ramble, and as someone who was frequently told to shut up, he would never interrupt, especially when it was about his favorite show. Especially when it was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. No, he’d sit quietly and listen, thank you very much.

“Okay,” she brought her full attention back to Spencer. “I’ll forgive you for your horrible offence. If you take back what you said.”

She looked so intently in his eyes, so sincerely his knees wobbled a little. The full force of her attention was like the sun. He felt warm inside and out, but he might be burned from the intensity of its direct glare. 

“Fine, season two of Doctor Who is not a complete abomination.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up in a satisfied smirk. “Well, thank you, Dr. Reid. I appreciate the kind words.”

He nodded, turning to the back room. He’d almost made it through the doorway before he muttered just loud enough for you to hear, “But season eight is better.”

A melodramatic gasp, and he felt a rag hit the back of his head, and he chuckled.

“You take that back, Spencer Reid!” 

Making his way further in, his fingers found the knot behind his back, quickly untying and shrugging off the apron. “(Y/N), I only speak the truth. I’m a man of science, and science says that season eight is simply superior.”

You laughed along with him, murmuring grievances against this idiot genius. You reached behind yourself, fingers fumbling with the knot. After a couple unsuccessful attempts, you huffed and asked, “Hey, Spencer, do you think you could help me with my apron? I tied the stupid thing too tightly.”

He gulped, mumbling a sure thing in a way he hoped was nonchalant, but knowing himself, was anything but. Walking up behind you, he felt himself involuntarily shudder at your proximity, and he said a silent prayer to a god he didn’t believe in to try to keep his cool. You felt his fingers brush against your lower back, and you tried, gosh, you tried so hard to not audibly gasp (you’re not sure you succeeded). The brief contact unfortunately flooded your mind with thoughts about his long fingers that you had often admired (discreetly), and you thought about what it’d be like for him to touch you and for him to mean it, and you nearly passed out. The silence was deafening, which was funny because it seemed like you two could never shut up around each other, and the one time you needed to fill the tense air with something, there was nothing.

Finally finished with the knot, Spencer softly tapped your back twice with his index. “All done.” It came out as a whisper. He couldn’t have managed more.

“Thanks!” You spoke at normal volume and tried to put you back into regular conversation, but breaking the eerie quiet, it sounded like you were shouting.

He shot you a tight-lipped smile. “Are you all good to close up?”

“Yeah, I can hold down the fort,” you said rather breathlessly, returning his smile.

Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he pushed open the back door and waved. “See you Thursday!”

“See ya.”

As soon as the door shut, you heaved a sigh of relief and let the tension out of your shoulders, staring at the ground. You dug the heels of your palms into your eyes. Why did you freeze up like that? Why was it weird when he left? Why did you like him so much?

——— 

Thursday was Spencer’s favorite day of the week. The dining hall stocked chocolate donuts with rainbow sprinkles on Thursdays. He had his chemistry seminar with his favorite professor on Thursdays. Caltech’s chess club met on Thursdays. He worked his shift at The Campus Grind on Thursdays. 

(You worked the same shift at The Campus Grind on Thursdays.)

Did Spencer really need a job? No, his education was entirely paid for by the school because when you have a child prodigy on your hands, you should try to keep them. And he lived in on-campus housing and ate on campus, and he didn’t have a lot of other expenses. But his advisor told him that he might get something out of doing a job that didn’t require 100% of his brain power, might get to rest his mind for a couple hours every week. He might also make a friend.

What he had not anticipated when he started at one of the various campus cafes was meeting you. He showed up to his first shift and nearly choked when he saw arguably the most beautiful girl he had ever met in the backroom putting on an apron. Your eyes lit up when you saw him. “Hey, you must be Spencer! I saw our names together on the schedule a couple times, looks like we’re gonna be work buddies!”

By the time you turned back to speak to your guys’ new manager, he noticed his jaw was completely slack, and he hoped his mouth had not been hanging too long. He also blacked out too long to ask for your name, which he was internally hitting himself over. And he hazily drifted through the training, his mind barely focusing on the coffee. To say he was distracted by the girl next to him and the way she smelled like coconuts and cotton was a major understatement. Times like these were humbling for a twenty-year-old with two and a half PhDs.

He could barely recall anything that happened until they were cleaning out the espresso machine together silently, and he was struck with a sudden need. “Hey, I never caught your name…”

“Right! My name is (Y/N),” she answered, offering him a grin.

“It’s nice to meet you, (Y/N).”

Neither spoke after that, both working quietly next to each other. Spencer sighed internally, he wasn’t sure what he expected, but he hoped they wouldn’t spend the semester in silence. And like some higher power was listening to his wishes, you turned to him, “So, Spencer, what are you majoring in?”

Hesitant to scare you off, he tiptoed around the subject. “Right now, I’m studying chemistry.”

“Right now?”

He glanced over at you, and despite knowing you for the entirety of ten minutes, he couldn’t deny you or the inquisitive gleam in your eye even if he wanted to. And he didn’t want to. “I’m working on my PhD in chemistry. I already have two in mathematics and engineering. Oh, and I have two BA’s in psychology and sociology.” He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at the dumbfounded look on your face, and he swallowed harshly. “Um, uh—what uh, what are you studying?”

You let out a brief laugh, and for a moment, he cringed, wondering if you were laughing at him. But just a look at you and the tenderness of your features, he knew he had nothing to worry about. Blowing a puff of air out, you grinned gently, “Well, your PhD’s are putting my bachelor’s to shame, so I’m not sure I want to say.”

“No, I’m sure whatever you’re studying is cool,” he reassured you.

Pleasantly surprised by the humility of your new genius coworker, you continued, “I appreciate it. I tend to err on the side of the humanities, not much of a STEM gal myself, and right now,” you both chuckled at your little joke, “I’m studying history and political science.” 

“So am I standing in the presence of a future lawyer, or maybe the next president of the United States?” 

“Good question, but I’m not sure. Would you vote for me?”

Squinting at you for a moment, he nodded slowly, “Yeah, I think I would. You’ve got a kind face.”

You raised your eyebrows at that, trying to suppress a blush. “A kind face?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, eyes flicking over your face. You felt shy under his gaze; it’s not everyday a hot genius boy stares you down and tells you you have a ‘kind face.’

Ducking your head, you fought a smile. “Alright, I’ll take it.”

And from then on, something clicked. You and Spencer talked for hours and hours during your shifts, joking and teasing (and grinning and blushing). He looked forward to working because that meant a chance to see you. (Except for Mondays, that was the one shift you didn’t have together, and it made Spencer want to scream. The dude he worked with, Andy, was nice enough, but the hours seemed to drag on when he didn’t have you to discuss weird sci-fi movies with.)

He was particularly looking forward to this Thursday because he knew you had a big presentation in your class about African revolution, and he wanted to hear all about it. In the brief moments of spare time at the cafe, he had helped you prepare and had listened to bits and pieces of it. This morning he’d sent you a quick good luck! text, to which you’d responded with thanks!!! and a stream of various heart emojis. He had learned early on that you were very fond of emojis, but it never stopped his heart from skipping a beat when you’d send him little hearts and smileys.

Entering the back room, he set his backpack on a hook and started to get ready for his shift. He gave a quick wave to the people from the last shift as they left, and he felt a little worry boiling in his gut because if they had left, that meant you were late, and you were never late. He wondered if something had happened in your presentation, and he was filled with dread. Solitarily manning the counter, he was ensnared in his thoughts; he couldn’t stand the idea of something going wrong and you being upset, so upset that you couldn’t come to work. He shifted uncomfortably, hand itching to grab his phone and send you a text to see if you were okay when he heard a door slam and a shriek from the backroom. “Spencer!”

Immediately, he ran to the back, expecting the worst, and he nearly fell over when you ran at him full-speed to launch into a hug. “Oof—” He recovered though, catching you, and he wrapped his arms around you so tightly and cradled the back of your head in his hand. His heart stuttered. He could get used to this.

You buried your face into his neck. “Oh, Spencer, you won’t believe it. My presentation went so well! My professor held me after class and told me I was one of his brightest students, and oh, I just don’t believe it!” He felt your face warm against him as you gushed.

“I believe it, I don’t doubt it for a second. You are so smart, (Y/N). I’m so proud of you. You deserve it.”

Breathing him in for just a moment longer, you finally released him, and both of you thought how everything feels a little emptier now that you weren’t holding each other. He couldn’t help but beam at you, though.

“Really, (Y/N), I’m so proud of you.”

“Hey, I can’t take all the credit! It’s all thanks to you being patient enough to hear me blabber on and practice, so thank you, Dr. Reid.”

He got incredibly flustered at the title and hesitated over his next words before settling on a soft anytime. And he meant it.

——— 

The rest of your shift that day was less eventful. You recounted some of the highlights of your presentation, to which Spencer listened with rapture. There was some discussion of who was at chess club today and if anyone there was a true match for Spencer (no one was). You played your favorite game called “Who Can Make the Most Disgusting Drink Out of Four Ingredients?” (You won with a mixture of coffee, coffee grounds, an excessive amount of salt, and raspberry syrup. (Ew, (Y/N) why is it grainy?)) And now nearing midnight, you sat at one end of the bar reading your textbook while Spencer cleaned up various mugs and napkins. He snagged the broom from the backroom and began sweeping. With a quick glance up at you focused entirely on your book, he smiled softly. Pieces of your hair had drifted out from behind your ears and framed your face, and the apples of your cheeks were flushed. To put it simply, you looked ethereal, and Spencer didn’t think it should be possible for someone to look so beautiful at the end of a long day, but here you were, always defying expectations. He thought you looked like someone from those Renaissance paintings you loved so dearly, but he knew that even if someone tried to commit your grace to canvas, it’d be to no avail. He was sure no one would be able to do you justice.

Looking down at the floor he was supposed to be sweeping, he let his thoughts wander farther. He thought about what it would be like to hold you everyday like he did today. He’d be the luckiest man on Earth, that’s what. For so long he thought about asking you out, but then he knew that someone like you would never be interested in someone like him. But then again, you were the impossible girl. You never did quite what he expected. And he never expected you to be into him. So maybe for once in his life, he’d go out on a limb and ask you if you wanted to go get dinner with him sometime. He’d take you to the Indian place on 12th that he knew you loved, and you’d sit in the oddly formal, always empty restaurant and laugh and giggle together because that’s what you always did together, and then maybe, he’d invite you back to his place, so you could watch Doctor Who, or maybe do other things (like hold hands), who knows? 

He found himself praying to that god he didn’t believe in once again to find the courage as he finished up sweeping, and after he put the broom away, he walked up to you with butterflies running rampant in his stomach, so he could barely muster a glance at you. But he was going to finally do it.

“(Y/N), I —”  

And that’s when he noticed that you had fallen asleep on your book. It had been a long day for you. He felt his heart grow tender and soft and if someone poked it, it very well might explode. His thoughts strayed to your conversation the other day and the quote you loved so much. I've seen fake gods and bad gods and demi-gods and would-be gods, and out of all that, out of that whole pantheon, if I believe in one thing, just one thing, I believe in her. He takes a step or two closer, and brushing a lock of hair behind your ear with the gentlest hand, he thinks, yeah. I believe in her.

[angstmongertina]

The Vision of Lachesis

Spoilers for Artem’s Entwined Fates SSR card story! Also, warning for angst and implied/mentioned character death, because I can only write so much fluff before things get angsty.

I had this idea almost as soon as I played the Entwined Fates card story because I am a sucker for outside POV fics, though the idea for the last scene came later lol. Incidentally, if you want to skip the angst, just stop before the little warning I put in there. Everything before it should be perfectly fluffy.

Cross-posted to AO3.

In his years living at Cloudbreak Temple, Master Lu has already seen many visitors pass through its gate, all with various different hopes and dreams and stories filling their souls. He has seen everyone, from new babies to old grandmothers, from shy young couples to blissful newlyweds and bickering old spouses. And still, the pair he spies entering the temple catch his attention.

He is, as is always the case during the busy festival days, pulled in all directions at once, guiding petitioners through the rituals of prayer and interpreting fortune, but even so, he cannot help but keep an eye on them. A man in front, tall and middle-aged, wearing a solemn expression that does not quite suit the laugh lines on his face, and a boy, not yet fully grown and quiet, shying away slightly from the noise and bustle around him but watching the proceedings with a bright, piercing gaze. The man says something, a gentle hand clapping the boy’s shoulder in a warm, fatherly gesture that brings a faint smile to the small face, before they dive into the crowd, and he turns his attention back to the couple before him.

Thankfully, they do not comment on his preoccupation and he puts the others out of mind as he helps them determine their fortunes.

The next time he sees the pair, they are with old Master Wang, which comes as no great surprise to him. Although Cloudbreak Temple may be most well-known for petitions to the star of wisdom, they accommodate many types of prayers, and while the boy may be of the age where success in learning and exams is important, one glance at the youthful face is enough to tell him that the boy has both intelligence and diligence to spare, and furthermore, a concrete attitude that would likely dismiss the thought of appealing to prayers for school out of hand. No, there is no need for prayers for success. But for safety, on the other hand…

He moves a little closer, still not yet so close as to be truly spying, but near enough to get a better look at the pair. The man is dressed casually, long brown hair pulled out of his face, and stands almost at a slouch, but the eyes that observe the world around him through thin-rimmed glasses are far from relaxed. Instead, their grey depths are cautious, sharp, clearly accustomed to seeking out the truth behind every person, every choice and interaction. It is only when they fall on the young man beside him do they soften with affection and concern. A man of action, of justice and strong morals, though perhaps of some impetuousness and with a fragility under it all.

A man, in short, who likely puts himself into the path of danger for the good of the people around him, but who also might shatter should he be pushed to the brink, should the lives of those he cares about be on the line.

And the boy…

Master Lu frowns, brushing a thoughtful hand over his chin and the faint beginnings of a thick beard as the man ruffles the boy’s hair and he looks up at his companion with a small but adoring smile.

The boy still has a whole entire life in store for him, of that he is certain. And one that will no doubt intersect with the temple again.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When the couple steps through the gates of the temple, the man sheltering the girl beside him from the crowds, he notices them immediately. Though many years have passed, he has learned to trust his instincts, even beyond what his mind may tell him, and his gut recognizes the man long before his eyes do. The boy has grown, of course, in the ensuing two decades, but the bright intelligence, the thoughtfulness and care, all harken back to the shy child of so long ago.

But rather than his old friend and mentor, this time, the man brings with him a companion of his own. At first glance, she is just as bright-eyed and curious as he once was, though perhaps with more anxiety than he had, focusing immensely on the tasks before her. And the way he watches her…

Before he knows it, he is approaching the pair, standing at a table for the star of wisdom, and offers his assistance. He sees her attention flit away as her partner leaves for his own prayer, following him through the crowd with her eyes and her mind; though she appears to be unaware of it herself, her partner knows, and he knows, that even apart, their hearts, their very lives themselves, are irrevocably entwined, two souls pulled together by an inescapable gravity that he had not seen in decades, if ever.

He cannot help his curiosity about them, about this pair that seems to confirm the very existence of fate itself. These two lawyers, partners, these two halves of a single whole, that the universe has brought together, in an act of perfect balance.

Their marriage fortunes, an offer he makes that is part personal interest, part guiding hand, come as a surprise, though perhaps it should not have been wholly unexpected. He has never been wrong before, not about the couples who have captured his attention, but this…

This is less of a gentle nudge from fate and more of a flashing neon sign.

She reacts to her fortune tag first and he cannot help but smile at the curiosity, at the innocence, in her eyes. “I cannot keep my heart, as it longs to be with you…” A straightforward fortune, as befitting the girl who watches her partner with subconscious adoration, who still does not see his unconditional tenderness, who still does not understand her own constant preoccupation, for what they are. In time, she will realize.

But her partner…

He knows from the moment he sees the man’s face that the meaning of his own fortune is not lost on him. “It is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.” And it is fitting for him, for the way he turns away from this, his hesitant heart, cautiously hopeful for a sign that the undying flame he carries will not be snuffed out, bruised from this heavy blow from fate, determined to carry its burden alone, to push his feelings aside and pretend that all is well, as he has always done.

It is a cautionary tale, this particular fortune, and he can say nothing, can only look on in weighty silence, as its recipient takes his companion and continues down his ill-fated and forewarned path.

Or, at least, attempts to, but for the efforts of the girl by his side. He does not listen to the conversation not meant for his ears but he does not need to, not when her thoughts are written clear across her face, not when she tugs her partner back to hear his explanation.

Not when she, despite being still oblivious to the depth of their connection, to the direction of her heart, immediately moves to petition, to help, to find some way of reversing the luck, propelled by outward concern and hidden affection.

He gives them directions both to the wishing tree and for the method to improve one’s luck and watches as she leaps at each opportunity, apparently unaware of the implications, in her quest to lessen her companion’s misfortune. But the man, now wearing a near constant smile of stunned helplessness, knows, even if he cannot, or perhaps more likely, will not, let himself, discern the cause of her concern.

Not even when it involves her suggesting that they bind their fortunes together on the wishing tree.

He chuckles, running his fingers over his beard as he watches them, their gentle discussion and animated features, both conveying so much to the world that they are too close, too farsighted, to see. But in this moment, it is not his place to say anything, to interfere any further, and so he doesn’t. Fate has already shown her own interest in their future, one that they have accepted and furthered, without, apparently, even realizing it.

Ah, to be young and in love.

Waving off their thanks, he watches as they leave before shaking his head and letting out the full-bellied laugh that he has been holding back since he first met them. In all of his years working at the temple, he has never been wrong before, and he is certain that he will not be wrong this time.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first day of the festival dawns early and bright, with that telltale warmth that foretells another hot August day. Even before the temple is open for visitors, anticipation hums through the air, the faint buzz as everyone prepares for the inevitable rush of petitioners.

Standing before the steps to the main temple, Master Lu looks out over the entire grounds with a smile. While the outside world has changed drastically in the past decades, within the temple, it is like being transported back in time; the same old tables from years past have already been set up, and the decorations, while not entirely the exact same as those used in centuries past, have all been remade in the original style.

In the fast-paced and ever-changing world, it is almost a sanctuary from time itself, where the tags of decades of visitors remain for an eternity and the history and traditions of the ancestors are preserved for future generations.

Well, at least in some ways more than others, if the influx of technology, and not just from forgetful visitors, is any indication.

He shakes his head, chuckling at his own preoccupation as he dodges young Master Zhao, juggling his attention between the pile of fortunes carried in his arms and the phone jammed under his ear. Clearly, he has begun to get overly sentimental in his old age.

Alas, yet another reminder of the inevitability of the passage of time.

The entry of visitors, a veritable tsunami of petitioners all looking to arrive early, interrupts his thoughts and he turns his attention to them, casting an experienced eye over the crowd. As usual, the vast majority make a beeline straight for the table for the star of wisdom, drawn as ever to the promise of good scores and success. Young couples make their way to the table for marriage fortunes, fresh-eyed and smitten with each other. And others still filter towards the other tables, for peace and wealth and…

And safety.

He spots the small family almost as soon as they pass through the gates, though they are admittedly hard to miss. The man and woman walk arm in arm, slow and cautious against the crush of the people around them, his form shifting to act as a barrier to shield her against the worst of the crowd. The height of the man alone would have been enough to catch his attention, but it is accentuated by the tiny pigtailed girl riding on his shoulders, adding another head to their overall height. From her perch, she looks around with bright, curious eyes, a small hand pointing towards the main temple, and him.

Even across the distance, he can see the surprise and recognition flicker in the bright blue eyes that meet his, and he would not have been able to hide his grin even if he had tried. As it is, though, he does not try, instead stepping forward to meet them with a greeting.

“I don’t know if you remember us, but…”

He shakes his head, waving off the woman’s comment with a laugh. “I do.”

And of course he does. How could he not? They have matured, naturally, settling into one combined force rather than two beings still tumbling in each other’s orbits; her hair is longer now, pulled into a neat bun, and his more disheveled than he’s ever seen under the ministrations of toddler hands; but the same spirit, the same keen eyes and entwined fates, shine out from the pair, unique amongst the crowd of other visitors.

He grins. “Of course I do. After all, it’s not every day I draw two fortunes quite so complementary, and even more rare to have them be hung up together on the wishing tree like that.”

At that, she laughs as well, her cheeks reddening slightly, and pauses to shake her bangs out of her face. “Yes, well, you were right, and it all worked out in the end.” She turns to her husband with a playful look, elbowing him gently in the ribs. “Even if it did take the better part of another year.”

“That is on you just as much as it is on me. After all, it took you just as long to realize,” the man retorts, though, to his amusement, his ears flush a faint red, which only deepens when their daughter points them out in a chipper voice, one loud enough that several visitors nearby turn to glance at them.

From the mouth of babes…

“What brings you back? Not just to check on your old tags, no?”

Shooting him a grateful look for the subject change, the man shakes his head, a faint smile curling the edges of his mouth. “No, though it is an added bonus. We’ve come for a new prayer for safety.”

His wife nudges him again, though gentler this time, and with less vigor. “Two, remember?”

He laughs openly, an expression that makes him look years younger, as he drops a hand to the gentle swell of her abdomen. “It may be a little early for that, still. I think he at least needs to have an official name first.”

She wrinkles her nose at him before laughing in turn. “Fine, fine. We will just have to come back again in a year or two.”

“Of course. Anything for you.”

“Daddy!”

A comically dramatic wince flashes across the man’s face when his daughter leans over, her voice projecting with unerring precision directly into his ear, and his wife is left hiding her amusement with some difficulty.

“Too loud, baobei.”

The bright blue eyes widen in distress. “Sorry, Daddy!”

He chuckles, reaching up to clasp her small fist in his hand. “It’s okay, baobei. What is it?”

Squirming from her perch on his shoulders, she points towards the back of the temple, where a few decorated branches of the wishing tree can be seen hanging over the roof. “Big tree! ‘S pretty! Go see?”

He shakes his head. “Later, maybe. First we have to—”

“No! Go see!” She leans over until she is hanging directly in front of his eyes. “Daddy, please?”

The man glances at his wife, who shrugs, mouthing the word “softie” while still wearing that same huge grin, and he finds that he has to struggle to choke back his laugh before anyone notices.

Given the soft snort that reaches his ears, he only partly succeeds.

“All right, then. Let’s go. We can come back for a prayer of safety”—the man glances back down at his wife, a faint but wondering smile dancing on his lips—“or even two, later.” With a solemn expression, the man offers him a deep, respectful nod, one that he is not quick enough to wave away. “Thank you, Master.”

“Bye-bye!”

Laughing, he waves at the trio, watching as they slowly weave their way through the crowd towards the back of the temple. Even across that distance, he can feel the affection and respect they hold for each other, can see the connection they share, which have managed to catch his attention time and time again.

When they finally move out of sight, he turns back to the temple and the flood of other guests, making a mental note to keep an eye out for the little family in future years. Maybe he can take a small break from drawing marriage fortunes in favor of overseeing prayers for safety for a few years…

STOP NOW IF YOU DON’T WANT ANGST.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sky is still dark with storm clouds when they first dare venture back outside to examine the state of the temple. In some ways, it is almost a miracle; despite the weeks of heavy storms, accompanied by shrieking gales and large hail, Cloudbreak Temple and its inhabitants have been mostly unharmed, save for superficial damages, just in time for the summer festival. Still, the mood is quiet, solemn, as everyone sets to work, clearing away the fallen branches, discarding the broken shingles, and making room for the stations as best they can in the limited time they have.

Wandering over the grounds, Master Lu shakes his head. Summer storms are not uncommon in the mountains, but even in the many decades that he has spent at Cloudbreak Temple, he has never seen a storm like that one, lightning seeming to rent the sky in two and thunder shaking the foundations of the temple itself, where there was naught to do but to stay indoors and safe. They were truly fortunate that nobody was injured and that most of the damages can be repaired.

Unfortunately, not all of the temple has remained quite so intact.

Stopping at the edge of the courtyard, he sighs, casting his gaze over the mess. It does not come as a complete surprise, given the lashing of the rain or the howling of the wind, but that does not change the sorrow he feels at the destruction that greets his eyes. Where there was once a majestic, venerable camphor tree is now a tired, wizened old thing, bowing under its own weight in the weak hints of daylight. Fortune tags lay strewn amongst the branches that had once held them aloft, once vivid symbols of the future now simply dark red and brown patches against muddy green, that he has to pick his way around as he wanders further in, taking in all of the damage.

But there is no time to clean up the mess, not in his old age and with everything else that will be happening for the day, and the visitors will understand, have to understand. He shakes his head, feeling all of his many years pressing down on his shoulders, almost as though he is fighting the weight of all the fallen wishes themselves.

“Master Lu?”

He looks up at the familiar voice and smiles. Master Chen, arms full of red cords, stands in the entryway of the courtyard, his bright eyes filled with concern, and he suddenly finds himself wondering when they all got so young.

“What is it? Do you need my help with anything?”

The boy shakes his head. “No, we are almost finished. There are enough of us to finish and handle the visitors, since there likely will not be many so soon after the storm. If you want, I could help clean this area…”

He shakes his head again, this time with a more genuine smile. “No, you go on. They’ll be needing you in the main temple, I’m sure. I can work here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Chen nods, putting the new cords on the nearby table before giving him a small, formal bow. “Thank you. Then I leave this to you.”

He waves the kid away, chuckling slightly as he watches him turn and walk back to the main temple before turning his attention back to the courtyard and the scattered fortunes, the remembrances of years, or decades even, of hopes and dreams.

With another heavy sigh, he squats down, tossing some fallen branches aside before picking up the wooden fortune at his feet. It is old, the carved text worn down by the elements, and he runs his fingers over the inscription, a brief statement on the virtues of hard work. A student had hung it there, once upon a time, and he closes his eyes for a moment, hoping that they achieved their goals, before tucking it into his robes and continuing forward.

In some ways, it is almost a walk down memory lane. Prayers to the star of wisdom from students that have long since graduated, who may even be teachers and professors now. Prayers for safety for people who have moved beyond that point, who may have even already passed. Marriage fortunes, ones that he helped distribute and interpret, for young couples that are now parents or even grandparents of their own…

He stumbles to a stop, staring down at the ground by his feet. Lying in the grass, so hidden by mud that he almost missed them, are two wooden cards. Their surfaces are almost entirely obscured by the dirt, but he still recognizes them instantly, the pair of fortunes so opposite to each other, so perfectly complementary. Held to the branch and each other by a red cord that has split and frayed under the years, no doubt hastened by the tempest.

Heaving another sigh, he leans over and…

“Master?”

Caught off-guard he snaps upright, turning around with a polite refusal on the tip of his tongue, but his instincts, ever reliable, stay his reply as the appearance of the visitor sinks in.

Dressed in dark, muted colors, he is easy to overlook, blending into his surroundings, into any crowd, with little effort. His face is drawn, haggard, lines of exhaustion etched into his skin, making him look years older, while his dark hair is disheveled, streaked with gray. Altogether, the man in the entryway, tired and worn, is almost unrecognizable from the young, joyous father of his memory. In just the few years since he last visited, he has aged a decade, his strong, confident form now frail, once bright azure eyes now dimmed, haunted.

And the man approaches, moving forward with slow, hesitant steps, eyes fixed on the tags he holds in his hand.

“That… Is that…?”

The voice nearly breaks around those few words, hoarse and almost inaudible, but he doesn’t need to hear the rest of the question, doesn’t need an explanation to know what the man wants, to know what must have happened.

Closing his eyes, he bows his head. “Yes. It is. They must have fallen during the storm.”

He hears a labored, shuddering breath, one that makes his own chest tighten in sympathy. “I… May I?”

“Of course.” He steps forward, gently placing the tags into his outstretched hands, watching as trembling fingers brush over the faded markings, the broken cord, as the pale face twists with fresh pain. “I…” He clears his throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“Daddy?”

They both turn at the same time, where a small girl stands in the entryway of the courtyard, holding the hand of an older woman as she cradles a bundle in her other arm. Pulling free of the restraining grasp, she runs forward to join them, grabbing her father’s free hand. “Daddy?”

Something resembling a smile tugs at the corners of the man’s lips as he squats to his daughter’s eye level. “What is it, baobei?”

“Are you sad?”

The sound that leaves the man’s throat is more of a rasp than a chuckle, but neither of them seem to notice. “Yes.” He wraps an arm around the girl, lifting her into the air as he stands back up. “Yes, I am.”

To his surprise, the girl only nods solemnly before looking at the tags in his hand. “What is that?”

The man sighs, holding it up so she can examine it more closely, running her small fingers over the wood as he wipes away the mud. “Mama and I came here years ago and hung it up when we were here. Before you were even born.”

“Oh. It’s pretty.” A slight frown on her face, she studies the fortunes and the cord linking them before raising her gaze. “Do you miss Mama?”

He has to shift his gaze away as the smile on the man’s face crumbles, turning his attention back to the mess of branches and fortune tags, but even so, he cannot escape hearing the slight hitch in the quiet voice. “Every day.”

She sniffles, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face against his shoulder. “Me too.”

“Anthea!” The older woman reaches them, her face a mix of concern and frustration, and he can’t help but turn his attention back to the family. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think she would be so quick.”

The man shakes his head as she reaches for the girl, instead shifting her position in his arms. “It’s fine, Ma. Besides, you have enough on your hands. And you’ve done more than enough for us now.”

“Still…”

“Ma.” The man closes his eyes, gently shaking his head, before meeting her gaze with a determination that even he can feel, that makes him tear his gaze away once more, feeling vaguely like he is eavesdropping. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I…” A sigh that hangs in the air between them. “I need to do this. For her. But thank you for… for everything. And…”

A hand suddenly appears in his vision and he looks up to find the man before him, standing up straighter with a mix of sorrow and resolve dancing on his features. “I don’t know if you remember me, but…”

He shakes his head. “I do. Still.”

“Of course.” A small but genuine smile cracks his mouth as the man draws a deep breath. “I… I remember you said once that fortunes should be returned to the temple once they’ve come true and…” He swallows once, hard. “Can you put these back for me?”

“Yes, certainly.” He reaches for them, hand closing back around the fortunes that the man holds out.

Two little wooden tags have never felt so heavy in his palm before.

For a moment, the man stares at them, as though in his hands, in these fragile pieces of wood, he carries all the weight of the world, before tearing his gaze away to meet his. “Thank you.”

Oddly enough, when he opens his mouth, he finds a sudden lump in his throat and instead of trying to speak, he only inclines his head, but it is enough. The man smiles again, a soft, ephemeral expression, before turning and walking away, still carrying his daughter while his mother paces alongside him with his son in her arms.

As he watches them leave, he brushes his thumb over the worn fortunes he cradles, gently tracing the text that he still remembers like it had been drawn yesterday.

It is better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all.

Leaving the courtyard, he silently enters the main temple, ignoring the questioning looks from his fellow masters and visitors alike as he sets the tag, still tied to its partner with muddy red cord, down amongst the various other fortunes of years past, and sits back on his heels, reading it over one last time.

And so it is.

[penandpaperfic]

Keyleth never means to say goodbye. it just...happens. until it doesn’t

Scanlan knows a shifty figure when he sees one, okay

so he knows something’s up when he walks down the street and sees someone duck a little too quickly back into the shop they just left. he tilts his head and, never one to miss a good story, walks in after them

except it’s Keyleth who he finds staring all too intently at the row of boots near the door. and she’s just a little too surprised to see him.

and also she’s a terrible liar.

Scanlan tells her this

so she sighs and shows him what she bought: a cloak for traveling and rations they don’t need and a map of Tal’Dorei and--

“But Grog already has our map,” Scanlan points out, “Why not just ask to borrow that one?”

Keyleth doesn’t answer

she doesn’t look embarrassed to have been caught anymore, but she’s definitely still hiding something. and she’s not good at it, but Scanlan suddenly realizes she might be better than he thought.

“Keyleth?”

“I’m...leaving.”

because she has to find the Water Ashari. because she has a duty to her people. because she’s supposed to become a better person, a better leader, and this just...isn’t the way anymore.

and it shocks him, and he can’t say he understands

(personally, he’s having the time of his life)

but then again, he knows he and Keyleth are different people, in more than just this way

“Scanlan?”

“yeah?”

“you won’t tell anyone, will you? I’m trying not to make a scene, I don’t think I could--”

“what, you’re going to just leave?”

the embarrassment comes back. but then, Scanlan knows all about avoiding goodbyes.

he promises not to tell.

-

Grog is sitting in the kitchen when she comes in

and she’s just grabbing a couple of things that will last a while, which is weird because he always has that kind of stuff in his bag for when they travel

and they’re not traveling, so why is she stocking up on it anyway?

but he doesn’t bother asking because there’s a lot about Keyleth he doesn’t really understand, and that’s okay

but when she pulls down a bottle of ale he starts to feel a little left out

“having a party without me?”

she almost jumps, as if she’d forgotten he was there

“just...one for the road, I guess.”

“what road?”

“nevermind, Grog.”

and he shrugs because, well, okay. nevermind then.

but there’s something off about her. she looks sad.

maybe it’s the whole thing with Vax

or maybe Vex snapped at her again--that always seems to make Keyleth sad.

he doesn’t really know and he doesn’t think he can make it better.

but he does know how to do one thing

“well, if you’re going to drink, you might as well have the good stuff, right?”

and he pats the chair next to him and pulls a mug and an empty bottle from his bag.

she sits, and he pours from his own cask. he pushes the mug at her.

“for now,” he says.

then he takes the bottle and fills it--a bit sloppily, but to the brim--seals it, and sets it down solidly on the table in front of her. “and for the road.”

he doesn’t know why she’s close to tears when she says, “thank you, Grog.”

but she’s smiling, too, and he thinks that she means it

-

Pike is in the garden first, because that’s where her shrine to Sarenrae is

she supposes, later, that Keyleth came to say goodbye to the garden, to see the flowers and the oak tree and the way the light shines on it all one last time

and Trinket’s out there, too, napping in the bright winter sun, but he wakes when Keyleth walks by

that’s how Pike hears her, actually. she turns from her altar and sees Trinket trailing after Keyleth, sees Keyleth kneel beside him and hug him a little too fiercely

Pike is not sneaky, though she thinks maybe now she should try to be

but Keyleth hears her as she tries and fails to creep out of the garden unnoticed

“I’m sorry,” Pike says immediately, “you clearly want to be alone--”

“no, no, you were here first.”

but Keyleth looks so distraught, as if in mourning, and for a moment Pike fears something horrible has happened

“are you okay? are the others--?”

“I’m fine, everything’s fine.”

but her voice catches and Pike knows that it’s not, really.

she hurries over and takes Keyleth hands, and that’s how Keyleth just...crumbles into her arms.

“I’m sorry, this is why I wanted to just go, I didn’t want--”

“wait, what do you mean, go?”

and Keyleth pulls back and brushes her sleeve across her face. “I’m...I’m leaving, Pike. I’m going to complete my Aramente on my own.”

“but...without us? why?”

but even as she asks it, Pike thinks she understands.

she looks at Keyleth and sees the way she looked standing alone beneath the Sun Tree, or the way she shrinks when Vax trails after her or Vex brushes roughly past her, and she thinks of the arguments in Whitestone and even back here in Emon

and she thinks of the sea and Vasselheim and she understands, really.

it just hurts.

“Keyleth, I...I can’t tell you what to do. but I also can’t tell you how much we’re going to miss you.”

but Keyleth gives a short, almost disbelieving laugh, and Pike wonders, suddenly, if that’s part of why she’s leaving.

“I’ll miss you,” she says, insistent, and Keyleth wipes at her eyes again but seems a little more like she believes her now. “when do you go?”

Keyleth shrugs. she already knows, Pike thinks, but she’s trying to slip away unnoticed. she wonders who else has already caught her in the act.

but she doesn’t push for answers. she just hugs Keyleth tight and kisses her cheek and tells her she loves her, wishes her luck.

and when Keyleth leaves the garden, Pike goes back to her altar and says a prayer for her.

-

Percy is, as always, in his workshop

“Keyleth?” he asks over the earring. “I’m so sorry, but I need your help again. could you come down here?”

and for a long moment there’s no response.

so long he wonders if she’s still out in town--he could’ve sworn he saw her come back, but--

but then she responds, a mumbling affirmative, and a few minutes later she’s walking through the door

and she holds things steady and heats metal and summons water and--

--and she does it all in silence.

she doesn’t ask questions or make conversation or giggle at his mishaps like she normally would

they work quickly, as they always do when he asks for her help, but by the time they’re done he glances sideways at her and there are tears in her eyes

he sets his tools down and takes her arm to gently turn her toward him. “what’s the matter? are you hurt? did you get burned and I didn’t see it?”

and Keyleth shakes her head and pulls away and glances toward the exit like she’s ready to bolt. and really, that’s all it takes.

after all, it’s a look he recognizes.

“Keyleth?” he says anyway, needing her to say it out loud

“Percy?” her voice is distant, empty.

he aches.

but then he sighs.

“should I ask, or should I let you go easily?”

“I’m sorry. I should’ve just left, but...”

“but I needed you, so you stayed.” he runs a hand through his hair. “is that why you’ve held on this long?”

“I wanted to be here. I wanted to help you. all of you.”

“but we can’t help you.”

“it’s not that.”

Percy gives her a look.

“it’s not! I just...” but she trails off, and whether she’s lying or she just can’t put the words to her thoughts, he doesn’t know.

he takes her by the shoulders and pulls her into a hug.

“I won’t pretend to like it,” he says, tilting his head carefully to avoid her hair, “but I do admire you for it, at least a little. you’re braver than I am.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“well I would, and I do. if I had half your sense of responsibility, I’d still be helping my sister rebuild our home.”

“you are helping her,” she says, holding him tighter. “there is so much you can do from here.”

“and yet you’re leaving.”

she pulls back. “my people are--”

“I know.” he already regrets the words. “I understand. I do.”

“I know you do.”

they look at each other, already missing each other

until Percy says, “we’ll meet again someday.”

“do you really believe that?”

“yes. because if we don’t, I’ll hunt you down until we do.”

and she smiles, shakily, through tears, but a smile nonetheless.

he hugs her again, selfishly putting off letting go, just for one more moment.

-

Vax can’t sleep

so he dares--for some reason, he dares--to go to Keyleth’s room

but no one answers

he thinks about going to Vex instead

there’s so much to talk about there, so much to apologize and demand apologies for

but going to Vex doesn’t feel right, at least not now, so he goes downstairs instead

and there are quiet voices at the door when there really shouldn’t be, so he creeps closer

but it’s only Keyleth--shrouded in a cloak and speaking so softly he can’t make out the words.

Jarett is there as well, grasping her hand in both of his. he nods firmly, clasps her shoulder, lets her draw him into a hug

and then she’s slipping out the door

Vax rushes to follow

he catches her in the courtyard, calling out her name in a voice so hoarse he hardly recognizes it as his own

she stops, breathes a moment, then turns around

“what--what are you--”

but he knows. he knew the moment he saw her

(maybe he knew before, as she avoided everyone and grew quiet and kept to herself from the moment they returned from Whitestone)

“I’m sorry, Vax,” she says, and it hurts how much she means it. “I don’t think either of us are good at goodbyes.”

“was it something I--?”

she shakes her head before he can even finish asking. “no, no, I promise. I told you I don’t feel the same, but you’ve never been anything but... I--I just...”

and he walks toward her, and he feels the world spread thin and disappear around him until there’s nothing, he’s just floating through nothing--an empty, meaningless space without Keyleth there beside him

“I’ll take it back. I’ll never speak of my feelings again, I’ll--”

“Vax.”

it’s almost angry, except it’s not.

but it is enough to bring him back, put him solidly on the ground before her.

she reaches out and takes his hand. “it’s not you. and it’s not just Vox Machina. I have responsibilities. I have a journey to complete.”

“we can help you.”

“but you’re not.” it comes out broken, nothing more than a breath, and he can’t tell if that makes it hurt more or not. “you’re not. not anymore. and it’s not your fault, and it’s not mine. we’re just...”

“on separate paths.”

there are tears in her eyes.

“have you told any of the others?”

“I hadn’t planned on it, they all just...found out. everyone but...”

she doesn’t finish her sentence. something in the way her voice trembles and the tears finally spill from her eyes tells him she can’t.

he decides not to ask.

“I’m so sorry,” he says instead.

“don’t be. please, don’t be. I never would’ve gotten this far without you.”

that’s when he realizes he’s crying, too.

he takes her other hand and steps closer--not demanding anything, just holding onto her as he says, ‘if you ever, ever need anything, you find us. you reach out to us, and we’ll be there, okay? I swear it.”

“I know, Vax. I know.”

“I love you. and I don’t mean--”

“I love you, too.”

and he nods, and he kisses her knuckles, and she turns her hand to cup his cheek

but then she lets go, and he lets her go

and he stands there in the dark as she walks away

and for the first time, it’s Vax who stands and watches someone else disappear into shadows, going further than he can follow

-

Vex wakes up in the morning to an empty room

which is odd, because Trinket has slept beside her bed every night since they first moved into the keep

the light is soft enough that she thinks it might not even be dawn yet

but she’s too alert already to even think about going back to sleep. she dresses quickly, trying to shake out her sudden nerves, and leaves her room without even bothering to rebraid her hair

and with every step she takes down the hall, the feeling that something is horribly, awfully wrong just grows

there is no one in the stairwell, no one in the foyer, no one in the dining hall

Laina is in the kitchen, sleepily putting a kettle on and mumbling a quiet, “good morning, madam,” when she sees Vex

she decides to look for Trinket, because maybe he’ll quell this strange feeling she has, as if she’s on the hunt for something she doesn’t yet know about

he’s easy enough to find, sleeping in the garden, curled at the base of the oak tree Keyleth planted months ago

he raises his head as she approaches--

--and his eyes are so dark and so sad that she loses her breath when she sees him

“what is it, buddy?” she asks, running to his side. Trinket huffs, warm and heavy, and nudges his head into her until she can hold him. “Trinket? what’s wrong?”

a mournful whine is her response

and it’s only then that she realizes how quiet the garden is

there are no birds calling to the dawn from the branches above, no squirrels racing down the tree and through the grass.

but she does hear something stir, and she looks over to see Pike curled up against her altar

“Pike?”

“mmwhat?”

“what are you doing sleeping in the garden, darling?”

Pike yawns wide and rubs her eyes and now that Vex is looking at her she looks just as bad as Trinket, all red eyes and puffy cheeks

“I must’ve fallen asleep praying.”

and Vex thinks, vaguely, of taking her inside and pouring her a cup from the kettle that’s surely whistling by now

but first she has to ask, “can you tell me why Trinket looks like someone died?”

Pike sniffs and swipes at her eyes again

“I imagine he misses Keyleth.”

...

“what?”

and Pike blinks at her, much more awake now. “she--oh.”

“what?”

“I didn’t--”

“what do you mean, misses...”

Vex trails off, staring from Pike, who looks horrified, to Trinket, who looks like his heart is breaking.

(or maybe she’s just projecting)

“Vex--”

but Vex takes off

back through the garden doors, back through the entrance hall, up the stairs, down all the way to Keyleth’s room

and she knocks on the door loud enough that the entire keep must wake up and hear her, but she doesn’t care

she knocks until surely someone would have answered by now, so then she barges in--

“Keyleth!”

--into an empty room.

no books on the desk, no staff leaning against the wall, and no Keyleth sitting in the windowsill in the light of the dawn, turning to smile at Vex as she walks in

“Vex!” someone cries from the hall

but she doesn’t care. she doesn’t want them.

she steps into the room and shuts the door firmly behind her.

the bed made neater than Keyleth had ever left it. the wardrobe empty of belts and packs and dresses. the curtains waving in the gentle breeze because Keyleth never, ever shut her window.

Vex makes it two paces in before her knees hit the floor and she sobs

because Keyleth is gone, and this place holds hardly a trace of her

not even a goodbye.

[peralta-guaranteed]

hc of amy having a bad day and struggling with mac? say he’s very clingy or also upset

Guess what, this accidentally turned into a fic too. And it kinda shifted into 'Jake and Amy having a bad day and struggling with Mac for very different reasons'... I hope you still like it!

(read it on AO3)

It had become evident pretty early on that when Mac got sick, he gravitated towards Amy much more. Sure, Jake was also sometimes good for snotty cuddles and cough-soothing baths, but at some point he would call for his mom, or whine and spread his arms towards her with his legs kicking in frustration, and it said a lot about how much Jake has grown that he didn't even hesitate to hand him over without acting hurt. Maybe the blissful calm washing over Mac's face as soon as Amy was hugging him helped with that, too. It was such a wonderful thing to see after hours of crying, coughing, sneezing, whining and general sad pouting that only a Peralta-baby is capable of, Jake barely had the energy to worry about how it felt to be so blatantly rejected by his little boy.

It'd also become evident that Mac’s clingy phase had started a bit earlier than most of their parenting books prophesied. If Amy was home, he wanted to be on her lap, or in her arms, or wrapping his little arms around her leg as she tried to work in the kitchen. Jake got “NO!”ed and waved away far more often than he was asked for a hug himself, and again, it took a lot of newfound maturity not to let that get to him - and maybe he did not have enough of that yet, because it absolutely got to him in quieter moments.

(He knew it’d pass, like any phase in a toddler’s life passes at some point. Like the phase of Mac refusing anything but that one specific carrot puree passed, or the phase of him being unable to sleep anywhere except cuddled in between them, waking up as soon as they tried to carry him back to his own bed.)

The real trouble starts when both these situations collide.

-*-

Mac woke them up at 4:30 sharp, two hours before Amy’s first alarm, crying so hard it almost sounded like screaming. When Jake tiptoed into the nursery, he had to ignore the frustrated shouts of Nonono and Mamam that he was almost used to by now, to actually check what was wrong. Probably another ear infection, he realised after seeing the symptoms they’d become very familiar with during the last time they’d battled through one of those. They had to bring him to the doctor to be sure, but he already knew they were looking forward to at least two days of unsoothable crying and fussing.

He also knew that things would be hell for Amy.

In theory, it would make far more sense for him to call in sick to take care of Mac. As much as he loved his detective work, the simple fact that his wife outranked him (and thus outdid him in both salary and responsibilities, obviously) meant that if one of them had to take a few days off, it should be him first and foremost. In practice, however, Mac was going to be even more insufferable than just from his sickness if left alone with him at the moment. He was still crying for Amy as Jake lifted him out of the cot - he would be screaming bloody murder if she closed the door of the apartment behind her.

“Earache?” Amy asked already as Jake stepped back into the bedroom, Mac’s wailing lessening only slightly as he stretched his arms out toward her. She pulled him to her as Jake sighed and nodded.

“I think so. I’ll take him to the doc when they open.” He tried to offer, but he knew Amy would refuse it anyway.

“No, I can do it. I’ll call in sick - you get back to sleep for work.”

“I’ll try.” He sighed again as he dropped onto his back while Amy was sitting up to sway Mac, who’d actually quieted down into little sobs and sniffles in her arms. “I’m sorry, Ames.”

“It’s nobody’s fault he’s sick, especially not yours.”

“Yeah, but I wish I could help more. If he wasn’t- you know.”

“I know.” Amy let her free hand not holding Mac drift through Jake’s sleep-messy curls. She knew that, as much as he tried to pretend it wasn’t bothering him, he secretly hated the thought of his son rejecting him in any way, even if it was as nonsensical as a clingy toddler phase.

Luckily it didn’t take long for him to actually fall back asleep with her hand in his hair, and she carefully wiggled out of bed to let him rest while settling down with a still crying Mac in his nursery rocking chair.

-*-

They got to get ready together as they usually did in the morning, at least - even if Amy was only getting dressed to drive to the pediatrician and straight back again. She’d already called Holt and explained the situation before Jake handed her a mug of coffee, and Mac had been, at the least, not crying for the last ten minutes while sitting in his playpen in the living room. Maybe things wouldn’t be as bad as last time.

“I can pick up whatever the doc prescribes on my lunch break.” Jake smiled at her, ruefully, and she considered telling him again that it was okay, that she could do it - but something told her to keep her options of at least a few minutes not alone with a sick toddler open.

She desperately needed that option when lunchtime came around.

Doctor Maurice had quickly confirmed their suspicions and told her that there wasn’t much more they could do than wait it out, keep an eye on his fever and medicate with ibuprofen and warm compresses. Not that any of that had helped. When Mac wasn’t crying, he was screaming, and when he wasn’t screaming, he wanted to be close to her, but he couldn’t lie down without the pain getting worse, so simply plonking down on the couch with him was out of the question. She’d let him breastfeed far more than had been their norm now that he was slowly getting weaned, because it seemed to give him some relief at least, as well as quieting him for a blissful moment. But then the infection had travelled to his stomach as well, the same way it had last time, and he staunchly refused any and all food or milk. She’d seriously started considering foregoing the diapers completely and just letting him play in the empty bathtub so she could rinse him off from time to time, because five dirty diapers in under twenty minutes had to be some sort of new record.

So when Jake texted her he was on his way, with a picture of another box of ibuprofen and that herbal steam-bath mix that had helped last time, she sent a silent thank you prayer to anyone who wanted to listen. And she mumbled a not quite as silent thank you against Jake’s lips before he could even get his shoes off at the door.

“I got you one of the good bagel sandwiches for lunch, too.” He said as he hugged her and combed through her messy hair.

“I love you so much.” She hadn’t even realised that the only thing in her stomach so far was still the cup of coffee he’d made her this morning.

He grinned as he put the deli paper bag on the kitchen counter and went over to Mac’s playpen, to say hello to a currently only softly whining toddler smacking an innocent teddy against a pile of soft fabric blocks. Amy followed to wrap her arms around his waist from behind and rest her head against his back, taking in a few deep breaths of Jake, of something that didn’t smell of diarrhea, moist compresses, milk-hiccups and spit up.

“Also Holt gave me an hour for lunch, so if you want to take a nap or something-”

“God.” Amy groaned with pure happiness as Jake turned around in her embrace. “Marry me, Mr. Perfect.”

“Any place, any time, babe.” He kissed the crown of her head while returning her hug, sniffing her hair with a chuckle. “But maybe a shower first before the big day.”

“Rude.” Amy mumbled with her face pressed against his chest. “I rescind the proposal.”

His chuckle turned into a laugh at that, and he slowly unraveled her arms around him. “Nap first, then shower, how’s that sound? Then a bagel. I’ll give Mac his lunch.”

“Good luck with that.” She sighed before giving him another quick kiss and making a beeline for the bedroom.

-*-

She’d hopped straight from bed into the bathroom later, relishing in the feeling of the hot water washing away any aches left over after that much needed nap. Alas, when she stepped out of the oh-so-peaceful bathroom, she was met with a wall of sound.

Mac was wailing, hard, as Jake swayed him back and forth, holding another warm compress against his little ear, and trying to make soothing noises despite the shrill screams of No and MAMA! straight into his face.

“Shsshhshsh, hey, it’s okay, bud, it’s okay. I know you don’t like me much at the moment, but it’s gonna be okay, and mom is coming back soon-”

He stopped as he noticed her stepping into the room, giving her an apologetic smile as she took Mac from him. The wailing turned into regular crying at least, albeit still loud.

“I’m sorry babe - did he wake you up? He won’t eat either.”

“I set an alarm, actually. So you won’t be back late.” Amy sat down on the couch and pulled up her shirt (freshly changed after the shower, and god had that felt good as well). Mac latched onto her breast almost immediately, and a wonderful quiet settled across the room, only his little snuffling and suckling noises breaking through.

Jake’s face was unreadable before he turned towards the kitchen to plate her bagel, but that stoic, almost empty expression told her enough anyway. She grabbed his wrist as he set the plate down on the couch table, pulled softly until he sat down next to her, running her fingers through his hair again to comfort him.

“You know it’s not true, right?”

“Hm?” Jake looked up at her after watching Mac, who finally seemed to calm down completely in her arm, with a vacant look in his eyes.

“It’s not true that he doesn’t like you. He loves you just as much as me. It’s just a difficult phase.”

“I know that.” Jake’s attempt at a smile was still sad enough, and she wiped across the corner of it with the soft tip of her thumb.

“And I love you too. So much.”

“I know that.” And this new smile seemed to turn out right, at least. “You wanna re-marry me, after all.” He teased as he leant his head against her shoulder, looking down at Mac again with a much less forlorn expression.

“Hey, I rescinded that proposal!” She quipped back, falling into their usual banter easily now that she was rested enough and sure that Jake felt better as well. “But I might consider re-re-proposing again if you promise to pick up Polish for dinner.”

“I knew you only wanted me for all the free food delivery.”

“I also need you for other things.” Amy said as she sat up a bit straighter to finish Mac’s feeding, Jake’s head lifting off of her shoulder with the movement. “Like burping your kid. I really don’t want spit-up down this fresh shirt.”

“Aye aye, Sergeant.” Jake joked, already scrabbling for the burp cloth thrown over the armchair next to them and taking Mac out of her arms.

She watched him as he expertly settled the little, squirming bundle against his chest, the swaying and patting motion almost second nature by now, ducking his head down for a quick sniff of that perfect toddler hair scent. He’d have to leave for the precinct soon enough, and she certainly wasn’t looking forward to the rest of the afternoon probably being a reprise of her entire morning, and she didn’t even want to think about the night or next day to come.

Life with a toddler was unpredictable. Almost nothing was in her control anymore. But, as she’d learned over the years, as long as she was with the right people, she could handle anything. And Jake Peralta proved, again and again, that he was the right person for her.

[jpegjade]

Physical Therapy - Ch. 1 (Spencer)

WELCOME TO PHYSICAL THERAPY!! in honor of this bish starting physical therapy in real life (and missing it bc i can’t drive and my mom and i’s schedules not being synched on google calendar all the time) i’ve decided to write a fic about it. it will be a little series with a goal (yes, an end game) and it’ll be cute. some of it is based on actual things that happen and some is literally just the story. ENJOY.

gender: neutral

tw: nothing that i can think of

genre: fluff | angst

Description: After getting shot in the leg, spencer goes through physical therapy before he can get back in the field completely. What happens when he starts to fall for his physical therapy assistant? 

__________________

Two honks at 6am meant that it was time for Spencer to get going. Derek was downstairs, in the car, waiting on boy wonder to crutch his way out of the apartment complex. Derek wasn’t sure how to feel about this trip considering he missed his early morning run for this but he knew how nervous Spencer was for his evaluation today so he didn’t mind as much as he could have minded. 

Spencer was patiently waiting in a pair of very short shorts, mismatched socks, and running shoes. He threw on a t-shirt and looked in the mirror, noting how tired he looked. He hadn’t been sleeping well lately for some reason but he couldn’t be sure why. He combed out his hair one more time before he and his crutches headed to the elevators. 

“Ready, kid?” Derek said, opening the front door for Spencer like a world class chauffeur would if Spencer was a celebrity. 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Spencer mumbled.

In truth, Spencer was more than ready to get started on his physical therapy journey. He wanted to get back in the field full time, adrenaline pumping, connecting with victims, walking again. He didn’t mind the assisted mobility but it was hard for him to know that the best he could do sometimes was stay back in the office or hang out in Garcia’s batcave. 

The car ride was filled with a comfortable silence between the two men. Derek was thinking about how he could make up his missed morning run by doing another type of high cardio workout while Spencer was just trying to figure out why it had to be him. He wouldn’t wish the frustration of his recovery process on anyone else on the team but the frustration of the recovery process just got to him on some days. Today was one of those days. 

Derek pulled up to the physical therapy clinic sooner than Spencer hoped. Part of that was because Derek was a very fast driver while the other part was because Spencer wasn’t paying attention for most of the drive. 

“You owe me one.” Derek said, completely joking. Well… Partially. That morning run was what kept him awake during the day, energizing him for work. 

“Do you want to come in?” Spencer said, looking down at his hands in his lap. 

Spencer’s hands were tapping his leg as he awaited Derek’s answer. He was nothing short of a nervous wreck on the inside. All he could think about was how much pain he would be in once the evaluation was over and the physical therapist had finished poking and prodding at his knee. He hated to think that it would be worse than everything else going on. Plus he still had to go to work today. 

“Sure, kid.” Derek said. 

Derek wasn’t going to sit in the car and do nothing the whole time so he might as well support his friend. 

Climbing out of the car, the boys slowly made it to the sliding glass doors of the physical therapy clinic. Much to Spencer’s surprise, it was nothing like he originally imagined it to be. Some part of him thought it would somewhat resemble the clinic where his mother resided but it was completely different. There were floor to ceiling walls for over half of the first floor building. High tech equipment was stationed everywhere from anti gravity treadmills to hand bike motors, medicine balls and so much more. Spencer stood in the doorway, leaning on his crutches, while he took everything in. There was so much light in the air, it was almost like the feeling of recovery was airy and not meant to bog him down. This was a strange feeling for him to comprehend...

“You coming, pretty boy?” Derek called, taking a break from chatting with the pretty receptionist. 

Spencer and his crutches walked over to the front desk and grabbed the paperwork that covered how much pain he was in today. He filled it out quickly, hoping to get everything over with sooner than later. He was already here so he might as well just finish everything quickly so he could get out of the place. 

When he finished writing everything down, he returned the paperwork to the receptionist who slipped him a piece of paper and pointed to Derek. Spencer already knew it was the receptionist’s personal phone number and he didn’t even need to look at the paper. Sitting down, Spencer handed Derek to a very confused Derek before it hit him what it was. Derek winked at the receptionist, who blushed before answering the phone. 

“Spencer?” A voice called his name shortly after he sat down. 

It was nice to know that here, he didn’t have to be a doctor. He was just another person healing. He didn’t have to be smart, he could just exist. 

“Good luck.” Derek said, noticing that Spencer’s hand was shaking in the slightest bit. 

“My name is Nora and I will be your lead physical therapist.” The woman said, walking Spencer to a vacant padded table. It reminded Spencer of the types of tables you lay on when you get a massage. 

He only got a massage once when Garcia got stood up on a couples’ massage date. He spent half of his part of the massage giving the masseuse facts about how their job could actually give them an infection from the amount of germs in the air and on the table. His delivery of facts caused the room to be incredibly uncomfortable and bleach the table very thoroughly. By the time he and the masseuse finished, only 5 minutes were left in the massage and Garcia was left horrified and amused at the same time. 

“Don’t worry. We bleach the tables every time someone finishes a session.” Nora said, noticing the look on Spencer’s face. Spencer visibly relaxed and sat on the table. 

“So, Spencer, tell me a little bit about yourself.” Nora followed up, pulling up a backless roller chair. 

“Well, I was on a case and the unsub, unknown subject, shot at a dad but it ended up hitting me in the leg instead and…” Spencer paused, looking at Nora’s amused face. 

“No, I mean tell me about you. Your hobbies, what you do for fun, things like that. I need to do a complete profile for you so I know how your quality of life has been affected and which exercises you can do at home so we aren’t pushing too fast.” Nora smiled at Spencer. 

“I work.” Spencer said in a matter-of-fact tone. He didn’t really have anything else to say. 

“Okay. So you’re a workaholic.” Nora wrote. She was about to ask a new question when you came quickly walking to Nora. 

Spencer was left dumbfounded. There seemed to be a halo of light radiating around you, making you glow. He knew it was the sun finally rising but his brain short circuited as he continued to gaze at you. 

“Hey Nora?” You said, looking down at your boss. “Mrs. Gillespi wants to know why you haven’t come back to check her form. She doesn’t trust me because, her words here, I ‘look like a child who doesn’t know their left foot from the color orange.’” 

“Sure. Here, you can take over Spencer’s evaluation.” She handed you her clipboard.

You looked at the detailed notes on the paper and then up at Spencer, who looked like one of the youngest people here. 

“It’s not often we get cute guys in this place. Other than Kyle. But Kyle’s an asshole who could almost be my dad.” You blurted, not realizing you said it outloud as soon as Nora left. 

You noticed that he started blushing and looking at his converse and you realized that you said something. You usually spoke your thoughts out loud but the people you worked with were used to it so no one bothered to say anything.

“What?” You asked, confused. 

“You called me cute.” Spencer said. “Which is fine. I don’t understand the appeal but I do believe that your blurting of what you perceive as a fact is a coping mechanism. It can also be tied to ADHD, which is a common mental disorder that causes your brain to impulsively say things.” Spencer paused, looking at your face. 

“What?” You asked, again, confused. 

“I’m not saying you have ADHD. I’m a doctor but not that kind of doctor. Although I could get another Ph. D. Prove my father wrong. And…” Spencer realized he was rambling. 

“Cute and a talker.” You said, writing that down. 

You wrote something down on the paper that Spencer couldn’t see but he was curious about. 

“Let’s check out that leg.” You said, pulling out an instrument that looked like a compass. 

You asked Spencer to move his knee certain ways and it wasn’t as bad as Spencer thought. You were gentle, soft even. Your hands were delicate and you ended the session massaging his leg and smiling at him. 

“You were a good patient today, doctor Spencer.” You said, smiling at him. 

Spencer blushed, unable to meet your eyes. 

“You… I mean… I enjoyed our session.” Spencer said. “Which I don’t normally enjoy. Not that I’ve been shot before. Or had physical therapy. Or been here. Or even worked out really.”

“You’re funny, doc.” You smiled. “Your next appointment is Tuesday of next week according to the schedule so I guess I’ll see you then. I can’t wait.” 

Spencer stared at you as he wondered why you were so excited. 

“Why?” Spencer asked. 

“It’s not every day I get the case for a cute guy who is smart and awkward. It’s almost like the heavens have answered my hopes and prayers.” You joked, looking up at the ceiling and putting your hand on your heart. 

“I believe in science.” Spencer stated, grabbing his crutches. 

“A man of science. Does it get any better? What’s your star sign?” You joked. 

“Scorpio.” Spencer stated. 

“Oop. All the scorpios I know have been some hoes. You better not be a hoe, doc.” 

“I’m definitely not a gardening tool, if that’s what you’re referring to. Otherwise, I’d like to thing my lack of dating skills doesn’t qualify as being a… hoe? Although, I don’t believe in the use of the word to describe someone who enjoys spending time with multiple people. I’d like to think the use of the word is meant in jest and fun for a term of endearment.” Spencer stood up, balancing on his crutches. 

“I’ll be the judge of that.” You said, walking slowly with Spencer to the front desk. 

“What’s your name?” Spencer asked, turning to you. He realized that he never got your name.

“Y/n.” You smiled. 

The clouds must have parted again because as soon as you turned to walk away from him, towards Nora, you were covered in another halo. And just like that, you were gone again.

_____________________

Future tag list: 

@ellvswriting @sageandberries-png @l0ve-0f-my-life @rexorangecouny @kennedywxlsh

Want to be added? Tell me!

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 18: High-Key Want A Three-Headed Dog

We stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.

Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.

I turned to my friends. "Okay. You remember the plan."

"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."

Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"

"Don't think negative." Percy said.

"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."

Percy took the pearls out of his pocket, the three milky spheres the Nereid had given us in Santa Monica. They didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong. I had mine mixed up in there in case mine was rigged, Percy insisted upon it.

Annabeth put her hand on Percy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."

She gave Grover a nudge.

"Oh, right!" he chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

"Don't worry Percy. We'll do this."

He looked at us, and smiled.

He slipped the pearls back in his pocket. "Let's whup some Underworld butt."

We walked inside the DOA lobby.

Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all just fine, but if I focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking... transparent. I could see right through their bodies.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so we had to look up at him.

He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

Percy read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?"

He leaned across the desk. I couldn't see anything in his glasses except my own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a pythons, right before it eats you.

"What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent—British, maybe, but also as if he had learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

"N-no."

"Sir," he added smoothly.

"Sir," Percy said.

He pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-A-R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

"Charon."

"Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."

"Mr. Charon," I said.

"Well done." He sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"

Percy looked at me for support.

"We want to go the Underworld," I said.

Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."

"It is?" I asked.

"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked us over. "How did you die, then?"

I nudged Grover.

"Oh," he said. "Um... drowned... in the bathtub."

"All four of you?" Charon asked. We nodded. I could see Annabeth wanted to face palm.

"Big bathtub." Charon looked mildly impressed. "I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

"Oh, but we have coins." Annabeth set three golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash we'd found in Crusty's office desk.

"Well, now..." Charon moistened his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in..."

His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.

We were so close.

Then Charon looked at Percy. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through his chest. "Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

"No," Percy said. "I'm dead."

Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

"We have to get to the Underworld," Annabeth insisted.

Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat.

Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.

"Leave while you can," Charon told us. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."

He started to go for the coins, but I snatched them back.

"No service, no tip." I said staring at him.

Charon growled again—a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.

"It's a shame, too," I sighed. "We had more to offer."

I held up the entire bag from Crusty's stash. I took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through my fingers.

Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh... just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"

"A lot," I said. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free.' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"

"You deserve better," I agreed. "A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay."

With each word, I stacked another gold coin on the counter.

Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, lad, you're making some sense now. Just a little."

I stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades."

He sighed. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you three and be off."

He stood, scooped up our money, and said, "Come along."

We pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at our clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things I couldn't make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."

He escorted us into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with us and pushed them back into the lobby.

"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"

He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend.

"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.

"Nothing," Charon said.

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."

"Oh," she said. "That's... fair."

Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."

"We'll get out alive," Percy said.

"Ha."

I could feel we weren't going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around me started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying.

Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been were empty sockets—like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair.

He saw me looking, and said, "Well?"

"Nothing," I said. "I never knew you could look cool dead."

I thought he was grinning, but that wasn't it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting me see straight through to his skull.

The floor kept swaying.

Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."

When I blinked again, the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. We were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling us across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things—plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.

"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so..."

"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across—hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

Mist curled off the filthy water. Above us, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison.

Panic closed up my throat. What was I doing here? These people around me... they were dead.

Percy grabbed hold of my hand. Annabeth took my other free one. I knew she wanted reassurance that somebody else was alive on this boat.

I could hear Percy muttering a prayer, though I wasn't quite sure who I was praying to. Down here, only one god mattered, and he was the one we had come to confront.

The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as we could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones—the howl of a large animal.

"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Bad luck for you, godlings."

The bottom of our boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than I was, shuffling silently along in his gray robe.

Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."

He counted our golden coins into his pouch, then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song as he ferried the empty barge back across the river.

We followed the spirits up a well-worn path.

I'm not sure what I was expecting—Pearly Gates, or a big black portcullis, or something. But the entrance to the Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.

There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with security cameras mounted on top. Beyond this were tollbooths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.

The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but I couldn't see where it was coming from. The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades's door, was nowhere to be seen.

The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked EZ DEATH. The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.

"What do you figure?" Percy asked Annabeth.

"The fast line must go straight to the Asphodel Fields," she said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."

"There's a court for dead people?"

"Yeah. Three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare—people like that. Sometimes they look at a life and decide that person needs a special reward—the Fields of Elysium. Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived. Nothing special, good or bad. So they go to the Asphodel Fields."

"And do what?"

Grover said, "Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever."

"Harsh," Percy said.

"Not as harsh as that," Grover muttered. "Look."

A couple of black-robbed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk. The face of the dead man looked vaguely familiar.

"He's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.

"Oh, yeah." Percy said. "We'd seen him on TV a couple of times at the Yancy Academy dorm. He was this annoying televangelist from upstate New York who'd raised millions of dollars for orphanages and then got caught spending the money on stuff for his mansion, like gold-plated toilet seats, and an indoor putt-putt golf course. He'd died in a police chase when his "Lamborghini for the Lord" went off a cliff."

"Humans." I said rolling my eyes, "What're they doing to him?"

"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fur—the Kindly Ones will set up an eternal torture for him."

The thought of the Furies made me shudder. I realized I was in their home territory now. Old Mrs. Dodds and Mrs . Rudolph would be licking her lips with anticipation.

"But if he's a preacher," Percy said, "and he believes in a different hell... ."

Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. You're very stubborn—er, persistent, that way."

We got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at my feet, about fifty feet in front of us, standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster.

My jaw hung open. All I could think to say was, "He's a Rottweiler."

I'd always imagined Cerberus as a big black mastiff. But he was obviously a purebred Rottweiler, except of course that he was twice the size of a woolly mammoth, and had three heads.

"I thought he would've been a mastiff."

"Same..."

The dead walked right up to him—no fear at all. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which they could do without even crouching.

"I'm starting to see him better," Percy muttered. "Why is that?"

"I think ..." Annabeth moistened her lips. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."

The dog's middle head craned toward us. It sniffed the air and growled.

"It can smell the living," I said.

"But that's okay," Grover said, trembling next to Percy. "Because we have a plan."

"Right," Annabeth said. I'd never heard her voice sound quite so small. "A plan."

We moved toward the monster.

The middle head snarled at us, then barked so loud my eyeballs rattled.

"Can you understand it?" I asked Grover.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I can understand it."

"What's it saying?"

"I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly."

Percy took the big stick out of his backpack—a bedpost we'd broken off Crusty's Safari Deluxe floor model. He held it up, and tried to channel happy dog thoughts toward Cerberus—Alpo commercials, cute little puppies, fire hydrants.

"Hey, Big Fella," He called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."

"GROWWWLLLL!"

"Good boy," he said weakly.

Percy waved the stick. The dog's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on Percy, completely ignoring the spirits. Percy had Cerberus's undivided attention. I wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"Fetch!" I threw the stick into the gloom, a good solid throw. I heard it go ker-sploosh in the River Styx.

Cerberus glared at me, unimpressed. His eyes were baleful and cold.

So much for the plan.

Cerberus was now making a new kind of growl, deeper down in his three throats.

"Um," Grover said. "Percy?"

"Yeah?"

"I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah?"

"Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice. After that... well... he's hungry."

"Wait!" Annabeth said. She started rifling through her pack.

"Five seconds," Grover said. "Do we run now?"

Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labeled WATERLAND, DENVER, CO. Before I could stop her, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus.

She shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"

Cerberus looked as stunned as we were.

All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated.

"Sit!" Annabeth called again.

I don't know why but petting this gigantic three headed dog would have made my bucket list complete. I walked up to Annabeth with Percy and Grover panicking behind.

"I want to pet him. Cerberus sit!"

"Sit!" Annabeth yelled.

Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like the air let out of tires.

I said, "Good boy!"

Annabeth threw Cerberus the ball.

He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.

"Drop it.'" I ordered.

Cerberus's heads stopped fighting and looked at me. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth's feet.

"Good boy." She picked up the ball, ignoring the monster spit all over it.

She turned toward the two. "Go now. EZ DEATH line—it's faster."

Percy said, "But—"

"Now.'" She ordered, in the same tone she was using on the dog.

"You should go too. I wouldn't mind."

"How are you sure he'll follow you?" Annabeth laughed.

"I had a dog you know. Real sweetheart. Pretty sure he'll be as cute."

Grover and Percy inched forward warily.

Cerberus started to growl.

"Stay!" Annabeth ordered the monster. "If you want the ball, stay!"

Cerberus whimpered, but he stayed where he was.

"What about you guys?" Percy asked us as we passed her.

Annabeth looked at me and nodded. "Y/N wants to pet him," she muttered. "I think she can handle him."

Grover, Annabeth and Percy walked between the Cerberus's legs.

I was tempted to make Cerberus sit to be honest.

When made it through. I said, "Good dog!"

I held up the tattered red ball. The ball was tattered and this is going to be the last trick.

"Cerberus, could you get closer to me?" I called hesitantly. All three heads leaned down.

Oh gods... Oh gods... I'm going to pet him... I reluctantly touched his head. His head leaned to my touch. "Good boy." I cooed petting each his head. He whimpered on my touch.  "Okay boy." I leaned my head against his middle one.

I threw the ball. The good boy's left mouth immediately snatched it up, only to be attacked by the middle head, while the right head moaned in protest.

While the monster was distracted, I walked under its belly and joined us at the metal detector.

"Bucket list solved." Annabeth and I fist bumped.

"How did you do that?" Percy looked at Annabeth and I, amazed.

"Obedience school," Annabeth said breathlessly, "When I was little, at my dad's house, we had a Doberman... ."

"I had D/N you knew that." I was surprised to see there were tears in her eyes. "I promise I'll play again!"

"Never mind that," Grover said, tugging at Percy's shirt. "Come on!"

We were about to bolt through the EZ DEATH line when Cerberus moaned pitifully from all three mouths. Annabeth and I stopped.

We turned to face the cutie which had done a one-eighty to look at us.

Cerberus panted expectantly, the tiny red ball in pieces in a puddle of drool at its feet.

"Good boy," Annabeth said, but her voice sounded melancholy and uncertain.

The monster's heads turned sideways, as if worried.

"I'll bring you another ball soon," Annabeth promised faintly. "Would you like that?"

The monster whimpered. I didn't need to speak dog to know Cerberus was still waiting for the ball.

"Good dog. I'll come visit you soon. I promise we'll come back." I turned to the others. "Let's go."

Grover and Percy pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"

Cerberus started to bark.

We burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld.

A few minutes later, we were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten trunk of an immense black tree as security ghouls scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies.

Grover murmured, "Well, Percy, what have we learned today?"

"That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber balls over sticks?"

"No," Grover told me. "We've learned that your plans really, really bite!"

I wasn't sure about that. I thought maybe Annabeth and I had both had the right idea. Even here in the Underworld, everybody—even monsters—needed a little attention once in a while.

I thought about that as we waited for the ghouls to pass. I pulled Annabeth closer as she wipe a tear from her cheek as we listened to the mournful keening of Cerberus in the distance,.

"We'll come back..."

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000 @katara720 @ynfics

[tchallasbabymama]

Don’t Judge Me

Chapter 2 of my Untitled (for now) Song Series. Here’s the link to Chapter 1 if you haven’t read it. 

Word count: 5348

CW: smut

The next morning, Ashanti woke up in a sweat about thirty minutes earlier than usual. She had dreamed of the mystery man again, only this time he wasn’t such a mystery anymore even though his face was still a blur. She’d recognize his gait anywhere and his warm cocoa butter scent filled her nose. She had been dreaming about the king, and this time they went further than a kiss.

She peeled off the big T-shirt she slept in and fanned herself to cool down, but then she noticed a stickiness between her legs...

“I can't believe I had a whole ass wet dream about the king.” She whispered to herself as her mind drifted back to what she was experiencing just minutes ago. It only came to her in flashes, but she could still feel his big hands all over her body and his tongue making its way down to her center before swirling around her still throbbing pussy. She felt her pussy stretch as he entered her from behind and his balls slapping against her clit. She felt his hand squeezing the sides of her throat, and just as they came together she woke up.

The memory made her pussy throb even more as more wetness dripped out of her. She couldn't help but to trace her nipples with her left hand and trail her right hand down her body, taking the same path Dream T’Challa took down to her aching pearl. Her fingers stroked her clit and she let out a moan, still thankful for the soundproof walls.

His voice played in her head.

Say my name.

“Mmm, T’Challa…”

Do you like when I fuck you like this?

“Ewe kumkani wam”

Oooh, you like it rough, don't you? Nasty girl...

“Mmm just for you, baby.”

That’s not my name. What’s my fucking name?

“Kumkani”

Uh-huh, there you go kitten. Turn over…

Look at me.

That’s right, cum on my dick just like that. Cum for your Kumkani.

Mmm, I’m not pulling out. I’m staying right here and filling you up. Oh, you like that? Good. I want you overflowing with me. Can you do that for me baby? Can I cum in this pussy?

“Cum in your pussy Kumkani.”

Ashanti’s legs began to shake and the tingling in her lower abdomen began to overwhelm her senses. Her body tensed up then she released all over her fingers with a loud jagged moan. She came down from her high while slowly playing in the pool of wetness that had collected between her lips.

She loved starting her day with an orgasm, and she hoped that maybe it would end with one too if her date went well enough.

Ashanti peeled herself from her bed and got up to get her day started. She went for her usual morning run, ate breakfast with her roommates, then went to open the store just like any other workday. The only difference being she was getting progressively more nervous about her date with the king as time went on. It was a slow day in the Bazaar, so she closed her shop down around 4 and went to visit her parents before the dinner rush.

She walked into the restaurant and saw her mom sitting at a table rolling flatware, so she silently sat down beside her and proceeded to roll with her. Five minutes passed before Ashanti gave a sigh and looked like she had something to say that she couldn’t quite get out. Bisa knew something was seriously bothering her, but she also knew her child would eventually tell her.

“So I have a date tonight.”

A crash was heard from the kitchen as her dad emerged seemingly out of nowhere.

“With who?!”

“I can’t tell you…”

Chidi and Bisa looked at each other in confusion.

“What do you mean you can't tell us? You tell us everything!”

“More than we need to know, most times…”

“Chidi, hush. Honey, who is this person?”

“Mama, Baba...if I tell you then you have to promise to keep this between us.” “Of course baby”, they said in unison. Ashanti took a deep breath.

“I have a date with King T’Challa…”

They stared at her in disbelief. Chidi looked like he had seen a ghost and Bisa’s excitement grew by the second.

“Oh my Bast! Baby, how did you...of course he’d be an idiot not to, but how...he's the king!”

“I don't like it…” Chidi grumbled as Bisa hit his arm.

“Baba! Why?”

“He just seems so...slick.”

“Chidi, hush. I’m happy for you honey, but what’s the problem? You’ve been moping around here this whole time.” Bisa held Ashanti’s cheek in one hand and moved the braids out of her face with the other.

“I’m scared, Mama. He’s sweet and intelligent and the finest man Bast ever created...I just don’t know. He’s royalty for Bast’s sake! What could we possibly have in common?”

“You never know until you talk to him, honey.”

“Your mama’s right. Get out of your head, kiddo, it’ll be fine. But if he tries anything, I’m not above treason.”

Ashanti laughed at her father, knowing he was only half joking.

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that, Baba…” Ashanti started before sighing and standing up. “Alright, I should start getting ready if I’m going to do this thing. Wish me luck!”

She kissed both of her parents on the forehead and grabbed her things to head home, but not before swiping a snack from the kitchen. On her way back to her house her nerves started to grow again, but once she arrived Binta and Kwame helped talk her out of it.

“Sis, breathe. First and foremost, you need to be alive for the date. Second there’s nothing to worry about! He already likes you after just meeting you twice, you got this!”

“It’s not just that…”

“What is it?” Binta asked with real concern written all over her face.

“I...srt of had a wet dream about him last night…”  

Both twins were in shock.

“About the King?!”

“Ooooh you’re in for it Miss Thang.”

“What do you mean?”

“Did it feel real?”

“Yes, but-”

“Then someone’s gonna get their back blown out by our kumkani!”

Ashanti looked away and she felt her cheeks and ears heat up while Binta and Kwame screamed in celebration of their best friend’s new dick supplier.

“He’s going to knock the dust off that thing, thank Bast. Girl you must tell us about that strength of the Black Panther mess, because I just know that man is packing a weapon.”

“I wonder if you can fuck him with the suit on,” Bisa thought out loud.

“He had a big dick in my dream...and that suit idea isn't half bad, I’ll hold onto that for later.” Ashanti winked at her roommates.

Kwame looked at the time.

“Ok enough chit-chat, go get ready. Prince Charming will be here soon.”

“You mean King Charming?”

“No, it’s from some European story. They actually do have a few things that aren’t half bad.”

“ Ooookay. Well I’m gonna go shower the day off.”

“Need help picking your outfit?” Binta asked with a hopeful tone in her voice. She loved a good at-home fashion show.

”I have it narrowed down to two, so I could definitely use a second and third opinion. Now let me go shower!”

Ashanti stepped under the water and her music began to play. Her nerves washed down the drain and a feeling of euphoria came over her as violins blared through her speakers followed by the sweet sounds of an acoustic guitar. Her heart swelled, and her cheeks hurt from smiling so big.

Come, let me kiss you right there Wake you up like sunrise On the backs of your thighs I'm gonna pray you this prayer That I keep in my mind As a lovely reminder

Janelle Monae somehow perfectly captured the warm and fuzzy and nervous feelings that come with falling in love. “Don’t Judge Me” had quickly become one of her American favorites, but until recently she had forgotten that feeling. It had been four years since her last first date, and one year of being single. Her ex broke her heart into a million little pieces, and she was still struggling to put herself back together again. Ashanti had just gotten to the point where she felt she could ever love again when T’Challa breezed into her shop. His timing had been perfect, almost divine.

Even though you tell me you love me I'm afraid that you just love my disguise Taste my fears and light your candle to my raging fire Of broken desire

The lyrics spoke to her nervousness to open herself up to someone new, especially someone with so much power in his hands already. What could she do if he ended up being abusive like-

She cut herself off and turned off the water, stepping out of the shower and letting herself air dry while finishing her skincare routine. Ashanti covered herself in shea butter and spritzed on the new perfume Binta got her for her birthday last month. Then she started on her makeup, deciding to keep it light. She swiped on a tinted moisturizer, added some highlight to her cheeks, and filled in her brows before swiping some mango-flavored red-ish lip stain over her plump lips.

Ashanti switched out her round septum ring for a triangular one she just made last night out of boredom. The point of the ring landed above her cupid’s bow like a giant flashing sign that reads “Put lips here!”

She parted her braids on the left side and two-strand twisted the front section before pinning it back and pulling the rest of her hair in a bun at the back of her head. She took a deep breath and threw on outfit choice number one. Binta and Kwame were already situated in the living room with a bottle of wine ready for the show.

She wore tapered, high waisted kente pants with a black lace bustier top and a layered pearl necklace.

“Ok this is outfit number one.” Ashanti turned around so they could get the full view. She could see them both trying their best to hold their tongues. “Please hold all comments until the end.”

“But girl that-”

“Aht! Not. Yet.”

Ashanti did one last twirl before Naomi Campbell walking back to her room. Binta and Kwame looked at each other and said a whole mouthful with just their eyes.

When she walked into the living area she had slid into a leather skirt and a billowy white off the shoulder top. She had topped it off with a gold choker of her own design. Ashanti did a little twirl before allowing her roommates to give their feedback.

“One at a time. Kwame?”

“Ok so, first off, where is he taking you?”

“I have no idea, he just said be ready at 7.”

“Ok then I’d go with outfit one, but with this choker. The pearls hide your titties, and girl that bustier calls for them to be front and center”

“Seconded. And you should wear those cute beaded sandals you got the other day at the Bazaar. Normally I’d say heels, but since you don't know what the date is it’s better to be safe and wear flats. You know how you are, and that is inappropriate first date behavior. You keep your shoes where?”

“On my feet.” Ashanti grumbled. She loved wearing heels, but her feet didn’t. Almost every time she wore them she ended up carrying them in her hand while walking around barefoot for some relief. This annoyed Binta to no end.

“Thank you. Now go put on the full outfit!”

“Be right back”

Ashanti made her way back to her room and changed into the same pants and bustier from earlier. She slid on the beaded sandals Binta suggested and checked out her neon purple pedicure before standing up and smoothing her clothes down in the mirror. Just as she reached for her doorknob the doorbell rang.

“6:50, he’s early.”

She heard the door open downstairs and damn near tripped over her feet to run downstairs to keep her roommates embarrassing her. She didn’t make it in time.

“Good evening, I am supposed to be taking Ashanti out for the night. Is she in?” Kwame and Binta saluted the king and stammered over their words.

“S-she just uh-”

“She’s u-upstairs, kumkani wam.”

“‘Please, call me T’Challa. Hopefully we will be seeing more of each other.” he said, sending a wink their way before he saw Ashanti enter the room from the corner of his eye.

______________

T’Challa was startled awake by the sound of his alarm. Normally he wakes up on his own and the alarm is just an extra precaution, but occasionally it comes in handy. This was one of those times thanks to a tantalizing dream he didn’t want to leave.

He was sure the woman in his dream was Ashanti, despite the fact that he couldn’t make out her face clearly. She had the same sway in her wide hips, and he recognized the delicately rough hands that found their way up and down his body. He could taste her on his lips and his dick still stood at attention for her. T’Challa looked at the clock and determined he had enough time to take care of himself, but just as he got up to get the shea butter a knock at his door ruined the mood. The king growled in frustration.

“Ay nigga, you late!” N’Jadaka called through the door.

“I am aware, cousin. I will be there shortly.”

N’Jadaka made his way down to the dining area while T’Challa quickly got ready for his day that was already starting out on a frustrating note. He finally made it down to breakfast just as the food was being served.

The royal family ate and discussed the day ahead.

“Someone’s got a date with that cute shopgirl today…” Shuri teased her big brother and he cut his eyes at N’Jadaka.

“You told her?!”

“He told us both dear, you know Daka can’t hold water. So tell us about her. She is in Ada’s old storefront, yes?”

T’Challa sighed and removed his napkin from his lap, placing it on the table and leaning back in his chair.

“Yes mama, she bought Ada’s and the shop next to it.”

“What does she sell?”

He figured now was as good a time as any, so he called Ayo on his beads.

“Ayo, please bring the black bag from my office with “Taj’s” on the side”

“Ewe kumkani wam, right away.”

T’Challa looked back towards his family, each one with their eyes glued to him.

“She is an artist,” he started. “She has turned it into a multi-purpose artistic space, but the shop is still operational. It’s called Taj’s now after her grandfather-”

“Yeah ok, tell us about her, ubhuti.”

Ayo came in with the requested bag and handed it to her king.

“Thank you, you are dismissed Ayo,” he said before turning back to his family. T’Challa reached into the bag and pulled out two boxes before handing them to his mother and sister.

“Damn, nothing for me?” N’Jadaka feigned offense.

“Not this time, umzala. Mama, sister, I hope you like them. They were custom made by Ashanti.”

Ramonda and Shuri opened their gifts and were stunned speechless. Shuri immediately took off her current necklace and replaced it with her brother’s gift. Ramonda stared at it, still speechless.

“Thank you, brother, I love it! Ashanti is very good at what she does.”

“You are more than welcome. Mama, do you like it?”

“Like it? It's too beautiful for me to even touch. This is amazing, unyana wam, thank you.”

“Good job, T.” N’Jadaka raised his glass of mango juice to his cousin.

“Well, as you can see she is very talented. I went to visit Ada the other day, but wanted to see what became of her shop first. When I saw her, I-...she took my breath away. She has this warm energy that just pulls you in and wraps its arms around you...”

“You sound sprung, as the Americans say.”

“Mmmhm he sure is Auntie, nose wide open and everything.”

T’Challa wanted to roll his eyes, but they were right. It took everything in him to not start grinning like a fool.

The royals parted ways after breakfast and went to tend to their duties. T’Challa and N’Jadaka didn’t have time for a walk today since there was a council meeting immediately after breakfast. It turned out to be the most boring council meeting T’Challa had ever presided over. What’s worse than land disputes? DIscussing treaties and embargoes with other countries. Half the council wanted Wakanda to keep its resources, citing how the rest of Africa was stripped of its riches by Europeans. They felt there was nothing positive the outside world had to offer Wakanda. The other half of the council argued that Wakanda was too strong a nation to be controlled by western powers, and therefore should join in trade and keep the upper hand.

“My king?”

T’Challa had zoned out for the past five minutes until N’Jadaka elbowed his side, pulling him out of his daydream.

“Huh?”

“My king, we were asking where you stood on the matter.”

N’Jadaka looked at his cousin knowingly, trying to conceal a smirk.

“I will need more time to think on it. Let us revisit this matter in a week, is there anything else on today’s agenda?” He asked his cousin.

“Nope, we’re done.”

“Thank Bast,” T’Challa whispered under his breath. “Meeting adjourned. I will see you all next week.”

As the council members left the room one by one, N’Jadaka stared at his cousin with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

“Only one of us can zone out at a time and I had some good daydreams planned for today, so what’s up with you?”

T’Challa sighed.

“I can’t get her off my mind…”

“Wide. Open.” N’Jadaka cackled as he left his cousin sitting in the throne room, still thinking about Ashanti.

T’Challa had a full agenda for the day and decided to get started. Why bother daydreaming when in just a few hours he would be in her presence.

First, he went to visit the river tribe. It was the dry season, but thankfully the river still flowed with enough water to last them until the rainy season kicked back into gear. Then, he visited his sister’s lab and the mining tribe.

“Brother! You must look at this!”

Shuri barely gave him a chance to get in the lab before she was dragging him left and right showing him her new creations. The visit lasted longer than T’Challa expected, but time always flew when he was with his usisi.

The king made his way back to his quarters to start preparing for the night. He had decided on a nighttime picnic by a private lake for their first date so they could talk and get to know each other better.

Hopping into the full bathtub that already awaited him in his quarters thanks to the palace staff, T’Challa relaxed into the water and felt most of his stress slip away. To get the rest of the stress out, he reached for the pre-roll that was placed beside the tub with a note from the royal grower.

“Snow Goddess OG -Amare”

“Snow goddess, huh? Probably Jabari…” T’Challa lit the blunt and relaxed even more into the water, letting the weed take him to another plane.

T’Challa’s body felt tingly and he couldn't keep the smile off his face. He fought a giggle as he rose from his bath and caught sight of his chubby half-erect dick hanging down his thigh in the mirror.

“She’s not even here and we don't have time. Sorry, man, I’ll get you later, I promise..or maybe she will? Either way, just be patient.”

“Shit, what was in that?” T’Challa laughed at himself for talking to his dick.

He had already gotten lined up earlier that day, and he admired the barber’s job well done while he moisturized his curls then the rest of his body. The king spritzed on a new cologne and made sure to spread some to his pulse points. He filed his nails then relocated to his closet to put together an outfit for the night.

Even though T’Challa was a relatively young king he always seemed beyond his years when he stepped into his Black Panther and kingly duties. However, outside of when he needs to be professional, T’Challa was like any other Wakandan in their late twenties. Instead of the traditional formal attire he wore when performing his duties, he dressed more modern and relaxed in informal settings. When T’Challa and Ashanti met he had been wearing a simple black shirt and jeans with his black combat boots and his Black Panther claw necklace on display. The second time they saw each other he had on an intricately embroidered black tunic over matching pants and black sandals. This time he wanted to look nice, but still relaxed. He needed to find a happy medium.

T’Challa stood naked in his closet for about 15 minutes before it finally came to him.

________________

‘How is this man so fine?’ Ashanti thought to herself as she took in the sight before her. There stood the king, in her entryway, looking like a whole damn meal. Her eyes travelled up and down his lean, muscular frame just as his eyes did the same to her. He wore a short sleeved black button up with kente trim which was unbuttoned just enough for her to see his claw necklace resting in an almost unnoticeable bit of chest hair. He had on some simple dark wash jeans and his favorite pair of boots donned his feet. The icing on the cake was the silver hoop earring in his right lobe. Ashanti just about passed out, and that was before she even registered that they matched.

T’Challa couldn’t keep his jaw up to save his life. He already knew how gorgeous she was, but she had somehow gotten even more beautiful in 24 hours.

“Oh my Bast, how adorable?!” Kwame broke her from her daze.

Ashanti quickly grabbed her bag and hugged her roommates before pulling T’Challa out of the house.

“Sorry for rushing you, but they were absolutely going to do something embarrassing if we stayed any longer.” Ashanti reached to push her hair behind her ear, forgetting she had already pulled it back. “You uh- you look pretty alright today.”

T’Challa laughed and she nearly melted at the  sound.

“Wow, I was going for ‘just ok’, but I have to say I like that you said I’m pretty.”

Ashanti playfully rolled her eyes and he placed his hand at the small of her back to lead her to his car.

“So where are you taking me?”

“It is a surprise.”

“Ok well, one thing you'll learn about me is I hate surprises.”

“You’ll survive without knowing for 15 more minutes, I promise Miss Ashanti.”

Something about the way he said her name made her go quiet. She wanted to hear it more often.

“I guess...so tell me about your day to distract me.”

T’Challa leaned back into his seat and let autopilot do the work.

“It was a normal day for the most part. Breakfast with my family followed by a tragically boring meeting with the council. Then I had to go visit the river and mining tribes. Lastly, I stopped by my sister’s lab for a while to see what she’s up to since she’s always tinkering around with something or creating amazing new inventions. I had to check in and see what’s new.”

“That sounds fun! The last part, not the other stuff.”

The king chuckled and reached for her hand.

“It was, but truthfully I was very distracted all day thinking of you.”

Ashanti’s voice caught in her throat.

Is he serious?

“Were you now…?”

“Yes, you seem to have made quite the impression on my subconscious.”

Ashanti tried to play it cool, but her guilty-looking face gave her away.

“What is it?”

“I may or may not have been thinking of you all day too.”

The two of them looked at each other and smiled. T’Challa’s eyes had just trailed down to her lips when the car announced their arrival. The king got out first and came around to open Ashanti’s door. He held out his hand and led her down a wooded path that was lit with tiny lights among the trees. The walk was short, and when they arrived at their destination Ashanti couldn’t believe her eyes.

Twinkling lights reflected off of a lake she had never seen. She turned to take in her surroundings and noticed the large border tribe blanket laid out on the ground and a covered basket overflowing with food. Ashanti was happy she wore flats.

“So I wasn’t sure what type of food you like, but I figured that since you were listening to music from outside Wakanda, you might enjoy foods from outside as well. I narrowed it down to one area though my first idea was to have food from all over, but thankfully my cousin talked me out of that one...”

T’Challa kept rambling as he began removing dishes from the basket and every last one made Ashanti’s stomach growl. She was starting to regret the bustier.

He pulled out jerk chicken, plantain, callaloo, and rice and peas. Next he pulled out some ackee and saltfish.

“This is usually for breakfast, but it’s my favorite meal of the day so I eat it whenever”

“Anyone who thinks breakfast isn't the best meal of the day deserves to be thrown off a cliff-”

She looked at the king.

“Too soon?” She asked sheepishly, hoping she didn't offend him.

“No, do not worry, it is fine. We have a better relationship now,” T’Challa chuckled. “And for the final touch, we have rum cake. I cheated and made it with Wakandan rum, but who is going to check me?”

Ashanti busted out laughing.

“Yes you hang around your American cousin a lot it seems, but more importantly you said you ‘made it’? Like you baked that cake? You, the king?”

“Yes. I love to cook, I just don’t have much time for it. I made all of this here for us to enjoy tonight.”

Ashanti had never had a man cook for her before, and certainly not on a first date. She hoped it was good because her poker face was shit and she didn’t want to have to hurt the king’s feelings. “Shall we?” T’Challa gestured towards the food and they both dug in.

Dinner was torture for T’Challa. Not only was she loving his food, but the noises she made while she enjoyed it made his dick harden. They made conversation and got to know each other better, scooting closer and closer to each other every time they had to shift to reach another item of food. They spoke about everything, finally landing on music. They tapped their kimoyo beads together, creating a playlist of both of their favorite songs for them to listen to as they continued to eat and talk.

“Oh my Bast, T’Challa this is so good. Where did you learn to cook like this? I assumed you had staff to do it for you.”

“We do, but when I was young I loved being with them in the kitchen so much they taught me how to cook.”

“This really is amazing, and I’m not just saying this because you're the king. I’ve never had someone cook for me like this, thank you.”

“Anything for you, Ashanti.”

He looked into her eyes and she blushed.

“So where exactly are we?”

“At a private lake near the palace. I come here often to relax and unwind, you should see it during the day.”

“You’ll have to bring me back, then.”

“That I will.”

“So, since this is a private lake it’s just us?”

“Well there are Dora Milaje out near the car, but yes it is just us.”

“And no crocodiles or hippos or anything like that…?”

T’Challa laughed.

“Do you really think I’d have you by predator-infested waters? You are safe here. Plus I am the Black Panther, you are safe wherever we go.”

“I like that…” Ashanti got lost in his lips, but got nervous and went back to her original thought. She knew how to shake herself out of her nerves. “So, since we’re alone and you're the only predator out here, let's go for a swim!”

“I will send the Dora for a change of clothes-”

“No need.”

T’Challa looked up and saw Ashanti in all her naked glory. She looked like Bast herself with her soft tummy and long thick legs. Her breasts bounced as she moved and her ass sat at the perfect height for him to grab onto. He tried to quiet the growl in his chest, but failed miserably.

“See something you like?”

T’Challa stripped faster than he ever had before and now it was her time to stand in awe. His rippling muscles almost made her heart stop, but it was the monster between his legs that turned her into a puddle.

“See something you like?”

Ashanti bit her lip and stared at him before turning around.

“Maybe if you can catch me,” she shouted before running into the lake.

Ashanti was a much better swimmer than T’Challa had assumed and he actually had to put in effort to catch up with her, but once he snagged her he immediately planted a kiss on her lips. He felt her body go slack as she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, deeply.

Janelle Monae’s voice carried across the lake and into their ears as T’Challa kept them afloat while his tongue explored her mouth. Ashanti gripped his hair and wrapped her legs around his waist. They pulled apart and looked into each other's eyes before laughing.

“Let's go somewhere I don't have to work so hard to keep us from drowning, eh?”

“Where do you have in mind?” Ashanti asked him while peppering his jawline with kisses.

But don't judge me I know I got issues But they drown when I kiss you Don't judge me Baptize me with ocean Recognize my devotion The water's perfectly good Let's reintroduce ourselves From a free point of view If I'm gon' sin, it's with you Tattoo your love on my heart Let the rumors be true. Even though you tell me you love me I'm afraid that you just love my disguise Taste my fears and light your candle to my raging fire The dirty desire But don't judge me I know I got issues But they drown when I kiss you Don't, don't judge me Baptize me with ocean Recognize my devotion What if I, what if, what if I touched you right there? Even though you say that you love me Is it me or do you love my disguise? If I missed you, would you think I was lonely If I say what's on my mind? Even though you say that you love me Is it me or do you love my disguise? If I kissed you, would you think I was lonely If I let you inside? Come, let me kiss you right there What if I kissed you right there? Would you tremble inside, or just call it a night? What if I gave you a show? You could touch if you like Right there If I kissed you would you think I was lonely? If I... It feels so good

Come, let me kiss you right there

Just say that you love me (just tell me you love me)

Next up:

Chapter 3

[wonder-womans-ex]

Curtain Call

Act One, Scene Seven

Sirius stands there for what seems like hours—though it’s probably only a few seconds—just standing there, staring through the window. Maybe he should forget the whole thing and leave now.  

But Alice pushes the door open, waving when Remus and Lily look up. Before he can protest, Dorcas pulls him in by the elbow. 

It’s like time slows down when Remus’s gaze flickers past Dorcas and settles on him. He blinks, as though trying to clear his vision, and then he does the last thing Sirius expects. 

He smiles. 

It’s like Sirius’s brain just glitches. He imagines James’s voice in his head—as he so often does when he’s faced with situations similar to this one—saying ‘Padfoot.exe. has stopped working,’ and the thought is so ridiculous it actually shocks him back into the here and now. 

“This is Sirius,” says Dorcas for the second time in under ten minutes, and he waits, practically holding his breath, for Remus’s response. 

He’s prepared for anger. He’s prepared for indifference. He’s prepared for maybe, just maybe, ‘Yes, I know.’ 

He is once again surprised, because he is most certainly not prepared for Remus to lean across the table with his hand out and say, “Nice to meet you.” 

“I—um—nice to meet you, too?” 

It’s clear to Sirius that no one else—save Lily, of course—has any idea of the significance of this moment, especially because he’s not actually sure what that significance is. Obviously, they’re wiping the slate clean, but is it so they can start over again?

Or so they can pretend there was never anything written there at all? 

This is the only thing he can think about as Dorcas slides into the booth next to Lily, motioning for Sirius to sit across from her, and he does, even though it means he’s right next to Remus. Frank squeezes in beside him, and Alice behind Frank, and Mary hesitates a moment before she sits down, too, shoulder-to-shoulder with Dorcas. For a moment, he wonders where Fabian and Caradoc are going to place themselves—there’s no way two more people are going to fit in the booth—but then Fabian pulls two chairs out from a nearby table. He sits down in one, then abruptly stands up again. 

“I’ll grab menus,” he says, gesturing with one thumb towards the counter, and Sirius watches him go, if only for something to look at. 

Dorcas grins. “So, Sirius, tell us a bit about yourself.”

“Um—”

“Invitations to these get-togethers are rare, you know, but you know what’s even rarer? Second invitations. So start talking, buddy, and let the high council judge your crimes.”

“Dorc,” Alice reprimands, “you’re scaring him.” 

“Nah, it’s fine. My brother’s pretty, um, intense, too.”

Sirius’s confidence swells slightly at the laugh that earns him from the rest of the group. “I’m Sirius—I’m twenty-two, but I’m only in first year university because reasons. My favourite food is butter chicken. I was kicked out at age sixteen after I came out as bisexual, and I moved in with my best friend, who also happens to be my brother’s ex-boyfriend. Oh, and I’m an actor. I think that’s the basics? 

Except for Remus, who knows most of this already, everyone stares at him, expressions ranging from stunned to well then. Remus is either trying to break the tension or goad Sirius into something embarrassing when he says, “An actor? Have you been in any movies?”

Deja vu smacks into Sirius like a cement truck. If he recalls correctly—and, honestly? There’s no way in hell he doesn’t—that’s exactly what Remus said the first time Sirius introduced himself. So, of course, he responds in the same way he did then, too. “Ew. Absolutely not. Stage life all the way for me, dude.” 

Immediately, he wishes he could pull up google. Key words: is it socially acceptable to call your ex ‘dude’? Is that, like, legal? 

But Remus just grins and tips his head back in laughter. After a moment, the others follow him in ways that range from a distracted smile (Mary) to a laugh so explosive he imagines Frank would have spit out his tea if he had any.  

They’re still laughing, all eight out of nine of them, when Marlene arrives at their table, one pencil tucked behind her ear and another between her fingers as she taps it absentmindedly against her coil-bound notebook. 

“Hi,” she says, glancing from person to person. “What can I get you tod—Sirius?”

“Hiya, Marls.” 

“Fancy meeting you here.” They both smile a bit at this, because it really isn’t that surprising—neither of them ever spends a whole lot of time away from Frankie’s, really. “Where’s James?”

Sirius gasps, pretending to be affronted. “I do have other friends, I’ll have you know. He and I aren’t joined at the hip.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“Well,” he says, deciding to change the subject, “I’ll get the, uh…” it feels wrong to order fries without James there, and he’s only just now realizing that he hasn’t actually tried anything else on the menu. “The BLT. And a Nanaimo bar, please.” 

“Branching out a little, are we?”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, okay. And for you?”

Without even thinking about it, he, too, turns to look at Remus, who’s got his nose buried in the menu. “A croissant,” he says, just like Sirius knew he would. “Wait, no. Two croissants.” 

“Plain? Chocolate? Cheese?”

It seems as though Remus sits up straighter. “Chocolate?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?” Marlene jokes in typical Marlene-fashion. 

“Telling. Croissant. Chocolate. Yes.” 

(A month ago, Sirius would have leaned over and whispered that he thinks the embarrassed blush colouring Remus’s cheeks and nose is cute. But now is not a month ago. Now, everything is different.)

Lily orders a Greek salad and an iced coffee, but Sirius isn’t paying attention to her. No, he has eyes only for the way Remus, seemingly out of sheer boredom, takes his phone out of his hoodie pocket and unlocks it, grinning at whatever he sees. Sirius wonders, somewhere in the back of his mind, whether that’s the same way Remus used to smile when he got a text from him. It doesn’t matter anymore, but he can’t help but hope that once upon a time he, too, made Remus that happy. 

He doesn’t speak again until everyone else has ordered, too (grilled cheese and a sundae for Alice, poutine for Dorcas, and bagels for both Mary and Frank; Fabian and Caradoc say they’ll share a banana split (could those two get any cuter, honestly)) and even then it’s only because Dorcas asks him a question. 

“What?” he says, shaking himself out of his thoughts. 

“Marlene—is she your friend? Girlfriend?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re friends. We’ve known each other for years. Community theatre, mostly, and I see here when I come here, which is probably way too often. But no, we’re not together—Marls swings completely the other way.”

Dorcas nods. “Cool. Think I have a shot? Am I her type?”

“Depends. Do you like Titanic?” 

“The movie? No.”

“Then yes, you’re her type.” 

He laughs under his breath when she adjusts her collar and tucks her hair behind her ear. It’s the classic ‘Preparing-to-ask-a-girl-out’ routine—he’s gone through it himself on many an occasion; here’s to hoping she has more luck—and he looks away to one side to hide a smile. Unfortunately, Remus has had the same idea, and their eyes connect for a few painful seconds. 

This time, Sirius makes himself look away first. 

He finds his gaze drawn to Lily, who’s scrolling through something—probably Instagram—on her phone. He tongue flicks out every once in a while to nudge at her lip ring, and he finds the movement almost mesmerizing.

Just out of curiosity, he thinks about kissing her. Her hair would be soft between his fingers. For some reason, he imagines it smelling like citrus. Her lips look soft, but in his head they’re slightly chapped, cool and warm at the same time as they press against his, and he pulls away to look into those shining amber eyes—

Wait, Lily’s eyes are green, not amber. He is most definitely thinking about someone else—someone with twelve freckles on his nose and golden hair that curls around his ears. 

Three guesses who it is. 

But no, he scolds himself, he is not here to mope over cute boys he used to date. Or any cute boys at all, for that matter. He’s here to have fun. To make friends. To eat good food. If Remus wants to play strangers, they’ll do just that. 

“So,” he says, turning his head sideways. “You’re John, right? John Lupin?”

Maybe, just maybe, someone will explain the whole fake name thing. 

And for once, his prayers are answered. 

“Well, no,” Remus says, and Sirius searches those beautiful eyes for any trace of the fact that they both know he knows this already. He’s not sure whether to be bitter or hurt or simply sad when he finds none, so he settles for a bit of all three. “Actually, John’s my middle name. My first name’s Remus. But if you’re a literature student with a name like Remus Lupin, the only people who are going to take you seriously are the ones—well, the ones with names like Sirius Black. So I started going by John, and it just sort of stuck.”

“Remus.” Sirius twists his mouth around it, enunciating both syllables carefully, like he’s saying it for the first time. He supposes he is, in a way—after all, by unspoken agreement they seem to be starting over. 

“It’s like—do you ever get—do people ever think your name’s just a stage name? 

“All the time.” He can’t quite be sure whether or not they’ve had a conversation like this before; it does seem familiar, but most things do these days. Even if they haven’t really discussed this already, they almost certainly have in Sirius’s head. Or something similar to it, anyway.

 “It’s like that. People assume it isn’t my real name, so I changed it.” 

“Huh.” Tilting his head slightly, Sirius puts on an ‘innocently curious’ air that he knows Remus will be able to see right through. “Anything else I should know about you? 

“I turn into a bloodthirsty werewolf on full moons,” Remus says without skipping a beat. It’s impressive, really, how long he holds a completely straight face, and Sirius watches carefully to try and catch even a glimpse of a smile. “All right,” he says when it becomes clear none will appear. “Monsters are people too, I guess.”

And there it is—that wide, oh-so-brilliant grin that still makes his breath catch in his throat. No, he reprimands. No. Absolutely not. You are not going to fall in love with him again. It will only end in pain. Your pain. 

That’s right. He’s not in love. He’s not even in crush. He’s just becoming friends with someone he used to date. No biggie. Plenty of people do that, right? James and Regulus broke up almost a year ago, and they still hang out. 

Sufficiently reassured, he plows bravely on. “What else? Have you, I dunno, killed anyone?”

“No, but I do have three tattoos.”

Sirius blinks slowly. He can picture one of them—the crossed ski poles on the inside of Remus’s ankle—but he doesn’t think he’s seen the other two. “Really?” 

“Yeah. I’ve got a pair of ski poles on my foot—I’m from Whistler; practically grew up on the hills—and here, on my wrist—” he pauses, rolling his sleeve up to expose his inner arm “—I’ve got the Illuminati symbol.”

There’s a beat of silence as Sirius waits for the ‘just kidding.’ None comes, however, and apparently none will, because now he can see the small triangle inked there, plain as day. 

“I was eighteen, okay?” continues Remus. “And I hadn’t slept in like four days and I might have been slightly drunk. Everyone who has tattoos also has tattoo horror stories, and this is mine. Don’t judge me.”

“I’m not judging you.” And he’s really not. He knows what it’s like to make bad decisions when one is young and tired—he fights off the flashbacks of a sixteen-year-old James piercing his left ear for him at two in the morning—and hey, at least Remus has learned to laugh about it now. “What’s the third one?” 

“The third tattoo?”

“Yeah.” 

Pulling up his sleeve even farther, Remus points to a patch of tiny lettering on the inside of his elbow. “It says ‘Leviticus 18:22.’” 

“What’s that?”

“It’s a bible verse. You’ve probably heard it before, or some version of it—'thou shalt not lie with mankind as with womankind, ‘tis an abomination.'”

Sirius feels as though his thought process has been unceremoniously dumped into a blender. What? Remus can’t be a homophobe. Remus dated him, for heaven’s sake. 

(He’s also right—Sirius has heard that before. As soon as she found out he was queer, his mother pulled a bible out from he’s not sure where and read that verse out to him. It was, like, a whole thing.)

The only thing he can think of to say is ‘what,’ so that's what he says. “What?”

“Don’t worry,” Remus hurries to assure him, “I’m not a bigot or anything. I like guys, too. I just did it for the edge factor, y’know? It’s ironic; it’s supposed to be funny.”

“You have a really weird sense of humour.”

“I know.”

Slowly, Sirius shakes his head in disbelief. “So three tattoos—ski poles, Illuminati, and bible reference?”

“Yep.”

Then he hears, from the end of the table, “And the one on your neck.”

Both Sirius’s and Remus’s gazes dart to Fabian, who has stopped fiddling with the salt shaker and is looking over at them quizzically. “That constellation thing. The one you only got a couple months ago. 

Remus does not look like a deer in headlights. He looks like an escaped criminal caught in the flashlight beam of a police detective. 

Matters are only made worse—or better, Sirius reasons, depending on how you look at it—when Alice joins in. “Yeah, Moony! That’s the coolest one, if you ask me.” 

Remus blushes. It’s only because of the close proximity that Sirius hears his mutter “No one did,” under his breath. 

“This fucker here,”Alice says, seemingly oblivious to humiliation radiating from Remus’s corner of the booth, “Came home—we live together, Lily and Remus and Caradoc and me—in… what was it? January? With yet another tattoo, and he wouldn’t tell us why. My guess is that he just walked by and saw the design in the window and decided he liked it. Impulsive one, our Moony.”  

Sirius decides that he’s not going to ask where the nickname comes from. He has a sneaking suspicion he doesn’t particularly want to know. 

“It’s kind of funny, actually. Took him like a week for us to bully him into letting us see it, and it turns out he’s got the Sirius constellation right there above his collarbone.” She pauses. “Sirius. Huh. I guess Remus just, like, subconsciously decided you two should be friends, even though he hadn’t even met you yet. Maybe he’s psychic or something.” 

Even if his life depended on it, nothing in the world could make Sirius look at Remus right now. If he does, something terrible is almost definitely going to happen—one of them will drop dead of a rare kind of heart attack, or Frankie’s will blow up and kill them all before their food gets there, or Sirius will start crying. 

A tattoo. A fucking tattoo. It doesn’t make sense to him, no matter the number of times he adds it up in his head, because tattoos are something for people who are forever. 

It’s one of those things you just grow up learning—you don’t get tattoos of another person’s name (or the thing they’re named after; potato, potahto) unless you’re absolutely sure, and sure does not mean kissing other people at parties. 

Unless, apparently, you are Remus John Lupin. 

“Really?” Sirius asks. “Huh. That’s cool. Aren’t neck tattoos supposed to hurt, like, a shitton, though?”

There’s a pregnant pause, like the universe is holding its breath. Finally, Remus smiles tightly and says, just barely loud enough for Sirius to hear, “It was worth it.”

***

If Sirius was held at swordpoint and told to recount what the rest of their conversation entails, he would say ‘stab me.’ All he can say for sure is that whatever discussion is had, it stops as soon as Marlene arrives with the food. 

“Two croissants for you, Sir,” she says, placing Remus’s plate in front of him. “And an iced coffee and Greek salad for you, my lady; a banana split for the two utterly charming earls here; a grilled cheese and triple hot fudge sundae for our duchess and one whole grain toasted bagel with cream cheese for her duke, a plain untoasted bagel with cream cheese for the princess with the colourful hair, and one serving of poutine for the absolute queen I see in front of me.”

Sirius is positive Dorcas actually swoons a little at the ‘queen’ comment. Were this a cartoon, her eyes would now be comically large pink hearts. 

“Oh, and how could I forget. A BLT and Nanaimo bar for our resident court jester.” 

He sticks his tongue out at her. What can he say—he’s immature. And dramatic. The best combination, truly. 

Dorcas watches Marlene turn with a smile and walk back to the counter, and, once she’s sure the object of her affections is safely out of earshot, she sighs. “I think I’m in love.” 

“She snores,” Sirius tells her, to no avail. “Like a pig.”

“I love pigs.”

“No, Dorc.” Fabian’s eyes are glittering. “You love bacon.” 

“You guys are teaming up on me! This is homophobia!” 

“I’m literally gay.” 

“Fuck off.” 

Sirius catches Fabian’s eyes across the table. The ginger waves his ice cream spoon around his ear in a ‘crazy’ motion, and Sirius agrees wholeheartedly. Dorcas is, indeed, crazy. 

“You’re crazy, Dorcas.” 

“Crazy in love.” 

(At this point, he could probably tell the whole story about the tomatoes—acting out the best parts, no less—and it would not change her mind in the slightest.) (That’s a good thing, actually; no one deserves Marlene unless they can accept the tomato story in full.) 

Beside him, Remus is already halfway through his first croissant. Some would say he must be hungry, and those people clearly do not know Remus Lupin. He’s not hungry—well, he might be—he just loves chocolate that much. There were times during their relationship that Sirius joked about Remus loving chocolate more than he loved Sirius himself. 

Well. He supposes that now, after everything, it’s probably true. 

(No! Bad Sirius! No moping!)

His sandwich, he finds, when he takes a bite, isn’t actually that bad. It tastes—well, it tastes like bacon and lettuce and tomato and bread, which it is. It’s quite a good combination, he thinks, and he wishes he’d thought of it first. 

Finally, Dorcas motions for Mary to move out of the booth into the aisle. “I’m going for it,” she says, holding her hand up like a microphone. Sirius can’t help but laugh at the announcer voice she uses, and laugh more when she adds, “Wish me luck, my friends.”

“You won’t need it,” Remus assures her through a mouthful of croissant. 

“Who cares if I need it? It’s about the principle of the thing.”

“Good luck, Dorcas.”

“Thank you, Lily.” 

It would seem fitting, Sirius reasons, if they had popcorn right now. They’re certainly all watching intently, as if it's a movie, the shy way Dorcas and Marlene smile at each other before they start talking too quietly to hear. When Marlene starts twisting her blond hair around her index finger, Remus leans over to him.  

“You’ve certainly come on the right day—episode one of ‘Dorcas tries to woo the girl of her dreams.’”

‘You’re too close!’ Sirius screams in his mind. ‘How am I supposed to not fall in love with you when you’re whispering in my ear and your breath is warm on the back of my neck and if I turned my head we would be kissing and—’

“Look, she’s handing her phone over,” he says instead, and Remus moves away to rest his elbows on the table. 

“Would you look at that. It seems that Operation: get Dorc a girlfriend has progressed past stage one,” Alice jokes. 

Sirius leans forward to look over Frank at her. “What’s stage two?”

“Make sure said girlfriend doesn’t find out about the cactus shrine.”

“...I don’t think I want to know.” 

“No, you really don’t.”

But now Dorcas is walking back over to them, and she’s beaming, and she holds out her phone excitedly. “I got her number! She saved her contact in my phone, too—’Marlene; red heart emoji; parrot emoji.’” 

The first one to start is Lily, and Remus follows soon after. When Alice, too, brings her hands together, Sirius joins in, and soon they’re all slow clapping. He can’t quite be sure whether this is a sincere slow clap or an ironic one, but, judging by the way Dorcas’s grin only grows wider, he’s going to go with the former. 

“Thank you, thank you!” She bows dramatically, and Sirius looks around him at the other smiling faces of booth seven, and he can’t help but think, ‘Oh my god, I have friends.’

[writing-in-april]

Gutter Balls

Franklin x Male Reader (MGG Character from Beginner’s Luck)

This is my birthday present to @clean-bands-dirty-stories​ !!!! Happy Birthday love you and your stories so much!!!! They requested this from me a little while back and I thought it would be a nice birthday surprise!

Summary: While meeting up for a friendly game of bowling with Franklin’s team, some very rude people at the alley decide to tell their opinion about yours and Franklin’s relationship. 

A/N: Hey Hey loves, here’s my first x male reader!! I’m very excited to have more inclusive options on my blog for a wide variety of readers. I am female myself but, I know how much people who love MGG struggle to find x male or x GN fics. If you have any requests for x male or x GN readers send them my way! Also if you have any ideas on how to improve my writing please feel free to shoot me a message or an anon! Also I did try to make the dialogue funny from the main characters so I hope I did ok on that lmao—Hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Homophobia, Swearing, Violence (the people definitely deserve it though) Not a warning but this does End Happy!

Masterlist Word Count: 1.3k

Being Franklin’s boyfriend was like a dream. We were still deep in the honeymoon faze even after being together for 4 months. When I was with him everything seemed perfect like nothing could go wrong.

Now it was time for me to finally meet up with his team for the first time at the bowling alley. I had met them all before but, not as Franklin’s official boyfriend. I honestly don’t know what I was worried about, they had been our biggest supporters. We both almost lived at the bowling alley with my job at the concession counter and his obsession to be the best bowler in Little Falls. We made eyes at each other for months before Franklin made the first move. Honestly, I’m pretty sure Franklin’s team would’ve locked us in the back room of the bowling alley if we hadn’t admitted our feelings to each other.

—-

My nerves over hanging out with the team were definitely unsubstantiated. Everything was going smoothly, they all were warm welcoming especially Pamela and Judith.

Beth was a little more wary of me. She kept commenting on the fact that Franklin was special and that I should watch my back. I think she’s just being protective of him in her own way. (But she still kinda scares me)

Bomber I think was confused at first as to why I was there, she kept asking me to refill her drinks until Franklin and I clarified again that I was here to bowl with them. (Not that I was very good at it)

Everything was perfect.

I had even gotten a strike!

That was until Franklin gave me a small peck to congratulate me for my strike.

Some assholes that we’re fully taking advantage of the cheap beer that was sold at the bar decided that they wanted to voice their opinions on our relationship.

“Hey- we don’t like your kind here even if you are a God at bowling!” A greasy haired man with a mullet shouted out obnoxiously at us drawing the attention of the entire alley. Franklin was about to whip around to say something but I decided to pull him into a hug instead as a subtle way to calm him down while simultaneously telling the group to fuck off and mind their own business.

“It’ll be ok Frankie, I promise.” I said while rubbing circles on his back trying to soothe the rage I could sense bubbling up from him. It’s not that I didn’t want to respond myself but, I was worried that Franklin would get into too much trouble if he retaliated. He was known for his fiery temper when someone angered him, “Let’s just ignore him and finish the game off strong. I think it’s your turn next.”

He nodded slightly after pulling away from me and moved away to grab his ball for his turn. But, not before shooting a not so subtle glare at the men at the counter.

The rest of the team were hyping Franklin up extra, especially Pamela, for his turn. My heart swelled at the sweet gesture of support from them, they loved to see Franklin happy and successful even if he was a little much at times.

My happiness was quickly squashed by one of the other douche nozzles deciding to chime in a rather crude slur at Franklin just before he let go of the ball. The ball slipped out of his large hands at an awkward angle and shot straight into the gutter making my own rage start to boil over.

I shot a quick glare at the group of them and an especially pointed look at my co- worker, silently begging her to kick the assholes out of the bar. Even though she didn’t like my new boyfriend (she said he acted like a gremlin) my co-worker Rebecca was shooting me a sympathetic glance. I knew she was shy about confrontation though I wished she would just grow some balls and kick them out.

Franklin’s face had gone as red as the scarlet bowling ball that I held in my hands ready to hand off to Bomber for her turn. I walked over to him to try to calm him down again and tune out the slurs that were now freely coming from the three douche canoes.

“I’m gonna show them what happens when someone better then God lays into them.” He spat out in a deadly tone. If a glare could kill I’m sure the three men would be dead from the one that was peeking through his clear frames.

“Franklin- stop it’s not worth it if you get into trouble, they’re just a bunch of drunks. Rebecca will kick them out soon I’m sure-“

A loud squeak fell from my mouth cutting off my train of thought when Franklin suddenly had his lips on mine. Franklin was always a little rough when we made out but this was different. It was hard, passionate and like Franklin was trying to mark me as his territory to everyone no matter what stupid slur came out of whoever’s mouth. I almost forgot that we were standing in the middle of a quite crowded bowling alley until I had to come up for air. But, that was only for a short moment before I was pulled in by another kiss.

I opened my eyes to get a good look of what was going on behind me once I found my bearings. I smirked into the kiss at the funny sight I was witnessing.

Franklin had his large middle finger pointed upwards facing behind him at the 3 assholes at the bar.

“Y’all suck and you ain’t shit!” Pamela was shouting and had now taken a defensive stance, standing on top of one of the rickety plastic chairs while adding her own two middle fingers to flash at the dicks.

Bomber looked like she was ready to explode like dynamite. She was muttering words under her breath while grabbing a few bowling balls that I’m pretty sure she was planning on chucking at them.

Beth was cracking all her knuckles and putting her hair up into an obnoxiously short and high pony tail with a dark look on her face.

Judith was the most calm out of the group saying a prayer off to the side. But, from what I could hear she was asking the lord to forgive her for curb stomping some bitches.

Bomber was the first to charge at the group with two pink and purple bowling balls. Which, was funnily enough enough of a threat for the three guys to rush out of the bar. They tripped out, obviously inebriated, while Judith and Beth joined in on the chase following Bomber with Pamela trailing behind with some pretty solid trash talk.

“You’re a bunch of gutter balls!” Pamela shouted out as they pushed the glass doors open, with one of the drunks falling onto their face before scrambling away.

I was now laughing into our kiss along with Franklin, glad to see them get their comeuppance. Franklin’s were arms wrapped around me in a deep embrace that I never wanted to escape from, they were soon joined by the rest of the team coming in for a group hug. I felt fully welcomed and accepting onto their team, even though I suck at bowling.

[whereyoursoulresides]

I did it! I finally finished writing this chapter! I’m so sorry it took ages; it has 4 different scenes so it was a bit tricky to be in the right zone for all four of them! I hope you all enjoy!

As usual, link goes to A03, or you can also read under the cut! 

Chapter Summary: After their first fight, Izou senses Kunihiro has withdrawn. His anxieties take him all over Tokyo, where he bumps into someone who seems strangely familiar.

“Thank you, we’ll let you know if we’re interested.”

Izou accepted the resume graciously and thanked the man for his time. As soon as he had left the establishment and was greeted with the open air, Izou couldn’t help but let out a groan. 

“What a waste of time,” he moaned to himself, crossing The Jazz Heart off his list. 

With another annoyed sigh, Izou ran a hand through his bangs. He had only a few resumes and business cards left, and had to choose wisely. To remain in the area would mean applying to more businesses in which he had little experience: high-end jewelry and retail outlets, flower shops, or elegant dinner venues. A wistful part of him had even hoped to win a position at the up-and-coming jazz bar, despite his lack of official musical experience.

“I should have known better,” Izou muttered to himself, as he scanned the list and chewed on his knuckle absently.  “As if I actually know anything about any of those things…”

But, as quickly as that thought came, another arrived. It rose from his gut, soft and illustrious but tenacious in its roots.

But you do, this voice whispered, echoing into his bones. You would know better than most.

As loudly as he could, Izou tried to squash the voice. 

“Let’s try further afield!” he announced, trying to pep himself up. So long as it wasn’t as far as the coffee shop from last year, anything would be reasonable. With a newfound sense of determination, Izou stuffed the list back into his pocket, and marched off.

---

As Izou meandered his way through the city, however, he found himself struggling to concentrate. At every coffee shop and bakery, his mind would drift to his home: the empty apartment, in which he and Kunihiro had been regularly in and out of since their first “fight”.

It hadn’t been an easy few days since that fateful interaction. Although neither of them had spoken of the incident again, the apartment had fallen with an unusual hush. Izou couldn’t tell how much of the quiet was due to their usual mismatched schedules, or if Kunihiro was intentionally avoiding him. The only exchange they regularly had was Izou handing a daily lunch box to Kunihiro. The man always accepted it with a nod, but Izou couldn’t help but notice that Kunihiro’s eyes never met his.

I’m reading too much into this, Izou scolded himself, as he rounded the corner to yet another hopeful location. This one, like the others, was a bit of a long shot. Izou had seen ads for this particular milkshake shop flash in all his magazines. It was new, hip, and set to open later this month. Izou hoped that by coming here early, he could convince the owner to hire him as part of the opening staff. 

After checking the address once more, he stepped back to take a better look at the establishment. 

Starlight Parfaits...

The windows were a slick shade of dark purple, gradually transparent like the facets of an amethyst. Posters of dark chocolate sundaes, fruity gradients, and swirly sorbets hung like pillars between the windows.  As Izou tilted his head, he tried to gauge his feelings about this particular place. Even though it was so new, there was something about it that seemed strangely familiar. In addition, strangely comforting. Izou could see himself regularly popping up in a place like this.

Deciding it was worth a shot, Izou readied his resume. However, just as he was about to knock on the door, he caught sight of a familiar silhouette. Curious, Izou lowered his hand.

Past the bustling workmen and supervisors, a man and a woman were chatting behind the main counter. Although she had her back to the door, the woman was significantly shorter, and so Izou could see past her stature to the man towering over her. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and handsome. A cloud of dark curls cascaded down his back. Despite his rising heartbeat, Izou squinted closer. Where did he know this man…?

Suddenly, as though the man had sensed his presence, his head jerked up. 

For the briefest moment, their eyes locked. Bright ivy green and startling cerulean were frozen in time. However, as soon as the man shifted from the counter, Izou recoiled back. When the shadow began to solidify closer and closer to the door, Izou bolted from the corner as fast as his feet would carry him.

By the time the man had arrived at the door and opened it, all that remained of Izou’s presence was his resume and business card, lying motionless on the sidewalk. 

---

It seemed ages before Izou’s feet began to slow down. The echoes of the pavement pounding were comforting; as if each step could breach him further from the dread that was rising within him. When he felt he had gained enough distance, Izou stumbled to a halt, crouching down to regain his breath.

Just great, he thought, as he gulped air with his hands on his knees. On top of everything else, he hadn’t needed this. Although deep in his gut he knew who that man was, Izou was forcing all his focus to stave the recognition at bay. Think of anything else, he kept telling himself. We are not going to open this box.

When his lungs were eventually functioning normally again, Izou finally collapsed onto a nearby bench. With the adrenaline wearing off, the heaviness of regret began to sag in. Defeated, Izou hung his head in hands, trying to hold himself together. His messenger bag knocked hollowly against the seat, his silken love-charm dangling silently.

I wish Kunzite-sama would talk to me, Izou finally whispered. 

The name almost brought tears to Izou’s eyes, which he angrily pushed away with his sleeve. That name was so precious, so miraculous, yet as forbidden and dangerous as cursed treasure. To own it would be an elixir, the saving grace from the danger of the ghost that lived inside him. But to touch it at all was to unleash the rest of the monsters from their prisons, to drown in fool's gold in a cave of wonders. 

The past doesn’t matter, Izou kept telling himself. We have a new life. A real life.

But how can it be real, a different voice asked, if you’ll never know the truth?

Letting out a frustrated groan, Izou buried his face in his hands again. If only there was someone else he could talk to. Some higher power who could understand the nuances he was struggling with. Izou didn’t consider himself particularly religious, but at this point, he couldn’t think of anything else to turn to. What human could possibly help him navigate adjusting his first real relationship, a spotty memory of an equally questionable past, and possibly some supernatural elements thrown in the mix?  

At that moment, Izou felt something brush against his cheek. As he looked up, he thought he saw a pink petal float out of the corner of his eye. How strange, he thought. Cherry blossom season wasn’t set to open for another month…

But that’s when he realized where he was. Before him stood an immense stone staircase, lined with green cherry blossom trees that lined its ascent. As Izou’s gaze slowly drew to the top, the grand majesty of the temple slowly dawned to view. It was the same temple he and Kunihiro had visited on his birthday. 

Before he knew it, Izou began to slowly make his way up to the temple once more. 

---

When he arrived at its peak, Izou was dismayed to see that the temple grounds were practically deserted. Not a single attendant could be found, and Izou didn’t feel entirely comfortable approaching the grand establishment on his own. Biting his lip, he unhooked the enmusubi from his messenger bag. Perhaps if nothing else, he could find someone to buy a new one from…

Come back in six month’s time, or when the charm has run out, the attendant had said. Izou gazed upon the charm agonizingly. Only three months had passed, and with Izou’s love and care, the enmusubi practically looked as good as new. Its magic, if he believed in such things, should still be working…

But this isn’t an ordinary situation, Izou thought desperately, closing his eyes. Maybe I should try something more powerful…

“Can I help you?”

Startled, Izou opened his eyes. An attendant with yellow-blond hair had opened the door to the temple, and was stepping out with a broomstick in hand. From this distance, Izou thought he recognized him, but he wasn’t sure from where.

“I’m just hoping to say a little prayer,” Izou answered, but his voice was distant as he struggled to place this man in his memories. His gait, his serious, slightly condescending voice. The way his bangs hung over his eyes, as though he didn’t really want to meet Izou’s gaze unless necessary. How his short hair was the color of summer wheat, or freshly ripened corn.

Without looking up at Izou, the attendant began to sweep briskly. 

“That enmusubi isn’t meant to work overnight,” he answered matter-of-factly. “Trust in it, and let it do its work.”

Although Izou understood where the man was coming from, he couldn’t help but feel uncertain as he glanced back down at the omamori in his hand.

“I just need a little more help,” Izou whispered. “Or maybe a different type of luck…?”

The attendant sighed shortly and paused in his sweeping. Suddenly, he turned to face Izou straight-on, and Izou was startled to see his features so clearly. Though he had boyishly handsome cheeks, they contrasted so sharply with the seriousness of his bright blue eyes. 

“With all due respect,” the attendant said bluntly, “praying for change is a waste of your energy.”

Once more, Izou was taken aback with the man’s words. “Excuse me?” was all he could say.

The attendant didn’t look impressed, but he also seemed to understand that Izou wasn’t going to absorb his advice immediately. 

“Praying only gets you so far,” he explained, gesturing to the charm. “And the omamori can only do so much. The rest is up to you, and your own effort to actively do something about your problem.”

Izou eventually closed his fingers over the amulet. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew the man was right in principle. Even if magic was real, it wasn’t as if Izou could summon such powers to bury away the obstacles that laid before him, or force Kunihiro to open up to him. The only thing he could do was to rely on himself - his own bravery, tenacity, and quick-thinking. He looked back at the man, whose sky-blue eyes remained steadfast. 

“What if I’m doing all I can,” Izou finally asked, “but the other person isn’t responding?”

The attendant’s expression hardly changed.

“How do you know they aren’t?” 

Izou blinked. “Er, well…” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly. ”They haven’t exactly talked to me about it. How would anyone solve a problem if they don’t even discuss it?”

“People process things in different ways,” the attendant shrugged. “Just because they’re not talking about it doesn’t mean they’re not working on it.” 

It took a moment for Izou to process the man’s words, which seemed to have been spoken from a place of personal experience. Speaking came so naturally to Izou that it was hard for him to imagine anyone struggling with it, much less Kunihiro, who seemed so eloquent when he did speak. But perhaps that’s what Izou had been seeing all this time: a perfect facet, polished from practice. 

He looked really upset, Izou recalled from their fight. Perhaps that night he had stumbled upon a crack, and Izou had not given Kunihiro enough time to address it before calling it to attention. Maybe the crack even ran deeper than it first appeared. But Izou understood now that it was unlikely for Kunihiro to trust him with it again so soon. Izou would have to earn it.

Slowly, Izou tilted his head at the attendant, gauging him up and down. Although there was something familiar about him, the sensation was entirely unthreatening. There were no shadows or pinpricks of dread, no echoes of ghosts. Instead, the man felt like a safe harbor, a neutral impasse. Izou decided then and there that this man was a friend.

“What’s your name?” Izou asked. “I’m Kozakura Izou.” He nodded respectfully. “A pleasure to meet you.”

The man blinked at him, as though he hadn’t expected Izou to be so forward. Eventually responded with a nod in kind.

“Daito, Jay,” the attendant answered. “Same to you.”

---

Upon his return home, Izou felt much better. Although his discussion with Jay hadn’t solved his various problems immediately, it certainly lightened Izou’s emotional load considerably. It was still early days yet, and Izou had faith in his self-efficacy to navigate himself around Kunihiro. He had made it this far, after all. They could talk about all that messy stuff when the time was right.

“I’m home,” he sang habitually as he stepped inside. As he hung up his items, he was surprised to see that Kunihiro was indeed home. There was a pot stewing quietly on the stove, and the smell of sweet curry wafted around him like a hug. From around the corner, Kunihiro appeared.

“Welcome home,” he greeted. “How was your day?”

“Good,” Izou chirped back. He decided it wasn’t worth telling Kunihiro about his worries from earlier that day. This was the first the man had spoken to him since their fight, and Izou wasn’t going to ruin it with something he could solve himself. “How was yours?” 

Kunihiro passed Izou his lunchbox, all wrapped up in its fabric. Izou blushed when he realized he had accidentally sent Kunihiro to work with a pattern dotted entirely with flowers. He hoped he hadn’t embarrassed Kunihiro.

“Good,” Kunihiro answered. He looked like he was about to say something else, then quickly changed his mind.

“Why don’t you get yourself settled. I’ll plate for you and we’ll eat on the sofa.”

Izou smiled as Kunihiro went to busy himself with their curries. This was the most normal and relaxed they had felt in some time. When Kunihiro disappeared around the corner, Izou slid open the knot to sort out the lunchbox. Since Kunihiro was a much better cook, Izou was happy to do the cleaning.

Upon opening the lunchbox, however, he discovered it had already been cleaned. Not only that, but a single pink rose laid in its center. His heart warming, Izou slowly brought it up close. 

This is his apology, Izou realized, his eyes closing. He just needed some time.

With the lunchbox and the rest of Izou’s things put away, he hurried to join his partner in the living room. As he tumbled into Kunihiro’s side on the sofa, he flung his arms around his partner and pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you,” he said, referring to the rose. “It’s a lovely gift.”

Whatever tension Kunihiro had been reserving seemed to evaporate with relief.

“I know I’ve been a bit distant lately,” he murmured quietly. “I’ve just needed some time to think.”

“I know,” Izou said, resting his head on the crook of Kunzite’s shoulder. 

“But I wanted you to know my affections have never changed,” Kunihiro continued quietly. “To me, you are…” The most important, but somehow Kunzite couldn’t finish the sentence. It felt like making a deathly promise, a vow to beckon fate to break. “My care for you will always remain the same.”

Izou beamed and gave his partner a big, tight hug, before unwinding his arms and settling in next to him.

“Don’t worry, I know,” he said cheerfully, as he picked up his plate from the coffee table. “So long as we have time together like this, nothing else matters to me.” He curled up his knees and looked up at his partner. “I know how you feel, Kunihiro-sama.”

A great weight seemed to have been lifted from the room, and Kunihiro’s smile rose along with it. Reassured, he even turned on the stereo so they could enjoy some quiet, easy listening.

“Thank you for understanding,” he murmured quietly as they began to tuck into their food.

“No worries,” Izou replied, around a mouthful of rice. “Just don’t forget about the special days, you know? Those are the best days to spend some time together.”

“I promise I won’t forget.”