#sometimes Rise' dialogue catches me off guard

[snackugaki]

i’ll never come wack on an old school track

[howcouldmuffin]

First Choice II

[ Chapter 2 : Duties and Needs ]

We can’t always get what we desire indefinitely. Every choice comes with its own set of responsibilities. It’s up to you to decide whether you’ll rise to the occasion or not.

PAIRING : Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Reader

WARNING : SFW, Targaryen Incest, Non-canon

AN : I really like the current scene and am trying to write it as well as possible. I hope you enjoy it.

CONTENTS : Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

please be kind to me English is not my first language.

After the last conversation, there was no further dialogue. Viserys decided to take everyone hunting, it must have been something the adults discussed that day. You were quite excited because it was well known that your father was frequently ill, making outings difficult.

The king’s command caused a stir in the palace. The grand expedition of the Targaryens was attracting the attention of all Westeros. Sometimes, there was even a competition for hunting, who could catch the largest game, or who could hunt the rarest animal.

You knew that the groups would be divided for hunting, and you would learn which group had whom based on the king’s wishes. You thought your father might pair you with one of your brothers or perhaps a guard, but instead, he paired you with Jacaerys.

After learning the results, he looked at you and walked out of the gathering tent. He must have been disappointed with the pairing. Once everyone learned their partners, they dispersed to prepare. You went to choose the horse you would ride for the day.

In the stables, there were only a few stablehands and soldiers. You walked straight to the horse you usually rode, Elysian. You watched it for a moment, it was an intelligent and fast horse. You stroked its head and neck slowly. It recognized you.

“I’d like to ride this one.” you said to the stablehand.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Your Highness. Someone else has already chosen this horse.” the stablehand replied, surprising you. Normally, no one else chose Elysian except you.

“Who chose it?” you asked the stablehand. He hesitated for a moment, looking down and avoiding your gaze, which only made you more curious about who it was.

“It was me.” came the voice. It was Jacaerys, walking with Baela. “I selected it for Baela.”

“If the princess wishes to ride this horse, I can choose another for her.” Baela said quickly, her face flustered compared to Jacaerys, who remained indifferent. You looked at Elysian before making a decision.

“It’s alright. I must have arrived too late.” you replied, and began looking around. “I’ll find another horse.” You gave them a faint smile and did as you said.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Baela said, and you nodded at her, searching for a suitable horse, which proved to be somewhat difficult.

“I’ve selected a horse for you, Princess.” Jacaerys said, leading you to a horse he had chosen. “This one.” he pointed to a beautiful white horse, not unlike Elysian but slightly larger and more fitting for you.

“What’s its name?” You stroked the horse that Jacaerys had chosen. It was very docile and seemed to suit you well.

“It doesn’t have a name yet. It’s a new horse. If the princess wishes, you may name it.” stablehand said.

“This horse looks like it could run fast. I’ll name it Breeze.” you decided.

“That’s a fitting name, Your Highness.”

“Well then, you should go prepare.” Jacaerys said, reminding you. You nodded in acknowledgment and walked away. It was always uncomfortable to be around him, and both of you knew that the awkwardness between you was considerable, hoping it would diminish over time.

Soon, the bell rang, signaling that everyone could enter the forest. You and the prince set off. At first, there were two soldiers following, but Jacaerys soon dismissed them, saying you could protect yourselves. You were confident in your ability to manage, though you wondered if he might see you as a burden.

“What do you think we’ll encounter first, Your Highness?” you asked.

“Probably a rabbit or a squirrel.” he replied. “And you? What do you think we’ll see first?”

“Maybe a snake.” you said. He chuckled slightly. “Or perhaps a bird.”

“Yes, it might be a bird.”

And then there was silence again. Both of you rode on aimlessly, meandering along the stream, hoping to spot an animal drinking water. You were about to ask something when a faint sound caught your attention—an animal, not small. You turned to Jacaerys, he nodded in acknowledgment and immediately sought the source of the sound.

It soon became clear that it was a large bear approaching. When it noticed you, it charged at you. Jacaerys, faster, drew his crossbow and shot at the bear, but it didn’t fall. You drew your bow from your back and fired additional arrows until the bear was subdued. Jacaerys dismounted and approached it slowly. You followed, still keeping your bow ready.

“You’re very skilled with a bow, Princess.” he said, turning to you with a smile. You returned his smile, pleased that he seemed more open and accepting of you.

“Thank you, Your Highness.” you said, putting your bow away. “Should we tie it to the horse and let our horses drink at the stream for a while?”

“That’s a good idea. This bear is quite large, and we wouldn’t want to return with nothing.”

You rested on a log by the stream, watching both horses drink. Jacaerys sat down next to you slowly. He was charming and easily captivated those around him. He turned to you.

“What else have you learned besides archery?”

“Fencing, horse riding, and other things boys like you do.” you replied.

“But do you also learn the things girls learn?”

You nodded. He looked surprised and somewhat skeptical. It’s unusual for a lady to wield a sword or a bow like a man. Ladies don’t typically know the names of weapons as men do. If it weren’t for your desire to earn favor from someone you loved, you might not have pursued such skills. As others say, a proper lady shouldn’t act like a man without shame.

“If you need advice on weapons, you may consult me, Your Highness. I’m not an expert but I know a bit.”

The sound of leaves crunching made you reach for the dagger at your waist and look around. Both of you saw a large deer approaching, much larger than usual. Something urged you to stand up and approach it as well. It showed no fear toward you or Jacaerys, walking directly toward you as if to communicate something. When you got close, it lay down. You stroked its head, and it submitted willingly.

“This kind of deer is rarely seen here.” Jacaerys said. “It’s magnificent.”

“But we can’t take it with us. It might suffer.” you observed. “It seems fine, not injured.”

“I think it really came to us.” he said. “Look, its herd has left.” You looked in the direction he pointed, and it was true. It had intentionally separated from its herd to come to you.

“This deer has such beautiful antlers.” you said. “What should we do?”

“Since it came to you, you decide” he said, giving you the opportunity to make the choice as he walked closer to the deer.

“If we think about keeping it, its chances of survival are less than letting it go. But since it came to us, I think we should make sure it doesn’t suffer and take it back as our prize.”

Jacaerys nodded in agreement with your decision and put the deer out of its misery with minimal suffering before tying it to the horse and heading back to the gathering point. Throughout the journey back, you and he exchanged conversations. His horse carried the large deer while yours carried the bear, according to the horse’s capacity.

When you returned, everyone was clearly surprised. You and Jacaerys talked and had managed to hunt two animals. The result was a unanimous victory for you and the prince. You both smiled at each other like never before. It was surprising that the two of you could truly become friends.

Weeks have passed since the hunt, and your relationship with Jacaerys has noticeably improved. Conversations while walking through the corridors at night, riding dragons together in the morning, and occasionally sharing meals have become routine. Yet, you still sense that the wall he has up against you hasn’t completely disappeared. Everything seems to require time.

“Do you want to go dragon riding with me today?” he asks as he walks in while you’re writing a letter to your brother, something you don’t do often but always keep up with.

“After I finish writing this” he comes and sits across from you. “You can go ahead, I’ll catch up with you.”

“I’d rather watch you write.” Jacaerys says as he continues to watch you, making you think you should hurry up and finish so you can do what he wants.

“You don’t have to rush. I enjoy watching you.” He reply.

“What’s so interesting about my face?”

“It’s because you’re beautiful and pleasant to look at.”

“I don’t see it.”

“You should trust me, I’m a witness.”

“Well, then, I suppose I’ll believe you.” you say. You look up and meet his gaze before looking down. “Are you going to practice sword fighting today?” you ask, trying to act normally to distract him, even though your face is flushed and your heart is beating faster.

“Will you come watch?”

“Does it matter?”

“It would… would be nice! to have someone to give me advice.”

“Today, I might not be able to. I have a cooking lesson with Oliver.”

“Oh, that sounds... well, interesting.” he replies, somewhat awkwardly. “Will you bring me some pastries again?”

“I’m not sure. I might not make pastries, but if you want, I can bake something for you.” you offer. He falls silent, making you look up at him. He stares at you with a slightly disappointed expression. When you catch him looking, he turns away, almost as if avoiding blame.

“Or you can come to the kitchen and have lunch with me.” you suggest with a smile, wondering if he might be very particular about food.

“Alright, let’s have lunch together.”

“I’m done writing now. Let’s go.” you say as you get up and gather your things. He stands up as well, his face showing the excitement of a child who’s happy to have someone to play with. You secretly hope that perhaps this could be more than just a good friendship. But for now, quietly falling in love with him might be enough.

“What do you think about joining me to visit the orphans?” you ask, as you both head out of the room towards the Dragonpit.

He turns to you with a warm smile, one he’s been giving you more often lately. “I’d love to go with you.”

“That’s wonderful.” you reply with a smile of your own. “I’ll need to prepare some toys for the children, then. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled!”

“Do you think the children will like the toys we've brought for them?” you ask Vidah while she is doing your hair.

“They’ll definitely love them.” she replies. “You’ve also prepared some small treats for them, haven’t you? Who wouldn’t be happy about that? And with a prince coming to see them too.”

“I’ve also prepared to tell them a few stories and brought something for the prince.” you say, gazing at your reflection in the mirror. “Do you think he’ll be willing to narrate?”

“If the princess asks, he surely will.” Vidah says confidently.

You frequently visit the orphanage, helping the children as much as you can because they are the future of the city. Some are sent to school, the strong ones are trained, and the girls are placed to serve noble families, as much help as you can provide.

“It’s finished.” Vidah announces. “You look beautiful as always.”

Today, you chose to wear a blue dress with a low neckline and sleeveless design. You wore minimal jewelry and avoided anything that might make the children uncomfortable. You opted for a shorter dress for ease of movement. You looked at yourself in the mirror for a moment before heading out.

“I’ll wait at the carriage.” you tell your maid. She nods and leaves to prepare additional items for you. You notice a bit more hustle and bustle than usual but don’t think much of it, assuming it’s just a prince or princess being demanding.

You walk to the castle exit but see no sign of the prince. You assume he might be coming soon. You climb into the carriage and try not to think too negatively. However, after waiting for nearly half an hour, you begin to understand that he might not come.

A knock on the carriage door makes you hopeful, but when Vidah opens it, it’s another maid. Vidah speaks with her, and both their faces show concern. After their conversation ends, the maid turns to you with bad news.

“What happened?” you ask her.

“The prince is unable to join us.” she replies.

“Why?” you ask. “Does he have an urgent command?”

“No, Your Highness.” she replies hesitantly. “Lady Baela was injured. She fell off her horse while checking its condition, so the prince had to rush to her.”

“And… is she seriously hurt?” you ask, feeling a mix of disappointment, sympathy, and confusion.

“No, Your Highness. Just a few bruises and minor scratches.”

You are at a loss for words. You don’t want to believe that you aren’t important enough to keep the appointment. You feel deeply disappointed. Baela did nothing wrong, but the fault seems to lie with you for being insignificant to him.

“If you wish, you may cancel the visit.” Vidah offers. You consider it for a moment before responding.

“No, I will not cancel. Let’s go. The children have been waiting long enough.” you decide. Vidah goes to inform the soldiers outside, and a maid comes to comfort you. She hugs you in silence. You must not be sad and need to adjust your mood because the children are probably feeling worse than you. You want to be a positive presence for them.

When you arrive, as expected, the children’s faces light up upon seeing you. They smile with innocent joy and no pretense. You smile back at them. Some children peek around, probably looking for their prince.

“I must apologize for being late today.” you tell the children.

“What about the prince?” one little girl asks. You smile at her.

“Our prince has many duties and received an urgent command today, which prevented him from joining us. But he kindly sent delicious treats instead. Do you understand?”

The children look at each other, puzzled. Whispers start among them. Some look disappointed while others talk to their friends.

“The prince said he would definitely visit next time.” you reassure them. “Now, who would like to have some treats from the prince? Raise your hands!” You nod to the maid to start distributing the treats. They seem very happy when each child receives their share. The room quiets down once the treats are distributed, and you sit in the middle to continue with the next activity.

“Next, I will tell you some stories. If you want me to tell all of them, you need to be good listeners. Do you understand?” The children nod. “Once upon a time…”

“Are you going to the orphanage again, little sister?” Aegon asked at the dinner table.

“Yes.” you responded, not looking up and continuing to eat. You could feel Jacaerys’s gaze on you, but you ignored it, not wanting to see his face because it made you feel worse.

“Does your sister go there often?” This time, it was the eldest sister asking Rhaenyra. You didn’t talk to her much, but she was always kind to you.

“Often, yes.”

“That’s quite an interesting hobby. If you ever want to go again, let me know, and I’ll help with the children’s supplies.”

“How will those children grow up without parents?” Aegon spoke up.

“That’s why we must provide them with love and warmth instead.”

“A noble duty.” your brother said sarcastically. “Why go through all that trouble?”

“Most of their parents are soldiers, and if they aren’t, they died from illness. Their mothers are the same. And they are our people, Aegon.”

“Your sister is right. You should learn to care about something more useful, Aegon.” your grandfather said. You were surprised because it was he who said this. Your brother fell silent immediately and regretted his words.

“Never mind. It’s good that you care for the people as a princess.” Viserys said to you, “and I hope you’ll come to understand soon.” He then addressed Aegon. “Have you both decided what you want as a prize for winning the hunting competition?”

“Not yet, Your Grace.” Jacaerys replied.

“That’s fine. No need to rush.”

“Lady Baela, I heard you fell from your horse. May the gods bless you.” your mother said to her.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Baela replied. You noticed Jacaerys staring at you again, and it started to annoy you. You couldn’t tolerate it any longer.

“Forgive me, Your Grace, but I’m very tired today and need to retire.” you said.

“Go rest then.” Viserys said.

“I think it’s a good idea for me to escort the princess to her chambers.” Jacaerys said. You looked at the king, who nodded in agreement. He wouldn’t dare refuse his beloved nephew. You left the dining room without waiting for the prince.

Walking through the quiet corridors, he followed closely behind. You quickened your pace as much as possible, only now realizing how far your room was. You were angry, but it was not unusual to rush to someone you cared about when they were hurt. You might do the same.

“I’m sorry.” he said. “I know I didn’t make it to our appointment because—”

“I know why you couldn’t come.” you said, turning to him. “I understand, Your Highness. I have no right to be angry with you.”

“Next time, I’ll go with you.” he said, taking your hand and looking into your eyes. If it had been you a few days ago, you might have easily fallen for this trap.

“Let’s talk about this another day. I’m very tired and need to go now.” you said, pulling your hand away and walking into your room without looking back at him. It was undeniable that you were hurt, but did you have the right to be? He was only fulfilling his duty as a good friend. You were only betrothed in name, not because you truly loved each other. It hurt to know he liked someone else, not you. It hurt deeply.

tag list : @r3va-dwme @ladyofvelaryon @mckennah123 @ericasabe @yohanseyebrowmole @mah1644

[cosmicangst]

weekly reads (12/10)

the bed me books (#1-3) | felicity niven: ★★★☆☆ (duke) | ★★★★★ (baron) | ★★★★☆ (earl)

⤷ series of regency romance books built on the premise of the fmc approaching the mmc for a temporary liaison. felicity niven is quickly rising to the top of my favorite hr authors. one thing i appreciate is the flaws of her characters, especially the mmcs. since many books in this genre appeal to fantasy, sometimes the leads are portrayed as ideals — that while the mmc can be imperfect they can't be too imperfect as to be unattractive or unsexy to the reader. i don't decry this since i actively seek these books out myself. however niven seems largely unafraid to paint her mmcs in unflattering and unattractive lights. and she does all this while maintaining a romance that is still pretty swoonworthy. i also just appreciate that sometimes her leads aren't conventionally physically attractive, which is my catnip in romance novels.

in duke i felt for the fmc and her plight. the chapter where the mmc writes a series of letters while he's convalescent in london and desperate to know if she's found another suitor is my favorite. he kept the lie up a little too long for me to swallow easily since all the while she was literally trying to find a way out of poverty. so that deserved a much longer grovel than it got. but i LOVE that she figured it out much earlier than he or the audience realized. a strength to the writing is how niven withholds information, especially if it's a pov character keeping a secret. and the reveals always catch me by surprise then make me appreciate how much everything they've done or how they act make perfect sense now in retrospect.

earl was just so sweet. i love a short king mmc and the way he just doted on the fmc was so heartfelt i teared up. they're just perfect for each other: he's chatty and sunshine and kind of shameless and uncultured while she's dark, reticent, bookish, and more pragmatic. one amazing small detail is that whenever it was the fmc's pov chapter, her words were written straight out in dialogue because she was ashamed of her lisp but in the mmc's, it was phonetically kept because he loved everything about her, especially the things of which she's most ashamed.

baron though was just the right amount of angst i've been craving. i LIVE for the premise of an mmc who's been too stupid and paternalistic (think knightley but if he was also an idiot) to realize that he's been in love with the fmc all this time until it's too late. and like the actual ramifications of that (the RAMMYS bro). i relished in his despair lmaooo but i was crying basically every other chapter because i could see so much of myself in phoebe and the way she basically molds herself to other people's validation especially the mmc's that a huge part of her journey is shedding that and learning who she really is.

anyway much as i enjoyed these books, my favorite niven is still a convergence of desire. that one is just honest poetry like there's no fighting that

the benevolent society of ill-mannered ladies (#1) | alison goodman: ★★☆☆☆

⤷ i read this thinking it was an hr with mystery elements but turns out it's more historical heist with mystery and romance elements. which i appreciated as a mini palate cleanser but def caught me off guard esp since i felt the romance was not as well paced as i would have liked. but i did appreciate the social justice bent of the "heists" (though any historical fiction that features all the protagonists or "good characters" with modern/anachronistically progressive outlooks on politics or being on the right side all the time kind of turn me off which is why i appreciate anne with an e because characters like anne and marilla who are fundamentally good still initially fall prey to the biases of their time but eventually learn for the better. like if it wasn't for the fmc's sister in this book i would have found the whole thing a little unbelievable to be enjoyable but I DIGRESS.) anyway the machinations in each section were structured a little too same-y that it was slow going on all parts except the "escape" portion of the heists, which i found acceptably suspenseful

my best friend's exorcism | grady hendrix: ★★★★☆

⤷ have no connection to this time period so i unfortunately couldn't fully appreciate the references but idc. this shit wasn't scary (except for a lil bit in the beginning when that normal ass voice said her name which was just unnerving in how deceptively mundane it was) but it did make me sob. you can't give me lifelong devotion (whether you construe it as purely platonic or queerly romantic) and not make me froth at the mouth. these characters prickled me like they always do in horror but i've never rooted for horror protags more than these two best friends. i do get thematically and functionally why the exorcist did what he did but i didn't really feel the impact of it because we don't spend nearly enough time to understand much less be invested in him. the ending otherwise was pretty much perfect.

[ikroah]

The strangest gal I ever had never happy ‘less she’s mad. Oh, I got a woman mean as she can be, sometimes I think she’s almost mean as me. —“Mean Woman Blues,” Elvis Presley (1957)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #16 - Crimson Caravan

Collaborative Issue! Guest Artist: Esseress

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Read IKROAH on Archive of Our Own

Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

Girls’ night! Girls’ night!

I want this issue to speak for itself so I’m going to cut right to gratuitously thanking our latest guest artist, Esseress, who did a completely phenomenal on these five pages. We’ve been working on it for a long time and I’m over the moon to finally bring it to you now on this blog. I love writing this comic, and I loved doing the lettering and composition for it, but my goodness do I love Esse’s art. It was a real privilege to have that art as part of It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’, especially since the artist was such an immaculately pleasant collaborator. If you’re reading this, thank you again for such a fun project (and talking about Naruto with me lol).

Original Pencils (click for full size):

This issue was one of my most fun composition challenges yet because something that you want to avoid in comics as much as possible, I think, is talking heads. You want to avoid shots that are static, overly repetitive, and uninteresting. Now the challenge is, how do you do that when your whole comic takes place in a small storeroom and is nothing but a conversation between two characters?

Playing with angles and expressions, and using repetition intentionally with the percussive referent of Agnes cutting into the floorboards, made for some really suspenseful page layouts that complemented the script in a major way. I’m especially proud of the third page, with its quick cutaway to the exterior of the office and the cutting continuing beneath Agnes’ dialogue. Also, did you notice that you only ever see Agnes’ left side this issue? You never get to look her in the eye this issue, and given how cagey she’s acting, that evasiveness was an intentional compositional choice. It was satisfying to pull off, but hear me, it took a lot of planning in the thumbnail stage to pull off well.

The other fun challenge of this issue was lighting. When you’re in a closet a night and don’t want to be seen, how do you see? The delightful answer was to have Agnes actually use that damn flashlight she wears on her shoulder; attentive readers will notice that this is the second time she’s used it in the comic, with the first time being back in Boulder City at the end of Volume 1. Hmm…guys, I wonder if it’s a bad omen that she only seems to turn it on when she’s about to commit or assist in a murder…

Speaking of lighting! One last fun hiccup about this issue was the final page. The script I wrote called for it to transition from night to morning between the first and second panels, but in a case of unforeseen and magnitudinous pedanticism, it was while coordinating the lighting on that page with Esse that I looked up the actual time of sunrise in the Mojave Desert for the time of year this issue takes place, which is November 5th if you’re curious. Turns out the sun shouldn’t be rising until after 7:00 AM, which hardly makes McLafferty the exceptionally early riser her planner says she is. That’s not to say it’s actually 7:00 AM in the comic…go ahead and play the CinemaSins ding for the wrong sunrise time, or whatever. And it’s not like any of you would have known or cared if I didn’t say anything! It was just too weird of a writing quirk to not bring up. The lesson, folks, is to always remember your temporality when writing. It’ll help you sleep a lot easier.

Transcript:

EXT. CRIMSON CARAVAN, night. The lights are out and everyone in the caravan compound have retired to their barracks for the night. From inside one of the compound buildings comes a soft sound.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH…

INT. CRIMSON CARAVAN OFFICE. AGNES SANDS is bent over on the floor of a storeroom, carving into the wooden floor with her bootknife. ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY leans against the door behind her.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH…

AGNES: So…have you ever killed anyone before?

AGNES continues cutting into the floor without looking at CASS as she speaks.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH…

AGNES: And I don’t mean a raider or fiend or something, nothing in self-defense. I mean in cold blood.

CASS: You mean like you killed those Khans?

(NOTE: *IKROAH #14—Lou.)

CASS: Hmmm…no, I guess I haven’t. When it comes to bloody vengeance just for myself…

CASS: …be gentle, it’s my first time.

AGNES doesn’t react to CASS’ joke. CASS becomes equally serious.

CASS: …I’d imagine this ain’t your first rodeo, the way you asked.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH…

CASS: I mean…this Benny guy, in Vegas. When we catch him, which notch on your blood-spattered bedpost is he?

AGNES stops cutting into the floor, raising her knife. CASS’s expression tightens with concern. The silence is uncomfortable.

AGNES: Second.

CASS: Oh, thank God.

AGNES: What?

CASS: No offense, but the way you got all serious, I worried for a second you might be some kind of serial killer nutjob.

AGNES: No, no, I’m sorry. I was just…thinking. I really know how to meet the wrong men, apparently.

CASS (smiling): Dead men, right?

AGNES frowns. Her knife plunges back into the wooden floor.

SFX: SKRITCH, SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH…

CASS: Wanna talk about it?

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH…

CASS: Not like we have anything else to do.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH… 

AGNES: I really don’t.

CASS: Fine. That said, though, I did imagine this whole revenge thing being a bit more…exciting. Can’t say I like being stuck in a closet.

AGNES (smirking): You get used to it.

CASS: Why, though? You picked the lock to her fucking office like a cheap office toy. Why not break into her barracks and we shoot the bitch now?

AGNES: First, because that’s a great way to get us both killed.

AGNES keeps cutting as she speaks, deeper and deeper into the floor.

AGNES: Second, you want her to know it was you, so we have to get her awake and alone.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH…

AGNES: Third, her planner on her desk confirmed what I already suspected—that she’s an early riser—so we’ll see her sooner rather than later, while the rest of the company is still asleep.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH…

AGNES: Fourth, we want to send a message to everyone else. So it has to be at least a little spectacular.

SFX: SKRITCH SKRITCH, SKRITCH SKRITCH...

CASS: Oh…you’ve really thought this through.

SFX: SKRIT-

AGNES stops cutting. She slowly lifts her knife out of the floor.

AGNES: Yeah.

CASS: Where’d a medic get so good at murder?

AGNES rises from bending over the floor to a kneeling position, turning back towards CASS and frowning.

CASS: Sorry. You probably don’t want to talk about that, either.

AGNES: Maybe another time. For now…

AGNES leans back, kneeling over an intricate cross-hatch, about three feet in radius, of deep cuts and gouges into the floorboards in front of her.

AGNES: …just trust me.

EXT. CRIMSON CARAVAN. Night turns to early morning, and ALICE McLAFFERTY, the boss of the caravan, walks up the steps of her office and enters.

AGNES (from inside, whispering): Alright. Now. Quickly.

From inside her office, a door is kicked open.

SFX: DTHUMP

ALICE: What the hell, who are you—!?

CASS: Rose of Sharon goddamn Cassidy, of Cassidy fucking Caravans, you bitch!

ALICE: No, you’re—

SFX: KABLAM

The sound of a shotgun going off in the middle of the compound wakes up the whole caravan. Crows scatter from the courtyard while guards start rushing towards the office door.

AGNES: Alright, now let’s go! Shoot the floor here where I—

SFX: KABLAM

The guards close in on the office while wooden shrapnel falls from a new hole in the floorboards of the office, and AGNES and CASS drop through to the ground outside, and crawl away from the caravan guards under the hut just as they reach the McLAFFERTY’s front door.

[hes-writer]

To You (4)

Summary: harry dates y/n to get closer to her best friend

Warnings: mild angst (what else lol), not a lot of dialogue for this one, and a bit of fluff

Word Count: 2775 words

A/N: I've had the worst writer's block for this series but then inspiration struck me at 2 am and I had the chance to write a lil sumthin sumthin for the next part :D

Read the full series in my masterlist (bio)

As I mentioned before, this story kind of goes backwards.

____

As self-deprecating as it is, Y/N couldn’t help but feel her guard lower with each fleeting glance at her phone. She didn’t mean to, really. It wasn’t as if she was bored out of her mind because she was the opposite of that. 

Going on her phone and tapping on Instagram was more of a distraction from studying if anything. She was hounded by piles of homework and pages of readings to do by the end of next week. It seemed that her brain was working in constant overdrive to try to remember the endless concepts and theories that were catapulted at her with no signs of stopping. Her eyes were straining from the constant stimulation from her laptop screen, and from trying to read the small letters plastered on the computer. 

Y/N was studying on her designated studying days, as usual. She was quite proud of sticking to the schedule, except for the few weeks that she opted to coddle herself in the confines of her warm blanket because that was around the time that she found out her boyfriend, Harry, was only using her to get close to her best friend, Louise. 

——

In retrospect, Y/N should have seen all the signs blaring right in front of her face all along. She gave herself facepalms more than she could count by the way she was—quite literally—blinded by love to realize that Harry’s feelings were nothing but a façade. That Y/N was nothing but a pawn in his game; a character to manipulate, disposable in order for him to get the woman he actually wanted. And Y/N had no doubts that her ex-boyfriend was treating Louise like a queen. 

Y/N wore red-tinted glasses while she was with Harry and she didn’t see the red flags rising every time he shaped their evening around Louise’s schedule. She thought that Harry was making such a good effort in getting to know the people close to Y/N’s life that he insisted on having Louise around whenever they hung out with her friends. 

Harry asked endless questions about Louise; from where she worked to what she was interested in—to which Y/N had foolishly answered, believing that she had found the perfect man to share her life with. But she should have known when he didn’t do the same for her other friends. Hell, he didn’t even do the same to her!

___

When Harry and Y/N were just friends, he didn’t bother getting to know her as thoroughly and comprehensively as he did with Louise. In fact, it could be argued that Harry hated Y/N when they were first introduced by—and this was ironic—Louise! 

Louise spoked highly and excitedly of ‘my friend, Y/N’ and with Harry being the loved-up simp that he was—wanted to please Louise by appearing interested in her friend. He guessed that he was probably too good of an actor (not to toot his own horn) because that meet up turned into a set-up. 

Louise had planned a date for her friends, Y/N was indifferent to it; she was even a little excited because she thought that Harry was sort of nice. Despite the fact that he was indirectly rude to her in their first meeting, Y/N didn’t hold grudges on people for their first impressions. She believed that anybody could have a bad day and that might just be the time when Harry was dragged by the arm to be introduced to her. 

Y/N understood if that was the case. She was not too keen on acting nice and friendly after a stressful day at work, or a hard study session at the library. So even if Harry was practically snarling at every word she said from his seat around the rounded booth table of the bar—she agreed to go on a first date with him. 

——

Harry was in shambles.

He got himself into quite an intricate mess trying to attain the woman of his dreams. He was such a pleaser that he was now contemplating inside his car, outside of Y/N’s address. Was this all worth it? Of course, it was. As much as Harry would like to say that this was part of his plan to make Louise his girlfriend, it really wasn’t. 

But that didn’t mean that he couldn’t use it to his advantage. 

It was a good thing that he was early���about twenty minutes or so. That was only because he was huffing the whole time Harry was buttoning the clutches of his dress shirt, shaking his head at the bathroom mirror and reprimanding himself for letting his lovesickness to get him deeper than he would like. But hey, the sooner Harry got to Y/N’s place, the sooner this ‘date’ would be over. 

So here he was, hidden in the shadows of the night sky and shielded by the heavy tint of his Range Rover. Palms were pressed on the lush leather steering wheel as Harry formulated how he could turn this around in his favour. He was already in Louise’s good books for even agreeing to this in the first place—why not make Y/N his own personal wingman?

Granted, that she didn’t actually know Harry well enough but maybe this date could reach Louise’s ears about how much of a romantic, perfect, and chivalrous gentleman Harry could be. That would surely make Louise like him, right?

Wrong. Absolutely wrong.

It was safe to say that Harry was feeling guilty the moment he decided to use Y/N in order to get to her best friend, but that ship sailed long ago when anger and frustration took over. Why in the hell was he so perfect to Y/N’s eyes that she had gushed about him to her best friend minutes after he had dropped her off?

Why did Harry have to knock on her door with a single-stemmed rose clutched in his fingers, doing a little bow to add humour when she opened the door? And what in God’s name possessed him to say that she looked beautiful that night in her pretty, deep green dress that he thought was absolutely gorgeous on her—but his heart was with another woman—fully knowing that it would look better on Louise?

“Why. . . just why,” Harry asked himself as he sat at a table with Y/N, Louise and her boyfriend, Dylan. 

That was what being romantic got him. That was where declaring Y/N as his unofficial wingman ended him upon. A double date with the woman he wanted with Y/N looking at him as if they’ve been together for years, when in fact, they had only known each other for a few weeks. 

Harry’s pride was too big to admit that this time; he couldn’t get the girl. And so, his bruised ego declared that this date was just another unplanned situation that would benefit him—somehow, someway—in the future. 

Wrong again. 

Because a month later,  Y/N was running off to her lecture with a bag strapped over her shoulder, leaving Harry a passionate kiss on the lips. He was quite ashamed to say that he enjoyed the affection, but not enough to ignore the throbbing of his heart

Harry wasn’t all in with his relationship with Y/N and he knew exactly why. For months, he had been pining for Louise and well, he ended up with her best friend, Y/N. Now that was just super unlucky for him. And he wasn’t usually a mean person, but Harry was very annoyed with fate (or destiny) for leaving with an ultimatum. 

First, leaving Y/N risking her tattling to Louise about him breaking her heart was a no-no. Second, staying with Y/N until she realizes that both of them were no good together. The latter was a much more pleasant choice, except the fact that it could take months for Y/N to acknowledge that she and Harry were both too different for each other. 

—— 

It was another four months later when Harry drew upon an epiphany very similar yet completely different from the ultimatum he had presided. 

Y/N was sure of her feelings more than ever, even dropping the ‘L’ word during a drunken stupor of wine and bubbly champagne. Harry was sure that she hadn’t remembered her confession the next morning because she never brought it up. However, those words that escaped her lips were enough for Harry to overthink each night one or the other slept over. 

Sometimes Y/N’s snores would serve as background noise to his serene imagination, wondering why the images of Louise and him doing couple-y stuff were now replaced with Y/N’s figure instead. 

He also pondered if his memory was so impeccable that he could hear Y/N’s laugh fluttering in his ears while she was sound asleep beside him or was it just because she released a chuckle every time he made a horrible joke?

(It was true. Y/N never left Harry hanging in the air with a questionable punchline of a head-scratching joke. Both of them knew that her giggles were pity laughs. Harry was thankful for it and Y/N just couldn’t resist painting a genuine smile on Harry’s face, looking so proud that he had made her laugh.) 

Harry was certain that his feelings for Y/N wouldn’t quite reach the threshold that he held her for now. But it seemed that he was getting a lot of his sworn predictions wrong lately. Sure, their first encounter (and the second, and the third. . .) were purely for satisfaction’s sake. A mere plot for Harry to build his boyfriend resumé for Louise. 

Harry wasn’t sure when his feelings shifted from civil and friendly to an ever-evoking, lovesick puppy. 

Maybe it was the way Y/N walked, straight into his heart and stole it, keeping it safe in her tender hands when she pressed a lingering kiss on his lip while she ran off to catch the bus. The way Harry would pout when Y/N forgot the routine she had set, resulting in him whining her name and sometimes chasing after her to get his much-needed kiss. He even started calling it his ‘good-luck charm’ because it seemed like without it; Harry came home more drained and tired than usual because nothing went right that day. 

Or maybe it was the way she giggled while reading something on her phone, laptop, or a book—even if it was for school purposes. How absolutely pleased he was to hear her melody of giggles, straining his ear to listen more closely and wanting to do nothing more than to hear it again because it was music to Harry. It usually ends with Y/N’s heaving breaths, begging him to stop tickling her. 

Was it because she was the most adorable little thing while she was asleep? No, it couldn’t be, Harry thought, even though the admiration in his eyes cannot be described as anything other than glazed over with love and affection with the way he stared at Y/N’s sleeping face. 

But why can’t he stop thinking about her when she wasn’t around? Harry felt like he was missing a part of himself as soon as he shut the door to his house because Y/N had to go to her own place. 

Why did a smile splinter his lips visualizing Y/N studying at her kitchen table with a topknot wobbling on her head and a pair of her thick-rimmed glasses slipping down the bridge of her nose? Harry still remembers the first time she asked him to redo the bun on her head, complaining that it was loosening and that she couldn’t focus when strands were haywire. 

Harry made sure to be extra careful as to not accidentally pull on her scalp, stretching the hairband around his fingers. 

Now, he only had a minute experience in hair styling, reminiscing to his long-haired days were he slipped his hair into a neat ball in a few seconds or less. But this was Y/N, his girlfriend, who had an adorable pout on her face. The finch between her brows deepening when she tried to understand the concepts written on the screen yet she would giggle when Harry would ask her, ‘Am I hurting you?’ and shake her head ‘no’. 

——-

So it was a bit questionable when Harry jumped at the chance to kiss Louise when the time came. 

She had just broken up with her boyfriend and called Y/N for comfort. However, Y/N was about to leave for an exam worth half of her grade and she couldn’t just not attend it. She may love her best friend with all of her heart, but not enough to waste thousands of dollars to redo a course because she missed the final exam. 

Hence, why Harry was sent in place of Y/N instead. And that was also how his plump lips managed to lock itself with Louise’s’ glossy ones. He should’ve felt guilt stab him right away when he tasted wet, salty tears on his tongue when he battled for dominance with Louise. 

Harry should have pulled away when his phone buzzed in his pocket; a message from girlfriend that she had just finished her exam and was ready to be picked up now so that she could give love and comfort to her best friend. 

Harry’s subconscious must have reminded him that this was the woman whom he had spent months pining on; desperately trying to make her his yet failing. And now that he had the chance to, he couldn’t stop. 

Instead of doing everything his conscience had practically yelled at him to do, Harry’s brain had buffered—his body numbed every nerve except the ones controlling his mouth because their persisting kiss was captured by a photographer hidden amongst barricades that Harry had failed to take notice of. 

Harry was sure that his presence was hidden to the best of his abilities, but he guessed that Louise’s hands had pulled his hoodie off in the midst of their make-out session, revealing his side profile and the unruly curls on his head. 

And that was how Y/N identified the image on her phone the time she felt her heart being ripped out and crushed into pieces. That, and the fact that Harry wore the same clothes she had seen him in before she left. 

____ 

And now, as Y/N paused her thumb from scrolling away from the image on her screen, the same pain and heartbreak still throbbed in her chest. 

She couldn’t seem to forget, as a lot of people say, what Harry did to her. Despite the fact that he was spotted outside her door, leaving boxed gifts of chocolate and flower bouquets a few minutes ago—Y/N simply didn’t have the capacity to sweep everything under the rug. 

The wound was still fresh—feeling air was enough to have her hissing, aiming to cover the cut in fear that it would become too painful to even ignore. For weeks, Y/N had to wallow in agonizing self-pity to remind herself that Harry didn’t deserve her or her love for him and now she was somehow ready to run back into his arms? 

She absolutely despised the way her hands twitched to send him a text. To leave him a voicemail or to simply tap his contact just to hear him speak to her again. Y/N was ashamed to admit that he thought about knocking on his front door just for another chance at seeing him again. An opportunity to ask him if he was happier with her (ex) best-friend—if Harry loved Louise more than he did with her. Or—and most of all—if Harry ever did love Y/N during their short relationship. Was everything just a game to him? 

She was doing good so far; she was strong enough to withhold from the urges of communicating with an ex. However, Y/N knew it was only a matter of time before Harry took extreme measures to speak to her, unlocking her door with the spare key she had given him. One day she would be met with his figure in the hallway with a sad smile on his face and three long-stemmed sunflowers in his hand and Y/N wouldn’t be able to resist him. 

Y/N hated herself for being so weak whenever Harry was involved. He was her Kryptonite; getting too close to him was what ripped her to shreds. 

___

Let me know what you thought!

____

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[alovesongshewrote]

Kiss Me | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot:  A fight between Douxie and the reader attracts some unwanted attention, and the only way out is to kiss.  At least in your opinion.  [Hisirdoux Casperan x Gender Neutral! Rival!Rreader]

Word count:  1,734

Warnings:  fighting, rivalry, tension (owo),  a lil’ spicy (bc rivals to lovers, so you know how that goes), swearing

A/N: I used some dialogue prompts from the blogs corvidprompts and dialogue-prompts because witty banter is hard to write

Magic was weird.

It was colourful and glowy, and it lit up the night.  Magic was super pretty, but also super noticeable, and that made it really hard to fight your arch-rival in the dark of the night without anyone noticing.  That didn’t mean you weren’t going to try.

And try you did!  With a blast of blue light, your back collided with a tree, ripping the breath from your lungs.

“Oh, come on Casperan,” you wheezed, “I know you can do better than that,” you paused again to violently cough, supporting yourself with the tree you had hit.  The tree was loose.

“Seriously (L/N)?” Hisirdoux emerged from the tree line, “Now is not the time for witty banter,”

“This isn’t banter, it’s flirting.  Now keep still, it’s harder to hit you when you move around like that,”  

He groaned as you steadied your hands, taking aim at the wizard.  He did the same.  The two of you moved against each other in sync, letting your magic fly towards your opponent.  Red and blue collided in the air, illuminating the night sky with a purple glow for the briefest of moments.  Your hits landed, and you were both blown back.

“Ugh,” you groaned, making your way up from the ground, “You… suck,”

“Oh, what, no more witty banter, darling?”

“Ok, you know what?  Fuck you, fuck this, when I’m done kicking your ass I’m going out and buying white flowy shirts and tight pants and we’re doing this like proper rivals!  You wanna insult me?  SEND ME A LETTER,”

“You talk too much,”

“Shut up,”

Red magic threw him back this time, you ran to his body, eager to kick him while he was down.  And you did.  He groaned, “Ugh, harder dadd-”

“Jesus, Casperan, you could at least buy me dinner first,”

“Cheeky,” he laughed out.  You allowed him to rise from the ground, getting yourself into a combative position.

“You’re so strange, you know that,”

“Yeah, I’m not the only one,”

You ran at him, throwing punches and spells in his direction.  Red and blue mixed, turning the world around you purple.  Eventually, it was enough to knock him onto his back.  Unfortunately, he took you with him.

You also landed unfortunately, straddling his lap, “Like I said emo boy,” you exhaled, “Dinner first,”

He made a noise between a groan and a screech, flipping you onto your back and jumping off of you, “Bold of you to assume I could afford that,”

“Oh god, do they not tip in this town?”

“Nope,”

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,”  you let your guard down for a moment, relating to the hell of retail all too well.  Douxie, of course, used this against you, taking your legs out with his staff.

“Ahhh, ow.  That hurt, you bastard,”

He sighed, kneeling next to you, “You know we could avoid this if you just did as I asked,”

“Never gonna happen,”  You sprung up, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him to the ground.

“I will smite you,”

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, struggling to your feet, “You couldn’t smite a paper towel if it set itself on fire.  Get some perspective,”

You threw another spell at him, the red light threw him back a few feet.  He crawled to his knees.

“Awwe, Doux you’re on your knees in front of me.  Looks like you’ve really hit rock bottom,”

“It might, but I’ve brought a shovel and I’m ready to dig!”

“You really didn’t understand what I meant,”

You lifted your fists, red light surrounded them, Douxie did the same, still on his knees.  His frame was illuminated with blue light.

“I should’ve left you on the street corner where I found you,” he said, preparing to curse you. “BUT YA DIDN’T,”  you wasted no time, springing at him from your spot.  This time it was Douxie who hit a tree.

“C’mon now Doux,” you stalked over to the wizard, “Why do you hate me so much?  Is it really you?  Or did Merlin tell you I was a big bad bad influence and you instantly believed him?”

Douxie growled,  “That’s enough.  Get out of Arcadia (L/N),”

“Awe, but I was just starting to like it here,” you smirked, “Just tell me,” you dragged out the last word,  “Why do you want me gone so badly?”

“Because you’re a threat!”  the wizard sprung up and threw a spell your way.  It just missed you, but there was no time to celebrate.   Another curse was headed your way,

“You have no morals!  You don’t care about anyone but yourself!”  Douxie’s magic shot out at you.  With each spell, his control lessened, the blue light becoming more and more chaotic, and more and more of a threat.  

You too were losing control of the situation, and now you were struggling to regain it, mostly through banter.

“That’s not true!  I care about my dog,”  Your response only enraged the wizard further, making the situation worse.  More spells came your way.  You did the only thing you could and kept dodging, backing up and away from Douxie, who advanced on you.  It was becoming more and more clear that Merlin was not a card you should have played.

“You don’t take anything seriously!  You’re cruel and unusual, and,” Douxie stopped talking.  You took the moment to catch your breath, staring down your opponent.  Usually, the rivalry between you and the wizard was light-hearted, but the look in his eyes told another story.  Your heart sunk as you realized he might actually hate you.

The thought made you sick.  Did you even want to keep fighting if that was the case?  

You didn’t.

So, when Douxie came at you, you did nothing.  You just stood there as he advanced, backing you into yet another tree and pining your arms above your head.  You gasped slightly, feeling your heartbeat pick up speed in your chest, the sound of it roared in your ears.  Could he hear that?   You hoped not.

He leaned closer to you, his lips beside your ear.  You pressed your eyes shut.  If he hated you, what came next?  This was a very strange way to kill someone.

“You’re cruel and unusual, and you keep distracting me,” “What!?”

“I said, you keep-”

“Sorry to interrupt,”  Archie’s voice nearly drew a scream from you, “But someone is coming!”

You took a moment to curse the light show that was magic before looking around.  You could see bushes moving nearby.  Someone was definitely headed your way.

“Shit,” you muttered.

“Archie, hide,”  Douxie’s familiar did as he asked while you pondered what the hell to do next.  If anyone found you and Douxie in this position it would raise a lot of questions.  There was only one thing you could think to do.  It would also raise questions, but hopefully, there would be fewer of them because there were no other options.

“Kiss me,”

“What?”

There was no time.  Whoever it was was only moments from finding the two of you.

So, you broke from the wizard’s hold, grabbing his face and bringing your lips to his.  The kiss was soft.  His body was warm.  Your eyelids fluttered closed as you moved a hand from his face to the back of his neck.  His hands moved too, finding their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him.

The two of you moved in perfect sync as if the universe had made you for each other.  The kiss became more passionate, stealing your breath and making your heartbeat even faster than before.  Sparks ran through your body, demanding more, more what you didn’t know.  Every nerve was on fire.  Your body burned like an ember smouldering in the night.  

Unfortunately, you couldn’t focus all of your being into the kiss, as much as you wished you could.  You stated alert, listening for whoever had come to investigate the bright lights in the forest.  You said a little thank you to the gods when the person missed you entirely and disappeared back into the trees.

And then you cursed them because that meant you had to separate yourself from Douxie.

Your lips came apart, leaving both of you breathing heavily.  You shut your eyes again and brought your forehead to rest on his chest.  He didn’t let go of you.  If anything, he only brought you closer to him, burying his face in your hair.

“So,”

“So,”

You looked up at him, “That was nice,”

“It was totally nuclear,”

You smiled slightly, before moving your hands from his neck to encircle his waist, “I’m sorry.  For what I said about Merlin, I’m sorry,”

“I’m sorry too, love.  For everything, all of this.  I-I didn’t mean-”

“I know,”

“And I know you care about the world outside of you, and your dog and-”

“Douxie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just shut your mouth and kiss me again,”  

The wizard did what you told him.  This time, you let yourself melt into it.

The kiss was too short in your opinion, but you had more questions, “So, I guess you don’t hate me, huh?”

“(Y/N), darling, I could never hate you.  I think you’re amazing.  You’re so strong, and fearless, and you’re one of the most skilled magic users I’ve ever met.  You distract me because you’re just so-”

“Beautiful,” you cut him off, not talking about yourself, but rather to yourself about Douxie.

“Yeah, that,”  

You kissed again, this time, the length was more satisfactory.

“So, what do we do now?”

“I still wanna go to dinner sometime.  And I’m getting the bill because the tips in this town suck,”

“I-”

“No, seriously, I got it.  I invested in Apple back in the day,”

“You’re brilliant,”

“Thanks, I know,”

The two of you shared a smile, reveling in the moment until a small cough came from one of the bushes.

“Oh, yeah, hey Arch,”

“Hi, Douxie.  (Y/N),”

“Hey Archie, how are you?”

“I’m just fine, but right now Douxie and I need to get back into town.  The bookstore won’t guard itself,”

“It literally will with warding, but ok,”

“Go home with your familiar emo boy, your bookstore needs you,”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be around.  I’ll pick you up sometime on Saturday for dinner?”

“Nuclear,”

You giggled again, pecking him on the lips one more time before letting him go.

“Goodnight. Casperan,”

“Goodnight, (L/N),”

[syntheticpoetry]

Kintsugi

Summary: Kurt and Blaine have a mature heart to heart involving Blaine's insecurities. 

Tested reaction fic where I just really gratuitously expanded on the dialogue and included the missing smut scene that very obviously must have occurred off camera.

AO3 Link || FFN Link

Author’s Note: So during our Tumblr Gleewatch group viewing I was left wanting so much more out of this scene and it kinda just spiralled from there.  There's some smut, but a lot of dialogue driven conversation following the canon dialogue where I felt like the conversation should have continued rather than end with their little heartfelt hug.  The way Blaine just shattered and started crying and Kurt just held him with a straight face.... yeah.  There was definitely more that happened there.  So here you go. See more notes on the end explaining the title.  Huge thanks to @blog-carmex​ for beta reading for me and offering her invaluable input :D 

__________________________________________________________

It has been three hours since class ended.  Three long hours since Blaine watched Kurt stride right past him without so much as another word after they changed out of their fencing gear.  After their sparring match they had retreated to opposite ends of the classroom, huffing in silence and shooting daggers at one another.  The mutual refusal to speak to each other had persisted all the way into the locker room where Kurt then proceeded to peel off his shirt in front of everyone.  Blaine had slipped into a bathroom stall to change, a mix of embarrassment and guilt beginning to wash over the anger as he shimmied out of the white pants plastered against his sweaty skin.  By the time he had emerged again Kurt had shouldered past him, tight lipped with eyes fixed in the distance, leaving Blaine to stand alone, his mouth hanging open and staring dumbly after him. 

“I just find it funny that we haven’t been intimate in like a week and maybe this is why.”

“No, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I got up early and forgot to text you.”

“You know what, Blaine? Sometimes I think we talk too much.”

After class Blaine had retreated to Kurt’s apartment in the hopes of another attempt at conversation, but has been melding himself into the couch for the last two hours with nothing but the silence and Kurt’s words to bounce around his skull as he waits for him to return.  It feels like such a stupid fight.  All of their previous discussions about just going to one another to air out their grievances, to talk about when things are bothering them feel like a distant memory.  Blaine tried to talk to him.  He tried to take the steps that they had outlined.  But Kurt just shut him down.  Kurt didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to let Blaine try to explain himself.  Instead they were left to physically act out their aggressions in combat class of all places.  Okay, so maybe Blaine wasn’t being completely open about the extent of his insecurities, but Kurt’s instant decision for distance and his ability to become an ice prince once Blaine had actually tried to initiate a conversation reminded him why it has always been so difficult to speak his mind.  

Blaine is terrified.  Terrified of rejection, terrified of Kurt finally peeling away his loosely fastened mask of confidence and seeing him for what he truly is— a coward.  He had never felt brave until the day Kurt stared at him from across that table in Dalton like he was this wise old sage so full of advice and wisdom.  It had been so easy to slip into the disguise, to feign the persona of a boy who had suffered and prevailed.  Who was he kidding? Prevailed.  What a joke.  Blaine knows that whatever semblance of true bravery he ever possessed in the first place to compel him to bring a boy to a school dance in Ohio had been beaten away all those years ago in that parking lot.  He told Kurt that he ran from his bullies and regretted it, but the truth is he knows he is still running.  That he has never stopped.  

Not like Kurt.  Kurt, who had suffered in silence for months at the mercy of his own bullies and still emerged with his head held up high.  Kurt, who had experienced his own hate driven assault, and had learned to become stronger and stand his ground so much quicker than Blaine could even begin to wrap his head around.  Kurt, who is so much braver and resilient than Blaine can ever imagine himself being.  Kurt, who does not actually need Blaine to guard him and guide him the way that he once used to. 

And it terrifies Blaine to feel this insignificant again.  To become a shadow of doubt beneath a rising sun.  

The door to the apartment slides open and Kurt strolls in, phone pressed to his ear, instantly catching sight of Blaine on the couch.  Blaine hunches over, arms resting against his knees, and braces himself for the explosion.  All afternoon he has been waiting for Kurt to return, but now that he is actually here his instincts are screaming to just get up and run.  Keep running.  Don’t stop. 

“Yeah, he’s here.  Okay.  Okay, bye,” Kurt slings his bag onto a chair at the kitchen table and turns to Blaine.  “That was Rachel, she was just confirming us for her opening night.”

“What’d you tell her?” Blaine asks.  

“I said, ‘Yeah, if we don’t kill each other in combat class, count us in,’” Kurt replies, eyes trained carefully on Blaine.  Blaine does not want to return the focus though, choosing instead to tip a can of ginger ale into his mouth to douse the desert in his throat.  Little distractions for idle hands and a restless mind.

“What happened in there?” 

Here it comes— the avalanche.  There’s a sudden tightness in his chest as he avoids meeting Kurt’s eyes.  “You were really coming at me like— like… as if you had something to prove. What, I’m not sure.”

“That I’m as strong as you are,” Blaine says.  The words sound surprisingly more bitter and resentful than he had initially intended them to.  He remembers his place— don’t lose control — and tries to reign in some of the tension, just bottle it back up again.  

“Okay,” Kurt says and strides towards him.  Blaine takes note of the distance he keeps between them, the minuscule gap that feels like the Grand Canyon.  Is it intentional? “But it’s not a contest.”

“Isn’t it though?” Blaine responds with the same bitterness again.  “On some level? Cause for the first time in my life, I really feel like I’m losing.”  

He can feel the loss of the control, the steady spiral into the depths of despair and uncertainty that he has trapped himself in for months.  The knot in his stomach twists itself tighter, yet he cannot help himself.  Once the train derails, there really is not much else to do but let the collision run its course.  “I’ve felt that way ever since I got to New York.  I feel like,” Blaine sets the can down and waves his hand between them, “We’re in this race together and you are just so much farther than I am. Like, it just feels like the whole balance has shifted.”

“What balance?” Kurt’s eyes narrow.  He takes a seat in an armchair, keeps his distance. 

Now he really has gotten himself in too deep.  

“I guess it started when we first met,” Blaine shrinks back against the couch, avoiding Kurt’s piercing gaze.  “And you came to Dalton because you were trying to get away from Karofsky, and I wanted to help you through that.”

“And you did,” Kurt says quietly.

“And I loved the way that felt.  I loved it,” Blaine swallows and leans his head back against the couch, speaking to the ceiling.  “I loved being able to protect you, but now I look at your life and…”

And now it hurts.  Now it feels like I don’t fit into any part of it.  Now it feels like I have never been, nor will I ever be enough for you because you don’t need me anymore.  Nobody needs me the way that I need you.  Why is this so hard?

“It’s completely different,” Blaine finishes and finally settles his eyes onto Kurt.  “You’re a star at school, you have all these cool new friends, you started this band and I just,” Say it.  Stop hiding.  Say it.  Tell him. “I feel like you don’t need me anymore, to protect or anything.”

There is a glint in Kurt’s eyes that sends Blaine’s heart careening down into his stomach.  This has been a mistake.  Saying anything at all, letting his guard down— it has all been a mistake.  He springs up suddenly, anxious to disappear.  “I mean, you asked me to move out, for God’s sake,” He murmurs bitterly as he walks past Kurt.

“We made that decision together,” Kurt replies, tone heavy and unimpressed, as he spins around in the chair to face him.  “So is that what all this stuff is about that’s going on? I mean, you trying to get me to eat more?”

You are missing everything.  You are missing the entire point.  Do you even see me when we’re together? Can’t you tell?

“I don’t like the way I feel about myself anymore, Kurt! Okay?” Blaine’s raised voice takes them both by surprise.  Through the open window, the sound of sirens permeates the post-confession silence.  Blaine closes his eyes, already feeling the tears clinging to his lashes.  He knows opening his mouth again is going to be yet another mistake, but so far he has been a glutton for punishment and self pity tonight, so what more is there to lose? 

“And you have this amazing new body— do you know why we haven’t been intimate? It’s because I feel insecure around you.  I feel insecure around my own fiancé, and Fratboiphysicals.com isn’t gonna judge me!” 

Somehow this feels worse than keeping everything bottled up.  The terror of Kurt’s reaction leaves him feeling dizzy and sick as he finally opens his eyes to absorb the blow.  Somehow Kurt’s eyes exude a softness beneath the two smoldering flames.  A sort of fierce protectiveness that only leaves Blaine feeling more pathetic than he did in the first place. 

“Neither will I.  Ever ,” Kurt responds and stands up to approach him.  “But I am not going to apologize for not being some delicate flower that needs his boyfriend to protect him.”

“Kurt, I—”

“And you know what? Maybe you’re right.  Maybe it is a contest.  Maybe that’s the way it has to be with two guys.  But I would much rather be running this race with you than against you.”

Blaine knows what it is to be lectured.  Understands all too well that familiar feeling of being put in his place, his actions chalked up to overdramatics and oversensitivity.  Looking up at Kurt towering over him, he feels even smaller now.  Whatever certainty he possessed, whatever feigned strength he must have siphoned off of Kurt when he entered the apartment to stagger his way through his confession has evaporated completely, leaving behind a hollow shell.  His words come out apologetic and frightened, tiny and remorseful. 

“Me too, I just—”

“As equals ,” Kurt says sternly.

Equals.  Something about the word flips a hidden switch.  Equals.  He has never felt a kinship with that word before, never understood what it felt like to stand beside someone and hold each other up, sharing the weight.  He has always struggled to be the pillar for someone else, to mask the cracks in his own foundation.  Something about the way Kurt says it makes him feel ashamed.

“I know, I know,” He presses both palms over his eyes, keeps pressing until spots of crimson and white appear scattered across the darkness behind his eyelids like bursts of fireworks.  “I-I know.  I know that , I’m so sorry.  I’m just…”

I am not worth this.  I am not worth your time.

“I’m just so scared that you’re gonna...” 

His throat constricts because he can already envision it.  He drops his hands, shaking his head, and focuses on the door just past Kurt, pictures him walking right through it like it is the easiest decision he has ever had to make.  Kurt holds all of the power in this relationship, and Blaine knows that.  Knows that whatever semblance of equality Kurt is preaching about right now is only a mirage.  Blaine ruined their perfect balance the night he let his demons take control of his emotions and lead him to that weak moment of infidelity.  One more wrong move and they are bound to break again.  But Kurt does not walk away, he stands before him and continues to wait patiently.  

“I’m just so scared that you’re gonna keep changing, and you’re gonna keep getting stronger, then one day you’re gonna wake up and realize, ‘I don’t love him anymore.’” Blaine shrugs his shoulders, tears glistening, and smiles in resignation to the paranoid confession as fact.  Even children discard their favourite toys once they are broken beyond repair.  So why would this be any different?

“Never,” Kurt replies, his gaze unwavering on Blaine.  The quiet intensity of his determination makes Blaine’s stomach lurch again, anxiety twisting tighter and tighter.  “I’m always gonna love you.  And I don’t want you to be insecure or ashamed around me.”

It’s only when Blaine exhales that he realizes he had been holding his breath, clinging to the tension in every centimeter of his muscles.  

“Next time you’re going through something like this you— you have to be honest with me.”

Blaine can feel himself nodding without any actual control, like it is a trained reflex in place to diffuse the rest of the uneasiness and settle the confrontation.  Anything to make this stop.  His lips go numb, eyes still fixed on the door as the next word comes out on autopilot, drained and defeated, “Okay.” 

Kurt’s arms around him spark the calamity laying dormant though, pull him away from the resignation and suddenly he is grasping at every inch of Kurt that he possibly can, sinking into the embrace as though clinging tightly enough will fill the gaping hole in his chest.  The ebbing shame becomes a tidal wave, crashes over and over again and threatens to drag him beneath the riptide as Kurt’s thumb brushes over his shoulder blade.  He feels so undeserving of such kindness and patience.

“Blaine, I think maybe we should have a conversation about where all of this comes from,” Kurt presses his lips to the thick layer of gelled hair atop Blaine’s head.  “Don’t you think?”

“What more is there to say? Can’t we just cuddle on the couch for the rest of the night?” Blaine mumbles against his neck.

“Don’t deflect, I think this is the most honest you’ve ever been with me about yourself and I want you to keep talking to me,” Kurt pulls away, hands on Blaine’s arms to push him back enough to look at him.  “I want you to feel like you can talk to me because you know I’m not gonna judge you.  I love every piece of you, no come on, don’t look away,” Kurt’s hand is immediately beneath Blaine’s chin, tilting his head back to center.  There has always been a sadness buried beneath the constant glimmer in Blaine’s eyes, usually well hidden and mostly undetectable.  In these rare moments of vulnerability, that sadness is always directly on display. “I love everything about you, even the pieces you try to hide away from me, especially those.”

“Kurt,” Blaine whispers urgently, his face contorting as he struggles against the grief, and tries to keep the controlled tears from transforming into full on ugly crying.  But Kurt does not let him go.  Kurt does not let him look or run away.  

“How many times have you seen me cry? There’s no shame in letting go sometimes, Blaine.”

“I don’t want to do this,” Blaine breathes out.  He tries to take a step back, but Kurt does not drop his arms.  They remain firmly wrapped around him, rooting him to the spot.  “I don’t want—”

“I’ve got you, and I am not letting you go,” Kurt says.  “You remember what you told me the first time we met?”

“I said a lot of things,” Blaine closes his eyes and feels the warm streaking of tears down his cheeks.  He has cried in front of Kurt before, but he’s never cried in front of him.  The breakdowns have been reserved for solitude, behind locked doors, hidden away from the world.  

“You told me that you ran away when things got tough, and that you regretted it ever since.  Don’t run from me too, Blaine— stay.”

The perfect catalyst.

“I’m sorry,” Blaine chokes out.  “I’m sor—sorry, I’m sorry,” He continues murmuring, the words becoming an incoherent jumble of consonants decorating the layer of heaving sobs and gasps for air in between.  With eyes shut tight, he nestles his face back into Kurt’s neck, body trembling against his steady arms, and continues mumbling the only two words his brain seems capable of conjuring. 

“Blaine, honey,” Kurt strokes his back and presses kisses to the top of his head.  “Blaine, why are you apologizing?”

“I don’t know,” Blaine shakes his head, forehead against Kurt’s shoulder.  “I don’t know.” 

Now that it’s begun, it feels like it will never end.  Control feels like a foreign language as he continues to shake and cling to any part of Kurt he can get his hands on.  

“Come on, come here,” Kurt commands soothingly, leading them over to the couch.  He drops down, pulling Blaine onto his lap.  Blaine snakes his arms around Kurt’s neck, burying his face into his own arm.  “I’ve got you, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

The reassuring words seem to be having the complete opposite effect on Blaine and only draw out more tears.  Crying feels like an effort rather than a cathartic release.  The mask has finally been ripped away, leaving him feeling exposed, dissected.  He feels weak.  Ashamed and self-conscious.  How could he lose control like this? What’s worse, how can he be so incapable of reigning it back in?

“Sweetheart, talk to me,” Kurt won’t stop pressing kisses to any area of skin he can reach.  His lips are warm and wet against Blaine’s temple.  Something tangible he can tether himself to.  “Please?”

How do you condense years of pent up doubts and microaggressions of self-sabotage into a logical explanation?  Where do you even begin? 

“You know,” Kurt runs his fingers over the protective layer of gel, wriggling them in between to break up some of the strands.  Blaine bites down on the inside corners of his bottom lip and allows Kurt to continue burrowing his fingers past the barrier.  He had caked on so much of it after class it is a wonder Kurt is even able to break up any of it at all.  Yet his dexterous fingers reach beneath and he massages Blaine’s scalp.  It’s another calming, tangible gesture Blaine can tether himself to. “I have that keyboard in my bedroom.  I can get that if you would rather sing something first right now.  Usually helps you open up.”

The more Kurt’s fingers tangle and twist his hair, the calmer he feels.  Once the tears have ceased enough he trusts himself to speak.  “Okay,” Blaine has to mouth the word first before clearing his throat and rasping it out.  He shuffles off of Kurt’s lap and spends the literal seconds of his absence wrenching his fingers together, both legs bouncing hurriedly against the wood floor.  Kurt returns, keyboard secured underneath his arm, and sets it up on the coffee table in front of the couch before taking a seat beside Blaine.  Before turning it on Blaine runs his fingers over the plastic keys.  Will it ever get any easier to channel his emotions without a crutch? Kurt simply sits and watches, palm draped over the small of his back.  Blaine exhales, the breath shuddering with the weight of all he tries to expel to lend his voice the strength to begin.  He slides the switch up to turn it on and positions his fingers on the keys, gently tapping out a somber melody. 

“ When you come home I feel the earth start to change, I am alive, I am alive, I am in love with this place. I love it most how you whisper my name And so I catch it in a bottle for my lonelier days.”

He never has to think when it comes to music.  His fingers always seem to know just what notes to play.  And the words always come easier when they are borrowed from someone else.  He shifts closer to the keyboard, hands steady and certain as he continues with the melody.  Kurt understands him so well, knows just the right things to say and do to coax him through the storms. 

“The moment slows inside the palm of your hand, Oh I could stay like this forever or as long as we can. And in the morning I pour a warm cup of tea And hope you'll stay a little longer, stay a lifetime with me.”

He straightens his back, puts more vigor into the tempo as he pushes past the fear and lets his voice crescendo into the next verse.  The one that means the most.  The one he wishes he could say without having to hide behind the safety blanket of song.  Maybe someday he can learn.  But for now it is easier to parrot the words that bare a glimpse into his heart. 

“Cause when you go, like summer gives to the rain, I am uncertain, but I'm certain I am losing my way. When you let go, I don't see straight anymore— I am unwinding, I am broken, I am losing my core.”

His voice breaks on the last line, raspy and watery with the weight of tears once again.  He closes his eyes, languidly drags his fingers over the keys, lulling back the gentle melody as Kurt slides his hand up to his mid-back.  He continues with the interlude, repeats it, drawing out the time to build up the courage to continue again.  Kurt shifts closer beside him, wraps an arm around him and rests his chin on his shoulder.  Tangible.  Comforting.  Reassuring.  

“There is a door that opens at the sight of your face, I feel it all, I feel the warmth of every long summer day. And like an angel, you circle back with a kiss, You are the one I'm dreaming of, you are the one, you are the one. You lift me up with every step that I take, You are the reason, you're the answer when I'm drifting away. And through it all, when I start making a mess, You are forgiving, everlasting. You're my everything.”

The warmth of Kurt’s breath raises the hairs on the back of his neck.  When Kurt’s lips press into the crook where his neck meets his shoulder the notes start to get sloppy, crescendoing and decrescendoing when a wave of goosebumps runs its course throughout his entire body.  He abandons the keys, voice so low that some of the sound cuts out as he half-whispers a fragmented collection of the remaining lyrics.

“You are the one who holds my heart. When you come home I feel the earth start to change, I am alive, I am alive— there is a reason to stay.”

They sit in the stillness for a while, Kurt’s arms fastened loosely around Blaine’s waist, with only the distant muffled sounds of the city coming to life in the early hours of a Friday night to keep them company.  Unlike the bustling renegades of New York City, there is no sense of urgency or obligation between them tonight.  Blaine sinks back against Kurt’s chest, sluggish and exhausted, but he knows the night is nowhere near its finale.  The song was merely an introduction, a segue into the next section of the grand orchestral piece.  

“I remember telling you once that I’m not good at romance,” Blaine breaks the silence.  “That I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to this.”

“Probably the biggest lie you’ve ever told,” Kurt responds affably.  Blaine can hear the tentativeness as he tries to keep the conversation light and playful and knows he is trying to work out just where he is headed with this train of thought.  

“Is it though?” 

“Blaine, you are probably the most romantic person I know.  I used to think I was the hopeless romantic in this relationship, but you definitely have me beat.” 

“I hate that phrase,” Blaine says indignantly, trying to shrink back against him more, but there is nowhere else to go.  Kurt deciphers his body language and embraces him tighter. “Hopeless romantic— why does it have to be a hopeless romantic?” 

“It’s just a phrase.  Of course you aren’t hopeless,” Kurt begins pressing kisses to wherever he can reach again.  Blaine closes his eyes and lets his head fall back against the couch cushion.  Maybe Kurt was right.  Maybe a week without intimacy really was far too long.  The soft desperate whine that falls from his lips as Kurt continues to litter his neck with delicate kisses definitely suggests as much. 

“Kurt, can we—”

“Soon,” Kurt says.  “We aren’t done talking yet.”  He sucks the skin at the base of Blaine’s neck between his teeth and gnaws gently and Blaine can feel the slight upturn of his lips against his skin as he lets a sharp, breathless exhale slip out. 

“Well, I don’t know how well I’ll be able to concentrate if you keep—” Kurt moves his head away, only centimeters but he may as well have relocated himself across the room.  Blaine scoots closer, practically sitting on his lap again now and whines, “No, no, no! Come back!”

“How about we play a game?” Kurt replaces his lips on Blaine’s neck and runs his tongue over the reddened bite mark. 

“What kind of game?” Blaine rasps out, shivering as a new wave of goosebumps breaks out. 

“A game of trust and honesty,” Kurt raises his head to whisper against Blaine’s ear.  Blaine turns ever so slightly to face him, their noses touching, vision blurred and unfocused at such a close distance.  

“Sounds like truth or truth instead of truth or dare.  What are the rules?” He asks apprehensively.

“I’ll ask a question, you give me an honest answer.  You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but if you do you can tell me what to do next,” Kurt replies.  At Blaine’s continued exhibition of hesitation he adds, “We can even take turns, if it makes you more comfortable.  You can ask me anything you want.” 

Blaine tilts forward, resting his forehead against Kurt’s and hesitates before he nods a fraction of an inch.  “Okay.  Who goes first?” 

“I’ll ask first,” He leans back and Blaine falters in the absence of his support before adjusting, back straight against the couch cushion.  Kurt twists sideways, shoulder against the couch back and places one hand over Blaine’s.  “Why did you pick that song?” 

Blaine furrows his brows, tilts his head slightly, caught off guard.  The song choice seemed self-explanatory.  “Because it makes me think of you.” 

Kurt doesn’t ask, he says, “Elaborate.”

Blaine squirms, doesn’t understand.  Didn’t he listen to the lyrics? What more is there to say? Kurt merely smiles back at him, interlocks their fingers, and waits. 

“Well, I guess because that’s how I feel with you.  You make me feel safe.  You remind me what it is to truly be alive and without you I feel,” He stops, throat suddenly tight.  

Lost.  I feel so lost without you sometimes.

“Feel what, honey?” Kurt prompts softly. 

“Lost.” The word sounds small and fragile when he says it and yet it feels so heavy now that it is out in the open.  But Kurt shows no indication of surprise at the confession.  On the contrary, he seems pleased, as though this is exactly what he was hoping to hear. 

“Why?” He rubs his thumb into the back of Blaine’s hand.

“Because,” Blaine starts and stops again.  Talking used to feel so effortless between them before he had created this rift.  Ever since their breakup every word has come carefully selected with the fear that it will be the absolute wrong thing to say.  Just because Kurt has agreed to marry him, that does not mean he cannot still change his mind. And what if he does? Blaine cannot even bear to think about that.  “Because you make me feel like I am really worth something when I can’t remember why.  You gave me— us, you gave us another chance and I am so afraid of fucking it up all over again because you are the best thing to ever happen to me and I can’t… lose you again.  I can’t go back to being alone and just pretending to be brave because everyone expects it of me.” 

He feels winded by the end of it.  One question in and already the endeavour feels draining.  Kurt’s expression is unreadable when Blaine summons the courage to look him in the eyes.  Is that… fear? He lifts one leg, drapes it over Blaine’s lap and leans forward to kiss him.  Blaine kisses back hungrily, desperately.  

“Tell me what you want and then it’s your turn to ask,” Kurt whispers against his lips.  Blaine swallows, already half-hard from the simple act of kissing.  With the weight of an entire day of silent brooding being lifted, his body cannot help but remind him just how desperately he needs to be touched.  Needs to be needed.  How many questions will they have to get through first though? 

“Bite my neck again, harder this time though,” He requests.  And Kurt obliges.  He allows himself to be swept in it for the moment, palm riding over Kurt’s thigh as he feels the gentle brush of teeth and tongue over his skin before he sucks and bites and fuck that feels good.  Too soon though, he stops and Blaine wants to whine and protest but remembers what he is waiting for.  Right.  A question. Something he is afraid to ask, but wants to anyways.  That look in his eyes… Okay.  Truth time.  He can do this.  

“Does that scare you? What I just said.”

“A little bit,” Kurt does not even hesitate, which does nothing to quell Blaine’s nerves.  It feels like a slap in the face, affirming all of his fears to be true after all.  A strange swooping sensation in the pit of his stomach leaves him looking crestfallen, but Kurt slides a hand up to caress his cheek and continues.  “I think you use me to define yourself and measure your worth a lot of the time, and that’s the part that scares me sometimes.  I don’t want you to need me to tell you that you are enough, I want you to feel it because you know it.  And I have a funny feeling that this is something you’ve been doing long before we ever met.” 

Kurt holds his face there, eyes soft and intense.  Blaine’s lip quivers, eyes darting wildly as he searches Kurt’s face.  Searches for what? He is not wrong.  Deep down, he knows he is absolutely right.  For as long as he can remember he has tethered himself to the attention of others, weighing his worth in compliments and just being noticed at all.  Kurt had just been the first one to take it a step further, to love him in all the ways a human being could be loved, to make him feel seen and needed and wanted .  He does not know how to verbalise this though, so instead he asks, “What do you want me to do?” 

“Take off your sweater and your shirt.” 

“Shouldn’t we move to—”

“Rachel has rehearsal all night, she won’t be back for a while.”

Blaine’s eyes automatically dart to the door but he nods stiffly and works the sweater over his head.  He moves his hands to the base of his shirt, pauses and swallows.  Yes, Kurt does not want him to feel insecure around him.  But one conversation is not going to fix that.  With the way they’re sitting on the couch, with the lights completely on— Blaine is completely aware of how he will look once that shirt comes off.  Kurt presses a kiss to his cheek and slides his hands over Blaine’s, murmuring, “This too, my beautiful boy.”  Pink in the face, Blaine licks his lips and allows Kurt to help him lift the shirt over his head.  He tries to sit up straighter, keeping his eyes on Kurt to distract from the way his stomach protrudes and hangs over the edge of his pants.  

“Your turn,” Blaine says, throat taut, so the words come strained and thick. 

Kurt languidly drags his fingertips over his bare chest, just drinking him in for a moment.  He rests his palm over Blaine’s heart before he asks, soft and loving and gentle as he possibly can, “Why do you think I would just get up and leave you? Where does that come from?”

It’s immediately evident why Kurt has positioned his hand over his chest when Blaine instinctively tries to sit forward, ready to stand and pace and will himself to vanish because, remind him again— why do they have to be doing this right now? Why can they not just be naked and sweaty and rutting against each other, drowning out the need for words and difficult conversations between desperate kisses and breathless moans in the dark? 

You were right, we talk too much. 

Kurt’s hand moves deftly over his chest, warm and reassuring, and his voice comes as eloquently and unwavering as it has all night, “Remember, you can skip, but I hope that you don’t.” 

How is he supposed to just shut him down after that now? It is a request, not an obligation, but Blaine wants to please him, wants to make him proud.  Because what does their relationship even mean if he is too afraid to speak to his own husband-to-be about the horrible things he has only whispered within his own head for years and years and years? 

We’re getting married.  He wants to marry you.  The hard part is over.  He said yes.  Just let him in.

“Because,” He inhales sharply, exhales it into a long trembling breath and holds his hand over Kurt’s, pressing harder against his chest.  Kurt nudges himself closer, wraps his other arm around his shoulders and draws him in.  “Because everyone else does, so it feels like it’s only a matter of time before you do too.” 

“This has to do with your family, doesn’t it?” 

And of course Kurt knows already.  Of course he has just been waiting for Blaine, stupid Blaine, to come forward and finally say it.  How can he possibly have been this clueless? Despite the recent miscommunications and misunderstandings, the missteps in their natural abilities to decipher each other’s body language with nothing more than a glance of understanding, how could he ever think that Kurt would not know how to trace the root of all of it with such precision that he may as well just write the instruction manual on how to operate Blaine Devon Anderson? 

“How stereotypical, right?” Blaine asks, partly because he does not know how else to respond, but mostly because he is soberly aware of the fact that he is sitting here, shirtless and defenseless, ready to cry for what feels like the thousandth time in the past week and just wants to maintain the shattered art of deflection.  Sardonic and dizzy and bitter and angry with himself for bottling it up for so long when it was always in plain sight to begin with, he can’t help but think—  So much time wasted.  And for what?  

“Stop that,” Kurt says quietly, tone so serious it feels like a kick straight to the ribs.  Kurt was usually the one to crack a joke, humour cynical and so biting that he could take the edge off of anything.  But then again, that was usually reserved for his own tragedies.  Today has not been about laughing away the pain and self-deprecation, he has tried to make it something more.  “Don’t make it less than it is.  It’s something that matters to you, don’t make it a joke.” 

“Sorry,” Blaine says, a pre-programmed response that makes Kurt’s brows furrow in what can only be perceived as disapproval.  He simply shakes his head though, runs both hands over Blaine’s bare chest and varies his gaze, eyes darting back and forth between Blaine’s lips and eyes. 

“You barely talk about them.  I don’t know if you even still talk to them.” 

Blaine moves to fold his arms over his chest, another defensive play that Kurt refuses to yield to.  He moves his leg off of Blaine, drops it to the floor and then he’s tugging and coaxing and murmuring affections until Blaine is situated on his lap, their torsos pressed firm.  The material from his sweater is scratchy and rough against Blaine’s bare skin and he thinks, desperately, Please just take that off and fuck me until I forget. 

“Do you?” Kurt asks delicately. 

Blaine swallows and the words come out thick as molasses, “Coop, sometimes, if I call him.  My parents,” He licks his lips, shimmies down against Kurt’s lap so he can hide his face into the crook of his neck.  With arms firmly around his waist, he presses fingertips into his back, that damn scratchy sweater, he just wants to rip it off of him and beg and beg and beg— make me forget, just make me forget. “My mom texted me when I first moved to New York to ask if I made it, I haven’t heard from her since.” 

“And your dad?” Kurt probes cautiously.  

A pause.  Blaine spends the next few seconds just breathing against his neck and presses his fingertips down harder.  “Fuck my dad,” He finally says, quiet and fragile.  It is a wonder the words don’t crack and slice his throat right open on the way up.  

He feels Kurt’s arms, so strong and protective, close tighter around him and maybe it is the silence that follows— because when does Kurt Hummel ever become speechless?— or the way Kurt keeps pulling and squeezing, trying to weld them together as one or the sudden influx of scattered kisses he presses to his forehead, but something in him shatters .  His entire body shudders with the riptide of the sob that courses through him, but Kurt just holds him steady, rocks and whispers his little mantra, “I’ve got you, I love you, I’ve got you.” 

“Hate him, I hate him— He’s just— And I’ve never been able to— He hates me, he's always—”

Blaine hiccups and babbles and gasps and cries, unable to pluck one coherent thought from the rush of water now that the dam has finally broken wide open.  Kurt presses his lips to his forehead, whispers affections and instructions against his skin, and strokes his hair, his arms, his back— every possible inch of him that exists, Kurt is sliding his hands over, fingertips grazing and pulsing.  Drained and dazed from the weight of everything the insane idea enters Blaine’s head— if you’re looking for the ‘off switch’ I have no idea where it is either.

One shuddering breath collides into the next with no space in between until Kurt is lifting his head, cupping his face between both hands.  He tries to twist away, but Kurt’s thumbs stroke his cheeks, hold him steady and Blaine is just so tired he has no strength to fight him.

Please don’t look at me, I can’t stand it. 

“Sweetheart, you’re hyperventilating.  You’re gonna pass out if you keep going like this.  Just let me help,” Kurt’s thumbs brush over his cheek bones, already red-raw and stinging.  Blaine burrows his fingers deep into his back again and barely notices the feel of the sweater he has been scornfully regarding as he nods a few times between Kurt’s hands. 

“O-o-o-k-kay,” He sputters, gasps and cries some more, wishing, again, to just simply disappear. 

“Purse your lips together, I’m gonna count while you breathe,” Kurt kisses his forehead.  He closes his eyes, tries to focus on the feel of soft, wet lips against his skin and nods again.  He makes it to three on the trembling exhale before breathing in, sharp and quick.  Thumbs against skin, lips against forehead, they reset.  Kurt continues kissing his way across his face between murmured instructions, lips planting invisible X-marks-the-spots all over the raw geography of familiar terrain like it still needs to be thoroughly explored and mapped out.  Blaine has been so focused on following his voice, desperate to latch onto each whispered command, he does not realise his breathing has slowed until their lips are finally touching.  He lets Kurt take control, allows himself to be cared for and coddled and carefully handled like he is actually a broken sheet of glass filled with cracks, bound to shatter at the slightest hint of pressure. 

Lips still pressed together, he whispers into Kurt’s mouth, “I feel like such a mess.”

“My beautiful boy,” Kurt breathes back and it is a conscious effort on his part not to just start crying again because fuck , he feels anything but beautiful right now.  “We can stop for now, if you want.  I know that was a lot.” 

“No, I want to tell you.  I–I know that I just… shut down sometimes, but I want you to know.  It’s just,” Blaine leans backwards enough to look him in the eyes.  “It’s hard for me to talk about these things.” 

“I know,” Kurt’s thumb brushes his cheek again and Blaine leans into the touch.  “Take your time.” 

“I feel like I don’t even know him, you know?” 

Kurt just watches him, one hand still caressing his face and the other rubbing gentle circles into his back.  Kurt doesn’t know.  Kurt will never know.  Blaine releases a shaky exhale before continuing. 

“He was never home, always working.  And when he was home it’s like we were living on two different planes of existence, I felt invisible around him.  He hasn’t been able to see me for a very long time.  And my mom has just been so checked out— honestly, she’s been a mess for as long as I can remember.  It was just— It wasn’t a happy home, Kurt.  Cooper got out the second that he could, and I can’t really blame him for it.  Even though we didn’t always get along and he was constantly trying to show me up, it was really lonely without him.  I didn’t have a lot of friends at school, there was no Glee club— no safe space for anyone who was gay.  It was just me and one other kid who were publicly out.”

“The one you went to the dance with?” Kurt asks quietly.

“Yeah,” Blaine nuzzles his neck and breathes in deep.  “Afterwards he told his parents going to the dance together was my idea, and it was, and that was it.  They didn’t want us being friends anymore, they blamed me for what happened and he just… walked away.  Well, I think they moved, but he just stopped talking to me.”

“I’m sorry.  That must have been— I’m sorry,” Kurt kisses the top of his head. 

“My parents shipped me off to Dalton after that.  I didn’t even want to go at first, if you can believe that.”

“Really?”

“Really.  A boarding school with a dress code and a bunch of snobby rich kids? I was dreading it.  But it became home.  They didn’t care that I was gay, they accepted me right away.  Then joining the Warblers? There were so many times I was convinced I was just in a coma and dreaming the entire thing up.  We were treated like rockstars, it was the first time I felt good about myself in a long time.”

“Now I feel bad for making all those snarky remarks about everyone just being back-up singers to you,” Kurt says, earning a quiet laugh from Blaine. 

“Well, you weren’t wrong.  You were right to call it out.  The whole reason I fell in love with being a Warbler was because everyone had an equal say, I just got so swept up in finally being noticed that I lost sight of the fact that there were probably some other guys that wanted to be noticed too.  You kept my ego from overinflating.”

“You seemed like the most confident person in the world to me when we first met,” Kurt says.  “I never would have guessed you struggled with any self-esteem issues.”

Blaine shrugs nonchalantly and presses a kiss to his neck.  “You didn’t know because I didn’t want anyone to know.  We didn’t… talk about feelings at my house.  You started bringing that out in me, making me believe I didn’t always have to hide and pretend.  But I lose sight of that sometimes, I guess.  It’s easier to just shut down and bottle it up, but you’re right… I have to be able to come to you, we have to be able to come to each other.  I’m— I’ll be better, I promise I will.”

“Thank you for sharing all of that with me.  I’ve been able to guess at some of it for a while now, but hearing you finally say it— I’m proud of you.  I always want you to feel safe with me, so I hope that you do talk to me more about things like this that are bothering you.”

Blaine nods against his shoulder, eyes stinging and blurring.  He does not know why he expected anything other than absolute understanding and compassion from him, why it was so difficult to force the words out in the first place.  

“Do you want to keep talking?” 

Make me forget.  Love me and don’t let me go and just make me forget everything else. 

“I think I need a break from talking.  I just need you, I—”

And then Kurt is kissing him and Blaine is kissing back like it is the first time all over again.  He catches Kurt’s lips with his teeth, sloppy and hungry and desperate to be as close to him as possible because the great gaping canyon in his chest demands to be filled.  Please! Please! Please! His heart thumps away the greedy melody and when Kurt pulls away, widening that endless cavern, he actually whines .  But Kurt is tugging at the sleeves of his sweater— normally a crime , you always pull from the collar, he constantly tells Blaine— and Blaine’s hands hurry forward to help him strip it away.  

Blaine has watched him while he works out, has witnessed firsthand the care and consistency and the effort behind those hardened muscles in his arms and chest and oh god those abs .  He is like a living statue and Blaine is the only one privy to the private viewing of his full display of perfection.  How could he let his stupid insecurities keep him from this? 

“You’re staring.”

Without even looking Blaine can tell he’s smirking.  “Can you blame me?” 

He looks up to see another playful smirk, and that Kurt is staring right back at him, lower lip ever so slightly tucked in beneath his teeth.  Fuck .

“So,” Kurt says, voice low and husky.  “You still have to tell me what you want me to do next.”

Make me forget.  Make me forget. 

“Take control,” Blaine says softly.  When Kurt’s hand travels up his thigh to fiddle with the button of his pants, he rasps out, “I’m all yours, take control.”

The caress of lips against his jaw, the ice cool touch of smooth fingers dipping below his waist band, teasing and exploring— Blaine closes his eyes and surrenders himself to sensation.  Who needs pretty words when he has the tender touch of a lover’s fingertips to ignite bursts of starlight beneath his skin? Kurt’s hands find his and the gentle pull against them forces his eyes open where he finds Kurt ushering him off of his lap.  He shifts off and allows himself to be lifted as Kurt stands, eyes alight with curiosity and wonder until Kurt’s mouth is on his again and he is lost, lost, lost once more.  

Kissing Kurt is everything.  Early November and his lips are slightly chapped, leaving only the faintest hint of his current favourite chapstick.  It reminds Blaine of their nights nestled up by the fireplace in Dalton, coffees from the school cafeteria in hand and stealing vanilla and mocha flavoured kisses in between every break in conversation.  He forgets that they are standing in the middle of Kurt’s living room, forgets that they are drifting through borrowed space as Rachel or even Santana, devious in her ways of sneaking around, could waltz in at any minute despite Kurt’s insistence that they won’t.  As Kurt hooks his thumbs into belt loops and draws him closer, both of their bodies desperate for the heat and friction, he forgets about his insecurities and doubts.  There is only the handsome man before him and nothing else in the world matters. 

Lips locked, Kurt navigates them towards his bedroom.  Neither of them wants to disentangle from each other long enough to lead, Blaine just has to trust him not to let him trip.  His knees hit the edge of the bed and buckle, but Kurt grips his hips, digs his fingernails in and grinds their bodies together until they’re both moaning into the kiss.  His pants feel unmanageably tight at this point now. 

“Kurt—” 

“Working on it,” Kurt kisses his way down to his neck, teeth gnawing sweetly until first the button, then the zipper and Blaine’s suddenly being pushed backwards onto the bed.  He hastily props himself up on his elbows, panting softly, eyes lust blown and following Kurt’s every move.  He’s kneeling down in front of the bed, yanking Blaine’s pants off from around his ankles now and every second feels like it is being stretched too long.  Finally free though, his cock bounces against his stomach, throbbing and aching by the time Kurt settles between his legs.  Blaine’s eyes dart to the bedside table, hand just starting to reach out when Kurt bends over and curls his fingers around his cock, flicking his tongue over the head before sucking hard.  He pulls his mouth off with a faint pop! and brushes his thumb over the underside of the head.

“F-Fuck,” Blaine trembles, arm outstretched, its purpose completely forgotten.  “You’re right, a week was too long.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Kurt says and takes him completely into his mouth, palm cupping his balls.

“Jesus— Fuck!” Blaine instantly bucks his hips and fills the spaces between his fingers with Kurt’s hair, breathless as he quickly adds, “Sorry, are you—”

Kurt hums his response and hollows his cheeks, breathes in through his nose and takes him further down.  They have just barely gotten started and already Blaine feels himself coming undone.  He struggles to keep his hips steady, but Kurt is moving torturously slow through all of this until he just stops moving his head altogether, mouth very much still full of Blaine’s cock and he could honestly scream because how dare he just stop like that—

Oh. 

Blaine knows what he wants. 

“Please,” The word comes hungry, breathless and on the verge of a whine.  “Please, I need you, please—”

And Kurt’s head moves backwards, sucking as he goes until he reaches the tip of Blaine’s cock, where he flicks his tongue over it playfully.  Blaine balls up the sheets of the mattress in his other fist and tugs on that instead of Kurt’s hair, the quiet desperate moans falling out of him like whispered secrets in the night.  Kurt pulls his mouth off of him again, turns his head and kisses the inside of his thigh, before biting down and sucking.  Blaine hisses in a breath, knuckles turning white, and lets Kurt mark him.

Yours, I’m yours, and no one else’s.

There is a moment when Kurt pulls away to rummage through the nightstand when Blaine cannot help but to stare again.  How far they have come from the shy teenager who could not even look him directly in the eyes when discussing pornography.  He remembers so vividly the day Kurt lamented he would never see himself as sexy , the word whispered with such discomfort like it was dirty and inconceivable.  It was the day they were practicing in the mirror, Kurt had been trying so hard to get the look right but ultimately kept shying away, embarrassed and self-conscious with the effort, saying Blaine just made it look so easy.  Neither of them had a clue what they were doing, but disguises had always come easy for Blaine.  Now, Kurt looks up at him, dark-eyed, mouth slightly parted before that devilish smirk takes over again, and Blaine is weak and breathless beneath his gaze.  How the times do certainly change.  

Kurt’s fingers are already coated in lube when he starts kissing Blaine’s thigh again and circles one finger around the tight ring of muscles.  Blaine wants to rush ahead, squirms his hips down and Kurt tuts disapprovingly, leaving him to lie still once again and wait patiently at his mercy.  He really can be such a goddamn tease sometimes.  But he does not make him wait long before sliding one finger in, stroking and twisting, until Blaine pants, “More, please, more.”

He takes his time, adds another finger and scissors and stretches him as Blaine squirms and begs beneath his touch.  Only two fingers in and Blaine is beginning to completely unravel, hips involuntarily jerking up as Kurt strokes and twists and kisses and bites, leaving tiny reddened marks all along his thighs.  It never takes Kurt long to find that sweet spot, and sure enough Blaine is arching his back and panting as his fingers continue to brush over and massage his prostate.  Slowly, he withdraws his fingers and when he pats the side of Blaine's leg and tells him to sit up he cannot help but whine loudly in protest. 

“So impatient,” Kurt says, eyes twinkling with amusement as he settles himself against the headboard and tugs until Blaine is positioned above his lap.  Kurt’s in control, but he knows this is Blaine’s favourite position.

“Condom?” Blaine’s thighs are already shaking as he holds himself up.

“I trust you,” Kurt replies, bringing his hands up to cup his face, voice so low and sultry it is a wonder Blaine doesn’t just stagger into his orgasm right on the spot.  “And I want you to feel it.”

What did I do to deserve you?

Blaine groans into the kiss as Kurt strokes himself, coating his cock with lube before he holds it firm for him to lower himself down onto.  The sweet heat and friction already feels like it is almost too much to bear.  There is no way he is going to last like this, and they both know it.  He positions his hands on Kurt’s chest, sinks all the way down and pants loudly against his mouth, pausing to let himself adjust before rising up again.  Kurt relocates his hands to his hips, fingernails digging in and helping him rise and fall, their rhythm slow and synchronized.  It doesn’t take long before it becomes more sporadic and urgent, Kurt’s hips bucking up as Blaine’s thighs tremble and burn to match his rhythm until he’s hitting just that right spot again.  He yelps his moan, fingernails burrowing into Kurt’s skin.

“There, there, there— right there!” Blaine exhales quickly, winded and sweaty as he clenches and shakes.  With the way Kurt’s gripping his hips he knows there are going to bruises where the thumbs sink in.  The thought of it alone sends a rush of heat up his spine that erupts as another breathless gasp.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” Kurt groans out.  “ So fucking gorgeous.”

Blaine’s laugh comes out half-strangled as he gyrates his hips faster, thighs trembling violently as he slams one palm against the headboard to keep himself balanced.  “So are you, fuck, so are you.  So—” Kurt slides his hands down, cups his ass and quickens his thrusts, throwing the rest of Blaine’s thoughts to the wind as he all but crashes his head forward against the headboard and cries out.  He becomes acutely aware of Kurt’s mouth against his chest, of his tongue circling his nipple, but barely registers Kurt’s breathy laugh, “Sorry, you okay?” 

“Don’t stop,” Blaine breathes back.  “Don’t stop, don’t— fuck, you feel so good.”

Kurt sucks on his nipple as Blaine’s breath hitches, heavy and desperate.  Kurt slips one hand down and closes it around his cock, earning another loud strangled sound somewhere between an exhale and an actual word.  

“You’re perfect, you’re so perfect— Kurt, fuck I’m gonna—”

Kurt works his hand faster, hips bucking wildly as Blaine cries out again, stars exploding behind his eyes as he comes.  Kurt cups his ass again, squeezing and panting heavily against his neck as he keeps thrusting, chasing his own orgasm only seconds later.  Blaine’s legs give out, leaving Kurt’s firm grip on his ass, his hips still jerking upwards sporadically, as his only support.  Blaine keeps his eyes closed, fingers curled tightly around Kurt’s shoulders and forehead resting against the headboard, as Kurt finally slows to a stop.  He does not want to move, does not want Kurt to pull away and leave him feeling empty again.  As though reading his mind, Kurt holds him there, pressing lazy kisses to sweat soaked skin as Blaine’s body continues to tremble. 

“God, I missed you,” Kurt whispers, raising his head enough to kiss his neck.  

“I love you,” Blaine rasps out.  “So much.  More than anything.” 

Kurt feigns a dramatic gasp, lips brushing against his neck and tickling him. “Surely not more than hair gel.”

The smile on Blaine’s face almost hurts before they both break out into laughter.  

“Need some help?” Kurt squeezes his ass playfully, earning a soft, sleepy moan. 

“My legs don’t work anymore,” Blaine laughs breathlessly, limbs heavy and useless.  Their earlier conversation feels like a lifetime ago.  

“I’ve got you,” Kurt says soothingly, lips back against his neck.  

In the post-orgasm haze Blaine is barely aware of their movements as he comes to settle down beside him, limbs tangled and still desperate for touch.  Kurt wipes cum off of his stomach with a tissue— Blaine cannot help but think about the midnight trip to the laundromat they will most likely be taking to salvage the sheets— before he draws him in close, those strong arms like a promise and a safety blanket.  It is moments like these he loves the most, where the world stops spinning and they are frozen in a perfect carefree moment of mutual adoration and comfort within each other’s arms.  

“I’m sorry about your dad, about all of that,” Kurt suddenly says softly, jarring him from the temporary peace.  

“Not your fault,” Blaine mumbles, snuggling in closer to him as though melding their bodies together physically will drive away the uncomfortable feeling of emptiness starting to creep in all over again. 

“Do you actually hate him?” 

“No, of course I don’t.  I just wish,” Blaine sighs and presses a kiss to his chest, arm curling tighter around Kurt’s waist to keep himself tethered down.  “I just want him to be proud of me and it really hurts that he’s not, that I basically don’t exist to him.”

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Hmm?” Blaine asks distractedly. 

“Have you ever thought about talking to someone?” 

“What do you mean?” Blaine shifts his head, too lazy to actually lift it off of his chest, and settles his eyes on Kurt’s jaw. 

“Like a therapist,” Kurt says carefully.  Involuntarily, Blaine stiffens between his arms.  “Have you ever thought about that?”

Blaine sluggishly drags his hand over Kurt’s chest, fingers tracing invisible patterns.  Kurt tilts his head down, nose pressed to his loosely gelled hair and breathes in deep before pressing a kiss to the top of his head.  “I might have,” Blaine whispers, heart thudding violently now.  Kurt has been nothing but understanding and patient, yet the anxiety still clutches tightly and forces him to want to retreat and hide.  

“Maybe you should,” Kurt says gently.  

“Maybe,” Blaine parrots quietly.

“I’m not suggesting something is wrong with you,” Kurt adds, pressing another kiss to the top of his head. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

How could you tell?

“It just might be good to talk to someone unbiased, don’t you think?”

Blaine continues trailing his fingers over Kurt’s chest, silent and pensive.  He had certainly contemplated the idea plenty of times in the past, never sure of where to even begin.  After the attack at the dance, when Kurt moved away, when they broke up— every time he had come remotely close to researching, shame and panic had chased the idea away.  

“Say something?” Kurt asks softly and runs his fingers through his hair, far more pliable now that the gel has been somewhat dissolved by sweat.

Blaine’s hand stills against his chest and he props himself up on his elbow to get a better look at him.  There is no judgement on his face.  Those eyes like endless oceans of concern and compassion.  Everything about his expression screams I see you, I love you and I see you.

“You’ll uh,” Blaine starts and struggles to hold his gaze, his first instinct telling him to stare at anything other than his eyes.  “Will you help me look for one?”

“Of course I will.  We’re a team, aren’t we?” 

The smile on his face makes Blaine’s heart beat just a little faster, but there is no feeling of shame behind it.  “Yes.  We’re a team.” 

He settles down in Kurt’s arms again, but silence between them never lasts long.  It is only a matter of moments before Kurt’s speaking again. “Have you ever heard of Kintsugi?”

Blaine furrows his brows and tilts his head up towards him again.  He is always full of these random little tidbits of information.  “No? What’s that?”

“It’s a phrase used in Japan.  It’s the art of mending broken pottery.”

“Okay?” Blaine trails the word out, the tickle in the back of his throat not quite a laugh just yet.  He usually has a point when he brings things like this up, but sometimes he does not.  Right now it is not obvious which side of that line he is on.

“Instead of using clear glue, they use powdered gold or silver, usually gold.  So when they put the pieces back together, they’re not trying to hide the fact that it was broken.  The process of being broken and repaired is part of its history, and they choose to highlight and display that fact by turning it into something new with these golden scars to show for it.  I think that’s beautiful, don’t you?”

“So, are you calling me broken pottery?” Blaine asks, the laugh finally breaking free.

“No,” Kurt replies, placing two fingers on his chin to tilt his head up.  “You’re a perfect work of art with a history to show for it.”

And as he leans forward, eager to press their lips together and soak up as much of him as humanly possible, Blaine thinks, And you are the artist.

________________________________________________________________

The song Blaine sings is When You Come Home by Mree, which instantly made me think of our boys when I first heard it.

I don't remember where I first learned about Kintsugi, but I became absolutely obsessed with it.  To be able to take something broken, mend it and showcase all of its imperfections as something beautiful and apart of its history... just something about that really hit close to home for me.  Here is one example. Take some time to google image search some pieces, they are absolutely breathtaking.  And I think it is a perfect metaphor for how we can come to deal with our own traumas.  

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it.

[viahoshi]

only those who are forgotten die  // k.sy

pairing — kwon soonyoung x female protagonist genre — heavy angst, enemies to lovers (?) warnings — swearing, death, blood, murder, major character death and any kinds of criminal stuff words — 2.8k summary — the one where kwon soonyoung needs a new partner in crime note — this is highly inspired from the series, vis a vis as I can’t seem to move on from the character death, I created another one myself. The italic writings are flashbacks, the dialogue ones are the current time. Enjoy♡

“How did you meet him?”

“Do you know that one quote from Dostoyevsky that says: We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who interest us at first sight. Somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken.”

“Do you like Dostoyevsky?”

“No.” She firmly answered, “He did, though.” 

“So, you two were strangers at first who suddenly grew closer?”

“You can say that. Even though he worked with my brother, I had never greeted him before. Their latest heist went wrong, so wrong. My brother died, and he got into jail. I wanted to greet him personally after he was out to get revenge, you know? Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.”

“You were planning to murder him.”

“Mmm- yes.”

“When did the latest bus pass?” Soonyoung asks while wearing his black leather jacked in the middle of the heat of July, rubs his hands together, takes slow steps to the bus stop before turning back again.

“5 minutes ago.”

“And the next one will come in-?”

“40 minutes.”

Soonyoung signs before placing his sunglasses on his nose bridge, and takes another step towards the bus stop before turning around again just to stare at the place he spent most of his youth into. The world seems too large for the young man as he keeps groaning.

Soonyoung was a restless man. He almost appreciates the person who stopped their car for him. Almost. He sharply groans when he recognizes the woman stepping out of the car. The familiar appearance of the girl looks nothing like the one he saw years ago. The way her expression has no marks of distress and uneasiness makes him feel nauseous.

“What are you doing here?”

Soonyoung knows that he was miserably dishonoring his uncaring aura as he shifts from left to right at where he was standing. His hands became sweaty and unsteady in his pockets, failing himself. His features told a different story, and his hands showed another. 

“Every single night when I close my eyes, I see nothing but the two police officers arriving at our house to state that my brother was dead. I acknowledged that everything would go downhill, but I wasn’t foreseeing it to happen this fast. Their son was dead, and their daughter was conceivably a psychopath. All the people I loved and trusted turned their backs to me after that, just like it was my responsibility. You do not understand how it makes your head to be free, but not having anybody.”

He pouted in surprise while nodding, almost as if he was waiting for her to finish and leave, “Nope, I have no fucking idea.”

“I heard you’ve been a very good boy.” Her voice expresses nothing but sarcasm, lips form a smirk, hand raises to remove the hood of her sweatshirt which was closed the whole time, then moves before her eyes to block the steady sunbeams coming to her eyes.

“Yeah, I helped the police in two cases.”

“We’re all falling in line in the end, aren’t we?”

Soonyoung looks at her, tries to read her expression, studies the way her lips curl up on the ends when she smiles, and how her face creases when she fails to block the sunbeams.

“Really, what are you doing here?” Soonyoung asks again, wonder takes over as he glares behind the faint print of his sunglasses.

The girl takes her time glancing at the left and right side of the road, “The bus isn’t coming,” she glimpses back at him, “do you want a ride?”

Soonyoung takes his sunglasses off, and the girl studies the unique frame of his eyes, “To the cemetery.”

“He wanted to visit my brother’s grave. He tried to look undisturbed, but I knew he was. I left him there and returned to work.”

“Then what happened?”

“It didn’t take him a long time for him to locate the place I worked. When he came in, I thought I was seeing things, I used to daydream about him a lot at work, and I’m not talking about pleasing daydreams.”

“So you want us to become a duo? Like Bonnie and Clyde, Thelma and Louise?”

“No, that wouldn’t work out. You and me, as a limited liability company. [y/n] & Soonyoung LLC.”

His words make the girl throw her head back and giggle in doubt, “You’re trying to sacrifice me to protect your own ass as you did to my brother?”

“You’re talking as if you weren’t plotting to kill me for years.”

“You see, I hate you and you hate me. Why are you so sure that I won’t stab you in your sleep?”

“Hate is the greatest motivator.” The girl could picture his half smirk even though she has her back turned against him. He continues while standing up and making her way towards her, “We have another option, we don’t see each other again until we meet on a tour bus for seniors, heading to the beach.”

Edges of the girl’s mouth lifts, it’s crystal clear that his words satisfied her, the thought of replacing her brother giving her stomach slight tingles as she imagines the bad things she always wanted to do in her life but never could, “Okay, let’s do it.”

“And this is how our shared life began as a mismatched twosome who everyone thinks: They’re going to kill each other. With the money we made, we bought our first house, a baby blue caravan. We instantly learned the secret to a good marriage, trusting each other. We weren’t friends, we shared nothing. But as much as we didn’t like it, together we were the best. The perfect couple, precisely because we didn’t love each other. We found the perfect amount of space to not kill each other, neither too close nor too far.”

“You lived like a domestic couple, how come you could undoubtedly trust each other in such a little time.”

“Not a domestic couple, but more like a husband and wife in their eighties who have over 20 grandchildren, but no one visits if that makes sense.”

“Tell me about the things you did respectively, how did you spend your time?”

“We had nothing noteworthy to do, so he bought two chairs and we just sat on the roof of the caravan, on the opposing sides. That was the agreement.”

“And the robberies? How did you follow through with that?”

“We started with big targets, casinos. We would quarrel during the heist and people would just look at us like we’re lunatics.”

“No one move!” Soonyoung raises his voice, puts his hand behind his head, and holds onto his gun smoothly, “Put your hands behind your head like how I’m doing it. I won’t say it again, okay?”

The young boy doesn’t hesitate to wander towards the money source and doesn’t even consider it necessary to turn towards the girl before commanding pointedly, “The cash. I’ll deal with the cashier, you take care of the hags.”

“Excuse me?” The girl’s attitude catches him off guard as he stares at her in uncertainty. He chuckles softly before running his hand through his pitch black hair. “We’re not having this discussion here. Not now.”

“Why? Why do you need to be in charge of the money?” She cocks her head to the side, not bothered by the weirded looks of the people surrounding her. Soonyoung takes a step towards her, eyes and mouth wide open, “Any problems?”

“The problem is you fucking always put yourself above me,” Soonyoung takes another step towards her to hear her better, “shit, are we really going to start our first job together like this?”

Soonyoung gets much closer to her than he was moments ago, uneasy as he keeps peeking towards the woman who’s filling the bag with money, “We’re already splitting it 50/50.”

“It’s not a matter of money, it’s a matter of attitude.” Her look changes as her voice rises, “Either stop looking down on me or this is over.”

Soonyoung tries to change his expression, softens his voice, whisper screaming, “Is this the right place to talk about this?”

The girl walks over to him completely, face inches away from each other, feeling each other’s breaths on their faces. She whispers, “Are we equals? Yes or no.”

“We have to go.”

“I don’t care. Not before we clarify this. Equals or nothing, you decide.”

Soonyoung lowers his gun, steps away from her, spits while gritting his teeth, “Very well, equals. In sickness and in health, till death do us apart, amen.”

She nods, visibly satisfied. Giggles when she catches Soonyoung grumbling about how more effortless it is to work with a man rather than a woman.

“And that’s how we carried out together. It wasn’t the Bonnie and Clyde story you would predict, but days like this made me neglect the murder plots going on in my head. And that baby blue caravan was the closest thing I had that resembled ‘home’ to me, if that makes sense.”

“How would you define ‘home’?”

“Home? I don’t know.”

She gets a decent amount of shampoo in her hands before pressing them to Soonyoung’s airy locks, sudden contact of her hands sends shivers down his spine as he tries to get comfortable in his chair, relaxes his muscles while the girl runs her hands through his dark hair. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Did you knew that hair doesn’t stop growing after you’re dead?”

“And you want your hair to look sleek in the morgue?”

“No, I just want to talk without looking at your face.”

She eases her hand movements as if she waits for him to continue, he goes on, speaking softer than he did before, “I was 12 years old when my mother married to that pig. He brought nothing but misery and discomfort to the only place I knew as ‘home’. My mother neglected me, trying to be a suitable partner for that bastard,” he chuckles hysterically before continuing, “I was 15 years old when they send me to an orphanage, too old for adoption, too rebel for that environment. I fled from there at 18, and that’s when I met your brother, been doing this shit ever since.”

Soonyoung would pity himself sometimes, only life could be a little kinder to him, only if the world would have a little mercy for him, everything could’ve gone differently.

“Soonyoung”

“Mmm.”

“What is it?”

“There’s no need to run if you have a home, and the time we spent in the caravan, in the camper is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a home. I wanted you to know that.”

She lets the teardrop she keeps in her flow on her cheek, her lips curl up, forms a faint smile, “It was special for me too.”

She sniffs, grabs the water from the small bowl and rinses his hair. “Even though, to tell the truth, you’re a shitty roommate.” She grabs the towel and throws it to him, making him giggle like a little kid.

“And you droll in your sleep.” He turns towards her.

“So you watch me while I sleep?”

“No, I don’t watch you, you’re just making weird noises and it draws my attention.”

“Fuck you.” Her face lights up before grabbing the pot full of water and wetting his whole torso, his light colored jeans making the situation already more apparent than it already is. He laughs aloud before grabbing the fountain and pointing it towards her, their laughs brighter than the sun, for the first time after a long time.

"No.”

“No what?”

“I already know what you’re going to ask. Everyone wonders whether Thelma and Louise fucked or not. We did not. We did not fuck.”

“Okay.”

“And also, just clearing it for the record, we weren’t in a relationship either. We didn’t talk about any shit except the heists, that’s it.”

“Okay, good to know.”

The fairy lights inside of the caravan are shining in the colors of the rainbow as the girl sways to the beat of the song playing in the background. The drink in her hand matches the color of her colored sunglasses, giving her a vintage vibe. Soonyoung lies on his back, watching the way her body moves. She notices how his expression seems so cloddish, approaches him so that their noses touch, “Is this your first time?”

“What?” He tries to brush her off, not breaking the eye contact.

“Yes it is,” she laughs breathily, “this is your first time doing ecstasy.”

Soonyoung pushes her away and stands up to sit comfortably, “This isn’t getting me high at all.”

His tone of voice makes the girl giggle, “Right, you’re not high at all.” Her voice carries no expression but lust and sarcasm at the same time.

“At all.” Soonyoung keeps arguing while giggling and shaking his head.

“You don’t feel… Euphoria, empathy? This- sort of- uh- love? For anyone? I thought those were your favorite emotions.” She smiles sheepishly.

“When does this shit end?” He asks, not betraying his uncaring aura even when high.

Her sarcasm slowly drops and she feels alone with nothing but lust in her heart. She looks at him with an innocent expression, reminding him of those kids who want to buy candy in a convenience store, “Do you know what I want to do right now?”

“What?”

She gets closer to his face again, looks directly at his eyes, looks directly at his soul, “I want to touch your face.”

“Jesus, fuck no.” He stands up to go to the table which is decorated with various of liquor and grabs the entire bottle of the alcohol, drinks an enormous amount of it until the girl makes her way towards him again.

She moves her hand towards his face; he flinches when her hand contacts his skin. Her fingertips travel on his nose bridge, his cheekbones, his lips, his jawline. She leaves her fingerprints all over his face gently. Soonyoung chuckles but doesn’t move away, he doesn’t look away either. He enjoys the feeling that comes up to his spine as he keeps touching his face.

The air inside the caravan is thick, but it feels lighted than air for Soonyoung as he feels the butterflies in his stomach gently waking as she travels her fingertips along his sharp features. He pants, he doesn’t know if it’s because of the drug, or her.

“We’re not going to fuck, that’s what we agreed for.” He whispers while looking at her with a blank expression.

“You think I want to fuck with you?” She smiles again, and he nods.

“That makes little sense, does it?” She argues again, still looking at him with the same smile on her face and the same tone of her voice, seductive, “Oh well, let’s go to bed then.” And the first thing Soonyoung does when she turns her back at him to walk towards the bed is to grab her by her hair and pull her back towards his body. She laughs in surprise, her heartbeat rises as he pushes her front towards the wall.

And the rest is just a blur.

The next morning, she wakes up to Soonyoung practicing gunshots. She makes him and herself a cup of tea before making her way towards him. “About last night, that was stupid.”

“Yeah. By the way, I made the plan for the next heist.” He grabs the handle of the cup and responds in a sassy way.

“Well, you can tell me later.”

Soonyoung chuckles.

“Do you have any regrets?”

“Only if I looked back before leaving.”

“No.”

Soonyoung stretches out the beautifully packed gift, catching the attention of the girl who was sitting outside despite the cold air. She looks at him in doubt, “Kwon Soonyoung gives presents? Is that a bomb? Or an internal organ of one of your relatives? Perhaps it’s a scorpion-”

“Fuck, just take it.”

She hesitantly takes the gift and opens it just to find a polaroid camera inside, laughs while opening the box, taking the camera out. “Do you want to take a picture?”

“Yes. So you can remember we were young, we were hot, and we were free, and we felt a little, just a little less lonely together.”

She looks at the camera, and back at him before standing up, “Cool, let’s do it.”

The bright flash of the camera makes Soonyoung’s eyes hurt a little. He turns to her as the film gets released from the machine. He bounces slowly, reminding the girl of a little kid while smiling softly, waiting for the polaroid to darken. She gives the polaroid film to him after looking at it.

“Merry Christmas, asshole.”

“You too, princess.”

“Do you think things have worked out differently?”

“Things should have gone differently. I must have been in Italy or France, not here talking to you.”

“What about him?”

“What about him? Death didn’t intimidate me, nor him. There will still be winters and summers. It’s not like people will stop celebrating Christmas, or a child won’t get a birthday present. The gone is gone, and the world goes on, it’s nothing I can ease. However, he’s not dead.”

“How come?”

“Only those who are forgotten die, I’d like to consider he’ll be living for a long time.”

[makemeabeliever]

He moves slowly, deliberately, giving him time to move away. When he doesn’t, he gingerly sweeps a few of the droplets away with the pad of his thumb before pressing his mouth to Johnny’s jaw, catching the tears that seem to deteriorate and melt away at the warm embrace of his lips.

Daniel and Johnny talk it out. aka, the Daniel Apologizes fic that everybody wants, including an emotionally fucked up Johnny Lawrence.  Really proud of this one! Very dialogue heavy, 

[astertataricvs]

Hoi may i say, your writing is really great and I was wondering if request are open? And if so, can I request hcs for reader who actually asks Zenitsu for his hand in marriage? Kind of like how Zenitsu does but more stoic and because of that he tries to avoid her cause it’s kinda creepy? I just need some love for our crackhead baby boi! Thank you!

AAAAAAA thank you so much! And I don’t even know if this is even a headcanon LMAO

Artist: kime_gwio on twitter!

Stoic s/o asking for Zenitsu’s hand in marriage

❊ This moment will probably happen when you’re already in your 20’s.

❊ LONG HAIRED ZENITSU, YES!

❊ Everyone in the demon slayer corps had known you as the cold-blooded person who they haven’t seen you smiling even if it’s an infinitesimal one.

❊ Of course, Zenitsu knows you too since you’ve been with them: Tanjiro, Inosuke and Nezuko ever since they become demon hunters.

❊ For Zenitsu, the first time he laid his eyes on you, he already deemed that you’re attractive and cute. However, he doesn’t like the vibes you give.

❊ You would only gaze at him with indifference and will respond with an insipid answer before walking off.

❊ Years of being together; Zenitsu had become accustomed of your cold demeanour and sometimes you two would chat about things if Zenitsu would rant about something like Inosuke was being an asshole again and how Tanjiro will pamper the boar masked boy. His tirades about his missions and he thinks he’s going to die.

❊ Then after that portentous day that he won’t ever forget; the day where he didn’t expect that kind of question would escape from your mouth and rendered him speechless:

❊ “Will you marry me, Zenitsu?”

❊ Your voice was monotonous, Zenitsu can’t distinguish if you’re being earnest or you’re just tantalising him. He doesn’t know what to feel at that moment but it feels like… none.

❊ Isn’t he supposed to feel happy? Ecstatic? Leaping in joy? Because this is what he wants right? He wants to marry someone and feel the love that he was yearning for. So why he’s feeling different from what he always dreamt of if someone confessed and love him?

❊ To tell you honestly, he feels creepy all of a sudden.

❊ You give him the chills; the same chills every time he’s on his mission and confronting demons.

❊ Since Zenitsu doesn’t know how he will react and say to you, he suddenly runs off which causes you to be dumbfounded for a reason.

❊ Since that day, Zenitsu was doing a great job from eluding you. But whenever there’s a day where you two would stumble upon each other and the new leader of the demon slayer corps had announced for a pillar meeting; Zenitsu doesn’t have any choice but to deal with your persistent marriage proposal.

❊ “Marry me, Zenitsu,” you said with your still monotonous voice. And then there’s Zenitsu, bestowing you a ghost odious countenance just for you not to discern how he gave you such offending look.

❊ Despite that you creep him out to bits, he still respects you as a woman and he’s not an idiot like Inosuke who would just gabble things that will drastically offend you and wound your heart. He’s a dense bastard.

❊ You’re not thick-skulled not to notice how the one you like for years was avoiding you with all his might. After the straightforward marriage proposal that you told him, that’s when Zenitsu started to become more distant and would run away when he just spotted you from afar.

❊ Of course, it broke your heart knowing that he was avoiding you and you weirded him out since you abruptly asked for his hand in marriage out of nowhere.

❊ In fact, you don’t regret what you just did because that’s how the way you express your sincere feelings and love towards the thunder breath user. Well to be precise, a part of you really wants to marry Zenitsu but that certainly spook the boy and causes him to be leery and evade you with passion.

❊ But until the day when you made it on time to save him from the demon who paralyzed him. You instantly carry him bridal-style and you have no idea how abashed Zenitsu was because it’s really uncool of him to be carried by a woman. If Inosuke was with you, no doubt that he will make fun of him until the sun rises. But it’s not his fault since he couldn’t move a single muscle because of whatever the demon had stabbed him.

❊ When Zenitsu was taking a break and still healing, he decided to take a walk outside to inhale some fresh air since the air in his room was smothering him.

❊ While he was wandering around, he suddenly heard voices talking from the corner of the estate where the garden was located at. Zenitsu didn’t move in his spot when he heard his name being mentioned by a familiar deadpan voice. And that was you.

❊ “I know Zenitsu’s avoiding me because I suddenly blurted out a marriage proposal out of the blue. Well, you couldn’t blame me for being candid because that’s how I love him to the point I’m the one asking for his hand in marriage… I just love Zenitsu with all my heart… that’s how sincere I am.”

❊ Zenitsu’s jaw clenches and balled his hands into fists before quietly trudging back towards his room.

❊ Night has fallen and you were walking towards Zenitsu’s room to give him his dinner that Aoi cooked. Upon reaching your destination, you take a deep breath before knocking on the door.

❊ Zenitsu darted his eyes at the door where you just appeared with a tray in your hands. He keenly watched you, sauntering closer to his bed and studied your usual impassive expression.

❊ Honestly speaking, he still couldn’t erase the words you had said a little while ago. It really stunned him to which his mind was whirling with your tranquil voice and the remark that really shoot his heart and feel his stomach coil pleasantly.

❊ He doesn’t want to admit it but… it really warmed his heart and he can feel the sincerity in your voice while saying your dialogue.

❊ “I’m going to leave it here, if you want something you can call Aoi or Tanjiro,” you informed then place the tray on the bedside table. “I’m going to leave now…”

❊ You pivot your body and was about to take a leave but suddenly halted when you feel Zenitsu’s cold hand grabbed your wrist.

❊ You peered over your shoulders to sight him and you never been so shocked in your entire life before. His actions seriously confused you specifically you knew that he’s been avoiding you.

❊ “Zenitsu?” You subconsciously asked as the blonde boy only stared into space and clutching the mattress.

❊ “Don’t leave just yet…” he barely said but you heard him flawlessly.

❊ You leisurely dropped your arm that he’s holding which Zenitsu took the hint to retract his hand from your wrist.

❊ “Why?”

❊ Zenitsu doesn’t know how to respond to your one-word question. The only thing that’s been lingering inside his head is that he wants you to stay for a bit and he doesn’t know why. Ever since he overheard your genuine confession, he had this feeling that he wants to stick with you for just a moment. The chills that he’s been feeling for you before… it already disappeared in just a snap of the fingers.

❊ He doesn’t know why but… he feels so pleased and merry for some unknown reason.

❊ “I just want to talk to you is all…” his response, making you arch your one eyebrow.

❊ “Are you accepting my marriage proposal?” You suddenly blurted that causes Zenitsu to briskly darted his eyes at you.

❊ “I DIDN’T EVEN SAY ANYTHING ABOUT THAT!” He snapped.

❊ “Oh, okay…”

❊ Zenitsu can recognise the melancholy in your tone and it makes his heart clenched, witnessing how your eyes sunk and not looking straight at him.

❊ Instinctively, Zenitsu catches you off guard by encircling his hands around your waistline, drawing you towards him. You gasped at his sudden action and looked at him with wide eyes. The thunder breath user merely buried his face into your abdomen and spoke.

❊ “Don’t make such a face… I’m sorry…” was he only said, not moving from his position from hugging you.

❊ Although you couldn’t understand what he was doing right now. But nevertheless to say, you absolutely love it, feeling Zenitsu’s embrace that you’ve been dreaming for.

❊ “I love you, Zenitsu… even if you don’t love me back…” you softly say while running your fingers through his smooth silky blonde hair.

❊ “I don’t know… but please give me more time… to reciprocate your feelings… I want to learn to love you…” he answered between your hug and you feel him nestled his face into your belly.

❊ A warm smile brandished on your face and nodded your head.

❊ “I’ll wait for you…”

[cutegirlmayra]

#NotAPrompt saddly:( Anyways hello hope ur having a good! So from an amazing writer to your fellow beginner writer. How do you organize ur ideas or outline it before you start a sonamy story?

Thank you and great question!~

When you start any story, there needs to be a written Outline, or spine, of a story. Loglines also help to organize a clear direction for your story– example: Sonic, a free-spirited and adventurous hedgehog, and his friends must collect all 7 chaos emeralds to stop Eggman and a released, ancient god of destruction from threatening their world. - Logline I made up for Sonic Adventure. A logline is one sentence that clearly establishes a character and conflict.

Once you have some ideas, let’s say maybe you have the middle worked out or the exciting incident, you then create an Outline. Act 1, Act 2, Act 3. Act 2 should be the longest and biggest portion.

In my prompts, I usually hurry through Act 1 to get you to the exciting incident and then smoothly transition through a wrapped up conclusion.

Act 1 should be small, almost equal to Act 3′s plot points. Act 1 is you introducing the normal life before something twists it around, the conflict. The conflict is the starting point to Act 2, where you begin the rising action.

(the most simplest form. There are other arcs, such as ‘Character Obstacles’, ‘Character Tragedy’, and ‘Character Hero Story’. There are a few more too, but those are the ones I write the most of :)b There’s even a romantic one! Look them up and find your favorites in your own stories, comics, or movies ;)b)

For example, in my lastest Sonamy story, the turning point for the characters was when Amy also got sick with Sonic. This changed the normality which was that Sonic was originally sick, and now, the conflict begins of how are they gonna hide from the robots while both being squished together sharing leaves and turning ditzy in their sickness? I then lead that to Act 3, where silliness does ensue but they end up having a memorable, although disgustingly funny, platonic moment together that turned sweeter and even romantic as the conclusion unfolded. (Prompt: x)

Granted, this story is NOT a work of art haha XD I was inspired to make it, but the plot to it was extremely simple, which is why no real ‘action’ takes place and it’s all character emotion that drive the plot forward.

OR

OR

Many ways a character can express or subtly hint at their emotions. Sometimes they’re impulsive and transparent, wearing their hearts on their sleeves. (AMY) Sometimes their shy or subtle, opting to mask their emotions deep below the surface until they can’t help but ‘leak’ their emotions out during the climactic reveal and ‘breaking point’ for their character or plot summary. (Sonic.) Sometimes their so out of it, or not even in tune with their own emotions that they play them off and go cynical with it all. (Sometimes, I see this as Classic Sonic, but not always.), there are many more. Find them all! lol

As for my bigger fanfictions, I do make a summary, which is the full story condensed into a page or so worth of ‘notes’ as I refer to them. It’s not as neat as labeling Act 1-3, but it does give me a basic outline.

For Example, you can’t use your summary outline for your summary to your story. Your summary should have the reader asking questions so they’ll want to engage with the story. Instead, your Summary Outline should look like this:

Sonic and Amy, during a normal fight with Eggman, suddenly mention a tough topic for the both of them that causes some bickering and tension. When the tension accelerates beyond normal teasing, the two end up accidentally losing their tempers and hurting each other. Eggman, deciding drama’s not what he wanted today, sends a fully-armed attack at them while their distracted, thinking it a good opportunity to catch Sonic off-guard. However, though Sonic looks like he’s about to get whammed by the ambush, Amy pushes him out of the way and they survive. Amazed, Sonic rushes over to her, “Amy! W-why… Why did you jump in the way like that? I don’t get it… Weren’t you mad?” He hovers over her as she weakly squints an eye up at him (NOTE: This part is getting more detailed, can you tell? It’s the climax of the story and should have much more detail and notes going on. Even dialogue that can be rewritten or changed. It’s okay to have notes like this for your most dramatic scene, and keep the rest of it generally swift, but try not to go too vague. If you do, you may forget how you wanted to write that part, and that’s NO GOOD! -Sonic reference, lol!) “S-Sonic… Don’t you understand?!” She wobbly gets up to lean up into his face, “No matter how mad you may make me, or how awful our bantering gets, I will still love you no matter what!” (Exciting Incident, Amy’s confession, which will lead to a reaction in not only Sonic but the audience. This is the height of the climax and when things start to go down, but Sonic’s climax is right after this– example: ) Sonic, taken back by her words, suddenly smiles, “I can do no wrong by you… can I?” Amy smiles, and when Sonic realizes she’s not teasing or messing around this time, loses the smile and has his eyes scan her for any sign of humor. When none is found, he embraces her, “…Thank you… Amy.” (This is the point you begin the falling action, which is also the beginning of Act 3, which starts at the ending of the climax and continues towards the resolution, the lasting effect or result of the climax. What has now changed for the characters? What is their new reality? In Drama, there needs to be a few players: Victim, Villian, and Rescuer. Rescuer has to lose every time, then the dynamic will change to Victim as a Villain, and Villian as Victim. This then turns into ‘Creator of the drama’ which is neither victim nor villain, to two supports, ‘Challenger’ Sonic then turns to Eggman, cocky and snarky as usual, but this time, with an arm around Amy’s shoulders. They fight together and beat Eggman, still lightly joking with one another, but not as bad as before. Eggman is confused, defeated, he asks what happened. Amy and Sonic confidently look to each other, and together, wink slyly and say, “Friends fight together!” Before Sonic says, “Doesn’t mean they’ll leave ya if you have different opinions then them.” He smiles to her as she nods and continues his sentence for him, looking to him with love and admiration. “It just means you’re two different people, and that’s just fine by me! Otherwise, the world would be so boring!” (The lesson is usually delivered towards the end of Act 3, maybe not as strongly as this was. Sometimes, the lesson can be subtle and should be too. You don’t want to write ‘on the nose’ unless you’re writing for children very young, but in my opinion, Children are super smart too and pick up on a lot! My advice is to write strongly and powerfully even if it’s just for children audiences. They’re smarter than you think!) “And dull!” Sonic remarks, as the two of them laugh. Unable to comprehend their strange mood swings, Eggman grips his head and ducks down, frowning profusely, “Ahh… Now I have a headache…” (

And by the end, your audience will have understood the climb your characters took to reach that resolution, and they–themselves–reach a conclusion to their emotional relief. (People hate cliffhangers so much because you leave the Audience suspended in their need for closure, but that also addicts them to your story… so Authors can’t help but use it XD But we hate having it used on ourselves!!! Curiosity doesn’t kill your story, only your cat! And the satisfaction of knowing brings it back ;)b)

Was it hard for your characters to reach a conclusion?

Did that help? Lol This plot I made was rather simple, but I hope it taught it some stuff I like to think about when making a story! :D Drama is SO IMPORTANT! Remember to think of their character cores as well, what traits could create conflict in them and in others? What traits could help them learn and cope through that trauma? These are all important, and Romance usually has a ‘revelation’ or ‘impulsive excitement push’ around 10-15 pages/minutes when writing or watching a romance plot. I call it the ‘push’ because you can tell the writer is trying to nudge the two together. In film, you see them get bumped up against each other and then apologize but the girl moves her hair as a distraction and the boy looks away, but both are nervous and awkwardly blushing. That’s another ‘push’ in my book towards the romantic subplot.)

(Then they notice their cute, they keep seeing each other, la-de-dah, even AMY wanted this to happen!)

(Remember, this is Amy’s ‘day-dream’ sequence, it’s interesting how she thinks of Sonic, versus how he actually portrays himself. Useful info for writing Sonamy XD)

Alright! How’d I do? What Sonic and Amy stories will you create, my precious Anon friend? Good luck! And I can’t wait to see the success you find!

[constantlyunlightening]

Look At Me

Pairing: Ferdinand Von Aegir x F!Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff

Rated Explicit for: Wandering eyes, teasing, smut and dialogue that’s like dirty talk except not at all, really, because it’s just fluffy and cute

 I already posted this on AO3 but I’m going to post it here because I’m finally showing up in the tags!!! Yay! Comment/Reblog if you like it! And remember, save a horse, ride a paladin.

18 years of age or older! If you're under, do not read or interact.

Ferdinand Von Aegir was a whole lot of things. He was honest, optimistic and hard working. He was ideal-driven and thoughtful. However, there was one thing he absolutely was not; slick.

He could try to be prim and proper all he wanted, but it didn't take intensive observation skills to catch the noble in the act of eyeing you up. Or more specifically, eyeing up your chest.

It had been an occurrence that you had caught on more than one occasion. Sunrise eyes would lock onto your form; an innocent notion at first. But soon enough, his attention would slip down to the swells of your breasts as you went about your usual activities. It wasn't until he finally peeked his eyes back upwards, only to lock gazes with the person of his affections. It was in that split second he would tear himself away, turning not only his gaze, but his entire body away from you in the process. He liked to point out that the long mane he had grown out was due to being busy more so than for fashion or practical purposes, but he sure seemed to be getting a use out of it now as it managed to curtain away the pink starting to creep onto his cheeks as he made his escape from you.

You supposed he was embarrassed and trying to protect his dignity. He most likely thought it was unsightly for a noble such as himself to gaze to frivolously at a woman like he was, even if he was in a relationship with said woman. And while it may not be the best solution, it would explain why he instantly would dart out of the room or busy himself with something else once he was caught staring. Admittedly, the first few times you had noticed, it was amusing to watch the flourish of red rise to his cheeks as he scrambled away, by now you were craving attention more so than watching him escape yet again.

If you were to confront him, you were positive he would meet you with a surplus of apologizes if you called for it, but that wasn't what you were looking for. You didn't want him to say he was sorry. You didn't mind that he was looking. In fact, you enjoyed that sort of attention when it was from him. If you could spare some time alone together, you wanted to actually act upon the desire he had that caused him to look. But that was hard to do with him getting himself worked up in such a fluster and then running away as if he were a child about to get scolded.

But that plan of action was not going to work any longer for him. You weren't going to let it. This wasn't a battle field by any means, but you knew how to be strategic and with a just a little planning, you were going to get what you wanted. Or at the very least, you were going to get Ferdinand to be a bit more comfortable with his lustful whimsy. And today was the day to put your strategy into action.

Dorothea had a hand in planning your outfit for the day. Your usual outfits may display your assets well enough for Ferdinand's taste already, but you wanted to push him a tad further this time. Maybe he'd be less bashful in his lust if you indulged him. Or at the very least, catching him off guard in the little number you were wearing was sure to get an interesting reaction. You were borrowing a black dress from the opera singer - silky fabric corseted at your waist and forcing the dress to detail over your curves. It wasn't anything too extreme compared to other outfits you've warn, but there was a key to the neckline of the outfit. It was the reason you asked Dorothea for this specific dress. It absolutely plunged, revealing a strip of skin that went all the way down to the embrace of your corset. Ferdinand would really have something to look at today. To keep yourself concealed until you were ready to show off, you had the foresight to keep an oversized jacket around yourself during the day. It would keep unwanted gazes away from other men, but more so than that, you wanted to catch your target completely off guard.

The jacket worked well to hide the surprise. When Ferdinand came to greet you, he almost seemed relieved. Poor boy must be so pent up. You could remedy that.

"Well, hello, my love!" He greeted you with that warm smile you had grown so very accustomed to - the very smile you had fallen absolutely in love with. It further steeled your resolve as he came to your side, proceeding to walk with you down the hall. With your more conservative jacket, he must have been put more into focus for the time being, seeing as he dove right into work mode. "I am sorry to start your day off with work related thoughts, however I would like to inquire if you will be joining me tomorrow evening to go speak with the head of House Villon? It is a simple meeting to go over supply routes, so I can handle it on my own. But I must admit, I do prefer having you by my side. I find comfort in it." His voice brought a sense of calm over you, his cheery energy drawing your full attention to him as a smile came to your lips.

You'd follow him to the depths of hell if he asked you too. "Of course, I'll go," you confirmed, as you paused walking, turning to face him. "Since that's not until tomorrow, do you have some free time now? I was wondering if you'd be interested in having some tea with me."

There was no hesitation in his response as he nodded. Always one to please, specifically when it came to you. "If it is tea you are after, I would be happy to oblige." He offered his arm out for you to take, using the chance to get closer. "To the dining hall!"

You wrapped your arm with his, enjoying the contact while your heart fluttered with excitement. Time to put your little scheme into action. "Actually, I was hoping to spend our time in my room." You met his inquisitive look with a calm smile of your own as you answered the silent question he posed. "I like the quiet sometimes. It's nice to spend time alone with you."

He didn't seem to even consider the fact that your room had no equipment or space to properly brew tea, too delighted by your answer evidently. "I am worried I will become too excited if your attention is all directed towards me," he mused, his eyes crinkling with his smile as he casually changed directions, guiding you back to your room with no further questioning.

It was when both of you finally entered your room that he realized you were lacking the necessary tools to fulfill your request. You had guided him to enter the room first as you shut the door behind you, his back to you as he appraised the room. "We have seemed to have forgotten we will actually need a teapot. No need to worry! I shall go fetch us one at once-" he had turned to head back out the door, only to end up freezing once he was facing you. During the time he had been looking around the room, you had silently removed the jacket, discarding it onto a hook and revealing the actual dress you had on beneath it.

A simple change, really, but it did the trick. Removing the jacket initially appeared to be a small deviation but those amber hues of his had quickly settled on tracking the line of the dress as it displayed the valley of your breasts. The sight alone was enough to steal the words - and his very breath - straight from his throat and he could do nothing but simply stare for the moment. "Were you-" he began, but there was a slight break in his voice as he stammered, having to redeem his words before continuing "-were you not wearing a jacket?" He was aware he should look away but he was clearly struggling to. Even as he spoke up, he couldn't seem to divert his attention elsewhere as a rose coloring started to dust his cheeks before blooming into a deep crimson that spread all the way to the tips of his ears.

Maybe it was that flood of warmth that drew him to his senses because he physically shook his head to force himself to look anywhere but at you. In his haste, he began to pace forward, as if he'd be able to side step you to get to the door, despite the fact you were directly in front of it. "I- Um- Teapot! I shall fetch the teapot at once-"

"Stay." A clear and precise direction rose from your lips as you adjusted your weight, leaning back against the door to temporarily block his escape. The only other choice he'd have now is sticking around or diving through the glass of your window. You could only hope he still had enough of his senses not to bust out the glass, but you were slightly concerned now with the way he seemed to stagger himself back at your command. But, you did quite enjoy seeing him squirm so much since he couldn't leave yet. It made up for all the times he had ran off from you without a single word. He floundered for words in front of you at your request. You beat him to it, gesturing to the bed with a nod of your head and the sweetest smile you could form. "Sit."

He didn't. Instead, he remained rooted to his spot as his gaze flitted around the room, every so often landing back on you, down to your ample cleavage, and then darting away in his panic. Eventually, he gave up in attempting to control his stare, instead opting to physically shield his eyes as he used a hand to cover his face, his other hand coming to rest on his opposing elbow as that arm crossed over himself. He resigned himself, once again using those gorgeous locks of his to shield himself further, his hand apparently not sufficient for his needs. "I very much want to spend time with you, do not misunderstand, please. But would you please be willing to put your jacket back on?"

He spoke! Coherently, this time. You were going to take that to mean he had calmed down just enough to hopefully not burst through the door once you moved away from it. You took a chance, stepping towards him- once, twice, again. He stayed in place even as he felt your presence right in front of him, but he dared not uncover his eyes. "Why?" You feigned innocence, as if you weren't aware of what this dress was doing to him - as if you didn't know your actions were fuel to the flame of his inner turmoil.

Ferdinand hadn't caught onto your teasing as he seemed to choke on air with your question. Clearing his throat loudly, he instinctively took a step back as you tried to get in even closer. "Because!"

Because wasn't an answer. "Because why?" You persisted, continuing to step forward, step after step, moving him backwards until the back of his legs hit the edge of your bed.

Perhaps because he could no longer create distance, the flustered Paladin flopped to a sit on the mattress, in a last ditch attempt to regain some space to breathe. It was to no avail however, and he finally answered your question in a volume that was a smidge too loud to even pretend he wasn't flustered like a school boy with his first crush. "Because I am afraid I will not be able to control myself when I see you in such a state!"

Control himself, huh? It was your turn to remain silent a moment as you found a spot between his legs and you casually let you hand come to his chest, gently tracing a circle against the fabric of his outfit. "Hey, Ferdinand?" Your voice was so soft. Soft enough to have his heart jump in his chest - you could feel it beneath your palm as he swallowed, waiting with baited breath for your next words. "Do you love me?"

It was suddenly as if this entire scenario hadn't played out. They were not the words he had been expecting. But, no matter how random the question may be, if there was any single inkling of a doubt that you may have about his feelings, he was going to make sure to clear the air immediately. It was that specific motivation to reassure you that his hand finally left his face and he looked you dead on, both his hands coming to cup your cheeks. Dress and lustful thoughts, be damned. He was not going to allow you to be unsure. He was Ferdinand Von Aegir and he was not about to let the love of his life have any doubt about his passion for her. "Of course! I love you more than the sun in the sky and the breath in my lungs." His voice was as clear as a bell. And now that he was finally looking at you unobstructed and head on, you matched his honesty with your own, beaming brightly at him.

"Then I don't need you to control yourself. I love you. And I want you to look at me."

And he did, albeit hesitantly. Your words had his attention drawn back to what had him to sheepish in the first place. Wide eyes scanned your face before darting back downwards to your chest now directly before him and he had to resist the urge to cover his visage again. You had said it was okay, but it was still sinking in as he released your face from his grasp.

"Look at you, you say! Is that not rather unbecoming of me?" His heart was still thundering under you hand as he tossed out his question. But now that you had said such a desire out loud, he couldn't pull his focus from you in the slightest. You were a vision - the goddess herself could not ever hope to create something so beautiful ever again! How could she? And here you were, saying it was okay to indulge himself in such a sight?

You giggled and it was a sound that absolutely entranced him as you shook your head. "Not if you love me and not if I want you too," you assured him. And, by the goddess, did you want him too.

"Are you sure? I do not wish to upset you or do anything that would make you think less of me," he began, his voice beginning to speed through his words. He was usually a lot more assured with himself. It just reminded you how much he cared about you, if this was the one thing that got him worked up in such a way. "I can withhold myself if I must! I do not wish to force you-"

You loved his way with words. You really did. But sometimes, what you needed was action. So you made that choice for him, leaning in and stealing a kiss from his lips as well as effectively ending his line of questions. He melted under your tender kiss - his body loosened up and his eyes finally fluttered close.

The kiss seemed to unlock a flood gate within him. His emotions and longing all burst forth at once as he took you by the hips. He gained control of the kiss, letting his tongue sweep against your bottom lip before pushing past to explore. You had convinced him. If you wanted him to look at you, he would. And if you wanted him to give up his self control, he would do that too. No more reservations. He would happily be at your beck and call, so long as you wanted him to be.

All the shyness and hesitation and panic he had before was gone. In it's place was grace and confidence as his hands deftly worked to undress your body. It was actually fairly outstanding how quick of work he made of your clothes, dropping your dress and your small clothes to the ground, then followed by his own. In a blissful flurry, soon the two of you were stripped bare with your back against the bed as Ferdinand was over you, dropping a series of kisses down you soft skin.

You were in a peaceful ecstasy as he kissed down you body, his hair kept out of his face with the way your fingers coiled in the silky strands. "I love you. I love you so much," his voice was a melodic chant as he said it again and again. The vibrations of his hums in tandem with the kisses fluttering over your chest had you bursting out in soft giggles that he absolutely reveled in. After all the gawking he had done, he finally was taking his chance to enjoy the plush mounds in his hands and how utterly sweet you tasted. Your reactions to his ministrations were even better than he could ever imagine.

"I love you too," you cooed out, your back arching into the teasing kisses he provided. However, your sound was soon shifting to quiet moans as his lips found a place on the peek of your breast, tentatively sucking on the pert tip as his hand toyed with the other one. His eyes peered up at you, watching the gorgeous expressions flashing across your face with each gentle nip and playful tug. Absolutely captivating. He could stare at you forever. It was your turn to get flustered now, a sheen of pink starting to darken over your cheeks and it made him smirk against your skin.

You got back at him when you wrapped your legs around his waist and tried to rut your hips against him, causing him to pull back from you with a slight stagger. He composed himself a little, before propping himself up on his hands to look down at you. He chuckled at the whine you released from the loss of affection, but he helped distract you as one hand wrapped around your waist, dragging your hips up closer to him so your body was pressed against his girth. He was hard against you as his length pushed against your folds but he remained still as he opted to burn the sight of you into your memory. He was starting unabashedly now as he memorized your curves. Your own hands went to grip at his forearms, tugging at him gently now that you could no longer toy with his hair.

"I want you," you whined out, rubbing your hands up a little while you took the initiative to wiggle your hips against him. His length was by no means precise enough to hit the bundle of nerves that was begging for attention the way you needed to, but oh, did it make your body shiver underneath him anyway. "You ran away so much already. Don't make me wait any longer."

You were trying to coax him, and the way his cock twitched against you was a clear indicator it was working. However, he had suddenly developed the patience of a saint as he gave a breathy chuckle and shook his head. "Forgive me, my love," he murmured softly, eyes returning to meet your face, soaking in that needy expression of yours. "Give me but a moment. My heart is beating so fast I am afraid I may faint. Actually, I am so happy I may just die," he corrected himself as he took your hand in his and brought it over his heart once more. You could feel his pulse. It was skittering underneath your hand and it soothed you, despite how fast it was. He claimed he could die, but that heart beat was real and Ferdinand was all yours. You turned it on him, instead dragging his hand to your chest, letting him feel the way your own heart was racing. He may have a better way of articulating that, but all in all you felt the same.

He understood that as his warm hand lingered on your skin. "You…." He opened his mouth to speak, but he had trouble finding the corrected words. His hand drifted downwards and he quickly positioned you so you were straddling on top of his thighs with his length position against your dripping entrance. He hunched his back, only so he could bury his face against your chest, getting a better listen of your driving pulse. It was that sound that coaxed out the rest of his words in such a hushed voice you barely caught it. He spoke in a whisper, as if anything louder would break the precious treasure he held in his hands. "You are the best thing that has ever happened to me."

A sweet ecstasy shot through you as he finally pushed inside, prompting a sultry moan from your lips while your body squeezed around him. He clung onto your hips to hold you still as he deliberately thrust inside of you, diving in as deep as he could go. He wanted you close - as close as you could possibly be. Your name became a quiet mantra that he purred against you, his warm breath fanning over you skin. He wanted to get lost in your body, cave into the sensation of your warmth clamping down on him, sopping wet.

Your own body bounced and writhed on top of him as he picked up speed, his own feverish lust dictating the need for a faster pace. It caused the bed to creak underneath you, the sound accompanied by the slap of skin against skin. His hand snuck up your waist, instead tracing up your back until his fingers sprawled out on the back your shoulder. He used his arm to anchor you against him as he took over, wanting to let you pause work and instead bask in the feeling of every inch penetrating deep into your core. And as an aide, his other hand snaked between you bodies, sprawling out on your lower stomach for stability before his thumb grazed over that neglected clit of yours. The instant he began to play with it sent jolts of electricity bounding through you.

He wanted to burst, but being the proper gentleman he was, he held out. Besides, he held your pleasure far above his own. He wasn't going to leave this bedroom if you were unsatisfied. But judging by the coos and moans bubbling out of you, he was doing a splendid job of stretching out your gorgeous body. He fed off your reactions, letting your sounds and the way your thighs trembled around him guide his movement. His pleasure was climbing high with yours. "You feel so so good," he panted against you, his words of encouragement sending your heart fluttering as your head lobbed back. "Not even in my best dreams-" his words separated by pants and grunts, feeling the quiver around his cock as he pushed you closer to that edge "-could my thoughts begin to rival you and how…. Utterly outstanding you are."

There it was. The next deep thrust was punctuated with the pressure his thumb put onto your clit and it had you spiraling. You cried out for him, just as his own orgasm hit as well, sending a hot gush spreading through your body through your spasms. Euphoria danced through each of you as you clung to each other as if for dear life. He dropped your hips fully down over his, remaining buried inside of you while your both your highs ran their course through your system.

Your head dropped, resting onto his shoulder as you caught your breath, feeling his hand slowly start to soothe over you back. He remained silent save for his own labored pants as he cradled your body close. Your name eventually got your attention, as his hand came to rest in your hair and you looked up at him with a glassy gaze he would remember for eternity. "I love you."

"And I love you, Ferdinand Von Aegir."

[bunysliper]

Prompt: Beckett finds Castle fencing [or doing any other activity of your choice that surprises her] to be incredibly hot. Thanks again for Fluffy Fridays!

Hi Anon! I hope you like this!

Hidden Talents

A Season 4 AU

For probably the fifteenth time since they’d started themovie, Castle huffs beside her, muttering something under his breath.

“Okay, what?” she asks, turning to face him.“What’s all this about?”

Her partner’s eyes widen. “What?”

She snorts, lifting her eyebrows. “Castle, you pickedthe movie and you’re over here grumbling to yourself about god only knows what.Do you not like it? Because we can turn it off. It would still count as yourturn, but we can turn it off.”

He gasps, looking horrified. “It would not.”

“Umm, I think it would. You picked, we watched it. Evenif we stop it, that’s your turn. It’s not my fault you may have chosenpoorly.”

“I did not,” he insists. “It is a good movie.The story’s compelling, the dialogue is nice, not too clunky. It’s just…”

She grins, leaning in and dragging a fingertip over his arm.“Just what?” she asks as he stumbles. He’s cute like this, relaxedand comfortable and real.

“The fight scenes are terrible,” Castle blurts out. “It’s like they let anamateur choreograph everything – and not just any amateur, an amateur who’snever picked up more than a bubble sword.”

Beckett laughs. “That’s an oddly specific description,Castle.”

He waves a hand toward the TV. “Well, look at it.Nobody fights like that.”

She tilts her head, giving him a long, curious look. “Nobody,huh?”

“Unless you’re six and playing pirate.”

“How would you know?”

“Well I do fence,” he says, so off-hand andcavalier, she’s left staring at him in astonishment.

He fences? “Since when?” she scoffs, leaning backon the couch.

“Since…” he stops to think. “Well, Alexisstarted taking lessons when she was ten or eleven, and I started a little afterthat. So… six years? Give or take a few months.”

She gawks but narrows her eyes a moment later as sheattempts to gauge his truthfulness. He’s fed her bullshit before: the story ofwhy he writes mysteries, half of the things he’s told her about his“process” for writing his books. There’s no way he’s an expert onsword fighting techniques.

“I wouldn’t say ‘expert’ exactly,” he says,letting her know he either read her mind or she said that part out loud.“But I can hold my own, and I can spot bad technique from good technique.And whoever trained these actors has terrible technique.”

Beckett grins, pulling her legs onto the couch with her.“I hope you know you’re going to have to put your money where your mouthis.” Her foot nudges his thigh.

His lips twitch. “Beckett, are you asking if you canwatch me fence?”

“I’m asking you to provide me with proof of yourclaims,” she says poking him again. “It’s what I do as a detective. Doyou compete?”

His fingers close around her foot. She hums, pressing hertoes into his palm. “No. Mostly Alexis and I spar so she can practice forher school team. But you can admit it, you want to see my sabre.”

She rolls her eyes. “Believe me, Rick, if I were justout to see your épée, I would’ve already.”

He grins. “You are so sexy.”

Heat stains her cheeks. He makes no secret of the fact thathe’s attracted to her, never has, but lately he’s made sure to be plain aboutit once again. Gone are the subtext-laced looks and occasional comments fromlast year. And frankly, she likes that. It makes her brave, his boldness. Itgives her the opportunity to respond with her own frankness.

“And you’re ridiculous.”

“Yet you’re still here,” he points out.

“Shut up and watch the movie. The movie you invited me over to watch.”

He sticks his tongue out at her, giving her foot anothersqueeze.

“Well, just for the record, Alexis and I spar on theweekends sometimes. I could text you next time we do, let you satisfy yourcuriosity.”

“How selfless of you, Castle,” she drawls.“That said, I think I’ll live without seeing you show off.”

Castle shrugs, lips curled upward. “Suityourself.”

She rolls her eyes, leaning backto watch the rest of the movie. Her feet stay pressed against his leg, warmedby the embrace of his hand.

It’s by pure coincidence that she winds up on his doorstep ona day when he and Alexis are sparring. Martha is the one to let her in, givingher a wink and a nudge as she sweeps past Kate to head out to places andadventures unknown.

“Make yourself comfortable, Kiddo. They’ll be a while.Just… maybe sit in the chair by the bookshelves. They sometimes use the couchfor higher ground.”

“Ah, thanks,” Beckett says, giving Castle’s mothera wave just before the door closes behind the older woman. Moving toward theaforementioned chair, she looks around the loft, following Rick and Alexis withkeen eyes.

Alexis is light on her feet, which Kate had expected her partner’sdaughter to be, but Castle surprises her. He can be a klutz sometimes, buttoday he moves with impressive agility. He holds himself with grace, wieldingthe sabre in his hand like an extension of his arm – much the way his pen canbe at times. He deflects Alexis’s attacks, taking quick steps to catch heroff-guard so he can counter. He doesn’t even look a little bit winded.

Throughout the whole thing, they’re trash talking oneanother, trying to verbally trip each other up, a fact which makes her chuckleto herself. She’s even more impressed with Castle when he doesn’t rise to thetaunts, doesn’t let Alexis bait him, and comes away victorious with the finalpoint of the match.

“You put up a good fight, daughter, but I prevail onceagain,” he crows at his good fortune.

Kate rolls her eyes, but grins anyway. He’s ridiculous, butdamn it, it’s so endearing somehow.

“You’ll get him next time, Alexis,” she says,stepping out of the shadows and alerting them to her presence. Not that theylook surprised to see her when they remove their face guards, if anything,Castle looks downright smug.

“Hi, Detective Beckett,” Alexis greets. “Whatuh, what are you doing here? Not that – it’s good to see you, but–”

“I actually came to ask your dad something. It’s for acase we were working the other day. Martha let me in,” she adds, on theoff chance that that was in question.

Castle grins, handing Alexis his sabre and his face shield,thanking his daughter quietly as the girl moves to put them away. “Ididn’t know you were on duty today.”

Beckett shakes her head, shifting her weight. “I’m not.I just… had an idea I wanted to run by you before I forgot.”

They both know it’s not the whole truth. She could’ve calledor written her question down and waited until Monday to ask him, but she hadwanted to see him. Badly enough to show up on his doorstep on a Saturdayafternoon. Judging by the bright sparkle in his eyes, he knows that, too.

“In that case, what can I do for you, Detective?”He gestures for her to step into his office.

“Your publisher,” she starts, clearing her throat.“How often do they hold executive board meetings?”

His head tilts in thought. “I’m not actually sure, but I’llfind out. Just let me take a quick shower and change, then I’ll call Gina.”

She nods. “Sure. I’ll just… wait in here.”

Castle nods, offering her an easy smile. “Make yourselfcomfortable. Turn on the TV and put on a movie, grab a book. I won’t be long,but… feel free to help yourself to the good scotch if you’d like.”

Kate laughs, shaking her head. “I don’t think that’llbe necessary, Castle. But thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” he says, running a hand throughhis hair.

She drags her teeth over her lip, looking him over, allowingher eyes to linger at his backside when he turns toward his bedroom. She’llgive him credit, he’s not only an impressive swordsman, he also looks damn gooddoing it.

“Kate,” he calls, stopping just shy of enteringhis room.

She blinks, looking up, surprised to see that most of thecockiness has faded from his gaze, replaced with something vulnerable,something yearning. Something they’ve both been working toward and waiting for.

“If you think the case can wait a little longer, you’remore than welcome to join me.”

Her heart thumps hard against her ribs, but instead ofholding her back, she lets the beat propel her forward, stopping when she’s toeto toe with him in the doorway.

“Lead the way,” she says, surprised at thesteadiness in her voice, surprised at how easy it feels to lift onto her toesand touch her mouth to his. His chest brushes hers, his inhale sharp and short,but he pulls her closer, opens to her, welcomes the teasing brush of her tonguealong his lower lip.

“And later,” she adds once they part, breathlesseven to her own ears, “it’s my turn to pick the movie. I want to see whatother hidden talents of yours I can uncover.”

Castle grins, taking a step back, tugging her into hisbedroom. “Oh, you don’t need a movie to accomplish that, Kate.”

Her fingers slip into his hair, dragging his lips down tohers once more. “Prove it, Rick. Prove it.”

He does, many times over.

Thank you for reading! You can also find this ficlet on ffnet.

[writing-after-midnight]

Dreams of Darkness. Part 1

WRITING MASTERLIST

Hi! This is my first fic, so I’d love any feedback to help me improve on any part. Thank you!

**********

“Feyre? We need to go, now!” Ianthe called from downstairs.

If Feyre was being honest with herself, she wasn’t sure whether to go to this damn party. On the good side, she had the chance to get out of the house for a bit without being monitored by Tamlin. But on the down side: Ianthe. She was one of Tamlin’s childhood friends, and ever since Tamlin proposed to Feyre, Ianthe insisted she helped with the wedding planning, and often invited herself to the house to ‘help’. “After all,” Ianthe had said, “You two are much too busy to sort it all out yourselves.” Feyre wasn’t quite sure what her motive was exactly,  as Feyre could sense she was always scheming; but as long as Tamlin was happy, Feyre didn’t have to worry. Ianthe had insisted for them all to go to the party, but Tamlin’s anger had suddenly flared once Ianthe had announced the host and stormed out. He had almost stopped Feyre from going too, but Ianthe had insisted until he gave in.

Loosing a groan, Feyre swiped on some lipstick and headed down the stairs in one of the many dresses Tamlin had bought her. She plastered a smile on her face before she saw Ianthe waiting outside, so she wouldn’t be reprimanded for looking so miserable, and started towards the door before she was halted by a strong arm barring her way.

“I really don’t feel comfortable with you going out tonight, especially looking like that,” Tamlin said, looking her frame up and down with a certain possessiveness in his gaze.

“Come on Tam, it’s only a bit of fun, and I promise I won’t get into too much trouble.” She replied, trying to make the conversation lighter. Tamlin wasn’t having any of it, as he pinned her to the wall and kissed her lips roughly, arms blocking her way of exit on both sides.

He’s just trying to protect you, She told herself. This is just how he shows he cares.

Even though she told herself this time and time again, it wouldn’t stop the nagging feeling inside of her that she would never get used to it. Sometimes, she felt trapped in his embrace. A lot of the time, she didn’t have much choice but to do what he wanted, when he wanted.

Feyre broke the kiss and tried to gently push him away. “Tam, I really need to go, Ianthe’s waiting outside…” She was interrupted by him pressing his lips to hers again.

“I love you Feyre. Don’t get into trouble. Stick with Ianthe and don’t trust the other men there. Don’t trust anyone at all. Many of the people there will be friends with the host, so don’t get involved.”

What am I supposed to do there, then? Feyre almost argued, but she knew that it would be the calling card Tamlin needed to keep her back for the whole night. Instead, she smiled sweetly and promised to do just that, before heading out the door and to the party with Ianthe. Feyre looked back to the manor, and sure enough, Tamlin was watching her leave through the window. She ignored him and carried on the short drive with Ianthe to the party, absentmindedly agreeing to the stream of dialogue pouring out of her mouth about her wedding. She ignored Ianthe and carried on into the night.

**********

When they finally reached the venue, Feyre was seriously considering whether she should end it now and pretend to pass out. But she knew Ianthe would never take no for an answer, and would be able to tell if Feyre was faking an ailment.

You don’t need to punish yourself, she thought. You need to socialise with people who aren’t Tamlin’s coworkers every once in a while.

Ianthe had already worn her down on the way here, prying uncomfortable questions out of her about her and Tamlin. All the while, she had had to keep her anger on an extremely tight leash, and plant a saccharine smile to match Ianthe’s on her face. A few weeks ago, she had lost her patience and snapped at Ianthe, only for her to report to Tamlin that Feyre missed him and was unhappy. Then he had confronted her and tried to ‘please’ her the only way he seemed to know how. Feyre tried to reason with herself that they were only looking out for her and trying to make her happy in the best way they knew, but deep down, she knew it wasn’t true.

They headed through the gates and up the gravel drive. Feyre had to admit, the place was beautiful. The manor had an air of class, with it’s warmly lit paths lining its gardens and water fountain. The manor itself, though, looked elegant, yet warm and inviting, like it was ready to welcome anyone in and let them enjoy themselves. Comparing it to Tamlin’s manor, with the sickly sweet flowers blossoming around the entire house, and clipped formality of everyone inside, this was the perfect place to come for a night out.

“Don’t trust anyone there.” Tamlin had said. She supposed he was right. She didn’t know anyone there, and needed to keep her guard up. She kept her face expressionless as her and Ianthe walked up to the door. She had expected the evening to be relatively formal, but now Feyre cursed herself for not noticing the mini-skirt and revealing top Ianthe had donned, because now she felt incredibly overdressed.  The place seemed to be a large, organised house party. Many people had glasses of wine and were chatting in the kitchen and living room, but many of the ladies were definitely not dressed in long pink gowns like Feyre; more like jeans and shirts. She had been hoping to keep to the sides of each room and not get noticed, but she stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Ianthe… I think I need to go home.” She turned to her and held onto her like she was a lifeline, taking back all the thoughts she had had about her previously.

“Nonsense! We only just got here! Follow me and let’s go get some drinks.” Ianthe ignored Feyre’s protests and dragged her into the kitchen, where she poured them both two glasses of wine. Immediately, some long lost friends of Ianthe spotted them and made a big show of introducing each other to Feyre. Before she knew it, her lifeline was being whisked away for what she guessed would be some secret cult ritual between the four of them. She was left alone in a house of people she didn’t know, highly uncomfortable in that damn dress, no way to get home because she didn’t bring any money to get a taxi, and she didn’t know where the hell she was.

She tried to move towards the corner of the room without catching too much attention. The Mother, however, had other ideas for her night. She was halfway across the room when she must have elbowed someone in the side, prompting them to fling their wine all over her dress. Feyre couldn’t say she was angry, because she hated the dress, but she had been humiliated the whole night and her happy facade began to crack. Feyre didn’t bother to stick around or find out who spilled the drink; she only interrupted his apologies and asked where the bathroom was, her cheeks heating. Once she was directed, Feyre discarded her glass and tried to walk away nonchalantly, but ended up running when she felt tears trickle down her face.

**********

Feyre locked herself in the bathroom and began to cry. Why was it that every time someone or something came along in her miserable life it was ruined somehow? She had wanted to try and have a good time tonight, but she just didn’t fit in with anyone. Not even with Tamlin, truly. The endless business meetings she had to attend and play the happy fiancée, the formality of the parties all exhausting. Yes, Tamlin may insist that he’s found the love of his life, but she couldn’t adapt to this new life. What would she do? Would she be able to say “I do.” at the wedding? Mother above. Now the doubt was there, and she knew it would grow.

You need to stop, She told herself. There’s no point in getting upset when you have to stay here the rest of the night.

Feyre sniffed and wiped her eyes. She looked into the mirror and saw what a mess she looked. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks were splotchy. All over a spilled drink. The stain on her dress, however, was irreparable. Nevertheless, she went to the sink and tried to scrub the stain. She slid the heavy engagement ring off her finger, so it wouldn’t slide off her finger in the sink and fall down the drain. It would make things so much worse. The large emerald set in the middle seemed to stare at her accusingly. Don’t get into trouble. Feyre fought back another flood of tears and put the ring in her bag. Out of sight, out of mind. She blotted the stain with toilet paper, and eventually opted to just hold her purse in front of the stain for the rest of the night. She looked into the mirror once more and gave herself a quick once-over. She looked disheveled, but it would have to do.

Feyre stepped out of the bathroom to find a small line waiting to go in after her. How long had she been in there? She ignored the embarrassment in the back of her mind and walked outside into the gardens. The cool night air provided her with calm for a few minutes, and she found a bench along one of the paths. She sat for a while, watching the fountain, until she saw three men walk up to her. She could immediately tell that they weren’t going to leave her alone.

“Here for the party? You’re a bit overdressed, aren’t you?” One of them said as he approached.

Feyre tried to ignore them and stood up to leave, but another one of them blocked her path. She was trapped. Panic started rising in her throat.

“We’ve not really had much fun at this party yet. Why don’t you join us?” One man came up from behind her and made a grab for her arm.

She yanked her arm away and stuttered, “N-no, I’m fine thank you. Enjoy your night.” Feyre backed up but the man caught her arm again. She started shaking and her legs went weak. This couldn’t happen. This couldn’t happen. This couldn’t happen.

But suddenly, just as she was about to give up hope, she backed into a wall of muscle.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

**********

[as-many-times-as-it-takes]

Hey! I hope I'm not being a bother (I'm about to be a big damn bother) but... I just saw your inspiring Sheith phrases post and all the quotes + your little bit of meta about it made me all misty... but here's the thing. I'm VERY VERY new to the fandom... and to Sheith... and I have NO IDEA what half of those quotes are from or are referring to. Can you help me out with some of them??? No-one I know ships Sheith so I don't know who else to ask!

Hi there Anon! Thanks for the ask!

And first of all to get this out of the way, you are not a bother. When you ask someone to talk about something they are very passionate about, it’s like getting told Christmas just came early. I’ve really wanted to be a more solid part of this fandom, but my shyness sometimes gets the better of me. So every question/ask, etc frickin’ lights up my day okay? Okay!

So I’ll break down the quotes the best I can for ya! Some of them are a little older and it might be a bit difficult to pull up the information for that. If anyone out there knows anything I’m missing better or has a link, etc, please feel free to share that with this post!

Also, since you enjoyed the meta, you might also like my post The Boy who Never Gave Up. This really outlines a lot of the background information shown in the series for Keith and Shiro that give rise to a lot of these quotes!

Alrighty, here we go!

SHEITH QUOTE MASTER POST

This will be a VERY LONG POST with LOTS OF PICTURES, LINKS AND QUOTES so I will be putting in a cut here to help!

It’s good to have you back / It’s good to be back

This quote comes from S01:E01 - The Rise of Voltron. It’s the first moment in which Keith and Shiro share dialogue together. Especially based on everything leading up to it, (Check out my post here for more on that), the tone here is very gentle. There is almost a hushed quiet to it, like you’re looking in on a private moment not meant for your eyes. There was something very sweet about it that just stuck around.

It’s killing me when you are away

So this is a really interesting one that I don’t believe was every officially confirmed by the team behind the show (someone correct me if I’m wrong here!) but a bunch of very dedicated fans picked this one apart into something that stuck with us ‘till the end.

Again in  S01:E01 - The Rise of Voltron, we find this nearly directly after the quote above. When Keith takes Shiro and the other Paladins inside his Cabin, he shows them a bunch of notes, pictures, and assortments of other knowledge he has collected over his years alone, which led to him finding the Blue Lion’s location. However, while he is explaining his notes to everyone, there are glimpses of little sticky notes on his board. Fans looked these over to see if there was anything one these notes that was legible and this led to a really awesome post that you can view here.

The main conclusion was based on the lyrics from “Sugar” by Maroon 5, in which the words are

“I just wanna be deep in your loveAnd it’s killing me when you’re awayOoh, baby “

And the theory is that the note says“Just wanna be ‘something’ and it’s killing me when you’re away”

The something part implying that either A) Keith forgot the lines, B) The lines are a bit NSFW and so were changed slightly, C) Little column A & B? Keith was a little embarrassed and shortened it a bit.

This is all further supported when we’ve seen time and time again how much Keith adores Shiro and when we found out that Keith waited TWO YEARS on hopes and prayers waiting on his friend to come back. That would kill me too…

Shiro loves you baby / #He’s looking at Keith

This amazing piece came straight from Chris Palmer, one of the awesome story artists for Voltron. He posted this image with the words “Shiro loves you baby.” and one of his hashtags was #he’s looking at keith.

You can see the original post here

This, of course, made most of us explode with happiness. Not only was it freaking adorable, it told us that more of the people behind the scenes were quite possibly as invested and/or becoming as invested as many of us were with Sheith (A term which Josh Keaton himself stated he would like to coin for the ship pairing if it hadn’t been claimed already)

Many of the people who work on Voltron have posted something Sheith related. It’s a little hard to pull out specific pieces now as a lot of news and discourse has buried a lot of the original posts, but we’ve been very blessed. We’ve had official fan art, team members favouriting and commenting on fan art and lots of little snippets here and there that hinted that this was very possibly going to be canon.

Just like in The Legend of Korra, Korrasami became a thing later in the show. It was stated (I do not have a specific reference for this, mind you) that while the ship wasn’t originally intended, as the characters grew together with the show, the audience/fandom and with the team creating it, it just blossomed and the characters built a life they never expected. Oh, and many of those same people are working on Voltron~

Ninja mullet finds his true love

Straight from the spunky and lovable voice actor for Pidge, Bex Taylor-Klaus posted this while watching Keith find Shiro for the first time in ages in S01:E01 - The Rise of Voltron. Of course, we were quite excited to see this.

Bonus:

While this one didn’t quite catch on, it’s still pretty freaking precious. Sadly I could not find the original link to these.

Patience Yields Focus

This is a phrase that pops up quite a bit through the series. Each time delivered from Shiro as though this has been advice he’s given to Keith over and over, probably beginning from back when he worked with Keith in the Garrison. While it’s a lovely and wise quote all on it’s own, it’s most notable because of:

This scene. In S02:E1: Across the Universe, Keith brings this up as he is searching for Shiro to come to his friend’s aid. When he hears Keith use this line, Shiro’s asks “That really stayed with you didn’t it?” His tone and expression implying that this meant quite a lot to him. THIS then led immediately to our next awesome quote:

If it wasn’t for you, my life would’ve been a lot different

Immediately following Shiro’s amused surprise that Keith kept his wisdom with him for so long, Keith replies with this. From what we know, Shiro has been Keith’s mentor, best friend, sole supporter, and guiding light for as long as he’s known him. Even if it had never been meant to be romantic, the sheer warmth in Keith’s tone reveals a deep affection for just how important in his life Shiro has been to him.

This one’s for you, Shiro

Forced to take the reigns of the Black Lion to keep Team Voltron going, Keith utters this vow before he charges in. Giving the touching moments leading to him taking up of mantle of the Head of Voltron, the fact that everything he does in what he rightfully believes is Shiro’s place, he does for Shiro is heartbreakingly touching. No matter what, Shiro is never far from Keith’s thoughts and he guides his actions from his heart.

Shiro is the one person who never gave up on me. I won’t give up on him.

Facing the loss of his best friend yet again, Keith dedicates himself to finding Shiro who had been lost to the vastness of space at the end of the epic showdown with the villain Zarkon from S02:E13- Blackout and said this line in S03:E01 - Changing of the Guard. Heartbroken, Keith sees the other Paladins of Voltron working their hardest to move on even without Shiro at their fore, and in his pain he assumes they’ve forgotten him. When Princess Allura suggests that it is finally time that they look for a new Black Paladin, Keith staunchly refuses to even consider the idea and lashes out. While we’ve seen many hints at just how important Shiro is to Keith, hearing something so honest and direct was very sobering. As this thankfully worked out in the end, it’s less somber than it was, though no less meaningful.

And, at this moment, your friend desperately wants to see you

In S02:E08- The Blade of Marmora, Keith undergoes a trial as the result of the Galra fighters discovering that Keith himself owns a Galra blade having once belonged to one of their own. The trial is as much physically brutal and exhausting as it is mentally so. Watching over the trial, the leader explains to Shiro that the suit Keith wears will put him through another part of the trial, showing his greatest hopes and fears. With this quote, it was revealed just how deeply Keith adored Shiro and just how much he feared abandonment from him. When the false Shiro hologram turns his back on him, Keith is prepared to give up everything to keep him from leaving, even if that means losing his chance to discover his past. The word ‘desperately’ really struck a chord along with the rest of the episode, showing just how unwavering Keith’s commitment to Shiro was. And when the real Shiro came to Keith’s side, prepared to fight off the entirety of the Blades to see his friend to safety, we knew the feeling was mutual.

How many times are you gonna to have to save me before this is over? / As many times as it takes

S03:E06 - Tailing a Comet -When a wounded, exhausted, confused, and demoralized Shiro is finally brought back after his mysterious disappearance he shares another quietly intimate moment with Keith. Checking up on his friend’s wellbeing, Keith tells him that the rest of the team would love to see them when he is able, the silence that follows feeling heavy with words he won’t add to it. When he finally turns to leave, Shiro somberly asks Keith just how many times he will have to save him before their fight is finally over. After a quiet pause, Keith smiles and answers him. “As man times as it takes.”

This was actually the quote that inspired me to finally work over my shyness and make a blog. I had been silently rooting for Sheith in the background for ages. But this just really tipped me over the edge. Keith and Shiro’s relationship was never loudly proclaimed or thrown around with flowers and parades. It was this quiet constant, that was always present. They had been through so much together and through countless battles, loss and struggles, their unwavering and mutual commitment to each other was honestly humbling. And that made this scene / quote all the more special for it.

Beloved Mentor / Nothing was worth Shiro’s pain /Guiding Light

Actually for this, I’d like to turn to one of the awesome meta writers for our fandom @dent-de-leon (I highly recommend following them if you want to see some quality content. I know I’ve really appreciated their insight and jived with what they say!)

Dent-de-leon has an amazing master post that they made with a TON of the interview and inside quotes we’ve gotten from all of the amazing people behind Voltron. As I feel it would be a disservice to the awesome post and the time that went into hunting all those bits plus the sources down, I’d like to just link you to it HERE!

You made a promise to me once. You told me you’d never give up on me

Ohhhh boy, we got a lot from S06:E05 - The Black Paladins. When Kuron, the clone of Shiro who is essentially Shiro in nearly every aspect is controlled by Haggar in an attempt to rid their presence through mutual destruction, we are treated to some of the most heartwrenching scenes we have seen throughout the entire series.

Forced to fight his beloved friend in what could have been a fight to the death, Keith never once gives up on him.

In an attempt to shake Shiro out of his mind control, Keith reminds him of the promise he made to Keith long ago.

I love you

I don’t think I’d ever seen a love triumphs over evil trope so potently built up and displayed. With an absolutely heartbreaking performance, Steven Yeun had most of us staring dumbfounded at the tv/monitor wondering if we had just hallucinated. I personally have watched this over and over and even after the millionth time it still makes my chest ache. At the very end of his rope and facing destruction at the hands of his most beloved friend in the whole universe, Keith bares his heart and we mourned with him just as much as we celebrated something so beautiful.

I will never give up on you, but more importantly, you can’t give up on yourself

When Keith and Shiro are falling to what appears to be their demise, we see something that most of us has been excitedly imagining for years. It’s been clear how important Shiro has been to Keith all his life, especially at the Garrison and there are so many amazing headcanons, comics, and other gorgeous pieces of art depicting what the fans have dreamed up to their lives before Voltron. All we know is that something powerful and meaningful had to happen to inspire so much loyalty and love from someone like Keith. During this scene we see Shiro offer his vow of his own commitment, but also of how important he finds it for Keith to believe in himself as well. This has been a constant theme between the two since the first episode. And seeing this sent most of us into a whole new wave of tears after the initial shock of “I love you.”

You found me

S06:E06 - All Good Things. With multiple threats ended, the ultimate sacrifice of the Castle of Lions to save the universe and the knowledge that Shiro’s spirit has been in the Black Lion and that we’re left with the fading body of the clone that fought Keith, all things seem to be hanging on a thread. But with the clone essentially being Shiro with the exception of the mind control and Shiro’s spirit still without a body, Allura demonstrates the amazing and mystic power of her Altean heritage and recovers Shiro’s spirit, placing it inside the clones body and finally uniting them body, soul, mind, and memories all together into a single entity. Calling back all the way to Season 3 when Keith vehemently vowed that he would find Shiro, to when he breathlessly whispered “you found him” to the Black Lion when Kuron was fading in his dying breaths, Shiro brings everything back full circle. Cradled in Keith’s arms, Shiro leans into him and softly tells him. “You found me.”

Cue the crying all over again.

You’re Everything to Me

And after this long and wonderful journey, we’ve received yet another beautiful quote from the team. In an interview with the Main Story Editor Josh Hamilton today from the Let’s Voltron official podcast. He quotes:

Q: So a lot of people were asking, he says “you’re my brother.” A lot of people were saying is that literal brother or is that just a you know, brotherly figure?

JH: It’s–a lot of the time the words don’t matter, it’s like the way you say it. You know what I mean? It’s like, he says you’re my brother, you know, and when he does eventually say “I love you,” those words matter. It’s like “you know you’re my brother, you’re everything to me.” You know, that brotherly love. So it’s hard for him. But no, literally? I hope I’m not spoiling anything, but no.

—-

I think that says it all here. What a gift. I know that scene in the Black Paladins meant a lot to many of us. But hearing this just left me absolutely speechless. In the best of ways. Tears of victory!

And with the hint that we will be finding out more about Shiro and Keith’s past in the Garrison along with all of the events leading up to here, you can bet we’re all eagerly awaiting what we’ll see in Season 7.

But man, it’s been so, so worth it. For many of us, these two mean so much more than just a simple story. And that in it of itself is quite the gift.

Thank you Anon for inspiring me to put this together. It was a wonderful way to spend my night

[mskinkyafro]

Us Against the World ( Flynn x MC)

A/N: VOS is such a great mystery so far, I'm loving this book and I'm loving the chemistry between Flynn and my MC Aaliyah Olivera. This takes place back in chapter 11 and I included most of the same dialogue and added some of my own from the arraignment scene. Plus I wanted to shed some more emphasis over the fact the D.A. publicly discussed Aaliyah's love life in front of the town and how that felt for her. Also this sat in my drive for a minute, I've been feeling insecure about my writing lately but I feel like this fic is worth publishing. Since this does take place back in chapter 11 it isn't compliant to how twelve started so it's canon divergence. 

Sidenote: I briefly describe Aaliyah's appearance in this fic and the hairstyle I detail isn't an option in book. The reason I changed it is because sometimes the hairstyles offered do not flatter the darker MCs as much as I'd like so in my HC and this story and any future fics she's rocking a natural shoulder length kinky-curl fro.

Summary: After the hearing, Flynn and Aaliyah head back to his place to regroup from the day. They have a heart to heart about today's revelations and how to move forward from this minor setback.  

Rating: PG-13 slight cursing

Aaliyah walks up the steps entering the Birchport's courthouse. Once inside she noticed that it was everything she'd expect for the small coastal town. As she entered the courtroom Aaliyah was taken back by how many people came to the hearing. She was faintly irked at the nerve of the townspeople. Some treating this hearing, Kate's life as some sort of entertainment.

Spotting Flynn in the row directly behind the defendant's table she made her way over. "How are you holding up?" she asked him carefully.

Aaliyah noticed the anxiousness and apprehension radiating off him. 

"Considering that this place is just one bad massive flashback? You tell me…" he drifts off his eyes avoiding hers. 

Sympathizing with her best friend's brother she squeezed his hand and doesn't let go as she tells him

"I'm here for you, Flynn."

His face is kept neutral but the usual spark that she's seen in his eyes the last few days are not there at that moment. It almost breaks her heart to see him so forlorn. Her thoughts were going a mile a minute that she didn't notice the look Flynn gives as his eyes look her over up and down, admiring the all-white pantsuit that fit her like a glove and accented her coffee colored skin. He opens his mouth and says

"Though...that look is a pretty decent distraction. I'm not gonna lie I think I'm a bit...afraid of you in that suit…I mean that in a good way. " A blush is evident on his face as he tries to regain his composure.

Flashing a coy smile his way she playful shoves his shoulder and says

"Only decent?"

He gives a small eye roll 

"You know what I meant…" he rubs behind his neck

"You never do anything just decent and you yourself aren't either. What I meant is that you look amazing."

She places a chaste kiss to his cheek and says

"Thanks, Flynn. Let's hope it has the same effect on the prosecutor."

Then she drops her voice in a sultry tone so that only he could hear her

"And there's nothing you should be afraid about. I only bite when you ask me too." Aaliyah tosses a wink in for good measure. 

Flynn grins and shakes his head. He then tells her what he found out when he went to talk with Tony Roz. After explaining they've hit another dead end when the doors behind them opened and who entered was Grant with Kate by his side who held her head down. Aaliyah tried to give her a small, comforting wave but Kate seemed to not notice. She appeared to look distant and haunted. Frowning she murmured to Flynn 

 "God. We were supposed to watch her walk down the aisle to be married, not arraigned."

"I still can't believe this is happening." Flynn said back.

The chamber doors open, and the judge and bailiff walk in. 

"All rise for the honorable Judge Samantha A.Winters" the bailiff announced loudly to the courtroom.” 

Everyone rose from their seats and he bailiff continued 

"This is a hearing to determine the bail for Kate O'Malley in the alleged murder of Tanner Sterling." 

Judge Winters sits down and brings down her gavel and says

"You all may be seated. Mr. Emerson? Proceed when ready."

Spectators sit and Grant rises looking confident and in his element and he begins his opening statement as to why Kate is innocent. As he continues on Aaliyah leans into Flynn to whisper

"Do you know the prosecutor?"

His body tenses in annoyance as he answers her question 

"That's Mac Hornby. Birchport's D.A. Let's just say he's a frequent guest at Sterling's garden parties."

As he finishes talking Grant is walking back to sit next to Kate at the defense table when the Judge then turns to the district attorney.

"Mr. Hornby, your opening remarks, please."

"With pleasure, Your Honor" he replies with a million dollar smile. 

He then launches into his opening and at every corner attempts to discredit Kate and paint her as a murderer. Sitting next to Flynn, Aaliyah can feel and see him physically tense up as the D.A. spread lies about his sister, from the way his hands balled up into fists to the way his nostrils flared. So she reached to squeeze his hand once more and give him a reassuring look to keep him from exploding in rage. She says gently

"Easy. Easy."

Hornby continues on with his opening. Disapproving of his message Aaliyah whispers again "He's really sticking with Walsh's narrative."

Vindictively Flynn responds "You mean Pierce's narrative."

After ending with closing remarks Grant calls Aaliyah to the stand as a character witness. She stands from her seat and before she makes her way Flynn squeezes her hand in support in which she gives him a small smile in return.  She was sworn in and Grant asks her a few questions to shed light on the true nature of Kate. She answers them with ease. Soon she's answering questions from the D.A. and inside she can feel her irritation and loathe of the man build. His next question catches her off guard

"...And yet, your own character is pretty questionable isn't it?"

Quirking her eyebrow but maintaining a neutral professional face Aaliyah responds 

"That's up for interpretation. I'm a reporter from New York. I take it that most close-knit communities are wary of visitors. But I believe that most can testify that my character is an open and shut case, just like this ridiculous accusation."

Hornby takes a step closer to the stand and chuckles and moves so he faces the audience.  

"My, my, my Ms.Olivera. You're a fiery one, aren't you? You have a sharp tongue and quite the mouth. I'm assuming that's what attracted the defendant's brother in engaging in a romantic and sexual relationship with you?

Stunned and angry at his remark Aaliyah was a taken back but managed to reply coolly. 

"Excuse me?"

The D.A. then turns back to Aaliyah, his eyes fierce. 

"Isn't true that you have become romantically and sexually involved with Kate's own brother, Flynn O'Malley?"

At this point, Aaliyah is furious with the line of questioning and it takes all her energy not to lash out. 

"What…? How would you even…? How does that question pertain to Kate?!" She says, her voice raises slightly near the end. 

Not holding back Hornby pushes  "Answer the question! Yes or no?"

Feeling challenged Aaliyah was about to answer when Grant interrupted

"Objection! Relevance?”

The D.A. then exclaims  "The relevance is her bias! Aaliyah Olivera is so tangled up in the O'Malleys at this point, that she's practically one of them!"

Grant chimes in again more aggressively 

"He's badgering the witness! Objection!"

Then Judge Winters voice rings clear throughout the room. "Sustained! I will not let my courtroom become a circus."

She then eyes Mr. Hornby . "Consider this your last warning, Mac."

"Understood. No further questions. "

He steps back and is heading towards his seat but the damage was already done.  The crowd is buzzing at the latest revelation regarding the visiting journalist. The bailiff motions for Aaliyah that she can leave but she then speaks

"I have something to say before I step down, may I your honor?"

The judge nods

 "I'll allow it."

Aaliyah's voice rings loud and clear throughout the room.

"I may not have grown up with Kate O'Malley here in Birchport but since I've met her it feels like I've known her my whole life. I know that Kate would never, ever hurt anyone no matter if they've wronged her. She's the victim and I refuse to let anyone construe it otherwise."

Her eyes look to the D.A. after she says the last sentence before continuing her speech.

“I'm going to fight to prove that my best friend is innocent no matter how high the stakes grow. I can't be bribed, intimidated or manipulated to leave things be or to go away. I will uncover the secrets and blatant corruption that is poisoning Birchport one way or another." Aaliyah's gaze lands on Chief Walsh and the Sterlings as she finishes.

She then steps down and makes her way back to her seat with her cheeks burning for the fact her love life was blasted out unexpectedly and that everyone's eyes followed her, judging. She sits down next to Flynn who is ready to blow his gasket.

"That...that was…"Sighing she finishes his sentence 

"A disaster, I know but losing our cool will only make it worse."

The hearing continues on with a distinct pattern of people detailing Kate's true nature and the prosecution twisting it around. Finally, it comes to an end and Judge Winters weighs in her thoughts. She reluctantly denies bail for Kate and bangs her gavel down. 

"This hearing is adjourned."

Aaliyah and Flynn can barely make out Kate's small cries of protest  

"But...But I…" 

The bailiff grabs her to put her back into her cell, silent tears roll down her face as she's taken away. 

"No...Kate…"

Aaliyah sinks onto the bench frustrated that everyone is believing the lies that are fed to them. Not standing being in the room much longer Aaliyah stalks out in anger. She briefly makes eye contact with the Sterlings who give her icy glares. She turns her head quickly and makes her way out the courthouse. 

She stands to the side, breathing in and out slowly to calm herself. Especially since the citizens that pass her keep giving her side glances or snidely whispering while looking her way.

"Aaliyah!" She turns and sees both Grant and Flynn coming her way.

"I can't stay long. I'm going to start prepping for the trial but I wanted to say sorry that I didn't prepare you for Mac's question regarding your…" he says looking between Flynn and Aaliyah, his voice is professional but Aaliyah can see a flash of  disappointment in his eyes as he realizes that she isn't available and he's not her first choice. 

"...personal life. If I'd known that-" she cuts him off.

"It's okay Grant. It's not your fault." 

He checks the time on his watch briefly then glances back at the two.

"I gotta run, but take it, easy guys."

He pats Aaliyah on the shoulder and clasps hands with Flynn before walking away. Flynn then turns to Aaliyah his eyes filled with concern. 

"Hey, you alright?"

She sighs while running her hand through her kinky curly fro. 

"No. Not really. I really need a stiff drink and to get the hell away from other people as I can." 

Her other hand motions to a pair of older women who can be seen staring at the two.

"Well, how about hard liquor and a sailing around the local coastline sound? I usually take my place out for a spin when I need to clear my head."

She smiles slightly that Flynn is trying to cheer her up. 

"That sounds perfect, actually." They walk to his bike where he hands her the second helmet and they ride to the Marina.

Once there he helps her onto his home and head inside. Making their way into his living room he tells Aaliyah "You grab the alcohol and I'll get us sailing."

She nods and he leaves out of her sight. She rummages through the cabinet and finds two glass and she grabs his bottle of whiskey. She can feel the boat slowly moving as she walks to the roof. She walks to stand by him as they watch the sunset and pours them both a glass. Handing him his their eyes lock and he silently thanks her before turning back to the sky. They take a swig of the alcohol at the same time. Aaliyah wasn't a usual whiskey fan but was appreciative of the warm burning sensation it provides at the moment.

 A comfortable silence passes between the two for a few minutes before Flynn speaks. "Look, today in court was terrible. Not just because of Kate but…"

He pauses and gulps down the rest of drink before continuing  "What that bastard did to you was terrible. Using our…damn it!"

"I've never been so humiliated and embarrassed before. Not because I'm ashamed to be with you Flynn, but for the fact that he had the audacity to broadcast something so personal. Who I decide to spend my time with is no one else's business, and I'm pissed that he caught me off guard like that."

"I wanted to beat that smug smile off that asshole's face."

He clenches his glass in his hands as his facial expression grows dreary. "I've told you before I'd do anything for you. But at this rate, I'm worried, Aaliyah."

Aaliyah reaches over and places her hand softly on his face to make him look her in the eyes and asks softly 

"What are you trying to say?"

His eyes are sad. 

"What I'm saying is, I want you to be safe and comfortable. I'm not sure what exactly we are..." She cuts him off and tries to lighten the mood by saying.

"I thought we were a dynamic private investigators duo with not by the book tendencies." 

Flynn gives her a small smile but his grim expression returns 

"True. But I believe it's much more than that. We don't have to label it just yet but I care about you a lot.” 

"I care about you too Flynn."

He sighs.

"This is why I'm saying if you wanted to stay away from the Birchport after today...or me, I'd understand if you left especially after your talk with Walsh, Kate's hearing, and the way the townspeople looked at you afterward."

He breaks eye contact and gazes out at the rolling sea.

“I couldn't protect my baby sister like a good big brother should. She's in the place that to this day gives me nightmares. I've tried so hard these past few days to save and defend her but after today looks like its all for nothing. I've failed her."

Flynn looks down and brushes Aaliyah's hand from his face.  

"I'd hate to see you go but I'd hate it even more and myself if something happened to you. I couldn't live with myself if I failed you like I've failed Kate."

She stays quiet for a moment and then she lifts his head, delicately placing her hands on his cheeks to lock her eyes with his and places a soft but passionate kiss on his lips. She breaks away and says.

"Flynn, you're one of the reasons why Kate is alive. You never stopped questioning and searching since the moment she disappeared. You're relentlessness and love for your sister is one of the reasons she's here with us. Even though seeing her cuffs is hard, I rather it be that than us finding her too late. You did not fail her, understand?

He tried to interrupt but she kept going.

"No. I'm not going to hear otherwise. And if you think I'm going to run when things start to heat up you're wrong, mister. I promised that I was going to get to the bottom of this all for Kate. Nothing and no one is going to stop me."

She removes her hands from his face to grasp his hands into hers, gently rubbing her thumb across his calloused hands.

"Plus if I did go, I couldn't imagine not seeing you,"  she says sheepishly.

Closing her eyes momentarily before opening them again and shaking her head quickly she speaks more firmly, her eyes are determined.

"I don't care if all of Birchport disapproves that I'm heavily involved and sleeping with the "resident bad boy" Flynn O'Malley. All that matters is that I like you a lot and I'm not letting snide remarks or stares keep me from spending time with my partner in crime."

At that moment she turned her head to gaze at the swirls of pink and purple in the sky that she didn't see him move closer to her and places a smoldering, smooth kiss on her plump lips. Any self doubt and worry melted away from him and her heart rate escalated. After a few minutes, he breathes heavily as he barely removes his lips from hers and murmurs softly

"Kate's lucky to have you as a best friend. You're unlike any girl or any person for that matter, that I know. I'm glad that I met you and have you by my side."

Aaliyah smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist "It's up to us to solve this. You and me against the world, you think we stand the chance?"

He smirks at her and pulls her even closer into his warm embrace, she inhales his scent of whiskey and old spice. "I like those odds. As long as you're always in my corner."

"Without a doubt Flynn."

She lays her head on his chest and relaxes for the first time that day. Together they watch the sunset, hoping for a better tomorrow.