#the prompt was spring and rainbow so like. what else was i supposed to do.

[veveisveryuncool]

spring in full fling now :]

[spiltscribbles]

Worth It

~Notes: Oof, I know I have so many prompts in my inbox and I appreciate them so much! But I wanted to write something after dinner in dedication and a gift to the lovely Remus-John-Lupin!!!!!!!<3<3<3 I love you RJ and I appreciate you and your friendship so fucking much, so this is just a strange little gift from me to you in thanks for how kind you’ve always been to me since I joined this crazy fandom, ILY and you’re my favorite slag!!!!

.-

Sirius silently reminds himself that he in fact likes Lily, he thinks she’s a total knock out and is happy that his brother is finally getting to date the girl of his dreams. He likes her damn it,! And one does not commit battery to folks that they like.

Assured that his pure irritation won’t bleed through his words, Sirius tries again in his most charming of inflections. “All I want is his number.”

“No,” she repeats, casually steadfast while poking at her salad— Not even bothering to flick her gaze up at an increasingly irate Sirius.

“Why are you being so fucking difficult!”

“Why are you still bitching about this,” she counters, finally giving him her undivided attention, even if it’s her glaring at him like she’d like to skewer Sirius on a stick.

“Hey guys, let’s chill.” James tries to mediate, laughing awkwardly between the pair of them, hand raised in concession and glasses going a bit skewed.

They promptly ignore him.

“I like him. What is so difficult to understand Evans? Aren’t you like supposed to be some brainiac or some shit?”

“It’s been like two months Black,” she says pointedly, grip on her fork tightening while her mouth curls unpleasantly. “That’s way past your ordinary infatuations, so why the hell do you still even care.”

Sirius bares his teeth, pinning her with a glower that once made an old school yard bully of Regulus’s actually piss his pants. So of course Lily doesn’t even flinch. “He’s cute.”

“You’re a dog.”

“You’re being a total ass.”

“And you’re a bastard.”

“But you love me though.”

“Just barely.”

“So you’ll give me Remus’s number?”

“Dream on.” she says with a lofty sniff and haughty flip of the hair, discarding her barely eaten lunch before swaggering over to where a group of her friends from the STEM club are sat, including Alice Flores and Dorcas Meadowes. 

“Guess you’re back to square one Pads.” James says, unhelpful as fuck, so Sirius only flips him off before snatching back his calculus homework from a pitiful looking Peter.

“Fuck this.”

.-

Sirius thinks of himself as a reasonable sort of guy.

He isn’t one for holding grudges or obsessing over perceived slights. He’s brilliant whether he’s playing linebacker on the field or taking a exam in class.

For fuck’s sake, Sirius  can be plumped down in any and all social situations without warning, and can have the room eating out the palm of his hand within the first five minutes.

In layman’s terms, he’s decent and driven and downright charismatic. Mix this all together, and well Sirius thinks he’s a pretty fantastic fucking package— if he does say so himself. He can have his pick of the lot, truly. Especially when walking down the halls flocked by his best friend turned second brother on one end and little Petey, who’s a great hype man, on the other. So its only poetic justice that the one person who’s been able to swallow up all his attention is the one person who doesn’t even give him a second glance most days.

And that’s fucking ridiculous.

This is ridiculous! He is fucking ridiculous! No, record scratch. Remus fucking Lupin is the most ridiculous part of this all!

Remus lupin with his delightfully disheveled hair the color of gold and his crooked grin that’s everything darling in the world, and his big doe eyes that sometimes flare with green specs when he’s especially passionate in class or when he’s chatting with Lily in the halls. Remus lupin who’s only just moved here to Murray Hill from a small town in southern Illinois and who toppled Sirius’s world upside-down while he was at it. 

The first time they met was completely on accident.

It was the week before classes began, and Sirius had only just come back from his family trip to their villa in Rome, and he was only meant to meet James at the coffee shop that Lily was working at now. They were suppose to head to the city and go out drinking to celebrate the start of their senior year.  Sirius was suppose to find a nice, college aged girl to fuck because he’s given up on the boring lot that infests Hogwarts these days. It was suppose to be easy and fun and he was suppose to stay stringless and unattached as ever.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, Sirius walked into the Howling Moon  and was met by the sight of the most lovely, most gorgeous boy he’s ever met. Hand to God, it felt like one of those slow motion moments in a Romantic Comedy when the disgruntled, wayward lead first sets their eyes on that love interest— the one to out shine all others, the one  who turns everything inside out and makes it all glitter gold.

“Hey there,” Remus had grinned like the fucking sun, slipping the pen from his ear and hand poised over the cups lining the counter. “What can I get ya?”

“Oh, erm— Yeah. Just a caramel macchiato, iced.”Sirius’s ordinarily smooth baritone almost fucking cracked while ordering, and Remus’s beautiful eyes had glittered.

“Would’ve taken you for a dark roast sort of guy.” He said, and Sirius swears that it was playful and flirtatious and a little mischievous too. 

Sirius was in love.

“I’ve been known to partake in sweets, you know, if they catch my eye,” he replied, eyes lingering meaningfully up and down Remus’s slighter frame.

“What a come on,” Remus had laughed, head thrown back to show off his long neck and Sirius was so fucking gobsmacked at how it quite literally sounded like all the most splendid instruments woven together.

He had ducked his head, so unordinary bashful but so beyond pleased. “What can I say beautiful, you bring it out of me.”

“”Cute.” Remus had chuckled, cheeks going a fetching red and scribbling down the order. “Definitely one of the more interesting one liners I’ve gotten today.”

Sirius ignored the flare of jealousy over that, considering that he hasn’t gotten to even kiss him yet, and he should probably take this slow if he doesn’t want to screw it up. “Has anyone of those bastards mentioned how your eyes put the brownies on sale to shame?”

“No one as hot as you if I’m being honest,” Remus retorted, ringing him up and sinking his teeth into his plump bottom lip. And fuck, Sirius knew he was in trouble from then on.

They had talked for over half an hour about nothing at all in that tiny bistro while Remus was busy exchanging the coffee pots for a fresh batch and rearranging the baked goods, and it was amazing.

 Sirius has always been someone who couldn’t sit still, who had to be fluttering all over the place to feel like he was actually headed somewhere, like he was getting something finished. But for the first time in too long, just sitting there, still and silent and besotted while Remus chatted about his hometown and moving half way across the country and his eccentric mother— Well Sirius felt completely balanced, completely calm. He felt like just as long as Remus was their chatting with him and smiling in that beguiling way of his, that Sirius could actually breathe without pressure. Like he knew what it meant to have a center.

So of course, right when he decided that he was going to snatch him up— to ask him out on a date before anyone else from their shitty class filled with degenerates and dick heads could— Lily of all people  had swaggered in, and gave him a caustic sort of glower that plainly said, keep the fuck away.

Ordinarily Sirius would’ve completely ignored her warning, would’ve unashamedly and excitedly chased after the cutest fucking boy he’s ever laid his eyes on with an absurd sort of zeal. But he under estimated just how much sway Lily was able to cater with Remus in the few weeks they worked with one another before he had met him. So instead of starting off the year with a brand new, insanely pretty boyfriend wrapped around one arm, Sirius has just spent the past nine weeks pining like a fucking love sick loser. Like he was starring in some cheesy John Hughes movie from the damn 80s!

And this will not do, this is not all right, not okay at all.

Sirius needs to figure out a way to get close to Remus, and outside of Lily’s overbearing claws. Something that only Remus likes, that Sirius can partake in to prove himself worthy.

As he promenades down the hall towards his free period, Sirius creates a mental check list of the things he knows Remus enjoys.

Remus enjoys poetry, and Sirius knows that he’s part of the school’s award winning Forensics team. But they meet during the football practices so Sirius couldn’t even try to impress him in that arena until the spring. He also knows that Remus likes history, that he’s going to end up majoring in classics in University, but Sirius really doubts his ability to memorize the Iliad in the matter of a few hours— He’s good, but not that good.

“Jesus fuck is this hard,” he mutters nastily to himself, tugging at the ends of his dark hair before ramming straight into a display outside the southern wing of their preparatory school’s building.

He winces, not so much for the throbbing in his toes, but because of Marlene’s snappish attitude when he makes it so that the table shakes.

“Keep your head out your ass Black,” she scolds before going back to filing her nails. And Sirius is about to snipe right back at her— That is until he catches on the bright poster adorned with small rainbows and the words, GSA FOOD DRIVE spelt out in large lettering.

And oh!

“Eureka!”

“Pardon?” Marlene asks, nose wrinkled indelicately as she eyes him like he’s about to puke on her brand new Doc Martens again like last weekend. Holy shit, she should really get over it by now.

But Sirius is smart enough and tactful enough not to mention his thoughts on the matter, only smiles down at her with pure elation. “Marls, what if I said I had a brilliant idea to help our lovely GSA.”

“I’d accuse you to only doing it to try and get in Lupin’s pants since he’s our new VP.”

Sirius grapples for his chest, feigning indignant. “You pain me my old friend.”

Marlene snorts. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“That’s neither here nor there.”

“So are your chances with Lupin.”

“You’re a sick fuck McKinnon.”

“What do you want from me you gnat.”

“Let me help with the fundraiser.”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll tell Lily to get Meadowes to notice you?”

Marlene glares at him now. “We’ve been fucking for like a month you prick.”

“Oh— Erm, then for some of that good old Bi unity?”

Marlene suddenly looks so very shrewd and Sirius hates how every fucking woman in his life could eat him whole for breakfast. “Absolutely not.”

“Fine, what the fuck do you want.”

“You cover Fabian’s costs for the goods  when we go to that rave for 2KBABY in January.”

“Eh, didn’t you guys use to fuck?”

“Yes. But I don’t see the connection?”

“He won’t even give you a discount on the good shit?”

“Oh he does,” she leers, blue eyes glinting wickedly in the hallway light. “But I’d rather see you pay full price for’m.”

Sirius glares down at her, and repeats himself.  “You. Are. A. Sick. Fuck.”

Marlene just lies back in her seat and returns to manicuring her nails. “Well if cheekbones isn’t worth the bother?”

“Fine,” Sirius all but growls out. “But we do this my way.”

“Scout’s honor handsome,” she absolutely beams, and Sirius reminds himself that this is all for Remus and that’s worth it at the end of the day.

.-

It’s a week later, right before Thanksgiving break hits, and Sirius is sat in front of the cafeteria, smirking at the line of mostly pink faced girls and a few others amongst their midst, who have all queued up in front of him. A dollar in each of their hands, though he does see that a few have fives and even tens or more, and he doesn’t know how to subtly tell them that all he’s promising is a quick peck of his lips, and absolutely no other groping— including of his legendary ass or admittedly perfect abs.

“You’re just really enjoying yourself, aren’t you.” James hisses besides him after the latest girl— a blonde sophomore who’s decked out in Lulu Lemon for their only non uniform day of the week— scurries off. “Just a ego trip.”

“Jealous Jamie darling?” Sirius boasts, tipping back on his chair while Marlene collects the cash from the next five in line so that they can clammer closer towards him.

“I can’t believe all of them want to kiss you,” Peter marvels, round eyes completely in aw. 

“I can’t believe you think this is how to get Remus’s attention,” Lily interjects huffily, lips set in a moody pout while perched on James’s lap to Sirius’s left.

“I bet you would’ve been in line if you weren’t dating Jamie here.” Sirius counters, smug as all get out, and laughing when all Lily deigns as a adequate response is her middle finger.

Sirius is on cloud nine. He can’t believe he didn’t think of this sooner! Remus loves all this shit, from the club to the charity. This is perfect! This basically guarantees that he’ll finally get a good smooch on him. And once their lips finally  touch, Remus will surely feel the swarm of butterflies in his gut just like in those Harleyquin romance novels his cousin Narcissa would always read with a dreamy look on her face during their various Family vacations.

“You’re not gonna get him this way.”

“He’s not gonna know what hit’m Evans,” Sirius retorts, completely self assured.

.-

One should never bet against Lily Marie Evans.

Sirius knows this now. But he still hates it with the passion of a thousand burning suns.

By the end of the lunch hour, Sirius’s earned over sixty bucks to the GSA’s fundraiser fund, and absolutely zero potential boyfriends who look like golden angels and make Sirius’s knees weak.

“I told you,” Lily says in that sing-song sort of voice that is so not appreciated right now. “Remus is not the type to kiss you in front of a huge crowd and after like a bunch of others. That’s not his style.”

Sirius is moody as all get out, and he’s irritated that he’s just wasted five dozen perfectly fine kisses on folks who aren’t Remus, so he doesn’t bother to hide his irritation when he gripes back at her, “Then tell me what the fuck is his style.”

Miraculously, that actually proved enough to get Lily to slow down her stroll, and cock her head curiously at him. “You actually care.”

“What the fuck have I been trying to tell you Evans!” He nearly shouts.

“I just thought— You know. That it was a game.”

Sirius’s face goes stoney, and he juts his chin away from her. “It’s not always a fucking game, all right. It’s not a game with him— I like him. I like Remus.”

“Oh,” Lily says very quietly, her face pulled in a thousand different directions before settling on something akin to solemn. “You should go to the music room for your free period today.”

Sirius quirks a brow at her, frowning while he asks, “Why?”

“Just trust me S,” she says, reaching over her hand to squeeze his forearm.

Sirius watches her walk off, hand in hand with James, and he feels a strange twisting to his heart when he imagines a very similar image— only with him and Remus and punctuated by plenty of kisses to the cheek, and jawline and lips too.

.-

The music room is towards the back of the school, in a separate building along with the theatre and main auditorium.

The early autumnal chill lashes against Sirius’s face while he makes the track to the room, continuously chanting to himself that he actually trusts Lily and this is gonna be worth it if there’s a merciful God up there.

Once Sirius clammers in doors, he rubs his cold hands together, and shakes out his hair. 

The first thing he hears is the soft strumming of a guitar, and finds himself in front of the music room after following its melodic toon. 

Through the window he can spot the form of Remus bent over the instrument, his thick curls getting in his eyes and his steady hands plucking a few chords as he sits cross legged atop the piano.

Sirius feels his heart lodging in his throat at the sight of him, so beautiful and perfect and warm looking in that scarlet sweater. And he knows in his bones that this is some sort of unspoken blessing that Lily’s given him, so with a deep breath, Sirius opens the door and strolls in.

Remus starts slightly, going flushed once his eyes catch on Sirius’s own.

“Oh Sirius,” he greets, the corners of his mouth tipping into a smile that doesn’t ring true. “You pulled away from the haram?”

“That’s a bit much? Calling them a haram,” Sirius says cooly, hitching up besides him and swinging his long legs. “I just did it to help you.”

“Oh— Yeah,” Remus nods. “The GSA appreciates all the help we can get.”  His words are quiet, and he’s rinsing a hand through his curls, so Sirius can tell that he’s a bit nervous. And it’s impossibly cute, but also not on. He doubts that he’ll ever get his kiss if Remus won’t even look at him in the eyes.

Gingerly, Sirius sets the pad of his pointer finger beneath Remus’s chin, lifting his gaze upwards. “Not the GSA— Though I appreciate the club’s work and your part in that.”

“Oh,” Remus says again, lips pursed and his throat pulsing when he swallows down. “Then—“

“I did it for you Remus,” Sirius repeats heatedly. “I did it because I’ve been mad for you since ever meeting you in August, and I can’t get your fucking face or name or lips or ass out of my head. And I thought that if maybe I pulled a dumb stunt like that, you would actually kiss me along with the lot of those idiots who can’t even hold a candle to you.”

“M—My ass?” Remus questions, voice going pitchy and face bright with emotion. 

Sirius laughs, booming and bombastic. “You have the best ass I’ve ever seen Remus Lupin and it’s really obscene.”

Remus shoulder checks him, looking down and then back up through his lashes at Sirius and it’s a sight Sirius wish he can keep with him for the rest of his days.

“So you thought I’d want our first kiss to happen after you’ve just made out with half the school?” 

Sirius grimaces, bending down so that their lips are only inches apart. “Listen, I can be a complete dumb ass on occasion.”

“Don’t forget arrogant.”

“Okay, fair.”

“And brash too.”

“Right.”

“Also you tend—“

Sirius places a soft hand over Remus’s supple lips, glaring teasingly at the other boy, who’s grinning like the cat who’s caught the canary, his eyes teeming with laughter. 

Remus Lupin is going to be the death of  him, Sirius knows it.

“Listen Lupin, I’d like a shred of self respect here, so I can actually muster up the courage to ask you out on a proper date already.”

Remus perks at that, so Sirius moves his grasp.

 “You wanna ask me out?”

“Depends…. You wanna continue that little rant until I’m blue balled and  gutless.”

“Hmm,” Remus inches closer, setting his hand over Sirius’s on the piano. “Nah, I think I’d rather do this.”

He leans forwards and Sirius barely has enough time to gather his bearings when he feels Remus’s mouth over his own and it’s literally every starlit promise and sugar burnt secret and sunlit afternoon all rolled into one. And Sirius feels his heart thud an uneven staccato when he grabs for either end of Remus’s waistline and plunges his tongue into his own and he lets himself get lost in the overwhelming feeling of it all.

[tiny-smallest]

day one - pride

Rating: G Characters: Henry and Bendy Warnings: none Description: Henry reflects on the definition of labels and belonging in certain spaces.

Also on AO3!

---

WHO'S READY FOR THE INK DEMONTH 2021 I SURE ONCE AGAIN TOTALLY WAS YEP DEFINITELY NO LAST MINUTE ANYTHING HERE LET'S GO

Doing writing prompts again because this year has been A Lifetime and I just don't possess the ability to draw this time so let's go let's get stupid get weird enjoy the misadventures of a specific au of of Bendy and the Ink Machine where the toons are their own people in a world they still don't entirely understand and the people who love them who try to help them navigate it.

---

Henry was used to a surprising amount of things to interrupt his day first thing in the morning. Easily numbered in the hundreds. His children were toons; there was no end to the amount of crazy nonsense that they could get into when he was asleep, and that was disregarding the fact that Bendy usually slept until noon.

Sure, he was the Troublemaker In Chief. That did not mean the other two were paragons of holiness, no matter how much Alice tried glowing her halo at him while she and her brother gave him the saddest, biggest, shiniest puppy eyes. And that didn't even take into account how much trouble they could find, no mischief intended.

He'd seen smoldering breakfasts, pancakes on the ceiling, saran wrap around the kitchen archway, demonic rubber chicken noises from a saxophone that had a part replaced with the noisemaker from the novelty prank toy...

(He still didn't regret letting Boris chase Bendy for that one without intervening.)

With all that, being immediately accosted by three toons hanging off his legs the second he came down the stairs and all trying to talk to him at the same time did not magically get any easier to withstand.

"Whatever it is, it's a no until I get my coffee," he drawled as he attempted to walk with them hanging off him, the three of them dragged along with him. It was with quite some difficulty that he got to the kitchen counter.

"But Henry!" Bendy whined, "we only got a few hours to get ready if ya say yes! We need every second!"

"For what?" he yawned, pouring a cup from the machine.

"You don't know what day it is?" Alice was surprised enough to actually let go, and she dusted herself off like the lady she was before standing up.

Instantly something cold grabbed Henry's heart and squeezed. "Uh- no I...?"

Had he forgotten someone's birthday? No, it was summertime; Bendy was a winter 'birth' and Boris and Alice were spring and fall. An anniversary of some kind? Quick think what are you forgetting you useless-

"How!?" Bendy gaped at him from down below. "It's been all over the news fer weeks!"

Well okay now he was just thoroughly confused. "I um-"

"The parade, Henry!" Boris's tail was thumping gently against the floor; he was not trying one tiny ounce to hide his eagerness. "The parade that's today!"

"Parade-?" It took just one more nanosecond of thought before it clicked.

"Oh you mean the-!" And they wanted to go to it.

Well, he shouldn't be surprised. This would be the first parade they'd get to see, wouldn't it? And it was nice weather out. And it would be bursting with color, which the toons were darn near obsessed with.

He took a contemplative sip. They weren't human; god even knew if they had any sort of sexuality at all. Could they even feel that stuff? The urge to- do anything like that? Wouldn't that technically make them asexual? That was the word, right?

Well, human or not, that would solidly mean they belonged there. Queer was queer, regardless of species, right? Hell, even if they'd just started asking themselves those questions, or wanted to support the fans of theirs who fell under that giant umbrella, they were valid for being there.

"Sure, I can take you."

Both boys cheered, lifting their arms to do so and releasing his legs. He quickly took a step away from them, but their joy had them leaping to their feet anyway and he watched as they bounced around the kitchen, slowly draining his coffee and trying to curb his smile when he was actively drinking.

It was a hard task.

Their excited chatter melted pleasantly into the background as he took the time to drink and try to shake his brain awake the rest of the way awake like shaking out an old blanket to coax out the wrinkles. Their enthusiasm always made for the perfect background noise.

"What colors do you want?"

"I dunno! There's so many! I don' even know what label I fit in-"

"I saw you checkin' out that guy the other day don't think I didn't!" The wink and nudge from Bendy sent Boris blushing so hard the poor wolf's face turned nearly as black as his fur.

"I was hopin' you hadn't-"

They were all quick to consume breakfast, and Henry retreated upstairs after telling the toons to come get him when they wanted to leave.

He settled comfortably in the limitless, timeless space of art before reality came knocking with Bendy's distinctive tapping at the door, pulling Henry from the space inbetween something and nothing as he set his pen aside. "Come in, kiddo."

When Bendy stepped in with what was unmistakably a rainbow flag on his cheek and extra face paint he knew he was in for a time.

"Oh uh- what's that for-"

"For you!" Bendy said with a giant grin. "Who'd ya think?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah well- I uh-"

Bendy didn't slow down. "Anyway the others are about ready to go but they sent me up here to get your flag on while they finish up- now why they trusted me with the paint I got about as much an idea as you but hey I'm not gonna complain-"

"Aw that's- that's sweet kiddo but I sorta figured I'd just be-" How to say this. "Dropping you off...?"

Immediate confusion. "What? Why?"

"Uh well- I mean-" He fiddled with the pen- when had that ended up back in his hands? "You guys- you have a space there, you know? I'm not sure if I-"

There was now a puckered frown on the little devil's face. "Not sure if you what?"

"Well I mean- I don't exactly- belong, now do I?"

The frown multiplied its intensity by about five. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Aw jeez. He really did not want to discuss this with his kid, as much of an adult as Bendy was. For many reasons. "Uh well- you know-" He gestured, as if hoping that would somehow pluck the answer from the air and implant it in Bendy's brain without having to give voice to it, setting the pen down in the process so he’d stop playing with it. "I'm not exactly- I mean-"

"You like guys." Bendy's voice was so sure that Henry knew making any sort of denial was futile. And also kind of stupid. Why would he deny that to his own son? No of course he wouldn't.

"Well I mean- I married a woman, didn't I?" he finally blurted out.

Unimpressed blinking as he drew closer to stand beside the desk. "Yeah they got a word for that. Several actually. Most popular ones are bi and pan, so which colors is it gonna be?"

"No no I mean-" God he was probably blushing. His face definitely felt way too hot. "I uh- I mean I- I like guys, yes-" great brain thanks a ton totally needed that heart rate spiking why are you acting like that's scary this is our kid- "but I- I married a woman- I like women- more often?"

The blinking was now confused.

"Uh-" How to phrase this. "If- if we split it into a pie chart- it's probably like... thirty-seventy in favor of women?" He ran his fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck again. "I'm- not that I'm any great catch but like, if I was in any way qualified to be in the dating pool again, I'd be way more likely to end up with a lady."

The unimpressed look was back. "And?"

It was Henry's look to be surprised. "And- and that means that, you know- I'm not really-"

"You like guys."

"I- yeah?"

"And you're a guy."

"Kind of a given at this point."

"So you're a guy, and you like guys, and just also happen to like girls too. We got names for that." He gave Henry's shirt an appraising look. "Gotta say the bi colors would complement your clothes best. If you want pan colors I'm gonna have to ask you to change. As your official fashion consultant."

Henry snorted. "My what?"

"Listen Dad I love you but I ain't about to let you walk into that parade wearing like, a pineapple hawaiian shirt or nothin'."

Henry banged a fist lightly on the table and pointed at him. "Liar! You wore the exact same thing just the other day!"

"Yeah but that was to the beach, not a parade."

"Literally when have you ever cared about not being a fashion disaster."

"This time, when Alice'll actually kill me otherwise."

"... Okay you got me there."

Bendy grinned. "So, bi colors or pan colors! Or somethin' else? I think there's other ones too."

He opened his mouth, closed it again and then opened it. What the hell. "... Bi colors, I guess."

"Yesssssss I was hopin' you'd say that." He hopped over onto the table like he'd suddenly become a bunny.

"Oh you were, huh?"

"Listen, the pan folks got pretty colors, but I'm always a sucker for a sunset," he said as he pulled out the pallet he needed. Henry sighed and shook his head, the smile ruining his effort to look exasperated.

"Well. Sunset me then, I guess."

"You got it boss!" Bendy said in maybe the worst mafia minion accent known to mankind.

It was barely five minutes of Bendy painting lines carefully on his cheek before he whipped out a mirror.

"Tah-dah!"

Henry blinked at himself in the mirror. He tilted his head, something shifting inside his heart that he had no name for, no way to voice.

The once proud look on Bendy's face was swiftly dropping. "... I didn't mess it up, did I...?"

"No- no, no." Henry tilted his head. "I uh..."

Bendy's worried browlines screamed anxiety to him.

"... I guess I just look good in a sunset," he said quietly, seeing the little corner of his reflection's mouth turn up as if in some sort of hazy dream.

Better than I thought.

[alexandrablake]

la jolla

Prompt: “if i asked you to stay, would you?” from this prompt list! Pairing: ambiguous!Hotchniss (could be interpreted either way) Word Count: 1,620 Warnings: I don’t think there are any. A/n: we never did get to see that date. read on ao3.

      “Want to get coffee?”

It was the Monday morning after JJ’s wedding. The team, bar one member, was still buzzing with the joy of the party and the union. Everyone except one- Emily Prentiss.

Emily had been sulking at her desk for the whole day, flipping her phone between her fingers absentmindedly. There was a stack of paperwork that she had yet to touch, only collecting dust, and a cup of coffee cooled, no signature lip print present on the rim.

“Prentiss,” Hotch asked again.

She looked up with a smile that didn’t quite reach her empty eyes. “I didn’t hear you, sorry.”

 “Want to get coffee?”

The olive branch he was extending wasn’t just that of caffeine. He could clearly see the cup untouched. It was an invitation to talk, to vent, to take up on the plan from the days prior. She took it, smiling gratefully, some sort of life lighting her eyes for the first time in two days.

“That sounds great, actually.”

They went to a mom-and-pop coffee shop down the road from their office. It was cute, decorated with fairy lights and crude children’s drawings. It was empty except for the two of them and an elderly couple tucked away in a booth in the corner.

Two steaming cups of liquid were placed in front of them by the owner, a kind looking woman with smile lines etched into her face. She looked wise beyond her years, like the type of person that made you want to return countless times to hear the stories of her life.

Hotch nodded his thanks to her and watched her walk away with a gentle smile. When the woman was successfully out of ear shot, he turned to Emily with ever so slightly furrowed eyebrows. 

“You never order tea.”

It wasn’t a question. Prentiss didn’t meet his eyes, staring down at her cup as she swirled the tea with the metal spoon given to her. 

“Wanted to try something different,” she shrugged, finally looking up at him with sunken in eyes.

“When was the last time you slept?” He sounded the same as he normally does when surveying the wellbeing of his team members, but this time there was a subtle softness that normally wasn’t there.

Emily rubbed the bridge of her nose, peering at him from under her fingers. “Ummmm… before the robbery was the last time I really remember.”

Four days. The implications of that hung in the air between the two of them. The other pair in the cafe meandered out, arm in arm. Now, it was just them. Hotch raised his eyebrows and took a drink from his cup.

“Bad day?” he asked, bringing them back to that conversation in Rossi’s foyet.

“Bad year,” was the curt affirmation.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked, echoing the sentiment from that same conversation.

She nodded wordlessly and pulled her phone out from her pocket. There were quiet beeps that filled the silence as she punched in some sort of message, before holding the screen out to him. He shot her a hesitant look, and she shook it a little. 

“Take it, Hotch. I don’t think I’d be able get through the whole thing without having a breakdown.”

The breakdown that she’d been pushing off for far too long, but she didn’t say that.

The phone was dropped into his hand, and he licked his lips a little before reading it out. 

“Emily, I’m eagerly awaiting your response. The field office management sent me your files today. Again. It’s not just me who wants you here, it’s everyone. I know you probably don’t want to leave that team, but you’re meant for so much better things. That better thing is being the Head of the London Field office. I need an answer fast, and I really would like the favor of Lady X repaid. -Easter.”

In all of Emily’s life, she hadn’t truly experienced the phrase “silence is deafening.” Of course, she’d been in suffocating silence, that’s just something you signed up for when you work in what they do.

But the silence between the two of them that followed the reading of that message- that was deafening. 

The bell hanging at the door clanged as a group of young girls walked in, chattering lively. Emily tore her eyes away from Hotch’s to watch them. They were an eclectic group, dressing in every color of the rainbow, in various styles. No two girls looked the same. 

Her eyes were especially drawn to the girl in the back. She was the only one dressed in dark colors and, despite the pleasant weather of spring, was swathed in a winter coat. While all her compatriots were smiling, her face was blank, wiped of all emotion.

Prentiss saw herself in the girl. She was surrounded by enthusiastic, settled, happy people, while being none of those things.

Aaron cleared his throat, bringing Emily’s attention back to him, and held the phone back out. As she slipped it into her bag, he began drumming his fingers on the table.

“Why?” he asked, his quiet voice barely heard over the new customers.

“Nothing is the same, you know,” she tried to justify. “You guys are different people. You act like you welcomed me back with open arms, but it’s not how it used to be. I just knew I wouldn’t be able to settle into my old life. I needed… change. Well, I guess you wouldn’t know. You’ve never died.”

Hotch was studying her face intently, almost as if he was trying to memorize it. “After Haley died, the Bureau offered me retirement.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“I know. The only people I told were Jessica and Rossi. But I seriously considered it. I didn’t want to leave Jack alone; he’d just lost his mom, I didn’t want to be absent from his life, too.”

Emily had a pensive look on her face. “Why didn’t you take it?” “I realized that, as much as I wanted change, it would be worse for me. That’s why I stayed in that apartment after he attacked me, that’s why I kept working here. I knew that I would go insane with that much change,” Hotch explained. Swishing the coffee in his cup lightly before taking a drink, he rubbed his stomach, the ghosts of old wounds coming back to haunt him.

“Yeah, I don’t think that will work for me.”

One side of his mouth lifted, and he simply said, “I know.”

“I love you guys, and I love this job, I just don’t love… me.”

“It’s hard to come back from something like that.”

Emily leaned her head to the side. “Don’t sound so understanding about this, Hotch! You were supposed to try to get me to stay.”

“If I asked you to stay, would you?”

“No,” she said slowly, coming to a realization of her own. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“Exactly. Drink the tea, you need the caffeine. You look dead on your feet.”

She took a large swig at the request. Her brown eyes were wistful as they fell back to the now seated group of girls. The girl had fallen into her stride, as she was now animatedly telling a story to the rest of her party. Emily smiled, glad that at least one of them found themselves.

“I do want you to stay, for what it’s worth.” Hotch’s voice was rough, and he cleared it again. “You’re a part of this team, and I wouldn’t rather have anyone else by my side.”

“Aw, thanks, Hotch.”

Hotch wasn’t done. “But I know that trying to stop Emily Prentiss when she wants to do something is a meaningless quest. You’re going to do wonderfully.”

Emily smiled, a real one now. The weight of desperation had been lifted off her chest, and it felt like, for the first time since before she started going after Doyle, she could breathe properly again.

“Do you know when you start?”

Emily shook her head. “I haven’t told him yet. But by the way he talked when he asked me Friday, I’d expect it to be ASAP.”

Hotch’s smile had melancholy painted over it, like lipstick applied incorrectly. “Does anyone on the team know?”

“Morgan knows I’m thinking about it, but he doesn’t know I’ll accept the offer. And I have absolutely no idea how to break the news to any of them.”

“Do you want me to do it with you?”

Emily’s eyes shined adoringly at him, reflecting the twinkling decorations of the shop. “I love you for offering, but no. This is my decision, and I have to face the music and tell them.”

The cafe was starting to get busy now, more customers filing in, filling the walls with the sounds of joy and caffeine. Hotch leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest as he eyed Emily’s still hands resting on the table.

“You’re happy. This is something you’ve thought about for a long time,” he mused.

Prentiss agreed, “Since I came back.”

“A year’s a long time for you to feel like you don’t belong. Why didn’t you tell us?”

She bit her lip and echoed her statement to Morgan nights prior. “I thought it was just the trauma. I thought if I bought a house and planted roots, I’d be able to fix me. And we have such a mobile job, I don’t know. I thought I could do it again.”

Hotch, in a rare moment of physical affection, held his hand out for her to grab. Their fingers intertwined in the middle of the table. 

“It’s okay. I understand. Just...promise to call and stay in touch.”

“Without a doubt.”

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 2//

(Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6) (Chapter 7) (Chapter 8) (Chapter 9) (Chapter 10)

Maybe I was sick.

As a high fae, I had never actually been sick before. In fact, I hadn’t been sick since before that fateful day in the woods; when I shot an arrow and killed Andras in his beast form. I cringed, my stomach churning at the reminder of Tamlin and his court. The memories of my past human life, of my life at the Spring Court, were only going to make me feel worse just as I was beginning to feel better. A few days had passed since I jolted awake and puked my guts up in the middle of the night. At first, I thought it was a one-off. A recurring nightmare that reared its ugly head, and my negative reaction to it. However, the next day my nausea spell returned with a vengeance in the middle of a painting lesson at my studio in the Rainbow. I barely had enough time to excuse myself and leave Ressina in charge before winnowing back into my bathing room at the estate before hugging the toilet again for the rest of the hour. By that evening, I had miraculously been able to eat a light dinner, but after a fitful couple hours of sleep that was plagued by another nightmare, I was in the bathing room once again.

I managed to hide my illness from the others that day, but I knew Mor was suspicious the next when I showed up to breakfast and only nibbled on a piece of bread with butter. She was the first to theorize I had the flu, and both Elain and Nesta prompted the question on whether fae could actually get sick. Elain was more curious than Nesta, who simply snorted a remark about how she thought fae were too powerful for common viruses. While it was meant to be more of a snarky comment than an actual question, I couldn’t blame her for it. After learning about how terrorizing a female's cycle was during my first year after being Made, I had also been curious regarding what other ailments fae experienced.

Such powerful immortal beings, like myself, aren’t so vulnerable to the common cold like humans are Feyre darling, Rhys had remarked with an amused grin when I asked him about it. But there are times we do fall prey to it on occasion. Although, it's more like a nasty, lingering flu since our symptoms are more severe than humans.

It made sense; as immortal beings with magical abilities, we wouldn’t experience the same ailments our human counterparts would. When we did, it would be more enhanced; just like a female's cycle was more exaggerated than a humans. I supposed as a more powerful and stronger being than a human, dramatic ailments were the trade-off. The more I thought about it, I figured Mor had probably been right, because as the next day and a half passed, my nausea spells lingered along with some body-aches and fatigue. I also noted a strange and faint glimmer in the pit of my stomach. It had been there for the last couple of days, and it felt strangely instinctual--intuitive, rather than a symptom of my illness. I thought of it even now, as I sat in the library with Mor and Elain; finalizing details for the party we were throwing on Starfall in a couple of weeks.

For the most part, my symptoms had subsided today. The nausea still lingered through most of the morning, but now as lunch was approaching, I was confident I would be able to eat and keep a meal down. The nightmares had stopped as well, and I was finally able to get a full-night's rest. After the night they began, I made sure to keep my wall of adamant up for Rhys. My stupid illness was the least of his worries while he was in the Illyrian mountains, and the least of mine as well.

 “Feyre, what do you think?” Elain asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

I turned to her, “About what? I’m sorry, I wasn’t listening,” I admitted, reminding myself that now wasn’t the time to be drifting away in thought.

Mor giggled, amused. “I told you she wasn’t listening to anything we were just talking about. She’s too busy daydreaming and worrying about things she shouldn’t be worrying about.”

I rolled my eyes, “Well excuse me, Mor, but as High Lady I think I do have plenty to worry about,” I argued, but she merely waved it away.

“Leave the Illyrian camps to Rhys. He, Cassian, and Az can handle whatever situation might be brewing,” she reasoned.

I tried not to notice the way Elain’s face seemed to redden at the mention of the shadowsinger. While it was no secret that she and Azriel spent more time together since moving into the estate, I knew Elain still tried to avoid any conflict with Mor; despite the secret Mor still hadn’t revealed in the last decade. She had centuries at hiding her closeted feelings, and just as I had promised her during the war, I wasn’t about to reveal a thing. Despite wanting to ease Elain’s nerves in regards to the Cassian-Mor-Azriel situation, I knew it wasn’t my place. We had plenty of time to see things worked out as they should.

Nesta, on the other hand, had little regard for their delicate circumstance. On the rare occasion that she would join us for dinner, she frequently bit out any remark she could when she noticed any connection between Azriel and Elain. In the last decade, her hard edge did not soften a bit. Some years ago, I realized that would probably never change, and although she seemed in a better place now than she previously had been after the war, I was glad to know she was at least slowly allowing us back into her life. Things had been tense after I banished her from Velaris at the beginning of the decade, but after her period at Cassian’s cabin in the Illyrian mountains, I saw a flicker of hope on the horizon. She returned with Cassian after a year, and while I had been expecting nothing but contempt in those grey-blue eyes we shared, instead there was...an understanding. Our reunion was uneventful, but at least tensions were beginning to ease.

After learning Elain and I were working on the estate, she outright refused to have a room, but Elain insisted we include one anyway. She somehow managed to figure out a way to connect their quarters together, so at least when Nesta deigned to visit her, she would see she had a place of refuge from the rest of us. Amren and Elain were still the only ones she allowed closest to her; though from time to time I could hear her and Cassian with their usual verbal sparring matches in the library. She never discussed what happened in that cabin, at least not with me. I had an inkling she discussed it with Amren, but after her return I thought it best not to ask any questions. I was happy with our current standing, because at least she was here now and the rest could wait.

“I guess you’re right,” I amended, trying not to dwell on the Illyrian mountains and the tension Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel had to face in the camps.

“I’m sure they’re alright,” Elain added, “I’ve heard Cassian and Azriel talk about the Blood Rite. I bet they’re enjoying the final ceremonies right now.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I nodded in agreement, noting how quickly she threw in Cassian’s name before Azriel’s.

“And they’ll be home in a couple of days, which means we have to finish up this work now before Rhys gets back and holes you up in that suite of yours for Cauldron knows how long” Mor shot me a knowing grin as she rolled her eyes in mock disgust.

Elain’s face flushed again, but I merely shrugged, “I can’t help it if my mate finds me irresistible.”

“Does he know you’ve been sick?”

I sneered, turning to the paperwork laid out in front of me, “Let’s get back to party planning, shall we?”

Mor grinned again, knowing she had made it under my skin but said nothing else about it as we spent the rest of the afternoon finalizing our plans. Since moving into the estate seven years ago, we moved our Starfall celebrations from the House of Wind here. Elain had been the one to suggest we hold a grand party for all of Velaris; knowing full well our expanse of land allowed for such an occasion. I had been so happy to see that she was finally starting to return to her old self; to see just a bit of the person she was before she was Made, that I couldn’t argue. Even Rhys and the rest of the inner circle approved of the idea, and it became an annual tradition for us.

To my relief, I was able to eat lunch and an early dinner without experiencing any more nausea. After my meeting with Mor and Elain, Mor whisked her away for a shopping trip at the Palace of Thread and Jewels. I opted out, happy to wear my traditional Starfall gown Rhys’s mother created for me. Well over a decade later, and I never tired of wearing the same gown every year; it bore too much sentimental value to wear anything else. After the first couple of years, I tried playing with the look by adding different pieces of jewelry, but after trying and failing at several attempts to match a jewelry set with the gown, I now let Nuala and Cerridwen style it to their heart's content. They were better at dressing me anyway.

I sighed, eyes drifting from the paperwork on my desk to my office around me. The wall of windows to my right allowed the natural light in; accenting my off-white furniture and the pale lilac rug in the center of the room. After the nightmares of darkness and closed-in walls, I wanted nothing but open air and light. I wanted our estate to allow us to view the city at night as it was intended; bright and colorful lights in the distance as well as mirroring off the river. I wanted to allow the elements and natural cycle of the day to reflect inside and for everything to simply breathe comfort and home. After everything we had been through, we all deserved this bit of peace--and the estate served as that peace. I smiled to myself as I reminisced over the furniture pieces Rhys and I mulled over; after noticing the off-white color scheme I was planning, his argument had been that since this was the Night Court after all, we should-

I bolted upright in my seat; startled by the sudden flicker in my abdomen that ripped me from my thoughts; that same instinctual flicker I noticed a few days ago. I paused as it fluttered for a few seconds, like a miniscule heartbeat pulsing through my core. Just as quickly as it had arrived, it vanished. I remained unmoving, scared that the nausea would return along with it. When I felt nothing, I slowly reclined in my seat, loosing the breath I held throughout the ordeal. I had been feeling that flutter for days and related it to my symptoms; now that I was on the mend, I expected that to have gone away as well. It was such a strange and foreign sensation. It wasn't outright physical, more like a gut feeling personified. I couldn’t pinpoint the exact way to describe it, the only thing I could relate it to was the bond Rhysand and I shared.

Perhaps it was the bond letting him know I was sick, because not even a second later I felt Rhys run a delicate finger along my shields. I willed my heart to slow before lowering them just enough to allow us to communicate.

I felt that, you know

Felt what? Innocent. Just play dumb.

He wasn’t falling for it. Felt whatever it was that just rattled inside of you. Did you have another nightmare?

I was silent for a minute. He didn’t know what it was either; probably assuming it had something to do with the other night. No, I wasn’t asleep.

Have you been sleeping?

I sighed, knowing I couldn’t hide the last few days from him forever. On and off, I’ve had a few nightmares here and there.

I could feel his dark shadows roiling and gathering from here; concern immediately taking over my mate. Do you need me to come home?

My heart fluttered at the thought, knowing deep down I did want him here. It didn’t matter how long we were apart, a few hours, days, weeks; I would always want my mate at my side, but the rational part of me knew we had our obligations to attend to. I had to remind myself that this wasn’t like that period of weeks I had infiltrated the Spring Court before the war with Hybern.

No. You’ll be home in a couple of days. I’m fine now, I had a couple of bad nights but last night was actually good. No nightmares, and no puking. Not a total lie, but I felt like I could omit the suspected illness I had been experiencing. For now. 

Those dark shadows lingered, as if trying to create a protective and calm aura around me. It was rare that Rhys had felt so possessive, and I knew it was an innate male-bonded reaction more than anything. Still, I felt his reluctance before he said anything else.

After this week is over, it's going to be a long time before I leave your side again

I smiled, part of me still finding it amusing when his feral male-bonded instincts took over. He still cringed and apologized whenever his overprotective behavior became too much and leaked out, but I knew it came from those primitive, feral ways of our ancestors. 

I wouldn’t complain. 

His shadows began to dissipate as he chuckled. The sound immediately filled me with want for him and I had to sigh deeply to quell it. I miss you.

I know

I could feel his smug grin as I sent him an image of my vulgar gesture. Prick

Always. I could almost see that grin on his handsome face as I moved from my seat behind my desk to an armchair on my attached balcony.

I’ll be back before you know it, my love, and we can resume our nightly attempts. Maybe this time apart is what we needed.

I looked out towards the city from my seat on the balcony, willing my heart not to ache at what he implied. The sun was setting on the horizon; its amber glow bathing me in its warmth as the image of my would-be son plagued my thoughts. I thought of the way those bright blue eyes sparkled, so like Rhys’s always did when the light caught them at a certain angle. He would be so beautiful.

Yes, he will be

I smiled, and closed my eyes as I leaned my head back. Just come back to me and we’ll see if we can actually make that happen 

Oh, I have every intention of making sure that we do

I had to bite my bottom lip in an attempt to once again repress my desire. I pictured his suggestive grin, throwing my shields up once again in response and as a goodbye.

That night, I dreamt of those bright near-violet eyes as I had pictured earlier. Only this time, they belonged to a young Illyrian male that greatly resembled the High Lord of the Night Court as said High Lord led him through the camps he would one day train in.

(tags: @df3ndyr @judexcardanxgreenbriar @emikadreams )

[uwua3]

bunnie!!! ur mind!!! the songs fit each member so well omg,,, i kept singing each song lmao,,, also may i present to u: spring day for tsumugi and tasuku (esp for before + start of winter troupe main story) 👀

now this... this is what i wanted someone to REQUEST!!! i had to take a break from writing an angst song fic to write ANOTHER angst song fic because i genuinely love this prompt so much!!! thank you so much for reading my mind, pines, omg!!! it’s good to see you again~ also, i like your blue theme!

summary: tsumugi came back to him like the first snow of every winter

warnings: break ups, hatred, heartbreak

author’s note: ok tala already basically wrote out the plot for me but here we go ~ Angst ~ for the boys and it’ll be a song fic, so expect it to follow the lyrics! i wrote this with the canon idea in mind that tasuku and tsumugi are ex–boyfriends turned lovers again so don’t be surprised from the #Gay~ happy pride!

sometimes, you’re with the right person at the wrong time. if they come back, it’s meant to be and it’ll be okay ♡ remember, communication is key!

word count: 6,509

music: spring day (jpn) – bts

spring day.

❄️📚⚽️ tsukioka tsumugi x takoto tasuku

I MISS YOU, SAYING THIS MAKES ME MISS YOU EVEN MORE,

I MISS YOU, EVEN THOUGH I’M LOOKING AT YOUR PHOTO

TIME’S SO CRUEL, I HATE US

SEEING EACH OTHER FOR ONCE IS NOW SO HARD BETWEEN US

Tsumugi was gone, like he never existed.

Every trace of him that was ever in Tasuku’s life was gone, there was nothing left. The apartment was left empty, bare, lifeless; it felt nothing like home, not anymore. When Tasuku searched the apartment, there was truly nothing that resembled any evidence Tsumugi was even alive. It was as if, he didn’t want Tasuku to remember him. To forget, to ignore the person he had shared his entire life with.

Tasuku paused at the one sign Tsumugi was real: the single framed picture near the front door. It was placed on the counter, the same stand where the couple would drop their keys at so they knew where everything was. Tasuku wanted to hear the sound of the metal clattering against the ceramic bowl Tsumugi crafted in pottery class, to hear Tsumugi affectionately call out, “I’m home!”, and for his brown peacoat jacket to be hung on the hook behind the door. Tasuku wanted Tsumugi to come back.

When Tasuku picked up the picture, his hand was shaking. Tasuku remembered this exact frame: the day he realized he was in love with his best friend. Tsumugi’s blue eyes were staring straight at the Tasuku with an indescribable look, an expression created and meant for Tasuku only. Characters closer than rehearsal called for, like they were the only two people in the world. It was moments before Tasuku had leaned in and kissed his co–star on stage on opening night, going against the script and changing the rest of his life forever.

Tsumugi looked alive. Real, like he could’ve just had him forever right then and there. A tear dropped onto the glass, running down the frame before Tasuku covered his mouth with his free hand, falling down to his knees as he held the photo to his chest. He couldn’t help but cry, cry for all the years he had spent loving someone who just left. Being in love with a man who woke up and took everything with him, disappearing into thin air. All Tasuku had left of Tsumugi were the memories, and this single picture.

Tasuku exhaled, his breath coming out short and ragged as he stared at the picture again despite knowing every detail. He could feel everything: the intense heat of the stagelights upon them, the shocked stares of the cast and murmurs backstage, the overwhelming applause and standing ovation from the crowd after the scene. The way Tsumugi couldn’t let go of his hand, trembling under the sudden attention but never faltering.

Tasuku remembered how he stood in front of Tsumugi anytime someone questioned it, feeling his gentle touch at the base of his back for comfort. The endless lingering stares in practice, the unanswered questions about how this happened, the kiss on stage that was too real. How that night, Tsumugi pulled them into the apartment for more like he couldn’t wait anymore after all these years just to say, “I love you, Ta–chan”.

Tasuku’s tears streamed down his face silently, for once feeling the anguish and heartbreak his roles felt. The abandoned apartment was only Tasuku’s, like Tsumugi didn’t spend the last three years living with him. It was as if, Tsumugi never loved him.

Tasuku loved Tsumugi, so, so much.

IT’S ALL WINTER HERE, EVEN IN AUGUST

MY HEART IS RUNNING ON THE TIME

ALONE ON THE SNOWPIERCER

WANNA GET TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE EARTH, HOLDING YOUR HAND

Tasuku was gone, and it was all his fault.

Tsumugi gripped the ticket in his hand, staring down the luggage he hastily packed. It was nearly bursting at the seams as he fiddled with the buckles, making sure nothing could hold him back from leaving his home. Nothing could keep Tsumugi from staying, as he silenced his phone and pocketed it away, missing the tens of calls and hundreds of text messages from his one and only. Tsumugi knew if he even checked for a second, he’d come running back to the man he loved most only to fail him again.

Tsumugi leaned back in his seat in the waiting area, surrounded by few, none of whom recognized him. How could they, when he had given up on succeeding as an actor like a coward? Tsumugi pulled up the collar of his jacket, slouching into his coat to hide from the rest of the world. He didn’t deserve to show his face, not after everything he did to Tasuku.

Tasuku would’ve woken up by now to go on his morning run. Tsumugi was supposed to beg him not to go, wanting the warmth to stay in bed just a little longer. Tasuku was supposed to firmly say no, give a kiss on the cheek as compensation, but come back much sooner than expected with a pretty flower he picked for Tsumugi. Tsumugi would get up and put in a vase, and the two would share breakfast together like always. It was the same for the past three years, Tsumugi felt his stomach rumble, he wasn’t a fan of breaking routine.

Tsumugi stared at his ticket, luckily recognizing the location he picked. He had to go, to leave, to abandon everything he had here with Tasuku that he impulsively arrived at the station with nothing but a suitcase and hopes for amnesia. However, it could’ve helped if Tsumugi even knew where this town was in Japan exactly, where his new start would be. He just knew it was far enough, and Tasuku would never find him there.

Tsumugi couldn’t help but think of how Tasuku must have been doing. Was he okay? Did he just think Tsumugi was out doing random errands? They were low on eggs, that could’ve bought him some time. Yet, some part of him, some selfish, undeserving fraction of his heart, wanted Tasuku to be running to the train station and taking him home. Back into his arms and safe from every insecurity Tsumugi ever had, Tsumugi wanted to come home.

As Tsumugi stood up, clutching his luggage with him and turning towards the exit to apologize to his boyfriend, the automated voice overheard announced his train was leaving in five minutes. Tsumugi stopped, the crowd pushing against his direction as they all headed towards the train. Tsumugi slowly turned too, forcing himself towards the entrance as he looked back once. Tasuku wasn’t there, maybe he didn’t want him to come back.

Tsumugi entered the train and found his seat, refusing to look out of his window. If he did, he would’ve saw Tasuku sprinting down the train station corridors and missing the train that took off.

If only, Tsumugi closed his eyes and leaned his head against the window as he sat alone, he was enough for Tasuku.

But, he wasn’t. Not now.

WANNA PUT AN END TO THIS WINTER

HOW MUCH LONGING SHOULD WE SEE SNOWING DOWN, TO HAVE THE DAYS OF SPRING, FRIEND?

When Tasuku departed the train station, out of breath from his fastest mile time yet, it began to snow. God must’ve hated him, wanted him to suffer, because Tasuku dropped down onto a bench for cover and stared at the snowflakes. He thought about how Tsumugi would’ve reacted, knowing how much his lover adored the winter season.

It was when Tsumugi’s timid, shy voice would amplify when he discussed anything he loved (did Tsumugi ever do that when the topic approached Tasuku?). Tsumugi would excitedly rave about the Christmas lights decorating the mall plaza that illuminated every shadow on his face in a rainbow of colors, the peppermint candy cane in his hot chocolate with those tiny marshmallows Tasuku always found too sweet but pretended to like anyways, even the minature train set up for the little kids to ride on and the fake but enthusiastic Santa sitting on a throne (Tsumugi liked reminding everyone Tasuku believed in Santa until third grade, much to his embarrassment).

Most importantly, Tsumugi loved the snow. When the first snow came, Tsumugi dropped everything he was doing to run outside and take it all in. More than once, Tasuku had to follow his boyfriend and attempt to convince Tsumugi to come inside or else he’d get sick. But, when Tasuku saw the white snowflakes surrounded Tsumugi’s midnight blue hair like a halo, the youthful energy building in his wide, happy eyes, and the way Tsumugi’s cheeks were flushed just waiting to be adored, Tasuku would stay outside for his angel even if it meant nursing him back to health.

Tasuku reached his hand out, feeling the soft embrace of the snow upon his fingertips. Was this a sign Tsumugi was still with him? Or, was this the universe’s fucked–up way of telling him to move on? His hand started shaking again, Tasuku dropped it to his side, wondering if it was because the temperature dropped significantly or he was still experiencing the side–effects of an anxiety attack. Frustrated, Tasuku wiped the tears off his face as he took out his phone and tried again. It went straight to voicemail, and Tasuku blinked away the remaining tears as he looked up at the grey clouds.

“Hello~ This is Tsukioka Tsumugi, I’m so sorry for not responding! If you have a message, please share at this beep! Beep~”

Tasuku hung onto every word, pretending like Tsumugi was next to him admiring the snow with awe. But, he wasn’t, not now or not ever for the next few years. Tasuku shivered, steeling his face as he sadly stared at the snow, wishing it wasn’t winter.

“Look outside. It’s the first snow.” Tasuku simply stated before hanging up, standing up and leaving the station. Tasuku didn’t look back, there was nothing for him left anymore, not even Tsumugi.

The snow seemed to follow him home, Tasuku wondered if the snow would bring Tsumugi back to him. Back home, back to him.

LIKE THE TINY DUST FLOATING IN THE AIR

WILL I GET TO YOU FASTER, IF I WAS THE SNOW IN THE AIR?

Tsumugi woke up just a hour later, awaken by the train chugging along the icy tracks as the passengers murmured something about the cold. Blinking slowly, Tsumugi adjusted his eyes to the darkened sky as he watched the urban city transform into a rural, country landscape. Yet, no matter where he went, there was snow.

Sitting up, Tsumugi pressed his face against the glass as he giddily admired the first snow of the winter season. He turned to the empty seat next to him, a big smile on his tired face.

“Ta–chan, look—” Tsumugi started, before his voice faded off to silence. An awkward, sheepish laugh left his lips when Tsumugi noticed the train attendant was shooting odd glances at him, though he expected some reaction since Tsumugi was an adult talking to nothing. Tsumugi shuffled back to look through the window, but it wasn’t the same. When was the last time he had experienced the first snow alone? Tasuku was always with him, but not anymore.

The snow swirled like it was a graceful waltz, and Tsumugi fondly remembered him and Tasuku’s first dance. It was perhaps a year into living together as roommates, and it was much later than they had anticipated. The radio was on, classical music a low hum in the background as Tasuku and Tsumugi studied their new scripts. It was another college play and the two were meant to learn ballroom dancing for their roles.

Tsumugi remembered the way Tasuku’s large frame let Tsumugi rest his head comfortably on his chest, the way their hands perfectly fit together, how they swayed in their empty kitchen like they were married. Tsumugi faintly traced his lips, remembering how Tasuku was about to lean in when he looked down, but Tsumugi had laughed and pushed him away, talking about how Tasuku always got too serious and connected to his characters. He regretted it, he should’ve kissed Tasuku back then.

Tsumugi finally broke down, trying to keep in his sobs as he tried to focus on the snow. He curled into a fetal position on the seat, closing his jacket around his mouth as he slammed his eyes shut. He knew his sniffles couldn’t be heard over the train operating, so he cried underneath the first snow.

Tsumugi didn’t even kiss Tasuku before he left forever.

SNOWFLAKES FALL DOWN AND GET FARTHER AWAY LITTLE BY LITTLE

I MISS YOU, I MISS YOU

HOW LONG DO I HAVE TO WAIT AND HOW MANY SLEEPLESS NIGHTS DO I HAVE TO SPEND TO SEE YOU, TO MEET YOU

Tsumugi stepped into the snow. After thanking the train conductor and checking out, the quiet town was covered in snow by the time he arrrived. It was still early afternoon, the tall skyscrapers and bustling citylife were gone, it was quiet now. This would be his community for the rest of his life, just hours away from his home. He was about to become a new person, but, how could he when the snow followed wherever he was?

Tsumugi stood at the entrance, not blocking anyone’s way since no one was there to begin with. It was just him underneath the roof of the station, waiting by the route map for a bus. It should be here in the next thirty minutes, so Tsumugi leaned against the exterior with a sigh, his breath soldifying mid–air. It was cold, frozen almost and Tsumugi’s hands felt like ice from being outside. It was winter, after all.

Fidgeting, Tsumugi shifted back and forth as he tried to find something to look at other than the snow. But, the vast land stretched for miles, buried in white like a snow globe. There was nothing here, and Tsumugi was afraid there was nothing for him as well.

A buzz. It caught Tsumugi’s attention as he impulsively checked his phone despite his rule not to. The silence must’ve turned off after a certain amount of time, as Tsumugi scrolled through the notifications bar. Just some colleagues congratulating him on his move, and family members requesting postcards. That was it, Tsumugi was about to close out of the messages before he noticed a number he memorized near the voicemail section.

Tsumugi pressed speaker, putting the phone next to his ear as he heard the stomp of work boots against the snow. And then, a quiet shudder, like a breath he held in for too long. Tasuku spoke but it sounded far away, like he really wasn’t there anymore.

“Look outside. It’s the first snow.” The line ended and Tsumugi blinked, trying to keep his tears in but he was so exhausted. Tsumugi dropped down to sit against the wall, sobbing loudly with no one to hear him for miles. Tsumugi held the phone to his chest, replaying the voicemail over and over again just to hear the love of his life’s voice. The same as always, never–changing and serious like his life depended on it.

Tsumugi cried and cried under the first snow until his bus arrived, the driver staring at him with something of concern. Tsumugi pushed himself back up at the sound of the bus stopping and gripped his bag, heading up the stairs and trying to pay the fare respectfully. A single word wasn’t exchanged, but the driver simply shook his head and gestured for him to go sit anywhere he wanted.

Tsumugi was too tired to insist on paying, just numbly nodded and rested his head against the window.

He wondered if Tasuku was looking at the same sky as him right now.

PASSING BY THE EDGE OF COLD WINTER

UNTIL THE DAYS OF SPRING, UNTIL THE DAYS OF FLOWER BLOSSOMS

PLEASE STAY, PLEASE STAY THERE A LITTLE LONGER

Tasuku called Tsumugi every day until the number was changed. He had left voicemails updating Tsumugi of his day, his days that were all the same. Every time Tasuku tried to apologize, his pride couldn’t make him say sorry without sounding like he was being forced, so he didn’t. Tasuku didn’t insist Tsumugi to come home, only to stay safe and take his time.

Tasuku told Tsumugi about their favorite theatre holding another play, one which he would have gotten front row tickets for. About how strangely quiet it was, not having to keep a watering of plants schedule anymore, having to wake up and go to sleep alone, not knowing where Tsumugi was. Tasuku spoke more than he ever did back then, knowing if this was his only way to be in touch with Tsumugi, he was going to take it and run like hell.

It was mid–winter early morning, and Tasuku was running, phone against his ear as he instinctually nearly picked a flower to bring home. He stopped, slightly panting as he waited for Tsumugi’s typical voicemail, but it didn’t beep. Instead, it was an automated voice, informing him this number was currently inactive.

Tasuku realized, that number was one of the only things he had left of Tsumugi.

Tasuku hung up, in disbelief as he pocketed his phone. Did he even listen to his voicemails? Where was he? Why couldn’t he just answer? Tasuku was about to phone Tsumugi again just to make sure, but one look at his contact picture was enough to make him stop and put it away. He knew too much about Tsumugi, but he had never felt this confused about someone in his entire life. Was this, for the best? Why did he change his number? Was this a sign?

Perhaps, it was finally time to move on, as the snow fell around Tasuku.

IS IT YOU WHO CHANGED, OR IS IT ME?

I HATE THIS MOMENT, THIS TIME FLOWING BY

WE ARE CHANGED, YOU KNOW

JUST LIKE EVERYONE YOU KNOW

Tsumugi tried to moved on, forgetting all about his past as he buried himself in his work and need to just ignore his past. He regularly updated his family on his predicament, claiming it was his mid–life crisis despite being in his early twenties. None of them asked about Tasuku, it was like they knew what had happened between them. Tsumugi built himself a life on a lie, conversing well with co–workers but coming back to an empty apartment at the end of the day.

At night, that’s when Tsumugi thought about Tasuku the most. Laying in bed through the sleepless nights without any want to close his eyes. How could he when all Tsumugi could see was Tasuku, Tasuku who he left because he was scared. Tsumugi stared up at the ceiling, the moonlight coming in through his open window as the curtains swayed slightly in the wind. The room was blue, and so was Tsumugi.

Leaving wasn’t planned, but it wasn’t a quick decision, either. Tsumugi remembered it all, falling in love with his best friend which he wasn’t worthy of. It was the night before everything changed, the last argument they had together. It was late, so late Tsumugi couldn’t keep his eyes open without crying when Tasuku raised his voice. He knew he didn’t mean to, he knew that now.

But back then, Tsumugi was so scared and trembling and terrified of how big Tasuku was. How intense he was with everything he said, the unrelenting passion burning and fueling Tasuku to do everything he did. Tasuku was fire, uncontrollable, raging flames that over time, melted Tsumugi to be nothing but a weak form of who he used to be.

“Tsumugi, why do you always give up like this? You can’t quit, you can’t keep doing this!” Tasuku demanded an answer, slamming his fist down on the kitchen table as he stood up, making Tsumugi flinch in his usual seat. When Tsumugi had told Tasuku they needed to talk, he didn’t expect this. Not the burning anger in Tasuku’s eyes, like this was the ultimate betrayal: to quit acting.

“I... I’m so sorry, Ta–chan.” Tsumugi tried to smile, but his form was shaking. He was shivering despite waking up in the middle of the night in Tasuku’s arms. Tasuku scoffed, like this whole situation was unbelievable, like he didn’t even know who Tsumugi was.

“We—you promised we’d be acting on the same stage together, to be in the same troupe together, do you remember that?” Tasuku spoke, all the frustrations he hid inside him coming out and singing every corner of Tsumugi’s stability. Tsumugi nodded carefully, trying to hide his shaky hands underneath the table as he gripped the base of the chair. He couldn’t start crying, not right now, not in front of Tasuku.

“I know, but I can’t. Not anymore, not when I can’t be the actor you want me to be.” Tsumugi tried to reason, but Tasuku just became even angrier. Like, this was the worst possible thing he could have ever said to him. Tsumugi wanted to reach out and flatten the creases on Tasuku’s forehead, gently cup his face with his trembling hands just to show he still loved him. But when Tsumugi tried to move closer, Tasuku held his hand up, like he couldn’t bear being anywhere near Tsumugi.

“Why do you keep doing this? Why... when we’re happy together?” Tasuku asked, but even he sounded unsure. Was Tsumugi happy with this relationship? Was this why he was quitting? Tsumugi didn’t say anything, just stared at his lover in silence with the pain of a thousand lifetimes. As if, this was his breaking point. Like, acting was slowly killing him to the point he had to run away. Or was it their relationship that pushed Tsumugi away? Did it go too fast? Was it not enough?

“What does this mean for us?” Tsumugi finally choked out, clearing his throat at his voice crack towards the end. The clock ticked, onward and onward even though it felt like time stopped. Tasuku just shook his head and went back into the bathroom. Tsumugi knew, this was the end.

Before Tasuku went, he stopped at the entrance and looked at Tsumugi, with something of tiredness and love all at once. Like, there was still a chance. “Let’s talk about this tomorrow morning, okay?” Tasuku offered, not questioning a thing when Tsumugi nodded with his fingers crossed behind his back.

Tsumugi stayed in the kitchen, keeping in his sobs as he let the tears finally fall down his face. He didn’t know ending his career would feel like the end of his first and only relationship.

Tsumugi went into their shared bedroom after he composed himself, but had to hang onto the door frame when he saw Tasuku was sleeping again, just with dried tears on his pillow. Tsumugi couldn’t do this to Tasuku, not when he couldn’t be the best actor for his boyfriend.

So, Tsumugi just took the suitcase he packed beforehand in case worst came to worst, he didn’t expect to use it. Tsumugi quietly was about to leave the bedroom, but looked back, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed and pretend like this break up never happened. He knew how much Tasuku must’ve been hurting, to have all these years acting together thrown away. Tsumugi couldn’t be selfish this time, not anymore, and left without another word.

Tsumugi always remembered it, how Tasuku cried himself to sleep because Tsumugi quit. That was all he could do, give up when it became too hot. That’s all he always did, nothing changed.

Tsumugi listened to the voicemails one last time, crying into his pillow as he heard the man he loved’s voice echo in his bedroom. He knew, he had to let go, to force Tasuku to move on. How could Tasuku love him after all this time, when he wasn’t the person he thought Tsumugi was? Which life was a lie, this one or the one where he acted on stage with Tasuku?

When Tsumugi changed his number, he didn’t look back. He had to move on, too, even if he was still in love with his best friend. Tsumugi would never see Tasuku again, knowing he was somewhere living his dream of acting was enough, that was more than enough. Tsumugi closed his eyes as the snow embraced him, falling delicately upon his eyelashes as a single tear dropped to the ground.

Tsumugi promised one day, he would see Tasuku on stage again.

YES I HATE YOU, YOU LEFT ME

BUT I NEVER STOPPED THINKING ABOUT YOU, NOT EVEN A DAY

HONESTLY I MISS YOU, BUT I’LL ERASE YOU

‘CAUSE IT HURTS LESS THAN TO BLAME YOU

Tasuku couldn’t move on. Not when he didn’t know where his boyfriend disappeared to, not when no one refused to tell him anything and lied their way out of the situation. It was as if everybody knew but Tasuku, as if he wasn’t that important to know to begin with. He couldn’t accept that Tsumugi was gone, that he was somewhere else out of his reach.

Recently, Tasuku started sleeping sooner just to dream of his face again. But it had been so long, that even small details he cherished were beginning to become blurry, faded even. It was better than nothing, pretending the love of his life was still here with him. Like he never left, like he had no reason to leave.

Why did he leave? Tasuku came home from practice and slammed the door that night, shaking the room as he entered. Without warning, glass shattered next to his feet as a picture frame fell. Tasuku picked it up with his bare hands, ignoring the sudden cut he got on his fingers as he gripped the frame tightly, staring at the picture with a sudden anger. Rage, undeniable, full–blown frustration that boiled ever since Tsumugi left. Something Tasuku had been avoiding to confront, something he didn’t want to do to avoid satisfying the demons.

But, Tasuku was so angry. Why did Tsumugi quit acting without telling him before the decision? Didn’t he trust him, why didn’t he trust him? Tasuku swore, kicking the pieces of glass to fly across the floor. What did he do wrong? Why wasn’t he worthy of Tsumugi’s love? Tasuku was shaking with rage, staring at Tsumugi’s photographed face and wondering if everything the angel convinced him of was a ploy, a fabricated web of lies that trapped him like a fool. Did Tsumugi even love him? Why did he lie about tomorrow morning? Why did he leave?

Why did he quit on them?

Tasuku shouted, releasing all the pent–up grief inside him as he threw the frame at the wall with a sickening thud, watching as it smashed even more. Why did he quit? Why, why, why? If only they talked the next morning, maybe Tasuku could’ve persuaded him to keep going, to stay with him, to not give up. Tasuku carefully went over to the photo, pulling out of the frame as he held it with both hands, sadly staring at Tsumugi. This was all he had left of him.

Tasuku tried to rip it in half, but his hands didn’t move. There was nothing he could have done, he couldn’t bring himself to break his heart even more. Tasuku let out a strangled sob, letting the picture flutter to the floor as he roughly pushed his own tears away, hating how tired he was from crying so much.

This was all he had left of Tsumugi, but maybe he didn’t want it anymore. Tasuku caught sight of the nightly snow. Maybe, he had to move on or else there would be nothing left for him.

Wherever Tsumugi was, it wasn’t with Tasuku, and that was the greatest betrayal of all.

I TRY TO EXHALE YOU IN PAIN, LIKE SMOKE, LIKE WHITE SMOKE

I SAY THAT I’LL ERASE YOU, BUT I CAN’T REALLY LET YOU GO YET

Tsumugi sat back row, farthest away from the stage years later. It was closing night for God Troupe, unforeseeably Tasuku’s last show for the troupe as Tsumugi watched with tears. Tasuku had grown so much, got even stronger and had the same stoic, serious persona as always. But his passion was even more electric, more intense, and more fiery all at once. It burned every time Tasuku immersed his entire soul in his character and it was like he wasn’t even himself anymore. Tsumugi almost didn’t recognize him, but his heart called out like it was still in love.

Tsumugi needed closure, just one last time he’d see his best friend. Although years had passed, Tsumugi still loved him and thought of Tasuku every time. He knew Tasuku didn’t feel the same, at least, not anymore. But, he promised himself that he would see Tasuku on stage again, Tsumugi couldn’t keep breaking his honor anymore, he had to keep this word. Tsumugi thought about his life, and how it was split between life before and after Tasuku, but no matter which stage he was at, Tasuku was always there.

Tasuku was always there, but not Tsumugi. Tsumugi left on his own accord, and to this day, he regretted it. As the show ended and Tasuku took a graceful bow towards the audience, Tsumugi gripped the bouquet of flowers in his hands as he shook, hiding behind the audience giving a standing ovation. There was no way in his right mind he could walk up and expect Tasuku to accept him back into his life, because that was unfair. To come back after all these years, not anymore, he had his wish fulfilled, now it was time to leave again.

Before Tsumugi could leave into the train station and disappear into the night, a flyer flew across the sky as it landed directly in front of Tsumugi’s feet. As he was about to board the train, Tsumugi picked it up and read the title, auditions for a threatre troupe named Mankai. He had seen their Autumn Troupe play, and it even made him want to step onto stage again. The doors were about to close, about to take Tsumugi away from Veludo Way and Tasuku forever. He didn’t know what possessed him to do so, but Tsumugi quickly departed and hurried out of the station. Auditions were tomorrow, something told him he had to be there.

Tsumugi stared at the white roses, feeling the thorns pierce his palm as he exhaled into the frigid air. It was about to be winter again, after all these years, he’d have his first snow under the same sky as Tasuku again.

Tsumugi couldn’t leave again, not now. Tsumugi wanted to be worthy of giving white roses to Tasuku.

YOU KNOW IT ALL, YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND

THE MORNING WILL COME AGAIN, NO DARKNESS, NO SEASON IS ETERNAL

Practice was tense with everything left unsaid between the two leads. Tasuku and Tsumugi saw each other after a street act, and the rest was unexplained history. The moment Tsumugi saw his ex–boyfriend, he winced when Tasuku glared at him with all the hatred in the world. He knew he deserved it, but it didn’t hurt any less.

Nothing could have indicated Tasuku still loved him: every time Tsumugi walked into a room, he’d leave muttering about the burden he had to carry, when Tsumugi was talking, he looked like he wasn’t listening, sometimes when Tsumugi acted, Tasuku wasn’t even connected to his character and would just refuse to cooperate. It was hurting the play, Tsumugi didn’t know what to do as the leader of Winter Troupe but also as a lovesick liar in love with his best friend.

Tasuku was rightfully angry. He had been angry ever since he broke that picture frame, it was the official end of their relationship. Tasuku never thought he’d see Tsumugi’s face again on Veludo Way, not after missing each and every single one of his God Troupe shows. Here he was, claiming his place in Tasuku’s broken heart like he had never left. But, he did. Tsumugi did leave and abandon him to the city, giving no answers and only raising more questions after all these years. How could he come back after all he did? Tasuku was angry, but he didn’t know if he was spiteful towards what happened between them or scared that Tsumugi might run away again.

Every time Tsumugi acted, it was like they were back in college all over again. Tsumugi never changed despite his multiple years of being on break, his acting style was subdued and simple, subtle but honest, it carried more feeling than Tasuku could ever describe. They were opposites, Tasuku was not everflowing like water, he wasn’t adaptable and constant like a river bend, but crackling with energy and passion like a flame. Maybe, that’s why Tsumugi left, so he wouldn’t extinguish both of them.

When Tsumugi looked into his eyes at the practice room, Tasuku’s breath hitched in his throat as he didn’t pay attention to the script, staring back with nothing but coldness. Frigid like the winter Tsumugi loved so much, maybe if he was just as freezing and indifferent, Tsumugi would still love him.

“You’re my best friend—” Tsumugi started but Tasuku turned on his heel and left without warning, slamming the door behind him as he ran. Ran to wherever was far away from his best friend. He wanted it to be true so bad, but not when he could be abandoned again without mercy.

Tasuku didn’t want to leave, but he had to or else he’d want to stay forever with Tsumugi. If Tsumugi left this time, he didn’t know how he’d move on this time.

MAYBE IT’S CHERRY BLOSSOMS AND THIS WINTER WILL BE OVER

I MISS YOU, I MISS YOU

WAIT A LITTLE BIT, JUST A FEW MORE NIGHTS

I’LL BE THERE TO SEE YOU, I’LL GO THERE TO MEET YOU

I’LL COME FOR YOU

Tsumugi was gone, again.

When Tasuku woke up from a nightmare of their last fight again to an empty dorm, his heart nearly stopped as he scrambled out of bed, flipping Tsumugi’s duvet over to find nothing but wrinked sheets. He couldn’t have left, how dare he? Leave when he had Winter Troupe under his name, after years of not seeing each other, how could he—Tasuku looked towards the window and stopped, staring outside as the moonlight illuminated the cold night sky in Veludo Way.

It was the first snow of winter.

Tasuku knew what he had to do, old habits die hard, after all. Tasuku didn’t bother putting a coat on, just rushing outside leaving the door open as he ran to the courtyard, snow crunching underneath his feet as he paused at the edge. Tsumugi was standing still in his pajamas, that blue sweatshirt he kept with “Snowdrop” on it covering his shaking hands as his head was tilted back, staring at the snow with wonder and amazement. It was the happiest Tsumugi looked, and Tasuku’s heart simmered down a little bit as he carefully approached closer, like he was afraid of scaring him away forever.

Tsumugi snapped out of his trance when Tasuku covered his shoulders with a blanket, whipping his face towards the taller male with a surprised look, not realizing how close they were. Tasuku couldn’t move his hands from Tsumugi’s shoulders, he couldn’t look away from Tsumugi’s teary eyes as Tsumugi let out a forced laugh, the air around him freezing as it disappeared like smoke.

“Go inside, you’ll get sick before the play.” Tasuku ordered, but made no effort to pull him in. Tsumugi blinked, nodding as he focused on Tasuku’s eyes, he had so many questions he only imagined asking. Tsumugi couldn’t read a thing about Tasuku, it was like he was a stranger he would never see again. But under this snow, under the same sky, they were together again, and it was more than whatever Tsumugi deserved.

“Dance with me.” Tsumugi breathed out, guiding Tasuku’s hands to his waist as he took his hand, not knowing why he needed this so bad. Tasuku was about to object before Tsumugi placed his head on his shoulder, holding in the tears as he begged, “Please, just one last time”. Tasuku stiffly nodded, gripping his hand like he didn’t want to ever let go. It was silent, but the two swayed like they were back in their apartment kitchen, a year into university with nothing to worry about except being on stage together.

“Why’d you go outside?” Tasuku asked, gently spinning Tsumugi like he was made of glass. When he spun back into his arms, Tsumugi sadly smiled, like this was the warmest he’d ever feel again.

“I needed to know if you’d come for me.” Tsumugi whispered, afraid of breaking the moment as he gazed up at the man he was in love with. He had his answer, Tasuku would still follow him even if it meant freezing from the snow at midnight. Tsumugi knew it was selfish, but...

He wanted to be selfish, just one more time. When Tsumugi stood on his toes to inch forward, nervously trembling from what he was risking right now, Tasuku didn’t react. He didn’t move, just took Tsumugi in like he wasn’t going to get this ever again. Like, this was the final goodbye they were supposed to promise each other that next morning.

It was long overdue. Tasuku saw how Tsumugi was about to run away again, lean back and leave. Not again, not if he couldn’t help it. Tasuku closed the distance, as if making up for all the time they lost as they kissed under the first snow, knowing there was so much to be said but not having the heart to bring back the past. It was too much, too much that Tsumugi couldn’t help but pull him back when Tasuku was about to move. He was so selfish, he just wanted Tasuku in this moment even if it meant never communicating with him again, he was in love with a man he had hurt over and over again.

“Promise me,” Tasuku mumbled before their lips met again, staring into Tsumugi’s eyes with no familiarity whatsoever. It was like they were two completely different people who had no connection to each other, two strangers that would’ve walked by each other without a second glance. “We’ll talk about this tomorrow morning.”

This time, Tsumugi nodded without crossing his fingers, his hands wrapped around Tasuku’s neck as he pulled him back down, knowing they had tomorrow to talk. To heal, to mend, to fix whatever was damaged. If Tasuku would let him back, if he let Tsumugi prove he was different now, better now, worthy of any relationship Tasuku wanted.

They were different people now, but it was the first snow of a winter they finally had together after a long, long time.

[sushiandstarlight]

“Cardinal”: NaNoWriMo 30 Days of Prompts

Prompt One / Prompt Two / Prompt Three

This one is a bonus!

Read this story on AO3

After it was over they purchased a cottage in South Downs, but they didn't settle there at first. No, first they traveled. They went to places they had been before, but couldn't enjoy because they were there on official business. They went to places that hadn't been official business, but they hadn't been to together. They traveled to cities that they had watched spring to life, but were altogether different now than they had been at the beginning. New places that didn't exist until now.

Somehow, they wound up in a tiny town in the northeast of the United States just before Christmas time. The town was a tiny place, barely a dot on Google Maps. They didn't have their own newspaper, nor their own post office. And yet, they were in full swing for the holidays. A towering live tree dominated the town square, reaching towards the clouds and covered in as many lights as it would hold: a dazzling array of whites and golds and reds and greens. Garland dripped from every telephone pole and streetlight. A small red and green hut sat dwarfed beside the evergreen, proclaiming that Santa would be there for the good boys and girls of the town between the hours of 5pm and 7pm right up until the day before Christmas. There wasn't a night in the twelve before Christmas that the jolly voice of carolers couldn't be heard drifting from one street or another. Most houses offered them cocoa or cookies as payment and protection from the cold. Every house fought the darkness of night with thousands of tiny lights.

“Crowley, dear, it's more about good will towards all men, loved ones, gifts, and warm bellies nowadays. We should enjoy the revelry. It's thanks to us, at least in part, that they're still getting to enjoy it!” Aziraphale was delighting in the season whole-heartedly. He'd booked them a room in the only tiny little bed and breakfast near the town (which had taken a miracle and a half, let him tell you, with all the people returning home to be with family for the holidays!) and, while there, spent every evening baking sweets with the elderly lady that ran it. In the morning, he'd find them both tuckered out and snoring away on the matching oppressively floral recliners in the sitting room, sugar and icing-covered aprons still on.

Crowley would sip his black coffee and perch in the bay window, watching the snow gently falling against the backdrop of the rising sun, and he would want to hate it. He would really, really want to. But, he couldn't quite manage it. There was something different about celebrations this year. Maybe it was the newfound freedom they had. It pushed him to feel that little bit more human. They were here by choice, not assignment. They could leave if they so chose, and they chose not to. The energy the humans were exuding was positively contagious. The snowy weather made him cold to his very bones, yes, but watching Aziraphale enjoy himself? That warmed him well enough to be worth the chill. He blew a warm breath on the window pane in front of him a drew a snowflake. Then, smirking, he drew a serpent slithering around it.

“I made you something.”

Crowley jumped and hissed, nearly spilling what was left of his coffee.

“Sorry, I thought you would hear me coming.”

Crowley grumbled and shrugged. Normally, he would have. Something about this place had made him drop his guard. He blamed all the damned coziness. He set down his coffee and turned away from the window to face Aziraphale and held out his hand.

As he had suspected, Aziraphale placed a cookie in his palm. He hadn't expected the cookie to be delicately piped in a non-christmas design. Turning it to face him, he supposed the original shape was to be Santa's toy sack. It was a lumpy shape and he couldn't imagine what else it might have been. But, Aziraphale had re-imagined the shape. Now it was a coiled black snake with a red belly and golden eyes. A lump formed in his throat and he tried, desperately, to swallow it. His eyes were stinging, too, and that just wasn't fair. Not over a cookie.

“I thought, well you know... The whole Santa myth is nice. And angels and Christmas trees and presents are good and well. But, my Christmas wouldn't be right without you in it, Crowley. Christmas is about time with family.”

“Th-” Crowley coughed and cleared his throat, “piping's pretty good, Angel. We might have to put you to work.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale waved him off, “you should see all the cookies that didn't make the cut while I was figuring out how to do this.”

“Could I see them?” Crowley just knew.

“Certainly not, they're all...” the angel sniffed, “disposed of.”

“Meaning you ate them.”

“To remove the evidence!” He was puffed out like an agitated bird and it took every bit of Crowley's self control not to laugh.

“Too right, can't have the evidence laying about.” He looked back at the cookie, the idea of eating it made him a little sad. Aziraphale had obviously put a lot of work into it.

“You can eat it, I won't be upset. I made it for you. Her recipe really is positively scrumptious.”

Crowley peered down at the cookie, glanced back at the expectant angel, and then back at the cookie. He then did the only thing that seemed right: he stuffed the entire thing in his mouth and chewed.

“Now, really.”

“Wuff?” Cookie crumbs went everywhere.

Aziraphale just laughed and cuffed the back of his head gently before turning back towards the kitchen.

“Wuss good, Angel, fanks!” Crowley called after him, gulping his coffee to help ease the cookie lump down his throat.

-

That night, everyone left their homes late in the evening. There was almost no need for the streetlights-although they were lit- the festive houses shone in a rainbow of Christmas revelry that did more than enough to fight the night back. Families came out and greeted one another, walking together. Adults laughed at the children as they squealed and threw snowballs at one another. Grandparents tutted about wet clothes on a cold night, but still smiled as if remembering what it had been like to not care about such things.

Crowley joined the crowd that left the bed and breakfast together, but lingered behind them. He had hoped Aziraphale would join them, that he was only lagging behind for some reason. But, the angel was nowhere to be seen. So, he followed the group to the square, wondering what this was all about.

Arriving in the square, he saw that there were lines of tables on either side of the Christmas tree. One side was laden down with dozens of baskets of ornaments. Old ones, clearly antique (and probably ridiculously breakable. New ones, covered in gaudy glitter that somehow looked beautiful when placed near the twinkle lights. Strands of garland, tinsel, and popcorn- the birds were sure to have a field day with that! The other line of tables were covered in all kinds of treats: one contained warm beverages from coffee to tea to cocoa. Another contained festive foods: turkey, ham, stuffing, rolls, mashed potatoes, and gravy. And, nearest the tree, was one covered in cakes, pastries, pies, and hundreds of cookies. Behind that table he spotted Aziraphale next to the woman that ran the bed and breakfast. They were laughing as they watched a small child eat one of the cookies, getting more icing on his face than in it.

Something relaxed in his gut, just seeing the angel again. Just knowing he was here, after all. Aziraphale had said that Christmas wouldn't be the same without Crowley. Crowley was beginning to think none of his days would be the same without Aziraphale. All the time they had spent apart over the last 6,000 years and now he didn't want to spend more than an hour or two without him.

“What, no Christmas snakes for the table?” his breath puffed out into the air between them and dissipated.

“As it just so happens, I did make you one more.” Aziraphale reached for a tiny paper plate that was hidden behind the other mounds of goodies and handed it to Crowley. It was another snake, like the one before. But, this one had cookie crumbs delicately placed all over it's snout.

“You know what, Angel?” Crowley could feel the laugh bubbling up from his belly and twitching at the sides of his lips.

“What, you old serpent?”

“I absolutely deserve this.”

Aziraphale's laughter rang out over the square, traveling into Crowley's ears and, somehow, curling at the bottom of his spine and making his limbs tingle. Or, you know, it could be frostbite. He would blame frostbite, for sure.

They both turned, smiling, to watch as the town folk gathered around the ornament tables. Everyone plucked up something, small or large or gaudy or delicate. The children grabbed whole baskets and skipped merrily to the tree. Someone was high above on an electric company lift, hanging giant baubles around the top. Everyone down here would only be able to decorate, at most, to the seven foot mark. Still, by the time they were done, the whole bottom half of the tree glittered and twinkled with so many decorations you could hardly find any tree beneath them.

As voices rose together in song between the tables and the front side of the tree, Aziraphale joined Crowley around the back side, handing him a steaming cup. Crowley sipped it: coffee and cocoa with marshmallows. Not his usual fair, but still good. He took a big swig, feeling it warm him from the inside out while the voices warmed him from the outside in. “I'm glad we stopped here for the holiday.”

“Hmm, me too. Though, I wasn't exactly expecting you to enjoy it.”

Crowley shrugged and took another deep sip, licking the melty marshmallow from his upper lip.

“I have one more thing for you.”

“You didn't have to get me anything.”

“I know, but I wanted to. It's half store-bought and half homemade. Little chintzy, really. You don't have to pretend to like it if you don't.” Aziraphale was dithering and shifting on his feet.

“Well, let's have it, then.” Crowley put out his hand and waited.

Aziraphale eyed him seriously for a moment then reached into his pocket and pulled out a little box covered in red paper, tied with a opalescent white ribbon. He passed it over and then turned to face the tree.

Crowley drank the last of his cocoa-coffee and sat the cup on the ground at his feet so he could open the box. Inside, nestled amongst some tissue paper, was an ornament: it was a green wreath and inside it were perched two birds, a cardinal and a dove. The cardinal had clearly been a part of the original design. Whatever had been perched next to it- probably a second cardinal- had been carefully removed and replaced with the dove.

“Didn't know you could sculpt.”

“I had some help from one of the innkeeper's grandchildren, to be honest. Do you... do you like it?”

“I think it's lovely.”

“Really?” Aziraphale seemed to let out a breath he had been holding and relax, “Oh, I'm glad. I mean, it would have been okay if you didn't...”

“But, I do.”

“Yes, good.”

They spent another moment looking at the tree instead of one another before Crowley broke the silence.

“What does it mean? I'm sure there's meaning here.”

“Well... in a literal sense, cardinals are said to be messengers of love and signs that angels are near. Or angel, as the case may be. Doves are a sign of peace. Peace and love, Crowley.”

Crowley looked from the ornament to Aziraphale and back.

“And, figuratively?”

“It's our first Christmas together... as, well, as family. Our side. And, this is our reward... peace and love. That's what we're free to receive. Well, from one another.” The angel swallowed, staring pointedly ahead.

Crowley side-stepped closer and hooked his arm in Aziraphale's.

“I like that even more.”

Aziraphale shot him a glance and his stormy eyes were glistening, but he smiled.

“Let's put it on the tree then,” Crowley tugged him along by the arm, “we'll find just the right spot... Ah, here!” he removed a glittery red and green plastic ball and hung the new ornament in it's place, right next to a golden light. He pulled Aziraphale closer into his side and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. A moment later, the angel relaxed and tilted his head to rest on Crowley's shoulder. Crowley placed a kiss on his forehead and rested his own head on top as he gazed at the ornament.

“Happy Christmas, Angel.”

“Hmm, Happy Christmas, dear boy.”

The voices on the other side of the tree dropped off one at a time as people dispersed to their warm homes, ready to crawl under covers and greet the bounty of gifts that were to be found in the morning. The couple stayed behind, content in their closeness, until everyone else was gone. Then they held hands as they made their way back to the bed and breakfast by light of the moon and the towering Christmas tree.

[mortuarybees]

human au: how did aziraphale come out to crowley?

short answer: he didn’t, crowley came out to him

long answer:

It looks like this:

Crowley has asked Aziraphale out twice now, and it hasn’t gotten any easier.

“You want to go to dinner?” They’re standing outside the English & Philosophy building, and he shifts nervously beneath the imposing sycamore tree, struggling to hold his stack of books. It’s overcast (isn’t it always?), and in the shade of the tree, it’s dark, almost intimate.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to hold those?” Crowley asks doubtfully, catching a thin paperback as it falls off the top.

“I’m–” he blushes, and Crowley beams at him, gesturing for the stack. He hands some of them over, and–alright, yeah, they’re heavy, but whatever. “Thank you.”

“‘Course,” he says. “Where are we going?”

“Ah,” he frowns, looking at him inscrutably. “I was going to go to my dorm room?”

“Lead the way,” Crowley says, waiting until Aziraphale takes a few apprehensive steps to fall in beside him. “Anyway, yes, I–” he ducks his head, wishes he weren’t holding the books so he could fidget with his glasses or tuck his hands in his pockets, “I had fun, last time. And seeing Romeo + Juliet.” He throws him a sideways look to find him staring openly at him, and he turns his eyes forward, clears his throat, cheeks turning a deep red. This is a victory, as far as Crowley is concerned. “Did you?”

“I did,” he says in a rush. “But you…want to do it again?”

“Said I did, didn’t I?” Crowley says impatiently. “Listen, if you don’t want to, you can say so, won’t hurt my feelings.” It might. Okay, it will, but he’ll put on a brave face and just go back to his dorm and listen to the Smiths and cry for a while, like everyone does.

“I want to,” Aziraphale says slowly, as if he’s afraid Crowley’s somehow leading him into a trap but he hasn’t spotted the spring yet. “If you do. You don’t have to, you know.”

“We’ve already covered this, I want to. If you want to, it’s a date,” he says, warmth blooming in his chest like the sun emerging from the clouds. He likes Aziraphale too much, he knows; it’s strange how much he likes him, completely mad. They hardly know each other.

“A date,” Aziraphale murmurs, almost to himself, with a pleased and barely-there curve of his lips, and Crowley smiles at him. Maybe that’s why he likes him so much. He can admit it to himself: he doesn’t smile terribly often, anymore, but Aziraphale brings it out in him, with wonderfully, naively optimistic declarations in class, jokes he tells with a wince as if he’s anticipating ridicule, his odd, circular logic and how he mouths words along as he reads, sometimes even traces a finger beneath the line like some kind of hunched monk in a dim abbey.

“A date,” Crowley agrees.

(It looks like this:

Crowley won’t meet him until the first day of the one class they’ll share, but he notices him at freshers week. He looks like he stepped out of Dead Poets Society or Oxford in the 1950s, in tweed and honest-to-God wingtips, and he’s like Crowley. Well, broadly speaking.

His pale curls are cut unevenly, as if he did it himself, and he wears clunky glasses too big for his cherub–no, they call them something else, putti, maybe–whatever, his round and frankly angelic face. He clings to some huge paperback like a lifeline, gnawing anxiously at his plump lower lip.

Crowley takes a drag of his cigarette and meets his eye through the exhale of smoke. He holds it for a long moment, and lifts the cigarette to him, in a way that’s an invitation, and a greeting, and a subtle gesture to the rainbow pin on his own lapel. There’s a bright flash of recognition in his eyes as he sees.

And then he turns away.)

Aziraphale is not, as Crowley anticipated, in the nice building with central air and heating. Instead, he’s in the big, historic dorm, which he should have expected. If he’s learned anything at this point, it’s that Aziraphale is committed to a certain aesthetic, and modern architecture and carpeting is not part of it.

“I’ll take my books,” he says, gesturing for Crowley to put them on the top of the stack, and though something in his chest leaps at an opportunity to help, insists that he offer to take them up, he understands Aziraphale doesn’t want to bring a guy he hardly knows up to his room, so he hands them over.

“Are you free tonight?” he asks eagerly, shoving his hands in his pockets. He was, in truth, planning to wait until his next paycheck to ask him out again, but he can’t. It’s a Herculean feat of effort to keep from asking him out again the moment their date ends, or as soon as he sees him in class. It’s quite restrained of him, he thinks, to have only asked him out three times in two weeks.

“I am,” he says, the tips of his ears turning pink, and fuck, if that isn’t endearing; but then his face closes off, and he straightens his shoulders as best he can with the books in his arms. “Crowley, you…you know I’m not…”

“You’re not?” Crowley prompts when he doesn’t continue.

He bites at his lip, then says quite suddenly, “Crowley, you are…gay, aren’t you?”

Crowley throws back his head and laughs.

(It looks like this:

He sees him around. He’s not looking for him, persay, but it wouldn’t be accurate to say he doesn’t keep an eye out for him, either. There’s a rainbow pin on his lapel, now, small beside his little Stratford-upon-Avon souvenir and charmingly inoffensive Books Not Bombs pin. He could be a lesbian, Crowley supposes, but he doesn’t think so. Sometimes, you can just tell. Lesbians have a boldness about their person that this young man simply does not. Besides, lesbians travel in packs of other sapphics and very occasionally pet straight women they’ve taken under their wings, and he doesn’t seem to have any friends. Wide-eyed and beguiling as he is, he would’ve been adopted by now.

He’s like Crowley. Broadly speaking.)

“Crowley,” Aziraphale admonishes peevishly, after several moments.

He bites down on his smile, and pulls his carton of cigarettes out. Aziraphale shifts uncomfortably as he lights the cigarette, and Crowley raises his eyebrows. “Sorry, I should’ve asked first. Do you mind?”

“No, no, go ahead,” he says. “Just. The books.”

“I can hold them,” he says.

“No, I’ve got them,” he says, after a moment. His face is turning very red, and after he takes his first drag, Crowley notices his eyes have taken on a wounded, watery quality. He clears his throat and straightens his shoulders again, avoiding Crowley’s gaze. “Ah, sorry, I suppose, I just thought, your pins, and–”

“Yeah, angel, I’m gay,” Crowley says gently, and Aziraphale ducks his head; the nickname, employed ever since they left the theater, never fails to make him blush. “Almost exclusively.”

“Almost–”

“You’re the exclusively,” he says. “I’d think that’d be obvious.”

“It’s not,” Aziraphale says, his voice soft, and Crowley’s chest squeezes painfully at that. “You know I’m a man, right?”

“'Course I do,” he says. He takes a nervous drag, flicks ash to the sidewalk.

“You’re sure? Because I–”

“Angel,” he interrupts. “Listen, I promise, I know you’re a man. I probably wouldn’t be asking you out if you weren’t.”

Aziraphale brightens at that. “Probably?”

“I prefer men,” Crowley shrugs. “Can’t really say only, but mostly.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale says, satisfied.

“And you?” Crowley asks, as nonchalant as he can manage.

“Mostly,” Aziraphale echoes. Crowley smiles, knot in his chest loosening.

“Besides,” he says, kicking at a tuft of grass so he doesn’t have to meet his eyes.

“Besides?” Aziraphale asks, and Crowely hesitates.

The thing is, Crowley’s never really talked to anyone about it. Not really, not in so many words.

It’s a hard thing to verbalize, even when you’ve read Butler and Boswell and Bland and de Beauvoir and all the rest of the goddamn alphabet of people like Crowley who never stop asking questions, even when it makes his head hurt.

It feels like it would be an underwhelming statement. I feel like a man, but only mostly. Sometimes almost completely, sometimes only tangentially, really, it depends on how I look at it.

He thinks Aziraphale will understand, though. He hopes he will.

(It looks like this:

Crowley is Antonio is their production of Twelfth Night. He’s in the audience of three of their productions, watching with a rapt attention and delight that makes Crowley forget his lines when he looks at him for more than a beat. Crowley wants to believe his eyes linger a little longer on him than they do the other actors, but he’s not sure if he’s…projecting. If he wants it to be true, so he’s fooling himself into thinking there’s a moment after Crowley’s finished saying his lines and the student playing Sebastian has begun saying his that he keeps looking at him, those blue eyes noticing him, over and over.

He’s like Crowley. He’s confident of it.)

“I understand,” he mutters.

“You understand,” Aziraphale repeats, confused. “You understand what?”

“The whole,” he waves the hand holding the cigarette, ash falling. “Gender. Thing.”

“Gender thing?” He says, and understanding dawns in his eyes. “You’re trans, too?”

Crowley makes a noncommittal noise. “I dunno. Sort of? Not really. Just…don’t feel,” he gestures, broadly. “All…not-that.”

“Are you a trans woman?” Aziraphale asks, and he shakes his head, sighs, shifts.

“No, not like a woman, just, sometimes, not like a man,” he says. “A little? Sometimes a lot. Sometimes not really at all. Does that make sense?”

Aziraphale tilts his head, considering. Crowley appreciates this about him, he really does, that he’ll really think about what you say to him, turn it over in his mind, but right now, he’s kind of having a moment, a big one, and he’d really like some immediate, instinctive gratification. “It does,” he says finally. “I understand what you mean. Genderqueer, yes?”

Crowley stares at him, at the nakedness of his expression, the bare knowing, and he knows he does understand. He feels a tidal of relief crash over him. “Yeah,” he says, a crooked smile finding its way onto his lips. “Yeah, that works.”

Aziraphale smiles back, and there’s something like relief in his eyes too. “Still Crowley, then? And–the same pronouns?”

He nods. “Yeah. That part doesn’t matter so much, to me.”

“So, ah,” he shifts, and Crowley grimaces; this was really all he had to say, he really doesn’t know what else he could articulate, exactly, doesn’t know that he’s going to have answers and worries that Aziraphale will stop looking at him with that understanding, that relieved you’re like me. “Dinner? Tonight?”

Crowley grins. “Is seven alright?”

“Seven is divine, dear.”

(human au masterpost)

[i-was-bored-so-this-happened]

I Can See Clearly Now The Rain Is Gone - Dhawan!Master [Doctor Who]

One Word Prompts!

@theaussietimelord this is what you asked for, but Tumblr screwed it up so I’ve just made it it’s own post! This would have been out earlier but I had to finish an essay first. Under a Read More because anything over about 300 words goes under a Read More. It’s also randomly in First Person??

As you didn’t specify a character I picked Dhawan!Master. If you wanted a different character you know I’m happy to write that for you :)

🌧Rain🌧 requested by @theaussietimelord

*****************************

I Can See Clearly Now The Rain Is Gone - Dhawan!Master [Doctor Who]

The humans have this insipid song they like to sing. Most of them only know one line, but, like most modern human music, the song is annoyingly repetitive. I can see clearly now the rain is gone. As if the rain is ever gone. As if there isn’t someone forever pulling the wool over your eyes. Believe me, I know more than most that you are never in control. There is always someone else pulling the strings and pressing the buttons. Oh, yes I can make it now the pain is gone, but the pain is never gone. My arm still pinches and my hearts still ache and my head still feels like it’s being split in two. I don’t know if the pain will ever be gone. 

Vhwumph.

The TARDIS has landed. I don’t know where. I didn’t set a location, just let her tumble through space and time. The door springs open, clearly prompting me to get out immediately. She’s not very happy with me. I suppose I did try to crash her, so she has good reason. I step out of the TARDIS before she can kick me out.

It’s raining.

I’m not sure how long I walk for. Unlike the Doctor, I don’t count every second that passes. Or she doesn’t think I do. I walk until I don’t know where the TARDIS is anymore, until my clothes are soaked through and my hair is dripping. I don’t stop even then. I don’t know exactly when I fall to the ground and let myself sit there. If I die from hypothermia, I don’t know if I’ll regenerate again. But do I want to regenerate, or do I just want it to be over?

I don’t know.

I don’t know how long I sit there. Until the rain stops, but it doesn’t. I can see it hitting the ground in front of me, but not a single drop lands on my head. When I look up, there’s a leaf there that hadn’t been there before. Gigantic, and oddly curved, shaped like an umbrella.

“I made it for you.” a nervous voice. Small. A child’s. They’re small, like their voice, skin tinged green with brown hands and feet. “You looked sad. Are you sad? Or mad? They’re very similar, y’know.” The TARDIS is still translating for me then. The child sounds Scottish, and I wonder if it’s because of the bright purple, thistle like hair sprouting from their head. I’m more than surprised when they duck under the leaf umbrella and sit beside me, knees tucked up to their chest. “Who are you?” they ask. I stay silent. “Alright then. Are you sad?” they can’t know who I am. If they did, they wouldn’t sit so close.

“Yes. Yes, I am.” I’m not sure why I answer. This child could never possibly understan-

They’re hugging me. This little…plant child is hugging me. They’ve sheltered me from the rain and now they’re hugging me. They can’t know who I am. I can’t remember the last time someone hugged me. At least not without ulterior motives. I can hardly remember the last time someone touched me without wanting or trying to hurt me.

“It’ll be alright. The rain will be gone soon.”

“It’s not the rain I’m sad about you-” I can’t even threaten them.

“The rain will go, and it will all be better.” The child tells me. There’s hesitation before I answer,

“…No, I don’t think it will.”

“You wait and see. There’ll be a rainbow when the rain goes away, and the waterfall will be wonderful! I’ll show you, and then I can take you home and give you new clothes, because yours are wet. Would you like soup?” they prattle on, pausing after they’ve asked the question. It hangs in the air. I could tell them to go away. Threaten them, kill them. But I don’t want to. I don’t know what I want to do. I don’t know, I don’t know-

“Yes. I would like that…Thank you.”

[rainbow-sides]

Skipping School

Summary: Roman gets sick on a day he's supposed to drive his little brother to school. Logan has an...interesting solution.

Pairing: platonic Logince

Word count: 1,357

Warnings: illness, food mention

Notes: Written for a prompt from anonymous! Also, if you want to get told when I upload a fic, follow and turn on notifs for @rainbow-sides-fics. I'm posting on mobile bc I'm lazy so I hope the read-more works, apologies if it doesn't.

______________________________

The clock was ticking down dangerously close to 7:50, and Roman hadn't even emerged from his room yet. Logan had finished his toast already and was completely ready to be driven to school. He would be really angry if his brother made him late to school by deciding to sleep in on the day that their mom was out of state visiting her sister. Tapping his foot impatiently, Logan watched the clock for another minute before springing up, pushing his backpack away on the table, and heading down the short hallway towards Roman's bedroom.

"Are you awake yet?" he demanded, rapping his knuckles curtly against the closed door.

For a moment, there was no answer. Then a groan came from inside. "What?"

"It's almost 7:45!" Logan cried. "You have to drive me to school!"

"Oh my god, how did I sleep through my alarm?!" Roman sounded distraught. "Shit! I'm sorry."

Well, that can't be right. Roman never apologized for inconveniencing his little brother. "I'm coming in," Logan announced, and opened the door.

Roman had sat up in bed, his hair tousled and his eyes very bleary. "I'm sorry," he said again. His voice was hoarse. "I--" A sudden, harsh cough escaped him and he wheezed, trying to breathe. "I'm just not feeling very glittery today," he managed.

Logan wrinkled his nose. "Are you sick?" he asked bluntly. "I'm not getting in a car with you if you're sick. The last thing I need is to be the person who spreads the plague to every kid at school."

"I'll get up and...and put a mask on, or something." Roman coughed again. "And I'll wash my hands, I promise. I don't have the plague, nerd."

"Hm." Logan tilted his head. "Lay back down and go back to sleep."

"How will you get to school?" protested Roman.

Logan was grabbing Roman's phone off his bedside table and unlocking it with the password he had seen him use yesterday. "I won't." The number for the middle school office was saved in his contacts, and Logan pressed the call button.

"Hey--what do you think you're doing?"

In a far too convincing hoarse and congested voice, Logan said, "Ms. Katie? This is Logan Sanders, I think I have to stay home today. No, my mom is out of town...and my brother and I both came down with a cold. I don't want to get anyone else sick...well, I can ask her to call, but she's in California and probably won't be awake for a few more hours. Alright, I'll do that. Thanks." He coughed a few times for good measure before hanging up.

Roman was staring at him. "What."

Suddenly, Logan felt pretty uncomfortable. He hadn't considered that Roman would be mad. Though he was sure their mom would be understanding, skipping school was a bad thing to do. "What?" he replied defensively.

"First of all--" Roman broke off, another coughing fit seizing him. This time, he couldn't seem to get it under control, so Logan ran and got him a glass of water.

"Here," he said.

"Thanks," Roman rasped after having a drink. "First of all, I should be mad, but I'm just impressed by your acting skills. Didn't know you had it in you, Lo."

"Hmph."

Roman put the glass down. "Secondly, are you sure you're okay with this? You're usually so nerdy about your perfect attendance."

"I've already missed a few days this year when I got the stomach flu, so it's not a big deal. And nothing important is happening today. It's just a boring Friday." Logan shrugged. "Besides, I could very well already have whatever you have and I'm just not symptomatic yet. But I could still spread the virus, so it's safer to stay home anyway."

"You're logicking your way into skipping school, Lo." Through his misery about his illness, a hint of a smile broke onto his face. "I'm so proud."

"Shut up," Logan muttered. "Go back to sleep. I'll just work on schoolwork from home and maybe make some soup or something."

"You're so sweeeeet," Roman teased. He grabbed a tissue from his bedside table and sneezed into it. "Ugh."

Logan backed out of the room. "I'll call the high school too and tell them you won't be there today. Don't breathe on me." He shut the door and left Roman to rest, taking advantage of the quiet house to get some math homework done and put on a pot of the chicken noodle soup that their mom would usually be making if either of them were sick. Occasionally, he would hear Roman coughing, but left him alone for most of the morning.

Logan did end up calling their mom when he knew she would be awake and explaining the situation--she assured him that although he shouldn't have lied to the office, he did the right thing in staying home and she would call the school and back him up on his story this one time. She told him to take care of himself, and Roman, and then had to hang up to help her sister with something.

At a little bit after noon, Roman started coughing again after being quiet for a few hours. This particular coughing fit was a bad one. Logan filled a mug with mostly broth from the simmering soup and went to check on him. "Roman?"

"Uh-huh?" Roman didn't stop hacking up his lungs as he answered.

Carefully, Logan entered the room. "Here, have this." He gave Roman the mug.

A blanket was wrapped tightly around Roman's shoulders. His eyes were watery, his nose red. Without saying anything, he took a few sips. He stared straight ahead, seeming quite unhappy.

This is uncomfortable. Logan didn't like having to navigate the icky world of emotions, and Roman looked very emotional. "Are you al--"

"I wish Mom was here." Suddenly, Roman sounded very young. He was seventeen to Logan's twelve, and Logan often had to remind himself that for all Roman's brash attitude, he was still a kid, too. "I just…" He sniffled, his lip trembling as he clutched the warm mug.

"Would you like to call her?" Logan suggested hesitantly.

Roman shook his head. "N-no. I'm fine."

Logan shifted back and forth on his feet. "Can I do anything?" he offered, unsure.

"No, I'm fine, I just…"

"Roman?"

"I just wish Mom was here, okay?" snapped Roman. "'cause I'm pathetic. One stupid cold and I'm crying for my mommy."

"I…" Logan took a step back. "Don't get angry."

"I'm not fu--I'm not angry!" Roman growled. "Go away, okay?"

Logan took a deep breath and held his ground. "I obviously cannot bring Mom home from California immediately, and I understand that it is difficult to be ill when she isn't here to help. But I am doing my best. Do not take your frustration out on me."

Slowly, Roman sat back. "Right. Sorry."

"That must be a record, you apologizing to me twice in one day," Logan said dryly.

Roman half-smiled and didn't reply as he drank more of the soup.

"Anyway, I finished my algebra homework for the next week and a half, so I decided it would be alright to take a break. Would you like to watch something with me?"

"Sure," Roman said. He glanced at his little brother. "You can put on one of those space documentaries you like. I'm too sleepy and out of it to appreciate any shows I'd pick, anyway."

Recognizing the gesture as a peace offering that meant more than any apology, Logan nodded. "Come out to the living room when you're ready. I'll make sure that there are plenty of blankets out for you. And I'll put on some water for lemon and honey tea."

"Gross," Roman said half-heartedly.

"It will help with your cough," Logan insisted.

"I know, I know." There was a brief pause. "Okay, I'll be out in a minute."

Logan nodded. "I'll wait for you," he said, and went out into the living room to pick something to watch that Roman wouldn't hate. He would try, at least. His brother had absolutely no taste.

[yukiwrites]

Idyllic, Everlasting Moment

Summary, or rather, excuse: Klein and Azura had been spending a lot of time together as of late -- Kiran and Anna had decided that the two of them made a great team and deployed to to every single mission together. The thing was -- they didn’t hate it; on the contrary, the more time they spent together, the more time they WANTED to spend together, until they started being seen with each other even off the battlefield...

______________________________

The fresh, mid-spring wind blowed through the leaves, the only sound for as far as one could hear was of nature moving at its own pace. Large trees sang countless melodies as their branches moved, deafening the quiet whispering of the flowers and the grass down below, the still cool air from the distancing winter mingled perfectly with the warmth of the coming summer.

Being under the shade of a tree during such time was simply the greatest privilege one could ask for -- the ideal place, time and weather for a nap.

Klein carefully threaded his fingers through the silky, sky-blue hair that rested over his lap, a calm smile right at home in his face. "Hm-hm, hm..." He hummed quietly so as not to wake his companion up.

One could say that the view from the hill he and Azura had chosen to spend time at was rivaled only by the land of dreams as it was covered for as far as the eye could see with the widest array of flowers. It was as though one were looking at a natural, never fading rainbow. Yet, Klein's eyes simply couldn't tear themselves from the sleeping songstress by his lap. The Archer General brought a long lock of hair to his lips, caressing Azura's cheek at the same time.

They had ended their morning walk by the hill and simply stopped by the tree to take a quick rest, but the nap conditions were so overwhelming they soon felt so sleepy they almost bonked their heads while they talked at close quarters, giggling right after. Azura had fallen asleep on Klein's shoulder first, prompting the archer to carefully lower her to his lap to make her sleep a more comfortable one.

Ever since then and way into the afternoon, Klein simply basked into the beauty of nature and of the woman beside him -- it was such an idyllic and dreamlike scene, he felt that it was almost a waste to fall asleep and miss it all.

His hands had moved cautiously during all that time, braiding Azura's hair in every fashion he knew of -- as Clarisse's older brother, he was basically coerced into learning how to do his little sister's hair if only to please the girl when they were young (though she still would ask him to do it from time to time even after coming of age). He made tiny braids, large braids, braid crowns and even a braid ribbon, all of which due to Azura's almost endless amount of hair.

Feeling rather guilty from allowing himself to go so far though still not wanting the moment to end, Klein could only caress Azura's head and pray that she wouldn't wake up -- while still wishing she would, if only to look upon her bright eyes one more time.

Chuckling, the archer raised his head to face the scenery once again, taking a deep breath as the wind picked up, bringing the scent of spring with it. "This is why we fight." He whispered, resting his head on the trunk he leaned on.

A melodious giggle made Klein's heart flutter, though his smile simply widened in response. "Indeed." Azura replied as she made motion to sit up.

"You were awake?" Klein watched as the songstress lifted her torso, leaning on one hand while the other curiously patted the right side of her hair. The myriad of braids amused her, and although only one side of her head was so carefully prepared, she looked no less gorgeous.

Such thoughts must've been transmitted through Klein's smile and full heart, since Azura noticed he didn't look guilty from playing with her hair as she slept.

"Since you were humming a while ago." She replied softly, shaking her head to muse on how her right side felt heavy as opposed to the braidless left side. "What was that song?"

"Hahah," Klein laughed as he watched Azura not know how to proceed with so many hair decorations, swiftly coming to her aid and undoing them one by one. "I heard Lady Rinea humming it as we passed by the corridor yesterday; she looked ready to go to a royal ball, you see, and ever since then I've had it stuck in my head."

Azura tilted her head to the left so as to help Klein have a clear view of the hairdo he undid. "A royal ball... I do not think I've ever been to one." She said softly, humming the very same melody afterwards.

"Truly?" Klein gasped softly, threading his fingers through a recently undone braid so as to straighten the hair. "A princess such as yourself?"

"Is it so strange?" She asked melancholy, tapping her fingers over her dress in the rhythm of the melody.

"I suppose it should be," Klein replied nonchalantly, "but we all have our circumstances. Each world has its own story, so it's not up to me to question it."

Azura's smile widened minimally, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "Indeed..." She leaned closer until her back touched Klein's hands. Feeling the proximity, the archer simply leaned his shoulder on Azura's back, his hands still busy with her hair.

Their touches and warmth were so, so very comfortable.

They didn't pry on each other's business and respected one another's boundaries by simply... existing together.

The time they spend together was irreplaceable to the both of them, and every single day they did so, they wanted it to last a moment longer; even a second longer. Which was why Klein was in no hurry to finish undoing Azura's hair, neither was she eager to return once he did.

After an unrecorded amount of time filled with their comfortable silence, Azura spoke up, her voice rather cheerier than before. "Would you like to be the only guest of my first royal ball?"

Klein blinked, lifting his gaze to meet the sun of Azura's eyes. "Huh?" He hesitated, though he simply needed to look at her small smile and glistering gaze to understand. His shoulders sagged as he flashed a grin. "An open air, private ball? It would be my honor, my lady." He lowered his head in a bow. "But I'm not yet finished with your hair..."

Again, Azura was in no hurry to return. She simply smiled more, sliding her hand to Klein's. "You can finish the rest once we've danced, hm?"

And neither was Klein. "Of course," he nodded, getting up first so as to pull Azura up into his arms. She gracefully glided on them as he pulled her, their breaths intertwining for a single, everlasting second before she took him to the middle of the flower field, humming all the way. "Is that-?"

Azura raised her shoulder and smiled confidently. "I do not know the original melody, so I came up with my own for the time being. I'll ask Lady Rinea how it actually sounded once we return." She twirled around herself, the softness of her hand leaving Klein's as she did.

The archer bowed respectfully, waiting in such position until Azura turned back to him. Once she did, he raised his hand towards her once more. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

"Why," Azura slid her warmth back into his, "it would be my honor." She tip-toed towards him, their bodies used to joining into one as they danced. The borrowed song Azura finished masterfully left her lips, guiding their steps and rhythm throughout the flower field.

A scene more idyllic than one seen in a dream.

One that even if it were a dream, they wouldn't want to wake up from.

They danced until Azura's song turned into chipperly hums, their bodies gradually stopping as their cheeks were pressed together in their eagerness. Klein's eyes refused to open as he took in Azura's sweet, alluring scent, his hands pressing her towards him as they did many times in the past. Azura's arms, wrapped around Klein's neck, felt at home there, not wanting to move.

Each one breathed on one another's necks, the familiar warmth bringing them a sense of safety they didn't feel around anyone else.

Just a moment more.

Just a single minute more.

The sun was setting, uncaring of their inner pleas, but for the first time since they started feeling that way, they didn't feel pressed for time.

The world consisted of themselves, if only for that single moment.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day One Hundred Ninety-One: The Patent Office ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uchiha Itachi ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

A few days after arriving back in his hometown, Sasuke decides to finally ask Hinata if she’s ready for him to come work.

After bumping into her completely by accident, and then arranging some volunteer help with her new flower shop business, Sasuke’s finally ready to speak to her again. He’d been so taken aback by just so happening to run into her, he’s admittedly put it off for a bit. After all...it’s not every day you come face to face with your high school crush.

A crush he...really isn’t over, apparently. Seems his time traveling the world and learning photography didn’t fully bury the feelings. Because they popped back up like spring daisies the moment they locked eyes again.

He still feels a little bad...he sort of dropped all forms of communication with his old classmates post high school. True, he hadn’t had many true friends...and he and Hinata weren’t exactly best buddies. And it’s not like she’s the only one he hasn’t spoken to in ages. But the general feeling of being a distant jerk remains. After so long with such poor luck with “dating” (he never did have a girlfriend in high school...she was the only one he ever had a crush on, and her sights were always elsewhere), he thought traveling might help him forget, or at least find something new.

But instead he developed a new passion, and it let him shift his focus for a while. A silly high school crush, after all, isn’t anything to cry over once you graduate. Especially since he hadn’t even worked up the guts to admit anything…

And even now, he’s not sure what to do about it. They haven’t spoken in years, and even in school that was rare. The stupid love square they were in meant everyone was preoccupid by the wrong person. Didn’t help her own object of affection got married almost immediately after high school. Sasuke had gotten roped into being the best man, but she hadn’t been there.

...not that he blamed her.

So now, here they are: two practically strangers thrown together after so long. With Sasuke partnering with his brother for several projects, he’s back in town for about a month. And he, running his big mouth, offered to help her with her newest pride and joy: a little flower shop just a few blocks from his brother’s place.

Funny how that worked out…

Breaking from his thoughts, Sasuke takes out his mobile and sends her a short text.

Need any help today? I’m free.

Before he can slip it back into his pocket, he can’t help a small jolt as it jumps in his hand. Huh...someone’s a quick replier.

Sure! Head down any time u want!

Huh...that was easy. Moving downstairs, he gives his brother a small wave. “Heading out for a bit.”

Itachi blinks. “...will you be back for dinner?”

“Probably - why?”

“I thought you might like to go out to eat, since we’ve not had a chance to do so yet.”

“Oh, uh...sure. Just text me when you wanna go, I’m not going far.”

“...oh?”

“Got a little part time gig down the street.”

That seems to get his brother to brighten. “...I’m glad! I’ll let you know when I’m ready, then.”

“Cool.” Giving a mock solute, Sasuke heads out and takes a quick pace down the sidewalk.

It’s funny, he grew up on the other side of town, so despite being home, not much here is familiar. Itachi insisted on remaining due to the town’s artful focus. As a musician, it’s suited him well. Hence Sasuke being ‘hired’ by the orchestra he plays with to take promotional pictures at their shows this season to sell as prints and use for posters. It’s actually a pretty sweet gig, especially since it almost means one long visit with his brother...and no rent for a month.

Hence why he can afford to volunteer a few hours at Hinata’s. Poor thing’s been running her new little business all by her lonesome. While he can appreciate the drive, he’s worried she’s working too hard. Maybe by the time he leaves, his help will convince her to hire on someone else to help reduce her workload.

At the corner before the store, he perks up. Several people linger outside, admiring the displays and heading inside to see more. She was right: she is getting good business. Makes sense: it’s that plant growing time of year.

Heading in, he finds her behind the counter, helping a small line of customers as others take to perusing her goods. While she’s bright-eyed and clearly enthused, he can see a small lag to her frame that betrays some exhaustion. Hinata doesn’t notice him at first, too involved with her clientele, so he hangs back for a bit until they find a lull.

“Hey.”

“Oh! Hey!” She gives a crooked smile. “Things are hopping!”

“I can see that. What do you need me to do?”

“Well, um…” Teeth nibble her lip in thought. “...I guess for now, you can help with inventory…? I think we’re doing okay, but if anything looks low, there should be more in the back you can grab. I’d have you help juggle customers, but…” A sheepish glance. “You...probably don’t know about the flowers, or...anything, r-right?”

“Not really, no.”

“Okay...that’s fine! Just having another pair of hands will be a b-big help!”

He starts by familiarizing himself with some of the basics, noting what looks to be running low. Thankfully he’s got a good visual memory, and it doesn’t take much to head to the back, find what looks right, and bring up more to fill the emptying shelves. Larger items like heavy pots and cement edgers for flower gardens he helps pack around. Her shop isn’t that big, and there’s a noticeable lack of carts or trolleys for carrying large or heavy loads. He might have to suggest that.

Overall, Sasuke has to admit...he doesn’t feel like he’s all that much help. Hinata, being the only expert, still has to handle all the questions, the till and the prices, and taking custom orders for bouquets to make later. But they get through the day well enough, Hinata turning off the ‘open’ sign with a weary sigh.

“Is it like that every day?”

“Nearly,” she admits, a hand at her neck. “If the w-weather is bad, it keeps people away. But nice days like this get pretty busy.”

“Sorry I couldn’t do more…”

“Oh, no no! You were a great help! I’ll admit, some of that heavier stuff is rough…”

“Any way you can get, like...carts to carry things?”

“I should, yeah…” Another sheepish glance. “I have a very long list of “‘should dos’, to be honest.”

“Like hiring some permanent help?”

“...maybe…”

Before they leave, however, Hinata drags out a pot from behind the counter, carefully tending to the plant inside it.

“...what’s that?”

“This,” Hinata explains slowly, concentration mostly on her task, “is a new breed of flower I’m trying to germinate.”

“...wait, like...a whole new species?”

“Mhm. I’d...well, I’d explain it, but…” She gives a soft giggle. “I’m...guessing you might not find it very interesting.”

“Interesting, yes. Something I can comprehend...probably not,” he easily admits. “Not really a plant person. You’d have better luck with my mother, honestly. But it...looks pretty.” A hand gestures, earning a small snort from his companion.

“Thanks...it’s supposed to be a tribute to my mother. She inspired my love of flowers, so...it’s meant to be a thank-you for that. Something that...reminds me of her. I’m hoping I can get them stable and maybe sell some. Sort of help...spread her love, and mine.”

Sasuke softens at that. “...I take it she’s...gone?”

A somber nod. “She died when I was five, a w-while after my sister was born. She had medical complications, and...only lived a few weeks after that. But before she died, she taught me about plants, and how much she loved them. She always had a big garden that would be so full of flowers, the backyard was like a rainbow...and it always smelled so sweet…”

“...well, you’ve accomplished that,” Sasuke murmurs. “I stopped when I got here because everything smelled so good. And the plants you had outside were beautiful.”

“Thanks…”

“So if you do make a new...specie, can you patent it? Or somehow mark it as your own creation?”

“Maybe! I’m not too concerned about that, though. Mostly it’s a personal project. I’m not looking to make it into something big, or worth a lot of money.”

He gives a nod.

The pair lapse into silence for a time. “So...did you want to try to sell some of your pictures here?”

“Huh?”

“The ones you took of the flowers! I thought maybe people might buy them here!”

“Well...I could try. Maybe make a few prints and have them on the counter. I think most people are here for the real thing, though.”

“Well, not everyone has a green thumb,” Hinata laughs. “And that way, they’d have the pretty blooms all year! I bet they would sell!”

“...I’ll have to give it a try.” Smiling, Sasuke then jumps as his phone buzzes. Seems Itachi’s ready to go have that dinner. “Well...I better run. Meeting my brother.”

“Okay! Next time you’re free, let me know! Maybe during a day off, I could...show you more about the products? So you’re more familiar.”

“Sounds good.” Maybe he’d be a better help that way…

Leaving her to lock up, Sasuke exits the shop only to pause as Itachi pulls up to the curb in his car. A window rolls down to show a knowing smile.

“I had a feeling this was the place,” Itachi muses.

Pouting just a hair, Sasuke hops in. “...it’s something to do.”

The elder brother doesn’t reply, still smiling as he drives them off toward dinner.

                                                       .oOo.

     OKAY, all caught back up as I should be xD      Ngl this prompt was kinda like...what? But I managed to...kinda tie it in to this piece, lol - I dunno how patenting really works, but apparently you CAN do so with new plant species, according to google! Don't worry Sasuke, I wouldn't understand it either xD (Also, this is a sequel to day 135, if you're interested!)      Anywho, it's way past bedtime for this nerd - thanks for reading!

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Time in our Hands (3/?)

Summary: Temporal Detective First Class Aiden Gold has been working tirelessly to keep the timeline unaltered for as long as he can remember. He’s been chasing time bandit Lacey French for almost as long, but she always seems to slip through his fingers.

Until the day when his commanding officer tells him to bring Lacey in at all costs. The world itself is under threat, and Gold will need Lacey’s expertise to make sure that history happens as it should, and to prevent a catastrophe in the future…

Written for the A Monthly Rumbelling moodboard prompt, available here.

Rated: T

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[One] [Two] [AO3]

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Time in our Hands

Three

“Here. You look like you could use it."

"Yeah, well, it's not every day that you're going about your normal banditry business and then half an hour later you're being told you're off to the place you've always dreamed of visiting and by the way can you stop the end of the world whilst you're at it."

Lacey accepted the paper cup of coffee and took a sip, watching Gold as he sat down beside her. After seeing Kida, they'd gone straight back to the capsule bay, making ready to leave as soon as control let them know that their window was open.

"I don't suppose you've got something stronger?" Lacey asked.

Gold chuckled. "If we both get through this hairy adventure, I'll break out the good Scotch in my desk drawer."

Lacey toasted her coffee cup against his. "I'm holding you to that, you know."

"I wouldn't dream of anything else."

It was strange, sitting beside the woman who'd given him so much grief over the years. Something in the back of his mind was telling him that he ought to be rejoicing in finally having caught up with her after all this time, but he could feel no pleasure in it whatsoever, not when the circumstances were as they were.

Lacey leaned back against the wall, staring at the transport capsule that was now showing as fully charged and ready for another outing.

“What’s it like?” she asked presently.

“What’s what like?”

“Atlantis.”

Gold shrugged. “I’ve never been. When a place is time-locked, even we can’t go to it except in extenuating circumstances.”

“Huh.” Lacey’s smile was amused. “That surprises me. You always give the impression that you’ve been everywhere and know everything. I mean, sometimes you blend into the time period better than others, but none of us are complete chameleons. I guess I just thought that you guys get a free pass to go everywhere.”

“Not everywhere. We generally only go to the places that you lot go to. Since, theoretically, none of you should be going to Atlantis in the first place, I’ve never had reason to follow anyone there.”

He continued to watch her, trying to gauge what she was thinking, but if there was a person Gold had always considered unreadable, it was Lacey French. They’d met so many times over the course of the years that he liked to think he knew her, but in reality, she was still an enigma, and even though they were about to enter into this adventure together, he still didn’t trust her as far as he could throw her.

Still, as she had said before, a gesture of good will was in order, especially considering the place they were going to, and more importantly the time to which they were going. A distinct disadvantage to any mission to a time-locked time and place was that there was so little first-hand information from fellow agents about the local conditions. The Fall of Atlantis was not well-documented, and Kida had not yet recovered from her time lag to be able to give them any warnings about what they might face from her own experience. It was definitely going to be hairy, and despite her occupation and her wanted poster on the wall, Lacey was a civilian with no formal training in these matters. Gold absolutely did not want her to get hurt, or worse, on his watch; and that desire had nothing to do with wanting to see her brought to justice once it was all over.

“Give me your hand.”

Lacey looked down at his own hand as if he was offering her some kind of poisonous snake. “Why?”

“I’m going to take the cuff off.”

Lacey gave a huff of laughter and covered it with an awkward cough before giving him an incredulous look.

“Are you absolutely sure about that, Detective? I am, after all, a wanted criminal, however small fry I might be in the grander scheme of things, and as you said yourself on the journey back from Greece, I am under arrest.”

“Just let me take it off.”

Obediently, she held out her arm and Gold grabbed his keys.

“How do you know that I’m not just going to wink straight out of here?” she asked.

“I don’t. But I like to think that you care about the timeline enough not to want an alternate one to spring up out of Atlantis, so I think you’ll come along and close the time loop anyway. Besides, you just admitted that you’ve always wanted to see Atlantis, and this is the only way that you’re going to get there.”

There was also the fact that small personal transports like Lacey’s didn’t really work inside the headquarters building thanks to the interference of the much larger craft coming and going, but if she was really determined, she could make it out without causing utter catastrophe. And, of course, there was no telling what she might do once they’d got to Atlantis.

The cuff came off and Gold pocketed it. Lacey flexed her wrist, looking at the lights which had now burst back into life on her bracelet. They were flashing all colours of the rainbow and Lacey grimaced.

“Couldn’t jump even if I wanted to. It’s been glitching for a while. Probably ever since the time loop became known.” She paused. “There’s something else, though, isn’t there?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you could have just as easily left the cuff on and then you wouldn’t have to worry about it. I know it’s more than just a gesture of trust, because we haven’t known each other long enough for that and considering the amount of times we’ve played cat and mouse, frankly, you’d be stupid to just blindly trust me like that as a show of friendship and camaraderie. No, there’s something else.”

Gold took out his pocket-watch. He really didn’t want to think about how it had ended up in Kida’s hands for her to come back to headquarters with it, but he knew that whatever it was that caused the change in ownership was about to happen very soon in his own personal future.

“All agents have one of these,” he says. “An emergency time-out that will pull you back to the nominal present no matter where or when you are. You don’t have one, so whatever goes on out there, you have no fallback except that.” He tapped her bracelet, which beeped in protest. “I want to make sure that no matter what happens, you can get out of Atlantis should you need to.”

Lacey looked down at his hand on her wrist, and Gold realised that he had been holding on without meaning to, quickly letting her go as if he’d been stung. Lacey just gave her soft little laugh again and smiled.

“You know, I think you’re a big softie on the inside, Detective. For all you play the hardened time cop who’s had it up to here with me, I think a small part of you really cares.”

“It’s nothing like that.” Gold felt himself bristle as Lacey’s words wriggled their way under his carefully constructed armour and began to prod at the delicate bits of him. “I just don’t want to have a preventable time-related demise on my hands. The paperwork would take me until the end of time to process. Literally.”

“All right. I believe you.” It was clear from her tone of voice that she didn’t believe him in the slightest, but Gold wasn’t prepared to argue the point yet.

Before anything further could be said on the matter, the radio in Gold’s capsule crackled into life.

“Detective Gold, your window to Atlantis will be opening in ten real-time minutes. Please confirm your readiness.”

Gold stood up, offering a hand to Lacey to pull her up. “We’re on.”

Lacey took the offered hand and gave him a little curtsey once she was vertical again. “Thank you, sir.”

They made their way back into the capsule together and Gold sat down at the control panel.

“You might want to strap in,” he said, indicating the seat beside him as he fastened his own harness. “Navigating through time windows can be tricky. It’s not like your normal simple hop from A to B.”

“I thought you said you’d never been to a time-locked place and time before.”

“I’ve never been to Atlantis before, but it’s not the only time-locked place and time. I’ve done two previous ones.”

“Oh yes? And where might they have been?”

Gold chuckled. “Ah, now, that’s classified information. If you don’t know where the time-locked parts of history are, then I’m not going to be the one to tell you.”

Lacey just scowled at him, but nonetheless strapped herself into her seat, watching with fascination as he programmed the capsule ready for their departure.

“Control, this is Detective Gold. We’re clear to go whenever you are.”

“Detective Gold, your time window will last for twenty-four real-time hours and starts in five, four, three, two, one.”

Gold hit the ignition, and the little craft whirred up into life. He settled his hands on the steering column, flexing his fingers. It was a while since he’d had to drive manually. Normally all you had to do was key in your time and your co-ordinates and the capsule did the rest. He’d be able to relax for a little while once they were safely into the window; it would take about half an hour to pass through it and then he’d have to take control once again for landing in Atlantis.

He really wasn’t looking forward to that part all that much. In order to keep the time loop as stable as possible, they were going back to as close a time as the emergency time-out had been used as they could, and they would land right in the middle of the Fall period. With Atlantis being time-locked as it was, there was very little information about precisely what had caused its destruction beyond ‘a very big wave’. That could mean next to anything.

Lacey remained silent as he concentrated on driving, but he could tell that she was entranced by the entire process. He wondered if she’d ever had any experience of capsule travel before he’d picked her up in Greece or if she’d always worked with just her bracelet. There was so little he knew about her, despite having known her for such a long time. With just the two of them like this, it felt like it ought to be the perfect time to ask, but at the same time, the magnitude of what they were about to do made it seem like small talk would be frivolous in the face of it.

Making it safely into the window, he sat back from the controls, rubbing his forehead. Ideally he would have liked a bit more time to prepare for this mission. Not only were they closing a time loop, they were potentially saving the world, and he had no idea how they were supposed to go about it. All he could do was hope that Kida would be able to tell them when they found her on their arrival. Of course, that might be easier said than done, as it would be the first time that they were meeting Kida. She would be as unprepared for them as they were for her.

Gold glanced over at Lacey, who was still watching all the instruments and control panels in the capsule. Although she had always exuded an air of confidence, even after he had brought her into HQ and she had met Mal, now she looked nervous.

“It’ll be all right,” he said. “The Bureau’s handled worse scrapes than this. Like Mal said, we’ve successfully closed every time loop we’ve ever come across throughout the entire timeline.”

Lacey shook her head. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”

She didn’t elaborate as to what she was worried about instead, and Gold felt it best not to pry. There was already enough to be concerned about.

The rest of the journey was spent mostly in silence, each of the travellers lost in their own thoughts about what was to come.

[artificialqueens]

Do You See What I See? (Jinkx/Dela) - Sammy Indigo

A/N: Read as Jinkx and Dela attempt to control their staff. Also, Dela enjoys tinsel as a scarf.

It’s only November third when Dela walks into the main meeting room on floor seventeen, with eight minutes to spare, dressed head to toe in Christmas apparel.

Tacky Christmas apparel.

Some of it isn’t even clothing.

Jinkx grimaces at the headband adorned with LED fairy lights. Dela grins as she gently places her briefcase down at the head of the table and flicks something behind her ear. The lights begin flashing a rainbow of gaud, the reflection catching on her glasses.

On leaving the house earlier in the morning, Dela had been dressed in her usual dark pencil skirt and blazer. The suspiciously large lunch bag she had toted into the car with her, now makes sense, although Jinkx is slightly confused as to how she managed to miss Dela packing tinsel hair pieces and bauble earrings into the cooler at home.

Jinkx continues to openly stare. Dela is wearing sparkly red tights under a sweater dress featuring a snowman. The snowman’s carrot nose is disturbingly 3D and protrudes very closely to Jinkx’s face as Dela takes her place standing next to her chair.

The intern sitting two seats to Jinkx’s right coughs and seems to choke on his own spit.

“Calm down, Giovanni.” Jinkx hears Violet say from next to her.

The coughing intern composes himself. Violet sighs loudly. Latrice walks into the room, takes one look at Dela, and walks back out again. Sharon is supposed to be setting up the projector for the meeting, but stops in favour of leaning against the far wall, arms folded, and black lips pursed in judgement.

Jinkx sighs when she spots Dela’s scarf is actually a string of golden tinsel. When she looks closely, Jinkx can see where Dela’s neck is beginning to become irritated by the plastic; little red bumps turning into blotches even as watches. Dela seems not to notice, or at least not to care.

Dela removes her jacket, (a seemingly once understated red trench that Jinkx had been planning on wearing at some point in the spring during their vacation to D.C., now adorned with hand-applied strips of green ribbon) and does a little twirl for the people in the room.

Farrah claps, and Vixen gives her a withering look before going back to whatever she’s typing out on her laptop.

“Well?” Dela prompts, when no one else contributes. “What do we think?”

Farrah squeals. “Oh, so festive!” She claps again. “Miss Dela you look wonderful!”

“Thank you so much, Farrah.” Dela says brightly, still standing at the head of the boardroom table. “I’m glad you seem to think so.” She glares very briefly in Jinkx’s direction. “The rest of you are just scrooges.”

“No.” Sharon says, going back to fiddle with the projector. “The rest of us just happen to own a calendar.”

“Exactly!” Dela says. “’Tis the holiday season!”

“Tis November third.” Sharon says.

There are red and green pompoms somehow sitting snugly in Dela’s black bun. There’s a sprig of fake mistletoe woven in her hair, too.

Jinkx eventually speaks up. “Hanukkah is closer than Christmas.” She sounds exhausted, unintentionally, despite the fact that she slept for nine hours last night.

Dela pushes up her sweater dress sleeves to reveal a blue and white striped shirt that falls to her mid thigh. Jinkx suddenly realises that the sparkly tights are actually stockings, and the shape of the suspenders can be seen under the shirt when she looks closely. Jinkx tries to hide the fact that she’s blushing. She clears her throat and Dela smirks, throwing her a wink.

“Blue and white for my baby.” Dela says. “Hanukkah. Got you covered, Jinkxy.” She blows her a kiss.

Jinkx rolls her eyes but can’t contain the half smile that makes her cheeks ache as she tries to supress it, the blush slowly subsiding.

Violet sighs loudly, again. “Gross.”

“No it’s not.” Farrah squeaks. “It’s sweet. I think it’s adorable.”

“Thank you, Farrah.” Dela says.

Vixen smirks at her laptop. “Kiss ass.”

Jinkx snickers and Dela glares at her for real this time.

“Some professionalism, please.” Dela says and claps her hands once to get their attention. “We’re in the workplace, remember, and I am your boss.”

“Professionalism?” Sharon scoffs. “You’re dressed like the inside of Santa’s asshole.”

Giovanni bursts out laughing and claps a hand over his mouth. Violet rolls her eyes and Vixen’s shoulders are shaking behind her laptop.

Dela looks less than amused so Jinkx tried to make intimidating eye contact with each person in the room. They all begin composing themselves, pulling out notepads and reference articles to prepare for the meeting. Except Sharon.

Sharon switches on the projector with a press of her remote without looking away from Dela. When she slowly makes her way to her own seat, Dela thanks her in an overly sweet voice that doesn’t fool Jinkx for a second. Sharon’s eyes are so narrowed they’re almost closed.

“Alright, now that we’re all here-,”

“Latrice isn’t.” Farrah says innocently.

Sharon interrupts. “Latrice has no time for this level of unprofessionalism.”

Dela smiles at her. “Do you want to spend Christmas unemployed?” She snaps once more in the tooth rottingly sweet tone that Jinkx has learned to fear.

All eyes flick to Sharon, who sits up slightly straighter in her seat. “You’re too nice. You never fire anyone.” She says.

“Maybe so.” Dela agrees, still smiling and pulling out her chair to take a seat. “But Jinkx does.” She touches Jinkx’s hand on the table. “Right, sweetheart?”

Jinkx gives Sharon her best ‘mean face’. “Alaska would be pretty mad if you got fired.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Sharon says.

“Wouldn’t I?” Jinkx grins.

Giovanni is looking between them in awe.

Everyone else in the room has gone back to preparing for the meeting, bored with the confrontation that most of them are used to by this point. Giovanni’s still pretty new. Jinkx isn’t entirely sure that they haven’t scarred him for life at this point with all the fiascos that go down on a daily basis at the company, but he’s apparently known Sharon since he was eight, so some mental scarring has probably already occurred, anyway.

“I fucking hate you both.” Sharon says. “You know that? Right? It’s fucking November.”

Giovanni gasps like he’s watching a telenovela.

Violet and Vixen are quietly discussing the merits of double entry in the latest account they’ve been focusing on. Farrah is going over the latest audit report, highlighting in a bright pink marker.

Dela smirks. “November is only one month before December. Don’t forget that, miss ‘I wear pumpkin earrings year round’.”

Sharon flushes in a rare show of sensitivity and pulls her hands up to her ears. “Alaska bought me these.” She rubs the little studs under her thumbs.

Dela smiles, genuinely, this time. She squeezes Jinkx’s hand. “And Jinksy bought me these.” She points to the flashing headpiece.

“Um,” Jinkx says, “no I didn’t.”

“You’re undermining me, sweetheart.”

Jinkx shakes her head. “I love you, but I am not being held responsible for,” she looks Dela up and down, “this.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m a classy girl.” Jinkx says. “Not tacky.”

Sharon scoffs at the same time as Dela, and Violet looks up from her work to nod her agreement.

Under his breath, Giovanni whispers, “Oh my God.”

“I’m sorry.” Jinkx says, addressing the whole room, despite the fact that Farrah and Vixen are completely ignoring her in favour of their work, “are you insinuating that I am not classy?”

Dela tries to pull her in for a kiss. “We’re not insinuating anything, darling.”

“No.” Sharon says. “We’re saying it outright.”

Giovanni gapes at her. “Lasky’s gonna kill you.”

Sharon grins at him.

Jinkx bares her teeth. “Not if I get to her first.”

“So,” Vixen says, still looking at her computer, are we all agreed that the best way to go is double entry, despite the extra cost of hours?”

No one replies to her.

“Guys?” She tries again, glancing up. On seeing the stand off happening between Sharon and Jinkx, she rolls her eyes. “Why are we even having this meeting?” She mutters. “What’s the point?”

“Now,” Dela speaks with an air of authority that makes Giovanni sit up in his chair, “stop this, both of you.” She glares at Sharon and Jinkx equally. “We need to be professional.”

“Fire her!” Violet coughs from behind her hand.

Sharon throws the projector remote at her. “Shut your whore mouth, Chachki.”

“I didn’t even say anything, you witch.”

“Oh, you just wait until you want to borrow my clothes again-,”

“As if! I would never wear anything you call ‘fashion’.”

“That’s not what you said when you came crying to my door asking for help with what to wear on your first date with-,”

“I was talking to Alaska, you old tired goth!”

Sharon points at her. “How the fuck dare you.”

Violet shrugs.

“I gave you my vintage Spooky Kids shirt.” Sharon shakes her head. “That’s a prized possession and I gifted it to you.”

“Whatever.” Violet flicks her long ponytail over her shoulder. “It’s probably not even vintage.”

Farrah drops her pink highlighter in shock.

Violet smirks. “I don’t even like Marilyn Manson.”

Farrah gasps loudly. The rest of the room falls silent.

“And,” Violet says, with a little shit eating smirk, “I gave it to Goodwill, anyway.”

“No!” Farrah yells.

Sharon stands from her chair. “You didn’t.”

Violet folds her arms and gives Sharon a measured look. “I did.”

Dela hides her face in her hand. “Oh, God.” The flashing LED headband slips over her eyes.

“Violet.” Sharon says slowly. “Take. That. Back.”

Jinkx jabs Violet in the side with her pen. “Fuck, Violet. Just tell her you’re lying before she hits you.”

Violet looks at the ceiling, breathes once, then looks back to Sharon. “I’m lying.” She says in monotone.

“Prove it.”

“What?”

Sharon points at her. “Prove to me that you still have it, or I’m telling Dela what you did in the fourth floor bathroom with-,”

“Ah!” Violet shouts, standing up and almost launching herself across the table at Sharon. “Shut up, shut up!”

Sharon smirks. “Prove you have the shirt, Violet.”

Dela looks at Jinkx. “What did she do in the bathroom and with who?”

“I have no idea.” Jinkx mutters. “But I can’t fucking wait to find out.”

“Look, look.” Violet holds her phone out to Sharon. “See. This was two days ago. I’m wearing it. See.”

Everyone in the room watches as Sharon takes the phone from her and considers the photograph. A collective sigh of relieve occurs when Sharon gives one decisive nod, and hands the phone back.

“Okay.” She says. “I believe you. You bitch.”

Vixen nods. “Right, so, now that no one is being murdered today, are we going to discuss accounting…no…?” She looks to Dela. “This meeting going to cover anything other than festive fashion and Sharon’s stupid goth shirts.”

“Hey!”

Dela holds up a finger. “Wait, what happened in the fourth floor bathroom?”

“Nothing.” Violet says far too quickly.

“Not what Adore told me.” Giovanni says.

Violet hits him.

“What?” He says, moving his chair closer to Jinkx. “Adore told me, that Courtney told her, that Pearl-,”

Violet reaches over the distance he’s created to slap him on the arm again. “Giovanni, I swear to fuck, if you don’t shut up-,”

“What happened?” Dela asks, again. She turns to Jinkx. “We are totally discussing this over wine tonight.”

“Oh, of course.”

“Violet, I’m your boss, you know you can tell me anything.” Dela says.

“Um, no thank you.”

Sharon smirks. “A little selfish of you to keep such a good story from the group, Vi.”

Farrah smiles, all innocent if it weren’t for the twinkle in her eyes. “That’s not fair, Sharon. From what I hear, Violet is very giving.”

Sharon, Giovanni, and Farrah all go hysterical at the same time. Violet grabs her planner from the desk and storms towards the door. “Fuck all of you!”

Dela watches her leave. She turns to the rest of them. “She was talking to you guys.”

A few seconds pass and Sharon sits back down in her chair, propping her feet up on the table. She leans back, inspecting her nails.

Dela clears her throat. “Let’s all do a little prep, and we’ll begin the meeting in five.”

They all go back to their files and reports. Sharon pulls up the presentation on the projector.

All is quiet.

And then,

“Violet ate Pearl’s ass in the second cubicle of the fourth floor bathroom.” Vixen says. She doesn’t even blink. “Can we talk about accounting now?”

[mousedetective]

I would love a NC-17/R rated Sherlolly first time uni or teenlock standalone fic!

A year later, I am finally starting this! My apologies for taking so long. It’s not starting explicit but will be later. This was the prompt claimed by @the-consulting-strange-vidder for Sherlolly Spring Fling 2018, and I finally got inspiration so I hope you both enjoy.

The Pesky Virginity Issue - After Molly’s engagement ends she decides she wants to rid herself of her virginity since that was a major cause of the dissolution of her relationship with her ex. When her friend Mary suggests she knows the perfect person, things don’t go quite according to any sort of plan she may have had in her head…but it has a pleasantly surprising result nonetheless.

Read @ AO3 | Buy Me A Coffee? | Pick A Number, Get A Fic

“Honestly, I don’t need someone who sees the good in me. I need someone who sees the bad in me and still wants me.” Molly Hooper leaned against the outer wall of the uni library and looked at her friend. “I mean, is that too much to ask?”

Mary Morstan shook her head. “Not really, love, no. But aren’t you just looking for a shag?”

Molly sighed, tilting her head back against the wall. “I suppose I should be less picky. But I mean, after everything…”

Mary nodded and put a hand on Molly’s shoulder, squeezing it. “Tom’s an arse, saying you were frigid as frozen cod,” she replied. “But it’s not like we’re still students at primary school. This is university! No one gives two craps about rumours.”

“As long as you’re willing to jump in the sack with them on the first bloody date,” Molly muttered before sighing again. “And it gets worse when they find out you’re a virgin. It’s like, either their eyes light up with this unwholesome glee or they run.”

“Then what you need to do is find yourself another virgin,” Mary said matter-of-factly.

The laugh Molly barked out was harsh. “A virgin? A male virgin? In uni? That’s like looking for a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.”

“Actually, I know one,” Mary said. “John’s best mate, Sherlock Holmes.”

Molly furrowed her brows slightly. “The chem major? With the curly hair?”

Mary nodded. “Yeah. He had a bit of a rough patch before uni with drugs, but he’s straightened himself out and is so concentrated on his studies that he doesn’t really notice anyone of the female persuasion.”

“How do you know he’s not gay?” Molly asked.

“Because he notices you when there’s the house parties at his and John’s flat.” Mary smirked. “Trust me, some of the looks he threw Tom’s way would murder most men on the spot. I think he’d be more than happy to take your virginity if you offer to divest him of his. He’d probably shag you on the spot.”

“Can’t I get to…know him first, at least?” Molly asked. “I mean, all I know is what he’s studying and his hair. I know nothing else about him.”

“Then tomorrow, we’ll have dinner. Just the four of us,” Mary said. “He’s actually not a bad person, just too blunt for his own good. But I think you’ll like him well enough. If I wasn’t with John, I might offer to relieve his burden.” She pulled her hand off Molly’s shoulder and then checked the watch on the wrist. “Shit. I’m late for archery practice.” She leaned over and gave Molly a quick hug, one Molly returned. “Tomorrow, sixish, okay? Bring wine!”

With that, Molly watched Mary walk away and then Molly headed into the library to study. It had been one of the worst terms she’d had since entering uni after her father died, but she was muddling through to do her father proud. She’d thought she’d had everything, really: good friends, a fiancee that adored her and good grades.

But oh, her careful life had fallen apart when a girl on campus had come up and said she needed to talk. Over one of the most agonizing cups of coffee she’d ever had she found out her fiancee of a year had not only cheated on her with the other woman, but gotten her pregnant as well. He hadn’t even had the decency to tell the woman he was engaged! And the row she and Tom had had…

She shut her eyes and stopped moving as she remembered how his “nice guy” facade had come crumbling down. And then there was the piece de resistance: he asked for the engagement ring back to give to his pregnant…slut. At least the stone had hit him in the eye when she threw the blasted ring.

And then to add insult to injury he started saying the end of the engagement was all her fault for her frigidity. She had thought he’d understood she wanted to deserve to wear white at her wedding. She’d promised her mum. And it didn’t seem to matter to him and the people he told. Eventually, she decided it shouldn’t matter to her, either.

But she wanted a relationship, not just a shag. And that was her major problem, apparently.

She knew she wasn’t a wonderful person all the time. She could zone in on her studies to the detriment of her social life, she cursed almost as well as a sailor and then there was the virginity issue. But surely she could get around those obstacles, couldn’t she?

Well, at least there was a dinner tomorrow. It’d be a chance to see if the Holmes bloke actually liked her or if it was another no-go. Either way, at least the food would be good.

[lesbian-sora]

Only Fools

Summary ~ School is hard. School is harder when you’re a loser who has more bullies than friends. School is even harder when you have a crush on the most amazing guy in the world, even if your friends can’t see it. School is damn impossible when your friends coerce you into participating in the school play with the most amazing guy in the world. 

Dan and Phil’s experience falls into the impossible category, but maybe together (with some help from the King himself) they can make it out alive and well.

Tags ~ Fluff, high school AU, friends to lovers, theatre kids, mutual pining, slow burn, slight angst, not actually unrequited love

Words ~ 7106/~35K

Warnings ~ Swearing

Rating ~ Teen

Author’s Note ~ Hi guys! This fic was originally supposed to be one of my fics for Phandom Big Bang 2016, but things came up. I recently blew the dust off of it, and I really liked it, so it’s getting revamped and published! Updates will most likely be once a month for the next 4 months (I may up that posting schedule if writing/editing goes well and people actually like it) and I look forward to all of you getting to read it! Also, this will be my first chaptered fic that I’m posting one part at a time, so that’s exciting!

Prompt me!

Buy me a coffee!

Next chapter!

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                                                     Act I Scene I

There honestly weren’t very many people Louise Pentland disliked. She was bubbly and personable, meaning she got along with just about everyone she came in contact with, and she quite liked it that way. Everything from her approachable smile to her mothering attitude made it so people were drawn to her and she to them.

That being said, she absolutely despised Phil Lester.

Was it unfair, petty, and totally unreasonable? Absolutely. In all honesty, Phil would probably be voted nicest guy in the school, if anyone were to take a poll. Was he was a bit weird? Most certainly.  However, it was a completely harmless weird. It was quirky and odd like that store on the edge of town that dealt solely in the manufacture and sale of cat-themed gnomes. If she were to be straight with herself, she would admit that Phil had never knowingly or unknowingly harmed, damaged or even seriously upset herself or anyone she remotely knew, simply because that wasn’t the type of person Phil was. No, her dislike of Phil wasn’t his fault, and he had no idea it was even happening. Her dislike boiled down to one thing and one thing only.

“Louise! You’ll never guess what Phil did today!” Dan gushed, collapsing in the seat next to her.

Louise didn’t bother to look up from her compact where she was very carefully reapplying her lip gloss. She knew Dan was flushed lightly with a wide, dopey smile and that his eyes shone as if every star was compacted down into glitter that was dumped into hot chocolate. He always looked like that when Phil was brought up. Which was a lot. “I’m guessing from your normal reports that he was walking down the hall and breathing.”

“No,” Dan scowled and wadded a bit of paper into a tiny ball and flicked it at her, offering a sheepish grin after it landed in her makeup. “I actually talked with him a bit today.”

“Dan, we’ve discussed this before. Saying ‘Hi, Phil!’ and then hiding your face and running away before he can respond doesn’t count as talking to him.”

“Someone’s in a mood,” Dan pouted. “And I’ll have you know this was a totally real and legit conversation we had. Some dick head knocked into me on the way out here and Phil saw and helped me pick all my stuff up and everything. He even gave me his hand to help me stand up!”

Louise cocked a brow. “Really? Honestly, Dan I almost didn’t think you had it in you,” she said, ignoring his squawks of protest. “What all did you boys talk about?”

“He saw my piano book and asked if I played,” Dan said dreamily, the look on his face making it more than apparent that he was reliving the moment in perfect clarity again and again until it was ingrained in his memory. “And so I told him yeah, but I was awful and then I thought he was going to just leave but he walked with me almost the whole way here and he saw me in the play last year, Louise! He saw me and remembered me and told me I did a good job! Oh my god, it was probably the best moment of my life.”

Louise rolled her eyes, but smiled good naturedly, more than pleased over how happy her friend was. However, there was one thing that always bugged her about the whole situation. “Dan, darling, why Phil of all people? I mean he’s nice and all, and, sure, he’s not awful to look at, but he’s just so strange. Saying you could do better is probably the understatement of the year.”

Dan looked at her, glaring at her as if she’d just spat in his mother’s face and told her that her cooking was a disgrace (which she hadn’t) and he was personally offended (which he probably was). “Okay, first of all,” he started and Louise took a deep breath, already regretting her words and preparing for the sermon that was soon to follow. “Phil Lester is an unusual beauty so rare and perfect and we don’t deserve him. Second, he’s got an absolutely brilliant mind and we should all count ourselves lucky to hear anything that brain decides to gift us with. Third-”

“Mr. Howell,” Mrs. Bronwell interrupted from the front of the room, “as much as I’m sure we’d all love to hear you expound on the virtues of Mr. Lester, I, personally, get paid to teach you math, and I’d quite like to do so at this moment. If that’s not an imposition on you, of course.”

Dan blushed bright red all the way from his collar bones (and possibly farther, who knew) to the very tips of his ears. “Sorry, Mrs.,” he said, sinking down a bit more in his chair. “I’m done.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that,” Louise scoffed, quite unintentionally. There were a few scattered titters around the room and Dan gave Louise a long, hard, stare. The whole school probably knew about Dan’s crush on Phil just from him talking loudly and passionately about how wonderful the other boy was at any chance he got, so it’s not like there was any new gossip being delivered so he didn’t really feel the need to be properly embarrassed. But, the sting of betrayal was still there and he was sure to let her know he felt about it.

“Thank you for your contribution, Miss Pentland,” Mrs, Bronwell smiled, “but we really must get on with our lesson. Now, today we’re studying logarithms - James, don’t you roll your eyes at me. Yes, I saw you just fine.”

Now that the lesson had begun and he was finally free of all judgement, Dan let himself drift off quite happily into his thoughts, where his daydreams once again found themselves centered upon the subject of Phil Lester. How kind his smile was when he was offering him help. How he seemed genuinely interested as Dan flushed and fumbled over the explanation of his mediocre piano skills. How his hand was so soft but sure and he held Dan’s own and pulled him to his feet. As his teacher went on about the ins and outs of math things he didn’t care about Dan drew little doodles, of hearts and Phil coming to rescue him from the horrors of sports. He sighed happily and looked out the window thinking about Phil Lester, unknowing that somewhere in the school Phil was sighing happily and looking out a window thinking about Dan Howell.

                                                     Act I Scene II

“I found out he plays piano, Peej!” Phil beamed, waving his hands around for emphasis. “That’s so impressive, honestly. I wonder if he can play anything else.”

“I think I heard somewhere that he plays drums, but that could just be a rumor.” PJ paid the conversation little mind, far more focused on the poster he was designing for the school play.

“Eh, he seems the type,” Chris added helpfully. “You know: loud, obnoxious and in your face.”

Phil scowled at his now snickering friends. “He is not. He’s always really sweet and quiet when I talk to him.”

“Yeah?” Chris challenged. “Well, I had a history class with him one time and his own friend asked the teacher if he could change seats because Dan was distracting him too much.”

“Sean said that one time when they were taking a chemistry exam Dan started singing the periodic table. Out loud,” PJ added helpfully.

“He’s boisterous, maybe,” Phil conceded, “But he’s probably hilarious which is why his friend was so distracted and besides, learning a song to memorize the periodic table is pretty smart.”

Chris rolled his eyes. “Mate, we could tell you that Dan killed Mother Theresa and you’d just say ‘I mean, she probably deserved it.’” PJ chuckled next to him and Phil simply shot him another dirty look. “Anyway, as much as you love talking about Dan we really ought to move on because me and Peej, well, we don’t enjoy it near as much as you.”

Before Phil could argue PJ chimed in with a, “Help me decide on which one of these posters is better. Mr. Walters wants them up by this afternoon so people have plenty of time to sign up before auditions next month.” He showed them a couple of hand drawn posters, one featuring a more 60’s theme with psychedelic rainbow patterns and little people scattered all around doing various theatre things whilst the other  was more focused on space, complete with little aliens all over it. Both said in clear letters “Join this year’s spring musical! All You Need Is Love: A 60’s space drama written and produced by PJ Liguori and Sophie Newton. Auditions after school in the auditorium on 8/8”

“I like the space one,” Phil said.

“No, no. The 60’s is way better,” Chris argued. “It’s more fun looking and approachable. Everybody likes the 60’s.”

“No, everybody likes space,” Phil insisted.

“No, you like space, you big nerd.”

“I think we should ask the cards.”

“Phil,” PJ groaned, “you can’t rely on your tarot cards for every decision you have to make.”

“Yes, I can. I asked the cards and they said it was fine,” Phil smirked, pulling out his deck of Pokemon cards. He was honestly rather proud of them; he had spent an entire afternoon dedicated to learning each of the 56 cards in the full tarot deck and assigning a Pokemon to each one, then an entire month (and more money than he’d care to admit) collecting every single card until his deck was finally complete. He closed his eyes and focused. “Alright, we’re just doing a yes or no question so we can just use the Major Arcana, or would you rather do a full reading with all the cards?”

PJ rolled his eyes, but said, “Just the Major is fine. You can do a full reading when it’s more important decisions.”

Phil nodded, separating out the twenty two cards needed. “Okay, PJ, I’m going to start shuffling. Focus really hard on your question and when you think it’s time, tell me to stop.”

PJ closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply and said, “Stop.”

Immediately, Phil quit shuffling and laid the cards out in a neat row. “Is this good, or do you want me to shuffle again?”

“That’s fine. My question is ‘Should I use the space themed poster?’”

“Alright, choose a card.”

PJ chose one fourth from the left and Phil flipped it over, revealing a card of Mew. Phil grinned, before announcing: “You got The World, which talks about your conscious and unconscious joining and how you’re facing an important juncture that will make your path for the future clear. It also means that you’re going to gain true insight to the nature of yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah, but is it a yes or a no?” Chris said impatiently.

“It’s a yes,” Phil said with a smug smirk.

“And how do we know you’re not bullshitting us to get your way?”

“Well, if you think about it there was the whole conscious, unconscious thing, and he clearly preferred the space one, considering how much time he spent on it.” They looked at PJ for confirmation who shrugged and nodded with a sheepish grin. “Plus if you have the play be ‘you’, having this decision be insight into the true nature of yourself makes sense since it’s really more about space with a sixties flair than sixties with space themes.” Chris frowned thoughtfully, slowly nodding his head before Phil grinned and added, “Also, you don’t.”

“Why you absolute-”

“Stow it,” PJ hissed. “Mr. Bedsole just walked in.” And with that, the three quieted down to focus on the droning lecture about World War II.

                                                    Act I Scene III

“But you said we were going out for coffee today!” Dan pouted at Louise, who, in her defense, looked absolutely heartbroken denying him.

“I’m sorry, Dan,” she said. “I really am, but Chummy says there’s a huge sale going on in Brighton today and I really don’t want to miss it. I promise we can go tomorrow.”

“I do swear that it’s a one day sale,” Zoe added earnestly, looking almost as remorseful as Louise. “I’ll buy you a drink tomorrow to make up for it.”

“That’s all well and good for tomorrow, but what am I meant to do for today?” he whined.

“You could always come with us?” Louise suggested weakly. “We can get coffee at the station to have on the train?”

Dan sighed, quietly enough that the two girls didn’t hear . “As much as I do honestly enjoy going shopping with you two, I’m really not up for a two hour train ride today. However, if you see anything you think I’d like, I wouldn’t say no to some more peace offerings for bailing on me today.”

“You cheeky thing!” Zoe laughed, gently pinching his cheek. “You’re a right mess and a half, you are.”

He batted her hand away with a smile. “Yeah, yeah. Seriously, though. What am I going to do today? My mum's going to be out until five or later and I left my key at home. Do you want me to just wander around Reading lost and alone that whole time?”

“Oh, please,” Louise laughed with an eye roll. “Tyler exists, so you know there’s no way you can be bored for too long.”

“My ears are on fire right now,” Tyler sang, joining them at their table. “What are we talking about? Besides me, of course.”

“Well, someone ditched me to go look at- What is it exactly that you’re after?”

“Clothes,” both girls said in unison.

“Going to that Brighton sale?” Tyler asked with a knowing smirk. “I’d join you, but honestly, I don’t want to.”

They all laughed together before Dan piped up, “Anyway, they’re leaving me for clothes and have put my afternoon activities in your command.”

Tyler winced. “I’m sorry, Dan-”

“No!”

“I have a date!” Tyler defended. “And, boo, you know I think you’re the best thing since sliced bread, but you third wheeling me isn’t going to get me laid.”

Dan cast him a betrayed look. “So, basically what you’re telling me is I’m basically screwed? Carrie’s busy with theatre, you’re going on a date, these two would rather pet garments they can’t afford then get coffee with me, and Sean is probably off sucking face with Signe.”

“You could always just follow Phil home and sit outside like a lost puppy and hope he lets you in,” Tyler suggested, somewhat helpfully.

“Why don’t you actually fuck off?” Dan snapped,as his face turned scarlet. “That was one time, okay?”

“You stood outside his house in the rain for an hour pretending you thought it was someone else’s house before you realized nobody was home.”

“That was two years ago!”

“I still can’t believe it happened at all.”

Dan buried his face in his hands to hide his blushing cheeks. “You guys are the absolute worst people in the world and I hate every single one of you,” he groaned.

Tyler reached over and patted his cheek fondly. “Oh, boo, we know that’s not true. Who else would listen to you wax poetic about Phil?”

Again the three laughed together. “I’m still without anything to do this afternoon,” Dan pointed out.

“Can’t you just break in?” Tyler suggested. “I do that at my house all the time.”

“My mom routinely locks all the windows so mine is the only one open and there’s no way I can get to the second floor.”

“You could hang out with Sean and Signe,” Louise offered. “I’m sure they’d at least try to contain themselves while you’re around.”

“Yeah, but even when they’re not trying to climb into each other’s mouth I still always feel like I’m third wheeling so fucking hard. And not like tricycle third wheel either.”

“Why don’t you just go hang out at the coffee house on your own or go nerd shopping?” Zoe recommended. “You have your phone and headphones, right? Just sit in a corner and ignore everyone.”

Dan let out a long suffering sigh. “I guess that’s my only option, unless I want to go to the library or something.” He sighed and complained, “Why is there nothing to do here?”

“There’s plenty to do, you’re just too immersed in your laptop to experience any of them,” Louise laughed. “Chummy and I can always find plenty to do.”

“You have no idea what a town with nothing to do looks like, sweetheart,” Tyler scoffed. “Jackson was like a third this size and a good hour away from anything even remotely interesting.”

“Yeah, well, this place being better than your hometown is zero help right now. Somebody give me something to do.”

“You could just Google it and do the tourist-y things that pop up,” Zoe beamed. “Me and Alfie did that one time and it was loads of fun.”

“That sounds like a really great date,” Dan agreed, a dash of sarcasm in his tone. “However, since I’m a sexually ambiguous nerd who can’t properly talk to anyone outside of you guys, there’s very little chance of me getting a date any time soon. Plus it’s pouring and I wouldn’t want to wander around Reading in the rain even if I had a date.” Tyler took this moment to mutter about how he’d done it for Phil before, but quieted down when Dan gave him a stern glance.

“Well, whatever you decide to do, I wish you luck,” Louise said, taking out her phone to check the time. “However, Chummy and I must be getting on as our train leaves in less than an hour.”

“Bye, Louise. Bye Zoe,” Dan and Tyler chimed together. The two girls laughed and gave their final farewell hugs before leaving, leaving Dan and Tyler alone.

“So, who is this guy, anyway?” Dan asked, picking at his fingernails.

“Uh, his name is Michael and I met him on Tinder.”

“Phil’s middle name-”

“Is Michael. Yes, I know,” Tyler teased. “You’ve told us all more than once.”

Dan merely rolled his eyes and said, “So, Michael. Is this a guy you might actually like to date or is he just a casual hookup?”

“I don’t know, honestly,” Tyler shrugged. “He seemed nice enough while we were messaging but not exactly my kind of guy, you know? I may just keep in contact with him to hang out with on Fridays when I’m bored because somebody is too invested in Mario Kart to go party with me.”

“Please. You and I both know that I’m probably the last person you’d want to go with you to a party. I’d just stand awkwardly in a corner playing on my phone all night and making everyone who dared to talk to me feel bad because they wouldn’t understand a single word I mumbled.”

Tyler cast him yet another sympathetic look and Dan swore he was going to rip his eyebrows out if another person looked at him as if he was the dog they were leaving behind at the shelter. “Have you considered hanging out with Carrie this afternoon? Like, I know you said you weren’t doing theatre this year-”

“The four hours I spent locked in a janitor’s closet for being in the school play said I wasn’t doing theatre this year.”

Tyler narrowed his eyes at the interruption, but continued. “Anyway, you said you weren’t going to be in the play, but I’m pretty sure they’re just doing like pre-pre-pre-play stuff today. Hanging up posters and the like. I mean, it’s something at least.”

Dan considered his options for a moment. While he had sworn off acting for the year, he really liked most of the theatre kids he hung out with last time. Besides, it was completely harmless and he did always enjoy spending time with Carrie. “Yeah, I suppose. Anyway, if it is horrible I can always pretend my grandma is in the hospital or something to get out of it.”

“That’s the Dan Howell spirit we all know and love,” Tyler grinned, clapping him on the back.

This will be fine. What could go wrong?

                                                    Act I Scene IV

There was no way this was happening.

“PJ, I can’t go in there,” Phil hissed, physically keeping his friend by his side and out of that room. For in that room sat none other than Dan Howell, looking perfect as always whilst he lounged next to Carrie, who was laughing along at something he said. “I thought you said he wouldn’t be here today!”

PJ shrugged, clearly not seeing the problem and Phil had never felt so betrayed. “He said he wasn’t coming back last year, but maybe he changed his mind. Or maybe he’s just helping a friend hang posters. Who knows? You might if you go in there and talk to him.”

“I can’t let him see me like this,” Phil refused. “I took out my contacts last lesson because my eyes were all itchy and the redness still hasn’t gone down and I look terrible.”

“Maybe he’s into the whole robot look.”

“You’re not helping!”

“Look, mate,” PJ sighed. “You can stay and help or you can go home and sulk, but either way I’ve got to be in there to take charge of this whole shindig and I can already feel Sophie glaring at me for being late. I know you don’t look one hundred percent your best ever but it’s a Monday afternoon after school and nobody looks great, and I swear to god if you tell me Dan looks amazing I will never let you borrow my Legend of Zelda games ever again.” Phil gave him a sheepish grin. “And for what it’s worth your face shape works really well with those glasses and the redness is pretty much gone.”

Phil smiled softly at his friend. “You always know what to say, Peej.”

PJ smirked and winked back at him. “It truly is a gift. Now come on, let’s go hang some posters and get some theatre nerds hyped about a play.”

As the two walked in a kind of hush fell over the gathered students and Phil couldn’t help but notice the panicked look Dan gave Carrie as he passed by them, taking a seat next to Chris and Alexandra. He leaned over to point it out to Chris, but he merely shot him a look before pointedly focusing on PJ and Sophie at the front of the room. Phil huffed; he knew why he was being shushed, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

“Okay, everyone, thanks for being here!” PJ beamed at the eight students sprawled across various chairs and desks. “We really appreciate your help. Does anyone have any questions?”

“Why don’t you tell them what exactly it is that they’re helping with?” Sophie suggested from behind him with a smile and a fond roll of the eyes.

PJ gave her a crooked grin in thanks before returning his attention to the crowd. “Right, I should. Well, as you all should know the school puts on a musical every spring, and if you didn’t know then you do now. Anyway, as this is our last year Mr. Walters has agreed to put on a play that Sophie and I wrote, and he’s put us in charge of everything from production to advertisement. Today we’re putting up posters around the school to let everyone know about the auditions that are happening next month, giving them plenty of time to pluck up the courage to sign up since that’s probably the hardest part of school plays for a lot of us.” There were a few scattered chuckles, and PJ carried on. “Since there are ten of us and five main areas we need to put these up, we’re going to be splitting into teams of two, and each team is going to get twenty posters to hang up. Yeah, it sounds like a lot, but we want these everywhere. I don’t want there to be a single person at this school who doesn’t know about this play. That means staple them to bulletin boards, hang them up on those weird clothes pin things outside the art room, tape them on every door and stairwell you can find. So yeah, I mean it when I say everywhere.”

“Alright then,” Sophie chimed in. “After that rousing speech, everyone pick a partner and we’ll arm you with a stapler, tape, clothespins, blu tack and more posters than you’ll know what to do with. Go!” Phil swore he saw PJ, Carrie, and Chris all share a look, but he brushed it off to partner up with Chris, only to find that he had already linked arms with Alexandra. He glanced around the room to see that PJ and Sophie were obviously in each other's pockets, Carrie was chatting with Matt, and Tom and Gi were leaned against one another playing some kind of app on Tom’s phone leaving-

“Uh, hi again?”

Phil whipped his head around to see Dan standing in front of him with a bit of red tinting his ears. “Your friend abandon you, too?” Phil chuckled. When Dan didn’t answer and just continued blinking at him, Phil flushed bright red immediately starting to back track. “Not that I’m saying- Well, what I mean is more that- You see what I’m trying to say is-” he finally sputtered to a stop. “Sorry?”

Dan blinked at him a couple more times before realization dawned on his face and he blushed to match Phil. “No, no it’s fine, I promise! I’m not offended or anything! Carrie did totally ditch me to partner with Matt. I was just really distracted by your glasses; I didn’t know you wore them.”

Phil chuckled nervously, scratching behind his neck. “Yeah, they’re- yeah. They’re kinda big and dumb looking so I try not to wear them at school too much.”

“It’s not that,” Dan mumbled, looking down and to the left while shooting Phil looks from beneath his lashes. “They actually really suit you. They make you look really smart I guess.” He flushed a bit darker before adding, “I like them.”

Well, if Phil wasn’t about to pass out before from how adorable and shy Dan looked he definitely was now. Dan liked his glasses. Dan Howell liked his glasses. He took a moment to gather himself before he could blurt out that he was about to call the optometrist and tell her to cancel all his contact orders from now until forever because Dan Howell liked his glasses. “Thanks, that means a lot,” he said instead. “I don’t really like them all that much so they can use all the love they can get from other people.”

Dan sputtered out an abrasive laugh which garnered a couple people’s attention and made Phil’s chest feel like it had been filled with warm helium before Dan slapped his hands over his mouth to muffle it. Phil considered telling Dan his hands would would better suited in Phil’s instead of quieting the music that was his laugh, but decided that was maybe a little forward. “If you don’t mind me asking, why are you wearing your glasses if you hate them so much?”

“Oh, sometimes my contacts can bother my eyes and last period they were really itchy and so I took them out instead of trying to rub my eyeballs into the back of my skull.”

Phil mentally slapped himself for actually saying that out loud, but Dan just giggled. “Well, I hope they’re feeling better. I noticed you had some red in your eyes, so I’m glad it’s nothing serious.”

At the mention of red Phil slammed his eyes shut and covered them with his hands. “PJ said the red was all gone!” he whined.

Dan immediately started flapping his hands nervously. “No, no it’s fine! It’s hardly noticeable at all! I only noticed because I was staring at your face up close, and oh my god, I can’t believe I said that out loud. Someone please stop me.” By the end of his sentence Dan was a darker red than Phil previously thought possible and looked  just about ready for the world to split in half and swallow him whole. He was adorable, and Phil was about to die.

“Nah, I get it,” Phil chuckled with a smile. “You said the glasses were distracting so it makes sense for you to stare.”

Dan opened his mouth like he was about to argue Phil’s point, but there was a cough behind Phil and they both turned to see PJ standing there with a stack of flyers in his hands and a knowing smirk on his lips. “Well, since the two of you were too busy - um, let’s say talking - to come up and pick an area to work in the only one left is the gym and lunchroom, so I hope the two of you brought umbrellas.” Dan looked absolutely panic stricken at the thought of needing an umbrella, much to Phil’s confusion, but PJ simply carried on. “Sophie has the stuff to hang these up with so you two need to get going or we’re still going to be here when school lets in tomorrow.”

Phil groaned melodramatically and accused PJ of forsaking him and throwing him to the depths of hell, but still smiled and thanked Sophie - who was giggling behind her hands - when he got their tools. The only problem was that Dan was strangely quiet the entire time, and not in the adorably shy way he was earlier that afternoon when they were walking to class together. No, this was more akin to the silence of a man being lead to the gallows, and that just wasn’t going to work in Phil’s book. “Hey, are you okay?”

Dan gnawed his bottom lip for a moment before sighing and saying, “I’m really not sure if I want to tell you. Like on one hand it’s really not that big of a deal, and avoiding it is only going to make it way worse, but on the other hand it’s really embarrassing, and I don’t like talking about it.”

Phil hummed in thought, tapping his chin and looking Dan up and down through squinted eyes. To most it might look like he was just observing the younger boy to come up with some sort of plan, but in reality he was just taking the opportunity to check him out. “What if I hum and then you say it really quickly and if I hear you, I can pretend I didn’t understand and if I didn’t hear you then you at least got it off your chest and you don’t have to worry anymore.”

Dan laughed and smiled so hard his eyes were almost completely closed. “You are such a strange person, Phil Lester,” he said with what Phil was adamantly interpreting as fondness.

“You know, you’re actually not the first person to tell me that.”

Dan rolled his eyes but he still had that grin so Phil didn’t take it to heart. “Unfortunately, that plan won’t work, so I’m just going to tell you, but you can’t make fun of me, okay?” Phil nodded eagerly, knowing that there was no way he could ever deliberately make Dan feel bad about himself. Dan took a deep breath and quickly said, “MyhairisnaturallyreallycurlysoIstraightenitbutwhenitgetswetitgetscurlyagainandit’srainingandIdidn’tbringanything.”

Phil blinked, trying to process what he just heard until it finally clicked and he beamed. “Why didn’t you say so?! You can borrow my coat.”

Dan’s eyes bugged out at the very idea. “I can’t just take your coat! What are you going to wear? It may be a short walk, but you’ll still wind up soaked by the time we get inside.”

Phil shrugged. “Well, any way you look at it, one of us is going to look like a drowned rat by the end of this no matter what. You seem to be a lot more worried about it than me, so why shouldn’t you be the one to stay dry? Besides, I have a change of clothes in my bag since I’m meeting up with my family for dinner after this. Take the coat, Dan.”

“But Phil-”

“Too late!” he sang, pulling his arm out of the sleeve. “I’m  taking it off and I’m not going to put it back on until it’s time to leave. If you don’t take it then the poor coat will just sit here and be useless while we both get wet. Do you want my coat to feel that way, Dan?”

Dan giggled at his overreaction, but took the coat with a gentle smile. “Thanks, Phil. I mean it.”

“No problem,” Phil smiled back. “But now you do have to hold the flyers and stuff. Just shove them under your jacket so they don’t get wet.”

Dan nodded and took the papers. “Alright then, let’s do this.”

                                                    Act I Scene V

“Oh my god, Louise, it was amazing,” Dan gushed over the phone. He had tried texting Louise but he was way too excited and his fingers kept slipping and pretty much everything he wrote had more exclamation points than actual letters. “How do we have so much in common and I never knew it?”

“Maybe because you only ever stalked him instead of talking and sharing your interests?” she teasingly suggested.

“You can’t tell but I’m giving you a dirty look right now,” Dan pouted, tracing his finger over the numbers written on the Post-It note Phil had given him. “And there will be plenty of actual talking between the two of us now, since he gave me his number.”

Louise squealed across the line. She had never made it a secret that Phil wasn’t her first choice for Dan’s big crush, but she had to admit that the fact that Dan was so over the moon for him was precious, and anything that made Dan happy made her happy. “Oh my god, really? What happened?”

“Well, we had to go out to the gym to hang posters and since it was pouring I was complaining about my hair-”

“Like you always do.”

“Shut it. Anyway, he insisted that I used his jacket to keep dry and at the end of the day it was still raining so he told me to keep it and I could text him about returning it later,” Dan sighed happily, reliving every moment of the afternoon in perfect clarity. “Louise, it was amazing. He’s amazing.”

“Have you texted him yet?” Louise demanded. “You have to tell me everything when you do.”

“I don’t want to return his jacket yet,” Dan admitted. He hadn’t told Louise that it was warm and smelled like Phil and that was why he didn’t want to lose it but he was pretty sure she knew. “What if I text him and all he wants to talk about is getting his coat?”

Louise sighed and Dan knew she was her rolling her eyes. “You’re being ridiculous, you know that, right? Of course he doesn’t want to just talk about that. Giving someone your coat as an excuse to keep talking to someone is one of the oldest tricks in the book. I’m pretty sure it’s been a thing since coats were invented.”

“I don’t know, Louise,” Dan said, biting his thumb nail. “I mean, Phil’s just a really nice person. He was probably just giving me his coat because it was nice. He’s not really the type to play tricks like that.”

“Everyone play tricks, even if it’s subconscious,” Louise dismissed. Dan could almost see her nodding sagely. “He probably did give you the jacket because you needed it, but the phone number was just so the two of you can talk. If he really was only interested in the coat then he would have just set up a time to get it back when he gave it to you.”

“You really think so?” Dan asked nervously. “What if I make a fool of myself and he never speaks to me again?”

“Number one that won’t happen. Number two, even if it does are you really in any worse of a boat? It’s not like you were actually talking to him before this anyway.”

“You’re being super unhelpful and also the absolute worst.”

“You love it. Now text that lion loving nerd and make sure I’m your maid of honor at the wedding.”

“What do I even say?” Dan whined.

“Just introduce yourself, you complete dollop head. Just say ‘Hi, this is Dan!’”

Dan sighed dramatically, flopping back and extending out three of his long limbs. He winced when they all settled into that nice stretched feeling and quickly changed phone hands so he could do that last one as well. “Fine, I’ll do it as soon as I get off the phone with you.”

“Oh, well, in that case my mother has been calling me to come downstairs for about five minutes and I’m definitely not making this up so you have to text Phil.”

“Louise I hate you!”

“Love you, too!” she cackled, sending a couple kissing noises across the line before hanging up.

Dan groaned and glared at his phone for abandoning him, hoping that Louise would somehow be able to feel it. After a moment he sighed and pulled up messages and tapped “Compose”

To: Phil 5:44

hello! this is dan the guy u left your coat with this afternoon lol.

Dan closed the app to open YouTube, not expecting a response any time soon, but before he could finish pulling up his subscription box his phone buzzed.

From: Phil 5:47

Hi!! How was your walk home? Did you stay dry and everything? I would have given you a ride, but I was already late to meet my parents. I’m sorry. :(

Dan took a moment to breathe calmly but quickly gave up in favor of squealing in delight as he rolled back and forth, clutching his phone to his chest. He just had to tell Louise.

To: The Mum Friend 5:49

omg hes so nice. like he asked if i stayed dry on the way home and apologized for not driving me home himself  #phillesterangelconfirmed

To: Phil the Actual Angel 5:51

dw about it ^-^ i stayed pretty dry. yhanks to you i don’t look like a hobbit reject.

From: Phil the Actual Angel 5:54

Lol any Hobbit that rejects you is missing out on making their Hobbit village cuter than all the other ones. You can come join my elf city and we can be too tall together.

To: The Mum Friend 5:57

LOUISSE HE CALLERD ME CUTER IM DYING SEND HELPP

To: Phil the Actual Angel 5:58

lets be honest wed both be loners. im too tall for the hobbits and ur too clumsy for the elves.

From: Phil the Actual Angel 6:00

Why must you crush my dreams Danyul? :’< I’m not that clumsy

To: Phil the Actual Angel 2:02

i think the paint still stuck in my hair from where u knocked me into the art supplies in the prop room would beg to differ.

From: Phil the Actual Angel 2:04

Okay, I GUESS that’s a fair point. And hey, as long as we’re outcasts together that’s not too bad in my book. ^-^

To: Phil the Actual Angel 2:04

my my phillip r u flirting with me?

From: Phil the Actual Angel 2:05

That depends entirely on if it’s working :D Hey, by the way, what lunch do you have?

Dan frowned at the sudden topic change, but shook his head and went along with it for now.

To: Phil the Actual Angel 6:06

i have 2nd y?

From: Phil the Actual Angel 2:07

You do? That’s the same one I have? How come I’ve never seen you? D:

To: Phil the Actual Angel 2:08

probs because i sit with my friends and we try to avoid human interaction lol

From: Phil the Actual Angel 2:10

Same, honestly. Do you think you and your friends would want to come and eat lunch with me and mine tomorrow? We usually sit out under the tree next to the front office.

To: Phil the Actual Angel 2:11

i am so sorry can i answer you in a sec my mum wants me

Dan took a deep breath, trying not to panic. He quickly dialed up Louise and waited with bated breath as it rang again and again and again and again and ag-

“Dan? What can-”

“HE ASKED ME TO EAT LUNCH WITH HIM TOMORROW!” Dan shouted before she could finish her greeting.

“Wait, hold on a minute. Who did what now?”

“Phil! He asked me to eat lunch with him tomorrow!” he repeated in a much quieter but no calmer tone. “Well, actually he asked me to ask all of you if you might be interested in eating lunch with his group tomorrow. What should I even say to that? ‘Yes, I’d like to eat lunch with you tomorrow and every following day for the rest of our lives’?”

“You could always just say you’ll ask,” she said with an underlying laugh. “I don’t see a problem with us sitting with them, though. All of us like meeting new people so it should be fun.”

“You mean it? Everything will be fine?”

“I’m sure of it, and if anyone says otherwise, I’ll wallop them on the head.”

“You’re the best, Louise.”

“I know it. Now go set up your lunch date already.” And with that the line clicked dead and Dan was once again left alone with his phone.

To: Phil the Actual Angel 5:14

sorry! my mum is v demanding sometimes T_T but yeah lunch tomorrow sounds great! all my friends like meeting new people so it should be lots of fun

From: Phil the Actual Angel 5:16

Don’t worry about it! ^-^ So you want to just meet at the tree or in the lunchroom or what?

To: Phil the Actual Angel 5:18

i think we can find our way to the tree so that should be fine ^-^ see u tomorrow!

From: Phil the Actual Angel 5:20

It’s a date!

Dan gaped at his phone for a moment before calling Louise yet again to scream.