#(an amicable sort of congratulations)

[soysaucevictim]

Actually made myself food to eat today. A pretty sloppy pepperjack + onion omelet + some jammed toast.

Therapy was done over the phone. Discussed some changes to my treatment services that was honestly a long time coming. I've honestly made a lot of progress, this last decade.

(Which I'm happy about.)

I'm just sitting with that atm. I completely understand the situation, so I'm not super upset. At a point where it's mostly on me to take care of myself - and actually having the mental space to better do that, now that I'm living by myself.

[lijojo]

yandere! telepathic classmate headcannons

yandere! telepathic! classmate x telepathic! reader

premise: whenever someone falls into a pit of obsession with you, they open their mind and heart, therefore somehow giving you the ability to read your thoughts. having endured this for a long time, you’ve managed to avoid meeting disastrous ends with these admirers. that is, until you meet your new classmate (who claims it’s the first time you’ve met) who is somehow always able to see through your tricks. 

warnings: stalking, manipulation, unhealthy relationships

- thinking about yandere classmate! who, despite your claims, says it’s his first time meeting you. 

- yandere classmate! who has somehow stolen the hearts of your teachers and classmates alike with that dashing smile of his and amicable personality.

- yandere classmate! who you’ve sworn up and down that you’ve seen before. he looks so familiar, you can’t put a finger on it. 

- yandere classmate! who ignores all of your attempts to brush him off and always seems to be where you are. 

- yandere classmate! who greets you twice: once when he’s introducing himself to the class, and once in your head, in your thoughts. 

- hello, pretty thing. 

- yandere classmate! who’s thoughts are so...structured. who’s thoughts sound so scripted and unnatural yet you can’t call him out for it. as if he’s deliberately hiding from you. as if he knows. 

- yandere classmate! who you know has some sort of obsession with you but you just can’t read him. 

- yandere classmate! who somehow knows how to make you say yes to him, no matter how much you don’t want to.

- oh? you don’t want to help him bring the lab equipment back to the science classroom? well, you can’t, not when he’s asked you in front of everyone (including a very pushy, very expecting homeroom teacher). 

- you don’t want to study with him? well, you’re going to have to if you don’t want to fail calculus. he’s the top student in the grade, and everyone else seems busy. 

- you’re hiding in the corner during lunch to avoid seeing him? all of a sudden, he wants to eat in this specific spot in the corner of the school where no one goes to as well, conveniently right after you decided you wanted to eat there. 

- you want to go to your favorite bakery to relieve stress and forget about him? he’s sitting in that exact spot, your spot, the one you always go to to people-watch. and he’s sitting there with your usual order and an inviting smile. it unnerves you so much. 

- you don’t want to date him? you already are. he’s already told everyone through subtle social cues. by the end of the week, everyone thinks your dating, but doesn’t really let you know they know, convinced you like your privacy. 

- it isn’t until your friends ask you, offended that you kept something so important from them, that you realize what’s going on. 

- yandere classmate! who doesn’t accept your rejection, who just puts his hand on your shoulder and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. 

- yandere classmate! who interrupts every conversation you have with another guy. who wraps a possessive arm around your waist and presses a pretty little chaste kiss on your neck. 

- who thinks your mine, mine, mine, mine, whenever he sees you with someone else. 

- yandere classmate! who is somehow your partner in every group project, yet you somehow can’t get a read on how he accomplished such thing. 

- yandere classmate! who always knows what you have on your wishlist for every holiday and brings them to you wrapped in your favorite color. 

- yandere classmate! who one day slips up when he’s laughing with your friends that he’s somehow charmed without you knowing. 

- those same friends, who congratulated you on a happy relationship, happy you’ve managed to open up to other people. who you can’t bear to disappoint after years of being so-closed off and being a downer. 

- yandere classmate! who thinks you think reading my thoughts will change things? when will you give in and accept it? 

- yandere classmate! who pretends nothing is wrong when you freeze, baffled. instead, he kisses you on the cheek and your friends coo. 

- yandere classmate! after months of constantly making you say yes to his ‘requests’ finally lets you in on his secret. 

- yandere classmate! who now openly engages in telepathic conversations with you when employing his tricks. who smirks whenever you try to push him away. who enjoys the chase. 

- your thoughts are so pretty. won’t you decorate them with more thoughts of me?

[denjivhs]

match-up for @thecurrator

Your match from Blue Lock is . . Nagi Seishiro!

❂ i think you and nagi would make such a cute couple. very "dating me is like peeing your pants. everyone can see it, but only you can feel the warmth."

❂ how did you meet?

you both happened to be at the dentist on the same day. nagi certainly didn't want to be there but he had an aching tooth and reo would simply not leave him alone about it. ("we have a match next week! you cant let this pain distract you!!" blah blah blah.)

he had been so close to dozing off there when his lanky ass caught sight of one of his favorite artists playing on the phone of the person sitting beside him.

"pathetic."

"sorry?"

"i love his songs."

"oh!-"

nagi rarely ever initiated conversations, or rather, rarely ever put in the effort to do anything, but meeting someone who listened to same sort of music as him irl somehow sparked a hint of enthusiasm in him. he chatted with you quite amicably while you two waited for your turns, mostly about music, then some random talk here and there. you ended up finding out that you live in the same neighborhood.

nagi would not be bothered by your rbf at all (unbothered nonchalant king, you will never catch him being chalant) so breaking the initial ice will not be an issue for him. i imagine you'd develop a friendship by bonding over similar interests and likes, especially in music, anime and movies. also congratulations, you have acquired a new friend— reo mikage! (they come as a package deal, you do not have a way out)

casual hangouts around the neighborhood and in each other's rooms, late night walks to go grab some ice cream while sharing earphones, lazing around in the sun during winters and such activities would be a frequent.

nagi hates earphones, but for you, he never opposed using them, just so that he could listen to music with you.

it would kind of be a slowburn for you guys since it'd take the poor guy forever to figure out that feeling all warm and tingly and zoning out while daydreaming about you was not platonic. hell, if it hadn't been for reo helping him, it would've taken even longer.

❂ nagi would primarily express his affection for you through small gestures. he may seem like a complete airhead but when he wants to, he can be extremely perceptive. way before he had even figured out that he was whipped for you, he had started noticing little details about you. your quirks, your habits, what you like, dislike, what caused that heartstoppingly beautiful, warm smile of yours to bloom— everything.

he never considered himself to be a 'possessive' person or whatever, but the first time he accidentally made you blush? dear god he wanted to just hold you tight and hide you away from everyone else because that unbelievably adorable sight should only be reserved for his eyes.

he's also pretty blunt in general, so he'd tell you whatever he's thinking, including all the out of pocket, shockingly romantic things you'd never expect to hear from someone like him. what can one say though, you've got him good.

❂ miscellaneous: he loves to nap while resting on you. he does it especially when youre crocheting or something. will make up an excuse like "oh let me help you, ill keep the wool disentangled-" pure bs, he is going to fall asleep on your lap in 0.2 seconds.

also, he addresses your plushies in a most proper manner and treats them like your children. also i think has a really imaginative thinking, so he'd definitely join you whenever you'd analyse and break something down with inputs of his own. would be interested in hearing your perspective on the most random things.

❂ songs that would give off your dynamic's vibes: dirty dancer by orion sun, pretty boy by the neighborhood, stop the world i wanna get off with you by arctic monkeys, some by steve lacy.

Your match from JJK is . . . Gojo Satoru!

❂ another white-haired character . . 🤭 i know they're both kinda really different but hear me out!!

❂ how did you meet?

au where you start working part-time at this really cute bakery. you usually helped with serving and some other tasks, but one day your colleague happened to fall sick, so you filled in for her at the counter.

and who would walk in but gojo satoru and his hopeless sweet tooth ass.

ever the flirt, he'd definitely try to rizz you up with his natural charm and smooth comments. would ask you what your personal favorite item from the menu is and buy two of them to give you one no matter how much you'd politely deny. def would say something like "cute cupcake for a cute girl."

since the cafe was on his way back home, you found out that he was a regular.

over time a sense of familiarity was established between you two (it was mostly him being an absolute little shit because.. i mean, it's gojo. cmon.) and although he'd never give you a straight answer, he definitely started trying to come to the cafe when he was likelier to run into you.

he'd sometimes catch you daydreaming and make a point to tease you however he could, whether it be over this or your cute judgemental cat bag.

one day mr-gojo-canonically-lightweight-satoru was on his way back home, still rather tipsy from a little get-together he'd gone to that evening when he decided to stop by the cafe, and it just so happened that you were working late that day. oh, the way his eyes absolutely lit up from under his signature shades was beyond endearing.

he couldnt stop rambling about how cute and sweet you are, especially with that 'resting grumpy cat face' and whatnot. even got a little bold and leaned forward to cup your face in his hands in the middle of his adorable drunken rant. infact, if you'd let him, he'd kiss you all over your face and bite your cheeks because he was convinced you'd be sweeter than his favorite mochi.

in all honesty, he had never expected himself to ever feel this way about someone, but meeting you changed everything, and he was gonna go all in because yolo.

❂ miscellaneous: im Sorry but youve just gotten yourself a lifetime subscription to Loud and Annoying! bro is loud. bro is a yapper. bro is sometimes way too tactless and blunt.

but!! bro will make you feel loved and cherished in his own way.

whenever he fucked up, he usually bought you your favorite snacks as an indirect apology. he definitely struggles with being able to say sorry, so you're going to have to be patient with him. it'll take you some time to figure him out, but hey, you got yourself your very own case study, have fun studying him lol.

❂ once he found out that you have a sweet tooth as well, he took you to all the cutest cafes and bakeries around. also tried to bake with you but literally couldn't stop eating the frosting, the batter, even the sugar???? you probably had to beat him up to get him to stop.

satoru would send you videos of black and orange cats together saying 'us.' would also come up with obnoxious nicknames, you're just gonna have to cope with that.

❂ songs that give off your dynamic's vibes: sweet/i thought you wanted to dance by tyler the creator, right here by chase atlantic, redbone by childish gambino, meet me in the pale moonlight by lana del rey, killshot by magdalena bay

[unproduciblesmackdown]

tayston au where they're coworkers Somewhere Else that's not like the ideal dream job in theory for either of them, nor in practice, where there's still typical nonsense & the [genderdivergent / neurononconforming handshake] is no less relevant, just like In Real Life. elements simplified &/or amplified by taylor not having any especial rank or power, along the lines of how things presumably would've gone as [premise of having been Just Some Intern until getting mentorship & promotions that made it more relevant to stay a while]. they and winston maybe distantly know Of each other just via working in whatever same physical space, & this is how they both know most other coworkers; they mostly interact with who they interact with for official work purposes, they both keep busy enough, they're both othered by what workplace socializing is going on, with plenty of [shared negative opinion] embraced by people & thus both of them as the targets of that being Not embraced. gd & nnc handshake as stated

so, thinking of them both at some General Coworkers Mostly Informal Event at a bar or something of the sort, like, an End Of The Year thing, end of the [ways specific workplaces divide up time for whatever business events. quarters. some other regular event of Assessment] or any other companywide deal that could spur some peak Across The Board "we're going out, theoretically everyone's invited" and of course both winston and taylor happen to actually go. maybe there are preexisting (also mostly informal) traditions here, maybe there's people just making shit up on the spot (perhaps pretending they're preexisting traditions. winston & taylor not having worked there a full year or anything. or maybe one or both of them has, but hasn't shown up for this perhaps annual deal before. etc) but some "playing with [someone othered] for entertainment" organically crops up around winston where the people involved also spontaneously bring taylor into it as accessory, someone they wouldn't involve as getting to be "in on it." lot of flexibility here but what i've landed on after rotating & jostling ideas is roughly like: people very loosely like expressing a celebratory nature to the event via (again perhaps an actual informal preexisting tradition, perhaps being invented just now while perhaps pretending otherwise, or not) like Awards / Honors / Recognitions being doled out to some specific employees. maybe starts out somewhat rooted in more formal things, hooray for someone's recentish birthday, hooray for someone's preexisting formal recognition for whatever work achievement, then branches off into like haha hooray for [person] for [inside joke about some event ya just had to be there for! / other work wins of increasing informality/jokiness] where that jocularity can easily transition into Using this autistic coworker who's never in the In Group as a joke, of course, while maintaining ambiguity to opacity / Deniability about how the figurative arm slung around His shoulder is not actual inclusion like it is for other people

e.g. set winston up like here's some Ironic Recognition that is ostensibly framed as a compliment directly or that the ribbing / insulting Is in fact totally amicable Inclusion just like it is when we do it to these other guys haha....taylor happens to be proximate enough to be spontaneously dragged into it with people exercising the same attitude of like, well they're an object to be toyed with momentarily for our entertainment just like winston is haha. like oh don't you agree with this compliment towards winston Or this insult, it'd amuse us either way. and an idea being this being dialed up enough for like little a [venturing into harassment] all around of like, perhaps: congratulations winston for us all agreeing you Win at being our office's most eligible bachelor haha XD you're soooo single X'D cue whatever transition into building on The Joke like and how amazing when you're, stifled laughter, you're the hottest person here also three cheers for that too....like a) winston like thee nerd amongst nerds, no matter where he works or what group he's in the [an autistic person...] is Sensed, just like in real life, b) being in the impossible position where ofc he's doomed from the start in being targeted by people who can & are ganging up on him here, him playing along while realizing it may all be at his expense = he loses, him pushing back = he loses, him at least at first accepting like oh people are being spontaneous & funny & friendly to me (such as with amicable ribbing truly equivalent to what other popular enough coworkers are getting) & not realizing it's actually different & disingenous & entirely At His Expense = he loses. but whatever his response at first like, it's Escalated by someone drawing taylor into it b/c they're sitting at the next table or walking by at that instant or coming up to the bar or something & it's like oh Hey, we were just giving winston his due as the sexiest motherfucker here, Do you agree & Wouldn't you make out with him. & this obvious escalation / unusual extension of the [figurative arm around winston's shoulder] that isn't happening with any of the other like more at all actually better-intentioned friendly [just messing with you] being like, making winston More uncomfortable (b/c even if he'd accepted the premise / given the benefit of the doubt to the premise / optimistically tried to believe the premise that it was genuinely well-intentioned up to this point, the "this is just pushed onto him" element inherent to it would not be fun for him) & thus yknow Definitely realizing that no matter the intentions like, this is just gonna be a bad time for him & isn't gonna result in being embraced / included in any way he wants here

also the incongruity in how winston sees taylor here, & how taylor sees winston, vs how whatever group of friends being assholes to both of them sees either of them. the Key Element that makes this "oh, autistic & trans handshake moment, tayston moment" at the core. taylor is experiencing someone just on a whim Also trying to like pick them up for a second & mess with them as a desk toy for one's own amusement, as it were, as the [taylor is out here indeed gender nonconforming even if this workplace isn't As ramped up Cis Agenda as canon's, they're also still Unusual enough in demeanor/comport/means of expression/communication & so forth as to get that "honorary" ableism (still just the same ableism) like how in canon ppl are basically calling both of the r word in different ways, degrees, at different points] like Joke's On Them too, we're Ironic in asking their input, they & winston can still only lose no matter how they respond, Their opinion on [Ideals of gender & sexuality? thus Desirability?] can only Deviate from correctness just as winston can only Deviate from correctness in this [in group]'s "opinion" (they have the Facts!) like hilarious if taylor, weirdo who we could also make fun of by how Undesirable they are, also rejects winston, or doesn't, which would also just be hilarious

meanwhile winston is like oh no this hot coworker being dragged into it :[ don't put them on the spot to either be like "ew god" about me Or else also only be playing along in this specific moment and context such that i'm flying too close to the sun with however seemingly positively they might interact with me, even a smile & a Yeah Nice, don't want them to go "lmfao. imagine. as if XD", don't want them to think he himself is In On giving them shit here....then taylor's obvious Lack Of Being Amused Too if not displeasure at some shitheads being like would you Not want all of that (winston) would you totally kiss him for $50, don't answer that $500, all the money in the world & you're the last people in the world then it'd be tempting right XD just etc suffering as the punchline of bullshit improv out here. to winston's compounding embarrassment at both a) realizing yeah this isn't Just amicable razzing, he's only "included" to the extent he's these people's entertainment, perhaps also picking up on the outright like [just being given shit] / contempt to it, & b) again like not wanting to now be involved in annoying the epic & definitely themself sexy mf coworker who is of course just set up to reject him in this moment & also now going forward....while taylor is also in turn is Seeing Winston in a different context than these others are & like recognizing his [winston's discomfited & withdrawing expressiveness] & just indeed that context of likewise suffering bullshit here

some kind of transition here, like, taylor makes some dry in turn ambiguous enough response about like, well yes i think out of everyone present i'd be most likely to make out with this particular person. b/c these shitheads don't confer especial worthiness to any of taylor's input either it's like ohhh shitttt reallyyyy do itttt XD and you know, tall order to then actually do it in this pretty hostile situation & knowing as much, but this is just a specificass What If vs [only outcome possible, in every au in every timeline] and like the added situation of like, taylor already has been aware of bullshit & nonsense & hostility & their not winning the popularity contest which matters, winston has been too, that neither of them are so committed to this particular job that they can't also both engage in some spontaneity here which could, in fact, include "eh yeah maybe i'll just quit after this. maybe this is me quitting"

taylor also of course not actually kissing winston here if he wasn't also into it. but this is a) mutual recognition of a kindred spirit, if even simply in [both being put into this damn situation / held in the same context by these other mfs] & b) winston is, in fact, flustered about immediate [!! they're hot!!] so yknow.

point is we get to the point of winston like, having this aside directly with taylor of like, embarrassed, flustered, being like "augh sorry :( you don't have to. this is just a joke to them" and taylor can be like "yeah i know and i know i'm also just a joke to them, but." and perhaps a little more of a transition into it like, the mutual question of "do You think i'm a joke" where it is of the essence that a) they both already realize that this person does, in fact, not, and b) this is just further confirmation and rather asking like, is this serious enough to you, do you understand i'm being serious enough. again not seriousness in Gravitas to ""play along"" and make out as effective strangers having a moment at a work function amidst hostile parties, but in sufficient earnestness in doing so. like no i'm not actually trying to agree / go along with any terms as laid out by these other people but yeah i'd have This moment of actual acceptance and recognition with you and it Can manifest as making out a bit, sure, and as a way to at all turn things around on this other party, if They play along, if they find they're actually about it at all, if they're just annoyed & drop the act, they lose a bit, even as again like, of course even if they choose some other route, do the "correct" thing and pwn winston, do what'd "win" and try to pwn him And everyone else here, they can't simply get that ultimate permanent victory (this is not billions canon, where they still couldn't do that anyways)

anyways they have their little exchange of recognition, reassurance like but i'm not messing with you, you're not messing with me, even as we're about to mess around(tm) a minute. they have an exchange of messing around and making out a minute. the "well while we're here, suffering bullshit, may as well get this much out of it / sure fuck it" factor can involve now also being [handshake] in like eh yeah think i might have to just quit after that, think that might've just been me quitting, b/c they can keep being Mostly Left Alone at work but this wouldn't really have made things any better, this wasn't either of their dream jobs in the forever career, this was all an Event marking some annual milestone like well i'm not dying to attend the next one either and i may as well peace out now anyways. and everyone might start just being assholes about it immediately and it's like yeah do you wanna get out of here, in the straightforward way, in the "i'd mess around with you further now sure, fuck it, by which i mean me/you, literally" way. Do So even if people are more like okay lol whatever yeah we'll be about as unfriendly as we were before, just a bit more now. be like lol we've actually never really talked, we can go to some other place and get food, hang out, chat too, exchange numbers and plan to at least be friends or allies in "now Ex coworkers lol" like it's sure a way to meet, it was sure relevant that we were just both immediately aware of there being this Understanding between us

bonus: add ben to this newfound companionship b/c he reaches out like "oh sorry you're quitting, yeah people sure can be assholes since i don't have to refrain from saying so to you as [people who also still work here]" or through some other means. or anyone else. billions au, the characters we like / could perhaps save just knowing each other any which way, Not only existing in [zero sum game] hellzone. where they can actually in fact like experience similar / equivalent shit in some ways But react in ways canon would never allow. What Ifs abound. this has been a possible "oh honey i'm a joke to them too" / "but that / this isn't just a joke to you is it" edition

[backscar-archive]

❝ astarion. ❞ how long his voice might boom, commanding, even lacking the title of archdruid to lurk over it. a hand's raised, as if he intends to amicably slap it down upon shorter elf's shoulder once more -- instead, it's held out : to take, in a display of acceptance and companionship, though his own arm is held in such a way to welcome a more friendly embrace, if he should want it. ❝ i'm proud of you. you may not like hearing it, but i am. to refuse that sort of temptation as you did, to put the lives of those people above your desires -- that's the mark of a soul that doesn't need some devil's ritual to be powerful. you manage that perfectly well on your own. ❞

There is ringing in his ears, a numbing sensation that he hadn't taken notice as the death of Cazador is still fresh, his blood and screams carved deeply in the ripples of his brain, burying itself as a memory that will not be forgotten. Astarion will not forget it. But he holds this somber expression, leaving the castle in silence. Bloodied and emotionless. Tears finding itself traced along his jawline, smearing blood that did not belong to him in his pale skin... Halsin was the first to speak to him. To break him away as he cleaned himself, watching as the blood stain such torn cloth, washing away from bitter skin as the cold water pruned the tips of his fingers and the crimson fluid dye the waters a putrid scene. Monotone voice, once filled with this excitement and eagerness for the druid alone... speaks, " Yes. " Looking up now, he's greeted with softness. Greeted with a man who wanted nothing more but to congratulate him in his success of not turning to power. Though the pale elf flinches. Ears flickering as he sighs, believing the archdruid's hand was here to harm but rather... it did not. His hand was there to hold, so were his arms, so was his warmth but Astarion did not give in so easily. His teeth finds home upon his bottom lip and he is holding himself back once more.

To hear someone say that they are proud of you... would be a death sentence. It was what Astarion wanted to hear for all his years suffering in the palm of Cazador's unwelcoming hands. His own hands leave the waters, wiping his face away from the tears that are about to break. A stuttering sigh and defeat as he finds himself inching closer to Halsin. Gentle arms that did not hold others like they used to find purchase around the druid's waist. Holding, a need. Ruined waters drying along the clothing that he had worn but Astarion did not apologize. Only buried his face in the warmth of Halsin. Letting his tears stain and fall so silently, " It's not right. " And it is the guilt that breaks free.

" I shouldn't have been the one to kill him so eagerly. I still hear his laughter, his taunts... you would think... you would surely think that I would feel free but I feel lost. I am still a monster. Even after all that. " And one will feel this way for years to come. To find themselves will take so much time. " I never wanted that power, anyhow. I just wanted to be feared. Make others feel the way I felt. It wasn't right of me. "

[w4rningbutterflies]

' You could come visit more often, too. ' - uri to levi

the feeling of a knife in his hand is familiar; it cuts through the carrots with a satisfying chop into the board underneath that makes him lose the tension that's been in his shoulders. his head aches along with his heart  ––  he can't help but feel that absence that settles within him when he glances over his shoulder and the living room is void of a certain blonde, even though it contains kuchel and kenny arguing over something that he can't hear. uri has decided to accompany in the kitchen and let the siblings be, which levi is pretty sure is a recipe for disaster if he leaves them be for far too long. 

another sink of the knife through a parsnip this time, his eyes moving toward the large pot of chicken broth that's beginning to boil. he has to add the vegetables soon and he's only around halfway through; he moves sluggish, his head feeling as if he's hungover, dark circles settled underneath his eyes. there's something that twists in him as he begins to chop another; even then, he had made this. it's like it's etched into his bones like runes. 

it's a recipe from kuchel and kenny that he's added his own mixture of things to over time. the parsnips give a lemony flavor to the chicken soup that brings out the depth better. the carrots are left in circles because kenny likes them more that way, and the celery is left a little thicker because kuchel prefers it that way. he uses orzo instead of traditional egg noodles because he likes it better that way. he squeezes a lemon in too with the broth near the end because it brings out a better flavor and overall just makes it a better experience when it's eaten. 

(kenny has complained about the changes. kuchel has smacked him upside the head. uri has patiently said that he likes the lemony taste and that it goes well with the wine he drinks. levi's pretty sure he's just being nice, but he thanks him silently with his eyes for the assist.)

the family dinner night feels off kilter though, void. it's uncomfortable, itching at the back of his neck like he knows that something is wrong but it's something that he cannot fix. there's something about it that he can't bring himself to fix, because it's out of his hands. 

he doesn't like when things are out of his hands. 

it's been a solid three weeks since farlan's talked to him  ––  he's pretty sure this is the longest that they've gone without talking, with one of them being mad at the other. it makes him uncomfortable in his core; he's used to them fighting, an explosion, and then they come back together a few hours later and farlan gripes about how stupid he is while pulling him close and continuing the discussion while he touches some part of him, knowing that it marks him more amicable to have them.

it's been a solid three weeks since he had let it slip that he remembered and farlan had just stared at him with betrayal in his eyes, and walked out the door. since he had thrown a 'congratulations, you remember' at him like it was some sort of prize. like somehow remembering had been a bad thing  ––  like it's left a sour taste on his tongue. like he didn't want levi to remember because if he didn't remember, then farlan was free.

even now he's free, but he's held to obligations. he's held to the fact that some higher being has decided that they have unfinished business, that they are entwined and that it means something. levi's always known that he was in love with him; he's told him as much, has laughed into his mouth while they kissed and bit into the pillow while farlan took him apart. he's told him as much while the other lightly shoved him and said it back; when they were crammed in photo booths in marley and making out there, captured on film. he's told him as much as he smiled against his lips and tipped him closer, nudged his face into his neck and felt like he didn't want to be anywhere but there.

but then there had been that murky period, the period where he had been foolish and bought a ring and hid it in his closet and farlan had dropped the bomb that they needed time apart, that levi was choosing him because it was a safety net. levi and him had fought for maybe a week over that before deciding on a truce of friendship while dating other people. it had felt like far too long then, too. 

but now he can't bring himself to focus, even though family dinner is happening like it does on sundays. he drops the vegetables in on instinct; fingers moving to turn down to simmer without ever fully registering it. there's laughter from the living room and it hurts his ears as he leans against the counter and swallows hard.

uri's sentence is innocent, really; because he knows that he is invited here any time he wants it, that the couch has been his for the last three weeks because he hasn't been able to go home, to face farlan. or worse  ––  face an empty apartment. there's a fear that rests under the surface of walking through the doors and it being completely void of farlan like he was never there. he's already blocked his number  ––  levi has even gone through isabel's phone to try and get in contact, but he's been given the silent treatment.

admittedly, it's all starting to drive him mad. so he did what he seems to do when he needs to hide  ––  he's found his way to kenny and uri's apartment, because no one ever looks for him here. even kuchel herself sometimes still can't believe that he willingly chooses to hang around the place. so he hides here because he knows farlan won't come knocking  ––  and he lies to himself and tells him that it's because he doesn't know he's there, not because he doesn't want to come find him.

that thought alone makes his stomach sour and he reaches for the glass of wine that's been set out, taking a deep drink of it and wishing it was something stronger, something that would make him forget if it meant that farlan would just come back.

"i'm here now, aren't i?" his voice is quiet, strained around the edges. uri knows  ––  uri had sensed in that way that he always seems to do, some sort of eerie supernatural ability that has developed from when he was the founder, he swears it. he swears his intuition is far too good for its own sake. but he had known and levi had caved, and he doesn't want to admit how ugly he is when he cries over boys. he doesn't want to admit that he reaches the pathetic levels that kenny does, either. 

but he takes another sip of wine and rubs at his eyes, hearing the ruckus in the other room kick up again as kenny attempts to change whatever kuchel was watching. it's good for them, this sibling rivalry and love  ––  they didn't get to have it before. levi's glad they have it now. 

it still makes him sit on the outside of things though. he remembers and things clash and get confusing, and it's not as if there's a heavy fog, but sometimes it feels like a weighted blanket. he looks at farlan and feels that fear, that horror, that had risen up in him as a titan broke straight through his body. there's guilt that brims and sickness that swirls, and levi isn't entirely sure how to handle it. 

it's been three weeks since farlan has talked to him. he still has the ring in his closet back home, hidden among photos and paperwork that he knows farlan won't touch. 

teeth run along his bottom lip a little and he looks over at uri who is waiting patiently for him to say something, to say more. his eyes are focused on how kenny throws his head back and howls with laughter, and there's a fondness in them that makes even levi's chest ache.

he has learned the depth of love and what it can look like from them. he hadn't learned it from kuchel and the void that was left when she didn't bother with relationships and instead tended to her profession. but there had been uri and kenny, and the love they had was explosive and beautiful at the same time. he hates himself for thinking so, but even as he stirs the concoction that's beginning to come together, he can feel it settle in the air. 

their apartment feels like a home because they make it one. they have both remembered, come together, and were happy. uri is without the founder and kenny can love him, dote on him all he wants in the only way he knows how. and uri is patient with him and tells him that he matters, that he is something, because the ackerman blood runs too deep to ignore some days. 

it's been three solid weeks since farlan has talked to him, and he thinks that being here is the wrong thing for him. that if he keeps watching kenny and uri, he's going to curl up against the step like he did when he was a kid and feel that outsider looking in, burning in his eyes with the sense of you don't belong.

it's been three solid weeks since farlan has left, and levi's beginning to think that he's what's wrong in this timeline. 

"do you want extra lemon?" the words are quiet when they slip out; he's deflecting like kenny is known to do, like kuchel does like it's her favorite thing. he has learned some family traits, it seems like. 

it's been three weeks since farlan has left, and levi has learned the only ackerman trait that matters.

[altarfates]

It was the sort of precarious situation he had become rather proficient at navigating, it required a certain finesse, not to mention the prudence to know when a wager was auspicious or not. As their gazes collide, Luo Binghe’s an inferno of frenzied fire and his a prismatic reflection of his mounting ire, he’s appraising his tells. It wasn’t like he attempted to disguise it, the hunter’s rage was so significant nothing else could mask its rancid smell. There are other things though, machinations devised with each laborious turn of those cogs in his mind, that is the sort of thing Aventurine prefers to know before a deal is struck. The cards in his favour, even if neither party is candid about their intentions. His sincerity, even if it were aberrant and cruel, set him apart from those who relied on duplicity to get what they wanted, there would have been something endearing about it were it not steeped in sanguine. I don’t care about them. That’s what he proclaims, brazen and direct, calling out what is rightfully his whilst diminishing the importance of the ones he’s demanding information about. So, it was a personal grudge, it doesn’t quite subtract from the inherent excitement thrumming adjacent to his curiosity but getting involved with personal conflicts could become a defacing mark on his otherwise immaculate resume. He really would have to determine if the benefit outweighs the risk, especially in regards to someone who exudes volatility, the gambler had seen his type before and they had a proclivity for dramatics. 

He considers this for a moment, his stare almost disconcerting. It’s only fair that when met with such a terse reprimand that he’d at least feign a little offence. A mock grimace, relief flooding his veins at the new found freedom, denied to breach the surface of his impeccable composure. It dissolves into a smile, amicable, as if this interaction had not arrived on the wings of belligerence. “ You know so much about me.” He congratulates, all but rewarding him a slow, intentional applause for his exploits, instead, he tilts his head back, just a little, so the intensity of their eye contact isn’t negated. “ And since that’s the case you must know how inadvisable it is to give out such valuable information without knowing exactly what I am getting in return.” He inspects the intricate piece of origami placed in his outstretched hand, its blood red-hue a brilliant contrast to the dark leather of his gloves. A business venture was never something to be accepted with urgency and as eager as Luo Binghe might be Aventurine’s agreements had a tendency to reflect rather poorly when he became too reckless, lenience was one thing but being witnessed leaking crucial information about the astral express. Well. Idly he runs a finger along the wing as if in contemplation. “ Tell me more about this power of yours, as intimidating as you might be, it's something I should be taking into consideration, wouldn’t you agree ?” He gives an innocuous tilt of his head, still feeling the foreboding swell of Luo Binghe’s hungry shadow long after he had taken a step back to offer him the illusion of freedom. 

“ It is a tempting offer.” He affirms, since he wasn’t exactly writhing out of Luo Binghe’s grasp and he was no longer brutalizing the inoffensive wall behind them his reactions are more languid, disarming. Aventurine was used to this offensive game of give and take and it wouldn’t be the first time someone was aggrieved by his profoundly casual interrogation. “ The next destination of the astral express, their individual weaknesses, how you might take back something that no doubt belongs to you.” He raises his hand and signifies each on a finger adorned with bejeweled rings; however, his attention has never once shifted from Luo Binghe. He knows, whether by instinct or perceptiveness, that ignoring him would invite even more gratuitous violence. “ It’s a cardinal rule of negotiation to know precisely what is to be given in return.” The warmth of his smile is spurious, intended for those who need a little reassurance when faced with difficult decisions, call it a habit. “ But you already knew that.” 

@altarfates ➝ continued 🍂

                  seeing  as  Aventurine  was  willingly  to  comply  without  complaint,  Luo  Binghe  felt  there  was  no  need  to  keep  him  restrained.  therefore,  he  let  his  hand  drop  to  his  side,  but  still  maintained  that  close  distance  between  them,  just  in  case.   “  i  don't  care  about  them.  i  only  want  my  shizun.  ”   he  sounds  possessive  and  doesn't  bother  to  try  and  hide  that.  ever  the  one-track  mind,  even  this  version  of  him  is  only  focused  on  one  thing,  though  the  reasons  behind  it  are  much  darker  than  what  his  softer  counterpart  would've  strove  for.  Luo  Binghe  allows  for  their  eyes  to  bridge  their  gazes  together   –   the  inferno  burning  in  his  dark  irises  laid  bare  before  the  man  he  intends  to  capture. 

                  oh…  what?  did  you  think  Luo  Binghe  was  going  to  let  him  go  free  after  getting  what  he  wanted?  what  a  silly  notion!  Luo  Binghe  would've  laughed  if  you  revealed  that  thought  to  him.  no  no,  he  did  indeed  want  information  on  the  Nameless,  but  he  also  wanted  Aventurine  for  himself.  why  exactly  Aventurine  specifically  is…  well,  that's  a  secret  only  for  him  to  know!

                  “  i  know  how  you  operate  gambler,  you  don't  have  to  tell  me.  ”   he  clips  the  edge  of  each  word  with  razor  sharp  irritation.  his  patience  is  a  thin  and  wavering  thing,  one  that  becomes  apparent  very  quickly.   “  i'm  already  prepared  to  give  you  something  you  won't  want  to  turn  down--   ”   the  corners  of  Luo  Binghe's  mouth  curl  up  and  offer  the  illusion  of  someone  who  is  both  amicable  and  a  venemous  viper.  finally  drawing  back  and  away  from  Aventurine  completely,  he  clasps  his  hands  behind  his  back  and  lets  that  same  smile  soften  even  further.  it's  so  very  natural  for  him   –   a  man  who  could  offer  platitudes  and  submission  while  scheming  behind  your  back,  waiting  for  the  right  opportunity  to  strike  when  you  least  expect  it. 

                  “   –   my  power.  in  exchange  for  telling  me  everything  you  know  about  each  Nameless,  especially  Dan  Heng,  i'm  willing  to  lend  you  my  power  anytime  you  need  it.  it's  a  fair  trade,  isn't  it?  “   Luo  Binghe  then  opts  to  dig  around  inside  his  sleeves  for  a  moment  before  producing  an  origami  bird  the  shade  of  congealed  blood.  on  it's  back  was  inscribed  a  series  of  very  small  sigils.  Luo  Binghe  held  it  out  for  Aventurine  to  take  with  an  innocent  tilt  of  his  head.   ”  take  this.  any  time  you  need  me,  all  you  have  to  do  is  stroke  the  sigils  on  this  bird's  back  and  i'll  come,  no  matter  where  you  are.  is  this  sufficient  enough  payment,  or  do  i  have  something  else  you  might  want  instead?  "   Luo  Binghe's  convinced  the  promise  of  his  unbridled  power  would  be  enough  for  anyone  to  give  in  to  him   –   a  promise  of  strength,  a  promise  of  protection.  after  all,  isn't  that  what  most  people  want  anyway?  of  course,  there's  always  the  chance  that  Aventurine  will  turn  this  down  and  request  something  else,  but  Luo  Binghe's  also  prepared  for  that  because  at  this  point,  he's  ready  to  sacrifice  anything  and  everything  to  get  his  hands  on  Shen  Qingqiu  again.  he  may  not  be  the  same  Shen  Qingqiu  from  his  own  world,  seeing  as  how  Luo  Binghe  dismembered  and  killed  him  long  ago,  but  he  didn't  care.  he  was  still  pissed  his  ‘other  self’  got  to  have  this  one  while  he,  himself,  was  stuck  with  that  abomidable  bastard.  it  wasn't  fair!  so  what  better  way  to  relieve  that  frustration  than  killing  this  one  too.

                  &&  it  only  angered  him  further  seeing  him  trail  after  Dan  Heng  like  he  hadn't  a  care  in  the  world.  like  he  could  just  live  freely  without  regrets  while  Luo  Binghe's  mind  remained  tormented  by  the  haunted  vestiges  of  the  memories  of  his  past.  he  hated  this.  i  hated  it  so  much.  only  killing  Shen  Qingqiu,  and  then  Liu  Qingge  and  Yue  Qingyuan  again  was  going  to  set  him  free   –   he'd  convinced  himself  of  this  long  ago.

[hypersonic04]

Part Three:

Part three, enjoy! Also, two things - I listened to False God by Taylor Swift on repeat as I wrote this, and I feel like things are moving fast between the two of them but I really struggle to write stuff where they aren't flirty so I'm sorry for the sudden progression.

Word count: 2,547

"We're having a get-together kind of thing tonight, by the way. Feel free to come," Adam mentions as we head out of the studio. Yet again, we've stayed far too late, editing and cutting bits of recordings together and changing lyrics. This has become a routine, of sorts, over the past three weeks.

"I might take you up on that offer, if you don't mind." I smile.

"It's just a thing for the label, drinks and stuff. I'll send you the details and everything."

We say our goodbyes, heading home in my now-fixed car, thank God. I don't think I could have coped with any more awkward car journeys with Ross.

Unsurprisingly, he's remained very involved over the past few weeks. It's taken every ounce of willpower in me to not walk out most days. If it's not a riff I've suggested, it's the way I've crossed out a line on a piece of paper.

Once I get home and Adam has sent me the address to the bar we're meeting at, I begin to get ready in a rush. Clouds of perfume and hairspray fill the room. I hurry my make up and haphazardly curl my hair, deciding that the messy look I've unintentionally managed to create is part of the cool-girl vibe I'm attempting to emulate. The black v-neck and leather mini-skirt seem appropriate for the event, yet I find myself overthinking everything when I remember that he's going to be there. Shoving my feet into some platform Doc's, I call a cab and wait.

The bar is so cool. Neon lights, moody chandeliers, a great playlist - the exact type of spot you would expect Matty to pick. I can already tell it's busy in there as the car pulls up, groups of people dangerously close to spilling drinks as they laugh and talk between themselves. The boom of the speakers buzzes under my feet as I make my way in, slipping past people and heading straight for the bar, feeling like the only sober person in there.

"What can I get you?"

I feel my mouth fall open as I recognise the bartender.

"Tom, oh my god!" I smile, half unsure how to navigate this situation. It's not every day that your ex-boyfriend serves you in a bar.

"Nice to see you too." He grins and I struggle to find words. "How have you been?"

"I've been good, yeah, really good." I smile, nodding. "How about you?"

"Yeah, same." He purses his lips in a soft, almost relieved smile. Our split was amicable - it hadn't been working for a while, and it made no sense for us to carry on trying to make it work.

"Are you here alone?" He frowns with a strange sort of chuckle escaping his lips.

"No," I laugh breathlessly, "It's a work thing."

"A work thing, huh?" He grins as he starts making a drink. I nod awkwardly, not really wanting to elaborate, for some reason. I'm not sure why, it's not like he can't know, right? Why wouldn't I want to tell him about the boys?

He hands me a cocktail glass filled to the brim with something that looks like it's going to give me a headache. I wince at it without even trying it.

"It's good, I promise," He gives me a toothy smile. "It's on the house."

"Tom, I can't let you give me this for free."

"Yes, you can. Consider it a 'congratulations on the work thing'." He runs a hand through his black hair and nods at me, and I realise that he won't take no for an answer as he shoos me away.

"Well, thank you." I tilt my head to the side and smile, leaving to find the table.

I spot them across the other side of the room, immediately noticing the huge smile on Ross' as he talks to Matty about something. They're sat at a table full of empty beer bottles already, and an ice bucket filled with Prosecco in the middle.

"You made it!" Matty immediately breaks off his conversation with Ross when he spots me making my way over.

"I made it." I laugh, accepting his hug and making a conscious effort not to spill my drink down the back of his very-expensive-looking suit jacket.

"Who were you talking to at the bar, eh?" He teases as he pulls away.

"None of your business." I joke. He raises his eyebrows with a smirk and I shake my head, swatting his assumptions away immediately. "It was my ex-boyfriend, it was nothing."

"Guys, Iris' ex-boyfriend works here." he decides to announce to the table. Adam lets out an airy chuckle in reply, shaking his head.

I notice Ross take a swig from the bottle of Desperado in his hand, avoiding eye contact as I glance at him. His broad shoulders are tense as he darts his eyes around the room, or rather it feels like anywhere else except me.

"Maybe he'll give us free drinks for the rest of the night." Jamie suggests, joining in on the conversation.

"Do not use my ex-boyfriend as a means of saving money, you cheapskates." I laugh, taking a seat on the plush, green sofa pushed up against the wall. Ross is sat across the table from me, and I realise that not only has the wide smile he'd had on his face disappeared, but that he was also yet to say anything upon my arrival.

The drinks flow easily, and I find myself downing cocktail after cocktail, swaying along to the music and having a good time. A recipe for disaster, really.

Looking down at my glass, I realise it's empty. The drinks had, in fact, been free all night, courtesy of Tom, and mojitos on the house is not a good thing for me to have knowledge of.

"Back again already?" He smirks from the other side of the bar, that familiar shiny, white grin making me giggle.

"Mhm, you know it," I joke. "Same again, please."

"Do you remember that time we got drunk on mojitos?" He smiles as he shakes the mixer back and forth.

"Yeah, I do." Blush rises in my cheeks as I recall the evening. The smirk on his face suggests that he does as well.

"Maybe we could go out again some time? Get drunk on cocktails again, like the good old days?"

Before I can stumble around his offer, I feel a hand on the small of my back.

"You alright?" His voice vibrates through my body as he looms beside me, looking down at me with a strange look in his eye.

"Uh, yeah," I manage to get out, my throat feeling as though it's closing up. "This is Tom. Tom, this is Ross." I say for some reason.

They exchange an awkward smile, and I recognise the look on Tom's face, the same one he used to get when random men would try chatting me up at the bars in university. I want to protest that he doesn't have to be jealous, that Ross and I aren't together, but it's like my brain can't form a sentence, as if it almost likes the idea of it.

"Are you sure you want any more to drink?" Ross says lowly, his hand still on my back firmly. It's like somehow, despite the fabric covering my body, his rough fingertips are burning into my skin.

"Yes, Ross. Actually, I do want more to drink." I turn away from him, that familiar feeling of aggravation from his comment rising again. I turn back to Tom with what I think is a flirty grin, however it could just be the alcohol surging me with a foreign confidence. "Is there a way you can make a double mojito?" I giggle, resting my palms flat on the bar top and tilting my head.

"Anything for you." He replies, subtly winking at me.

I glance at Ross, meeting his stare. My eyes dart between his and I swallow heavily, the dim light of the bar casting shadows over his features. He's wearing a white button up, contrasting with the blackness his eyes seem to be pouring into me, his rolled up sleeve and tattooed forearm on the same bar top I feel myself leaning into. He doesn't look away from me, and I watch as his pale lips part slightly.

"Double mojito." Tom's cheery voice tears me out of the black hole I felt like I was slipping into. I see Tom looking between the two of us, his lips pursed in a way that makes it seem like he's interrupting something.

"I'll pay." Ross moves his arm in front of me, holding his card to the reader.

Before I can object, Tom has the card reader held out to him, avoiding my eye line. It's like he's making some kind of point, whether that be to himself or me, and it infuriates me. He can't stand the thought of not being in control, whether that be of the band, my ideas, God knows what.

"Thank you." I smile apologetically and take the glass, spilling a little over the edge.

Ross reaches his hand out to steady mine, his fingers warm on my skin as he softly supports the glass. His eyes are trained on the drink between our hands, and I watch his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows stiffly.

"I can hold my own glass, Ross." I try to speak with conviction, mirroring the same sarky tone he always takes with me, but I can't. My voice comes out quiet, low.

"I know you can."

It's like we're magnets - he does everything in his power to repel me, to be my opposite in every sense, but somehow, it attracts me further, and I don't know why. He's so tall as he stands in front of me, so broad like some kind of shield from the rest of the slowly-emptying bar.

I look up at him through my lashes and the proximity that we're in makes me so much more aware of the amount I've had to drink. My head is swimming, yet somehow, he's steady in front of me.

"I can't talk to you when I'm like this." I say, slipping past him and making my way back. He stays there for a few moments and I watch his shoulders rise then fall, a sigh leaving his lips. I wonder whether he felt like he couldn't breathe then, too.

I sit cross-legged on the sofa, next to George, and despite being able to take my mind off of him earlier, it's like he's the only other person in the room now. Watching him over the rim of the glass as I take a rather large sip, we make eye contact, and I feel like the air is being sucked out of my lungs. I firmly place the glass back on the marble table before me, the sound louder than I had intended with my drunken clumsiness, and leave to get some fresh air.

I gasp for air when I get outside. The air bites at my bare legs, a cool breeze brushing my hair back. I curse myself for allowing these feelings to consume me in the way they are. In the studio, I can focus, I can distract myself from his clear disapproval of me, his need to control the decisions the band makes and push me out, but when it's just the two of us? A whole different story.

I hear the door swing open, the music flowing from the bar to the smoking area I'm currently stood in, and I know that there's only one person who could push a door open with such certainty. I think back to the first time Ross and I met.

"Can you just, I don't know, not follow me out?" I say slightly louder than I expected my voice to come out, turning around on my heel and lightly throwing my arms in the air.

"Sorry, I just-" He cuts himself off.

We stand in silence, his hands shoved in his pockets and mine crossed in front of me.

"Why did you buy my drink?" The question leaves my mouth before I can contemplate it's consequences.

He doesn't answer. Instead, he wipes a hand across his beard and looks at the ground.

"Answer me, Ross."

"I didn't think it was right that he was giving us all of the drinks for free."

"Bullshit." I laugh sarcastically. "You wouldn't even pay extra for Matty's oat milk last week."

I shake my head and kick the toe of my boot into the ground, wondering whether it would be best for me to just leave. He looks as uncomfortable as I feel.

"Why are you out here, Ross?" I sigh.

"I don't know. I just followed you out, I couldn't help it."

My stomach knots as I watch him. His face is serious when he looks up at me.

"You had no right to question how much I've had to drink."

"You've had a lot."

"No, I haven't, and even if I had, it's none of your business."

"You had a full bottle of white wine to yourself."

"Why are you keeping track?"

"Iris."

The way he says my name catches me off guard. I like it. It's the fact that he rarely says it at all, choosing to ignore my mere existence 90% of the time.

"Ross." I repeat his name back to him in an attempt to bring my consciousness back, the feeling in my legs, even.

"You need to go home."

"I don't need to go anywhere."

I storm towards the door, but the thick sole of my shoe catches on the slightly risen slab beneath me.

The first thing I notice is how firm his grip is on my arm when he catches me, the size of his hands. I realise I'm gripping equally as firmly onto his biceps when I look at the proximity of our bodies. My chest is virtually pressed to his, the tips of our noses only inches apart, and I hold my breath.

"Iris, I-"

"Fucking hell, I thought you'd both gone missing or something, Was about to sort out a search party."

Matty drunkenly laughs at his own joke, stood in the doorway of the bar, hair dishevelled and his tie now hanging loosely from his neck.

Ross immediately lets go of me, taking a step back like we're teenagers that have been walked in on by a parent or something. I blush at both the moment we just had and also how distinctly embarrassed he seemed by it, moving away from me quickly.

"Are you coming back in, or not?" Matty furrows his eyebrows.

"I think I'm going to head home, actually." I say, avoiding the glance Ross gives me.

"Already? It's only... shit, it's 1AM." He giggles again, turning around and reentering the bar before I can even reply.

I don't give Ross the opportunity to make this any more tense or awkward. Crossing my arms across my chest and turning around, I leave him standing in the smoking area, taking back control of the situation with the knowledge that he cannot stand it.

[yamamuragaku]

Mitsuki Birthday 2023 Lines

Mitsuki

Manager, thanks for congratulating me! It's a bit embarassing, but I'm really happy you said congrats to me!

Iori

Nii-san, happy birthday. Mom and the others want it, so let's take a picture together later.

Yamato

Mitsu, happy birthday. Today, we'll make you our special drinking snacks!

Tamaki

Mikki, HPB-! I couldn't make it as pretty as yours, but here's a cake! Light a candle!

Sogo

Mitsuki-san, happy birthday. I prepared TRIGGER's new concert video, so let's have a watch party...!

Nagi

Happy Birthday, Mitsuki! To commemorate the day you were born, I made an alter!

Riku

Mitsuki, happy birthday! I love your smile. Let's have another year of laughs!

Gaku

Elder Izumi, happy birthday. I found a good bar, so let's go drink sometime.

Tenn

Today was Izumi Mitsuki's birthday. I found a shop with delicious baked goods, so maybe I should take him there next time.

Ryunosuke

For Mitsuki-kun's birthday, I want to give him futsal shoes as a present, so I gotta ask what his size is later!

Momo

When I went to give Mitsuki a congratulatory hug, he greeted me with a hug instead.... My heart skipped!

Yuki

It's Mitsuki-kun's birthday, so I want to treat him to a meal at my place, but...what does he like to eat?

Haruka

It was Izumi's nii-chan's birthday. If I see him, maybe I should say congrats....

Toma

It's Mitsuki-san's birthday! The way he walks around and watches over everything during work is amazing. I gotta learn from him.

Minami

It's Izumi Mitsuki's birthday. I'm quite happy you're willing to talk to me amicably.

Torao

Today is Izumi Mitsuki's birthday. When I'm with him, I end up talking about all sorts of things.

Banri

Happy birthday, Mitsuki-kun! Seeing your smile makes me happy. Let's continue to get along!

[forlornkiller]

when Logan tells Greg to fuck off and he actually leaves in 4x02 there’s this moment where they both look back at each other before brushing it off. Idk if there are an abundance of these moments but s2x05 Tern Haven comes to mind, when Greg gets to the apartment and starts congratulating everybody on the deal but they all couldn’t care less. Once Logan walks in though, he greets Greg so amicably, calling him a beautiful Ichabod Crane 😭😭😭 and everybody else gets a glimpse of how familial Greg feels to Logan, who has been estranged from Ewan at least 20 years (if they put the info in the show lmk, but def feels like 20+ years).

I think Greg and Logan’s relationship is something to pay attention to in this season as family members, bc Greg is really the only one he has on his side. It’s obvious that Logan cares about his kids more, especially Roman in the context of taking over the business but Logan cares a bit for Greg too. Maybe it’s not caring but there’s some sort of interest, connection that they share that I think will be tested in really interesting ways for the rest of s4

Greg ofc is a different person from Ewan and one of the biggest ways the story shows this is through Logan’s loud blatant homophobia. Two episodes in + loving tomgreg from the beginning and wanting the whole show to be more gay in general leads me to believe Greg is definitely gay and using all these women as a front, to keep Logan unsuspecting of any gay shit . I think Greg thinks the stronger his reputation as a pussy whore is, the less Logan will take out his homophobia on him but the thing is, Logan’s gonna say shit regardless if he sees you with a dick in a woman bc he’s a homophobe!! There’s no fucking logic there just hatred and disgust. I’m excited for how they’re gonna play this season and I hope they say some actually good reflective shit about homophobia and homosexuality not fucking queer baiting every 10 min.

[randomoranges]

i need to stop losing wagerinos against @allbeendonebefore

anyways. she asked for more prince au. i bet you she thought thered be câlice de gary in it. unfortunately he’s still out and about. 

also, wow, amazing, 2 fics in One Day. it’s a minor miracle!

prince au part 112

The rest of breakfast was an amicable sort of thing as they put a dent in the goods Edward had brought up. Étienne shared his orange and Edward found himself growing fond of the fruit. Étienne revealed to him that the cooks would sometimes make a very delicious cake with the zest of the rinds and Edward made himself a note to bring them back to the kitchens, to see if such a treat could be made.

 It was the first real time the prince seemed genuinely – less sad and happier since Calvin had left and Edward silently congratulated himself for having succeeded in brightening the prince’s mood. Breakfast turned into a pleasant little thing during which they chatted about and by the time the tray was empty and their bellies full, Étienne seemed to be in better spirits. He even went so far as to propose they go for a walk about town.

 Edward was surprised, sure, but he wasn’t about to turn down an opportunity to spend more time with the prince. Whatever occasion he had was a good one and it would only help solidify their bond.

 They agreed to meet back around noon, that way, Edward would have time to change, and it would give Étienne some breathing space.

 The prince, ever so gallant when he wanted to, walked him to the door of his room and Edward would have thought it silly, if he wasn’t just a smidge smitten with him.

 “Thank you for everything, really. I know I haven’t been the greatest of company as of late and that I’ve been stuck in my own head, but thank you for sticking by my side and trying to cheer me up.” Étienne told him, just as he was on the way out.

 Edward paused, surprised, really, by the words. Sure, he had done it in parts for his own personal self-interests, but mostly, he didn’t want Étienne to be a miserable wet sock either. He couldn’t say he would have done the same for just anyone (Calvin could have rotted in his own pool of tears, for all he cared), but it had seemed like the friendly thing to do – growing feelings or not. Engagement put aside and all.

 “Of course; it was my pleasure.”

 He was surprised when Étienne pulled him close for a hug, but even more so when the prince reached up for his face and cupped his cheek with a hand, causing his heart to ricochet in his chest. “You know, this might sound silly, but – I’m really glad – despite the circumstances – that you accepted my invitation and that we got to meet.”

 “Me – me too,” He stumbled over his words, clearly convinced that he was still asleep – still in bed beside Étienne (and even that felt like a dream.) He placed his own hand over Étienne’s making sure it was actually there and that he hadn’t imagined it, and the gesture made the prince smile softly at him.

 “Thank you again,” The prince murmured, before he pressed the softest of kisses to his lips.

 It took Edward a moment, but when his brain fully registered what it was that was happening, he kissed him back.

--

PREVIOUS: CXI CURRENT: CXII NEXT: CXIII

[blu-joons]

You Have History With A Member When You Start Working At BigHit ~ BTS Reaction Pt.2

Check out Part 1 here

Jin:

You called out for whoever was at your door to enter as you pressed send on the latest email you were sending out. As you looked up, you were surprised to see Jin at your door. “Is this a bad time?” He asked, smiling across at you.

“It’s always a bad time with you, but come in,” you instructed.

“I bought coffee,” he grinned, “I thought it would go a bit of the way to saying sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” You questioned, pointing to the seat opposite you for him to sit in. “Unless you’re finally apologising for our date?”

His head nodded, “seeing you yesterday made me realise what a big mistake I made. And all I want is the chance to put it right and make up for how badly I hurt you.”

“I thought we agreed that we’d be professional?” You sighed, taking the coffee cup from him. “I can’t just forgive you at the drop of a hat Jin.”

He sighed gently, “just let me take you out, whenever you’re free, I’ll prove to you that I won’t make the same mistake twice with you.”

“I guess the fact that you brought me coffee shows me you’re sorry,” you hummed, “I finish at six, I’ll leave everything else up to you.”

“It will be perfect, I promise you.”

Yoongi:

You let out yet another frustrated groan as Yoongi continued to move around whilst you tried to fix his hair. “I’m going to beat you black and blue soon unless you sit still, I just need five minutes to get this done Yoongi.”

“Do all the stylists talk to me like you do?” He smirked.

“Not all the stylists are your ex,” you reminded him, “I can talk to you how I want.”

“I forgot that was part of the deal,” he chuckled, meeting your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. “I’ll keep still now.”

Your eyes rolled at him, “sometimes I think it was better when we weren’t talking to each other. You barely even breathed around me during those days.”

“I much prefer being friends again more,” he assured you, trying to keep his head still. “I’m glad that you came back into my life Y/N.”

Your head nodded in agreement, “I never thought I’d say it, but I’m glad to count on you as a friend again Yoongi, it’s nice.”

“I bet deep down you’d be lost without me,” he teased, grumbling as you hit the side of his head lightly. “Stylists can be mean.”

“Stylists who are your ex definitely can be.”

Hoseok:

Your eyes widened at the number of bags that Hobi carried out of the department store, looking down at the two that you held onto. “Don’t look at me like that, a lot of this is for you too, I know exactly what sorts of things you like.”

“Why have you bought for me?” You questioned, staring across at him.

“I’ve got many years to make up for,” he nonchalantly stated, “a lot of outfits I missed.”

“I told you that we’re supposed to move on from all of that,” you sighed, following behind him back to his car. “How can we move on?”

His head turned back to look at you, “I am moving on, but that can’t stop me from spoiling my best friend. You deserve this, it’s the least that you deserve from me.”

“You have millions of fans that you could spoil instead of me,” you pointed out to him, but his head simply shook back at you.

He opened up the car, taking your bags off of you. “But I only have one best friend, just let me enjoy having you back in my life and accept all of this.”

“Of course, I accept it,” you blushed, “but that doesn’t mean that you should do it. I’m alright with just having you back too.”

“I’ll never stop spoiling you now.”

Namjoon:

Your heart had been pounding for the entire evening as you sat at the MAMAs. It was a place that you never quite expected to be, but after being nominated for your choreography for BTS’ latest song, you found yourself up there.

“I’m so nervous,” you whispered across to Namjoon.

“Why?” He chuckled, nudging you gently. “There’s no need for you to be nervous about this.”

“Exactly, it’s not like I’ll win,” you chuckled, just as the nominees were read out. “I’ve already practiced my graceful loser expression.”

Namjoon stared across at you, “what makes you think that you won’t win? The routine was incredible, it would be more of a surprise if you didn’t win for doing this.”

“But all the other nominees are incredible too,” you whispered as the VT came to an end, and the presenter opened up the envelope.

Your stomach dropped, as the next thing you heard was your name being called out. “Congratulations Y/N, for her work with BTS!”

“I told you!” Namjoon yelled, throwing his arms around you. “I knew you’d win it, there was never any doubt in my mind.”

“Thank you for supporting me Joon.”

Jimin:

You glanced around the door to look out at the studio of Music Core for the first time, the place that after two years of training you’d end up making your debut at. “You alright?” Jimin’s voice asked as he joined you.

“It feels a bit like a dream right now,” you whispered, looking across at him.

“I remember the feeling,” he reminisced, throwing his arm around you. “Just make sure it’s special.”

“After all these years, I’ve finally managed to catch up with you,” you smiled, resting your head against his shoulder. “I finally made it Jimin.”

His head nodded back at you, “You always told me that you’d achieve your dreams eventually, and I’m so proud that now you’re able to do that. You’ve worked so hard Y/N.”

“I never thought I’d debut with you by my side,” you noted, looking out at the stage once more. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

He hummed against the side of your head, “I always had hope that I’d find you again, and make up for ever breaking your heart.”

“You’ve done more than that, you’ve helped me so much over these past two years, I don’t know what I would have done without you,” you admitted.

“You would have achieved your dreams, eventually.”

Taehyung:

As you found yourself sat in the cafeteria with him just two days later, you couldn’t even bring yourself to look across at him. “I want to go back to how we were Y/N, is that really too much for me to ask for now you’re here.”

“You broke my heart,” you reminded him, “and you want to go back?”

“I just want to be civil whilst you’re here Y/N,” he sighed, “at least look at me and say my name.”

“I don’t know what to say to you,” you finally told him, “truthfully, I don’t think I ever allowed myself to come to terms with it all.”

His hand brushed through his fringe, “I know what I did was wrong, maybe even unforgivable, but I still want to be friends. I do miss having you around Y/N.”

“It doesn’t feel like I’m going to be left with much choice now that we work together,” you sighed, looking across at him. “You have one chance to be professional about this.”

He nodded, listening intently to your words. “I promise that I won’t let you down again, we’ll be professional if that’s what you want.”

“I can forgive, but I can’t forget,” you pointed out to him, “for the sake of everyone else here, let’s just agree to be amicable and polite to each other.”

“I agree, it’s definitely for the best.”

Jungkook:

As Jungkook finally finished explaining what had happened between the two of you, the members could only shake their heads disapprovingly at the maknae. “I always wanted the chance to say sorry to you Y/N.”

“You owe her more than an apology,” Namjoon quickly stated.

“I know I do, but at least give me the chance to start,” Jungkook pleaded with the group.

“If Y/N’s with us permanently, then you need to sort things out,” Jin added, “we need to make sure that we treat her properly.”

Jungkook’s head nodded once again, “I will do that as long as you guys give me the chance. I know what I did was wrong, I don’t need you guys to keep making me feel bad.”

“At least tell me you’re sorry now then Jungkook,” you suddenly chimed, as everyone around the table looked across at you. “Isn’t it what I deserve?”

His head nodded once again, “I’d rather talk without the others around, there’s a few conversations that we need to have privately.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Hoseok interrupted, “we want to make sure you don’t hurt Y/N again now she’s a member of staff.”

“I would never make the same mistake twice.”

---

Masterlist

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Monday 12 November 1832

9 ¼

12 ½

Pickles came about 9 ¼ which roused me up – to see him after breakfast at Lower place or he to call here again in the evening - Letter 3 pages from M- Lawton vid. line 27 p. 285 – inquires about Miss W-   smokes what is going on writes with implied affection true and great as that of former days   is unhappy and careless of living long and has made her will ......  the tears started to my eyes and all my own affection burst upon me again – breakfast at 10 40 with my aunt – George Robinson came almost immediately for near an hour – settled with him for stone leading for James Smiths’ road etc. – he proposed some means of getting rid of Lower brea lane footpath – to see about another day – breakfast at 11 40 – told my aunt of M-‘s letter – came to my room at 12 20 – fire in my room and from 12 25 to

SH:7/ML/E/15/0145

note 2 pages of ½ sheet from Miss Walker vid. line 12 p. 286  at 1 10 in consequence of which off in ¼ hour to Lidgate and there in 25 minutes - home again in ½ hour at 5 20 - at my desk in about 10 minutes - wrote the last ¼ of page 3 and the ends and under the seal and finished my letter to Breadalbane McL- began yesterday - thanks for her letter and the willows (sent off Monday 29th inst. from Coll house) ‘which I am very anxiously expecting, not only for your own sake, but because they are associated with many remembrances that I value most highly’ - should have written some days ago but waited in the hope of announcing the arrival of the cuttings - shall write by tonight’s post to Glasgow to inquire about them - bavardage amical - wonder how her people did without her so long (5 weeks away) ‘your life is one continued benefit to them, and a five weeks’ arrear of such services is hardly to be made up’ - sorry her father is so dead to the world, and that Sir Hector’s health is so failing - mention the death of old Lochiel on the 14th September - only known to lady S- on the 6th inst. and not known to Vere on the 24th ult. the date of her last letter to me (from Turin) - hope ‘if Lochiel is obliged to come over immediately surely V- will remain with her friends till he can return for her - I should quite dread her being hurried across the Alps at this season of the year’ - ‘you would be pleased at dear Vere’s having got her rank - surely it was a thing that ought to be - that ought to have been long since, but better late than never - lady Vere Cameron will sound very well; and, empty as a sound may be, yet still it has some value in a world of vanities, like this’ - civil congratulations on Mrs Maclean’s being again about to increase her family and sorrow at Mr Hunter’s having lost her younger daughter - the loss of my steward and my aunt’s suffering health have kept me so long here or I should have been on the continent again before this - but my aunt so very much recovered, no longer uneasy about her - she herself [spirits] me up to get off and I hope to leave here about the end of January; but all things here so uncertain never think much of plans very long beforehand. Kind regards to all I know ‘ and believe me always very truly yours A. Lister’ - had written the following 2 ¼ pages to M- just before being off to Lidgate - ‘Shibden Hall. Monday 12 November 1832. Mary! I have been late this morning, and have done nothing but see and speak to Marian, and breakfast, since reading your letter - it would be difficult to describe the effect it has upon me - it is many months since I have asked beneath the beam of happiness, and without courage to think of the past, or hope to calculate the future, I am attempting to answer your letter - your account of yourself unnerves me - I grieve over your leaving Lawton, and, tho’ I could and would see good in your going to Leamington, if you would let me, I am now uneasy at my thought, and little out of sorts than you can be - the only thing I rest upon, is the manner in which you mention coming here for a few days - it makes me fancy, may almost hope, my scheme is not quite impossible - you would have been agreeably surprised, and satisfied to hear what Marian said about it - say I am not well (God knows I am sick enough at heart) or, which is true, that I am in great perplexity, or that my aunt is poorly (tho’ she is very much better and probably in no danger) or say what you please, but lose no time in coming to me for at least a few days - I really do want to see you - I will take the carriage and meet you at Manchester - Do pray make an exertion and get off- at any rate, answer my letter by the second post after you receive it, and tell me if you cannot come off immediately - nothing like the spur of the moment - you will get my letter tomorrow afternoon - and, if your answer is off on Wednesday morning at night on that day I may hear whether I may be off for you on Thursday or Friday morning at seven, or not - Bring merely a few things and yourself - I will take care of you from and to Manchester - you will see from my manner of writing, that I am not likely to relax - my interest while it is yet unnecessary to your happiness - your pages of Saturday make me fancy, I may have been mistaken, and that, in the bitterness of disappointment and regret, I may have miscalculated what it was my interest and desire to estimate most correctly – [From] Here written after dinner -  It is needless to write more - I shall anxiously and impatiently wait your answer - I would give worlds to hear of your being in better health and spirits - I had a letter from Eugenie last night - I consider her engaged, and she is to wait my orders till January - I cannot enter upon the subject of my friend, as my aunt and sister laugh and call her, I am too much thinking of the interests of other days - Come if you can - you might almost ride over to Manchester - But cheer up, my dearest Mary - time was when I had power to charm you into pleasure-stirring thought, and almost into happiness - I am what I was - and yet your power is gone,  parted like [Aynt] never to return? God bless you! ‘The heart knoweth its own bitterness - ‘tis harder than you think to break the spell of twenty years - entirely and very especially yours. AL’ – sent off at 8 by John my letter to Miss Maclean of Coll Coll house, Aros N.B. and my letter to Mrs. Lawton, Lawton Hall, Lawton Cheshire and my letter to the ‘Reverend T. Ainsworth, at Miss Bentleys’ 1 crescent, Salford, Manchester’ - George Robinson then came and staid till 9 – said Ramsden, now the constable of H-x, bought the last ground sold adjoining my Northgate land at 11/6 a yard – and Stancliffe bought his ground fronting into Broad street the street given in at 12/. or 12/6 a yard but then it was cleared, or sunk down ready for building – had seen Bates of Washer Lane who said that I might build a good corn mill at Mytholm with dam and goit and wheel and machinery for £1500 and might have 7 to 7 ½ p.c. for my money tho’ people in general did not look for much for than money now – some man (Brook) of Brighouse in letting a mile had 10 p.c. on his money for the 1st ten years, and then 5p.c. rent afterwards – the embargo on Dutch vessel has already made a great difference – has stopt the German trade - went into the other room for ½ hour till 9 ½ - π- thought I might have gone from York to Langton    ‘is it Miss Walker of Crow nest with whom you seem so suddenly to have formed an alliance    you mentioned her twice as ‘my friend’ and as you were not wont to bestow this title lightly I am puzzled to understand not having ever heard you mention her name how Miss W- has so quickly succeeded in adding herself to the list so designated     you say    ‘I shall be glad to hear your friend was etc etc’  I am glad to hear anything that gives you pleasure   and so far shall be pleased to hear all possible good of Miss Walker    but as I do not remember ever having seen her    she must be satisfied with second hand interest for I cannot fancy her at all one of those who could herself awaken it    so far as her better health can contribute to your comfort I rejoice that it is likely to improve and hope by this time she has ssomewhat recovered the loss of her particular friend’          ‘you say ‘I always tell you how much better Mr Lawton is’ because you always ask me    in bodily heath he is certainly better than I have known him for years but in mind and temper he is infinitely worse   as he improves  I fall off and I have been weak enough

SH:7/ML/E/15/0146

to fret and discomfort myself about this Leamington plan until I have almost made myself ill - M- in very bad spirits about going to Leamington - ‘and if I could get you, I should come for consolation’ - should be glad to spend a few days with me but does not know how it can be managed - Watson more philosophical than π- thinks she shall get all her mistresses things off to a place of safety -  ‘Made my will the other day, and told Watson where to find it - I do not fancy, my dearest Fred, that my health or happiness will claim your attention 20 years longer, so don’t relax your interest while it is yet necessary to my happiness - I live in so much discomfort that it cannot be expected that I should covet living forever    concludes with God bless you Fred whatever I have said or may say   trust me   there is not much warmer affection bestowed upon you than that which flows from the heart of yours very entirely Mariana  poor π-  vide line 4 of today   the following is Miss W-‘s note               I have received a letter which you shall see but we must meet on different terms oh that I had taken you at your word last Monday     and as you said finished the matter on that day   I should then have spared you this additional bitterness     I did hope when my word was once given to you that I should have left at rest and satisfied   but in reflecting on all you have said and trying to turn it to my own advantage      I cannot satisfy my conscience and with such sufferings as I have endured since Wednesday I feel I could not make you happy     that I should only bring misery upon you     for misery I am sure it would be to you to see me in the state I have been in for several days     it was this ssort of wretchedness that was expressed in my note on Friday    it was these miserable feelings that prompted my request     (that is I supposed for me not to send to York for the ring) for your own sake fly whilst it is yet in your power     (I smile as I copy this sentence) and believe that I will never intrude myself in any way upon you (unless it is in your wish) whenever you revisit the neighbourhood     Nov[embe]r 12 eighteen hundred and 32    written on the outside of this half sheet but undercover read this alone        off I set     found her twenty minutes ago returned from Cliff hill and lying on the bed in tears      kissed and soothed her till in a few minutes she went down to dinner  I remained in her room a little while  read over Mr Ainsworth’s letter        pathetic appeal to her feelings       making sure that she must be engaged and hoping that her choice would do all he Mr A- had hoped to have done     begging her to take the scrapbook as a friend and to condescend to write in answer to say if he might send the book and a narrative of himself    and if this business should be the death of him he would only pray for blessing on her     but much bad tact and the whole ill done tho’ better than I expected     I went down before dinner was over      agreeableized and amused both Miss Parkhill and Miss W-    then pretending business letters for Miss W- to answer Miss P- left us and I talked the poor girl into admiration of my conduct and into thorough approbation of my writing and sending (I wrote there and shewed it to her)    the following to Mr Ainsworth         Lightcliffe Mon[day] 12 November eighteen hundred 32   sir I am commissioned by Miss Walker to acknowledge immediately the receipt if your letter of Saturday and to inform you that she has given me for the future at least for some time to come   the surveillance of all her letters and parcels I am sir your obedient and servant Anne Lister     before writing it I had asked if it was her heart that had changed towards Mr A-     no it was all her conscience  she owned she was not in a fit state to judge fairly     and tho’ she had felt great affection for him yet she did not know how it was now all seemed dead              and if she felt at liberty she did not know or think he was quite the man she should choose in spite of the two great things      his being a clergy man and liking to live at Cliff hill     well but what would you have done had I not have been here?         she said she should certainly have ‘exoneted’ [exonered] herself now would have gone to her aunt Ploughs in London and then brought down the Chapmans with her    she would not have been alone and would have kept out of the way and done the best she could    this said I is enough     in answer to her note said I was glad she had written it    she had done all she could    but two consents were now to be had  I did not think her at liberty to marry anyone without my consent    in which she agreed and that Wednesday had given me a power over her which I was determined to use in her service she would be better by and by and more able to judge for herself and then she might try again but now I should not let her    she might safely trust to my honour but I pledged myself to nothing   she brightened up and owned how much better she was    I even brought away with her full consent Mr A-‘s letter and the book of prayers he gave her with a long rigmarole written on one of the fly leave[s]   promising to get her another of the same from London and on asking for my dirty night things to bring back  she said no till I promised to send clean ones   and we parted very good friends  she agreeing with me that she had reason to be thankful for the great event of Wednesday      who could have anticipated such a result as the consequence of her note?    she likes me but my affections are not so fearfully and irretrievably hers as she thinks and I shall manage well enough tho' I really will do her all the good I can – writing the above till 11 – came to my room at 11 20 and then wrote note to Mr. Holroyde ‘W.T. Holroyde Esquire Solicitor Halifax’ in answer respecting the land at Northgate – not in any way anxious to sell, but would sell if lot A as marked in the plan his client would give my price – but before naming any terms I wished to know what sort of buildings it was proposed to erect – wrote to desire Booth to get me Gilpins’ practical hints on Landscape gardening and the form of family prayers published by Hatchard and son Piccadilly London 8 edition 1828. 12mo. pp. 159 and 2 bottles of Albin and Chapmans’ chemical writing ink – did my clothes for the wash very fine November day – F49° now at 11 40 -  

[bookishofalder]

Pretty Girl - Epilogue

Summary: Happily ever after...

Warnings: Language, smut, fluff.  WC-3,860

A/N: Well, this was tough to write! I’ve been thinking so much about Pretty Girl and Flip these past few months that I couldn’t decide the best way to end this! Uhg, the emotions I have. Thank you for enjoying this story, I love you all! 

“Can I ask you a question, Flip?”

Flip glanced up from his paperwork to find (Y/N) coming toward him. She pulled an empty seat up next to his desk and took a seat, smiling. She had a couple of the oatmeal cookies she’d baked that morning and passed one to Flip, who took it gratefully. The bullpen was fairly quiet as it was late afternoon, and many of the detectives had either left for the day or were out on an assignment.

“Of course, darling.”

He watched as she crossed her legs, considering her words. She looked especially beautiful with her hair styled differently; he’d noticed she wore it down more often lately. He’d made one comment about liking her long hair and this was the result, it seemed. He wasn’t complaining, though he did find her distracting every time he saw her.

“I was thinking about that morning you showed up at my place and said you wanted to start driving me to work, remember?” He grinned in response, sliding his chair a little closer to hers, their knees touching.

“How could I forget?” Brushing his hand over her thigh, he winked down at her.

With a small laugh, she hit his hand away, “Come now, detective, we’re professionals,” She mock whispered, her eyes bright with laughter. “I was just wondering, what made you want to? I mean, I know you liked me, but you were determined to make it a routine, I could tell. Why?” (Y/N) tilted her head curiously as Flip thought over the question.

It wasn’t hard to remember the deeper reasoning he had gone through overnight when he'd made the decision.

He wanted to be the one to take care of her.

“I wanted,” He paused, glancing around at the now empty room, “You were always running around, taking care of everyone and smiling through it all, no matter what. Of course, I wanted to spend more time with you, outside of the office, and it was a good excuse. But moreover, it was the best way I could think to help you, make sure you were alright.” He shrugged, hoping his explanation made sense.

(Y/N) was giving him her best smile. She hopped to her feet, Flip straightened in his seat and welcomed her into his arms as she stepped between his legs. “Oh detective, you know I love you?” She sighed, hugging his head into her chest, her fingers carding through his hair gently.

Flip knew, but it was always so good to hear her say it.

+

Flip was hurrying around the CSPD’s large conference room, ensuring that all decorations, gifts and food looked perfect, even though he had no eye for this sort of thing whatsoever. He was feeling warm in his plaid shirt, so he quickly walked to the window and opened it to allow a breeze in. He was glad it was a sunny day, the light from outside brightening to wood-panelled room considerably, and casting a pleasant autumn glow within.  

Donna was arranging the cupcakes carefully, a smile on her face as she hummed and tweaked the position of one cupcake, though Flip didn’t see the difference it made. Which, he supposed, was exactly why he asked for her help in the first place. Ron was finishing moving the chairs to positions along the wall, and the room was beginning to fill with the rest of their colleagues, who were thankfully arriving on time and chatting amicably with one another, occasionally greeting Flip.

(Y/N) was going to arrive with Jimmy in about ten more minutes. His partner had graciously offered to pick her up due to Flip being required to come in early for an important meeting. Or at least, that was the story they told her, and she seemed to believe it. Really, he’d been working tirelessly with Ron and Donna to get the surprise party set up.

Glancing around the room one last time, Flip nodded to himself that everything looked perfect, stomping toward the door and turning to face the room. “Alright, everyone, stay here and stay quiet,” He called out as everyone fell silent, “Ron is on door duty here, so he’ll let you know when we’re coming back down the hall.” With that, he turned the lights off and exited the conference room, closing the door behind him.

His stomach was in twisted, anxious knots, but he was excited as well. When, a few weeks ago, (Y/N) had told Flip during one of their late-night baths that she couldn’t believe it had been nearly a year since she’d started at the station, he had made a plan. With the help of Donna, Ron and Jimmy, they were throwing her a surprise party in honour of the anniversary. At least, that was the story he’d told his friends.  

Sensing his nerves, Ron clapped Flip on the shoulder, “She’s going to love it, brother.”

With a curt nod and a brief smile at his friend, Flip made his way to the front desk to wait for Jimmy and (Y/N) to arrive. He was pleased to find the lobby quiet.

As he walked, he thought over the last year of his life and how much had changed. He remembered arriving at work that first day back, meeting her for the first time and making a fool of himself. Nearly knocking her onto her ass in his rush to apologize to her, wanting to fix her first impression of him. He’d never been affected by another person so wholly and suddenly before, as though she had a pull over him from the moment their eyes first connected.

He thought of the day that he slammed that rude man onto the counter in front of her. How he’d gone home that day and had to hurriedly relieve the pressure that had been building within over the weeks, as their friendship grew. The weeks of driving her to and from work in the torturously small cab of his truck as her scent seemed to spiral around him, the weeks of small touches, coy smiles, easy, flowing conversation. The guilt he'd felt after hitting that breaking point, and the realization throughout the following sleepless night. That he loved her, entirely and irrevocably.

That had been terrifying. Exhilarating.

He was pretty sure he’d go to his grave being able to remember every single detail of their first kiss.

That stormy night that she’d called him to help her, and he’d driven to her house so quickly he hadn’t had time to fully consider what could happen between them. The walls broke down so low in her dark, cold house, he didn't consider what it could lead to. And he was glad, grateful every day he hadn’t been sleeping well and her call had come in the middle of the night-it allowed his overthinking brain to simply fail him; his heart winning out. The moment they came together felt a lifetime in the making, as though every single action and moment in his entire life was meant to lead him into her arms, tangled together on the floor of her living room as they kept warm by the fire. It had been beautiful, perfection.

And now, they’d been living together for several months, and life was so, so good. They fell into an easy routine instantly once Flip had moved in, the days blending in a happy haze of domesticity. He felt whole for the first time in his life.

Flip had finally convinced her to take lessons with him at the gun range, even. Though he was inwardly regretting that because he’d discovered she was a better shot than him. Several of their colleagues had been at the range the day she proved that and quickly spread the word at work that the secretary had a better score than even the Sarge. When they gave her the nickname ‘Ace’, he had watched her dazzling smile light up the room and decided he was just fine with being second to her. And a little proud of his girl, as well.  

Flip perked up as (Y/N) and Jimmy came into his view, making their way to the front door. He stood straight, grinning as her eyes found his and a smile broke across her beautiful face. “Morning, pretty girl.” He said, swooping down and pecking her on the cheek as she approached, before passing her a coffee and her notepad.

“You know, Flip, Jimmy is much more talkative than you in the morning, I think I’d be alright with him giving me a ride every day.” She smirked at Flip, thanking him for the coffee and taking a sip, appearing completely at ease and unsuspecting. He hoped.

His eyes found Jimmy’s. The bastard was grinning. “You’ve been telling her embarrassing stories about me?”

Jimmy nodded, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Of course.”

“You told her about the donut shop?”

“Naturally.”

With a groan, Flip wiped his hand down his face, (Y/N) giggling away at his embarrassment. “I’ll tell you my version, which is probably more accurate than Jimmy’s, after this meeting, darling.”

He gestured toward the conference room and they fell in step with him, Jimmy casually hanging back slightly. As they walked, Flip realized that she was wearing his favourite blue dress, the one she wore the first time he’d met her. She didn’t wear it as often nowadays, but clearly felt it made sense for the occasion, even though Flip technically wasn’t there on her first day of work.

Ron crossed the hall ahead and nodded to them, “Morning!” He cheered, before stepping into the room, no doubt signalling everyone inside to prepare. As they came to the door, Flip did two things; first, he grabbed her coffee out of her hands, wanting to avoid her sloshing it all over her outfit, and second he hit the lights on.

As everyone came into view, the room erupted, “SURPRISE!” Cheering and noisemakers paired with the decorations and the crowded room had (Y/N)‘s hands shooting to her face as she gasped in surprise. Flip beamed down at her, urging her further into the room.

“Oh!” When her hands lowered, Flip was delighted to see her bright smile, her eyes glistening slightly. Before she could look to him, she was swept into hug after hug, everyone wanting their turn to congratulate her on the anniversary and proclaim Flip as the organizer of the festivities. As she was moved around from each person, Flip stayed close. His hand pressed to her lower back both as a comfort to her, and a way to distract himself.

The Chief called for silence after a short while, standing next to the table that held all the food. Everyone turned to look at him expectantly. (Y/N) quickly stepped into Flip’s side, an arm snaking around his waist and squeezing him in a silent thank you as she grinned up at him. The knots in his stomach tightened, but he returned her smile with his own, hoping she couldn’t sense his unease at the moment.

“Thank you, everyone, for making it here today to help us celebrate (Y/N)‘s first year anniversary with us!” The Chief called, pausing for brief applause before continuing, “I don’t need to say it, but I’m going to anyway-(Y/N), you make this place a hell of a lot better to work in. You brought poor Donna’s blood pressure down,” Everyone laughed as Donna gave two thumbs up in confirmation, “You’ve organized this place and made it feel warm for not only the public but for each of us. You’re hard work and dedication have been mentioned to me time and time again. By colleagues, members of the public, and even the council! And, of course, you made us all put on a few extra pounds with your impeccable baking. Although we did have to outsource for today’s celebration, we do hope you’ll forgive us!”

As everyone clapped and cheered, Flip glanced down at (Y/N) and gave her a guilty grin, knowing full well she was going to confess to everyone. Giggling, she pointed at the beautifully decorated cupcakes behind the Chief, “No need to worry, Chief, I actually baked those.”

Ron looked around at her in surprise as everyone watched, “What? You baked fifty cupcakes? For your own surprise party?”

She shrugged, “Flip said that the Sarge asked for me to bake them, for a big meeting with the Mayor and council that I’m guessing isn’t happening. I didn’t question it.”

Ron turned to Flip, voicing the question on everyone’s minds, “Why did you make her bake-?”

Flip roared with laughter, “Are you kidding? This whole party would have been a waste if (Y/N) came in here and found out we got the desserts from anyone other than her,” Flip glanced down at (Y/N) to find her nodding heartily in agreement, “I think she had more fun baking last night than she will eating them today.” Again, she was bobbing her head, her cute grin widening.

At that, everyone burst into laughter, applauding (Y/N) for the hard work. With the knowledge that the desserts had been baked by their talented secretary, they all queued up and Donna passed them out. When everyone had either a drink or treat in hand and they refocused on (Y/N), she smiled shyly around, her hands still empty as Flip had asked Donna not to serve her until after he’d made his speech.

“Listen, thank you all so much. I love working here with all of you and I truly couldn’t be more grateful that you all took time out of your days to celebrate here with me,” She looked up at Flip, her eyes warm and happy, “And who knew this man was such a romantic, planning out a whole surprise party for me and giving me a night of busy baking! How lucky am I?”

Though Flip was sure everyone had laughed, his ears had started ringing the moment she had finished speaking and he couldn’t hear properly. His throat was thick, dry and he was sure he was sweating. Sensing the time had arrived, Flip glued his eyes to hers and swallowed.

(Y/N) followed Flip’s movements as he took a step away from her, his hand moving to his pocket while he slowly lowered himself down on one knee. Her eyes snapped up to Flip’s, mouth falling open as he pulled out the ring from his back pocket. The room went silent around them, so silent he could hear his heart beating furiously in his chest.

“Pretty girl,” His voice was low, because even though everyone would hear, the words were just for her, “You and I, we took our time at the start. But I’d never deny having loved you since that first time we met, and every day I’ve loved you more and more,” He held the ring a little higher, though her gaze-now was so intense he could almost hear her thoughts-never left his, “Today isn’t just about celebrating you working here. It’s about celebrating you and how lucky we all are, how fucking lucky I am to know you, to get to love you and have you love me back. I want to marry you and spend every day of the rest of our lives as your husband if you’ll have me.”

Silence. It stretched for a beat, and Flip didn’t know what exactly to expect, but a sense of calm came over him because he knew the look she was giving him; he could hear all the words she wouldn’t say out loud in front of their friends and colleagues, could see her answer on her face as though it were written in bold red pen. The silence was thick because no one else understood her the way Flip did. She was suddenly in his arms, tears streaming down her face as she cried out, “Of course I’ll marry you, detective!” And that silence lifted around them as everyone watching let out a breath.

But Flip hadn’t even needed to hear her say it. He already knew.

+

“Mrs. Zimmerman.”

(Y/N)’s eyes opened and met Flip’s as he stood over her. She was relaxing in the bath, the bubbles still fresh, covering his view of her curves. He’d worked a double that day and would have, really should have, bet that she would be waiting for him in there. Bathing together was one of their favourite ways to end the days.  

“You know, we’re engaged, detective. I don’t think you can call me that yet.” She replied smoothly, sitting up and bracing her elbows on the edge of the tub, smiling up at him. Flip dropped down to his knees and captured her lips with his in a brief kiss.

“Mrs. Zimmerman, pretty girl, (Y/N),” He punctuated each name with a kiss, and she giggled in response. “I’ll call you whatever you want if you let me join you.” He growled, and she giggled in response. Scooting forward to allow him room to sit, her eyes watched him as he stripped and climbed in behind her.

They lay together in the bath for a while in comfortable silence. (Y/N) traced lazy patterns along his upper leg, her head lolling against his chest. When Flip’s mind began to wander to more intimate thoughts, the evidence pressed into (Y/N)’s back and captured her attention.  

“Detective,” She murmured, sitting forward and turning in the water so that she could straddle Flip’s lap. He helped her, huffing out a breath when she settled down and his erection pressed between them. “I’ve been thinking about the wedding, and I agree with you. A backyard wedding next May, it sounds perfect.” She kissed along his jaw, her hands on his chest, which was rising and falling quickly in anticipation.

“Darling, you sure?” He cupped her face in his large hands and pulled back somewhat to look her in the eyes. She smiled, nodded in response, and Flip straightened in excitement. “Does this mean you want to go ahead with the offer on the Lower Gold Camp Road house?”

“I may have already called Edmund back and gave him the go-ahead.” (Y/N) replied, her smile brightening as Flip let out a whoop. “He hasn’t called back yet, not sure if the Riley’s accepted the offer.”

Overwhelmed, Flip gathered her in his arms and pressed his lips to hers, “They loved the cookies you brought, there’s no way they could say no.” He reassured her, feeling confident that the old Riley couple had adored them and would accept their offer. The house had been a lucky find, as it was right next to Bear Creek Regional Park in Old Colorado City. It had a huge back yard, expansive kitchen and the master bath had a giant stand-alone bathtub that could fit them just as well as the one they were currently soaking in.  

(Y/N) reached down between their bodies, her hand gripping Flip’s erection, pulling a thick moan from his throat. “Probably won’t hurt to celebrate early, in that case, right?” And before he could respond, she raised herself over him and slowly sunk down, taking his length inch by inch as they both groaned. Flip’s eyes rolled back.

“Fuck,” He breathed, as her tight warmth clenched around him, so familiar and blissful. His hands dropped to her hips, where he gripped hard enough to leave bruises and helped lift and drop (Y/N) onto him. Their sounds; moans and wet slaps and curses echoed around the tiled bathroom as she bounced eagerly. Flip slid one hand up her back, pressing her body closer so that he could lean down and capture a pointed bud in his mouth, licking and sucking to pull more whines, more sighs of his name from her lips. “That’s it, pretty girl, bounce on my cock, you take me so fucking well sweetheart.” Her moans increased, the pleasure building quickly for them both as they moved together.

They came at the same time, riding over the crest of pleasure as they clung to one another in the bathtub and water sloshed over the sides, soaking the floor. It took a few minutes to come down from the high, (Y/N) collapsed onto Flip’s chest with her legs bent somewhat awkwardly on either side of his thick thighs. They relaxed, working to catch their breath before moving.

Part of Flip could have happily topped up the water in the tub and remained soaking for another hour, but the shrill sound of the phone ringing pulled them both back to reality before he could suggest it. (Y/N) hopped up on shaky legs to race into the bedroom and answer the call.

Her recovery after sex always reminded him of their age gap; there was no way he’d have gotten up that quickly after such a mind-blowing orgasm. He chuckled to himself, pulling the plug to let out the water, the sound of it draining loud enough to block him from hearing who might be on the phone. He quickly dried himself off and grabbed (Y/N) a towel before walking into the bedroom and catching her gaze, his head tilted curiously.

Her eyes were bright, cheeks flushed, and distractingly her body glistened with water. She thanked whoever was on the line as he draped her towel around her shoulders, and then she set the phone back down. “It was Edmund.” Her voice was low, even. Unreadable.

Flip stepped back, “And?” His eyes examined her face, excitement bubbling within.

“And,” Her grin gave her away, but Flip let her have the moment, “They accepted our offer!”

With a roar of joy, Flip lifted (Y/N) into his arms and spun them around. She laughed loudly, her hands gripping his shoulders. Her towel fell, forgotten on the floor as they celebrated the news of the success of buying their first home together.

Flip laid (Y/N) down on their bed and climbed over her, his hands tracing along every inch of her body. He kissed and licked every part of her until she was writhing beneath him with need. And as their bodies came together, he thought of how this beautiful woman had come into his life. How she had altered it so completely. As he moved, drawing out the best of her sounds, he remembered their first time together and he was in awe that it still felt just as amazing, just as perfect and all-encompassing and right.

He’d never thought he deserved to be so happy, that he could make another person feel the same way about him. And yet as he made love to (Y/N) again, in celebration of the home they would get married, have children and grow old together in, he realized it wasn’t that he deserved her. No, it was about spending every single day together like it was their first and last day on earth, it was about making every moment count that they were lucky enough to have with one another because they were soulmates.  

“Pretty girl,” Flip breathed out her name between their moans and gasps, “I love you.”

“Oh detective, you know I love you too.”

And he did know.

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[sabraeal]

And Spring Became the Summer

[Read on AO3]

The very last of my follower fics for the 700 Followers gifts! This one was the bonus for making it to 750 before December, and I’m so glad I’ve FINALLY gotten this done...so I can do it all over again this year 🤣

The last term paper Mitsuhide writes for his undergraduate career he slips into a glossy plastic portfolio-- double-spaced and double-sided, graphs printed in full color-- and turns in personally.

It’s a wide-eyed TA that takes it, seated behind a desk that’s far too big for her. Or well, she’s not wide-eyed at first; instead she’s bent over her work, only glancing up absently to make sure she has it in hand. But a second one turns absence to alarm, eyes fixing to where he grips the plastic, and suddenly he’s all-too aware how easily how just one of his hands could swallow both of hers.

So is she; her eyes pulse wide, and then she’s tracing the line of his arm up and up doggedly, like as long as she just keeps going, she might hit the end of him. When she finally does, he offers her a sheepish smile, shoulders hunched lessen the blow.

She shrinks back, a mousey brown head peeking above an oversized university sweatshirt. So much for that.

“You could have emailed this,” she squeaks, plucking the plastic sleeve from his grip. “I mean, not that you can’t hand it in. It’s just, er...”

“No one does,” another adds, rolling across the floor with a level of curiosity that he’s pretty sure an in-person paper doesn’t warrant. When she measures him with her gaze, she enjoys every inch. “Pretty old fashioned, if you ask me.”

He recognizes both of them; their names had been on the syllabus at the beginning of the semester. He’d found them both on the department website, Amanda wearing the same Clarines sweatshirt she had on today, and Holly’s clearly from some beach vacation, cropped from the shoulders up.

(“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a stalker,” Obi says, hanging upside down from the armchair.

“I’m-- I’m not!” Mitsuhide sputters, heat creeping up his neck. One day, Obi would slip up and say these things in front of someone who mattered, someone with a much more rigid sense of humor than Professor Gazelt, or didn’t know to take every word of his with an ocean of salt like Dean Haruka, and then it would be him that got seated in front of a disciplinary committee. The last thing he needed to do before even finishing law school applications was explain his brother’s poor taste in jokes on the record. “It’s just...”

“That you’re compelled to look at cute girls on the university website?” he offers, so casual. “I could think of hotter majors, if you wanted. Psych seems like it’s the sort of place real tens might hand out, right? Maybe, uh, Education? Kindergarten teachers always are cute--”

“It’s polite,” Mitsuhide grits out, shoulders hunched up by his ears. “You should know everyone on staff in your department, just the way you should know everyone you work with. It’s the proper way to network.”

Obi watches him with wide eyes, like he’s some kind of zoo animal or-- or one of those really bad cooks on TV, the kind who tries to pan fry a chicken whole. “God, you don’t actually do that, do you?”

“It’s the secret to good business.” At least, that’s what his parents always told him.

“You must be...” Obi savors the moment, looking positively euphoric as he says, “Really fucking creepy at the department Christmas party.”)

“No one did,” says the first-- Amanda, graduate summa cum laude from Columbia-- tone aimed to shush. “I’m, uh, happy to take that, though.”

He gives her his most gracious smile. “Thank you.”

“No,” Holly-- Penn State, no honors-- mutters, casting him a speculative glance from the corner of her eyes. Hers go up and up too, but seem to come to a much more amicable conclusion. “Thank you.”

“Stop.” Amanda’s hands flex on the thin plastic; she has soft hands, a callus only on the knuckle of her middle finger, where a pen might rest. Like Shirayuki, only without the thousand nicks and cuts that dot her fingers, battle wounds from wrangling recalcitrant plants.

Her chin pulls up, set in a determined line as she says, “Congratulations on graduating.”

“Ah...” It’s a kind thought, and meant well, but knowing he’s about to spend the next three years earning the degree that counts softens the blow. “Thank you. I hope you have a nice, um, summer?”

“Definitely will be nicer not to grade papers,” Holly offers, immune to Amanda’s shushing. “Do you have pl--?”

“We should get back to grading,” Amanda says, just to the left of too loud. “Have a nice summer.”

Never repeat yourself, Mama always told him, it weakens your position.

You can never be too polite. That’s what Papa would say, when he thanked the cashier for a third time.

Mitsuhide winces; he’s always hated this, being stuck between his parents. It’s clearly time to leave. “Right. Bon été, Amanda.”

“Was that French,” he hears hissed the moment he’s stepped out the door; the same moment another voice says, “Did I tell him my name?”

He should have just emailed it. Mitsuhide can make any number of excuses about the joys of collating and color printing, about face-time and networking, but at the end of the day, he has to call a spade a spade: this has all been an excuse. A thin one too, to keep him out of the house. To put off what he knows need doing.

Mitsuhide steps into the cool air of the foyer, shivering as it catches the sweat that beaded at his hairline on the walk. His courage peaks as he stands there, right next to the shoe mat, grand stair stretching up before him, still in his oxfords--

And immediately effervesces when he catches sight of smooth, bare legs on the coffee table, fuzzy slippers worth more than his phone perched up on the mahogany. This is it, the moment of truth, fight or flight, and he-- he doesn’t know which way to run.

So he doesn’t. He’s drawn there with inexorable motion, a magnet to a lodestone, the hard soles of his shoes clacking against the wood the only thing keeping him grounded. It takes only a few steps before long, tanned legs lead up to sleep shorts; not the clingy kind that curve and cup, but the ones that hang like boxers around the tops of her thighs, rucking up as she moves. After that it’s a hoodie, worn loose and baggy, like it’s supposed to fit someone twice her size, its hood drawn tight against her face. Nothing...sexy, not the way Obi might say, with far too much eyebrows involved. But still, his mouth runs dry, tongue heavy behind his teeth.

How on earth is he going to do this?

“Kiki.” He speaks before he thinks, sinking down on the table. It creaks beneath him, ominous. “I owe you a date.”

“Oh shit.” Obi flops over on the recliner, wide gold eyes peeking over the arm. “Check out the balls on this kid.”

This is a terrible idea. He should have known not to do this in a-- a common room, one where other brothers might be hiding.

“Sorry,” he creaks, levering himself up. “I didn’t realize-- you’re clearly busy--”

“No.” Kiki’s lays her feet right on his thighs, pushing him down with a thump. “You were saying something important.”

He darts a glance to the shadow squirming obnoxiously on soft leather. “But Obi--”

“Obi,” she informs him, as imperious as any C-suite member, “can leave.”

Obi doesn’t so much bark out a laugh as honks it. “Not unless I got time to make popcorn.”

Her head doesn’t move an inch from where she’s got it, chin tilted up to meet his own gaze. Her eyes though, those slide pointedly away, fixed at their corners, radiating malice. Kiki is slow to speak, deliberate when she does, but her eyes-- well, there’s a wealth of words in every look, and right now they’re reading Obi the riot act.

It would have worked better if Obi wasn’t already so used hearing it.

“Ignore him,” Kiki decides, attention snapping back to him. “He’s furniture.”

“Oh, Ms Kiki,” Obi drawls, barreling towards a mistake, “you could sit on me any--”

“You were saying?” she says, every word iron. Obi takes the hint, for once.

“I, uh...well, you paid for a date,” Mitsuhide manages lamely, darting a worried look to where Obi lounges on the chair. “I mean, you paid a lot for a date. And I understand that you may have just wanted to donate to the frat, but if you wanted to--”

“I told you,” Kiki says, dry, toes flexing firmly on his knee. “I expect you to make it worth my while.”

“Ah, y-yeah.” Her saying that while looking at him like she did-- well, his brain had that queued up every time he blinks his eyes. Sometimes it changed venues, and there were some, uh, costume changes at times, but if he shut his eyes right now it’d spool up with perfect fidelity. “I thought it might, um, d-distract you if we tried before finals, but since you’ve finished-- we’ve finished--”

“As of twenty minutes ago,” Obi adds, so helpful.

“--I thought it might be a fun way to relax.” He’s honestly never felt less relaxed in his life just sitting here, contemplating it. Half of it he can chalk up to Obi, curled over the recliner like a gremlin, waiting to wreak his version of chaos the second he can weasel his fingers in, but the other--

Well, it’s hard to ask someone on a date when you know they’ve already got someone in mind for the position. Even if it’s just-- this. As friends.

His heart’s in his throat. At least, that’s what he thinks until Kiki’s mouth curves; then he knows it’s never been in his possession at all, but always utterly hers. “Sounds like fun.”

Tension rushes out of him on a sigh. “Ah, great. I though we might, er, go to Boston? You know,” he hurries to spit out, before any words can fall from her parted lips, “since there’s not much out here we haven’t seen.”

She hesitates. Of course she does. Boston’s practically her hometown, and he’s sitting here, thinking it’ll impress her. Like she hasn’t seen everything that’s worth seeing there twice over and in private. That she hasn’t just told him no outright is a testament to how well Mr Seiran’s raise her, and--

“Let’s make a day of it.”

Mitsuhide startles, nearly tipping off the table’s edge before he glances up, right into her row of perfectly straight teeth. Her mom’s smile, she always told him, but he’s only ever seen it on her. “I-- yes. That’s..good.”

Her lips curl, hiding her teeth. “Let me handle the accommodations.”

“Ah, no.” His head sweeps through big, nervous back-and-forths. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to--”

“You’re not,” Kiki informs him. “I’m telling you. I’ll handle accommodations. You’re seeing to the rest of the weekend, correct?”

“Y-yes.” He tries to fold his arms across his lap, but with her feet right on his thighs, it ends up with his hands covering her ankles. He expects her to move them, but instead her legs still, tendons relaxing under his palms. “That’s the plan, but, really--”

“It’s the least I can do.” She shifts her macbook off the couch’s arm, fingers already flying across the keyboard. “One night?”

“I...” He should decline. He should tell her that if she can drop a whole K on a date with him, he can shell out for one night at a hotel with a higher rating than a Holiday Inn.

But this is Kiki Seiran, heir to Seiran International. She’s not just used to five stars but the penthouse suite. He could book four star cheap on Hotwire, but imagining her in one of those suites, the sheets starched and thread count insufficient--

“Yeah,” he grunts, “one night’s fine.”

“Perfect.” Her teeth snap around the word. “Leave it to me.”

“So,” Obi starts before Mitsuhide’s even hit the last step. “We have a bet going on.”

He grimaces, shifting the duffel over his shoulder. “I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.”

‘Pretty sure’ turns to ‘certain’ once he catches Obi’s grin. “It’s about whether you’ll get your dick wet.”

“Sorry, not interested.” He heaves the bag beside the front door, brushing off his shorts. “Isn’t it too early for you to be up? I thought you didn’t know about the hours before ten.”

“I had motivation,” Obi assures him, slinking up beside him with a grin a mile wide. “You know, Shiira says that you won’t on the grounds that you’re a gentleman.”

More like the lady isn’t interested. “I already said I wasn’t--”

“Kai says you will,” he continues blithely, “and you’ll come back on time. Shuuka agrees, except that he thinks you’ll miss check out with all the boning down and won’t make it back until evening.”

“Isn’t this breaking the bylaws?” Mitsuhide grunts, slipping on his sneakers. “Don’t we have something about betting...?”

“For money,” Obi agrees. “Zen still wouldn’t put a bet down though.”

That’s assuring at least. “Of course n--”

“Shiira already took his.” Obi shakes his head. “And we wouldn’t allow him to say the same thing except that he thinks it’s because you’re and idiot.”

Well, that’s a little rich, coming from Zen. Mitsuhide was loath to remind anyone that besides Obi, he is the most experienced, but-- some people should be taking that into account. Even if nothing is going to happen.

“Don’t worry, Big Guy.” Obi claps him on the shoulder, smile somehow drifting towards kindly. “I gave you until Monday.”

“Obi--”

“And Kiki will walk in with a limp.”

“Obi, you know that’s not...” His breath hisses between his teeth. “That’s not what me and Kiki are like.”

“You keep thinking that, Big Guy, but--” he leans in, cupping a hand around his mouth-- “my original bet was gonna be Tuesday. Too bad Kiki had already taken it.”

Mitsuhide stares at him, slack-jawed. “W-what did you just--?”

“I should have known, you’re already here.”

His head jerks up, right to the top of the grand stair, the beginning of a quick glance-- but it’s no use. There’s no possible way he could make his eyes focus anywhere but on Kiki, not when she’s wearing-- when she’s--

“Ooh.” Obi’s mouth curls, matching Kiki’s knowing smirk. “Is that a skirt?”

It is. And not-- not her field hockey kit, mid-thigh with shorts beneath, but and actual skirt, one that floats just above her knees, gauzy and floral. A single flash of leg tells him there’s nothing else beneath. Ah, well, besides the obvious. Mitsuhide swallows hard, mouth dry.

She raises a brow, hand trailing sinuously down the banister beside her. “It is a date, isn’t it?”

Her heels clack when she takes the last step into the foyer, clack because it’s the cork of her wedges that hits the floor first, because-- nom de Dieu-- she’s wearing shoes that tilt her a few inches close to him. Close enough that he could just bend at the neck and--

“Ah,” he coughs, fingers clenching in his shirt. “You might be a little overdressed. At least for this first part.”

Both her brows raise now. “Am I?”

“God,” Obi mutters at his shoulder, head buried in his hands. “You could at least say she looks nice.”

Well, when he’s right, he’s right.

“You look, ah, great though,” Mitsuhide hurries to add. “Beautiful.”

Kiki, to his surprise, beams. “Well, I brought a few outfits. I’ll change at the hotel.”

“Ah, sure.” He scoops up his duffel, holding out a hand for her bag as she passes. “You’re ready to go?”

Her mouth quirks at a corner. “As I’ll ever be.”

He hums, uncertain, suddenly left-footed with her so close. They should leave, but that involves a number a movements he’s suddenly stymied by.

Thankfully, Obi opens the door, practically shoving him onto the porch. “All right kids, be safe now.”

“Obi...”

“Don’t worry,” Kiki drawls, sashaying over the threshold. “I packed plenty of condoms.”

The door cuts off Obi’s laugh, but Mitsuhide can’t escape the pounding of his heart.

“You know,” he sighs, trailing after her, “you’re only encouraging him when you say things like that.”

“Oh that’s too bad,” she hums, floating past. “I was trying to encourage you.”

[the-collectim]

.:Prompt 14 - Commend (Keito & Hisoka):.

Warnings: For non-explicit sexy times aftermath.

---

Hisoka was proud of the bruises he left on those dainty pale wrists as he let go, the white-winged crow falling face-first to the futon beneath him and out of breath. He glared at the beautiful white wings, the anomaly of their kin. Hands ran up that scarred back, sliding the base of those lovely limbs in between the webbing of his longer fingers.

That earned a look over his shoulder from the other tengu, flushed as he may have been, pale hair sticking to his face and neck. Despite this...retreat, their relationship was less than amicable.

How wonderful it must’ve been to soar through the skies, navigating the wind as if it were breathing itself. To be lost in the feeling of crisp air buffeting clothes and hair, leaving sometimes harsh kisses across the cheeks when it became too cold. There was jealousy. Envy. Hatred. This aberrant man still had such a gift...

“<Hii-kun, if you don’t mind, I really do need to shower,>” Keito chuckled, laying his head down on folded arms. No, there was no danger even if he could sense that animosity.

A ‘tch’ from the dark crow as tanned fingers left the contrasting pale skin and he pulled back from that warm body, satisfied at the mess he’d left about the other before he sat to the side, body slicked with sweat.

The futon-bound tussle had taken the last of that pent-up emotion out of him. Would this happen again? Who knew.

They were both exiles of different sorts. Anomalies of their kin. Perhaps they only deserved to bed each other for like company.

Keito rolled to his side, hand rubbing his wrists, shoulders sore from the rough pulling the other had done on his arms as he’d mounted him from behind.  “<You’ve done well here, Hii-kun,>” he said with a smile as he rested from the ‘jaunt.’ “<And I hear you’ve taken over the Night Market that runs beneath this island. Impressive.>”

Hisoka’s one good wing twitched, the other hanging limply behind him. “<Tis a small market compared to the one that lays beneath Kugane. However it’s running smoothly now..>”

“<As expected. You’re a far cry from the hatchling that would chase his brothers about, begging to be picked up to play the flying game,>” he chuckled.

A quick turn about and glare from that one gold eye, the eyepatch still in place over the other. Talking about Kuroyama Mountain was something that was not allowed, even if he’d never said such words aloud.

But of course, the other crow didn’t seem to mind, eyes closed in memory wonderland. “<You were so cute ♪~! And when one of your brothers stole your bag of caramel corn...oh your face was so reeeeeeeed.>” “<Quiet!>” he barked, a hand going to that pale throat. Delicate. How was someone such his elder so fragile?

But Keito only smiled despite that threat, laying there with no fight. It was enough pressure to threaten but not to lay him low. Ah, he had much practice to be able to ascertain that.

“<Squeeze harder,>” he teased.

A blink and ‘bah’ as Hisoka stood. leaving red marks behind on soft flesh. “<...no wonder you have no friends, you freak.>”

Ah, Keito knew that title well! Wore it openly nowadays, why not? He watched appreciatively as the Ghost Market Master dressed, flicking that long black hair over his shoulder. A shame. Hisoka was a lovely example of their kind. 

“<You really did do well,>” the oracle said quietly, resting his head on an arm as he lay there, wings lax behind him. “<Most would’ve given up.>”

There was no immediate response as Hisoka looked himself over in the mirror, the revealing robes perfectly in place. Claws that had drawn blood on the other fixed his hair into its loose tail.

“<Perhaps that serpent, Shen? He was good for you. You must love him ♪~!>”

Another ‘tch’ as Hisoka turned to glare at the youkai relaxing in the futon. “<He’s a friend.>”

“<Nothing else? ♪>”

“<Nothing else. He’s a widower and devoted to his son. Besides, there has never been anything more and never will be.>” He was sure of that. There were times when he was younger, perhaps, that Hisoka had daydreamed about a good roll in the hay with the stoic and powerful creature. But those time were long past and the thought never proceeded further than that.

Soft blue eyes watched the dark figure head to the door. “<Still, he was good for you. Now if you don’t mind, I’m going to lay here and take a loooooong nap after you put me through the wringer. Congratulations on that, too, by the way,>” he chortled, rolling to his other side. “<You’re not terrible at the sex thing either.>”

Another loud ‘tch’ as the door was slid shut loudly behind his departure, leaving the pale tengu to giggle to himself.