#Friends let friends use stupid pick-up lines as conversation starters

[artemismoorea03]

Ok, but for your amusement, might I suggest:

Tucker decides Danny needs a break and a shot at a love life. Tucker blackmails Danny into ATTENDING (though he makes the mistake of not specifying for how long) and Danny runs into a bored Wayne kid. Neither want to be there. Both were blackmailed with the kindest intentions. Both decide to team up to make their well-meaning but obnoxious meddlers pay.

I MIGHT HAVE GONE A LITTLE CRAZY WITH A REPLY HOLY FUCK, I'M SO SORRY. WARNINGS FOR THE END: MENTIONS OF GUNS, THREATS OF VIOLENCE, VIOLENCE. Happy ending <3

"Danny, you need a break." Tucker said, and Danny sighed.

"This again? Guys, I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Danny." Sam insisted, standing next to Tucker. She had originally struck up this conversation when they were still in Amity Park. "You're going through a lot right now and you need a distraction that isn't work or ghost related. Gardening didn't work-" Because he froze every plant he touched, "Meditation didn't work-" because when he closed his eyes and tried to relax he would have flashbacks about the countless things he'd seen since the accident. "So the next step is dating."

Danny rolled his eyes. "Hard pass."

"Come on dude, Sam is right. If nothing else you can at least do some people watching and get to know the city better!"

Danny simply continued to scroll on Tiktok, wondering how hard it would be to do one of those dancing videos he saw everywhere. Then again he'd actually need to know how to dance for that to work. He was so busy looking at the video he didn't notice the glance his friends passed between each other before they sighed.

"You've given us no choice, Danny." Sam said, "Tucker."

Tucker held a phone out to Danny to make him see the screen as Danny's face burned red at the picture. It was a picture of him in his Phantom form after a fight with Skulker where a good chunk of his suit had been destroyed, showing off more than Danny was comfortable with.

"DUDE! I told you to delete that!" Danny said, jumping off the couch towards Tucker who was pulled out of the way by Sam who then armed herself with a frying pan. "Delete it, guys!"

"No way! And if you don't at least get out of this house and at least make a friend I'm going to make a Phantom Dating Profile using this picture!"

"You wouldn't dare." Danny glared.

"Try us." Sam said, "We'll even send it through the Ghost Zone now that the Phantom Phones are working we're bound to get some replies from interested ladies."

Danny faultered, then groaned. "Fine."

"Hell yeah, we even made it easy for you." Sam said, handing Danny a piece of laminated plastic. "One ticket to the Wayne Gala this weekend. Tucker got permission for two people to go with him. Which means the three of us are going to a party!"

"A party. A Wayne run party? You guys are just begging for trouble." Danny sighed, "Besides, I don't own a tux, remember?"

"Leave that to me."

Two days later the party arrived and the three of them walked up the drive towards the building where the event was being held.

Sam was wearing a beautiful A-Line dress that was jet black in color with a rose shaped black bracelet that was wrapped around her wrist over the back of her hand and connected to her middle finger.

Tucker was wearing a black suit with a white button up shirt with slight rose shaped patterns on it, a black tie and a thin gold chain connected to his left vest pocket. he looked very sofisticated.

Danny felt like a fool though. Silently wishing he had never let Sam pick out his clothes. He was wearing a white button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, exposing the black compression sleeve on his left hand, a gray vest, black suit pants, black shoes and a black tie. He was wearing a silver watch on his right hand which served as a ghost portal maker in emergencies.

He also knew that the 'pocket watch' in Tucker's Pocket was the same kind of device, and the rose Sam was wearing would release harmless smoke out of it if they needed a distraction.

Danny still felt like this was a bad idea. No, actually, this was a terrible idea. Not only because he looked out of place compared to his friends but compared to the rest of the party he hardly seemed like he fit in. He was going to draw so much attention to himself.

They walked to the front doors, showing their invitations and id's to the guards before walking inside. It wasn't as loud as some other parties they'd seen since coming to Gotham but it also was more crowded. There were people everywhere in expensive outfits, talking about... something that sounded like rich person gossip, it was boring.

"Have fun you two, don't make fools out of yourselves." Sam said, waving as she walked over to mingle with a young woman with blonde hair and another girl with short black hair, both seemed to recognize her.

"Oh, hey those guys are from my team, I'll catch you later, Danny. I wanna talk shop." Tucker said, rushing off just as quickly as Sam did as Danny sighed.

'I wanna go home.' He thought as he began to wade through the sea of people, trying to find his way to a wall where he could make himself look as small as possible. Not that it would be hard, his body was so busy developing new powers all the time it had decided that he didn't need to grow anymore after he turned 16 and stuck him at a solid 5'6".

He finally found his way to a corner, letting out a sigh as he sat down on a chair and looked out at the party happening all around him. He started to subconsciously count the people in the room, even going so far as to closed his eyes and sensed the very souls in the room. 56 people in his room, 17 in the room Sam was in, 10 upstairs. Danny then opened his eyes and got a sense for the room in another way. 45 windows lined the entire South side of the building if he was going his math right, with two sets of double doors near the front of the building. The building was mostly open floorplan which helped keep an eye on everybody but in an emergency it would be a stampede.

A man walked over, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall with a growl. He was wearing clothes similar to Danny's but with a red shirt, but what caught Danny's attention was how he felt. He was luminal but not like Sam who felt like a walk through the garden or Tucker who felt like gritty sand, no the feeling that came from this man was like fire. A burning pain that also felt like grease stuck to the back of Danny's throat.

He was luminal but the ectoplasm that made him luminal was so fucking tainted that it made Danny want to gag.

Seeming to notice Danny's glance the man looked back at him.

"What?" He growled.

"Nothing, just thought your hair was cool." Danny said, noting the white streak at the front of his bangs.

The man blinked, touching his hair. He was about Danny's age if he had to guess, maybe a bit older.

"Thanks. It's a birthmark." He grumbled, but Danny could tell that it was probably a sore subject. If death turned his hair white he could only assume it did the same to this guy too. "What's your name kid? Never seen you at one of these boring as parties."

"Danny. Danny Fenton. And I'm not a kid, I'm 19."

"Same age as me, neat. The name's Jason." Jason introduced, himself. "You work at Wayne Enterprises?"

"Kinda, I'm just the janitor, my friend was the one who was invited. I'm just one of his plus ones."

"Yikes, what'd you do to deserve a punishment like that?" Jason asked as Danny laughed.

"My friends decided that going to work then living as some kind of godless cryptid that sleeps the rest of the day 'isn't healthy' so they dragged me out here in hopes that I'll make friends. Though they may have heavily implied that they expected me to either find a date or hook up with somebody while I was here. When I said no, they blackmailed me here. I'm just hoping that if I stay small and don't complain then they'll just let me exist without getting in my face for a while. What about you, what are you in for?"

Jason hummed and nodded, "Similar story. My dad and siblings are all here and said that if I didn't at least make an appearance this time that they would hide some of my books. Among other things. Plus my older brother used the whole 'you never spend time with us' whimper while my two sisters gave me puppy dog eyes."

Danny and Jason sighed before Danny looked at him. "Wanna hang out so they think we're playing nice and leave us alone?"

"Sure." Jason chuckled, "So which ones are your friends?"

"That one there." Danny said pointing to Tucker, "Tucker Foley, he works as a Programmer at WE. Then over there is Sam Mason, she works as a Gardener."

Jason's eyes widened, "Doesn't your friend Sam work at the Wayne Manor?"

"Yeah? How do you know that?"

"My dad is Bruce Wayne." He said, his eyes going to Tucker before they landed back on Danny and he laughed. "Wait. You're that Janitor?"

Danny swallowed a lump in his throat. "I don't understand?"

"My dad came home one day and said that somebody told him that there was information happening at Wayne Enterprises that was above his paygrade an we've been teasing him about it for weeks. Now every time he asks anything we reply with 'that's above your paygrade, Bruce'."

Danny groaned, his cheeks burning red. "Oh my god, I can't believe this. I didn't even mean to say that, I just panicked when he suddenly showed up in storage for no reason and caught me... uh... testing stuff."

"Testing stuff?" Jason asked as Danny nodded.

"Y-yeah. See, I work as a janitor because I didn't graduate high school and unlike Tucker I can't just breeze through school and show off my hacking skills to get a job. So I've been using some of the tech that gets thrown away to make something that would help me temporarily lift some of the fragile heavy objects around the building and place them harmlessly down so I can clean under them. But then Bruce caught me, I panicked and that was my reply." Danny was quick to explain, which wasn't a lie he was working on something like that but it was for the Ghost Zone to help him move some heavy things around his Lair and hold down things that often floated off for no damn reason.

"You know, that does explain a couple of things. I can't imagine your boss seeing you mess with tech would be a fun thing to explain. But... if you're so smart why didn't you graduate?"

Danny shook his head, "I'm not smart, I mean not like Tucker or Sam or my family. My sister is in Metropolis studying Psychology and is already a good way through her degree because she graduated a year early. Tucker and Sam graduated and are both working on getting degrees in something but nah, school just wasn't something I could do. Sitting behind a desk learning from a book isn't my thing. I'm better at using my hands, figuring stuff out on the fly, and trial and error shit."

Jason thought about this for a moment before he smiled. "I don't blame you, school is bullshit. Just like stupid galas."

"Mhm..."

Jason suddenly smiled, "Dude, I have the best idea to get back at all of them."

Danny smiled back, "Oh, you have all of my attention."

That one choice was how Danny ended up leaning against a wall closer to the crowd while Jason loomed with one hand near his head, talking to him about absolutely nothing important just to play the position while Danny occasionally chuckled. To anybody outside of the conversation it was supposed to look like they were flirting, which in a way they were but they also weren't.

"Do you like raisins? How about a date?"

Danny chuckled, at the horrible pickup line. "Excuse me, sir, do you have the time? I would like to know the exact time when I got a crush on you."

Jason snorted, "Are you a magnet? Because you sure are attracting to me."

Noticing Tucker and Sam looking his way Danny reached up and gently touched Jason's black tie to sell it more, but he was careful not to touch Jason otherwise. "Let's flip a coin." He told the taller man, "Heads I'm yours, tails you're mine."

Jason's cheek got ever so slightly red as he cleared his throat. "Are you a parking ticket, because you've got fine written all over you." He said as Danny chuckled again, watching Sam and Tucker quickly walk away to give Danny privacy.

"If you were a vegetable you'd be a cute-cumber."

Jason relaxed again at the cheesy flirt as Danny touched the silk tie in his hands. Not because he was actively trying to flirt with Jason but because it felt really nice and expensive. Jason snapped him out of his thoughts with another flirt. "Do you believe in love at first sight, or shall I walk by again?"

Before Danny could think of another flirt another man walked over, this one about 24 or so in age. He had wavy black hair and blue eyes with tan skin.

"Little Wing! Who's your friend?"

"Ugh." Jason groaned, moving slightly as Danny let go of his tie. "Take a hint, Dickie-Bird." He groaned.

The new person simply ignored Jason though and held out his hand.

"Hi! I'm Dick, Jason's older brother."

Danny shook his hand, "Danny. Danny Fenton, it's nice to meet you."

"You too, Danny! You look a little young to be working at WE, are you here with somebody?"

"A bit of both, I'm a janitor at WE but I'm here with my friend Tucker."

"Really? That's awesome! How old are you, Danny?"

"I'm 19."

This seemed to relieve Dick in a way that confirmed any suspicion that Danny had about him checking to make sure Jason wasn't doing anything illegal though he found himself ever so slightly annoyed. Did he look that young? No, people were just blind.

"Neat! Well, I just wanted to make sure Little Wing here didn't ditch the party, so I'll let you guys go back to what you were doing. Have fun~" He said, then walked away as Danny chuckled and looked at Jason.

"'Little Wing'?"

"Dick gives everybody nicknames, it's stupid. Now, where were we?" He asked, suddenly slamming his hand back by Danny's head as his cheeks grew warm. "Oh, that's right, I was going to out cheese you with these stupid fuckin' flirts."

Danny snorted, "Do you play soccer? Because you look like a keeper."

"I'm studying to be a historian. I'm really interested in finding a date."

This continued for a long time until they ran out of flirts and by that point Bruce Wayne was about to do a speech. At least that was the plan until suddenly the doors slammed open as party was crashed by a large group of people all wearing matching masks. Masks that looked like Ghostface from Scream.

There were at least twenty of them, all heavily armed with guns that they fired into the air. Jason cursed and Danny quickly grabbed him by the arm.

"Don't." He said, looking for Sam and Tucker who were trapped on the other side of the room. They were separated, they were in a large room but with so many people they might have been trapped in a hallway. "Where's your family?"

Jason looked around, "I see my dad and youngest brother. My two sisters are with your friend Sam. I don't see the other three though."

Danny shook off the question of 'just many of you are there' and instead nodded. "Okay, my friends are together too. So we should stick together, everybody else is in groups. Rushing anywhere now might start a stampede."

Jason frowned then glared at the criminals who were pointing their guns at everybody.

"Okay~ I think it's time we get this party started. Now, let's make this easy. If you don't actively work at Wayne Enterprises or aren't related to Wayne Family via blood or adoption get on your stomachs on the ground, the rest of you stay on your feet."

"They're looking for somebody..." Jason mumbled as Danny nodded.

The majority of the crowd laid down while only about a third of the crowd remained standing allowing them to see each individual person.

"Very good!" The criminal in charge praised and looked around. "Now, anybody who makes the wrong move will get one of the people laying on the ground killed. I know a lot of you are stupid enough to try to play heroes so instead of you getting shot we'll shoot whoever is closest to us."

"Shit." Danny and Jason both said together before passing a glance at one another.

The one in charge looked around again until he looked at Danny and pointed at him. "You. Step up."

"No way." Jason said as the man pointed a gun at a young woman who sobbed in fear.

"No no, it's okay. I'm coming." Danny said, patting Jason's arm as he walked carefully through the crowd towards the gunmen.

"Nice to see you again, brat." Hissed the man as Danny raised a brow. Before he could question it though the man pointed to Bruce Wayne. "You. Step up."

"Father." The young kid standing next to Bruce Wayne said going to argue but Bruce just told him to stay put then walked towards them. Bruce kept his hands up, looking at Danny with a clear look of recognition.

"Why don't you let the kids go, there's not a lot of them but those who are here don't need to be involved in whatever demands you have." Bruce said.

"Hah, no way, Bruice-Boy." Hissed the man as two of his men grabbed Bruce by his wrists, yanking his arms behind his back and knocking him back down to his knees. "We came here today for you, but damn we're lucky that this one is here. See, if it weren't for the kid here-" The man grabbed Danny by the front of his suit, shoving the barrel against his chin. "We wouldn't need to do this. This is what happens when you meddle, brat."

Danny's heart sank before he glared. "It's you. You're that bastard who boke in a few weeks ago!"

"Yeah! And if you had just minded your damn business this wouldn't be happening now. If you had just let us do what we were going to do then it wouldn't be a problem."

"You were trying to burn down part of the building with people still inside, I wasn't going to let you."

"And how is that turning out for you now, brat? Hm?" He moved the gun from Danny's chin as shoved Danny back into the arms of two more men who grabbed Danny's arms and shoved them behind his back but let him stay on his feet. "Now, Mr. Wayne, let me explain. See, you and your company were trying to find a cure for something found in the water supply that was making some kids sick, but see were were making a lot of money selling the cure at the highest price. We were going to destroy your progress but unfortunately we were stopped by another kid who thought he was a hero. So, this is what we're going to do. You're good at fundraising so you're going to help us fundraise ransoms for each and every one of these people from their own pockets. The more a person pays the more limbs they get to keep. We'll start at 20,000 per limb." He pointed his gun at Jason. "We'll start with the young man closest to doing something stupid."

Danny growled, glancing at Sam and Tucker. Their eyes met and Danny flashed them green. Sam nodded then with a swift motion told her friends something before smashing her bracelet on the ground.

In an instant their area filled with smoke that rushed out covering the men with smoke and protecting the majority of the crowd laying on the ground in a layer of smoke while only those standing could be seen. Danny reacted as well, knowing that more people would be able to see him . Dropping his full weight down he yanked the two men holding him together as they smashed their heads together and let him go. Danny then elbowed the one to his right in the crotch before standing up, grabbing the barrel of his gun and yanking it upwards, squeezing the metal so the gun would be unusable before he pulled it from the mans hand. Flipping on the safety of the gun he spun it and smacked the man in the temple with the butt.

Danny spun the gun, moving it to his left hand before disarming the man of his gun and kicking it into the smoke in the direction of the stairs in hopes of keeping it away from people. Snapping out of their dazes Bruce and Jason also seemed to react as Bruce slammed his head back, breaking the nose of one of the men before elbowing one in the center of the chest knocking the breath out of him while Jason grabbed the barrel of the gun the main guy was using and shoved it up, causing the gun to go up and break some of the ceiling plaster but preventing people from getting hit. Deciding to leave those men to those two Danny go to work again, but this time in a slightly different way.

He hated fighting humans.

They were too fleshy and not durable like ghosts so he chose not to fight and the smoke provided the perfect cover as he froze the feet of the enemies who were still posing threats while mysterious snake like shapes wriggled under the smoke and yanked the men under to where they would later be found wrapped up in plants or ice. One by one the men were taken down until there was a pained cry that made Danny turn when he heard Bruce shout.

"Jason!"

Danny turned, seeing Jason rubbing at his face. There as a cut above his brows from a knife. He had managed to get the gun from the man but he had pulled out a knife.

Protect.

Danny snarled, taking a step forward as the man went to stab Jason. Danny and Bruce moved at the same time with Bruce covering his son. But Danny made it to them before the man could make contact and he got in the way of the attack. Danny held the wrists of the man as he barred his teeth.

Danny shoved the mans hands upwards, knocking him back slightly before he spun and did a roundhouse kick. An attack that he might have put just a bit too much power into as the man was thrown a good ten feet backwards towards the stairs and the doors that he had broken down. Danny could hear the man wheezing and coughing, seeing him flailing desperately under the smoke but not getting up.

No sooner did Danny relax and turn back to the Bruce and Jason then did Batman (who seemed shorter today for some reason), Red Robin and Signal showed up with the police and a verity of confused looks.

"You sure you're okay?" Danny asked Jason who nodded, his forehead bandaged.

"Just a scratch, headwounds bleed a lot. I'm more confused what the hell just happened. Normally the bats react more quickly than that when they send in a smoke screen."

Danny chuckled, "You have a lot of experiences with the bats?"

"I'm a Wayne, it comes with the territory. Are your friends okay?" He asked as Danny looked towards Sam and Tucker who were mostly just waiting for Danny to finish but Tucker was also hacking on his phone to erase whatever data he could from the security cameras as he possibly could.

"They're fine. I'm going to get an earful for being reckless though."

"I don't think you were reckless. But... how did you learn to fight like that?"

"Uh... long story. Where we come from though the saying 'fight or die' was serious and there were daily reminders of it. But again... long story."

Jason nodded, looking drained. "Well... I know that this whole thing was just a way to get our groups off of our backs but how would you like to get dinner together some day? Just as friends, I mean I'm not against maybe trying some day but right now I kinda wanna get to know you. Besides, I'd like to thank you for protecting me and my dad."

Danny thought for a moment before he smiled. "Sure." He reached into his pocket and handed Jason his phone. Jason typed in his number then handed the phone back. "Get home safe, Jason."

"You too, Danny."

Danny started walking away when Bruce suddenly called out.

"Danny." Danny stopped and turned towards his boss, shrinking down slightly before Bruce smiled and put his hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"All good."

"Are you sure? You did really well out there but if you're hurt you should get looked out."

"I'm not hurt, Mr. Wayne, I promise. Just really tired."

"Alright, if you're sure." Bruce moved his hand and smiled, "Thanks for saving us, Danny."

"Any time, Mr. Wayne, but let's not make a habit out of it, okay? I moved to Gotham to get away from craziness like that." He said, waving his hand as he walked to his friends as he wrapped his arms over both of their shoulders and they made their way home.

"So, you guys have fun?" Sam asked as Danny looked at her.

"You know what... kinda, yeah. At least until the end."

"Did you get his number?" Wondered Tucker.

"Of course I did."

[ohmysparkle]

Spellbound intro III

🌙 Pairing: Hyunjin (Stray Kids) x Reader

🌙 Genre: Dark Fantasy AU, Mystery, smut.

🌙 Teaser Length: 3K

🌙 Warnings: Blood, bodily injury, cannibalism in this chapter. For the series overall, smut, gore, witchcraft, religious themes.

🌙✨Tag List: @xviternity @straykisz @97lovestay (unable to tag)

✧･ﾟ:･ﾟ *✧･ﾟ. ✨ . *: ･ﾟ 🌙 * ･ﾟ✧ * : ･ﾟ✧. ✨･ﾟ.*.✧

It’s smouldering hot, and the once neatly dressed man that stands on the corner of the street has now soiled his white clothes with sweat. The beads shimmer on his dark skin, and he rubs at his brows, to remove the tension as well as to wipe the perspiration before it falls to his eyes.

He’s had enough. If the man he waits for doesn't come to him, then he shall go to look.

The first person to ask is only a few steps away. He stomps past his own - empty - storefront and enters the following shop, the butcher’s shop precisely.

“Eustace!” The sweaty man calls, awaiting for a dimwit in his 20’s with a curly head of hair to appear. The front stall is empty, but somewhere in the back he hears a clang before his call is answered.

“Ji - Jiggly? What can I help you with today?” Eustace replies in confusion.

“Your brother is late.” Says the man, rather matter-of-factly.

“Hmm.” Eustace thinks, for longer than necessary, “He should have been by yours a while ago.”

“Yes - I know that, which is why I’ve come here to tell you he’s late. It’s almost ten o'clock and I’ve yet to finish the filling for the meat pies - they wont be done in time for lunch unless Emerson shows up now.”

“Well…” Eustace thinks. The impatient man pauses at the worrying thought that he, the older of the two brothers, is somehow to inherit the family business. It’s not a match for his mind.

“Eustace - could you call your father to figure out how much longer the delivery will take?”

“Oh, dad’s not at the other shop. Emerson was only going in today to pick up the day’s delivery orders.”

“So you don’t know where he is?”

“I really have no idea.”

“Ah - goodness Eustace, does that not bother you in the least?”

The man storms out from the butcher's place, mumbling and grunting to himself, making his way to the corner once more to see if Emerson has made an appearance. He looks over the bend, down a block to where the road runs along the shore of the lake - nothing.

It’s getting late, and he’s sure his clientele would not appreciate the absence of his meat pies.

The lake, glistening in that cool morning sun…

Just how desperate was he to find Emerson?

“Why do they talk to you like that?” Jiggly asks you, clothed in your usual black, but in thinner fabrics to allow for the breeze to cool you on that one summer day.

“Like what?” You ask him.

“Well - they actually talk for starters. And they’re kinda nice, don’t look like they’ll bite you.” He says, watching in awe as you gently take the hand of each of the ladies in the water as a greeting.

“Jiggly… look. Mermaids, sirens, think of them as regular leg people. Do you walk up to a person on the street and gawk? No. Do you slowly socialize until they are acquainted with you? Yes. Just come down and make small talk from time to time and they’ll get along with you just fine.”

“But don’t they eat people?!”

“Well… they could, but I brought them apples so I guess they’re not really hungry now.”

“Apples? That’s all it took?” He looks at the three wet ladies, sitting upon the small embankment that piled onto the paved sidewalk. “Just apples?”

“Well… fruit in general they tend to like. I always start with apples, nobody has dietary issues with apples. Sometimes I make them some food too.” One of the ladies, with long hair that winds and circles around her body covering her figure along with some small white garments, strokes your calf as if she were petting a cat. It all seemed so bizarre, the water women were always so angry, hissing and growling, baring sharp teeth and nails.

“They’re fond of physical contact once they trust you.” You explain, taking a bite of one of your spare apples. Another lady, a younger, girlish one, pokes at your thigh as you are about to eat more. You roll your eyes and relinquish the apple to her.

“I’m not taking chances.”

“You underestimate how helpful they are. They can go from one side of the lake in a minute, they share everything they hear with one another, they travel the oceans. If you’re on their good side, they might just let you submit some mermail to them.

“Mermail?” Jiggly is in awe, it’s like the two of you were in two different realities with you always saying things that stunned him so.

“Yeah, mer-mail… mermail? Get it? Like, put a message in a bottle and they’ll ship it to wherever you need so long as it's close to a body of water?” You elaborate.

“Yeah, yeah - I know what it is. I just didn’t think it was… real.”

“Ha!” You snort. You turn around to the water ladies, saying something in an older language he does not recognize - they seem to understand it though, and laugh along with you.

“Jiggly… mermail is real.” You deadpan. “It’s not like… a myth or anything.”

“Mail?”

“Yes… well, packages, letters, messages… ”

“What do you pay them with? I thought the mermaids didn’t use money.”

“Eh, they sometimes do. But all it’ll cost you is kindness, or maybe a little favor. They’ll do plenty of little favors if you just give them a little kindness in return. Real nice sense of community they’ve got…”

Kindness…

He had that. What he lacked for this specific task was confidence.

But there they are, just a couple of them. Young girls, in their early teens, wearing some dry cloth sheets over their bodies to break the ever chilling wind, just enjoying the morning sun as they etched pebbles with tools, most likely to make some jewelry, as they sat on the edge of the footpath with their feet hanging over the surface of the lake.

“Ehem… hello?” The man cautiously says, his voice nearly cracking due to the uncertainty. He is at a loss of words, just momentarily, when they return a gaze with their bulbous, unnaturally blue eyes. The irises nearly gone, it was like staring into water itself.

“Hello?” He says, closer this time.

“Hssss.” one of them hisses at him, like a cat, baring her small sharp teeth.

The other one pats her shoulder to silence her, and raises her hand to beckon the man over.

He approaches fearfully.

“Hi.” The calmer girl says, staying put. Her voice is quiet and hoarse, almost whisper-like, just like all the other women who lived in the waters. You had once explained it to him, it’s because they were sometimes unused to speaking above water, and they often had accents of old languages, now that newer ones weren’t quite common below.

“I’m Jiggy - the baker.” He says trying to be as personable as possible. “You might remember my friend… Dr. Nemo.”

The girl nods politely. Good.

“She told me you might be able to do me a little favor. If you want I can make you anything for lunch in return.” He was trying to smile, in a friendly neighborly way, not in a creepy man in his thirties way.

“Lunch?” The polite fish girl asks.

“Yes!” He sings, almost like some character from a children's program.

“Fish?”

“No, I don’t carry fish.” Did he ruin it? Did they only eat fish?

“Pork? Bacon.” She says again.

“Yeesss…” He does his best friendly-dinosaur impression.

“Yes. Bacon.” She looks at the girl that had hissed, and she nods in return after a brief moment of silent conversation. “What… do you need?”

“Well… you might know the man that drives the meat truck.”

“Stupid man?” The polite girl says in her funny voice.

“Yeeesss… the stupid man.” Clever girl. “Could you ask around and find out where he is? He’s late and I need him to bring me my cuts of meat.”

“Where? Where do we look?” It was a good question… Emerson only delivers between two neighborhoods.

“Eastbend by the Shore!” He points to the area further up along this same side of the lake. Over there the houses are smaller, climbing up the sloping hills. It's cooler from all the trees, and that is where the slaughterhouse of Edwin & Sons lies - and where Emerson should be stalling.

“Right over there!” Jiggly points, nearly seeing the white roof of the taller building among the quaint brick houses. “Right over - AHH!” Something in his hand pinches every bit of his attention.

Chomp!

He looks down to the pinching and blunt pain on his hand - it was the hissing girl biting him! Latched on to one of his fat fingers with her sharp teeth - the audacity!

He tries to pull his hand away, and it's like he can hear it, a rip. The girl's pale, veiny face is suddenly painted by a splatter of blood that she’s made the flesh release, gushing from his index finger, an arc of red liquid painting a line from her mouth to her forehead. Her furious blue eyes, still trained on his hand, almost satisfied at the outpour.

“Aaaaaaaaahh!” He shrieks, a long piercing howl.

The polite girl begins to scold the other, Jiggly can hardly comprehend, but when she smacks her companion across the head it does not make the hold of her jaw relent. It only makes his skin drag further from his bone.

If he moves back she’ll rip it off, if he pulls closer she might latch her bite further up. He is paralized, his entire body feels pins and needles from the panic, but it begins and ends with his one, bitten finger.

Smack! The polite girl smacks the other right across the forehead, one last time and now the girl lets her jaw slack. The man holds his hand up, shrieks once more as he sees his bone beneath the torn and bleeding skin. Even against his dark fingers, the blood is so red and so bright, so so bright. No translucency at all, just a solid red, redder than anything he had seen before. But there, a peek of something pale within the digit - and he could feel it; the bone.

The girls bicker and argue.

“Fucking fishy!” He cries at her.

“Lunch!” The bloodied girl cries. She goes back to smacking her lips, picking at her teeth with her tongue as if there were flesh stuck between her teeth. There probably was.

“It - it’s the baker! Come help!” a man yells behind him, having been attracted by the screams. There is a clamor of feet approaching the scene.

Jiggly turns, men approach him from behind, the girls swat and slap at each other in front of him, his finger bleeds.

“Jiggly! What happened?” He recognizes the voice. It's the captain of the cadets from this side of the lake, a handsome man that seems to eat too many of his croissants for the size of his waist, one of his very best customers. But alas, here he is, running as he does daily, with all of the young recruits in training panting behind him as he stands there with barely a mist of a sweat on his face.

As he turns to face the handsome man, he can hear a growl from one of the girls behind him.

“My fi-finger.” He chokes out, an airy whimper making up his words. ”Hal… She bit my finger.” he says, pointing at her bloody face with his bloody hands.

The man is of the unflinching kind, bats his eyes as he pieces it all together, but he doesn’t react with any repulsion.

“Does anyone have a clean towel?” He yells at the cadets. Someone hands it to him and he expertly wraps Jiggly’s hand. “You all, keep going. I’m taking him to the doctor.”

“Doctor…” Jiggly ponders, too distracted by his bleeding finger.

“Are you feeling lightheaded?” Hal questions. “I’m taking you over to your friend, Dr. Nemo.”

It’s a few blocks of his dazed stumbling. He didn't notice what happened to the fish girls, or the cadets, or how long it took him to get there. All he knows is that suddenly he is at the steps of your clinic, the big dark blue door looking over him and Hal firmly holding his side..

And as if you sensed it, even before Hal could let go of the cloth he pressed to his hand to knock, you open the door. There, above them, in your usual dark and neat attire.

“What happened?” You inquire.

“Doc! Jiggly’s had an accident.” Hal explains.

You usher for him to come inside, Jiggly feels as if he levitates as the muscular, but gentle, man guides him up.

“Just sit him down somewhere.” You say absentmindedly, grabbing things from the many cabinets and shelves. “Caro! We have a patient.” You shout for your apprentice. The girl would usually come down sooner.

“Yes Miss Nemo!” She politely replies, eager to attend however she can. Until she sees who it is and lets out a gasp. “Jiggles!” She calls in awe, seeing his bloodstained clothes.

“What happened to him?” You ask Hal, seeing that Caro has now taken to applying pressure to Jiggly’s hand.

“I think one of the younger water women bit him…” He ponders. He stands a little too close to you. You can basically smell him, the sheen of perspiration… his dark red locks dampened and slicked back, the muscles in his neck and arms exposed so handsomely.

Focus!

“Siren or mermaid?” You ask.

“I think… mermaid.” Hal replies, unsure.

“Did she have the weird eyes?” You ask.

“Her face was covered in blood, I didn’t really notice if -”

“Yes!” Jiggly shouts from his seat at your small breakfast table. “Horrible eyes, horrible child.”

“Child?” you purse your lips, Caro even lets out a giggle. “How bad could she have bitten you?”

As you set the items on the table beside him, Caro slowly unwraps the bloody rag… and - it’s quite awful.

“Ha!” You laugh, a hearty laugh, Caro eventually joins in. “A child did this to you?!”

“She was feral and - uuaaahh!” He whines again. You had taken advantage of his distraction to pour antiseptic onto his wound, your apprentice dabs at it with some clean linens.

“Shouldn't we put him on one of the tables?” Hal quips.

“Eh, this seems pretty basic. Right Caro?” The girl doesn't reply, being hyper focused on her task, the bloody hand, the bloody rag, the bloody linen. “Caro, I said; this seems pretty basic, right?” you say more sternly.

She blinks back to reality, “Yes Miss, quite simple.”

“See? Just a few stitches and some healing goo and he’ll be good.” You tell Hal, placing a hand on his chest, quite firm and… toned, to push him back gently. You needed the space, he was too close for comfort, as usual.

“Miss… stitches or, do you think we could use the good stuff?” Caro suggests… ah yes, expensive magical healing ointments.

“Fine… just a little should be enough.” You conceded, after all he was the most popular baker on the lake, and you weren’t sure how happy the townsfolk would be with his being out of commission.

Hal once more, is upon you… it’s a bad habit of his that you’ve tried to quell. And he is never subtle, which you wouldn’t particularly mind if he weren’t so keen on doing so in public.

“You know, I’ve gotten a letter from my cousin.” He says, “She sends her regards, inquires about you.”

“Your cousin, the demon hunter?” Jiggly buds in, and for a moment, you wish to chastise Hal for his lack of prudence. “How does Doc know her? Isn’t she halfway around the world?”

He stutters, not knowing how to answer Jiggly’s question. How indeed does he explain to Jiggly that you are acquainted with his cousin, who is a local legend but has not returned to the area in quite a few years, that you know her despite never having been in town at the same time as you?

He regrets his insolence. How could he have said that so easily?

“I don't. We don't know each other at all.” you reply, with a special and strange tone.

“But he just said you did.” Jiggly argues.

“No he didn’t.” A little more charmingly.

“He didn’t?” Caro tenses as Jiggly resists, but she continues to treat his wound.

“He didn’t. He hasn’t mentioned anything about his cousin at all.” It takes a moment for your words to sink in, but slowly, they do.

“That’s right… Hal hasn’t said anything about that.”

“Precisely Jiggly, he hasn’t said anything at all.” You reply contently once you see him nod with a distant daze in his eyes. As soon as Jiggly’s attention is diverted by your apprentice, you look back to Hal.

“You lack prudence.” You sternly whisper, making sure Jiggly is unaware. “Leave - and make sure he gets home.”

“I - forgive me. It slipped, and I -”

“Don’t make any mention of it to him - ever again. Not to anyone.”

“I won’t.”

“You are the only person in this damn place that knows, and I guarantee you do not want to be responsible for it getting out.” You cut him off before he can respond. “Caro, are you done?”

“Yes Miss, just about!”

“Good. Jiggly, Hal will take you home. Let your hand rest for today but you should be fine tomorrow.”

Caro quickly ushers them out, and once the door is closed behind them, she turns to you.

“Do you think it worked?”

“Of course it did - do you doubt me?” You ask her, almost displeased.

“It's just… you haven’t done anything like that in a long time.”

“Girls like me - like us - don’t get rusty.” You remind her, finishing her sentence with a tap to the tip of her nose.

At the doorstep of your clinic Jiggly feels confused, almost dreamy, as if he only had the faintest impression of what had just occurred during this particular morning.

[alpacaparkaseok]

Book of Soulmates

pairing: Hobi x reader

premise: 1071 5th Ave, New York, NY 10128 is all you need to know.

Fire Starter

Endless circles carry me ever upward. I’ve begun to notice the slight burn in my calves as I continue to climb up the endless circular ramp, a famous aspect of the Guggenheim. 

Famous or not, it still has me contemplating just slipping my heels off and making the rest of the trek up to the top of the building barefoot.

Of course I refuse to take the elevator despite the rest of my group having done so. I mean, this is the Guggenheim. Who takes the elevator and misses all of the beautiful artwork and displays along the way? Not me. 

I pause for a moment before a massive painting that takes up most of the wall, pretending that I’m entranced by it rather than in desperate need of a break. In my defense, I wasn’t planning on having to leave the bottom floor so soon. However, when it was cleared for some exclusive party to come through, I wasn’t left with much of a choice. 

Echoes of the party going on downstairs remind me that I need to keep moving upward. No doubt my group has already made it to the top floor and are impatiently waiting for me. Maybe if I’m lucky they’ll just go on without me, leaving me to enjoy the famous art museum on my own. 

Peeking down a hallway as I pass by it I’m drawn in by the display I see on the floor. Deciding to spare another moment, I sneak inside, eyes wide as I take in the display taking up on side of the floor. Glancing at the plaque beside it, I marvel at Abbas Akhavan’s artwork. The bronze casts made to represent damaged and changed plants as the affects of war are spread out along the way, making me take my time as I walk from one end to another. 

“I don’t know, he just said something about wanting to find Van Gogh and ran up here,” a voice says from the ramp just outside the room where I find myself currently. It’s silent for a moment, and I realize that he must be on the phone. 

“Yeah, I’ll bring him back down. Just give me a few minutes to find him. Ok. Bye.” The end of the phone conversation is punctuated by a long sigh, accompanied by a disbelieving chuckle. “That boy...oh. Hi.”

I turn to find a man - no. Not just some man. Jung Hoseok peers into the exhibit room, glancing around as though looking for someone. 

So that’s why the bottom floor has been reserved. BTS is here. 

“Hi.” I reply rather dumbly. Shaking my head, I fight to not stare too hard at him. He’s wearing a red jacket that looks like it was crafted just for him, flowers and other plants embroidered into the fabric with loving care. Paired with his ripped black jeans, Hoseok looks like he just stepped out of a photoshoot.

“Are you looking for someone?” I ask, trying to get him to move on before I make a complete fool of myself. 

“Oh,” Hoseok repeats for the second time, eyes finally landing on me for longer than a couple of seconds. “You speak Korean?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

I can’t help but laugh a little. “You’re looking for someone? I haven’t seen anyone come up this way.”

“Oh,” Hoseok, completely oblivious to the fact that he’s just repeated the same word four times, steps into the exhibit with a soft smile. “My friend - Kim Taehyung, do you know who that is?” 

I nod. “Yeah, I do.”

“Right. We’re supposed to be doing some stuff downstairs but he took off saying that he wanted to go see Van Gogh, and now we can’t find him.”

Chewing on my lip, I frown a little. “But Van Gogh is downstairs...?”

At that precise moment Hoseok’s phone lights up, and he gives me an apologetic smile and half bow before turning and answering it. The call doesn’t last long - he’s only taken two steps before he’s turning right back around with a perfect smile on his face. 

“Well,” he sighs out, wandering closer, “He was downstairs. He just showed up again, I guess. Thanks for the help.”

“Of course.” Giving him a small smile, I turn back to the artwork before me, expecting him to step out. 

From my peripheral I can tell that he’s thinking about it, but he hesitates for a moment. Glancing my way, Hoseok takes another step in my direction. My heart clenches in my chest, but I refuse to look at him.

Sometimes, being painfully awkward is a bit of a crutch. 

“Excuse me,” he says softly, almost as though we were in a crowded room and he was trying not to startle me. “But have we met before?”

Now I do look at him, incredulity lining my features. “...don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I’d remember meeting you.”

He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “No, you’re right. That was kind of strange for me to ask that, wasn’t it? It’s just...” he pauses, then extends his hand out toward me. “I think that was my stupid way of trying to stall and get to know you before I have to leave.”

My jaw is probably on the ground now, and I continue to stare at the man with disbelief until I realize that his hand is still outstretched. 

“Oh!” I almost shout. “Sorry. Yeah. It’s nice to meet you.” 

I go to shake his hand, smiling a little at how he’s trying to respect my culture despite the obvious differences. Daring to glance up at his eyes, my breath gets caught in my throat as I see him doing the same. 

What I identify as warmth in his eyes may also be due to the sparks flying from our joined hands.

“Oh!” Hoseok shouts, jumping back as sparks fly and singe our hands. “I - ah! Fire!”

I jump out of my shocked state just in time to see what Hoseok - my soulmate - is referring to. A few loose sparks that didn’t succeed in burning and marking our hands have floated down to the ground and also the white tarp where Abbas Arkhavan’s artwork is set up.

It’s also in the process of catching fire. 

“Ah!” I shout now with Hoseok, and I rush about the room. “Fire extinguisher!” I shout, only making my soulmate more distressed when he realizes that I’m shouting in English.

“What?” He shouts unnecessarily. “What are you saying?!”

“Fire!” I shout again, heart pounding as adrenaline pumps through my veins. “Where’s the extinguisher?!” Tearing around the corner, I gasp in relief as the tell-tale red fire extinguisher hangs on the wall. Running as quickly as I can in my heels, I mentally curse my past self of fifteen minutes ago for not taking off my heels when I had the chance. 

Hoseok notices my predicament, rushing over to me and letting me hand the extinguisher off to him. I hobble after him, finally managing to slip my heels off. 

I watch with horror as the priceless artwork is covered with the white foamy substance of the extinguisher, offering up a pleading prayer that only the tarp was damaged. 

Hoseok sprays every last inch of the tarp, panting when he finally relents. For a moment, all is silent in the aftermath of our soulmate bond. Glancing around the room I search for any other fires that our sparks may have caused, and let out a long sigh when it appears that the damage was at least kept to one small space. 

Still standing before the display with the extinguisher in hand, I slowly make my way over to Hoseok and come to stand beside him. 

His eyes are a bit glazed over as he stares at the wall that’s blank except for Abbas’s plaque. His chest rises and falls with his deep breaths, his face a little flushed. 

Slowly, so slowly, Hoseok turns to look at me, disbelief obvious in his expression. “Did we just-”

“Start a fire?”

“Yeah.”

Looking down at the receding foam, a dry laugh escapes my throat. “I think we did.”

“Because we...we’re...”

“Yep.” My gaze is a little unfocused as I ease the extinguisher out of Hoseok’s grasp, the two of us wincing as our fingers graze each other and a few spare sparks shoot out, falling onto the foam and sizzling as they’re extinguished. 

Turning on my heel, I go to put the extinguisher back and attempt to find the curator to explain this entire mess. 

Hoseok trails after me, looking a little lost as he furrows his brow, still trying to understand what just occurred. My heart aches as he passes by my discarded heels, leaning down to pick them up and carry them along. Without a single word, he already has me swooning at his sweetness. 

I pause at the sight of my right hand as I raise it to put the extinguisher back. My hand is littered with angry red welts from the sparks of our encounter. It’s a sight that I thought I’d never see. 

Soon enough those red welts will fade into darker, lasting little scars. I’ve seen them a million times on other people. 

The soulmate scars. As telling as any wedding ring, and even more permanent. 

Hoseok appears by my side, seeing what I’m staring at. With heartbreaking tenderness, he raises his burned hand to mine, laying it on top. There’s a bit of residual warmth that kicks up at the contact, but no more sparks fly. 

The sentimental moment is quite literally burned into my memory as I stare at our hands, hardly daring to believe that this is real. The moment is ruined as my guilty conscience takes over. 

“We need to find the curator,” I mumble out. “Tell him what happened.”

Hoseok grunts in agreement, intertwining our hands before pulling me along with him, heading down the ramp. I frown up at him.

“What?” He asks, his eyes still a bit glazed over but the ghost of a smile on his face.

“Where are we going? The office is the other way.”

“Oh,” Hoseok says for the umpteenth time. “He’s downstairs...I’m supposed to be down there having a meeting with him.”

Eyes going wide and a groan leaving my mouth, Hoseok laughs at our predicament. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whine. He shakes his head, eyes cleaning up a bit.

“I wish I was, darling.” My ears perk up at the pet name. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t kick you out, though. You’re with me.”

Squeezing his hand a little tighter, I allow a smile to break through.

masterlist

[vicea]

Hey! I watched the podcast live earlier and just blatantly decided to come to you since I saw you were watching it :) hope you don't mind

My review is honestly that it was so so much better than the last one Dream (and also the last one Sapnap) took part in.

The people there, for starters, were so much calmer and neutral and, while some are odd figures to see for the - probably - first time (case and point, Amouranth) they actually were all knowledgeable, open and not biased. Amouranth actually proved to be likeable in last hour or so if you overlook what her job is which is fine by me and everyone else was honestly not really prejudiced against Dream and Sapnap's fanbase which was a nice surprise. They all were very diverse in their communities which makes discussions more interesting.

Obviously I had chat closed, after the first few minutes of seeing them spam weird stuff, so neither do I know nor do I care what happened there and I advise everyone to follow that strategy.

The topics might appear dry to a degree but that's normal and I actually thought they weren't as bad as others made it out to be either. Cryptocurrency and E-sports may not be everybody's favorite stuff to hear about but it was actually somewhat interesting to hear the conversation. Also it wasn't all they talked about either and it was mostly enjoyable.

People have to remember that this wasn't a podcast about Dream and George, it's a podcast they take part in, it's about Twitch in general, not about Minecraft, and about stuff happening in the world like Covid-19 and whatnot. And the amount of interest the people there actually showed in them despite that was very nice to see. When they talked about Minecraft, others took part in the conversation and brought up own opinions and experiences, and they listened when they talked or asked questions about E-sports and Twitch con.

Onto Dream and Sapnap - they talked a lot more than in most other podcasts they were in before! They didn't seem particularly disinterested either in my opinion? It was just that they were doing stuff in the background, playing games or be on Twitter etc. so reaction times were sometimes a little bit slower and might've made it seem like that but -

The fact that Train wanted to close the podcast but Dream talked about Sapnap wanting to stay more and then they went on for another hour kind of cancels that out for me.

Memorable Dream and Sapnap moments I remember at the top of my head from that were (not in order):

Train tries to explain the 1v5 Manhunt and everyone is kind of confused what he's talking about until he talks about landing in a boat

Dream and Sapnap were asked what's new in the Minecraft community and deadass didn't remember MCC despite Dream streaming the practice server

Ultimately we got Dream doing a few laps in Ace Race from his POV and him dominating in Dodgebolt, even winning 1v2s (on the server)

Dream correcting people on what the best colors for marketing are

Sapnap mocking us with not talking and he's generally just there to fuck with Train and troll everyone

At one point XQC joined and asked to 1v1 Dream in Minecraft. He got demolished and then continued to get demolished by Sapnap

Dream talks about the SMP a bit (once when they proposed that he turns it into an org to make more money and he just blatantly says that he doesn't want to get a check of his friends money; later they asked how he picks the people for it)

Sapnap wants to do one live E-sports event for the experience but not go pro

(Something along the lines of:) Slasher: "You can just pay a million to do some real Minecraft event (probably for live E-sports or whatever) and do it yourselves right?"; Dream: "Oh yeah, let me do that real quick."; Slasher: "I mean, assuming you make like 30 million a year or something."; Dream: "Definitely not thirty."

They're hypothetizing on Obama in MCC

Sapnap is the only one to hear Myth say Goodbye

Train: how old are you; Sapnap: ²⁰

Sapnap just highkey trolling the whole group (Do you live in Canada? Yes. | Are you in New York right now? Yes.)

They talk about conventions and whether Dream and Sapnap would consider going to them. Sap mentions Dreamcon again

They talk about streaming for a bit (They explain the concept behind having alts; Sapnap streamed 6 hours on his main and averaged 177k viewers/19 hours on his alt with an average 48k viewers/everyone is just highkey baffled; Dream: "I have zero hours.")

They pull the George doesn't know what Dream looks like scam again

Sapnap is asking Train if he would give Sap all his Bitcoin for Sap to run into Dream's room and face reveal prank him on Train's podcast

They are theorizing on how they would market Dream's face reveal, Dream and Sapnap find their idea stupid

Train jokingly offers to give out his stream key to Sapnap and Dream and for them to organize a podcast "with the gang" and Sapnap bluntly agrees. Train is baffled. (Pls. Yes. Probably not and a joke but please. Yes, give it to me.)

Maybe I'll look up the time stamps later if you want me to, but yeah :) I probably spammed you. I found it honestly very enjoyable and I only saw people complain so I wanted to give my opinion

(I don't really post myself, so I go to my favorite blog when I wanna say stuff, sorry ,-,)

thank you eveee and don't apologize i'm happy to always read ! i'm glad to read another side of the scuffed podcast because sometimes they can talk about interesting stuff.

[chxrrysangel]

The Accident

Part Four | Masterlist | Part Six

Summary || Per request of Nat and the contract, Diana goes to Bucky’s first football game of the season. However, there’s no smooth sailing in the storm that’s about to come.

Relationship || fakeboyfriend!Bucky x black!ofc

Warnings || language, angst, mention of violence/threats, pet names [angel, baby, darling, etc.]

Word Count || 2,208 words

October

“Boo!” At the sound of someone’s voice in my ear, I shriek and drop my books on the ground.

“Jesus Christ Nat! What the fuck? You know I’m jumpy!” She laughs at my reaction, not bothering to apologize.

“I know, that’s why I do it.”

“You’re a menace you know that?” I pick up my textbooks, annoyed with my terrorist of a friend.

“And you love me anyways. Actually, speaking of menace…uh Bucky? You two are quite the pair.”

“Yeah, I uh... I guess we are.” I add a smile, hoping that my lack of reaction doesn’t raise any suspicions.

“So, how did that happen?” We begin to walk down the sidewalk, making our way to the science hall.

“I don’t know, it kind of just did. I mean we were friends before, so it’s not like dating a stranger or anything.”

Nat looks at me with a lost look on her face, before her memory decides to actually be useful.

“Right! You tutored him last year, didn’t you?”

“Yup. Spring semester.”

"So, are you going to the game on Friday?"

"Uh uh. Absolutely not. I barely understand football on screen, let alone in person. Besides, what reason would I have to go?," I respond with a laugh.

Nat stops in her tracks at my words, giving me a look that suggests murder. I feel like I should be scared now.

" I know you didn't just say you're not going. You couldn't have."

"'But I did?"

"Di, do you realize how completely moronic and embarrassing it is for the girlfriend of the Quarterback to be m.i.a from the first game of the season?"

Oh right, I forgot about that. When she puts it that way...

"Shit. I forgot about that. You do make a good point."

"Of course I do, I always do. So you're coming?" The way she looks at me, like an excited child on Christmas morning, forces me to say yes.

"Yes! Oh you're gonna love it! The games--"

"Natasha!" The two of us flick our heads in the direction of the voice, seeing Steve jog between the small crowd of students towards us.

Fantastic.

"What's up beautiful?" Steve kisses Nat's forehead and wraps his arm around her, wedging himself between us. Like I'm not even there.

"Nat, I'll see you later. I've gotta get to psych in like 10 minutes and the building is massive. Bye, gotta go."

I don't really give her the opportunity to say anything before I make my exit. I'm not really in the mood to speak with Steve right now. Ever since Bucky and I started "dating", he’s been a complete dick. I’m starting to question what I ever saw in him. I make my way towards the campus Starbucks, deciding to get some breakfast for once. Nat doesn’t need to know my psych professor cancelled class for the rest of the week. Apparently she has the flu. Lucky me I guess.

~~~~

While Nat is talking my ear off about Steve, I notice a certain someone making their way up the stairs towards us. My mood gets instantly lifted, happy to avoid this draining lovesick conversation.

“Hey James, what’s up?”

He looks nervous. Why is he nervous?

“Hey angel, do you mind uh…can you braid my hair for me real quick?”

He stands in front of us like a sad puppy, and it’s completely adorable. How could I possibly say no? I direct him to sit on the concrete steps so we’re closer together, thankful for the wide distance between the bleacher sets. That way, I don’t have to apologize every time someone needs to walk past. Nat excuses herself, something about wanting to get snacks.

“So, Barnes. How you feeling?”

I begin to part his hair down the middle, and he reaches his arm back to pass me the scrunchies on his wrist. Let’s just hope he’s not tender headed, otherwise this might take longer than I think.

“Uh, a little nervous not gonna lie. But, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“How’s Nat?”

“She’s good. Still talking my ear off about Steve every minute of her life, but good.” I notice his fist tighten when I mention Steve’s name. Right, they don’t get along.

“Speaking of that devil reincarnated, how’s Steve treating you? Still a dick?” The question sounds leading, like he knows what answer I’m going to give.

“Uh, don’t even get me started. Being a dick doesn’t even cover it.” My eyes roll just thinking about it.

“I can fix him if you want. I’m not afraid to set him straight, just say the word.” I finish the second braid, tying up both ends. Then I go to sit next to him so we’re more of less eye level.

“James, no. Absolutely fucking not. I am not letting you get suspended from the team for kicking your teammate’s ass. It’ll be a cold day in hell before that happens.” His jaw ticks at my rejection.

“And why not? He’s being a bully. I can’t let my girl get bullied, especially by a guy.”

My girl?

“Well your girl, fake or not, won’t let you out yourself in harmsway like that,” I whisper to him.

Bucky’s face turns to me fully, grabbing my cheeks so I have no opportunity to look away.

“My mom would kick my ass for letting any one of my girlfriends get bullied by a guy. It’s my moral obligation to fix this. So let me. Please?”

“James. Promise me you won’t do anything. I can handle it. And if I do need you, I won’t hesitate to ask. Okay?”

He looks at me hesitantly, eyes flickering back and forth between my features. After some deliberation, he nods and lets me go.

“Oh, I almost forgot. I have something for you.”

Bucky pulls a folded up cloth out of his helmet, handing it to me shyly. A blush creeps up his cheeks as I unfold the layers, causing me to smile. He’s kind of cute when he’s nervous. I soon realize what it is and quickly unravel the rest to see the full thing on display. Holding it up, I marvel at the purple and white jersey, number 17 in big bold letters. I turn it around to see the name Barnes scripted at the top.

“You’re giving me your jersey?”

“Yeah. I have tons anyways. Besides, what kind of boyfriend would I be if I let my girlfriend come to my game without it? It’s very convincing.”

“Right.” I take the opportunity to peel off my puffer jacket, before sliding the large jersey over my long sleeve shirt. Bucky smiles while watching me, dimples making an appearance.

“You look good in my clothes, I think.”

“So does this mean I can steal some in the meantime?” His face takes on a fake-annoyed expression at my question.

“ Ha ha, very funny. Don’t get ahead of yourself Angel.”

“We’ll see, James. We’ll see. Now go, the games started and I’m not gonna hold you up.”

“Alright, alright. Yes ma’am. Just know when I wave at you from the field, wave back. Okay?”

“Okay, now go! Before I push you down the stairs!”

Bucky kisses my cheek before running down the concrete steps, diving through the crowd towards to locker rooms to put on his equipment. The game’s starting soon and the stadium is buzzing with activity. Eventually Nat comes back, holding nachos and soft drinks in hand.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“Oh, not much. I braided his hair and we just chatted about the game and stuff.” Nat nods, diving into her nachos while we wait.

“Oh look! There’s Steve. And he’s waving at us!”

Nat directs my attention to the field, the starters making their way to the 50 yard line. Steve waves at us—well Nat if I’m honest—and I meekly wave down at him. However my attention is soon diverted by a certain blue-eyed goofball barreling down the grass towards the edge of the gate. Bucky waves like an excited toddler, before throwing a kiss at me. Indulging in his stupidity, I catch it and he beams. We could be great actors if I do say so myself. He waves goodbye before running towards the middle to discuss last minute plays.

~~~

I’m gonna be honest, football is not that entertaining. It’s even worse when you have no idea what’s actually going on. I feel like a fish out of water, watching Bucky and his team run around like tiny ants on the fake grass. Why does he like this again?

It’s just a little bit past half-time right now, and they’re at the 20 yard line. If they can get this play and score a touchdown, we’ll be that much closer to making sure the other team can’t win. It’ll be too late in the game by then to score enough points to come out victorious.

I barely pay attention to the other players, only watching Bucky with my undivided attention. Steve too, but to a lesser degree. He’s the only reason I’m here right now, and he’s quite entertaining to watch actually. I may not know what’s going on, but he loves it. So the least I could do is indulge in his interests, it’s in the contract anyways.

For some odd reason, Coach Williams calls a time-out halfway through the play. This almost never happens. I watch as the players begin to make their way to their respective sides. Steve throws the football across the field, likely towards one of the wide receivers. But then I quickly realize where this is going. My eyes flicker over to Bucky just as he takes off his helmet. Oh fucking hell.

“Bucky!”

I’m too late. The football hits Bucky square in the side of his head at lightning speed and his body collapses on the grass. I watch with horror as Steve runs frantically across the field like he made a mistake. Time moves almost in slow motion as I jump out my seat, taking the stairs two at a time. I nearly fall on my face several times, the concrete steps too wide for the speed at which I’m running. It’s gonna take at least five minutes to make to the field from where we are, so I move as fast as my legs could possibly carry me.

The security guards at the edge try to stop me but I merely push my way around, not caring that they’re yelling at me about trespassing. I genuinely could not give less of a fuck right now. I run across the grass field, tears in my eyes and fear coursing through my veins. Please let him be okay. Please.

I shove my way through the crowd of giant football players, again not caring if I’m being yelled at. Bucky lays in the middle on the ground, eyes closed and face flushed. Kneeling beside him, I brush the whispy strands out of his eyes.

“Bucky? Are you okay?” I whisper close to him, knowing what loud voices can do for a concussion.

“Bucky? Please, just answer. Say literally anything.” Again, he doesn’t respond, which causes my palms to sweat even more.

“James? Are you alright? I need to know if you’re okay.” His eyes flutter open, before shutting quickly due to the blinding lights of the stadium. Yeah, a concussion will do that to you.

“Diana? Angel? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“My head hurts.” I laugh lightly at his remark, just relieved that he’s okay. Well, as okay as you can be when you have a major concussion.

“I know baby. But we gotta get you to the nurse, okay? Now can you stand up for me please?”

Bucky makes a weak attempt at standing before another pair of hands come to help him up. By the bracelet on their wrist, I can already tell it’s Thor. Coach Williams says something about taking it slow to the nurse, but I’m barely listening. All that matter right now is Bucky. Then as soon as we found out he’ll be okay, I’m gonna kick Steve’s ass. I might even break his spine while we’re at it. If there’s anything I know about Steve, it’s that his aim is quite literally perfect. That was no fucking accident.

[averykedavra]

Love Runs Its Course

Is it clear yet that I’m just using this as an excuse to write sappy, indulgent human AUs with queerplatonic relationships? Because if not, I need to try harder. Anyway, commence coffee shop AU.

(Tagging @tsshipmonth2020! Title is from Call My Name by the Unlikely Candidates! You can find this story on Ao3 here.)

Prompt: Everyone has a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate.


Pairing: Pre-relationship Anxceit.

Words: 9501

Warnings: death and murder mentions but nothing actually occurs, anxiety, minor panic attack, cursing, self-deprecation, scars, mention of a car accident

If there was one thing Virgil hated about people—which there wasn’t, he hated a ton of things about people, from their annoying voices, to their questions about what he was going to do with his life, to the way they always stepped a little too close to him, to the fact that they generally existed and that put a cramp in Virgil’s style, but if he had to pick one thing—it’d be that they always asked about his soulmate.

He kept his timer covered. Countdowns freaked him out, and he’d rather not be staring at his wrist all day. He had a general idea of when he was going to meet his soulmate—probably in the next year or so, or maybe he should have met them by now, or maybe something had gone wrong and he’d never meet them ever and that was why he didn’t look at the goddamn timer. He tried not to think about soulmates in general. It was easy enough. He just focused on panicking over the things he could control, like his college courses and remembering his coffee order and not destroying every friendship in his life.

Soulmates were an enigma, an unknown, and Virgil did not do well with unknowns. They promised a person—or persons—who would understand you, complete you, show you a path you’d never even considered.

That was a terrifying concept. Virgil did not like to be known, for starters. He’d perfected the angry-emo look over the years, complete with shredded jeans and liberally-applied eyeshadow, so he would be the exact opposite. Intimidating. Off-putting. People looked once and looked away, and that was just what Virgil wanted.

He didn’t need a soulmate coming in and prying him open.

He was doing just fine on his own.

Except everyone kept asking. They’d glance down at his wrist, covered by his favorite purple hoodie, and ask if he’d met his soulmate yet. If they were dating. If they planned to get married. Apparently, by the age of twenty-one Virgil was supposed to have met his soulmate, even though he hated going outside and the world had literally billions of people in it. And planning to get married? Virgil wasn’t out of college.

Fuck people.

Sometimes, Virgil would just growl a noncommittal noise and ignore the question. If he was in a talkative mood, he’d say “Haven’t met them.”

Some people took that as a cue to change the subject. But others immediately started reassuring Virgil that he’d find them soon, that the universe would bring them together, and how long did he have left anyway? And Virgil was stuck in the conversation until he could find a polite way to leave, or his friends could bail him out.

They didn’t seem to get that he didn’t want reassurance. That being without his soulmate wasn’t a terrible isolation. He had friends—shocking but true, and something Virgil was still getting used to—and he had a life. He wasn’t going to drop everything to chase some mystical match. He had exams coming up. And soulmates were bullshit, anyway.

Roman would probably take offense to that. But they were. Virgil wasn’t about to trust fucking fate to pick out his missing piece or whatever. God might not play dice with the universe, but it was still a pretty weird matching game—or it was like when the whole class got gift bags and they tossed different gifts randomly into each one. Some people got toy trains or glitter pens. Virgil got a small wooden duck.

Yeah, that was what soulmates were like. Surprise gift bags filled with good toys and bad toys, and some people lucked out and some people didn’t, and some people’s gift bags got lost in the mail, and it was really fucking stupid to have gift bags anyway because who even asked? They’d just been handed them, sparkly and crinkly and leaking confetti, and been told “Here, you get this, take care of it.” No opt-out program. No “thanks, but no thanks” option. Just a heavy gift-bag filled with stuff nobody wanted, being told that they were special for having it.

And of course there were timers.

Because it wasn’t horror-movie enough to have a person specifically assigned to your soul. There were timers, and the numbers counted down, thick and black and rolling through the years, then the months, then the days and minutes. It was like being branded. Virgil had tried to scrub his off in ninth grade, just to see if he could, and the skin around it was left raw but the numbers never disappeared.

Virgil hated numbers. He’d never liked math, and numbers usually came in statistics about death or statistics about poverty or algebra he didn’t understand. And timers. Numbers came in timers and counted down to the moment where Virgil would be stuck with someone for the rest of his miserable existence.

Great.

Fucking fantastic.

Yay, soulmates.

Virgil guessed he should count himself lucky that he hadn’t met his yet. It wasn’t all luck, though—like he said, he barely left the house. But his soulmate wasn’t in his college, either. He’d been worried about that. Or maybe his soulmate was just as antisocial as he was. Maybe that’d be alright. They could avoid each other for the rest of their lives.

He covered up his timer, tried not to think about soulmates, and let the anxiety hum in his chest as a constant low-grade buzz. He’d made it this far. Everything was fine right now, no matter what his wrist said, itching under his hoodie and a black smudge in the mirror.

Everything was fine and Virgil was going to graduate college and become a graphic designer and live with several pet spiders and die at a ripe old age from colon cancer. Soulmate-less and perfectly happy.

Well, as happy as he could ever get, which wasn’t very.

People said that was because he didn’t have his soulmate yet. As if diagnosed anxiety and low self-esteem would be magically fixed by some asshole walking into his life and smiling at him. And they wondered why Virgil hated soulmates.

So yeah. Maybe Virgil wasn’t happy happy. But he was alright, and he was alive, and he had friends and a life and some kind of future. He’d stayed on his feet, which was more than he or his therapist really expected, and he had a job, too—at a coffee shop, but a job. It didn’t pay well and each shift was a nightmare and Remy the manager wasn’t the hugest asshole but was still a little bitch, and Virgil hated it utterly. But it was a job. And fucking student loans weren’t going to magically vanish if he just ignored them. Much as he wished that was possible.

He wished the universe spent less magic on soulmates and more magic on paying off student debt. Now that would be useful.

“Student debt,” he’d recite to himself after the third customer called him a name.

“Student debt,” he’d mutter as he mopped up a spilled caramel machiatto.

“Student debt,” he’d remind himself when Remy popped out to talk with his soulmate, which left Virgil with extra shifts he couldn’t say no to, because student debt and also crippling social anxiety.

“Student debt,” he’d groan into his pillow as he collapsed in his bed, surrounded by textbooks he didn’t know well enough to avoid studying the next morning, wondering whether he should just quit school and become a mime. At least it didn’t involve talking to people. Or studying. Or spilled caramel machiattos.

On nights like that, he wondered if he’d even manage to get up the next morning.

But he always did.

Here, queer, and full of fear. Alone, on his own, and fine with never being known.

And working at a coffee shop at three in the afternoon, trying to memorize his science notes in-between orders, the day cloudy and soupy and making Virgil’s purple hair frizz up under his hoodie. His nametag had broken mid-morning, forcing him to duct-tape it in place. And he’d ran out for some groceries during his lunch break, and the groceries had fallen out and now he had to buy new ones in the time he didn’t have, and he hadn’t actually had lunch and was running on three shots of espresso that made him even more jittery than usual, and in general Virgil was about three seconds from curling into a ball on the counter and waiting for the world to stop existing.

That was when he walked in.

Afterwards, Virgil figured he probably should have had some huge moment of shock. A love-at-first-sight thing. Or at least, he should have noticed the guy before he was at the front of the line.

But he didn’t, and even when the dude was right in front of him, he’d just nodded and asked “What can I get for you?” in his best I’m-a-helpful-employee-and-three-seconds-from-killing-everything voice. Vaguely, he noted that the guy had a black beanie and dyed blond tips and a bored smirk like he was also three seconds from killing everything but in less denial about it.

Guy rattled off his order, Virgil nodded and tossed it over to Remy, told the guy to have a seat, the dude nodded and adjusted his beanie, shaking out his wrists--

And froze.

The next person in line bumped into him. He just stood there, staring at his hands, then back up at Virgil.

“Um, you can sit down,” Virgil said awkwardly. He’d been joking about the killing everything--ugh, if this was gonna be a scene, Remy would kill him. And he really wasn’t in the mood to shepherd some customer out the door.

The guy kept staring at Virgil. Virgil decided to stare right back with his patented don’t-fuck-with-me glare. That didn’t send him packing. Guy just kept on staring, and Virgil looked back at dark brown eyes and an old scar on a tan cheek, and blond curls and a flannel shirt and a mouth dropped open.

“Dude,” Virgil said, trying to crack a joke to deflect from his growing discomfort, “stop staring. I get that I’m awesome, but we do have other customers.”

Other customers who were starting to whisper. Remy was shooting Virgil a glare over the coffee machine. Shit. Some asshole was definitely making a scene on Virgil’s shift, and fucking dammit, of course he was.

“Hello?” Virgil waved a hand. “Dude, hello? Why are you just standing there like a deer in headlights?”

He hated himself the minute he said those words. Now the asshole was gonna snap and kill him or something.

“You--” Asshole pointed at him. He seemed to lose his words as soon as they came, just pointing a few more times. Then he turned his wrist over.

A black zero. It shone in neat ink on the skin.

“Um, good for you?” Virgil said hesitantly. “Sure your soulmate is very lucky. I don’t get what--”

Then it hit him.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Fuck. Fuck, piss, shit, goddammit, why.

Almost automatically, Virgil pulled up the sleeve of his hoodie.

A zero.

Virgil opened his eyes and closed them again, shook his wrist like it was a flashlight with an iffy battery, turned his wrist over and back again, rubbed at the skin. The number refused to change.

He’d met his soulmate.

Virgil looked up slowly. Asshole was still standing there, looking both patient and somewhat terrified all at once, with his stupid beanie and stupid flannel and stupid, stupid timer.

Fuck.

This.

Shit.

“We’re soulmates?” Asshole asked, as if it wasn’t abundently clear.

Virgil opened his mouth to snark “Yeah, apparently, and fuck this” or say “Maybe, who knows?” or ask the dude if he was ever going to sit down and let Virgil do his goddamn job.

He swallowed and closed it again.

His hands started to shake.

“We’re soulmates,” Asshole said, sounding not entirely pleased but not completely disappointed. It was like a package he’d long expected had finally delivered, but the edges were scuffed up and a few pieces were missing. Which was pretty fucking accurate. Poor guy--he might be an asshole, but he didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve Virgil.

Or maybe he did. Virgil knew literally nothing about him, not even his name.

Just that they were soulmates.

A gift in a gift bag, shoved into his hands in the middle of his shift, dropped on his doorstep with no return policy.

Here. You’re meant to get this. Keep it.

Virgil tried to take a deep breath and found his chest was too tight to allow it.

Shit, fuck, shit.

“Hey,” said Asshole Soulmate, stepping forward. “Are you...you look like you’re definitely taking this well.”

Oh, really? Virgil would have snapped if he wasn’t busy hyperventilating. Can’t imagine why my soulmate showing up out of the blue and ruining my shift wouldn’t be fucking ideal!

“I--” he stammered out instead. He looked wildly for an exit. He couldn’t be here anymore. Asshole was going to start asking questions, and he didn’t have answers or explanations, couldn’t piece together anything that explained how terrified he felt--

Breathing exercises. He used to know them. They’d all gone from his head. Fuck, shit, fuck. The whole place was too small. Too loud. The air was too hot and too still and brown eyes watched him, too concerned, too close--

“I have to go,” Virgil burst out.

And he pushed his way out from behind the counter, grabbed his backpack, and bolted out of the shop.

The door slammed shut behind him.

The last thing he saw was the face of his soulmate, staring after him, looking like he was three seconds from swearing as much as Virgil currently was.

In his head, of course. He didn’t think he could speak if he wanted to.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Virgil ran. He tore down the sidewalk, sprinting around corners and skidding away from the road. People were probably staring. He couldn’t see their faces, though. They blurred around him. Too many colors, the air was thick and heavy and pressing onto him and he couldn’t breathe--

Virgil ducked into the nearest subway entrance. He stumbled his way down the steps, sure he was going to fall. Somehow he managed to get all the way to the bottom. A few people were gathered at the edges. It was blissfully cool.

Virgil’s feet rung out against the tiles. He rushed over to the turnstile and tried to push through. Fuck. His card. Fuck, fuck--Virgil yanked on his zipper, breaking it, and practically tore his way into his backpack. It took him three tries to scan his card. He slammed open the turnstile and sprinted into the station, took the first turn he saw, and ended up next to an empty track with a glowing sign proclaiming that the next subway was in fifteen minutes.

Perfect. He’d just stay here for fourteen, then. Subways themselves freaked him out--too loud, too sudden, and the people on them always sent Virgil shuddering--but the cool underground darkness of the station was a relief. No one was here to stare as he sunk to the ground, pulling his legs to his chest, stuttering his way through his breathing.

Five things he could see.

The dim yellow glow of the lights far above him, the dark tunnel, the dirty stairs covered in gum, the old mosaic walls, his smudged sneakers.

Four things he could feel.

His hoodie, soft and comfortable around him. The strap of his backpack around his arm. The cool floor below him--probably filled with disease and germs, but Virgil was past thinking about that. His bangs falling over his face.

Three things he could hear.

The scuttling of a rat--ew--the whistle of a subway far above him, the distant strains of a street performer strumming their way through Stairway to Heaven.

Two things he could smell.

He could smell a lot of things, all of them very bad and most of them unidentifiable. He took another deep breath. His own sweat, and moldy pizza. Maybe. It could be moldy anything.

One thing he could taste.

Virgil ran his tongue over his lips. The remains of this morning’s espresso.

His heart was hammering just a little bit less.

Virgil took one more deep breath, leaned back, and kicked out his legs. The pavement was cold and rough under his hands but helped pull him back into his body a little more. The rat shimmied into a hole and disappeared.

Ten minutes until that subway came.

So.

He’d met his soulmate.

“Fuck,” Virgil said out loud to the empty tracks and the lurking darkness around him.

Nobody responded.

Okay. Virgil met his soulmate. This was fine. This was fine! He’d just never talk to the guy again. They’d go on their own way and never have to interact again. The dude probably wouldn’t want to see Virgil again, after Virgil had run out of the coffee shop like he’d been lit on fire.

That was another problem.

“Shit,” Virgil said, more quietly. He didn’t think he’d be fired for it. Remy would be pissed, but Remy liked Virgil well enough, and Remy wouldn’t fire him over a panic attack. Still, it was really fucking embarrassing. And he’d have to go back. He had a shift to complete today--

Virgil paused and shook out his hands. His whole body felt like it had been wrung through the wash. Or run over by a subway.

He pulled out his phone.

One text from Remy: girl u ok?

Virgil rolled his eyes and huffed.

It took him three minutes to compose a text back.

taking the day off. u dont have 2 pay me. sry.

Virgil tapped on the ground to the rhythm of Remy’s little dots, trying and failing not to overthink what Remy was typing.

paying u anyway, but u owe me a cappucino tmrw, bitch

And then:

soulmate guy is still here btw. says he’s waiting to see if u want to come back

Virgil’s heartbeat, which had just reached a relatively normal resting rate, skyrocketed again.

The guy was still there? Didn’t he have stuff to do? A life? Why was he waiting around for some dude who’d stared at him then run out of the shop like a fucking weirdo?

Well, they were soulmates, weren’t they? That was the sort of romantic shit soulmates were supposed to do.

God, he hoped the guy wasn’t a fucking romantic. That’d be the worst. Virgil didn’t do romance, period. If Asshole Soulmate was looking for someone to smooch and bring flowers, he was out of luck.

Except it didn’t matter. They would never see each other again.

Virgil didn’t want to see him ever again.

He read Remy’s text again.

The sign above the tracks read three minutes left. If he didn’t hurry, he’d get caught off guard. He needed to go back up and walk home, then spend the rest of the day playing video games and eating snacks and practicing some fucking self-care.

He read Remy’s text a third time.

“Fuck,” Virgil remarked, just because he could, and because he hated everything about this.

He stood up, adjusted his backpack, and walked back up the steps.

The hot air hit him like a wall when he stepped outside. He shook himself and wished for a second that he could be comfortable meeting people without his hoodie. But he hated life without it, and he looked fucking awesome in it, so now he had to suffer.

Virgil pushed through the crowds, head low, and made his way back to the coffee shop.

It was still crowded when he peeked through the glass windows. Remy and the others were bustling around in their aprons--that’s when Virgil realized he hadn’t taken his apron off. Fuck. He untied it and shoved it mercilessly into his bag. Then he straightened.

A small tap sounded on the window.

Virgil looked over and almost spiraled into a second panic attack.

Asshole Soulmate was staring straight at him.

Virgil looked at him, gave him a little salute, and started to back away.

Asshole Soulmate gave him a piercing look. He was sitting at a small table, his laptop in front of him. He looked about Virgil’s age, Virgil figured, and he had a few piercings in one ear. That scar Virgil noticed earlier dipped into the curve of his mouth and made him look perpetually smirking. His beanie was lopsided like he’d been pulling at it. For some reason, Virgil found that kind of endearing. He had a firm nose and those deep brown eyes and long fingers that tapped at his laptop even as he watched Virgil--

And it didn’t matter what he looked like, because Virgil was leaving.

Something twisted in Asshole Soulmate’s expression when Virgil turned to walk away. Virgil pushed down the guilt in his chest. This was better for both of them. His soulmate would see that too, eventually.

Another tap on the window.

Virgil looked back despite himself. Asshole Soulmate was scribbling something on his notebook. He held up one finger as he wrote, clearly telling Virgil to give him a second.

Virgil gave him that second, shifting from foot to foot, hands deep in his pockets. It was a mistake coming here, it just made him look weird, he needed to go--

Asshole Soulmate pressed his notebook against the window.

In neat black cursive were the words I will be here for twenty-four hours. If you’re interested in stopping by, I can make room for you on my schedule. The coffee here is mediocre, and tell your boss to add more sugar to the scones.

-Janus

Virgil stared at him.

Asshole Soulmate winked--actually winked, what planet was this guy from--and gave Virgil a secretive smirk. As if they were in on the joke together.

Virgil had never been more fucking confused in his entire life.

He’d met his soulmate, stared at his soulmate, and ran away. And said soulmate was waiting for him. Said soulmate was a dyed-hair college student with a smirk that screamed hide your wallet and neat cursive handwriting and glittering brown eyes.

His soulmate.

Janus.

J-A-N-U-S. Clear and dark against the window.

Virgil swallowed.

Janus. A weird name, but not bad, and it definitely matched the general weirdness of this guy. He swung the notebook away from the window and returned to typing, somehow completely ignoring Virgil and yet making it perfectly clear he knew Virgil was still standing there. Like a lost duck. Alone on the sidewalk, watching his soulmate tap at his computer at the smallest table in the coffee shop.

Another chair was pulled up on the other side. Room for two.

If Virgil wanted.

Virgil didn’t want.

Virgil turned away. Virgil walked home, backpack swinging from his shoulder, and didn’t go back because he didn’t want a soulmate. Virgil spent the rest of the afternoon watching TV and eating ice cream, and didn’t go back because he didn’t want trouble. Virgil ate reheated chicken and old celery for dinner, and didn’t go back because he didn’t want a relationship. Virgil curled up on the couch and listened to his music, and didn’t go back because he didn’t want someone to complete him, someone to be stuck with him, someone who was a perfect match for Virgil according to the universe, but who knew what that actually meant in practice. He knew nothing about this guy.

And he didn’t want to learn.

Because he knew how this went. Love would run its course, and then there would be heartbreak, because Janus would learn that Virgil was just a screwup with dark clothes and anxiety and trust issues and a life with no trajectory.

Janus would stop waiting. No matter if the guy was a romantic or really nice or just stubborn, eventually he would give up.

Everyone always did.

Including Virgil.

Virgil didn’t want Janus, and he knew Janus wouldn’t want him, and the smartest thing to was just to move on with his life.

The zero on his wrist itched.

Fuck soulmates. Fuck Janus. Fuck the whole entire fucking universe.

It was eleven o’clock, and Virgil couldn’t sleep.

He wondered if Janus liked hugs. He wondered if Janus liked old, weird costumes. He wondered if Janus liked makeup and horror movies and drawing and coffee. He wondered if Janus was his age. Maybe they went to the same college. He wondered if Janus used the same hair dye he did, and if they could help each other with their hair, because Virgil always did it on his own and ended up staining his hands and his face and the whole kitchen sink.

He wondered if he was a fucking idiot for even considering this.

No, he knew that. Virgil was an idiot. Virgil was a complete fucking moron who looked at a dark hole, knew how to avoid it, and thought about falling in anyway just to see what it was like.

Just to see what he was like.

Janus, with his stupid smirk and stupid cursive and stupid hat.

It was a really stupid hat. Only Janus could even pull it off, and he barely did. It was just on the edge of charming and if Virgil was being really uncharitable, it was crossing that edge into straight-up ridiculous.

Virgil wondered how he got his scar. Where he got his shirt. What he was working on in the coffee shop, whether he’d been there before, who told him. He’d ordered a scone. He had complaints. Maybe he liked to cook and bake. That’d be pretty cool, Virgil missed home-cooked food, he usually just microwaved some takeout--

What was he even thinking?

Virgil groaned and turned over on the couch, grabbing one cushion and pulling it over his head. Fuck home-cooked meals. Fucking beanies. Fucking domestic little scenes that he now found playing out in his head, as if that was realistic, as if he hadn’t just met the guy and immediately ruined it and decided he’d never see him again.

Soulmates.

Fucking soulmates.

Fucking soulmates who were probably still at the coffee shop. He’d said twenty-four hours. He’d still be there. It was a twenty four-hour shop and he’d still be sitting there, maybe working on whatever he was working on, smirking with that smirk of his and waiting for Virgil.

Stubborn. Kind of stupid. Maybe a little desperate, too.

Virgil was all three, so he had to respect that.

It was midnight now. Virgil should be sleeping. Sleep deprivation was bad for his anxiety, which was already a thick mass in his chest. If he wasn’t careful, he’d have his second panic attack of the day, and that’d be a fucking nightmare.

Virgil sighed and curled up tighter on the couch. He wasn’t tired. His brain was running at the speed of light and kept circling back to Janus, Janus waiting, Janus his soulmate and bound to be disappointed but what if--what if--

Virgil wasn’t a hopeful person. He liked being either pessimistic or downright cynical--it left less room for disappointment.

He was hoping now, though, and it terrified him.

“Fuck!” he yelled into his empty apartment.

The only response was the dull throb of a party downstairs, a steady beat that made Virgil’s head swim.

He’d never wanted to be stuck in the city. But he hadn’t thought he could handle the college dorms, so he’d grabbed an apartment, and found he could handle that even less.

Virgil was a mess. A failure. A twenty-one-year-old disappointment with a test tomorrow and a brain that wouldn’t shut up and a bunch of pipe dreams he knew would never come true. This was just one of them. Soulmates, lucrative jobs, moving to Venus and becoming a planetary god--they all seemed like crap in the light of day.

It wasn’t day, though. It was late at night and Virgil’s brain was fried and the heat had finally died down. It would be nice outside. Walking around the city at late wasn’t super safe, but he’d take a switchblade and some pepper spray, and the coffee shop was just down the street.

He was actually considering this, wasn’t he?

Fuck.

Janus was waiting for him. Janus wouldn’t leave for twenty-four hours, and at the very least, he should give Janus an excuse to stop waiting. Janus would need some sleep.

Virgil needed some sleep too, and Janus was the thing keeping him from it, the face in his mind when he closed his eyes.

He should at least apologize.

Virgil sighed, rolled off the couch, pulled on his hoodie, and slipped into his shoes. He double-checked the lock on the apartment door, ran his hands over his pepper spray, and took the stairs because the elevator might get stuck or catch on fire. He walked as fast as he could down the sidewalk, avoiding the crowds of people under the neon lights, clouds drifting over the sky and skyscrapers gleaming in the distance.

The coffee shop was lit up when he approached. He told himself Janus was probably gone. He was fucking with Virgil, maybe, or he’d just gotten bored and went home. This was stupid, this whole thing was stupid, and Virgil could just turn around and go home--

Janus was still sitting there. He was nursing a huge cup of coffee and a plate next to him with a half-finished croissant. His chin was in his hand and he kept yawning, but he was still blinking blearily at his laptop screen.

Well, fuck.

Virgil sighed. He’d come too far to turn back now, and any minute Janus would look up and see Virgil standing outside the coffee shop again.

Okay. He was...he was going to order some coffee. And he’d sit down and if Janus motioned him over, he’d sit with Janus. But he wouldn’t make the first move. That meant he’d have plausible deniability if...well, he didn’t know exactly what, but maybe if Janus was trying to argue with him or kill him. How would he know?

Midnight coffee shop. The perfect place for a murder.

Virgil shook himself. It wasn’t empty. Remy was right there. And if shit got real, Virgil had pepper spray and could bolt out of there again.

This was fine.

This was completely fucking fine.

Virgil took a deep breath, buried his hands tight in his hoodie, and opened the door.

Virgil barely ever took late-night shifts at the shop. They weirded him the fuck out--he preferred to stay inside when it was dark. And when it was too sunny, and when it was crowded, and just generally, but especially at night. Night was filled with murderers and vampires and shadow demons. Weirdass people got coffee at midnight and Virgil didn’t want to ever have to deal with them.

And now he’d become one of those weirdass people.

And he was seeing the coffee shop in a whole new light, the floor gleaming with yellow, the windows practically opaque except for pricks of red and white lights from the city around them. It was dead quiet except for the low hum of music, the occasional shifting of one of the only customers, and Remy wiping down the counter.

Virgil let the door swing shut behind him. It thudded way too loud and he jumped. All the customers looked up. Old dude with a salt-and-pepper beard, younger woman with long blue hair and more piercings than skin, and Janus. Janus. Janus looked up at Virgil and raised one eyebrow.

Virgil pointed to the counter, hoping it conveyed “I’m gonna get a coffee and decide whether or not I’m gonna bolt again. Stay there.”

Janus nodded and turned away. The light from his laptop illuminated the planes of his face and the way his eyes kept flickering up to Virgil. Virgil hunched into his hoodie and pointedly ignored him.

Remy gave Virgil a searching look when Virgil reached the counter. “Hey, babes.”

“Hey, Remy.” Virgil looked around at the menu. “Espresso with--”

“Hold on, no way.” Remy tipped his sunglasses down and shook his head. “You had one this morning, girl, and that stuff ain’t good for you.”

“Says you,” Virgil pointed out.

“Shut up, this stuff is my lifeblood. But there’s still hope for you.” Remy took a swig of his own coffee. “Anyway, you won’t sleep for a week if I give you more espresso, so nah, girl, try again.”

“It’s midnight,” Virgil complained. “And Rem, I’m not gonna get through this conversation without it.”

Remy paused and sighed. “I guess the customer is always right. One espresso, double shot--”

“Triple shot.”

“Double shot, bitch, or I’ll throw it at your head.” Remy slid over to the coffee machine and started it up. “So...you’ve got a boyf.”

Virgil almost hissed. “I do not!”

“Fine, you’ve got a pre-boyf.” Remy popped up and began filling a coffee cup. He glanced at Janus, who was studiedly not looking at them, though Virgil was pretty sure he was listening. “He’s alright, kinda fine, the hat is stupid.”

“The hat is stupid,” Virgil agreed.

Janus stopped typing. Virgil watched to see what he would do.

He turned around and flipped them both off.

Well. That was more entertaining than expected. Virgil smirked and returned the gesture, and Janus snorted before returning to his work.

“You’re made for each other,” Remy drawled.

Virgil growled, the smile immediately falling off his face. “Give me the fucking coffee.”

“Yikes, girl, would a ‘please’ kill you?” Remy slid Virgil’s coffee over. “Now pay up.”

“I’m an employee.”

“And I’m fabulous and don’t want to be here. Tough tits, emo.”

Virgil groaned and slapped a five on the counter. “One of these days I’m quitting.”

“Sure, babes.” Remy slipped the bill into the register and gave Virgil a little wave. “Say hi to your pre-boyf. And don’t worry,” he added, smile growing a little softer, “I’ll kick his ass if necessary.”

“You couldn’t fight your way out of a coffee cup,” Virgil said, but he gave Remy a little salute anyway.

And with coffee in hand, he took another deep breath and walked over to Janus.

Janus had already moved his things off the table, which meant there were several stacks of binders and textbooks by his feet. He shuffled a few papers, stuck them under the lid of his laptop, and closed it slowly. Virgil nodded at him and sat in the other chair, kicking at the ground, taking a sip of the coffee. It wasn’t espresso. It was a pumpkin spice latte. Goddammit, Remy.

“Hello,” Janus said slowly, and Virgil looked up.

There was a good three inches of space between them. It wasn’t enough to make Virgil feel less trapped, less gutted under Janus’ gaze.

Virgil fidgeted with his coffee and kicked at the table leg instead. It made the whole table wobble. Janus gave him a look and steadied his notebooks.

“Lot of stuff,” Virgil remarked, trying to keep his voice from cracking. “Do you usually bring the Amazon Rainforest to a coffee shop?”

“Yes, I carry it upon my back as penance for my many crimes.” Janus snorted. “Patton dropped it off later, after I decided I was staying.”

“Patton?”

“My roommate.” Janus waved a hand. “I figured I would get some studying done while I waited.”

“You’re in school?” Virgil asked. He wished he’d brought his fidget toy or something. Instead, he was left sipping a pumpkin spice latte and staring out the window instead of at Janus. Janus didn’t seem to mind, but still, Virgil wished he could curl up in his hoodie and disappear.

“College,” Janus said. “You?”

“College.” Virgil shifted. “I’m--assuming the same one?”

Janus shook his head. “I actually live in Britain. I just teleport here for the coffee.”

Virgil stared at him for a second before his tired brain realized the sarcasm. He snorted in surprise. Janus looked weirdly pleased with himself.

“What do you study?” Janus asked after a few seconds.

“Oh, um--” Virgil shifted. “Graphic design.”

“Graphic design,” Janus repeated, a smile playing around his lips. “So your career aspirations are poverty and well-designed party invitations.”

Usually, that would make Virgil angry. He didn't like when people made fun of his major. But the obvious tease in Janus’ voice, plus the way he laid it all out on the table, made Virgil weirdly relaxed. Janus could bite back. And that was kind of a relief. He wasn’t just a bland nice guy, which meant maybe--just maybe--he was a little bit equipped to handle Virgil.

“What about you?” Virgil asked.

“Double major,” Janus said. “Theater and psychology.”

“Got it.” Virgil smirked and decided to take a risk. “So your career aspiration is being a super villain.”

And Janus laughed, bringing his hand up to his mouth, eyes crinkling.

It was a nice laugh.

Not that Virgil cared, of course.

“Of course, can’t you tell?” Janus asked, still chuckling. “I think I could pull off a cape.”

“Sure,” Virgil said, a little bubble of confidence forming. “Just like you pull off the hat.”

“I don’t understand all the hat hate!” Janus exclaimed, a twitch at the corner of his mouth showing he was teasing again, and Virgil usually hated sarcasm and in-jokes. Too confusing. Too double-edged and shifty. Except with Janus, it was so blatantly obvious every time, and Virgil didn't have to worry about hidden meanings. He just got to...talk. And tease back.

He almost never got to do that.

“Surely you’ve worn a hat once,” Janus continued, folding his arms. “You must understand the art if you’re to judge me. Have you worn a hat?”

“Wow, pretty quick with the personal questions there,” Virgil said. “You don’t even know my name.”

“It’s Samantha.”

“Fuck you.” Virgil paused. “Um, not literally. I’m ace. And--aro.”

And Janus looked ridiculously relieved. “Oh, thank fuck, you’re sensible. I was worried about that.”

A flicker of hope in Virgil’s chest. “You’re--”

“Aro too.” Janus waved a hand. “And sexuality is a quagmire that baffles me. We’re on the same page.”

Virgil almost smiled.

“What is your name?” Janus asked idly, stirring a spoon in his coffee and watching Virgil with that same piercing look. “I've been calling you Emo Soulmate in my head and it’s not at all annoying.”

“Well, you were Asshole Soulmate,” Virgil said, and enjoyed another laugh from Janus. “But no, I’m not telling you my name. You’re a stranger.”

Janus gave an offended little gasp and pressed a hand to his heart. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Nope.”

“That’s fucking rude, Emo Soulmate.” Janus shook his head sorrowfully. “No manners at all.”

“Deal with it.” Virgil gave up on his pumpkin spice latte entirely. He shot Remy a glare. Remy was cleaning the counter again, humming to himself and occasionally giving Virgil finger guns. Virgil flipped him off and Remy cackled.

“So,” Janus said finally, “if names are off-limits, is there anything I do get to know about you?”

“I told you my major.”

“Lots of idiots are graphic designers, you’re not special.” Janus paused. “I...I feel like we got off on a less-than-great foot--”

“Yeah, you think?” Virgil caught himself before he could continue. “It, um--wasn’t your fault though. Um. Go on.”

“Thank you,” Janus said smoothly. It was unfair that he got to be so poised and Virgil was still trembling under the table. One of the customers left, the door thudding shut behind them, a blast of night air whipping Virgil’s bangs and making him shiver in his hoodie. “As I was saying, I’d--I’d like to get to know you.”

“Creepy,” Virgil said. “What do you want, an ice-breaker session? What color matches your soul?”

“Yellow,” Janus said immediately.

“What--” Virgil laughed. “You actually have an answer?”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Janus spread his hands. “What about you?”

“I don’t--” Virgil covered his mouth as he laughed harder. “Dude, no. Just--no.”

“You’re probably black,” Janus said, undeterred.

“To match my coffee and my soul?”

“And the emo aesthetic, of course.” Janus paused. “Actually, I think you'd be more purple. Since you like purple.”

“I like purple?”

“I would hope so, since you’re wearing that hoodie and fidgeting with the sleeve like it’s your only lifeboat in a sea of insanity.”

Virgil flushed. “Um. Yeah. I do like purple. I--made this hoodie, actually. Back in high school. It’s a comfort thing, makes it easier to feel like I’m hiding, which makes my brain shut up for a bit.”

Then Virgil decided he was going to die in a hole, because why had he said all that, Janus was gonna be weirded out--wait, since when did he care about that--

“It looks good on you,” Janus said, and Virgil almost choked on thin air. “It’s stitched quite well--edgy yet strangely charming.”

Virgil recovered himself enough to smirk. “That’s what I was going for.”

“Why am I not surprised.” Janus glanced out the window. A car careened past them on the street, headlights swirling in the darkness.

“It’s late,” Virgil said idly, because he might as well just dig himself deeper at this point.

“You were the one who chose to meet at this time,” Janus pointed out.

“What would you do if I didn’t?” Virgil asked. They were entering dangerous territory, but he clenched his fists and soldiered on. “Fall asleep on your mountains of paper, alone and bereft?”

“Oh, darling, no.” Janus swirled his coffee. “You see this? Seven espresso shots. If I want to stay awake, I do.”

“Remy let you have seven?” Virgil blurted out. “Not fair!”

“It’s because I seduced him,” Janus said with a poker face.

Virgil snorted. He didn’t like his laugh much, which wasn’t usually a problem because he didn’t laugh very often. Now, though--maybe it was the late night, but he almost couldn’t stop himself.

“Anyway, it’s not like I’m new to this,” Janus added, taking a sip of coffee. “I am double-majoring, after all.”

“Yeah, and that’s fucking impressive,” Virgil said. “I think I’d die of stress.”

“The jury’s still out on me,” Janus admitted.

Silence again. Virgil tapped his fingers against the glass. It was cold beneath his touch and he shivered.

“I still like the question idea,” Janus finally said.

“Then shoot,” Virgil said, shrugging. “I don’t bite.”

“I doubt that.”

Virgil grinned and bared his teeth. Janus hissed back, his nose wrinkled. It was actually really adorable.

Janus composed himself quickly, though. “What’s your favorite animal?”

“Spiders,” Virgil said without hesitation. “Favorite food?”

“The souls of the innocent.” Janus snickered when Virgil did. “I suppose...caviar?”

“Caviar,” Virgil repeated, shaking his head. “You can’t be real, you pretentious little fuckwad.”

“Charming, do you treat all your acquaintances this way?” Janus didn’t sound mad at all. “And I’m most certainly real. Unless I’m not.”

“Dude, don’t give me an existential crisis, c’mon.” Virgil bit his lip. “Your turn for questions.”

“Favorite book?”

“Black Cauldron. Favorite movie?”

“The Godfather. Favorite musical?”

“Um, Heathers.” Janus gave Virgil an of course look and Virgil swatted at him. “Favorite show?”

“Pride and Prejudice miniseries, 1995.” Janus paused. “I’m simultaneously learning nothing and everything about you.”

“Yeah, that’s ‘cause this is shallow shit,” Virgil said. “If you wanna actually know what I’m like beneath the eyeliner, you have to dig deeper.”

“Am I allowed to?” Janus asked.

Virgil opened his mouth to say no, of course not, vulnerability was his kryptonite and trust was his poison, and in fact he really had to go.

“Yes,” Virgil said.

Janus looked surprised. He couldn’t possibly be more surprised than Virgil felt. Virgil, who figured he’d lost control of his brain or something, because he was talking to a stranger who was his soulmate and it was midnight in a coffee shop and Janus glowed golden against the dark windows.

“Well, then.” Janus tapped on the table. “Where did you grow up?”

“Stalker,”  Virgil muttered.

“You did say--”

“I know, I know.” Virgil hunched his shoulders. Honestly, that wasn’t as bad as he expected. “Outside of the city, actually. Few miles out. Suburbs.”

“You in suburbia? Perish the thought.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t a good match.” Virgil chewed on his lip. “Do I? Get to ask you questions too?”

“Yes. My turn.”

“Hey!” Virgil complained. Janus laughed.

“Who’s your best friend?” Virgil blurted out before Janus stole his question.

“Look who’s the stalker now,” Janus drawled. “I...Patton, my roommate, I suppose. I don’t--have many close friends.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, “me neither.”

There was a long moment of silence. Remy had gone in the back and all the customers except for them were gone. The tables and floors gleamed in the light. Somewhere in the distance a siren wailed, muted by the gentle hum of music and the bubbling roar of traffic. It felt surreal. Too polished, too bright, too sharp to be real. Like Virgil would wake up tomorrow and know he’d never met his soulmate, his timer still counting down, Janus just a figment of his imagination.

Virgil looked down at his wrist for confirmation. A zero, in black ink, outlined in yellow by the harsh lights of the shop

“What do you want?”

Virgil looked up at Janus, who had that penetrating expression again, like he was trying to commit every bit of Virgil to memory. Virgil didn’t get what was so interesting. He had purple hair and purple patches on his jacket and messy eyeliner and probably some sort of scowl. But Janus looked at him like Virgil had all the secrets of the universe and Janus was decoding them, one by one.

Again, it should have been scary.

Virgil wasn’t scared.

And that, in itself, scared him.

“Be more specific,” Virgil said. “Like, right now? Right now I want some real coffee, for starters.”

“Not that,” Janus said, waving a hand. “From...life, I suppose. What’s your biggest dream?”

Virgil shifted. “I dunno. I don’t think about it much.”“You don’t?”

“Nah, anxiety makes it pretty freaky to think about the future.” Virgil thought for a second. “Um. I guess...I wanted to be a fashion designer, when I was little.”

Janus tilted his head. “What changed?”

“Didn’t have the time or materials.” Virgil shrugged and looked at the table. “Or...the drive, I guess. High school was rough and I needed a career path that gave me a quick buck.”

Janus snorted. “So you chose graphic design?”

“Shut up!” Virgil complained, swatting at Janus again. Janus dodged out of reach, grinning. “They both have design in them!”

“Whatever you say,” Janus chuckled.

“Anyway, yeah.” Virgil fidgeted with his sleeve. “Making clothes, making stuff--I still like to do it. So I guess that’s my dream, maybe.”

Janus looked thoughtful for a second, and Virgil felt like an idiot. Being a fashion designer was stupid. And here he was, dumping his life and regrets on a stranger. Fucking idiot.

“You’d be a good one,” Janus said, and once again, Virgil was thrown completely and utterly off guard. How did someone so surprising still set him at ease? “Of course I haven’t seen your work, but I like your jacket, and I think you’d be good at it. However, you have to promise to make me any outfit I want when you become famous.”

“Oh really,” Virgil said, feeling completely fucking exhilarated by the compliment. Which was pathetic, but it also gave him another burst of confidence, so worth it. “Let me guess, a cape, a red-and-black tunic with gold trim, a supportive uncle and firebending powers--”

“Scar jokes,” Janus said, his mouth twitching. “Bold.”

Virgil’s confidence immediately left him. “I--yeah, sorry--that was--”

“Funny,” Janus interrupted. “And it’s better than just ignoring it. I have a scar, it looks incredible if I do say so myself, and Avatar is a great show.”

Virgil smiled sheepishly. “You sure?”

“You’re fine.” Janus was silent for a long time, twisting his fingers together. Lights played across his face. The scar was old, Virgil noticed, and ugly, like it had never gotten properly stitched back together. Virgil rubbed at a grease spot on the edge of the table and let the quiet stretch between them.

“It was a car accident,” Janus said, his voice soft. “I was seven."

“Oh,” Virgil said, hating himself for not thinking of anything else. “That sucks.”

“Yes, it did.” Janus folded his hands on the table. “Your turn to ask a question, Emo Soulmate.”

“Oh! Yeah. Right.” Virgil bit his lip. “Um. Greatest fear?”

“Coming for me psychologically, I see. Excellent plan.” Janus shrugged. “Government control, I suppose. Or dying in obscurity.”

“Yeah, for me it’s just dying,” Virgil said, “but good for you.”

“Thank you.” Janus laughed and was silent again for a few more seconds. And Virgil usually hated the quiet, but this quiet was nice and comforting and felt more like a lull than an awkward pause, and why was this guy taking everything that usually made him anxious and somehow making it fine?

“Why did you run?”

Virgil’s fingers spasmed on the table. Well. So much for that.

“It’s alright if you don’t want to respond,” Janus said slowly, “but I’m curious.”

“I--” The words stuck in Virgil’s throat. “I was scared.”

“Of what?” Janus’ voice dipped. “Me?”

“No!” Virgil was surprised by the vehemence in his voice. “You’re--you were fine. A little awkward, but that made sense, and...yeah. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Good,” Janus said, and Virgil was surprised by the relief in his voice. He’d been worried about that, hadn’t he? He’d thought Virgil saw him and didn’t like him, or maybe he was even worried about his scar, and yet he’d still waited just in case Virgil came back and changed his mind.

God, Virgil didn’t deserve this soulmate.

“Look, I’m sorry,” Virgil said. “I’m sorry, I--”

“I’m not asking for an apology.” Janus’ face was achingly soft. “I’d just like to know.”

“Yeah. I--” Virgil curled his fingers. “I was just--scared. I was scared of...soulmates. Having one. Being one. I guess I--I never really wanted one, and you just showed up, and I know you didn’t ask for me as your soulmate but--”

Janus didn’t prod Virgil or push him to continue, which weirdly, made him gain the courage he needed to keep going.

“I’m not--” Virgil waved at himself. “And you’re--ugh, I just, I hate what everyone says about soulmates, that they’re supposed to complete each other, to fix it each other. You--I’m not--you can’t fix me. I’m not--I’m anxious, I’m a mess, I’m not going to be good enough for you and you’ll be stuck with me for the rest of your life! That’s not--” Virgil swallowed. “That’s not fair to you.”

Janus was quiet. Virgil slammed his mouth shut, sat on his hands, and decided he was going to leave the city and become a strawberry farmer. Strawberry farmers didn’t have to talk to their soulmates and brace themselves for inevitable rejection, because Janus got it now, and now he was going to leave--

“I don’t like people,” Janus said.

Okay, yeah, Virgil didn’t expect that. He looked up hesitantly. Janus looked more determined than ever.

“Society is an illusion and the world is corrupt,” Janus continued. “Most people I meet are either mindless, dull, or sickeningly sweet. It’s a very rare person who actually manages to entertain me, and even rarer for them to be kind and funny and intelligent and very clearly a good person.”

Virgil stared at him. He thought he knew where Janus was going, but that couldn’t be right--why was he--

“And I’m a liar.” Janus shrugged. “It’s a defense mechanism. I’ve barely trusted anyone in my life, I lash out when people antagonize me, and I’m such a fan of vulnerability in general.”

“Mood,” Virgil said, his brain still screaming what the fuck is happening.

“So I’m not perfect,” Janus said. “And I must admit...I hoped, for a while, that a soulmate would magically erase those problems. It’s what society tells us. I had higher hopes than were healthy. I projected a lot of things onto that soulmate--trust and honesty and a chance to be--more than myself. To be, to use your word, fixed.” Janus laughed a bit. “But then I actually met you. And...no.”

“Rude,” Virgil muttered.

“No, I don’t mean it like that.” Janus leaned forward. “You’re not--you’re a person. You’re edgy and snarky and a little nervous but it’s incredibly adorable, and you make me laugh, and even though you were clearly terrified you came back and gave me a second chance. It’s hard to project anything onto you when you’re actually here, sitting in front of me, and that’s when I actually realized--” Janus shook his head. “You are not my soulmate because you’re supposed to fix me. And I am not your soulmate because I’m supposed to solve your problems. We’re soulmates because we make each other laugh, and because I think your hoodie is cute, and because you didn’t make any comments about my scar. We’re soulmates because we make each other feel better. Not perfect, not ‘fixed,’ just a little bit better. The rest of the work we have to do on our own.”

Virgil stared at him, mouth open.

“So.” Janus swallowed. “I completely understand your reservations, but...it’s getting late, and I think we both need some sleep. So I’d like to request your number?”

Virgil pressed a hand to his mouth and laughed. “That whole dramatic speech was just a ploy to get my number? Shame on you.”

“You caught me,” Janus said. His face softened. “If you’re not ready, that’s okay. I just...it’s hard to let go of all the expectations. But how about we try? How about we be you and me for a while, and see how that goes?”

“But--” Virgil shook his head. “Soulmates--they’re supposed to be your whole life--”

“Supposed to be. As I said, society is a sham.” Janus reached out a hand and laid it on the table, palm up. “I’m not asking for your whole life, and I never will. I’d--I’d just like to be a part of it.”

Virgil tried to catch his breath. His eyes were stinging. He giggled a little, because he couldn’t help it, and because Janus was staring at him with such open hesitation and fuck, he was cute.

He was cute.

He was Janus.

Janus was his soulmate--and Janus was Janus, and that was more important.

Virgil looked at the zero on his wrist, turned it over, and took Janus’ hand.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “That--that sounds great. Actually.”

“Lovely, darling.” Janus smiled, bright and beautiful, and Virgil was dizzy with affection. “In that case, may I have your number and your name?”

“Whoa, two at once? Easy there.” Virgil chuckled and tightened his grip on Janus’ hand. “Um. My name’s Virgil.”

“Virgil,” Janus repeated.

“Yeah.” Janus smiled wider. “It’s lovely to meet you, Virgil.”

Virgil looked back, at the guy he’d been so afraid of, the soulmate he’d hoped he’d never meet. Who wanted him. Who knew who he was and wanted him anyway.

Virgil’d had it wrong and also right, which pretty much added up. Yeah, he’d been wrong about the whole running thing. Janus wanted him. Janus waited, and Janus smiled, and Janus thought he was funny. Janus wanted his number.

Yeah, Virgil thought he’d been fine on his own. But he was so much better than fine with Janus across from him, holding his hand.

He’d been right, too. Soulmates didn’t matter. Not that much. Janus was his soulmate, and who the fuck knew what that meant? Not Virgil. It was just some gift bag dumped randomly on his doorstep, a timer clicking down to zero.It didn’t matter that Janus was his soulmate.

Because Janus was Janus, and Virgil’s skin was on fire where Janus touched it, and suddenly his wild dreams of a roommate and home-cooked meals and dyed hair didn’t seem too far off at all.

It didn’t matter that Janus was his soulmate, because even if he wasn’t, Virgil would stay.

Meant for each other? Maybe. Destined? Apparently. Supposed to complete each other? Yeah, only in the loosest of terms. Virgil was still Virgil and Janus was still Janus, soulmates or no.

And for some reason--for some incredible reason--that just made things better.

It didn’t matter that Janus was his soulmate.

Virgil liked him no matter what.

“Nice to meet you, Virgil,” Janus said again, as if he was repeating it to himself, rolling Virgil’s name around in his mouth. It sounded beautiful in his voice. Janus had a beautiful voice--thick and smooth and deep, like a river Virgil would gladly drown in.

And he glowed bright in the yellow lights of the coffee shop, the world rushing outside, the darkness kept at bay and the world polished and gleaming and on fire.

“Yeah,” Virgil said, finding that he was smiling wider than he ever had. “Yeah, it’s nice to meet you too.”

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[digitalworldbound]

koukari 24 or kenkari 30? sorry for the challenge :p but if you're not comfortable with the pairings, go ahead with takari! :3

Pairing: ken x hikari

Summary: “I can’t talk to cute people, okay? I don’t know how to flirt!” (#30 from the prompt list)

Author’s Notes: I was revisiting my old fanfiction from when I was thirteen, and it reignited my love for cheesy AUs. So, I present to you my first ever KenKari content (I apologize if it is bad, but I've tried my best!)

on the corner of thompson rd. and fifth street stood a quaint structure with walls that appeared to sag and well-worn stairs. a seemingly hand-painted sign hung above the door way read : ♡ book 'n' brew ♡

in full honestly, the crooked hearts would of been enough to draw ken in completely had he not been on a search for a new coffee joint. earlier that september morning, a bug placed strategically in his starbucks cup stirred up the motivation to search for a more tasteful choice in brew.

mindless trotting about lead him to the worn, brick steps. many customers were slightly deterred by the haggard appearance of the building, but ken thought otherwise.

it was charming and smelled of home. plus, the little pink hearts were hard to dismiss.

pulling the smooth handle and trapping the chilly air behind him, ken opened the door and stepped in.

the store was quite small, as expected, but seemingly transported him away. warm fairy lights hung on the edges of tall, oak bookcases. the lights made ken’s dark cerulean eyes dance with wonder. while the oak cases were aging, they were sturdy. books lined the shelves in every way imaginable. when the books filled up the shelves vertically, the left-overs were placed haphazardly in the spaces between, whether that be on top of, in front of, or behind other books. the smell of well-loved pages filtered through the air, mixing with the smell of freshly brewed something.

the coffee! ken reminded himself.

humming a mindless tune under his breath, he made is way to the countered that was nestled in between two bookcases. plants, napkins and even more books littered the counter top. the owner, however, was nowhere to be found.

"hello?" ken’s crystalline voice called out.

"how may i help you?"

ken made a noise of surprise, not expecting the light, feminine voice to come from behind him.

a girl emerged from behind one of the bookcases, her hair swept to the side and held in place with a barrette. she looked ethereal in her loose dress, the extra fabric making her look like a bird ready for flight. she coughed quietly, her amber eyes drilling into his own with curiosity.

blush erupted like wildfire across ken’s cheeks. the tips of his ears burned in embarrassment. he was caught staring, but the stranger’s beauty was disarming.

"so?" the owner lightly suggested, a gentle reminder that ken still had yet to respond to her initial question.

"oh, yes! i was wondering if you had any coffee?" he finally spoke up. all too late, he realized his mistake. a flush rose to his neck, and ken had half the mind to run out of the store and never return.

raising an arched eyebrow, the stranger purposely flitted her eyes over to the obviously placed coffee pots, before turning her attention back to ken.

"hm, i would say that i do." she chuckled. her dress gently swayed behind her as she slipped behind the counter. Looking over her shoulder, she smiled in his direction.

"obviously." the boy muttered under his breath, embarrassment consuming him alive.

"pick your poison."

ken pretended to ponder his options. on a normal day - which this wasn't - he could always go for a medium roast coffee with creamer and two sugars, but today felt inexplicably different.

"i think i might go with some oolong tea today, if it isn't any trouble."

"of course not, silly. it's one of my personal favorites." the barista smiled. she turned around, completely engrossing herself in the task at hand while ken decided to explore the shop.

his fingers danced on the spines of novels and novellas, enjoying the way they felt beneath his fingertips. as a child, ken never had the attention span for reading. he was always distracted by the butterflies or colorful markers or dandelions. these things were real, and for him, the words in the books weren't.

consumed by his thoughts and the texture of the spines, ken drowned out the shop owner's declaration of warm drinks.

when the surprisingly small hand cupped the boy's shoulder, he jumped, knocking several books from their perch.

"oh no, i'm so sorry. usually, i'm not this clumsy." he offered, quickly picking up the fallen objects and shoving them haphazardly back onto the shelf. anxiety swirled in stomach; he felt like an absolute fool.

the owner simply smiled and pushed the small mug into ken's cold fingers. how long had it been since he stumbled into the shop? ten minutes? an hour? the thoughts were washed away with the first sip of tea, as the warm, comforting flavor washed away the flush on his cheeks.

"my name's hikari," the mystery barista offered, turning towards the door behind the cluttered counter space, "yell for me if you need anything else." she smiled, then disappeared.

"i'm ken ichijouji!" he called after hikari, but it was too late. her delicate frame had already slipped away, disappearing into further into the shelves.

with a barely distinguishable pout on his pink lips, ken sipped his oolong tea languidly and perched himself in recliner nestled into a dusty corner. the cloth on the seat had once been beautiful, ken was sure. years of patrons had worn away the bright red velvet into a thread-bare pink. it was s comfy, so ken snuggled himself deeper into the chair.

glancing around, he browsed the titles nearest to him.

viva by e.e cummings

pride and prejudice by jane austen

star girl by jerry spinelli

the hobbit by j.r.r. tolkien

hikari apparently had an interest in most things, not unlike ken. they just had interests in different places.

losing interest in the books quickly, ken demolished the luke-warm beverage and placed his dirty mug (that he now realized adorned the same little pink hearts as the sign that hung above the entrance way) next to the coffee pot and hurriedly yelled out his goodbyes.

he closed the old, wooden door, walked down the brick steps, and turned onto thompson rd. his stride was strong and his gaze was fixed onto some imaginative point on the horizon.

ken was on a mission.

-

the rest of his week was rough, even by ken's standards. book 'n' brew had been closed for the past five days, much to his dismay. ken had inherited the ability to burn water and couldn't be trusted to make his own tea. with the name-brand fix no longer being an option, five whole days without caffeine had put ken on edge.

it was a rather dreary sunday. the rain fell in sheets and drenched the ken down too his sock-less toes. inky black hair plastered to his forehead; his eyelashes had already clumped together. his wet sneakers lead him down the familiar cement of thompson rd. and his heart leap into his throat when he saw the lights on in the infamous bookstore.

the warm atmosphere was once again barren of any patrons (besides ken, of course). hikari was much easier to spot, given that she was directly behind the counter. ken’s heart-rate picked up; he was almost giddy.

hikari's hair was swept to the side again, the ends barely dancing across her shoulders. her billowy dress had been replaced by jeans and a t-shirt. an apron hung loosely off her thin frame. she wore the tea stains like accessories. his heart gave another weird flutter.

however, before he could question his reaction, ken became far too preoccupied with the smells of the quaint shop. cinnamon wafted around his ears while cocoa assaulted his nostrils.

the owner physically perked up when the wind chimes above the door sang a song, signaling the first customer of the day.

rain dripped from his clothes as ken walked towards the delicious aromas while mulling over the half-baked plan that he attempted to conceive a week prior.

it wasn't much. he just thought that hikari was impossibly cute and wanted an excuse to strike up a seemingly casual conversation. the only problem that presented itself was the fact that ken absolutely despised reading.

so, during his caffeine withdrawal, ken invested a part of his meager wages into a hoard of "spark notes" books. these were easier to understand and got straight to the point, anyways. every morning of his coffee-less week began with a literary classic. much to his dismay, the plots bored him to tears. lovers would fight and makeup, enemies would always become friends. books were too predictable.

nevertheless, when the shop was finally reopened, ken had the basic knowledge of not one, but five(ish) novels to use as conversation starters. he wanted to be prepared to keep her interest, no matter how small his understanding of the material.

"hello, hikari!" ken chirped, a bright smile spreading across his wind-nipped cheeks.

"good morning, ken ichijouji, how have you been?" though she was talking to him, her eyes never left the countertop she was cleaning. the shadows under her eyes did not go unnoticed, but ken decided against bringing it up.

" i'm great! i've been put off, though, as your shop hasn't been open in nearly a week."

hikari chuckled darkly, her eyes meeting his for the briefest of moments. "don't worry about that. i'm here now. would you like anything to sip on or any novels to escape into today?"

ken was slightly confused by the unusual turn hikari's behavior. her voice was no longer sweet, but laden with exhaustion. however, he let none of this deter him from his mission.

"yes, please. i would like a coffee with creamer and two and a half sugars, please."

the blue-eyed boy watched intently as hikari made his drink. In an effort to bring a smile to her face, ken joked that his preferred his coffee the color of his sun-kissed skin. despite how stupid it sounded, her cheeks warmed as she giggled. looking like an idiot was worth it if it meant that hikari would laugh like that.

"so," ken began as the silence settled in, "have you read any good books lately?" he took a quick sip of his coffee and let the warmth sink to his icy toes. september was almost over, but the chill of october was already creeping around the corner.

the corner of hikari's mouth twitched, and ken’s heart soared when he knew he made the correct choice.

"hm," the young woman started, her body relaxed against the cluttered surface of the counter., "i had you pegged as more of a 'movies-are-better-than-books' type of guy." her elbow grazed a stack of books that were balanced precariously on the edge.

"ah, well, of course not! i have loved reading since primary school." ken stuttered out. his face was a shade of deep red, resembling the worn-out velvet of the chair he was sat in. the lie sat uneasily at the pit of his stomach, but ken pushed it aside.

"well, to answer your question, i just finished the book thief by markus zusak." by now, a smile had warmed up hikari’s amber eyes, brightening the mood. rain still splattered against the shop windows, but the pair paid little mind.

"what was it about?" inquired ken. while he had no interest in reading, he certainly had an interest in whatever hikari was talking about. her slow, languid voice soothed him.

hikari eagerly rambled on and on about the characters and plot, being careful to only tease at the spoilers. ken stared intently into her eyes. he didn't have a clue what she was talking about, but he loved every minute of her voice ringing in his ears.

the coffee sat abandoned in his lap, warm long gone and chilly. the raven-haired boy took a drawn out sip, absentminded. furrowed eyebrows and a quirk of the month made hikari giggle in the midst of her story-telling.

once hikari’s story lulled to an end, ken began to talk about the books he didn't really read. he steered away from specifics and danced around with the big ideas. though her attention was divided behind between making herself a cup of tea and ken’s pride and prejudice synopsis, she seemed at ease.

"you remind me of Lydia Bennet, actually.” hikari’s hair whipped around, her eyes wide with surprise. ken was too preoccupied with the speech he prepared, one that he was sure would enthrall her. “you have that aura about you.”

“i have the aura of girl that would run away with a grown man at the age of fifteen?” the incredulousness in her voice snapped ken from his coffee-induced stupor. He hands shook. oh god, i should have read the book.

“the sparks notes didn’t mention that part.” his mouth reveals him before his brain can put a stop to it. “oh, god, i’ve ruined everything. i can’t talk to cute people, okay? i don’t know how to flirt!” his absolute, all-consuming panic must have been obvious from the way the warmth crept across his face.

her giggle caught him off guard. “how can you laugh at a time like this? i just compared you to a mother’s worse nightmare.” ken was miserable, doing his best to disappear into the cushion of the recliner.

“because it was endearing to watch you pretend to know what you’re talking about.” hikari said simply, her cheeks pink.

ken only hummed in response, not trusting his voice to respond. Instead, he basked in the warm atmosphere and tried to gain the inertia to take himself to work. while they sat in comfortable silence, mulling in the conversation, hikari leaned down and pried the empty ceramic mug from ken’s now-cold fingertips.

the contact sent a shiver down his spine, his heartrate skipping sporadically in his chest. he was on fire.

and ken knew.

he knew by the blush that rose in the girl’s cheeks, and the look of confusion still in her eyes. ken knew that coffee was good, but it had never tasted better than when he was with her. he had never tried so hard to gain the attentions of the girl, never expecting himself to be willing to do research on a subject that didn't interest him just for the sake of conversation.

the realization shook him to his core.

ken knew that he was falling for her.

so he did what he was best at.

he ran.

"oh my, look at the time. i am going to be late for my shift. it's been good. thanks for the coffee." he slammed a wad of money on the counter and rushed to the door, wind chimes tinkling after him.

hikari's goodbyes were caught in her throat.

[marveloussupernerd]

Ice Cream - Vanderwood

Uhm so... this idea started w this being abo seven. Then about Unknown. And then about Vandy. Just to clarify, I know lots of different pronouns are thrown around for Vanderwood, but I’m playing the safe route and going by he/him because that’s what the creators said 😀 no judgement if you hc otherwise though! Sorry this is probably gonna be OOC bc I have not played another story so my interactions w him have been slim to none

Summary: You were just kind of... depressed today. With the hacker at large, Seven and Mary Vanderwood III have been tasked with watching you through security cameras. Kinda rough when you won’t leave your room and there aren’t cameras in there. Vanderwood tries to cheer you up

PSA: this lowkey deals w mental health but not explicitly ? Inspired by me bc I get depressed~ esp when I am PMSing (which I am doing now) and genuinely can’t get out of bed and do things (ppl are iffy on mental health so just to say I have been diagnosed and was given birth control to help... which honestly has helped a lil). So I thought this would maybe help me and hopefully some of you, Jesus Christ I’ve prob lost so many of you w all these announcements

You just... couldn’t get out of bed. You had been stuck inside for a few days now, watched over by Seven and Mary Vanderwood III via security cams. But not getting to go outside and have human interaction kinda sucked. And then all your work was stressful too. You just didn’t want to move. And so you didn’t.

You got dressed though. That was a good start. Granted it was in something that could also be considered pajamas, but it felt nice to change your clothes. Felt productive. You went back into bed.

How long had you spent in bed, scrolling mindlessly through social media and watching stupid YouTube videos? You looked at the time; it was 1 pm. You were lucky you had today off, but had hoped to be more productive today. Oh well.

Your video was interrupted. A call from Seven. It was probably important.

“Hey Seven!” You picked up, bringing your voice to its typical cheery state. “What’s up?”

“Are you okay?” The voice on the other line asked. You jumped; it was deep, much deeper than Seven’s, and very serious.

“Are you using a voice modifier?” You giggled. It felt nice to talk to someone.

“Huh? Oh, no. This isn’t Seven.”

You paused for a minute, raising an eyebrow. Your voice caught in the back of your throat. “Are you... the hacker?”

“No!” The voice sounded urgent.

“Tom? Seven’s childhood friend?”

“I’m not fully convinced he exists.” The voice replied, an edge to the voice making it sound like a joke.

“Honestly? Me neither.” You paused, trying to think of who it could be. “I fold. Who are you? And how’d you get Seven’s phone!?”

“Giving up that easily?” The voice was teasing you now. “I thought you’d do more than two guesses.” You huffed out a sigh, making sure your annoyance was heard. “Come on, who would have access to Seven’s phone?”

That literally made no sense though. “...Mary Vanderwood the III?”

“Is he calling me that to you too now?” The voice asked, clearly annoyed. “My name is not Mary Vanderwood the III, and I’m not Seven’s maid. I just go by Vanderwood.”

“Hi Vanderwood,” you greeted. “You’re... a dude?”

“Yes.” He sounded annoyed still. “I don’t know why he’s said all this stuff.”

You giggled. “Well, back to the beginning of the conversation. Why’d you ask if I was okay? Is anything suspicious happening?”

“You just... you haven’t left your bedroom yet.”

“Oh” was all you could say.

“Oh? Are you okay?”

“Yeah of course!” You figured you might as well explain yourself. “It’s just, uhm, I haven’t really wanted to get out of bed and be productive. Sort of a mental block.”

“Oh,” his voice was much more understanding now. “That sucks.”

“Yeah... I think it’s because I haven’t interacted with people in a while. Just kinda holed up in the apartment. Hard to stay motivated.” Why were you telling him all this? He just wanted to know if you were okay. He wasn’t your therapist. “Oops! Uhm, sorry. Didn’t mean to unload that all.”

“You’re okay. I’m... sorry to hear that.”

“I’ve dealt with it before so like... it’s fine. It’ll pass. There are way more pressing matters right now,” you brushed it off, shrugging even though you knew he couldn’t see you.

“Do you-“ he coughed. “Do you like ice cream?”

“Yes?” What a change of topic. “Who doesn’t?”

“Well, if you want something to do, do you wanna get ice cream? If you’re feeling up for it.” He sounded almost awkward. It was kind of sweet.

But still, more pressing issues at hand. “I don’t know if I should with the hacker and everything. Everyone has security but me and so I-“

“I work with Seven. I think I can protect you.”

“Think?” You teased.

“You know that’s not how I meant it. I know I could protect you if need be. If you don’t want to though that’s okay.”

“No!” You shouted. You covered your mouth immediately, embarrassed from your outburst. “No. I think that’d be really nice.”

“I can pick you up outside the apartment in like ten minutes? You don’t have to worry about getting dressed up nice or anything...”

This was all so sudden. “Oh, I guess you do know the address, huh.” You were more saying it to yourself than him. “Wait! What do you look like? So that I don’t get picked up by the hacker or anything.”

“Uh...” he seemed so confident, but very uncomfortable describing himself. “I’ve got brown hair. Kinda long? It goes down to my shoulders. You know what? The lining of my jacket is leopard print. That should help.”

You were silent. Leopard print?

“Don’t make fun of it.” You could hear the scowl in his voice. “Ten minutes. See you then.” He hung up before you could say goodbye.

He did say not to look nice. Which made sense, in retrospect, because he had seen you for the past few days lounging at home. There was no need to try to impress; he already knew how you looked on the norm.

So you grabbed a jacket, your phone, and your wallet (with pepper spray attached to it for good measure), and headed out.

You kind of felt like a hooker, standing out at the curb waiting for a car to drive up and get you. But, you pushed those thoughts out of your mind. You were getting real human interaction today thanks to Vanderwood.

He pulled up in a very standard car, definitely not one of Seven’s babes. He rolled down the window and called your name.

“Wait! Show me the lining of your jacket!” You requested. It felt ridiculous but it was important. You laughed nonetheless, as did he. He pulled the jacket up, showing the intricate pattern. You grinned and got in the car.

“Hi. Nice to meet you in person,” you started, looking over at him. He kept the window down as he drove, the sound from the car loud and the wind blowing through his hair.

“You too,” he shouted, trying to talk over the wind. “Nice day out, huh?”

You leaned your head slightly out the window, the cool breeze a nice offset to the warmth of the sun beating down on you. “Mhm,” you hummed.

Luckily the ice cream shop was only a few minutes away. Good thing too; you weren’t sure what to talk about. You benefited from the fact that most of your words were carried away with the wind; the conversation starters had sucked anyway. You just focused on his surprisingly good driving and the feeling of the sun.

He got out of the car and you quickly followed. He didn’t wait for you, just kept walking to the order window. You scrambled to catch up. “So what’s your favorite?” He asked, sensing you by his side without even having to look.

“Oh, uhm, I’ll have cookie dough. Always a solid choice. How about you?”

He turned to you, a smile on his face that contrasted frankly with the harsh lines of his features. “Dark chocolate raspberry.”

“I can’t tell if I’m surprised or if I expected that.” You let out a little ‘hm’ and shrugged your shoulders. He went up and ordered for the both of you.

“Oh, uh,” you reached into your wallet, but he brushed you off.

“Relax. I can pay for a $3 ice cream cone.”

Your eyes widened. You hadn’t realized that may insult him. “Oh! Uh, that’s not what I meant to insinuate. I’m sorry.”

He glanced over with that smile of his, brown eyes lighting up. Why did it make your heart flutter? You had literally just met the guy. You were such a goddamn simp.

He grabbed the ice creams and handed you yours, his gloved fingers brushing against your bare ones. It wasn’t even skin-to-skin contact! Why did you feel this way from something so small? You wanted to die right then and there. He suggested you eat in the car to maintain a low profile and you nodded, not trusting your own voice.

Were you supposed to talk? Or eat your ice cream? Or both? Your mind chose for you, as words stumbled out of your lips before you could even stop them. “So is Vanderwood your real name?” Idiot. Of course it isn’t!

“God no.” He sounded hard about it. It was hard to take him seriously while he was licking an ice cream cone like that. You tried to hide your laughter. “No, don’t laugh.” His voice wasn’t hard this time. He was almost begging you to go easy on him.

“No I’m sorry! I wasn’t laughing at your name. It’s just... it’s kind of funny when you sound all mad and annoyed but you look so cute eating your ice cream.” No!!!!! Did you just call him cute? This was going AWFUL. You should have stayed home.

“Well, you can make fun of my name. I obviously didn’t pick it. It’s stupid.” Maybe he hadn’t heard the last part of what you said, considering he didn’t bring it up? But why was he blushing?

“It’s not that bad. You could be named Mary Vanderwood the III,” you teased. He rolled his eyes. “Can I give you a nickname? Maybe make it less insufferable?”

“What, you think we’re going to be talking all the time now?” He had a point. Why did you... do any of this? It was so embarrassing. You stared at your ice cream, praying you didn’t blush or shake your leg or do anything to show how much you felt like an idiot. He nudged you, causing you to glance up at him, and he smiled. “I’d love a nickname.”

“Wood.”

“Ha ha,” he laughed sarcastically.

“V! Oh wait... we can’t do that.” Poor V. You had almost regifted his name. “Vandy!”

“Vandy?” He questioned, trying out the name. “I’m not seeing it.”

“I am. Vandy. That’s the one”

“It’s too...cute.” His cheeks flushed red again. He pushed some of his hair out of his eyes. “I’m not letting you call me that.”

“You don’t get to pick your own nickname,” you stuck your tongue out at him. “I think it’s very fitting. It’s cute, you’re cute...” why were you doing this to yourself? You must have hated yourself.

“You’ve said that twice now. That I’m cute,” he mentioned causally, biting down on his cone, the rest of the ice cream gone.

“Oh! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it as an insult.”

“Oh, it’s fine. It’s probably just my toxic masculinity.” It sounded like a joke but he also sounded serious? There were so many mysteries surrounding him.

“Well, if it helps. I think you’re quite handsome too. But that’s a lot of syllables to get my point across.” You were a bit more confident this time. If he was genuinely worried about his image, why wouldn’t you help reassure him.

“Uh, thanks.” He pushed back his hair, pausing midway. “I’m sorry, I’m really bad with gratitude. I genuinely appreciate it, especially coming from you.”

“Well it’s not like I’m lying,” you shrugged. You had finished your ice cream. “Uhm... maybe we should get back. Who knows what Seven’s been up to since you’ve been gone.”

“Oh, yes. Of course.”

The drive back was just as silent as the drive there, the both of you enjoying the sun and the wind again. He turned on the radio this time. It played 80s hits.

He parked in front of the building. “I hope that helped you feel a little better. I mean, I had fun,” he explained. You could tell he was forcing the words out, forcing himself to express some emotion.

“It helped a lot. For real. Thank you Vandy.” You touched his arm gently.

“Can I have your number?” He asked, a small smirk forming at the corner of his lips. “So that I don’t have to call you through Seven’s phone again,” he justified.

You smiled, nodding, wordlessly taking the phone from his hands and putting your number in. Why were your hands shaking? Was he genuinely interested in you? Or was he just a nice guy?

You handed the phone back. “Thank you again.” You smiled, opening the car door.

“Wait!” He exclaimed. You turned back towards him, leaving the car door open. “Can I... kiss you?”

You shut the car door again, nodding eagerly. He pressed himself against the center console to reach you, using one hand to balance himself and the other to brush the hair out of your eyes, cupping your cheek as he closed the distance between the two of you. Your eyes fluttered shut, focused on just how warm and soft his lips were. It was... really pleasant. He didn’t maintain the kiss for long, although you seemed to have lost your concept of time.

He pulled away, hand still on your cheek, smiling that smile again. “Thank you. I hope I made your day a little better. You certainly improved mine.”

Your fingers grazed his own, intertwining with his for a moment as you opened the car door with the other hand. “You did. I’ll look forward to seeing you again maybe?”

“For sure,” he was more flustered now. “Ah, I should probably make sure Seven hasn’t burned down the house. Have a good night.” He regained his composure, winking at you as you exited the car, and driving off, wind still blowing in his hair.

Vandy stans don’t drag me maybe he was OOC but also I wanna think he’s a little less confident in a romantic situation ? Idk. I hope you all liked it tho tyy

[randomoranges]

good god almighty. here is part 4. somehow longer than the other parts. somehow with more Emotions. i decided to not be vague and call the spades spades. this one is more nsfw because of things étienne mentions. 

again, minor character death and lots of introspection ha ha .

ive been working on the beast for like almost a month now. part 5 aint even done. im so glad i hacked it up in the end. 

PART IV

“The 60s were good with that – for forgetting and moving on. There was – or seemed to be this renewed sense of freedom, as if the people were finding their true purpose in the city. A great big curtain was being pulled back and we were given the opportunity to redefine ourselves. It felt like hope, in a way and with the distance put with the church, I felt I could breathe a little more and I was able to find myself. By the time Expo rolled around, it gave me purpose – something to do. The energy in the city was astounding. The projects people were coming up with – the possibilities they were unveiling – I had never felt something like that. I thought for sure this energy would see us through the next one hundred years; we’d be feeding off of it and returning to it for years to come. It would be our source of creation. Everyone seemed to be excited; the world was literally in our backyard and it felt good to bask in the attention.”

 It made sense for Étienne to have Expo, considering how good he was at catering to others – at giving them the good time they wanted. He thrived in giant crowds and lived for the attention. Plus, at the time, Montreal really did feel as though it was the center of Canada. It still felt like an other-worldly experience and there were still times when Edward wasn’t convinced Expo hadn’t been one massive hallucination. And he’d only been a small part of it, unlike Étienne who had lived every stage of it.

 “With the change of decade, going into the 70s, I expected much of the same – moving forward, the endless possibilities of the future and such. For the first time in a long time, I was actually looking forward to having more time – to being immortal and being able to experience every change. To make new connections. Expand and broaden the horizons and such.”

 “And then it all went to shit, starting with the October crisis. There was a lot that happened in the 70’s and not everything was bad, but for me, personally, it was a series of euphoric highs and devastating lows. In the same breath of the Crisis there would be a Cup win, then there was the Exodus, the language debacles and it never seemed to end. Up and down and up and down. One giant roller coaster that never gave me a chance to catch my breath. It was hard to feel anything let alone make it constant. It took a toll – added up and left me reeling in ways I had never thought possible. I couldn’t finish celebrating the Cup that I would get notified that something terrible had just happened. I would be relishing in disco and there’d be a murder. It was too fucking much. I couldn’t take it anymore. Everything I had worked so hard to build was slowly being torn from my hands and what was left didn’t seem to matter enough. The proverbial carpet had been yanked from under my feet and no matter how many times I tried to get up, I just kept falling and falling and falling... there was no end in sight.”

 Their correspondence at that time had petered off, somewhat. They’d both ended up in unpleasant situations and the last thing Edward had wanted to do was to take a pen and write to his friend to let him know how miserable he was. There’d been times when he’d wondered if his friend hadn’t found out about his fate and had left him for dead as well and it had only been later – much later – that he’d found out through Étienne exactly why he hadn’t written as often, if at all, for a few years.

 “I’m not exactly proud of what I ended up doing, but it seemed like the right solution at the time. I was a mess. I needed help but I didn’t realise it and I wasn’t sure there even was such help for such a lost cause. Working the streets and the clubs were as much self-punishment as they were the only place I felt I could succeed. It was easy to spread my legs to let some random guy fuck me in an alley. It was easy to pretend to be someone else. It was easy to get down on my knees and suck them off. It was easy to let others use me as they wanted and write it off as being unworthy of anything else. This was where I belonged – with the outcasts and the has beens.”

 There’s a shuddering breath that’s released and Edward has no idea if it’s his or Étienne’s. He’s astounded his boyfriend is willingly talking of this chapter of his life. It had taken years for Étienne to even speak of it to him and the confession had been a quiet halting thing that had taken him a while to piece together.

 Yet, despite finding out, it hadn’t changed Edward’s opinion of him. If anything, he had found Étienne brave and courageous for telling him about it and his heart had ached for him even more. Étienne was worthy. Étienne wasn’t a failure and he succeeded at so many other wonderful things. In his opinion, he was still as relevant as before and had never been an outcast or a has been. He was still a leader and trail blazer in his own right, even if Étienne himself didn’t always realise it.

 “When they gave me the Olympics,” Étienne goes on, once more showing that he is brave and more than the terrible things that he had gone through, “I hoped this would be the shot I needed – that it would be as wonderful as Expo had. If anything, it would be on a smaller scale than Expo. It would be a piece of cake, I figured. At least, they’d given me the Olympics in a timely way and not last minute. Therefore, there would be no excuses to fail. but for as much as Expo felt like a fever dream doused with magic, the Olympics were harder to get going. There were so many things that went wrong. So many strikes. So much corruption. The magic was gone. It was the opposite of what I needed and it just drove me further down my own spiral.

 “So I went for the drugs and the sex. One made me feel when I was numb, one numbed everything when I felt too much. And the sex was as much a means to an end as what seemed to be the only thing I could properly deliver. So I stuck to it. Went in and out of these phases. Went on the biggest of benders, woke up in places I had no recollection of going to and such. Drove Élyse nuts. But it didn’t matter to me; I’d still be alive, so who cared what I put myself through?”

 Edward wants to say that there were many who cared, but he knows that it would fall on deaf ears. He gets what Étienne means by it, but it still hurts him that his boyfriend had had to go through all of this. He gives his hand another squeeze and if anything, Étienne offers him a small smile, acknowledging the gesture.

 “I was all over the place and when I finally met Koffey, shortly after the Olympics, it was quite by accident and he took me by surprise.”

 “Everything about our relationship was different than the others I’d been in up until then. For starters, it didn’t happen the way the others had. It wasn’t the usual meet, sex and eventually develop feelings. He’d been living in the city for a few years when we met. He’d immigrated here, in search for a new adventure – ahead of the wave that would come later on. He’d decided to open up a restaurant, bringing us the local flavors of his own country. I stumbled there, quite by accident and I was most likely high and not even fully coherent. To be honest, I can’t even say I remember that day; he’s the one who told me later on.”

 “I ended up returning. Later. On a better day.  I think I was convinced it was my first time here, but Koffey was a little wary of seeing me again. Apparently, I had been a little rowdy on my first visit... Yet, he still gave me a chance and was still very polite while he served me, if a little guarded. I felt bad, so I returned and the more I went back, the more I was drawn – by him, his cuisine, and his quiet sense of humour and intelligence.”

 “He eventually realised I wasn’t a complete asshole and he’d start coming to talk to me when the restaurant was quiet. He was – a breath of fresh air, really and at the time the one good thing I had going on. It felt like being thrown a lifeboat – something to hang on to while I tried not to drown – by my thoughts, my life, the shit-show burning around me. A beacon of hope and light I clung to desperately.”

 “I honestly didn’t even think Koffey was interested in men. It surprised me, when one day, I hung around until the restaurant closed. I waited for him out in the back, not wanting to go home just yet. I also didn’t think going home just yet would be wise. I was still all over the place and I knew that if I went home I’d end up using or doing something even stupider. Having a friend helped keeping my thoughts on track. Koffey, without knowing what was going on in my head, helped keep my mind quiet. I wanted to know more about him and his life, so I focused on that. Anyways, it’d been a quiet night and we’d been having a grand old time chatting. I thought maybe we could walk around and bum out in a park. Summer was starting to settle in for good and it was a perfect night out. Warm and this side of humid, with a gentle breeze to make it pleasant.”

 Edward has his own thoughts and ideas about the description of the weather, but he schools his face in a neutral expression and listens on.

 “He was surprised to see me out back, but pleased and we picked up our conversation from where we’d left off. We ended up taking the long way back to his. I didn’t mind having to walk back to mine after and the extra detour would do me some good. However, he invited me in for a beer and I obviously said yes. He was my friend, after all and the thought of a cold beer to end the night sounded great.”

 “We must have spent a few more hours drinking beer and talking and somewhere along the line, he leaned in and kissed me. Completely unprompted. I was shocked and surprised and at first he thought I wasn’t interested, since I hadn’t kissed him back. He must have apologised at least a dozen times. It was quite funny, really. I’d keep trying to tell him that it was fine, but he wouldn’t listen. And the more he went on, the more afraid he was that I’d do something to him – which was quite sobering, let me tell you. I finally took matters in my own hands and kissed him myself. We’d been hanging around together for months, by then and had I known, I would have put a move on him sooner, maybe. The kiss finally got him to stop apologising and for a moment after that all we did was make-out on his couch like all the terrible clichés in movies.” He laughs at that, fond, as he twiddles with an unlit cigarette. “It was so different, though – soft and tender. Nicholas had been very forward with his kissing that first time. I knew we would end up in his bed the moment he kissed me, whereas with Koffey – it almost felt hesitant and cautious and I thought that was lovely.”

 “He still asked afterwards if I was that way, which I thought was both endearing and silly – considering I had just kissed him and wouldn’t have minded him kissing him some more. I assured him that I was and to prove my point, I kissed him again. I recall teasing him about it later, asking him if he needed another kiss to be sure I was into men. He thought I was being ridiculous, which was saying something.”

 There’s a gentle, soft smile that graces Étienne’s features, not for the first time during their talk, and Edward wonders what memories his boyfriend is reliving – what images his brain has conjured for him to revisit. He’s glad, though, that despite the heartache that Étienne still has fond memories of Koffey to go back to.

 “I wasn’t in love with him – not at that point, but I was certainly drawn to him. He was – beautiful. On the outside as much as on the inside; a gentle soul, really. I would have willingly gone to bed with him that night, but he insisted we wait a little and take things slow. This had never really happened and even though I was a little annoyed, I didn’t push the issue and floated back home after one last kiss.”

 “He actually – I swear, the next time I went to see him, he actually asked me out on a proper date. He was too much! And I couldn’t believe that a man like Koffey, sweet and gentle and kind, would want to date me who felt broken and used and soiled in so many ways. But he saw beyond that and insisted we go on a proper date before we went to bed together and so I said yes; because I did really want him and I loved his company.”

 “Our first date was nothing extraordinary, but it was nice – to be taken out – to feel as though I was worthy of someone’s attention and affection again. It was almost as good as a high. He took me out to dinner and then insisted we go to a movie and he was so gallant about the whole thing. He paid for the meal and for the ticket and don’t ask me how the movie ended, because halfway through we started making-out in the back and before the movie ended we left to go back to his.”

 “Koffey was – so very sweet to me. Our first time together felt like something out of a romance movie. There was no frenetic urgency to it. It wasn’t just sex because he wanted a fast way to get to his release. He made love to me. Me! It boggled my mind. He kissed and caressed every bit of me that felt broken and used. It was – wonderful and too much and I tried changing the pace to something that felt less consuming ‘cause I couldn’t handle so much love being given to me, but he kept on finding ways to make it less about the sex and more about us and I couldn’t take it. I eventually broke down in tears.”

 “And get this – he thought he, of all people, had done something wrong to me – that he’d hurt me in some way. I came clean to him. Told him everything. As much as I could. The drugs, the streets – the fall from grace. Every last ugly truth came out as he held me in his arms and made sure I understood I was someone worthy of love again. I felt stupid for breaking down and felt even worse for needing him to comfort me. And despite that, there were still things I couldn’t tell him. He tried asking about what was bothering me – because he could tell. Even when I lied – he could always tell when there was more – when everything in my head was too loud, but it was hard to explain. I couldn’t just say oh by the way, I’m semi-immortal and I represent a city. Yeah, fucked up I know, but I swear that’s not the acid talking.”

 “It wasn’t stupid,” Edward breaks. He knows Étienne is in a better place now, but he also knows his boyfriend is still prone to great bouts of self-doubt that do more harm than good to him. He’d hate to think that Étienne still feels that way.

 “I know,” Étienne responds quickly. Edward wonders if he isn’t deflecting, but he figures Étienne’s heart has been scorched raw enough for the day that he can let it slide for this time.

 “You’ve always been worthy of love,” He adds softly and Étienne stills for a moment.

 “I know.” He says again, but it sounds different this time around; a little more vulnerable and fragile. Edward wants to gather him in his own arms and hold him tightly, but instead he keeps hold of his hand and lets Étienne carry on with his story.

 “I made it up to him, later, once the storm had passed. I didn’t want him to think that I would be some emotional weight to him. He’d wanted sex so I made sure to deliver. He was still very sweet and loving with me and I tried to ignore it. I focused on making it good for him so that he wouldn’t toss me to the side and in my mind it worked. Yet, thinking back, there were still times when I felt like he was onto me. Like he knew when I was faking it for both our benefits, but he let me be.”

 “Still, for as much as Koffey was good for me and to me, he wasn’t a cure to all my problems. It would’ve been too easy. He helped – more than he probably ever realised, but I was still reckless and I still fluctuated. Bad days and worse days. On those, he’d simply hold me in his arms and let me cry in them.

Sometimes there’d be an okay day. He made it tolerable. To be alive. Made the sharp edges rounder. Made me feel like I could hang on another day. And there were those times when I felt like I genuinely wanted to be around – for him. I wanted to take him somewhere or kiss him again. I wanted to tell him some funny story I had heard or simply go to bed with him one more time. So I stuck it out and tried to survive.”

 “He was so kind and patient with me. He loved me, despite what I was and how I was. He loved me even when I couldn’t love myself. God, I never deserved him. He was too good for me and to me. And somehow, I repaid his kindness by making him sick and killing him!”

 “You don’t know that for sure.” Edward replies quickly, without thinking.

 He remembers the visit. Remembers finding out about the real significance of Koffey. Of going over to visit Étienne and finding him distraught and broken hearted. Of Étienne bringing him to the cemetery. The breakdown and the tears. The trembling murmured admissions of guilt. The dawning connection he’d made.

 Edward had been in his own headspace at the time and their correspondence had petered out, hence his grasp of Koffey’s role in Étienne’s life had been lacking in some regards. But standing by that grave, with his friend opening up about him and telling him what had happened had marked Edward.

 “I may as well have, Edward.” Étienne snaps. He lights up the cigarette he’d been previously playing with and takes a long drag from it. “He died and it was all my fault. I couldn’t even – I wasn’t even there when he died. I was too afraid. And ashamed. I was a coward. He’d chosen me and I may as well have tossed him out.” He flicks the ash with more force than necessary and when Edward spares him a glance, he sees the storm of hate and shame fight in Étienne’s eyes through his unshed tears. “He deserved better – after everything he did for me and I repaid his kindness by being a coward.”

 Edward knows that there’s no sense in telling Étienne that it’s not his fault. His boyfriend will keep berating himself until he runs out of steam and he supposes that it’s best to let him be and wait it out. Yet, it doesn’t sit well with him to have Étienne react this way. Sure, he could have been responsible for Koffey getting sick, but at the same time, there was no actual proof. He hates that it still eats Étienne alive and part of him wants to take him by the shoulders, shake him, and tell him to convince himself otherwise. Especially if it’ll help him move on. But – he’s known Étienne for too long and knows that such actions will do him no good.

 Instead, he waits and starts to itch for a cigarette of his own. He settles instead for a deep breath and then another. He thinks back to his own response to the crises. To the way he’d taken action. The misery and heartache he’d seen and lived. The friends he’d lost. The ones he’d buried. He thinks of running to Montreal to get away from it all and leaning on Étienne for a chance to forget and leave it all behind. There’s an irony here he still hasn’t fully grasped but it’s a reflection for a different day. There’s already enough that’s been looked over for one day.

 “I don’t think he would have wanted you to beat yourself over it,” He offers instead. Étienne sniffs loudly and doesn’t give him an answer. Instead, he remains quiet, fighting with his own demons.

 “You never did tell me why you called him Koffey,” Edward tries again, minutes later, when he feels that the mood has shifted once more and that Étienne has calmed down some. Perhaps this approach will work better, he thinks.

 Étienne sniffles and rubs at his eyes, “Oh,” He starts and a small smile deigns to make an appearance on his face, which Edward is thankful for. “Apparently, his regular customers used to call him that. He thought it was hysterical and he never really liked his own name. I never questioned it beyond that and it stuck.”

 Étienne grows silent after that and turns reflective. Even Mercury seems to sense the shift in mood and nuzzles her way up to his arms for cuddles. The distraction serves its purpose and Étienne focuses on her for a while, caressing her fur and scratching her behind the ears, which she seems to enjoy, if Edward is to judge by the wagging of her tail. He watches and lets them be for a while, glad the dog can help where he can’t.

 “You would’ve liked him,” Étienne quietly says after a while. He’s not looking at him, hands still buried deep in Mercury’s dark coat, but Edward doesn’t mind.

 “I’m sure I would have – he sounds like a great guy.”

 “The greatest.”

 Not for the first time, Edward wonders if Étienne’s feelings hadn’t become tainted with guilt over the years. He doesn’t question Étienne’s love for Koffey, but he wonders if the circumstances of his death haven’t left a lasting grip on him that wouldn’t have otherwise been there if the man had died of natural causes at a ripe old age. The wounds are still too raw and fresh to ask, so he lets the matter rest and figures that there will be other occasions to ask.

 They fall silent after that, both lost again in their own thoughts. He hears the occasional snuffle from Mercury and sends out a silent prayer of thanks to whatever higher power there might be out there for her presence in Étienne’s life. In the few years Étienne has had her, he already sees the difference and impact she’s made in his life.

 Eventually, Mercury settles back on Étienne’s side and his friend leaves a hand around her neck, absent-mindedly stroking her dark coat, while he reaches out for Edward’s own hand with his other. Edward is a little surprised, but he doesn’t mind and let’s Étienne play with his fingers. He traces the lines on his hand with the edge of a nail and draws loops with it afterwards. Edward watches the movement carefully with his eyes and finds it oddly grounding in a way. He hadn’t realised he’d felt a little unmoored by these tales and he wonders, not for the first time, just how attuned to him Étienne really is.

 They settle around each other, the breeze gently ruffling their hair and Edward takes a deep breath to process some of what he’s just heard.

 “And shortly after Koffey died, while I was still mourning him and hating myself for everything I had done, you came along at both the best and worst moment of my life.”

--

Part III Part V

[mae-gi-writes]

Halloween Escapade | Jacob (The Boyz)

You and Jacob both dislike parties, so why not ditch it to get Mcdonald’s? 

Genre: fluff

A/N: I KNOW I’M ONE MONTH LATE FOR HALLOWEEN But I saved this in my drafts and forgot to post it. Nothing too intense, just a little cute Jacob. Enjoy <3 

-----

“You mind doing my makeup?" Looking up from your makeup palette, your heart does a little stutter at the sight of a dishevelled-looking Jacob decked in what seems to be a skeleton-themed shirt and pants. On the occasion of Halloween, the office had decided to close its doors early to celebrate. It was also a good excuse to order some good assortments of finger-picking foods and expensive cake. Being the artist that you were, you had brought along your entire makeup collection, ready to help out anyone in need of paint or decoration on their face.

But you had not expected Jacob, of all people, to be standing before you while shuffling his feet like a shy little schoolboy. He is obviously of a higher status than you are in the office, one of the Directors that has a certain percentage of shares, no doubt. You as a mere office worker that looked up to him in admiration, and had to admit that you had developed a little crush throughout the months of noticing his gentle and kind demeanour. "Uh--sure," you quickly stutter out before gesturing towards the seat, "you can sit here." He does so without complaint as you ask, "what kind of makeup do you want?" "Could you do a skull?" "Uhm--" that takes a long time, your brain screams out at you, "s--sure. No promises, though." "That's alright. The uglier the better anyway," he pauses, "not that your drawings are ugly, I--that's not what I meant." You chuckle softly signalling to him that it's all good. Opening up your palette and dabbing your sponge with white powder, you hesitate slightly before you start covering his face; his eyebrows, over his eyes, down the slope of his nose. He's gorgeous, you think to yourself while trying not to giggle at the thought of you two being so close in physical proximity. You hope that he can't hear the way your heart practically beats out of your chest, an excited hummingbird bursting out through your ribcage. "So...did you learn that yourself?" Jacob asks after a bout of silence. "Mostly. But I was always comfortable with painting and all that stuff," you start contouring his face with gray and silently appreciate the flawless texture of his skin, "I used to do makeup for halloween every year when I was still in school." "That's so cool. I wish I could paint like that," his eyes flutter open to momentarily gaze into your eyes, "the only thing I'm good at are numbers." "Well you know, I grew up wishing I was good at numbers." 'We always want something we can't have." "True," you start blending the black with the white, the makeup taking on a grey tone to create a shadow, "but if it makes you feel better, most people admire the ones who know their numbers well." "You sound like you know something about that." You just smile faintly, "I hope I don't sound too whiny. That wasn't my intention." "No, your honesty is...refreshing," he mumbles through closed lips as you brush over his face with the blender, "I mean, I don't really know how it feels because I'ver never faced this kind of problem. But I can understand how frustrating that might be, for people to judge someone based on their jobs." His compliment throws you off, so much so that you can't help the heat from spreading over your cheeks, "oh--uh, I hope that wasn't too rude. I wasn't trying to offend you or anything--" "No no, not offended," Jacob raises his hands in mock surrender, "I'd be frustrated too, in your place." His blunt sweetness makes your heart flutter and it makes you glad that his eyes are closed at this very moment, for it would've probably made you even more embarrassed to be looking at him face to face. Clearing your throat, you move to his eyes, applying soft dark smudges over his lids as he asks,"so, how do you find life here?" That's how it goes, with him sitting patiently and as still as a statue, and you painting the contours of his face while trying your best not to admire the beauty of the man sitting before you, a work of art you simply can't take your eyes off of. But the more you converse, the more you realize how much you have in common. And the result is astounding, to say the least. For starters, you would never have known that your superior hates socials the most, or that despite people at the office drinking their coffee black, Jacob prefers his coffee with lots of milk and sugar that is enough to cause him diabetes. Not that he's proud of it, mind you. It's not until someone coughs loudly behind Jacob that you realize he's been sitting there a lot longer than he's supposed to, jumping before quickly noticing the growing line of impatient people waiting for their makeup. "Oh sorry sorry!" He jumps up, as though startled he's stayed that long, "I'll leave you to it then, Y/N. Thank you so much for the makeup." "Oh no worries," your heart drops slightly at the thought that you'll never get the chance to talk to him like this again. But before you have time to dwell on that fact, another colleague is asking for a vampire kind of look. You lose sight of Jacob for most of the night, though small glimpses of his handsome figure is enough to entertain your little fantasy. You try not to feel so disheartened, knowing full well that there's not even a single strand of hope that he'll even look at you that way. Hell, he doesn' t even look at you. Stop being stupid, you tell yourself sharply. Nothing's never going to happen. He's probably already taken, idiot. "I'm going home," you mutter to your colleague as another song blasts through the stereo hall. The group protests but you shake your head and quietly slip out to leave all the noise behind, the night air welcoming you with its fresh chilly air. A soft sigh falls from your lips when you close your eyes for a brief moment. A car honks in the distance, you pay no mind. Let's go home, you think to yourself, body turning towards the subway station. You walk a few steps, only to hear another honk, closer this time. You stop and turn, a frown stitching your eyebrows together upon noticing a car pull up next to you. You're surprised to see Jacob's face greet you when the window rolls down. You blink at him. "Need a ride?" --------- That is how you find yourself sitting in Mcdonald's parking lot a few minutes later with warm food takeaways in your lap and the smell of fries wafting through the air, chatting with a man whom you'd deemed unapproachable for the past few months and realizing that there is so much more to what you see to him on a daily basis. You'd be lying to say that you don't feel your heart staggering every time he looks at you with those beautiful mahogany orbs that seem to hold galaxies. "I never used to celebrate Halloween," Jacob is saying as he pops a chip into his mouth, "my mother hates it, says it's useless to be celebrating an event that rouses the dead." "Technically, she's right." "Yeah, my five year old self didn't think so though." "You managed to celebrate in college?" He nods before pulling a face, "first and last time I drank till I puked." "That sounds fun," sarcasm drips from your voice before you laugh softly at the tongue he pulls out sat you. It's so easy to talk to him, too easy. It scares you, this foreign uninvited sensation of something fluttering through your ribcage as if you're constantly sitting on a swing that is going too fast for you. You talk about school, about where you come from, about how you sometimes miss your parents dearly and how hard it was at first, to be away from home for so long. And then he tells you about growing up, about his childhood dream of becoming a basketball player, one that broke the moment he realized it'd be much harder to actually get into the professional league. And then it quickly drifts to the troubles of life itself, to the nostalgia of losing friends when you grow up, to discussing multiple theories about what the future holds. "Woah, it's late," Your eyes widen in realization when you spot the time upon his dashboard. 3:30.a.m. "Oh," his own eyes go round, "shit I'm sorry. I didn't want to keep yo--" "No no, it's okay. I had fun," you smile softly at him while recalling yiur conversation, "I'm glad we got to talk." Relief breaks out as a sigh through of his lips, "that's good to know," his eyes find yours then, bathed in the reflection of the cheap streetlight hanging over your car, but you realise that it doesn't matter, for Jacob is ephemerally beautiful and carries that around with him wherever he goes. Your heart tugs when you realise that the night will have to end at some point, watching him pull out of the parking lot while asking you for directions to your house. The night started out with no expectations, with the sense that you can't breathe around the people you're surrounded with. Yet, this moment feels like a gust of oxygen bursting through your lungs. "Can I say something?" Jacob's voice pulls you out of your reverie as he turns onto your street, glancing over at you out of the corner of his eye. You hum for him to continue. He does after a few beats of hesitation. "You know you can talk to me, even if we're at the office," his murmur is so soft you barely catch it. You look at him in surprise, not expecting such words to fall from his lips. But the look he gives you is one that makes heat spread throughout your chest in parallel to the heat covering your cheeks. He continues, "I know that a lot of people are scared of me, because of what they think I might do considering my privileges. But take that title away and I'm just like everyone else." At this point, his vehicle wheels to a stop right before your front door and he turns his head so that your gazes clash, dark obsidian filled with a gentleness that you can't quite explain, though it causes your heartbeat to stutter. You gaze back though, trying to decipher the way his face softens and the tender way his lips are curved into a half-smile, as if you're sharing a private joke. "Well," you clear your throat, head whipping towards your door and hand finding the car handle, "I guess that's my stop." Biting your lip and debating whether to follow through with the aftermath of his words haunting your ears, you quickly turn back to him, "I don't think you're that kind of person. I don't think you could ever go behind someone's back just for the sheer fun of it," you see his gaze widen with surprise, "So don't worry about that." Jacob just stares at you in the pause that follows. You stare back, mentally debating whether you should just throw yourself out of the window for being so stupid or whether to ask the said man himself to run you over, so mortified at the prospect of having said such a thing that your orbs immediately drop to your lap. "I ...thank you," comes Jacob's whisper, "that...nobody has ever said that before." "A--Anyway, I should probably go--" you quickly scramble to open the car door only to be stopped by his hand swinging out to grab yours. "Wait," he says breathlessly, "I--Do you want to--you know maybe do this again? Sometime? I--" a shy smile dances across his lips, "I had fun, Y/N." Your heart swells. Your neck flushes with heat as your eyes drop to the ground, "I had fun too," you mumble, allowing his hand to slide down your arm until it reaches yours. His fingers, as soft as a dove's touch, gently twine around yours like vines and a breath catches in your throat. Jesus, he's perfect. "Yeah," your murmur, "I'd like to do this again." You don't want to look at him. You can't look at him, for you know that once you do there'll be no mistaking the blatant effect he has on you, and that is something you wish to keep to yourself a little longer. But that thought flies out of the window the moment you feel the softest of caresses upon your knuckles. Head shooting up to catch Jacob's lips skimming over the back of your head, a shiver runs through your spine the moment your eyes lock with all the feelings you've been attempting to cast aside for most of the night. "Great," he grins against your hand, "I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow?"

[everlarkficexchange]

lying in the bed we made (if it wasn't us)

Written by: @archersandsunsets

Prompt 26: the night before the Quarter Quell, in the sleepless dark, Katniss and Peeta allow themselves to indulge in the bittersweet dream of a future they’ll never have together (“if it wasn’t us, what would you do?” “I’d want to marry you” “tell me”) [submitted by @rosegardeninwinter]

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Word Count: 2,918

Rated T.

Author’s Note: Dedicated to the lovely Cate, who has become an invaluable friend over the last few weeks. This is for you, but don’t say I didn’t warn you!

Title from the song, Lying in the Bed We Made by Arrows to Athens. I’d highly recommend listening to it while reading, volume low—it’s very Everlark.

She refused to let go of his hand, insisting he could shower in her room. Convinced that if a door shut between them that night, it would lock and she’d have to spend the night without him.

In return for his obligation, she let him shower first, after he helped her out of her dress. Then, she sat on the bathroom counter in her slip, watching the steam curl towards the ceiling. While Peeta shampooed, they chatted idly about the reactions of the Capitol citizens to the baby bomb like it was a conversation mundanely brought up over breakfast.

“You really think they bought it?” 

“Of course,” Katniss replied, picking at the pins in her hair that were holding her elaborate updo in place, “I’m pretty sure you could convince Effie that a potato sack was fashionable if you really tried.”

Amidst the patter of the water, she heard him snort. “You give me too much credit. Effie would never wear brown, unless maybe it was mahogany.”

A smirk turned her mouth at his joke, and a thought slipped into her mind.

Is this what it would be like, if we got married?

Katniss’s hand stilled on the pin just above her ear she was toying with.

Where had that come from?

Distantly, the water cut off in the shower, but Katniss didn’t look up until she heard the curtain slide back. Peeta had fastened a towel around his waist, and, balancing on one foot, was reaching for his prosthetic. 

“Do you need help?” It felt like a stupid question the moment it left her, but it was either that or stare into space thinking… about her own thoughts. Or, stare at Peeta. None of which were her first choice.

Not that there wasn’t something to stare at regarding Peeta. And if they were actually getting married, she’d have an excuse to.

“Oh, no, I’ve got it.” He smiled sweetly at her, and she watched while he easily attached his prosthetic and stood. All without losing his towel.

She’d asked him countless questions about it before, the nights they’d spent on the train and the mornings after, but Katniss found one she hadn’t asked yet. “Do you miss it?”

His eyebrows crinkled, confused. “What? My leg?”

“Mmhmm.” Katniss’s hand found its way back into her hair. Back into the damned pins. 

“Sometimes.” He shrugged. “After the first Games, I… missed it a lot, I guess, because it hurt a lot. Phantom pain, they called it. Because my body wasn’t adjusted to losing a part of itself. But now… it’s just a leg, really. And losing it kind of saved my life.” He winked at her. “Someone decided they couldn’t live without me, I guess.”

For some odd reason, Katniss laughed at that. “Oh, that’s the reason, huh?” She’d missed this side of him. Even if he was technically making her laugh at his expense. Not that she blamed him for that, given the circumstances.

Peeta stepped over to stand in front of her. “That’s what I’ve been told. By our fans.” He was still joking, still lightening the mood from her dark question. From the darkness of the night ahead.

He adjusted his towel and then took her hand, entwining their fingers. He nodded towards the shower. “Your turn. Do you want me to stay?”

Katniss didn’t think about it. She nodded.

“I just have to get these out,” she complained, using her free hand to pull at one of the pins. “You’re lucky all they have to do to you is put some gel in.” She ruffled his wet hair, which was already beginning to dry in ringlets from the heat in the room.

Peeta chuckled. “Let me.” He reached into her hair, and with one tug a lock of her hair fell from its hold. Then another, and another, until the hairstyle had been reduced to a pile of pins on the counter, and her hair fell in a dark, wavy curtain down her shoulders.

When Katniss looked up, she found the expression on Peeta’s face to be unreadable. This time, he was the one staring, eyes wild in a way that no one had ever looked at her with before. But still, underneath it all, she saw the familiarity of his love for her.

It didn’t make her squirm this time. Instead, it felt right.

“There,” he said, voice low and soft. “Much better.” He allowed himself to twist a piece around his fingers before dropping it. He seemed to come back to himself, because he blinked and straightened. “Um.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’m just going to… get dressed really fast. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” Katniss replied.

“Okay,” Peeta echoed, then he disentangled their hands and left the bathroom, shutting the door softly behind him.

In the steam of the moment and the room, Katniss remembered what Haymitch said Peeta had done for her by confessing his love before their first Games. What felt like forever ago now.

“He made you look desirable!”

To the people of the Capitol, of course. But to Peeta…

She already had been.

…

Hands entwined, they laid in the darkness. Silent, in case the other was able to get even a little rest tonight, though that was impossible. 

Tomorrow was the first day of the rest of their lives—and if either of them had their way, it wouldn’t be both of them leaving that arena.

Just one. 

Once again, their greatest ally was also their greatest enemy: each other.

At first they lay on their backs, their hands in the space between, both lost in thought. Then Katniss rolled over to look at him. 

His eyes were closed, but he was clearly awake. The flare of his nostrils on an exhale was proof. Still, Katniss didn’t look away. The moonlight from the open window spilled grey across the room, the sky’s hue casting bluish shadows over everything. Over him, too.

She let her eyes trace the outlines of his face. The slope of his nose and the curve of his lips. His eyelashes. The freckle underneath his eye. The wrinkle in his brow. She knew without asking that he was deep in thought.

A small, nostalgic voice inside her whispered, “I wish we had more time.”

As if on cue, Peeta’s eyes blinked open. Then his attention was on her, and Katniss shifted to accommodate him while he turned onto his side, mirroring her. Without speaking, they switched hands, curling them up between them.

He dipped his head down to brush his nose against her forehead. Then she felt his lips there, and heard his sigh as he settled, eye level with her.

His voice was ragged and sad when he whispered, “I wish we had more time, too.”

Katniss blinked. Had she said that out loud? She must have. Somehow, it wasn’t as embarrassing, here in the dark. Here, so close to him, with no guilt to feel about Gale, no more goodbyes to say.

It was just… true. Because even if her heart wouldn’t allow her to admit it, she loved Peeta Mellark in her own way.  In whatever way she could. She always had. She always would. 

Until her last breath.

Even if the idea itself scared her to her core.

“If it wasn’t us, what would you do?" 

The question spilled out.

There was a beat of heavy silence between them before Peeta spoke.

“I’d want to marry you.”

Somehow, his answer didn’t surprise her. She had known he would have wanted to be with her, that he was someone who still believed in marriage and happily ever after and sunsets and hope. That much was obvious.

It was that fact that kept her sane, now, so close to the end. Something to cling to in her final moments, maybe. The idea that he would live out all of those wonderful things with someone else. With anyone at all. Because he would be alive.

Usually, the idea would bring an unwarranted frisson of sadness over Katniss at the thought of Peeta with another girl. Not for any particular reason than that she would be sad to… miss it. Then, the swift return of duty and obligation would follow, because she owed that to him, owed him a life and so much more, for his loving her and saving her. But not now.

Instead, Katniss felt something else at Peeta’s simple declaration.

Curiosity. For a life she would never get to see, would never admit she wanted to know about except for here in the darkness, lying in Peeta’s arms.

“Tell me.”

His hesitation spoke to his surprise. “Really?” His lips turned up slightly at her soft spoken request, the tone of his voice rising in disbelief. And teasing, she noticed, but regarded with the same familiarity as on the Tour; she was used to it by now. “You want to know a besotted school boy’s fantasies about marrying the love of his life? With you as the bride?”

“Mmhmm.” She nodded. “I do.”

“Wow, you’re serious.” The humor faded from his voice. And, because Peeta could never deny her, even if he didn’t understand her, he said, “Okay.”

Katniss waited for him to begin. Patient, she took her time watching him while he gathered his thoughts. He had the same wrinkle in his forehead as before, but the lines were softer. His ideas, surely were lighter than whatever he had been pondering before the start of their conversation.

“Well, for starters,” Peeta said, “You wouldn’t wear a thirty pound wedding dress made of pearls and feathers that catches on fire when you twirl.”

A laugh made its way out of Katniss’s throat. “How kind of you. What would I wear, then?”

“Anything you want.” A pause. “You’d look beautiful no matter what.”

It was the kind of comment that on any other night would have made her uncomfortable, or wish he’d take it back. Because it wasn’t true, and because by saying it out loud she was hurting him. But tonight, she allowed herself the absence of guilt that would usually accompany her blush.

Tonight, she let him see her in a way she’d never seen herself. Despite the ways she’d wronged him in the past.

Worthy of his love.

“Sorry,” Peeta’s apology brought her back. Probably because she didn’t say anything.

“Don’t apologize,” she told him. “It’s okay.” She squeezed his fingers. “Then what? Go on. Keep talking about our wedding.”

He rubbed his thumb over her hand. “Alright. If you say so.”

“I do.”

The words echoed in her head when she said them, their significance revealing itself. All this talk of weddings… 

I do, I do, I do.

A beat passed between them before Peeta picked up where he left off. “Of course, we’d go to the Justice Building and sign papers. Prim would be there, and your mother. My family… probably wouldn’t attend.” He sighed. “Except maybe Auric.” The middle Mellark brother. “Delly would be there, too.”

“Delly?” Katniss asked.

“Yeah,” Peeta replied, “I’ve known her a long time. We used to play together when we were kids. She used to tell people I was her brother. She’s one of the only close friends I still have.”

One of the only close friends I still have. Katniss thought for a moment about Gale, nostalgic. Wishing they would have been able to maintain what they had. Wishing it wasn’t so complicated. It wasn’t hard to imagine why Peeta would have lost friends. But she didn’t want to think about it. Peeta was so kind. For greed and self-righteousness to steal his friends, was cruel.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Peeta shook his head at her. “Don’t be. They weren’t real, anyway. Delly is. That’s why she stuck around. Now, where was I?”

“We just signed papers at the Justice Building,” she supplied.

“Right, right.”

“What happens next?” 

Peeta shot her a look, one that asked her if she was serious. “You know what happens next.”

Katniss resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “What?”

“A toasting.” Peeta’s voice went soft, dreamlike. “We have a toasting.”

And suddenly, Katniss wasn’t a seventeen year old girl being sent to her death tomorrow morning for the second time. She wasn’t an instigator, forced to torture the boy that was in love with her with Capitol engagements in the slim hopes it would appease the rioting districts. She wasn’t the girl who had volunteered for her sister in a fight to the death.

She was no one. She was eleven years old, watching Peeta Mellark take a beating to give her some bread. To save the life of a dying girl.

She was cold, soaked from the rain and the memory, remembering the loaves as they landed in front of her. Remembering the heat that scorched her underneath her coat when she picked them up. 

“A toasting,” she repeated in a whisper, voice hollow and haunted.

“Yeah,” Peeta said, and he must have noticed the change in her demeanor, her body language, because he pulled his hand from hers to run it down her arm. “Hey.” He tilted her chin up, and she let him.

A shiver passed over her body.

“We don’t have to talk about this,” he said, “if it makes you uncomfortable. I know…” He took a deep breath, “I know you never planned on getting married.”

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable.” She didn’t even think before she spoke. “I just…” She felt incredibly stupid, because here he was comforting her when she was the one who made him talk about his dream wedding—which would never come true, now.

What kind of monster was she?

“I was thinking about the bread,” she whispered.

“Oh,” Peeta said, realizing. “Katniss, you know… we’re even. You don’t owe me a debt, or anything. I’m serious.”

“I know.” She wasn’t sure she agreed with him completely, she would always owe him in her mind, but she knew he was too kind to collect. Too in love with her to do anything about it. How could you repay someone for saving your life? But, it wasn’t about the debt. It was something else. And she didn’t know what. She didn’t have the time to figure it out, either.

Silence bridged the gap between them, while Katniss tried to wrap her mind around her emotions. No words between them. But she felt Peeta’s eyes on her. Soft, understanding. Waiting. He was always waiting, for her.

“Peeta…” she began. Barely audible.

“Hmm?” 

“Thank you.”

“What?”

“Thank you, for saving my life, with the bread. I have to say it, even if…” Even if we die tomorrow. Even if I die. Even if you live. Even if, even if, even if.

“Shh, hey, Katniss—” Confusion colored his tone, but still, he tried to reassure her. Like he always did.

“—And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you don’t get to have your dream. That I can’t love you the way you deserve. That I’m—”

In a brush of movement, Peeta had moved, until his forehead pressed against hers. Katniss thought he might kiss her, but he didn’t. Instead, his lips moved an inch from her own, his voice came rough and trembling, he cradled her face.

“Please don’t say that,” he said, soft and pleading and pained. “It’s not your fault.”

“You deserve better.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do! You deserve everything, Peeta Mellark.” And I can’t give it to you. I wish I could. I wish… She couldn’t bear to look at him, but couldn’t bear to pull herself too far away from him, either. 

Because she needed him. In more ways than he would ever know. She pulled back, and closed her eyes.

His hands still held her tenderly, though their foreheads were no longer pressed together. “I have everything I’ll ever need right here.” He didn’t miss a beat.

Katniss couldn’t say she was surprised. Or that his sentiment didn’t flatter her—or didn’t sting, because he was talking about her. In a way no one else had ever talked about her. In a way no one else ever would.

Not after tomorrow.

“Katniss, look at me.”

She did.

“You…” For a moment, it seemed as if the eloquent, sweet, Peeta Mellark had gone speechless, until: “You are everything. I love you.”

Even if, even if, even if…

I do, I do, I do…

I wish, I wish, I wish…

I love you, I love you, I love you…

All the words she could never say. Could never mean. Could never…

“I know,” she told him. The fight went out of her, and she opened her eyes. Her voice was nothing but a whisper. “I know.”

When could she stop hurting him? When could she give him something other than phantom pain—pain for parts of himself, gone forever. Would it hurt less, when she was gone?

With the conversation over, they shifted into more comfortable positions to try and get some rest, to hold each other. As Katniss lay her head on Peeta’s chest and he wrapped his arms around her, as they clung to each other in the silent, deadly dark, Katniss allowed her mind to wander.

One last time. 

Would this have happened anyway? she wondered. An echo of everything Peeta ever wanted. An echo of desires she wasn’t allowed to have.

It was a strange thought, disconnected from reality, barely formed.

Would we have happened anyway?

She knew that now, she would never know.

[come-on-shitty-boys]

//evening petals. yamaguchi tadashi//

Request: Hi! I just wanted to say that I absolutely LOVE your writing you’re one of my favorite imagine accounts 🥺💕 I was wondering if I could request an imagine with Yamaguchi where he’s like a prince and he throws a masquerade ball and him and the reader start falling for each other and stuff if that’s ok 🥺😔👉🏼👈🏼

Warnings: brief mentions of premarital holding (i know i know.  I’m filthy)

Word Count: 2.5K

Notes:  Me, pulling out all of the obscure knowledge I’ve gained from reading stupid amounts of Victorian era British literature:      👁👄👁

*18th Century Royalty AU?  18th Century Royalty AU.*

This was the last way that Yamaguchi Tadashi wanted to spend his 21st birthday, but he understood.  He was a prince after all.  It was necessary for him to find a wife to sit next to him on the throne, but seriously?  Today of all days?

His parents and the royal staff had been planning this ball for weeks, so it’s not like Yamaguchi could just refuse.  Everyone had worked so hard to make this evening special for him and he didn’t want to seem ungrateful.  It was wonderful, really.  Seeing the ballroom of the palace graced in beautiful candlelight, the curtains drawn back so the rose gardens were visible in the slowly approaching dusk, hundreds of people littered around the room, socializing with one another. 

The masks, especially.  It was other-worldly to him.  He probably knew many of the nobles in the room, but with their faces obscured behind the beautifully crafted accessories, he felt like just another person in the room.  For once in his life, he didn’t feel like Prince Tadashi.  He was just- Tadashi.  There weren’t any unnecessary eyes on him.  People weren’t hounding him about trade deals with neighboring kingdoms or trying to appease the future king.  It was so refreshing, being able to move through the crowd without stopping him every few steps to introduce themselves and their entire family.

But, word quickly spread throughout the party as the fingers and whispers became almost impossible to ignore.  “Yes, that gentleman over there.  With the gold Venecian mask.  Yes, that’s him! That’s the prince!” People talked and Yamaguchi knew that it was only a matter of time before he was being swarmed by noblemen.  Everyone in the room knew the true intentions of this party.  It was the opportunity to attempt to get their daughters married away to the most sought after bachelor in the kingdom.  

If I just walk faster, maybe I can-

“Prince Tadashi!”

Shit.

Yamaguchi turned slowly, his smile just visible beneath his half-mask.  “Yes! Hello!  Thank you so much for coming,” he said, bowing gracefully to the gentleman.

The gentleman gave a deep bow, the two young women giving polite curtsies in his presence.  “Your highness, I am Lord Claudius Chavanet of the Gruidor Kingdom.  It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“No, please! The pleasure is all mine!”

“I would like to introduce you to Lady Catherine Chavanet and Lady Adele Chavanet, my eldest daughters.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you, Prince Tadashi,” the one in the exquisitely painted cat mask says, holding her hand out, fully expecting Yamaguchi to do something other than just stare and smile awkwardly at him.  Coming to the realization that he should do something, he takes her hand and gives it a firm shake.

“I’m very pleased to meet you too, Miss Chavanet,” he says, continuing to shake her hand enthusiastically.  The girl stares at him with a bewildered expression and pulls her hand away, folding them delicately in front of her.  

Her sister, not wanting to fall victim to the prince’s flustered facade, chooses simply to give him another curtsey.  “Thank you for having us, your highness.  Happy birthday.”

“Thank you for the kind wishes.  Now, if you would excuse me,” Yamaguchi smiles, thankful that his mask covers his flustered cheeks.  Before awaiting their farewells, he has turned on his heels, walking briskly away, desperate to find his parents, his friends, anyone that can maybe shield him from all the unwanted attention.  

“Tadashi!” There’s a sigh of relief from the prince at the familiar voice of his father.  Finally, someone to get me out of here.  Yamaguchi turns to make a B-line for the king, his one escapte, but he was sure the disappointment was evident on his face as there was a literal line of people waiting to talk to the king, or rather, to talk to the prince.

He shook his head, trying his best to pull a smile onto his face, as he approached.  “Father.”  Yamaguchi gives his father a short bow.

“Have you been enjoying yourself, my boy?”

“Yessir.  Thank you for doing this for me.  It’s absolutely amazing!”

“I’m glad to hear it.  However, all of these people have been waiting very patiently to make your acquaintance.”

“Yes, I apologize for keeping them waiting.  It was rude of me,” he apologizes, lowering his eyes in shame.  It was not of very princely conduct to keep nobles and other royal families waiting.  His father had made that very clear to him a long time ago.  ‘These people . . . they tend to be very agreeable at face value. But, just as we do, they come to these parties to make powerful connections.  I suggest you keep your most polite head about you whenever they are around.  It could easily cost you the kingdom or, worse, your life if you aren’t careful.’

“Don’t fret too much, Tadashi.  It’s your birthday, after all!  They can wait on you,” his father bellowed, giving him a kind wink.

Tadashi isn’t sure how much time had passed, but he does know that the servants came by three times to offer him a drink and he also knows that he will gladly be taking them up on their offer as his throat had grown dry from endless greetings and polite conversations.  After tonight, he was pretty sure that he was going to be okay never going to another party again.  He met close to a hundred eligible young women and, yet, they all ran together in his head.  That girl over there, was she a Terlee or was she Princess Sakura of the Atalon Kingdom? Wait- or was that Lady Norah Blaisha?  He found himself growing frustrated as he tried to remember who everyone was.  He felt so lousy!  How was he meant to pick someone to marry if he didn’t even know anyone’s name?

His father’s firm hand on his shoulder brought him back to reality.  “Well, I think that’s everyone.  Anyone catch your eye?”  There was a gleam of hope in his father’s eyes.  His parents have waited a long time for this day.  For the day when he would begin courtship with a young woman, but how was he meant to tell his father that he didn’t remember a single exchange that just happened?

He couldn’t do that.  He couldn’t disappoint his father like that.  Instead, he simply nodded, eyes shut tight in a painfully fake smile.  “Yes, there were a few that I found very agreeable.”

“I’m glad to hear that, son.”

Yamaguchi was ready to ask if he could be excused to go find his friends, but the words got lost somewhere in his throat.  At the edge of the crowd, a young woman sat, her black mask decorated with ornate gold twists and turns of filigree, splashes of little red embroidered roses around the edges.  He’s sure he would’ve remembered that mask.  It was easily the prettiest one that he had seen all evening.  He would’ve complimented it, but Tadashi didn’t remember being introduced to her.

“Father?”

“Yes?”

“Over there, the girl with the black and gold mask?”

“Yes, I see her.  What about her?”

“Do you know who she is?”  Yamaguchi asks, not taking his eyes away.

“I believe that is the youngest daughter of Lord Sauret.  She’s closer to your age than her sister, but her sister is unmarried and well- you know how it is.”

He did.  The eldest girls were to be married before the younger ones were allowed to engage in courtships, but he couldn’t just let this opportunity slip through his fingers.  It was the first person to really catch his attention, how could he not introduce himself?

“I would like to be introduced.”

“Tadashi-” his father warns. 

“You’ve said it yourself, connections are vital.  That’s all this is: forming connections.”

The king released a heavy sigh, unable to say no to his son’s pleading eyes.  “Fine.  Come along.  We’ll go find her father.”

In a matter of minutes, Yamaguchi Tadashi was grinning one of his first genuine smiles of the evening as the two fathers introduced their children.  

“Your highnesses, it is my absolute honor to introduce my youngest daughter to you both:  Miss Y/F/N Y/L/N.”  You do a low curtsy as your father introduces you to the members of the royal family, keeping your eyes trained to the floor.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Y/L/N,” Yamaguchi smiles, bowing deeply in your presence.

“And my son, Prince Yamaguchi Tadashi of the Rozu Kingdom.”

“I’m pleased to meet you, your highness,” you reply, a polite smile on your face.  

Yamaguchi’s hand went to the back of his neck, unsure of what to say next.  Honestly, he didn’t think he would get this far and no one had ever taught him what to do in these sort of situations.  Was he supposed to ask you to dance or should he stay here talking to you?  Does he compliment you?  He was meant to lead the conversation, yet he didn’t even know where to start.  Should he ask if you’re having fun?  No, that would be a bad conversation starter.  

“Do you like roses?” 

Good one, Tadashi.

“I’m sorry?”  Your face contorts into a soft look of confusion as you fail to comprehend his sudden question.

He can feel his face grow hot, averting his eyes awkwardly.  He wishes that he could just hide behind the curtains and disappear like he would do when he was a child.  This was by far the worst social interaction that he’s ever had and last week he said ‘yes, thank you’ when his servant asked what he wanted for dinner, so the bar for bad social interaction had been set pretty high for the prince. “Well, your mask- it has roses.  So, I just wondered.”  

Your hand reaches up towards the mask instinctively, fingers tracing over the little embroidered flowers.  “Oh, right.  My mother used to love them.”

“Really?  What’s her favorite flower now?”

Your face flashes through about a hundred different emotions before finally settling into a look of sadness. 

“Oh my God! Wait- I am so so sorry!  I didn’t think!  Please, forgive me, miss!” Yamaguchi frets, bowing in apology probably thirty times in a matter of seconds.

If he wasn’t desperately pleading for your forgiveness, you probably would’ve been more upset, but you couldn’t deny that his flustered mannerisms were, in a way, sort of cute.  His face was as red as the roses on your mask and he was waving his hands around frantically, muttering that he was ‘so so sorry.’  

Yamaguchi slowly looks into your face when the sound of sweet giggles are coming from your direction.  There’s a smile on your lips that almost instantly soothes him.  It radiates the warmth of the sun on a summer’s day and he can’t help melting as he looks into your shining eyes.  “Have you seen the gardens?”  He asks, returning your gaze, gesturing out the window to the rose garden shining gold in the disappearing daylight.

“That’s why I chose to sit here, so I could look out at them,” you say, nodding slightly.

“Would you like to see them?  Up close, I mean,” Yamaguchi offers.

“Your highness, I don’t know if that’s appropriate,” you ease, eyes flitting over to where your father was engaged in a casual conversation with the king.

The young prince simply shrugs and gives a dreamy sigh, an unknown burst of confidence bubbling up within his chest.  “It’s a shame, really.  The China Roses fully bloomed today and I was hoping to get a good look at them before the sun went down.”  He offers you a sly smile, unfitting of the usually awkward prince.  “But, if you don’t want to see them, that’s okay.  I’m sure I could find someone else to accompany me, but I doubt that they’d be half as breathtaking.”  

In the golden light of the evening, your blush blended in with the medley of colors dancing across your skin.  How could you possibly refuse now?  You reach out, taking his expectant hand, letting him guide you discreetly away from the party and out into the beautiful serenity of the palace gardens.

Tadashi’s head begins to clear as he is finally able to escape the overwhelming bustling atmosphere of the party.  He rids himself of his mask, running a quick hand through his hair, finally being able to breath easily again and drop the ‘charming prince’ act that he was expected to uphold.  He could finally just be Tadashi once more.  

Following his lead, you untie the strings of your mask, letting it fall into your hand.  It’s here, in this moment in time, that Prince Yamaguchi Tadashi of the Rozu Kingdom wishes that he had the ability to stop the world around him, staying in this frame of life forever.  You weren’t looking at him, examining one of the flowers that hadn’t quite blossomed into its full beauty yet.  In the disappearing daylight, your delicate features caught the fleeting rays, casting a soft orange glow over you.  It was a masterpiece of nature that he wanted to have saved as a portrait forever.  Happiness surrounding every inch of your being as you reveled in the stunning garden that completely encircled you.

So, this is the feeling, huh? The butterflies sneaking up into his stomach and the clouds fogging his mind, but not in the same way that they were when he was at the party.  This was a better feeling.  He wasn’t shrouded with anxieties, worrying about what to say or what to do.  Rather, his head was buzzing with thoughts about how beautiful you look, so undoubtedly happy wandering around his gardens with him.  Thinking that it would be completely inappropriate to kiss you right now, but maybe that could stay here, tucked between petals, protected by thorns.  

But, if it was so wrong, why were your hands on his chest? And why weren’t you pulling away from him?  If it was so socially taboo, why were you kissing him back and why didn’t he want to stop pressing his lips to yours?  

Yet, here, shrouded in the approaching darkness, tender kisses were shared between the glowing evening petals.

[sourcherrybomb]

SoKai Week 2020 - Day 2 - For ____ Eyes Only

Synopsis: During the time period Kairi was within Sora’s heart, she kept a handy mental diary of all the places and people she encountered. Let’s take a peek at it, shall we?

Sneak Peek: I’ve been in Sora’s heart for a little bit as of now. It’s a nice kind of… warm, if that makes sense. Like a perfect sunny day on the Islands. Knowing what kind of person Sora is, it’s unsurprising.

Tags: Light Romance, Adventure, Comedy, All Ages, F/M

Prompt for the Day: First Meeting / Unseen Adventures

Words: 3.5k

Fanart By: @softpinkbee​

Entry 1: Welcome to Sora’s Heart. Population: 1 (I think)

Sooo… This is a thing that’s happening. All because of a stupid, literal world ending storm.

Oh wait, aren’t I supposed to start with “Dear Diary”? Not like I’m physically writing in a journal since I don’t have a body anymore… Ugh, Sora and Riku would probably poke fun at me if they found out that I kept one. Well sorry that I like to be sentimental and have a way of remembering and planning our future adventures, lazy bums.

I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? I’ll do this once to get it over with.

Hello there (mental) diary, my name is Kairi! I’m 14 years old and I lived on the Destiny Islands before I somehow ended up in Sora’s (my BFF and lazy bum #1) heart. That little mishap took place right after I met this weird old guy in brown robes in our Secret Place. I don’t know where Riku (my other BFF and lazy bum #2) ended up, but somehow Sora got sucked into a black hole that sent him… Or is it us? To another world called Traverse Town.

I mean the boys and I always planned to travel to other worlds, just not like this. We were supposed to travel by raft, I was supposed to have a body, and it was going to be all three of us… Okay maybe I asked Sora if he wanted to go alone with me, only to end up chickening out at the last moment, but this current situation is not what I had in mind!

Apparently these monsters called the Heartless destroyed our world, sending us to Traverse Town. I feel bad. 

Sora was lost and alone. I knew because I felt it in his heart.

Luckily, Sora has met a lot of new people since arriving. There were these two girls, Aerith and Yuffie, that I would have loved to talk and meet with. Selphie definitely would have loved to meet Aerith, she was so pretty! Besides them, Sora also met this edgy guy named Leon (who kicked his butt) and a cranky old mechanic named Cid. More importantly, Sora met this talking duck and dog named Donald and Goofy. They’re pretty entertaining, so I hope they can keep Sora company since I can’t speak to him and we lost Riku.

I’ve been in Sora’s heart for a little bit as of now. It’s a nice kind of… warm, if that makes sense. Like a perfect sunny day on the Islands. Knowing what kind of person Sora is, it's unsurprising.

I just can’t shake off the feeling that there’s something… no, someone else in here.

Entry 2: Topsy? Turvy? Definitely Crazy.

Is it possible to have an out-of-body experience and a fever dream at the same time? Because that’s what Wonderland feels like.

Geez, where do I even start with this one? I guess with the talking rabbit entering the talking doorknob? Granted that rabbit was kind of cute, if not panicky. I could get used to that. Sora shrinking and entering a place full of playing card soldiers and a cat with a decapitated head (I think? He reattached it) are things that are going to take a bit to get used to.

Gosh, that feels like the understatement of the century.

I knew other worlds would be different than the islands. It’s just that going from a quiet city to a place where gravity is bonkers and playing cards can kill a person makes a girl really question what’s out there.

I wish I could take pictures so people would believe my words. Luckily this cricket named Jiminy has a journal where he keeps track of Sora’s journey. He stays safe inside Sora’s hood, so it’s sort of like we’re neighbors and journal buddies! I’d love to give him my point of view on things once I get my body back.

Oh one other thing before I forget, there was this one girl named Alice. I don’t know why, but she was giving off this really familiar aura. I couldn’t help but feel oddly drawn to her.

I feel like this won’t be the first time we come into contact with her.

Entry 3: Anyone else hear horns?

Like seriously, Sora and I both hear horns coming from this world, but neither of us have any idea as to where they’re coming from. This (extremely small) world is the Olympus Coliseum.

Sora, Donald, and Goofy got thrown into some challenges and ended up fighting waves of Heartless. Really makes me think about how I should have tried sword fighting with Sora and Riku. Sure, I’ve picked up some things by just watching them, but I think actually practicing with them would have helped me in the long run. I mean, I totally could have fought off that weird guy in the brown robes.

Ugh, just thinking about him gives me bad vibes. 

Going back to the challenges, Sora totally got his butt handed to him by this guy, Cloud. It was way worse than the loss Sora took against Leon, I don’t think Cloud was holding back. 

I’m thankful he didn’t finish Sora off. Partly because he’s my best friend, but also because if Sora bites the dust, then I’m also gone. It was rough seeing Sora lose again, but watching him take out a giant three-headed dog right after certainly was a sight. Although I swear I heard Hercules whisper to his little red friend, Phil, next to him that he weakened the monster. 

Maybe. But since it felt like I was fighting alongside him, I’m not ready to count Sora out just yet. He’s grown so much stronger day after day.

Entry 4: Note to Self, Never Let Sora Drive

You know, if the three of us did leave on that raft as planned, I always had a feeling that Sora might fight with Riku over where to take us. Sora’s never been one for his directional skills, that was always more Riku’s forte. Because of this, I always mentally prepared myself for the event where Sora would get us super lost.

WHAT I DIDN’T MENTALLY PREPARE MYSELF WAS FOR SORA TO CAUSE A GIANT SPACESHIP TO CRASH BECAUSE HE ARGUED WITH A TALKING DUCK!!!

That’s not even where it ends! This Deep Jungle is nuts! There’s a leopard that’ll attack you like every five steps, there was a giant Heartless that turned invisible, and Sora even got a gun fired at it! Granted that last one was because of some hunter jerk with a stupid mustache, but if he’s from this world, he’s part of the problem.

The only saving grace was the fact that there are giant tree trunks that act like slides and as many vines to swing on as I wanted to. Tarzan has got to give me some tips when I have the chance to meet him, it was like he was flying through the trees! I’d honestly enjoy the chance to talk to Jane myself as well. She seems so smart and would have so much to talk about. I think she’d make pleasant conversation. That being said, when she showed Sora a picture of a castle in the slideshow, I couldn’t shake this sense of… familiarity. Like I had seen it or something like it before. But where…?

Even though this world and I got off on the wrong foot, once I get my body back, I’m definitely making Sora bring me here so I can do all that!

Although I still have no idea how that’s gonna happen.

Entry 5: I don’t know why, but this place feels oddly familiar

Today may have just been one of the best days I’ve had since I’ve been living in Hotel Sora’s Heart, over here!

For starters, dogs. Sooooo many dogs! Leon told Sora about all of these Dalmatian puppies that got scattered across the various worlds. They’ve been taking the time to rescue all 101 of them, and they’re absolutely adorable! Ahhhhhh, I can only imagine playing with everyone one of them.

Secondly, I’m finding Traverse Town a lot more comforting than I originally did. Something about the tall building walls makes me feel nostalgic. I never was from the Islands to begin with, but where I originally came from is a mystery to me. I don’t think it was Traverse Town, but maybe it was another city. I’m sure that in travelling to other worlds, I might be able to remember more!

Today I even got to talk to Sora a little bit, albeit by accident, when he and his friends wandered into this old tower. I looked around and said to myself that it reminds me of the Secret Place, all dark and surrounded by stone. I never expected Sora to hear or see me! I had so much more to say, but when this wizard guy showed up, Sora couldn’t hear me anymore.

But that’s not even the best news: Right after, Sora ended up running into Riku! He’s safe! It was brief, Riku ended up disappearing moments after, but now we know he’s out there and can protect himself. Sora was even able to protect Riku from one of the Heartless!

Never thought I’d see that day where the roles were switched. It suits Sora.

Entry 6: I hate sand.

I may find not having a body to be a major inconvenience, but for once I’m quite pleased at the fact considering Agrabah, the world Sora and his friends just left, was full of sand.

At its worst, sand was rough, coarse, and irritating. It already got into my clothes back on the Islands, but around here I’d imagine it gets everywhere.

That being said, this world has got to be one of the most adventurous we’ve been to so far! Desert temples filled with treasure, magical genies, all in a faraway kingdom? It’s like all the games Sora, Riku, and I used to play when we were younger. If only Riku joined with Sora back in Traverse Town, he would have loved this!

One odd thing though, we ran into another woman, Princess Jasmine, who gave me the same vibes as Alice! Turns out she’s more than just a regular old princess, but one with special powers. I wonder what it could all mean...

Entry 7: Did you know that the stomach would eat itself without the mucus lining its walls? 

Back on the Islands when Sora, Riku, and I made plans to leave on the raft, we always wondered what kind of animals we’d see. The one that would always pop into our minds was a whale since they might be big enough to swallow us whole.

We always laughed it off and went back to working or playing, so actually getting swallowed whole by one feels very ironic. It’s a lot grosser than I thought it would be. Smells like fish everywhere you go, so I really hope Sora, Donald, and Goofy take some showers once they leave.

This whale named Monstro even swallowed this old man and his son, Gepetto and Pinnochio. The latter is somehow a walking, talking puppet!

But what’s even crazier is that out of all the worlds, Riku shows up here, only to kidnap Pinnochio! And not just that, I think he knows where my body is. Geez, Riku was being a real jerk about it, though. Said that Sora was fooling around and not helping, when I know for a fact that he’s doing more that Riku has! I mean, I’m in the guy’s heart, that’s gotta count for something!

I wish I could tell Riku that all this time, Sora has been protecting me. I know I give him a hard time every now and then, but out of all the people in the world, I’m really glad I ended up in his heart.

Entry 8: Rival Redhead Acquired

I know that my last entries make me seem like a jealous person, but mental diary, trust me when I say that I’m not usually one to be envious of others.

Until now.

Being in Sora’s heart, I sort of get a feel for his emotions. By all means, even without being inside him, Sora is pretty much an open book to begin with. It’s just that in being directly connected to his heart, I can feel almost every emotion he has. That includes the mess of emotions he felt when he came into contact with this mermaid named Ariel.

Yup, a mermaid. Atlantica is full of them.

It’s a pretty cool world! There are sunken pirate ships, an underwater kingdom, even a giant sea witch that Sora defeated! But nope, the thing that makes Sora’s heart flutter is another red head when he already has one right here! Ughhh, I’m really glad this diary isn’t physical, I might die if Sora or Riku ever found out I think stuff like this.

Still, Ariel isn’t a bad person so it’s not that I dislike her. She also loves adventure and wants to see other worlds. Moving past my jealousy, I think I’d love to be friends with her some day. Ariel and I are similar, but I think I at least have something over her.

Sometimes when Sora talks about me, he gets this squeezing feeling in his heart. Now I’m not gonna let Sora or Riku tease me over my feelings, I’m sure gonna tease Sora about his once I get my body back.

Entry 9: A lot more tricks than treats!

Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. I enjoy going around to houses and getting candy, but I enjoy scaring Sora even more so. I mean, I definitely did that outside of Halloween, it’s just that the holiday made it feel special.

Needless to say, Sora finding a world exclusively dedicated to it is probably one of the best things I’ve ever found out! When Sora, Donald, and Goofy arrived, they even got special outfits to blend in! With Sora being a vampire, I could see Riku being a werewolf, but when it comes to me, I can’t choose between being a witch or a scarecrow.

There are even monsters! There was a talking skeleton who was surprisingly nice, a mad doctor, and a giant living sack of bugs! (It was super gross when he was defeated.) Sora got a bit squirmy when he died, so I really wish I was there to double down and make Sora sora yell out loud!

I definitely want to go to Halloween Town when all of this is said and done.

Entry 10: I miss candy…

So Halloween Town was fun for the thrills and chills, but felt severely lacking in candy. I may be a disembodied heart without a body, but my heart aches for something sweet! Which is why the 100 Acre Wood was torture for me.

Pooh Bear and I would get along. He loves honey, I love candy, it’s like we’re two peas in a pod. I too would probably get myself stuck inside a tree if I was desperate enough for a sweet snack. 

Pooh’s other animal friends are all so cuddly and adorable! Out of the cutest, I’d have trouble choosing between Piglet or Roo. Tigger reminds me of the stuffed animals I keep in my room. Part of me really wants to hold onto him and see if he can bounce around with me on it, like a pogo stick! When it comes to Eeyore, in all honesty I kind of just want to give him a hug...

Honestly this place is a nice change of pace. No Heartless to be found, it’s always a clear and sunny day out. When it’s night time there aren’t any clouds so you can see all the stars in the sky. I remember all the stories that Sora used to tell me about the constellations instead of learning how to find his way with them. That was more Riku’s job.

I’m glad to know that what I’m feeling when I look up at the sky, Sora is feeling the same. Take your time and relax, you’ve earned it.

Entry 11: It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No, it’s Sora, Donald, and Goofy!

Forget swinging through trees, forget playing with countless puppies, and forget scaring Sora, when I get my body back, I’m making Sora take me to Neverland so I can fly up high in the skies!

Wait no Kairi, focus, there are more pressing things at matter. Mainly, Riku has become a full on jerk, has sided with the Heartless, and is dragging my lifeless body around with him! I mean, my eyes were open, but my body was basically a ragdoll without me in it. I mean on the brightside, Sora was absolutely brimming with joy when he realized my body was safe.

That may or may not have made me feel an indescribable amount of joy and embarrassment, mind you.

I mentioned having an out of body experience in Wonderland, but having a literal one felt even weirder. When Sora got close enough it was possible for me to twitch my hand a little, sort of like I was reconnecting with my body. Sucks that it ended up being dragged away, I was this close to getting it back. What sucks even more is that Riku ended up fleeing to this Hollow Bastion place with it.

Still it wasn’t all bad. Body or not, I was still able to fly around with Sora. He doubted that I’d believe him if he told me.

I don’t think he’d believe me if I told him what I’ve been up to in his heart.

Entry 12: Riku…

I’m back in my body. I wish it was as simple as Sora making contact with it, but things took a turn for the worse this time around.

I need to start from the beginning.

Right before we reached Hollow Bastion, Sora was able to connect with me. He awoke a memory of mine that I’d long forgotten since I came to the island: my favorite story that my grandmother would always tell me. Remembering it gave me this warm feeling, one that intensified when we arrived at Hollow Bastion. 

Only to have that feeling crushed when Riku took the Keyblade from Sora.

I’m glad Sora was able to get it back and knock some sense into Riku, but for a moment Sora really felt at his lowest. Sora was able to become his old self again, but deep in his heart was so much hurt at the fact that he lost Riku to the darkness. Not just any darkness, but from this man named Ansem. He was the one who revealed I was inside Sora’s  heart. Sora was able to beat the possessed Riku, but in the end he made a sacrifice I don’t think I could ever pay him back for.

Losing Sora in my arms made me feel even more useless than I did while I was inside his heart. Interestingly enough, when my heart left Sora’s body, I felt another leave as well. It wasn’t like Sora’s heart, but certainly had similar vibes to it.

Regardless, somehow I was able to bring him back from being a Heartless, but the feeling of losing him in my arms like that is something I don’t want to experience again.

We ended up leaving Hollow Bastion shortly after that. When Sora and I were alone, I was finally able to tell Sora that I was with him the entire time. I had so much I wanted to tell him, but there wasn’t enough time in the world. Not to mention all the unfinished business we had back at Hollow Bastion. I wanted to come with Sora, but he was right. It is dangerous, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, I didn’t really have any ways to protect myself...

I gave Sora my lucky charm. Wherever he goes, I’ll be there with him.

At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

Entry 13: For Our Eyes Only

Hi there diary, this might be the last time I update this formerly mental journal. 

Sora’s gone off on another adventure to save Riku. He saved all of the worlds, but wasn’t able to save his best friend. If I was in Sora’s shoes, which I might as well have been, I would have done the same thing for either of them. As for me, I’m back on the islands safe and sound. Part of me wanted to jump across the darkness and into Sora’s arms once more. But after fighting for so long to keep me safe, I think the best I can do for Sora is to let this one wish come true.

I know he’ll come back for me. After all, he still needs to give me back my lucky charm. And when he does, I’ll make sure to give him this handwritten diary to help him understand just exactly what I went through on this adventure. No…

Our adventure.

---

When I started this fic, I was honestly thinking about dropping it and starting from scratch with a new idea. Quite frankly, I’m glad I decided to keep at it. I’m pretty proud of the result and feel that I’ve made a somewhat creative little oneshot!

Once again, thank you to the Sokai: Destined Oath Discord server for introducing me to SoKai Week 2020! Special thanks to the server member Gee for acting as my Beta Reader.

Thanks for Reading!

[makorragal-312]

Void (Part Ten)

We have now arrived at the final chapter of 2020! Hope you guys enjoy and I’ll see you guys in January!

28...29...30

Allura released her grip from the pole, landing on her feet flawlessly as she placed her hands on her knees, catching her breath. She could hear the constant pounding of her heart in her ears, its rhythm starting to let up the more she inhaled and exhaled. She had been spending her time in the Garrison training room for the last couple of hours, mostly kicking and punching her stresses out via punching bag after punching bag. By the time she was done beating the bags into submission, her knuckles were aching and bruised, yet that didn't stop the satisfaction that filled her bones, As a reward to herself, the princess decided to stick to a lighter yet mundane regimen consisting of crunches, push-ups, and pull-ups.

The princess sighed as she walked away from the contraption, making her way towards the nearest wall where her belongings laid, that being a bottle of water and a orange gym towel provided by the Garrison. She bent down to pick up the bottle, already feeling the moisture being absorbed through her palm as she stood back up. She quickly undid the cap as she tilted her head back to consume the cold liquid, feeling its cold and replenishing effects make their way down her throat. She released her lips from the bottle after a few seconds, twisting the cap back onto its rightful place as she placed the bottle back on the ground and picked up the towel to dry her hands.

"Come on, Cass! You can do better than that!"

"Well, some of us aren't as flexible as you are."

Allura turned her head to the source of the voices. Her blue eyes gazed upon a young man and woman who seemed to be in the middle of a workout, both in Garrison gym attire and seemed to be at least in their late teens or early twenties like Keith. The man had fair, white skin with a pink undertone that gleamed underneath the ceiling lights due to the sweat that clung to him. His curly, obsidian hair swept to one side of his fair while his side profile showcased an undercut and a silver piercing on his ear. He was standing with his hands in his sweatpants, his weight on one foot as he was leaned back, looking down at whoever he was talking to as a smile secured their place on his face.

The princess followed his line of vision and looked to see the girl, who happened to be sitting on the ground with her legs outstretched before her. She had sepia skin and short, curly, dark brown hair that stopped right next to her chin. She held a playful yet somewhat annoyed expression at the young man as her mouth tried to suppress whatever she wanted to say to him. It didn't take long for the man to smirk and walk.behind her as he crouched down.

"Allow me, then." he said mischievously, before leaning his body down on her back, wrapping his arms around his friend as she attempted to squirm out of her grasp, letting out a string of giggles as she struggled.

"Oh my god! Jae, get off me! You're gonna break my spine!" she laughed. The struggle only lasted for another few seconds before Jae leaned back on his bottom, still holding Cass in his arms. The chucking girl was too busy trying to cease her laughter that she didn't notice the way he was looking at her, a warm smile gracing his features and the subtle tightening of his arms around her. It was a look that Allura knew all too well: Love. The Altean could only watch helplessly as the young woman finally turned to face him, her hazel orbs meeting his dark brown ones as her laughter finally over before a similar smile made way to her face.

"You're stupid." Allura heard her snort. Jae's smile grew bigger.

"I know." he replied softly, before leaning in to connect his lips with her as they quietly giggled between kisses before they got themselves off the floor and walked to the treadmills together.

Allura felt her chest tightened as she watched the scene before her. She couldn't ignore the way she saw herself in that girl. Spending time when the person she cared for and wanting to be wrapped in their intimate embrace, not caring about who knew or saw. She turned her head away from them, staring down at her towel as her mind started to wander. Just seeing that display of affection reminded her of her and Lotor before everything went awry.

The way he held her hand so gently.

The way he looked at her so lovingly.

The way he had kissed h-

Allura felt her eyes widened as someone popped into her mind.

Lance.

The princess felt a pang of guilt enter her chest as she spoke his name internally. It had been a couple of days since their argument in his hospital room and she was making an active effort to give the paladin his space. How could she not after everything she said to him? Despite this, however, she would still walk by his room and peak through the window to see how he was. There were times where he would catch her looking in and look away quickly, making an effort to keep his eyes trained on the blankets that covered him. At first, she assumed he was merely trying to forget about the fight and that because of her actions he was going to be somewhat distant. But then she would go back to his window and he would look so different. Gone was the look of anxiousness and the body language of someone looking to be small. Instead was the look of tranquility and the stature of someone who hoped to be small no more.

His trademark smirk when he joked with Hunk and Pidge.

His vivid and humorous face when he talked with Shiro.

His gentle smile and attentive eyes when he listened to Keith.

And not her.

"Allura, I wanna be your family."

"I would follow you across the universe."

Allura's grip tightened on her towel as she reflected on his words from their first date. She knew that Lance loved her, but she never realized the full extent of it until that night. Even though the mice had told her of his feelings back in the Castle of Lions, she merely brushed it off. But then the truth about Lotor came out and she found herself betrayed and hurt, and yet he was there. Just like he said he would. At least until this moment.

Now, the young man who said he would be by her side was doing everything in his power to be away from her side.  The speedy walks away from her, the quick glances before looking away, his discomfort in his face whenever she would attempt to get close. And if the recent events on the volcano planet did anything for the princess, it basically confirmed just how far Lance was willing to go to keep his distance. She knew she was probably exaggerating, but that didn't make her concern any less valid. For quiznak's sake, he decided to separate himself from the group and almost got himself killed!

He was avoiding her. But why?

Did she say something wrong?

Did he not want to kiss her that badly?

Did he...not want to be with her anymore?

"No."

Allura bent down quickly to pick up her water bottle, making a quick haste to the women's locker room to take a much needed shower. As she made her way out the room, she glanced back to find the young couple from earlier at the weight station. Jae was smiling down at her, making sure she didn't get herself crushed as she focused on lifting the heavy weight. Allura turned away from the sight as she focused on the path in front of her, aggravation and fear filling her veins.

"I need to settle this.' _______________________________________________________________________

You came back.

Of course I did.

Lance reflected on his dream once more as he sat on the window ledge of his hospital room, looking out at nothing. The red paladin took a deep breath before exhaling, releasing the tension from the day. He smiled, embracing the feeling of inhaling the air from around him and not from a mask. The red paladin couldn't stand receiving oxygen through masks and an uncomfortable nasal cannula. Not being able to inhale like a regular person because his lungs were practically  scorched and might as well have been puddles of tar. His throat, chapped and dry from the burning air and sore from his bloody coughs as if he had was vomiting lava. Luckily, his breathing had improved greatly in the last couple of days since then. His condition improved rather nicely and he was deemed to breathe on his own again. Now, he was finally being discharged and free to go on his merry-Voltron-fighting-way.

Which meant he was going to interact with the team again.

And certain people on said team.

Now that wasn't to say that he didn't want to see his friends. If anything, he wanted nothing more but to get out of that hospital bed and see them. Especially since they went through the effort to come and visit him while he was still in the midst of recovery.

For starters, as soon as Hunk and Pidge heard about his condition, they rushed over without hesitation. The red paladin couldn't forget how hard they squeezed him when they lunged at him for a three-person bear hug. He would say that they squeezed the life out of him, but the smoke and lack of oxygen already tried to accomplish that so it would be in poor taste to say such a thing. He remembered how hard Hunk cried into his shoulder and how tightly Pidge wrapped her thin arms around his abdomen as she shook.

"Oh, buddy! You scared us half to death!" Hunk wailed.

"We thought we lost you!" Pidge cried, words muffled as her face was pressed against Lance's hospital attire.

Lance chuckled at the memory. As much as Lance wanted to tell them how badly they were bruising his already sore chest, he didn't have the heart to push them away. They just had the scare of their lives being on that planet; they all did. He hated to admit it, but it was nice to know that they were worried about him. Sure, they probably would because they're his friends. But given "certain events," he had somewhat started to doubt that. But he didn't want to think about that right now.

As for Shiro, ever since their conversation he's been making an active effort to check up on him despite his busy schedule. Out of the team, Lance appreciated Shiro's presence the most. There were times where he would come in and he would strike up random conversation with him to take his mind off of his current situation. There would also be times where he would let Lance rant about his stresses of the day and occasionally give him some bits of advice. And there would be the rare scenario of Shiro providing Lance with more stories of Keith in his youth for potential blackmail fuel. Nonetheless, having his leader and friend as a confidant and someone to vent to was relieving to say the least. With everything that he's been going through, he could use it.

Lance got up from the window ledge and stretched, raising his arms over his head to get some much-needed circulation within him. He let out a heavy exhale as he gazed upon his reflection in the window. He was sporting a white T-shirt and Garrison-Paladin pants and boots, one of his arms adorning a bandage from crawling on the hard gravel on the volcano. Lance leaned in closer to the mirror, only to be met with the subtle bags that plagued his eyes due to exhaustion. Any person who saw him would just assume it would be from his time recovering, but Lance knew better.

"We were already in danger the moment we landed. And besides, it's not like I went out on my own. I was with Keith the entire time."

"And look how that turned out."

Lance groaned as he turned away from his reflection. He walked towards his hospital bed, placing his hands on the mattress in front of him as he shook his head. When he had said "certain people," he was begrudgingly referring to the princess. Ever since their argument, she had made it a point to not come by as often out of respect, which was something the young Cuban somewhat appreciated. But he wish that it didn't have to happen the way that it did.

He hated the way he had fought with her.

Lance couldn't even comprehend how it had gotten to that point where he needed to shout at her the way that he did. At least that's what he tells himself. He knew what he did was risky...BEYOND risky. We were talking navigating a planet with an active volcano and with an alarming time limit on oxygen. Lance knows Allura meant well from a place of concern, but he wasn't a kid following their mother's directions. He was a grown man who was capable of making his own decisions, no matter how dangerous they were. And if he messed, he was willing to take that, regardless if his life was at risk. And isn't that what he signed up for when he stepped up to the plate of being a paladin?  To make life-threatening choices in order to get the job done and protect others?

Honestly, Lance didn't have an issue with the way Allura opposed his choice to separate. If anything, it gave him a small bout of reassurance that she did truly did care for him. The thing that the red paladin took issue with was how quick she was to pull blame on Keith.

That, he wouldn't tolerate.

Lance already had a small feeling that she was upset at him for taking Keith's suggestion of abandoning the armor, but he thought little of it considering Pidge agreed with Keith also. But when he chose to go with Keith up the volcano, he knew that she was pissed. And given the way she stormed off into the forest with Pidge and Hunk on her tail, she was REALLY pissed. And in a weird way, it was probably well deserved...for him. He didn't expect her to have any animosity for Keith from the situation.  But apparently she did with the words she said.

How Keith wasn't able to protect him.

How Keith should've turned him away more.

How it was Keith's fault that I ended up in a hospital bed.

Under normal circumstances, if it was any other person blaming Keith, Lance would've defended Keith without question. He just didn't expect himself to defend him so fiercely from Allura, even going as far as to remove his one source of clean oxygen just to prove his point. In a way, it felt like Keith's Galra reveal all over again, only this time he did the defending all by himself and he wasn't in the mood to go through those emotions again.

He didn't want to raise his voice at the Altean, but he couldn't help but to feel so protective. But clearly it shook her to her core because she practically never stepped foot in his room since that day. There were times, however, he would catch her outside of his window. She would gaze at him apologetically and he didn't have the heart to return his gaze, opting to look down at his sheets as the fight was still fresh in his mind and he didn't want that anger to build up again for the sake of his aching chest.

Think of something else, Lance. Anything else.

Lance turned his head to the side and looked at his jacket, freshly ironed and ready to be worn once more by the Red Lion's paladin, his belt laying beside it. He slowly reached out for the garment as he picked it up, letting it hang loosely between his fingers. He knew sooner or later he was gonna have to talk to Allura about what's been going on with him and why he's been so awkward and flaky. But there was just one problem:

They're tall.

They have a huge ass scar on their cheek.

And they have a mullet.

What the hell am I gonna say? "Hey Allura! I'm not really into you the way I used to be because I'm too focused on our leader whom I just now realizing I practically can't lose or I'll lose my freaking mind!" Lance thought, before he felt his eyes widen.

That's it. He admitted it. He couldn't lose him.

He couldn't lose Keith.

Lance couldn't deny or disregard it anymore. Ever since their almost-talk after they brought back Shiro, things had felt unfinished between the two paladins. Lance couldn't speak for the half Galran in question, but he was definitely feeling the empty space. He had so many things he wanted to tell him but he had to push it to the back burner for more important matters, like defeating the Galra Empire and trying to protect their home planet from being overrun. Not to mention the fact that he and the other paladins almost died and spent most of their time in hospital beds, so that just pushed things to the back burner even further.

At the beginning, he couldn't place why he was so adamant about talking to Keith again. As time went by, he just thought that those few moments they shared before he was able to get a word in were just a fleeting moment or him simply wanting to make conversation. Especially given how when the Black Paladin returned from wherever-the-hell he was at for all that time and completely brushed him aside.

But that was before the sunset.

The sunset that started everything.

Lance unconsciously held the jacket to his chest, tightening his then loose grip as the familiar hot sensation went through his bones. He still remembered the way Keith had reassured him before he went to see Allura. He still remembered how tenderly he looked at him and the reassuring smile he had sent his way. It was truly amazing how in a short amount of time someone could take all of his insecurities and doubts and replace them with confidence and care. He knew Keith was building him up so that he would be able to leave, but it only left Lance wanting to stay. He didn't want to be a boy getting ready to eat with a princess. He wanted to be a young man sitting with the person he didn't want to lose.

All those feelings culminating in a moment where Lance was about to do something life-altering. Something that would change everything, especially between him and his leader, and it scared him to death. So he did the only thing he could do and run. Run to the person he had been waiting for ever since they first stepped foot in the Castle of Lions, the person who was finally willing to wait for him. But when it came down to it and he and Allura went on their date, it didn't feel right.

Lance no longer felt that excitement and happiness when he was beside her and those feelings continued to dwindle the longer the date progressed. Despite how grateful he was to Allura for giving him this chance to be next to her, he felt as if he was so far behind her. And when it came down to it, he couldn't find it in him to kiss her nor did he bring himself to care about starting to lose her.

Fast forward to now, and he no longer felt he was behind her. No, he felt as though he was lightyears ahead of her. As if he was looking back at her from behind him as he continued to stride forward. Because now, he had to focus on what was up ahead...who was up ahead. After all the intense dreams and near-death experiences, everything was slowly but surely starting to become clear: Keith is important to him and he refused to lose him.

"Despite everything that happened to you, you were able to summon your bayard and save me. I'm sorry, Lance, but I just can't call that nothing."

Lance took in a shaky breath as he recalled Keith's words. He still couldn't believe he was able to summon his bayard out of nowhere. The only other person who did that was Keith back when they were captured which was sorta to be expected because...it's Keith. Not to mention considering what the "glow-up" he had back when he was on the space whale, Lance learned to expect the unexpected with him. But for himself to do that despite being on the brink of death was surprising even to the red paladin, but at the same time it didn't feel like a coincidence to him. If he hadn't, neither him or Keith would be here right now. A fact that still manages to make him shiver at the "what-if" of it all. Lance felt his legs begin to quiver underneath him as he turned and sat down on the bed. He lowered his head into the jacket as he wrapped his arms around his jacket.

"Oh my God." _______________________________________________________________________

Knock, knock, knock, knock.

Lance was in the middle of fastening his belt when he heard the assertive knocks on his door before it opened. He assumed it was a nurse considering they had last come in his room to tell him to start getting ready to leave ICU, so he didn't bother turning around as he try to secure his belt quickly.

"Don't worry, nurse. I'm on my way out. I already made the bed so I just need to get settled in this and I'll be out of the way." Lance spoke quickly, eager to get out of the way. He heard the door close as he heard slow footsteps making their way into the room.

"I'm not a nurse."

Lance's eyes widened in shock as he swerved his head towards the familiar voice. It was Allura. She was standing firmly, arms by her sides with a determined expression on her face. Lance shifted backwards on his feet nervously as awkwardness set in for him. He and Allura haven't had a proper conversation since their fight so it felt weird for him to be standing in front of her face-to-face.

"Uh, I didn't expect to see you here." Lance started anxiously, looking down at the floor in order to avoid the princess' gaze.

"Well, I figured that I just check in one last time before you're finally released." Allura replied calmly. Lance nodded before walking back to the window ledge, taking a seat. Silence permeated the room as the red paladin was too anxious to speak. Allura continued to stare at him before she sighed heavily.

"Look, Lance. I know that things have been...strange between us ever since our fight. And I'm sorry, but we can't keep avoiding each other." Lance's ears perked up at the statement.

"Allura, I was confined to a hospital bed. It's not like I could really go anywhere." Lance said sarcastically yet firmly.

"T-that's not what I meant." the princess stuttered. It was Lance's turn to sigh heavily before responding.

"Princess, I really should start finishing u-"

"Lance!" Allura shouted almost desperately, before lowering her voice and tone. "Lance, I know that I hurt you with the words I said, and I'm sorry. But you're really starting to worry me. Things haven't been the same between us since we went out together and I know you feel the same way."

Lance clasped his hands firmly and stared down at them. Shiro had warned him that sooner or later he would have to come clean about his feelings and just everything in general. He just didn't expect it to be like this. The only thing he was supposed to focus on was finally leaving this plain hospital room and returning to his bedroom. He didn't think he would be confronted by Allura and would have to try to avoid another negative interaction between them. Oh, how he wished he had more time. The young Cuban heard Allura's footsteps come a couple of steps closer before stopping, probably to put a respectable distance between them.

"I know this might be the wrong time, Lance. But I think we need to talk." Lance's hands tightened as it seemed that the day he was dreading was finally upon him. Shiro's words rang through his head.

"Just do what you feel makes you comfortable...However, I will say that should they ask why, it's best to be honest. You can either tell them everything you've been feeling or just say that you're figuring stuff out and just need space for the time being."

Lance breathed in deeply before finally raising his head and look at Allura, gazing into her vibrant blue eyes for the first time in what seemed like forever.

"Yeah, we do."

[dayiights]

match-up rq 😳

“For starters, I'm a 4'11" heterosexual female. My star sign is taurus and my personality type is ENFP. Yes, I know I'm short and it's something I get teased about A LOT. But to be honest, I do make a few jabs about my height so I dont really take any of the teasing too seriously. I have really messy black hair that I find difficult to maintain, but sometimes I get compliments on it and it makes my heart swell! As easily flustered as I get, I'm a sucker for getting cheesily complimented. I'm also blind as frick, and have to wear glasses. Without them I can barely see 😔. Ok uh,, appearances aside--im super chaotic. I dont consider myself a troublemaker (I'm actually a bit of a goody-two-shoes), but I dont mind doing anything ridiculous or silly in order to get laugh out of all of my friends. Even though I consider myself pretty comedic, I understand if I've ever crossed a line with a joke and always try to apologize about it. Though, I always try to NEVER cross that line (in my opinion, relying on invasive and offensive jokes says a lot about a person's comedy skills if that's all they can say to make people laugh 😔). Even though I'm very extroverted and childish around my friends, I'm actually pretty quiet and reserved behind closed doors. When I'm not socializing, I usually take time to wind down by drawing or scrapbooking (both hobbies I'm a bit insecure with sharing, but I'm doing my best to be a bit more confident), and despite how charismatic I can be I find it very difficult to personally confide in other people. Despite being pretty silly, I always try my best academically and consider myself pretty intuitive and smart. But to be honest, people usually underestimate my intelligence at first glance. This is probably getting a bit too long so I'll try to wrap it up here! I'm not sure if this is relevant, but I main survivor in idv and I usually like playing decoder (except freddy. All my homies hate freddy). Anyways, that's all for now! Please let me know if you want me to add anything else! And good luck with your blog 💘💗”

@miniqko ur so cash money ily !! thank u for the luck 🥺😖💗 i hope u have a good day! i hope u like it!! it was a tie between like three people but in the end

ɪ ᴍᴀᴛᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ...

𝙫𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙤𝙧 𝙜𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙯

you two have a simple balance between one another, and i feel that you would be a great match for victor! he is less of a talker, so you would have to do most of the conversation at first, but with your extroverted nature, i don’t think that would be much of a problem! as the two of you get closer, he would initiate conversation more! he’s a great listener, though. victor would encourage you to show him your drawings if you’re comfortable, but he would never push you. he would also volunteer to start scrapbooking himself if that would help to ease your insecurity about it! he would understand your difficulty confiding in people, he will always ask if you’re okay & what’s wrong, but he would never push you to answer if you aren’t ready the first time. instead, he would let you know he’s always there for you & try his best to make you feel better! he’d ask if you’d like to play with wick if he trusts you enough, he would also try playing stupid little pranks on you to try cheering you up, since he knows that you’re a bit of a prankster!! he would probably ask luca for help if it’s early on in the relationship, but if it’s later on, he would probably use things he picked up from you yourself! he would also send you good morning letters! he’s overall extremely supportive, and a bit more laid back, but he does also have a joking side to himself! he would always try to make sure you’re happy and he’d try taking interest in your hobbies, as well!

[sayhitoforever]

Burn Season - Malcolm Bright x Reader - Pt (2/?)

Fictober 25/31

Part 1  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5 - GIF credit to malcolmbrighted 

Malcolm waited as patiently as he could manage until Y/N was alone before crossing the warehouse space towards her. He noted the way her eyes seemed to trace patterns in the ash and grime, patterns he didn't see. She paid no mind to his presence as he hovered just a few feet away, moving with her as she paced. Malcolm was too much like a dog with a bone to keep quiet indefinitely though.

“So, how long exactly does it take you to key into people? Is it a matter of time spent with them or the topic of conversation?” he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, hands in his pockets. The three burned bodies behind him were all but forgotten, all so he could focus his attention on the bigger mystery in the room.

She gave Malcolm a measured look that was almost hauntingly indifferent. “I don't believe I follow your question, Mr. Bright,” she said as she bent over, eyes studying what she could see of the building’s concrete foundation.

“I didn't even know that JT liked the opera. And Dani told me she hates cilantro just last week.” Malcolm watched her face with a scrutiny he knew she was aware of.

“She's got that sad cilantro-soap gene,” Y/N said with a deep sigh as she stood up straight. “I see that we're both a little married to our work, profiler.”

Malcolm wrinkled his nose at the name, catching the edge of disdain in her voice. It was awfully distracting, he thought to himself. She was distracting, beautiful in a way that was hard not to draw attention. And yet she didn't seem to carry herself in the way that people who knew they were attractive usually did, with a seemingly effortless confidence. Everything about her felt so practiced, so controlled, so intentional. She would have been unsettling if she wasn’t so utterly fascinating.

“You know, I have a theory that social chameleons are sociopaths that learned to—” Malcom began, deciding that maybe his go-to blunt questions approach wasn't going to work in this particular situation and that maybe outright declaring his intention with this conversation was best.

“Don't move,” Y/N barked, voice sharp and Malcolm literally froze mid-step. “You almost just destroyed my ignition point.”

Malcolm watched as she crouched down in the ash and grime, the hem of her stunning dress dragging in it as she leveled herself with the floor. He looked up briefly to see that they were standing just outside the warehouse now, in the back of it actually, with only the charred steel foundation around them. Y/N was completely enraptured by whatever she was studying, Malcolm entirely forgotten above her as her eyes traced the line she had found.

“How long have you been an arson investigator?” Malcolm asked finally, hating the still silence, needing answers, answers in any form he could get them.

“A few years.” Y/N replied, getting down nearly to the point that her cheek touched the floor.

“Why arson?” Malcolm knew it was the most profiler-esque question he'd asked yet, and he expected an equally evasive answer from her.

She sighed as she sat back on her haunches, eyes moving up to view the three charred corpses from where she was. “Fire is as beautiful as it is dangerous, much like people are. It eats away at what is old and weak and leaves the possibility of new growth in its wake. With the right accelerant, it can destroy faster than most people think fathomable, or it can get snuffed out with just a breath.” The brief smile she gave Malcolm as she looked up was coy, borderline flirtatious. “Everything works better with the right accelerant.”

Malcolm would have had to have been stupid not to catch the double meaning of her words. And the look on her face caused his pulse to jump briefly. He had to choke down all of the questions that loaded his tongue as Gil rejoined them, looking hopefully down at Y/N who remained crouched in the ash.

“You're looking at a single ignition point. They left a gas trail, starting outside, here, and going into the building. No gas can remnants likely because it burned along with your three friends over there. Who were, no doubt, expecting your suspect.” Y/N paused, cocked her head slightly to the side as she stared past the group to the bodies in the distance again. “Probably a match starter that they threw down here. Clean, very clean. Professional. You're also looking for a single suspect, not a group.”

“And just how exactly do you know that?” Malcolm asked before Gil could speak first, feeling as close to agitated as he had since Y/N had walked onto the crime scene.

“Because I've seen this before.” She glanced skyward briefly to see the sun had set completely, the only light left was that of the cop cars stationed sporadically and the lights they were beginning to set up. She looked up and gave Gil an apologetic grimace. “Send me whatever you get off the bodies. If Edrisa can find any secondary accelerants, then Snake Eyes here could probably figure out just how premeditated this was and we can go from there. I've got some time tomorrow. I can come in, if you'd like?”

‘Snake Eyes’, Malcolm mouthed to himself as Gil offered Y/N a helping hand up.

“We would greatly appreciate that. Edrisa will likely be up all night with this one,” Gil said, sounding remorseful.

“Oh, good,” Y/N said, eyes as bright as her smile. “This benefit shouldn’t last too long and I’ve missed our early morning Baby Stout days.”

Gil’s expression spoke only of exhausted exasperation. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just tell me that you and my M.E drink on the job.”

Y/N’s grin just widened. “Have a good evening, gentlemen.”

“Let me walk you to your car,” Malcolm said quickly, following after her without giving Gil another glance.

She said nothing as she picked her way across the crime scene towards a black sedan parked on the other side of the street, pulling keys from her purse. Malcolm thought it was strangely fitting that whatever perfume she was wearing smelled a bit like a burning pine forest; sharp, earthy, smoky. A heady, intoxicating combination.

“I look forward to working with you further, Mr. Bright. This case will give us a chance to get to know each other better,” Y/N said with a wink and the same coquettish smile that said she already had him all figured out.

She pulled open the driver’s door and, out of ingrained manners, Malcolm held it open for her. But he was unable to look away from her eyes, slightly entranced and feeling all for the world like a butterfly pinned to corkboard with her stare.

“Do try to get some sleep, this case will be a challenging one.” The door slipped out of Malcolm’s shocked hands as she pulled it closed. The car started, the headlights flickered on, and she pulled away from the curb, taking a sharp right and disappearing out of sight.