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adhduck · 3 years

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Oh Well, I Guess We’re Gonna Pretend

AO3

(Major spoilers for rqg 207)

Wilde is at a party with all his loved ones, and everything in his life is finally falling into place.

He’s also unconscious on the floor of the world’s last safehouse, and something is coming for him.

“Come on, Oscar, dance with us.”

Wilde blinks, realizes Hamid is standing in front of him with his hand outstretched; probably a symbolic gesture, considering he’d be hard-pressed to pull someone double his height.

Smiling, Wilde sets his half-empty champagne flute on the table. “Of course. Care to join, Zolf?”

Zolf, who’s slouching in the next seat with his long, worn coat tucked around him in a fabulous display of I am not a party person, scoffs fondly. “Absolutely not. ‘Sides, it’s yer party, Wilde, not mine.”

“It’s our party,” Wilde says with mock offense, putting a hand on his chest. “Didn’t you hear my toast?”

“Half of it, maybe.”

Wilde rolls his eyes, but relents and squeezes Zolf’s shoulder; presses down a smile when Zolf catches his hand for a second and pats it. “I’ll get you to have fun one day, Zolf, mark my words.” He’s rewarded with a gruff little mumble, and then Hamid tugs on his coattail to pull him away.

[Cel is still reeling from the shock of electricity when they see it. It’s large, with a body that could be humanoid if not for the oversized head, how its body seems not to take up space but distort it. If not for the six-foot swords it has instead of arms.

Instinct kicking in, Cel pulls two bombs from their pockets and throws them in rapid succession. Even with their hands trembling a little – they always do, the first few moments of combat – Cel know each one is perfectly weighted and near perfectly aimed.

The creature doesn’t even flinch.

It only takes a moment to process what that means – limited bombs, a 5% chance of hitting at best, almost a third of their own health taken in one hit – before Cel abandons the idea of attacking and reaches instead for Hamid. He’s desperately light, clothes singed and hissing; as Cel pulls him to their chest, he curls instinctively into the touch.

“Hang on, little buddy,” they whisper, trying fiercely to sound sure. “You just keep dreaming for now; I’ll keep you safe.”

They just need to get him through the door.]

There are a few people dancing, but the clear stars are Azu and Kiko—partly due to Azu’s shimmering, lightly glowing pink gown, but mostly because of the dance itself. It’s a bright, lively partner dance Wilde hasn’t seen before, where they pull in and out of each other’s embrace with twirls and dips and lots of laughter. It looks equally exhausting and exhilarating.

Azu notices him mid-spin and brightens immediately, waving him over. “Kiko, you mind if I show Wilde the ropes?”

Kiko grins and gracefully steps back, half-bowing in the process. “Yeah, sure. Long as I can watch.”

So Azu works Wilde through the steps, out of sync with the music at first to get them right, then faster as he gains confidence, and soon they, too, are spinning and laughing. “You,” Wilde says when they pause to catch their breath, adjusting the frill around his neck, “are an excellent dance partner, Azu.”

Azu preens a little. “Oh, thank you! Though I doubt I’ve got much competition, knowing Zolf.”

Chuckling, Wilde glances at the man in question to find him looking back, chin in hand and a fond smile tugging at his mouth—for a moment, at least, before he darts his eyes away with flushing cheeks. Wilde’s heart sings.

[Azu looks sharply between her friends – half of them unconscious, all of them wounded – and the advancing creature. It seems completely unconcerned by the weapons being pulled as it wades into the fray, dodging a heavy swing from Zolf without even acknowledging him. The swords protruding from its shoulders are almost as long as she is tall.

We can’t win this, Azu realizes. Not while it’s this strong. Pressing a hand to her chest, where her pendant rests safely beneath the armor, she calls to her goddess with words of love and protection and rage. The divine energy builds in her chest, bringing the dull glow of her armor to a bright shine; she throws her hand outwards, flinging the energy with it in all directions, and there—at last, the creature hesitates. It stops as suddenly as if caught in a rockslide, making a noise halfway between a groan of pain and the grinding of stuck gears, and Azu starts to feel hopeful.

Then, it raises its blade.]

Azu catches the movement and smiles conspiratorially. “You know, there are gardens out back that are much quieter than in here.”

”Ah, but you forget,” Wilde replies, putting on his best performer voice. “That just guarantees Sasha will be there, hidden amongst the foliage, waiting to strike.”

Giggling a little, Azu says, “The worst you’ll get from her is some rumors about you and Zolf that are actually true.”

Wilde gasps in (mostly) faux horror. “Don’t even say that.”

Azu laughs for real now, a full and surprised thing, and pushes his shoulder lightly. “Go spend time with him, the party will survive without you a while.” Wilde pouts a little at that, and she tips her head toward Hamid; he’s dancing with complete abandon a few feet away, wings half-unfurled and arms raised high in the air as he spins. Already, a few people have been pulled into his orbit, letting their awkward shuffling loosen into something more inelegant, more natural. “We’ve got it covered. Now go, before you start having deadlines again.”

“To be fair, we have an entire holiday between now and then,” Wilde argues—a bit superfluously, considering he’s already moving away.

Zolf greets Wilde’s approach by sitting up in his chair, eyebrows furrowed and hands raised defensively. “If you try to get me to dance, Wilde, I swear to gods—”

“Already learned my lesson with that one, darling.” Zolf’s ears go a little pink, and Wilde is powerless against the urge to lean into it. “Of course, there are plenty of dances we haven’t tried together—”

“Oh, sod off,” Zolf says, kicking Wilde lightly in the shin; his ears are red, though, so he’s already lost the fight.

[Augusta makes no noise as she’s stabbed through the heart; dead before the pain had a chance to wake her. It’s a mercy, perhaps, but one Cel refuses to let happen to anyone else.

The creature shifts, pulling back its bloodied weapon with Hamid as the clear target, and Cel lunges towards the door, clutching Hamid fiercely against them—and is stopped cold as the creature pierces right through Hamid’s chest.

Like Augusta, Hamid doesn’t cry out when he’s stabbed. He doesn’t move, either; not even when the blade is yanked back out with just force it nearly tugs him from Cel’s arms. Panting, they gather him back against their chest, whatever miniscule safety that might entail, and feel for a pulse. It’s there, thank gods, but only just. He might only have seconds left, and there’s nothing they can do.

At the corner of Hamid’s mouth, Cel can see a smile – the kind he might give during the opening toast of a party, now just the shadow of some wonderful dream – and they do not cry, because what fucking good would that do?]

Just to seal the deal, Wilde drops to his knees in front of Zolf’s chair, bringing them almost eye to eye, and flashes his shiniest grin as he teases, “Don’t worry, I know you love it.” He allows a few seconds for Zolf to huff and pointedly not answer, feeling his chest radiate with warmth, then adds, “Anyway, want to get out of here?”

Zolf’s eyebrows raise, then quickly furrow. “What’re you- that was an awful transition line, ya know. Unless you’re tryna seduce me or somethin’, in which case, why.”

“I’m always trying to seduce you, Zolf, it just never works,” Wilde replies easily. “That’s why I enjoy it so much. And anyway, that’s not what I was asking about. There’s apparently a garden out back, and I thought you might want to take a walk with me.”

“Ain’t you got allergies?”

“It’ll be quiet out there. Poetic.”

Zolf considers for a second, looking Wilde over with a slowly forming smile he’s definitely not conscious of, and for a moment there’s nothing else Wilde wants more than this: kneeling in front of the man he loves, basking in his quiet attention, knowing there’s exciting work ahead and time enough to rest before it comes.

[Zolf spins around, ready to level another attack – he hasn’t hit the thing yet, but maybe if he aims a little lower, forces it to turn for him instead – when he sees the blade sliding out of Hamid’s chest. No. Absolutely not. Without checking it’s clear, he rushes forward, dropping the glaive to his side and redirecting that power into the tips of his fingers. He licks his thumb, presses it firmly to Hamid’s forehead, and, with a low note of please humming in the back of his chest, mutters words of hope and determination into the staticky air.

The wound heals almost immediately, closing like a budding flower in reverse to leave a raised, slightly jagged line of scar tissue; the only proof of how close Hamid was to death. His wings flutter, trying to unfurl in the confines of Cel’s arms, and for a moment, he stirs. Zolf and Cel both breathe out in relief, but by the time he opens his eyes, the poison overcomes him again, and he curls back into Cel’s chest with a contented sound, asleep and completely unaware of the danger around him.

Not exactly what I had in mind, Zolf thinks, but there’s no sharpness to it. The poison in the air was strong enough to knock out people twice Hamid’s size, so he can’t imagine how strong it must be on him. And besides: this might not be a fight where all of them – any of them – get out alive. Can he really blame Hamid for wanting to dream instead?]

“All right, Wilde,” Zolf says at last. “Let’s go for a walk.”

The gardens aren’t particularly large, but they use the space well—bright flowers lining the walkway, bushes and trees bunched together to create the illusion of depth and privacy. Beneath the largest tree, there’s a clear spot where the light filters through like sparkles and the roots breach the soil in just the right way to make a sort of alcove.

It’s exactly the sort of place Wilde would’ve yearned to write poetry in as a teenager, so of course he tugs Zolf over to sit down.

“Thought this was a walk,” Zolf says, eyebrows raised, but makes no argument when Wilde lays down with his head in Zolf’s lap. His fingers quickly find their way into Wilde’s hair, untangling it little by little, and Wilde can’t stop himself from pushing into the touch with a little hum. Thankfully, Zolf just chuckles, scratching lightly at Wilde’s scalp for a moment before continuing.

There’s silence for a few moments, and Wilde idly searches for a pun he can use to fill it; it’s difficult to focus, though, when Zolf is gathering his hair into sections for a braid, those careful fingers brushing occasionally against his temple, his neck, his jaw.

Finally, what Wilde settles for is: “I hope we’re actually allowed out here. I’d hate to go home early because Grizzop took a swing at me again.”

Zolf snorts. “Don’t tempt me. I’ve always wished I had seen that in person.”

“Some partner you are,” Wilde grumbles, trying not to melt when Zolf tucks a few shorter strands of hair behind his ear. “S’posed to defend me, not join the enemy.”

[Zolf does a rapid once-over of Cel to make sure they’re not injured as well. They’re panting and wide-eyed and definitely only not in shock because there’s not time for it, but seem physically all right, which is about as much as he can hope for right now.

He glances to the door of the lab, where Ada and Skraak also seem to be managing okay—and, importantly, where there’s clean air and a door between them and the monster. Grabbing Cel’s arm, Zolf injects as much authority in his voice as he can and orders, “Get in there, close the door, be safe.”

Without waiting for a reply, he sets his glaive on fire and turns back to the fight. They might not all make it out of here – always a risk, in this line of work – but he’ll still do his damndest to make sure at least some of them do.]

There’s no response, save for a suppressed smile and the continuous back-and-forth motion of Zolf’s steady hands. Wilde basks in it for a moment, getting to lay quietly in the grass without even his allergies interrupting them. It brings to mind when he was a child, rolling down muddy hills with his sister and seeing how long the world tiled after they reached the bottom, dazed and laughing.

“She would have loved this party,” he says, brushing a hand through the barely damp grass at his hip. “Isola, I mean.”

“You could’ve brought her, you know,” Zolf replies. “I could’ve- I dunno, watched her, or somethin’. Not like I was doing much anyway.”

Wilde laughs. “She would be terrified of you.”

[Moving has already proven dangerous, so Cel shifts Hamid in their arms and throws him through the door; once he’s safely inside, they swallow their alchemical allocation and pull a previously untouched potion from their jacket. Dragon’s breath—the one they’d been so excited to get after seeing a glimpse of Hamid’s power; the one they’d chattered back and forth about days or maybe months ago, excited to see when Cel might try it out.

“Not leaving you,” Cel says firmly to Zolf’s back, and chugs the potion. Lightning crackles in their body once again, except this time, it feels powerful instead of painful. This time, Cel is going to be helpful instead of helpless. Whatever it takes.]

Zolf snorts. “Oh, so that’s why I haven’t met her yet.”

“Yes, I’m just absolutely terrified you’ll smite her with all your holy rage,” Wilde deadpans, twisting obediently when Zolf taps the side of his head. “Or gods forbid, convert her to hope.”

“Oi,” Zolf says, tugging lightly on Wilde’s hair. “That hope has saved your arse twenty times by now.”

[Azu catches sight of Hamid breathing and nearly crumples with relief. He’s not dead, she didn’t kill him, she might not have to lose someone else—but there’s not time for that, not yet. They have to destroy this thing first, before it hurts anyone else.

She swings her axe as hard as she can, a scream building in her throat as it moans through the air, and – miraculously – it connects. There’s a satisfying thunk, a sharp note of pain; but as she goes to hit it again, it seems not just to dodge, but actively unform and reform around her axe. Learning. Adapting.

In the second it takes for Azu to regain her footing, the monster sinks one of its blades into Sumutnyerl’s chest. The air seems to freeze for a moment, but the strike is lower than it intended, in the stomach rather than the heart, so maybe it isn’t fatal, but Azu doesn’t know. She just doesn’t know.]

Humming noncommittally, Wilde turns his head to look at Zolf, and when he sees the concentration in Zolf’s summer sky eyes, he’s pierced all over again with the force of how much he loves this man—and how much he, in return, is loved. Gods, Zolf is smiling the way he only ever does for a Campbell, and he’s braiding Wilde’s hair as if it’s the most important work his hands have been tasked with, and he looks so utterly, brilliantly happy that Wilde can hardly stand it.

“You alive in there?” Zolf says, tapping him lightly on the cheek.

[There is only one person left unharmed, the horror of the situation made almost a farce by Wilde’s oversized neck ruff and glittering cape. Almost, but not quite, because when the creature turns – body shifting in and out of focus, sword-like arms dripping with the blood of every other being in this corridor – it turns for him.]

Wilde smiles, catching Zolf’s hand before he can pull away. “Yeah,” he murmurs, stupidly fond with it, and rests his lips against Zolf’s knuckles. Zolf’s breath hitches, staring with undisguised awe and quickly reddening cheeks, and Wilde can’t even look at him, he’s so happy. He ducks his head, pushing it against their joined hands; feels Zolf’s warm callouses all the way into his bones. “Thanks to you.”

[There is only one person left.]

“Wilde,” Zolf breathes; a prayer, a promise. Lips press clumsily to his hair, brush his temple as they soak in each other’s presence. “You saved me, too, ya know. So- so many times. I need you, yeah? And I- it- gods, I’m horrible at this, but I just, you’re

[Zolf sees it, this time, when Wilde dies. Sees the sword pierce his chest – right in the heart, a perfect shot – and yank back out with almost careless indifference before the creature turns and does the same thing to Sumutnyerl.

Even dead, Wilde manages to look artistic. His ridiculous cape is flung out beneath him, one arm draped above his head, the barest trace of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He’d been this way after the crash, too, impaled almost a foot off the ground with his limbs dangling and chin flung up to the sky; the perfect semblance of a martyr being raised into heaven. Had he been unconscious then, too? Zolf thinks. Or did he feel the spike go all the way through his chest before he succumbed from the pain?

Doesn’t matter. Zolf had time to mourn when he saved Wilde then; he doesn’t have time now.

Skraak and Ada both attack, but Zolf doesn’t know if the hits land, refuses to process anything that isn’t Wilde and the mere seconds left before he’s gone for good. He throws himself forward, landing hard on his knees beside Wilde’s head, and starts to pray. The magic builds like strong drink in his throat, and he clumsily wipes the blood from Wilde’s mouth as the spell reaches its peak—and is nearly knocked over as the monster deals a crushing blow to his temple.

His vision goes briefly white, blood already dripping down his cheek and jaw, and the magic begins to fizzle away, but he refuses, he refuses. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Zolf presses a hand firmly to the desecration of Wilde’s chest, cradles his cheek with the other. He’s still warm with hope, and Zolf channels that into his prayer, pressing their foreheads together in a way that might’ve been painful, had Wilde been awake to feel it.

Please, he begs the power inside him; begs anyone who’ll listen. Please. Let this be enough to bring him back to me.

The magic bubbles inside Zolf once more, sparkling and bright and warm, and there’s no way to know, really, if it’s enough. It doesn’t matter, of course, because he doesn’t need to know. Because when he presses his mouth to Wilde’s, stroking his cheek and breathing every last ounce of that vital energy into his body, Zolf has hope.

And there, where Zolf’s fingers curl tenderly against Wilde’s neck, new and weak but steady all the same—a pulse.]

The first thing Wilde registers is breath on his face, warmth in his throat—then pain, all over his body but especially in his chest, gods, what happened? He opens his eyes, hoping to regain his bearings; Zolf is there, face mere inches away from his own, which is a nice start.

Realizing he’s awake, Zolf pulls away, fingertips brushing against Wilde’s cheek as he goes. His other hand is pressed firmly to Wilde’s chest, and there’s blood running freely from a wound at his temple. He looks about to cry.

If Wilde didn’t feel unmoored before, he certainly does now. “Zolf- wh- what-”

In lieu of an answer, Zolf pulls Wilde to his feet. There are flashes of movement to the side, none of which Wilde is capable of processing yet; Zolf grabs his arm, which is easier. He looks resolved, in that urgent way he used to get just before leaving on solo missions; Wilde has just enough time to be scared about that before Zolf pulls him close and says, “Get the others out and be safe.”

Wilde opens his mouth in question, but Zolf’s already shoving him away. He stumbles backwards a few steps, more out of shock than actual force, before losing his balance and landing hard on his elbows just inside the lab. His neck snaps back a little, making his vision swim, but he blinks hard to clear it and now, now, he sees it all. The creature. The dead. The ones left standing.

For just a moment, Wilde catches sight of Zolf’s face before he turns away. His eyes nearly glow, lips parted around gritted teeth, and there is rage in his features like Wilde has never seen before. Then he raises his burning glaive, this idiotic man that Wilde loves so unbearably much, and growls, “Right. It’s yer turn now.”

#this fic and i did hand-to-hand combat for NEARLY TWO WEEKS before i bested it #please appreciate it in my honor #rqg #rusty quill gaming #zoscar #rqg wilde #rqg oscar wilde #lolomg #cel sidebottom #rqg azu #hamid saleh haroun al tahan #zolf smith #rqg 207 #rqg fic #zoscar fic #rqg fanfiction #zoscar fanfiction

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zaprlcorn · 3 years

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Venus Rx and Fated Relationships

Is it possible you could meet your future spouse during a retrograde?

A retrograde is when a planet reverses its motion—it moves backwards. Depending on the planet, retrogrades can last anywhere from 30 days to ~6 months. Venus goes retrograde approx every 18 months. Venus is the closest planet to Earth. In a world filled with hopeless romantics and love being the goal of life, when Venus goes retrograde, the effects are felt heavily.

Venus retrograde is a time when we are called to reassess ourselves in terms of “Venusian” things. These “things” revolve around love (internal or external), relationships, values, finances, pleasures, etc.

Because Venus is widely known as the planet of “love” it is no surprise that many people get into relationships when the planet goes retrograde. We’ve heard of exes coming back during Mercury retrograde to get closure (revising communication), but what about going back to people from past lives? Because retrogrades revisit the path a planet was once on, we do the same here on Earth. During this time, many people find themselves in relationships—specifically, “fated” relationships.

At the most basic level, our goal on this Earth is to procreate, carry on our lineage, and achieve happiness in some shape or form. The primary way of life goes: fall in love, have kids, and strengthen our family line. You hear songs about love on the radio, you see it in movies, shows, books, poetry; Love has been an emotion untouched since the beginning of time, so much that the idea of a “soulmate” is popular in pop culture and worldwide. Since astrology has gained popularity over the years, so has the term “twin flame”. A twin flame is essentially the idea that you are the half of somebody else’s soul, resulting in a star crossed lovers tale like Romeo and Juliet (with or without the suicide). In astrology, it has been proven that you can see karmic connections via synastry between two individuals—whether that’s two friends, an employee and boss, or a mother and child. However, in this post, I want to focus on the karmic connection between two people in the romantic aspect.

NOTE: I do NOT condone or support concept of twin flames for many reasons. This post is in no way shape or form about twin flames, saying the persons in this post are twin flames, or saying that you will meet your twin flame during Venus Rx.

Over the years, I have noticed that many people find a long-term partner, or even their spouse during Venus retrograde, in this thread I want to focus on one couple, in particular, that seems to prove the theory to be true:

Zayn Malik and Gigi Hadid.

August 9th, 2015

Venus, Uranus, and Jupiter were all trine each other at this time. Indicating an abundance of out of the blue fated connections and relationships.

There’s no denying that Zayn and Gigi are pretty much in “soulmate” territory. Despite breaks and breakups, they’ve amounted a total of 5 years together. Five years ago, when Zayn and Gigi first met, the planet Venus was in retrograde, which Zayn actually mentions in his song cruel:

Venus in converse, you put a spell on me

Converse: a situation, object, or statement that is the reverse of another or corresponds to it but with certain terms transposed.

Zayn and Gigi met at Kylie Jenner’s birthday party, on August 9th, 2015. The song Cruel is about meeting somebody at a party and feeling a spark. Put two and two together.

When looking at Gigi’s chart, Jupiter was transiting her 5th house with a pretty tight conjunction to Venus (3 degrees separation) in the sign of Leo meaning that Venus and Jupiter were in an exact conjunction that Summer.

Leo is ruled by the Sun, the center of our universe, the Sun shines down on humanity and makes everything beautiful. Leo is home to the 5th house.

The 5th house is the house of relationships, sex, children, parties, creativity, and joys. Speaking of Joys—Venus’ joy is in the 5th house, meaning that this is an extremely favourable place for Venus to be (side note, Zayn had a planetary joy transit himself during this time. His moon was transiting his 3rd house and 3H Moon represents the Goddess.) She enjoys being in the 5th house, as she can utilize everything on the table in that room of the house.

Moreover, Jupiter, at the utmost basic level, has to deal with abundance. Jupiter being in the 5th house is favorable because the sign Jupiter rules (Pisces) is the sign Venus is exalted in. That said, Venus conjunct Jupiter in the sign of Leo equals an overflowing abundance of Venusian energy. It should also be noted that Jupiter rules a woman's husband in the birth chart. At this time, Gigi was in a VERY FAVORABLE position to meet her potential spouse. Moreover, when Jupiter crosses one’s 5th house, this indicates that a woman could meet her husband.

“Whenever Jupiter and the lord of 7th house transits the first or ninth house this is more indicative of things like Marriage commitment, deeper and strong relationships. And if Venus or Jupiter itself rule these houses then it is a double significant of relationships.“

Lord of Gigi’s 7H: Mars & Pluto

Mars was transiting her 4H, ready to cross over to her 5th

Pluto was transiting her 9H

“The seventh house represents connecting with others in a physical bonding and 9th house represents long term relationship.”

Now, remember when I said the Moon was transiting Zayn’s third house? The Moon changes signs every 2-2.5 days, so this transit came and went, but it was extremely fitting for the moment. The Moon was in Gemini, the sign of communication.

The 5th house is the house of relationships, sex, children, parties, creativity, and joys.

Where did Zayn and Gigi meet? What happens at parties?

Venus, Jupiter, and Mercury (Gemini’s planetary ruler) were in a nice conjunction during this time. The Moon was also making a few aspects to Zayn’s natal Moon that day.

Moon in aspect with his Venus in the 1st house (opposite of the seventh house, house of long term relationships) within 1 degree of each other. Venus signifies ones girlfriend or wife in the natal chart.

Moon in aspect with his Jupiter in the 7th house (opposite of first house, house of self and the physical body)

“The ascendant represents the body in the individual of the person who wants the relationship.”

Another thing to note is the planet Uranus. Uranus is an outer planet known for causing upheaval and out-of-the-blue events. During this time, Uranus was transiting Zayn’s 1st house of self. Another thing to consider is his natal 7H Jupiter sextiling Uranus transiting his 1H, which means positive, but abrupt change in relationships.

“This is a good time to tackle difficult tasks that have caused frustration or limitations in the past.” Venus Rx tends to bring people into your life who you’ve had a “past life” connection with.

Because of Uranus’ influence, Zayn’s life was a bit all over the place, so he found himself in a more adventurous state. Because his 11H (the 11H is responsible for social circles) Sun and transiting 1H Uranus were in a square aspect within 2 degrees, That said, Zayn was meeting new people and doing new things with said new people.

We got such a spiritual connection...

Zayn and Gigi are a great example of proving Venus Rx to be a time for cuffing szn. Despite having breaks and breakups, they’ve always found their way back to each other.

I’ve spoken to many other people to have met their partners during Venus retrograde, and almost all of them say it’s like a spark. They feel an automatic deep sense of familiarity with their partner, saying it’s like a spiritual connection.

Zayn is always singing about Gigi and him having this spiritual, fated, and past life connection:

I been feeling high when I touch your body That's how I feel the soul inside her body

— Flight of the Stars (2018)

Think I'm from space, my soul fell down I found the Earth, not leaving now I know your face, think you fell too And ain't no place now, if I got you

— If I Got You (2018)

We got such a spiritual connection, Don't you know you're fuckin' beautiful?

— Common (2018)

I found my life in between shots and getting high The cage I was in fell away when she asked me to dance again I found my life in between a first kiss and a last goodbye

— BRIGHT (2016)

Girl we'd still make it If the planets all faded away

— Imprint (2018)

I know I seen your face In different times and places

....

We can be Something divine, planets align where we should be

— Talk to Me (2018)

With all being said, I think it’s safe to say if you’re looking for love, lookout for the next Venus retrograde (or look for 5th, 7th, or 9th house transits). Sometimes the universe throws somebody in your path and it’s fated. While Zayn and Gigi are an example in the media, I’ve seen it happen numerous times with everyday people. While some find their exes coming back around for a second try, or end up in murky karmic relationships, for the most part: Venus Rx seems to be a good place to start if you’re looking.

Venus retrograde does not always mean things will work out because retrogrades are here to reassess things we did not master in the past. But love is all about taking chances. So take your chance, and have fun. Soul mates do exist, and you may end up finding the one.

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averykedavra · 4 years

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Dance Until the Dawn

Hey, guys! I just finished one fic event, so clearly it’s time to start another! Seriously though, this looked like fun and it might help me transition into working on smaller projects again. So I’m trying some prompts for Soulmate September! Who knows how many I’ll complete, but I’ve got little plans for all of them, so you might get a lot of content this September!

(Tagging @tsshipmonth2020! Song title from Willow Tree by Rival, Cadmium, and Rosendale. You can find this story on Ao3 here.)

Prompt: Day 1. Your Soulmate’s name is written on your wrist or palm. 

Pairing: QPR Royality.

Words: 9913

Warnings: referring to a trans character by their past name and pronouns during the time period when they used those identifiers, some internalized transphobia, internalized harmful beliefs about soulmates, rabies mention, crying, some self-deprecation, vaguely implied gender dysphoria? it’s more on the gender euphoria end.

Patton was eight when he got his heart broken, and he barely even realized it’d happened. Afterwards, he’d look back at that afternoon and wince--or, if he was having a really bad day, cry. It was sad, really. The whole day had been great, and it would have been a nice memory, if not for the soulmates.

They’d been lying on the treehouse floor, the two of them, Patton falling off the side of a large squishy beanbag and Ro drumming her feet on the windowsill. They’d spent a good few hours playing teatime with Patton’s stuffed frog and Ro’s committee of plush puppies. Every time things got boring, Ro would say “oh no, here comes the dragon” and teatime would turn into Rescue the Princess time. But eventually Ro had run out of places to hide the princess because the treehouse was only so big.

The treehouse was their favorite place. It had red walls and a corrugated roof that went ping-ping-ping when it rained and a scratchy rope ladder and a small window with a bucket hanging out of it for Secret Important Messages. In other words, it was perfect.

So after one last daring rescue mission, the stuffed animals were piled in a corner under Patton’s drawing of a dinosaur, and Ro pulled out the storybooks she’d gotten at the library. Patton grabbed his own as well. They were only allowed to check out five at a time, but five plus five was ten, and ten was plenty to keep them busy.

Patton liked books with animals on the cover. He didn’t really care about the story as long as there were animals. And Ro liked adventures. Today she’d brought a whole stack of books, each of the covers sporting dragons and pirates and damsels in distress and brave knights who got them out of distress. Patton thought they could be a little scary. And violent. But Ro always stopped if Patton got nervous, and anyway, it was hard to be scared on a warm spring afternoon with carpet tickling his toes and a lollipop stuck in his mouth.

“Me first!” Ro opened a book with a princess on the front. “We’ll do you next, promise!”

“Okay!” Patton said. He didn’t mind much. Animals were great, but Ro’s stories got interesting.

Because Ro liked to rewrite the stories afterwards.

That was Patton’s favorite part of the afternoon. They’d done it for almost a year, ever since Patton moved here and was greeted by a huge grin and a long black braid and an impressive amount of sparkly hair clips. Being friends with Ro was simple--Patton didn’t know how he’d ever been friends with anyone else, because nobody was like Ro. Nobody understood Patton like Ro did, always knowing when he was upset. Nobody made Patton smile like Ro did, with her endless stories and boundless excitement. Nobody completed Patton like Ro did. They fit together so neatly, like puzzle pieces clicking into place. They were eight and together and the world was wide, exciting and full of new things to read.

“So,” Ro said in her storyteller voice, flipping her hair over her shoulder. And Patton shuffled over to Ro and peered at the book, careful to keep his sticky fingers away from the pages. He wiggled with anticipation.

It was a good story. It was about a lonely princes who was born with no name on her wrist. No soulmate. Her family despaired and she herself mourned, because she would never have a true love. Then a handsome knight saved her from a vicious dragon--this was the part Ro liked the most, dipping her voice to read the knight’s part, Patton playing the princess because all she did was cry a lot. The princess and the knight fell in love, but she knew they weren’t soulmates, so they couldn’t be together. Then they learned the knight hadn’t been given a name at birth, so it hadn’t shown up on the princess’ wrist, and they were soulmates after all. They kissed--“Ew,” Patton said as he finished up his lollipop, and Ro nodded in agreement--and got married and lived happily ever after, the end.

“The thing is,” Ro said, closing the book slowly with her nose wrinkled in concentration. “The thing is.”

“What’s the thing?” Patton asked. Here it was. The fun part.

“The thing is, I think his name should have shown up anyhow.”

“Really? Why?”

“I think it’s cheating!” Ro declared. “Why’d his name not show up ‘cause he didn’t get one when he was a baby? I don’t remember anything from when I was a baby! It’s stupid!”

“It’s not,” Patton said, more out of a desire to get Ro talking than any kind of real belief. “That’s just how soulmates work. It’s your true name, the name on your birth cert-if-i-cate.”

“Your what?” Ro asked, momentarily distracted.

“It’s a piece of paper,” Patton explained, feeling a little proud to know something Ro didn’t. Ro knew almost everything, and the stuff she didn’t, she was good at making up. “They give it to you when you’re born. It proves you got born.”

“Of course I got born!” Ro said, waving a hand at her chest. She was wearing a faded Cinderella t-shirt and there was a hole in the side from the time they played Hide and Seek next to a wire fence. “I don’t see why anyone’s gotta have some paper. I wouldn’t be here if I weren’t born, right?”

Patton shrugged. “It’s just the rule.”

By now, he understood that some things were Just the Rule. That was code for something he wasn’t supposed to argue with. There was also That’s How It Is, and sometimes You’ll Understand When You’re Older, and once in a while Because I Said So, Patton Mbow.

“Soulmates have rules,” Patton added, “because they gotta! You hafta have them or else the world goes ker-splooey.”

“But soulmates are magic!” Ro looked deeply offended. She clapped her hands together. “Unity! Two people are magic and they find each other and it’s magic. Magic shouldn’t have rules. That’s no fun!”

Patton shrugged and fiddled with his bracelet. It covered his left wrist and was sprinkled with liberal amounts of glitter. People liked to cover the names on their wrists because it was kinda private and you didn’t want people peeking at them sometimes. Patton didn’t mind. He’d have a chance to find his soulmate later. Magic could help him out and he’d meet his soulmate like Mom and Mami and he’d live happily ever after, the end.

Not now, though. Now he had books and a treehouse and Ro, who was glowing the way she always did when an idea caught her attention. Her eyes glittered like stars and her hands flew like they were birds and sometimes she ran out of breath but she’d barrel ahead anyway with barely a pause.

Gosh, Ro was amazing.

“It’s just too complicated,” Ro was saying when Patton shook himself and focused. “True names are your birth name but also not really? So many rules! It’s like math. Magic shouldn’t be like math.”

“I like math,” Patton said. “Sometimes our math teacher gives us cookies.”

“I like math too,” Ro said. Which wasn’t true, but Patton appreciated it anyway. “But magic and math aren’t the same!”

“They have some of the same letters!”

“Well, they’re kind of the same, then.” Ro waved a hand. “But magic shouldn’t be like math, it should be like...like...”

Patton waited as Ro fought for a word. She’d find it. She always did.

“Like singing!” Ro exclaimed. “Everyone knows how to sing ‘cause it’s simple! No rules!”

“I’m not sure,” said Patton, who’d gotten several comments when he sang a song from Sesame Street during the school concert about butterflies. “I think singing has rules, too.”

“No it doesn’t! You just sing the notes at the right times!” As an example, Ro sang the first few words of Hakuna Matata, but she’d forgotten the rest of them, so she trailed off with a “something something problem-free.” Patton clapped anyway. Ro was a good singer.

“Like that,” Ro said triumphantly. “If you have the words and the tune and the beat, it’s all set!”

Patton giggled. “Those kinda sound like rules.”

“They do?” Ro scrunched up her nose. “Oh, come on! Why does everything fun have to have all these rules attached? If I was in charge, I’d stop with the name thing altogether!” She nodded triumphantly. “Who cares about names anyway? They’re just words! I’d rather get something interesting, like...favorite foods! Or pets! Or--Disney movies! Names are so short and boring.”

“People have the same pets,” Patton pointed out.

“People have the same names, too! Like there are two Emmas in the grade up!” Ro shrugged. “I think it should be more interesting than names, is all I’m saying.”

“I think,” Patton said slowly, to make sure Ro wasn’t going to keep talking. Ro had gone silent and watched Patton with interest, chin in her hands.

“I think,” Patton said again, “that people should use whole names instead. They’d be easier to find if there were whole names.”

“There’s no room,” Ro said.

“You could write it real small!”

Ro looked at her wrist, the one not covered with a strip of ribbon. “Good point!”

Patton beamed.

“I still think names are boring, though.” She stuck out her tongue. “It’s not even nicknames! I’d rather it be nicknames.”

“You don’t like your name?” Patton asked.

Ro scrunched up her nose again.

Ro’s full name was Aarohi. Her last name was even longer. Patton called her Ro when they’d first met and he didn’t really know how to say Aarohi--he had trouble with words sometimes and it helped to keep them short. He was better now, but Ro had stuck so Ro was what Ro remained.

“Your soulmate can call you whatever,” Patton reassured Ro. “Darling or stuff like that. That’s what my moms say.”

“I want my soulmate to call me Ro,” Ro said decisively. “Just Ro. I like Ro.”

Patton scrunched up his eyebrows. “I call you Ro.”

“Yeah, and I like it.”

Patton couldn’t really explain the weird feeling in his stomach. He felt vaguely that a designation like that for a nickname--that it was for soulmates--meant Patton was no longer meant to use it. “I can call you something else,” he suggested. “If you wanna.”

“What?” Ro frowned. “I just said I liked it!”

Patton sunk into himself a bit. This wasn’t an argument, but it was getting kinda emotional, and he hadn’t expected this. He didn’t know what to say next. Soulmates always made him feel a little icky and strange, like he’d missed a step going downstairs and his stomach had swooped a bit. Today it felt even worse. He tried looking at Ro, found Ro was even harder to look at, and decided to look at the floor instead.

There was a long silence. Well, long for Patton and Ro, which meant maybe three seconds.

“Pat?” Ro asked.

Ro rarely called Patton nicknames, unlike everyone else they knew. Ro wasn’t always great with names so nicknames helped him remember. But he said he never needed to with Patton because Patton was unforgettable. Now, the use of that nickname made Patton’s stomach do another funny swoop.

“Yeah, Ro?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

Patton thought about it. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“On the secret,” Patton said. “And if it involves lying or something else bad. I don’t like lying.”

“There’s no lying.” Ro paused. Her voice was weirdly hesitant. “And it might not have to be a secret for long, if--if you--you’ll see. I just wanna show you something, and you gotta promise you’ll be nice about it, and you’ll keep it a secret unless we agree it ought not to be.”

We. Patton shifted. This secret involved him. Had he done something wrong? He really hoped not. Ro was his bestest friend and Patton didn’t want her to be mad at him.

“I’ll keep a secret,” Patton said.

“Pinky promise?”

Patton extended a pinky. Ro wrapped it around her own and shook their hands up and down.

“On your honor?” she asked.

Patton thumped his chest in what he hoped was an honorable fashion. “On my honor.”

“By your sword?”

Patton didn’t have a sword. He thought about pointing this out, but then they’d have to go find a sword, and he was curious now. And a little scared.

“On my sword,” he said, his voice small.

He’d made promises like this before. But usually Ro was excited, eyes sparkling, pulling him towards someplace they were Not Really Supposed to Enter to do things they Shouldn’t Be Doing. Ro wasn’t smiling now. She was worrying her bottom lip and tugging at the ribbon over her soulmark.

“I--” Ro hesitated and let out a long breath. “I’ve got something to show you. Maybe I should have sooner, but--yeah. Here.”

She grabbed the ribbon around her wrist and untied it, letting it fall to the treehouse floor. Her wrist was dark and smooth. She turned it over.

Scribbled across the veins in neat blue ink was the name Patton.

Bubbly, round, just a little bit sparkly.

Patton.

“I should have showed you,” Ro said apologetically, “but I couldn’t think of when and I didn’t know if I should and I don’t really know what to do with a soulmate--”

Something that had loosened in Patton’s chest, becoming all gooey and mushy and soft, hardened again.

“We’re not,” he interrupted.

“We’re--” Ro stared at Patton. “What?”

“We’re not,” Patton repeated. He realized he sounded sort of sad. He didn’t know why.

“Of course we are,” Ro said. “I’ve got your name. We’re soulmates.”

She sounded absolutely certain about it. And Patton wanted to believe her. It surprised him, how much he wanted to. Ro knew all sorts of things--she was smart and passionate and funny and amazing. And she spoke like she controlled soulmates herself, like she could see the jagged edges of each soul and pinpoint exactly where they fit together.

Patton wanted Ro to be right.

But.

He pulled off his bracelet.

The name on there was curly and fancy and he’d forced his moms to read it for him. Red glittering ink, a curving line that ran under it and curled dramatically off into nothing. Little loops inside the curves and flourishes at the end of each line.

Roman.

“See?” he said quietly. “Not you.”

Ro stared at the letters, frowning. “Could be me. It’s kinda close to Ro.”

“Your name isn’t Roman,” Patton said, grabbing his bracelet and pulling it back on. He didn’t want to look at the name anymore.

“But--” Ro looked upset. “I thought--I’ve got your name.”

“It’s prob’ly another Patton,” Patton said, the words sticking in his throat. “I bet there are loads of Pattons. You’ll find another one soon.”

“I don’t want another Patton!” Ro was clearly close to tears. Her wrist lay on the boards of the treehouse, bearing the right name for the wrong person. “I want you!”

“We’re not soulmates!” Patton shook his head. “It’s the rules.”

“I hate the rules!”

Patton reached out and touched Ro’s hand. “We can still be friends! You can find your Patton and I can find my soulmate and we can be friends anyway!”

Ro sniffed. “But all the stories say soulmates are s’pposed to be everything.”

“We’ll make space.” Patton jutted his chin out. “You don’t like the rules, so--so we won’t follow them! Names are stupid and true names don’t make sense and soulmates are...soulmates are stupid! And anyway, there’s nothing in the rules about friends. You’ll find your knight, and I’ll--I’ll be your sidekick!”

Ro smiled a little. “We’ll stay friends?”

“Always!”

“Promise?”

“Promise!”

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise!”

“Swear it on the treehouse?”

Patton looked around at the treehouse, full to bursting with ideas and crannies and things to do.

Always was a long time.

But he couldn’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.

“I swear,” Patton said, and Ro’s eyes shone like diamonds.

And they went on their way, reading another book, all talk of soulmates behind them. It was a nice long afternoon and there was no point in wasting it.

And if Patton felt weirdly sad when he thought about things too hard, that was okay. Nothing had changed. Nothing at all.

He kept his soulmark covered after that, even when nobody told him to.

It made him feel just a little bit lonely.

---

Patton grew up, and Ro grew up, and whenever Patton’s mind wandered to that day, he tried to put it out of his head. Ro, for her part, barely seemed to remember at all. Patton wished he was the same. He wished he knew why he thought about it so much, soulmarks scrawled against bare skin, sunlight creeping through the edges of the wood.

He realized what it meant when he was thirteen.

Ro was also thirteen, and Ro had decided they were going swimming.

Ro did that. She had a tendency to simply decide on how things were going to be, craft a narrative in her own head, and then expect everyone else to fall in line. Patton usually did so. Ro’s ideas were good, and she always made room for Patton, right there by her side.

Some well-meaning adults--who could really be the worst kind of adults, in Patton’s opinion, though he’d never say so out loud--said that they’d outgrow their friendship soon enough. They weren’t soulmates, after all. It was a good thing that Ro didn’t like to listen to adults, and that growing up only seemed to bring them closer together, joined at the hip and two peas in a pod with the same sense of humor, the same excitement over new stories and fascination with small animals.

Ro was growing up tall and rounded with chubby cheeks and a squishy tummy and thick legs and eyes a little too big for her head and dreams too big for anyone’s head. And Patton was all bones with black hair that refused to untangle itself without three hours of brushing, and allergies that prevented him from eating basically anything, and a chipped front tooth from where he’d fallen out of a tree, and a left foot a little longer than his right. Ro liked acting and singing and writing and drawing. Patton liked cooking and hiking and sculpting and babysitting. They had enough friends to have nice big birthday parties and good enough grads to be on the honor roll. Ro could dance. Patton couldn’t. They both liked to read, they both liked to wear costumes and makeup, and they both could jump-rope past a hundred.

They were friends.

And as friends, they spent a lot of the summer together, so when Patton’s moms finally let him stay somewhere overnight because he was a Teenager, Ro immediately got Patton an invitation to stay with Ro’s family by the lake. For a whole week. With Ro.

Patton spent most of the summer, and a good bit of the spring, being ridiculously excited.

And after an eternity of waiting, it happened, and it was everything Patton had hoped.

They crawled their way to the shore in a minivan packed Tetris-style with everything they’d need and some things they wouldn’t. Patton forgot his alarm clock so he slept in late and stayed up later, leeching every moment of sunlight he could. They spent hours in the lake until their hair was limp and their fingers were pruny. They hiked up mountains just small enough to be relaxing and just tall enough to see the ridges around them, blue and sheer and endless like the world had been crumpled up and spread flat under the sky. They lit a bonfire or two on starry evenings when the sun sank between the hills with golden fanfare and the trees looked like cardboard cutouts against the sky, and Patton would eat the marshmallows and chocolate raw because he was allergic to graham crackers and toasting them just made them all burned. Ro, on the other hand, stacked four marshmallows on one stick and did her darn best to make them all catch fire at once.

Patton and Ro already spent most of their time together. They went to the same school and ate lunch at the same table, swapping Ro’s chips for Patton’s cookies. But now they were living together every moment of every day, swapping stories and watching each other smile and sitting on the dock as the sunset burned. Patton woke each day to Ro throwing open the door and beaming and saying “Get up, get up, it’s already ten and I just found a new tree to climb!” And she’d pull Patton off the pullout couch and toss a sweatshirt at Patton’s face and Patton would pull it over his pajamas and they’d start the day together with big smiles and bigger hopes.

No day had disappointed them yet.

He’d worried, at first, that they’d rub each other the wrong way when stuck together 24/7. Familiarity breeds contempt, that was one of Patton’s Mami’s many sayings. But it turned out to be the opposite. Patton felt happier and more comfortable than he ever had before. He’d be perfectly fine, he realized, with waking up to Ro’s face forever.

That meant something, and he wasn’t really sure what.

And he figured it out suddenly.

It was a sunny afternoon and Ro and Patton were going swimming.

The whole thing was Ro’s idea, of course. She’d tugged Patton down to the lakeside and threw on her swimsuit, and Patton did the same, and now they were splashing about in the water. It was a little cold and the sun was a little warm and the bottom of the lake was squelchy. But with the trees hanging over the water and the mountains cresting in the distance like the waves around them, Patton didn’t mind.

Ro could swim. Patton couldn’t, not much. He could doggy paddle, but asking him for athletics was barking up the wrong tree. Still, when Ro dipped beneath the surface and swam easily to the floating dock, Patton did his best to follow. He grabbed the ladder and hauled himself up, swim trunks dripping. The dock was hot under his feet and drifted slowly in the current.

“Pattycake!” Ro called from near the edge. “Check this out!”

Patton ran over. Ro was staring into the water, a smile playing across her face.

“What?” Patton asked.

“Lean over and you’ll see.”

Patton scooted up to the edge, curled his toes around it, and leaned over. Nothing but a water strider and a tuft of grass--

A small push in the center of his back.

Not even a push. It was too gentle for that. It was a little tap, a warm wet hand on the small of Patton’s back, an invitation. If Patton wanted, he could easily stay upright. It wasn’t a prank but a question--Ro was wondering if Patton wanted to play along. If Patton was in the mood for a game.

Patton was. Always.

He let himself fall forward and hit the lake with a splash.

When he surfaced, bubbles all around him, he turned to face Ro and tried to think of a complaint. But he was laughing already, and his face was soaking wet, and Ro was laughing too.

Patton rubbed the water from his eyes and looked up. “Ro--”

And the words died on his throat.

Because Ro was laughing. Ro was cupping her hands to her mouth and laughing, bright and bubbly and proud. She stood firmly on the dock, feet planted, swimsuit a bright red against her tan skin, her newly short hair--time for a change, she’d explained, hacking off the braid and gaining a dark wave that curled over her forehead and clipped short at the sides. Water dripped down her arms and pooled by her feet. Glowing in the sun, triumphant in her mischief, she looked magnificent.

She looked beautiful.

Oh.

Oh, that was new.

Except it wasn’t. Not really. It had all been there before. But now it was in the sunlight, exposed and gleaming and so, so real.

Ro.

Aarohi.

Beautiful and bold and the best thing in Patton’s life.

And not his soulmate.

The sun went behind a cloud. Suddenly, Ro wasn’t glowing anymore. Suddenly, Patton was cold and wet and tired and didn’t know why he’d agreed to come out here in the first place.

“Pattycake?” Ro asked, smile falling. “Everything okay? Did I push you too hard?”

Pattycake. The latest in a long string of nicknames. Ro’s nicknames for Patton weren’t like any of her others. They weren’t little teases or stuff to help her remember. They were soft and sweet and nice.

Ro was so, so nice.

Too nice.

Too nice for Patton, because she didn’t know what Patton really wanted.

Patton didn’t know what Patton really wanted. He just knew he wasn’t supposed to want anything at all. They weren’t soulmates. The letters gleaming red in the lake water made that clear enough.

Roman.

Not Ro. Never Ro, no matter how much Patton realized he wanted that.

It wouldn’t be fair to Ro to try and break the rules.

But oh, how he wanted to.

“Pat?” Ro asked again, stepping forward, concerned. So concerned. Such a good friend. They had such a good friendship and Patton was so selfish as to want more. He’d ruin it. He’d ruin everything they had and he’d be left without the one person he loved more than anything.

“I’m fine,” Patton forced out. “I’m, um, I’m tired. I’m gonna go inside.”

He didn’t wait for Ro to answer. He paddled into the shadows and pulled himself up the stairs. The stones were damp and pine needles stuck to his feet. He shivered. Getting out of the water was always the worst part. Patton grabbed a towel and wrapped it tightly around himself, taking a deep breath.

“Wait up!” Patton heard a splash. He turned around to see Ro swimming towards him.

“What are you doing?” Patton asked, pulling on his flip-flops.

“Coming with you! Duh!” Ro stood up in the water and adjusted her swimsuit. “Maybe we can practice some archery, I saw a bow and arrow in the barn--”

“You don’t have to,” Patton said weakly. “I don’t want to--you were having fun.”

“It’s no fun without you!” Ro looked around at the lake rimmed with trees and scoffed. “Do you see another Patton? I don’t think so!”

Patton’s heart went cold and he turned away.

“Pat? Hey, Pat!” More splashes and Ro was appearing behind him, eyes wide, mouth tight with concern. “Earth to Pat. You’re acting weird. Are you sick? Did that puddle yesterday give you rabies after all?”

Patton laughed despite himself. “Ro, a puddle can’t give you rabies.”

“It’s still a possibility.” Ro looked Patton over, grabbed another towel, and wrapped it around Patton’s shoulders. “Are you okay, though? You seem upset. We can go back to the house, watch a movie--”

“I’m okay. But actually,” Patton added, seeing an escape, “I might do that.”

“Great!” Ro clapped his hands. “Maybe we can do Mulan, or Princess and the Frog--”

“Um.” Patton shifted, staring at his flip-flops. “I meant...alone. I’ll go back to the house. You can stay out here.”

“What?” Ro didn’t sound offended, just worried. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah!” Patton tried to laugh. “I just...need a break for a bit, okay? I’ll hang out later!”

“Of course,” Ro said slowly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Pinky promise?”

Patton didn’t take Ro’s extended pinky. “I’m really tired, Ro. I’m just gonna go.”

“Okay. Okay.” Ro squeezed Patton’s hand. “I’ll be here if you need me, okay?”

Patton nodded. “Okay.”

Ro flashed Patton a smile.

And then she disappeared back into the lake, sinking beneath the surface, swimming much farther than she had before. She’d only been sticking around at the dock because Patton was there, and Patton couldn’t swim.

Patton pulled the towels tighter around him, but he still felt too cold.

He watched Ro a second longer before turning away.

---

Patton gave in when they were fifteen.

It had been two years. Two years of furtive glances and awkward blushes and late-night monologues about how Patton was terrible for even wanting this. That he was getting in Ro’s way. That Ro was going to find her soulmate and not need Patton and his stupid feelings ever again.

However, what Patton learned as they grew up was that a) he hadn’t stopped liking Ro. B) Ro hadn’t stopped being his friend. C) Ro hadn’t found her soulmate, and neither had Patton.

And d). Despite how much Patton berated himself for wanting Ro, he still did. So clearly, something wasn’t working.

Ro was still Ro. Kind and supportive and too good for Patton, and Patton desperately wanted to hold her hand and kiss her cheek and cuddle up next to her. Although they kind of did some of those things already, but Patton always pulled away first, because his face burned and he was scared Ro would notice and figure everything out.

Patton wanted to do those and not be afraid of showing how much he liked it.

Patton wanted to be Ro’s partner.

Patton was pining, and it was miserable.

He’d tried to look for his soulmate in a futile bid to get his mind off Ro. No luck. There were no Romans in his school and too many online. His moms told him to be patient. Patton didn’t have time for patience. He needed to find his soulmate and fix everything!

He’d find them, and he’d love them, and Ro would find her soulmate too, and everything would be like it was supposed to be, and they’d live happily ever after, the end.

That hadn’t worked out. Or at least it hadn’t yet, and it would eventually, but that wasn’t now.

So...Patton gave in.

Because Ro was beautiful. Ro liked to wear red nail polish and short shorts and denim jackets and bright red t-shirts. Ro was an actress--she sang and she acted and she could bring characters to life onstage. Ro made friends with everyone she met. Ro cried every time they watched Lion King. Ro was wonderful and so amazing and Patton ached every time he slipped Ro’s hand from his own.

At the very least, he needed to be honest. Patton didn’t like lying. And Ro was starting to realize something was wrong, spending less and less time with Patton, no longer hugging them in greeting but simply waving and smiling.

It was courteous, and it hurt even more, and Patton couldn’t be mad at her because she was trying, she’d seen that Patton was uncomfortable and done the best she could. Patton couldn’t blame Ro. It was Patton who was making things weird, Patton who was feeling things he shouldn’t be, Patton who needed to communicate,

So he invited Ro over to his house to talk.

They sat on the bed together, Patton fluffing the pillows and avoiding Ro’s eyes, Ro pulling off her jacket and setting it on the bed.

“Um.” Patton bit his lip. “I...I need to talk to you about something.”

“Oh?” Ro said. “Is...it a bad something? That’s a little worrisome of an opening line, Pat.”

“It’s not bad.” Patton stared at his hands and his wrists. Roman, covered by a bracelet but still burning into him, reminding him that he shouldn’t be doing this.

Rules were rules sometimes.

Patton closed his eyes and held back his tears.

“I like you.”

Simple. Quiet. Filling his bedroom until Patton was sure it would burst.

He’d chosen his bedroom as a safe place, filled with old science projects and peeling drawings, air rustling the blue pawprint curtains and a little mural over the bed. Ro and Patton had painted that the summer before middle school. It had their handprints at the bottom, two little signatures, Ro’s bright red and Patton’s pale blue. He’d thought his room would settle him.

Now he just thought of all the afternoons they’d spent together here, a pile on the carpet, talking or singing or reading or just sitting in silence. They’d done their homework by the door, and had pillow fights with these pillows, and jumped on this bed, and tossed paper airplanes out of those windows.

So many memories, and Patton was jeopardizing them all.

“I like you,” he repeated, keeping his eyes closed. “As--as more than--no, it’s not more than, I love being friends, but...I. I want--it would be nice if--would you ever be interested in being...partners?”

Patton cracked one eye open. Ro was silent. Her face was slack like Patton had slapped her.

Bad sign.

“We wouldn’t have to kiss or anything,” Patton said. “I don’t really want to, and I know you don’t either, and I found this word and it’s called queerplatonic partners and I’d really like that with you, if it’s alright, and I totally get if you say no, but I needed to be honest and we can just forget this ever happened, I promise--”

Ro opened her mouth and closed it again.

“I’m sorry,” Patton whispered. “I’m sorry, Ro.”

“You--” Ro swallowed. “You’re not my soulmate.”

“I’m not.” Patton shook his head. “I--I know, Ro, I know.”

“We’re not meant to be together.”

“I know!” Patton threw out his wrist. “Believe me, Ro, I know. I’m sorry.”

Ro’s eyes were sparkling with tears. “Pat, I’m sorry, I wish--”

“I know.” Patton pressed his hand to his eyes and scrubbed at the drops leaking from them. “I’m so sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Ro said softly.

And Patton hated his heart for leaping in hope.

“We could...anyway,” he ventured, knowing he was setting himself up for a fall, but unable to stop himself. “You’re the one who hates the rules.”

“Patton,” Ro said, even softer. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do!” Patton almost sobbed. “Ro, I do, I really do!”

Because he did. He’d never meant anything more in his life.

And Ro looked so sad, like Patton was breaking his heart.

A small part of Patton felt viciously satisfied. There. Now Ro knew how it felt. Now Ro knew how it felt to be shattered by the one person you cared the most about.

“I’m sorry,” Ro said, his voice breaking. “I really am. I wish--we’re not, though. We’re not meant to be together, you know that--”

“That’s not you talking.” Something hot and angry swept Patton’s chest. “That’s what everyone says. Why are you listening to them?”

“Why aren’t you?” Ro threw up his hands. “Look, Pat, I like defying the ruels as much as the next person, but the universe doesn’t make mistakes. We’re. Not. Soulmates.”

“So what?”

Dead silence.

“So what?” Patton repeated. “Soulmates die. Soulmates hurt each other. Soulmates are platonic or soulmates date other people. Soulmates are just names on wrists. They don’t mean anything, Ro.”

He was crying now, openly, tears dripping onto his quilt. Ro looked about to cry as well. A cold wind swept over both of them. Patton had forgotten to close the windows.

“All the stories,” Ro said desperately, “it’s just how it works, you know that--”

“Why? Why does this have to be how it works?”

“I don’t know!” Ro yelled. “Pat, I don’t know!”

Patton was shocked into silence.

“But you know what I do know?” Ro shook her head. “I know that you’re my best friend. And that you deserve someone who can give you all of themselves. Who’s not really a--who’s...as good as you. As honest as you, as sweet as you. You deserve your soulmate. Someone who will really make you happy. That’s...” She choked on a sob. “Pat, that’s not me. That’s never been me.”

Patton stared at Ro. “You make me happy.”

Ro’s face crumpled. “I’m sorry.”

Ro opened her arms, and Patton fell into them, crying into Ro’s shoulder.

They stayed like that for a long time.

“It’s okay,” Ro whispered, running a hand over the bristly back of Patton’s neck. “We’ll be okay. We’ll stay friends, always.”

Patton laughed, choked and jerky, and something loosened from around his heart. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Ro said.

She left soon after that, saying something about homework. They’d always done their homework together. Patton struggled with his essay without Ro there to give him the right words.

The room was cold, and Patton felt numb, and he hoped against hope that he hadn’t ruined everything.

It definitely felt like he had.

---

The week and a half after that was the worst week-and-a-half of Patton’s entire life.

He didn’t know if he was avoiding Ro. He didn’t know if Ro was avoiding him. But either way, they didn’t talk. Ro surrounded herself with her other friends and Patton ate his lunch alone in the bathroom, balancing his sandwich on his knees, grapes falling into the toilet and graffiti proclaiming that Madison Was A Not-Nice Word. They didn’t talk in class either. Patton’s science teacher remarked that they were finally straightening up and paying attention. Patton tried very hard not to cry.

Patton started writing Ro letters, but he would only get a few sentences in before tearing them up. What could he say? He’d already apologized. Ro was shutting him out, and it was entirely Patton’s fault, and there was nothing he could do.

He didn’t realize how much of his life was Ro until Ro was no longer there. Then he realized all his friends were Ro’s friends, all his afternoons were with Ro, and all his hobbies were much better when Ro was involved. And of course Patton didn’t spend every moment of his life thinking about Ro and spending time with her, but right now, it felt like there was a hole in the corner of every moment, a hole where Ro should be singing and talking and calling Patton ‘Pat’ and being his friend.

And then--

“I forgot the homework,” Ro said sheepishly when she finally appeared at Patton’s locker. “Could you remind me what we’re doing for next week?”

Patton stared at Ro and laughed automatically. “Ro, I told you to take notes!”

The words slipped off his tongue easily. He’d said them millions of times before. He was still watching Ro, heart stumbling over its rhythm, unable to believe that just like that, Ro was here. Smiling sheepishly with her jacket loose around her shoulders.

Things were...back to normal?

Things couldn’t be back to normal.

“Well, I’ll make sure to do so next time.” Ro scratched at the back of her neck. “I suppose you’ll have to walk me through it, then.”

That. That was an invitation to do homework together. Patton couldn’t believe it. He’d done nothing, he’d ruined everything and then hid for a week, and Ro was just ignoring it. Ro was extending a hand and smiling and asking him to do homework with her, and Patton felt like he was going to either faint or squeal.

“Sure,” Patton managed, unable to stop the huge smile on her face. “Let me grab my stuff.”

And they went back to normal.

They sprawled on the floor of the treehouse--way too big for them now, but Ro said it helped her think--and they scribbled their way through calculus and art and geography. They laughed and talked and every minute, Patton’s shoulders loosened. It was sunny and things were back to normal.

They walked to school. They sat together at lunch. They passed notes during class and giggled when they got caught. They were friends again, and Patton felt ridiculous for thinking that they wouldn’t be, for assuming that Ro would ever leave him behind.

They were friends always. No matter whose soulmates they were.

They’d promised that.

“I’m going to be a philosophy teacher,” Patton said one day.

“You are,” Ro agreed.

“I’m going to be a Broadway star,” Ro said another day.

“You are!” Patton encouraged.

“I’m still your friend,” Patton asked hesitantly a third day, when his mind was being too loud. “Right? Your best friend?”

Ro smiled. “You are.”

“I’m trans.”

That was Ro, staring at her--his--hands, knees pressed together and shoulders curled.

“You are?” Patton asked.

Ro nodded.

“You’re a guy,” Patton clarified.

“Yeah,” Ro said, his voice hoarse. “Um. I told my parents, and they’re okay with it, and...I’m probably gonna change my name soon, and maybe try testosterone, and...yeah. I--I’ve known for a while.”

“How long?” Patton asked.

“Um.” Ro shrugged. “Hard to know? Probably since I was thirteen. And...you know, even when we were eight, I always wanted to be the knight.”

Patton smiled. “You were a great knight.”

Ro finally looked up, his eyes misty. “You’re not--I thought you’d--”

“I love you,” Patton said, brimming with warmth. “You’re my best friend, Ro. I love you so much, and I’m so, so proud of you.”

Ro pressed a hand to his mouth.

Patton reached over and hugged Ro around the shoulders. Ro gasped, then he lifted his arms and hugged back fiercely, burying his face in Patton’s shoulder.

“I love you,” Patton said again, smiling at the top of Ro’s head. “Always. And I will always support you.”

“You promise?” Ro asked.

“Promise.”

“Pinky-promise?”

Patton laughed and tangled their pinkies together. “Pinky promise.”

“I love you too,” Ro said, looking up and giving Patton a watery smile. “I’m really lucky to have you.”

Patton smiled wider.

This...this wasn’t what he wanted. Not exactly.

But he didn’t need anything more.

He had Ro, right by his side.

Sun streamed through the windows, and they sat there for a long time, and neither of them pulled away.

---

“Ugh,” Ro complained, “why are names so hard?”

Patton looked up from where he’d been scrolling through baby names. “Nothing?”

Ro sighed and tossed his notebook onto the bed. “Nope! No names match my glamour, grandeur, and all-around greatness?”

Patton pushed aside the computer and leaned over. “What have you gone through so far?”

Ro motioned to the notebook. Pages upon pages were filled with names in swirling ink, each one flourished like a signature. Some of them were crossed out violently. Others were just left half-finished.

“None of them are me,” Ro complained, sighing. “All your suggestions? Nah. Sorry, Pat.”

“Hmm.” Patton bit his lip. “Maybe we’re tackling this from the wrong angle. What do you want your name to be like?”

“Noble!” Ro immediately declared. “A name fit for a prince!”

“Eric?” Patton ran through all the princes he knew. “Charles?”

Ro shook his head. “I’ll know it. I’ll feel when it’s right. I think? I don’t know.”

“Well, we’ll see.” Patton worried his lip. “What else do you want from it?”

“It just has to be me.” Ro waved a hand at himself. “You know?”

“So, charming and wonderful and kind and brave,” Patton said, smiling. “Got it.”

Ro spluttered and swatted at Patton. “Stop!”

“I’m telling the truth!” Patton ducked out of his reach. “Daniel? Maybe we should look into some Indian names?”

“I'm thinking I’ll use one as a middle name.” Ro groaned. “Maybe? I don’t know!”

“It’s okay,” Pat said, laying a hand on his arm. “We’ll figure it out, and we’ve got time! In the meantime, what can I call you?”

“Ro,” Ro said without hesitation.

“Ro’s okay?”

“Ro’s great. I love it when you call me Ro.” Ro paused and jumped up. “That’s it! I’ll find a name that has Ro as a nickname.”

“That’s kind of specific,” Patton pointed out, but Ro’s energy made him smile as well.

“There’s gotta be something!” Ro grabbed Patton’s computer and started tapping at it. “Hmm.”

Silence fell. Patton enjoyed watching Ro bite his lip and furrow his brow in concentration. He shouldn’t be, of course, because they were just friends and not soulmates and that was what they’d decided. Still, when Ro wasn’t looking, he enjoyed soaking in the sight of his best friend. Ro’s pen tapped against his leg as he scrolled, the light of the screen illuminating his defined chin and the dip of his lips--handsome. Handsome and beautiful. His hair was messy from all the times he’d run his fingers through it and he squinted at the screen.

It was dark, Patton realized--they’d been here for hours, working their way through a pack of gummy worms. Ro had promised they’d stop and watch Disney if Patton said the word, but Patton didn’t mind helping Ro, curled up on the bed surrounded by pieces of notepaper and watching Ro’s eyes light up.

Still, he turned on a little lamp. It had tassels on it. Classic Ro.

“Pat,” Ro said slowly.

“Yeah?”

“This.” Ro looked up, his eyes shining. “I think I found it--let me--”

He threw the laptop aside. Patton caught it before it fell off the bed. He dug around in the pillows and extracted his sparkly pen, setting a piece of paper against his arm and scribbling something down. He paused and stared at it a few seconds. Patton saw the exhilaration in his eyes. He quietly repeated something to himself.

“Yeah.” Ro shook his head, laughing. “Yeah, this is it, Pat--I found it!”

“You found it?”

“I found it!” Ro squealed and shimmied. “I think?”

“Let me see!” Patton paused. “If...it’s okay?”

“It’s okay, take a look!” Ro slid the piece of paper over to Patton. Patton smiled and looked down.

His heart stopped.

“It’s a little unconventional,” Ro was saying, “but it’s a nice name, and it fits with my nickname, and it’s definitely a noble and royal name--”

Patton swallowed. His hands were shaking. He read the name over and over, but it didn’t change, still scrawled in sparkling ink and taunting him.

“--I think this might be it, seriously, it just feels right--” Ro went silent. “Pat?”

Patton kept staring at the name.

Roman.

In Ro’s spirally handwriting, curling at the edges, a familiar script that made his stomach clench up.

Roman.

“Pat? Are you okay?” Ro’s voice grew quiet. “Is there something wrong? Do you not--I know it’s kind of stupid, I just thought--

Patton jerked his head up. No! Ro was fidgeting with his sleeve and he looked about to grab the paper and tear it up, and gosh, Patton had to say something.

"Do you remember,” Pat blurted out, his voice strained, “when I showed you my soulmark?”

“Huh?” Ro blinked. “I, um, yeah? I think so? Heckity heck, that was a while ago.”

“Yeah.” Patton rubbed at his bracelet. He’d gotten rid of the glitter because it tended to get all over his stuff. Now it was a thick leather strap with a little pawprint dangling from it. “Um...do you remember the name of mine?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Ro frowned. “Why? Was I supposed to? I just remember that it--” Something crossed his face. “Wasn’t mine.”

Roman.

Patton swallowed. “Great! Fantastic.”

“There’s something wrong.” Ro scooted forward, pushing the paper aside and touching Patton’s hand. “What’s up, Pat?”

“Does it fit you?” Patton asked desperately. “That name--does it fit you?”

“I...” Ro paused. “Yeah. I--I like it a lot. Why? Do you not--”

“I like it,” Patton immediately said. And it was the truth. He loved it. It was beautiful and regal and very Ro. But he’d spent his whole life hating that name. He’d spent his whole life hoping for that name to save him from his best friend and feelings he couldn’t control.

Patton looked down at the paper.

Roman.

Gleaming in ink, perfect and poised, close enough to touch.

“Pat?” Ro asked again. He was really worried now. Patton could tell from the crinkle between his eyes.

Before Patton could stop himself, he tugged off his bracelet and bared his wrist.

Roman.

Red ink, looping curves, smooth and polished and a name Patton had refused to look at for most of his life.

It gleamed bright in the darkness.

“What--” Ro froze. “Pat--”

“You didn’t know,” Patton said, “but you chose it, and--it might not mean anything, it doesn’t have to mean anything, it’s birth names--”

“It’s true names,” Ro corrected, his voice oddly distant. “They disproved the birth name theory.”

“I’m sorry,” Patton begged.

“Pat.” Ro shook his head. “What the heck are you apologizing for?”

“I don’t know, I just--” Patton looked around at the paper strewn on the bed. “This was your moment, and I ruined it, and--”

“Pat.” Ro reached out and pulled Patton’s hands into his own. He ran his thumb along the red letters on Patton’s wrist, and Patton shivered. Then he pulled his own ribbon off. It snapped in half from the force.

Patton. Bubbly and blue and cheerful. Neat against Ro’s skin, and a long-buried wound ruptured in his chest.

“Would you look at that,” Ro said, placing their wrists side-by-side. “A perfect match.”

Patton stared at them. “But--it could be a coincidence--”

“It could be,” Ro allowed. He was starting to smile. “But I don’t think it is, do you?”

“It could be...” Patton shook his head. “That might not be your name. What if we’re wrong?”

“Then we’re wrong.” Ro folded his hand over Patton’s so their wrists bumped each other. “But I don’t think we are, do you?”

“It could be--” Patton shook his head. “It could be a mistake!”

Ro looked surprised. His hand jerked in Patton’s. “The universe doesn’t make mistakes.”

“Maybe it did this time!” Patton pulled his hand away and tucked it to his chest, hiding the red letters from the room. “Maybe--what if we break up, what if we hate each other, what if we aren’t meant to be together--”

“Calm down, love,” Ro said. “I hear you. But--what if we are?”

Patton looked into his face.

What if they were?

What if they were soulmates all along? What if they were two sides of a coin, two halves of a whole, two peas in a pod? Soulmates meant nothing but the world decided they meant something so it meant something that their names matched, it meant something that Ro was staring at Patton like Patton had just saved the world, it meant something that Patton’s heart was beating out of his chest and he wanted to fold into Ro’s arms and nestle there forever.

What if they were?

It wouldn’t change a thing.

And it would change everything.

“We’d be soulmates,” Patton said. “We’re soulmates.”

“We’re soulmates,” Ro repeated, shaking his head. “We’re soulmates--oh my gosh-peck I could have been with you months ago, years--I turned you down and I didn’t even realize--it would have changed everything--”

Ro jumped up and grabbed Patton’s arms, pulling him off the bed. The next thing Patton knew, Ro was lifting him in the air and spinning him around. Patton clung tightly to his shoulders and felt laughter bubble up in his chest.

“You’re my soulmate!” Ro yelled. “Pat, Pat, oh, Patton, you’re my soulmate, it’s you, it’s always been you, I was such an idiot--”

Patton laughed and covered his mouth. “Ro--”

“I love you,” Ro blurted out, pressing their foreheads together. “I love you, I love you so much, darling, and I would like nothing else than to be with you for the rest of my days, you’re the light of my life, the moon to my sun--”

“Ro!” Patton exclaimed, face burning.

“Sugar, honey, dearest, I love you!” Ro spun him around once more. “I knew that, I’ve known that for years, but we weren’t together, I wasn’t supposed to--”

“You were the one who said we couldn’t be together,” Patton choked out, but it was hard to even be a little angry when Ro was beaming at him with sparkling eyes.

“How dare you listen to me!” Ro shook his head. “I was blind, I was a fool, I could have had you and was an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Pat said softly. “You just didn’t know. Neither did I.”

Which was the truth and yet not, because Patton felt very suddenly that he had known. All along. The revelation sat neatly within him, a new chapter of a book he already knew by heart, a twist ending he’d plotted with Ro ahead of time, swapping ideas on the floor of their treehouse.

Ro was his soulmate, and gosh, everything made perfect sense.

“I love you too,” Pat burst out, and he leaned in and kissed Ro on the nose. Then the cheeks, then the jaw, then all over, a kiss for every time he wished for this. A kiss for every time he didn’t dare to hope this could be real. “I love you, I love you, Ro, I love you so much--”

“I’m sorry,” Ro said. “I’m sorry it took so long, we could have been so much more if I let us--”

“More than what?” Patton shook his head, filled with a huge joy. “More than us? We were always us. Now we just get confirmation that the universe knows it, too.”

“The universe is smart,” Ro said, pressing a small kiss to Patton’s cheek. “Just like you are.”

Patton giggled. “Ro!”

“What? You’re my partner, I get to compliment and kiss you all I want.” Ro paused. “We--we are partners, right? If not, I get it, we can stay friends or give you time, I get if you need time--”

“I’ve had way too much time,” Patton interrupted, beaming. “I would love to be your partner.”

“We’re partners.” Ro somehow grinned even wider, squeezing Patton in a quick hug. “We’re partners, and we’re soulmates, I love you--”

“Does it fit?” Patton asked suddenly, lifting his hand to brush hair from Ro’s face, because Ro’s hair was always messy and Patton dreamed of sweeping it aside and now he could. His wrist shone with Roman on it. A little piece of Ro, glowing, and for once he didn’t look away. “The name?”

“I don’t know,” Ro said softly, “why don’t you try it out?”

Patton looked at Ro. His brilliant, beautiful, supportive friend. His partner. His soulmate. The person he’d spent his whole life beside, and wouldn’t mind continuing that trend for the rest of it.

Ro, who he’d promised he’d be friends with forever and always.

Always was a long time, but there was nowhere Patton would rather be.

“I love you, Roman,” Patton whispered.

Ro gasped. His eyes watered.

“Is that okay?” Patton asked. “Does that fit?”

“Pat,” Ro breathed, “Pat, it’s me. I found it.”

“Roman,” Patton said again, rolling the name around on his tongue. “Roman, Roman, Roman.”

Roman.

Roman, grinning, eyes wet with tears, happier than Patton had ever seen him.

“It’s me,” Roman said, laughing. “It’s me, Pat, I found me.”

“I knew you would,” Patton said, smiling back. “And so did the universe.”

“I found us.” Roman leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Patton’s again, his breath light on Patton’s cheeks. “I found us and I’m not letting us go.”

“I’ve always had you.” Patton shook his head. “We were confused for a bit. And scared. But...I don’t think we were ever lost.”

“You’re right. How could I be lost?” Roman laughed. “I have the most excellent of sidekicks.”

Patton laughed too. “Now that you’re my partner, I think you’re the knight and I’m the damsel.”

“I’m afraid that’s incorrect.” Roman dipped Patton suddenly, grinning. “Pretty as you are, I don’t think you’d wait around to be rescued.”

“I don’t know,” Patton teased, “I might let you do all the heavy lifting.”

“This is an equal partnership!” Roman declared. “Which means dragon-fighting together?”

“Dragon-fighting together,” Patton agreed. “But talk to them first. Maybe we can reach a compromise.”

“Of course!” Roman’s face softened. “We shall go on many wonderful adventures, my dear.”

“I look forward to it, my knight.” On impulse, Patton leaned forward and hugged Roman. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Roman asked, reaching up and cupping Patton’s head.

“For being you. For being there.” Patton looked up, smiling. “For being my friend.”

“I did promise,” Roman teased.

“And now...” Patton shook his head, still barely able to believe it. “We’re partners.”

“We are indeed.” Roman laughed. “I had my doubts in the universe, but it pulled through.”

“And this...” Patton chewed on his lip. “This is what you want? I don’t want you to feel pressured to keep Roman as your name because of me, I don’t want you to feel pressured to keep me--”

“Sweetheart,” Roman said, “that’s very kind of you, but I know exactly what I want, and it’s the black-haired cutie standing right in front of me.”

“You sure?”

Patton didn’t like the vulnerability in his voice, the quiet hope. Then again, if anyone would understand, it would be Roman.

Roman. His partner. His soulmate. His best friend and the person he loved most in the world.

Of course they were soulmates. How could it be anything different?

“I’m sure,” Roman said.

“Promise?”

“I swear on all the stars in the sky and all the phases of the moon,” Roman declared. He brushed Patton’s forehead with his fingers and cupped his chin. “I love you, Pat. I promise.”

Patton swallowed. “I want to stay with you. Can we stay?”

“As long as you wish.” Roman smiled. “Always, if that’s what you’d like.”

“I’d love that,” Patton admitted. “So, so much.”

Always.

Always with Roman, their wrists gleaming, their arms around each other and their heartbeats fluttering in time.

That sounded wonderful.

That sounded like more than Patton had ever hoped for.

“Magic,” he whispered to himself, because that was the only word for this feeling, a buzz and a spark and a warm wind swirling through the wind, rustling the notebook pages, slipping down Roman’s face.

“I told you, it shouldn’t have rules.” Roman laughed a little. “And I forgot that. I should have listened to myself--should have listened to you. We lost so much time.”

“We’ve got so much time to make up for it,” Patton said. “We’ve got always, Roman.”

Roman curled Patton tighter in his arms.

“And it wasn’t a loss,” Patton whispered. “I was with you, and that’s all I needed.”

“I love you,” Roman said again. Maybe it should have felt less new, less real and tangible and euphoric, since he’d repeated it over and over. But it still made Patton feel like a sun had come out behind a cloud, like his tears were drying and the world was opening up and everything was settling into place.

Patton didn’t even need to say I love you back. He could just stay there, wrapped in Roman’s arms, eyes closed and enjoying the warmth of the sun on his heart, thawing places he didn’t know were cold. Roman would know.

“I love you,” Patton said anyway.

Because he could, and because he wanted to, and he finally had what he’d wanted. An always with Roman. Roman. Roman here, Roman with him, Roman exactly who he’d needed all along.

They stood there for a long time in the darkness, and spent a long time together afterwards, and had a long future ahead of them.

They didn’t quite live happily ever after, of course, but nobody did.

They lived ever after. They loved ever after.

And that was so much more than enough.

General taglist:

@the17thmeatball

@most-likely-fandom

@csi-baker-street-babes

@caffeinated-cryptid

@thefivecalls

@ollyollyoxinfree

@the-gay-is-back

@dramaticsnakes

Taglist from @the-taglist-repository:

@dragonwithproblems @snowdice @locked-prism @nonasficcollection @enby-phoenix @idont-freaking-know @sign-from-god-complex @hitmewiththatfanart33 @aceawkwardunicorn @star-crossed-shipper @a-fandom-trashdump @notveryglittery @thatgaydemigodnerd @somehow-i-got-an-account @starlight-era @just-your-typical-trans-guy @potatsanderssides @katelynn-a-fan @dwbh888 @royal-stormcloud @intruxiety @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun

#sanders sides #royality #roman sanders #patton sanders #soulmate september #soulmate au #averywrites #dkjhgfdhjkl this is just patton pining and being soft #fluff and angst #angst with a happy ending #qpr royality #also the excess of trees and foresty stuff is because i wrote half of this on vacation #this is all kind of a mess but i like it and i need to write more royality anyway #also!! do not tag as fem!sides!!! please!!!!!#trans roman sanders #wow i just realized all the parts get shorter and shorter w e l p #consistency is for the weak #high school au

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gffa · 4 years

Note

hi!!! could you maybe recommend me some books/sources of information on how jedi order works?? wookieepedia is a little overwhelming to me lmao, and i kinda wanted to plan a fic about crèche master anakin, but that requires a lot of information about how raising younglings and clans work, more than i know at the moment!! thank you!

Hi! I have a meta guide for everything we know about the Jedi in canon here: Taking a Closer Look at the Jedi Order in Star Wars Canon [Meta/Reference Guide] You’ll find the most in chapters 3 and 4, which is really only a handful of mentions about the creche (you can just ctrl+F for mentions, if you want)--the problem is that there really isn’t any book or source of information on how the Jedi Order works. This area of worldbuilding has really been done almost nothing with it, especially because there are two separate continuities, where you have Canon and you have Legends. Legends probably has more details, but it’s always been non-canon to George Lucas’ Star Wars and so it really just kind of did its own thing (which often led to some amazing stories! Legends is a continuity that has a ton of value and meaning to people! but it also often contradicted what the Jedi were actually like because much of it was created pre-Attack of the Clones, so there weren’t even the three main movies out yet, much less The Clone Wars being out), which means you’re absolutely free to use it, but be wary of how it’s not always consistent. There’s not really even a source of information on what the Force feels like or how it works, aside from the interviews George Lucas has given on these things, which likely informs how canon attempts to treat these things, as they’ve said they’re trying to stay true to his themes now (for example--Legends often had “grey Force users” being stable, but canon now works according to George’s statements of how that’s not possible, the dark side corrupts, you have to actively resist it or you’ll fall to it), because not much worldbuilding has been done on this aspect of them. Instead, you have to piece together what we get in bits and bobs in the canon, which is what I’ve done with the above. If you want, you can read stuff like the Jedi Apprentice books, but they’re pretty firmly not canon anymore (like they had an age limit of 13, which has been overwritten by canon, where Ahsoka was 14 when she became a Padawan, there was a youngling in Dooku: Jedi Lost who was 16 and indicated they’d have to wait another year, there was no indication of impending age limit, even in Legends there was a book that had a 17 year old initiate who would have to keep trying) and so, again, you’re pretty free to make up whatever you like about the way Jedi creches work. The few things we do know, as mentioned in the above link: - On arrival at the Temple, Initiates are sorted into clans to help them foster trust and kinship. [Dooku: Jedi Lost] - When a Jedi youngling becomes a Padawan, they seem to go from the creche to partnering with their Master, though, first there are conversations with the crechemaster and the Master at some point: Obi-Wan said, “You know, I never had problems with that as a youngling. Being independent, I mean. I broke rules right and left. They even called me rebellious. Probably the Masters were surprised anyone was willing to take me on as an apprentice.” In fact, Qui-Gon had been warned about this very thing. He’d long since assumed that the crèche masters’ concern was overcautious. [Master and Apprentice] - Yaddle spends at least some time in the creche, whether regularly or they have rotating ones, is anyone’s guess, but she was there when Qui-Gon was a youngling: “Only yesterday, Dooku had chosen [Qui-Gon] as Padawan. He’d spent his last night in the younglings’ crèche laughing with his friends, imagining all the adventures he would have, and practicing with his lightsaber in the sparring room until Master Yaddle ordered him to bed.“ [Master and Apprentice] - They teach the younglings about the Force there: “Qui-Gon whispered, “The dark side?” He knew it was a thing all beings carried within them, a part of himself he would learn to guard against—the crèche masters had taught him all that. But it still sounded a little like some kind of ghost or monster, a mysterious thing that would leap out from the shadows to get you when you weren’t looking.” [Master and Apprentice], which is a direct echo of George Lucas explaining the Force: “ Only way to overcome the dark side is through discipline. The dark side is pleasure, biological and temporary and easy to achieve. The light side is joy, everlasting and difficult to achieve.” (George Lucas, Clone Wars writers meeting) - These bonds do seem to be significant, to at the very least some degree, as Obi-Wan thinks of his “creche-mate” even when he’s 17, indicating that possibly they’re often lifelong friends: Obi-Wan’s crèche-mate Prie, for instance, had been partnered with a Master who was expert in two things [....] [Master and Apprentice] - The younglings in the creche seem to sleep near each other (I have a personal headcanon that they sleep in piles, all cuddled up with each other, because Space Psychics) because they seem to often gossip with each other night by candle droid: In Dooku: Jedi Lost there is a gossip story passed around about a possibly expelled Padawan long ago, one that keeps getting passed around by Initiates telling stories by glow lanterns at night, which indicates that it’s considered juicy enough/surprising enough that it doesn’t seem to happen much/if at all. - We do see Yoda and Tera Sinube teaching classes of younglings as well, so they’re probably familiar to almost every youngling who passes through the creches. Whether these classes are based on the younglings’ clans or if they’re randomized, we have no idea, though. I’m assuming that at least some of them were based on clans, because we see Yoda teaching Bear Clan in Attack of the Clones, which also gives us an indication of the size of them--probably somewhere between four and eight.

We also see in Dooku: Jedi Lost that Dooku was part of the Hawk-Bat Clan, which often did things together, that Dooku spent time with Thranta Clan, while Tera Sinube spent more time with Heliost Clan. It’s probably reasonable to assume that the Jedi younglings from “The Gathering” are a clan as well, showing that they do things together fairly often:

Though, we see two other younglings there and Ganodi doesn’t seem to be part of the group, assuming that that’s Gungi, Byph, Petro, and Zatt with her. But we do see Tera Sinube spending time with them here and again later, when they’re practicing with their lightsabers:

Though, again, we see more than just that one clan--unless the two other younglings are part of their clan and just weren’t on that specific trip to Ilum with the others? Entirely possible there, too. But that’s it, that’s all we know. Anything else isn’t canon/never really was and can be fun to use, but I often find it doesn’t really fit well with what we’re shown in The Clone Wars or with George’s themes for SW. I think it makes sense, though, that it works like a communal society, where there are crechemasters who look after the children in their little mini-family clans, helping shepherd them to their classes, who shoo the children to bed at night and take care of them, talk with them about the things they need to know, work to help ease the transition when they become apprentices, etc. (As a note: If you’re reading Wookieepedia, even on the canon pages, they’ll reference The Jedi Path: A Manual for Students of the Force sometimes, but be wary, as that book is very firmly not canon. Elements of it may be recanonized, but only what appears in books like Dooku: Jedi Lost, Master and Apprentice, Choose Your Destiny: Obi-Wan & Anakin, Age of the Republic: Obi-Wan Kenobi, etc. are actually canon.)

#Anonymous #jedi order #meta #long post

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sweet-evie · 3 years

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The Emperor's Wish: My Personal Favorite [Fanfic Commentary #10]

Fanfic AO3

His final judgment is at hand. The price is set and the plan is in motion. But Emperor Lelouch uncovers his lover's secret, and it will haunt him beyond his own death.

[FANFIC COMMENTARY]

Legit, I’m proud of this one. I don’t know why… Probably not the best either. But this was incredibly self-indulgent, and hey, it turned out so well. Would you find it funny if I told you that this fic premise was in my head ever since I wanted to write for CLuCLu? Like, after watching the movie, I was always imagining how it would pan out so differently if Lelouch had a child, and C.C. is left to care for her lover and her son.

This is my baby and my pride and joy. My only one probably 😅 There are lots of made-up quotes in that fic that I’m really (and I mean, really proud of, and I don’t say that often because my writing is ~Hit or miss~ )

Unlike One Day at a Time, this one took a genuine effort to understand characters and how they would react in this what-if situation I created in my fucked up head. 🤣😂

It was written during the thick of quarantine and lockdown last year (April 2020), and I guess that helped fuel my timeliness and speedy updates. Because I was writing fanfic for the majority of the day, with minimal breaks in-between. Some of the reviewers on FFN can attest to the daily updates I had for The Emperor’s Wish.

It started as a one-shot with the Prologue, as my way of testing the waters. When I felt secure and sure that I could finish it, I went headfirst, never looked back, and came out of the other side, proud of myself for not abandoning a WIP 😅. But that was also because I had so much fun with it. It was nice to imagine a world where Lelouch had proper closure with his friends and family.

My favorite moment from The Emperor’s Wish (aside from the blatant CLuCLu romance) is Lelouch and Suzaku’s relationship. I love how I wrote them there. I love their bromance, as well as the subtle Ned Stark & Robert Baratheon allusion towards Chapter 11: Rewriting the Stars.

Suzaku never had a brother. And Lelouch never truly liked any of his… But even if they weren't bound by blood, theirs was a bond built on so much more.

For you are the brother I chose…

Perchance if some reader is as obsessed and familiar with George R. R. Martin’s A Song of Ice and Fire as me, then I bet they would have caught that… Or not. And it was simply self-satisfaction for the writer. Either way, I. Don’t. Regret. It.

And of course, I loved writing it mostly because of the star of that fanfic: Alexander Lamperouge himself. 🤩

He’s now in my Sims 4 universe, as a spellcaster. 😂

My Loves and Regrets

I LOVE how I wrote Nunnally here, honestly. She’s not a character I’d imagine that I could ever pull off flawlessly, and while I don’t think I accomplished the ‘flawless’ part, I think I did a decent job fleshing out her reaction and what a decent conversation with her older brother and C.C. could have gone like, also her reaction to finding out she had a nephew.

I REGRET that I didn’t get to write a lot about Lelouch’s other friends -- Shirley, Milly, & Rivalz, to be honest. It just felt so out of left field for me to force their story somewhere in the fanfic retelling considering the entire story did revolve around the CLuCLu family. In my own way, I tried writing more for the three of them separately, but that didn’t push through, because for some reason my brain doesn’t work. The only one I made a decent attempt at is Shirley, but I didn’t publish the fic either. It was about her meeting with Lelouch again after a year or two. It was set somewhere in Dubai. She was supposed to meet his son, and see C.C. again, and the ending was supposed to have C.C. and Shirley hugging and Shirley tells C.C. to take care of Lelouch. It was a very bittersweet one-shot/drabble/plot idea that was never publicized.

I LOVE my shoddy attempt at drawing parallels between certain scenes in The Emperor’s Wish. One of the readers, Kurosawa Ayumi, actually caught it and mentioned it in a review. It was the scene where Alexander was playing with his Knightmare toys (Lancelot & Gawain), and how Lancelot was cleaved in half from being accidentally thrown or dropped, and then how Jeremiah put him back together again. And then I transitioned to the annals of the prison in Grahlbad where Lelouch and Suzaku were about to confront each other after two years of not speaking and assuming one was dead.

I REGRET that The Emperor’s Wish isn’t longer. Like, I wish I took the plunge to create complicated twists, but it just… didn’t feel right at that time, you know? 😅🤔 Considering how I framed the fanfic as a retelling and reimagination of Re;surrection’s plot from the start, I feel like it would be too far-out to suddenly make things overly complicated than they already are. Also, there literally wasn’t much information available about Shamna, Shalio, and the rest at the time.

I LOVE the scenes I added in the fic, and the ones I put my own fanfic twist on. Re;surrection was a movie, so for obvious reasons, there’s time constraints and not as much time to flesh out characters like in a series. I tried doing that in my own way in this fic, and whether I succeeded at adding believable details to their interactions or not, it’s up to the reader. I’m just relieved that I actually managed to pull it off, given how sucky I am lately.

The Epilogue

The epilogue for The Emperor’s Wish went through a lot of rewrites.

At one point, it was supposed to overtly show the CLuCLu family traveling through Georgia, Lebanon, etc., and about how exhausting and challenging it was to hunt Geass fragments, gather intel, and take care of a baby at the same time. But I scratched it in favor of the first scene in the epilogue that we have now -- which is Suzaku and Nunnally discussing the latest Black Knight report, and the convenience of the entire operation because L.L. and C.C. were involved in some ways.

Hence the lines:

"They were responsible for stopping that criminal, weren't they?" She asked even when she already knew the answer.

"Highly likely. Probably stripped him of his powers before they abandoned him to be caught by the Black Knights."

And then I decided to take the steamy-but-not-really route for the final scene. The vague lovey-dovey between Lelouch and C.C. There was also a slightly vague allusion to them getting married underneath a poplar tree.

Plus, the last line was the cherry on top of my favorite fic so far:

— professing over and over again how fortunate and how blessed he was to have and to hold her for better or for worse…

And not even Death was powerful enough to tear them apart.

And on that note,

It wasn’t the longest fic I would ever write, nor is it the best, but it’s definitely one of my favorites. 😊😍🥰 And I loved every second of writing it. 🥳

#code geass #fanfiction #the emperor's wish #lelouch x c.c.#c.c. x lelouch #cluclu #lulucc #lelouch vi britannia #c.c. (code geass)#lelouch of the resurrection #fukkatsu no lelouch #wbad blog #wbad fanfiction #fanfiction commentary

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imaginesandinserts · 3 years

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Irreverent Pt. 39 - Dinner Party

Title: Irreverent Pt. 39 - Dinner Party Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: 5812

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Clyde was handling another assignment so you were working out of Quantico for the time being. You'd learned really quickly that not everyone had a Penelope Garcia at their disposal and you needed to skill up fast. You'd bribed her with concert tickets and a very handsome Elliot Greenberg as her escort in exchange for teaching you the basics.

Elliot worked for the white collar crime unit in New York after the BAU rejection and had recently made the transition to Quantico for sex crimes. The two of you had kept in touch over the years and he'd hit you up when he'd moved back. He'd broken up with his girlfriend back in New York for the job - which really just told you the girlfriend hadn't mattered all that much. Elliot was smart, good looking, and doing well at work but you knew he also had a nerdy streak that Garcia would appreciate.

It was kind of fun being on the other side of a case and watching Penelope in action. You figured it would be easiest to learn on the job so you'd stayed holed up in her office and the two of you worked together with the team on a case. She taught you how to do some of the less complex stuff and you got to flirt with Hotch anytime he called for an update - it was a win-win really.

When they got back, he'd decided to have everyone be home for a week and do reports and consults to coincide with your schedule. No one was really complaining about a week of no travel.

Aaron had gotten home before you as you'd had a late afternoon meeting with McKinney to update him on your progress. When you walk in, you can smell roasted spices wafting from the kitchen. Aaron had always enjoyed foods from other cuisines but with you he'd really embraced cooking it as well, since you'd lived all over and had curated your own recipes over the years. If your nose wasn't mistaken, he was trying his hand at your Chicken Vindaloo recipe.

You walk into the kitchen to see him wearing an apron and manning the stove while Jack sits at the island doing his homework.

"Hi baby." You greet Jack and place a quick kiss to his head before going over to observe Aaron's handiwork - it smelled pretty good and he already had the rice cooker going as well. Jack mumbled a hello and you could tell something was off. You raise an eyebrow at Aaron who mouths "Soccer" to you, peaking a glance backwards at Jack's head bent over his worksheets.

Aaron and you had decided to sign him up for soccer lessons, figuring it was a good age to get him into team sports and be a little more active in a structured setting. Apparently he wasn't taking it too well, though you couldn't fathom why.

You take a quick taste from the spatula that Aaron had been using to stir and add a little pinch of salt to the pan. He throws you a mock glare. "I was getting to it," he mutters, shooing you away.

You leave him to the cooking and go sit at the island by Jack. Grabbing a tangerine from the fruitbowl, you peel it and break off a piece. "Orange for your thoughts?" you ask Jack.

You can see him hesitate but he still reaches out for the small slice, putting his pencil down. "I don't want to do Soccer," he confesses, reaching for another piece. Aaron's back is turned and he appears to be bustling around the kitchen.

"What part of it do you not want to do?" You pop a piece of tangerine into your own mouth as well.

He seems to consider your question as he chews on another piece. "It seems messy and the other kids seem mean."

You and Aaron had taken Jack by the soccer field a couple of weeks ago and you realize he's referring to the mud covered kids all pushing one another. Jack was a sweet and sensitive kid and you could understand how that was maybe a stressful situation for him. But you also wanted him to give it a shot because it would be good to do some team activities - help him make some more friends and be more active.

"It does seem kind of messy," you agree. "But I don't think the other kids will be mean. You're good at making friends and as long as you're nice to them they'll be nice to you."

He thinks over your response and you know you can seal the deal. "If you don't like it after you give it a fair shot, then we can discuss. Is that okay?" Jack was a reasonable kid and you and Aaron tried to give him choices as much as possible.

"Okay, Y/N." Jack nods, grabbing the last piece of tangerine from your palm.

"You know," you lean in a bit to Jack, lowering your voice, "your family has a special history with soccer fields."

"We do?" He quirks an eyebrow at you and he looks so much like Aaron in that moment. The cheeks are all Haley but the expression is completely Aaron.

"Well, you know how your parents met, of course," you confirm with mock seriousness.

Jack smiles and nods. "Pirate #4"

You laugh, ruffling Jack's hair. Aaron had kept his word to Haley and he did his best to make her a part of Jack's life as much as you could. But you had a feeling this wasn't a story Jack knew yet. Jack had been obsessed with all of the Disney movies lately so you know he'd appreciate a good romance story.

"Yes, your parents met during the play. But your dad was quite the young soccer star when he was in high school." You look and see that Aaron is adding the finishing touches to dinner and undoubtedly listening in. Jack has turned fully to face you, bringing his chair a little bit closer to yours.

"Well, your mom started to go watch him practice and go to his games. After a game where your dad scored the winning goal," you pause as Jack hangs on every word, "they were hanging out on the field and your dad finally plucked up the courage and asked your mom to be his girlfriend."

"That's pretty cool, I guess." He smiles, turning to look at his dad. "But not as cool as Buttercup and Wesley. Can we watch The Princess Bride again after dinner?"

You and Aaron laugh as he nods and tells Jack to go get washed up for dinner. The three of you had already watched The Princess Bride a couple of times and Aaron insisted that Inigo Montoya looked exactly like his old boss, Gideon. He'd pulled up pictures to show you, but you just didn't see it. It was probably the longest argument the two of you had had in recent memory.

As Jack leaves, Aaron turns to look at you, his face identical to Jack's from earlier, eyebrow quirked just the same. You know he's wondering how you knew that story about him and Haley because it sure hadn't been from him.

"Jess and I bonded while you were gone," you explained with a small smile. "He should know your love story."

Aaron nods as you get up to get changed for dinner yourself. He adores that you go above and beyond to make sure that Jack feels connected to Haley. Sometimes, though, he worries that you end up minimizing your role in his and Jack's life in the process.

As far as Aaron was concerned, Jack got to be witness to his favorite love story.

*------------*

With the whole team at home base for the coming week, you and Aaron decided to host the long postponed dinner party that you had initially aimed to have as your relationship reveal party. Between the team jumping the gun on you and then all of the work and cases, it had gotten pushed back indefinitely. However, now seemed like the right time to do it. You'd planned it for the end of the week when both Henry and Jack were invited to a birthday sleepover and all of the adults had the next day off.

Emily, Derek, and Penelope were all bringing dates. Rossi was seeing Strauss but knew better than to invite her to a team thing. You still remembered worming that particular secret out of Aaron. You had known something was up when you'd happened to catch his face when Rossi told him. You'd been too far to actually hear what caused that face, so you'd brought it up later. In his defense, he'd valiantly tried to protect Rossi's secret, but you had your ways. When he'd finally given in and told you, you regretted having tried so hard to get it out of him. Rossi and Strauss. Just the thought of it made you shudder.

However, with that large of a group, you decided to get some outside help, though you'd still make dessert. You'd left for lunch to go meet with the caterer, taking Rossi along with you since he'd actually be helpful. Aaron was in some budget meetings through lunch anyways and you'd grabbed him a salad on the way back. You thanked Rossi for joining you and he took Aaron's food up with him as you turned to see Derek and Emily hanging out by her desk.

"Hey, so what'd Hotch mess up?" Derek asks as he sees you.

You're confused for a second as to what he means but then you catch sight of the large bouquet of flowers on your desk. Your heart stops. You recognize that arrangement - the ostentatious roses arranged artfully. You'd forgotten what day it was. After he missed last year, you'd thought he'd forgotten - that he'd moved past it finally. This was the first time they'd arrived at the office. Usually it was sent to your home so you could deal with it in private.

You approach your desk not bothering to look for a note. Quickly, you pick them up and place the bouquet in your trash can, in the hope that no one else would see them. Both Derek and Emily eye you curiously.

You have to make sure your voice will come out steadily before you speak. "They're not from Aaron."

You hope they'll just go back to their conversation as you sit down in your chair, your mind whirling. You'd have to deal with this situation. Him sending them to work was an obvious escalation and to what end, you couldn't be sure.

From the corner of your eye, you see Derek stand from his spot on Emily's desk. He walks towards you with purpose and before you can stop him, he's reached into the trash can and fished out the note.

"Matthew? He's sending you flowers?" His voice is low and he looks troubled, holding the note in his hands and taking a seat on your desk instead. Seemed like him and Emily had decided he'd deal with it, as she was conspicuously missing, leaving just you and Derek in the bullpen.

You sigh internally. It had been too much to hope that they would've just ignored it. "It's our anniversary," you explain, looking around and making sure there wasn't anyone else around. "He didn't take the break up well. Now he sends flowers every year to torture me - though usually he's tactful enough to send them to the house."

Your revelation does nothing to ease Derek's mind. If anything he looks even more worried now than before. "So he's escalating. Trying to get your attention."

"He's not going to actually do anything," you say, trying to sound reassuring. "I can handle it, Derek." You place a hand on his knee closest to you and look firmly up at him. The last thing you needed was for Derek to be all worried and nosey about the situation. Or worse, for him to tell… "Do not tell Aaron."

He looks at you as though you're stupid and you can tell he's going to argue with you, but you really don't want to bother Aaron with this. Not in the one week you guys have at home together. "I mean it, Derek. He has a thousand other things to worry about. My sociopath ex does not need to be one of them."

Derek frowns and you know he's racing through the thousand cases you guys have done on stalker exes and escalation. Luckily for you, Matthew was too lazy to actually stalk anyone. Unluckily, he still found the time to order you flowers to remind you that he'd once been a very large part of your life. You didn't even like roses. With a glance up to Hotch's office, Derek nods, knowing he won't be able to convince you otherwise right now. He drops the note back into the trash can as Emily returns and you all go back to pretending to work.

It's late afternoon when you hear Hotch calling your name from the upstairs landing. "Y/N, can you come up here please?"

You'd gotten very little done, your mind whirling with what to do about the Matthew situation. You just wanted it to be over. You briefly wonder if Aaron wants to talk about the meeting with the caterers or Jack's schedule for the following week when the two of you will both be away. You enter his office, closing the door behind you.

"Hey, what's going on?" You walk in and take a seat on his couch. The blinds facing the bullpen are closed, but the ones facing outside are open, casting a warm glow around the room. Curiously, he hasn't moved back to his desk and is standing in front of you, with a concerned look on his face.

"When were you going to tell me about the Matthew situation?" he asks, placing his left hand on his hip and looking every bit the part of SSA Aaron Hotchner instead of your boyfriend.

You let out a breath. You couldn't believe Derek had told him, after you'd specifically asked him not to. And now he had that furrowed brow and the concerned face and he has a deadline from Strauss on the new budget. This wasn't what he needed right now and you knew it would distract from everything else.

You grit your teeth and stand up, ignoring his voice, and open the door to his office to scan the bullpen until you catch sight of who you're looking for. "Agent Morgan," you call out, "could you please join us up here?"

Derek looks up at you before he quickly walks upstairs and enters Hotch's office. He goes and stands by Hotch while you close the door once again, undoubtedly knowing what this was about. The two of them made quite the image - frowns marring both of their faces though Aaron's was less pronounced. I knew moisturizing was a good call.

Squaring your shoulders, you cross your arms across your chest, facing the two of them. "Figured it was more efficient to just talk to you both together. Save you the trouble of finding each other afterwards," you say, your tone hinting at how annoyed you were. Not that either one of them had the decency to look ashamed. If anything they looked defiant.

Aaron started to speak but you cut him off.

"You two need to realize that I can handle my own problems. If I say Matthew isn't an issue, trust me. If I say I have it handled, believe me that I do."

"No." You expected that, but not from Derek. Maybe from Aaron, but not from Derek.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, no. Not with our jobs. Not knowing what we do. I'll tell Hotch, I'll tell the whole team. The more people on the lookout the better."

"I -"

"Morgan's right. So, let's figure out what to do."

"There's nothing to do. He sent flowers, not a bomb. Leave it alone. If the worst thing he does is send me flowers once a year - well people have dealt with worse. You're both overreacting."

"You expect us to do nothing? What about when he escalates?"

"He won't!"

"You can't possibly know that." His entire demeanor is stiff and tense and he's aggravated with you for not taking this as seriously as he is.

"I was with him for four years, Aaron. Trust me. I know him. He has nothing to gain from an escalation and everything to lose. He's married, he doesn't exactly want me back. He just hates that I dumped him and once a year he remembers that and gets pissed off and drunk and in his own passive aggressive way, chooses to do this. It's not worth any of us wasting a second more of our time on!"

Derek looks like he'd rather be anywhere but standing in the middle of the two of you at that moment.

Aaron breathes out slowly before he speaks, as though if he takes a moment it'll prevent him from shaking you into seeing it his way. "I still would like for the team to be on alert. Just in case." It would appear he'd decided on the reasonable approach.

You groan, but know that's the best you're about to get. At your nod, Aaron and Derek exchange a look before Derek moves to leave the room.

"Hey," you stop him as his hand touches the doorknob. "Next time I ask you to not tell my crazy, overprotective boyfriend something. Just don't."

He grimly shakes his head at you. "No promises."

You narrow your eyes at him. The two of you will be discussing this later.

Turning away from you, he nods at Hotch before opening the door and closing it behind him.

Aaron sighs before sitting down on the couch next to you. "Why wouldn't you just tell me?" he asks, as though he's afraid of the answer.

You know he's genuinely worried about you and grasping at the implication of you not telling him about this. You reach across the couch cushion and grab his hand, squeezing it. His fingers intertwine with yours instantly.

"Aaron, if I thought - for even a second- that this was some sort of actual threat, you'd be the first person I'd tell."

Which was the truth. If there was any chance that Matthew was a threat to Aaron or Jack, you'd have told him immediately. As it stood, however, your ex boyfriend was nothing more than a coward who got off on his little annual psychological warfare.

He nods, his mouth a straight line.

You spend a few more minutes in his office reassuring him properly (How convenient that the blinds were already shut), before leaving him to finish up the rest of his work.

*------------*

Derek watches from the bullpen as you exit Hotch's office, not a hair out of place, though he could imagine that hadn't been the case a minute earlier. He sees your eyes dart around furtively before making a quick phone call. You say barely two words before hanging up.

*------------*

Ricky Costello had the self-assured charm of a boy who had never questioned his place in life. He'd grown up scrawny and had to learn how to fight and stand up for himself. As he'd grown older and filled out some, people knew better than to pick on him or anyone he was friends with. He was loyal, headstrong, and the smartest of the family - which is why his father had pulled some strings and gotten him into a good school where he could learn something and be of some use to the family.

You'd met Ricky in your accounting class when he'd tried to partner with you for a project, thinking you'd do all the work for him. He'd had to rethink that strategy when you'd shown up at his dorm room, pretended to be his girlfriend to get rid of his flavor of the week, and then promised to continue ruining his chances with every gullible freshman unless he did his share of the work. Needless to say, the two of you had the best project in the class.

You arrived at the bar he'd texted you the address to. It was in a quiet street just off central downtown and at six in the evening, there were only commuters headed back home. No one paid much attention to you as you quickly looked around before entering.

The place was mostly empty save for an older couple seated at a table in the corner. You see Ricky seated at the bar and you make your way towards him. Feeling someone approach, he turns around, a grin breaking out on his face when he sees you.

"Hi Doll," he stands and wraps you in a hug that lifts you off the ground and elicits a small squeal of surprise.

"Hi Ricky." Your face lights up at the sight of him. It had been a while.

He indicates to the bartender for another round, before guiding you to a small table at the other corner of the bar. He pulls out a chair for you as the bartender sets down two glasses of scotch.

"Cheers," he says, lifting his glass and clinking it with yours. "To seeing old friends."

"Cheers," you smile, taking a sip, your eyes studying him. He looked older, the beginnings of grey could be seen near his temples. His leather jacket hugged him just right and he'd grown out his usual stubble into a full, well-kept beard. His smile was still very much him - a little cocky and every bit as affectionate as you remembered it.

The two of you drink for a while as he catches you up on all the drama your old group had gone through recently - the weddings, the breakups, the kids. It was odd to have missed out on all of it.

"So, tell me, why'd you really call?" he asks, leaning back in his chair, his hand playing with the rim of his glass.

You take a breath, mimicking his posture. "Matthew is planning on running for Congress."

He takes in your pursed lips and the tenseness of your shoulders. "I heard," he says slowly, deliberately. "Been meaning to pay him a visit. Congratulate him."

"Congratulate him for me too."

The quirk of his lips tells you he knows why you're telling him this. There was no love lost between Matthew and Ricky. If they were in the same room they were bound to get into it. You'd done your best to keep them sequestered in different parts of your life - however some events were inevitably meant for larger groups.

He nods with a soft laugh, before indicating to the bartender for a second round, which is delivered promptly.

"You should come back, Y/N. Give up the straight laced thing. The crew, we miss you, doll." His voice is earnest and for a moment you see the hint of the boy who'd confided all his secrets to you during study sessions that had bled into the early morning hours.

You smile, and your voice catches ever so slightly. "I've met someone - and well, he's pretty much as straight laced as they come."

Ricky laughs at that and you know he's just a little surprised. "What's his name?"

"Aaron." His name feels right at home in your mouth.

"Nice Catholic boy?" His face is one of boyish teasing.

"I always did have a thing for those," you joke. And you know, you know Ricky will take that in the friendly manner that it was meant.

The two of you wrap up and Ricky closes out the tab before walking you back to your car. As you're about to pull out of the parking spot, he leans into your window, placing the lightest of kisses to your cheek.

"Tell your boy Aaron, he's the luckiest guy in the world."

*------------*

You hear the front door open and close as Aaron arrives, having dropped Jack off at the birthday party sleepover he was invited. You'd spent the day making sure you'd made enough tiramisu for all the guests while both Jack and Aaron snuck bites of it when your back was turned.

You've just finished dusting off the final pan with cocoa powder, when you feel Aaron's arms circle your waist from behind. You have to slap his hand away as it makes its way into the dessert. Him and Jack had polished off half a pan that morning and at this rate, you'd have none left for the actual guests.

"You can't eat all of the dessert before the guests get here. At this rate, you're pretty much cut off from it entirely. I don't think I can make it again if you and Jack are going to be like this," you scold, turning and poking at his stomach.

He doesn't have the decency to look even a little embarrassed. He just smiles and shrugs, his arms encircling your waist again. "I'll just have to find something else to eat instead, I guess."

His words send a spike of heat and desire through you. The two of you had been making the most of being home at the same time and every night had ended with him between your legs - one way or another.

Shaking your head, you escape his hold and move to clear the island for the caterers. He was relentless, however.

"You expect to wear this and have me keep my hands to myself?" His voice is a deep rumble behind you as his arms cage you against the island countertop and his mouth finds your pulse point. He's referring to the off shoulder dress you'd changed into while he'd been gone, highlighting your collarbone magnificently. It flared out from the waist, making you look like the epitome of the perfect housewife you had once been destined to become.

"I'd hoped you'd at least wait till the end of the night," you retort. His arms are warm and his chest firm behind you and you really didn't have it in you to push him away again. You were pretty helpless against him.

"I always like to get a head start." You can hear the humor in his voice as he pushes you against the counter a little more firmly, his arms coming from around you to clear the space right in front.

"Aaron." His name escapes you with a soft sigh as he plants warm kisses along your neck down to your exposed shoulders. He sweeps your hair to the front, lips traveling down your spine as his hands move underneath your dress, finding the waistband of your underwear and then slipping inside to find you wet, warm, and waiting for him.

He lets out a groan at the feel of you and can't help but grind himself against you. He knows he's working against the clock and is surprised you've let him get this far.

You let out a sharp gasp as his thumb presses against your clit and he inserts two fingers deep within you. He had the art of getting you to come, down to a near science. He quickly pumps his fingers in and out, his thumb rubbing your clit in repeated circles. With his other hand he brings your head around and captures your lips. The press of his lips against yours is a feeling you'll never tire of you.

You come embarrassingly quick, fluttering around his fingers, your back arched and your ass grinding into his hard length behind you. He turns you around, his mouth hot and needy against yours. When you pull away, his eyes are blown wide and there's a sheen of sweat on his forehead from the exertion of keeping himself from simply plowing into you.

You make quick work of his belt buckle and help him work his jeans and underwear down, eager to have him in you. With one eye on the clock behind you, he hoists you up to the countertop, placing you on the edge, and enters you swiftly, eliciting a loud groan from you.

"Fuck, sweetheart. Always so ready for me. Always tight…wet." His voice is rough and low and makes the coil in your stomach tighter and your breath come out harsher. He moves efficiently, his head tucked into the crook of your neck and his arms working to keep you balanced on the edge.

His breath is warm against your neck, and he's panting and leave wet open kisses to any skin available to him. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he thrusts into you. You're close and you know he is too based on how irregular his movement is becoming.

You remove one hand from his shoulder, pulling on his hair to move his head enough to reach his mouth in a lazy kiss. He groans into your mouth as he comes, drawing your orgasm out right after, causing you to tremble against him.

As you come down, you're entirely slumped against his chest and he's moved you to sit more firmly on the island. You know you look nowhere near as presentable as you did fifteen minutes prior, but you're finding it hard to be too upset about it.

Still, you can't help but be a little bratty about it. "I'm going to have to redo my makeup," you whine against him.

Laughing breathlessly, he picks you up to carry you upstairs. It was a wonder he had the strength to do that right after. You could barely stand up when he deposited you outside the shower.

The two of you work quickly to get cleaned up and Aaron is the one to let the caterers in as you redo your hair and makeup. You fish out another dress - one with sleeves and a higher neckline. You couldn't afford to be pulled into the coat closet with people around.

*------------*

An hour and a half later, the party is in full swing. Emily had brought Henry Eastwood - Senator Williams's Chief of Staff. The two of you had run into him while out shopping a few weeks back and having recognized you, had come up to say hello. You had a feeling that had Emily not been with you, he would've entirely ignored some girl his boss had dated for a few weeks a year or so ago. However, you couldn't deny that they made a handsome couple.

Penelope had brought Elliot - the two of them had really hit it off and you were happy to see her smiling and laughing with someone. You'd given in and allowed Rossi to bring Strauss and you were pleasantly surprised to see her being on her best behavior around Aaron. Derek had brought Savannah and they were talking to JJ and Will.

You walked to the kitchen to open up another bottle of wine and refill everyone's glasses. It seemed Savannah had followed you, empty glass in hand. Laughing, you top off her glass with the almost empty bottle in hand, before opening the next one.

"Thanks for having everyone over," she says, taking a drink from her glass.

"Of course. Aaron and I honestly meant to do this ages ago, but work got away from us."

You have a feeling Savannah wants to talk to you about something else, however, so you don't say much more, trying to give her the chance to speak up.

She looks around a little nervously, but seems to make up her mind. "You're different for Derek, you know. Different from Emily and Penelope. He's very protective of you."

"I'm protective of him too," you respond softly. You know what she means however. You and Derek had gone through the worst thing in the world together and only came out the other end because of one other.

"Savannah, you have nothing to worry about," you reassure her, knowing that's what she really needed at the moment. Her and Derek hadn't had much time together lately and you could understand feeling insecure. "Derek loves you and you're good for him. You challenge him and you're the first girl I've seen him be so head over heels for."

She smiles and you know that helped a bit. "Thanks."

The two of you each grab a bottle and head back to the main living room. As you pour more wine into Dave's glass, you catch Aaron's eye and you feel warmth pooling in your stomach, the promise of a good night ahead of you. You walk around the room and top off everyone, making sure there's enough appetizers still out.

Derek offers to help you carry back the empty platters and follows you into the kitchen. "So, I heard something interesting today," he says, placing the platters on the counter.

You hum, as you grab more of the stuffed mushrooms from the warmer and arrange them on the empty platter.

"Cops responded to a call about a break in in New Hampshire, placed by someone's neighbor," he pauses and he knows you're listening. "When they get there, guy living in the house was obviously beat up, but his wife seemed alright. Just a little shaken up. Funny thing is - dude refused to press charges, even though cops could tell that the house had been broken into."

Your posture has gotten incredibly stiff as he spoke. He knows. You don't say anything, simply look at him apprehensively.

"Tell me," he continues, "what's the Italian mob's going rate to put the fear of God in someone?"

You take a breath, before meeting his eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh yeah, you wouldn't. Probably get the friends and family discount," he trails off, grabbing the platter and walking out of the kitchen.

Crap. He really did know. He knew about Ricky. Which meant he'd probably gotten Penelope involved as well.

Quickly composing yourself, you carry the other platter out, joining him by the appetizer table.

"Derek - "

"Don't worry. Garcia won't say anything."

You look at him, and you know he won't either.

"Thank you."

He nods, popping another mushroom in his mouth and smiling at you. He wouldn't be doubting you again when you said you had something under control.

He wouldn't tell anyone. When Hotch asks him later about the Matthew situation, all he'd say was that it was handled. Hotch would pause, look at him, but then trust Morgan to know that it was really handled.

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds reader insert #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #hotch #hotchner x you #hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n #irreverentseries

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fandom-collective-writers · 4 years

Text

The Transit of Venus (Nobunaga Oda x MC)

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Pairing: Nobunaga Oda x MC

Prompt: Eclipse, hide n’ seek, scavenger hunt, shooting stars

Warning: Smut!

Intended Audience: Female Audience

Word Count: 3,495

Requested by: @nad-zeta

Written by: @lordsisterxotome

Disclaimer: I do not own Ikemen Sengoku or any of its characters. All of that goodness is the property of Cybird. I do, however, own the plot of this fanfic. Please do not repost this on any other website.

Other notes: My left arm is still in a cast so it took me way too long to type this.^^;

It started with an innocent conversation.

Nobunaga was hungry for knowledge, the kind that was commonplace in her time thanks to the advances of modern technology but undiscovered in the Sengoku period. MC couldn’t remember how they had gotten on the topic of the stars and planets while lazing in bed, but before she knew it, she was explaining the types of eclipses to him, including the rarest of them all.

“It’s called the transit of Venus,” she murmured, tracing circles on her lover’s calloused palm as she lay nestled comfortably against his chest. “And it happens every 243 years in pairs spaced eight years apart.”

It had been relatively useless knowledge up until now, floating around in her brain amongst other miscellaneous facts, but it seemed to interest her warlord, whose red eyes gleamed in interest as she spoke. “What’s Venus?” he asked, pulling her closer as if he could cuddle the answers out of her.

“It’s a planet, the second from the sun,” she replied, closing her eyes and snuggling closer to the warmth of his chest. “It’s named after the Roman goddess of beauty, love, and prosperity.”

Nobunaga hummed, his hand ghosting along her bare side and making her shiver. “I’ve never heard of such a goddess.” MC could feel him smirking down at her, and she opened one eye to peer lazily up at him, her suspicions confirmed. Reaching up, she buried a hand in the dark hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him down for a long kiss, feeling him smile against her lips.

“Tell me more,” he purred, lips brushing hers as he spoke.

“Shouldn’t we be getting up now?” Chuckling, she brushed his hair away from his forehead. “I think we’ve stayed in bed long enough and Hideyoshi won’t be happy if I’m distracting his lord from his duties.”

He groaned but let her roll away from him with a quick kiss to his jaw. She could feel his gaze on her, drinking in the sight of her, as she rose from the bed and the blankets fell away to expose her naked body. Her lips curled in a coy smile as she peered at him over her shoulder, watching the way his eyes roved over her hungrily. “Nobunaga,” she said warningly, an amused edge to her tone. “You have things to do today, a country to unite, konpeito to steal.”

“I believe I can fit ravaging my lover into my schedule,” he replied, the blankets falling away from his bare chest as he raised himself to his elbows.

MC snorted, pulling on her kimono and cinching it closed over her chest before reaching for her obi. “If I remember correctly, you have a council in an hour.”

Muscular arms wrapped around her waist, undoing the progress she had made on her obi as a hot mouth descended on her neck. Biting her lip, she tried not to moan as her lover sucked at her pulse, his hand parting her kimono to cup her sex. “You don’t think I can satisfy you in an hour?” he murmured, making her shiver as he left open mouthed kisses along her neck and shoulder. A thick finger parted her folds, searching for the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

What he was proposing really did sound quite tempting. A little more time spent in the arms of the love of her life? She would never complain about that...except the love of her life was also a warlord whose actions would shape Japan’s feudal history, sooo…

“Thanks, but I have things to do today that require me being able to walk.” Nobunaga grunted in disapproval when she slipped out of his arms again and bent to snatch her obi off the floor, tying it into place properly this time. His mouth was set in a sour line when MC next looked at him, glaring eyes burning a hole in the floor as he pulled his clothes on as well.

Biting her lip, she debated the consequences of her next words. Despite her rejection of his invitation to stay in bed a little longer, she couldn’t deny the ache of want deep inside of her, ever yearning for the one she loved. What could she say? She was weak for that adorable pout.

“Later…” MC began and his eyes snapped to hers, the intensity in their depths startling. “If you find me, I’ll let you continue what you were doing...you know, a second ago…” Her cheeks burned as she said it, looking at him through her lashes as a hungry grin broke across his face.

“Is that an invitation to play a game, fireball?” It seemed she’d awakened the competitive side of him, the part that played any game to dominate and win, and he’d decided she was the prize.

“M-Maybe.”

“Then I accept.” Donning his white haori with a flourish, a shiver went down her spine as Nobunaga’s red stare pinned her in place, his presence wrapping around her even though he stood across the room. She saw his muscles bunch a second before she realized what was about to happen, and ducked through the door just as his arms closed around the empty space where she had been standing a second before.

“Nobunaga!” she half giggled, half screamed his name as she escaped down the hall, his booming laughter echoing after her. Her heart was still pounding when she reached the seamstress’ hall and she cupped her blushing cheeks in her hands, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself, before opening the door.

What was left of the morning went by without incident, but thoughts of Nobunaga and their little game lingered at the back of MC’s mind. For the first few hours, she startled every time the door opened or someone called her name, but her jumpiness wore off as the day continued, slowly blending into afternoon.

Maybe he really was too busy to make good on his determination to win? No, that wasn’t like him at all. Whatever it was, her guard dropped bit by bit, making his first attack that much more surprising when it finally did come.

She was walking around the corner, going through a bundle of letters that needed to be delivered, when hot breath tickled her ear, making her squeak as a tongue licked the shell. “You’ve left yourself open, fireball.”

Without a glance, she bolted, racing down the hall and making erratic turns down the winding corridors. A couple of times, MC swore she could feel his heat at her back, his arms closing around her, but when she finally stopped, out of breath and exhilarated, Nobunaga was nowhere to be seen.

Exhaling slowly, she leaned against the wall, a hand to her racing heart. He was more serious about this than she’d thought, using the same tact and patience she had experienced firsthand during their games of strip go. It was his plan to leave her alone until she had let her guard down, until she wasn’t expecting him to make a move.

Peeking back around the corner, MC took a deep breath, biting back a smile. If he was going to be serious, then so was she.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a careful game of hide n’ seek. She knew she probably looked strange sneaking around the hallways, but she didn’t have much choice if she was going to successfully evade her observant boyfriend. Hiding away in her room all day wasn’t an option, not when she had work to do, and besides, Nobunaga would find her all too easily if she stayed in one place.

More than once, she had to dodge his wandering hands reaching to capture her when she passed an open door. A couple of times she swore she felt his hawk-like gaze, watching her as she spoke with one of the other warlords or scampered across an open courtyard. It seemed no matter how careful she was, he always knew where she was or where she was going next, and the chase thrilled her, her thighs rubbing together at the thought of what awaited her when he did catch her.

The game finally started winding towards its resolution when MC went out into town to order more fabric to be delivered to the castle. Her usual seller had gotten a new shipment of fabrics and she had immediately become enraptured by the new colors and dye patterns. It wouldn’t hurt to relax a little, she figured. There was no way Nobunaga could seek her all day and keep up with his workload.

She was speaking with the salesman and trying to decide between two different patterns when she saw his eyes focus over her shoulder, a respectful smile stretching his weathered cheeks. Her head turned to see what, who, he was looking at, but a hard body pressed against hers from behind before she could, wrapping her in a familiar embrace.

“Have all of the items she’s looked at sent to the castle.” Nobunaga’s breath teased her hair as he spoke, obvious satisfaction in his tone as he said, lower, “Found you, fireball.”

The salesman clasped his hands in front of him, bowing. “As you wish, my lord. Your lady has impeccable taste as always.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Nobunaga purred, his grip tightening even though she had no way to escape even if she wanted to.

MC wanted to ask him how he’d found her, how he’d managed to be one step behind her all day, but she waited until he’d arranged payment for the fabric and taken her hand to lead her through the busy streets, headed for the outskirts of the city. The sun was sinking below the horizon when they finally emerged on a grassy field, the sky darkening above them.

“How did you know where I was?” she asked as his pace eased to a stroll through the tall grass.

Nobunaga chuckled, his hand squeezing hers. “You didn’t think I’d know your schedule by now? I’ve been following you all day.”

Her steps halted and she frowned at him as he looked down at her in amusement. “Then you could have ended the game anytime!”

“I could’ve, but it was more fun this way,” he laughed. His dark hair looked aflame as his figure eclipsed the setting sun, red eyes glowing with triumph in the dim, and his voice resounded with dominance. “You should know what happens now.”

Breathless, she nodded, her gaze dropping to the shadow of his smirking lips.

Closing the distance between them so they stood chest to chest, his words rumbled through her with a force like thunder when he spoke. “I found you.”

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.“You did.”

His hands brushed up her arms, her body relaxing into his touch, and soft grass met her back as Nobunaga pulled her down. The commanding lines of his face softened tenderly as he hovered over her, his smirk losing its edge. “So now I get to claim my prize.”

Gentle lips met hers in a loving caress a heartbeat later, so different from his usual hunger, and her arms wrapped around him to hug him closer. His body pressed hers into the ground as MC sighed into his mouth, longing for more. “I want to propose another game,” he murmured against her lips when they parted for air.

“Another?” she asked as his fingers fisted in her hair, tugging her head to the side to expose her neck. “What kind of game?”

“A scavenger hunt,” he replied, the tip of his nose tracing the column of her throat. “I win if I find all of the spots that bring you the most pleasure.” She gasped as he nipped at her earlobe, sending a shiver down her spine. “What do you think?”

“Mm~! I accept!”

He smiled against her pulse, his hands falling to her obi. “Good.”

The last orange sliver of the sun disappeared under the horizon as her kimono fell open, exposing her bare skin to the cool night air. Her body arched into his touch as his hands cupped her breasts, his thumbs flicking her hardening nipples, and a hot tongue licked across her collarbone as he nipped and bit his way to the sensitive spot on the side of her neck.

Nobunaga purred in satisfaction as she moaned, tilting her head to the side in a silent plea for more. “Here.” Teeth closed around the first spot hard, and she cried out as the pain and pleasure shot straight to her core, her thighs clenching in a desperate attempt for friction. Kissing the bright mark he’d made, he moved to her breasts next, kissing the heaving swells before enveloping a nipple between his lips.

MC pressed a palm to her mouth as he sucked, his tongue swirling around the hardened peak as he found yet another of her sweet spots. Her inner thighs were already sticky with her wetness, a hot pulse filling her body. When he pulled away, a string of saliva connected her reddened nipple to his lips, the sight so erotic she clenched around nothing, suddenly unbearably empty.

Grabbing her hand away from her mouth, he brought her fingertips to his lips and gave them a few harsh nips. “Don’t muffle your sounds,” he ordered, “I want to hear how good I’m making you feel.”

Holding eye contact, his hands moved to untie his kimono, baring chiseled pecs and abs to her lustful gaze as it trailed lower, following the path of his v-line. She whimpered as his cock sprang to attention, thick and red and pulsing with the need to plow into her, and Nobunaga smirked at her thirst.

“Patience. I haven’t finished finding every one of your sweet spots yet,” he grunted, caressing and groping down her body. Taking her foot in his hand, his eyes fell shut as he placed a kiss to her toe in homage to the beginning of their relationship. Soft giggles wracked her form as his mouth ghosted across her ankle and up the inside of her leg, his hands smoothing over her thighs and spreading them.

A second later, MC gasped as his teeth sank into the supple skin of her inner thigh, her legs closing around his head instinctively. “Here,” he breathed, kissing the new mark he left behind. His gaze flicked to hers as she peered down at him through half-lidded eyes and her heart stuttered as his breath fanned against her core, coming close but never close enough.

“Nobunaga…!” she pleaded as he teased her, writhing in his hold.

He chuckled, looking all too pleased with himself as she begged for him. “Don’t fret.” His hands wrenched her thighs wider, spreading her open for him. “I fully intend to give you more pleasure than you can handle.”

MC cried out as his mouth descended on her, licking a long strip up her slit. Her fingers tangled in his dark locks as his hands dug into her hips, tugging her closer as he slurped noisily. His moans vibrated through her trembling body as his nose nuzzled her clit and she nearly came when his tongue plunged inside of her, drinking her like a man dying of thirst and she was the finest thing he had ever tasted.

“So sensitive,” he growled, rubbing his aching erection against her leg. His lips and chin glistened with her arousal as he panted, brow furrowed. “I can’t get enough of your taste.”

He ate her out so ravenously it wasn’t long before she couldn’t take much more, the coil in her lower belly winding tighter with each greedy suck. “Nobunaga, I’m-!...It’s too much!” she warned, shutting her eyes tight.

A hand cupped her cheek, urging her to look at him, and she felt another wave of desire soak her folds as she beheld her Adonis of a lover. “Don’t close your eyes,” he demanded, sinking back between her legs. “I want you to watch me while I pleasure you.”

Fingers trailed along her slit, circling the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs before sinking two digits into her heat. Soft mewls fell from her lips as she rolled her hips against his hand, his fingers curling and scissoring within her and his thumb pressed on her clit. The whole time she obeyed his order to watch, unable to tear her eyes away as he prepared her for his cock..

“Nobunaga…” she panted, tugging his hair. “Mmh!...I’m close! Feels so good!” The calloused pads of his fingers curled against the spot inside of her that sent sparks dancing through her limbs and MC screamed his name as her orgasm suddenly crashed over her.

“That’s it, come all over my fingers,” he husked against her thigh, watching her entrance flutter around his fingers. “I’m going to give you so much more. You won’t know any name but mine by the time I’m finished.”

She whimpered as his fingers left her, laying limp against the grass as he moved to hover over her. Biting her lip, she trembled as his cock parted her folds, the engorged head prodding her oversensitive heat. Her back arched as Nobunaga slipped into her pliant body, looking every inch her virile Demon King as he pulled back to slam in again. His hands laced with hers and her legs wrapped around his waist as he rutted into her, his angle changing to reach spots that had her clenching around him.

His length reached so deep she swore she saw stars, and for a second she thought it was her vision playing tricks on her from the immense feeling of him thrusting into her, but when it happened again and again, filling the sky above her, she gasped. “N-Nobunaga!...Ha...Look!”

“I’d much rather ravish my Venus than look at the stars right now,” he grunted and MC almost missed his invocation of the foreign goddess’ name.

“Your...Venus?”

His hand stroked her blushing cheek, brushing strands of sweaty hair from her skin. She couldn’t have known how she appeared to him, breasts heaving and skin flushed with want in the moonlight as he claimed her. “You - ngh! - You said she was the goddess of beauty.” His mouth attached to her neck, leaving kisses between his words. “Of love.” Another kiss. “Of prosperity.” A hard thrust that had her fingers digging into his back. “Correct?”

“Y-Yes.”

“And...am I correct in assuming...there’s more to her definition?” Her eyes closed as his body pressed down hard against hers, pinning her in place as his thrusts turned rougher. “Desire.” The tip of his cock brushed the sweet spot deep inside of her, his name falling from her lips on a scream. “Fertility.” He angled to hit the spot again, hard body grinding against her softer form. “Victory.”

She nodded along to his words, feeling her second climax of the evening approaching. “Yes.” Her legs tightened around him, desperate for more. “Yes, yes, yes!”

“When I picture such a goddess...all I can think about is you.”

She didn’t have time to simper over the meaning behind his words. MC screamed his name as Nobunaga slammed into her, throwing his head back with a muffled roar. His hips continued to thrust shallowly as he released inside of her, warming her core with hot spurts of white. She almost missed it when he continued, his voice raw, “You’ve brought me all of those things and more.” Desperate kisses fell across her face, barely felt through the pulsing stimulation. “So, so much more.”

He pulled her into his arms as he collapsed next to her, her head resting against his chest. Her whole body felt pleasantly warm, safe in the arms of her love, and a smile curled lazily at her lips as she felt his lips plant a kiss to her hair.

“Shooting stars,” he mumbled, and she opened her eyes to see that the sky was indeed still streaked with the tiny lights. It was beautiful, but as her gaze settled on Nobunaga she found that she liked looking at him much more, the lines of his face soft with wonder as he watched the stars.

“I love you.” They blinked at each other as they spoke the words at the same time and a heartbeat later they chuckled, snuggling closer. Comfortable silence settled over them as they basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking, until Nobunaga grasped her hips, suddenly flipping their positions.

MC gasped his name, wide-eyed as he brought her to straddle him, hardening dick prodding her entrance. He only cocked his head innocently, chuckling at her expression. “Why so surprised? I accepted another game earlier, didn’t I? I don’t think I found all of your sweet spots earlier and as your lover, I need to thoroughly pleasure my goddess.”

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fuchsiagrasshopper · 3 years

Text

Chase the Sun

Author’s Note: This is a request I answered for @akusen-kutou, and I hope it turned out as close to what you imagined!

Vikings Masterlist

Pairing: Modern Floki x Reader

Word Count: 2774

Warnings: Language

Floki was feeling old. In fact, it was something Ivar and Hvitserk had said to him earlier during lunch. He cherished the moments spent in the company of the sons of his old friend, and the ribbing shared among them. But that afternoon had been different. The taunts he had received had lingered in a manner most unexpected, like an uninvited guest.

"You boys are starting to look old. You better hurry up and marry soon, or all the good ones will be gone," He teased Ragnar's two sons across the table from him.

"Take a look in the mirror, old man. We're not the ones who are actually…" Ivar paused with a smirk.

"Old," Hvitserk supplied around a mouthful of spaghetti.

Laughter erupted at the table as they tucked in.

At the time he hadn't thought much of it, but something unpleasant had remained with him when he thought about his age and where he was in this moment of his life.

Since Helga's passing in an automobile accident five years ago, he had remained a widower. The first year he had been lost in his grief and had thrown himself into his work. Then one became two, and the idea of finding someone new had been put upon him. His loved ones were only showing their concern, so he tried not to hold it against them, but the idea of anyone else in his life that wasn't Helga was strange. It would have felt like replacing her.

More years had passed, and in that time he had forgotten about being alone and had come to accept it. He embraced tragedy with a quiet aloofness. It never bothered him before, or maybe he had just refused to let it. Helga would be mad that he turned reclusive once again. It was how she found him when they first fell in love, and she had managed her way into his heart while also coaxing him out into the open. Floki knew himself to be bizarre, and maybe even crazy, but he would never apologize or try to change how he was. If others didn't understand him, then he would simply remove himself from their company. It seemed he had slipped back into that old habit.

The night was cold as he walked the streets. The last bits of autumn were clinging to hold on as winter chased close behind. Lights and wreaths were being hung on storefronts as the holiday season began, and sales were flashed in big numbers to lure in the early shopper. Christmas used to be Floki's favorite time of the year, only because it was Helga's. He would construct all sorts of decorations around their home, to the point where it looked like clutter, just to see her smile. Last year he hadn't even bothered with a tree.

He rounded the corner of the block, coming close to the park. It was where he liked to frequent when he had thoughts that he couldn't silence. The stars were more visible when standing under the shade of the trees, away from the streetlights. Floki believed in the divine, a being that was something greater than himself. He wouldn't call it God, and he never attended church, but he felt a deep connection to unseen forces. It gave him hope that Helga was still out there and that the soul was eternal. Their separation was only a temporary thing, something he would have to navigate alone.

"Floki!"

He startled at his name being called and had not realized he had stumbled so far into the park. Retracting from the bush, he stumbled out onto an empty pathway. Just ahead was a wooden bench, and a small lamp that's pale glow pierced the dark of the small pocket of the park he was in. He strained his ears, holding his breath as he tried to listen to the unfamiliar voice.

"Floki, come back here."

He frowned at the command. Should he answer? Who would even know he was there? The voice wasn't ringing any bells. He stepped further onto the path when a large creature came bounding down towards him. Swallowing back a gasp, Floki was pounced on by a lummox of a German Shepherd.

"You're a big one," He managed to say as he pushed back on the snout of the beast that was preoccupied with digging his nose into Floki's coat. A handsome specimen and he was quick to forget his annoyance at being caught off guard as he knelt down to stroke the dog behind the collar. "What are you doing out here, huh?"

"Floki!" He heard the unfamiliar voice call out again in distress.

"Right here," He replied without thought, caught up in his new wild friend. Floki had an appreciation for all living things, and he might have suggested opening a zoo to Helga once or twice. It was a good thing she always refused.

"Oh thank goodness," The voice said, coming from the same direction that the shepherd had sprung out of. He now had a face to go with the voice, and it was one he couldn't recall. Had they ever met before?

"There you are," You said, coming closer to the dog whose attention leaped back onto you from Floki. The shepherd showered you with excited licks across the face as you crouched down. You were laughing from the affection, and Floki felt a sudden disappointment at the loss of his new furry friend. "Thank you for finding him. We've been trying off-leash, but it's not going so well."

"Oh, it was no trouble. He found me," Floki replied as he stood away, feeling awkward and neglected now that the dog had you back.

You clipped a red leash back onto the leather collar while the shepherd observed you with blind trust. His tongue rolled out of the side of his mouth when you gave him a brisk scratch on the chin. "So what now, Floki?"

Floki frowned. There you went again, and he was certain this time that he hadn't let slip his name. "What do you mean?"

You looked back at him with confusion. "I'm not sure I understand," You said.

Floki did. The realization struck swift as lightning as he looked down at the dog and then back to you. An airy giggle set out from his lips before he could contain it, and he was glad for it. It truly was a funny coincidence.

"Floki," He said pointing to himself, and then at the dog. "Floki."

Your face bloomed into a delighted smile. "That's your name?"

"Yes. I thought we'd met once, and I had forgotten you, but you were searching for this one the whole time," He explained with much relief.

"You know, he got the name completely by mistake. I had meant to call him Loki, but when the license arrived in the mail, it said Floki. And actually both the F and L were capitalized, so the clerk must have hit the F accidentally," You explained in a rushed ramble. "Sorry, you probably didn't want to hear all of that."

"No, no. I've never met another namesake before, and one with a connection to the Nordic Gods. Loki would have suited well, he does seem to be giving you trouble."

You smiled while Dog-Floki began to scout the area of the park. "Oh yes, since day one. He's a rescue, and actually, we were out celebrating. It's been a year since I brought him home."

"Congratulations. I should leave you two to it then," He said, bouncing from one foot to the other. "Goodnight."

"Wait a minute," You said, and the hint of desperation in your voice stopped Floki in his path. "Did you...did you want to grab a coffee or a tea?"

Floki blinked, and he might have forgotten how to breathe. No one had asked him to do anything like that in years, except for any of Ragnar's sons. But a woman no less, he was startled and a tad fearful at the meaning. He realized a long stretch of silence had passed without him giving you an answer, and you began to grow embarrassed.

"Nevermind, forget I said anything. That was weird of me, I mean we only just met, and you thought I knew your name." You suddenly shut your mouth while pinching the bridge of your nose. "Listen to me rambling. I just, I didn't want to come across as desperate, but I've lived here for two years and I still don't really have a circle of friends to speak of. After my first year, I adopted this guy and then another year has passed and I'm no different."

By now Dog-Floki had returned to your side, staring up at you as if to try and calm your frayed nerves. Floki understood the loneliness you were feeling, even though your circumstances differed from his.

"I don't like coffee," He spoke up and you looked positively stricken. "But I like peppermint tea."

"Really?" You breathed out a hopeful sigh and began to lead the dog by his leash. "Because there's a place close to here that also makes a latte I like."

"Yes," Floki replied, not knowing what else to say. He didn't want to come across as too enthusiastic, but your excitement was contagious.

You signal for him to follow, and he shuffled after to catch up. As he kept pace beside you, Floki couldn't help but observe you closer. He guessed that you were maybe only a few years younger than him. Still youthful, but with enough wisdom in your eyes and smile lines on your face that gave away to the years you had weathered. When you caught him looking in your peripheral, he looked away with an embarrassed flush at being caught.

"What is it?" You prodded.

"Nothing," Floki replied, covering his nervousness with a cough. "You aren't from here you said. Where did you move from?"

"Akureyri. My family is still there, but I came here to work."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a recreational therapist. I work with seniors in transition facilities."

Hearing that you worked with seniors made him think back to the 'old' comment again. You must be good at your job, however, as Floki couldn't recall having a fun, free night like this in months. Maybe Ivar and Hvitserk were right. His thinking process caused him to let slip another giggle, and you shot him a curious look.

"Well, what do you do, Floki? I feel like I've been talking too much about myself, and I hate to do that."

"I'm a contractor. Since I can remember, I've always been building things. Instead of growing out of that phase, I turned it into a career," He said with a shrug. "It's nothing impressive really, but I get to be creative. That's all I've ever wanted."

Dog-Floki came around between you both and nudged at Floki's hand until he fit his snout into his palm. Floki heeded the animal's need for attention, petting him back with soft strokes on the head.

"So you're creative, and are good with animals," You said, admiring the affection he was showering on your dog. "Do you have any pets...or children?"

Floki hummed. "No pets, no. My friend's sons are certainly rowdy enough to qualify as animals, and I think of them as my nephews. But no children for me."

His description had you chuckling. "I know how that is. I have nieces and nephews of my own. I hope they think of me as their cool aunt and not the wacky one whose gifts they exchange."

You seemed perfectly not wacky to him. The back and forth conversation continued between you, and Floki found himself giving shorter answers just so he could hear you talk more about yourself. He had forgotten what it was like to meet someone new, and the weightless feeling it caused in his gut.

The main street was a little busier than when Floki had left it, and the air had grown cooler as the night advanced. You pointed ahead to the shop coming up on your right, and you picked up a grin.

"There, Bliss Bakery. They've become a staple in my diet since moving here. I don't mind the extra calories though, it gives me an excuse to take Floki on runs."

Just as Floki was about to open his mouth and reply, someone called out across the street.

"Floki."

Dog-Floki's ears perked up, but this time the voice was familiar and Floki knew it was for him.

"I think those men are calling on you," You said while calming your excited dog.

"A lot of that going around tonight," Floki said as he cringed at the sight of Ivar and Hvitserk making their way over. "Here comes some of those animals I told you about."

You watched the young men approaching with curiosity as they bumbled together, laughing as they went. Floki could tell by the volume of their voices that they had been drinking. Hopefully, they hadn't left their good manners at the bar.

"Hey, you old bastard. What are you up to?" Ivar called.

Floki flinched. So much for his hopes of them having a semblance of decency.

"And who's that with you?" Hvitserk asked, squinting even as they moved closer.

Floki had his mouth opened, about to answer when you chimed in.

"Hi, I'm (Y/N). A new friend of Floki's," You said, sticking your hand out to Hvitserk. "You must be the animals he told me about."

Ivar adjusted on his crutches while tossing Floki a funny look. "What have you been saying about us?"

"The truth," Floki said with a shrug. "I had to convince your father not to take you all to the pound more than once."

There was an eruption of laughter, but Floki wasn't fooled. He could see both Ivar and Hvitserk eyeing you with interest and he could only fret over what they were thinking.

"So, where did you two meet?" Ivar prodded.

"Yeah," Hvitserk added. "I didn't know you had friends Floki…no offense."

"We met in the park back that way," You said, pointing on your tip-toes. "It was about a half-hour ago."

"Of course it was," Ivar muttered.

"We have the same name," Floki interjected, gesturing to the dog who was preoccupied with the two newcomers.

"You and the dog? No kidding," Hvitserk said as he petted the shepherd.

Floki nodded. "So, what are you two doing here?"

"We met some girls for drinks. Figured it was time. We didn't want to--what was it you said--get old?" Ivar smirked while avoiding the cold nose of the dog who was trying to bury his snout against his leg. "We should get going and let you two get back to your evening."

"Right. It was nice meeting you (Y/N). Maybe we'll get to talk more next time," Hvitserk said with a wave.

You nodded. "I hope so."

Floki turned to you, surprised with how your confident answer provided him with reassurance. His nephews hadn't scared you away, and better still they seemed to accept your sudden intrusion in his life. He wasn't sure what he had done to earn you as a new friend in his life, but forces at work must have been smiling down on him.

"You'd really put up with seeing them again?" He asked, feeling his brow furrow.

"Sure, they seem perfectly rowdy but without having to crate train," You breathed with a laugh and Floki joined you. "Here, you take Floki. I'll get our drinks to-go."

You passed him the leash before he even had a chance to reach for his wallet. "Let me pay."

"No, my treat this time. I'll let you get the next one." You pulled on the door of the bakery but halted a moment before stepping inside. "And I'll get us some palmiers. They're my favorite," You said before disappearing inside.

Floki smiled at you through the window. "Mine too," He murmured.

Dog-Floki sat down on the sidewalk by his feet and let out a sharp bark as he gazed up at the sky. Floki followed his line of sight, and it was as if all the clouds had parted to make way for the stars. He couldn’t remember the city sky ever being so clear. When a particular star began to flicker and twinkle, he took it as a sign that from this night until the end of his days, he would no longer be alone. She was still out there and had brought you to him.

"Thank you, Helga."

#vikings #vikings floki #floki x reader #history vikings #floki the boat builder #modern floki #vikings imagine #floki x helga

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merakiui · 4 years

Note

i don’t remember actually sending a request, sorry about that- anyway, how about the noctu team realizing they’re crushing on the manager? make it like a puppy crush for aiyachi bc the baby is only 14

(Here are the hcs! Please forgive me. I don’t know why they took so long to post. :< But I’m happy with the result! I hope you’ll like it too. Thank you for requesting! These are really cute to think about.)

Noctu Team With a Crush HCs (Aitachi, Kirr, Nine, and Day)

🎯 Aitachi 🎯

Aitachi looks up to a lot of people. He’s not bothered by the fact that most of them might be older and taller. That just means they’ve got more years under their belt and plenty of wisdom to share with him.

He’s so used to being around adults that your presence doesn’t faze him in the slightest.

Intimidation? He knows no such thing! Aitaichi hardly considers fear when you treat him with the same respect as everyone else.

Just don’t baby him. Aitachi may be the smallest and youngest out of the group, but that doesn’t mean he’s a child. He’s a mature Reaper with the courage and strength of a true, pure-hearted warrior!

That’s why he’s always willing to put his life on the line if you’re ever in danger, which is extreme and illogical considering he’s already died once and is now immortal.

He means well, but you’ll still clarify that he doesn’t need to go to such lengths to ensure your safety.

“I’ll be fine,” you told him after a vengeful spirit tried to attack you. “You don’t have to worry so much. As long as no one’s hurt, we can continue with our work, right?”

The very next morning you find a talisman on your desk, along with a small note telling you to keep it close whenever you’re in danger.

Since then, you’ve kept it as a good luck charm, knowing that as long as you’re careful you won’t fall prey to any wandering spirits.

Aitachi takes up the role as your unofficial errand boy ever since he discovered the special spot on your desk for the doll he made. He insists on bringing you every important document because it’s a warrior’s duty to provide for those in need.

His fellow Noctu Reapers think it’s quite charming that he does this, especially Day, who makes all sorts of comments doting on how his “little brother” is so helpful and sweet.

You’re grateful that Aitachi’s so willing to lend a hand without a single complaint, and you make sure he knows just how thankful you are.

Even if the gesture is reserved for that of a child, you still pat him on the head. Aitachi pouted about it at first, saying that head pats aren’t suited for warriors.

Now he just blushes at the contact, proud to have gotten your recognition.

He’s almost like Day in a sense, unintentionally following you around like a lost hound.

It’s quite obvious that he’s got a case of young puppy love.

He’s making another talisman doll for you when he comes to the realization of his wholesome feelings.

Are warriors even supposed to feel this way?

He’s stuck thinking about it the whole day, and he’ll probably be less confident to admit to it.

In the meantime, though, he’ll continue helping you to the best of his ability, secretly doing everything he can to be considered your number one. Almost like a teacher’s pet, but in this case it’s manager’s pet.

All of those talisman dolls are starting to pile up on your desk, as well as his innocent adoration for his hard-working manager.

🏹 Kirr 🏹

Having a crush is such a foreign concept to Kirr.

When he first heard the word, he took it quite literally, wondering why anyone would want to crush another person. That should only happen in a survival scenario where life and death is at stake and you’re facing an enemy with negative intentions.

Yet as he learns more about what it means in a romantic sense, it gives him more confusion. So a crush is a strong sense of admiration for another person?

In that case, wouldn’t it be his manager who he holds in high esteem?

He doesn’t really know how to bring this topic up with the others, so he’s debating it internally. It’s definitely a struggle for poor Kirr, who can’t seem to figure out whether or not what he’s feeling is a crush or just simple respect for his colleague.

So he ends up watching how the Reapers act around you. They’re so kind and sociable. And he acts the same, albeit at a serious level where most jokes go over his head.

Kirr is so busy troubling himself with these inner debates that he doesn’t even register when someone’s trying to talk to him, and it’s a bit concerning.

One afternoon he’s sharpening the arrowheads on the ends of his arrows when he sees you crossing the field. And you look serene as you walk, not paying any mind to the wind that rustles your clothes.

He’s shared plenty of conversations with you before, but during those times he never had a chance to appreciate you in all your astounding form.

It’s almost too much for him, and a slew of feelings catch his heart in a vice.

Maybe he does have a crush after all.

But where are all these emotions coming from? Based off of what he’s heard from the Department, Kirr knows that a crush is normal for everyone of all ages. It’s a sign that you’ve taken romantic interest in someone.

He wonders what one does with feelings like these. Obviously he could confess or get to know you more, but something’s holding him back. Suddenly, he’s become indecisive.

Normally, when he’s hunting, it’s easy to rely on logic and instincts. Now he’s not so sure which will help him out in this situation.

When you catch his staring and wave, a smile on your face, Kirr holds up his arm, returning the gesture. You really are a great person; your personality glimmers underneath the glare of the sun, and he’s glad that someone so amazing is his manager.

Logic might fail in this case, and instincts won’t get him anywhere as he has no idea where to begin. So maybe he’ll settle on his heart, following it like it’s a searchlight in the blurry haze of confusion that’s overtaken his reasoning.

Kirr’s definitely going to gravitate towards you more as he tries to navigate his newfound feelings. He’s doing his best, so please encourage him.

🎼 Nine 🎼

He catches you slacking off one day, absorbed in the videos on your mobile device.

Nine isn’t one to snoop, but he does happen to catch the swish of a colorful pen against a sheet of unwrinkled paper. He knows what it is at once.

You’re watching calligraphy videos.

“Do you enjoy that, Manager?” he’ll ask, awaiting your answer.

Once you confirm that you do like it, Nine’ll be happy to know that his manager shares similar interests with him.

Since then, the two of you have bonded over calligraphy, and Nine’s even showed you what his skillful hands can do. Just give him a pretty pen and some paper and he’ll be scribbling all sorts of gorgeous words.

He finds that the best word to write is your name, which is a tad confusing, but you seem honored.

Before he can even register the extent of your relationship, you’re already inviting him to places. Whether it’s in your office talking over paperwork or rendezvousing in the human world during a successful mission, Nine enjoys your presence.

Nine realizes that every day spent in your company is fun, albeit a dangerous erosion to his heart, which is beginning to wear at its foundation.

He manages to stay composed, but there’s something strange in how he hopes of eventually surpassing the border known as friendship.

He’s not used to getting so close to others; usually he keeps his distance, only upholding a conversation when needed. But now he feels as though he’ll lose you if he doesn’t stick around, and the idea of that is crushing.

You’re already such a ray of sunshine, a soothing force against the hectic work days, so he wants to ensure that you’re also content.

He’s writing down the remnants of a composition he recalls, testing his memory of his distant past life, when everything starts to click into place. The stars align as he writes in the final notes, reviewing the completed composition with tranquil eyes.

If he’s right, it should be played slow and steady, transitioning between notes of melancholic hope and satisfied bitterness. Quite a tragic piece, if he’s being honest, but maybe that was his intention. Or his memory might be faulty. Either way, he’s certain that this composition describes his inner turmoil perfectly. Bittersweet like chocolate and uncertain like his intuition.

Nine can’t remember the name to this particular composition, so he writes the first thing that comes to his mind.

The moment he finishes writing your name is definitive proof of what he’s feeling.

Some would say it’s a crush, and others would say it’s unfiltered endearment. Regardless of what it is, it holds the same implications.

Nine’s in love.

Though his previous life was cut short and he refuses to sort through his cracked past, he has all the time in the world to start anew. And that’s all he needs to act upon these feelings that have blossomed.

It’ll take time, but he knows that he’ll be able to confess when he’s certain that his love isn’t completely one-sided.

In the 14th Department, Nine seems to wear his smile purposefully, and there’s a bright shine in his gaze.

🍦 Day 🍦

He’s with you 24/7. At least, that’s what it feels like to you.

Realistically, it’s because of your role as manager. But at some point he just starts to forget that that’s your job and he begins to consider you a friend.

He’s in your office all the time, sitting on a swivel chair or trying to lounge on your desk while you’re writing up reports.

In the beginning, you would always kick him out, lightly advising him that work hours are not play hours—even if there aren’t any ongoing missions.

But Day is so loyal, constantly flitting around you like a butterfly. He seems to smile even brighter when you address him, and despite his carefree demeanor he wants to provide as much help as he can.

“Let me carry that, Manager!” or “Hey, hey! We should get ice cream to celebrate your hard work. I want to take you to the best place. You have to try the new flavors with me!”

You give up pushing him away and start to welcome him into your office.

The other Reapers begin to suspect something’s up, especially those who are more perceptive than the others. Day’s own team members can’t help but wonder what’s got him so fascinated with you.

He claims he can never be bored when he’s around you, which proves to be true because this man can talk about anything and everything.

All it takes is for you to mention that you’re in the mood for something sweet, and he’ll be on that topic faster than a moth to a light.

Without meaning to, he memorizes all of the information he learns about you, accidentally mentioning some facts during a conversation.

It makes you realize just how close he pays attention to you.

Even Nyang Lead Manager has noticed his attachment, but he’s uninterested for the most part. As long as Day doesn’t let himself get distracted from work, he’s not bothered.

But it makes things harder for you. Your focus diminishes whenever he’s near, so much so that you begin to take in different aspects of his actions.

He rarely blushes, but when he does it’s usually whenever you do something that warrants bashfulness. And he’s started to compliment you a lot now, always recognizing changes to your fashion.

Day happens to be relaxing in his dorm, reading an ancient tome about magic and its connection to the heart, when it finally makes sense.

Wait. Hold on.

He peers at the symbols with undeterred intensity, recalling memories of you and him. Eerily, his feelings fit the exact description in the book.

He really does spend a lot of time with you, and you’ve been occupying his thoughts day and night since he first got to know you. Some would say it’s too much, but you can never have enough of something you love.

Love. That’s the word he was looking for.

He’s in love. True, real, authentic love.

Day pops up from his sitting position so fast it almost throws him off balance. The other Noctu members look at him in confusion, but he’s too busy to even give them an explanation.

Now wired with too much excitement to feel worried, he rushes through the 14th Department, completely shirtless and in a hurry to get to your office so he can give you a rambling soapbox speech about his inner thoughts and feelings.

Someone give him a shirt before he gets himself in trouble with Nyang.

#afterl!fe #after l!fe #afterl!fe aitachi #afterl!fe kirr #afterl!fe nine #afterl!fe day #noctu team #night team #crush headcanons #afterl!fe x reader #afterl!fe headcanons #afterl!fe hcs #afterl!fe the sacred kaleidoscope #aitachi #kirr #nine #day

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animatedminds · 4 years

Text

Let’s Get Dangerous Review!

It’s dangerous. In a good way. <cue dramatic music> Okay, obviously there’s more thoughts than just that. I’ve been waiting for it for weeks, and it arrived just as awesome as I hoped. For the first time, let’s give my full movie style review to the double length Ducktales special: “Let’s Get Dangerous.”

The spoilers are open and widely discussed, so maybe don’t look past the following image if you haven’t seen the episode yet.

To note, I’m not entirely convinced that this was actually meant to be a pilot. It definitely does introduce a new status quo for the Darkwing trio of characters (minus Honker for now, here’s hoping they haven’t forgotten him), but it’s also a very remote story that still tries to take place within the context of Ducktales’ universe, so it really depends on what they choose to do.

But let’s just get down to it.

First off, as I mentioned in my earlier post… Taurus Bulba. He was maybe the biggest and most eye-catching aspect of the first part of the episode, as one of the few elements we hadn’t already seen yet, and his reputation as a really, really bad guy has quite preceded him. As I may have gushed somewhat about, he’s one of the best parts of the special.

James Monroe Inglehart, for those living away from the Disney scene for a decade, is an actor and voice actor most famous for being the original Genie on Broadway’s Aladdin. A grand, bombastic presence, he generally plays characters who - much like the genie himself - a big, jolly, kind but maybe a little mischievous souls that take the attention of a room and brighten up the characters’ day - like Lance, in Tangled the Series. The most interesting thing about Bulba is that Inglehart brings that exact same energy to the role, and so Bulba keep that jollity and lofty personality in a package that becomes increasingly less nice as the story goes on. As someone who keenly remembers Taurus Bulba as cruel monster willing to hurt kids and capable of crushing Darkwing like nobody’s business, the contrast was immediately fun to watch - and I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop.

In this story, Bulba is recast from a crime lord intending to use a super weapon go on an endless plundering spree to a FOWL scientist with a respectable reputation who intends to use a super weapon to take over the world, and the transition goes off fairly well. The end result is a pretty standard mix of superhero fight and Bond plot, as Bulba ends up holed up in his lab with his squadron of elite supervillain minions - all plundered a particular fictional universe - with the heroes having to break in / escape from his captivity and stop him before he destroys everything. It’s very Silver Age, with Bulba in the role of maniacal villain, and he’s contrasted very well with Bradford - who is as always an antagonist who prides himself on pragmatism. This contrast leads to some great moments: Bradford’s increasing frustration with the cavalier attitude of both the heroes and the villains gives him the best stint of characterization he’s had since the beginning of the season - he basically spends the whole episode arguing with everyone about how badly thought out their actions are, while also badly hiding his own secrets.

The Fearsome Five (of which Quackerjack is voices by his original actor) are great to see, though used minimally. If you’re expecting to see classic show dynamics between the villains and Darkwing, that’s not really what they’re used for. Mostly, they’re minions with personality, and they’re more there to establish both to the audience and to Drake the character himself that he is ready to take on really big threats even with his lack of superpowers.

But enough about the villains, on to the heroes!

A couple episodes ago, with the Halloween episode, I criticized that story for not balancing its A and B plot all that well. This episode does not have that problem. The story is actually maybe about three fifths Darkwing’s story, and the rest of it is Scrooge and the nephews as they figure out what Bulba is up to independently of Darkwing and try to stop him themselves. It’s somewhat similar to Timephoon, where they’re there constantly and are doing their own bid to solve the story but the focus isn’t primarily on them. Instead, we have some of the best “HDL actually matter to the story” bits of the show, where they escape Bulba’s prison on their own and lead Bradford out, all the while slowly figuring out that something is shady about the guy. Meanwhile, Scrooge gets stuck in the original Ducktales universe’s most memed scene, which was a fun gag (but not the best gag - that would be the one and only Bonkers D. Bobcat as the Harvey Bullock-style cop in the Darkwing show).

Which I suppose can lead to a digression about the mad science bit here. The alternate universes here are… interesting. I always pay special attention to how things like time travel or other dimensions or alternate universes work in a series, and this one reminds me the most - I think - of DC’s Dark Multiverse: a collection of universes that are both explicitly fictional but made real because people created them. Ultimately, it’s less as if the OG Darkwing universe exists independently of the Ducktales universe and more that the in-universe Darkwing show as a world based off of it that the characters can reach into. I wish the episode had delved into that more, and now you’ve got people trying to use it to look for more establishment of OG Darkwing elements (though I was fine with it being separate, perceiving anything else as rather needlessly inexplicable), but ultimately that is not specifically what the episode is about, and is kept rather separate.

So what is the episode about? Like you didn’t already know…

As always, Gosalyn Waddlemeyer is a little girl whose grandfather was done away with by Taurus Bulba, and who falls into Darkwing’s lap over the course of his adventure with him. Here, her grandfather is (possibly) still alive, just lost in the ether a la Gravity Falls’ Grunkle Ford. And like the mighty glazed McGuffin, Darkwing’s goal in the episode is less strictly defeating Bulba as it is helping her get her grandfather and her home back. Gosalyn here is self-sufficient and action oriented (it may be my inner Brooklyn 99 fan talking, but I loved Stephanie Beatriz as her, and kind of wish she had gotten a wider range of lines), taking on her own crusade against Bulba until she realizes she can go to Darkwing for help, and is constantly trying to pull him into the fight - even while he is reluctant, and no matter what the danger - so that they can win and she can get justice. But in the end, she has to accept that they might not be able to.

As a longtime Batman fan, I immediately recognized a plethora of Robin references with Gosalyn. She’s a kid who’s family was taken from her by a villain, given a surrogate home by the hero - like Dick Grayson. She’s a street tough who originally met the hero committing a crime, and who is both skeptical of his heroism and heavily critical of his flaws - like Jason Todd. And she’s a young genius with a lot of scientific knowledge, tech skills and common sense - just like Tim Drake. There’s even elements of Carrie Kelley or Terry McGinnis there, in her determined if not gung-ho approach to heroism despite her circumstances and the hermit-like behavior of the hero.

And in the end, this is a fairly apt comparison, because Gosalyn essentially ends the story more as a Robin figure than previously, now as Darkwing’s more of a ward and official sidekick alongside Launchpad. The story does not, to note, involve her being adopted by Drake or becoming Gosalyn Mallard. Indeed, they don’t really end up having that sort of relationship. They’re distant and don’t really know how to relate to one another, and not about to broach the subject of family except in distant terms. There’s ultimately far less emphasis than before on Gosalyn and Drake being similar and hitting it off on a personal level, or even really Drake keying into Gosalyn’s potential and spirit as a person vs an element in his adventure. Throughout the story he regards her as a victim to be saved, then ultimately as an ally with potential to be respected, and in the end he gives her an offer to take up the mantle along side him while they search for her family… which ultimately creates something very different.

For people expecting something a little more akin to the implications the show made with Gyro and BOYD, Gosalyn here. The implication that they could be a family is brought up by Launchpad, but neither Drake nor Gosalyn are really there at the end of the story - I want to say they’re not there yet, but the way the story goes gives off the impression that the dynamic duo dichotomy is the relationship for the two the writing is most comfortable giving them.

Again, I’m a longtime Batman fan, so I understand and appreciate the nod. It gives them a really cool status quo that’s distinct from what came before it. Still, the strong father/daughter relationship between the two was very much the heart and soul of the original show, an endearing quality that created the character traits we love about both characters, and ultimately one of the primary characteristics that set the Darkwing family apart even from most comic book superhero stars - so even if they made something great out of it, it’s a shame to see Ducktales ultimately keep that relationship at arms’ length.

But that’s less a criticism and more just something I wish they had chosen to do differently - and it makes sense for the 2017 team’s take on Darkwing, which has always been more focused on “irrepressible hero who doesn’t give up” - a pluckie rookie growing into his competence - than “former fool whose great potential is unleashed through the people around him.” The latter is there, sometimes, but it’s not prominent. Original Darkwing was a man made better by his daughter, while the modern Darkwing doesn’t quite need that to find the hero within.

The only (and I mean only) criticism I have is the way the characters kind of jump around in how they respond to things. Drake wanting more crime, and then freaking out when super crime shows up and it’s way more than he thought he can handle is fine, and is one of the better character bits in the special. It being unclear whether Drake is against fighting supervillains because he thinks they’re too powerful vs because he doesn’t want to risk Gosalyn’s safety is another thing, though - it seems the show intended to imply the latter but forgot to include the line somewhere, so it’s not inferred until later and Drake suddenly benching Gos towards the end lacks set-up.

For her part, Gosalyn is suddenly and quickly afraid to fight for a brief moment so Launchpad can inspire her to face impossible odds, even though it was hardly the first time she had done so in the special. The ending I think wanted the characters to be somewhere that the rest of the special hadn’t gotten them to yet. But it’s all good - it ends well, so all’s well. Best gag of the episode, btw? Fenton, who is awful at keeping his secret identity secret, has hooked up Darkwing with his own hi-tech hero lair. Darkwing, despite supposedly being a detective (or at least an actor playing a detective), ends up as one of the two or three people remaining on Earth who hasn’t figured out that Fenton is Gizmoduck. Darkwing considers himself good friends with Fenton, despite hating Gizmoduck. It’s actually very funny.

It’s as of now unclear what is coming up for Darkwing. We know the St. Canard characters are going to factor in more as the FOWL plot progresses, and this episode kicks that plot into high gear - the characters now know about FOWL and their intentions, and are preparing themselves for a far more dangerous fight than usual. In short, with the midseason comes the renewed focus on the primary plot of the season, as per the usual. Like I said before, while I’m not as on board as most with the idea that this was a pilot, St. Canard was definitely established here - with series regular Zan Owlson as it’s new mayor, and a general aesthetic and set of protagonists. It wouldn’t be remiss for a future episode this season to take place there (though we know Negaduck isn’t happening this season).

The new few episodes, however, are focused more on the quest for Finch’s treasures and FOWL, so that’s going to have to wait for a while. We’ve been promised, as I recall, an episode that brings all the kids together (unless that’s part of the finale), which is nice - I may have mentioned before that the best episodes of the series have been the ones that put the kids (who are the characters with the most focus throughout its run) together and let all their personalities run through an adventure together - and with the cast growing somewhat constantly, it’s nice to know that no one is being forgotten.

Either way, I give the episode a great deal of recommendation - I only had a couple things that bothered me, and a few wishes for different choices, and ultimately I’m planning on watching it a ton of times just like I did the first Darkwing episode. From a classic Darkwing fan, and in the words of Bat-Mite, it’s a different intepretation to be sure, but not at all one without merit.

So thanks to Frank Angones, Matt Youngberg and the Ducktales crew! I hope my virtual thumbs up reaches them somehow, but either way, it was a good day to be dangerous.

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