#i remember a time when we loved leaks leaks were our love language. look what he has done to you. to all of us

[boylikeanangel]

2023 good omens fandom would never survive may 2019 when the entirety of season 1 got leaked on the emmy fyc site and me and several other blogs spent the entire month slowly feeding people spoilers and screenshots and we all shared the fucking google drive folder with the leaked episodes still with a watermark over them and spoke to each other about it publicly in riddles and it was the best month of our fucking lives. like we did that shit because it was funny it was like we were all staying up past our bedtime and getting away with it. you are all so boring now

[lovingksuki]

✰ SECRET ADMIRER

— highschoolers bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: an anonymous love letter appears in your locker on valentine's day. surprised, you and your best friend start an investigation to uncover who was that person observing you from afar. meanwhile, a flushed bakugo tries to ruin your plans on the undercover alongside his shitty-haired buddy

cw: sfw; mostly fluff; lil angst; very insecure bakugo; romantic comedy; puberty; silly jokes; little swearing.

a/n: this is part one of three. let me know if you want this mini series to be continued :) and pls be patient since english is not my first language hehe ;;

word count: 1k

"oh c'mon! what if there's a heart shaped letter in your locker? you never know..."

"there's not."

"you can't be so certain about it. my girl is never looking her surroundings, who knows if someone got their heart pierced by an arrow?" mina pointed.

"shut up, every year the same thing..." you rushed and right after turning the corridor you captured by distance. "ok. maybe you were right." you said finding the metal compartment half closed.

then you grabbed the red paper in her hands, paying attention to the almost dry daisy taped lazily on the front; glanced around not spotting anything or anyone suspicious about it, then turned to your best friend.

"i got a feeling you're part of this." spurred.

"whoa, i was joking just now! even i am chocked. who's the sender?" the pink colored girl held her hands up in protest.

"i don't know, there's only my name." you stated carefully sticking the little flower out.

"let me search for a hint." mina took the letter from your hands suddenly, mumbling while quickly skimming through the words looking for something useful. she gasped before smirking at the content and then continued mumbling.

"enjoying yourself!?" you sighed waiting.

"mkay, done." handed the letter. "nothing between the lines. who wrote this sure is smart enough to not leak their identity."

"that's for me to decide. you ain't the smartest kind." you chuckled.

"hey!"

"more like the pretty girl type."

"you sly thing! you received a love letter, who's the pretty girl again?" both laughed at the statement and headed out to the cafeteria. "not reading it?"

"can't think when i am this hungry. we should hurry."

at the lunchtime the subject was the same. you two were discussing with your mouths full, sitting by yourselves on a table far enough from eavesdropping.

"hear me out. there's this line that seems to be rewritten over and over, it's a bit tattered." you mentioned. "it says: 'i'm still hesitant about what you think about me' and thanks to the pressure they put on paper seems to be 'afraid of who i am' underneath."

"adds a lot of nothing to our investigation. that's what everybody would say in a confession, i mean, nobody likes being dumped." pinky pointed out unfazed.

"yeah but, i don't think it's meaningless, what if this person is truly insecure about themselves." you pondered.

"or they're just ugly." mina chewed on her meal.

"i don't think that's the case... remember when you told me that thing you read about pretty boys' handwriting?" you brought up.

"did you actually believe that!? was just a discussion in a girl's meme forum." the pink one remarked.

"but there's some truth behind it. if you consider that people with a smaller hand can grip on a pen better when writing, also means the ones with big hands tend to have a sloppier handwriting!" you stated confident about your theory.

"girl, you're tripping... does this mean we're going across the school measuring boys' hands?" mina smirked unconvinced.

"precisely."

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦

"what a fucking waste of time..." said raging.

"dude, calm down. at least you poured your feelings out..." eijiro reassured his bestfriend trying to point out the bright side of things.

but while he's the bright side, katsuki was the dark side. they say a good relationship is based in balance, in this case it makes total sense.

"you even checked if she read it?" asked the red haired.

"when she and mina walked by me at the corridor they were whispering and giggling like little lambs. probably laughing at that letter though." pouted.

"you're being paranoid, they're always like that."

"they're up to something..." bakugo murmured.

whilst the two struggled to put up with the 'plan cupid', the other two were constructing the 'plan pretty boy's handwriting'.

"as i was saying, a pencil has six inches approximately, we're looking for a hand as big at least. if we measure our hands we can compare with theirs without them noticing." stated grabbing a pen off her case.

"you're truly a genius. i refuse to accept you failed strategic test last week." mina complimented.

"i was in a really bad mood that day... anyway!" justified while traced her own hand in a empty page of mina's notebook. "fifteen centimeters. do yours and we're good to go!" demanded agitated.

when looking for friends of theirs, the girls pretended to just have a walk around the school.

"what if it was a girl?" mina asked suddenly.

"i doubt. how many girls with large hands do we know?" claimed.

"mmm... asui-san?"

"you've got to be kidding...!" pulled her phone and dialed quickly a number. "hey!" you smiled. "no, nothing really urgent, i just wanted to ask... are you perhaps in love with me?" questioned without any filter.

"girl you gone mad?" mina whispered holding back a laughter.

"uh, ok. anyways, thank you. we talk later, kisses!" you hung up. "see? that's not her."

"woah you're so straightforward! it scares me sometimes..."

the boys exited the restroom still discussing, but when the blondie heard a certain voice he stepped back. pulled eijiro's tie to hide behind a pillar with him. "shut it!" mouthed.

"i just wanted to ask... are you perhaps in love with me?"

"uh, ok."

his face started to burn as he became more anxious. could only hear a few words, enough to bring the boy into complete state of panic.

after the girls left he released his breath.

"stop overthinking! she just received a love letter, of course she's curious!" kirishima said.

"i didn't say anything, shitty-hair!"

"your face shows!" sighed. "seriously, how can she be so oblivious? just look at you! you're terrible at hiding."

"i- i... she doesn't even talk to me that often..." katsuki pitied.

"bro, you're not the friendliest around here. but she doesn't seem to be afraid of you." kiri pondered. "have you ever tried to smile?"

he looked at the red spiked guy and opened a shy smile.

"a bit more."

every time bakugo tried to put on smiling face it looked creepy. "be more genuine." said eijiro.

trying his best, but even with so much effort... his buddy analyzed. "ok. it looks absolutely terrifying."

"shit."

[creatureseason]

excerpt from a book i’ll never finish full of memories i will always feel.

“do you remember what it sounds like?”

i question, in a hushed yet halting tone, the edge of an apology already present and leaking into mumbled words.

pause.

“remember what?” she replies, caution spreading, thick and heavy in her throat.

that’s how it is nowadays between us. i speak with hesitance and cowardice, feeling guilt for every word i say and every word i don’t.

she remains wary and guarded, choking around bitter truths and hiding behind crumbling walls.

you were the perfect medium

i plunge.

“her name.”

no response. i’m treading water.

“i think i’m forgetting it,” i breath out, the exhale massive and full of desperation, as if just the taste of the words fills my mouth with venom.

“I can’t remember the sound or the letters. how it sounded in a yell or a whisper, I-I…can’t,” the syllables pour and pour out of me, with a undercurrent of frantic energy weaving into my voice.

please, just say something. we never say anything.

what do you do when all that remains of a person is their name? one that haunts and fills up rooms and drains life and shuts mouths.

how do you forget? kicking and screaming, being dragged through halls like a juvenile tantrum. or with acceptance and relief, gaining back what was once lost while losing what can never come back.

we never talk about you.

no response. i’m fully submerged. nothing more to lose once you grow comfortable with a lack of oxygen.

“it’s been so long since we said it out loud,” i rasp out, mouth dry and barren, despite my waterlogged brain. please, say something.

nothing.

i sink.

“why….why don’t we say it out loud,” my voice breaks, full of cracks and crumble, losing foundation, losing a home.

i feel the water, in my ears, in my head, behind my eyes. i feel my eyes welling and my lip tremble. the tears sting like saltwater.

silence.

i’m losing air, being pulled farther and farther from the sun. i’m thrashing my legs, making a mess full of waves and pruning finger tips.

you know better than this, i scold my inner mind. why cause a disturbance when there is no one around to recognize it as such?

you used to recognize it

i shut my eyes. another night, perhaps. we’ll try another night.

i prepare for sleep with the sound of rushing water in my ears.

then…

“only the vowels” she quietly confesses, in the same manner as a disciple that spills out sins on Sundays.

i hold my breath. i squint at the diminishing horizon, trying to look for something, somewhere, someone.

and..

“and it’s never enough” she admits, weakly and regretfully. “i don’t think i could say it, even if i tried.”

stillness. i can see the blue of the sky now, rippled and distorted by the waves. a hand is there, reaching for me, grabbing for my hand. it looks shockingly familiar. i recognize it, but i haven’t seen it in a very long time. it’s connected to a body that i’ve seen and touched and loved. a body that lays in the same room as me, facing toward the wall, wearing an oversized shirt from my closet.

maybe it’s been drowning as well.

a dry chuckle breaks the silence. “does that sounds crazy?” she questions in a shaky whisper, defeat stitched into a humorless smile. i can already hear her mentally retreating through the tone of her voice, as if she is already planning out her hasty departure. as if she is already forming her getaway plan.

it’s not fair.

don’t leave me! i scream and plead in my mind. not when we are finally speaking the same language. not when this is the first time we’ve slipped around the barriers that have been built. not when it’s been months.

pause. breathe. now speak.

“it’s the only thing that makes sense about all of this,” i whisper back, my tone soft and secretive, as if our carefully crafted home of confessions will be listened in on and dissected.

but this is ours, only ours. the words we’ve confessed like secret and sin, that ones that have been drawn out and plucked from our souls. the ones have paved these floors and made these beds. we made this and we live in it.

i hear her exhale from across the room, a rich sound full of gratitude. the room is pitched black, the windows drawn yet the moon light slips through. i resist the urge to sit up from my pile of blankets and pillows and look over at her figure curled up on the armchair. but i don’t need to see it to hear it.

relief.

the relief of being understood, of being known. we sit in the silence, filled not with comfort, but a different brand of emotion, not quite good or bad. but instead, riddled with acceptance.

stillness. then….

“it’s never enough.” she whispers, soulfully and mournfully, with so much rich emotion, as if she’s crooning out the words to an old love song or giving away part of her beating heart to those it need it most.

the statement is released into the space, one we coexist in, one that’s riddled with fading memories.

it touches the layers of dust on the top shelf’s, jiggles the crooked shade over a dimming lamp, brushes and restores the edges of forgotten pictures frames that have been stored away in sealed drawers.

the room receives the admission with grace and motherly warmth. it shakes our hands and kisses our cheeks, absorbing the words for all they are and all they could be.

we breathe in sync.

i breach the surface.

[watchingspnagain]

Rewatching Family Remains

Welcome to “If You Don’t Have Ghost Humans, Regular Humans Will Do: A Supernatural Rewatch Blog” with Lor and Mace!

 Up today, s4e11: Family Remains.

Dean is itchy-scratchy for a case, despite Sam’s protests that he’s exhausted and Dean should stop avoiding his feelings by running them ragged. Dean wins out when he finds them what looks like it should be a good old-fashioned haunted house. When they show up, the house appears to be for sale and empty, and after a quick look-see, they decide to do some research and come back later. In the meantime, the family who bought the house shows up to move in. Whoops. The boys think they’ve managed to convince the family of four plus dog and uncle to stay away (asbestos! Gas leak!), but Uncle Ted Knows Things About Houses and declares it safe. When they move in, things start to go bad. Sam and Dean come back, tell them it’s a ghost, and just about have them convinced when the ghost in question steps right across a salt line because—surprise! She’s actually a very alive feral child who’s been living in the walls. From there it gets gruesome and disturbing, with the family having to come together to save each other and Dean putting on an impressive display of channeling a lot of hell-guilt into needing to save everyone. (Shock.) Spoiler alert: yes, the dog dies.

 Below is a log of our real-time reactions as we watched. Remember that there may be spoilers for any part of SPN’s 15-season run here. Note also that the nature of our conversation is adult and thus it may contain adult language and themes.

 [and we begin:]

 Lor:

 oh precious freckled, teary green-eyed boy

   Mace:

 yep

 poor Sammy needs a week’s worth of sleep

Lor:

 he DOES

Sam is like if I'm this tired Dean must be dead

   Mace:

 yeah

   Lor:

 poor Sammy

   Mace:

 poor Bean

   Lor:

 haunted smaunted I want that porch

   Mace:

 HAHAHA YES

   “what?” “What?"

HAHAHA

   Lor:

 "what?" "what?”

YES

   Mace:

 CREEPY

   Lor:

 RIGHT?

 and I love the shot up at them

 it IS nice

   Mace:

 YES

 weird. I thought we’d already rewatched this one…

   Lor:

 I was just thinking that I feel like this is not where this episode belongs in the scheme of things

   Mace:

 HAHAHAHA of course you did

 Dean’s look at the girl when she says hooker sheets

   Lor:

 omg Dean's look at the daughter

 HAHAHAHA

   Mace:

 YES

   Lor:

 I love the little character things we often get from these one-off characters. like her handing the pictures out and then closing the screen door

she'll talk to them, but she ain’t coming out

   Mace:

 YES

   Lor:

 so, if I was moving into a new house, and some randos said they were from the county and then turns out they weren't, THAT is what would send me to a motel till I figured out what was up

   Mace:

 RIGHT?!

   Lor:

 and Danny is an idiot

   Mace:

 SNORK!!!!

 “really?” “No not really”

   Lor:

 "really?" "no not really"

   Mace:

 HAHAHA

   Lor:

 LOLOL

   Mace:

 Dammit, Danny

   Lor:

 yeah, butt out, TED

   Mace:

 HA

 maaaybe investigate this weird thing Danny is telling you a bit more?

   Lor:

 way to teach your kid that you believe what he tells you

 RIGHT?

   Mace:

 was the girl…licking her?

   Lor:

 I guess?

   Mace:

 okay. weird.

 I LOVE the border collie

   Lor:

 no, Buster, stay inside!

 YEP

   Mace:

 smartest member of that family, hands down

 DAMMIT. I just finished a book in which the dog died and I didn’t remember this. I CAN’T TAKE IT

   Lor:

 oh no!

I had kind of forgotten or I'da said!

 "what kind of ghost messes with a man's WHEELS"

   Mace:

 “what kind of ghost messes with a man’s WHEELS"

 HAHAHAHAHA

   Lor:

 YES

 Dean is so not in the mood for civilians

   Mace:

 LIKE SCOOBY DOO

 the head waggle back and forth omg

   Lor:

 oh he did NOT just call him Fonzie

   YES

   Mace:

 HAHAHA

 “yeah, about that"

   Lor:

 YES

  and that step over the line. SO CREEPY

   Mace:

 YES

 these eps with the actual people. THE SCARIEST

   Lor:

 YES

   Mace:

 “I’m telling you man. Humans"

   Lor:

 omg "psycho Nell" that is a DEEP CUT, Dean

   Mace:

 HAHAHA

   Lor:

 does anyone even remember that movie?

   Mace:

 apparently Dean does

   Lor:

 LOL

I love him

   Mace:

 YOU DO?!?!

   Lor:

 yeah, it took me awhile to come around, but I think he can stay

   Mace:

 snork!

 “every day"

oh Dean

   Lor:

 "you smell that?" "every day" omg, Dean, honey

   Mace:

 HAHAHA

   Lor:

 "well do you want to?" holds him

 "please nobody grab my leg"

   Mace:

 “please nobody grab my leg"

 HAHAHAHA

   Lor:

 YES

omg him putting his head in his hand and breathing for a second

   Mace:

 YES

   Lor:

 SERIOUSLY though, aside from just the "oh man, humans" of it, I think the ones where it's just humans are genuinely the creepiest in their presentation

   Mace:

 the complete lack of soundtrack for those few seconds is so powerful CRIPES

   Lor:

 YES

   Mace:

 ABSOLUTELY

they are always the most disturbing

   Lor:

 YEP

 "cause I had to carry him out"

"I couldn't get to him in time"

oh DEAN

   Mace:

 oooof

   Lor:

 how old is Suz? she still thinks bad things don't happen to good people?

   Mace:

yeah

   Lor:

 (I try to have sympathy for her bc this sucks for her, of course, but she bugs me)

   Mace:

 (yeah, I suspect she’s just in shock and still grieving and whatnot but she is annoying)

   Lor:

 "rent Juno, get over it"

   Mace:

 ooof

   Lor:

 "oh gross"

   Mace:

 YEP

   Lor:

 "humans, man"

   Mace:

 YES

   Lor:

 "like you know what hell's like"

   Mace:

 offsides, Dean

   Lor:

 okay, Dean, take a breath

YEP

let's not go all mean on your brother bc he hasn't been to hell

   Mace:

 ...yet

   Lor:

 HA!

   Mace:

 this poor girl

   Lor:

 right?

 oh Dean. it is not your personal responsibility to save every single person

   Mace:

 no, but he can save two by not letting this idiot go after his son

   Lor:

 HA! true

 oh JEEZ

I forgot there were two

   Mace:

 WHAT

I did too!!

   Lor:

 okay, Suz just went back up in my estimation a bit

   Mace:

 Ha! YES

 this family is gonna be screwed up for so long after this

   Lor:

 I bet the marriage counselor never thought of killing an attacking feral child as a way to strengthen their bond

 RIGHT?

   Mace:

 HAHAHAHA

   Lor:

 oh no he's off his food

   Mace:

 Dean’s not eating, he’s upset

 YES

   Lor:

 YES

 "I did it for the sheer pleasure" oooooof

   Mace:

 HOOOOOTTTTTT

   Lor:

 i just want to hold him and then carry him to therapy

   Mace:

 Dean, honey, you’re a complicated soul. you like saving people and you like torturing them. we all have facets. it’s all good.

   Lor:

 HAAAAAAHAHAHAHA

look, some people drink blood, some people torture people in hell for fun. it's fine. at least you're not your dad.

   Mace:

 YES

some call on alien hordes to attack NYC. it’s fine. it’s sexy, even.

 [after the episode ended:]

Lor:

 you know what else is cool about that ep? there's little hints that it's not a ghost. like Ted says it's not a ghost it's just some hillbilly chick (or something like that) and Dean yelling about what kind of ghost messes with a car like that.

 Mace:

 YEP

 Lor:

 and she never flickers. she LOOKS like ghosts we've seen, but she's always solid

   Mace:

 YES

I feel like there’s something there about Dean repeatedly saying, “Humans, man” as if he’s not one of them, but also he sees himself as a monster after the hell stuff, but also he’s clearly unhappy about not saving Ted and then killing the brother

I just can’t quite brain it together in a logical way

   Lor:

 oooo yes

   Mace:

 it’s possible that he thinks he’s the worst of both worlds, human and monster.

   Lor:

 oooooof

   Mace:

 and then Sammy is literally stuck between human and monster - poor aBeanination that he is

they both keep slipping off that tight rope both ways throughout the show

   Lor:

 YES

   Mace:

 and they pull to them people who blurr those lines all the time: Cas (fallen angel who wavers between human and not), Crowley, who can’t decide if he wants to be king of hell or just a regular human again…

   Lor:

 YAAAAS

   Lor:

 Benny

   Mace:

 BENNY

   Lor:

 Rowena

   Mace:

 well, Rowena knows what she is and has no issues with it, I think

   Lor:

 oh true!

   Mace:

 Bad Ass Bitch, is the technical term, I think. And she becomes queen of hell, so yeah, she sticks it

   Lor:

 I was thinking just being pulled to "dark" but that's not what you were saying

 YAAAAS

   Mace:

 yeah, the boys are a vortex for identity crisis in all forms

Outsiders Unite!!

   Lor:

 and Dean is always being pulled (or pushing himself) in two different directions. is he a badass or is he soft. is he the grunt or is he a genius who reads. is he into women or men

 YES

   Mace:

 exactly

   Lor:

 (it's both, babies, it's both)

   Mace:

 with Free Will come Free Boundaries, and with those come Grey Areas and Confusion

   Lor:

 YAAAAAS

[fredshufflepuff]

— anon’s request: ok so since i too am a whore for angst. how about the reader and rafe having a summer thing as a kook (maybe she goes to the pogue school but is a kook) and once she goes back to school, they drift apart and rafe gets jealous of her spending her time with the pogues. then maybe he sees her again at mid summers all dressed up and remembers he still loves her. please break my heart with this, im in need of a cry and then maybe put it back together with some fluff at the end? please

— warnings: fem!reader, brief smut (skip if uncomfortable), asshole!rafe for a good chunk of the imagine, language, angst, fluff.

— word count: 2,166

IT all started when you bumped into rafe at the country club on figure eights.

you didn’t normally hang around that area, but you were hanging out with sarah that day—which meant eventually running into her brother.

she tried to keep you away from him, just because he had no filter and didn’t think twice before voicing his opinion, but sooner or later your interaction with the boy would happen.

“oh god” sarah mumbled causing you to raise your brows, a confused frown on your face as she signaled to look behind you.

you turned around not so subtle to see rafe cameron making his way down the grassy hill, a golf club in one hand and a can of beer in the other.

“hey little sis, when were you going to introduce me to your friend here?” the boy spoke, a small grin on his face at seeing her roll her eyes.

“i wasn’t planning on it, you know—considering how you’re an ass.”

a small giggle fell from your lips as rafe turned his attention back to you, the sides of his mouth curling slightly at your reaction.

“well since she won’t introduce me, i will” he said, his figure leaning over yours which was sat on the grass.

he tossed his most likely expressive golf club to the ground to extend his hand out to you, which you hesitated to take before slowly reaching for it.

“i’m rafe cameron.”

of course you knew who he was, everyone did.

“y/n y/l/n.”

YOU thought the interaction with sarah’s older brother was in the past, not having to see him again since you weren’t planning on going back to figure eight or the club any time soon.

but when you found yourself in his bed getting the absolute daylights fucked out of you, you knew right then and there that this wasn’t a one time thing.

“fuck rafe,” you moaned loudly, your head thrown back against the pillow as your eyes fell shut from the feeling.

he slide his cock in and out of your needy hole as you whimpered from under him, his toned body pressed against yours as you jolted from each thrust.

“m’gonna cum, flood this needy little fuck hole” he spat, his hand coming down to grab your face and force you to open your eyes.

“please, rafe. please fill me up” you begged, your little moans and pleads sending the boy over the edge.

as soon as he gave you permission to cum you didn’t hold back. it felt like your entire body had shut down as your head fell to the side.

rafe sent a rough thrust into your quivering body before emptying himself inside, making sure to keep himself as close as possible in order to not let any leak out.

“fuck,” he groaned in your ear, his body pressed against your small one as your hands came up to rest in his hair, pulling on it gently as his cum filled you up.

later that night you didn’t bother sneaking back out to your place, instead rafe suggested you actually stay—running you a hot bath before ordering take out.

it surprised you really, considering how you didn’t know what you guys were.

you both agreed to only be friends with benefits when this all started, but now you didn’t know if you wanted that or not.

you wanted something more with the blue eyed boy.

“what are we?” you asked while laying in his arms, the feeling of his breath trailing down your neck giving you comfort.

“friends with benefits.”

no hesitation was found in his voice. it was quick and sudden, just like your heart breaking.

“oh.”

you didn’t talk much with rafe after that night—leaving early in the morning to avoid further interaction.

rafe didn’t suspect anything though, knowing how busy you usually get with school and home life, but after that single day turned into almost a week, he knew something wasn’t right.

usually you’d be around the house or at the country club, but it felt like you were almost avoiding him.

when school started up that’s when things really started to hit for rafe. you were not only distancing yourself from him, but now you were hanging out with the pogues.

to him you had wiggled yourself into john b’s friend group, getting closer with everyone but mostly jj, the one pogue he despised more than the others.

it was the night of midsommars and you were preparing yourself to see rafe, your nerves seeming to skyrocket every time his name was mentioned.

“ARE you feeling okay, y/n/n? you’re all jittery” kie pointed out, her eyes locking with yours through the vanity mirror as you slowly brushed through your hair.

“i’m okay, kie— really. just nervous for tonight i guess” you shrugged, your response seeming convincing enough as she nodded.

“hey slow pokes! hurry up or we’re going to be late” jj called, pounding on the door making you and kie jump.

“fucking assholes” you mumbled.

MIDSOMMARS was something you always looked forward to.

the lights, the food, the beautiful dresses and people you got to meet—which was rare considering how almost everyone there were stuck up kooks who’s only personality trait was having money.

all except rafe.

he was different towards you, a lot different it was scary.

“jj, don’t get into any more fights, k?” kie sighed, licking the pad of her thumb before dragging it across his face—getting rid of the dirt that had formed there.

he didn’t say who specifically it was with—the fight—just claiming it was with some stupid kooks who didn’t know when to stop talking.

“yeah yeah” he mumbled, running his fingers through his hair before sending you both a small smile.

he picked up his tray and spun it on his finger before sending her a wink, a blush coming to kie’s face as she quickly looked away.

“soooo, you and jj....” you said, the girl’s eyes rolling as she playfully pushed you away.

“enough about me, what about you?”

“me?” you raised an eyebrow, “what about me?”

“don’t play dumb, y/n/n. i’ve seen you come back late with hickeys.”

you grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the waiters walking by and took a long sip from it, your eyebrows twisting together— “this is good, you should try it.”

kie was about to protest until the music started to kick up again, your favorite song playing making you gasp.

you quickly placed the glass on an empty table before taking her hands and pulling her towards the dance floor.

“let’s dance!”

unknown to you—rafe had been watching you ever since you stepped foot into the venue.

IT was almost one in the morning when everyone had left, you and kie sitting at one of the empty tables while you waited for jj to finish up.

you hadn’t had that much to drink, but you could say you were a little tipsy.

“ready to go?” jj asked while throwing his arms around you both, a sarcastic grunt dropping from your lips at the sudden weight.

“we were about to leave yo-”

“well, well, well...if it isn’t the golden trio” a familiar voice spat, your head snapping to the side as your eyes fell on the devil himself.

rafe cameron and his little minions.

“if it isn’t daddy’s money, dumb, and dumber” kie snapped back—referring to topper and kelce who were standing on either side of him.

“put your dog on a leash maybank before we do it ourselves” rafe threatened, only causing jj to break from your side and lunge at the boy.

“jj, stop” you said, grabbing his arm as kie yanked him back, “he wants a reaction.”

“i didn’t see you there, y/n. so quiet and small, hard to notice you.”

which was obviously a lie. rafe noticed you the second he walked into the stupid party.

“what do you want, rafe? getting bored at the country club?” you asked, your lips dropping into a fake pout.

“actually the country club is entertaining, unlike some needy bitches who can’t satisfy my needs.”

your face dropped as kie gasped beside you—jj completely unaware of what was going on but still pissed at the way rafe was speaking to you.

rafe’s face dropped slightly at the realization of what he just said, nothing but lies falling from his mouth as his eyes filled with guilt.

“fuck you.”

YOU didn’t remember much after that. just the events taking place of jj trying to throw another punch at the boys before getting dragged away by kie.

the poor girl was trying to control her hot headed friend while the other was on the verge of tears.

but you refused to cry.

in front of rafe or not, you would not let yourself cry over him.

all you remember is crashing at john b’s house and waking up with a massive headache.

your legs were draped over kie’s as the two of you slept on john b’s bed, the boys taking the couch in the living room.

light from the outside peeked through the curtains as your eyes slowly adjusted to the brightness.

your phone laid next to you on the comforter as your hands dragged it closer.

what you weren’t expecting was a shitload of texts from rafe.

rafe cameron: i’m really sorry

[sent 1:34am]

rafe cameron: y/n

[sent 1:34am]

rafe cameron: i didn’t mean anything i said

[sent 1:36am]

rafe cameron: i was drunk and wasn’t thinking

[sent 1:40am]

rafe cameron: please hear me out

[sent 1:41am]

rafe cameron: meet me at our place

[sent 1:49am]

rafe cameron: 7:30am

[sent 1:51am]

you groaned loudly while reading his texts, the need to throwup swirling in your stomach as you tossed your phone to the side.

you ran your hands over your face as you thought on what to do, biting your bottom lip in the process as you stared at the wall in front of you.

after what felt like an hour of pondering, you let yourself slip off the bed and grab your hoodie that was thrown on the floor.

you were going to see him.

‘WHAT if she doesn’t show’ rafe thought to himself as he sat in the sand, his eyes locked on the waves crashing in front of him.

he was stupid last night.

the boy made a stupid mistake that he regretted deeply.

he just needs to show you how sorry he is.

“rafe.”

his head snapped in the direction of your voice, your figure standing a few feet from his as he then quickly stood up.

he dusted off his pants before nervously making eye contact, his throat suddenly drying up as he attempted to swallow what felt like a rock.

“y/n, i’m s-so so sorry for what i said yesterday. i-i didn’t mean any of it-”

“so what? i’m supposed to forgive you?” you cut off, raising an eyebrow as his mouth fell slightly, “what if it happens again?”

“i-it won’t! i swear it won’t. i was just drunk and jealous and really fucking stupid” he blabbered on, his hands shaking as he tried to defend himself.

“jealous?” you asked, your eyebrows furrowing together as he nodded his head shamefully.

“of you and that stupid pogue.”

“jj?!”

he seemed to visibly retract from your words, his eyes narrowing as he bit the inside of his cheek.

“yeah, him.”

“so you acted the way you did...because of jj?” you slowly asked, his eyebrows knitting together as he stared at you.

“i didn’t mean it, y/n...” he frowned, his face dropping slightly as you waited for him to continue, “please give me another chance, i’ll show you how sorry i am—how much you mean to me.”

it was quiet for a good minute as your thoughts swarmed your mind for a response.

“rafe...”

“y/n, please.”

another minute went by, the only sound coming from the waves crashing along the shore.

“fine.”

IT had been five months since you forgave rafe, and things were honestly going better than you had expected.

after that morning on the beach he took you out on a proper date—ending in him walking you back to your house and even stealing a kiss.

he even stopped starting fights with jj and the other pogues, wanting you to know that he was better than that.

“WHAT do you want to watch?” rafe asked while flipping through channels, one hand holding the remote while the other rested on the small of your back.

“m’not sure, you can pick.”

he hummed in response before clicking on some random channel, not really planning on watching it anyway.

he tossed the remote to the side before looking down at you, admiring your relaxed state with your arms wrapped tightly around his torso.

“you know i love you right?” he suddenly asked, his voice low and soft as he stared at you from above.

“why so gushy, rafe?” you teased, your own head angling up to see him better.

he was so beautiful.

“i’m not gushy,” he rolled his eyes, “i just wanted to remind you.”

you blushed at his words before nuzzling back into the crook of his neck, your lips kissing the delicate skin making him smile.

“i love you too, rafe.”

🏷rafe cameron taglist : @jordynsharum

a/n: could you tell i didn’t know how to end it

[ragingbookdragon]

Bring On The Wonder, We Got It All Wrong, We Pushed Us Down Deep In Our Souls, So Hang On

Batsis x Ghost-Maker One-Shot

Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Explicit Language, Angst

Author's Note: This is a direct continuation of this piece right here that everyone got mad at me for because I made it angsty :) Enjoy! -Thorne

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

“Will you slow down?” Bruce complained, reaching her in a few steps. “Your ankle is sprained and you’re going to—”

She turned on him, slapping his hand away from where it was reaching for her. “I don’t wanna look or talk to you or anybody else right now.” She spat. “Take the hostages to GCPD and leave me the fuck alone.”

“He wasn’t going to kill you.” Bruce said and she scowled.

“It doesn’t matter what he was or wasn’t going to do.” She pointed to herself. “I thought he was going to. That’s what matters to me.” She turned and took a step, though her leg faltered, and she went to her knees, reaching to hold her ankle. “Fuck,” she hissed. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“(Y/N),” he murmured, bending down beside her and she reached up, yanking the cowl off.

“Everything hurts,” she cried, anger and pain lacing her voice. “My back hurts. My chest hurts. Everything fucking hurts.” She reached up to wipe the blood still leaking from her busted nose and split eyebrow. “And I’m bleeding.” (Y/N) licked her lips, feeling the sting from the broken skin of her bottom one.

Bruce’s hand went to his utility belt, unclipping one of the pockets, and he pulled out a rag; he gently raised it to her eyebrow, dabbing at the blood as he quietly stated, “Your eyebrow’s already in hemostasis. Though it’s going to need stitches.” His hand briefly stilled near her swollen eye, then he continued to her nose where he gently held it.

She whimpered, trying to recoil but he held on. “That hurts.”

“You need to stop the bleeding,” he advised, then grabbed her hand and placed it over his, forcing her to take it.

“What are you doing?”

Bruce didn’t answer her, one arm curling under her knees, the other her back and he hefted her up into his arms. “I’ll take you back to your penthouse.”

(Y/N) wanted to cry, and she was helpless to stop the tears that gathered in her eyes; she turned, burying her face in the plate of her brother’s shoulder pad, breathing deeply to keep her sobs at bay.

“I don’t know what’s going to come after this,” he explained softly, careful to take even steps to avoid jostling her. “But I know that you’re the only one who gets to choose what happens between you and him.” He rested his chin on her head. “And if you choose to take a leave for a while, then I’ll support that.”

She let out a shuddering breath. “I just want to crawl in a hole.”

“Want me to get my shovel and dig you one?”

A watery laugh passed her lips, though it dissolved into a sob and with her free hand, she reached over and grabbed Bruce’s opposite shoulder, squeezing tightly as she shook against him.

He inhaled deeply, catching Ghost-Maker from the corner of his eye leading the hostages out. “We’re going to be okay, (Y/N).”

***

Turns out that the leave of absence seemed like the best choice for her, and she’d hunkered down in a safe-house about three hundred miles outside of the state on the edges of the McIntyre Wild Area in Pennsylvania. Bruce and she had bought it years ago as a last-ditch effort if they needed to get out of Gotham and it’d taken the two of them, plus Clark to clear it out and build. Half of the time was having Clark laugh at the two siblings and call them “city-slickers trying to be country folk” as he watched them struggle to tame the land.

But in the end, it had been effective, and they’d built a rather cozy safe-house that looked inconspicuously like Ma and Pa Kent’s home in Smallville. It was stocked with everything they needed, a built-in basement for safe measures. She was alone and secure in the small cabin and that’s how she wanted to be. Since leaving some few days ago, she’d messaged each nephew and niece telling them that while she loved them dearly, she needed to be alone for some time and that she’d be back as soon as she could be.

They’d flooded her phone with messages and concerns, but she’d left the device in her penthouse before leaving, resting assured that Bruce would explain in her absence. She felt like a failure and more so, weak for leaving her brother with the job of explaining, but the last thing she wanted to do was explain the situation herself.

She sat on the couch in front of the fireplace, gazing absentmindedly as the flames cast light that flickered around the darkened room. The entire room was open, living room and fireplace in the center, bedroom in one corner, kitchen in the other, a closed bathroom in another. It all smelled like pine. Fresh air and the ingraining scent of pine. But it’s what she needed. Gotham City overwhelmed the olfactory senses with blood and smog and on especially bad days, the rotting scent of fish and death. Everyone needed a break from it at some point in their life; to remember how to breathe in air that wasn’t contaminated.

The only thing she didn’t like was how quiet it was. (Y/N) was used to the distant sounds of traffic, gunshots, and sirens. Here it was the sound of her breathing and the wind whistling through the trees, wildlife scratching and hunting away in the underbrush. She swore she could hear her blood flowing through her brain. If there was any consolation, it did help to hone the senses on what she wanted to hear. And what she didn’t want to hear was knocking at the front door.

Quietly she rose from the couch and walked to the side of her bed, grabbing the loaded twelve gauge; she cocked it and stepped up to the door, warning, “If you’re not park rangers, I suggest you leave now. I’m armed and I will shoot you.”

A muffled chuckle sounded from the other side. “Well, that’s not the way I figured you’d greet me.”

“Oh, so you were expecting the shotgun blast then?” she answered aiming at the door and she pulled the trigger, blasting a large hole in the center of the wooden door. (Y/N) waited until the smoke cleared before she walked up and bent down, peeking through to see him flat on the ground, unharmed, reflexive as ever.

“Damn,” she griped. “I really thought I was going to beat you that time, K.”

Ghost-Maker cocked his head up and she was sure he was glaring at her from beneath the mask. “You crazy—”

“Bitch?” (Y/N) finished. “Tell me about it.” She set the gun next to the door and stood up, flipping the lock before pulling it open. “What do you want.”

“Well, I was coming to see you,” he said, picking himself off the ground; dusting himself off, he added, “You wouldn’t answer me.”

“Huh, I wonder why?” (Y/N) questioned, pressing her finger to her chin in mock thought, then her face lit up and she exclaimed, “Maybe it was because you tried to kill me a week ago!”

“I wasn’t going to kill you.” He griped. “You know I wasn’t going to.”

“Noted. What do you want?”

“To talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you and if you’re smart, you’ll leave before I decide to reload the gun.”

Ghost-Maker sighed, gazing at her. “I was using Kyusho Jitsu to slow you down until Bruce arrived.”

(Y/N) wanted to scream, but she kept her voice level. “And that somehow justifies splitting both lips, one eyebrow, busting my nose, and throwing me into an electric fence?”

“…No,” he murmured. “No, it doesn’t.” He looked at her. “But I was concerned that if I didn’t make it look like we were really trying to kill one another, Riddler was going to kill the hostages.”

She merely stared at him for a long moment. “You know, I used to think I knew when you were telling the truth, but now that I really think about it, I don’t know when you’re lying to me either.”

He stood to his full height, jaw tightening as he said, “I’m many things, but I’m not a liar, (Y/N). And I’d never lie to you.”

“I don’t believe you,” she shot back, face pinching as she finished with, “And you can sleep outside.”

She shut the door and turned around, walking to the bed in the corner and he looked through the hole in the middle. “You know I can just come inside if I want?”

(Y/N) laughed, stripping the shorts and long shirt she had on before climbing into the bed. “You take one step in here and I’ll cut your penis off and nail it to your forehead.”

“Hmm…have it your way,” he decided, turning around and she had as she tried, she couldn’t block out the sound of him setting up his blanket and bedding on the porch.

Hopefully, he’d be gone in the morning.

***

A crack of thunder startled her awake and she sat up in the bed, looking out the window to see the rain beating down. Her eyes drifted to the hole in the door and for a moment, she wanted to get up and see if he was okay, but she felt a bolt of irritation flash through her and she huffed, flopping back down into the bed, yanking the covers over her head.

She laid there for a few minutes, listening to the thunder clap above her, the lightning illuminating the room ever other moment, then she groaned, cursing herself for being a good person deep, deep down. (Y/N) threw the covers off her and rolled out of the bed, hurrying to the door. Pulling it open, she couldn’t help but smile at the man curled up in his thoroughly soaked blanket.

“Come inside.” He said nothing in return, and she sighed, kicking him in the stomach. “I know you’re awake, K. Get in here.”

“I thought you didn’t want me inside,” he retorted, yet to pull the blanket off his head.

(Y/N) rolled her eyes. “I don’t. But I’d be a terrible person if I let you get pneumonia.”

“You know you can’t catch that from rain, right? It’s caused by—”

“Fine. Stay out here for all I care,” she interrupted, starting to close the door and he sat up, scrambling for the inside.

“Wait!” She smirked and he craned his neck up at her to scowl. “You did that on purpose.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” (Y/N) retorted, cracking the door open more so he could get inside. He sat against the door when she closed it and she leaned against the door frame, watching the water drip down his soaked body.

“Want a change of clothes?” she asked. “Bruce left some behind the last time he was here.”

“Thank you,” he said, and she walked over to the dresser, pulling out a pair of boxers and an undershirt.

She turned, seeing him yanking off his shirt and pants, then tossed the clothes to him. “Here.”

He caught them. “I’m not wearing his boxers.”

“They’re new, jack-ass.” (Y/N) snorted, looking away so he could dress himself, then she glanced back. “Feel better?”

“I feel less cold,” he retorted, walking around the fireplace to toss another couple logs inside. “You’re letting the fire die out.”

She rolled her eyes and wandered into the kitchen, returning with a clean rag. “You’d be less cold if you took the mask off and toweled your hair.”

He looked up at her, watching, waiting, and since he didn’t stop her from reaching behind him, she untied the knot at the base of his skull, pulling the damp fabric away.

(Y/N) wiped the water from his face, softly brushing over his cheeks, then to his eyebrows, and when she was satisfied, she placed the towel on his head, and gently massaged his scalp, letting the towel soak up all the rainwater.

When she was done, she tossed it aside and sank onto the brick wraparound with a heavy sigh, eyes drifting to the wall. Ghost-Maker collapsed against her legs, resting his head back on her thighs; unconsciously, (Y/N)’s hands went to his hair, stroking the brown tresses.

After a few minutes, he murmured, “I apologize for not telling you the plan.”

Her hands stilled for a moment before continuing their ministrations. “I accept your apology.” She scratched his scalp. “Sorry for what I said.”

“It didn’t hurt my feelings,” he shrugged, and she tugged his hair.

“Yes, it did.” He tipped his head back, gazing at her. “Parade it around all you want but we both know you’re not immune to having your feelings hurt.”

Ghost-Maker searched her eyes. “You truly thought I was going to kill you?”

“Yes,” (Y/N) answered. “Everything was happening so quickly. I didn’t have time to think about what fighting style you were using on me. All I knew was that you weren’t pulling punches and it didn’t feel like a plan to me.”

She stared at him. “And I was scared of you.”

“Are you scared of me now?” he questioned, and she inhaled then exhaled.

“No.” He seemed relieved, but it was short lived as she added, “But I don’t trust you anymore. And I don’t know how long it’s going to be before I do again.”

He looked away. “I see.” Nothing was said for a moment, and he pulled from her, standing to his feet. “It’s late. We should rest.”

(Y/N) stood and started making her way to the bed when she realized he was going too. “Uh, what are you doing?”

“Going to bed?” Ghost-Maker offered, and she cocked a brow.

“Try again, K.” She pointed to the couch. “Go.”

His face pinched and he turned, but she caught his hand and he stopped, glancing back at her. (Y/N), against the better judgement in her head and the obvious discomfort between the two of them, stepped up to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her forehead to the middle of his chest.

He seemed to freeze at the sudden action, even if it’d been one, they’d done many times, but he recovered, one arm wrapping around her waist, the other around the back of her neck. His cheek brushed her temple and her grip shifted, hands coming up to press flat against his shoulders; with the warmth stinging the corners of her eyes, she dug her nails into his back as if it were the one thing keeping her from breaking down.

She wanted to say it. Wanted to tell him how angry she was. How hurt. How much loathing was built up inside of her, but nothing would come out.

“I know,” Ghost-Maker murmured against her hair. “I know what you’re thinking, (Y/N), and I know.” He pulled back, hand slipping from her neck to cup her cheek; he pressed his forehead to hers and assured quietly, “I know.”

(Y/N)’s eyes slipped shut and she let out a shaky breath. “Tomorrow,” she whispered, and he nodded.

“Tomorrow.” He let her go and watched as she unsteadily headed for the bed, collapsing onto the mattress; she tugged the blankets over her head, and he frowned as he saw her frame start to shake beneath them. Pulling the blanket off the couch, he laid down and watched her for some time. Waiting until she stopped shaking and slipped off into sleep so he himself could sleep too.

[nadiajustbe]

"I Hope"

Something

"Have you ever loved me?"

The boy's voice sounded incredibly quiet, and he really seemed to be gathering his strength to say it. Nathaniel stared out the window for about ten minutes before he said such a strange nonsense.

"What did you have in mind, Nat? I mean, I get it, you got hit over the head with a rock after your adventure with Nouda, but I didn't think the situation was that dire. You definitely look like you've been brain damaged, maybe you should check for a spit leak..."

Suddenly Nathaniel looked up at me with a look so stern and serious that even I, the great Sacr-al-Jinni, felt uncomfortable.

"Bartimaeus, don't quibble. Can you for once give me a really honest answer? I realise our relationship doesn't exactly incline to that, but..." In the transparent time he'd been silent, it already seemed to me that Nat would never speak again "Please."

The last time he'd said something like that was when he was twelve, when he'd begged for a bonfire. Was an answer to such foolishness as important to him as a fire in the bone-chilling cold?

And, what the hell did he mean by the word "love"? In all possible languages, it has taken on so many infinite meanings that even I cannot make sense of it. It's too complicated, whether it's in English or Sumerian.But you know I'm not a fan of silence, don't you?

"I hated John Mandrake. Hated him with every fiber of my being. He was a pompous, self-righteous, stupid and cruel child who thought he could play the adult game. This man brought me more pain than any of the worst masters before him. And I am incapable of forgetting it all, ever. In that time, I must say, nothing has changed. John Mandrake is absolutely nightmarish."

I shot Nathaniel the same insistent look that spoke for itself, "Satisfied?"

I thought a shadow of disappointment flashed across the boy's face, but he quickly regained his stony look. It was as if I were looking at the same statue that now stands at the site of the Glass Palace.

"Thank you, Bartimaeus," he nodded, reaching for the crutches that had been standing nearby the whole time. The tone of voice was exactly the same as Nathaniel himself - I couldn't pick up a single emotion in it. And the boy, slowly but surely, moved toward the door, as if leaving this room was the most important task of his life.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was tugging at his elbow, urging him to pay attention to me. He stopped, but didn't even turn his head, staring down the dusty corridor.

"But we haven't talked about you yet, Natty." I smiled with all my inhuman teeth, baring my sharp fangs, looking like the vampire in a child's nightmare. A very primitive trick, but it surprisingly worked-the boy turned and looked at me as if he'd never seen me before.

I didn't know why I kept talking, but apparently I really wanted to keep talking. No one was ordering me around this time, just asking, and I was even surprised that I was deciding to do it on my own, for no good reason.

"In your twelfth year you were a stupid, arrogant, obsessed with strange impossible ideas kid. I didn't want to serve you, I never wanted to serve you, but I remembered you. Even though you were a magician, there were faint vestiges of particularity and goodwill in you, how ironic that they were what drove the people you cared about to their grave..." I took advantage of the boy's fleeting attention to start, but after my last words he tried to look away again and I realized that this time I had indeed said too much, even if in such situations I really am a master "But that's not what we are talking about now. You bore your true name as your own, you were someone to be remembered, a little better than anyone else in the last two thousand years.

At fourteen you were closer to them, to all those fools in the Ministry, I see you have an understanding of that time now. John did terrible things at times, but Nathaniel still had a rare thing for your kind - a conscience. You could understand your actions, you could be ashamed of them. And back then I still thought I might remember you as an unlikely fool with remnants of adequacy, which is better than nothing. But at seventeen you finally became him, John Mandrake, wanting to forget your true name. I've already said all I want to say about that fool, but if you want I can add a few words you should already know. But now I definitely see Nathaniel in front of me, frightened and quiet, but Nathaniel. And that's the boy I may have hated a little less than the last Minister of Information"

During this, unaccustomedly long line for me, I had already managed to come up with some pretty appropriate jokes, but the more I looked at the boy as I spoke, the more I realized that he was not able to appreciate all their genius right now.

Nat seemed to consider himself unworthy of any display of affection, so even the slight smile I did manage to notice he hastened to hide.

"Thank you for your honest answer," he leaned back on his crutches, only less hastily and less eagerly. And finally hobbling to the exit, he closed the door behind him. He had the last word again, asshole.

"Thanks for the honest answer"? - I smirked mentally, this guy was naive enough.

But still.

Just like those last few minutes.

I hoped he still felt

That he hadn't forgotten.

Or that he hadn't chosen not to care

That he wasn't such a fool

I hoped that he knew after all

[writingsfromhome]

Crystal Clear

A/N: Here’s some fluff, friends to lovers I’ve had going on while I work on something bigger :))

----------------------------------------

“Y/N,” a strange man calls my name. I look him up and down but I don’t think I know him.

“Who’s asking?”

“Y/N, it’s me? Harry.”

“Oh,” I laugh and greet him how I would have if I’d recognized him under all those layers, in a great big hug. “Your disguise is brilliant!”

“It’s not a disguise,” he says into his coat. “It’s bloody cold here.”

“Coldest day so far,” I accept the hot chocolate from the vendor and ask him for another, Harry could use one, poor thing. His plans this week were changed last minute, and since he was in New York City where his best childhood friend lived, he decided to actually hang out with me. Ever since he got famous, it was hard to catch time with him.

“Did the cold freeze all the English out of you? You’re not even wearing mittens,” Harry accepts his own cup from the vendor.

“I’m got them in my pocket,” I point to the bulge on the side of my coat as we step aside and make our way deeper into the winter festival that was at Bryant Park. “Don’t insult me, I can still make a better cup of tea than you ever could.”

“There she is,” I hear the smile in Harry’s voice more than I see it. It truly was ridiculous--not only was he wearing the thickest parka I’d ever seen, he also had on a beanie and a scarf, as well as knit gloves that held tightly to his hot chocolate.

“I’m always here, you’re just too busy to see me.”

“Not this again,” he groans. I was always giving him grief every time he touched down to NYC but didn’t pop by for a visit. I knew he had a hectic schedule, and even though I wasn’t that bothered I still liked to tease him.

“It’s true, you come to the city so often but I see you once a year. And maybe again when I’m in London if I get lucky.”

“I’m busy Y/N, I talk to you all the time!”

“I know,” I elbow him. “I just like to rile you up.”

“Well now that you’ve got that out of your system,” he tugs my hat over my eyes. “Where are we going next?”

I push it back up, “I thought we could just wander the shops, then get on the skating rink if you’re not frozen to death.”

“Alright I’ve got to pick some gifts up anyway let’s see what’s here.”

We make a good team as we visit stands selling ornaments and kitschy decor, handmade gifts, and hot cider. We sift through exactly what we might want, or what the other’s looking for. And with the light dusting of snow coming down, and the bright lights strung around the Park, it was like walking in a Christmas movie.

“Look at this,” I point ahead. We’d nearly visited all the stands and holiday shops but a festive psychic advertises their services in a small glass booth. “Should we?”

“It’s a waste of money,” Harry scoffs. “She’s just going to read your body language.”

“She might be the real deal-”

“You can’t be serious-”

“C’mon!” I tug his gloves hand and it takes a few but he stumbles towards me. It’s slightly warmer inside and I notice the space heater running in the corner. “At least it’s warm” I whisper to Harry.

“You really want to do this?” He asks one last time.

“It’s just $10-”

“$20 for the two,” the woman almost shifts out of the wall and I hide my jump with a laugh. There’s a curtain behind her, I realize, she must have stepped out.

“It’s just me,” I clarify.

She eyes Harry and Harry eyes her back. “You look familiar.”

“Just have that face,” he shrugs, burrowing into his scarf. “I’m just here to watch.”

She stares at him a moment longer before settling at the small table. I flash Harry a smile before sitting down myself, setting my bags onto the floor.

“Palm reading, cards, what will it be dear?” The psychic asks. I remember the sign out front said cards would be more than having my palm read so I opt for the cheaper option.

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully as she traces the lines on my palm. I wriggle my eyebrows at Harry and he rolls his eyes, but he stays watching her like a hawk. It was cute how overprotective he got sometimes. The psychic glances up to catch him watching her, she then glances at me and tilts her head.

“I see longevity, in life and love, a few bumps but you’re a strong persistent woman.”

Harry grumbles behind me and I resist the urge to say something to him.

“I see success after hard, hard work. But a big success that will change the course of your career.”

“Wow, how soon?” I ask.

“Mmm, after a big milestone. Turning 30?” she continues to examine my hand. “I see a second life later in life, with kids...just one no maybe two children.”

“How about her love life?” Harry asks. “Her last love s’not too nice.”

“Seriously Harry?” I turn to glare this time. He’s grinning with flushed cheeks, knowing it was a sore spot he liked to say i told you so to. It was true, he had told me so about my 3 year relationship but I’d ignored him.

“Your love life,’ the woman speaks up. “Shows me two great loves. One cuts short, the other is as long as your life line.”

“Ooh,” I lean in, interested. “I think I know about the one that was cut short. Tell me about the second!”

“This second...” she traces my palm and I feel a tingle. “This second love is very close, a bit rocky but it will last.”

“A bit rocky?”

“Hm,” she chews her bottom lip. “Time, distance...it will make it rocky. But it lasts.”

“So how close is close?” I ask eagerly.

“Close,” she says with a smile that tells me I wasn’t getting anything else out of her.

“That’s a bit vague isn’t it?” Harry pipes up from the back.

“The future isn’t always crystal clear,” she says without looking up at him.

“Lay off,” I scold him.

“It’s okay, I get nonbelievers all the time.” She laughs. “That will be $10 dear.” When I hand her the bill she stops me as she takes it. “A little free advice?”

“Sure.” I pick up the bags I placed on the floor earlier.

"Don’t be so focused on the life you want that you don’t see the life you have around you.”

“I’ve actually told her that before,” Harry decides we want more of his unsolicited opinions. “Maybe there is something true to all of this.”

“Thanks,” I pocket her words for later. Harry was right, he’d said something along those lines to me before, especially when it came to giving up control and going with the flow on trips and events with him. I always declined his offers, we lived a modest life growing up and accepting these gifts from him always felt so excessive. I wanted to make my own way in the world, but Harry always had something to say. “And sorry for his attitude, he’s not always this rude.”

“Yeah,” Harry shifts forward. “I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m a lot nicer usually.”

“I know,” she smiles.

“She’s psychic,” I remind him.

“I’m also online,” she laughs. “Can I get a picture?”

Harry eyes me, before going in for a selfie with her. I know he usually didn’t mind getting asked in smaller settings but he’d admitted it was something he was still getting used to. It had been a couple years since he became so famous, in such a short amount of time I went from being able to go down to a local pub with my best friend to schedules and security details and a whole other list of complications. Sometimes I hated it, mostly I was happy for him.

“Another day, another fan.” I tell Harry after we walk away from the psychic and he flips me off. “Should we get something to eat and get out of the cold?”

“God yes,” Harry shivers. “Can we just go to yours?”

“Let’s go,” I loop my arm through Harry’s.

Harry wants instant warmth so he hails a cab and we pick up takeout once we reach my neighbourhood. Harry had been here a few times, my roommate had gotten used to the fact that I was best friends with him, and sometimes he preferred to stay here when he wanted to be anonymous. Paparazzi sometimes crowded outside his hotel when word leaked he was there.

We eat ourselves into a food coma and Harry decides to stay the night, not wanting to face the cold again. Since our living room couch sprained his neck the only time he’d slept there, he usually crashed in my bed. His head barely hits the pillow before he’s snoring, I guess the jet lag finally caught up.

***

I jerk out of sleep, a crashing noise followed by swearing catches my attention.

“I think your roommate dropped something,” I hear from beside me. I turn my face to get a facefull of Harry’s thigh tattoos.

“Y’think?” I croak and shift backwards to see his face. He’s sitting up in bed and scrolling through his phone.

“Guess which psychic is officially internet-famous?” Harry asks dryly.

“Hm?” I’m still calming my heart from waking up so suddenly so it takes a moment to register Harry’s words. “What?”

He shoves his phone in my face, the selfie he took with the psychic yesterday is posted on social media with over half a million likes. He swipes away and a lot of his tag is filled with news outlets and fan accounts spamming the picture. He pulls it back to read a heading: “Harry Styles visits Psychic for ideas on his next album. There’s also Harry Styles rumored to be connected to the Occult...I don’t know what that means. Psychic tells all on Harry Styles reading.”

“How did that picture circulate?” I rub my eyes and sit up beside him. “And where is all of this coming from?”

“She has a Twitter, and she posted the picture.” He shows me, it’s there with the caption A handsome face showed up to my booth at the Bryant Park Market tonight. Get your future told, 5pm to 9pm 7 days a week.

I can’t help but laugh, she was a business woman and she really took the opportunity to sell her service.

“It’s not funny Y/N,” Harry looks furious so I cover my mouth and squint at his screen as he scrolls. A ton of people are responding asking about his future or what he came there for. Amongst them, she responds to only one person: His love life was involved.

My jaw drops, “That’s such a lie! She read me my love life, and life lines!”

“I told you she was a fraud,” Harry jerks the phone back to him.

“She lied for sales, but doesn’t mean she didn’t tell the truth yesterday.”

“If she lied about this she lied about it all and you wasted $10. She only talked about your love life, not mine...”

I remember her words, my second love was very close...could she have meant...

I glance at Harry and he seemed to have followed the same train of thought because we lock eyes, his probably just as wide as mine.

“D’you think?” he says just as I say “Was she...?”

We immediately burst out laughing as the tension comes to a head and bubbles over in a safe trickle.

“Is that what she was trying to say?” I say when I’ve finally caught my breath, my stomach hurt from laughing this hard.

“I guess when she said close she meant close,” Harry’s flat on his back from laughing. “Quite literal.”

“And you were calling her out on being so vague.”

“I’ve got to give it to her,” he shuts his phone off and throws it onto the covers between us, releasing the annoyance. “She’s a good businesswoman.”

“I was thinking the same thing but I thought you might kill me if I said that,” I admit.

We lay on the rumpled covers in silence, I think about everything else she said. The potential of it all is tarnished by the idea of Harry being my second love, for life. It was so ridiculous, unless by love she meant the way I love him now. As my best friend. Our lives were so different, there was no way it could ever work. Not to mention...he was my best friend since forever.

“Have you ever thought about it?” Harry asks out of the blue.

“Thought about what?” I prop myself on my elbow.

“Us, like...the way she predicted?”

“Together together?” I can’t help but laugh. “No never, you’re my best friend!” I recognize the flash of hurt so I backtrack a little. “No offense Harry, I love you but could you imagine?”

“I have,” he says it so quietly as I lay back down. “What?” I ask. He shrugs, “I’m surprised you haven’t. We’ve been friends since...we were 7. You’re saying you never thought about it?”

“No,” I shake my head. “Actually I haven’t. When...what did you think about?”

“I dunno,” he fiddles with his rings. “Like for school dances, when I didn’t have a date I thought about asking you as more than a friend...thought about where that could lead. Or every time you had your heart broke. I wanted to take the pain away and just show you what you deserved.”

“Harry I...” it was sweet, what he was saying. But he never gave a single clue about it the entire time we grew up. He was always chasing girls who looked nothing like me, so I always thought that’s what his type was. Never did I think about anything more with him.

“Not-not recently though,” he forces a laugh. “Just when we were kids.”

“That’s sweet Harry. I had no idea.”

He shrugs, and sits up.

“No seriously I...that’s so sweet. But just so you know, you have shown me what a good man can be. Just by being the best friend ever.”

“Aw,” he swipes my cheek as he gets up. “That’s cute. I don’t know if I’ve done such a good job when you’ve only dated knobs.”

I could recognize his defense mechanism--turning it into a big joke. But he leaves the room before I can call him out and I’m left sitting in the mess of what he’d just told me. It’s not that it was awkward or a bad thing, but suddenly it felt tense and the tension triggered an anxious feeling in my chest.

I decide to get out of my room and find my roommate cleaning up the remains of her broken mug. I offer to clean the spill as she dresses to go out for her run. Helping her distracts me, and when I hear Harry leave the bathroom I lock myself in, and try some breathing exercises to clear the anxiety creeping up. When I realize I was trying to avoid Harry, I scold myself. This was ridiculous and funny! Harry wanted to ask me out when we were kids, it was cute, and that was it. The psychic was a fake anyway, nothing she said meant anything.

I head back to my room where Harry’s made the bed. I change into trousers and my favourite fisherman sweater, and find him having coffee at our small kitchen table with his phone on speaker as he talks to someone. His legs barely fit underneath, so they’re sprawled to the side. He’s still shirtless, and my attention snags on his torso.

I shake myself out of my thoughts as I bump into the kitchen island, and glance up to see that although he was talking to the person on the phone, his eyes had been on me...while my eyes were on his abs. Oh god, I cringe. I try to act casual, mouthing if he wanted breakfast but he shakes his head and points to the call he’s having.

I make myself a toast and try to ignore what just happened but it only adds to the tension from this morning. When he gets off his call he brings his cup up to the sink.

“I think I need another cup.”

“Be my guest,” I move aside. “You sure you don’t want breakfast?”

“Are you going to feed me avocado flax seed quinoa toast?” he teases.

“There’s no quinoa.” I correct, crossing my arms. “But...yes.”

“I’ll take this banana,” he holds the lone banana on the counter. “I’ve got to be in East Harlem by noon, that’s what the call was about.”

“Aw,” I hated saying goodbye. “Are you busy the rest of your stay?”

“I can make it back here,” he says.

“Do whatever you need to do,” I say. “I’m used to being discarded after you hang out with me in the city.”

“I don’t do that!” he reaches behind me to slot his cup in and set the machine to grind his beans. I can smell my shampoo on him, he must’ve showered. “If you want me back, you can just say that.”

The morning sunlight streaming through the kitchen window leaves no room for shadows; the shift in the mood is clear as the daylight streaming in. Or maybe I was reading too much into his words.

“I always want you back,” I look up to his height now that he’s standing so close, and the kitchen tightens further.

We’re stuck in a tableau; with my back against the fridge looking up at him as he gazes down with a curious expression. My mind grows blank the longer I stare. No one says a word, the sound of beans grinding the only noise in the kitchen.

My best friend in the whole world looks torn standing in front of me like this, and as my senses slowly rush back I realize that even if my expression doesn’t show it...I was torn. Because out of nowhere, all I can think about are all the questions I ever shoved away in the dark: what would it feel like if I kissed him right now? And what would have happened to us if he had asked me out to our school dance? Would we still be best friends? Would we have cut each other out? How many universes were we still good together like this? How many universes were we good together as more than this?

An urge to touch his face, make sure this was real, takes over me. But as soon as my fingers brush his cheek he snaps out of his trance and stumbles back like I’d burned him.

He forces a laugh. “I really do need that coffee.”

“Right,” I turn to the machine to put the grinds into their slot but I yank too hard and the freshly ground coffee flies out towards me. “Shit!”

“What happ-” Harry takes one look at what’s happened and turns away, his shoulders shaking.

“I can see you right in front of me laughing!” I shout. “Help me!”

“It’s all over you Y/N,” he turns around, tears in his eyes. “Give me this, I’ll put it far away from you.” He takes the remaining grinds and sets it down. I brush away what’s closest to my eyes so I can see and try to shake it off my sweater but they stick to the fibers of the knit.

“Great,” I grumble. “This is dry clean only.”

“It’s in your hair,” he runs his fingers through the strands that hang over my shoulder. I shake my head to dislodge the grinds; his fingers brush my neck away and tucks my hair behind my ear. “Uhm, that should be most of it.”

“It’s not out of this sweater,” I pout. “Screw dry clean, why did I think I could buy dry cleaning clothes?”

“I can drop it off on the way out today?” he offers.

“That means you’re coming back to drop it off to me?!” I ask hopefully.

His expression softens, “Y/N I’m coming back to your flat. I promise.”

“He promises!” I shout. Even though things were a bit awkward this morning, I got to spend more time with my hard-to-catch best friend and for that I was over the moon.

“We could also try to vacuum the sweater?” Harry suggests.

“So you don’t have to come back with dry clean?” I tease. “I’m not letting you get out of your promise, let me give it to you before you change your mind.” I tug my top off and ball it up, shoving it in his hands. It falls to the floor when he doesn’t hold it.

“Hello?” I look up and he’s a deer in the headlights. “Harry...”

“I can’t do this right now,” he takes a step back. I get the sweater from the ground and hold it out to him again.

“Do you want to wipe the kitchen floor with the sweater too? Take it!” I sigh. “Harry are you really acting so chaste about seeing a girl in her bra?”

“It’s-” he decides to stop mid-word. “You’re not just any girl Y/N, I’ve already made it clear.”

Now it’s my turn to stare--he hadn’t made it clear. “You said you only felt something when you were younger...”

“And you believed me?”

I realize I didn’t, but I wanted to believe him so I hadn’t questioned it. “Well it’s not the first time you’ve seen me in a bra. Can you take the damn sweater?” 

“Yeah I can I’m just...” he seems to calm down a bit, enough to step towards me and take it. “I didn’t have to face this conflicted feeling in me if I didn’t see you often. I can just be the best friend. But now, with the whole psychic thing and you in--like this in your kitchen and I--I’m remembering how much I just want to...”

“Kiss me,” I say.

“Yeah...” he looks away.

“No, I’m telling you to kiss me.” I clarify. His expression would’ve made me laugh if my heart wasn’t beating so fast. I couldn’t believe I was being this impulsive.

“Really? You’re not just saying that cuz of this morning?”

“Fine,” I step out of his reach and cross my arms to hide my shaking hands. “If you don’t want to kiss me-”

He pulls me back too quickly and I bump into his chest. “I never said that.” He says in a tone I’d never heard from him before, it’s serious and sexy and it sends tingles through my body. I press myself up against him and he finally, finally, kisses me. Every bit of tension and anxiety the day had built up releases in the single moment his lips cover mine.

How had I waited this long?

The kiss is gentle, delicate like he’s still not entirely sure I want the same thing he does. I show him I do by using my tongue to open his mouth slowly and the hesitation disappears immediately. We’re a fighter jet taking off from there; I don’t know where I end and where he begins as he walks me to the kitchen island and lifts me onto it, our limbs tangling together, His hands roam down the side of my body, but he stays in the safe zones until I unclasp my bra.

“Oh hell no,” my roommate’s voice interrupts us from behind. I hold my bra close and turn. She stands at the entryway, shaking her head. “Not here. Not on our kitchen island. You two have a room literally 10 feet away...”

“Oops,” I say quietly which seems to set Harry off. My roommate is still shaking her head but I see the smile on her face. I’d caught her hooking up on multiple occasions so it wasn’t anything new. But I didn’t do this often. I jump down, apologizing to her. “Harry’s going to clean the coffee off the floor...I-I’ll find a shirt.”

“Mhm,” she closes her bedroom door and I look over at Harry who’s crouching on the floor in tears.

“This is all your fault!” I whisper but he tugs me down to where he is and holds my face as he kisses me.

“I know you two aren’t behind the island,” my roommate’s voice comes out again. I stay there as her footsteps move to the bathroom and the door closes behind her.

“I hate you,” I skirt out of his reach, and rush to my room yelling another sorry as I head back and find a top. Harry appears in my room as I put it on.

“I guess that was a good time for her to walk in on before it got too far?” he still has a stupid grin on his face.

“I don’t even want to think about it,” my cheeks were burning and even more so that Harry was elated.

“I’ve actually got to head out now.”

I pout but he kisses my pout instead. He promises he’ll be back in the evening and I let him go with one more kiss, my mind catching up with everything that just happened.

Oh my god.

***

It’s nearly 8 by the time I’m done running all my errands--taking holidays off for work was usually a good decision for me. I had a big family and picking up all the holiday bits before I flew back home was always a big job. I take an Uber home, I couldn’t handle a 40 minutes trip back home carrying everything home on the subway.

I call out to my roommate when I get in but she doesn’t respond. I check her door and it’s open and dark, the bathroom is also empty. She must have evening plans.

I open my door to a surprise. Harry is sprawled on my bed. He jerks awake when I settle my bags down.

“Y/N?” he squints as I turn the light on.

“How did you get in here?” I shrug my coat off.

“Y’roommate let me in before she left,” he rubs his eyes. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep...I had a whole thing planned.”

I’d gone over the whole morning during my errands, surprised and excited and nervous about this new step for us. But I continued to think about what the psychic said, our love lines extended alongside my life line. Even though there wasn’t much comfort or trust in a psychic who used a photo opp as a marketing opp, what she said had come true. And I put my faith in that, calming my nerves about this new step potentially ruining our friendship forever.

“Was that okay?” Harry sits up. “She didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Oh no that’s fine,” I unwrap my scarf and stand at the foot of my bed. “I really wasn’t sure if you were coming back.”

“Of course I would,” he reaches for my hand. “I wouldn’t leave you after this morning, I’m not that flighty.”

“Well we never really got to talk about it,” I say as I sit down. I’d texted him during the day but it never showed he read it, I wasn’t sure how to read into that; finding him passed out on my room meant he was probably on the go all day.

“Are you okay with this?” he says with such concern, I nearly tear up. This was making me way too emotional.

“I am,” I smile at my best friend in the whole world. “I just don’t want to go too fast.”

“We won’t,” he promises as he holds his arms out. I lean in towards his solid chest and he wraps his arms around me. I feel his breath on my cheek, then his lips in my hair. “I’m yours for eternity Y/N, we can take it as slow or fast as you want.”

It was a good thing to say, and I believe him entirely.

We eventually untangle ourselves to get food in us, and even though things are different, they’re also not. We still pick out the same parts of our food to give the other person, we still talk the same shit and laugh at the same jokes. But his hands grasps mine and his thumb brushes over my knuckles absentmindedly. His eyes stay steady on me as I talk like I’m someone new he’s exploring. We kiss after dinner, but we also load the dishwasher and laugh about the one time I’d managed to burn soup from a can. Eventually we end in my bedroom, where we lay together, our conversation growing quieter by the minute, the space between us growing smaller.

And even though we’d slept like this a hundred times before, it’s different now. I can feel it in every atom of my being, I was his and he was mine. And I don’t know how long it’s been like this for it to feel so easy, but accepting it was a no brainer, like accepting the sky was blue or the sun was hot. I remember the advice the psychic gave, I was following it: living the life I had around me even though it wasn’t the life I thought I would have.

There were a million things Harry and I had to figure out to make this work--I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. But I did know that it was right, it was true, and it was going to be forever.

The future may not be crystal clear, but my future with this man was.

[startanewdream]

I should be working but Here's my entry for @petalstosarah's today prompt of 'I love you, ain't that the worst thing you ever heard?'

~*~

Harry looks troubled even after all the buzz of his appearance has faded away and they get to finally enjoy some privacy as they sit in their reserved booth in the Three Broomsticks.

Ginny gives him a comforting smile.

‘Hey’, she calls him, her hand running through his hair and making him close his eyes briefly under her touch. ‘It’s fine’.

‘This is not how I planned our date’, he whispers guiltily. ‘All those people –‘

Ginny sighs. It took her every effort to not take out her wand and start hexing the mass of people who were waiting for Harry at Hogsmeade that day. Someone had leaked to the press – that should have more important things to do than to report where Harry Potter was – that he would be at Hogsmeade that weekend and then his fan club had invaded the village.

‘That’s me training for when I am famous’, she assures him, her voice inviting him to share the joke with her. ‘Quidditch players get more attention than war heroes, you know’.

There is a tentative smile on his lips now. ‘I hope not too much. I don’t wanna people throwing things at you’.

‘Didn’t enjoy receiving bras as a gift?’, Ginny teases, remembering Harry’s bright red face when someone had thrown a bra over his head. Ron had laughed until he was out of breath (Ginny pretends she stayed cool and not that she tried to find who it had been so she could hex them).

‘There is only one bra I hope to see’, he assures her, more at ease now.

‘More than one, I have a collection, you know’, she smirks. ‘I thought your fan club was even tame this time. Remember that day you went to Gringotts?’

Harry shudders. ‘It was easier dealing with the goblins, and I had stolen a dragon from their bank. A girl tried to declare her feelings for me!’

Ginny giggles. ‘“I love you, Harry Potter!”’, she recites, remembering Ron recalling the story later. ‘Ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?’

Harry grimaces. ‘Yeah, actually, it was. It was the first time’.

‘That you got some fan love?’

‘No, that –‘, he stops, embarrassed. ‘That someone told me they loved me’.

Ginny blinks, unsure. ‘But – she didn’t even love you really, I mean – I – sure someone told you before that they loved you’.

He shrugs, looking uncomfortable as if he regrets saying anything at all. ‘I know my parents loved me, of course, and I guess they told me – I just don’t remember obviously’.

‘But even after…’, she stops, thinking. The Dursleys would never, of course, but Harry had other people in his life that cared a lot for him. ‘Sirius?’

‘I know he loved me, it was just never something he talked about, and I understand it, of course, we had a rushed first meeting with him being accused and all, and then he was unhappy when we were at Grimmauld Place –'

‘Ron? Hermione?’

‘What about them?’

‘They are your best friends since eleven. They never –‘

‘No’. He looks alarmed with the expression on her face. ‘That’s ok, Ginny, really! I know they care for me, we are best friends and –‘

‘I love you’, she tells him bluntly. ‘You know that, right?’

Harry blinks, his expression softening. ‘Yeah, you’ve told me before’, he whispers, a smile on his face, and Ginny knows he is remembering that night of his eighteen birthday.

‘And I love you’, she repeats. ‘I will keep saying it until you forget’.

‘That you love me?’

‘No, that you forget how many times I’ve said it before’.

‘I don’t think I could’.

‘Oh, Harry’. She kisses him softly in the lips, before breaking apart and jumping to her feet. ‘Come on’.

‘Where?’

She doesn’t answer, but Harry follows her to the booth in the other side of the bar, where Ron and Hermione are sitting together.

‘Hem, hem’, she coughs loudly, making them break apart.

‘Hey, privacy?’, Ron asks, raising his eyebrows. ‘Some of us enjoy quiet dates without attracting media, you know?’

‘Oh, shut it’, Ginny says, winking at him to ease her words. ‘This will be quick’.

‘Gin –‘

‘Ron’, she says loudly. ‘Do you love Harry?’

‘Ginny’, Harry mumbles, his face reddening, just as Ron blinks confused.

‘Yeah’.

‘Hermione?’

‘Same question? Of course, I love Harry’.

‘Thanks. Just remember to tell him more often’.

‘But –‘, Ron looks confused still. ‘Why? Doesn’t he know? I don’t tell you or Bill or George that I love you all the time’.

‘Saying out loud is appreciated still’, Hermione tells him, looking at Harry with fondness. ‘We do love you, Harry. I hope you never forget it’.

‘I – I know’, he whispers, looking down so to avoid their eyes. ‘I – I love you too’.

‘Now everyone has declared their love’, Ginny says brightly, ‘let’s get back to our date? I have a world of love language to share with you’.

Ron snorts. ‘Do I really need to hear this?’

[stardustprompts]

the poppy war - r.f kuang   sentence starters change tenses/pronouns as needed !!  some lines have been edited for clarity / length / ease of roleplaying tw :   drugs , death , murder , nsfw , prostitution mention , language

‘take off your clothes.’

‘why would anyone drug themselves before a test?’

‘you’re about to be a very lucky girl, sweet.’

‘wow that’s great. really great. Terrific.’

‘your folks are assholes.’

‘well fuck the heavenly order of things.’

‘don’t you have actual responsibilities?’

‘I don’t want to get on _____ ‘s bad side.’

‘you would make a terrible prostitute. no charm.’

‘what is so wrong with getting married?’

‘do you want to die?’

‘everything is spilling out of my head as quickly as I put it in.’

‘please do not commit spousal homicide.’

‘give me a way out of this shithole.’

‘hello, I’m praying.’

‘I seduced him with my nubile young body. you caught me.’

‘you can’t scare me into a confession, because I’m telling the truth.’

‘and that means you’re shit at your job.’

‘if you cross them—- if they even think you’ve looked at them funny—- they can and will hurt you.’

‘it’s easy to lose a language when you never speak it.’

‘you’re offending them with your very presence.’

‘they’ll make you an outsider, because you’re not like them.’

‘no matter what they say, you deserve to be here.’

‘I’ll kill you. I will fucking kill you.’

‘I went out in the sun once. you should try it sometime.’

‘oh, you’re the one ____ hates.’

‘you’d be a prick too if your family was both rich and attractive.’

‘honestly? I think he just comes in here to get high.’

‘I think you’re flattering yourself.’

‘unless you’ve got a weapon, don’t aim for the face. the neck’s a better target.’

‘we aren’t here to be sophisticated. we’re here to fuck people up.’

‘this is the only kick you’ll ever need, really. a kick to bring down the most powerful warriors.’

‘power dictates acceptability.’

‘he hasn’t done anything to earn my respect. all he’s done is act high and mighty.’

‘you’re nothing. you shouldn’t even be here.’

‘consider me bullied and intimidated, just let me sleep.’

‘he’s playing with her. he’ll end it soon.’

‘they’re good at fighting, but not much else.’

‘spend a lot of time looking at ____’s eyes do you?’

‘a betrayal of that sort would not have been out of character.’

‘come on, you belong here too.’

‘they’re not going to get rid of me like this. not this easily.’

‘I’m calm! I’m extremely calm!’

‘you’d rather kill your own people than let the opponent’s army walk away?’

‘you don’t let an enemy walk away if they’ll certainly be a threat to you later.’

‘he can’t stop raving about you.’

‘oh, don’t pretend to be bashful. you love it.’

‘you’re a walking disaster.’

‘anyone this obstinate deserves some attention, if only to make sure you don’t become a walking hazard to everyone around you.’

‘I heard he got drunk on rice wine last week and pissed into ____’s window. he sounds awesome.’

‘it’s me, your favorite person in the whole wide world.’

‘I do not have a problem. you are making up this problem for reasons unbeknownst to me.’

‘you’re killing the mood.’

‘they were weak as shit. scrawnier than you, even.’

‘you’re a real asshole. you know that right?’

‘your state of mind is just as important as the state of your body.’

‘sometimes you must loose the string to let the arrow fly.’

‘because I want to break his stupid face.’

‘he’s the most dangerous when he’s desperate.’

‘from this point on you’re just going to be a danger to yourself and everyone around you.’

‘you’re too reckless. you hold grudges, you cultivate your rage and let it explode, and you’re careless about what you’re taught.’

‘I knew I was the only one that could help him.’

‘they honed his rage like a weapon, instead of teaching him to control it.’

‘one urinating statue for my easily entertained friend.’

‘I don’t believe in gods. but I believe in power.’

‘one might say you’ve been obsessed with ____.’

‘don’t look to your left. pretend you’re taking to me.’ / ‘I am talking to you.’

‘we’re studying very weird things.’

‘I don’t actually know what I’m getting into.’

‘here is what happened: you called a god, and the god answered.’

‘you know that if you don’t get answers now, the hunger will consume you and your mind will crack.’

‘you’ve glimpsed the other side and you can’t rest until you fill in the blanks.’

‘supernatural is a word for anything that doesn’t fit your present understanding of the world.’

‘I’m supposed to take it as true that you’re a god?’

‘I’m not a god. I am a mortal who has woken up, and there is power in awareness.’

‘are we getting high? oh, wow. we’re getting high.’

‘ah. the law. so inconvenient. so irrelevant.’

‘we are not madmen. but how can we convince anyone of this, when the rest of the world believes it so?’

‘the price of power is pain.’

‘I understand the truth of things. I know what it means to exist.’

‘prey do not question the motives of the predator. the dead do not question the living. mortals do not challenge the gods.’

‘I killed for you. I would have done anything for you.’

‘I have seen the end of things. the shape of the world has changed.’

‘war doesn’t determine who’s right. war determines who remains.’

‘it’s alright. I know what you are.’

‘I thought I was the only one left.’

‘we have developed the power to rewrite the fabric of this world. if we don’t use it, then what’s the point?’

‘I don’t mess with that shit. it screws you up.’

‘I understand the appeal, I really do, but I like having my mind to myself.’

‘he’s a charmer. like a new puppy. you think he’s adorable until he pisses on the furniture.’

‘there’s no routine. no discipline. nothing you’re used to. am I right?’

‘so you’re the last of your kind. that’s sad.’

‘If you hold the fate of the country in your hands, if you have accepted your obligation to your people, then your life ceases to be your own.’

‘____ feared, and so he held you back.’

‘great danger is always associated with great power. the difference between the great and the mediocre is that the great are willing to take that risk.’

‘don’t ever let go on that anger. rage gives you power. caution does not.’

‘don’t give in... you’ve been so brave... but it takes more bravery to resist the power.’

‘the nature of this god is to destroy. the nature of this god is to be greedy, to never be satisfied with what he has consumed.’

‘so. screaming at rocks. is that, like, normal behavior here?’

‘fix this. prove your worth. do your fucking job or get out.’

‘I saved your life. doesn’t that make us at least a little square?!’

‘I was scared of you. and I lashed out.’

‘I thought I was better than you, and I’m not. I’m sorry.’

‘when I killed it, it felt like murder.’

‘look, I’m happy to discuss this, really, but I’m currently leaking life out three different wounds and I think I may pass out. would you give me a moment?’

‘well maybe ____ should get his head out of his ass.’

‘ ____ is more fragile than you think.’

‘look, asshole, I don’t need you to tell me what to do.’

‘they say he can read the future. shatter minds.’

‘you misunderstand the nature of our relationship. I am not your friend.’

‘he’s not human. he—- I don’t know what he is.’

‘but ___ was never allowed to be human.’

‘do you trust me?’ / ‘no. but that’s irrelevant.’

‘you don’t know what true suffering is.’

‘I have seen more than my fair share of suffering.’

‘that boy is beyond redemption. that boy is broken like the rest.’

‘I don’t want to be saved! I want power!’

‘that power will destroy everything you’ve ever loved. you will defeat your enemy, and the victory will turn to ashes in your mouth.’

‘we’ve missed something. something’s been laid out for us, but we can’t see it.’

‘fretting won’t make the dead come back to life.’

‘there was nothing human in those eyes.’

‘It was a nightmare, and I couldn’t wake up.’

‘I don’t need your pity. I need you to kill them for me.’

‘whatever it takes. swear it on your life. swear it for me.’

‘I won’t judge him. I don’t dare, because I don’t have the right. and neither do you.’

‘you asked me why I wouldn’t stop him. now you understand. you can’t stop an avenger. you can’t reason with a madman.’

‘I am afraid of what he might do in his quest for vengeance. and I am afraid that he is right.’

‘I am about to do something terrible. and you will have a choice.’

‘they give nothing to the universe, and the universe owes them nothing in return.’

‘you cannot survive my death.’

‘you’re trying to deceive me. you don’t get to deceive me.’

‘this is not the way. this path leads only to darkness.’

‘when are you going to stop being such a damn coward? what are you running from?’

‘you will turn the world to ash, and only demons will live in the rubble.’

‘you dress up your crusade with moral arguments, when in truth you would let millions die if it means you get your so-called justice.’

‘you have not cared about anything for a very long time. you are broken.’

‘I am terrified. but only because I’m starting to remember who I once was. don’t go down that path.’

‘your country is ash. you can’t bring it back with blood.’

‘I’m so sorry. I tried to warn you.’

‘you know the worst part? we’re so close to home.’

‘did you miss me? did you miss this?’

‘I just gave him some of his favorite medicine.’

‘resistance here means suffering. there is no escape. no future.’

‘you have nothing to fight for anymore’

‘what are you defending? you owe ____ nothing.’

‘we were disposable. we were tools. tell me that doesn’t make you furious.’

‘I am sick with fury.’

‘I will die on my feet. I will not die a coward. and neither will you.’

‘we could stay here. we could stay here forever. we wouldn’t have to go back.’

‘you’ll have to live with the consequences. but you’re brave ... you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.’

‘I have lost everything I care about. I don’t want peace, I want revenge.’

‘I don’t need to sleep. I need to feel nothing.’

‘do you want forgiveness? I can’t give you that.’

‘we avenged him. he’s gone, but avenged.’

‘you have to believe that it was necessary. that it stopped something worse. and even if it wasn’t, it’s the lie we’ll tell ourselves, starting today and every day afterward.’

‘aren’t you supposed to be a seer? do you ever see anything useful?’

‘we have an enemy whom we love.’

‘I’m going to find and kill everyone responsible. you cannot stop me.’

‘oh I’m not going to stop you.’

[ohnoseptember]

i had to get this off my chest, i hope you never see this.

Dear ____,

In my head, I’ve written to you so many letters, we lose track of what’s been said and what’s left unsaid.

Soon, it’ll be 2 years since…

Well, since the day we chose to celebrate our love on each year. For all we knew, we had loved each other all our lives. We couldn’t choose a day. So we chose the day right after Valentine’s. It felt right then.

I think I’ll write to you each year. I might never send them but I’ll hold these letters close to my heart, closer to memory. And in my head, I’ll always come up with new stories where our paths cross again, years from now. Whether it’s at a college reunion, or at the opening of the store you’ve dreamt of for years, I’ll recognise your wild laugh from afar and my hellos will sober up, my feet will grow softer.

It won’t be “love” then. It’ll be something in between “love” and “memory”. It’ll be a feeling that can only be described as- ghastly.

I picture us, having met after years of no voice on either line. A conversation or two where we catch up on everyone’s well-being and careers. I ask about your dog, you ask me about my mother. I ask about your friends, you ask about my studies. You question if I ever got my masters degree and I wonder if and when you got your first tattoo, and just what it is. I ask if your brother found his way to America, if he got his happy ending, and you ask me about my brother and that you see him online sometimes.

Hours later, we’ll be in our own separate rooms and a feeling would’ve followed us to bed.

That ghastly feeling, where it doesn’t hurt anymore but it doesn’t make us happy either. Where it weakens us to our knees but no tears really come. Where our hearts aren’t yelling and fists aren’t bleeding. Where we simply exist, and there’s a prick; like a hole in the wall and water starts to leak and drip. Where we only pray that this leak doesn’t flood the whole damn city and we can go back to our lives as normal; or we wake up one morning and it’s all spontaneous but we’re packing our bags and looking up flights.

That ghastly feeling follows us and haunts us and could ruin us. It’s an omen. It’s a shadow that could make or break us.

But in the present, here and now, I’m with you but only miles apart. There’s still silence on either side of the line and I can’t remember the last time we said our “I love yous”. In the present, I watch a movie and I can almost hear your commentary interrupted by your laugh. We’re on the phone and having a virtual date, watching a movie in a language you don’t understand, solely because you liked one of the songs from the soundtrack. You laugh and I have to rewind 10 seconds because I like paying attention to every detail. A 2 hour movie turns into 4 hours and it’s late, but you never get tired no matter how long your day had been.

You’d like this movie, I think.

In the present, I’m thinking of all the people you called “friends” but never really trusted. They took you for granted. But you always stayed. I’m afraid of my trembling hands that won’t think but instantly dial your number in a crisis, because after all, yours is the only number I still have memorised after my parents’.

In the present, I’m counting down the days with you and I remember everything like it was yesterday. I was washing my face and I found myself smiling as I remembered how you moved to a better apartment so I wouldn’t complain of dust anymore. I remember the bed you got, a bed big enough to take up all the space in your tiny bedroom. All so we could both sleep in on early Wednesday mornings when classes were slow and breakfast almost absent.

I remember you fondly, despite everything that’s happened since those late January sunsets from the terrace in your flat. I thought I’d be left with bitter memories and all the things you did that I hated. But our brains are a funny thing and I can no longer remember just why and how you got me so angry at times.

I remember you fondly, the way I wish I remembered old friends that I lost to scandals and my cat that I lost to illness. I remember you fondly, like if we met tomorrow, I wouldn’t hesitate to shake your hand, smile at you and ask about your mother.

Loving you felt like time had stopped just for us. I’d spend the whole day with you and look forward to the next, just to spend more time with you; whether it was doing laundry, or doing skin care, or cooking or even just sleeping in. There were no obligations or deadlines or responsibilities to get to. There was no “time’s up”. There was no reason to get out of bed ever. It was just us, even in a crowded room. Love doesn’t feel the same for me anymore. By 2pm, there’s lunch to worry about and by 7pm, there’s work to get to. 8am classes to attend and an exam in a month that costs me my future.

I miss how everything in our relationship felt like a vacation, a constant rendezvous. Like in our own bubble, we had nothing to do but spend our money eating and drinking. I wanted for us to have one day of being Jay Gatsby, but I never realised that our whole relationship was a party every single day where you and I were the hosts as well as the guests.

The real world calls both you and I now. It’s a call we can no longer ignore.

I don’t love you anymore. It’s true.

But I don’t hate you either.

I do hate a lot of your habits and the vile man you become when you’re too consumed by your grief.

But I couldn’t possibly ever hate you.

I hate that about me. Because, sometimes, I do feel that you know of that very fact and play my cards against me.

I couldn’t thank you enough for all the love and friendship I found in you. We never had a “happy ending”. Perhaps, that’s a hoax.

I don’t love you but I do remember you fondly. I’ll always remember you.

I hope you do too.

Sincerely,

N.

PS: I dreamt of you today. You rescued me from the fire but eventually you disappeared into the smoke and I never found you again. I hope you're okay.

[kingsuckjin]

Ungodly Beast 3- epilogue

✞ Pairing: Devil! Jungkook x reader

✞ Genre: horror, fluff idk anymore

✞ Synopsis: You need to end this hell on earth.

✞ Warnings: death, gore, mention of burns, blood, talk of heaven and hell, the earth is on fire (I have to say that your child dies but it will all be okay, I promise it’s alright and it’s not as bad as you might think, just trust me.)

✞ Words: 2.3k

✞ A/N: I would put links here for the past two parts, but lately tumblr has been doing this thing where it wont let this fic show up in the tags if I put in links or tag anyone. They're on my masterlist though, I’m just very sorry for the inconvenience.

"Go my child, end this. Take all the power you need, and if you succeed I'll return the favor."

The flames around your bare feet had to be searingly hot, but they didn't hurt you, it didn't even singe or dirty the white you wore. 

The grass of the park was no more, and what lie under the flames was dry, scorched earth. The leaves had been burned from the trees, the trunks of which still smoked and trailed upwards towards the starless night sky. Glowing orange embers and ash fell all around you like some kind of twisted blizzard.

As you walked you saw the melted remnants of the playground you use to take your son to.

So this was hell on Earth.

It was just a shell of familiarity and home.

On your walk you could hear the sounds of police sirens and fire trucks, but it was much too late for them, everything was on fire.

Buildings, shops, offices, either up in flames or ash on the ground. You saw a car in flames explode, thankfully no one was in it.

There were people. People lined the streets, crying, confused, scared and burned.

An old man was laying on the street, his wife crying over him. She was so hysterical she didn't even see you approach, but when she did her jaw dropped at the sight of you, she begged you for help in another language, one you knew only bits and pieces of before and studied in your free time, but you now fully understood.

You said nothing as you looked over the man's burnt face before placing your hands over it, covering the freshly burnt skin. You closed your eyes and let your head fall slightly.

"My child, I will let you heal him, I will let you give the people hope. But you must hurry to find him before he causes anymore irreversible destruction. Stop him, and put the rest in my hands."

You nodded in agreement and opened your eyes and moved your hands. 

On lookers had gathered around you, both the woman and the man thanked you, but you had to go.

"Don't worry, just pray." You told them. You knew they were looking at your wings folded against your back as you walked on.

As you passed Namjoon's burning church you could see him clearly in your head, on his knees on the floor between the pews on prayer as he realized who was just outside right before it went up in flames.

You didn't go inside, it was too late for him, but you knew Jungkook and your son had to be close, you could feel it. You could see their trail of death, torment and destruction.

You closed your eyes and you brought on the rain.

The crack of thunder rolled through the sky before the downpour started, and though it rained around you, you remained dry. It was all you could do in an attempt to end the suffering of the people at the hands of this fire for now. You also wanted to prevent the risk of them making things worse when you found them.

To attract them you began to sing quietly, you sang the song in the language that Jungkook had sang to your son when he was just a baby. Though the lyrics didn't translate well, it was a song about peace and silence and it was in the world's first language. Even back then, you supposed, that parents just wanted their babies happy and they wanted to do right by them. You remembered Jungkook saying when you first met him that that was something he never understood, and still seemed not to.

You couldn't bring yourself to be mad at him, you pitied him. You pitied his lack of understanding towards humanity even with all of his new emotions. He didn't get to grow from a child, he didn't have surroundings or figure to help shape him. He couldn't never be a parent because he never had a parent figure, he was never a child, Jungkook just was. He had just been Jungkook all at once since the birth of time. He only knew being cast out of heaven, he only knew lies, he only new bitterness, revenge, and power. Jungkook only knew destruction and couldn't handle when you had created something for him, given life to something that was partially made from him. Jungkook wanted to own you and your children just like he owned the souls in hell. Even if you give a person emotions who wasn't taught right from wrong or how to be there for people, or how to not be selfish, they might feel guilty. However, they've already become set in their ways seeing as it's all they've ever known. It wasn't Jungkook's fault that he was given this eternal cold life, he never asked for this.

You understood vastly more than you did before, there was no fooling you now, you saw absolutely everything but one way you saw before never changed.

You loved Jungkook. You knew he would've loved you if he could've from the start. You were his soulmate, His Lilith, his reason for not being allowed to have emotions in the first place in fear of producing the Antichrist. Nothing could stop destiny, you knew this now. No matter what god took or gave to him, nothing could've stopped this. Even now as you found Jungkook holding your son's hand as he burns someone alive, this was destiny. Just like Noah's ark, god can cast out and call forth, he can teach lessons or make people forget.

So here you were, and here he was, in the middle of this burnt street. Neither of them saw you yet, but they were doing what destiny called for.

"Jungkook." You spoke his name for the very first time, catching both their attentions. 

"Mommy!" Your elated son tried to run to you but his father stopped him as he was stuck staring at you.

"You're…" his voice was almost inaudible with the roar and crack of the fires that were too big.

You unfurled your white wings from behind your back and stretched them out.

"You're home." 

"Mommyyy! Mommy back!” Your son yelled happily with a big smile on his face as he began struggling against his father and slipped out of his grasp. Your son ran the half of a block down the street and you could now see his horns were much larger now, and his eyes were black. His father screamed for him and began to run after him, telling him not to touch you.

You knelt down and let your child run into your open arms. You wrapped them around him and let him fall limp.

"I love you, everything will be okay." You told him as you picked him up and laid his body on the sidewalk. Much like a cross or holy water, your body itself could destroy anything Unholy, you were blessed from god himself, you were an angel.

"No… no! What did you do to him?! What did you do to our son?!" Jungkook screamed at you making the fire around you only burn more angrily.

"He felt nothing, God will return him to me." You stepped closer to him. "I came for you too."

"No. You're home, bring our son back and come home!" He demanded but you were no longer easily swayed.

"This isn't my home anymore, look what you've done to it." You answered calmly.

"I made this for us, I did this for you." 

You watched as blood began to leak from his eyes and mix with the water from the rain. 

"I know, I know you did. I know that there's no length you wouldn't go to for me, even your son. You mean well, you just don't understand. Just know I would go through any length for you and our family, and that's why I'm here. We both went through great lengths, we've both been through a lot, so come to me."

"You're tricking me, you're going to kill me…" he with his narrowed eyes aimed at you.

"You're in pain, Jungkook. It doesn't have to be that way. God still has time to fix this little isolated incident." 

"And hell? What happens to hell when I'm gone?" He asked. You felt he was about ready to give in, you knew it took everything in his power right now to not come to you and hold you.

"I think that's what destiny wanted all along,  no more hell. We were meant to be together Jungkook, and it's finally time. I'm not tricking you, I could never do to you what you did to me. Let's go get our daughter and son, let's be a family let's-" 

He began to walk towards you, falling to his knees at your feet and looking up at you.

"I don't know where I'll be going, but I'll follow you anywhere" you watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed nervously. "I just want you and my family, I want everything to be okay." 

You lifted your hand to his cheek as you looked down into his black eyes and brushed away the bloody tears from his cheeks only to leave red marks of your own. You had burned him with your touch, and he had flinched but didn't outwardly complain.

He stood and his face came just millimetre from yours.

"Just do it." He whispered before pressing his lips softly to yours.

You brought both of your hands up and placed them on his face and in a split second he went limp against you.

You struggled to gently lay him down on the pavement.

"I'm done. It's done. Fix it, please." You spoke out loud.

"Rest now my child. You've been through so much."

The sky began to grow brighter and brighter until it took over everything and you had to squint to see anything at all.

You were struck with the sudden urge to pee, but you were just too tired underneath your warm sheets. You groaned as you tried to go back to sleep but the feeling became almost unbearable.

You moved the blankets, sat up, and swung your legs over the bed, immediately feeling your back hurt. This action must've woken up the baby inside of you because you began to feel the heavy kicks from inside of your belly.

"I'm going, I'm going." You nagged at the unborn baby as you waddled towards the bathroom. "You better not kick me in the bladder again, girl." You warned.

When you were done you headed to the kitchen with new priorities, you smelled food. Lately just the thought of anything food related had you salivating and reaching for anything edible you could get you hands on, but that's just what being seven months pregnant did to you.

You walked through the doorway just in time to see a few pieces of scrambled egg fall onto the floor.

Your son looked down at it from the stool against the counter he stood on and so did his dad.

"Uh oh." You son said as he looked at you, holding a plate of the eggs.

"Morning darling. We're definitely not making a mess in here." Jungkook lied with a smile as you assessed the damage the boys had done to the kitchen.

"As long as you both clean it up I see no mess." You joked.

"Mommy! Breakfast!" Your son held the plate up proudly, spilling more eggs onto the floor, lucky Jungkook decided to take the plate away from the tiny little version of himself before picking him up with the other arm.

"Tell mommy good morning!" He placed the plate on the table before bringing your son over on his hip. Jungkook knew it was hard for you to bend over now a days.

Your son gave you a wet kiss on your cheek before his father knelt down with him.

"What about baby sister?" His father asked him.

The boy was careful as he gave your belly a hug and pat and told it good morning.

"Morning." Jungkook gave you a quick kiss on your lips before wrapping his arms around you.

"We missed you." He whispered into your ear. "You slept in late, must almost be time for her." He let you go so you could all sit at the table.

"I'm excited, but dreading having to through giving birth a second time. We missed church again because of me, didn't we?" 

"Father Namjoon understands you're too pregnant to function at the moment." He jokingly assured you. "I'm excited for her to get here already. I'll be right there with you, and little bub gets to spend time with his grandma. It's all planned out and you have nothing to worry about. Oh, by the way, I finished putting the crib up in the nursery finally." Even as he spoke about mundane things, there was a sparkle in his soft brown eyes as he looked at you, there were so wide with excitement and wonder, a trait he passed to your son. You would never get enough of him, you hadn't been able too since you met in grade school. You even found yourself missing him deeply to the point of tears during college. When you saw him again one night at a bar, the two of you just couldn't help it. You were confident that was the night you made your son together. You were once again inseparable as inseparable gets. He just stayed over every night after that night, which was good because you didn't want him to leave anyway. You were married just three months after that night at the bar. He wanted everything you wanted, he was the man you had always dreamed of, you had never loved any other person the way you did him. You had always had a connection with him, one you felt went far beyond when you met him as a little wide eyed boy asking to be friends. You knew, both of you did, that you were soulmates.You had always had been and always would be, in this life, whatever lives came before this, and in the next.

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Birthday Cake

A/N: Suprise folks!!! *me laughing maniacally* The whole scenery for this fic somehow appeared in my head and I just COULDN’T let it slip away, so... My biggest inspo for that was @drawlfoy!! Remember her posting the fic where Draco and Reader work at McDonald’s and are total suckers in their job (arguing with the customers; preparing wrong orders; etc.)? Dee unfortunately, deleted this precious, but it’s stuck to my head ever since (lol lol, it’s the moment where Dee wants to get rid of something, but I kindly remind everyone it existed). Therefore I present to you the next Draco x Reader fic related to our fav fast-food rest. This time, however, they’re not working at the same workplace but... I'm going to stop here cuz I don't want to spoiler :P

**The second thing that triggered me to write this fic is the YouTube video I recently saw with a lady who orders the 'specials' appearing to be out of the menu list of McDonald’s, through the Drive-Through. She asked for a birthday cake, was laughed at a few times, but eventually got what she wanted. Applause for the attitude!!

About the fic (context, my bitches): ofc it’s the modern AU, non-magical world. Draco’s the worst boyfriend ever but always manages to turn things into their righteous place. 

Summary: The birthday is upcoming, and Draco is in a rush to think up an idea for a perfect gift. His ingenuity fails, however, and leaves Y/N very unsatisfied with a disaster that has been forged. 

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: my brain playing a total psycho, language, alcohol, sexual undertones/allusions to sex, Pansy being too much of her self... deal...

Tags: @drawlfoy @eltanin-malfoy

Such an unrestrained desire to strangle somebody you hadn't felt in a long time.

Really.

Today was your birthday, which you had been widely announcing for almost a whole month to people you might have accidentally forgotten about it. Having your boyfriend, Draco, on your mind in particular.

You doubted he would have the guts to omit your big day, though as repeatedly as he had done for a few years back. But something between foresight and the second sense of prevention told you to keep reminding him every day of the upcoming event, with a heap of birthday-themed emojis and uppercases in the messages.

Everything was planned out in your head: him picking you up from your house with the sharp-red cabriolet that he used only for special occasions; him driving the two of you to the fanciest restaurant he could find in town; him bestowing you with a nice-looking, golden necklace or a different piece of jewelry you had been suggestively pointing out in the store's exhibition; him booking up a hotel room for you two to celebrate.

Either way, that was much beyond your expectations, as it turned out. And now you were sitting in the front yard of your house, waiting for him to show up.

'If he was going to at all.' This thought invaded your mind for the last hour, try as might to subdue it. An hour you had been sitting tight, hoping it was only a delay caused by a traffic jam or other irrational explanation he could come up with. But you were deceiving yourself, you eventually presumed -- you had been checking up your phone every one minute, only to see if any message notification popped up on the screen, other than birthday wishes from friends who actually cared for you.

2.02pm: Nothing.

2.03pm: Susan 'Happy birthday bitch!'

2.04pm: Instagram notif. (Someone liked your photo, which you had posted before leaving your room, posing in front of the mirror in the best cocktail dress you could find in the wardrobe.)

2.05pm: Nothing yet again.

2.06pm: Still... Peace and quiet.

"Fuck it...Enough," you muttered under your breath, an annoying disillusionment falling like a heavy mile stone on your chest. Tears suddenly started sprinkling in your eyes at the regret, and you were very reluctant to admit that your friends were right -- Draco Malfoy was an egoistic, negligent, self-absorbed pri--

"Hi." You heard the raspy, panting voice says. "Sorry for the delay."

You blinked slowly, stupidly. You raised your head to assure yourself it was him. That his expression actually corresponded to his words and showed some kind of remorse for standing you up. But no... There he was: standing in front of you, plainly confident and unashamed, with his cocky smirk provoking you to slap him.

Oh, how much you craved to slap him right now. "Where to the fuck have you been?"

"I've tried to pick this up," he explained, simultaneously lifting up the paper bag he'd been carrying in his hand. The big, exclaiming letters 'McDonald's' with the brand's logo were printed on its exterior, and it was fully stuffed with something inside.

Not quite comprehending, you furrowed. You attempted to hide the venom in your voice, but somehow it found its way to leak out. "Couldn't you do that in advance?"

"Nope..." It was his turn to furrow, looking almost shocked with the question. And thanks to all those years of your relationship, you knew it was his piss-poor estimation of time taking over. "It was a last-minute surprise."

"Sounds like it," you commented irritably. "What's that?"

"Your birthday present, sunshine," he drawled happily, ignoring your remark. He sounded positively delighted and satisfied with himself at surprising you with that because he saw a slight crease of shock painting on your forehead. "Here you go."

You took his deposit out of his grasp, still quite unsure. What if his gift would only make a situation worse? Can it get any worse with Draco's total lack of tact? Yes. But it was only one way to find out.

Without even stealing a second glance at him, you ripped off all of the packaging that had been folded around, protecting the contents. You tried to do it carefully and without any impact of emotions revealing the way you felt inside, but your hands were shaking with rage, and you couldn't quite contain yourself. You had been highly aware you shouldn't have expected much from him, but still...

You wondered if the universe was playing against you.

There was a moment of tense silence as you struggled to deal with all the wrappings. Rather unfortunately, you wished you hadn't put so much effort in opening your so-called 'gift' because as you finally did, it only angered you more, seeing as the disappointment laughs at your face. And yes, as a matter of fact, the universe was against you today...

"Are you kidding me?" you asked in disbelief, fury reappearing in your eyes. "A birthday cake?! From McDonald's?" Ugly, little cake with the creepiest smiley face of a clown. It wasn't even fresh, you realized, when you smelled it and felt a musty reek of a freezer, it probably had been kept in. A confusing sense of sadness in your chest couldn't reach any higher at this point.

"Don't you like it?" he asked, detecting the wrath in your eyes. At that, you felt the dumbest urge to laugh and never stop. "I thought it'd be something original."

"Oh, I love it," you said sarcastically, a faint voice of hope telling you it was only a very bad joke was still lingering in your head. But it wasn't a joke.

"It's not just--" He struggled to form a coherent sentence. "I've been asking Blaise and Theo about any ideas. I told them, what you had said to me -- 'you didn't want anything fancy.' So we decided it's... something."

"Of course I didn't tell you I want anything, you dolt!" Your voice raised up almost two octaves, and the pulse sped up so fast it entailed a headache along. A neighbor from the opposite garden who was watering the flowers looked at you, startled, and eyes widened your exasperated tone. You didn’t care. "It's how it works: you don't tell other people you expect them to buy something!"

"But I'm your boyfriend. You shouldn't -- er-- feel uncomfortable to tell..."

"Exactly! As my boyfriend, you should have known!"

"Well... I didn't. If that's what's bothering you, we can...we can..."

"Stop." Listening to him and his pathetic excuses was the last thing you were going to do now. "What – why would you even – " You sputtered out, unable to process or express exactly what you were feeling. There was definitely anger and indignation. Curiosity, for another, as to why Draco would even fall for such foolish and ill-considered idea, and -- to the top of it -- hope it would make a good fit. And possibly, the last and most satisfying part, was the wicked impulse to throw the cake directly into his arrogant face, letting him taste his own medicine he had been serving you for years on each failed birthday.

"You know, for once, you could pay more effort and try doing something nice for me," you told him firmly, deflating to calm down your buzzing nerves.

"I've been tr--"

"Do you realize how much it costs me to pretend to be happy when you forget about me? Last year, I organized a big-ass party for your birthday, inviting over all of your friends and buying the best booze I could find to celebrate it properly," you said harshly and pretentiously, as you intended. "The best part is, you didn't even thank me." You stared at him, wringing your hands and expecting to perceive any trope of shame in his eyes. For the first time, you actually did.  

"Listen, about that--" he calmly attempted to cut off your monologue.

"No, you listen..." Did you really want what was upcoming next? Maybe it was about time. "Today, I decided I'm standing up for myself. So, for the last time, get out from my porch."

He bristled, the thunderstruck air hanging around him. "Because of the stupid cake?"

"What?! No! It's just... I feel like you don't give a damn about me anymore." Gulp formed in your throat, and the tears finally left your eyes at the consciousness of what was happening. "I think we both deserve some time."

Your eyes moved to his, and you almost wished you hadn't looked. He was watching you, with pursed lips and a pure mixture of every emotion: anger, sadness, resentment, pretension, dejection. The faintest of his flustered blushes appeared on his cheeks, and you suddenly wished you could hug him. "So you are putting us..." His finger pointed at him and you as if expecting clarification. "...on a break? Is that what it is?"

You were truly torn, to be honest. Becoming single on your birthday was the last wish you had for this day, but you felt a strong sense of adequacy and pride for building up the boundaries of tolerance. Besides, seeing as it was heading nowhere, it was only a matter of time that your relationship came to an end.  

Although, it hurt. A lot. "Yes."

You darted your eyes from him, not wanting to study his reaction in case it caused you to meltdown and jump to his embrace, apologizing endlessly for your words. You loved him. But you didn't regret what you had just said.

Something like a dry chuckle of disbelief escaped out of his mouth. "Is that what you really want?"

'No,' your thoughts prompted you instantly before you could even contemplate. 'I want you to say so many things you're never willing to say. But you don't know.'

So instead, you lied: "Yes."

All expressed, you spun around without peeking back and rushed into your room, already knowing there was no more sense in strives to make this day any better; all of it would bring only bad associations. It would be depressing, even more than it already was.

God, was it how the break-up pained? Because if so, you wanted to be deceased. The world spun suddenly, and you sank to your knees, shaking madly and doing your best to find your way back to your bed, located a few mere meters from you. Part of you felt numb, but your head was wide awake and alarming you that something in terms of a disaster had just happened. Because it did. The clutching in your chest was unbearable, and tears were dashing out of your eyes like a living waterfall, which made you bury your face in your hands. Never have you ever wanted to be so drunk before.

And so many questions rung up in your head at once.

Did you make a good decision? What if you are going to miss him, yet knowing you could never call? What about college -- are things about to get awkward?

No answers.

But you knew someone who would be able to reply to them.

With the blurred by tears vision, you struggled but managed to find your phone in the purse, and then clumsily scrolled through and tapped in your list of contacts before holding the phone to your ear.

Please answer, you begged. Please, please…

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" Pansy's voice roared from the other side of a line, as always, enthusiastic.

"Pansy." You tried to sound less brokenly than you were, feeling marginally worse at the reminder of your birthday. "Is Daphne around?"

"Ouch, you're a really nasty bitch sometimes, you know. I'm not goin' to point out today, but since you didn't let me end my wishes, I'll note that for the future reference." You were sure she was grinning at the teasing, seeing as much as she liked that. Normally, you wouldn't mind, but... "How--"

"Pansy, please..." you sobbed out, almost desperate to have someone to consult and share emotions with. Daphne -- contrary to Pansy, who could be very judgy sometimes -- was someone you had especially on mind now. "I need to talk to her."

You heard her sigh; the kind of sigh she used to either prove her resignation or concern. But, as much as it surprised you, she suppressed her curiosity and, without a second word, obediently handed the phone over to Daphne. At least, that's what you assumed because you heard a pause and subdued mutters in the background.

"Y/N?" the milder tone spoke up, and you felt suddenly very strange as if submerged in water of relief; relief to hear the familiar voice. That released you from keeping a distant attitude, and yet again, a sadness washed over you, triggering a loud wail to come out of your mouth. "Y/N, is everything alright?"

"No..." you sniveled, unable to collect yourself together. "I-I... We br-brok-e up."

"You and Draco?" Daphne asked, astonishment evident.

You nodded but then remembered she couldn't see you nor read your expression. So instead, you forced your vocal cords to work again. "Mhm..."

"What happened?"

Restoring the story in your brain again, you told her everything, still tearfully but much more coherently this time. You avoided the details, briefly skipping from one utterance to another, as your conversations had gone, and you were very much thankful she didn't press for more information about the prospect of the situation. If it hadn't been her sporadic gasps or loud inhales of breath, you would have almost presumed she wasn't listening. However, she was, and as soon turned out, Pansy was as well.

"That's bananas!" Pansy shouted somewhere from the back as you had ended, and despite your gloom, you giggled quietly at her comment.

"Shush," Daphne tried to silence her, covering up the fact she had put you on the speaker. You didn't mind because you knew Pansy, who would definitely expect Daphne to cite the whole conversation if needed. But knowing Daphne as well, you could bet she flushed more than she would want to at that point. "So it all started because of the cake?"

"And the delay," you added. "But it's not just about that, obviously. It feels like... he completely stopped caring. And I don't want to be stuck in a relationship where everything is about sex and having fun only. Draco wasn't looking for a commitment, which..."

"Sucks,"ended this time Pansy unhesitatingly, who wasn't now screaming from the other part of a room but openly participating in the discussion.

"Yeah," you agreed.

"As for me, I think he might love you more than you know, Y/N." It was Daphne talking again, and she sounded positively convinced about her view as for someone who had hardly exchanged any word with Draco for the past few years. As if reading your thoughts, she continued. "I've observed you a lot. I know he might seem unemotional, but it's you who discovered him. That must require a lot of trust, you know."

You contemplated, and some of the memories and images from your first encounter run across your brain, try as might to suppress it: spotting each other at the party; binging some whisky shots together; flirty teasing; the very masculine scent of cologne; and then... more spicy recollections -- eager lips pressing against each other; against each others' necks; against other parts of the body; stripping off the clothes in the passionate haste...

Receiving a long moment of silence, Daphne took a second chance and asked. "And what's with you? Do you want to end it?"

It felt like standing before the oracle of truth. Therefore, you couldn't deny it in front of yourself. "No."

"So what're you still doing there?" commented Pansy impatiently, and you could imagine her rolling the eyes. "Get out and find him!"

She was right. You will.

XOXOXOXO

"I thought I'd find you here..."

No. Actually, you didn't. 

You had tracked Draco's phone with your own one with some help of an app that, as the two of you had established still in the relationship, would be a good idea in case of an emergency. That in itself proved to be more than helpful, believing that your argument may be pinned as something in terms of an emergency, right?

So having access to his location, you had found out he was in the park where he had taken you on the first date, shortly after dinner, to watch the sunset that, as he had described, 'was a typical cliche from every romantic movie.'

But you had fallen for that. So much.

You hadn't been aware the place had actually some meaning for him until now, and that... God, that he had even remembered it. Time showed, however, that it indeed did, to which your heart reacted with a happy jolting. But also with a nasty sting of nostalgia following shortly after.

Yet, that only had encouraged you to make up your mind and go looking for him, which hadn't been such a difficult task per se. He was sitting on the bench, in the shade of a tree, and hiding his a little too delicate skin from the sun rays. As soon as he had heard your voice, his gray eyes flew up to see you standing a few meters away.

"What are you doing here?" was the immediate question that tumbled out of his mouth. He arched his eyebrow, and to your surprise, he didn't even look angry or sad with you. Nothing near the edge; actually, almost something like the amusement was painting on his face.

"Aren't you mad with me?" you asked intrigued, completely forgetting about his question.

He frowned. "Why would I be?" His tone was so mild that you weren't sure if he was referring to the double meaning; but then he smirked playfully and said, "Besides, I knew you were coming."

"Wha-- How?" you asked, eyes dilating a fraction, in shock.

He smirked, pointing at his phone in an explanatory manner. After a moment, you finally figured out what he meant: the app must have registered he had been tracked and that your phone was trying to find his. At this notice, you reacted with a wave of flush, suddenly regretting your previous lie. His smile only widened at your expression. "Wanna sit? It's plenty of room here."

"Mhm..." You nodded, pleased to accept his offer, and walked over to the bench, doing your best to hide the evident embarrassment on your face. You felt strange he had taken you with such ease, seeing as merely two or three hours ago, you had burst at him like a cram-full volcano of unspoken emotions.

Draco shifted a package from his side, making more space for you to sit, and it took you a moment to realize it was a McDonald's cake from earlier. Everything started from that -- a stupid, little piece of cake which stood up between...

You shook the thought away, taking a seat next to him, close enough to smell his sandalwood cologne. "You didn't answer my question," Draco reminded you. "What's so important to make you track my phone?"

"I'm sorry, okay?" You rounded your face to him, flustrated, leaning at the backrest of a bench. "That's why I came. I wanted to apologize."

"Oh... Couldn't you call?"

You sighed. "I figured you wouldn't want to talk to me after...you know... our quarrel," you said half-despondent, half-desperate, watching your feet as if it were the most interesting thing to peer at now. "I didn't mean what I said earlier."

"I know," he said. Out of nowhere, he was gently grasping your palms which forced you to look up directly into his intense gaze. His eyes were swirling like molten silver at you. "But I should be apologizing, love. I made a mistake, okay?" His hands traveled all across to your tense shoulders, squeezing them lightly. "I know I should be more... affectionate with you. And this was...dumb. A dumb mistake. With that cake. But I'll try to be better if you give it another shot."

He looked so serious that you instantly believed him. You wanted to actually, with all force of longing, which grew up too rapidly in you when he wasn't around. Draco was a fool, you could easily say. But he was your fool, which was a thing you couldn't be more proud of.

Peeking slowly in the other direction, you asked, out of the topic, "You remembered the place?"

"Of course," he puffed jokingly, smiling. "Our first date. Officially our place from then on."

"Right..." You smiled back.

Honestly, the mere fact that he had called this spot 'yours' warmed up your heart, and you felt yourself grinning at his never-before-discovered emotionality. To assure yourself you weren't the only one caring, it was all you needed to hear.

The whole moment was intense, and now, you realized, is when you should have hugged him. Kissed him. Said something back at his sincere endearment.

But instead, spotting plastic cutlery next to your 'gift', you asked, "So what's the taste of the birthday cake?"  

And you knew he had caught the subtext of your playful inquiry. And you knew that soon you would work things out again. But, as for now...

"I thought you would never ask."

XOXOXOXO

A/N: Looooooool. Such a drama-comedy, right? And I could easily say It feels like 50% Draco-x-Reader / 50% Draco-x-BirthdayCake... But whatever (2am is working like a drunken bud, folks). Happy beginning of August :)

[shinsorokiri]

S/o Loses Memory and Quirk

Kaminari Denki HCs

Genre: Angst

Warnings: Language, violence, mentions broken bones, a panic attack, panic attack symptoms, sad Denki

A/N: Ngl writing angst for Denki did something to my little heart. He only deserves happiness and I’m mad at myself for giving him sadness lol. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! I’ll be writing one like this for All Might next so keep your eyes peeled for that one!

Shinsou, Aizawa, Hawks, and Dabi

Todoroki, Bakugou, and Kirishima

Kaminari Denki | Chargebolt

You are his partner in crime

You’re the one who is always there to take care of him when he goes dumb

You’re the one who is always there to comfort him when he feels like an idiot

You’re always the one who is there for him

And he’s always the one who is there for you

It’s been that way for years

Ever since you transferred to UA your second year of high school

The two of you became fast friends

Best friends even

And his flirty nature made it so it wasn’t too long before the two of you entered a real relationship

The two of you EXUDE the most chaotic good energy that even Bakugou finds it kind of endearing

But unbeknownst to his friends

Denki can get really fucking serious when it comes to you

It lowkey shocked you the first time you saw him act like that

And it was all because you were sparring with him and you tripped over your own damn foot and face planted 

You figured he’d just point and laugh at you but he ran over and checked you EVERYWHERE to make sure you weren’t hurt

mans even SCOLDED you

YOU WERE SCOLDED BY DENKI KAMINARI

But you lowkey LOVED it because like

Wow

He does like me !!!

Of course that was in your final year at UA

The two of you are now pro-heroes at separate agencies

And boy oh boy does Denki worry about you

He can’t help it

He has seen you run into a wall because you were trying to rely on scent instead of sight “in case you get stuck in a dark room with a villain”

He worries

But he also knows you are strong

And also a hot badass who can take on anyone

Well

Almost anyone

Midoriya could probably kick your ass but that’s just because it’s Midoriya

But in all seriousness

He isn’t even patrolling today

He has the day off actually

And Denki has never baked anything before in his life

But

He knows that there’s been this mysterious villain giving your agency some trouble recently

So he wants to make you some of your favorite cookies

Or at least try to

And then have a lil movie night

He’s a clingy little shit

And he wants to destress you so

He will refuse to let go of you for the rest of the night goddamnit!

So there he is

Taking the semi-burnt but still edible cookies out of the oven

His favorite program on in the background

When suddenly

His show gets interrupted

And the hero scanner the two of you have goes off in your living room

He immediately turns his attention to the television

Stopping in the middle of the kitchen 

Still holding the cookies

When he sees live footage of you falling from a 3 story building

Onto concrete

He drops the pan

And literally sprints out of the door

He doesn’t even have shoes on

But he doesn’t give a single Fuck™

He rushes down the stairs of the apartment building the two of you live in

And gets to his car in record time

Mans be speeding to the hospital he knows you’re gonna be at

You two had a plan in place with each other and your agencies that if anything would happen to either of you

You would both go to this specific hospital so you two could know where the other was at all times

Of course he was crying while speeding

And his heart rate was way too fast for him to be functioning

But he had to get to you

He had to

And he did

He pulled into a parking spot reserved for pro-heroes and ran inside the emergency room

When he asked about you the nurse told him you were currently in surgery for some severe bone breaks

He got a nasty taste in his mouth

But he just nodded

She told him he could wait in the waiting room

And he did

He sat down in a chair

And he was trying so hard to keep it together

So 

SO

Hard

But eventually Kirishima, Mina, Sero, and even Bakugou showed up

To be fair

Mina and you did work at the same agency

So she saw everything that happened

They immediately went over to him

And he looked up at Mina

And deadass this is the first time any of them see how genuinely serious Denki can get

He asks Mina what happened

And she hesitates

But his face is dead serious

There are obviously tears leaking out of his eyes

But his stare is wildly intense

And Mina knows that if she says no he’ll just keep asking or ask someone else at the agency

So she tells him

“Well… we were patrolling, like usual, when that villain that’s been keeping us on our toes showed up. They’ve never… done anything other than rob people and knock them out so we thought hey this should be easy. Especially since (Y/n) was there. When they saw us they ran into a building and we chased after them and when we had them cornered on the roof they did this weird… sneak attack? But not really? I don’t know it was… odd, they had this like patterned fight technique and they hit (Y/n) in a few different places, and she went to use her quirk to fight back but… nothing happened… and then they hit her like at the bottom of her skull and she just… fell down unconscious. And then they… threw her… off…”

She started trailing off at the end because a sob tore through Denki’s throat

And then he started hyperventilating

Luckily Bakugou and Kirishima were there to help him out

They get panic attacks frequently, so they managed to calm him down and get him to breathe again

And they stayed with him for as long as they had to

Eventually after hours 

A doctor came out and approached Denki

“Pro Hero Chargebolt?”

He stands up very fast

He’s informed that you are out of surgery

And that the surgery went well

However they noticed something odd in your MRI results

It seemed that a portion of your brain was damaged?

But not quite 

It was still functioning

But something about it was off

And they had never seen anything like it before

It was like certain parts of your brain were blocked but everything else was fine

Upon hearing this Denki’s heart broke

And then after hearing the part of your brain that was impacted was the part that contained long term memories

His heart shattered

“We’re afraid she may have severe amnesia. We’re going to keep running tests to see just what is going on, we think it’s the quirk of that villain. A lot of the victims of their crimes have blockages in their muscle groups, but we’ve never seen a blockage in the brain from them.”

Denki is quiet

He literally doesn’t say anything

Until he whispers

“Can i see her?”

The doctor nods

And he leads him to your room

You’re still asleep 

And you’re covered in bandages and casts

It breaks his heart

His friends texted him to tell him they went home but if he needs them at any minute that they will be on their way to the hospital in ten seconds flat

He appreciates it

But right now he really just wanted to be alone with you

He just sat next to you

Holding your hand

He was even moving your pointer finger to trace the Lichtenberg Figures trailing up and down his arms

You always do it when the two of you are cuddling at night 

It helps him sleep

And reminds him that you love him regardless of his faults

And right now he just

He really needs you

This goes on for an hour before he feels you start to move

And he freezes

“(Y/n?”

You open your eyes

And squint at him

“Uh… h-hi… aren’t you that guy in my new class…?”

He stares at you

Completely deadpan

Before laughing a bit

But it isn’t a happy laugh

It’s very much a sad laugh

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Cool, but um… how did you know my name already?… Are you crying?”

Yes

He was

He was laughing and crying at the same time

He probably looked like he was losing his mind

But he really did just lose his whole world so

It’s a prompted reaction

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

His voice was more strained this time

“Are you… are you okay?”

“Yeah, but you’re not. And I didn’t save you, and now you don’t know who I am, and I’m just… I’m so sorry, babe. I’m so sorry.”

The laughing stopped

Now he’s just sobbing

In your mind

You’d seen him a few times while touring the school

And he was always laughing and smiling

Always

So this was shocking

And you’d be lying if you said it didn’t tug on your heart strings

You instinctively reach out to grab his hand

And he grips onto it so tight

Almost like he’s afraid of letting go

“…You called me babe?”

He tries to even his breathing

But he nods

“I don’t… I don’t even know you, I-”

“You do. You do, but… you don’t. It’s… it’s complicated and I’m a literal dumbass so… I’ll call a doctor. They’ll explain.”

And that he does

And the doctor does in fact explain

And after the doctor leaves

You ask him to tell you about your relationship

And he does

He tells you even the smallest details

From the time that you painted the nail on his right hand middle finger pink because he lost a bet and he ended up liking it and buying nail polish for himself

To the time that you two told everyone you break danced all night to break in your new apartment when in reality he turned on Lover by Taylor Swift and the two of you slow danced in your living room

All of it

And he even managed to slip in the fact that you’d remember all of this after he caught the villain who did this to you

And he will catch them.

[bakugohoex]

Babe please do my baby daddy iwa-chan for #6. I beg you.

“you ran in the rain to tell me that”

pairing: hajime iwaizumi x female reader

cw: flashbacks in italics, language, drinking, kissing and fluff

word count: 2800+

a/n: head emoty thinking about hajime iwaizumi 27 athletic trainer, i love my baby iwa so much, he deserves the world

summary: in which after having dinner with the national team he finds himself being confronted on his crush of you, being pushed to go to your apartment, he finds himself at your apartment, leaving a trail of rain in his way

1k event masterlist

↞ back to haikyu!! masterlist

It was just supposed to be a couple drinks and food at Onigiri Miya, Atsumu had invited the whole team after practice, which happened to include their trainer as well. Of course some had declined needing to get back home for their own personal reasons and some had accepted wanting to let loose after a long training session. 

Iwaizumi had found himself three glasses of sake, taking his fourth as Hinata and Atsumu pushed more of it onto him. He didn't know how the conversation of you came up but somehow everybody had begun talking about you and their trainer's crush. “Come on man, we can all see it, you have a thing for our promoter.” Atsumu snickered as Suna nodded in agreement. 

“Guys, I really don't. She's just a nice girl y’know.” Iwaizumi tried to justify himself but the deep blush that embedded his skin made it evident that he clearly did have a small crush on you. 

“A nice girl, that’s bullshit Iwaizumi, we all see the way you look at her.” Bokuto shouted from the other end, Osamu was almost glad it was after hours as the conversations he was hearing would drive away customers in a matter of seconds. 

“You do look at her as if she is the only one in the room.” Even the stoic Ushijima had acknowledged it, speaking out on it before going back to talking to Kageyama. 

Atsumu nodded pushing Iwaizumi in the shoulder to show how everybody did agree that Iwaizumi had a crush. “Even since your first meeting we all could see it.” Hinata spoke, grabbing some onigiri and stuffing it in his mouth, rice surrounding his lips. 

“What? No.” Iwaizumi could barely speak but the memory surveyed through his head like it had just occurred yesterday. 

He had been running late, his alarm had conveniently been snoozed through and now he was running late to train members of Japan's national team. Of course all he had to do was set them up for their day and their schedule and then individually begin helping them. But Kuroo had spoken about how he and his colleague were coming to talk to the team about how to gain more awareness of volleyball.

Iwaizumi ran through the doors of the facility, he saw Kuroo stand tall in his suit with a woman beside him. You wore trousers that went straight down and a white blouse, you were talking to Kuroo as you both had been looking around to get a feel of the area. “Kuroo.” Iwaizumi spoke just for the man to hear, Kuroo turned to face him, you hadn't realised still looking at the facility before finally meeting the eyes of Iwaizumi. 

Iwaizumi didn’t know what got into him, but he had been in awe at seeing you. How perfect you looked in your work clothes, that bright smile you had as you said your name which he hadn’t even heard and how your hand was right in front of him. “Iwaizumi.” Kuroo chuckled toilingly. 

He hadn’t realised the arrival of the team who stood behind him watching how he had frozen up. The normal calm and collected trainer who always pushed them to their limits had fallen way to a pretty girl. “So..sorry nice to meet you.” He couldn’t remember if you had even said your name or if it had been in his head. But from the way you smiled back to ease the situation, he assumed you had. 

Your hand felt warm against his own, he could see an ink stain on the side of your ring finger, you had probably pushed your pen too hard onto the paper making it leak onto your fingers. He didn't care, it instead made him think how you must like indenting the page when writing which too him had become the greatest thing in the world. 

The handshake had continued, he hadn't bothered letting go, instead continuing to shake your hand. Kuroo gave a signal to the team to tell their trainer to stop staring at his co-worker but you didn't seem to mind him. The big scary athletic trainer that Kuroo had told you about seemed like a lost puppy in a matter of seconds. 

“It was nice to meet you.” You finally say, he liked how your voice sounded, the way his heart beat faster from hearing you speak such formal terms. He instantly let go of your hand rubbing the back of his head in embarrassment. 

He hadn't heard the team but the sound of laughter erupting in the facility made him realise how they had all seen his little show. He turned around in anger through his face, you could almost see the vein pop out from his forehead, “outside now.” He shouted, making them all quieten down. 

“Aww Iwaizumi calm down, we’re…” Atsumu leant against Hinata still trying to hide his laugh. 

Iwaizumi interrupted raising an eyebrow as he crossed his arms, “you’re doing extra laps.” 

“You were a total mess in front of her and it’s not like you only did it once, or do we have to remind you about Aran’s birthday incident.” Suna spoke as the sound of hearing Aran’s birthday had made everybody whip their heads in embarrassment. They almost seemed to cringe at the effortless flirting the two of you had gone through the entire night. 

“I can’t let a pretty girl be on her own all night.” Iwaizumi leant against the bar, calling for another round of drinks. Suna and Aran were at the bar as well and had been listening in on the two of you, you seemed to be enjoying the remarks having stuck by their athletic trainer the whole night. 

“They really are blind.” Aran huffed taking a long sip of his drink as both of them carried on listening. 

Your hand had rested on his bicep, you could almost feel the tenseness of his muscles as if he was showing them off to you. “And I thought you did this for all the girls.” 

“Only for you, sweetheart.” Iwaizumi let your hand stay lingering on him, passing you your drink as he watched you sip it with your other hand. “I can’t let people know I’m actually nice.”

“What? You, nice? I’ve seen you with the team, remember I know the real you.” You seemed to have gotten closer to him, the gap between the two of you closing. You stayed seated on the stool as Iwaizumi had almost shuffled towards you. 

“So what’s the real me then?” He took another sip of his drink as Kageyama had come up to the two other boys, ready for another drink. 

“What are…” Suna shut Kageyama up, instead pointing to the flirtations between the two of you. 

You chuckled slightly, taking a sip from your straw as you moved closer, pushing your body right onto his as your mouth went to his ear. Iwaizumi could almost feel your chest heave against his own, your fingers had moved to his neck to make it easier for you to speak. “The sexy athletic trainer I tell my friends about, of course.” 

Iwaizumi almost spat out his drink at your remark, had you really told your friends about him. What had you even said that he was just sexy, was that it? He saw how your mouth lingered across his ear before the sound of your phone going off made you leave him. He watched you speak turning around to meet the three boys. 

“What?” He muttered to them, his shirt unbuttoned from when he had told you he had gotten warm and you had so kindly offered to unbutton his first three buttons.

Suna laughed at the idiocracy as Aran rolled his eyes at the two of you, Kageyama the only one to speak, “god you two should just get a room.” 

Before Iwaizumi could reply you had begun talking again to him, you two both stayed together the remainder of the night. But worst of all, every single person at the birthday party had heard you both flirt with each other without establishing if either of you liked one another. It had been torture for the team to have witnessed and everybody had refused to talk about Aran’s birthday. 

“Listen, we’re telling you all of this so you can ask her out, we want you both to be happy.” Yaku piped up as the voice of reason. 

Osamu had brought some more food before sitting beside Sakusa and delving into the conversation as well, “wait are we talking about Y/n and Iwaizumi, because you lot haven’t even heard about the time both of them conveniently came here for lunch.”

“They did what?” Komori spoke with food in his mouth, Sakusa having an evident gaze of disgust before glaring at the boy to close his mouth, Iwaizumi watched the boy chew and swallow before talking again, “you both went on a date without telling us.”

“It wasn't a date, we just happened to meet outside and decided to go have lunch on our breaks.” Iwaizumi justified taking another sip of sake, maybe it wasn't good to be drinking this much. But the continuous confrontation by his friends seemed to bring him on edge, of course he liked you, it was obvious he did. He didn't know why he had not confessed though, why he hadn’t told you straight up. You had to like him back through all the flirting, you couldn't just be stringing him along, could you?

“It most certainly was a date.” Osamu snickered, taking a bite of his own food. “God and I thought you two were already dating, why don’t you just ask her out already. ”Osamu began explaining the events of the ‘date’ until he got to when you both had to pay. 

“It was really nice to see you both again, you two make such a cute couple.” Osamu spoke, handing the receipt to you both. 

“Oh we’re not dating.” You spoke almost sadly; Osamu had noticed but Iwaizumi’s eyes had gone down instead. 

You looked between the two boys, as Osamu gave an O symbol with his mouth, “sorry, I just assumed, you both look like the couples that come in here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You questioned wanting to know what couples looked like. 

Osamu didn’t want to divulge into too much detail, but he did nonetheless, “y’know, when a couple just looks at one another like they’re the only ones in the room, like no one else matters, hell my server had to call you both twice to ask if you were ready to order. You both just seemed so happy together, with no awkwardness, love is really what I saw between the two of you.” 

You gave a chuckle to soften the awkwardness, “ugh, okay, it was nice to see you again.” You moved past the remark, were you both really like that with each other. Iwaizumi had been thinking the same, were you two really looking at each other, with love. Even then he remembered the doubts in his head, maybe you were just being overly friendly and that's how you acted with everybody. 

“What if she doesn’t actually like me? Then what? I’ll be fucking embarrassed.” Iwaizumi rubbed his eyes tiredly, the sound of slow pitters against the window as rain began to wash into the city. 

Hinata spoke up tilting his head at the man, “so what? It’s better to tell her before someone else asks her out.”

“B…” Before Iwaizumi could continue Bokuto shut him up again. 

“If you don’t go tell her how you feel right now, I’m setting her up on a blind date with Akaashi.” Bokuto was blackmailing the man as he almost laughed at how Iwaizumi’s eyes widened. 

“Why Akaashi?” Kageyama questioned. 

Bokuto shrugged, “they both look similar.” Kageyama went to see Iwaizumi, pulling his phone out which had a photo of Akaashi and him before putting the photo beside Iwaizumi’s head. 

“They really do.” Kageyama chuckled as even Ushijima had noticed the similarities, pointing them out. At the sound of the three of them, Iwaizumi felt jealous and angry, you wouldn't leave him, would you?

“What’s it going to be then?” Bokuto leaned against the table, grabbing some more onigiri as he looked at Iwaizumi. 

Iwaizumi didn’t even speak, instead grabbing his jacket and running out of the door. “Where the fuck is he going in the rain?” Suna laughed seeing how it was chucking it down and he had run without taking his car. 

“Y/n’s apartments only a couple blocks away, he’ll be fine, right?” Aran questioned Atsumu who just shrugged in reply. 

Bokuto laughed at how easily it had been to trick the boy into confessing. He knew you'd never get together with Akaashi, you had even told the spiky haired boy of your crush on their trainer. How you’d sometimes come and watch them train just to see Iwaizumi, he had to hand it to you, you were good at hiding your feelings. 

Iwaizumi felt the rain across his skin, it felt like heavy stones across his face. Water dripped onto his hair and down his skin tight shirt, he had let his jacket stay in his hands instead of wearing it. Letting it soak up the rain as well, he ran past the corner of the street knowing exactly where your apartment was. 

He had dropped you off a couple times, you’d always give him the same kiss on the cheek before leaving. You had told him the number and how to get up if he ever needed anything which seemed to relieve him knowing that he could spend the time alone thinking about what he was about to say to you. 

Rain continued to pour through the clouds, you stayed sitting in your apartment, having received the text from Bokuto asking if you wanted to come out with them for dinner but being too tired. You stayed snuggled up in the warmth of your living room, eyes skimming onto the text messages between you and Iwaizumi, he hadn’t replied to you yet. Assuming he was too preoccupied with dinner and other stuff, you continued to watch the pitter patter of the rain scorch against the glass. 

Iwaizumi rounded into the complex, going through the gate with the keycode you had told him and into the building. Rain fell onto the floor of the entrance as he looked an entire mess, he stepped into the elevator leaving a puddle in his way. One of the people who lived here looked at him up and down as they could see the tense look of a man who looked like he was able to beat the shit out of someone. 

Iwaizumi had no idea what he was going to say to you, how he was even going to explain everything. But the sound of the door clicking and the number 4 on a plaque, he felt out of breath needing some air before hesitantly walking towards the door. Water dripping onto the carpet, he looked at the door, how you were right behind it. Someone he loved was behind it. 

He knocked giving a soft tap, as he heard a coming being shouted, you hadn't expected guests but as you opened the door you were met with a wet Iwaizumi. His hair sticking in all directions from the rain and wind, his tight shirt clinging onto every muscle. Your knees felt weak at his state, how truly attractive he was to you. “Oh hey Iwaizumi, what are you doing here?” 

Iwaizumi disregarded your words and instead moved closer towards you, wet hand moving to your face. “Haj…”

He interrupted you by continuing to move his face closer, “I love you.” Is all he said, he waited to hear a reply but instead felt your lips smash against his own. Your hands moving into his damp hair as he felt pushed against you, tongue gliding into your mouth as you finally gave him the long-awaited kiss. He felt the passion and love it was filled with, the way his tongue was able to move so freely in your mouth, the moans coming from your own. 

His other hand moved to your waist to bring you closer to his own, wanting to feel every indent of you on his wet skin. He didn't care if he got ill afterwards just wanting to stay by your side instead. When you finally retracted his hand still cupping your face, he looked at you softly, “I love you.” He repeated with no hesitation, he wanted to hear those same words come from you. 

“You ran in the rain to tell me that.” You whispered, looking right into his eyes as your lips barely skimmed his own, “I love you too. 

Iwaizumi felt his arms wrap around your body; he head on the crook of your neck as he had finally gotten everything he wanted. “Come on, take a shower so you don't get sick.” You were so calm and patient hand in his hair as his arms squeezed tightly around you with love and hope for the future.

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[vintage-squid]

Threading Our Future

Summary: When up-and-coming designer Virgil Psykhe lands an interview with his favourite fashion label, he has no idea that the attention he's drawn to himself is being taken away from someone very important: the Lady of the Summer Court. Scorned and furious, she sends her son to kill the insolent human.

But when Janus lays eyes on Virgil for the first time, his breath is stolen by the fluttering of his heart and he knows he won't be able to follow through with his mother's orders.

A modern fae re-telling of the Eros and Psyche myth!

Pairing: Virgil/Janus (background Logan/Patton) Characters: Virgil, Janus, Roman, Remy, Patton, Logan, Remus  Rating: T Warnings: mild violence and blood mention, nonsexual nudity, literal sleeping together  Word count: 10 363 

----- 

Virgil Psykhe groaned as he stood from his chair, bracing both hands against the small of his back and pressing until he felt a satisfying series of pops from his hips and up his spine. He should know better by now than to spend hours on end hunched over his projects without taking proper breaks, but he honestly couldn’t help it. Once he got focused, his whole world narrowed to sketch, cut, sew, trim. It was like he was possessed by some crazy spirit who deemed his sarcastic, introverted ass worthy enough to use as a vessel for creation. At least, that’s how he described the near-frenzy he would fall into when his worried fathers questioned after his health.

Was he getting enough sleep? (No.) When was the last time he’d had something to eat? (Did the granola bar he had earlier count?) Would he be willing to drink more water if Papa cut up some citrus to add? (Actually, that wasn’t a bad idea...)

He knew their fretting came from a place of love. As the youngest of three, he was the baby of the family. Both of his older sisters had married a few years ago, now living with their husbands in a couple of larger, nearby cities. They had told their parents the distant moves were for their husband’s jobs, but Virgil knew better. His sisters had never seemed to fit with the unique … energy of their small hometown.

Virgil, however, had yet to even move out, let alone find anyone who would want to spend the rest of their life with him. Thankfully, while his dads did want him to eventually find love, they were mostly just happy to support his dreams of becoming a famous designer.

Rolling his eyes, Virgil glanced around his cluttered studio. Like he would ever actually be a big name in the fashion industry. Yeah, sure, he wanted more than anything to get his designs out there for models of all backgrounds and appearances to showcase the beauty that was in every body type, but he didn’t want his first name attached to that kind of attention. Nope. No thanks. He would much rather people enjoy his work for what it was, not just because it came from him.

Maybe a pseudonym would work? Eh, he still had time to think about it anyway. It wasn’t like he was going to be traveling far from his studio in his dads’ basement any time soon after all. Picking up his phone, Virgil glanced at the time and cursed under his breath. Shit, he was late to meet up with Remy, and he had forgotten to plug his charger in. He groaned as he shoved his phone in his pocket anyway and grabbed his wallet, headphones, and house key. That drama queen was probably going to bitch and moan about being made to wait until Virgil finally agreed to pay for his drink. Not that Virgil really minded, but he had appearances to keep up.

With one last glance around to make sure he had everything, he dashed up the stairs to head out.

-----

Jogging down the street, Virgil turned past the Spirits’ Temple, where the town’s inhabitants left offerings to the spirits of the forest on the first of every month. Tradition claimed that each month was to be dedicated to one of the twelve local spirits who held dominion over different areas of day-to-day life, and that by honouring them, the town would prosper. At the height of the monthly festivals, there would be candles lining the marble steps, fake vines and string lights wrapped around the temple’s stone columns, and a wide spread of wine and honey-sweetened foods to be served. Some of this would be up for grabs on the buffet table, but a selection was always saved to be placed in one of the twelve bronze braziers, which one depended on the month, lining the sides of the temple. Each brazier was set in front of a stone statue carved with a symbol that denoted which spirit it belonged to.

At some point during the evening, everyone in town would take a moment to approach the massive fireplace along the back wall of the temple and toss in a part of their meal with a quietly murmured prayer for luck in some strange-sounding language. To this day, Virgil wasn’t sure what exactly he was saying, but his dad had taught him the correct pronunciation, and he was too superstitious not to follow through. Besides, it wasn’t like he could look too ridiculous doing it when literally everyone else was doing the same thing.

Approaching one of the two coffee shops in town, and the only one he ever frequented, Virgil shook his head to rid himself of thoughts of weird small-town rituals. Inside, it was easy to spot Remy sitting at their usual table with his sunglasses tucked into the front of his shirt and a drink already in hand. As he slid into his side of the booth, Virgil was surprised to see his favourite order (hot chocolate with whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles, and a slice of banana bread) already waiting for him.

“I was gonna apologize for being late, but clearly I don’t have to,” he said, glancing up and narrowing his eyes. “What did you do?”

Remy threw both hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Hey now, why did I have to do something wrong in order to surprise my best friend with his favourite goodies?”

Virgil snorted and crossed his arms, giving his friend a Look.

“Fine, fine!” Remy blew out a sigh and dropped his hands onto the table. “So, maybe I did do something, and maybe you’re gonna be a little mad at me for it, but I promise it’s okay! It’s gonna pay off and you’re totally going to thank me for this one day!”

Virgil dropped his face into his hands with a groan and dug the heels of his palms against his eyelids. “Just spit it out, Remy. What the fuck did you do?”

“Remember that photoshoot we did a couple weeks back with the latest ‘famous-one-day’ designs you sewed up?” Virgil could hear the familiar sounds of Remy typing on his phone. “Well babe, you’ve been making ‘one days’ for too long! So I decided to make ‘one day’ into ‘today’! Ta-dah!”

Bracing himself, Virgil peeked out from the dark safety of his hands, blinking a few times to clear his blurry vision and focus on the phone screen wavering in front of him. Right there, staring back at him from within Remy’s well-manicured clutch, was an email addressed to Penelope with attached photos from their shoot.

“Please, please tell me you didn’t sen-”

“I sent our pics to your favourite fashion label! The one and only Penelope! Known for their breathtaking lines like ‘Faith’ and ‘Fidelity’ that reimagined what it meant to be fashionable! And the best part!” Remy paused for dramatic effect, all but wiggling in his seat. “They emailed me back! They want to do an interview with you next month on the first!”

There was a loud thud as Virgil’s head met the table. If they hadn’t been sitting in public, he definitely would have started screaming too. Instead, all that came out was a muttered, “I fucking hate you. Why would you do this to me? You know I suck at talking to people; they’re gonna hate me and then tell all of the other companies to never work with me and then I’ll definitely never make it.”

A hand settled on top of his head and began to run through his hair, gently scratching at his scalp at the same time. “Don’t be so dramatic, Virge. This is gonna be great for you, I promise. When have I ever led you astray?”

Virgil glared at his friend and opened his mouth, but Remy cut him off.

“Ahp-ahp! Rhetorical question, babes. You're going to thank me for this, I promise.”

When Virgil remained silent, the hand that had been petting his hair slid down to cup his cheek and lift his chin up.

“Hey,” his best friend murmured softly. “If you really, really don’t want to do this, I can email them back and cancel, but I think you should go for it, Virge. This could be your big break!” Remy’s thumb had begun running a soothingly back and forth over his cheek. Virgil didn’t even try to hide the way he relaxed into the comforting gesture, leaning more weight into his friend’s palm. “I’ll even come with you to the interview, okay? I’ll be right there the entire time - gotta make sure they meet your number one model after all,” he added with a playful wink.

Damn Remy and his extroverted influence. Virgil sighed and sat up fully, reluctantly pulling away from the comforting hold and silently relieved when Remy’s hand dropped to link their fingers instead. “I guess as long as you’re there too, then I won’t be the only one making a fool of myself.”

“That’s the spirit!” Remy cheered, ignoring the looks some of the other patrons shot their way at the noise.

Keeping their hands interlocked, Virgil picked up his hot chocolate and took a sip of the sweet ambrosia as he listened to his best friend ramble about his plans for their future.

-----

Somehow, the word got out. Everyone and their cousin’s dog knew about Virgil’s interview and had seen some of the photos that had been leaked. All of them wanted to get a glimpse of not only the representatives of the big fashion label (who may as well have been celebrities to the small community), but also the unobtrusive young man who had brought the attention onto their town.

Virgil clung to Remy’s hand as they approached the café where the interview was going to be taking place. It wasn’t their usual haunt, something Virgil was grateful for; if things went south, he didn’t want that memory attached to one of his favourite places. People were already gathering outside, gossiping amongst themselves or attempting to peer through the front windows. He longed to pull his hood up and hide his face, but Papa had spent all morning helping him make sure his hair and make-up (and everything else) looked interview ready. Not to mention he wasn’t even wearing his favourite hoodie to tuck himself away into.

At Remy’s insistence, he had donned one of the outfits he made last year. The top was made of a flowy material, tighter at the wrists and loose in the arms, wrapping comfortably around his chest to tie in the front above his navel. It was sewn from a high-quality plum linen with a black lace webbing over top. For the bottom, Virgil had pieced together different shades of grey and black fabrics until he had a pair of loose patchwork pants that sat at the hips and left a strip of his stomach visible. He had completed the look with a fresh pair of high-tops that tied the look together despite the discordant styles. With one last look to his best friend for reassurance, Virgil nodded and they waded through the crowd together, on their way to their future.

-----

Singing to herself, Roman stepped through the woods with all the ethereal grace granted to her by her station. As she made her way to the quaint little human town, Roman was accompanied by a pair of mourning doves. While one had alighted on her shoulder, the other fluttered about, and both were cooing in harmony with her otherworldly song.

Her body was draped in a sheer chiffon number, as blood-red as the wine she drank from each year at the celebration of her power and beauty. It was naught much more than a thin layer of fabric over one shoulder and wrapped about her shapely waist, exposing one breast and leaving little work for the imagination on the rest of her body. The finest embroidery coloured the lower hem with twisting rose vines, as if they had sprung from the ground she walked on and reached up for her attention. Her hair was left to tumble free, as wild and untamed as the waves she had been born from so long ago. The Lady of the Summer Court had arrived.

In no time at all, the temple the humans of the village had built for her and her compatriots so long ago came into view. Roman hurried her steps, eager to feast on the delightful offerings she knew would be awaiting her. She hoped one of them left pomegranate; it was her favourite. The plump fruit so easy to tear open to reveal the juicy flesh inside - and the crunchy seeds! Oh!

Grinning, Roman moved around the side of the temple, stepping between the columns to slip inside and make her way towards her ceremonial statue along the right with the other ruling gentry of the Seelie Court. However, when she got close enough to see into the massive dish, indignation began to boil in her blood. Before her, in her brazier, lay half as many offerings as were given to her in the years passed. She looked around, hoping to find something else had been set aside or misplaced, but there was nothing. Seething, she spun on her heel and stalked towards the front of the temple in search of answers.

Outside, two attendants were working to douse the remaining candles to be collected on the morrow after Roman had departed. Well, they were certainly going to be in for a surprise when they returned to find their pitiful offerings still there in the morning. Even with the great distance between them, as a fae, Roman’s sharp ears did not struggle to overhear the conversation between the two humans.

“-believe something like this could happen in our little town,” the one on the right was saying. “Especially from that quiet kid! What’d you say his name was again?”

“He’s the Psykhe’s youngest boy, Virgil.

“No kidding! Sam was telling me the kid showed up for the interview wearing this wild statement piece, like a full fashion runway. I bet his dads sure are proud. I heard half the town was outside Burnsen’s hoping to get a front-row seat. They certainly weren’t here, that’s for sure.”

“Damn shame,” the second human agreed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a turn out this small for a Spirit’s Night. I just hope it doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass.”

The pair continued their gossip as they finished with the candles and moved onto tidying some of the other nonessential decorations. Roman wasn’t interested in listening any further; she had what she needed. Turning away from the pitiful little temple those putrid humans had so desecrated on her day of honour, the Lady of the Summer Court stormed back into the forest, seething vitriol.

“How dare these humans offer this worthless boy the worship and reverence meant for me! My status is all but set in the very stars and they do nothing more than drag it through the muddy earth!” She screeched, scaring away the doves who had been lingering nearby. “So much for me, the ancient mother of this forest who feeds and fosters the very nature of this place! If nothing lusts, then nothing reproduces! Did they ever consider that before they forced me to associate my status with a mere mortal child?”

As Roman cried out, the very trees parted for her, leaning their trunks away and raising their boughs out of the path of the furious fae. She paid them little heed as she marched down a trail long familiar. “Won’t this boy, whoever he is, be glad to know he has claimed the honours that are due to me by right? Not for much longer, this I swear by my very name! He will regret this beauty to which he has no claim!”

At the climax of her tirade, Roman stopped before the ivy-woven doors of her son’s lofty domain. She would teach this Virgil what happened when you scorned the fae.

-----

Across town, still wearing the outfit and makeup from earlier, though much disheveled, Virgil ran as if his life depended on it. At this point, though, his life may as well have been over, so what was the point in struggling on? Down the street and through the park, he sprinted until he could go no further and crumbled to the ground at the top of the large hill that overlooked the fish ponds. On his hands and knees, he clutched at the damp earth and panted heavily through his heaving sobs.

It was over. Penelope didn’t want to pick him up as a designer. Sure, they liked the selection that Remy had sent them, enough to come talk to him about it, but when the representatives had taken a look through the rest of his portfolio? They hadn’t said they hated it outright, but Virgil was certain his designs were too gothic, too dark, too risky for mainstream fashion. They were going to talk with some of the higher-ups back at the designer studio, but Virgil wasn’t going to be holding his breath. He’d seen their expressions clear as day while they flipped through his work.

Collapsing forward, Virgil buried his face into the crook of his elbow and curled his knees towards his chest, sobbing even harder. He had told Remy after the interview that he needed some space, but now that he was out here alone, he wanted nothing more than a hug from his best friend. Fuck, how was he going to tell his dads about this? It would break their heart!

Virgil shook his head free of the thought; he couldn’t handle any more right now. So he lay on the ground with his cheek pressed against the cool night grass, and cried until he passed out from exhaustion.

-----

In the twilight between wakefulness and sleep, Virgil stirred when he felt a pair of arms slide under his body and hoist him up into a strong hold. His head lolled to the side until his temple dropped against a firm body. Then, a kiss was pressed to his forehead, tickling his skin with...a mustache?

“Go back to sleep, little human,” a high, scratchy-sounding voice said. “Jay doesn’t want you to see anything just yet! We don’t want to ruin the surprise, eh?”

Virgil’s face scrunched in confusion, but before he could crack his eyes open to see who was carrying him, a warm breath blew across his face and carried him off to his dreams like a gentle breeze spiraling high into the air.

-----

When Virgil woke for the second time, it was with far more peace and tranquility than he usually felt when greeting the day. His bed was extra soft and luxurious beneath the swell of his hip and he was comfortably warm, though he couldn’t feel the usual weight of his blanket. Stretching his arms far above his head, Virgil suddenly snapped his eyes open when his fingertips were greeted not with the hard wall behind his headboard, but with a damp, spongy texture instead.

Scrambled to his feet, he looked around to discover he was at the edge of a clearing, carpeted with a thick moss that his feet sank slightly into and surrounded by trees who towered so far above him their canopies seemed lost secrets of the sky. To one side a stream babbled a song, its waters bright as day and clear as glass. Breathless, he turned a slow circle, feasting on the seemingly supernatural wonders with starving eyes. The sight that greeted Virgil as he turned full around, however, could have subsisted him for a lifetime.

At the very heart of the grove, sitting in its focal point, rose what he could only describe as a palace. The trees which made up its supporting columns were an ivory birch, though much wider than any Virgil had ever seen, with leaves seemingly grown from pure gold that glittered in the dappled sunlight they let through. Framed by these otherworldly goliaths, ivy vines had been woven together to form a grand door which opened of its own accord and bid Virgil to enter. Under a spell spun from his own awe and curiosity (and probably some of whatever magic this place had to be made of), Virgil strode forward.

Inside, the palace seemed to emulate its own light, reflecting off the vaulted ceiling and highlighting the polished stone walls decorated with endless silver reliefs of animals real and imagined. Virgil trailed his fingertips along the slithering spine of a snake as he passed, admiring the lifelike detail in each scale, but before he could venture much further, a voice spoke.

“Welcome.”

Virgil jumped, spinning around to search for the source of the voice, but no one was there. When they spoke again, it sounded like they were right over his shoulder.

“You have been invited into the home of the fae as a guest of honour, Virgil.” The man in question felt a strange twinge in his chest hearing his name from the voice. “If you follow the doors to your left, you will find a dining hall in which you may eat your fill; the foods are from your home world and you need not fear consuming them. To your right lay the bathing and bed chambers. Please, make yourself at home. You are safe here, my darling.”

“Who are you? How do you know my name?” Virgil called out into the empty room.

There was a small pause before the voice replied. “You may call me Janus for the time being. It matters not how I know your name, but you need not worry that I will give it to anyone else.”

“Not creepy at all,” Virgil murmured before raising his voice once more. “Where are you? Why can’t I see you?”

“Ahh, my darling, take care with your curiosity before it gets you into trouble. Fret not, I am here with you, though you cannot see me. I know it is hard, but you must trust in me, my love. I shall visit you this evening after the light of day has given way to the dark of night. So long as you promise not to look upon my face and let me remain shrouded in shadows, then I shall answer more of your questions then.”

“What? I’m supposed to trust you, but I’m not allowed to look at your face? What the fuck, dude?”

“I understand this may be a cause for alarm, but you must understand my perspective, dear one. If you were to gaze upon me uninhibited, I fear you would not fall in love with me in a manner which would be best for us both. Promise to me, Virgil.”

“Okay, okay, I promise. Why is this so important to you anyway?”

“Thank you. I wish to form a genuine bond with you, beloved, and I cannot do that if you are influenced by my appearance. That is not how I desire to court my future husband.”

“Husband? What do you mean future husband!?”

Virgil stood in place, waiting for any further response from the invisible person, but it seemed his host had vanished into the very air he spoke from. Blowing out a heavy sigh, Virgil looked from left to right and decided the faint grumbling in his abdomen was something he could ignore for the time being; he probably wouldn’t be able to stomach anything right now anyway. So, he made his way towards the baths, hoping a splash of cool water could wake him from this crazy dream.

Unfortunately, even after dunking his head under the cool water, Virgil was still stuck in the extravagant palace with an invisible host. He braced his hands on the sides of the stone bowl carved from the wall, staring blankly at the trickling waterfall that fed into the dish he had rinsed in. How the fuck did he get into this mess? The voice had mentioned something about this place belonging to the fae? What the fuck? There’s no way any of this could be real. Well, that Janus had said he would answer Virgil’s questions tonight, so there seemed little more he could do than wait.

The bedroom he had been given was grand, far larger than even his entire basement suite back home, and all of its drapings were more luxurious than Virgil had ever seen. He ran his fingers down the curtains that hung from the bedposts, marvelling at the quality and the depth of the colour. What he wouldn’t give to be able to create with fabrics of this pedigree. He fiddled with the tie of his shirt around his middle and settled onto one of the plush armchairs by the window. Now, to wait.

-----

Hours later, Virgil was startled awake from a light doze by the sound of footsteps approaching his door. He scrambled to his feet, keeping one hand braced on a bedpost to orient himself as he squinted through the darkness. It was so dark he couldn’t even make out the vague outlines of the furniture around the room.

The door opened.

Virgil tensed, gripping the bedpost tighter and raising his other arm in front of him defensively. From what he could see, backlit from the hall, the figure entering the room was about his height, maybe a little taller. It was difficult to make out in the dark, but the shadow he cast onto the floor seemed to be larger than his body mass would produce. The door closed, leaving the two of them alone in the dark.

“Janus?” Virgil asked nervously, hoping there wasn’t anyone else in the palace who would be coming into his room this late at night.

“Breathe, Virgil, it is only me.”

It was as if a spell of calm soothed over him, easing the tension from around his neck and within his chest. Virgil took a deep, relieving breath. Janus hadn’t come any further into the room, seemingly content to linger by the door.

“Um… hi?” Virgil winced at how awkward he sounded, but continued on regardless. “You said you would answer more of my questions, right?”

“That is correct, beloved. I will tell you as much as I am able to at this time.” There was the sound of shuffling in the dark. “May I join you on the bed? I think we will both be much more comfortable being seated for this conversation.”

Virgil bit his lip, looking between the bed and Janus despite not being able to see either. Eventually, he nodded, and then blushed when he realized what he’d done.

“Yeah… yeah, you can come sit over here, I guess.”

“Thank you, my darling.”

When the pair had gotten settled, Janus was seated at the foot of the bed, leaning up against the bedpost and seemingly unbothered by the strange situation. Virgil, on the other hand, had his back pressed against the headboard with his knees hugged to his chest. His feet were buried in the blankets and he was absently scrunching the soft material under his toes in a comforting, rhythmic motion. It was Janus who broke the silence first.

“What would you ask of me first, dearest?”

Virgil blew out a sigh. “Why did you bring me here? What are you going to do with me? Am I ever going to be allowed to go home? Will you-”

"Sh sh sh,” Janus crooned, “One at a time, beloved, all will be answered. In short, I do not know when you will be able to return to your home, or if you ever will, but it is for your own good!” Janus hurriedly added before Virgil could panic. “You see, there is someone very powerful who is very angry with you. Intentionally or not, you have caused her a great disrespect, and she will not rest until her dues have been met.”

“How do you know all of this?”

Janus sighed. “Because she is my mother, and she sent me to kill you.”

“What!?” Virgil screeched, throwing himself off the bed and slamming against the nearby wall. His nails scrabbled at the stone, desperate to clutch, claw, escape. No, no, no, he didn’t want to die! He snapped his head back and forth, searching for any sort of way out, but he was blinded by shadows and fear. A sharp cry escaped him when a hand suddenly wrapped around one of his own and he whimpered as it squeezed, expecting pain. Instead, a gentle crooning cut through the ringing in his ears.

“Breathe, Virgil, you are not in danger. You must calm down and listen.”

Janus’ voice was surprisingly tender for how powerfully it could be heard through Virgil’s panic. He was able to focus on it like a tether to pull himself into a more relaxed state of mind. At some point, he had begun to time his breathing with Janus’ as well, steady and even to a count known only to the fae holding him. When Virgil had relaxed enough to come back to himself, he tensed all over again, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“How can you say I’m safe, when you’re gonna kill me?”

“Because I have no intentions of killing you,” Janus replied, now cradling both of Virgil’s hands to his chest. Even this close, the darkness was so impenetrably thick that Virgil had no hope of glimpsing his face. He kept his eyes averted regardless. “I brought you here to remove you from my mother’s gaze and conceal you from her misplaced wrath.”

Virgil was silent, processing, as Janus gently tugged on his hands and guided him back onto the bed. There, the fae leaned against the headboard with his legs stretched out in front of him and carefully pulled Virgil to recline on his chest. Virgil resisted for only a moment before complying. Everything else about this was already way out of his depth to manage, he may as well allow himself to be comfortable wherever he could. Janus was either going to kill him or leave him alive, and there likely wasn’t anything Virgil could do to sway that decision at this point. So, Virgil settled himself against Janus’ chest with his body laying between Janus’ legs and stretching out until their legs tangled together. He was grateful now for the dark that hid a probably searing blush as his cheek pressed flush against the fae’s warm skin; Janus wasn’t wearing a shirt and his nude torso was warm to cuddle against.

“Now,” Janus murmured, shifting Virgil’s focus from his embarrassment to the situation at hand. His fingers ran over Virgil’s scalp and through his hair, carefully brushing out any tangles and soothing in the same motion. “If you will let me continue, I was going to say my mother had ordered for you to be killed, however, I do not agree with her decision. She is acting rashly over a slight you did not directly commit.”

“What did I even do to piss her off so bad?” Virgil murmured from where his face was tucked against Janus’ collar, resting more of his weight closer with each breath.

“I do not know the exact details, only that you were the cause for drawing her worshippers away from the temple on her day of adulation. The fae do not take kindly to being stolen from, especially not my mother.”

“The interview,” Virgil breathed in horror. Pushing himself upright, he clutched at Janus’ arm. “I swear, I didn’t mean for everyone to skip out on the Spirit’s Festival! If it had been up to me, none of them would have even been at the cafe! I didn’t want them there, you have to believe me!”

“Calm yourself, beloved. I believe that you did not intentionally act to anger her. However, you must understand that even a perceived slight is considered very real and serious to the fae. That is why you must remain here under my protection, until my mother’s ire cools or I can convince her to redirect her anger.”

As Janus fell silent, Virgil curled in again and pondered what he had been told, trying to remember anything he could about the fae. It wasn’t like there was one consistent guidebook he could follow, but some of the stories the older people used to tell his grade school classes at the library were starting to make a little more sense now. He had been told the forest couldn’t lie, so maybe that meant the fae were bound by the truth? A stretch, sure, but weren’t all myths rooted somehow in reality? They were also regularly told that the spirits of the forest loved beauty, especially in the form of attractive people, and could bestow gifts on those they enjoyed looking upon. Virgil had always felt so disheartened hearing that. He wasn’t anything special, just a plain-looking boy, so the forest would never favour him.

Why then had Janus?

“So,” Virgil broke into the quiet, “you supposedly brought me here to protect me from your mother, but that doesn’t explain why you called me your future husband earlier.”

Janus hummed. “When I set out to observe the human who had offended my mother, I was prepared to be faced with a disgusting example of your kind. What I found instead was the most beautiful face I had ever laid eyes on.” Virgil gasped when the hand that had been in his hair slipped down to cup his cheek and tilt his chin up. He felt a pair of lips brush so lightly against his forehead that he thought he imagined it. “You were sobbing so hard for a deeply rooted pain. I found myself desiring nothing more than to stop your tears and see how much your already breathtaking countenance would shine when lit by a smile.”

“I - you -”

Virgil was sure that he had been kissed before, because now he felt those lips curl into a smile.

“Is it so hard to believe you are so attractive?”

“Well, yeah,” Virgil huffed, his eyes closed as he leaned into Janus’ palm. “It’s not like I heard it all that often.”

“Mmm, I shall have to change that, then,” Janus whispered, resting his cheek on Virgil’s head, cradling him close once more. “Do you have any more questions, beloved? If not, it is time for you to rest, you’ve had a long day.”

The gentle petting and warm embrace were taking their toll on Virgil’s exhausted mind. He let himself rest heavily on Janus, nuzzling his face into the crook of his neck and wrapping an arm around the fae’s chest. “Jus’ one,” he murmured, voice already dipping into that sleepy slur. “Wanna make sure m’dads know ‘m safe…”

“I’ll see what I can do, my love. Rest now, Virgil.”

Like a spell had been cast over him, Virgil drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

-----

When Virgil had awoken, he was alone in the massive bed. He was surprised to feel a twinge of disappointment in his chest, having hoped Janus would stay despite the fae not wanting to show his face. Sighing, he slid out of bed and got himself ready for the day, slipping into some comfortable clothes he found in a set of drawers. When he came down for breakfast, his host’s invisible voice greeted him and informed him that his dads had been told of the situation and were relieved Virgil was alive and relatively safe.

The next few days played out much the same. Virgil was left to his own devices during the day, waited on by some sort of invisible staff as he explored the palace. He never saw another soul, but whenever he needed something, he learned to simply call out for it and it would be delivered to him by magic.

Each night, Janus would arrive in his bedroom once the sun had disappeared. He never asked for more than Virgil was willing to give, but Virgil found himself cuddled close every night without fail. They would speak for hours - about Virgil’s dreams, his dads, and Remy - nothing was too simple for Janus to inquire about. The fae was fascinated by every aspect of human life, and Virgil enjoyed discovering a sense of romantic joy over the little things he had experienced. There was something about Janus that soothed away the ever-present worries that were always yelling inside Virgil’s head.

There was one worry that couldn’t be silenced, however. No matter how much Virgil was coming to trust his protector, he could not ignore the fact that he had no idea what Janus even looked like. It was eating away at him not to know, and the longer he sat alone, the Janus in his head looked more and more like a monster waiting to prey upon him. This couldn’t go on. He had to know.

-----

During the day before he was going to enact his plan, Virgil spent his time in the massive library he had discovered on the second day, scanning the shelves and making a show of selecting a couple books. He made himself comfortable in one of the oversized cushions piled near the floor-to-ceiling window and pretended to read. Between absently scanning the pages, Virgil looked up and glanced around the room, as if his mind were wandering with the tale he was apparently focused on. In reality, he was scouring the room for ideas.

Countless candles were lit around the library, their wax melting at different stages, some newly pooling while others formed thick layers around the base of the candelabras. They were lit now, but there was no way for him to have an already burning flame in the bedroom when Janus arrived for the night. He would have to find some way to light one on his own. Maybe he could just -

“Excuse me?” He called into the air. “Could I please have more candles, and some matches for them? I want to go read in my room, but, um, the smell is really nice in here.”

Like always, the items he requested popped into existence on a low table nearby: three candles and a pair of matches. Huh, he hadn’t actually thought that was going to work.

“Thank you!”

Hugging both books to his chest, Virgil collected his new tools and jogged up to his room. There, he placed the candles onto the small table between the armchairs and lit them with a match. The second match, he carefully tucked inside the front knot of his shirt, pressing against his breast. Now prepared, he settled in to actually focus on the novel he had picked up. There was nothing but time to kill.

-----

By the time Janus arrived, Virgil had already blown out the candles and crawled into bed. He cuddled in as soon as Janus had laid down, laying his head on the fae’s chest and trying to keep his breathing steady as they fell into their usually nighttime conversation. Janus’ claws delicately traced the bumps of his spine the entire time they spoke.

Once Virgil was sure Janus had fallen asleep, he began the slow process of extracting himself from the fae’s embrace. Janus really was a cuddler, and loved to hold Virgil close while they slept, but thankfully he was also quite a deep sleeper. Virgil was able to carefully pull himself away and tuck a pillow into Janus’ arms. The fae squished it to his chest and curled onto his side, none the wiser.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Virgil went to work. He grabbed one of the candles and fished the match out from under his shirt, striking it against the table to light it. One hand held onto the base of the candle, while the other carefully cupped around the flame, protecting it as Virgil walked around to the other side of the bed where Janus lay. With a deep breath to steady himself, he pulled his hand away and gasped at the sight in front of him.

Janus never wore a shirt, which meant Virgil’s hands had felt the broad expanse of his naked back every night they had slept together. That didn’t explain why there were now a pair of gorgeous, tawny wings sprouting from between Janus’ shoulder blades. The feathers looked softer than anything Virgil could imagine and shined like spun gold in the candlelight. Virgil ached to caress the speckled feathers, to scrunch his fingers in the fluffy down near the wings’ base, but as he reached out, Janus rolled over and Virgil’s breath was punched from his lungs. The face of his protector was carved by the gods. Janus’ skin was a rich, dark brown, reflecting the candle light to accent his strong jaw and sharp cheekbones. Virgil could only imagine what colour his eyes could be behind his lids, framed by perfectly shaped brows and a shapely nose. Oh! Those lips! So plump and full! What would they feel like pressed against his own?

Enraptured, Virgil tried to get a better look, but as he leaned forward, some of the melted wax from the candle spilled over and landed on Janus’ cheek. The fae yelped, startling awake and clutching at his face as he threw himself upright. Virgil jumped back in shock, falling on his ass while somehow keeping the candle lit. The clatter drew Janus’ attention and his head snapped to the side to look at Virgil, who saw the moment Janus’ eyes widened with understanding and heartbreaking betrayal.

“You promised!” Janus hissed. “You promised me you wouldn’t look! Does your word mean so little to you!?”

“N-No - I, I just, I wanted-”

“What!? What was so important that you had to break your promise?”

“I wanted to, to make sure you weren’t some sort of … monster … who had kidnapped me to… to eat me,” Virgil muttered, suddenly feeling incredibly foolish. Why did he have to give in to his anxieties so easily? The next moment, his heart crumpled with Janus’ expression.

“Get out.”

“Wait, what?”

“I said. Get. Out.” Janus growled, spreading his wings high above his head as he leaned over the edge of the bed. “Get out of my sight, and out of my home! If you cannot hold to one simple promise, then I will not protect you! You can deal with my mother’s wrath on your own!”

About to protest, Virgil cried out in fear as Janus slashed out him, narrowly missing his face with those lethal claws. He didn’t waste any more time, dropping the candle and scrambling to his feet to run out of the bedroom. The empty halls echoed with his laboured breathing and the slap of his bare feet against the tiled floor as he sprinted through the palace and out the ivy-woven doors. The moment he was out, the doors slammed shut behind him.

Panting heavily, Virgil bent over with his hands on his knees, his entire body trembling from fear and exertion. He dropped to the ground and clutched his head in both hands, curling smaller and crying as silently as he could muster. It was a long time before his breathing evened out and he was able to drag himself back to his feet.

A glance around the clearing revealed what he had known upon his first arrival: he had no idea where in the forest he was, or which way led back home. So, he did the only thing he could and picked a direction to start walking. Through the night he stumbled over roots and around tangled shrubs, not stopping until he finally tripped over his own exhausted feet and fell into the shockingly cold waters of a stream. He spluttered and gasped, miserably dragging himself back up the bank. The sun was rising overhead, the forest waking up around him; he didn’t have the time to huddle here in a ball feeling sorry for himself.

-----

As the day progressed, Virgil noticed the trees beginning to thin and the gaps between the trunks growing wider. Suddenly, the canopy overhead parted to reveal a mountain, vast and tall, that should have been visible long before this moment. Placed at irregular intervals up the cliffside were six palaces woven of different plants woven together with even more grandeur than Janus’ home. Over the edge of the mountain, the tips and edges of presumably more palaces - these ones sculpted and shaped from various stones - were visible against the pale sky.

Virgil squinted, trying to get a better look at the strangely familiar shapes carved into the rock face near each palace. He gasped. The symbols matched those carved into the statues above the bronze dishes in the Spirit’s Temple, more specifically, the dishes meant for the spirits honoured in the spring and summer. That would mean - there! On the left! Beneath a palace of myrtle trees and rose vines, was the symbol belonging to the seventh spirit. That had to be the home of Janus’ mother, the spirit - or fae, rather - who was supposed to have been honoured at the start of this month.

Biting his lip, Virgil looked back the way he came then up at the palace once more. If what Janus said was true, and he wasn’t going to be offering protection anymore, then Virgil would have to face her on his own. It was either that, or cowering away until she tracked him down and killed him. Also not a desirable option, but Virgil would rather have some form of control over the end of his life. Beginning to climb, he just wished he would have been able to say goodbye to his dads first.

While there were worn deer trails to follow, the journey was not an easy one. Virgil had to cling to the rocks, heaving himself ever upwards, trying not to slice his bare feet or palms on the uneven shale. The summer sun climbed alongside him, growing hotter and hotter, sapping his energy and strength. Still, he pushed on until he stood before the lush gates shaking with exhaustion and dizzy from the heat.

Before he could gather his wits, the thorny vines that sealed the palace from the outside world began to withdraw. Where they parted, massive sanguine roses bloomed, as if to cushion a passerby from the sharp thorns. From within the depths of the palace strode out a figure so radiant and commanding, Virgil immediately felt subservient to her will. He quickly looked away, cheeks hot, as both of her breasts were exposed and only a lightweight wrap covered her lower body. His body recoiled when her piercing laugh broke the silence.

“Finally! The wretched beast comes crawling to its master, the Lady of the Summer Court. Had enough of playing at royalty, have you? Look at me when I’m talking to you, Virgil!”

Virgil immediately snapped his head back towards her, paling when his eyes met with her seething ire, but unable to drop his gaze any lower. He gripped the sides of his pants with white knuckles. “I - I’m so, so sorry! I n-never meant-”

“Look at this!” The fae cut in, causing Virgil to flinch again. “The pathetic mortal trying to inspire pity from me with your anxiety and melancholy! I will not be made a fool and relegated to some cheap handmaiden!”

With a shriek of rage, the Lady of Summer darted forward faster than Virgil’s eyes could track. The next moment, he was sprawled on the ground, ears ringing. He brought a shaky hand up to his stinging cheek and felt his stomach drop when his fingertips came away bloody. Rolling onto his back, he choked. The Lady was looming over him, one of her hands dripping with his blood as she pinned him down with a foot on his chest.

“It seems only fair to me, mortal, that I give you some chance to win back my good graces. Therefore, you shall complete a task for me, or else I will take your life as compensation for your disrespect.” The Lady of Summer announced with a wave of her hand. Virgil looked to the side, wincing as the cuts in his cheek dug into the gravel, and watched in surprise as a pile of mixed grains appeared nearby.

“You will sort this mass and disarray of seeds - wheat, barley, millet, poppy, chickpea, and lentil - into individual piles. I will know if a single grain lays with the wrong group. You have until this evening.” With that, the Lady of Summer kicked off his ribs and spun her skirts, vanishing into thin air with a flourish and leaving only the heady scent of roses as a sign of her presence.

Virgil lay on the ground in silence for a long time after she disappeared, barely daring to breathe. When he was finally able to bring himself to move, he slowly rolled onto his hands and knees, hissing at the pain in his ribs - definitely bruised. Crawling over to the pile of seeds, he reached a hand out but hesitated before he could touch the tiny grains. How the fuck was he supposed to sort these? He could hardly begin to tell them apart! Sitting back on his ass, Virgil dropped his face into his hands and burst into tears.

Then, he heard a high-pitched giggle.

Flitting to-and-fro above him were four - five - eight, no - seven? Seven little pixies were spinning, twirling, dancing through the air above him. Their bright, insect-like wings caught the sunlight and sent out flashes of colour like a rainbow in motion. One-by-one they drifted to the ground, settling in a half circle in front of Virgil and his miserable collection of seeds. They stood only several inches tall and were dressed in leaves and petals. A pair stepped forward in front of the rest; they were holding hands.

“Hello, hello!” The one on the right chirped, waving up with his free hand. He had gorgeous light blue butterfly wings that fluttered when he spoke. “We heard you crying and came to see, to see! What happened here, here?”

Virgil sniffled, wiping away his tears and snot on his sleeve. “Well, um,” he hiccupped and took a deep breath. “It’s the Lady of the Summer Court. She wants me to sort all of these seeds by type before tonight, but I have no idea how I’m going to do that so she’s definitely going to kill me!” He slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle a sob, tears running down his face.

“Easy now,” a new voice murmured as two little hands pressed against his knee. Virgil blinked his eyes open to see the second pixie - this one with veiny wings like a beetle’s - rubbing his leg soothingly. “You need to take slow, deep breaths to calm yourself.”

Virgil nodded and attempted to follow suit, counting to four on each inhale and exhale until the tears had slowed and he was able to relax somewhat to continue the conversation. “Th-thank you, um, what are your names?”

“You can call me Pat, Pat!” The first pixie announced twirling himself up into the air and drifting back down again.

“Ah, so you are quite new around here,” the second pixie mused, keeping his hands on Virgil’s leg. “You may call me Lo. Names have great power to the fae and it is imperative that you do not give yours away lightly, else someone may have complete control over your will.”

“But the Lady of the Summer Court already knows my name, and so did Jan- her son.”

“At any point did you give it to them, though?”

Virgil thought back over the last few weeks. “No… no, they both just, sorta, knew it somehow. Oh, uh, I guess you can call me Vee, then?”

Lo nodded. “Then it is likely they only heard your name somewhere, but they do not own it. Do you understand? They can exert some measure of power over you, but they cannot remove your free will entirely. Now then. Why is it the Lady wants you dead?” The pixie offered a small smile, nodding his head as Virgil explained how he got into this situation, that he knew Janus (though he referred to him as Jay), and why he wasn’t with the other fae anymore. When he finished, it was Pat who puffed up angrily.

“The Lady has gone too far, too far! You didn’t mean to make those people leave, leave! And it sounds like you didn’t actually make a binding promise, so Jay is acting a bit silly, bit silly. So, we’re gonna help you sort these seeds, and get everything cleared up, up!”

Logan nodded in agreement. “Indeed. Pat, you stay here with the others to aid Vee. I am going to go have a word with our feathered friend.” With that, Lo leaned in, kissed Pat’s cheek, and flew off down the mountainside.

Virgil watched the glint of Lo’s wings until he was out of sight, then turned back to the remaining pixies to watch as their quick, tiny hands got to work on the grains. “So… how do you know Jay?

Pat grinned widely up at him. “Jay is one of the Princes of Spring, Spring!” He works with love magic, and helped Lo and I get together decades ago in exchange for our help weaving that pretty gate in front of his palace, his palace!”

While they continued to converse, the pixies worked away at the seeds to form six unique piles, sorted from darkest to lightest. Before long, the entire jumbled mass had been reorganized without a single seed out of place. Once their job was complete, the five other pixies twittered their goodbyes and flew off up the mountain. Only Pat remained, sitting on his knee and chattering away as the sun set. Virgil shivered as a chill breeze licked at his exposed skin.

A sudden snap rent the night air, spooking Virgil, who lurched forward to cradle Pat in his hands protectively. Looking over his shoulder, he felt like vomiting when he saw the Lady of Summer standing over the grain piles with her arms crossed. He internally thanked any of the spirits who may be on his side that her chest was covered this time.

“This is not your work,” she hissed. “These were not organized by your hand, but by his!” She pointed an accusing finger at Pat, who had been peeking around Virgil’s arm but quickly hid back against his chest at the attention. “How dare you attempt to deceive me, you cretin!”

With a wordless shriek, the Lady lashed out with her vicious claws, aiming for the unmarked side of Virgil’s face. He scrambled back on his hands and heels, his ass dragging on the ground while Pat clung to the front of his shirt. Before she could take a second swipe, however, the dust and grit kicked up around them, obscuring their vision.

With his eyes covered, Virgil could only hear the flapping of large wings that cut off before there was the thud of a body dropping in front of him. Opening his eyes, he gasped. There, with his back to Virgil, stood Janus, with his great wings spread wide and his claws flexed at his sides. Lo, who had been holding onto the fae’s shoulder, now zipped down to the pair on the ground, holding Pat close and ensuring he was unharmed while the pixies huddled together on Virgil’s lap.

“You will not lay another hand on him,” Janus hissed, standing over Virgil protectively. Virgil felt Pat grip his thumb, but he couldn’t look away from the pair above them.

“What are you doing? Get out of the way, my son.”

“No. You wanted your revenge on him, and you got it. Look at him; he’s terrified, injured, and exhausted. The original disrespect against you was not even intentionally caused by him; it was the doing of numerous others. I do not fault you for your affront, but you are carrying on like a tantruming toddler!”

The Lady of Summer took a step back and clutched at her bosom. “You dare to speak to me like that?”

“I do, and so does the rest of the Seelie Court.” Virgil watched as Janus rolled his shoulders back and stood straighter. The Prince of Spring then reached into a bag tied at his hip and pulled out some sort of wooden charm dangling from a hemp rope. At the sight of it the Lady of Summer gasped and covered her mouth. “I have spoken before the Queen and her retinue, and she has decreed you will leave this mortal alone. In exchange, he will return to his town and gather a proper celebration for you by the end of this month.”

Virgil held his breath, not daring to twitch a muscle as he awaited his fate. The Lady of Summer let nothing show in her expression, but the hard lines of her face had softened attractively as Janus spoke. She shifted, looking over Janus shoulder and directly at Virgil. “You. You will do as this deal demands?”

Nodding rapidly, Virgil held up his hand in oath. “I will, I promise. I’ll go back home and speak with the curator of the Spirit’s Temple. We’ll host another festival and you’ll get the offerings you were supposed to be given at the start of the month.”

As if a switch had been flipped, the Lady of the Summer Court beamed a smile and grasped her hands over her heart. “Well then! That wasn’t so hard, was it! My dear, smart son, finding a way to set things right. I’m so proud of you, my little songbird.” Looking at her son, she cooed and cupped Janus’ cheek to tilt him up to kiss his forehead, smiling at his grumbling. “I won’t linger much longer, don’t you worry. I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of my future son-in-law after all! I’ll see you soon, Virgil, dear,” she called, a cool edge to her voice for a moment before she smiled brightly once more and waggled her fingers. With a dramatic wave of her hands, the Lady of Summer vanished once more.

A quiet settled over the remaining quartet, broken by a tinny clearing of a throat. Lo stood in Virgil’s lap, tugging Pat up next to him. “I believe it is time for us to depart as well. I am relieved we were able to arrive in time to prevent any harm coming to you, Vee.” The pixie looked from Janus to Virgil and smiled. “Let us know when you are in the woods, we would enjoy visiting under more ideal circumstances. Farewell, for now.”

“Goodbye, Vee, Vee!”

In a flash, the pair of pixies flew off into the night, their hands held tight together. They flew loops and circles over the others before darting off in the direction the other pixies had traveled hours ago.

On the ground, Janus helped Virgil to his feet. He cooed in sympathy, tenderly touching the tips of his fingers beneath the angry red cuts on Virgil’s cheek. “I am so sorry for what she has done to you, darling. And I am even more sorry that my own actions drove you from the safety of my side. I was meant to protect you from unearned rage, but instead I subjected you to further punishment and drove you towards your would-be killer. If I hadn’t gotten here in time-” Janus exhaled heavily, his wings sagging behind him. “I am so sorry, Virgil.”

“I mean, I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because none of this has been okay, but, I guess I can understand where you were coming from. If I were as attractive as you, I’d also be worried about people taking advantage of me.” Virgil blushed and dragged his big toe through the dirt. “So, yeah, I forgive you, or whatever.” He looked up with a fire in his eyes and jabbed his finger into the center of Janus’ chest. “But don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?”

Janus hands cupped around his own, cradling it close. “I swear, to the end of my days, I will treat you with the dignity and respect you deserve, my dearest.”

Despite the tenderness of the gesture, Virgil was unmoved. “I mean it, Janus. If you want us to work out, then I can’t be afraid that you’re going to banish me from your home every time you get upset. It’s not a relationship if you’re going to treat me like I’m disposable. I’m worth more than that. If you want more reassurance, or something, on my promises, then we can work something out, but what you put me through was terrifying, and I can’t go through it again. I won’t.”

Janus sighed, holding Virgil’s hands up to his lips and resting there a moment before slowly gathering Virgil into his arms. His embrace was loose enough to break, if Virgil wanted. “I understand, darling, and I will never be able to apologize enough for what I have done. However, it is not my words you want, but my actions, and I will do whatever you desire of me in order to make it up to you.” He cupped Virgil’s uninjured cheek. “I want us to work, too.”

There was a long pause as Virgil searched Janus’ golden eyes for any signs of deception. When he found only an earnest honesty, Virgil allowed himself to be held closer. He wasn’t sure which of them moved next, but they came together as one, lips pressing softly at first before quickly gaining heat. Then he was spun and dipped down, laughing hard as he clung to Janus’ shoulders, the fae’s wings held aloft to keep them balanced.

Maybe ‘future husband’ didn’t sound so bad after all.