#seriously this thing is longer than a novel and i thought i could finish it on a whim in the middle of the night?

[imawholeassmood]

Read Between the Lines

read it on ao3

Lena reads the review, rubs her temples a few times, then reads it again. There is no way Super_Girl has rated this book five stars and then wrote multiple paragraphs waxing poetic about how fantastic it was. Lena already submitted her own one-star review which included her breakdown of the writing, the characters, and the plot, of which this book had none.

For months, Lena has been seeing Super_Girl reviews pop up on the same books Lena recently finished. She wondered at this point if Super_Girl might be doing this on purpose – reading the same books just so she could rate the book the opposite of whatever Lena did. At first, it was simple - “Loved it!” or “Couldn’t get into this one,” but as of late, the reviews had gotten longer and more descriptive.

Lena herself always used the same formula for reviewing books: overall star rating with a breakdown of her thoughts on the characters, the plot, and the writing. Books, like most things in life, are easy to rate when you understand the evaluation system. Books follow formulas and rules for a reason – it’s what makes them good. A romance novel, for instance, requires a “happily ever after.” Without it, it cannot be considered a romance, and it certainly wouldn’t be a good one.

So, as Lena reads the latest review by Super_Girl, Lena can’t help but leave a comment. Maybe this person simply needs an education on the book rating system.

“What criteria do you use when rating a book?”

It’s a good starting place for this conversation. Lena has amassed quite the following with people interested in her book reviews and the last thing she wants to do is stir up internet drama to damage her good reputation. She knows how easy it is for people to take something out of context.

The reply comes almost immediately.

“Vibes!”

Lena blinks a few times, then closes the browser and leaves her laptop for the night.

**

Super_Girl does it again with another five-star rating for a book that made Lena seriously consider contacting the literary award agencies to complain about their selection. The book sounded like it was AI generated and had zero plot. And the characters? Don’t even get her started.

“How can you consider this a masterpiece?” she writes under the review. “There is zero substance in this book. It’s just a bunch of flowery words that mean nothing and make no sense. If this is your idea of romance, then I’d hate to be your girlfriend.”

Her phone rings and Lena spends the next hour talking with her assistant, Jess, about the priorities for the week and when they can finalize some presentations. Later, as she lays in bed scrolling on her phone, Lena thinks to check her goodreads account. There, under her latest comment, is a reply from Super_Girl.

“Amidst the turmoil of the crumbling world around them, two people take the time to write love letters to each other. What’s more romantic than that?

I want to meet you in every place I have loved.

I want to be in contact with you.

Swoon.”

Speaking of taking things out of context.

While Lena can see Super_Girl’s point, that’s not enough to change her mind about the book. Especially not in the context of it being a sci-fi fantasy that relegated war to a backdrop in much the same way Hollywood did with Pearl Harbor. Don’t get her started. She types out a response before closing the webpage and going to sleep.

“Relationships develop over time. Even if I agreed with your assessment, this book still lacked any real narrative and there’s zero reason to believe these two people would fall in love. They don’t know anything about each other except that they can write a decent letter.”

**

Oh, no, Lena thinks. Her latest read has her questioning her entire belief system about books. She liked the book. Not because it had a great plot. Not because she was rooting for the characters. She liked the book because…it gave her good vibes. She genuinely had a good time reading it, despite it being a complete shitshow. This never happened to her before.

She opens her goodreads page to leave her review and finds that Super_Girl hasn’t read this one yet. She feels the slightest pang of disappointment but pushes through to her review. At the end of her standard format, she adds a new category: vibes.

It takes a few days, and Lena finds herself checking her account every few hours. She’s sitting at her desk and scrolling on her phone when she gets a notification that Super_Girl commented on her review.

“Vibes?!?! I’m SUPER proud of you! And we agree the characters were awful and the plot was weak, but it was well-written.”

She doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Jess comments about it.

“Oh, nothing,” she says and waves her hand. “Just a literary rival.”

Jess looks at her. “You’re smiling because of…a rival?”

Is that what they were? The word didn’t really feel like a good fit, but Lena goes with it.

“Agreed with me on a point. Can we please stay focused?”

And they do. Lena and Jess go over the latest reports and prepare for an upcoming meeting with one of their international partners. Lena doesn’t think about Super_Girl again until she’s lying in bed and that damn smile creeps backs onto her face.

**

Her next review is not a good one. It makes Lena question the romance genre as a whole. Has the world become so used to being treated like garbage, people can’t even tell the difference between healthy and toxic love?

She’s barely hit submit when Super_Girl comments on her review.

“They were flirting the whole time!”

Lena is still sour enough she doesn’t bother to hold back on her response.

“Flirting where? Being in each other’s orbit is not flirting. Why can’t people just say, ‘I like you and I’d like to go on a date with you?’ instead of whatever BS was happening in this book. Honestly, I’m worried for your love life if you think this is a healthy way to approach communication.”

Super_Girl goes silent for a long while after that.

Lena worries something may have happened and questions whether she should reach out. They haven’t gone this long without a reciprocal review since they started this little dance of theirs almost a year ago. She finds herself rereading their reviews and wondering about who Super_Girl might be behind the screen name. There’s no profile photo, no personal information at all. Just a single word.

Golly.

Lena smiles at that. In fact, she smiles at everything Super_Girl has written. While they may not agree on books, Lena can’t deny that whoever is behind the reviews is a wordsmith who comes across as the sweetest human on the planet.

It surprises her when she receives a notification that she has been selected to read a new release ahead of publication in exchange for an honest review. Lena doesn’t usually agree because she doesn’t want to give people any reason to think her reviews are biased or influenced in any way. She’s about to deny the request, but the cover art depicts two women, one blonde, the other brunette, and Lena never turns down a sapphic story. She accepts the request without another thought.

**

When Lena finishes The Write Stuff, she starts it over and reads it again, cover to cover. The writing, the pacing, and the storytelling are superb. It’s as if the author has studied every article about how a romance novel should be written. The characters are so well written, she has clear images of who each of these women are. She understands their desires, their fears, and their motives. Not only does she care about these people as a couple, but she also cares about them individually in a way she hasn’t cared about a character in a long time. As for the plot itself? It’s perfectly cheesy and still somehow realistic enough to be believable that it could happen in real life.

Lena hasn’t felt this…satisfied by a book since well, since she can’t remember.

So, that’s exactly what she writes in her review.

“I especially loved this line:

I would rewrite history if it meant a chance for a happy future with you.”

When she’s done, she looks up the author and finds that she’s written one other book.

Lena doesn’t recall reading it, but when she clicks on the title, she finds her review posted with a few hundred likes and several dozen comments. One star and zero positive things to say about it. Lena can’t help but think how far the author has come from this first book to the most recent one. It’s an impressive improvement, and Lena Luthor isn’t easily impressed.

Supergirl leaves a comment on her review a few days later.

“It looks like the author has been paying attention to your feedback.”

**

The following week, Lena is staring at the meeting invitation with furrowed brows and a healthy dose of confusion. She presses the call button on the speaker on her desk.

“Yes, Miss Luthor?” Jess says.

“Jess, why do I have a meeting with Supergirl on my calendar?”

Jess is quiet for a moment. She’s quiet so long, in fact, that Lena’s door opens and a blond woman with thick-rimmed glasses wearing chinos and a tucked-in button down steps just inside. She has a nervous smile and fidgets with her glasses.

Lena recognizes her from the photo bio she still has pulled up on her web browser and stands to greet her.

“Miss Danvers,” she says, “please, come in. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Kara Danvers, author of The Write Stuff, who Lena has been internet stalking for the past week shifts in the doorway. Lena comes around the front of her desk. They stare at each other in silence for a moment before Lena hears a faint “go” from Jess in the reception area. That makes Kara shake out of her stupor.

She brings her hand out from behind her back and holds her arm at full length with a bouquet of…plumerias. Lena can’t believe what she’s seeing. Her favorite flowers which represent love and new beginnings are being offered to her by this stunning woman who wrote one of her favorite books of the year. Lena looks from the flowers back to Kara’s face.

“I like you, Lena Reads” Kara says, “and I would like to go on a date with you.”

[itsawritblr]

Things I Can Say About MFA Writing Programs Now That I No Longer Teach in One.

by Ryan Boudinot.

I recently left a teaching position in a master of fine arts creative-writing program. I had a handful of students whose work changed my life. The vast majority of my students were hardworking, thoughtful people devoted to improving their craft despite having nothing interesting to express and no interesting way to express it. My hope for them was that they would become better readers. And then there were students whose work was so awful that it literally put me to sleep. Here are some things I learned from these experiences.

Writers are born with talent.

Either you have a propensity for creative expression or you don't. Some people have more talent than others. That's not to say that someone with minimal talent can't work her ass off and maximize it and write something great, or that a writer born with great talent can't squander it. It's simply that writers are not all born equal. The MFA student who is the Real Deal is exceedingly rare, and nothing excites a faculty adviser more than discovering one. I can count my Real Deal students on one hand, with fingers to spare.

If you didn't decide to take writing seriously by the time you were a teenager, you're probably not going to make it.

There are notable exceptions to this rule, Haruki Murakami being one. But for most people, deciding to begin pursuing creative writing in one's 30s or 40s is probably too late. Being a writer means developing a lifelong intimacy with language. You have to be crazy about books as a kid to establish the neural architecture required to write one.

If you complain about not having time to write, please do us both a favor and drop out.

I went to a low-residency MFA program and, years later, taught at a low-residency MFA program. "Low-residency" basically means I met with my students two weeks out of the year and spent the rest of the semester critiquing their work by mail. My experience tells me this: Students who ask a lot of questions about time management, blow deadlines, and whine about how complicated their lives are should just give up and do something else. Their complaints are an insult to the writers who managed to produce great work under far more difficult conditions than the 21st-century MFA student. On a related note: Students who ask if they're "real writers," simply by asking that question, prove that they are not.

If you aren't a serious reader, don't expect anyone to read what you write.

Without exception, my best students were the ones who read the hardest books I could assign and asked for more. One student, having finished his assigned books early, asked me to assign him three big novels for the period between semesters. Infinite Jest, 2666, and Gravity's Rainbow, I told him, almost as a joke. He read all three and submitted an extra-credit essay, too. That guy was the Real Deal.

Conversely, I've had students ask if I could assign shorter books, or—without a trace of embarrassment—say they weren't into "the classics" as if "the classics" was some single, aesthetically consistent genre. Students who claimed to enjoy "all sorts" of books were invariably the ones with the most limited taste. One student, upon reading The Great Gatsby (for the first time! Yes, a graduate student!), told me she preferred to read books "that don't make me work so hard to understand the words." I almost quit my job on the spot.

No one cares about your problems if you're a shitty writer.

I worked with a number of students writing memoirs. One of my Real Deal students wrote a memoir that actually made me cry. He was a rare exception. For the most part, MFA students who choose to write memoirs are narcissists using the genre as therapy. They want someone to feel sorry for them, and they believe that the supposed candor of their reflective essay excuses its technical faults. Just because you were abused as a child does not make your inability to stick with the same verb tense for more than two sentences any more bearable. In fact, having to slog through 500 pages of your error-riddled student memoir makes me wish you had suffered more.

You don't need my help to get published.

When I was working on my MFA between 1997 and 1999, I understood that if I wanted any of the work I was doing to ever be published, I'd better listen to my faculty advisers. MFA programs of that era were useful from a professional development standpoint—I still think about a lecture the poet Jason Shinder gave at Bennington College that was full of tremendously helpful career advice I use to this day. But in today's Kindle/e-book/self-publishing environment, with New York publishing sliding into cultural irrelevance, I find questions about working with agents and editors increasingly old-fashioned. Anyone who claims to have useful information about the publishing industry is lying to you, because nobody knows what the hell is happening. My advice is for writers to reject the old models and take over the production of their own and each other's work as much as possible.

It's not important that people think you're smart.

After eight years of teaching at the graduate level, I grew increasingly intolerant of writing designed to make the writer look smart, clever, or edgy. I know this work when I see it; I've written a fair amount of it myself. But writing that's motivated by the desire to give the reader a pleasurable experience really is best. I told a few students over the years that their only job was to keep me entertained, and the ones who got it started to enjoy themselves, and the work got better. Those who didn't get it were stuck on the notion that their writing was a tool designed to procure my validation. The funny thing is, if you can put your ego on the back burner and focus on giving someone a wonderful reading experience, that's the cleverest writing.

It's important to woodshed.

Occasionally my students asked me about how I got published after I got my MFA, and the answer usually disappointed them. After I received my degree in 1999, I spent seven years writing work that no one has ever read—two novels and a book's worth of stories totaling about 1,500 final draft pages. These unread pages are my most important work because they're where I applied what I'd learned from my workshops and the books I read, one sentence at a time. Those seven years spent in obscurity, with no attempt to share my work with anyone, were my training, and they are what allowed me to eventually write books that got published.

Ryan Boudinot is executive director of Seattle City of Literature.

*~*~*~*~*

I agree with all he says except concerning publishing.

This was originally written when it was a strongly held belief that ebooks would replace paper books. Seriously, in 2009-2012 even Barnes & Noble was telling employees they'd better learn how to sell Nooks, because paper books were going to "disappear" within the next 4 years.

Didn't happen, obviously.

Traditional publishing is as it ever was; I've personally never had a problem with it, though I've known people who have (mostly due to shitty editors in smaller presses). As for Kindle/e-book/self-publishing, I don't do that, so I can't tell you anything about it (except negative stuff from people I know who've done it and regret it).

But I will add, and this is important:

YOU DON'T NEED AN MFA TO BE A TRADITIONALLY PUBLISHED WRITER.

IN FACT, YOU'RE WASTING YOUR FUCKING MONEY IF YOU DO GET AN MFA.

You can learn all you need to know about writing well without a degree. Shit, I don't even have a high school diploma (dropped out at 16).

MFA teachers promise you'll learn to write so well you'll be published faster than people without a degree. *BUZZER* Wrong!

An MFA is NO guarantee that you'll be published. Publishers are looking for work that will sell -- they're a for-profit business -- not necessarily work that's well written by a literary POV. If your book is pretty well written but publishers don't think anyone will like it enough to lay out money for it, they won't be interested.

And an MFA doesn't mean you have talent. Colleges and universities who have MFAs in Writing are looking for your $$$. They're not about to turn you down. And professors aren't keen on actually flunking anyone. As Ryan Boudinot says, as a teacher he wouldn't tell you that you don't have a lick of talent. I mean, they want more students coughing up thousands of dollars to get an MFA, and that can't happen if students bad-mouth the degree and teachers for telling them the truth that they should become attorneys or retail managers or baristas. (I'm looking at you, Hamline, Carleton.)

Another nugget they don't tell you is, on average a professional writer earns, after taxes, $3000 to $6000 a year. If you want an MFA because you're convinced you're gonna be the next bestselling NYT author,

Even if you do become a pro, it will take years and years to pay off your MFA student debt. Which means you'll need a day job, just like 99% of all pros.

So instead of going into debt for most of your life, don't get an MFA. Have a day job you like and meanwhile learn to write well the way people have done since before anyone ever heard of an MFA.

[saphirered]

Hello :), id love to request a kingsley x reader where theyre a member of his new pirate crew perhaps first mate after he steals that ship from fjord at the end of campain 2

Sorry for the wait on this one! Too many ideas to approach this request turned into procrastination but I finished it! It's pining, it's sweet and fluffy. Hope you like how it turned out! And right in time for the Mighty Nein reunited! 😘

He still doesn’t quite know how this happened or when and don’t get him started on the why’s because every time he tries listing them, he can’t put actual words to it; you’re just everything perfect. When did he turn into some fictional cliché? His fellow chaos maker tiefling would use this to fuel her next novel to be sure. Captain falls in love with his first mate. A match made in hell. Perfect. Just perfect. Kingsley’s tried to play it cool but during mealtimes he finds himself sit next to you, relishing in even just smalltalk. When you have a shift together he’ll be paying more attention to you than to what he’s supposed to be on watch for. When another totally unavoidable skirmish arises, he worries for your safety and always makes sure he’s within some kind of reachable range because he feels safer when you’re near. He trusts few people, and you are no exception. You’re all pirates after all. But unlike anyone else, he actually wants to trust you. He wants to be able to count on you, as you can count on him. Were he ever to tell you this, you’d laugh in his face of course. The last deckhand that did, you literally laughed in the poor man’s face. He’d rather not be verbally torn apart and take that wound to his heart. 

You look over the waves, your post at the helm is one you take seriously. You always have. You’re the goddamn first mate of this ship. You do your best to ignore the staring of your captain who is rather disinterested in the suggestions of the bosun, and favours simply nodding or humming along, when he looks past. He’s focussed on you. You feel heat rise to your cheeks but luckily the appearance of such could be brushed off as the harsh wind cutting at your face. Those ruby eyes, you cannot set out of your mind. Are you not doing your job correctly? Are your capabilities being brought in question? Is there doubt in your loyalty to this ship, to this crew? Did you do something wrong? Are you no longer worthy of this position? All these questions are easier to ask, to consider than to admit to the truth you’re denying; that’s the stare of admiration. There’s a tap on your shoulder and you nearly jump out of your skin. It’s just the helmsman ready to relieve you. 

You retreat into your own mind, build a shield to keep your thoughts from going rampant as you make your way down the steps onto the main deck. It’s probably a good thing you have got your sea legs because a particular wave has some catch themselves just in time. Kingsley, who you missed was midway towards you, lunges and barely manages to catch himself on the railing of the stairs. You didn’t even realise he had moved, but now he stands in your path. Quickly you respond out of reflex, catch his other arm, and help him back to stable feet. Everything around feels numb but the moment you touch him, feel his hand wrap around your lower arm, as you balance him, your cold skin burns and find yourself short of breath, eyes wide. 

“Looks like I can count on my first mate to save me collecting my teeth from the deck.” Kingsley appears as short of breath as you. The moment you’re sure he’s stable again, you pull your arm from his grasp and step around him without another word, making for the stairs down below deck. The tiefling watches you go, and you move so fast, or perhaps his mind has slowed that much. He can’t say anything else, do anything else. You’re gone and he won’t follow. 

So ends another day. And he’ll spend the next night staring at the ceiling of his cabin, unable to take his mind off you; the electricity that ran through his veins when you caught him, and the numbness when you let go. It may sound cliche but when he stood so near to you, when you held onto him, he felt as if he had never seen the world in colour, had never used his senses to their full extend, suddenly everything made sense yet nothing at all did but he couldn’t care less, and when you rushed away, you took that feeling with you and he felt lost again. He’ll day dream about that feeling because he could not find sleep until the early hours of morning. He’s completely and utterly in love with his first mate. No way around it anymore. 

————

Kingsley dodges a punch as someone tosses a chair at another drunkard. The tavern took a turn for the better when an incredibly dull night turned into a bar fight, and a glorious one at that. He’s pretty sure he’ll be covered in bruises, the bloodstains he’ll never get out of his shirt, his knuckles are busted, and his nose just might be broken, still he is filled with cheer and adrenaline. The next punch to the gut sparks it only further as he counters by grabbing the arm, getting close and delivering a punch straight to the face of his opponent. Knocked out cold. Next. He’s distracted when he sees a familiar flash resembling your shape, legs wrapped around someone’s shoulders as they desperately try to throw you off, but you hold on tight, even when your back hits that thankfully sturdy table. This time you let go and deliver a perfect kick to the throat and get back up to tackle the next one coming at you. Then for just a brief second things go dark as pain erupts through his head. He recovers, looking for the source to see the blurred form of some kind of brute. Did he just get punched in the face? His ears are ringing. Just barely does he manage to deflect the brunt of the next hit. 

You let out a battle cry as you kick low, high and strike. You’ll have to admit that when this fight started you were exhausted and didn’t feel like getting into the fray. You don’t exactly know why it started but your captain seemed to be one half of it and then it became crew against crew, and the rest of the bar got pulled in. Your exhaustion faded quickly when some poor sod made the wrong call and made you spill your drink. Screw exhaustion. That’s what you told yourself because in reality, you felt your blood boil when Kingsley took a foul hit. You’ve been on a good track record for the past few minutes. Sustained some damages yourself, but nothing you couldn’t handle. You’ll probably be sore in the morning and have some bruises to show for the eventful evening but such is your life. Everyone needs a good bar fight every once in a while. Every once in a while you’d check up on your captain, search for him in the room. When you have the opportunity to do next, you see him cornered, disoriented and opposing a man twice his size. He takes another hit and is thrown against the table, it shattering beneath the impact of his weight. 

The groan on his breath is cut short as air escapes his lungs and he’s coughing. He barely has time to recover or get up when he’s grabbed by the front of his shirt, the movement registering a second or two later than it should. The brute in front of him has no intentions of letting him go it seems. Squinting he’s pretty sure this is the first mate of the captain he went fist to cuffs with in the first place. Maybe this wasn’t one of his better ideas. Does he have any regrets? No. That captain is short a couple of teeth. Serves ‘em right. Though, given his place now, he might be short a couple of teeth. The punch is incoming and while he does his best to deflect, there isn’t much he can do to turn this into a favourable position for him, so he prepares for the impact best he can though he doubts he’ll be awake to make any counter move. Then, it rains something, shatters. Glass. Glass shatters above him. His opponent goes dazed and the hold weakens. Next a fist swings to bring home the attack and the brute hits the floor with a heavy thud. He’s grabbed by the front of his shirt again and when he thinks the next blow is coming, he just focusses in on your face. With force you get him to his feet, never letting go of the red stained linen as you pull him along, dancing around other fighting patrons until the cool night’s air hits him. He hears shouts behind, but you run, and thus force him along until the sounds muffle and he walks the plank onto the ship. 

Out of breath you set the tiefling on one of the crates on deck as you bend over, take a deep breath and straighten again. Kingsley watches as you run a hand through your hair, and wipe some remnants of blood from your cheek. Your gaze turns to him, analytical. You check him for injury, step close, hold his chin, move his face, touch some scrapes to which he hisses in discomfort, then look him straight on. You hold his nose between both your index fingers and give him a serious look. He can feel the crunch back in his skull as you reset it. He tastes metal on his tongue. Blood. You press a scrap of cloth to his nose and when his response is too slow for your liking, grab his hand and make it take over the position you held it in. 

“You good?” You ask. You sound mostly neutral, as if you would have after any fight he’s gotten into. There’s a hint of exhilaration. Good to know you had your fun too. What strikes him though is the concern that’s hidden beneath. You’re actually concerned for his wellbeing? 

“Yeah.” He groans leaning back only for you to interfere. Right. He’s sitting on a crate. “Saved me yet again. What would I do without you?” 

“You’ve got brain damage. And you’re drunk.” You roll your eyes.

“I’d hate to tell you, but I’m perfectly sober. The brain damage? Now that, I won’t make any statements on.” Ever the witty remarks you snort and cross your arms. 

“Oh really? Captain Kingsley, started a bar fight perfectly sober? What would the people say?” You retort. Maybe it’s the buzz of what little alcohol you did manage to consume, or the adrenaline beginning to wear off but it’s so easy again. You don’t feel like you’re running away from a truth right now. This moment, is just so easy. 

“There’s the sass I love.” He grins. He’s missed this. The times where you’re so easy going. You’ve been avoiding him, you’ve been distant and he’s missed this nature of yours, the one you reserve only for public settings and anything not to do with your person. And yet you close up again after that comment. Your shoulders move in and you rub your arm, only to be reminded of the forming bruises when you find your skin tender. 

“Do I want to know why this fight even started?” You try to change the subject, ignore the comment, pretend it was never said. Love. Love. Love. The word echoes through your mind. Kingsley sighs deeply and the usual attitude dissipates for a slightly more serious one.

“I don’t think you’ll like the answer.” His eyes cast downward. At first you’re brushing it off like a child being caught doing something they shouldn’t but then you see it for what it really is; avoidance. Like you’re avoiding certain things. Your heart clenches. You bite your tongue. No more running. May this tail-end of an adrenaline rush give you the courage to see this through. 

“Humour me.” He looks up and you see his eyes. Gone is the playfulness he usually displays, or the self-confidence and pride. The fuel of an epic bar fight is not enough to linger. 

“A captain from another ship had some choice of words about someone I happen to care about.” Kingsley admits. “I asked the captain if he’d like to take back his words. He did not.” 

“So you punched him in the face?” He drops the rag from his nose, the bleeding stopped and wipes away the remaining blood best he can before he simply shrugs. It’s not like he’s going to deny it and he’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. 

“They were some very offensive words. I take it to heart when my first mate is brought into question.” You thought you could brush over the implication it might have been you, not wanting to get any false hope but this blatant confirmation, that’s it. A small smile creeps onto your features and a warm and fuzzy feeling spreads through out. 

“So what you’re saying is, you knocked out another captain because they insulted me, spiked the ire of their crew until a tavern brawl erupted in which you took a further beating to the point I had to save your ass before their first mate could return the favour?” You step closer and closer until you’re right in front of him. Kingsley looks up at you nodding along and getting smugger with the second. That pride returns. 

“When you say it like that-“ You press your lips to his, your hands falling to his cheeks when he responds to your affections gleefully. Without breaking the kiss he scoots over on the crate and makes space for you. You sit next to him, thigh pressed against his, as you feel a warm palm against your cheek, and the other brushes along your arm, onto your shoulder until it settles on the small of your back and pulls you closer. 

Many things run through his head and most thoughts come as fast as they go because he has no room for anyone but you in his mind. At surface it’s easy. The taste of your lips; remnants of the ale mixed with some metallic taste of blood either yours, or his or both. Then when he feels daring enough to brush his tongue against you and you respond favourably he continues. He feels your arms move from his cheeks where they cupped his face curve around until you wrap your arms around his neck and allow yourself to move closer against him. He runs his fingers along your cheek, into your hair where they tangle, the other pressing against the small of your back, brushing along in gentle circles. Secondly words finally appear in his head, cohesive strings of thought; why did he wait so bloody long? This now, this moment is a blessing but if this is how you feel, and might have felt ever since you retreated from him, he should have done this earlier, should have confronted you earlier and cleared up that misunderstanding. 

Thirdly, Kingsley wants this moment to last forever. He’d fight an entire armada on his own if it meant you would grace him a kiss, even just a single one. But you do pull apart. Forehead against his, eyes still closed, he takes in the proximity to you. previously when you had a moment of physical closeness, you’d bolt the first chance you got. He hopes you won’t. He hopes you’ll stay. But he still makes it clear; if you think this a mistake, something you regret now, you can. He would never hold something like that against you. Sure it would hurt his feelings, but such is the way of life. It’s not just his word that matters here. If you are not one-hundred percent behind this, then it simply should not happen. He wants to be sure you don’t feel there’s no way back, that you feel trapped or like you have to but then he feels your lips peck his once final time before you pull back, unwrap your arms from him as he lets go of you. What he does not expect is for you to grab onto one of his hands, and pick the rag with the other, only to press it to his nose again.

“Your nose bleeding again.” You try to hide your gentle laughs as he just shakes his head in amusement causing you to reach out quickly and hold his head still. Kingsley responds but you can’t make out the words so when you raise an eyebrow he pulls the rag away once more, holding you at the wrist ever so gently. 

“Injury. Forever to ruin the moment. At least I have a good healer.” 

“I’m a pirate. Not a healer.” You deadpan. “If you’d like me to go fetch the healer I’m sure he’s deep in his cups but should be perfectly-“ Kingsley grabs your hand when you poke at one of the forming bruises. 

“Oh, you think you’re funny now, aren’t you? Don’t backtalk to your captain.” You wipe away some more blood, and prevent any further response. 

“My dear captain seems to be incapacitated.” You hum. He pulls away the rag again. This time the bleeding seems to stop and you feel safe to put it down.

“Well then, first mate. I’m pretty sure that puts you in charge. What are your orders?” You grin and tap your chin. 

“I’m sure I can think of something.” You purse your lips every so lightly and Kingsley takes the opportunity to peck them in jest. He’ll have some ideas. Some inspiration for you. The ice has broken and with it all previous tensions. The morning can only tell how things will be when you’re both down from your adrenaline highs and when the world has returned to normal, or as normal as can be on this ship, given that Kingsley did just spark a conflict between his crew and another but he couldn’t care less. He lives in the moment and this is a good one. You’re living in the moment too. You can talk later about how much your lives have been one romantic cliche for the past few weeks. 

[neonponders]

For @billyhargrovebingo​​ 📚

~ read on ao3 ~

C2 - Bookstore AU

• • •

Billy had meant to buy a new car. His old blue beauty was still going strong, even if she creaked through left turns and the air conditioning went out every summer.

The price was right, and Billy might not know a lot about real estate, but he knew books. And the whole location, location, location thing.

There just wasn’t a bookstore where both kids and adults could be taken seriously, ie. comic books as well as the New York Times’ hoity toity favorites list. Billy had distinct, annoyed memories of having to travel across his California home town just to get the stack of Spider-Man and novels that he wanted. Not to mention the amount of times he’d had to listen to his stepsister complain about walking into a comic book store like the grown ass men had never seen a woman before...

So he bought it.

It was a real fixer-upper, but he bought it, and that felt great. The ground floor was the store, and he could renovated the second floor too, but he didn’t have the money to rent an apartment and get a business off the ground.

So he lived on the second floor’s barebones floors while the electrical and plumbing got sorted out. The summer heat had certainly sweetened the price on this place - air conditioning units were a small fortune - but as they say, some like it hot, and Billy never shied away from heat.

That gave him an idea. Aside from his pillow and mattress right on the floor, the first thing to go into his new shop was the movie poster for Some Like it Hot. It went right onto the one finished wall of the place: a typical brick wall. Terrible for insulation, and Billy didn’t give one rat’s ass about it.

Slowly but surely, his money dripped into the repairs on the place. He collected more and more pictures for the walls, a whole stack of frames upstairs just waiting to be mounted. The place was going to be a real queer dump when he was through with it:

Plants everywhere. Pictures of men in drag for movies and stage. If things finally settled, he’d get a shop cat. Or a dog. The laziest geriatric the shelter had. A record player was a must. Between the books, ambiance, furry shopkeeper, and plants, if some stiff even noticed all the queer on the walls, then Billy could keep a sheet of gold star stickers for his ass to get kissed on their way out.

That was the dream. Dreaming is easier than building.

Maybe the heat did get to his head, because somewhere in July, Billy officially lost it. The floor of the upstairs wasn’t finished, meaning that he had to be very careful with his showers, or else create water damage in both his home and business. He was officially in debt, because goddamn books were expensive the longer her held onto them because the shop wasn’t ready yet. He was walking on unstable floorboards in his own home, so how the hell was he supposed to bring a hookup over to blow off some steam?

Welcome to my place. If you fall through my bookshop’s ceiling, you’re paying for it.

The final straw was a bug. Admittedly, Billy didn’t know what termites looked like, but a small bug crawling out of one of those goddamn boards just did him in. He ripped the floor up, throwing down shards and heavy boards of wood. Soon, he didn’t have a second floor at all. Just a staircase that didn’t even connect to a loft holding up a poor excuse for a kitchenette -

“Uh, hello?”

The short curl right at the top of Billy’s forehead stuck to his sweaty skin as he stood up straight, and looked into the fresh face of a tall guy with huge brown eyes and a crown of soft, glossy hair on his head. “What d’you need?” Billy said gruffly.

That cupid’s mouth gaped like a fish until he scrounged together, “I work next door at the ice cream shop. I heard the noise, I thought you were being robbed.”

That explained why the guy somehow didn’t sweat in July. Billy shamelessly opened his arms at his travesty of an investment. “Steal what?”

Those big doe eyes wandered, clearly looking for an answer. He pointed at the Marilyn Monroe poster. “Anything with Marilyn on it sells.”

“It’s a poster,” Billy clipped.

“A big one,” the guy corrected, stepping onto the staircase to touch the corner of the frame. “The kind that might’ve been in the theaters when the movie released. You’d be surprised how much movie nerds would pay for this.”

“Well that’s great. Really great. Will it pay for a new floor and ceiling? Otherwise Marilyn isn’t buying me shit.”

That closed the guy’s mouth and he preoccupied himself with reading over the names on the poster. Then from memory, he recited, “And why would a guy wanna marry another guy?”

“For security,” Billy huffed.

All at once, the ice cream man smiled at him. And...Billy should’ve invested in ice cream.

“The movie hasn’t aged well, but I always liked that joke. Sometimes Hollywood accidentally gets things right. So,” his shoes clapped the floor as he stepped off the stairs, “you need some fresh lumber. It’s good that you rage-ripped these up. If they were from old trees, they’d be sturdy, but these were cheap when they were put in.”

Billy cocked a brow at him. “You know construction?”

“My dad’s a contractor. Well, that’s the easy way of putting it. He’s a real snob about architecture and real estate.”

“Then why aren’t you working for him? Sounds like there’s real money there.”

“Because in my dad’s effort to make me a respectable man like him, he made me too much like him. We can’t exist in the same room together for more than fifteen minutes.”

Billy huffed a laugh and kicked a plank of wood out of his way. “Yeah. I get that.”

“Do you have power tools?”

“I have one drill and a spare battery.”

“I know a guy who can loan you saw horse and an electric saw. Hell, show him your lack of a ceiling, and he might just build it for you. He’s a retired guy who needs the chores. Just pay for the supplies and lunch, and he’s in.”

“I’m not interested in an old man breaking his leg for my pursuits. That’ll only make the property value go down further when I try and get rid of this place.

The guy put his hands on his hips and looked around, visibly thinking hard on something. “What about two losers who don’t have anything better to do?”

Billy smiled. “Who’d you have in mind?”

That’s how Billy met Robin Buckley. And Steve. His name was Steve.

Billy couldn’t be sure which was more frightening: a retired carpenter with rickety bones, or a lesbian with a power drill walking over the beams overhead. But the three of them got the floor reinstated that afternoon, and the following morning, Robin and Steve arrived with linoleum and caulk to finish and waterproof his floor.

Even more, Steve got the fire department and city to repair the fire escape in the alley between the bookshop and the ice cream parlor. He shrugged when Billy asked him about it. “Some things have to be built to code. Code name: Harrington. Are those fries?”

Billy smiled and slapped the fast food bag against his abdomen. Steve took it eagerly and stuffed four fries into his gullet. Billy couldn’t believe his luck at having one of the city’s precious heirs getting humbled in the ice cream shop next door.

Steve’s opening day gift to him was a movie projector. After hanging up a white sheet in the back of the shop, they played Some Like it Hot while Billy rang up the first purchases from his shelves.

And yet...even with money finally dripping back into his pockets, Billy looked forward to 4pm, when the ice cream shop closed and Steve and Robin strolled into his place with a carton of chocolate-chocolate chunk, and a gift collar and leash for the old German shepherd mutt waiting to be picked up that Friday.

As the movie said, “It’s not how long you wait, it’s who you’re waiting for.”

[savingthegeneration]

My sister and I finished Glass Rose today! I believe I got ending 3 which is the good but not perfect ending. I'm grateful I got a decent ending though. If I got a bad/open-ended ending I can't guarantee I'd pick the game back up ever again. I got some thoughts that I'm going to put under the cut. Just a little mini review.

I have a couple of problems with Glass Rose and I think it's biggest problem is that it tries too hard to be a game. The game is full of gameplay mechanics that were unnecessary or clunky. From the time limit in each chapter, to having to catch butterflies for your health, or even walking around the mansion.

The game could have been more efficient if they changed a few things. I found a lot of the characters useless and unnecessary to the plot. (Like seriously, what was the point of the cat??? Or Emmy?? Or Emi?) Also, I didn't really love Takashi as a character. I would have loved for him to have a little bit more personality. He was a little too chill with the residents thinking he was a member of the family the whole time. Some internal dialogue would've gone a long way in making me care about Takashi as a character. Also, I kinda wish Takashi was related to the family in some way. It wasn't enough that his friend, Emi Katagiri had a tiny connection to the family. Honestly, Emi should have been the main character if Takashi isn't going to be related to anyone.

I was very upset when I first started Glass Rose and was made aware of the time limit for each chapter. Granted, it was never an issue my entire playthrough, but it did deter me from exploring the mansion or finding any of Denemon's notes. Now that I have finished the game though, I imagine getting those notes would be easier the second time around now that I have a better idea of the layout of the mansion. I believe they set the game this way because the story is very streamlined, but if you cut out player exploration, you may as well just make the game a visual novel. The thing that makes point and click adventure games fun games is the adventure part, and they effectively removed that from the game.

The pre-rendered backgrounds are beautiful but the point and click nature of the game and the constantly changing camera angles made it very easy for me to get turned around. Also every time you walked into a room or hallway, a giant sign would show up letting you know where you were. While not a terrible design, it did seem to last a few seconds longer than it should and it got annoying in the latter half of the game. They could have saved the player some time if it had a similar gameplay style to either Ace Attorney, Jake Hunter, or even J.B. Harold. It deserved to be a visual novel but they sure tried their darnedest to make sure it wasn't.

If I had a PAL-based PS2, I would like to try and play the game with a mouse! I think that's a really cool idea. I can only think of one other PS2 title that let you plug in a mouse. Which is Resident Evil: Dead Aim, I believe. I wonder if the game would have played a little better with a mouse or if gameplay would be pretty similar either way. I'm not sure if the emulator I used could make that work, but it's not like I have a mouse lying around either. I can't help but feel like maybe the mouse would have been useful during the suspense events the game has.

So finally, is this game worth owning/playing? For me, it's probably worth playing if you're a Cing fan and enjoy the premise of the story. I think this story is some of Rika Suzuki's weakest work, but that might be because of the gameplay too. I was invested in this game when I was younger so I had an interest from the start, but I did need my sister's enthusiasm for the story to help me through the latter half of the game. I did a brief glance of some UK copies and they range from anywhere between $30.00 to hundreds of dollars. So unless you want to add to your Cing collection or just like physical copies, this may be a miss. Or you could emulate it like I did. I didn't say that.

Anyway, I may come back and reorganize this better, but for now enjoy my word vomit.

[lynmars79]

Fun meta asks for writers! 1.Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it? 17.o you think readers perceive your work - or you - differently to you? What do you think would surprise your readers about your writing or your motivations? 20.Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks, etc.)

Menace. Bully. Fiend. How dare you--

So in 2022 as we were awaiting the finished dark knight zine and prepping for FFXIV Write 2022, roommate found a submissions call for a zine called "I Spade You" that would be about Ace romances. I've had a pseudo-idea floating in the back of my head for a long while about a middle-aged pair in a fantasy setting who despite being from opposite sides of a conflict end up having a connection, and tried to form it into a 2500 word story for submission to this zine but it wouldn't gel.

Well, the problem really was that it was gelling...into something longer. I'd been thinking of it in the background long enough that it took on a life of its own. But things at work heated up, I already had fandom writing projects, so I shelved the idea and lost track of that zine. I didn't think of it seriously for months.

Then Bigolas Dickolas Wolfwood entered the chat with their sincere promotion of This is How You Lose the Time War, a novel I had heard about but hadn't read yet. So I read it, and while "people from opposite sides of a conflict form a connection" is the only similarity to my story, the visceral language in that novel really got to me.

I found myself opening the Spade folder again. And writing random scenes from various points in a 25ish year relationship between 2 people thrown together by outside machinations into a marriage neither wants, falling in love despite that, but the cracks form and irreconcilable differences arise due to duty and pride and a lifetime of nationalist education, a long separation and obsession, and then fate puts them together once more, relearning who they are now After All That.

It's arranged marriage friends to lovers to enemies to friends to lovers again. I keep forgetting to add straight people to the supporting cast. I have 3 distinct parts--early relationship, 15 years apart having life happen, then a disaster that makes one of them relearn all they thought they knew while the other hurtles toward their long-waited fate. I have world building and character profile documents. A family tree for one group for Reasons. Avatars for some characters thanks to BG3 and Picrews. So. It's...drafting. It's currently pretty indulgent and a lot of Vibes, little in depth research yet. There's probably over 100k words written but I dunno how many total and a lot of them will change.

It's still an ace romance between the leads. And between another ace character and her bi partner. Whether people think it "counts" or not will be where there's a perception schism, I guess. If I ever get any of it out. It won't be for everyone and there's probably things I'll get wrong and also some of the characters, even protagonists and heroic figures and loveable folks, aren't always the best people and have major flaws and issues.

There's also a teeny bit of "this aspect of this character's story in X other media annoyed me and also I see where there's some influence from this author of Y media I like so wonder if I could write something similar to be more satisfying for me" thrown against the general idea of "I have this one OC that's been bopping around in my head for years" and it became "but what if they kissed and that's all they do while being in love because they don't need more than that? And there's also a lot of familial and platonic loving relationships in there? And framed around an epic fated adventure?"

Still really developing recurring themes and callbacks, but there's a running joke with flicking balls of paper at someone's head, and a poignant bit about family home entryway markers and mourning rituals that may run throughout.

[twinhood-2dot0]

Tell Me Why

I’m a total cheapskate. I have around 150 games I got for free from Epic Games, and a few on Steam, and I’ve paid for a total of 7 games. So in June I found that a game called Tell Me Why was free on Steam so I just got it and never thought about it again. Until later on when I was watching a video on why you shouldn’t buy Hogwarts: Legacy, when they mentioned that you should instead support games made by LGBTQIA+ people, like Celeste and Tell Me Why, and my ears perked up, and I went to my Steam library and there it was! So I immediately installed it, and wow. It is awesome. I have one gripe with it though. More of a gripe with me but whenever I think about the game my brain just jumps to Jake Peralta singing “Tell me whyyy, ain’t nothing but a heartbreak”. Anyways, that aside. So the story is about twins, Alyson and Tyler, Tyler is a trans man, who were separated from each other after their mom was killed by Tyler following a supposed psychotic episode where she tried to shoot Tyler. 10 years later, after Tyler is released from juvie, they reunite, and go back to their childhood home to sell it and put their past behind them, but they find things they did not expect to. I won’t go into much more detail for now.

I really love the story and where it’s heading and oh my god, the interactions between them, so great. Gameplay-wise, it’s sorta like a visual novel but you get to play, instead of choosing dialogue options and reading text, sorta like a Telltale game (Telltale Games was a development studio that made episodic games with choices that branch the story, like choosing to be an asshole or choosing between characters to die. It’s fun. I never played any because cheapskate, but I watched like a ton of playthroughs and could probably detail the story and branches of Minecraft: Story Mode). There’s also a really interesting mechanic that I don’t really want to spoil too much, but they help tell the story through flashbacks and make for some interesting interactions. I also really love the portrayal of dysphoria and the struggles of being trans, they put a lot of effort into getting it right, which I really appreciate, and the voice actor for Tyler is also himself trans. :P I wish I took more screenshots, but you’ve seen those that I did take, so eh.

NOOOO DAMMIT, I COULDN’T GET A SCREENSHOT. Anyways, it’s just dialogue that went

Alyson: So do you want instant coffee or… instant coffee?

Tyler: Hmm, nah. I’m more of a T person. Get it? Like T as in-

Alyson: Mmmhmm. How long have you been waiting to make that joke?

Tyler: Longer than I’m willing to admit. 

(Sorry, I’ve been waiting to use this meme for longer than I’d like to admit too.)

(T is short for Testosterone if you weren’t aware)

Uhh what else have been up to, oh yeah, I finished 2 anime. Your Lie in April and Tokyo Ghoul. YLIA is certainly something. My heart aches just thinking about it, and I’m not one to get emotional about much. Seriously, it has this really cool opening, https://open.spotify.com/track/2BlDX1yfT0ea5wo0vjCKKa?si=7b95e588be604494

 and I learnt to play the intro on the piano, but whenever I do I’m like goddammit I can’t deal with this pain again. It’s about a piano prodigy who stopped playing after his mom and tutor died, and him getting back into it because of a violinist. She forces him to be her accompanist and then picks it up again. Again, don’t wanna give out too many details, although, it is romance so you probably won’t watch it, but whatever. I would make a comparison with a certain novel but that would be giving out too much. I’ve vowed to never spoil anyone. I think I’m finally shedding toxic masculinity and allowing myself to watch whatever I want. Overtly edgy stuff still has my heart tho. Tokyo Ghoul is… weird, in a bad way. I watched the first two seasons and I’m like huh??? in a bad way. I usually like going huh??? but like, nothing mad e sense. Turns out the anime adaptation is garbage. Gonna have to read it :P. So I started Banana Fish. My first shoujo! I heard it’s… sad? Weird? Disturbing? I don’t remember, but all of those are right up my alley so I’m gonna watch it anyways.

(Okay, I'm 3 episodes in, definitely disturbing. Yay! It's created by MAPPA??? Why does MAPPA have everything, like what? Attack On Titan, Chainsaw Man, Jujutsu Kaisen, literally every recent anime is MAPPA lmao)

Also, I played this really cool demo of a game called Paper Trails, by the creator of Hue, another puzzle platformer game that I got for free, with an interesting mechanic where you use colors to make stuff appear or disappear, so like if it's a red platform and you switch to red, the platform will disappear, and if you switch to something else it reappears, and Paper Trails did not disappoint either. So, the basic mechanic is, it's a top down puzzle game, where the levels are paper. So the level has two sides, and you can fold the paper to create pathways and solve puzzle. Really innovative, can't wait to play the finished game.

[kaifishh]

My toxic trait is thinking I could finish a cheap imitation in one night

[sweetmotherof]

Haikyuu Fics: The Classics™️

EDIT: pt 2!!

I wanted to make a post to archive what I would call “The Classics” as far as Haikyuu fanfic on ao3 goes. For anyone new to the daunting world of Haikyuu fanfiction, these works are probably the most popular, talked-about works throughout the fandom, so they are a good place to start! I haven’t read some of these, but the reason I included them is that I’ve seen so much hype around them. Comment the ones I missed, and I’m definitely going to be doing a part 2. Enjoy <3 :D

*contains nsfw fics* READ TAGS BEFORE U READ

⭑=my faves

BOKUAKA

Rules by ConesOfDunshire⭑

E, 120 k words

Accountant Akaashi. Pianist Bokuto. WHAT MORE COULD YOU WANT??? This fic is seriously novel-worthy, and Bokuto having Asperger’s is a beautiful component to the story. I found that the characterization and the attention to detail the author put into the story is what made it a truly distinguishable and unique fic that allowed it to rise to the top. It is worth every kudos, comment, bookmark, and more. Highly recommend.

Behind Bricks by DeathBelle⭑

E, 60 k words, cw: prostitution, choking, and heavy content so READ THE TAGS

This darker fic follows Akaashi as he deals with his life as a prostitute, and how Bokuto comes in and is able to change it for the better. I feel sometimes that heavy topics such as the trauma from sex work are really misrepresenting in fanfiction, but the author does a great job of portraying it in a real way and not romanticizing it at all. I loved to watch love bloom for Akaashi in the cracks of his tumultuous life, because he deserves everything <333

In Another Life by LittleLuxray⭑

T, 22 k words, cw: terminal illness, hospitals, major character death

As the highest-rated Haikyuu fanfic on ao3, this work is a monument and will go down in Haikyuu history. That being said, it honestly did such a number on me that I think it deserves the hype. This hospital au revolving around Akaashi and Bokuto’s budding relationship is truly heartbreaking, to say the least. Read it at your own risk, and oh, you can find references to it under almost any Bokuaka related post.

IWAOI

Conquering the Great King by SuggestiveScribe

105 k words, E

This rollercoaster of a fic, set in a universe where Oikawa and Iwaizumi meet in a bar, is funny, profound, and awe-inspiring all in one. The relationship dynamic between the two is very cute and well-done. I highly recommend this one if you are a sucker for some good, old Iwaoi, and I also love the side pairings. Just, overall, a really nice and satisfying read.

the courtship ritual of the hercules beetle by kittebasu(chanyeol)

T, 66.3k words, cw: injury, homophobia

This fic is a favorite on tik tok, from what I’ve observed. I haven’t read it yet, but when people discuss it, they always commend the writing and the non-linear narrative. I have personally not read this one yet, but I have seen people rave about this one because of the emotional impact it had on them. It seems to me that the writing and emotions on this one are its claims to fame, so definitely check it out.

Desperado by Verbrennung

M, 82k words

Talk about raved about fics, I have seen this one mentioned countless times on various platforms. This Iwaoi fic is set in a Vegas/Japan fusion setting, which immediately caught my eye. The premise of a heist fic also is probably what caught people's attention the most, because what is better than an Iwaoi heist fic (nothing. nothing is better.) I recommend this if you want a bit of a longer fic that had a tumultuous plot and a wild romance.

SAKUATSU

Burden of Blame by DeathBelle⭑

E, 91k words, cw: graphic violence, guns, ptsd, panic attacks, murder, death, injury and more so READ TAGS

Burden of Blame is THE mafia au fic of the Haikyuu ao3 universe. I love this fic soooo much. From it’s wild plot to the flawless writing, I was constantly on my feet. I definitely recommend if you want something that will keep you on the edge of your seat. Also, the enemies to lovers is CHEFS FUCKING KISS.

A Liar’s Truth by internetpistol⭑

E, 49.6k words, cw: HOMOPHOBIA!! read tags pls

Oh. My. God. I simply cannot with this fic. It turned me inside out, upside down, and threw me into the void. Please, if you have one singular brain cell, you will read this fic. This narrative about Sakusa’s life and his relationship with his sexuality is a masterpiece. I cannot recommend this one enough. You do not want to miss out on this genuine piece of art. 

Stick With You by lettersinpetals

E, 99k words

This fic follows Sakusa and Atsumu as they get stuck in the Philippines over quarantine. Honestly, if you want an enemies to lovers that really goes in depth into the trope, this is the one for you. One of my favorite things about this fic is the inclusion of the Filipino language, and I found myself reading all of the translations at the end. I would recommend this if you want a longer, feel good Sakuatsu fic. Also, lettersinpetals is a Sakuatsu classic author.

the Terminal Curiosity series by favspacetwink and moonlumie

E, total 112k words, not finished, 8 works, READ TAGS

This fic is probably the notorious BDSM fic, which I’m glad because it portrays it in a very consensual and safe way. I’m personally not into that stuff, but I still was able to enjoy it for the plot and the amazing writing. I definitely recommend it if you are looking for something with BDSM components with some focus on their relationship dynamics too. I actually did really enjoy this fic, and I think the way their relationship kind of progressed backward was really, really good. Even if BDSM isn’t your cup of tea, I still recommend checking this one out and reading the tags to see if it is something you’re willing to give a chance too, because, for me, it paid off.  

KUROKEN

the galaxy is endless (i thought we were, too) by cosmogony

T, 30.9k words, cw: illness, DEATH

I have yet to read this fic. I am genuinely too afraid. Similarly to In Another Life, I constantly see people discussing to the degree in which this fic destroyed them, and honestly after In Another Life, I don’t think I could handle another one. This soulmates au has crushed so many people throughout the fandom that if you want someone to give you more detail on why it’s the saddest thing ever, you probably wouldn’t have to look very far.

Of Monsters and Men by shions_heart

M, 220k words, cw: violence, temporary character death

This longer fic follows Kuroo, Kenma, and many others through a demon hunter/buffy the vampire-style universe, with magic, drama, and much more. If you are looking for a fantasy, action-packed, beautifully written fic, this is definitely one you should check out. The romance and action combination will always be chefs kiss, superb. 

[gwynrielsupremacist]

A COURT OF LIGHT AND SHADOWS

Chapter 1: Voices

Read at AO3.

Gwyn's afternoon couldn't get any worse.

First of all, the morning's training had been horrendous.

Three weeks after the Blood Rite, Cassian and Azriel had thought it was time to start practicing again, since according to them, they had made a lot of mistakes that could very well have cost them their lives.

She was still alive, just like Nesta and Emerie, so at least one thing they had done well, survive.

After 3 weeks of not doing any sports, it was noticeable when you came back with all the energy, especially on a day where the sun was literally burning.

She noticed as she did push-ups that morning how her arms were trembling dangerously, the sweat running down the curve of her breasts, soaking the shirt she had worn.

Gwyn had promised herself that she would go out into the outside world.

That year she had made a lot of progress, she supposed she should be ready to enter society again, but no.

After the events in the Blood Rite, what she wanted was to lock herself in the darkest corner of the library, with a good book, and stay there to live.

Obviously, she couldn't do that. But she would have liked it.

With all the sore muscles, having failed almost all the obstacles the two Illyrians put them, showing a regrettable endurance in each and every one of the exercises, she had to go down to the library to have a pleasant chat with Merrill, who did not understand why her performance hadn't been 100% in recent weeks.

"I don't know, Merrill. Maybe because they pulled me out of bed against my will, left me in the middle of a forest full of Illyrians, while I had to fight to stay safe, as well as having to kill people? Maybe because I had never left the library after Sangravah, and I suddenly found myself in the same situation? " She reasoned, trying to control her pulse, having remembered the events in the Blood Rite.

She detested Merrill.

More than anyone else, she hated her. She often thought that life would be so much easier if people like Merrill just didn't exist.

After leaving her a ton of work to do, the female disappeared, leaving Gwyn with about seven books resting in her arms, already numb from the morning exercises.

She ran to the nearest table, relieved when she put the books down, with a thud.

She rubbed her dazed hands, wincing at the pile of books that awaited her to spend hours and hours together.

She had to research one of Merrill's new obsessions, the ancient and forgotten Prythian gods.

"I didn't even know they existed", she opined, opening a random book to a random page, flipping through the contents.

She got dizzy from so much information she did not understand, closing the pages with force, grabbing a cart that was nearby, leaving the volumes in it and going to her room, to calmly read those pages and pages of useless information, and then do a chapter-by-chapter summary for Merrill.

"Great, it's a good way to spend your free time if you love reading junk." She groaned as she carefully lowered the cart down the stairs.

"It is not junk. It is information that may be useful at some point", answered her subconscious.

At least she thought it was her subconscious.

She didn't remember when she had started to hear that voice, just one day it had appeared, and now it was considered the voice of reason.

Everything that voice said, it was true.

"I know, but I don't know how knowing which are the main and forgotten gods of Prythian is going to solve my problems." She attacked, greeting one priestess that came close to her, passing by her side.

The voice fell silent, apparently it had nothing more to add.

At least Gwyn could answer the voice in her mind. It would have been a strange thing to see a person argue with herself.

Upon reaching the room, which was a simple square with a bed, a wooden desk with a wooden chair that had more splinters than wood itself, and a modest closet, also made of wood.

Yeah, in summer the termites would destroy all the furniture if she wasn't careful.

Closing the door with the latch, one of the little luxuries she had on it, she put the books down with a thump, brushing her hands on the skirts of the gown, which was already heavily encrusted with dust.

She thought of taking off that long dress, which after so many washes the initial blue had ended up in an almost invisible gray, but she did not feel like going to the common baths of the priestesses, because every time she went there, they peppered her with questions about the Blood Rite.

And the last thing she wanted to do was talk about it.

So she collapsed on the bed, pulling back the covers and hugging the pillow with one arm, as she got into a fetal position.

"You have to go out, you can't hide in the bedroom all afternoon." It protested, to which she responded very kindly with a growl as she turned, trying to make it understand that she was going to do whatever she wanted.

"Alright then. If you get caught between the sheets and can't get out, don't come running to ask me for help." it threatened.

Gwyn didn't know how she was going to ask for help to a voice. It was disembodied, how the hell was she going to beg for help if she didn't even know what that murmur was?

She rolled over on the bed, rubbing her eyes and exhaling, disappointed.

She hated not being able to get out of that damn room.

She hated her insecurity and her irrational fear.

"It is not irrational, Gwyn." It assured her.

"Leave me alone." She begged, getting it to shut up.

She lay on her stomach, breathing deeply.

She looked at the time on the only clock in the room, located above the closet.

19.36.

It appears that she had a lot of time to do absolutely nothing.

Maybe she was going to pick up a book that Nesta and Emerie were reading.

Honestly, she was dying to sink her teeth into one that had caught her attention. According to her description, a maiden sent by the gods fell in love with her bodyguard...

Determined, she bolted upright, unlocking the latch, happily heading for the book.

There would be time to examine the books Merrill had passed her.

Anyway, she had a lot of time, reading something that interested her was not going to do anything bad to everyone.

With a broad grin, she made it to the fiction book section. She opened one of the books, tucking her nose between the pages, an exhale escaping from her lips when she smelled the wonderful book scent.

Her gaze sparking, she searched for the novel she was looking for.

"Didn't you forget something?" It asked.

She stopped short in the middle of the shelves, alarming a passing priestess.

Bowing her head in apology, she went back to searching, her eyes narrowing as she searched the thousands of spins with her eyes, finding none that bore the name of the book she was looking for.

"I don't have any errands to deliver to Merrill." She snapped, frowning when she finally found it.

It was at the top of the shelf.

She made a long face, standing on her tiptoes, stretching her arm as far as she could as she stuck her tongue out, focused.

"I don't mean Merrill, Gwyneth."

"Mysterious voice, what are you talking about?" The priestess demanded in a tired voice. She did not arrive. Why did they make the shelves so high? It was not possible that someone could reach them.

Although, don't get it wrong, Gwyn adored the voice. It was equal to the voice that we all have within us guiding us.

The problem was that the voice that she had was a little… annoying.

She looked at the shelves next to the floor, no books in sight.

Maybe if she got on them…?

She put one foot on it, skipping little hops as she judged whether the bookcase was going to fall or not.

Realizing that it was unlikely, she lifted her other foot, raising her heels as much as she could while she stretched out her arm, feeling her muscles go numb.

A little more ... just a little more ...

"You remember that your friend Nesta has a mate, right? And that you promised them that you would go to her ceremony?" As soon as she finished the sentence, Gwyn stopped.

Shit.

Seriously, had she forgotten that?

"There is still time… There are five days until the ceremony." The voice tried to calm her down, but nothing was going to do it now.

She jumped down from the shelf, as she began to walk from one place to another, in circles.

She had to go.

She couldn't do that to Nesta.

"I don't even have a dress. What am I going to wear?" Alarmed, she slightly stretched the strands of her coppery hair, thinking of a way to solve all the problems that had suddenly befallen her.

I have to leave the library to go to the mating ceremony.

I have to leave the library to go to the mating ceremony.

The female began to hyperventilate, forgetting the book that she had held less than 3 centimeters from her hands.

That was far more important.

"I can't tell Nesta that I forgot about her mating ceremony. I can't do that to her." Gwyn protested, running her hands over her face, rubbing her temples angrily, forcing herself to search for solutions and solutions and solutions.

But neither of them was going to work.

She had to get out of there, no priestess was going to leave her a suitable dress for the mating ceremony.

But she couldn't go alone. She did not dare to go down to the city alone.

Emerie couldn't help her. It had started the illyrian high-selling season and the illyrian needed the money. She only went to training, then she quickly returned to her store, not staying a minute longer than necessary.

Cassian and Nesta were completely out of the question.

Azriel...

"Ask him." The voice advised.

She needed to name that voice. She could not continue calling it "the voice", that was beginning to be uncomfortable.

"Maybe he can help you get the dress." It continued.

Would it be male or female? Or rather, what the hell was it?

"Are you listening to me?"

She definitely had no idea what it was.

"What are you?" Gwyn questioned, curious as she left the fiction section behind, walking aimlessly through the library.

She loved to wander aimlessly through the thousands of bookshelves, silent priestesses, the whisper of books her only company.

Besides that voice, of course.

"Have you heard anything I've said to you in the last two minutes?" Her voice roared.

"I've heard nonsense, so no, I haven't heard anything." She claimed. "But anyway, you haven't answered my question. What are you?"

"I am everything and I am nothing at the same time."

Now was it was being funny with her?

She rolled her eyes, annoyed "That is not an answer."

"It's an answer if you know how to interpret it." It answered.

She rolled her eyes again.

"Well, at least tell me what I can call you, it's uncomfortable to think of you as 'The voice'" She asked.

The voice fell silent, which she thought meant the end of the conversation.

She decided to head over to her room, assuming she should start Merrill's work, until 'the Voice' answered her.

"Elián"

Gwyn stood in the middle of the bedroom hall

"That is your name?"  She asked.

"My real name would burn your lips if you were able to pronounce it" It replied. "But yes, Elián is my name, and I am 'him', I have noticed how you struggled because you did not know if I was a man or a woman. The definition of gender is much more complicated than that, but it will be enough".

"G-Good." She answered.

Elián was quiet at last, leaving her with her own thoughts, as she opened the door, her own scent of jasmine feeling welcoming.

And the proposal he had made, although obviously she had ignored it, she was not wrong to consider.

Perhaps the Shadowsinger would help her out, aiding her finding a decent dress for her.

She closed the crank behind her, sitting on the small bed, wondering if it would be smart to ask him, risking him saying no, or not asking him and risking not having a dress for the ceremony.

Sighing, she figured she should go to the bathrooms to get the sensation of dust - and the dust itself - off her body, so she grabbed change clothes and headed there, deciding at that moment that tomorrow she would ask the Spymaster if he could accompany her to buy a dress.

Inside her, she could feel Elián nodding his head, giving his approval.

TAG LIST (tell me if you want to be tagged or deleted) @bookish-isha @imsointobooks @shisingh @feyretale @niaacotar @flora-shadowshine @tealnymph24 @trashforazriel @hlizr50 @meher-sumedha @heyovivi @positivewitch @greywarens-magician @sageofthegalaxy @valkygwyn @verifiefangirl @verifiefangirl-mainblog @snickerdoodlechittybangbang @genya-berdara @katekatpattywack @frulyall @mercurianbisous @rainbowcheetah512

[marshmallowgoop]

[Image description: A screenshot from Case Closed Episode One: The Great Detective Turned Small. Remaking a scene from Episode 49 in the anime series, Shinichi tells a surprised Heiji, “Because, there is always only one truth.” End image description.]

Shinichi: Because, there is always only one truth.

Sometimes I think it’s kinda weird that I like Detective Conan/Case Closed so much. I mean, everyone in the show is, uh, well, human?

My favorite fiction niche is supposed to be “monsters,” gosh darn it.

But one of the things that attracts me to “monster” stories is the idea that appearances aren’t everything. What’s underneath the surface says more about a person than any outside crust that they happened to be born into.

Which is why I’m putting “monster” in quotes here. It’s not actual monsters that I adore. The characters I have such an affinity for are those who may be wrongly perceived as monstrous or unimportant because of what they look like.

And thinking of it that way... I can get why the goofy murder anime appeals to me. After all, the boiled-down plot synopsis is that there’s a detective people don’t take seriously because of what he looks like.

But, yeah. Characters by themselves aren’t what motivate me to fall in love with stories. Portraits are nice, but I can tell you that at least my eyes are gonna find themselves far more drawn to paintings with more people. It’s relationships between characters that get me more invested in a work of fiction than anything else, and I don’t just mean the shippy, romantic, lovey-dovey stuff (though that’s fun, too). My real start into vomiting out novel-length blog posts wasn’t purely because I liked a “monster”—it was because I liked (and will always like!) that “monster’s” partnership and camaraderie with someone else.

So, long story short? Detective Conan may not have “monsters,” but you could say that I still like it so much anyway because, at the end of the day, I greatly enjoy many of the relationships portrayed in its hundreds of episodes. And particularly, with this overly long preamble in mind, I love the relationship between Shinichi/Conan and Heiji. Because while Conan may not be a fish creature or space alien, he is so often not seen for who he really is. 

But Heiji... well. He kind of struggles to see Conan for anything but who he really is.

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Episode 77 of Detective Conan. In the first image, Heiji stands next to his father and waves, saying, “Heya, Kudo! How ya been?!” In the second image, Kogoro, Ran, and Conan appear shocked. Kogoro shouts, “Hattori Heiji?!” Ran asks, “Kudo?” End image descriptions.]

Heiji: Heya, Kudo! How ya been?!

Kogoro: Hattori Heiji?!

Ran: Kudo?

Which, yes. That Heiji sucks so much at this can be detrimental and troublesome and dangerous. I’m not at all trying to advocate that the guy should go around loudly calling Conan “Kudo.”

But when he’s not doing that, I find his relationship with Shinichi/Conan endlessly endearing. Conan’s so used to lying and pretending to be someone he’s not, but he doesn’t have to with Heiji. He can be himself. They can solve mysteries together as if Shinichi had never crossed paths with the Black Organization at all.

Of course, Conan doesn’t have to pitch up his voice and act silly with other characters in the show, either. And I also like those relationships a lot! And I’ll probably/maybe/someday write more about them in the future, too. But while I’m focusing on Heiji, one thing that gets me is just how quick he is at looking beyond appearances. Even before Heiji realizes Conan’s true identity, even when he’d only really met Shinichi once but finds himself absolutely enamored of him regardless (see the top of this post), Heiji still doesn’t take much time at all to recognize Shinichi’s intellect in Conan, and he treats Conan much like he’d treat the guy he desperately wants to see: 

[Image descriptions: Screenshots from Episode 58 of Detective Conan. In the first image, Heiji, with a troubled expression on his face, says, “Yeah, but something’s not quite right.” In the second image, Conan is shown beside Heiji. Heiji adds, “Right, boy?” Conan agrees, saying, “Yeah.” End image descriptions.]

Heiji: Yeah, but something’s not quite right. Right, boy?

Conan: Yeah.

And, I mean. This is before Heiji even explicitly and consciously suspects that Conan and Shinichi are one and the same. He just knows the kid’s smart and figures that “Kogoro’s” deductions are actually coming from someone dozens of centimeters smaller.

Which... I really like. It’s undoubtedly sweet that Heiji then immediately makes the connection to Shinichi after Conan explains his thoughts... 

[Image description: A screenshot from Episode 58 of Detective Conan. Ran scolds Conan for getting involved in the current case while Heiji, offscreen, thinks to himself, “His voice and body are different, but he’s almost just like Kudo!” End image description.]

Heiji (thinking): His voice and body are different, but he’s almost just like Kudo!

But I love that even prior to the Shinichi link, Heiji doesn’t discourage Conan. I love that no matter how young Conan seems, Heiji understands that he has good things to say and should be listened to. 

I mean. That is kinda part of why I like my “monster” niche so much.

(I’m also fond of an anime-only filler episode (36) that explores this topic in more depth, but that’s an essay for another day. Still, maybe another reason I’m so fond of Detective Conan is because I can relate to being babied... but admittedly, that’s at least as much to do with my personality as it is my looks.)

Anyway. This post’s gotten much longer than I intended. But I do wanna talk about one more thing that really cements this “looking beyond the surface” aspect of Shinichi/Conan’s relationship with Heiji, and that’s Heiji’s bad dream described in Episode 118:

[Image descriptions: Screenshots from Episode 118 of Detective Conan. The first image is a close-up shot of Heiji. He says, “I had a bad dream...” The next two images zoom out, showing Heiji’s back and Conan beside him. In the second image, Conan asks, “Dream?” Heiji replies, “Yeah. It happens when we catch a bad guy.” In the third image, Heiji finishes, “But he winds up stabbing and killing you instead!” End image descriptions.]

Heiji: I had a bad dream...

Conan: Dream?

Heiji: Yeah. It happens when we catch a bad guy. But he winds up stabbing and killing you instead!

In Funimation’s English dub, Heiji even tries to further play off how much the dream bothered him, joking, “Like you could ever catch a suspect!”

But it becomes clear later in the episode that Heiji never dreamed of Conan getting stabbed and killed, even if that’s what almost happens near the end. Heiji’s nightmare involved only Shinichi getting hurt:

[Image description: A screenshot from Episode 118 of Detective Conan. Conan has his hand on his face in thought, while in the background, Heiji imagines Shinichi in pain, clutching a bloody wound on his chest. End image description.]

Because, in the end? That’s how Heiji always sees the guy. As himself.

And I absolutely adore it.

[wangxianficrecs]

Fic Finder

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1.  Hi, I'm looking for an Untamed fic, maybe you'll be able to help. It's a canon divergence AU in which WWX doesn't lose his core, Jiang Fengmian lives and it's implied that his core was transferred to JC (heavily implied; JFM retires as the Sect Leader after that). This is absolutely not the most important part of this fic but it's a paragraph that I've got stuck in my head and now I'm searching for the rest @_@ Thanks in advance! ~ @otemporaetmores

FOUND! by @notsobabblespace, who was reminded of  I’m aching and I know you are too by edenwolfie (part 3 in series, M, 23k, wangxian)

FOUND!  by @jim-is-spocks-thyla, who suggests ❤️ to arrive late is better than not to arrive at all by Moominmammashandbag (M, 35k, wangxian) [ETA:  Oops, not this one.  JFM has no core, but he didn’t give it to JC]

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2.  Hi Mojo! I’m in need of you/your followers help in finding a fic that I read a little while ago. It was a fic where Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi lived together in Cloud Recesses and their children were Sizhui and an OOC that was younger than him. I remember SiZhui faced a lot of criticism for not being the chief cultivator’s real child? And they were happy he had a younger sibling that would be sect leader in the future because he was blood. Come to think of it, this is probably an ABO fic too. Thanks for your time 💜

FOUND! @andidontmeanto believes this is Blue Blood by PotterheadAvengerDemigod (T, 91k, wangxian, my post)

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3.  Aksks it's like 3 am but I just remembered a fic and I can't find it?? I'd really, really appreciate your help. It was a wangxian fic, maybe a oneshot idk, and lwj was kind of a nerd and wwx a badboy? So basically lwj has a massive crush on him and dresses up like wwx etc. (i think he even got an undercut) and after a party they sleep with each other at lwj's place?

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4.  i’m looking for a fic set in the where lwj’s mother killed his father? i don’t think that was a main plot point but it did show up in his backstory - any idea what this might be? ~ @thehype

FOUND!  @rentslirott thinks this could be ❤️the best of you by sysrae (E, 42k, wangxian, my post)

FOUND!  @castaways-logbook offers  The Right to Care by travelingneuritis (E, 39k, wangxian, WIP)

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5.  ... same as #6 ...

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6.  Hello friend, sorry for the inconvenience but I wanted to see if you could please find me a fic that I lost but I only remember more or less the final part, it goes more or less like this, lan zhan and wei ying are kidnapped by jin guangyao and lock them up if not I'm wrong in some cells next to lan xichen after the fights jin guangyao dies but lan xichen did know how bad jin guangyao had done and he didn't care and then to get revenge he wants to kill wei ying but lan zhan kills him and sizhui gets scared It was more or less like that, please help me ~ @isa0123lol

FOUND!  by @wangxiansfics who says that tragically it’s no longer available, but @dulachodladh found it on WaybackMachine here: Thread and Needle by haysel (M, 86k, wangxian)

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7.  Hi, Mojo! I'm glad that you're back but I hope you enjoyed your time off tumblr! Can you and/or your followers help me find a fic? I think the summary was talking about wwx and somehow they were asking mingjue for help since he's the only one who can help. The summary was in italics and it's a dialogue from some guy? And a shorter summary below. Sadly this is the only thing I can remember but I hope you can still help me

FOUND!  @alwayswenning suggests love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, wangxian, has it’s own fanfic here, I just finished this last night!, my bookmark)

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8.  Sorry to bombard you as soon as you're back, but this one's driving me crazy--a modern AU where they met online. WWX thinks LWJ is an old man from how he talks. I don't remember much except the excerpt made it seem like he still was amused by/enjoyed talking to him, and Wen Qing was telling him it was a bad idea and to stop. It's not How to Fall In Love With a Catfish, tho that one is brilliant! (Also any top notch identity porn would be great) Hope your break was restful, you deserve it! Thanks

Here’s my #identity porn tag, but I’m not sure about this exact story.

I'm the anon for #8 on the fic finder. Though I'm excited to read it, the suggested fic isn't the one I was looking for. I swear I thought I saw it on here around a month ago or slightly more, but searches have failed me.

FOUND!  Rating: General Audiences by Mishaa (T, 18k, wangxian WIP) -  mysterious author LWJ (speculated to be an old man because of his formality) and infamous artist WWX paired up for an Untamed Big Bang (in an AU where JGY was the series’ antiheroic protagonist; this fic was written before the release of CQL.)

FOUND?  could you be looking for  Something Real by Latios (G, 5k, wangxian, my post) - wwx thinks lwj is an old man, but there’s no WQ.  There are many pictures of bunnies.

SIMILAR! @emilysidhe thought of ID Bro Saga by Bowandtie (T, 39k, wangxian)

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9.  Hey, how are you? Could you help me please? I've read 3 fanfics once, but I can't find them anymore. 1 - Nanny Problem, Wei is going to be the babysitter of A-Yuan, he is an omega and Lan is an alpha. 2 - Doctor Perfect, Yibo is an omega nurse and Xiao is an alpha doctor. 3 - The Baby of my Omega, Yibo is omega and Xiao is alpha, both of them are bodyguards, but Yibo has to protect Xiao in the beginning. I think they were at ao3, but I really can't find them. Can you help me please? Thank you!! ~ @weallmad

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10.  Hi! Im happy you’re back. I hope you had a good break. I missed your recommendations, but at the same time i got a break from fics and actually studied to my tests haha.  [Ah!  I’m glad to hear your time was spent productively!]  I’m looking for a fic like Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground. In the fic im looking for wangxian slowly lose their senses instead of all of them at once. Like they lose their hearing, then touch, sight etc, They can’t see each other or hear each other. I’m sorry i can’t explain very well.

FOUND?  Could you be thinking of  ❤️shadows in the sun rise by Yuu_chi (E, 25k, wangxian)?  Only lwj losese his senses one by one in this one, though.

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11.  heyyy im trying to find this fic where wwx died the first time he was thrown in to the burial mounds then 10 years later he gets resurrected or something. I can't find it on AO3 and it's been bugging me for days. Thank you!

FOUND!  Well, @moku-youbi offers both of these as possibilities:

Did I Not Explain Why the Sunset Turns Red? by 3988Akasha (E, 100k, wangxian)

we're starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 95k, wangxian)

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12.  Hi I am looking for a fic where wwx is a witch (/mage?) in a world where magic is being persecuted (especially in Gusu) except for Yunmeng/Lanling I think but they're still frowned upon nonetheless. Then after accidentally hurting Shijie, wwx runs away, and ends up hiding in Gusu pretending to be a servant to lwj (lwj is a prince, lxc is the emperor) but lwj actually knows of his identity and tries not-so-discreetly to protect him from being caught. Thanks!

FOUND! by @bibliobasilisk who gives us Witchfinder by misbehavingvigilante (E, 86k, wangxian)

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13.  Hi! Firstly, I'm glad to see you're back, and I hope your break was a good one! I'm trying to find a LWJ/WWX story that I had planned to read and ending up losing before I could. It was set in the immediate aftermath of the 33 lashes, LWJ is in the Jingshi recovering when a healer(?) discovers he's pregnant (by WWX). It may have been a/b/o verse, but I'm not 100% on that. Part of the story was a flashback to when WWX was still alive. Thank you!

FOUND!  by nonny themself.  It’s Unexpected Surprise by Glucose_Gremlin (E, 4k, wangxian)

SIMILAR! @mondelgel suggests my heart is kept as pure as ice in a jade vase/一片冰心在玉壶 by Daledesu (M, 21k, wangxian, WIP)

SIMILAR! from @impending-cuttlefish:  something new, something white, something blue by ariskamalt (E, 140k, wangxian, WIP)

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14.  I'm trying to find this one fic where Jin Ling finds this diary that Wei Ying wrote as the Yiling Patriarch that basically reveals everything, including the golden core reveal and it even has training tips that helps Jon Ling improve. When Wei Ying comes back, he tries everything to keep him there because he is THE best uncle now. I need to find it because it is a N E E D.

FOUND? by @theladypeartree who says, “The Truth (Untold) is jl reading jyl's journals, not wwx's though. And mordant is jl returning wwx's journals that he found, not grew up with. Neither fit #14 properly, but I seriously could not find anything closer after two solid days of searching. Good luck!“

The Truth (Untold) by anxiouswreck0_0 (g, 3k, wangxian, jin ling & wei wuxian)

or this one on ffn:

mordant by tennisnotensai (M, 18k, wangxian, here’s the link for mobile)

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15.  I have heard tell of a Sizhui/Jingyi fic where the boys end up going to Wangxian for advice about how to be intimate. Can you help me find it?

FOUND!  @manaika-chan says this one is On Advisement by LaMachina17 (M, 19k, wangxian, zhuiling, chengyi)

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16.  nm

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17.  Hi! Sorry, do you happen to know that nsfw fic where wwx is still studying in the cloud recesses and he’s reading a novel (im not sure if it was from nhs) that features a cultivator couple and there’s a scene in the book where the woman was pegging her husband? Basically wwx got curious about this and tried fingering himself. I remember he was hiding in the back mountains and then lwj eventually caught him

FOUND?  Could you be thinking of  Deep in the Woods by malkinmalkout (E, 5k, wangxian, my post)?

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18.  Ahhh I'm going crazy trying to think of a fic that I've read where Lan Zhan killed Wen Chao in a locker room and nie huaisang stood guard outside the door! Then lan zhan went to lan huan and said I killed someone and he said did they deserve it? Then it's fine. And I can't remember the name of the fic! Have you heard of it? ~ @uchihaautumn

FOUND! @artemisisdiana offers So Full Of Love (Wouldn't Know Where to Start) by witchupbitch (M, 54k, wangxian, WIP)

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19.  Hi, I was wondering if you could help me find a fic. I read it a while ago and I don't really remember all the details but it was a modern au where Lan Wangji was a police officer in this small town and Wei Wuxian comes back after years, having left the town due to some stuff. Thank you in advance.

Btw love your blog. I live for your fic recs.  [Thank you!]

FOUND?  Could you be looking for medium blues by dark_and_terrible (E,193k,  wangxian)?  It appears to be taken down atm, but it might come back (it’s done it before).

FOUND! by @grannyweatherwaxshat who offers When a Bird Flies, It Leaves Feathers by Bem_Kofi (not rated, 75k, wangxian)

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20.  Hi mojo!! First of all I luv your blog Thank you so much for all those ficrecs.  [You’re welcome!]  Actually I’m looking for a fic I read months ago. I probably found the fic from your blog. But I can’t seem to find it now 😢 it was a modern au wangxian fic (inspired by call me by ur name?) wwx was like 5 years older than lwj. (And lwj was like 16?) Wwx lives in another city but he spent around a year in cloud recesses with lwj in the past. And wwx yanli and jc visits cloud recesses again and wangxian gets 2gether

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[My ko-fi.]

[hawkwhore]

hi hi hi could i request a hawk imagine where it’s an enemies to lovers kinda thing, so hawk is still in cobra kai and y/n is in miyagi do. basically tori hurts her and he sees her after and gets protective over her, then they get close and kinda secretly date... something like that haha THANK YOUUU <33333

Do Better — Eli Hawk Moskowitz x Female!Reader

HI OMG IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I literally had an entirely different fic at like 8k words for this before I decided it didn’t fit close enough to the prompt and I just completely started over and this one was even longer than the first so that’s why it took me literal ages LOL.

includes; swearing, fluff, fighting, so much angst

words; 11,394 (im sorry its a whole ass novel)

this takes place late s2, after demetri and hawk’s friendship ends but before eagle fang forms!

Most of your time in high-school you spent in a bubble, keeping to yourself and just your few friends. You didn’t involve yourself in other people’s crap very often, but when an all-out karate war happened at the end of your junior year, you couldn’t keep lurking in the shadows anymore.

Bullying was becoming heavy at your school, and while you weren’t usually a target, you grew tired of watching other people get hurt. Primarily, by a familiar face to you-- Eli Moskowitz.

Not that you knew him particularly well, but you remembered the shy boy you’d shared classes with, and you always tried your best to be nice to him knowing how others treated him.

You never would’ve thought that now he’d be the bully, destroying the confidence of other kids who were just like him.

“Look at this kid,” He laughed to his friend, Mitch. The two boys were standing in the hall, hovering over a small, scrawny boy who looked terrified. “You wanna be in Cobra Kai? Well, see, we had to be un-flinched first. We can do that for you right now, though. See how much you can take.” He teased, threatening a punch, watching the boy wince at his movement.

When you were in the halls on your way to your next class, you witnessed this horrible incident. You watched for a moment, before deciding that it was time for you to step out of your bubble. “Hey, leave him alone.” You said annoyedly, urging the boys to give it up.

Hawk turned to you and leered, and Mitch pushed the kid against the locker so he wouldn’t move while they dealt with you. “Be careful who you talk to like that, princess.” He moved dangerously close, and despite the feelings of anger you had towards him, your stomach dropped a little at the nickname.

Not letting it affect you, you came back bitterly. “Oh yeah? And who am I talking to, Eli?” His face contorted in disgust at the use of his real name. “You know, it’s sad, how you became everything you used to despise. I remember the other side of you, you were sweet..” You said, smiling to your self in remembrance. “And now look at you.” Looking at him in resentment, you finished.

Turning angrily on his heel at your words, Hawk punched the boy in the face and let him go running. He looked back at you with a look of victory, and Mitch smirked. “You better watch your back.” Hawk said threateningly, and knocked his shoulder into yours as he walked to his class.

Through the rest of the day, Hawk thought about you. He knew who you were; Y/N, the only girl to ever be nice to him during his shier days. He remembered the feeling he got any time you’d talked to him, and also how pretty you looked each time you did.

He had almost forgotten until then, how much he had always admired you. He even wanted to ask you out all that time ago, but now too much has changed. Way too much, clearly, because when the commercial for Miyagi-Do came out, you were quick to join.

It was that interaction with Hawk that really set you off, actually. You wanted to be able to stop the cruelty, and you thought that joining Miyagi-Do for defense would be a good start.

Little did you know, the rivalry would only grow.

As weeks passed, Miyagi-Do gained students and flourished. But in the meanwhile, Cobra Kai only got rougher, angrier, and just.. worse, in general.

You had done your best to avoid fights, (like a true Miyagi-Do would) but on a particularly bad day of yours, you were unlucky enough to find yourself running into Tory outside of school.

Being close friends with Sam, you knew to stay clear of Tory after hearing what she did to her. You thought Tory was a vile human being, though, and if she were to start anything-- she was probably the one person you wouldn’t hesitate to absolutely destroy.

When on your way to the dojo, you took a pit stop at a convenience store to pick up some snacks since you had some time to kill between after school and when practice started. You were met with an unpleasant surprise on your way out, when you saw Tory approaching the store.

The two of you made eye contact as you crossed paths, and you decided to ignore her and keep walking. Until, as you walked past each other, Tory stuck out her leg and tripped you over the concrete pathway.

“Are you kidding me, bitch?” You pushed yourself up, scoffing at her, and she smiled maniacally. “What’d you just call me?” She teased, obviously looking for a fight.

As much as you wanted to stay calm, you were pushed over the edge. “You heard me, bitch.” You repeated, letting her know you were not afraid. “What’s your problem? I keep away from you and you just can’t help yourself from starting something. I’ve never even done anything to you.” You confronted Tory, looking for an explanation for her behavior.

It was true, you’d hardly ever interacted with her-- but since you’re in Miyagi-Do and friends with Sam, she just didn’t like you. And Tory being Tory, if she didn’t like someone, she was going to be a bitch about it.

She laughed at your attempt to reason with her, and looked at you in self-satisfaction. “I just think it’d be fun to watch you bleed.” She seemed proud at the insult, stepping forward threateningly-- but you thought it was pretty lame.

Clearly, she had no real answer for the questions you asked her. She was far gone in her own world, using only anger to dictate her decisions.

You had let out a disappointed sigh, shaking your head, and turned to simply leave the situation, remembering that it wasn’t worth it. But Tory had other plans.

She grabbed your wrist, twisting it painfully forcing your body to face her. You quickly rotated it to release yourself from her grip, and punched her in the face with your newly freed hand.

“Leave me alone, Tory. This fighting for no reason crap is bullshit.” You said, stepping out of her proximity and holding your fists up in case of needed defense. Tory felt blood trickle from her nose, and as she wiped it from her face, she threw you a sickening sneer.

Seemingly avid on letting her rage out on you, she only continued. “You’re pathetic.” She cackled, taking a swing at you. You blocked this, but the movement left an opening for her to then kick your stomach, which sent you to the ground.

Before you could manage to get up again, she was hovering over you, punching your face repeatedly. It wasn’t until the pain was sinking in that you finally gained enough power to push her off, rolling forward and pinning her down tightly.

You grabbed a fistful of her hair, turning her face towards the ground. “Give it up, Tory.” She stayed quiet, breathing heavily, until she used her remaining strength to free her arm and dig her elbow into your side.

You fell back at this, and you were now both sat on the ground, mere inches from each other. “Seriously, I mean what’s the point? What are you gaining from this besides a couple of bruises?” You stood up, asking again.

You genuinely wanted to know, what could make a person so heartless. You had done nothing to provoke her, yet she was so intent on hurting you. Your question had unfortunately only sparked her rage again, the way you acted so ‘above it all,’ in Tory’s mind made her only angrier.

She rose, charging towards you for another strike, when the owner of the convenience store came out. “What the hell is this? Do I need to call the police?” The man asked. He had caught you in the blocking position of Tory’s attack, and she bitterly pushed herself off of you.

“You got lucky.” She spat, walking back towards the store she was originally on her way into. “Think about it, Tory! Why?” You yelled as she walked away, wanting your final words to sink into her.

You assured the owner that you were fine, and that he didn’t need to get the cops involved. You took out your phone and checked your complexion in the front camera, cringing seeing the cuts and bruises from Tory’s punches all over your face.

But remembering the bloody nose you had given her in your first punch, you smiled to yourself. Looking at your phone’s clock, you had certainly killed the time, but much more than you had wanted to. You were going to be late, so you texted Sam, alerting her that you got in a fight (sparing the details for later,) and that you would be late to practice.

You figured you could just clean up your cuts when you got home, it wasn’t a big deal, probably. But on your walk to the dojo, a passing car slowed at the sight of you. You started walking faster, instantly assuming the worst, but when the window rolled down, you heard a familiar, extremely unpleasant voice. Hawk.

“On your way to practice, huh? Still no car?” He taunted, knowing you still hadn’t saved up enough to buy your own. You glanced at him and rolled your eyes, continuing to walk down the sidewalk. How many enemies were you going to bump into today?

That was when he noticed your face. “Jesus, Y/N, what happened to you?” He laughed, fully stopping the car. You halted and responded annoyedly, “Tory happened. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be late.” Turning back towards the walkway, you continued down the street.

But before you could get far, Hawk had gotten out of his car and caught up to you. “You’re not seriously headed to the dojo like that are you?” He said confusedly, trying to keep up with your pace.

You looked at him like his question was stupid, and continued walking. At your ignoring of him, he pushed his point further. “You need to clean those cuts.” He said, still following close behind you as you walked.

“Since when do you care?” You said irritated, continuing to disregard the boy’s words. At this, he finally stopped following. “You know what, fine.” He stood, speaking sharply, and you looked at him curiously at his abruptness. “Just trying to help, or, be nice or whatever.” He muttered aggravatedly, raising his hands in mocking surrender at your attitude.

You had ignored his concerns, because quite honestly you didn’t believe he was actually concerned. You had assumed it was some sort of set up for a new insult, or a way to just mess up your face even more.

“Oh yeah? That’s pretty unusual for you, isn’t it?” You said rudely, engaging back in the conversation. Hawk pursed his lips together and shifted uncomfortably.

You didn’t know it, but Hawk still cared about you. He may have changed, but his feelings for you hadn’t— as much as he tried to get them to. And right now, seeing you hurt, and since there was nobody around to judge him for it, he wanted to help you.

“Look, I’ve got some first aid stuff in my car. Let me help.” He stayed where he was, not wanting to provoke you, and spoke softly, nudging his head towards his car.

You narrowed your eyes looking at him, feeling skeptical of accepting the invitation. He noticed your hesitation, but did not back down, looking at you expectantly for an answer.

You let out an exasperated sigh, and walked towards his car without saying a word. Continuing to argue with him about it seemed like a waste of time to you at this point.

Hawk smiled to himself in relief that you gave in. Hurrying after you, he retrieved the first aid kit from the trunk of his car and ran to open the passenger seat door.

“You wanna sit?” He pointed at the seat, motioning you to take it. You dropped your bag and got in the car, still glaring at Hawk.

He seemed sincere in his intentions, but you really just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. Who knows what he could really be planning?

As you took your seat, you reached out to take the kit from Hawk’s grasp. “Hold on,” he said, moving the box away from your reach.

You gave him a bothered look, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. “Have you ever even done this before?” He said, referring to cleaning up after a fight.

“No?” You shrugged, “It can’t be that hard.” You said impatiently, reaching for the box again. “Can you please just let me do it? I’ll show you how for next time.” He practically pleaded, wanting to make sure it was done right so you healed properly.

You didn’t understand why it was such a big deal to him, but you were tired of going back and forth with him. “Whatever, just make it quick. I’ll miss all of karate class at this rate.” You complained, moving closer to the edge of the seat so Hawk could reach you.

The height of his car made you two the same height, so Hawk was face to face with you as you were seated. “Hmm, miss a Miyagi-Do lesson? I don’t see the problem.” He joked, almost making light of their rivalry.

You smiled lightly at that, playfully rolling your eyes, but not saying anything. He stood close enough to examine your face, and it was close enough to make you both nervous.

It was silent as he opened the kit and started to clean your cuts, but you broke it to ask a question that was burning in you. “Why are you doing this?”

He looked at you for a second, looking reluctant to answer your question. “What do you mean?” He dodged, continuing to tend to your bruises.

You laughed, knowing full well he knew what you meant, but deciding to answer him anyway. “Why are you helping me? We aren’t friends.” You said plainly, making sure to keep your face still.

“I don’t know, you just obviously needed it.” He brushed off the seriousness of the question, starting to dab the cloth over your lip so you couldn’t talk.

You pushed his hand away lightly. “That’s hardly an answer. You’d never help a Miyagi-Do, so why?” You snapped, not letting his hand near your face again until he answered.

He finally took a step back, and stared at you looking defeated. “You’re the only one who was ever nice to me. Before.. this.” He pointed to his hair, referring to the era of The Hawk.

You crossed your arms skeptically. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?” You asked expectantly, and he rolled his eyes. “Demetri’s different, okay? He betrayed me. But you..”

He trailed off, struggling to maintain eye contact with you. “You were never anything but good to me. You deserve better.” He said, and your heart both stung and fluttered at once, trying to figure out what was going on with him.

You wondered if his actions were truly coming from a place of sincerity. It was very unlike him to be anything but an asshole, so hearing something like that come out of his mouth really made you think.

He tried to ignore the sentiment he had just said by walking back towards you and starting to tend to your wounds again, but you only pushed him back for a second time.

“I don’t understand what happened to you.” You said sadly, examining the way he stood. “I changed.” He said monotonously, trying to avoid matching your energy of seriousness.

His hot-and-cold temper was starting to annoy you, the way he would open up just to close right back down again.

“Yeah, and not for the better. Are you even happy?” You said, frustrated, looking at him hard. His face turned sour.

“More than I was before!” He yelled, stepping towards you threateningly. You were taken aback at his outburst, suddenly feeling small as he grew angrier. “My life was hell, remember?” His voice cracked, and he tried to calm himself as he saw the way you leaned back into your seat uncomfortably.

“Look, I’m sorry for keeping you, I probably cleaned you up enough so... just go.” He said softly, sounding regretful as he moved out of the way so you could get out of the car.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. You felt completely clueless on how he was feeling, and you didn’t want to leave it like this. “Hawk-“, you started, but he cut you off. “No, just go.” He pointed away. “I was stupid to think I’d get a second chance with you.” He muttered to himself, turning to walk around to the drivers seat of his car.

“Wh— second chance? What do you mean?” You shouted after him and hopped off the seat, grabbing his arm before he could get too far.

At your tug of his arm, he looked back at you with the most intense feeling in his eyes. Not wanting to use his words anymore, Hawk turned to grab your wrist from the hand that was already resting on his arm, and pulled you against him.

Hawk smashed his lips onto yours, holding you loosely in fear of your rejection. You weren’t expecting it, but you didn’t pull away. Your kiss continued and you subconsciously shuffled backwards, now being able to lean against the side of the car as he grew more passionate in his movements.

Being with him like this felt amazing, but it was confusing, too-- you had to pull away and clear up this situation.

Finally letting each other go, Hawk looked at you with glossy eyes. You had no idea where all of this came from or what to say, so you were silent as you waited for him to explain.

He knew what you were waiting for, and sighed deeply before expressing how he felt. “I just feel like after everything, I owe you my best.” Hawk said quietly, and you waited for him to go on, having not yet made up your mind on the whole situation.

You enjoyed the kiss, yes-- but you didn’t understand why it had happened, and that was something you needed to know before anything could proceed further. Hawk was a jerk, and he was going to have a lot of explaining to do for you to suddenly be able to forget that.

He moved even closer, and reached his hand out to brush your hair away from your face. “And I don’t like seeing you hurt.” He whispered, ghosting his fingers across the bruises on your face.

You felt a shiver down your spine as he touched you, closing your eyes in the moment. “And,” he pulled away from you, his voice changing to a more regular tone again, “I don’t ever want to be the reason you feel pain. Not after all those times you helped me escape mine.” He said, reaching out to hold your hand, as he referred to how you were there for him so long ago.

Pure concern and care for Hawk overtook you as the words left his lips, and you had never felt so conflicted in your life. It made sense to you now why he would often avoid you, whereas others he’d make it his mission to pick fights with.

He had just admitted to caring about you, and that he never wanted to be at fault for your hurt. He had a reputation to uphold, but he really did have a soft spot for you that never went away.

You felt like you were talking to Eli again, as though the sweet boy he once was had never left, but you also knew that once this moment was over, he’d go back to his corrupt ways again. And that terrified you.

All these new feelings for Hawk were rising in you, but how could you act on them when he was supposed to be your enemy?

He studied your expression, waiting for you to say something. He felt more confident now, seeing as you kissed him back, but he was still nervous for whatever you were about to say.

“What do we do?” You spoke shakily, your expression timid and lost. He caressed his thumb over your hand, noticing your own nerves. “What do you mean?” He asked, not expecting that to be your first question.

“I’ve always cared about you and you know that, but then you go through all these changes and become a total dick, and now you kiss me and tell me how you care too.” You say awkwardly, trying to point out the weirdness of the situation. “I’m confused, Hawk, and afraid. We can’t be together when everything about our lives will keep us apart.” You whimpered, scattering your eye contact.

His heart leapt at the mention of you two being together, but frowned once registering the context of the words. He suddenly felt guilty, seeing how distressed you were. Maybe he shouldn’t have done this, he thought.

But it was too late now, and as he released your hand to move forward and hold you, he never wanted to let go.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled into your ear. He knew his recent actions since joining Cobra Kai weren’t exactly admirable-- he knew he should do better. But it was hard; and all he could muster right now, was an apology.

There was a lot to process in such a short moment of time, and you felt overwhelmed. You felt comforted and safe as he held you, but at the same time you felt wrong for feeling that way.

Maybe he was trying to do right by you, but would that be enough if he continued to act terribly when everyone else was around? You needed some time to think. “I should go.” You pulled away from his grasp, trying to be gentle even though your exit was abrupt.

“Oh,” he nodded, watching as you picked up your karate bag. “I just don’t want everyone at the dojo to worry.” You said, trying to rid the conversation of its tension.

He was trying to play it cool, but he was screaming on the inside, terrified that once you left you would never talk to him again. “Just promise you’ll fix that when you get home.” Referring to your still-slightly-messed-up face, he urged you, unable to refrain from making sure you took care of yourself.

You smiled sadly and nodded in response, feeling awkward about everything as you turned to walk back on your route towards the dojo. “And um,” You looked back at him once more. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” You said, assuming he wouldn’t want his Cobra Kai friends to find out he had kissed a Miyagi-Do.

His heart broke when you said this-- you basically thought he was ashamed of you? In a way you were right, he didn’t want them to know. But the guilt that spread across his face at your words, showed how badly he wanted to tell everyone just how much he liked you.

Clearing his throat, he tried to pull himself together again. “Right, yeah. See you.” He said, and watched you for a moment as you walked away.

Getting back into his car, he fought the emotions threatening to spill out, and pushed them away as he headed home. He couldn’t stop thinking about his next move, and what would happen next time he saw you.

Obviously the first thing he would want to do is kiss you, and hold you, and touch you.. but he knew that instead he would likely end up being encouraged by his friends to attack you in some way.

He couldn’t just say, ‘back off guys, she’s cool, i like her now.’ because that would definitely earn him a beating and a seat at the rejects table. He had been fighting these feelings for so long because of this exact reason, and he was pissed at himself that he couldn’t have just kept it under control for longer.

It would have been easier for him, and you. Even you were worrying as you walked to practice about what you were going to do when you saw him again. Your friends may be more forgiving than Hawk’s, but you doubted they’d be particularly thrilled about any of this news.

They would surely tell you to be careful, not to trust him, that it was just a game to find a weakness in you. These doubts inflicted your mind constantly, and it sucked that you had to figure all of it out on your own.

You were a half-hour late to karate when you arrived, and luckily Sensei Larusso had the tools to heal the remaining injuries on your face. You explained what happened with Tory, but you didn’t tell them about Hawk.

Your classmates were angry, Sam especially, and you were too. But after everything, you knew nobody in Cobra Kai was really in their right mind. Tory was an out of control girl with aggression issues, and Hawk was constantly battling a feeling of pressure and pent-up rage.

The worst thing about being in Miyagi-Do, was knowing the right way to go, and knowing that the right way was going to be a long, slow, and difficult process. It was a waiting game at this point-- how many fights would it take for the Cobra Kai kids to realize that wasn’t what they needed to do?

How much pain would they all have to endure, to realize there were better ways to solve their problems? You had only hoped that Hawk taking this step towards you was a step in the right direction-- and that maybe the rest of the Cobras would soon follow.

But until then, it was a secret. And the next few times you saw Hawk were an extreme struggle for the both of you.

Each passing day that you’d make eye contact at school, you’d both immediately look away. Neither of you had spoken or even texted since the kiss, and you were both failing miserably at proper communication.

At first, you thought that maybe the whole thing had been a mistake, and maybe it should just be left alone. But recalling everything Hawk said to you that day, you couldn’t ignore how real it felt. You wanted to be with him, but you had no clue how to go about that.

You were waiting for Hawk to make the next move, but to Hawk-- the ball was in your court. You had left him there, with no definite answer on how you felt about it, and never got back to him since. It seemed to him like you wanted to forget about it, so when one of Moon’s parties rolled around that weekend, he decided to forget about it too.

You were coming to the party, but got there late; and what a wonderful sight it was for the first thing to see as you walk in be Hawk, face inches away from another girl’s, flirting the night away.

Of course, you thought, feeling disgusted at what was in front of you. Of course everything he said was bullshit. You couldn’t figure out for the life of you what his goal was in pretending to care for you, especially when he got basically nothing out of it except a stupid kiss he could’ve gotten from anyone-- but clearly none of it was as real as you thought it was.

It’d been a few days, sure, but you thought maybe tonight you’d finally just talk to him. You watched as the girl played with the string of Hawk’s hoodie, and feeling a pang of jealousy you decided to walk by them, making sure your presence was known.

It definitely worked, because at the notice of your movements he excused himself from the conversation and followed you out towards the pool, where you had gone to get away from the sight of Hawk and the girl.

“Hey.” He whispered, as you poured yourself a drink. “Hi.” You replied boredly with your back turned to him, not exactly feeling excited to have a conversation with him.

He looked around, scoping out who may be listening, but luckily the only others outside were heavily invested in the drinking game going on at the other side of the patio.

Hawk could tell you were bothered about the girl, but didn’t understand why, since you had so obviously been avoiding him.

“Can we talk?” He asked, still being cautious as to not attract any attention. “Go ahead.” You were being difficult, but quite frankly you thought he deserved it. He made you spend days analyzing what had happened between you, only for him to move on from it after a few days?

He stomped closer, and you looked up at him. “You know we can’t talk here.” He nodded his head towards the back of the yard, hoping you’d go with him somewhere private.

You scoffed, and looked at the spot doubtfully. You were upset, but still curious to hear what he had to say. “Fine.” You rolled your eyes, feeling disappointed in yourself for giving in, but you couldn’t pretend you weren’t dying to know what the hell he was thinking.

Hawk walked eagerly to the secluded part of Moon’s property, hoping to get some clarity from you. But before Hawk could say anything, your anger got the best of you.

“So what the hell is your problem?” You started, as soon as you knew you were out of earshot from the rest of the party. Hawk looked taken aback, his eyebrows immediately coming together. “Me? What are you talking about?” He said, offended.

You looked at him in disbelief, mouth dropping open slightly. “Are you joking? Are we going to pretend you weren’t just about to make out with that girl in there?” You said, feeling a twinge of hurt from your own words.

His face knotted in confusion and annoyance. “Seriously? You’re jealous right now? After I confessed everything to you, and you avoided me for days afterwards, I was just supposed to think you actually wanted me?” He tried to keep his voice down, but his emotions were getting the better of him.

“What? I just needed some time to think! It’s not like you bothered to text me either!” You whisper-shouted, now feeling like you were missing something.

“Well when you kiss someone and they basically run away from you, who’s responsibility do you think it is to reach out after?!” He threw his arms up in bafflement, looking at you expectantly.

Your face fell to a look of guilt, and eventually his did too. Suddenly you both felt like idiots at how far you jumped to conclusions.

“I was gonna talk to you today. But when I saw you in there with that girl, all these insecurities just came over me. I thought everything you said was just some Cobra prank and it never meant anything.” Your face drooped, feeling a little embarrassed to admit any of this.

His eyes saddened, and he shook his head. “And I just thought you hated me, and that no matter what I said it’d never be enough for you to forgive me.” He explained his own worry, and your eyes started to water at his words.

Feeling overwhelmed after finally being able to piece together what had been going on this whole time, you sprung into his arms, hugging him tightly. You both stayed embraced, enjoying the feeling of comfort from each other once again, until you finally felt strong enough to pull yourself away.

He kept a hand around your head, as though cradling something delicate. “I meant everything I said that day. It’s not a scheme. I want to be with you.” He told you, proving your suspicions wrong.

You smiled weakly, feeling warm at his confession, but nervous for what’s to come. “I’m sorry I never texted you, but I just don’t get how we’re going to do this.” You said, unconvinced. “We can’t tell anyone, and despite whatever we have, there are a lot more reasons why we won’t work than will.” You look away, your mood of happiness faltering at the idea of being realistic.

“I mean, you know I like you Hawk. And maybe it’s different for us, but, I can’t exactly support the way you treat other people.” You say reluctantly, trying not to sound rude. Hawk gulped, looking down shamefully.

Not wanting to think realistically right now, he ignored what you said and pulled you closer. “We’ll figure it out.” He said sweetly, and moved his hand to lift your chin, kissing you tenderly. As nervous as you were about all of it, the way he kissed you somehow seemed to make all your worries disappear.

Just then as your lips met, sirens went off nearby. “Shit, cops?” Hawk said, breaking apart from you. You giggled at the unfortunate turn of events. “You go that way,” you pointed him in the opposite direction of where you were planning to exit, not wanting others to notice you were together. “See you around.” You said playfully, and he caught on to your plan.

Before he could give you a final peck or even say goodbye, you were gone around the corner of the house, and he wondered longingly when he’d finally be able to kiss you again.

The next couple days at school you’d both done your best to avoid looking suspicious with each other. There were many stolen glances, and lots of private texts, but you both somehow managed to keep whatever fling you two had completely under wraps.

Though you had been initially uncomfortable with the whole secret-dating-thing, you eventually gave up on worrying about what would happen if others found out. You were happy, and having a lot of fun sneaking around with Hawk.

You noticed he had even toned down some of his bullying, and your heart felt full at the thought that he might have done that for you. Of course, there were always a few ‘slip-ups’.. but he made sure you weren’t around to see those.

Even if it was difficult, it was thrilling in a way-- having make-out sessions in his car when no one was around to see, and slipping in through each others’ windows at night to see each other... 

It was fun, pretending to hate each other by day, and then not being able to stay away from each other by night. It felt like the whole school was being pranked, and you two were the only ones in on it.

It had been a few weeks now since you admitted to liking each other at Moon’s party, and you were now headed to the sports shed near the soccer field where Hawk had asked you to meet him after school.

You’d came here and gotten a little wild with him twice before, so at the invitation you fully expected to be met with an aggressive Hawk, ready to hook up. But instead when you opened the shed door, he was standing shyly and gave you the sweetest smile.

“Hey,” he said, taking a small step forward to meet where you were standing. “Hi, baby,” you grinned and kissed him chastely, taking note of the more innocent energy coming from him today.

He wrapped his arms around you, his eyes examining your face adoringly. “Um,” he said, radiating nervousness and backing up slightly. “What’s up?” You smiled at him curiously, taking his hands in yours.

After only a moment, he released his hands from your hold, and you suddenly felt concerned. Why was he acting so weird? You watched confusedly as he fiddled with the inside pocket of his jacket, not saying a word.

Pulling out a small box, he opened it to reveal a simple but beautiful silver necklace. “Hawk!” You gasped, looking at it in awe. He felt more confident at your reaction, and felt safe to say something again.

“I thought that, since we always have to act around each other, you could wear it as a reminder of how we really feel.” He said, searching your expression for some sort of approval.

You stared at him in admiration, not yet able to find the words to respond. “It’s simple, so nobody will think it means anything, but, we’ll know.” He spoke again, hoping for it to grant a response from you this time.

Your face began to bloom with happiness. Taking the box from his hands, you kissed him passionately. “I love it. Can you put it on me?” You asked cheerfully, and Hawk smiled brightly. “Yeah,” he nodded excitedly, turning you around.

You did your best to move your hair out of the way, and Hawk gently pushed the few stray strands to the side. Feeling his fingers brush across your skin, you breathed heavily. You could feel his own breath hot on your neck, as he clasped the two ends of the jewelry together.

With your back still against his torso, he placed his hands around your waist, starting to leave soft kisses against your ear, and down towards your collarbone.

You closed your eyes, soaking in the feeling, until the door of the shed barged open. You stumbled away from each other in shock, and looked to see Tory standing in front of the both of you.

“I knew it! What the hell is this, Hawk?” She screamed, prowling towards you. Feeling completely unprepared from the utter suddenness of the situation, you stepped back in fear. “What are you doing here!?” Hawk shouted, ignoring Tory’s question as he blocked her path from getting to you.

She sneered at the both of you, stopping as she noticed his protectiveness over you. “I’ve noticed how you sneak off at the end of school. I finally decided to follow you here.” She said matter-of-factly, giving you a glare.

“So what is she, Hawk? Your girlfriend?” She taunted, starting to circle you. Out of everything she’d said so far, that was the thing that actually made you the most nervous. You hadn’t actually used that word before... ‘girlfriend,’ you hadn’t really made it official, despite how much it felt like you already had.

You weren’t sure how Hawk would react now that he was caught, but you desperately hoped he would say, ‘Yes, she is, and I love her.’ But that was nowhere close, to what he said.

“What? No! We’re just having some fun, alright? It doesn’t mean anything.” He forced a laugh, stepping away from you. Your heart ached. This is what you were afraid of. You knew it was probably for the best for him to have said that, but you couldn’t ignore the hurt you felt when you heard him say it.

You wished he would’ve right then and there just admitted it, stood up for himself, and chosen you. He could’ve just told the truth, and left Cobra Kai, and been with you. But you weren’t enough. He had a reputation to uphold.

“Oh, really.” Tory scoffed, barely believing his lie as she looked between the two of you. “You can have fun with anyone, Hawk, and you a choose a Miyagi-Do?” She spat, staring him down, and his usually-confident demeanor diminished instantly. “Break it off, or I tell everyone.”

Storming off, her threat lingered in the air as the two of you stood alone, unable to meet each other’s gazes.

“Maybe we should just end this, Y/N.” Hawk spoke meekly, finally breaking the silence. Your eyes widened in horror, forcing yourself to look up at him. “What?” You said, your voice faltering. “So that’s just it then?”

Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes again as he met your stare. “We don’t have any other choice!” He shouted angrily, getting in your face. Your mouth fell agape at the way he was acting, your expression hardening.

“Yes, we DO!” You shouted back, and sobs started to escape you. You of course meant the choice being he stands up to the Cobras, and fights for your relationship. You understood his dilemma in the beginning, but at this point none of it seemed worth it to you anymore.

His eyes were fixated on you intensely, and his mind was running a mile a minute trying to figure out what to do.

“You can easily stand up to them, the Cobras! You’re stronger than all of them combined. Why won’t you fight for us?” You cried, searching for any sign in his face that showed he regretted his words. He had never said so, but you could tell the only thing holding him back was the fear of the Cobras’ reactions.

His insides scrambled with guilt watching you cry. But he had to stay strong. Unaffected, unfazed, completely unbothered. That’s how he forced his expression to appear as he turned and left the shed, leaving you alone and in pain as you watched your worst fear come true.

“Hawk!” You yelled after him, but he only kept walking. “What happened to never wanting to be the reason I felt pain?” Your voice cracked, and you wiped your tears from your face, giving up.

Your words cut into Hawk like a knife. If even possible, Hawk was hurting more than you. Each step he took farther away from where you stood, he felt his heart scatter into another piece. He wished things could be different, too-- but you were too much of a risk.

Cobra Kai may be a large reason for his troubles, but it was also the only reason he was still on top. He wanted you so bad, but he was too afraid to let go of everything else just to have you.

It was safer this way, he told himself. If nobody knew, you’d be safer. You wouldn’t have to be involved in the drama that would come from it, you wouldn’t have another reason for the Cobras to come after you, and you wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.

Hawk repeated these things to himself over and over to make himself feel better about the way things ended. But no matter what he told himself, it was never enough for him to fully believe that he made the right choice.

Feeling helpless, you called the only person you thought might understand. “D-Demetri?” You spoke into the phone, taking a gasp for air between sobs.

“Y/N? Are you ok?” He answered, sounding worried. “I need to talk to you, can you-” You paused, trying to catch your breath. “Can you come get me?” You were nervous he wouldn’t be able to, but you needed someone in person, not over text.

You and Demetri weren’t particularly besties, so for you to call him out of the blue, crying, was extremely worrisome to him. “Uh, yeah, okay sure. I only just left so I can turn back.”

Letting out a shaky breath of relief, you thanked Demetri and hung up, walking out of the shed and towards the front of the school to where he would be meeting you. Hawk was supposed to be your ride home, but clearly that was no longer an option.

When Demetri arrived, he didn’t wait for you to get in the car, he immediately got out and walked over to you. “What happened?” He said cautiously, becoming nervous about having to deal with others’ emotions.

He was never particularly great at consolation, being the awkward and blunt person he is-- and he really didn’t want to make things worse for you.

“It’s Eli,” You said, trying to hold back your tears. “I did something really stupid.” Your lip quivered, feeling embarrassed talking about it. You weren’t supposed to tell anyone about you and Hawk, but at this point, you had nothing left to lose.

Demetri looked at you confused. “What do you mean?” To his knowledge, you and Hawk barely conversed, and there should be absolutely no reason whatsoever for you to be crying over him.

The closer you got to explaining it, the harder it got to contain your emotions. Despite knowing Demetri wasn’t very keen on hugs, you ran into him, desperate for the feeling of comfort.

At this point, Demetri’s level of concern was on the rise. Why on earth would you hug him? That’s never happened before. “I just thought you’d be the only one who would understand... if I told someone.” You spoke, words slightly muffled as you were pressed into his chest.

Reluctantly, Demetri accepted your hug and rested his arms around you. “Okay, Y/N, you’re scaring me. What did he do?” He asked, looking down at you.

Gaining the courage to explain yourself, to Demetri’s relief you let go of him and steadied your breathing. “A few weeks ago.. Hawk and I kissed.” You said hesitantly, preparing for the worst.

“What?” Demetri’s face scrunched into the most confused and offended look you’d ever seen him wear. “I know, okay, just wait.” You told him, hoping he would hear you out.

“I thought it was just a stupid mistake, or something?” You began, recalling the uncertainty you felt when it first happened. “But then he said all this stuff about how much he cared about me, and it turns out we actually have something real.”

Aware of the weirdness of what you were saying, you looked to see how Demetri was handling it. He showed a look of understanding, but you could tell he was simply masking the discomfort he was truly feeling. “It was really confusing at first, but then we started secretly dating.. because we knew everyone would flip if they found out.” You continued, the awkwardness worsening with each sentence spoken.

Demetri’s eyebrows rose. “Dating?” You visibly cringed at the reaction, but carried on with your story. “And he even started being nicer to people!” You mentioned, hoping to make the situation seem like you weren’t a complete idiot for allowing it to happen. “Because, I told him I didn’t think I could be with him-- with the way he treats people, you know? And things were actually going well until today--”

You took a moment, preparing the end of your explanation in the hopes you wouldn’t start to cry through it. Demetri looked at you impatiently.

“When Tory found us together and threatened to tell everyone about us if we didn’t break it off, and then Hawk just left me there and said that we should end things because he’s a coward and can’t do what’s right because HE WANTS TO LOOK COOL.” You shouted, running through the sentences fast and furiously. Instead of getting sad like you thought you would, you got angry. Ah yes, another stage of grief.

Demetri looked slightly scared of you at your sudden tantrum, but having heard your story, he did understand what you were feeling-- because in a way, it had happened to him too. This time, it was him who reached out to hug you, and you appreciated him for it. Hugs always seemed to make you feel calm.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I know how it feels. He’s stuck right now, but we can’t give up, okay? He’ll come around.” He said honestly, awkwardly patting your back. You laughed a tiny bit, seeing Demetri trying to console, but you were grateful for his presence.

You released each other from the hug, and you wiped any leftover tears off of your face. “Thanks, Demetri.” You said, smiling sweetly. He nodded, placing his hand on your arm in reassurance, and motioned for you to follow to his car.

The ride back to your house was quiet, but your thoughts were busy and loud. That’s how things were for awhile after that day. You kept to yourself again, and though you tried to look alive, you felt like you had retreated back inside the bubble you worked so hard to get out of.

You went to school, you went to karate, you did whatever responsibilities you had to do-- but for the rest of your free time, you spent it alone in your room, wondering what it would take for Hawk to come back to you.

It was unhealthy, really, how you would wait everyday for a sign of acknowledgement from Hawk, and decline any other social invitation because you never got one.

You even wore the necklace, everyday, in hopes that he’d notice and remember how much you meant to him. But it never worked. He never came back.

You got away with the isolation for awhile, but people were starting to notice how you’ve been pulling away. At least you had Demetri to cover for you once and awhile, to help keep up the facade that you were okay.

Because, you weren’t. You wondered if Hawk was, though. He certainly seemed like he was okay, but he couldn’t be. For your own peace of mind, you had to think he couldn’t be. To think that he was doing just fine while you were spending your days miserable, wouldn’t be fair.

He’s stuck right now, but he’ll come around. Demetri’s words echoed in your head, wondering if they were even true. Would he ever really come around? Is he in too deep? The thoughts scared you beyond belief, but as more days passed, the more you believed them.

You eventually forced yourself to stop caring. To stop thinking about it, and to just give it up. You’d spent too long waiting for him, and you were done letting his actions control your happiness. Although there was a part of you that could never really stop caring, you convinced yourself that it was gone.

After a few weeks, you stopped wearing the necklace. When you showed up to school without it on, it was the first time Hawk had noticeably looked at you since the breakup. He always avoided your eye contact, but that day he locked them onto yours as you passed him in the hall. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your neck, and you could see the glum look all over his face.

As much as you wanted to give in to the hope that he missed you, you ignored it. You weren’t going to let any of those thoughts in again-- not when you already worked so hard to let go of them.

Hawk watched you make your way through the corridors, hardly caring who noticed. While you may have had the ability to attempt to move on, he didn’t. It was his fault any of this happened after all, and it was completely up to him whether or not he could fix things between you.

The pressure of knowing he was the only reason for your and his despair was agonizing, and with the necklace no longer around your neck, he realized he was running out of time.

Time is what he thought he had, to turn things around for himself, and you. But his window was closing, and he was panicking.

Not knowing what else to do, Hawk waited a few blocks away from where you trained at Miyagi-Do, knowing he’d catch you on your walk home.

Making your way down the sidewalk after practice, you were completely unsuspecting when Hawk jumped out of his car and jogged towards you.

Things had really come full circle now, hadn’t they? You, walking home on that same sidewalk, pure disgust for Hawk in your veins as he tried to catch up with you.

You stopped short as Hawk stood in front of you, blocking your path. You were nervous and confused at his intrusion, and decided not to bother avoiding him right now.

His stare towards you was intense, and you only glared back, waiting for him to say what he needed to say.

“You stopped wearing the necklace.” He said it so plainly, you couldn’t tell what kind of response he was looking for. It seemed almost like a question in disguise-- why did you stop wearing the necklace, perhaps?

He was looking at you eagerly, though trying to hide the desperation behind the statement.

“Yeah, and?” You laughed at him, matching his tone of carelessness. He looked like he didn’t understand, so you continued. “What’d you expect? That I’d just keep waiting for you?” You said unpleasantly, with a hint of sadness in your own voice.

A shameful look glossed over his features, but you only kept going. “It’s obvious you’re not coming back, Hawk.” You smile at him mockingly, enjoying the feeling of guilt you were giving him.

He tried to stay strong, but every word you spoke was like a hit to his built-up walls, and they were so close to falling down.

“I spent weeks wondering what I’d have to do to get you to come back to me. To choose me.” You said, your voice calm, but the rest of you not. Your body was shaking with anger now, but your eyes were brimming with tears.

“Until,” You sniffled, gaining a tone of indifference, “I finally realized there was nothing for me to do. You just weren’t coming.” You were almost smiling through the pain, and Hawk looked at you in a loss for words.

You appeared so fragile to him, he just wanted to wrap you in his arms and spout apology after apology for what he’d caused. Seeing your eyes squint in attempt to hold back the waterworks, physically pained him.

“So yeah, I stopped wearing the necklace. But you know what?” You stepped forward confidently, despite the single tear that had just fallen down your face. “I think it hurt more wearing it than it did taking it off.” You finished with hardly any emotion in your voice, and Hawk looked mortified seeing you try to act so unaffected.

He had been silent through your whole exchange, because he knew there was nothing he could say now to make things better. He had done too much damage, and he had caused you too much pain. He did exactly what he said he’d never do.

You waited for him to say something, anything-- but as your eyes bore into his strongly, he couldn’t find the courage to speak. The disappointment was immense, and feeling hopeless once again, you pushed past him to go home.

Panicking at your leave, Hawk grabbed onto your arm. “Y/N, Wait, please-” “No!” You cut him off, looking at him coldly. His face was red, and his eyes were stinging now, too. Ignoring the feeling you got when you saw him like that, you ripped your arm from his grasp. “I’ve waited long enough.”

You turned to leave again, and this time, Hawk didn’t follow. There was only one thing Hawk could do now to get you back, and you knew he wasn’t ready for it. There was no use in you hanging around for him anymore, you deserved better. You deserved someone who cared enough that they’d do what it takes to be with you, regardless of social status.

You didn’t even care if he stayed in Cobra Kai, you just wanted him to stand up to his friends and be proud that he was with you. Didn’t he realize that he was one of the strongest Cobras, and that he could get through any of their shit? If his biggest problem was Tory, he hardly had any reason to stay quiet. You knew deep down he could do better.

Hawk hadn’t understood that then, but as he lingered on you walking away, something clicked in his head.

Maybe he really could do better. He wanted to, for you. He was still terrified at the idea of coming clean to the Cobras, but whatever he’d deal with from that couldn’t be any worse than being without you.

He liked the power he had being in Cobra Kai, and he hoped that he could keep it-- but if losing the power meant gaining you, at this point he was totally okay with that risk. But, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t at least try to negotiate with his friends first.

“Y/N!” It was a new day at school, and you were walking side by side Sam heading to your lunch table when he called your name. You shared a look with Sam, glancing towards him with a bothered look upon your face. “Come here!” Hawk shouted again, apparently not caring that the whole cafeteria had his attention.

A look of dread spread across your face, and you slammed your lunch tray on your friends’ table in defeat before stomping over to where Hawk and his asshole friends sat. Your friends watched from afar, completely clueless as to what Hawk would need you for, and Demetri struggled to pretend he was just as lost as they were.

“What.” You said bluntly, staring him and the rest of his table down. “Yeah, seriously, what are you doing calling her over here?” Mitch asked, looking at you in revulsion, and you rolled your eyes at him.

Hawk looked between you and his friends, struggling to keep his confident manner in tact, and sighed uncomfortably. “I know we don’t like the Miyagi-Dos. And we don’t like the way they run their dojo.” He stated, hoping to hook his friends in by starting negatively towards their rivals.

His friends looked at him in reluctance, wondering where he was going with this-- and you did too. “But I love Y/N.” He said loudly, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, and looking around at his friends. He was more nervous to see your reaction than theirs, so he barely looked at you once he said it.

“What?” The words came strongly from not only his friends, but you, too. He had never told you that before, and your heart melted at his declaration. When you spoke, he gathered the courage to look at you, and you’d never seen him so nervous.

“I love you.” He repeated, looking you in the eyes. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and on top of that he was announcing it to the whole school. You glanced over to see Demetri, mouth ajar, observing the interaction like it were a movie.

He meant it, and you could tell. He was waiting on you for a response, feeling more stress than he’d felt in a long time as he studied your bewildered expression.

Before you could say anything, Bert interrupted the moment. “You can’t love a Miyagi-Do. They’re stuck-up pansies who think they’re better than us.” He said, completely convinced that Hawk was out of his mind and needed a wake-up call.

Hawk cringed a little at the feedback, but was surprised when you decided to bite back. “I joined Miyagi-Do because I was tired of people getting bullied. You all choose violence when it isn’t needed, so I just wanted to be prepared.” You defended your intentions, fearlessly.

Tory snorted. “Oh yeah? And how’s that working out for you?” She jabbed, trying to make fun of your self defense skills. Before you could retort, Hawk slammed his hand down on the table and leaned in towards his peers.

“Listen! I’m with you guys, but she’s right. We’ve been reckless.” He said carefully, trying to keep a balance between who’s side he was on. “Sensei told us to fight smart, and we haven’t been.” He locked eyes with Tory, clearly sending her a message.

You watched as Hawk tried to reason with them, admiring his every move. Keeping up his confidence, he set down what was going to happen, and there’d be no arguments against it. “You guys can hate the Miyagi-Dos all you want, but I’m going to be with Y/N, and I’m staying in Cobra Kai.” 

Interlacing his hand with yours, he looked at you pridefully before turning back to the outraged looks on his friends’ faces. “From now on, if any one of you touches her, you deal with me. That’s of course if she doesn’t kick your ass first.” He said smugly, and you smiled widely, feeling content at his speech.

Your heart was jumping out of your chest at the gesture he made, and you wanted to smash your lips onto his and tell him how much you loved him back-- but you kept yourself restrained for the sake of the situation.

Most of the Cobras nodded nervously at his announcement, not wanting to challenge Hawk when he was so sure of himself. But Tory wasn’t having it. “You guys can’t seriously be okay with this?” She snapped, death-glaring the entire table.

The group looked like they were trying to decide whether they were more afraid of Hawk, or Tory. You smiled to yourself, knowing that no matter their reaction, you had won this, because you were with him now. It would certainly be a bonus if you gained their acceptance, though.

Mitch looked around in uncertainty about what he was going to say, but stuck up for Hawk. “Come on Tory, I mean, I get it... she’s hot.” He said referring to you, and you laughed a little at the shallow but positive response.

Hawk wasn’t as pleased with it though. “Hey.” He threatened, pointing a finger at Mitch. You giggled slightly at his jealous reaction, but pulled him back from Mitch by the hand you were holding his with. Mitch raised his hands in surrender, and Tory stood from the table, getting close to the both of you.

“You’d better sleep with one eye open, assholes.” She spat, and stormed away from the table. It went better than you would’ve thought, truthfully. Everyone else was loyal to Hawk, and you didn’t really expect anything less from Tory. Again, having Tory be your only threat seemed like small potatoes now that you two were together.

You nodded at the rest of the Cobras in respect, and with that whole thing being over, you tugged him by the hand towards your table of Miyagi-Dos. Hawk groaned, realizing where you were taking him, but did his best to stay civil.

Chris glowered at the both of you, and Sam looked a little disappointed, but she tried to look supportive. “So.... yeah. Sorry.” You said sheepishly, knowing that they had already heard everything.

“I’m glad it finally worked out.” Demetri said through a sad smile. You felt a little bad, knowing that Demetri still needed to work out his relationship with Hawk, and here you were rubbing yours in his face. That would be your next mission, you suppose-- operation get Demetri and Hawk to be friends again.

“Thanks, Dem.” You said appreciatively, and Hawk looked suspiciously between the two of you. “Wait, did you tell him before?” He asked defensively. The whole table looked to you and Demetri curiously, and you crossed your arms sassily.

“Uh, did I call someone to come get me after you left me alone in a shed? Yeah.” You recovered, your facial expression sly as you knew he couldn’t come back from that one. The others looked at him exasperatedly at your response, and his face dropped instantly. 

“Oh my god, Y/N I am so sorry about that.” He cowered, immediately dropping it, and you laughed at the remorse he was finally showing. You already knew he was sorry, but you guess it was nice to hear him say it.

He didn’t understand why you were laughing, though. He felt awful. And he also really needed a chance to completely apologize to you in private, now that he had already confessed his true feelings.

Suddenly, he picked you up entirely, arms holding your legs and you wrapped your arms around his neck instinctively. “Whoah, what is happening?” You laughed, looking at your friends who all looked just as puzzled as you.

Without saying anything else, he took off out of the lunch room carrying you, and made his way to the nearest exit to the outdoors. “Babe, where are we going?” You cackled, amused at the adventure he was taking you on.

Finally outside and alone, he let you down gently in front of him, and took your hands in his lightly. “I’m so sorry. For all of it. I was a complete idiot for letting you go. You knew all along that we could do it, and I was too busy being a pussy to even try. And I’m really sorry for everything that went down today, I hope you aren’t mad, I literally told you I loved you in front of everyone and that must’ve been awkward, I mean you didn’t even get to respond, which, now that I think about it maybe you didn’t want to, or--”

You silenced his rambling with a forceful kiss, grabbing the sides of his face with your hands. “I love you too, Hawk.” You said, pulling away from the kiss quickly, to give him the response he had been looking for.

He smiled big in return, and it turned your insides to mush. “You know, I realized we never got the chance to make things official.” He looked up at you cutely and you smiled back, knowing what was coming.

“So, will you be my girlfriend?” He asked charmingly, his face mere inches from yours. Blushing furiously, you nodded as you touched your forehead to his. “Mhm,” You said in agreement, grinning.

He took a moment, just admiring the look of you so happy, and with his manner still playful, he reminded you of something you had said before. “See? I came back to you.” He said proudly.

You looked at him lovingly, feeling a little emotional at the sentiment. His expression turned serious now, and he parted from you only slightly. “I’m gonna do better for you, Y/N. I promise.” He spoke lowly, and you put your hands on his shoulders, beaming at him in acknowledgement.

You stepped forwards again, getting closer to him. He gave a seductive smirk at your movement, and you subconsciously traced your fingers along his neck, fixated on his face more than anything.

Hawk stared back at you affectionately, his attention flickering down towards your lips. Feeling bold, he placed his hands dangerously low on your waist, and pulled you in roughly for another kiss. You quickly reacted, letting your hands travel to the nape of his neck, your mouth opening slightly-- allowing Hawk the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Your lips stayed connected as Hawk’s hands made their way up your back, his chest pressing closer to yours. As much as you wanted to continue, you were in broad daylight right outside the halls of your school-- and you really didn’t want a detention for too much PDA.

“Mm, Hawk-” You giggled, breaking away from him. “Hm?” He smiled, his hands resting loosely on your waist as he pecked your lips again before letting you free. “If we don’t go back in soon we’ll miss the whole lunch period.” You said, disappointedly.

“Eh, that’s fine with me.” He shrugged, smirking at you as he clutched you closer. You scoffed playfully, hitting him lightly, and gave him one last kiss before escaping his grip.

He pouted at you, and you looked back at him mischievously. He missed your touch already, so he snaked his arm around your waist as you walked back inside to satisfy his need of holding you.

You felt on top of the world with him by your side, now having full confidence in him and his feelings for you. “It’s a good thing I still have the necklace, huh?” You teased, looking back up at him, and Hawk smiled, tilting his head to meet your gaze.

Though your comment may have only been a joke, both of you felt whole at the idea of you wearing the necklace-- and as you walked joyfully through the halls with him, you knew you’d never be taking it off again.

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i just wanna talk about real quick how much i cringe when writing like its actually terrible how much i cringe at myself so idk if i’ll keep doing fics or not HAHAH but y’all can always send requests and i’ll get around to them if i can. hope yall liked this one tho and made it through the whole thing cuz yikes.

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 10 - Shooting Star (Part 2)

The Ekiden continues!

Now that I finished the novel, I’m not sure what to do with myself now (work on my other translations lol)

Full list of translations here

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As he ran, Nico-chan recalled the phone call Kiyose had made to him when he was at the Odawara relay station. As dispassionately as ever, Kiyose had said,

“How are you feeling, Nico-chan-senpai?”

“Same as usual.”

“That’s good to hear. Please run as usual today.”

“Does that mean you don’t expect anything from me?”

“Of course not. What I mean is that Yuki ran exceeding our expectations, but don’t be influenced by that.”

“Hmph,” Nico-chan had sniffed. He wasn’t going to get so fired up by Yuki’s deeply impressive sprinting that he would lose sight of his own abilities.

“Well, I’ll go steadily.”

“Nico-chan-senpai,” Kiyose had said in a formal tone, “please maintain a pace of three minutes per kilometer. I’m sorry I can’t make it easier for you.”

“Haiji, come on.” Nico-chan scratched his head. “If you wanted it to be easy for me, then it would have been easier to not run at all. I wouldn’t have had to go on a diet or quit smoking. It was never going to be easy no matter what pace I’m running at. I’m just happy that I was able to get a healthy body, so don’t complain about how I rank either.”

“Yes.” Kiyose had seemed to be smiling. “Then, see you at Otemachi.”

He hadn't been lying about what he said to Kiyose: it would have been easier if he didn’t run. However, Nico-chan didn’t regret taking up track again after a long break; the pain of running, mixed with the joy of working toward a common goal with people close to him, had become sweet, and it was a taste he had long forgotten as he earned his own tuition and lived an independent life on his own.

With the wind blowing down from the mountains of Hakone at his back, Nico-chan ran. The seventh leg, which ran from Odawara to Hiratsuka, was 21.2 kilometers long. On the whole, the course was flat and easy to run. The route was the same as that of the outbound fourth leg, running in the opposite direction toward Tokyo, but it was slightly longer due to the detour at Oiso Station.

The first three kilometers, until they reached the town of Odawara, ran downhill, albeit gently. If he got carried away and increased his pace too much, the later half would be tough, so Nico-chan tried to keep his excitement and nervousness firmly in check and pace himself to fit with his stature.

That Haiji, he’s really good at observing people, Nico-chan thought. When he received the sash from Yuki, he was excited. At the same time, he also had a strong sense of pride, so he restrained himself from getting too excited and rushing in the first half. Kiyose probably read his personality and his relationship with Yuki and put Nico-chan in the seventh leg. Of course, he also must have thought that the seventh leg, with its few ups-and-downs, would be easier on Nico-chan’s legs and would be able to bring out his abilities to the fullest.

The thin rain continued to fall and his hair was now completely damp. It was easier to breathe on a rainy day than in the dry air. It was also fortunate that there wasn't much wind; running would have been out of the question if, on top of being soaked by rain, there had been a cold wind blowing from Hakone. The temperature was about one degree Celsius. It was said that the seventh leg was a course where the difference in the temperature could wear you out, but thanks to the rain, he didn’t seem to have to worry about that today. He would be running along the sea from now on, and the closer it got to noon, the more the temperature should increase.

The only problem is that my uniform is getting damp and sticking to my skin. Nico-chan frowned slightly. The lines of his body were clearly visible, making him feel as though he was running naked. Well, it’s been like that from the start.

Nico-chan wasn’t a fan of the light material of the running shirts and pants. Long-distance runners, men and women alike, had slender figures. Of course they had strong and supple muscles, but they almost looked like gazelles and antelopes. Such athletes would look good in uniforms made with a minimum of fabric, but unfortunately, Nico-chan was big-boned. Thanks to his diet, he was able to lose the extra fat, but he couldn’t whittle down his broad shoulders, imposing hip bones, or sturdy femurs.

When Nico-chan wore a uniform made of small, flimsy cloth, it looked as though there was an extremely large amount of skin showing. And now, it was wet and clinging to him.

It’s not like I’m a fat mermaid who was thrown up on the rocks, Nico-chan thought, embarrassed. I guess I should have at least trimmed my leg hair. To think that my hairy legs in all their glory will be delivered to living rooms all over the country.

He glanced at the legs of the runner running next to him. This guy’s leg hair isn’t even close to looking unsightly. Is it because he was born with thin body hair, or because he takes good care of it? Right after he thought that, he was shocked to realise that there was another runner next to him. Was he about to have another runner catch up and overtake him without realizing it? Nico-chan vigorously checked next to him, and then turned his head back to the road.

The runner next to him was from TSU, and he must have received his sash at the Odawara relay station about ten seconds before Nico-chan. He didn’t catch up to me, I caught up to him. Nico-chan checked his watch to make sure he was keeping pace. Okay, he nodded inwardly. I’ll be able to pull ahead of this TSU guy.

However, he couldn’t see any of the other schools in front of him. He had no idea what place he was running in, or what Kansei’s actual position was taking into account the delayed start time.

It was an unsure battle, so much so that his wet uniform was no longer a problem. As he thought that, Nico-chan entered the town of Odawara. There were crowds of people cheering by the road and waving flags, and among them there was a face that looked like a member of the shopping district, holding up Kansei’s banner and shouting something, but he couldn’t make it out because it was all mixed up in the surrounding chatter. It seemed that the only way to get information was to get it from the coach car behind him at the five-kilometer point.

For the time being, Nico-chan focused on maintaining his pace and pushing their nemesis, TSU, away. With only the landlord in the coach car he wasn’t sure if he could get the right information, but behind the landlord stood Kiyose, the shadow coach of Kansei University. Even at this moment, Kiyose should be working hard to gather information and advise the landlord in giving instructions to ease Nico-chan’s mind. Despite the fact that his own turn was approaching.  

Nico-chan trusted Kiyose’s ability as a coach. Kiyose was the second fastest runner after Kakeru on the Kansei team, but what made him stand out above all the others was his ability to see and allot people into roles. If it weren’t for him, they would have never come up with the idea to aim for Hakone, nor would they have actually made it this far.

Kiyose often ruled the residents of Chikusei-sou with an iron fist. However, he never blamed the residents for their inexperience in running, nor did he make light of their feelings and pride; he always tried to thoroughly teach the residents how to face running independently in ways that suited their personalities.

Because he had once experienced a setback in track and field, Kiyose was able to guide the residents of Chikusei-sou, almost all of whom were beginners. He had kindness, strength, and a conviction and passion for running. Nico-chan knew that very well, because he had also devoted himself to track until high school.

As soon as Nico-chan entered university, he quit track altogether. He saw no hope in running. As a high school student, he had taken the sport seriously—it was painful and tedious to set goals and run day after day, but he loved the act of running itself.

However, as Nico-chan got bigger, his bones got heavier. No matter how much he loved to run, as long as the competition was based on time, there was always the issue of physical aptitude. Of course he could run faster and for longer than other men his age, but it was difficult to see how he could continue to compete as a long-distance runner and aim for the top. That difficulty became apparent in his third year of high school; Nico-chan’s frame and disposition to store fat made him unsuited for long-distance running, to the point where it was hopeless even with effort.

Joining the track team in university, becoming active on a corporate team after graduation and then even competing on the world stage—he wondered how many such athletes were out there. The higher you aimed, the more you felt the brilliance of those with natural talent, because you had enough experience and practice to grasp your own ability, and you were made to realize that there were states you could never reach. In the face of his own stubbornly growing body, Nico-chan felt powerless.

Nico-chan’s misfortune was that he didn’t have a mentor to show him that it was okay to keep running even if he wasn’t a competitive athlete, and that if he loved running, he could enjoy it. Because he was still young and dedicated to track, at that time he felt like if he couldn’t attain great success as a runner, then it was all meaningless, and Nico-chan was so disappointed in himself that he distanced himself from track.

During his long years as a student, he learned how to live on his own and gained experience outside of track. And what he learned was that “meaningless” wasn’t bad. He wasn’t saying that to whitewash things. When you ran, you had to win. However, victory came in many forms. Just as there was no clear form of victory in life, victory wasn't just getting the best time among the participants.

The fact that Kiyose also had similar thoughts encouraged Nico-chan. It was both pitiable and absurd that he foolhardily thought there was only one way to victory when he was in high school. By distancing himself from running, Nico-chan had grown up, and with his sympathy and trust towards Kiyose, he threw himself back into days of running.

Kiyose was an excellent commander. He knew people’s pain, but he also knew the cold-heartedness of the world of sport. He understood all the differences in values and had driven on his mishmash of a team with a tenacious force of will and passion.

It’s Kakeru, who continued to give Haiji that passion, Nico-chan thought. Kiyose couldn’t leave it alone—he couldn’t leave Kakeru’s shining talent that was hard to come by alone, even after he got injured.

What’s amazing is that the two of them get on so well. Nico-chan wiped the raindrops from the bridge of his nose. It seemed that Kiyose and Kakeru were inspired by each other in every aspect, not just in running—at least it seemed that way to Nico-chan. They were moved by each other’s virtues and annoyed by each other’s faults. In other words, it's a proper bond between two fellow humans, Nico-chan thought. There was definitely something beautiful like friendship or love between those two; they could communicate to each other through running and their hearts. Nico-chan thought it was a miracle that the two of them met.

Nico-chan wanted to watch the connection and clashes between Kiyose and Kakeru forever. He wanted to see that very noble human state brought about by the act of the running.

That was why they had run together for the past year, and they were still running as hard as they could. As he passed through the town of Odawara, the TSU runner was falling back little by little. After crossing the Sakawa River, the rest was a straight road along the sea, and Nico-chan wondered if he would really be able to see the figure of the runner in front of him.

At the five-kilometer point, he heard the landlord’s voice from the coach car behind him.

“Nico-chan, right now, you’re running in thirteenth place. Koufu Gakuin should be 30 seconds ahead of you.”

The Koufu Gakuin runner for the seventh leg had a ten-thousand-meter time of 29 minutes and 10 seconds. He was a much faster runner than Nico-chan, and it was all he could do to keep the gap from widening. Nico-chan listened closely and analyzed the information he was given.

“In addition, Kansei’s ranking with the addition of the delayed start time is…” The landlord raised his voice through the microphone. “Sixteenth place at the end of the sixth leg!”

Even with Yuki sprinting and coming in second for the sixth leg, we’re still in sixteenth place? Nico-chan felt overwhelmed as he thought about the future. However, considering the fact that they had finished eighteenth in the outbound leg yesterday, they were slowly moving up again. The only thing to do was not give up now and hand over the sash with an even slightly better time.

“There’s a message from Haiji: ‘There is hope. Please don’t relax your pace.’ That’s all!”

Nico-chan raised his right hand slightly as a sign of acknowledgment. That’s right, there’s hope. It would be impossible for Kansei to win the Hakone Ekiden. They had already come in at eighteenth for the outbound leg, and even in the seventh leg of the return race, they had failed to make any remarkable progress. However, they were still in a position to aim for the top ten, where they would get seeded.

The reason why they were aiming for a top ten finish wasn’t because they wanted to participate in next year’s Hakone Ekiden unconditionally. They wanted to definitively bring an end to this battle with only ten people one way or another. They didn’t want anyone to say again that it was pointless for a team that didn’t even know if it would have enough runners to win the seed rights.

It wasn’t about meaningfulness or meaninglessness—they would run as much as they could now to show the proof and pride of what they had done.

Nico-chan’s arms, which were filled with heat, repelled the pouring winter rain.

---

King, who was running the eighth leg, and Musa, who was his attendant, were at the Hiratsuka relay station. King, who had just finished warming up, was running around the relay station, going to the restroom, and refusing to stay in one place. The relay station and the roadside were already packed with spectators, and King was nervous.

Musa decided to leave the restless King alone. No matter what he said to him, King wouldn’t stop wandering around like a hamster spinning in a wheel.

Well, he will settle down when he is tired. It is not a good idea to get tired before a race, but it seems that I have no choice but to let King-san do what gives him peace of mind, Musa decided. King had surprisingly sensitive nerves: if he was forced to hold back his movements, the tension would build up inside of him and he might explode.

That was why Musa was sitting alone on a plastic sheet spread out in a corner of the relay station, checking the progress of the race on his mobile TV. After cheering Yuki’s success, he was now watching Nico-chan’s running. Every once in a while, the screen would show him running the seventh leg. He was currently running near Ninomiya, a little past ten kilometers. There were many small ups and downs due to the bridge over the river, but he kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead and carried his legs in a steady form.

King finally regained his calm for a short while. He stopped running and sat down next to Musa.

“How is Nico-chan-senpai doing?”

Musa passed a blanket to King, who was peering at the screen.

“His pace has not slowed down. However, the gap between us and Koufu Gakuin University is widening. The opponent is faster.”

King wrapped himself in the blanket and began to do stretches while sitting.

“Our position?”

“It has not changed. We are running behind Koufu Gakuin and in front of TSU, so he is apparently in thirteenth place, but our overall time is still in sixteenth place.”

“Ah…”

King let out a sound that was somewhere between a response and a sigh, and rested his forehead on his stretched knees. When he was still, his body naturally trembled with anxiety.

“Yuki’s run was incredible.” King’s voice was cheerful, as though to shake off his tremors.

“It was. I am sure Shindou-san is pleased as well.” Musa smiled. The two of them remained silent for a while, staring absentmindedly at the scene in front of them from a low vantage point. The relay station was as lively as a fair, with runners, staff members, and spectators coming and going. Only the space around Musa and King was quiet, as though sound and time had left them behind. It felt like they were isolated in a tank filled with tension.

A pair of legs clad in track pants appeared in their fields of vision and stopped. When they looked up at the same time, they found TSU’s Sakaki looking down on them.

“It looks like this will be the last time the Kansei track team will be in Hakone. I guess you can say that it’s a good thing you don’t have to worry about a lack of members for next year.”

The polite and quiet tone of his voice made it impossible to ignore. King was about to stand up indignantly, but Musa grabbed the edge of the blanket and stopped him. Sakaki had also been entered into the eighth leg. He was about to run and he expressly came to talk to King, who was running in the same leg. Musa sensed Sakaki’s nervousness and pressure there.

“You still don’t know yet,” Musa replied calmly. “It is also a close call as to whether or not TSU can get seeded.”

“And right now, you guys are running behind us,” King fired back at Sakaki with sarcasm.

“Only outwardly. Besides, I’ll overtake you in the eighth leg,” Sakaki’s words were filled with strong determination. “It’s not just you, I’m going to overtake all the schools ahead of us.”

Heh heh, good luck, King muttered in his head.

“Why are you so worked up over this?” he asked out loud. Sakaki’s eyebrows shot up like broken windshield wipers.

“Of course I’m going to get worked up over this. This is the Hakone Ekiden. I’ve been running all my life to be in this event. Since middle school! You lot who are joking around and running for fun might not understand, though.”

“We are not running for fun.”

King was surprised when Musa said that and stood up abruptly. He faced Sakaki and continued, “There is no such painful playing as this. Sakaki-san, you should know that very well, yet why are you picking a fight with us? King-san will be setting off soon. Please do not say things to irritate him.”

You’re so cool, Musa. King, still wrapped in his blanket, looked up at Musa with feelings of reliability.

Behind Sakaki were the reserve upperclassmen for TSU. During the summer camp, the upperclassmen hadn’t been aware of Kansei, but that was not the case now, of course. “Sakaki, what are you doing?” they called out. They were worried about Sakaki, who was standing facing King and Musa. Sakaki, however, didn’t turn around.

King suddenly felt sorry for Sakaki. Starting with Kakeru, it wasn't only the Kansei members that were his rivals, but even his fellow TSU teammates were as well. He was so devoted to running and loved it so wholeheartedly that everyone around him was his enemy. He didn’t get along with anyone, didn’t get familiar with other people, and only cared about the times and rankings of other runners.

King felt pity for Sakaki, who could only face running in such a way. Putting his blanket aside, King stood up from the plastic sheet.

“Hey, are you having fun? You’ve always dreamed of being in the Hakone Ekiden, and now you’re going to run it. So why don’t you seem to be having fun at all?”

“Is it necessary for me to have fun?” Sakaki wasn’t shaken in the least. “This is a race.”

“It is, but…” King thought about how to put it in words. “Our captain, Kiyose, often says, it’s not enough to be fast. A long-distance runner has to be strong. I think he probably means that we should enjoy running.”

“How naïve,” Sakaki’s brows moved again. You guys are hopeless, he said, as though chiding a little kid for playing in the mud.

“If you want to make good memories during your school days, then have fun. It suits you guys. But I’m different: I fight and fight and win competitions. That’s why I run. I don’t want to be like Kurahara and degrade with the weak.”

“What did you say!” King quickly threw away the pity he had just felt and yelled at him, but Sakaki walked away quickly, seemingly satisfied that he said what he wanted to say.

“He really pisses me off.”

Musa soothed King, who was gnashing his teeth. “There are some good points in what Sakaki-san said.”

“That might be, but I’m still pissed off, so I’m calling Kakeru!”

King took out his phone from his jersey pocket.

---

Kakeru had just finished a light jog and was about to return to the Totsuka relay station. As he was thinking that his body was loosened up and that one more run after some stretching would be just perfect, Jouji, who was in charge of their bags, beckoned to him.

“Kakeru, your phone’s ringing.”

He accepted his phone from Jouji and checked the display. He thought it would be Kiyose, but it was actually King.

“Yes?”

Before he could ask if anything was wrong, King’s loud voice attacked Kakeru’s eardrums.

“Kakeru! You have to be number one! Make that annoying brat frustrated and drown in a sea of tears! You understand!?”

King talked on and on one-sidedly, and then hung up. He was so angry that even the people around him could hear him from the receiver.

“What was that just now?”

“Who knows…”

Kakeru and Jouji looked at each other.

“It’s pretty rare to see King-san so excited.”

“The only times he’s like that are when he’s participating in a push-button quiz show from outside the TV.”

“Oh, I got it!” Jouji pretended to push an answer button. “TSU’s Sakaki is running in the eighth leg, right? He must have said something to him at the relay station.”

That also seemed like the correct answer to Kakeru. King seemed to have forgotten his nervousness in his anger, which was good, but when he thought about how much Sakaki hated him, he felt miserable.

He didn’t intend to show his sorrow on his face, but Jouji seemed to sense it.

“You should just let it go,” he said and clapped Kakeru on the back. “I do want you to be number one, though.”

“Of course I’m going to run to make that happen, but…”

Jouji wasn’t purely cheering for Kakeru, but also seemed to have some other meaning in his words. When Kakeru looked at him, Jouji smiled shyly.

“I’m thinking of confessing to Hana-chan when Haiji-san crosses the finish line in Otemachi. Oh, I can’t wait.”

I see, Kakeru nodded. So Jouji is hoping for a quick race.

“But Jouji, even if you hurry from here, I’d be doubtful if you can make it to Otemachi in time for Haiji-san to cross the finish line.”

“No way, really!?”

“Probably. I watch the TV broadcast every year, and the runners who finish the eighth leg often don’t make it back from Totsuka to Otemachi within the broadcast time.”

“What should I do! Should I head for Otemachi right now?”

If it was for love, Jouji would abandon his attendant duties.

“I don’t mind, but I think Haiji-san will find out and drown you in a sea of blood.”

“You’re right.” Jouji began to writhe in agony. “I’ll have to make sure with my own eyes that the sash is relayed to you. I wonder if Hana-chan will wait for me.”

Hanako would wait for the twins to come to Otemachi no matter what without being told to. Even if it was until nighttime or she got buried under heavy snowfall. Kakeru thought that, but only said, “I wonder.” Kakeru was pretty dense, but Jouji’s denseness was as vexing as watching an armadillo move forward. It was probably fine to tease him this much.

As Kakeru laughed at himself inwardly at this narrow-minded revenge, someone called out to him, “Kansei always looks like they’re having fun.”

When he turned around, he saw Fujioka of Rikudou University standing there. He seemed to have been listening to the exchange between Kakeru and Jouji, and he had a smile on his face that reminded Kakeru of the Buddha in Nirvana. His smooth-shaven head was as shining as ever on this cloudy day.

“Wait, wait, this person is…” Jouji tugged on Kakeru’s sleeve.

“Happy New Year,” Kakeru greeted.

“Please treat me well this year as well, okay?” Fujioka said, like he was poking fun at him a little, and then his expression immediately turned serious. “The time has finally come.

“Kurahara. I’m going to set a new record for the ninth leg.”

Kakeru was overawed for a moment at the bold declaration. Fujioka wasn’t saying he was simply going to get the section prize—he wasn’t saying that he would be the top runner in the ninth leg of this tournament, but that he would be the top runner of all the runners in the ninth leg in the history of the Hakone Ekiden.

A new section record. It was a sign that one had broken a great record that had accumulated throughout the history of the Hakone Ekiden. It had a great significance, changing from the position of a challenger to the position of a transcendent competitor who was looked up to and pursued. In particular, the record for the ninth leg had not been broken for the past five years. For the runners of Hakone, setting a new section record was its own glory.

“I will break your record, Fujioka-san,” Kakeru proudly lifted his face and declared. “I think you will be the holder of the new section record for about ten minutes.”

Even Jouji trembled in surprise and fear at Kakeru’s audacious declaration of war. Fujioka of Rikudou would be the first to receive his sash and start running, no matter what. Even if he sets a new record, it will only be a “new record” until I, who departed late, arrive at the Tsurumi relay station, Kakeru had said bluntly.

Jouji stealthily examined the two of them standing their ground. Both Kakeru and Fujioka had a fighting spirit and anticipation for each other’s running in their eyes. Nobody could touch them, nobody could force themselves between them. It was a collision of pride.

Fujioka Kazuma of Rikudou University, the champion, and Kurahara Kakeru, the ace of Kansei University, the mishmash group. The people at the Totsuka relay station noticed the flames of spirit the two were emitting, and their hearts beat fast.

The time had finally come. The time had come for the clash between running prodigies, fitting for the finale of the Hakone Ekiden.

---

There was no sign of anyone to follow, and no sound of footsteps trying to hurry and catch up. Nico-chan was running alone on Route 1 along the coast.

Spectators crowded along the road. Right behind him was the landlord in the coach car. At the fifteen-kilometer mark, a water provider wearing a Kansei jersey told him the time difference between him and the runners in front of and behind him. Even so, Nico-chan was alone. Encouraged by the cheers that came off the sea breeze, he had no choice but to run silently, letting Kiyose’s instruction of “keep a pace of a little over three minutes” echo in his brain.

Yes. This feeling of loneliness is long-distance running. Nico-chan thought. Loneliness and freedom, like traveling under a starless night sky. No one but Nico-chan could know his heart rate rising to the limit, his skin slick with sweat that generated heat without time to cool down, the undulating of his muscles along with his blood flow. Until he ran through the predetermined path and reached the predetermined place, Nico-chan would have to continue to fight a battle no one else could understand, without being touched by anyone.

I’d forgotten for a long time. I’d pretended to forget. The sadness and joy of running in this way. It was the residents of Chikusei-sou who reminded me of this. Ever since the moment I quit track, I’ve always been waiting—for another chance to be given to me—for someone who knows my body is unsuited for athletics, but seeks and wants my soul, which loves to run. For a voice to tell me that it’s okay to run.

Nico-chan knew that this was going to be his last run as an athlete. The road to becoming a competitive athlete was not open to him, and it would be difficult for him to keep up with the intense training and still achieve even more than that.

Nico-chan was not chosen, nor was he blessed. If there was someone like that, then they should be called the god of track and field. One would understand if they watched Kakeru from up close. He wished with all his heart that he could be a chosen and blessed runner like Kakeru, but it was a wish that was never going to be fulfilled.

But so what, Nico-chan thought. Even if he wasn’t chosen, he could still love running. The feeling of difficult-to-control love in his heart was like the loneliness and freedom that was contained in the act of running and shone brilliantly within Nico-chan. Now that he had it, it would remain forever, so it was okay. Now he would put everything he could do into his final run, and his long-lasting thoughts towards the sport would end today.

From in front of Oiso Station, he turned north off Route 1 and entered a detour. With less than a kilometer to go, Nico-chan could clearly see a live broadcast car ahead. Behind it, he caught a glimpse of the Maebashi Kouka runner who had slowed down and was falling back. At the same time, Nico-chan felt the presence of someone approaching him. He didn’t have to turn around to know: TSU was catching up.

His mind wandered, but Nico-chan firmly kept it in check. Having run twenty kilometers, the consumption of his stamina was intense. Don’t get impatient. His pace was a little over three minutes per kilometer. He had to keep it up a little longer, and then it was in the last three hundred meters that he had to push.

Nico-chan trusted his senses. Like a bird crossing the sea without the stars, he kept a precise rhythm as he headed for his destination, the Hiratsuka relay station. The wall of people along the road got noticeably thicker with people pouring out of the relay station. The Maebashi Kouka runner seemed to have his chin completely up. This is the place, Nico-chan intuited.

Nico-chan whipped his fevered muscles into a spurt and began his hot pursuit. The TSU runner had the same thought and increased his speed as though flicked. There was the faint taste of blood in his throat, but Nico-chan endured the creaking and pain all throughout his body. The crowd of people at the relay station wavered, and he saw King rush out onto the line. The eighth leg runner for Maebashi Kouka and TSU’s Sakaki were also standing on the line. The three were side by side and calling out to their teammates who were racing towards them.

Nico-chan removed his sash. It was damp from absorbing his sweat, and he gripped it like it was a lifeline. King was the only thing he saw. With only that black and silver uniform in his sights, he ran.

The predetermined place. I’ve returned.

“I’ll do it too, Nico-chan-senpai.”

King, who had been handed the sash, quickly murmured that and then started running without looking back. Nico-chan wordlessly nodded and pushed King’s back. Towards Otemachi.

While flopping down onto the bench coat Musa spread out, Nico-chan stopped his wristwatch which was recording his time. For him, who had crossed the world of timed competitions, he no longer needed it.

Nico-chan’s final record was a 21.2 kilometer run in 1 hour 6 minutes and 21 seconds. He was in twelfth place.

Kansei had relayed their sash at the Hiratsuka relay station in twelfth place. They were four seconds behind Maebashi Kouka, and had relayed their sash at the same time as TSU.

Thanks to Nico-chan’s efforts, Kansei had moved up to fifteenth place in the actual rankings after adding the time from the delayed start. TSU, although apparently behind Kansei, was still in thirteenth place. Rikudou and Bousou were also battling for the top spot, with Bousou holding onto the lead, more than a minute and a half ahead of Rikudou. Yamato University, in third place, was lagging behind Rikudou by three minutes.

Would there be any change in the rankings of the top schools? Who would get the seed rights among the schools that were engaged in a close battle around tenth place? The deadlocked time difference that hid an unsettled stillness didn’t yet indicate anything about the outcome of the battle.

Nico-chan was lying in a corner of the relay station, looking up at the eastern sky. His hopes were not dashed. King, Kakeru, Haiji. Run towards the finish line at Otemachi. We’re going to prove it. We’re going to prove what made us run this far.

His exhaustion had reached its limits, but Nico-chan raised himself up in order to see the end with his own eyes. Musa, who was quietly standing by, gently put a hand on his shoulder to help him up. After gathering their belongings, Musa and Nico-chan left the Hiratsuka relay station with uncooled excitement and set off for Otemachi.

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[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Vantage Point.

Commissioned by the very patient, very lovely @yandere-vale.

Word Count: 5.1k.

Pairing: Yandere!Glimmer/Reader (She-Ra).

TW: Fem!Reader, Aged Up Characters, Imprisonment, Implied Kidnapping, Isolation, Emotional Abuse, Slight Infantalization, Mentions of Physical Abuse, Past Injury.

At least the view was nice, in Bright Moon.

You should know. You’d had plenty of time to take it in, by now, not that a single glance wouldn’t have been enough to convince any battle-weary refugee that the destination was worth the tiring journey. The jutting canyons, the darkened forests, the permanent twilight painted across skies so stunning, the bay surrounding Glimmer’s kingdom couldn’t rest until it was beautiful enough to reflect them – it was pretty, you could admit that, and it was nice to finally have enough time to take it all in. It was a small silver lining, running thin enough to border on the verge of complete nonexistence, but it was a silver lining all the same. You were allowed to appreciate it. You’d give yourself that. You liked being able to appreciate it.

You just wished you didn’t have to do so from such a distant vantage point.

It might’ve been a tower. You thought it was, at least, from what you could tell from your perch at its peak. Tall, looming, just as rounded and just as seamless as every other building on Bright Moon’s shores. There was no ladder, no staircase, no way down beyond finding the nearest ledge and hoping for the best, and if there was anything to discover beyond the confines of your bedroom, there certainly wasn’t a way to access it. You’d already tried, searched for hidden doors and passageways, tried every possible escape route Glimmer might’ve overlooked, spent a memorable week attempting to break through the solid stone floor, but it was fruitless, pointless, an effort you could only look back on with resent for your own naivety. There was no way for you to get out, not without risking your own life, in the process, and there wasn’t a way for any would-be savior to get in. You were trapped, isolated, cut off from everything you’d ever called your home. Cut off from everyone you’d ever called your friend.

Except her, obviously.

But you’d never made the mistake of calling Glimmer your friend.

You could hear her, your routine silence broken by slow footsteps, but you didn’t look, you didn’t bother to. You’d already been sitting there for hours, perched inside of a carved-out windowsill, admiring everything that you couldn’t have, not anymore, not after Glimmer decided you didn’t deserve it as much as she deserved you. No, you didn’t acknowledge her, you didn’t let yourself acknowledge her, but that never made a difference. She was already approaching you, already behind you, an arm soon wrapped around your torso and a chest slotted against your back, pulling you into something you might’ve called a hug, if she thought to let go. You bit back your rising complaints, swallowing the urge to shove her away and give her another reason to think of you as immature, irresponsible, incapable, but if she appreciated your self-restraint, she clearly didn’t think it was worth her praise.

Glimmer only sighed, shaking her head at your absentee reaction, more than content to act like she couldn’t imagine why imprisonment might lead to some lingering resentment. “Still busy sulking, sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer, not at first, keeping your eyes on the scenery below. You didn’t like it when she got so close, not after everything she’d done. You didn’t like that you had to let her get so closer, or risk spending another month in somewhere far less pleasant than a homey, familiar, inescapable tower. “I’m not sulking,” You mumbled, fighting not to curl into yourself. “You keep me here, imprisoned and alone, and you know I don’t like it. I don’t have to pretend I’m happy to see you.”

“No, but it might be nice if you tried.” There was a laugh, a squeeze, but she pulled away quickly, sliding into the space next to you and forcing you to shrink further into the nearest wall, forcing to you avoid her, if only because she refused to give you the space to reach out on your own. “You can’t act like I haven’t given you plenty of chances to make yourself happy,” She went on, her tone still light-hearted, vaguely amused. She wasn’t taking this seriously. You doubted she would, until you said something to upset her. “It’s not my fault that you refuse to accept my gifts without a fight.”

You didn’t have to ask what she meant. The evidence was still scattered around your bedroom, found in torn lace and ripped silk, crushed flowers and chipped gems, neglected toys and trinkets she'd offered, half-heartedly, attempting to fill she'd left in your life. On good days, you could ignore it, pretend they were meant for someone else, anyone but you. On most days, felt sick at the thought of indulging Glimmer's one-sided show of kindness.

“Presents won’t make this bearable. I don’t need distractions.” You let yourself exhale, leaning back, your posture just slack enough to make the idea of continuing this conversation tolerable. Something shot through the flesh below your shoulder blade, a single strike of agony before the feeling faded into a steady throb. A reminder of a wound that wasn’t quite healed, but one you’d already disregarded, nonetheless. “I need to go outside. I need you to let me go. I need you to stop acting like you’re doing this for my safety.” Glimmer flinched, her jaw locking into place, but you ignored the small pang of guilt that followed. Good. If she expected you to find a way to live with this, she could find a way to live with the discomfort. “I was doing fine before I met you, and I’d still be doing fine, without your help. It’s not fair to assume I’d—”

“Really?” Glimmer cut you off, any trace of her levity gone. “Are you sure you can’t come up with a single reason I might be hesitant to let you take care of yourself?”

Immediately, you fell quiet, turning away yet again. This time, Glimmer didn’t seem to mind your silence.

“Believe it or not, I’m not trying to make you miserable,” She said, not for the first time. Like you were supposed to believe it. Like she could expect you to believe it. “I just want to keep you safe. If you have to be unhappy for me to do that, then so be it.”

And, just like that, she was gone.

For a moment, you almost missed her.

~

You didn’t break her next gift.

You wanted to. The temptation was always there, you doubted you’d ever grow fond enough of Glimmer for it to completely go away, but you ignored it, brushed it off, pushed it just far enough down to pretend it didn’t exist at all. It helped that she’d given you a book, this time. Usually, her gifts were materialistic, unsubstantial, things that were better at making you look cute and harmless than helping you pass the time. She hadn’t left, yet. That helped too. You still had bruises from the last time you didn’t give her rage time to cool, and you weren’t eager to reopen old wounds.

Books could be used. Books could be read. Books were heavy, and they meant you could do something, if only sit passively and take in a story that wasn’t yours. That was more credit than Glimmer had ever given you before. Part of you worried it was more credit than she’d ever give you again.

That might’ve been why you asked. You wanted logic. If there was a method to her madness, there would be a way to predict what comes next, to try to guess if there was a reason she’d done this at all. You wanted there to be a reason. “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to use this?”

Glimmer didn’t look up from the letter in her hands, multiple pages of important political correspondence, you were sure. She’d taken your bed, when she first arrived, and you’d hid yourself away at the vanity on the other side of the room. A part of you hated it, how she dominated what was supposed to be your space so easily. Another part of you was just glad to have a reason to feel like you actually had a space you felt was yours, if only when someone else invaded it.

Her response came in the form of a hum, light and curious, then a question. “Use it?”

“You know,” You started, before you were entirely sure what you wanted to say. “To escape, or something. I might still find a way to.”

Glimmer laughed, and suddenly, you knew why she was such an unopposed ruler. By the time she actually spoke, you’d already begun to regret saying anything at all. “Planning to beat the walls in with a paperback? I think I’d have to hand over my crown, too, if you managed that.”

Your face burnt, and your grip around the novel tightened. If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve reconsidered your decision to keep this one. “I could always attack you.”

“Do you want me to take it away?”

“Please don’t.” You spoke quickly, as softly as you could, but your panic was still audible, the rush of anxiety you wished you didn’t have to give weight, after so many months of letting your instincts lay dormant. “I just… I guess I just want to know why you didn’t do this earlier. You’ve always given me clothes and that kind of stuff, and this seems more—”

Glimmer didn’t let you finish. She rarely did, when you spoke for any longer than she cared to let you. “C’mere, angel. You shouldn’t be so far away.”

It wasn’t a demand, not really, not when she said it so casually. It wasn’t, but you treated it like one, pushing yourself to your feet and reluctantly approaching her, your eyes never leaving the ground. In your defense, you didn’t fall into her arms, choosing to sit on the edge of your bed and retain a fraction of your dignity, but your aversion didn’t matter. All it took was a strong arm wrapped around your waist, a light tug, and you were tucked into her side, regardless, your head resting on her chest and your legs folded underneath you. For once, you were glad she kept you so isolated. You wouldn’t have been able to live with the embarrassment, if anyone else was around to see you like this.

“Everything I do, I do because it’s what I think is best for you.” There was a pause, like this meant anything. Like she thought she was comforting you. Like this could be comforting, to anyone who didn’t share in her twisted fantasy. “Don’t worry about the details, that’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to let me take care of. It won’t do you any good to overwork yourself, like that.” Her hand fell to your waist, signaling for you to agree. You managed a quick nod, and Glimmer went on, pleased. “Just sit back and relax. No need to worry your pretty little head over anything I think you do or don’t deserve.”

Your throat felt dry. The sheets below you felt scratchy, uncomfortable, like you were sitting on sandpaper rather than satin. You wanted to get up. You wanted to, but you didn’t. “I don’t… I mean, you’re probably right, but—”

“I am right.” She was laughing, reaching over to cup your cheek and tilt your head back, her lips soon pressed against the top of your head, but the gesture was hollow, it felt hollow, and you could’ve hated yourself for ever trying to give it meaning. Glimmer was good at that, making you feel like you were paranoid, too preoccupied with yourself to ever see the bigger picture. She was good at making you feel like you were in the wrong. She was good at making you feel like you’d always been wrong, even if you knew she couldn’t be right. “You just need a little help, that’s all. You were too reckless, when you came to me, you just got yourself into too much trouble. I just want to make sure you don’t get yourself hurt, anymore.”

You believed her. You could believe her. If you wanted to, you could make yourself believe her.

You’d have to believe her, if you ever wanted to survive what came next.

~

It felt like fire.

In your veins, in your blood, under your skin and spreading, every time you moved or shifted or took a breath deeper than the shallow, airy inhales you’d gotten used to, by now. It didn’t have any right to hurt as much as it did, honestly. The wound was old, mostly healed, a shadow of a scar of a lasting injury that’d already overstayed its welcome, but it felt like something new, something fresh, something that you’d gotten the other day, rather than so many years ago. Something raw, something bloody.

Something that Glimmer was making worse with every passing moment, whether or not she meant to.

She was trying to help. You reminded yourself of that. She didn’t trust a medic with you, and you’d had to beg her not to use the temperamental healing magic that so often left much more able-bodied soldiers in much worse condition than simple, external wounds could ever achieve, but you almost wished you hadn’t bothered. She must’ve been using the wrong ointment, the wrong elixir. She must’ve been being too harsh, or too gentle, or messing with something that made flesh and tissue smolder where it shouldn’t have, the pain vivid enough to make you curl into yourself, sink into the mattress, try to escape something that you already knew couldn’t be as bad as you were making it out to be, in your own mind. Whatever she was doing, it hu-

“Does it hurt, love?” Glimmer asked, slowly.

“It doesn’t,” You answered, without hesitation. “It just… It stings more than I expected it to.”

You tried to sound confident, but your voice wavered as her fingertips skirted over scarred tissue, your fists curling around the pillow you were clinging to, despite the way you knew it must’ve looked. Her bed was so much softer than yours, everything in her chambers so much more plush, but that made sense. She was royalty, and you were her prisoner. Your bedroom wasn’t simple, not by any means, but Glimmer's was…

She was a queen. You shouldn’t forget that, however convenient she made it to try. She was a queen, and you weren’t.

“If you’d let me tend to it earlier, it wouldn’t be so bad.” She was scolding you, but playfully, tenderly enough to let you calm down, some of the tension in your rigid form dissolving as you crossed your arms under your head and tried to relax. There was a moment of reprieve, the sound of glass clinking against glass, and a wave of cold air rushed over your injury, dulling any lingering pain into an unpleasant awareness. You would’ve thanked her for it, if the thought did leave a bitter taste on your tongue. You might’ve, still, if she hadn’t chosen to keep going before you could say anything at all. “Count yourself lucky it’s not infected. It’s almost as bad as it was, when we first met.”

It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. Or it might’ve been, you couldn’t really remember. It’d been so long since it was first inflicted, since the last spark of a war that’d spanned longer than your lifetime died out and you were left with the scars to prove you’d survived it, even if the majority of your hometown hadn’t been able to recover in the years that followed. You could barely walk when you first arrived in Bright Moon, but that might’ve been the exhaustion, or the stress, or some other vague, abstract concept that’d been just apparent enough for Glimmer to catch and take pity on you, despite the horror’s she must’ve faced on her own.

You stopped yourself before your thoughts could spiral any further. She pitied you, but you wouldn’t pity her. You refused to. You’d seen where it led, what kind of obsession it could create, and you didn’t want that. You wouldn’t let yourself believe you did.

“But it’s going to get better, right?” You couldn’t keep that hopeful lilt out of your voice, an equal mix of manufactured positivity and genuine optimism, despite yourself. “That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? So you can take care of me?”

There was a brief silence, then a small chuckle. Your wound felt warm, again, smoldering around the edges, and for a moment, you almost found it reassuring. “Of course,” She agreed, but she was still laughing. You wished she would stop. “That, and because I like having you around.”

It was almost funny.

You thought you’d be relieved, when she was finally honest with you.

It hurt, again. It must’ve been the paste she was using, something thick and elastic that kept a cluster of soft, generously applied bandages plastered to your skin. It was far from comfortable, too tight in places, too loose in others, uneven in a way that meant you’d have to tear off what you could and wrap your chest more thoroughly in an hour, at most, but you forced yourself to smile, to sit up and stretch as if doing so didn’t leave something in your spine twisted and cramped. You could complain, if you wanted to, you doubted Glimmer would be that petty, but there wasn’t a point. It was easier to keep her happy, with or without any caveats. You could live with the mild pain, for now.

Glimmer rewarded you with a small grin, a gentle hand on your cheek when you turned to face her. “My brave little sweetheart,” She started, nearly cooing. You tried to tell yourself it was unintentional. “You should probably rest, I might not be able to help if you make things any worse. I’ll take you back to your—”

It was a flare of panic, sudden and unmistakable. A shot of anxiety, a sudden burst of pure dread – something so mindless and so overwhelming, you were throwing yourself at her before you had a chance to think better of it, burying your face in her chest and latching on to her shirt, letting her wrap her arms around you when she recovered from any short-lived shock. “Do I… do I have to go back?” You managed, reluctantly. You didn’t want to ask, you didn’t want to fall so far, but you couldn’t go back to that tower. You just couldn’t. “Please, you can restrain me again, I just don’t want to—”

You were cut off by a squeeze to your side, an idle chuckle. You already knew what she would say, but the way she paused still made you hesitate. It made you feel unsure, obedient, like anything she’d done had ever mattered to you.

Like you were starting to need her as much as she claimed to need you.

“All you had to do was ask.”

~

It took you three hours to pick the lock on Glimmer’s door.

Three weeks, technically, if you counted the time you spent observing, watching, waiting until she trusted you enough to leave you to rest in her palace, rather than sending you back to that freezing, forsaken tower. It was a frustrating precaution, molding yourself into something submissive, begging to spend just one more night in her bedroom rather than your own, but you needed to know Glimmer’s schedule, the rotation of her guards, what you had to work with and how many flimsy, flat trinkets you’d be able to get your hands on before Glimmer started to question your new fascination with hairpins and letter openers. You needed to know who else was in the palace, who else you could get to before you were caught.

You needed to know who to run to, when you finally got out of the softened, insufferable cage Glimmer kept you locked inside of.

Three hours. On and off, one minute at a time, every little creak and jolt and tell-tale snap serving as another reason to hold your breath, to stop and listen, to shut your eyes and hope you’d never have to do this again. You could’ve cried when the lock finally gave away, when the polished marble of her door finally slackened and relaxed, falling open without a struggle. There weren’t any guards outside, you timed it so there wouldn’t be, but you doubted you would’ve cared if there were. You could already hear footsteps against solid tile, and hope flared in your chest before you could think to press it down, bright and burning and overflowing as you took in your soon-to-be savior – a girl, a few years older. A woman. Her name came to you in a moment.

Catra, a warrior, a war hero.

Someone who could help you.

You didn’t throw yourself at her, not like you threw yourself at Glimmer. You didn’t have to, you didn’t want to sacrifice your pride like that, not anymore, but that didn’t stop you from grinning like an idiot, from stumbling over your own feet as you sprinted in Catra’s direction, barely listening to her stifled swearing before it came to a jarring stop. You might’ve said something. You might’ve just opened your mouth and closed it again. You might’ve stuttered and mumbled and blabbered incoherently until her expression shifted, gave away, more out of relief than kindness. More out of understanding than any real empathy.

She cut you off, and something in your heart clenched painfully.

“You’re Glimmer’s, right?”

You shook your head. You would’ve denied it, but you couldn’t remember how to speak. Part of you wondered if you’d ever really known how to, at all.

“Dressed like it,” Catra went on, rolling her eyes, her tone only a touch above sardonic. You didn’t have to throw yourself at her – she was already taking you by the wrist, dragging you in the same direction she’d been heading, regardless, never giving you the choice not to follow. “C’mon, I don’t want to deal with Sparkle’s tantrums, today. You’re coming to the war room.”

You didn’t get a chance to refuse. You doubted she would’ve listened if you did, but you could’ve tried, you should’ve said something. It would’ve felt right, if nothing else, to put your foot down, to make a run for it, to tell someone what Glimmer had done to you, even if it was starting to seem like Catra might not make much of a shoulder to cry on. Even in the moment, you knew you’d regret it, but…

But, you couldn’t bring yourself to do much of anything.

You didn’t know what else you’d expected, honestly.

The palace was bigger than it looked, from your usual vantage point. The adrenaline had started to die down by the time you reached the ‘war room’, leaving you drained, tired, dragging your feet as Catra tugged you through a door twice your height, the guards that stood on either side of the entryway barely batting an eye at your bare feet and disheveled appearance. The ceilings were too high, the gold accents just a little too polished, everything too bright despite the lack of an apparent light source. It hurt, in a way. You wondered if it would hurt this much if you actually got outside.

Catra didn’t introduce you. She didn’t have to, not when you were abandoned as quickly as you were brought in, left to stand at the head of their table, tense and alone, as Catra drew attention to herself, instead, clearing her throat as she approached the other Princesses. You recognized most of them, anyone would – Mermista, barely glancing over you before she lost interest, Perfuma, kind enough to try to smile in your direction, and Adora, the Adora, She-Ra, still dressed in full armor, her arms crossed over the rounded table, her lips pressed into a thin frown and her expression…

And her expression identical to the one Glimmer wore, back when youstill had the option to look at other people.

It hurt, obviously, but you didn’t have much time to linger on the festering sting. You were already being lifted off your feet, a pair of strong hands or… claws, rather, clamping around your biceps and pinning your arms to your sides, squeezing so tight, you could hear something in your torso crack. You didn’t have to guess at a name. Even if you couldn’t see Scorpia’s face, her voice was enough, light and jovial, as if you hadn’t flinched away as she touched you. As if you weren’t close to tears. “Catra brought a friend!” You could’ve cried. You might’ve, if your embarrassment hadn’t been so much less ignorable than your mounting trepidation. “Finally, I was starting to think our wildcat would never break out of her shell. This is great, right, Adora?”

“It’s perfect,” Adora replied, obviously upset, but Catra only shrugged her off, draping herself over Adora’s shoulders she scoffed, keeping her glare centered on you. “You’re late. Is this supposed to be an excuse?”

“This,” She said, gesturing in your direction, “is supposed to be one of Glimmer’s. I wouldn’t have mess with it if I had a choice, but she looked lost, and you know how Glimmer would get if she wandered off.”

There was a huff, a chuckle, a mumbled ‘you know I’m right’, but it was hard to listen, it was hard to care. Your vision was blurring, your throat tightening up, but you fought back the tears as well as you could, knowing it’d only make your frustration that much worse. You didn’t want to make yourself look helpless, not here, not surrounded by people who were obviously so much stronger than you, but you couldn’t hold your hands steady, you couldn’t stop the way your breath hitched while it was still in your lungs. You wanted to hide. You wanted to run. You wanted to go back to your tower, and you hated yourself for it. “Please, I… I’m a captive, I shouldn’t—”

“Ah, why didn’t you say so sooner? Glimmer must be worried sick.” It was Perfuma, this time, still watching from a distance. You couldn’t tell if she’d heard you, but you choose to believe she hadn’t. It’d be easier, if you assumed no one was listening to you at all. “Scorpia, you’re not holding her too tightly, are you? It’d be a shame if there were bruises, after we finish.”

“Who, me? You know I’d never hurt a fly,” Scorpia laughed, tightening her grip. You made a breathy, pitiful sound, something between a gasp and a whimper, but neither seemed to notice. Neither seemed to care. You weren’t sure which you would’ve preferred, anymore. “Even if this one’s a little more… fleshy, than what I’m used to.”

You opened your mouth, ready to tell her she would leave bruises, that she wasn’t being gentle, but you didn’t have time, not before Adora spoke up, her posture a fraction more relaxed than it had been, a minute ago. “Don’t worry about leaving marks,” Adora cut in, nonchalantly. She had an arm strung around Catra’s waist, now, but she was still looking at you. If you’d been a touch more desperate, you might’ve thanked her. If you’d felt any smaller, you might’ve asked her to stop. “Glimmer’s been talking about this for months. I haven’t seen anyone that excited since…” She trailed off, throwing a glance in Catra’s direction, earning a wicked grin in response. For a moment, you wondered why you’d ever thought either one of them would try to help you. “Since someone realized she didn’t have to wait for us to fight to get her claws out.”

Perfuma rolled her eyes. Scorpia groaned. You wanted to ask what she meant. You wanted to scream for her to go on, to tell you what that was supposed to mean, to just go on until you could pick one of the awful, dark, twisted thoughts swirling around in your head and let that shove you off the edge before anything worse could. You had to know what was going to happen to you. You didn’t want to know, you didn’t want to anything, but you had to find out. It was a matter of survival. It was a matter of life and death. It was something you needed, and for a second, you thought you might be able to vocalize that. You thought you might be able to say it. You thought you might be able to actually say it.

Then, a familiar voice called your name, and again, you lost your chance to do much of anything at all.

Scorpia didn’t have to be told to put you down. By the time you could think to ask, you were already back on your feet, your knees threatening to buckle as you struggled to keep yourself upright. You could’ve collapsed. A part of you wanted to, most of you wanted to, but it only would’ve made things worse, it only would’ve made you seem more childish, even you doubted anyone was paying attention to you, anymore. No, Scorpia had gone back to the other Princesses, Catra and Adora still preoccupied with each other, and you were left alone, shaking, at the mercy of the woman currently positioning herself in front of you, cupping your cheek, tilting back your head as you fought not to push her away. You didn’t want her to touch you.

You weren’t really sure what you did want, anymore.

“Poor little thing,” She said, her voice already soft, sweet. She might be angry, later on, she probably would be, but you tried not to think about that. You could only be thankful she wasn’t, right now. “I think you’ve had enough fun, for today. All of this is clearly too much for you to handle.” She stopped, leaning down, her lips barely brushing against your forehead. It wasn’t a kiss, but it was close to one. It didn’t hurt, and that was all you could bring yourself to care about. “Are you ready to go home?”

She might’ve been talking about her room. She might’ve been talking about the tower. She might’ve been talking about something else entirely – a dungeon, a prison cell, a cramped, darkened room you wouldn’t be able to slip out of quite as easily. You didn’t know. You should’ve, but you didn’t.

“I…” You were barely able to whisper. It was pathetic, honestly, but you forced yourself to go on. It would be worse, if you drew it out. It would be unbearable, if you had to stay here.

You just wanted to be alone, even if you had to be alone with Glimmer.

“I’m ready.”

[walviemort]

Fairy Godfather, part 2

Summary: The fairies have asked a monumental favor of Killian: be the surrogate for their babies—all nine of them. He’s been pregnant before, but this? This is a whole other level. What has he gotten himself into? And just how big will he get?

A/N: Another update! This is kind of consuming me so you’ll be getting these pretty often, I hope! thanks to @sancocnutclub for all her encouragement ;)

rated T / 2.2k words / part 1 / AO3

He didn’t wake until mid morning the next day, and was still fairly fatigued, but otherwise felt alright—just a bit tender about the middle. 

A shower helped dissolve most of the lingering soreness, and he took some time in front of the mirror to look for any changes. 

Given that his stomach had never returned to its previous hardened state, it was hard to notice any discernible change in shape, but when he poked around, there was definitely a rounded area that hadn’t been there before. 

He also took a moment to memorize his body as it was; it wouldn’t be long before the babes made their presence visibly known, and the changes that happened while pregnant with Hope were still fresh in his mind. He was both glad that Belle was keeping track of his stats, and already dreading it. 

But she was probably waiting for him, so he needed to get a move on—and something to eat; he was starting to feel peckish, but couldn’t tell whether or not it was more than usual. 

His normal jeans still fit comfortably, albeit a hair snug. It wouldn’t last long, but he’d relish it while it did. At least his shirts would last longer; he’d found a new appreciation for the forgiving cotton knits of this realm in his second trimester. 

Emma was already at the station when he got downstairs, but she’d left behind plenty of pancakes, and he ate a few more than normal; he wasn’t sure how to interpret that. 

Before heading to the library, he went to pick up Hope from her sleepover with her grandparents. David greeted him at the door, with tiny Ruth asleep on his chest.

“So, how’d it go?” he asked, hardly able to keep his eyes away from Killian’s midsection.

“Fine, as far as I could tell. Weird, but fine.”

“Did it hurt?”

“No, thankfully, but I’m sure there will be plenty of aches and pains later.”

David winced. “Man, am I glad they asked you and not me. This one was enough,” he said, patting Ruth’s back gently.

“I don’t disagree, but…”

“But you feel like you owe them,” David finished. 

“Aye.”

“Well, I think it’ll be the other way around by the end of this, but we’ll help you out as much as we can.”

“I appreciate it—and I’m sure we’ll need it with this one,” he replied, nodding at Hope, who was attempting to escape out a window.

She was easily wrangled, though, and happy to see him. He had no idea what fairy infants were like, but if they were half as charming as his daughter (who definitely took after her grandfather), this whole town would revolve around them.

As he thought, Belle was waiting for him, tape measure in hand. “Seriously?” he griped as he set Hope down next to Gideon in the playpen behind the circulation desk.

“You can’t possibly be surprised,” she threw back. “But if it’s any consolation, I won’t do it again until next week.”

“You only did it monthly last time around.”

“You were only carrying one babe.”

He sighed. “Fine.”

Though his waist measurement remained unchanged, his weight was slightly higher (more than could be expected by a few extra pancakes). “I can feel it,” he confirmed when she asked. “There’s definitely something in there, though I only notice it if I go looking for it.”

Belle made a note and then flipped back and forth between some pages. “That matches up with when you found out you were expecting Hope; so do your measurements, and that was, what 8 weeks?”

“Yeah, thereabouts.”

“Second pregnancies do show sooner, too.”

“Especially this one,” he grumbled. 

“Oh yeah,” she agreed.

The day continued normally, although his hand did gravitate to his stomach pretty often, without thinking about it. Even if it wasn’t noticeable, he still knew what was there, and his subconscious seemed to have already set out to protect it—that, or his hormones were already starting to affect him. 

Based on his reaction when Emma arrived that afternoon—particularly to his train of thought when she bent down to pick up a napping Hope—it was definitely hormones. His jeans felt a very different kind of tight then; something he acted on later that night, after a slightly larger than usual dinner. 

“Those hormones kicked in fast,” a sated Emma breathed as they came down from their shared high. “You haven’t been that voracious since we found out we were having a girl.”

“Are you complaining?” he panted. 

“Absolutely not.”

“Good.” And they went for another round. 

In fact, he was so insatiable the next couple of weeks that, despite his elevated appetite, no other discernible change in his weight was noticed; his waist actually went down a bit.

“Are you feeling alright? Keeping food down and everything?” Belle asked, worried, as she recorded his 2-week measurements, comparing them to his 10-week from his first pregnancy. “Last time, you couldn’t eat more than chicken rice about now.”

“Trust me—I feel more than fine,” he assured her. “Were it not for Emma’s implanted contraception, we’d likely need to be planning for a more traditional pregnancy.”

“That’s a very eloquent way of saying you can’t keep your hands off your wife.”

“I could have phrased it crudely—how many synonyms for ‘sex’ did you want Gideon to learn today?”

“None!” she exclaimed, covering her son’s impressionable ears. He was at the age when he repeated anything said around him—a fact they noticed when Gideon’s favorite phrase became “bloody hell.”

“What are uncles for, though?” he teased with a wink. 

Belle just groaned and threatened to teach Hope how to read with romance novels. Killian, however, was just glad she slept through the night so she didn’t interrupt the real thing. 

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Where there had been some hubbub about town during Killian’s first pregnancy—and quite a lot of gawking—no one seemed as shocked this time around. They’d made no effort to keep it a secret, letting the Storybrooke rumor mill do its job, but either the town was more aware than Killian had been about fairy reproduction, or they had become jaded to such magical oddities (he assumed the latter).

That said—he had to assume the gawking would eventually return. 

Especially with the way Granny was feeding him. To be fair, she wasn’t letting him overindulge, but he’d noticed his portions were larger, and the amount of vegetables increased. He wondered if Blue had given her some nutritional instruction, or if it was just her innate grandmotherly instincts. 

The first time she slid an extra helping of broccoli over, he tried to protest, delicious as it looked. 

“Oh no—eat up, young man,” she commanded. “If my math is right, you’re eating for 10. I should probably be feeding you more, actually.”

Emma snickered next to him—they were on lunch break from the station—but he wasn’t sure if it was at Granny’s tutting or the fact that Killian had just realized the magnitude of…well, all of it. 

So when Granny slid some extra onion rings across the counter, he didn’t complain (but obviously shared them with his wife).

He wanted to blame it on those extra treats—onion rings, fries, pie, muffins—when they noticed an expansion in his waist measurement at 3 weeks, but it was definitely the babes; he could still wear his normal jeans, but was seeing some rounding behind his navel. 

And at 4 weeks—a month since the babes were transferred—it could finally be deemed a bump: there was a gentle curve to his whole stomach, from just under his pecs to his hips (which had been aching a bit as they widened some, likely in anticipation of the heavy load to come). Given the way he and Emma’s evening activities hadn’t slowed, he knew it was all the babies. 

Belle hummed as she compared the notes she’d just taken with those from last time. “Well, that’s interesting,” she commented.

“What is?” Emma asked; she’d joined them for that week’s check in, curious to see where things were.

“This week’s measurements match up with those from the end of the first trimester last time, which I suppose isn’t a huge surprise, but…”

“But I have a lot more to go than two trimesters,” he finished.

All eyes were on his stomach for a long while after that, likely all wondering the same thing: just how large would he get?

The only thing that took their attention away was the ringing of the bell over the door as someone arrived—Blue, it turned out. “Hi,” she greeted, clearly trying to be casual. “Just wanted to stop by and see how things were going.”

He wasn’t naive enough to believe she’d stay away from him for the duration of the pregnancy, although he had expected more subtle surveillance.

They chatted briefly about how he was feeling, and she studied his stomach with an outstretched hand, he assumed to do her own magical assessment. “Yes, they seem to be doing quite well; that’s good.”

“Did you think they weren’t?” Emma quipped.

“No, of course not,” Blue assured her. “Would it be odd to express my excitement?”

Well, they all understood that. “How long has it been since your last brood?” Belle had to ask.

“Over fifty years,” Blue answered. “They’re usually every five to ten, depending on the solstice.”

“And when you don’t have a series of curses in the way,” Emma added.

Blue glanced over Belle’s notes with interest. “That does seem to match up with past broods, though I don’t think anyone ever thought to take such detailed notes.”

“Are there any?” Belle asked. “I don’t have anything here, but if you had some back at the convent, it’d be great for comparison.”

“I’d have to check our library,” Blue answered. “There might be a few scrolls, but we’re not much for recorded history.”

“I can tell,” Belle complained.

After some more chatting, Blue excused herself, but did ask if it was alright if she checked in periodically.

“Of course,” Killian said. “It’s your brood. Plus, I’m certain we’ll need to take you up on the offer of help sooner rather than later, if this is where I’m already at after only 4 weeks,” he added, gesturing to his still-small bump.

“Absolutely,” Blue said. “Oh! I almost forgot.” She pulled her wand out of nowhere and twirled it at Killian’s midsection. His skin grew warm for a moment, but then returned to normal. “I’m not sure if the original spell will account for the size, as far as how it treats your skin; that should eliminate any damage.”

“No stretch marks?” he wondered.

“No—not any new ones, at least.”

“Oh, thank goodness.”

She then left as quickly as she appeared.

“Guess that’s something we’ll have to get used to,” he sighed, and then they went about their day. But he was starting to grow very concerned about what lay ahead for him; he knew this wouldn’t be a small feat, but was worried it would be more than he could handle.

As time progressed, his bump steadily grew, though not unnaturally so. At 5 weeks, it was yet more noticeable; at 6, he finally had to concede defeat and dig out his maternity jeans, though they were still plenty roomy. By the end of the second month, he wasn’t quite where he’d been at the end of his second trimester, but it was definitely a baby bump—roughly where he’d been around 24 weeks with Hope, even though he was only at 8 with this one.

It was around then, though, that he noticed the first flutterings inside. He thought he’d noticed it the week before, but chalked it up to gas or something like that; Granny had been feeding him a lot of black beans lately. But late one night, after yet another glorious session of lovemaking, Emma’s hand had drifted to his belly and even she took notice.

“Wow, they’re actually starting to move in there, huh?”

“Seems like it. You don’t suppose they actually have wings already, do they?”

“Normal babies hardly have limbs at this stage, so probably not.”

They lay peacefully in the afterglow for a bit, before he asked quietly, “You are okay with this, right?”

It wasn’t the first time he’d ask, nor was it likely to be the last. But it was a large undertaking and though she hadn’t exactly protested, he knew it wasn’t something she’d have volunteered for.

“For the hundredth time, yes. Even if this was partly fueled by guilt, I know you probably would have agreed anyway, and that big heart is why I love you so much. And can I say something else?”

“What’s that, love?”

“I was so attracted to you with that baby bump last time, even when you thought you were massive. So as long as your libido holds out, I think we’re both going to be very happy.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm, I think I might need some convincing.”

“Then let me show you.” And oh, she did.

Gods, he prayed he’d be able to do that for a while. The next several months were going to be very interesting.

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