#they’ve raised the bar for me forever i honestly have no idea what could ever top them

[luminousstardust]

sorry but laura and marisha acting their hearts out every week and giving us the queer performance of a lifetime…. with the love AND the drama AND angst AND occasional fluff…….. literally roleplaying themselves to TEARS because they care about these characters so much gets to me so bad. as a wlw who’s lived through every iteration of queerbait and horribly shitty representation it just feels so good getting to watch imodna get together mid-campaign and not just at the very end so we get to watch them GROW with each other and NOT BE PERFECT and have ISSUES that come with their whole end-of-the-world thing but trying their very best to work them out because they want nothing more than the other to be happy and safe…………. yeah i’m never going to be the same again.

[annoyed-galaxy]

Shakarian First Date

Since Garrus took Shepard somewhere they weren't supposed to be and fucking fired snipers in said forbidden area, I thought the lock in romance scene would have been better if they got chased and thrown in jail for a bit. Just some small stuff cause I really need the cute healing right now. Before...yknow...I work on the ME3 fix-it fic.

Lyris made her way towards the C-Sec shuttles. Her hands were in her hoodie pockets as she approached Garrus. He was leaning casually against the railing and she smirked as he pushed himself off of it. “Shepard, glad you came,” he greeted, his mandibles stretching out into the turian smile she got so used to seeing.

“Heard you wanted to hang out,” she smiled back. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Something that doesn’t involve fighting Reapers,” he said.

She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t think they’ve conquered the bar yet.”

“I’ve already scoped it out. But then I thought...if this was my last day alive, I’d like to remember it,” he insisted.

Lyris raised an eyebrow, taking her hands out of her pockets and crossing her arms. “So?”

“So, I had an idea...” He turned towards the console to call a car. When the car landed, she hopped in the passenger side as Garrus took the controls. If he was taking her on a joy ride, she was not about to complain. She had always wanted to take a ride around the Citadel, but it was always under attack or she was busy getting shot at or well...Reapers.

“Alright, where we going? Is there a destination, or are we just doing a joy ride?” Lyris asked, once they were in the air.

“Somewhere we’re not supposed to,” he smirked, a mandible stretching out to one side.

Lyris leaned back in the seat and chuckled. “Now you’re talking.”

“Ever have that one thing you’ve always wanted to do before you died, Shepard?” Garrus asked.

Lyris smiled slyly. “I’ve woken up with a turian next to me.” Lyris looked over at Garrus, a smirk on her face.

“Still trying to make me blush?”

“Until it works,” she teased. Garrus rolled his eyes. “So what’s your one thing?”

“The whole time I worked at C-Sec, I’d stare at the top of the Presidium and say to myself: I want to go up there. But I never did. There were one-hundred and thirty seven regulations telling me I couldn’t,” he explained.

“So what? Did you get them changed?”

“No. Now I just don’t give a damn.”

Lyris smiled, enjoying this new carefree Garrus. He had changed a lot since she first met him. From C-Sec officer to vigilante to expert advisor on Reapers. She wondered if it was because of her. If she had any influence on him and his attitude. Hopefully she wasn’t too bad of an example.

The car rose higher into the air and then Garrus parked it onto one of the beams that stretched from side to side across the Presidium. He stepped out and Lyris followed. “Figured it’s time to something stupid just for the hell of it. Might be the last chance we ever get.”

Lyris looked down at the Presidium, watching the skycars above them drive by. The view was beautiful. So much green and blue in this one spot: grass, plants, water. It was peaceful, reminded her of Earth before the Reapers. Looking out at the Presidium made her forget that Reapers were attacking the galaxy. That she wasn’t in the middle of a war, trying to complete impossible tasks. Getting species that fought for centuries to work together. “It’s incredible,” she whispered.

Garrus turned to her, seeing her eyes sparkle with life and amazement. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hope it would inspire a certain...mood.” Lyris’s eyes met his and she could tell there was more to this.

“Something on your mind, then?” she asked, turning towards him.

His mandibles quivered, as if he was nervous. “It seemed like you needed time to...figure us out.” He stepped closer to her. “Are you ready to be a one-turian kind of woman?”

His voice was soft, as if he was unsure of himself, unsure if she really wanted him. He’s been with her since the beginning. Since Saren, the geth, Sovereign, on to the Collectors, and now with the Reapers. He was her most reliable squadmate, always watching over her back whenever she charged into battle with her biotics. He reminded her, painfully, of Gwen. Maybe that’s why she liked him so much. It was as if Gwen was a part of him. But at the same time, he was his own person.

When she died, it was as if the chains holding her in her past life had dissolved and when she was brought back to life, she was reborn, renewed. She let go of her parents’ death, of Gwen’s death, of all the people she had lost on Torfan. When she was surrounded by Cerberus strangers and felt threatened, Garrus had managed to find his way into her life. She had a friend with her then and she couldn’t afford to seclude herself away.

The feelings that formed for Garrus just...happened. She didn’t know who fell first, her or him. All she knew is that she wanted to be with Garrus until the end. She wouldn’t lose him. She was done losing people. She would take on the Reapers, as long as he was by her side.

“The only thing that made leaving Earth bearable was knowing that you were out there somewhere.” As she said the words, Garrus’s eyes lit up.

“I felt the same way. The worst part about the galaxy going to hell would’ve been never getting to see you again.” His voice had more confidence in it, as if hearing her say those words erased any uncertainties he had.

She stepped closer to him. “Well, here I am. Exactly where I want to be.” Lyris put her hands on his chest and looked up into his eyes. The next few words she said would put to rest her old life and allow her to truly move on. She would always love Gwen Tamashi, but she also knew Gwen would want her to move on. “I love you, Garrus Vakarian.” The words rang true as she said them. Her heart swelled as she waited for his response.

He seemed surprised, bringing a hand to his head and scratching it nervously. “Oh. Wow. The vids Joker gave me never got this far,” he laughed nervously. “There was the part about sleeping together, but this...I don’t know what to do...”

Lyris smirked and pulled him down for a kiss. “Who needs a vid when you’ve got me?” she chuckled as she pulled back, a smug look on her face.

A flash of confidence soared through his eyes. She felt his arms wrap around her and next thing she knew, she was halfway off her feet, laying in his arms. His mandibles quivered before he leaned in for a kiss. Kissing a turian was a different experience as he didn’t really have lips, but Lyris appreciated it regardless as she returned it. Honestly, she could have stayed like this forever, in his arms, his face nuzzled against hers. There were no Reapers here, no death, no politics, just peace and a lovely turian.

He pulled back, much to her dismay, and put her on her feet again. They stared at each other for a few more moments before Garrus turned to a box where a couple of sniper rifles were. “Now, before we head back, there is one thing we are going to settle once and for all.” He seemed at ease now, as if a great weight was lifted off his shoulders. Maybe it was since she cleared the air. It made her happy to see how relieved he was. He picked up one of the sniper rifles and turned back to her. “Not saying you don’t know how to handle a gun. Just saying some of us know how to make it dance.” He tossed the rifle to her. “So, let’s find out who’s the best shot.”

Really. Oh he really wanted to go there. Lyris snorted as she prepped the sniper. “There are a few people in the galaxy who’ve seen me in action, Garrus. They seemed impressed.” Garrus grabbed a bottle from the boxes as she said this.

He snorted. “Maybe, but I’ve actually seen you dance, Shepard...No comment.”

Lyris clicked her tongue and readied the sniper. “All right, Vakarian. You’re going down.” She was bringing this hotshot down. Nobody insults her dancing!

“Don’t worry, I loaded it with practice slugs for when you miss,” he said cheekily. Lyris rolled her eyes and took her stance. Did she use a sniper often? No. Did she at least know how to use one? Hell yes. She preferred her biotics and close combat rather than long range. But now was the time to defend her honor and make Garrus eat dirt.

He threw the bottle and as it soared through the air, Lyris aimed, held her breath and then fired, shattering the bottle and watching as the liquid within burst free and fell down. She tilted her head towards Garrus, smirk on her face. Eat it, she thought.

“That was an easy one. Let you build up your confidence.” He turned back to grab another bottle. “Long range, I wrote the book. Nobody alive can do this, not even Commander Shepard.” Lyris crossed her arms, raising her eyebrows at the challenge. He tossed the bottle to her. “Give me a tough one,” he challenged as he grabbed his own sniper.

Lyris stretched and swung her arms about for a bit, getting ready to throw the bottle as far as she could. She backed up and aimed, then she ran forward a bit and launched the bottle. As soon as it was out of her hand, Garrus shot the bottle down. “I said a tough one!” he sneered.

“Alright, you cocky hotshot, step aside,” Lyris picked up her rifle again. As he got ready to throw the bottle, Lyris’s focus sharpened and as soon as she saw the bottle in her view...

It shattered and the sound of her rifle echoed all around. She then looked at Garrus, a smug look on her face again. “Nobody alive, maybe, but technically I died,” she shrugged.

Garrus snorted. “Yeah, well, next time we’ll throw in a herd of rampaging Kilxen. That’s how you separate the rookies from the pros.”

Lyris laughed but was cut off by the sound of sirens. She and Garrus turned to see a C-Sec car with the sirens on heading their way. “Remember how you said we’re not supposed to be up here?” Lyris quipped, throwing the rifle down and heading to the car.

“Yeah maybe shooting a gun wasn’t a good idea,” he laughed as he joined her. “Hold on.” The car lurched and they started speeding away from the C-Sec car. The sirens blared louder and sped up, beginning to chase them.

“Garrus are you running from the cops?!” Lyris exclaimed, laughter in her voice.

“Like I said, I don’t give a damn!” Garrus sped up, the car lurching above traffic towards the fake morning sky. Lyris looked behind her and saw that another C-Sec car had joined its partner.

“I hope you’re as good of a getaway driver as you are a shot,” she teased. “We got another one.”

Garrus’s mandible twitched and his voice purred. “Hold on tight then.” The car began weaving through traffic, hoping to lose the C-Sec cars on their tail. Until one came up to their side. “Crap.” Garrus forced the car downwards, speeding towards the water that traveled through the Presidium.

“A car chase as a first date? My, my, Garrus you know how to make an impression,” Lyris joked.

Garrus opened his mouth, ready to say something, but was cut off when more C-Sec cars cut them off in front. Garrus stopped the car and was about to turn around, but their chasers behind them cut them off. They were surrounded. Garrus looked over at Lyris. “Let’s just hope Bailey is here.”

Lyris was laying on Garrus’s lap and he absentmindedly ran his hand through her hair. They were in a jail cell, the door locked, but neither really seemed to care. “Garrus, stick to shooting things, not driving,” Lyris chuckled.

“I’d say I’m still a better driver than you. Should I remind you of the trips in the Mako?” Garrus challenged tilting his head to the side.

“Excuse you, I was a damn good driver when it came to the Mako.”

“Yeah sure. Say that to the concussions I would get all the time you flipped it over. I’m honestly amazed we never blew up!”

Lyris rolled her eyes.

The door to the cell open and they turned to look who it was.

Joker was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed with Bailey behind him. “Was wondering when you two would finally go out on a date,” Joker chuckled. “Just didn’t expect you guys to get arrested.”

“Yeah who knew Commander Shepard and Garrus Vakarian were such troublemakers,” Bailey snorted. “You two are free to go.”

Lyris sat up and smiled at Joker. “They didn’t make you bail us out did they? Cause I could have just used my Spectre status.”

“No I actually told Commander Bailey to keep you guys locked up for a bit,” Joker laughed. “I just found it funny Commander Shepard, hero of the Citadel, getting in trouble for being in places she’s not supposed to be.”

“Hey, it was Garrus’s idea,” Lyris countered pointing back to the turian who stood up.

Joker laughed again as he moved out of the doorway. “Breaking the law as a first date, nice you two. Glad to see you finally made a move Garrus.”

Garrus’s mandibles twitched again, as if he was embarrassed while Joker led them out of the C-Sec offices. “We should totally do that again,” Lyris said, looking up at Garrus. He relaxed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Definitely.”

[imagine-that-haikyuu]

Reaction to Cutting Your Hair Short

These are the first Haikyuu!! fics I ever wrote (barring one Asahi fic) that I used to practice characterization and I figured it would be time to share them! They’ve been waiting almost four long years for the world to see them.

Inspired by the fact that I need a haircut.

Suga’s is inspired by something that actually happened to me when I was 17. That was embarrassing.

- Admin Rachel Lauren

Ko-fi

~*~

Kageyama

Kageyama never once considered you an impulsive person. He could tell from the first day he met you that everything in your life was pretty much planned to the minute: the fact that you were constantly scribbling reminders into your weekly planner was his first hint at this. It wasn’t until he had actually mustered up the courage to confess to you and that you insisted that he take you to the movies at exactly noon—heavy emphasis on “exactly”—the following Sunday that he realized just how meticulous you actually are.

“And I won’t forgive you if you’re even the slightest bit late!” you chimed with a sweet smile at the time. If he hadn’t been so over the moon about you accepting his confession, he would have been concerned. So your dates became a regular weekly thing—Sundays at exactly noon—that he couldn’t afford to be late to. 

Today, he’s sure to arrive early to the café, fifteen minutes ahead of time just in case. It’s bothersome, but there’s something about beating you there that felt reminiscent of his constant competition with Hinata over who could get to morning practice earlier. The fact that he won this time was enough for him to get over it.

“Ah, there you are.” 

Kageyama raises his gaze up from the menu he’d been staring at for the past few minutes. Blues eyes widening at the sight before him, he drops the plastic-covered pages onto the table.

Your once-long hair is gone. Completely chopped off into a bob stopping at your chin. He had just seen you yesterday and at that time, your hair was much longer. As you take your seat across from him, he stutters nonsense syllables. 

“Mmm, I’ll take it as a good sign,” you say while picking up the menu before you and glancing it over.

Finally, he’s able to form a coherent sentence. Leaning a little closer to you, he asks, “W-when did this happen?” 

You pick at a hair on your cardigan, a leftover clipping from the salon that the hairdresser was unable to wipe off of you. “Just before I came here.”

Normally, you would let him know of these kinds of things, but you hadn’t said a word about it. Or maybe you had and he hadn’t been paying attention. He knew that if you had, you would definitely scold him for not listening to you, but he couldn’t help but ask about it.

“W-were you always going to get it cut this short?” 

You shook your head, your hair shaking along with it, and gave a casual shrug. “I just decided to do it when I woke up this morning.” You stare off into the distance in thought. “I don’t know. Maybe I was just tired of how long it would take to style it.”

This is definitely an unusual sight for Kageyama, seeing you so unsure of yourself. Something in the pit of his stomach feels heavy. This uneasiness makes it hard to look at you, and his eyes keep glancing down at the table, then at the floor, and back.

“Kageyama-kun, do you not like it?” 

He raises his head again to finally meet you eye-to-eye. The slightly dejected look on your face only makes him feel worse about the whole thing. Now that he was finally getting a good look at you, it was easy to see that the length actually suited you and framed your face nicely. There was an air of maturity about you as well. If he hadn’t known better, he would have assumed you were one of his senpai.

“No, it looks…” He struggles to find the right word, pouting slightly at his own inhibition. “Nice” was too simple. “Fine” didn’t feel right either.  “…cute. It looks…cute.”

There’s a shaky sigh of relief from you. That dejected look on your face relaxes, and your lips curve upwards into a wide grin. Whatever uncertainty he had about you before seems to fade instantly away.

~*~

Suga

Tears brim at the corner of your eyes, as they had been on occasion for the past few days. It was so stupid and childish: getting lice of all things! When your head started itching after coming home from vacation and your mother checked through your hair and found the pests, you groaned. The thought of whatever child had been in your seat on the flight before yours could make your blood boil if you were a meaner person. What’s worse is that this wouldn’t be your first time having to take care of this matter. 

You had first dealt with lice as a child. Your hair had been long then too, so your mother did every remedy in the book for a solid three days on end until your head was free of the suckers. She spent hours with you bent over the bathtub using lice shampoo on your scalp, your knees and neck sore from the harsh tiling and awkward positioning. The memory of seeing the little, dead bugs wash out of your hair gave you nightmares for a week after that. You smelled of vinegar for longer than you would have liked in your attempts to suffocate them by soaking your locks in it while a towel held them in place. And of course, there was the dreaded nit comb. There were too many tears from you as your mother pulled that comb through your hair for an entire afternoon, your scalp raw from all the tugging and washing.

So now, at seventeen-years-old, you knew better than to go through that living hell another time. You would have to use the shampoo and the nit comb again no matter what, but at least not with hair that long. You could easily remedy the problem within a day by chopping it all off.

Except it had taken you so long to grow it out from the last time you cut it short, and it looked so pretty to boot. And perhaps, more importantly to you, your boyfriend loved your hair. He would constantly compliment it, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous about how he would like the possibility of a new ‘do for you.

“Koushi, I’m so embarrassed,” you say with a sniffle over the phone. Your room reeks thanks to the vinegar-soaked towel around your head. “I could honestly drop dead.”

“These things happen. It’s okay.” Suga’s voice was as sweet as it ever was, but it was anything but reassuring at the moment. “Would you like me to come over now and help you shampoo? I know your mom’s the expert at this point, but I have a distinct feeling that you need to see another familiar face.”

You bite your lip in frustration. You’re dying to spend time with Suga after having not seen him since you’d been home, but the idea of him seeing your now-short hair was doing nothing to ease your woes. “Don’t. I’d feel awful if I gave them to you.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “You say that as if my hair isn’t short and easy to manage. You can’t hide from me forever! I’ll be over in a little while.”

Suga lives a few streets over, so it doesn’t take him long to arrive. Your mother answers the door, and you groan at the sound of his footsteps from the stairwell. You don’t move from your spot on the floor of your room when he walks in. Your eyes are downcast. Not even his presence can stir your attention away from the carpet. He’s about to say something, but the timer on your phone starts blaring: it’s time to wash out the vinegar. Without a word, you unwrap the towel and let your soaked hair flop down into place.

Lips trembling, the tears finally start coming out in giant droplets. You place your hands over your face without hesitation. “It looks so bad. I know,” you sob. “I had no choice.”

He huffs. “It’s not fair, ____. You can’t cry like that when I can’t pull you into a hug to make it better, especially when you look so pretty.”

You pull your hands away from your face, tears still falling, streaking your cheeks. Suga’s seated cross-legged in front of you, chin placed in his hands. His smile is as wide and refreshing as ever. You let out a squeaky, “Really?” in between your shallow breaths.

“You know I always think you look pretty, but shorter hair really suits you. You look like a new person.” He sits up straight, and pinches his nose with a wink, his lovely voice now nasal. “But you smell awful, and that I can’t forgive. Let’s go wash it out.”

Still sniffling but tears stopping, your lips curve into a smile. Suga holds out a hand for you, and you take it, giving it an affirmative squeeze. He raises your hand to his lips and gives it a gentle peck, eliciting a sigh of relief from you.

“Thank you, Koushi.”

~*~

Oikawa

A few days have passed since you’d last seen your boyfriend. A volleyball tournament over the long weekend for him and a visit to the grandparent’s house for you had kept the two of you apart. It’s hardly unusual that you don’t see him on the weekends anyway, given that it’s the height of volleyball season and he more than often overworks himself practicing. However, something about this weekend feels...off. 

Perhaps, it’s the shortage of texts and calls on his end that bothered you. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t worried even before this particular weekend: something in the way he talked to you at school and the general air about him when he walked you home felt distant. Hesitantly, you had asked Iwaizumi if something had happened, but he couldn’t tell you what was bothering Oikawa, just that he had noticed the tension between the two of you as well.

When you had passed the hair salon while out shopping for your grandmother when you arrived in her town on Friday evening, an idea popped into your head. It was pretty impulsive, but you had been debating about cutting your hair short for a few weeks now. If it was going to happen, now was the time. Except that it had only taken you two days to get used to it, so you forgot rather quickly that it was a thing you had done without his knowing.

So when you open the door for Oikawa on Monday morning when he comes to pick you up for your walk to school, and see his signature smile swiftly fade into a look of confusion, you panic.

“What is it?” you ask, slightly wide-eyed. You pat your face to feel for any food crumbs that you might have forgotten to wipe off after breakfast.

“Your hair.”

You blink. “Right.” You bring your hands up in a slight shrug and chime, “Surprise.”

He takes a step towards you, face a little less confused and a little more shocked now. His eyes take in your styled tresses, fingers reaching out to touch them and barely brushing your chin in the process, but pulling back before he actually does. It was almost as if he needed the reassurance that this was all very real. Your heart beat furiously in your chest as he did this; you honestly had no idea how to gauge this reaction from him and it was making you uneasy. Oikawa was generally very quick to compliment on your appearance, so this distinct lack of commentary is worrying.

Your eyes downcast as he stands before you, you exhale deeply. There’s no turning back now; it’s not like you can just glue your locks back together.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done this,” you apologize, eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “You’ve been kind of distant lately, so I thought that maybe I was boring you. I know I did it on sort of a whim, but I thought that maybe a little change in appearance would help.”

His long arms quickly wrap around you, pulling you into a tight hug. Your own arms twitch at the sudden gesture, but you relax in his embrace and place your hands on his back, nuzzling your head into his chest.

“I thought you were the one who was bored with me!” he says with a bit of a whine. You pull away from the hug, and give him a look of concern.

“What do you mean?”

He flashes you one of his celebrity-status smiles, but there’s something pained behind it. “Well, it’s no secret that I’ve been dumped before because of volleyball. In fact, I was really surprised that you hadn’t done so already...” His smile fades into pout and he looks over at the wall. “It certainly didn’t help that Iwa-chan kept saying you’d dump me for someone who’d pay more attention to you.”

You blink, mouth in the shape of a small “o.” It subsided into a grin as you giggled, “Oh, we’re both pretty silly, aren’t we?” 

He hums and let out a “Yep!” before giving you a peck on the cheek and taking your hand. “We should hurry or we’ll be late. Besides, I can’t wait to see how jealous Iwa-chan will look when he sees that my girlfriend’s gotten even cuter.”

~*~

Kenma

Game Over.

Kenma’s face contorts as he stares at the dark screen of his handheld console, white lettering taunting him. He read online that this particular level was notoriously tough, and he’d been stuck on it for the past few days. 

Unlike last time he was bested in one of his video games, and Kuroo was there to point out how to beat the enemy, there was no giveaway about how to approach this boss battle. It was just this particular video game’s unusually high enemy curve that made it difficult.

He looks up from the bench before deciding whether or not to take a break from the game. He turns around and looks inside the salon’s storefront windows. You had just been seated in one of the chairs, the stylist wrapping the cape around your neck while your lips move. You place your hands against your hair, palms down, to indicate how much you wanted her to cut. It would still be a while before you were done. Kenma returned his attention to the console and hit “Try Again”.

The only reason he’s outside is because the salon is swamped today. There was only one seat in the waiting area, and it made sense for you to take it while you waited for your appointment. Even if there had been another seat available for him, he wasn’t sure he would have felt comfortable in the midst of all those people. The brash whirring of the hairdryers and the loud chit chat between stylists and customers would have distracted him from his game anyway. 

He also still wasn’t entirely sure why you had asked him to tag along. This was the kind of thing you would do on your own, and then do something together with him after you were done. It wasn’t that much of a bother because, either way, he would have played his game the whole time while he waited for you whether he was at home or anywhere else.

Kenma’s approach to the boss battle is definitely more careful the next few times he attempts it. The enemy’s health bar comes dangerously close to total depletion; his heart races faster because, finally, he would be able to move on in the game. Just as he goes to use a finishing combo, the enemy strikes his character with its most powerful blow, wiping out the little HP he had left. 

The screen fades to the black “Game Over” screen again. Kenma throws his head back with an exasperated sigh while the bell on the salon door jingles.

“All done.”

He directs his attention towards you. If he hadn’t recognized your voice, he wouldn’t have recognized you. The sight of you with short hair, almost similar in length to his, is a vision he would have to get used to. He had only known you with long hair. He blinks once and slowly, until he notices the large plastic baggie in your hand. Sensing his uncertainty about what you were holding, you hold it out for him to see. 

It’s a braid. Your braid.

He looked around, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He muttered a quiet, “You’re keeping it?” He knows that parents sometimes keep a lock of their children’s hair after their first haircut as a memento, but he knows nothing about someone keeping their own hair when they’re older, and all of it for that matter.

Joining him on the bench, you zip your bag open to place the baggie inside of it. “Well, this salon won’t send it to the company for me, so I have to mail it in myself.”

His concerned look doesn’t waver at your words. What do you mean by having to mail it somewhere yourself? Don’t salons usually just cut off people’s hair and then sweep it away? You giggle at his scared face.

“Kenma, I’m donating it.”

His whole body relaxes and he lets out a sigh of relief. Thank goodness it isn’t for something weird. 

You peer over at the console in his hands, lips dipping into a slight frown at the unfortunately familiar “Game Over” screen. “Still stuck on that boss battle, huh?” 

His eyes glance between you and the screen. “Yeah.”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you lean back into the bench in thought with a slight hum.

“Maybe your character needs to get a haircut so he can see better,” you tease. “Get that wild mop out of his eyes.”

Kenma shrugs and hits the “Try Again” option once more. As the battle music starts to play and he taps at the buttons, a small smile tugs at his lips. “Even so, he probably wouldn’t look as nice as you.”

[virginbutstillahoe]

supernatural: an essay

hello fellow clowns.

i need to get some things off my chest, so here we are.  read it, don’t read it, it’s up to you buttercup.  love you.

i’ve been watching since i was 11.  since 2009.  this show raised me.

my father was a really bad guy.  i’ve alluded to it a few times on here but, he was a really abusive and horrible man.  so, i leaned on this show.  it taught me, that even with an abusive father and a difficult hand dealt to me, that i could keep fighting and find the family that i could call my own.

it taught me that family didn’t end in blood.  you control your destiny.  love is stronger than your crap life.  don’t give up, baby.

i am angry about the finale.  enraged even.  but i still love this show and the actors and crew members that made it possible.  that will never change.  this show is what pulled me from the ledge more times than i can count.  made me laugh when i thought i never could again.  did more for me than words can describe to be perfectly honest.  

you may say, molly, it’s a stupid show with bad special effects and sometimes bad acting, there’s no way it’s that special to you.  and to you i say, i am so sorry for you that you don’t know what it’s like to love and enjoy something with your whole heart.

----

now, dean winchester is my favorite character of anything ever.  yes, castiel is a CLOSE fucking second, but dean is just god tier for me.  he is so human and so much like me.  he is the main thing that made me realize, hey, it’s okay to take your time in growing and to be damaged.  it’s okay to be flawed.  he is everything castiel said in his final moments and more.  a true lover.  a man who would put his family (blood relatives and non blood relatives) before anyone or anything.  

destiel aside.  it is OUT OF CHARACTER for dean winchester to not immediately ask for jack to bring cas back as soon as he had all of god’s power.  completely.  jesus christ he even asked GOD to bring him back.  

to continue, dean not asking to see cas as soon as he finds out that he’s not in the empty?  you have got to be kidding.  

i am a destiheller.  i won’t even try to lie here, i am.  but seriously, let’s just say for the sake of the argument, that dean isn’t in love with cas.  still, dean winchester would have wanted to see his best friend.  cas died.  dean would have wanted to find him and hug him immediately if he knew he was around.

jesus, didn’t you see him when he found cas in purgatory?

there is literally NO reason that castiel wasn’t present in the finale.  zero.

----

i am okay with dean dying for the ending.  i actually really am.  i liked the idea of dean dying to save two children, and doing what he loved. but immediately after they defeat chuck?  why?  couldn’t he have had a few years of joy?  of freedom?  why, after everything they’ve been through, did they continue to punish this amazing man, who was nothing but heroic and selfless for the world until the end?  i just don’t understand.

----

on a more positive side, my sammy.  he finally got a long and happy life.  albeit without dean but, he still had the chance to enjoy his freedom, and get the apple pie life he always dreamed of.  

and dean, oh my dean.  his ending?  i am angry about how it came about, but a heaven filled with the people he loves?  thank you for that.  thank you for bobby being there to greet him, for being at harvelle’s and kicking back.  thank you.

----

sorry to tell you, but i’m back to anger.  

misha. goddamn. collins. 

this man has done so much good for this show, for its fans, and for honestly the world in general.  he came on as as two second plot episode character that they planned to throw away after they used him to connect a couple dots, and his performance was so incredible, they ended up having to throw all their plans away and readjusting.  

he made this show good again, he gave it some life.  i would watch the show so intensely, hoping to see his face when episodes would air.  just his sheer presence in an episode made it more enjoyable.

how did he do that?

what do they give him for his service?  

- a death with almost no reaction from the other characters on the show

- a two second mention in the finale without any appearance

- his final words on the show being a prank call from fucking lucifer a long time hated character (and actor) on the show

- and the showrunners using his pull with the fans to trick us into watching an ending where he was nowhere in sight.

you might be saying, wait.  what do you mean by that last bullet.  well my little cherry blossom, let me explain.  

the writers and showrunners KNOW that we love misha and castiel.  they know it.  as i mentioned before, it was our love of the two of them that kept him on the show in the first place.  they know that his presence is what kept the show afloat.

so, they decided to use that to their advantage.  they became super mysterious and shifty about his whereabouts during the filming of the finale.  why?  why would they do that unless they were worried that we would lose interest and find somewhere else to be when the finale aired because our favorite part of the show was gone?  

they toyed with us just to ensure that we would maintain the ratings on their last hurrah.  and you know what?  that really feels like an enormous slap to the face.  

because guess what?  i would have fucking watched anyway.  would i have been upset and a little hurt that cas wasn’t in it?  absolutely, for all the reasons i described.  but i wouldn’t have been holding my breath in hopes of seeing him the entire time, and then have my heart ripped out of my chest like that in disappointment.  

i would have been able to appreciate the ending for what it was, and accept it wasn’t going to be exactly what i wanted ahead of time.  i wouldn’t be so angry now.  

and i resent them for making me feel that way.  this show did so much for me and is so much of the reason why i’m still here today, and they ruined it for me.  i am so angry that they took something so precious to me, and crushed it, just to get those extra bucks in from keeping the ratings in a good spot.  fuck you.  

----

during that whole montage of sam growing old and having a family (which i literally honestly loved, alright?) instead of having dean drive the car, which we’ve seen him do 384729387423 times, we could have seen dean reuniting with his mom, with charlie, fuck WITH CAS, and giving jack a nougie.  things that actually made sense, and made the most of the finite time we had left.  

i didn’t even need a love confession.  even just a hug, or an appearance from cas would have been enough for me.  because i know, romantic love or not (even though we all fucking know it’s romantic but since so many homophobic people watch the show we have to keep it dubious ugh), cas would be a part of dean’s heaven because cas is part of dean’s family, which is what gets dean out of bed every morning.  

----

listen, i am happy that the final minutes of the show were just sam and dean, hugging, and loving each other.  after all, that’s what started it all, right?  i’m just saying, they screwed us, the characters, and the legacy of the show for what seems to be no apparent reason.  it was just laziness, homophobia, or something else that doesn’t make any sense to me.  

what was the point of the deancas relationship arc for there to be no resolution?  what was the point of brining eileen into sam’s life for them not to be together?  

i truly, just don’t understand.  i don’t.

they really could have made this something amazing, and jaw dropping, but they chose not to.  and i will never forgive them.

----

all that being said though, thank you supernatural.  thank you for making me who i am today.  thank you for making me laugh, cry, and survive so long.  there are memories, people, and messages that you sent to me that will stay with me forever, and that i will never forget.  

to the actors, i hope you know, that any anger you might see from me, or from most of us (don’t want to speak for everyone), are at the writers, not you.  i see all of your hard work and your devotion.  you are everything that makes this show great.  you are what made this show.  thank you for everything.  

and to jensen specifically, i am truly sorry.  i really thought you were being an ass and that you didn’t like the ending bc of stupid reasons, but it turns out you were right.  i’m sorry they didn’t listen to you, and i’m sorry that i doubted you.  you’ve done nothing but love this character and give it your all, and you and misha really got shot in the foot.

your hard work did not go unnoticed.  

thank you for listening if you did. 

i love you all and it has truly been a pleasure.

i’m gonna tag a few people under the bar in case they’re curious about my thoughts. i might not really talk to a lot of you but i really respect your opinions and like you guys.  so yeah (:

tag list @prayedtoyou @destiel-is-canon-i-guess @starrynightdeancas @green-eyes-and-classic-rock @thetiredstuff

[tricksters-pride]

Lonely hearts part 1: first time ( Criminal Minds fanfiction pairing Hotch/Morgan warnings: smut and cursing)

It had been a very rough week for both Aaron and Derek. They hit dead ends on three different cases.

But it was Friday night and both agents would have three days off. Aaron looked like he was about ready to kill someone he was so frustrated over the dead ends.

Derek looked like he lost his best friend. He wasn't angry about the dead ends he was sad about it. But he wasn't only sad about them he was lonely too but wouldn't admit it.

"Hey Hotchner ya got a minute?" Derek asked as he got his coat to get ready to go home.

"Hey Derek we're off duty so please call me Aaron. Sure I always have time for you what's up?" Aaron asked with little smile on his face

Derek could feel his face get a little warm. He always kind of had a little crush on Aaron but never would admit it. He always wanted to pet his beard.

" I was wondering since we have the next three days off. Why don't we go out for a drink tonight I'll even buy." Derek said his smile growing bigger

"Sure why don't we go Elm wood tavern it's just across the street. I'll be happy to pay for my own cuz I want to get totally smashed. I was thinking why don't we walk to the bar get smashed and spend the night in my office." Aaron suggestion smiling.

"Dude I'm buying this time besides with the week we've both had we deserve to get fucking smashed. Also staying at your office that sounds like a good idea but there's only a couch and some chairs where we going to sleep Aaron?" Derek ask as he put his jacket on.

Aaron's brows raised looking at Derek with a smirk on his face.

" we'll come on then Derek those drinks are going to drink theirselves. That couch might have a little secret or two." Aaron said as his smirk grew a little bigger

Derek stood there for a few moments staring at Aaron. He was captivated by those eyes and that smirk his head tilted slightly like a curious puppy. What did Aaron mean by the couch had secrets?

"Hey Earth to Derek you coming or what man? Are you okay you seem to be a little lost." Aaron said giving Derek the concerned dad look.

Derek immediately snaps out of it when he sees that look he shakes his head a little to clear it.

"Yeah yeah man I'm fine let's blow this joint get some drinks in uS. It must just be the week taking its toll on me." Derek lied easily but his eyes were telling another story.

"Derek something's bothering you and it's not just the week I can tell. Why don't you tell me what's on your mind." Aaron said with a soft smile.

Dammit Derek hated and yet admired how Hotchner could read him like a book. He took a deep breath still staring at Aaron looking into his eyes.

"Look man you're right there is something else bothering me. Maybe we can talk it over once we get a couple drinks in us ok?" Derek asked trying his best to change the subject.

What was he supposed to do come right out and say Aaron man I love you and I had a crush on you for years? Boy would Aaron probably have a laugh at him for that Derek stopped himself as he waited for Aaron's reply.

"Alright you can tell me when you're ready let's go." Aaron knew it was best not to push that Derek will tell him when he was ready.

Both men walked to the bar in silence. All Derek could think about was how nice it would be to pet Hotch's beard. How gentle he might even be in bed especially if it was the person's first time with a man.

Hotch ordered the first round four shots of Jameson Whiskey for himself and two Budweisers for Morgan.

"I got this round bud." Aaron said with a big smile on his face as he downs his first shot of whiskey

"Then I'll get the next round bud this week has been one hell of a week hasn't it? Hotch all these dead ends were giving me a headache that's why I wanted to have a night out." Derek said with shigh as smhe started to drink his first beer.

"Derek please call me Aaron we're not at work we're hanging out. Plus there's something else on your mind other than work would you please tell me what it is?" Aaron said looking at Derek concerned as he reaches over and rubs Derek's hand soothingly.

Part of Derek wanted to pull away and maybe even run to the bathroom. But the other part of him just wanted to stay there forever with Aaron touching him it felt so right.

Derek wasn't sure if he should say anything. He knew he always had a crush on Aaron but he wasn't even sure if Aaron liked guys in that way.

"Aaron I have to say this I don't give a damn if you fire me or slap me. Hell you might even want to do both. But, Aaron Hotchner you Sly Fox I like you I like you a lot. I have for a long time but I didn't want to say anything because you're my boss and also because I didn't know if you liked men in that way." Derek said with confidence even though he could feel his cheeks get warm and his heart was racing.

A smirk grew on Aaron's face. Aaron felt the same way as Derek did. But he didn't know Derek felt that way about him. So he kept his feelings hidden for all that time.

"I like you too Derek." Aaron humed with a smug look on his face being as vague as possible.

"No sir! You don't understand sir! I mean I love you.'' Derek felr his whole body get warm as she started to sweat and swallowed hard.

Aaron's smirk grew bigger as he swiveled on the bar to face Derek. Aaron gently took Derek's head in his hands making him look Aaron in the eye as he gently kissed his lips. Then gently pulled away looking Derek in the eye.

"Relax Derek I love you too. I have for a while but I had no idea that you liked me in that way. Sure you gave off the impression that you were flirting with me from time to time. But I thought you were just teasing me." Aaron admitted with a soft Smile as he took Derek's hand in his own and started to rub it soothingly again.

"Really? I would have said something earlier but you were dealing with Haley's death and other things. Also I didn't know that you liked guys in that way. Up until you I didn't know I like guys in that way either." Derek could feel his cheeks getting warmer again and his heart didn't slow down it just kept right on racing.

"You honestly didn't know I was into guys? I mean the way that I flirted with you and Spencer. If you ever noticed I always flirted with you more. When I flirt with Spencer it's just to relax him it's nothing serious like it is when I flirt with you." Aaron admitted Softly As He gave Derek another kiss and this time Derek kissed him right back slipping his tongue between Aaron flips before both of them pulled away.

A smile grew up on Morgan's face as he started to think back. It wasn't until now he realized what Aaron was doing with each flirt. Morgan chuckled a little bit thinking it was funny that both men were too nervous to admit their feelings.

"I'd honestly like to give us a chance. I mean if you don't think the team will find it too strange. I've been wanting to hold you for so long and been dreaming about making love to you. But I'm kind of scared I've never been with a man before." Morgan said in a very soft voice almost like a whisper he was letting his shyness out something that only Aaron seem to bring out of him.

"Hey Derek it's okay to be shy. The team will be all right with and I'm sure they will be. I think they've been suspecting that we had feelings for each other for a while." Aaron said with a soft chuckle.

"Derek, if you really want to try making love tonight we can. I promise I'll be gentle with you but, b you have to let me know if I start to hurt you okay?" Aaron's voice came out as smooth as silk as you look me in the eyes.

Derek finished his second beer and ordered another round for them. Again four shots of whiskey for Hotch and two beers for himself but this time he ordered himself a couple shots of whiskey.

Derek downed the two shots of whiskey before doing something he always wanted to do. He took his hand gently and rub it against Aaron's beard he was gentle like he was petting a cat. He let out a little silent Moon it felt so good to do list.

They're quickly pulled his hand away. Staring at his beer looking embarrassed

"Hey man sorry I just been wanting to do that ever since I met you." Derek admitted peeling the label off his beer before taking a sip.

"Derek my only regret is that you stopped. Look Derek I really do like you. I've always had a soft spot for you you know this. Just like I have a soft spot for Spencer too. Why don't we finish this round and then go back to my office?" Aaron said with a soft smile on his face.

The two agents finished their drinks. They walked back to Aaron's office holding hands. They talked about funny flirting stories around the office.

As soon as they entered the building the agents started to strip off clothes. By the time they got to Aaron's office they were completely naked.

"Aaron what did you mean by your couch has secrets?" Derek finally asked he'd been wanting to ask this all evening

Instead of answering Derek Aaron just smirked. He took a hold of the leather couch and unfolded it into a nice big bed.

Aaron true to his word was really gentle with Derek. He made sure do use plenty of warming Lube and stretched him out gently. When he was confident the other was stretched enough he entered him slowly.

Derek finched a little out of surprised when Aaron first entered him. He let out a moan it felt weird but the good kind of weird.

After they made love they fell asleep cuddled up together on the couch. They were still naked when the morning came.

Little did they know that someone was going to catch them early that morning.

But who would catch them and what would the consequences be.

The end.....

___________________________________________

@agenthotchner @aaron-hotchner187 @crackheadcastdirector @akwardanonymous @shotgunhuntermoose @reid-and-writing @davidrossi-ismydad @alex-is-existing

@the-light-from-your-eyes

@there-must-be-a-lock

[panda-noosh]

Home Bound {Shiro x Reader}

words: 8.4k 

summary: Shiro and you were best friends, who wanted two different things in life. You thought you had finally come to terms with the impossibility of maintaining your friendship, until you see him again and old feelings come rushing back. 

genre: angst {because what’s new!!!} 

notes: masterlist - i’m sorry i’ve been a lil inactive on this blog lately. i’m currently in London visiting my brother, and i have a shit ton of school work to get through - but i promise i’m still writing! :) i hope you enjoy! xx 

+++

   They had arrived.

    They were early. You had barely been given any time to scoop up your breakfast before Shiro was storming into your home, grabbing your hand and dragging you out into the crowded streets; doors had been left open, carriages left abandoned in the middle of the street as people clambered from their confines in any attempt to get to the front of the crowd. They wanted to see the Garrison, wanted to see the very people who had been fighting for your safety for the past three years.

   Shiro and you had this event planned for weeks beforehand. People never took you seriously, being as young as you were, but that hadn’t stopped either of you from taking matters into your own hands. You had sat down in your room and drawn out a direct map from your house to the very front of the crowd, and had planned out meticulously exactly how you were going to get there.

    But the plans were much simpler when you thought of them. Actually doing the action was going to take a lot longer than either of you had originally anticipated.

    The crowds were huge, as had been expected. You could hear the screams, the stomping feet of people trying to get to the front; you and Shiro were only ten years old, small, meaning you could easily slip between the small breaks in the bustling crowd, hidden beneath elbows and the waving hands of frantic adults.

    Shiro kept your hand in his own the entire time, until the two of you finally reached the tree. He started climbing first and you followed shortly after him, doing one last glance around the crowd to make sure nobody was paying attention. 

    You perched yourself on the branch beside Shiro and gazed out over the crowd - it was huge, loud and quite honestly chaotic, but it wasn’t the screams of injured people or the shoving and pushing of others that had caught your attention - it was the massive ship currently parked at the front of it all, smoke still billowing fresh from landing.

    Shiro inhaled deeply, his eyes widening. “It’s real. They’ve really come home.”

    It was real. The ship that you had only ever heard about in stories, the crew that were somewhere within it - you would see them all soon, and it was all real.

    You and Shiro sat in silence. Neither of you knew quite what to say. The breath had long since been taken out of you, and there was nothing you could do or say that would snap Shiro out of his stupor right now; taking one quick glance in his direction told you that he was too far gone now, mesmerised by the sight of his dreams placed right in front of him.

   You remembered growing up with Shiro. He had been your neighbour in the beginning, and eventually the two of you just clicked. You would both sit beneath the trees, watching the cars drive by, watching the bakers son run back and forth with burnt pieces of bread balanced in his hands - and you would just talk about space. Flying. Getting away from the earth you were currently grounded to.

    It had been Shiro’s dream for as long as you could remember. For a few years, it had been yours. The idea of going up into space, forgetting about the problems of earth, had seemed like a most appealing one - but things had changed. You had grown, your opinions had changed, and now - at ten years old - you were only mesmerised by the ship in front of you because it reminded you of the innocent little child you used to be, who once believed that flying a ship would be the easiest thing in the world. 

    Shiro hadn’t grown out of his dream yet, though. Anyone with two eyes could see that, as he struggled to break his gaze away from the smoking ship in front of him.

    It was only a few minutes before the doors of the ship were sliding open and the crew themselves were stepping foot outside. They all looked exhausted - as anybody would be - and were wearing heavy space suits that ruffled their hair and made their steps seem harder than they actually were. They waved, smiled, some of them crying at the familiar scenes of earth that they had missed out on for so many years. You smiled at them, somehow believing that they could see you all the way up in this tree, that they understood the message of ‘welcome home’ you were trying to send their way.

    Shiro, on the other hand, wasn’t as subtle as you were. As soon as the first member of the crew - Commander Iverson - stepped out of the ship, he was jumping up on the branch and waving his arms around like a mad man, screaming his head off. You had been forced to reach up and grab the tail of his shirt just to stop him from falling head-first into the crowd beneath him.

    But he was happy, and at the end of the day, that was all you could have asked for.

    The two of you stayed like that for what felt like hours. As the crew started to greet their families with whom they hadn’t seen in years, you and Shiro stayed perched in your little tree until the very last minute. Even after the crowd had been told to go home and continue with their day, to give the crew some time to rest and gather their bearings, you and Shiro had stayed to watch until the exhaustion forced you out of the tree and back onto the ground. Even then, Shiro had been hesitant to turn away from the scene; you had ended up grabbing his arm and dragging him back to your home, where your mother said it was perfectly fine for him to stay the night, as long as neither of you were too loud.

    Shiro fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. You pulled the blanket over his small, tired body, fluffed his pillow and placed a warm kiss on his forehead, before you curled up on the mattress beside him and drifted off to sleep yourself, dreaming of space and stars.

+++

    “I’ll be a Commander when I’m older - just like Iverson!”

    “I’m sure you will be, sweetie, but you need to eat your breakfast before then. Or else how are you gonna grow nice and strong, hm?”

    You raised a brow, glancing up at your mother. She avoided your gaze, instead going back to cooking the rest of the scrambled eggs. Shiro was by your side, digging into his own toast and eggs with a new-found vigour, brought on by the prompting of your mother.

    “Did you see the ship yesterday?” Shiro continued through a mouthful of toast. “It was so big! And there was smoke coming out of the bottom of it, but it was meant to be there - it wasn’t broken or anything. At least, I don’t think so. The crew didn’t look worried.”

   “That’s what happens after a ship lands,” you pointed out, despite having close to little knowledge on the subject at hand. “All the dust from the floor floats up and makes it look all cool.”

    “It did look cool,” Shiro agreed. “Do you think I’ll be able to go to the Garrison when I’m older?”

    You shrugged at the question, not entirely sure how to reply. You had no doubt in your head that, if Shiro stuck to it, he could do whatever he wanted; he just had that kind of personality. Nothing could hold him back, and if he tried hard enough, he was sure to succeed in the end.

    But there was also the side of you that knew just how difficult life at the Garrison was - you didn’t need to be a student to know that. You had read up on it plenty, had read accounts from past students who had almost been driven to the brink of insanity with how harsh the work there was.

    Shiro pouted at your reaction. “Would you go with me if I went?”

    “Of course I would. I promised you we’d be together forever, didn’t I?”

    Your mother turned to you then, her face suddenly pale and tight. “Sweetie, you can’t make promises like that. How many times have your dad and I told you that the Garrison is no place for you?”

    “But Shiro’s going.”

   “I’ll take good care of her, Mrs L/N, you don’t need to worry,” Shiro chipped in. 

     “The Garrison is a school,” your mother replied, slowly turning around to face you both. “Unless you plan on becoming a pilot, you won’t be allowed in. There’s not enough room for you there.”

    You frowned, not really understanding what she meant by that; you had promised Shiro that you would go with him, had told him that you would never let him go off on his own like that. He needed a friend. He needed his best friend, and that was you. So why wouldn’t you be allowed to go?

   “But what if he gets lonely?” you asked.

   “He’ll make new friends at the Garrison to keep him company, won’t you Shiro?”

    Shiro shook his head immediately, his hand zooming out and grabbing onto your own, as if afraid that you were getting ready to pack up and leave right now. “I don’t want new friends. Y/N is my friend.”

   You nodded along. In your ten year old brain, all of this made perfect sense. In your ten year old brain, you couldn’t imagine ever needing any other friends bar Shiro, and clearly he thought the exact same way.

    Your mother frowned, glancing between the two of you with a look of exasperation. She slowly squatted down in front of you, took your hands in her own and looked you in the eyes when she said, “Only time will tell, okay?”

    That was her way of putting the debate to rest, her way of stopping it before an argument could break out. You had heard her say it to you plenty of times before, was smart enough to know exactly what it meant - you frowned to yourself, unsure why she believed an argument would break out. Unless she disagreed, though you were unsure why she would.

    Shiro didn’t catch on to the sternness in her tone and turned back to his breakfast, continuing to babble on about how good of a time he had had the previous night. You watched your mother as she slowly rose and went back to the stove, a thoughtful expression on her face. 

+++

    You had always been told to trust your mother.

    She had been right, of course, though you hated admitting that to yourself. It meant facing the truth, coming to the abrupt realisation that she been right the entire time, that yours and Shiro’s friendship never could have lasted if he went off to the Garrison - you had different paths in mind from a young age, and you had been ignorant to think you could somehow intertwine them at the end of it all.

     You were eighteen now, had grown an awful lot since your days of naivety. Shiro had, indeed, gone off to the Garrison for his own training, and you were stuck in your little home town, studying Modern Languages in any attempt to get yourself on the track you had planned for yourself; you concentrated on your studies, let go of your and Shiro’s failed friendship long ago. To you, there was absolutely no reason to dwell on something like that - you had been blessed with a friend like him, and although it hadn’t lasted forever, it was pleasant whilst it had been there. You refused to taint those memories with your own grief at losing them.   

    It wasn’t like you were doing badly for yourself, either. You had gotten new friends, had stabilised yourself both financially and mentally. You had a schedule for your day to day life now, and you were pretty confident in saying you were content with how everything was turning out for you.    

     Some days were more difficult than others, though.  

     Keith always noticed when something was up with you. Once upon a time, it had been a skill that only Shiro had ever possessed. Perhaps that was why you felt so close to Keith at times like this - he reminded you of Shiro a lot more than you cared to admit or think about. 

       “You’re drifting off again.”   

    His words brought you back to the present. Your eyes snapped down - you hadn’t even realised you had been gazing at the ceiling until Keith spoke up, forcing your attention to him from across the table the two of you were sat at.    

     The coffee shop was, once again, full of people. Pidge had been called in early, meaning you and Keith had gladly followed her and snagged a few free coffees before her boss was due to arrive.  

       “I wasn’t,” you replied. “I was just thinking about my next assignment. I have a translation to get done.”  

       Keith simply scoffed, picking up his coffee and taking tiny sips of it, all the while gazing at you over the rim of his mug. You could tell from that sweltering gaze of his that he didn’t believe a word you were saying.  

      “You’re thinking about Shiro again, aren’t you?”  

       You pursed your lips. “No. I don’t know why you insist on bringing him up every time I look slightly dazed. I haven’t spoken to him since I was fourteen.”  

      “And how many days have gone passed where you don’t think about him?” 

      “How would you even know I’m thinking about him?” 

  “Because I know you, and I know Shiro.”  

      You looked away, trying desperately to disguise the flare-up of jealousy that always managed to somehow rack your entire body whenever Keith brought up that little fact - he and Shiro were friends. You tried to ignore the fact that you had most likely been brought up in conversation a great number of times, and Shiro was yet to ask to meet up with you. 

       Keith sighed and slumped back in his chair, watching you thoughtfully. “I don’t ask him about you, you know. If that’s what you’re worried about.”  

        “I never thought you did,” you lied. “It’s none of my business what you and Shiro talk about. You’re both adults - so am I. I’ve moved on.”   

     “Was there some kind of fight between you two? Why do you always sound so hostile when I bring him up?”   

     Trust Keith to be so blunt.  

      You flushed, bit down on your bottom lip. “We didn’t fight. We just grew apart. He went off to the Garrison and I stayed here - it was never gonna work out anyway.”  

      “And your hostility?” 

        You looked up. Keith had raised an eyebrow, was regarding you with a tilted head and a slightly knowing smirk on his face that had you clenching your fists in any attempt to stop yourself from simply slapping it off of him.  

        “I just don’t like you thinking that my every waking thought surrounds around Takashi fucking Shirogane, alright? There was no bad break up, no damaged feelings. We just grew apart, and I’m happy now.” 

        Keith nodded slowly. It was infuriating, because it was the Keith nod. The nod that told you he wasn’t going to argue any further, but also indicated that he didn’t believe a single word you were saying. You simply rolled your eyes and looked away, taking another swig of your coffee.  

       The conversation changed after that; Keith started to go into detail about his mechanics degree and the homework he had to do for it, whilst you sat in front of him and pretended to listen. You nodded and smiled, interjected where interjection was needed, but you had very little to add to the discussion bar the odd hum of agreement when Keith insulted a certain teacher you mutually hated.

     In all honesty, the conversation may have shifted, but your thoughts had not. You hadn’t truly been thinking of Shiro whenever Keith had suggested it, but now that the suggestion had been made, Takashi Shirogane was back at the forefront of your brain.  

      You really had moved on. It had been four years without him - you had been fourteen when he had left to go to the Garrison, had matured a whole lot since then. You had become an adult, gotten your drivers licence, gotten a job and started school, were working on your own future - you had definitely gotten over the hole Shiro had left in your heart.   

    But that didn’t mean it wasn’t there. He had been your best friend for nearly twelve years before he had left - there was always going to be some memory with him to link to every situation, because the both of you had truly done everything together back in the day. Even sitting under a tree brought you back to the good old days where you and him would sit in the shade and talk about space for hours on end.  

       But again, if Shiro wanted to contact you again, he surely would have. He had no reason not to, not with Keith going back and forth between you both constantly. Any message he wanted reported back to you could easily be arranged - and yet nothing had come back, not even a hello, a query on how you were.  

       You had come to terms with the fact that Shiro just didn’t care any more. Your mother had been right - Shiro had made his own friends at the Garrison, and had broken his promise.

+++ 

    “Y/N! Y/N! Y/N, for crying out loud, can you hear me?”  

      Despite you being able to hear Pidge perfectly well, she still insisted on snatching your headphone out of your ear. You looked down at her, one eyebrow raised as you tried to re-balance the folders Pidge had shoved in her excitement. 

     She was jumping up and down, a huge smile adorning her features. 

       “Have you heard the news?” she exclaimed.   

     “News?”  

     “The last group of pilots from the Garrison are coming back from Kerberos tomorrow night! That includes Matt!” 

   You blinked. “Already?” 

  “Yes! Isn’t it incredible? We thought he was gonna be away for a lot longer, but it’s only been three years and-” She halted, as if realising just how long three years truly was. It was true that everybody had been expecting the Kerberos crew to be away for a lot longer than that, but it was still an awfully long time to be away from family and friends.

     Slowly, you reached out and flicked a curl from Pidge’s face. She looked up at you, gave you a weary smile in that way she always did when she was trying to pretend she was alright - you could tell she wasn’t. The overwhelming emotions she must be feeling right now at the news of having Matt back was surely eating away at her.   

    “I can’t wait to see him,” you said. “Are we gonna go greet them in the city square?”  

     Pidge nodded. “Of course we are. I didn’t think you were into that kind of thing, though?”

      You shrugged, trying to look natural. “I used to be. I kind of grew out of it, but the excitement of seeing Matt will hopefully get rid of my boredom a little bit. I’d love to go with you.” 

   Pidge beamed, hugging you tightly before she pulled away, said a quick ‘thank you’ and bolted off in the other direction, yelling out to Hunk who was walking briskly across campus. You watched her go, feeling your heartbeat flutter in your chest at her being so happy - you had only known of one crew member to go on the Kerberos mission, and that was Matt. You had refused to look any further into it, convincing yourself that your space-obsessed days had long since passed.  

      You supposed one night of nostalgia would do no harm, and you would be lying to claim you weren’t a little bit excited to relive the childhood you had left behind you.

+++

    The excitement was just as it had always been - hectic and buzzing, a physical feeling in the air that had your throat closing over with both nostalgia and nerves.

    You remembered this very moment so vividly; you and Shiro pushing through the crowd together, his hand gripping your own to make sure you didn’t get lost, scrambling up the tree, waiting there for the brief moment the crew would show their faces and make every dream Shiro had ever had come true.

    Now, you stood at the back of the crowd with Pidge at your side, waiting patiently for a different crew to make their appearance; you wondered if Shiro would still be excited over this kind of thing, if he would still jump up from his seat and cheer as loud as possible whenever he caught a glimpse of the heroes he had always looked up to. The thought put a smile on your face that you quickly hid behind the safety brochure you had been given upon entering the city square.

    Pidge was stood beside you, balancing on her tip-toes. “Do you think they’ll show up soon?”

    The ship was already parked. That in itself had caused an uproar, with people yelling and screaming to see the inside of it. The crew had yet to make their appearance, though.

    “I think they kind of have to. It’s been nearly ten minutes since they arrived,” you replied. You craned your neck to get a better look, narrowing your eyes into the distance. “Christ that ship is massive. A lot bigger than the last one.”

    Pidge scoffed. “Oh yeah. I forgot you’re old. How old were you when the last Garrison pilots came home?”

    “Ten,” you replied immediately. 

    “Yep. Very old,” Pidge mumbled, before she went back to craning her neck to see over the crowd. You rolled your eyes and averted your attention back to the safety brochure - you weren’t as nervous as you had originally anticipated. You were thankful that the excitement of seeing Matt again was, indeed, very real, and was currently overriding any heartbreaking nostalgia you had once expected to be feeling.

    It was only another few minutes before Pidge was suddenly gasping, grabbing onto your sleeve and screaming Matt’s name at the top of her lungs. Your eyes widened, the atmosphere changing so quickly that the brochure slipped from your hands and fluttered to the floor; it hadn’t even been in the grass for a second before feet were crushing it into the dirt, giving you no chance whatsoever to pick it back up.

     You followed Pidge’s gaze, heart thumping when you saw Matt Holt himself stepping foot outside of the ship, grinning from ear to ear, waving like a mad-man at his parents who had somehow managed to push to the front of the crowd; you could hear Colleen yelling at the top of her lungs, even past the excited screams of the other on-lookers.

    You joined in on the screaming. You and Matt had grown up together just the same as you and Shiro - the only reason the two of you had managed to stay in touch so well was purely because Pidge had been too stubborn to let you both break contact.

    He looked well, more muscular than the last time you had laid eyes on him. He wore a yellow suit, his helmet tucked neatly under his arm, his brown hair much longer than before, tired up in a ponytail at the back of his neck. He stood with his shoulders drawn back, his eyes casting glances over the crowd, a proud stance-

    The other members of the crew trailed out after him, and you could have sworn the crowd suddenly melted away.

    Because there was no way. No way in hell. There couldn’t possibly be a single chance that what you were seeing right now was real - it didn’t make sense. In your frazzled mind, this was perhaps the most unlikely outcome to come from the evening that you could have possibly conjured up.

    But he was there. You were sure it was him, despite the difference in his appearance. The scrawny fourteen year old boy was no longer present. In his place stood a six foot tall man with dark, greying hair and one arm. One arm. One arm! And the other was robotic!

    Your eyes widened, and before you could stop yourself, you were shaking your head, grabbing Pidge’s arm and dragging her to the front of the crowd. People grunted, yelled at you to watch where you were going, but you could barely hear them over the sound of your own heartbeat racing in your ears. Your hands were trembling, taking a firm hold of Pidge’s sleeve because, at the moment, it was the only thing keeping you grounded. 

   “What’s going on?” Pidge demanded. “Y/N, are you okay? Why are you crying?”

    You were. Though you hadn’t felt the initial rush of tears, you felt them now, could taste them slipping into your mouth as they spilled down your cheeks. You ignored them, stumbled to the front of the crowd and clasped your hands tightly on the security barriers. Police moved in front of you, spoke loudly, asked you to go back to your place at the back, but you didn’t pay them any attention. Your eyes were firm on Shiro, standing proud and straight backed upon the metal staircase, waving like royalty to the crowd of fans he had always dreamed of having one day.

    And then his eyes landed on you, and his smile fell. The confidence he was once showing flooded from his being, made his shoulders slump forward, and then he was stumbling down the metal stairs and rushing towards you with a speed that reminded you so much of the excited ten year old you had grown to love.

     He shoved a police man out of the way, cupped your face from the moment he could. You gasped at the feel of his flesh against your own, the feel of his fingers curling so perfectly around your tear-stained cheeks. You closed your eyes, tried to form words but none would appear. Shiro inhaled deeply and shook his head, looking at you as if you were the sun in his palms.

    “You’re here,” he said, voice low. “You’re actually here. You came.”

    You chuckled breathlessly, opening your eyes to admire the shocked expression on his face. “And so are you.”

     “Of - Of course I am. I’ve just gotten home.” He shook his head in disbelief. “But you’re here.”

    “Takashi Shirogane!” a voice boomed from the ship. 

    Your eyes snapped up to face the Commander, but Shiro didn’t look away from your face. The man standing a top of the stairs did not look too pleased with the scene going on in front of him.

    “Enough canoodling! We have papers to sign and things to get done! Get back to your crew, now! That’s an order!”

   With trembling hands, you reached up and placed your hand over Shiro’s. He bit his lip at the contact, shook his head and said, “I have so much I need to explain to you.”

   “You can do that afterwards,” you replied. “For now, duty calls.”

    “You’ll meet me by our tree later on, won’t you? Around dinner time?”

   Your heart skipped a beat, but you nodded nonetheless.

    Shiro inhaled deeply, closed his eyes and pinched your cheeks only once before he span on his heel and darted back towards the crew; the ghost of his fingers on your skin was still there, and you reached up and gently brushed your knuckles along the flesh he had once been touching.

    Pidge coughed awkwardly beside you. “Care to explain what all that was about?”

+++

    You weren’t sure if your hands were trembling because of the cold, or because of nerves. Or maybe excitement. Maybe all three. 

    Nonetheless, you shoved them deep into the pockets of your hoodie, tipped your head back and let it hit against the bark of the tree you were currently leaning against; the tree you had turned away from for the past four years, the tree that was more of a symbol of your and Shiro’s friendship than anything else.

    It was getting dark now. You had just eaten dinner with the Gunderson family, caught up with Matt and learned of his struggles whilst on the Kerberos mission. Colleen had teared up, they had group hugged and you had eventually left them to their family time, instead going down to the tree in which Shiro and you had agreed to meet. 

     Despite being early, Shiro still appeared only minutes after your arrival.

    You kept the eye contact with him as he walked. Neither of you said hello to one another, neither of you waved - you simply stared as he came down the hill, his robot arm glittering beneath the moonlight, his grey hair doing the same. You wanted to run up to him, but you weren’t entirely sure your legs would carry you that far with how weak you currently felt.

    He was in front of you in a matter of seconds. Silent for only a few seconds, and then he was shaking his head and saying, “So you really did never leave this place, huh?”

    You looked down at the ground, scuffing your foot in the dirt. “This is my home. I never wanted to leave in the first place.”

    “I know you didn’t. I remember you saying that.”

   “Even though I was thirteen at the time?”

   “It was one of the last conversations we had - of course I remember it.”

   You pursed your lips, refusing to look up at him. So apparently he was the one who would bring up the elephant in the room - years of no contact left a tiny bit of tension even between the closest of pals.

    “I never knew you went on the Kerberos mission, Shiro,” you mumbled. “If I’d have known...”

   Shiro tilted his head. “You would have what?”

   You shrugged. “Made more of an effort. Walked my ass down to the Garrison to tell you to wise up. What were you thinking throwing yourself into that kind of danger after only a year of training?”

    Shiro smirked. “I thought I was good enough for it. Apparently I wasn’t.” With that, the robotic fingers on his arm flexed. Your gaze snapped down, heart immediately softening - you didn’t want to ask about it in fear of him growing self conscious, closing himself off even more. 

    But you couldn’t help yourself. You remembered the feel of the metal on your skin only a few hours prior, and craved to feel that same thing again. Slowly, you reached out and pressed the tip of your finger against the overlapping metal plates that made up his forearm, biting your lower lip.

    “What happened?” you asked, voice a whisper.

    “Something bad,” was his reply, and it was all you needed. He didn’t want to talk about it, and surprisingly enough, that was fine. You didn’t push the subject, but instead simply nodded and let your hand fall.

    “I’m sorry,” you said. “Sorry I couldn’t be there for you to talk to when . . . when things got bad. I always promised I’d be with you forever.”

    Shiro chuckled breathlessly, closing his eyes as if you were a child telling a joke you didn’t quite understand yourself. “We made those promises when we were about seven years old. You have no reason to apologise for not keeping it.”

    “I still feel bad about it. I’m pretty sure it was a pinky promise, as well.”

    “It was. But I forgive you nonetheless.” He grinned, causing your heart to skip a beat. You wanted him to ask about how your life had been whilst he was gone, but at the same time you didn’t; what would you even tell him? Whilst he had been away, living his dream and getting into trouble with a crew of pilots who loved him dearly, you had been stuck in the world of studies for the past four years, trying to make ends meet. You wanted to update him on everything, wanted to spill the most stupid of secrets purely because it was Shiro - but you were also well aware that your life would not come close to the life Shiro had been living.

    Perhaps that was why you found yourself slumping down against the roots of the tree with him in front of you, pulling at blades of grass and talking animatedly about everything that didn’t include the future - he spoke about Kerberos, you spoke about school, updated him on your parents and on Pidge and on Keith. You caught up with him, and it was nicer than you ever would have imagined.

    Finally, the question sprung to the surface, spoken by him in a tense voice, clearly trying to be nonchalant but failing miserably as he refused to even meet your eyes. “And what about relationships? Have you been dating?”

    You smiled, tried to hide it by looking away. There was no need, of course. Shiro’s own attention had suddenly snapped to the blades of grass he was currently sprinkling over the top of his lower leg.

     “No,” you replied, and watched as Shiro crinkled his nose in that way he always did when he was trying to hide his enjoyment. “And what about you? Any sexy pilots that have taken your attention over the last four years?”

    Shiro scoffed. “Afraid not. What with my arm being cut off and everything, I haven’t really had much time for relationships.” He shrugged. “Not like I really wanted one, anyway.”

   “Why not? You’re young, have all the time in the world to get with someone. Just because you’re a Garrison pilot-”

    “None of them were really right for me, you know,” he said, voice suddenly rushed as if he had been thinking of the sentence for ages but hadn’t quite had the confidence to speak it until now.

    He flushed as soon as the words left his mouth, but he quickly pulled himself together, shrugging dismissively.

   “Yeah. Just . . . Weren’t what I was looking for.”

    You raised a brow, silently questioning why he had gotten so flustered at the admission. To help ease his tension, you said, “Yeah, me too. Nobody around here really peaked my interest, either.”

    Shiro nodded slowly, biting his lower lip. “I know . . . I know you and Keith got pretty close after I left. I thought...”

    Your eyes widened. “Me and Keith? Oh, no. No. Absolutely not. We’re just friends. Always have been, always will be.”

    “Oh, good.” Shiro’s eyes snapped up, suddenly wide. “I mean, not good as in - you know - I just meant that - well, I know Keith isn’t really looking to date anyone right now and I just - uh - I didn’t want you - ah, god I’m really bad at this, aren’t I?” He rubbed his palm on his jeans, shaking his head. “It’s been a while since I’ve talked to somebody like this. I just need to get back into the swing of things.”

    You smiled. “And you will. I’ll show you how.”

    Shiro looked up. “You mean that? We’re gonna stay in touch?”

    With what little confidence you had left, you reached forward and placed your hand on his arm - his real arm, so you could feel the hardness of his flesh beneath your fingertips. He inhaled at the touch, bit his lower lip and gazed into your eyes with an intensity that turned the contents of your stomach to mush.

    “I made a promise, didn’t I? I’ll be with you forever - even if there was a little hiatus in there.”

    Shiro smiled. “I’m glad to hear that.”

+++

    “Remember when you cracked your head on the swing set over there?” Shiro asked, voice muffled by the ice cream cone he was trying to eat in one go. 

    You laughed loudly, throwing your head back at the memory. “Yes, and then you were the one who started crying.”

    “I was worried! You were just lying there. I thought you were gonna bleed out.”

   “I wasn’t even bleeding that badly! I was still conscious!”

   Shiro shrugged, wiping mint ice cream from his chin with his knuckles. “Tell that to seven year old me.”

    “Seven year old you was a pain in the ass. I’d rather not talk to him again if I can help it.”

    “Hey!” Shiro shoved your arm. “You loved seven year old me. That was honestly the peak of our friendship, I think. The closest we’ve ever been.”

    You rolled your eyes, unable to hide the smile on your face as the two of you walked through the park side-by-side, enjoying the sights of old hang-outs that you hadn’t focused on in years.

    It had been nearly two weeks since Shiro had landed back on earth, and the two of you had quickly been rebuilding the friendship you had lost over the previous four years - it was nice, oddly familiar despite how different the two of you were now. It was like talking to a completely different person, yet still the same old Shiro you had grown to love throughout your life.

    “I think we should have dinner at my place tonight,” you said. “Mums cooking spaghetti bolognese, and I honestly just wanna see you struggle with the pasta again.”

   Shiro grimaced. “I’m uninviting myself. I’ve gone off spaghetti since the last time we ate it and you said it looked like throw up on a plate.”

    “Funny how I was the one that said it, and yet I was the one who finished it.”

   “Not my fault you’re a savage. I, on the other hand-” Shiro’s words were cut off by the hollerings of a nearby group of teenagers.

    Your heart fell to your feet, the familiar sound of their voices sending a chill of panic over your entire body - you had nearly forgotten that this was that side of the estate.

    You pursed your lips, quickly grabbed for Shiro’s hand and tried to tug him forward, but the man was much stronger than he had been at the age of fourteen, meaning he didn’t budge. Instead, he lifted his head from his ice cream cone and narrowed his eyes, looking around at the culprits of the cat-calling.

    Because that was exactly what they had been doing, and it was what they had been doing for months now. They did it to almost every interesting looking person who walked through the estate - boys and girls both - and you had never taken much of an interest in them.

    But now Shiro was with you, and for some reason, his presence made it that little bit more nerve wracking.

    “What did he just say?” Shiro asked.

   You shook your head, feigning ignoring. “I didn’t hear anything.”

   He tugged his hand out of your grip and turned to look at the teenage boys who were, stupidly, still sat upon the wall on the other side of the park. They all wore the same brand of tracksuit, styled their hair in curls. One of them even had a boom box perched on his knee and was blasting some god awful Soundcloud remix of a song you had never even heard of.

    “Ay, it’s the Kerberos guy!” one of the boys yelled, pointing at Shiro as if he was some kind of spectacle in a zoo. “What happened to your arm, Stubby? How do you jerk off if your arms made of metal?”

    Your eyes widened. You dived forward, grabbed a hold of Shiro before he could volley himself towards the culprit of the crude comments. “Ignore them, Shiro. Let’s go.”

   “Who the hell do they think-”

   “Oh god, I bet sex with him feels real uncomfortable, doesn’t it?” another boy hollered, the comment now aimed at you. “What you need is someone with two arms made of flesh and bone. I can keep you warm, love. All you have to do is ask!”

    “Shiro-”

   But it was too late. Shiro had heard enough. He pushed himself out of your grip so easily with the new-found strength he had gained from the Garrison and was darting over towards the boys before you had a chance to grab for him again. Your eyes widened, heart thundering in your ears as you rushed after him, calling out his name on a continuous loop.

    It was no use. By the time you had reached his side, he had already grabbed a hold of one of the boys, pulling him up by the front of his shirt and pinning him against the wall he had once been sat on. The boom box tipped backwards, smashed against the concrete, but neither of the other boys were in their right minds to even panic or get mad about that - they were staring at Shiro with wide eyes as the realisation of just who they had been messing with seemed to fall across them.

    You reached Shiro and latched onto his arm. “Shiro, come on. You’re giving them a reaction, and that’s all they want.”

    “I’ll give them a fucking reaction.” And before you could so much as blink, Shiro’s fist - the fist of his real hand - was smashing into the boys nose and sending him sprawling to the floor. He cried out in pain, blood pouring from his nose, his body jerking as he tried desperately to wriggle away from Shiro - but Shiro was done. His hand was still raised, but his eyes had widened and his body had gone stiff. He made no advances towards the boy he had just jabbed in the face, and you were easily able to pull him away from the scene with no further conflict.

    “I told you,” you hissed through gritted teeth. “Jesus, Shiro, you’re fist is bleeding. We have to get you bandaged up.”

     “Did I just... Is he okay?” Shiro whipped his head around to glance over his shoulder, but you refused to let him go back and check. God only knew what the other boys might do once they snapped back to reality and realised what Shiro had done. It was best to get him as far from them as possible.

   And so, you dragged Shiro back to your house, grabbed the First Aid box and all but dragged him up the stairs into your room - a place he had not been in nearly four years.

    Despite him having been home for two weeks, there was an odd type of tension that came with the request of him coming into your room. You were both older now, both more experienced than you had been at the age of fourteen. You didn’t want to seem like you were suggesting anything he may not want.

    But now, you were basically given no choice. You pushed him into your bedroom, closed the door and shoved him onto the mattress; he was still in shock from his own actions and did very little to fight against your advances, but instead let you lift up his hand and examine the damage.

    His knuckles had split from when his fist had glided into the boys nose and ended up being driven into the concrete wall he had him pinned up against. Blood still trickled between the bones, but he didn’t look like he cared too much.

    You bit your lip and got to work, dabbing water into the wounds before adding the antiseptic. He merely winced at the solution, but his eyes shifted down to you as you worked and his shoulders seemed to relax at the sight.

   “Do they do that often?” he asked suddenly, startling you out of your concentration.

   You looked up, mid-way through bandaging his hand. “Uh... I don’t really go through that estate very often, but it’s not the first time they’ve done it.”

    Shiro’s jaw clenched. “I’m surprised you didn’t knock them out.”

    You chuckled, nervously glancing up to make sure he was indeed joking; there was no telling, considering his face was almost blank bar the furrowing of his brows and the slight purse of his lips. 

    “No. I didn’t want to cause trouble.” You squeezed his hand comfortingly. “At least you put them in their place. They had it coming to them.”

   “I’m meant to be a Garrison pilot. I should know how to control my temper.”

   “Anyone would get mad if they were being spoken to like that. Nobody is gonna blame you.”

    Shiro shook his head dumbly. “It’s just ‘cause it’s you.” You froze. “It’s always just been ‘cause it’s you.”

    For a minute, you’re almost positive you didn’t hear him right. The comment was so out of place and random, so unlike Shiro. Even when he was young, he never would have said anything like that - so what was going on now?

   You looked up, glanced at his face for any sign of a joke, perhaps even a sign of slip-up. Maybe he had just said something random like that to ease the tension - but he was staring back at you with an intensity that made his original intentions unmistakable.

    You swiped your tongue over your bottom lip. “What does that mean, Shiro? What are you talking about?”

    He shifted. The mattress groaned beneath his weight, his hand slipping from your own despite the bandage not entirely being wrapped around his knuckles just yet. Half of it still dangled, and little droplets of blood were still seeping through the cloth.

    His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “I don’t know what comes over me when it comes to you, but something does. Like just then - they were talking about you like you were some kind of object, and it made me mad. I never would have done that if it were somebody else.”

   Your mind was fogged. There was nothing you could say or do that would be a good enough response to what he was saying.

     “You should have told me about them as soon as you could,” he said.

    “They didn’t bother me all that much before,” you whispered back.

   Shiro’s hands came up then, cupping your face in the way they had done when you had first seen him returning two weeks ago. The reaction was the same - you gasped at the feel of his flesh, of the coolness of the metal, reached up and grabbed his fingers.

    “It should have bothered you,” he said. “You should know how much more you deserve than a few boys cat-calling you from a wall on the side of an old estate. Did I not teach you nothing when we were growing up?”

    “What are you talking about?”

    He smiled slightly, a soft smile that you hadn’t seen on his face in a long time. “I spent my entire childhood trying to convince you that you were the most wonderful person in the world, and you never even noticed.” 

    Your breath left you. Your eyes filled with unexpected tears, body going numb as you tried desperately to hide the overwhelming urge to throw yourself into his arms. You wanted to feel him against you, wanted to fold your arms around his shoulders and pull him into an embrace, because only Shiro could say such words and truly convince you they were true. You had been called wonderful so many times in your life by different people, and it was only now that the word had left Shiro’s lips did you truly begin to consider it truthful.

    “It makes me mad that them boys can say all that and you don’t think your worthy enough to speak up and tell them to shut the fuck up,” he continued. “That I had to do it for you.”

    “You didn’t have to do anything.”

    “But I wanted to, because they were wrong.” He gently stroked his thumb along your cheekbone. “So, so wrong.”

    “Shiro...”

   “Y/N.”

    And in that moment, you truly did not care about tactic. You threw yourself into Shiro’s arms, shoved him backwards against the mattress and pressed your lips to his own in a flurry of passion and need and spontaneity that had your head spinning; for a little while, you weren’t even completely sure what it was you were doing. All you could feel was Shiro’s human hand running through your hair whilst his metal hand ran down the curve of your waist and perched itself on the small of your back, pushing you impossibly closer to him. You savoured the taste of his tongue against your own, let him tilt your head to the side to get better access to the lips he had been craving for years.

    The world was a blur. You were clumsy and untrained and not entirely sure what it was you were doing, but it was happening and it was perfect and pulling away was one of the most difficult things you had ever had to do.

    But you did eventually, pulling away and clonking your forehead against his own. Almost as soon as your lips were detached, he started chuckling, the warmth of his breath hitting your cheek as his grip tightened on your waist, keeping you straddling him - you hadn’t even realised you had been straddling him in the first place, so the sudden attention to that fact had you blushing like crazy.

    “I didn’t say all that for you to kiss me, you know,” he said, gently stroking his knuckles along the lick of skin that was showing due to your shirt riding up a little bit. “But I do have to admit that you’re not too bad.”

    You closed your eyes and tapped his cheek. “Watch it, Shirogane. Or else this might be the last time.”

    He pulled you closer to him, winding his arms around your shoulders and perching his chin a top of your head. You could hear his heartbeat thundering in his chest, giving away how he truly felt - he was just as nervous as you, just as excited, just as confused but just as prepared as you were. 

    “I’ve missed you, Y/N,” he mumbled into your hair. “It’s awfully good to be home.” 

[chasholidays]

I'd like to request a bellarke star wars rebels au (clarke as a rebel captain and bellamy as a jedi survivor accidentally adopting several teenagers sounds about right. if this is selected, the wookiepedia summary is way better than wikipedia's). You're already wonder woman for your regular fics, and I really appreciate you still doing this at all! I hope you have a wonderful holiday season with your wife! And thanks!

“Remind me why I thought this would be a good idea.”

Bellamy collapses onto Clarke with a long sigh, and Clarke smiles, tangles her fingers in his hair to scratch his scalp. “Be more specific.”

“Training Octavia.”

“That one’s easy. She’s your sister, she’s force-sensitive, we don’t know any other Jedi, you’ve been looking for her for as long as I’ve known you–do I need to keep going?”

He makes a face. “I’m not a Jedi.”

Clarke does understand the distinction he’s making. As far as he knows, he was the sole survivor of the Empire’s massacre at his temple, a stroke of luck that she knows doesn’t always feel lucky. He’s had no formal training since, and his attempting to teach someone else when he’s a novice himself in most ways must feel absurd.

But to Clarke, it feels like her refusing to take on the title of captain of the Sylph just because she was never part of a formal military organization. No one’s promoted her, but she has her own ship and her own crew, and that makes her a captain. It’s an issue of semantics, not of skill. Bellamy’s developed his powers over the years, and Clarke would take him in a fight over any so-called Jedi master.

“You’re a good teacher,” she reminds him. “Things are complicated, but that doesn’t mean this was a bad idea. It just means you need to keep working. What happened?”

He shifts his weight off her shoulder, running his own hand through his messy hair. “Nothing special. More of the same, honestly. She’s not making progress as quickly as she should be, she’s frustrated, blaming me.”

“And you’re blaming yourself. You might not be the problem here, Bellamy. Learning takes time and patience, and so far, patience doesn’t seem to be one of your sister’s strengths.”

“Not so far. But I don’t know how to teach that, either. It’s not like I was any better at her age.”

“You’re not that much better now,” she teases, but it’s not really true. Clarke was sixteen when she met Bellamy, so the two of them have gotten to watch each other grow up, have shaped each other, even. She remembers him at first, the hot-headed, angry boy who was trying to hit the Empire anywhere he could, lashing out without any real strategy.

It seemed like such a waste, his throwing away his life after all he’d survived. So she told him she had a ship, and when he asked where it was, she admitted she was getting a ship.

They’d stolen the Sylph together the next day, and they’ve been a team ever since. Other allies have come and gone, people joining the crew and leaving, moving or dying, but she and Bellamy are the core, the beating heart of the ship. There’s no one else in the galaxy she knows as well or trusts as much as him.

“If I’m not any better than I was, you definitely shouldn’t call me a Jedi,” he says, dry.

“If you’re already giving up on your sister, you really aren’t that patient.”

He huffs. “I’m not giving up. Just–”

“Frustrated,” Clarke supplies. “Just like she is.”

“Yeah.”

“It’s okay to give yourself a break. Take a step back, cool off, try again. It’s not going to happen overnight. You know that, don’t let your sister make you forget it.”

“I do know. Thanks.”

She smiles, gives him an unsubtle once over. “Want me to help you forget about it?”

His laugh is a little reluctant, but the heat in his eyes is real enough. “Couldn’t hurt.”

*

Clarke and Bellamy started sleeping together because it was easy. They were two sexually compatible teenagers living on a ship together, drowning in a mess of hormones and adrenaline; not sleeping together would have been so much more difficult. It was a fairly casual arrangement to start, nothing formal, all practicality. If Clarke was in the mood, she’d stop by Bellamy’s bunk, and if he was in the mood too, they’d hook up. Bellamy started returning the favor, and it happened a few times a month, always good, but never anything more than just sex. If one of them was in a relationship, they’d stop, but once they were both single again, they’d start back up.

Clarke couldn’t say exactly when her feelings toward him changed, but she does know exactly when she realized it. It was a few weeks after they’d found Octavia trying to steal from them on a job. Bellamy hadn’t identified her right away–she’d been a baby when he went to the Jedi Temple–but he could tell she was strong in the force, as well as yet another reckless kid who hated the Empire and needed an outlet for that hate.

It probably would have been easier to take her in if she hadn’t been Bellamy’s sister, and force sensitive on top of that. They’ve had a revolving door of angry teenagers who have joined the crew, and they’re usually good with them. But Bellamy and Octavia have years of baggage between them, years of separate pain. It was stressful for everyone, and Bellamy and Clarke spent plenty of time in private, blowing off steam like they always did, nothing remarkable.

Not until she ran into Niylah at one of her favorite bars and Niylah asked if she wanted to go come back to her place and Clarke realized she just–didn’t. Sleeping with Niylah was always fun, good, but all she wanted to do was finish her drink and go back to the ship, make sure Bellamy wasn’t stressing too hard about what he was going to teach his sister.

It was the first moment she realized that he was the only one she wanted, and it’s something she’s still struggling with. If she was smart, she wouldn’t still be fucking him, or she’d be trying to talk to him about it, but it’s not as if their status quo is bad. It’s the best thing she’s ever had.

But now she knows she’s in love with him.

He’s worn out enough to fall asleep as soon as they’re done, but Clarke’s mind is still working overtime and she can’t drift off, no matter how warm his arms are and how soft his bunk.

She extricates herself from him carefully, smiling at the grumpy protest.

“Where are you going?” he asks, already half asleep.

“Checking our course one more time. We’re going close to the asteroid belt.”

“You should come back when you’re done.”

She pulls on her clothes, opens her mouth to say something, but he’s already asleep again, so she just leans down to press a kiss to his forehead on her way out.

Aside from Octavia, the crew has been stable for a while now, and as far as Clarke’s concerned, they could stay like this forever. Lincoln is playing dejarik with Murphy–judging from Murphy’s frantic whirring and Lincoln’s smirk, Lincoln is winning–while Raven tinkers with some piece of tech, an odd sort of family scene. Octavia’s door is closed, so Clarke assumes she’s either asleep or sulking, like her brother. They’re all good people, a good team with diverse skills, united in their desire to bring the Empire down.

This could last for a long time, if none of them fuck it up.

“Murphy, did you finish checking they hyperdrive?” she asks the droid.

She’s not completely fluent in binary, but she’s picked up enough that she understands Murphy is talking way too much, saying way too little, and absolutely bullshitting her, so she holds up her hand to stop his protestations.

“You can finish your game, then do the hyperdrive. If we get killed because you’re lazy–”

He whirs indignantly, and Lincoln rolls his eyes.

“I’m about to win anyway.”

“I’ll make sure he gets it done,” says Raven, standing and wiping her hands on her slacks. “How far out are we?”

“I was just going to check the projections. Why?”

“I need parts. Sooner rather than later.”

“For what? Do we need to make an emergency stop?”

“Murphy, for a start.” He beeps indignantly and Raven rolls her eyes. “What, you don’t want to get fixed? I don’t have to do this for you.” He doesn’t have any objections to that, and Raven turns her attention back to Clarke. “Yeah, he can wait. But I’ll eel better once I have the parts I need.”

“Nothing that’s going to raise flags on an Imperial planet, right?”

“Standard repair stuff.” She pauses, cocks her head at Clarke. “Did something happen with the Blakes?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that Bellamy stormed out of training and then Octavia yelled that he shouldn’t come back and stormed into her room, and I haven’t seen either of them since. When does this get bad enough that we worry about it?”

“Define worry.”

“Is one of them going to bail?”

“No,” says Clarke, a little too quickly.

Raven’s eyebrows shoot up. “You sure about that?”

“It’s a rough adjustment period. But Octavia needs a teacher and Bellamy is it. They’ll work it out.”

“Nothing like a total lack of options to make you feel good about your group dynamics.”

Clarke scowls; wishing the sex endorphins had lasted longer. That would have been nice. “Is there a reason you’re asking about this now?”

“Because we’ve got a job to do. Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole,” she adds, crossing her arms over her chest as Clarke double-checks the course headings. “I just don’t want Blake-sibling drama to hit a breaking point in the middle of an Imperial base. I know you’re doing your best to fuck the angst out of Bellamy, but that’s an uphill battle. If they end up getting us all killed because they can’t keep it together–”

“I don’t think they’re a liability. Bellamy isn’t. I’m not just saying that because we’re–whatever.”

“That’s what you’re calling it?” Raven asks, eyebrows raised.

“He’s having trouble teaching her, not doing his job.”

“And you two are good?”

“Which of us?”

“Any of you, I guess. But I was thinking you and Bellamy.”

“What would be wrong with us?”

Raven shrugs. “I don’t know. You seem different.”

“Both of us?”

“Now I know something’s up,” she says. “What happened?”

“Nothing! Everything’s the same as always. We’re fine. He’s just stressed and I’m worried about him. I always worry about him.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s your thing. But I’m not used to worrying about everyone.”

“But you are?”

She shifts a little, awkward. “This is a good gig. Probably the best one I ever had. I don’t want anything to happen to it.”

“I don’t either. I promise I’m not worried.”

“Not more worried than usual, you mean.”

“Normal worried.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

“No problem. Is that all?”

“Just an ETA and a schedule so I know when I can pick up the parts I need.”

“I can do that. Goodnight, Raven.”

“Night, boss.”

Clarke finishes up slowly, so by the time she’s heading back to bed, all she sees is the sparks from where Murphy is working on the hyperdrive. She hesitates outside her own door, debating for a second before moving down a room, slipping into Bellamy’s instead.

He did tell her to. It wasn’t her idea.

He doesn’t stir as she climbs in next to him, but he does roll over and settle on top of her.

“You came back,” he murmurs.

“You’re warm. Are we good?”

He kisses her shoulder. “Always. Go to sleep.”

It’s easy to believe; Clarke snuggles in close and closes her eyes.

*

It’s not actually their first mission with Octavia, but Clarke does understand Raven’s anxiety. They’re planning to be on Trogan for a while, a month at least, doing recon on Imperial activity there and causing chaos wherever they can. It’s nothing new for most of the crew, but laying low and avoiding Imperial attention is harder the longer you’re on the same planet, and Octavia’s already bad at subtlety. One slip-up could get them all killed.

“I know that,” Octavia snaps, petulant. “How come I’m the only one getting a lecture?”

Clarke takes a measured breath and pastes on a smile. “Because you’re the only one who hasn’t done this before.”

“What do you mean, I haven’t done this before? I grew up on Lothal, I lived my whole life under Imperial control. I know what I’m doing.”

“You lived your life alone under Imperial control,” she corrects, as patient as she can manage. “I’m not questioning your ability to take care of yourself, we all know you can do that. But you’re a part of a team now, and that’s different.”

In a way, she does sympathize with Octavia. She’s a few years younger than the rest of the team, and Bellamy’s little sister on top of that. She’ll have a chip on her shoulder about not being taken seriously until she feels like she is taken seriously, and that could be a while, because she’s wrong, too. She’s not the only one who gets this kind of treatment, she’s just too young to understand that Clarke worries about everyone and everything. It’s her job, as the captain.

But Clarke’s argument at least sways her for now. Her jaw works, but she finally nods. “I guess that’s true.”

It’s a small victory, but she’ll take it. “So you’re going to listen to us and trust us? I’m not just asking you to do that, it’s everyone. That’s what being on a team means.”

The scowl returns, but her voice is steady. “I get it, I’ll listen.”

“Good. And if you have ideas, we want to hear them. I know how you grew up, you’re a good resource for us.”

“Am I? Or am I just Bell’s tag-along little sister?”

Her voice is sharp, the thin veneer of indignation failing to hide her anxiety. Clarke softens, but only internally; showing sympathy would just make it worse.

“You’re a force-sensitive rebel with fighting ability and a history of making trouble for the Empire. We didn’t know you were his sister when he sensed you, and we were still planning to check you out, maybe recruit you. You’re not a pity hire, Octavia. But you’re not a seasoned expert either. The rest of us have more experience than you do, and we’re not being unfair pointing that out. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good. You and Lincoln are hitting up Whistler’s Whirlpool. Hang out, play some sabacc, let Lincoln introduce you to some of his contacts. Nothing fancy–this is a long game operation. We want information.”

“What are you and Bell and Raven doing?”

She sounds curious, not defensive, so Clarke figures there’s no harm in telling her. “Raven’s getting parts for ship and Murphy repairs. Me and Bellamy have a cover story that we’re just a pair of traders, so we’re working our contacts. Nothing big, just checking in, seeing if there’s any news. Like I said, we’ll be here for a while. We don’t have to be in a hurry.”

Octavia seems content with this, apparently satisfied that she’s not the only one without an exciting mission on their first day in Trogan. It’s easy to think that rebellions are all sabotage and fighting, but Clarke’s learned that a lot of it is slow, careful work. It’s going to take a long time to beat the Empire, so long none of them might live to see it, but if they rush, they’ll definitely die before the regime falls.

So the six of them split up to take their time. Murphy goes with Raven to get tech, since even droids like a change of scenery, Lincoln shows Octavia to the Whistler’s Whirlpool, and Clarke and Bellamy head to the market to check in with the merchants they know.

“How’s O doing?” Bellamy asks, once they’re far enough from the others. “Is she going to go start a brawl?”

“I don’t think so. I think I convinced her we’re treating her the same as everyone else, and that helped.”

“Everyone thinks rebellion is just blowing things up all the time,” he murmurs, leaning in close so no one will hear. Anyone else would think he was whispering sweet nothings, and in a way, he is. Clarke fell in love with him for things like this. “Unfortunately, we need to have a plan.”

“I think she gets that. And Lincoln definitely does, so maybe he’ll be a good influence. I’m going to avoid putting you two together, by the way.”

He sighs. “Probably a good idea.”

“Not forever,” she adds, giving his hand a quick squeeze. “Just–this time.”

“And maybe for a while longer. I know it’s going to get better. Once she feels like she’s actually progressing with her force powers, she’ll stop being so frustrated.”

“How long does that take?”

He gives her half a smile. “The shitty thing is that being frustrated about your powers makes it harder to get your mind in balance with the force, so–”

“It’s going to be a while.”

“This should help, if it goes well. It’s felt a little like she’s on probation, so far.”

“She’s new,” Clarke grumbles, letting some of her own frustration out. “We’re treating her differently because she doesn’t know what’s happening yet. She hasn’t done any of this stuff before.”

“I know.” He sighs. “You know what she told me yesterday?”

“What?”

“That we haven’t done what she did either. And she was right,” he admits. “She’s been alone for so long. I never had to take care of myself like that.”

“And she never had to be the only survivor of a massacre that killed all her friends,” Clarke points out. “We all come from different places, but if anyone who wants to be part of this crew has to recognize that everyone has something to contribute.”

“I think that’s what I’m worried about,” he admits, soft. “That she doesn’t want to be. I took so many years to find her, and sometimes I feel like all she wants from me is ten steps she can take to become a Jedi and then she’ll be done. If this isn’t a good fit for her, I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You know this isn’t a good fit for everyone. It might not be for her. It’s happened before.”

“She’s my sister, Clarke. Half of why I wanted to be on a ship was to look at her. If she leaves–”

Revelation slams into her, making her blood run cold. “You’d go with her?”

“She probably wouldn’t want me to. And I wouldn’t–” He clears his throat, looks away. “I have no idea what I’d do. The Sylph is my home, and I always thought it would be hers too, if I found her.”

“Yeah,” Clarke says, but her voice is hollow, an echo. She’s never thought anything would make Bellamy leave. She can’t even fathom how empty the ship would feel without him. How empty she’d feel.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m not–this feels important, right? We’re not even doing anything big, but I feel like I’m on the edge of fucking up and losing her again.”

“You don’t know that.” She swallows, hard. “And you don’t have to throw away everything for her. She doesn’t have to be the only thing you–you’re allowed to have a life of your own, Bellamy. You’re not the same people, you might need different things.”

“I know.”

It doesn’t feel important to make an impassioned plea for him to stay, not then, but it does lodge in her mind. Bellamy leaving had never been something she needed to think about; she always took it for granted that they were a team, and that if he found his sister, that wouldn’t change anything. If he had to leave, she’d go with him.

But Bellamy seems to think he’d be leaving her, and that’s more than Clarke wants to think about right now.

Instead, she throws herself into the mission, which is unfortunately largely because, as she kept telling Octavia, this isn’t exactly one of those jobs that keeps them really busy. It’s a bread-and-butter job, vital to everything they do, but listening to rumors and following up with contacts isn’t exactly a great distraction. She spends as much time as she can updating records, putting things together, trying to pack their schedule so full that Octavia won’t have time to feel restless and discontent.

If she’s lucky, Clarke won’t have time for it either.

It takes a week before anyone calls her out, and to her surprise, it’s Lincoln, not Bellamy.

“I feel like you haven’t left your quarters in days,” he remarks, taking the seat next to her.

“I have.”

“The feeling remains.” He leans forward, watching her. She’s known him for longer than she’s known Bellamy, although it often doesn’t feel like that. She met him first, but he didn’t join the crew for a long time, not until the rebellion on his home planet failed, and he was left as one of the last survivors of his race. Once he’d finished mourning, he asked if there was room on her ship for him, and it always felt like a huge display of trust.

“I’m worried about Bellamy and Octavia,” she says. It shouldn’t be much of a surprise.

He nods. “Raven is too.”

“You’re not?”

“Not the way you are. I worry about how long it’s going to take them to find equilibrium, but I’m not worried that they won’t. It’s just going to take time. From what Bellamy’s said, I thought you knew that.”

“Everyone else is psyching me out,” she says, with a wry smile. “I was feeling fine, but then Raven was worrying, and Bellamy is talking about what he’ll do if his sister leaves–”

“Ah,” says Lincoln. “That’s it.”

She could deny it, but it would only prolong the conversation, and Lincoln would still know. “I didn’t think he’d leave with her. Which is stupid, she’s his sister, of course he wouldn’t leave her.”

“She might not want him to come, if she leaves. They can separate without anyone being abandoned.”

“I know, I’m just not sure he knows.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”

“No.” She smiles. “I don’t want to.”

“You should anyway. People don’t always know how we feel about them.”

“We don’t always want them to know.”

“I don’t know what the point of having a best friend is if you can’t talk to him about what you’re going through. Especially when you’re shutting yourself off so he can’t talk to you either.”

“Sometimes I just like making bad decisions,” she says, and he smiles.

“Well, try not to make them for too long.”

There’s a crash outside and then Octavia yelling, “Murphy!” and frantic beeping sounds, which is enough to get them both up and moving. It’s not really much of a disaster, all things considered–Murphy wanted to stir shit, Octavia had shit to be stirred–and it doesn’t take long to sort out. And by the end, even Octavia is laughing, the camaraderie easy and uncomplicated.

For the first time, Clarke can see how she would fit in here, really fit, instead of just being Bellamy’s sister. It’s a moment that comes for every crew member they keep, not just her, but the relief of it with Octavia is more profound, and when she catches Bellamy’s eye, she knows he’s thinking the same thing. This could work; this could last.

When he goes back to his room after dinner, she waits a few minutes before following him back. The door is closed, but it opens when she buzzes, and he doesn’t look that surprised to see her.

“Hey. Everything okay?”

She slides inside, waiting for the door to slide shut behind her before she admits, “You scared me.”

His concern melts into confusion. “When? How?”

“A few weeks ago. When you were talking about Octavia leaving.”

“Okay.”

She exhales. “You made it sound so easy. If she left, you’d go with her. I never thought about it before.”

“Oh.” He sits down on the edge of his bunk, sighs. “I was wondering what happened. I thought we were all just stressed.”

She joins him. “That too. But–I didn’t think you could just leave like that.”

“I don’t know what I’d do if she asked me to leave and you wouldn’t come,” he admits. “But I didn’t think I should assume you would either. And I felt like–you’ve been weird. Since we found O.”

“You noticed?”

He bumps his shoulder against hers. “We spend most of our time together, yeah. I figured you were just adjusting. But you were worried I was going to leave?”

“No. I was–” She exhales. “I’ve been thinking about–how I feel about you.”

“I, uh–did you not know?”

He looks so confused, she has to smile. “I love you.”

It doesn’t seem to help. “I feel like that’s supposed to be a big thing, but–I knew that.”

“I meant in the romantic, monogamous way. So when you said you were leaving–”

“Clarke,” he says, gentle, a smile fighting its way onto his face, this huge, bright thing. “I never said I was leaving, I was just stressing. And I wouldn’t just leave you. We’d figure it out, if we had to.” He finally just lets himself grin. “Fuck, you thought I wasn’t in love with you? Of course I’m in love with you. I’m so in love with you.”

Clarke starts to laugh too, all relief, slumping against his side. “We don’t talk about this stuff. You didn’t know either.”

“Not exactly. I figured we’d just never talk about it. But I knew you–” He kisses her hair. “I figured it would work out.”

“That’s what you thought would work out? You’re worried your sister will bail on her Jedi training and leave the crew, but you thought you and me would just work out?”

“Yeah. I’m a lot more sure of us than I am of me and Octavia. Than I am of anything else, honestly. We’re–we’re solid, right? You’re never going to lose me. It’s not even an option.”

“I guess when you put it like that.”

He tilts her chin up and kisses her, not for anything even close to the first time, but it’s good every time, and she can’t help feeling like this time is even better.

Requited love is nice.

The kiss only stays soft and sweet for a moment, less because she’s not enjoying herself and more because she and Bellamy haven’t hooked up since he said he might leave with Octavia and she likes sex and loves him and it’s been too long.

Bellamy’s hands slide under her shirt, tugging it up, and Clarke breaks away to help him get it off when there’s a crash and Octavia yells, “Murphy, you fucking bucket of bolts, I’m going to–”

Clarke collapses, laughing, against Bellamy’s neck. “Should we go deal with that?”

He shakes his head, pulls her shirt the rest of the way off. “Nah. She’s fine. She’s fitting right in.”

[hannahindie]

We’re No Heroes : Chapter 5

Characters: Dean, Sam, sister!reader, Tony, Thor, Bucky, Steve, Falcon, Clint, Bruce, I think Nat is just chillin’ somewhere. Surprise characters. Word Count: 1,472 Warnings: Language, brief alcohol use, Tony Stark nicknames, bad news bears, extreme Winchester sass. A/N: Here is the fifth chapter of We’re No Heroes! We’re starting to get into it now! I am absolutely loving where this is going, and I hope you are, too!

Beta’d by the ever lovely @amanda-teaches, thank you darlin’! The beautiful aesthetic is a fantastic gift from @atc74, who is just far too kind to me. Thank you, sweets!

As always, tags are at the bottom! If you’d like to be added, let me know! All tag lists are open.

“You mean to tell me that someone has opened a...a hell hole?” Clint asks, his eyes glued to the map.

“A Devil’s Gate, yea,” Sam answers as he casts a sideways look to Dean.

“What are we talkin’ here? Are we in beautiful Sunnydale, fighting off the ancient evils pouring out of a Hellmouth or what?” Tony spouts off, and Steve leans in towards Y/N.

“What does that...I don't get that reference…”

Y/N turns to him, eyebrow raised, “It's from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Have you never seen it?” Steve shakes his head and Y/N smiles. “It's good. Honestly not too far off from the truth. You should watch it...that is, if this doesn't ruin your taste for stuff like that.” She turns back to her brothers, and Steve shifts back next to Bucky.

“I know for a fact Nat put that on your list, and you've watched every episode. That...well, that was sad. Very sad, Rogers.” Bucky mutters under his breath and though Steve remains quiet, Bucky chuckles at the crimson slowly creeping up his best friend’s neck.

Dean frowns in Bucky’s direction, but continues where Sam left off. “Devil’s Gates are a way for demons to exit Hell and come topside. Sammy used one once to get someone out of Hell, so, if you can get a reaper to break the rules for you, they’ll sneak in mortals, too. Not that that is something you’d ever want to do.”

“Reapers?” Nat pipes up from her seat near Clint.

“I’m sorry, is no one going to call out that he just said his brother went into hell and retrieved someone?” Falcon, who has been silent up until now, looks around, disbelief written on his face.

“Let’s get past this bullshit, then we’ll talk about reapers and hell and everything else in more detail, huh? As long as you’ve got enough alcohol. ‘Cause you’re all gonna need it.” Dean looks back at Sam. “Any idea who opened it?”

Sam shakes his head, “I can guess, but you’re not going to like it.”

“When do I ever like it?”

Sam sits on the edge of Tony’s desk, earning a bitch face that rivals his own. He carefully stands back up, giving Tony a sheepish smile, then looks back to Dean. “Our favorite neighborhood King of Hell.”

“There’s a king of Hell?” Bruce interjects, “Are we being serious right now? Next thing you’ll tell us is that Lucifer is real.”

Sam and Dean exchange a look and Y/N stifles a laugh.

“Listen, Banner, I know this is all new to you guys. I get that demons and kings of Hell, and the Morningstar himself is unknown territory, but it’s our territory. I promise that we’ll explain it to you guys, but, for right now, I need you to be a little more open minded, considering you regularly turn into a giant ass green monster.”

“That’s...that’s fair enough.” Bruce sits back down and Y/N walks over to join her brothers.

“His name is Crowley. He’s constantly looking for more power, more souls. Even he doesn’t have enough power alone to create this massive of a Devil’s Gate.” She turns to look at the map and shakes her head, “Someone else is helping him.”

“What benefit would there be to helping Crowley? Other than having a demon army capable of wiping out the population? It’s not like Crowley gets the souls if the humans are still alive. They’re just trapped.” Dean crosses his arms and also stares at the map. “What could anyone get out of that?”

“Unless whoever is helping him intends to double cross him. Promise him one thing, give him nothing. We know a few people like that.” Bucky’s voice is quiet, but resonates with everyone.

Y/N turns slowly to face him, “Like who, exactly?”

Tony clears his throat, and takes a shaky breath, “I’m afraid Capsicle 2.0 is right. There are several that would do that...but, unfortunately, only one powerful enough to help your royal majesty. He’s a colossal asshole, too, so the whole ‘double cross’ thing wouldn’t be out of the question.” Tony surveys the group, looks at their wide eyes and expectant looks and takes a deep breath. “I’m afraid that after all this time, Loki’s business partner has decided to change tactics now that the Chitauri can’t help him.”

Thor narrows his eyes, “It is impossible.”

“I’m sorry, Fabio, but I don’t think it is.” Tony looks back to Sam, Dean, and Y/N. “Ever heard of Thanos?”

“Thanos? The Titan?” Sam’s eyes are wide as he stares at Tony, “I thought he’d been killed during the Battle of New York?”

“No, he was not there. He sent my brother, Loki, to try to attempt world domination.” Y/N looks at Thor with raised eyebrows and he shrugs, “He is adopted.”

“So this Titan...is just doing this for shits and giggles, is that it?” Dean asks.

Tony shakes his head, “Thanos doesn’t do anything just for shits and giggles. It’s a useful side effect, sure, but he’s calculating, cold. Everything he does is a means to an end. Whatever he’s doing with this Crowley, he won’t keep his promise. He’ll use him, and then destroy him.”

Dean laughs, “That wouldn’t be so bad, would it, Sammy?” He quickly sobers when Sam glares at him. “Anyway, why would Thanos want to team up with Crowley? And how do they even know each other? An alien and a demon?” He hangs his head, “Why is this our life?”

“Crowley will do anything to get what he wants. If Thanos has promised him souls, regardless of how they’ve discovered the other, he’s going to do it. He’s calculating, too, but power distracts him.”

Dean rolls his eyes at Sam, “Shiny things distract him. It’s not that hard. Wave a brand new, designer suit in his direction, and he has to change his underwear. The question is, what are we going to do? Dealing with Crowley is one thing, but Thanos?”

“I say we go find this Crowley and beat the information out of him. That tends to work on my enemies.” Thor stands up straighter, his chest puffed out.

Y/N laughs, “That’s not going to work, Thor. Crowley doesn’t fall for that kind of thing, you’d never be able to get your hands on him. Me, on the other hand, he has a soft spot for. Anything to irritate my brothers. I can get the information from him.”

“Absolutely not!” Dean steps down from the platform and heads over to the small bar that Tony has set up in his workspace. “You are not going to use your...your feminine wiles to get what you want from a demon king. You know what he is! He doesn’t have a soft spot for anyone.”

“Oh, come on, Dean. I can do it. He’s always liked me, even more than he likes you. I can do this! Get in, get out, nothing to it. I just need to cast the spell, see where he is.”

“I said no, Y/N.You aren’t going to talk to him.” Before Tony can stop him, Dean pours a shot glass, tips it back, and pours another one. “As a matter of fact, you aren’t staying here. You’re going to go home until we get this taken care of.”

“Go home?! I am not going to go home! The end of the world is practically nigh, and you just want me to leave?”

“I want you to be safe. I want you to be alive. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this kind of fight, not everyone makes it. I refuse to watch you die because you’re too damn hard headed to go somewhere safe.”

“I am a grown ass woman, Dean. I found you, by myself, and it wasn’t exactly an easy road getting there. I have seen you become a monster to stop evil, I’ve seen Sam practically destroy himself in order to save the world, and you just think you’re going to bench me? It’s bullshit, Dean.”

“Y/N, go back to the bunker. That’s an order.” Sam opens his mouth to speak, but snaps it shut when Y/N glares at him.

She shifts her gaze to Dean and speaks, her voice low, “Okay, John. But I’ll tell you right now, if I leave, I’m not going to the bunker. I’m going to my actual home, not some trash heap you call the bat cave, legacy.” She storms off towards the elevator and the room falls silent as they all stare at her retreating back.

“Dean-” Sam starts, but Dean throws a hand up and holds a whiskey bottle up in the other.

“Who’s ready for a story?”

Like what you see? Would you like to see more? Check out my master list HERE.

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[leigh-kelly]

104 please

A continuation of this.

After Santana had been so upset the week before, Brittany is more anxious than ever to get to Lima. She knows how much she hates being home, and how much of an outcast she feels in her town, so she’ll be glad to just get there and be with her, even if it’s only for a long weekend. It’s only been a few weeks that they’ve been apart, but it honestly feels like forever for Brittany. She’s been going crazy doing mostly nothing but laying by the pool and working on some math stuff, and she needs some time with her girlfriend more than anything.

She leaves later than she’d wanted, and as a result, she ends up sitting in nearly two hours of traffic. She has no idea how there’s so much traffic in Ohio, but apparently there was some kind of accident, so she screams to herself in the car, thinking of how every single minute she’s stuck there is a minute less that she’ll have with Santana. It’s only the first weekend of July, and already she’s wishing it was August. She’s not thrilled about being back in classes, and constantly worrying that she’s going to fail, but she wants to be back with Santana full time. She hates distance, and this really, really sucks.

When she finally arrives in Lima, it’s after lunchtime, and she’s glad she’d thought to pack a sandwich for herself in the car. She’s always aware of these things, thinking of the obsessive schedules she makes surrounding food. She’d be lying if she said it still wasn’t a struggle every day, and that food didn’t control her life in a lot of ways, but she’s much better than she was, and at least now she knows that she absolutely has to eat, no matter how obsessive she can sometimes get about the act that surrounds it.

“Honey, I’m here!” Brittany calls out, knocking on the door to Santana’s mom’s house and waiting patiently for her girlfriend to come downstairs. 

“Hey.” Santana grins, opening the door and standing there in cotton shorts and a grey tank top. “You finally made it.”

“Please, what a nightmare. If I was going anywhere else but here, I would have turned around and gone back.”

“Well I’m glad you didn’t.” Santana pulls Brittany into the air conditioned house, and immediately kisses her. “I would have been majorly disappointed.”

“I’d never do that to you, you know. If I say I’m going to do something, I’m going to do it.”

“I know, and that’s one of the many reasons I love you.”

“Where’s your mom? The only reason I was goofy and called out to you like that was that I saw her car was gone.”

“She went into the office. Normally I’d really fight her about working on a Saturday, but...you know.”

“Avoiding the separate bedroom policy?”

“I really worked on her about it. I thought I might actually win, but...she was raised by my grandmother, I know she has certain rules for propriety, and apparently until I’m married, she doesn’t want me sharing a bed in her house.”

“I think it’s sweet. Shitty, but sweet.”

“I mean, I’m cursed with my stupid period this week anyway, so, I guess it only matters half as much as it would otherwise.”

“Well, I did bring you chocolate, and also it’s cold in here, so we can cuddle on the couch for as long as you want.”

“I don’t want to trap you inside all day because my uterus is the actual devil. The fair starts tonight, but we could go to the park or something, if you wanted.”

“Totally your call.” Brittany smiles, kissing her again. “I’m just glad I’m here, I don’t care what we do.”

Brittany knows Santana is really bummed about having her period when they still haven’t even figured out when they’re going to see each other again before school starts, so she tries to make her feel better. She knows sex is absolutely off the table, and Santana would probably die of embarrassment if Brittany even suggested it, so they end up making out on the couch for an extended period of time. Though they’re only a year removed from high school, they both feel so grown up, and Brittany can’t help but laugh a little that they’re making out on Santana’s mom’s couch. But still, she doesn’t let it ruin the moment, and she takes the opportunity for some good old fashioned first base action, massaging Santana’s breasts under her t-shirt. She leaves a mark just below her neckline that’ll remind Santana of the fact that she managed to make her come without even undoing her pants every time she sees it in the mirror.

Santana’s mother comes home from work not long after the separate on the couch—it’s almost as if Santana has some kind of sixth sense about it, Brittany thinks—and they have a late lunch with her. Maribel apparently has her own date to the fair, and Santana tries to pry information out of her, while Brittany grins and what a good mother and daughter pair they make. After the kitchen is clean, Santana grabs sweatshirts and a blanket from her bedroom, and she packs up the car with water bottles and snacks for later. Brittany thinks it’s cute how prepared she is, since she usually flies by the seat of her pants, and when Santana begins driving to the fairgrounds, Brittany grabs her hand on the center console and squeezes it tightly.

“So what’s there to do at this fair?” Brittany asks, though she’s pretty sure she can figure it out.

“The usual, I guess. Except the fireworks show is the best. Mom and I haven’t missed a year my whole life.”

“Am I cramping your style, stealing you away from your mom tonight?”

“Oh...no. I mean, I talked to her about it, and she was the one who wanted me to invite you out for the fair. It’s kind of the one place every single person in town takes a date. I’m glad I finally get to be one of them.”

“Well I’m honored to be your first date to the fireworks.” Brittany feigns a bow, despite being seated, and Santana laughs. 

Santana pays to park the car, and hand in hand, they walk through the grassy lot and up to the gate of the fair. Brittany laughs as Santana swats her hand away to pay for sheets of red tickets, and she takes in the sights and smells of the carnival. Her parents aren’t big into things like this, her dad gets too distracted and her mom’s shoes would sink into the mud, so she thinks this is exciting for her as it is for Santana. It’s the kind of date like she’d see in the movies, and the whole idea of it is so cute that she kind of wants to dance around. 

“You okay, Britt?” Santana bumps her side with her shoulder.

“Yeah, totally. Just really excited. Can we go on the Ferris wheel?”

“I was hoping you’d want to.” She looks down at her feet, a small smile spreading across her face.

“Obviously. I’m glad I don’t have to pull a scene from The Notebook and scale the thing to get to you.”

“That’s another one I haven’t seen.” Santana shakes her head. “But yeah, I’d prefer if you didn’t climb it, I’d probably have a heart attack.”

“Don’t have to. I’ve already won you over.”

“In spite of me.”

“And don’t be alarmed if I fall—“ Brittany sings. “Head over feet.”

“I love your voice.”

“It’s nothing compared to yours. Seriously, if you weren’t so set on your English thing, you could be a singer.”

“Britt, stop. I’m just a shower singer.”

“Still, you’re really good.” She squeezes Santana’s hand. “Alright, let’s do this Ferris wheel thing. But I’m totally kissing you at the top.”

“You’d better.”

Brittany is giggly while they wait in line for the Ferris wheel, mostly because Santana’s grin is so wide. She loves that she gets to have all of these big firsts with such an amazing girl, and she loves even more seeing how happy it makes her. When it’s finally their turn, Brittany steps back to let Santana get in the car first, and she slides in beside her, pulling the lap bar down over them. She doesn’t hesitate to grab her hand again, and as they rise up, Santana lays her head on Brittany’s shoulder. 

As promised, they kiss at the top, with the view of all of Lima beneath them. Brittany thinks it’s kind of sweet, seeing Santana’s whole hometown while she gets to kiss her. She knows this place has been rough on Santana, but it’s also where she came from, and Brittany is so glad that she gets to be part of this. When the ride is over, Brittany knows she should eat something for dinner, and she nudges Santana toward the circle of food stalls. While Santana picks out cheese curds, Brittany gets a corn dog, slathering it with ketchup and mustard, and taking a big bite out of it.

“Want some?” Brittany holds it out to Santana, who pulls a face.

“Ew, get that thing away from me. You know I hate ketchup.”

“Oops, I forgot.” She licks the ketchup off the side of her mouth and takes another bite. “‘S good.”

“I’ll take your word for it. Want some of these?” Santana offers up her paper tray of fried cheese to Brittany, who pops one in her mouth. “We’ll share a funnel cake later for the fireworks.”

“A few years ago I would have died at those words.” Brittany murmurs, savoring her corn dog in a way that still surprises her that she can. “But that sounds really good.”

“Can I try to win you a prize?” 

“Really? You have to ask? Of course you can.”

Santana leads Brittany to the games, and she finds a balloon dart stand. Considering Santana always says she has no coordination, Brittany is wholly impressed by the way she nails a balloon with each of her five darts. When the carnie gives her a giant stuffed whale, she proudly presents it to Brittany, who beams, and wishes she could kiss her right there. Then, clearly not satisfied with the stuffed animal, Santana steps up to a stall with little plastic bowls of fish, and she takes her bucket of balls, failing on the whole first attempt, and then buying another bucket, because she’s clearly become intent upon winning a fish for Brittany. When she’s finally successful, Brittany cheers, and Santana proudly takes the fish in the plastic bag, bowing a little as she hands it off to Brittany.

“Now we’ll have a pet in our room!” Brittany grins. “If I don’t accidentally kill it first.”

“Haven’t even moved in with you yet, and you’re already sneaking contraband into our room.”

“Oh, c’mon, the no pets rule is dumb, especially for a fish. My cousin in New Mexico snuck a rabbit into her dorm room, I don’t think the fish’ll be a big deal at all. We can just hide it behind your big stacks of books when the RA does room inspections.”

“I’m only saying yes because I agree that the rule is dumb, and also because it’s cute that you’re already planning a pet for us.”

“Duh, you won it for me, you should get to be part of its life.”

“Fair enough.” Santana laughs. “We should probably go get the blankets and sweatshirts out of the car and find our firework spot. It’s getting dark.”

Brittany follows Santana back out to the car, and she sort of stands idly as Santana organizes the things and lifts the bag containing them out of the trunk. She tries to take it, but Santana is insistent upon carrying it, and Brittany doesn’t argue. Instead, she takes her free hand and follows her to the grassy area where other people are already setting up. Santana spreads the blanket out on the lawn, and she offers Brittany a sweatshirt to combat the evening chill, combined with the feeling of too much sun throughout the day. Then, once they’re settled into sweatshirts and have their shoes off, they lay back on the blanket, heads touching and hands entwined.

“This is really nice.” Brittany tells Santana. “Even before the fireworks have started.”

“I know it’s going to sound so lame, but I seriously dreamed about doing this since I was fifteen and realized it wasn’t going to be a boy I wanted to lay with.”

“I don’t think it’s lame. I mean, you haven’t even seen all the cheesy movies, and this is pretty much the kind of stuff everyone does in them. It just feels way better when it’s real, and not someone you fell in love with an hour after meeting them.”

“Unrealistic. I love you a lot, but an hour after meeting you, I’m pretty sure I was just thrilled I had someone to have ice cream with. I wasn’t thinking love...yet.”“Ice cream doesn’t make you fall in love, coffee does, obviously.”

“You’re going to tease me about that until the end of time, aren’t you?”

“Pretty much, because it’s my favorite. Most romantic way to tell someone you love them is when they’re exhausted and they bring you coffee.”

“Best way to show someone you love them back is to bring them coffee when they’re exhausted.”

“You work so hard, Santana. I’m constantly in awe of you.”

“Britt...”

“I am. It amazes me, the effort you put in. I can’t even imagine it, because as hard as I work, it doesn’t even compare. And you love every second of it.”

“I do, as much as it drains me sometimes, I know what I want from my life.”

“I wish I did. My dreams involved working at a chicken factory, so this is all new for me.”

“I know.” Santana squeezes Brittany’s hand and snuggles closer. “But I know you’ll figure it out. That’s what college is all about, right?”

“I guess so. I mean, I guess I’ll crack this hypothesis thing someday, so that’ll give me something to go with. It’s just a question of whether or not I want to do math for the rest of my life.”

“Because you love to dance?”

“I do. A lot. And I know I’d be wasting my brain, but maybe I want to do that.”

“You asked me awhile ago to take a dance class with you. Is that still something you want?”

“I don’t know...maybe?”

“I will, for you.”

“But you hate dancing in front of people.” Brittany protests a little. 

“I know, but if it gives you the opportunity to do something you love, I’m willing to do that.”

“Really?”

“Really. You always support all my dreams, I want to support yours too.”

“Even though I’m not sure what my dreams are?” She asks, as the fireworks begin overhead. 

“Especially because you’re not.”

[simon-jess]

Simon movie/music headcanons? Simon and/or Jessica + babysitting (since you said he’s better with kids and I’d love to see your take). Also the obligatory “ah crap we gotta go to Gotham” hc/storyline crossover with Batfam/Batman? No pressure you just said “ideas?” And I saw so many scrolling through :)

I’m crying thank you!!! ok I really really really blabbered on here so I’m gonna put a read more on

music : Simon was a hundred percent behind Britney Spears & really hated (& still hates J*stin T*mberlake) & is still a known stan, also he loved the Spice Girls & while he’s been  a lil busy to listen to current music & know who they’re talking about he would totally die for Beyoncé

movie’s : he’s a nerd so I think he’d be really into sci-fi/fantasy movies but also I think he’d watch gotg & yell about how theres actually no sound in space so in reality I think he unapologetically loves romcoms & his fav movies are The Princess Bride, 2005′s Pride & Prejudice, Big Eden tbh & also Jessica thinks its adorable

babysitting : ok ok my actual weakness? Simon with kids??? ok ok, he’s literally the best uncle ever & its not like he’s a kid whisperer but he’d literally never raise his voice to a minor/woman ever like he could be giving Farid cooking lessons & Farid could literally dumb boiling water on him & Simon would be all calm & make sure FArid was ok & the stuff was put away b4 he saw to his burns like he..just won’t yell at kids, he’s a good man & he was yelled at by alot of people when he was little & he’d never wanna be a grown ass man who tried to scare kids like them so he just would never???? & when he’s watching kids they get that, like they know he’s gonna enforce the rules but he’d like talk to them not scream/punish, & he’s really good at getting into their games because he can literally carry like 4 toddlers at once somebody stop this beautiful man. when any of Farid’s friends accidentally break one of his toys (or Farid himself) Simon can literally just fix it & he makes sure they understand that so they don’t get to upset. he’s also a firm believer in the saying sorry rule as in “sorry means you won’t do “it” again” & makes sure the kids understand that when they are in trouble, he also is really cool & really does enjoy spending his free time w family & friends, so he will always help Farid & his friends (if they’re over) w homework & he loves helping him w projects tbh (when Farid is older & in the science fair, trust me when I say Farid’s not entering with a weak ass volcano), there’s so much more I can go on about Simon & kids forever so I’m prob gonna make a parent hc post eventually tbh, so I’m gonna move on to Jessica.

Jessica : admittedly I put less thought into this, ok so while I think Jess isn’t bad w kids like she’s not one of those freaks who are mean to kids for no reason, I don’t think she’d like actively try to deal with them like on cases she’s content having Simon play w them & honestly she doesn’t like babies they cry & they can be hurt so easily & she doesn’t want to hurt them so she never holds them & like children kinda give her anxiety because she doesn’t wanna upset them so she overthinks everything she says & does w them & how they interpret it & it’s a never ending spiral of panicking so…yeah she doesn’t seek em out, but! when they go to her while she’s patroling or hanging w Simon’s fam or something she’s so nice??? she doesn’t realize it but her smile & how she talks to them?? every kid just gets inspired to be just like her?? like with Simon they feel safe but with Jessica they feel like heroes??? does any of that make sense I’m just kinda blabbering & I’m gay & can’t explain my thoughts properly lol

gotham/batfam : ok them going to Gotham for a case is interesting but whats more interesting??? going to Gotham because Bruce invited him! like Bats invited him to the cave so…he visits, like while he works w the League it makes sense for him to work on the League’s official vehicles, but he gets asks to look at the batmobile? like ok let me explain Bats is a dad & Simon’s roughly his eldest’s age so he low-key reminds him of Dick (esp personality wise) & he feels unappreciated? Bats isn’t good w words but he is good w gestures so yeah he asks Simon to fix his car after is crashes the billionth time & yeah he lets Simon upgrade it lord knows it needed them & sure maybe he had Alfred bully Simon into staying for dinner to make sure he ate & sure maybe he made sure Damian was here because Simon loves children & having him teach Damian about cars while he worked on it cheered him up but he doesn’t care or anything (he’s /this/ close to writing up adoption orders).

Simon w the rest of the fam starting w Alfred: he loves him there’s just a shared respect of someone who does everything for family, like everytime they see eachother the look the exchange…it tells a thousand stories, also they exchange reciepes & cooking tips (& parenting tips) all the time & when Simon goes over he’ll bring something he made from one of Alf’s recipes & Alf will make one of Simon’s & they’ll see how it turned out….what I’m saying is that they’re bros’s they’re /this/ close to starting a book club together

Dick: like Alfred they bonded near instantly from the mutual reconition of doing everything for their family but also Dick hit on him once & if Simon wasn’t crazy about Jessica right then he would’ve taken him up on it, Simon mostly visits either to just chat, for some advice w Jessica or tbh to hang w his bf Tiger,  when he visits he always brings food so Dick really doesn’t mind tbh, long story short is they bros but like more low-key than him & Alf & Bruce

Jason: Simon doesn’t really have a no killing rule or anything but he doesn’t like it at all y’know but he also doesn’t disagree w Jason’s methods so he doesn’t but heads w him but Jason did come to see him w he found out he was hanging w Alf, now Jason joined in on his & Alf’s recipe trades & sometimes they’ll talk about books or something. Really they’re not close but Jason really appreciates having another person to talk to (& he really is that ride or die friend) & who doesn’t judge him at all tbh & Simon’s really just the same way, like they only talk once or twice a month but they do mean alot to each other. also Jason bullies Simon into befriending Roy,Artemis & Bizzaro & while the latter two took some time to like him & Roy hit it off immediately to Jason’s instant regret

Tim: Tim’s smart but honestly him & Simon just clash y’know & (tim stans don’t interact) like y’know if he wanted to talk to a genius he’d talk to Cyborg,Cisco,Dick, or Bruce (who are smarter)? before him like Tim’s just young enough & just old enough that Simon doesn’t really deal w his age group? I do think Simon’s nice to him but theres just no friendship between them they just coexist tbh

Duke: Duke’s a new young hero who’s actually up in the daytime!?? so yeah him & Simon run into eachother alot & Simon’s been in the business just long enough not to be a rookie so he helps alot & Simon was shocked at how smart Duke was tbh & really likes talking stuff w him if only to see how long it’ll take for him to figure it out? & its always so quick? Simon can’t wait to see how big he’ll be in a few years so while Simon’s only like 6-8 years older then him he’s sorta tryin to be a mentor to him

Damian: Bruce is Jewish & so is literally the rest of the fam so Simon’s literally one of the only practicing Muslims that see Damian often so he invites Damian to his family for their holidays & celebrations & that may be the only times they interact but it means so much to Damian & the family when he does it

Cass: Cass is the best judge of character in the entire DC universe & she saw Simon & decided he was good & just?? befriended him like they don’t bond over anything in particular but Simon always treats her like a princess (in a nice way) & Cass & Jess are friends so Simon’s cool w her & they’re both pretty much the friends yelling (& signing in Cass’s case) your doing amazing sweetie when they see eachother

Steph: She’s closer to Jessica but honestly Stephanie’s the Gina Linetti of the dc universe she’s that bitch she’s a known icon, when you need someone destroyed via social media you go to her & given the amount of shit on the green lantern official twitter (they’ve had one for public realations since Hal’s Earth GL days) against Simon & Jessica for terrible reasons…lets just say…Steph’s the friend to have tbh (Vic, & Babs just threaten to shut down twitter when it happens Steph detroys them)

Luke: Simon heard Luke’s story & he knew how smart he was but he wasn’t ready for when they met, they talked for hours & once Simon invited him to come to a bar w him & Vic they immediately become that group of science bros, but also he & Vic are like the only people Simon knows that “sport” & while Simon really doesn’t its nice to feel like a “normal” dude sometimes so he always watches the game w him

Tiffany : Tiffany’s such a genius & Simon’s a engineer & Tiffany thought that was so cool “Luke you’ve gotta invite him over c’mooooon” so yeah Simon came over to meet this Tiffany & they literally spent the better part of an entire day talking shop it was honestly one of the best days of Simon’s life, now Simon takes her to science exhibits w Luke & lectures & Tiffany tells him about what she learned each day & Simon always asks the right questions & yeah they’re just nerdy bffs

Helena (Rebirth): she scared him at first but Simon understands trying to be a hero after doing things you’re not proud of & situations you can’t always control & they may not be friends but Simon does believe she’s good & that means everything to her

Babs (Oracle): you can’t be a hero & not know who Oracle is, she keeps everything running together?? they don’t talk much honestly Simon barely knows her name but aside from his Mom,Sister, & Jessica there’s no one he respects more

Claire : Simon thought it was funny at first, like this little girl really got up & decided to be a hero & then did it??? & continues to do it everynight???? but then he found out what it does to her & Simon & her have & will probaly never meet but Simon always asks about her to make sure she’s doing ok, Simon is planning on going to the guardians to see why she can’t get a ring because he can’t think of much things braver than dying a little bit each time you’re a hero

Harper  : she really did that? like for her brother god does Simon respect that & Simon  doing all of that for someone who may as well be his brother? god does Harper respect that. they bond over mechanical stuff & help each other on projects & once they started hanging out God does Harper’s suit & gadgets improve like holy shit  

Kate : Simon was honestly uncomfortable with her when he found out she was ex military & honestly is still a little but he does recognize her importance & when he sees her prowling the night god  does he leave her alone 

Jessica w the Batfam stating w Bruce : I like to think there’s a few hero support groups for various things & she didn’t wanna go to the anxiety one alone so Bats (who already went but she didn’t need to know that) offered to go with her & she knew he took Simon to the depression one so she said yes, & now they go together every week & honestly it means alot to her & they kinda bonded over that (and how much they both love Simon (Bruce in a paternal way) 

Alfred : Jessica adores Alfred he’s like the second easiest person to talk to & he’s so calming & he makes tea & he never talks down to her & he gives good advice so whenever Simon visits Jessica tries to come to if just to sit with the man he’s her new favorite Grampa 

Dick : Dick’s younger than the league but super experienced in the hero business & tbh theres not many who are more experienced so when she needs help w a gig but is not about to call the league the contacts him (over text obv), they don’t hang much, because despite popular taste Dick’s a lil too serious for her taste, she does appreciate the effort he makes to make her feel like they’re peers when he’s clearly issuing commands, she def sees thru his jokes & facade & while she never mentions it there’s a understanding between them  

Jason : Jess doesn’t like killing point blank (ayy) but she understands the J*ker needs to uhhh die so she refuse to hang w him on moral grounds but also she’s low-key rooting for him tbh 

Tim : I think they just met over completely normal conversations?? like they both just awkwardly talked & everytime they meet they just meet & awkwardly talk? Jessica’s glad he’s back (it was not fun seeing Bats mourn) & Tim thinks she’s a fucking powerhouse but yeah their relationship is literally the  friends of a mutual friend that constantly meet & talk but also aren’t really friends 

Duke : Jess thinks Duke is so cool, he’s one of Gotham’s only superpowered heroes & he’s pretty much its only line of defense during the day. what she didn’t expect was how much of a nerd he was, when they finally met they spent no less than 8 hours throughout the day talking about Lord of the Rings

Damian : Damian doesn’t partically care about Jess one way or the other but when they did meet he wanted to know why she changed her costume as the old one was clearly had a better design, Jess didn’t have the heart to explain all that happened but they did start talking about art & stuff, now their relationship is mostly Jess commissioning him to draw her oc’s tbh 

Cass : Cass is also part of the girls club & honestly Jess & her bond so much talking about how their disability’s effect their day to day lives, they each have their own support system but there’s no reason they can’t support eachother. aren’t close friends but are still one of eachothers greatest cheerleaders 

Steph : Steph is part of the girls club & they both love pokemon honestly they kept on running into eachother when pokemon go came out & they still play it together, alot of the girl heroes get together all the time for a ladies night & while Jess isn’t ready yet Steph is putting an honest (& impressive) effort in convincing her (she’s close tho) 

Luke : they’re so mutually impressed by eachothers determination, like they’re not close at all but god do they respect eachother 

Tiffany : they respect eachothers aesthetics & thats the strongest way for women to become friends tbh, always have makeup on hand for eachother. their friendship is the true definition of girl solidarity tbh. Tiffany’s so busy coming off as intelligent that sometimes she forgets to be a lil girl & its so easy w Jessica, Luke swears she looks like she’s going to disneyland or something everytime Jessica comes over 

Helena (Rebirth): again she doesn’t like killers but she’s part of the girls club & while there may be no love between them Jess does believe in second chances & she really is rooting for her 

Babs : Jessica is so shook by her, Babs is shook by her they recognize powerhouses when they see it & Jessica seeing a disabled woman being easily the power house of the batfam??? she’s honestly never felt so inspired, Jess hands down hero worships her & tbh Babs is shocked because a effing Green Lantern thinks she’s powerful & that mutual validation??? awe inspiring 

Claire : they also met at the hero support group & Jessica’s with Simon, like she came back to life (sorta) because of a Green Lantern ring why can’t Claire have one?? they hang out together & honestly Claire’s one of the few people Jessica’s comfortable going “out & about” with 

Harper : part of the girl squad & while they don’t have much in common they really do like each other in wow that one girl that saved me last night seems really cool tbh, definite respect there

Kate : she’s so gay for her but everytime Kate flirts w her she forgets how to fuction therefore their relationship is in a constant impasse tbh, the constant paradox of wanting to be her gf but also can’t talk to her & Kate just wants to learn her name 

omg that took forever pls tell me if I missed anyone & please feel free to send more asks!!! thank you!!!

[dontshootmespence]

Scared to Love

A/N: A piece where the reader is new to the team and she and Spencer love each other but are not in a committed relationship yet, mainly because he feels so strongly (even more than Maeve), so he begins to push her away. She ends up accepting a date from another man, who turns out to be a creep. @coveofmemories @sexualemobitch @jamiemelyn @unstoppableangel8

                                                             -----

Spencer Reid was probably destined to be alone. At least that’s what he assumed as he looked at the woman that he loved more than anything in the world. Shortly after Maeve was taken from him, Y/N had started with the Bureau. At first, Spencer didn’t expect himself to like her as a team member, no less a lover, but after a year of working together, the two admitted their feelings for each other. 

Y/N was the epitome of perfection - at least in his eyes. Not only was she beautiful, her eyes as stormy and beautiful as the oceans, and her smile brighter than the sun, but her intelligence rivaled his, without the faults that came with it, like his lack of social skills and occasional superiority complex. In addition, she was more kind than the world deserved; if someone needed a shirt, she would give them the one off her back. But as much as he loved her, as perfect as she was for him, as amazing as her puzzle piece would fit with his, he was scared.

He was too scared.

He knew of her feelings and she knew of his, but after what happened with Maeve, he was afraid to ever truly love again. What if she was taken away again? And he wasn’t able to do anything...he couldn’t live through that again. He just couldn’t; even the thought made his heart clench, the blood damned up to the point where he was on the verge of explosion. Worse yet, Spencer could tell he was going to lose her, all because he couldn’t allow himself to commit.  Since they’d come clean with each other, he’d been keeping her at an arm’s length, refusing to allow himself to linger on her both mentally and physically for more than a few seconds; if he did, he’d be lost for good. “Spence,” she said, walking into the bullpen that morning, her voice soft with uncertainty as she formed the words she wanted to say. He’d been rude recently, so he stopped himself from doing that, but he also refused to meet her gaze, allowing her to continue speaking if she felt like it while he did some paperwork. “I know that you’ve been keeping me at bay lately, but I also know how you feel about me. If you can’t actually commit to something with me, I can’t sit here and wait for you. It’s not fair to me. Although I think your brain is being unfair to you.”

That caught his attention. His head snapped up to meet her gaze, her eyes glazed over with a curtain of thick tears. “What do you mean by that?”

“For a genius, you sure are thick Spencer,” she replied. A tear cascaded its way down the side of her face and fell to the floor. “I can’t imagine how you felt after Maeve-”

“No, you can’t,” he snapped.

“I may not know how you feel, but I know the world, and I know love. If you continuously push people away because you’re afraid of losing them, you. will. die. alone.” Her lip quivered as she turned away, getting ready to head back toward her desk. Before she did, she spun back around toward him, once more, giving him a final word on the matter. “I don’t want that for you. You deserve to have someone to love, but I can’t give you my all and not get the same in return.”

                                                            -----

After two weeks of insane tension between the two, things started to settle down. Y/N acted as if nothing had ever been said between them - good or bad - and honestly, he had no idea how to feel about that. However she started to seethe when he overheard a conversation between Emily, Penelope and Y/N. “So you’ve got a date tonight?’ Emily asked hopefully. 

Y/N replied with an enthusiasm that made Spencer ache inside. “Yup!”

“But what about you and Boy Genius?” Penelope whined. “I wanted you to get together. You’re perfect together.”

Her enthusiasm faded away, but Spencer had already started to walk away before he heard anything more, therefore not hearing what she said. “I thought so too, Pen, but I’m not going to sit around and wait for Reid to open himself up to someone again. After what happened with Maeve, who I never met but knowing Spencer obviously meant a lot to him, he can’t allow himself to feel that way about someone again, and I’m not waiting. I want to find someone, so yea, I have a date.”

Penelope sighed, trying to give Y/N an encouraging smile as she wrestled with the fact that Spencer was being such an idiot about this. Granted, going through something like that would stick with someone forever in a certain way, but he did deserve some happiness in his life, and Y/N had brought him that; Penelope wanted to smack him for being so stubborn. Emily was definitely going to smack him, though she knew Y/N was right and was happy for her. “Well have fun,” she said. “You’ll have to let us know how it goes.”

“Of course,” Y/N laughed. As if she wouldn’t tell them everything the moment she walked back into her apartment later tonight. 

                                                            -----

The way to get over someone was to start something with someone new right? At least that’s what Y/N told herself as she walked into the down-to-earth bar she frequented on the weekends. That’s where she’d promised to meet Dylan. He’d eyed her for quite a few weeks and after Y/N realized she couldn’t wait for Spencer anymore, Dylan had asked her what was wrong. They got to talking and by the end, he asked her on an official date. It took two weeks to finally come about, but now it was here and she was feeling pretty good about it.

Dylan was very cute, a cut jawline stubbled with black hair that matched the luscious locks on top of his head. His piercing green eyes bore into her as she walked toward him, offset by the slight wrinkles around his eyes, making him look slightly weathered, but gorgeous just the same. His tanned hands were soft and smooth, something he said he appreciated considering his construction worker father had the most roughened palms of anyone he knew; he was thankful they’d apparently come from his work in construction rather than it being hereditary. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, standing up from the table and kissing her on the cheek. “How was work?”

“Same old, same old,” she said. “What about you? Did your company get that project they’ve been seeking out?”

He pumped his fists in the air like a little kid, which she found endearing. “Yes, which means a raise for me, so drinks are on me tonight.”

“Well, how can I say no to that?” she laughed. 

While he got the first round of drinks, she fumbled in her bag, which had been buzzing for quite a few minutes. Just messages from the ladies saying to have fun on her date. “Here you go,” he said, coming over and handing her a beer. “We should play 20 questions. I feel like that’s always the best way to get to know each other.”

“I could be down for that,” she said, sipping at her drink. Over the next 20 minutes, she ask him all sorts of questions. Place he wanted to travel most? Scotland. Favorite sport to play? Basketball. And to watch? Baseball. What did he find the most pride in? His engineering degree and subsequent acceptance in an engineering doctoral program. He’d worked his ass off for it. Had he ever cried at a movie? Yes, and it was called My Dog Skip, which Y/N totally understood because that was one of the saddest movies she’d ever seen. Their first round wasted away her beer, so he asked if she wanted another one. Once she’d said yes, she excused herself to go to the bathroom and returned within a couple minutes. 

Now it was her turn to answer questions. Picking up the beer, she listened intently as he asked some similar questions and some different ones. “What’s one thing you’ve done that you’d never do again?”

“Cage diving with sharks,” she said instantly. It had been fun, but also intensely scary, so never again. 

His mouth dropped open, surprised that she’d do something like that. “Okay, what’s your weirdest or most bizarre deal breaker in a relationship?”

“Hmmm,” she said, thinking hard as she took another two sips of her drink. “I don’t know if it would be considered bizarre because of how often I see men doing it, but, if you’re the kind of guy that spits on the ground, we’re done. So gross. I don’t wanna kiss you after you’ve hocked up a loogie.”

The soft little giggle that came from him made her laugh in return. “I don’t do that, so I guess we’re good.” Nearly half the drink later, she noticed she felt off. She didn’t drunk until after 4 beers, at least. She was barely two in and she felt a little sweaty and her vision was blurred. When she glanced down, she realized her hands were a bit shaky too. She played it off, joking that she was such a lightweight when it came to drinking, that and that liquid went right through her, so once again, she went to the bathroom. 

“He dosed me,” Y/N said to herself as she entered the bathroom. There’d been a smirk on his face when she got up. She was dosed. GHB if she were placing a bet. Once inside, she sat down on one of the toilets and took her pulse, it was lower than her normal resting rate. This definitely wasn’t normal. She’d underestimated Dylan’s character.

Quickly, she sent a picture of him to Morgan. “What’s up babygirl?” he asked, as she picked up the phone.

“Did you get the picture I sent you?”

“Yea, is that your date?”

“Yes, and he dosed me Morgan.”

“What? Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

She told him the name of the bar and told him to hurry. She was pretty sure he’d given her enough to pass out and she felt her eyes getting heavier and heavier by the second. “Hurry, Morgan. As far as I know,” she slurred, “he’s still waiting outside.”

                                                           -----

When Morgan entered the bar just five minutes later (he’d driven nearly 100 miles an hour to get here so quickly), Dylan was still sitting by the table, and immediately Morgan shoved him against the wall and cuffed him. “Hey what the hell man?” he exclaimed, peering out from up against the wall to see blue and red lights approaching the bar. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“Your date called me. You dosed her. You’re under arrest.” As the other cops came in, he handed Dylan over to them and told them to wait before walking into the bathroom and finding Y/N nearly passed out on the floor. He could tell she’d been fighting it. “It’s okay. I’m here,” he whispered softly as her eyes fluttered open and shut. 

“Morgan?”

“Yea, babygirl it’s me. You’re safe.”

As he paraded her outside to the ambulance, Dylan cut his eyes at them both and immediately the local officers spun him around and brought him toward their car.

It only took 15 minutes to get to the hospital, but for Morgan it felt like forever. The dose hadn’t been enough to kill her, and because she knew the signs she would be able to be discharged within a few hours. Her phone began to ring off the hook. She was supposed to be home by now.

“Y/N? You home?” It was Garcia.

“No babygirl, it’s me,” Morgan replied. 

“What happened?” Her voice was immediately shaky, tears brimming in an instant. 

Morgan told her the whole story and said she’d be okay. “Just let everyone know she’d okay. I can see you’ve all been texting her.”

“I’ll let them know,” she said softly. “Take care of her Morgan.”

“Of course, babygirl.”

The minute they hung up, Morgan turned his attention toward making sure Y/N was safe and healthy, and Garcia made sure she let everyone know that Y/N was okay. In a group chat, she told everyone, Rossi, Spencer and Hotch included, that Y/N had been drugged and called Morgan for help.

The minute Spencer read what happened to her, his heart dropped. Someone had almost taken advantage of her, but she was okay - at least physically. Without thinking, he ran out of his apartment, barely grabbing his jacket along the way and made his way to the hospital, walking in just ten minutes later and running into Morgan. “How is she?” he asked softly, his eyes shaking in fear and guilt. She didn’t call him to help her. He’d made her feel that way - and knowing she was safe, not having her call him might’ve hurt more than anything. 

Morgan clapped Spencer on the shoulder and walked him toward her room. She was going to be discharged within a couple hours and was already awake, though tired. “She’s going to be okay. She called me as soon as she noticed she’d been dosed.” When he said that she’d called him instead of Reid, Morgan could see the hurt in the younger man’s eyes. 

As they rounded the corner into her room, she was taken aback by Spencer’s arrival, but she gave him a silent look that said she wanted a moment alone with him. The second Morgan left the room, he bent down to hug her. “Y/N, you’re okay,” he breathed.

“Yea, Spence,” she replied flatly. “I’m fine. Apparently I have no luck with men though.”

She looked away from him, not knowing what to say, until Spencer finally broke the tension. “Why didn’t you call me? Y/N, I love you, I would’ve helped you.”

“That’s exactly why I didn’t call you, Spence,” she replied. She was tired from the night’s events that tears immediately sprung to her eyes. “I love you too, but you don’t want me, or anyone, so I couldn’t have you, someone who doesn’t want to risk himself on me come and save me to have me fall further in love with you, so I called my friend.” 

“You do realize that I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone? Even Maeve?”

She huffed incredulously. “You have a funny way of showing it.” Unless he was about to say sorry for being such an asshole these weren’t the words she wanted to hear right now, because they were exactly what she wanted to hear. 

“I’ve been pushing you away because I’m scared,” he said, reaching over and placing his hand on top of hers. “I thought that I loved Maeve, and I did, so much, but I love you more, and the thought of losing you or hurting you makes me want to die, so I thought it would be better to push you away.”

“Do you realize, when you say it out loud, how dumb that actually sounds?” she laughed hollowly. “Because you pushing me away hurts too.”

As his own tears welled up, he brought her hand up to his lips. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so, so sorry. Will you allow me to make it up to you?”

“We’ll work on it,” she said softly, as the night’s events finally started to take their toll. “Will you stay here until I get discharged?”

As he stood up, he told her that of course he would, nudging her aside slightly so he could come to sit on the bed with her. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered again. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

Nearly fifteen minutes later, Morgan returned to Y/N’s room to see Reid and Y/N sleeping. With a small smile, he took a seat in the chair across from her bed. Both of them were here; she was in good hands now.

[cyberkevvideo]

Throne of Night Theory Builds Extras Part 2: The Aquatic Drow and Companion

This build come about by pure coincidence. I had been searching around for more art by Michael and then I came across this. At the time it never dawned on me that it was without the Fire Mountain Games on it. All I saw that Michael’s name and website attached. As such, this is an extra build that wasn’t part of the “Throne of Night” AP. At least, it doesn’t appear to be. That didn’t stop me from coming up with a build though.

I honestly have no idea what this art was originally meant to go with. The site I found it on has since closed, but thankfully I found the art before it disappeared completely and  was able to save it to my Pinterest folder so I could use it at a later date.

If anyone knows, please tell me the origin of this picture/what its intended use was. It’s really cool to look at.

After looking over the build, be sure to read my final words regarding how things may or may not go after this and “Throne of Night” in the future.

I will say that I do have one more planned entry for the “Throne of Night” AP, but it’s not regarding a build or anything like that. It’s something I’ve been putting together with other game designers and a few players. It was something far too big for me, so I invited others I trusted the opinions of. I’m not sure how long it’ll take before I do that particular post though. We’ve already been working on it for a week, and it hasn’t seen much conclusion so far.

As always, for space reasons, I’ll be cropping the encounter build.

All images shared here were done by the forever fantastic and amazingly talented Michael D. Clarke, aka SpiralMagus

I do not have a Patreon or a Kickstarter, but I do have a Ko-Fi page (linked) for those who are looking to support me monetarily. There is no pressure or obligation to do so.

Finally, before I get to it, I hope everyone’s staying safe right now.

When I found this picture, I had just started up the builds for Book 5, when the PCs were traveling the Sunless Seas, and I absolutely thought this was someone who would aid the party in discovering what happened to all the kidnap victims, and not a random picture that was meant to be used for something else entirely separate from this AP. Well, for the purposes of this build, that’s its new intended designation.

The best part is because this build is completely extra, that means it’s entirely for fun and doesn’t need to conform to the OGL rules that the others would have to. To publish sources outside the official company, you need special permission to use non OGL material, or reproduce everything in its entirety. For example, a feat that’s not OGL would need to be placed in a side bar on the same page, a nearby page, or at the back of the book. In my experience,  when I first started, I unfortunately put a publisher or two in that predicament without realizing. I’ve since been told what consequences my actions have had with their books. It’s not necessarily a problem, but it does add unnecessary word counts to books that tight printing guidelines, so I knew there’s no way Gary would put himself in the position. But this? All bets are off, and it was fun to colour outside the lines, even if just a little.

I will say that had I not figured out that this wasn’t AP related, I had honestly considered doing a summoner build with the eidolon looking like a variant version of the hippocampus. Why? Because the drow had read up on them, they seemed cool, and she really wanted one. Instead, we get a druid and her actual hippocampus. I’m surprisingly happy about this change.

Despite this being a Book 5 build, she’s only a CR 15. The PCs are supposed to be level 14-16 during this time, and I didn’t want to make her so powerful that she’d be capable of possibly soloing encounters on the PC’s behalf. I mean, she is a controller type build with lots of summoning potential, and doesn’t really involved with fights personally, although she’s still capable in her wild shape.

Unlike the gug slave, who is meant to fight the party first, then be won over and unleashed upon its slavers, this drow is meant to be an ally right out of the gate. An ally that might be willing to share her discovery of a secret area that might just eventually lead to the sealed doors of the trapped demigod lich.

Slight tangent: Book 7 was going to be an “extra adventure” that was unlocked in the Kickstarter, where you discovered the demigod lich and apparently gained his phylactery and became a lich as well? Maybe stole the lichdom? I honestly wish I could say that anything regarding that encounter or discovery of location is mentioned anywhere, but sadly it’s not. At least not that I ever found. Just art for the phylactery, the lich, and the lich disintegrating? Losing power? You can see more of that in my Phylactery Guardian build. What was seen, however, was when Gary released the “world map”, there’s a spot all unto itself called the Hidden Sea. It’s my belief that that’s where the lich resides. Sadly, with the Fire Mountain Games site gone, so it the map. Thankfully, a much smaller, resized one was put up on /tg/, renamed “Underground Seas map.“

As for this drow’s story, she’s just a drow that loved the Sunless Seas, and felt drawn to it, and wanted to explore it during her younger years. A few years ago, she discovered a wounded hippocampus that had somehow been swallowed up by the above waters and dragged down the underground seas. She saved it, nursed it back to health, and they’ve been inseparable ever since.

QUILDAN BAENERVS    (CR 15; 51,200 XP) Female drow aquatic druid 16 CN Medium humanoid (aquatic, elf) Init +2; Senses darkvision 120 ft.; Perception +8 DEFENSE AC 18, touch 13, flat-footed 16 (+4 armor, +1 deflection, +2 Dex, +1 shield) hp 111 (16d8+32) Fort +13, Ref +10, Will +18; +2 vs. enchantments Defensive Abilities deep diver, resist ocean’s fury +4; DR 8/slashing or piercing; Immune sleep; SR 21 Weaknesses light blindness OFFENSE Speed 30 ft., swim 30 ft. Melee +1 shortpear +15 (1d6+3/x3) Ranged mwk light underwater crossbow +15 (1d8/19–20) or      +1 shortpear +15 (1d6+3/x3) Special Attacks wild shape (level –2) 7/day Druid Spells Prepared  (CL 16th; concentration +22)   8th—earthquake, word of recall   7th—animate plants, heal, mass cure moderate wounds   6th—antilife shell, greater dispel magic, mass bear’s endurance, mass bull’s strength   5th—animal growth, blessing of the salamander, cure critical wounds, death ward, raise animal companion   4th—atavism, echolocation, freedom of movement, rusting grasp, thorn body   3rd—cure moderate wounds, greater longstrider, thorny entanglement (R-DC 19), water breathing (already cast on companion), wind wall   2nd—aquatic cavalry, barkskin, beast speak, resist energy, tar ball   1st—blend, bristle, goodberry, heightened awareness, speak with animals, wave shield   0 (at will)—detect magic, guidance, mending, read magic Spell-like Abilities (CL 16th; concentration +18)   Constant—endure elements (cold only)   1/day—dancing lights, darkness, faerie fire STATISTICS Str 14, Dex 14, Con 12, Int 8, Wis 22, Cha 14 Base Atk +12; CMB +14; CMD 27 Feats Augment Summoning, Divine Interference, Evolved Companion (cold resistance), Monstrous Mount, Monstrous Mount Mastery, Mounted Combat, Natural Spell, Spell Focus (conjuration) Skills Handle Animal +15, Heal +13, Knowledge (geography) +8, Knowledge (nature) +10, Perception +17, Ride +14 (+16 to stay in the saddle), Spellcraft +6, Survival +14, Swim +14; Racial Modifiers +2 Perception, +8 Swim Languages Druidic, Elven, Undercommon SQ aquatic adaptation +8, amphibious, poison use, nature bond (companion), nature sense, natural swimmer, timeless body, wild empathy (aquatic or water subtype only) +10 Combat Gear lesser extend metamagic rod, wand of air bubble (5 charges), wand of cure light wounds (39 charges); Other Gear +1 wild studded leather, darkwood buckler, +1 short spear, masterwork light underwater crossbow with 20 bolts, mithral dagger, belt of incredible dexterity +2, cloak of resistance +2, headband of inspired wisdom +4, ring of protection +1, aegis of recovery, assisting gloves, elixir of vision, polymorphic pouch, spell component pouch, diamond (worth 5,000 gp), 236 gp SPECIAL ABILITIES Aquatic Wild Empathy (Ex) An aquatic druid’s wild empathy functions only on creatures that have a swim speed or the aquatic or water subtype; however, she can improve the attitude of any such creature with Intelligence 2 or less regardless of type, including mindless creatures. Deep Diver (Ex) An aquatic druid gains DR/slashing or piercing equal to 1/2 her level. This damage reduction also applies against spells and spell-like abilities that inflict damage by grappling or crushing (e.g., black tentacles, crushing hand). She never takes pressure damage from deep water. Poison Use (Ex) Drow are skilled in the use of poison and never risk accidentally poisoning themselves. Drow favor an insidious toxin that causes its victims to lapse into unconsciousness—this poison allows drow to capture slaves with great ease. Drow Poison—injury; save Fortitude DC 13; frequency 1/minute for 2 minutes; initial effect unconsciousness for 1 minute; secondary effect unconsciousness for 2d4 hours; cure 1 save. Resist Ocean’s Fury (Ex) An aquatic druid gains a +4 bonus on saving throws against spells of the water type or the exceptional or supernatural abilities of creatures with the aquatic or water subtype.

--drow’s name means “sea strider, blessed of the depths” --companion’s name means “water ally”

BRIZABBAN    (CR —; — XP) Female hippocampus N Large animal (aquatic) Init +4; Senses darkvision 60 ft., low-light vision, scent; Perception +12 DEFENSE AC 32, touch 14, flat-footed 28 (+4 armor, +1 deflection, +4 Dex, +14 natural, –1 size) hp 97 (13d8+39) Fort +12, Ref +13, Will +9; +4 vs. enchantments Defensive Abilities devotion, evasion, improved evasion; Resist cold 15 OFFENSE Speed 5 ft., swim 80 ft. Space 10 ft.; Reach 5 ft. Melee 2 bites +17/+12 (1d6+8), tail slap +11 (1d4+4) STATISTICS Str 24, Dex 18, Con 16, Int 3, Wis 14, Cha 11 Base Atk +9; CMB +17; CMD 32 Feats Blind-Fight, Combat Reflexes, Bodyguard, Endurance, Iron Will, Weapon Focus (bite) Skills Acrobatics +12, Perception +12, Stealth +4, Swim +15; Racial Modifiers +8 Swim Languages understands Undercommon SQ link, share spells, water dependency Tricks attack, come, defend, down, fetch, guard, heel, perform, seek, stay, track Gear +1 studded leather barding, amulet of mighty fists +1, cloak of resistance +1, headband of inspired wisdom +2, ring of protection +1, beast bond brand, bit and briddle, exotic military saddle SPECIAL ABILITIES Water Dependency (Ex) A hippocampus can survive out of the water for 1 minute per point of Constitution. Beyond this limit, a hippocampus runs the risk of suffocation, as if it were drowning.

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

And this concludes the planned builds for Throne of Night. Anything else would honestly be just the monster stats as they are, or something with a Simple Class Template, or the Simple Advanced Template. Sadly, it’s as easy as that. At least from what I can see.

If I do any other builds, it’ll be because I had some kind of epiphany and was asked/paid to do them.

Thank you for coming with me on this journey to theory build what may have been an amazing, award-winning, underground adventure path for Pathfinder 1e.

[jestbee]

The Limits of Terminology

Words: ~5k

Tags: Friends to lovers. Defining the relationship.Slight mention of sex but nothing too graphic guys

Rating: Mature I guess. Cus of the sex.

Summary: Dan has referred to Phil as a lot of things over the years. Best friend. Housemate. Business Partner.

But terminology is limiting, and none of it feels like enough. How can one word encapsulate everything they mean to each other?

[AO3 Link]

Fic under the cut.

That guy from the internet

In the early days, Dan doesn’t know what to call Phil, what label is appropriate. He can’t really explain the sudden and familiar attachment he feels to what is essentially a stranger.

‘Stranger’ feels wrong though, seeing as how it's slowly getting to the point that they’re sharing everything with each other. ‘Acquaintance’ doesn’t sit right either, it's more than something passing, fleeting, it feels solid despite the intangibility of an internet connection.

Twitter flows to skype flows to exchanging numbers and now Dan finds himself at a party, the first one since his break up with Erin, and alone on a couch, texting. People move around him, buzz with alcohol and the novelty of their recent switch to college. Dan feels alone in his decision to take a gap year, but his phone is in his hand, and Phil is replying with a frequency that belies him having any plans this Friday night, and Dan is smiling at each one as they come through.

“Who ya texting?” Rebecca says as she flops down on the couch beside him. She’s leaning slightly, and Dan knows that lean. It’s the you-just-split-up-with-your-girlfriend-and-I’m-interested lean. He doesn’t return it. Instead he shifts slightly, tilting the phone screen towards his chest to shield it, he doesn’t necessarily want to share Phil with the world yet.

“No one,” Dan says, “Just some guy off the internet.”

Rebecca raises an eyebrow and giggles at that. Perhaps, Dan thinks, that isn’t quite the correct term.

Friend

Manchester is a blur. It’s being high up and gazing over the city from the top of the Manchester Eye, or from a cosy booth in the sky bar. It’s feeling like he’s still that high up, even when his feet are back down on the ground.

It’s easy. Easier than he’d thought it would be, and when Phil’s phone rings during filming, Dan can’t help the smile that spreads over his face as Phil say “Hi… Yeah… No, I’m just hanging out with my friend.”

And suddenly that feels like a good term to use, but it takes him until a few days after he’s back to try it out for himself.

“You coming to the pub?” Rebecca is saying as she leans on the railing outside of the corner shop.

“Nah,” Dan replies, swinging his carrier bag and waiting for Jason to leave as well. “I only popped into town to get some stuff, I’ve got to get back for five.”

“Ooo,” Rebecca says, still adopting a glimmer of the lean, but Dan thinks he’s got it pretty much fended off at this point. He’s not asking himself why because, Rebecca is attractive enough, he’s just not sure he wants to be tied down right now. “Got plans with someone?”

Dan smiles, “I’m just going to skype my friend.”

It doesn’t cause any riots anywhere when he uses it, so he figures the term can stick for a while.

“The one from the internet?”

“Yeah,” Dan nods, and runs a hand through his fringe. “My friend from the internet.”

Best friend

Best friends happens ironically.  Or at least offhandedly. He isn’t actually sure people have best friends in their 20s, and Phil is older than him, so he’s sure it’s some schoolyard practise they should be too old for.

“Get me a drink on your way?” He asks as Phil rises to his feet from the seat next to him on the floor. He wobbles slightly, almost tipping the monopoly board over, but he doesn’t.

He’s in Phil’s flat, with Phil’s friends. Well, they’re his friends now as well, since he moved here, but he still likes to make the distinction.  The same way he makes the distinction that this is Phil’s flat, not his, even though he’s here most nights.

He’d started on the couch but honestly, it was beginning to become a pain to clear up the blankets and everything every morning. The final straw was Dan’s back beginning to protest about being curved onto the small space each night, so he’d ended up in Phil’s bed. It wasn’t weird, they were just friends. He likes to make that distinction too.

“What’s wrong with your legs you lazy oaf?,” Phil says quickly, leaving Dan’s glass on the table.

Their friends laugh, chiding Dan gently for being a cheeky little shit. No one finds it weird that Phil will clearly do a drink run for them, his guests, but actively expects Dan to get his own.

“Some best friend you are,” Dan mocks, feigning sadness and following him to the kitchen.

He realises what he says and holds his breath. But really, he needn't have worried.

“I am the greatest best friend ever,” Phil says insistently, splashing Dan with the water from the tap as he fills up his ribena glass. When he’s finished with his he holds out a hand for Dan’s glass and winds up making it anyway. Dan lets the air out of his lungs in one long stream.

Phil smiles, and Dan smiles back as they settle back down to the game, and they don’t acknowledge it much further.

Later, they use the term online, it’s accepted and comforting. It’s probably one Dan can live with forever.

Housemate

After that they begin adding labels to the one they already have. But honestly, he doesn’t expect housemate. He’s mostly come to term with the fact that he doesn’t want to live with any of the random people he barely knows from his uni halls, and he doesn’t know anyone from lectures or social activities since he spends all of his time with some older guy none of them know, so he’s pretty resigned to having to sign on to halls for another year. It’s mostly depressing, but he’s trying to find the good.

That is, until Phil brings it up.

“Are you planning to stay in halls next year?” He asks as they’re playing Mario Kart, as ever, on Phil’s living room floor. They never sit on the couch, he doesn’t know why.

It might be because the couch is small, and there isn’t much room for them to sit side by side. But Phil’s elbow keeps knocking into him they’re sat so close, and Dan doesn’t even mind.

“Probably,” Dan shrugs, taking a corner at just the right angle and picking up an item. He’s in first place and gleefully shoots and object in Phil’s direction. Phil’s vision is obscured and he skids of the track..

“Ah--” Phil yells, swinging his arms upwards and jabbing at the controller in an attempt to right himself back on course. It’s to no avail though and Dan wins the race only a few seconds later.

“Ultimate champion!” Dan gloats, hands over his head. Phil just smiles fondly and pushes at him. Dan rocks on his hips momentarily but straightens up, laughing so that his face aches.

“So, probably?” Phil continues after a hard stare.

If takes Dan a moment to realise what he’s talking about.

“Halls. Yes, probably.” He shrugs again, “No where else to go.”

“I was thinking…”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Ha. Very funny.” Phil reaches out and pokes Dan’s cheek with a pointed finger. “I was thinking we could live together in your second year. I mean… if you wanted to. I know it’d be weird like, living with someone who isn’t in uni, and it might take you away from all of that so I’d completely understand if you--”

“Phil,” Dan interrupts, “I’m literally always in your house anyway.”

“True. Plus, it’d be great for YouTube. We’d be able to film and could help each other out and your dorm mates wouldn’t be listening to you talk to yourself.”

Dan laughs. “Slow down, you don’t have to convince me. I think it’d be awesome.”

“Really? That’s great!”

“I’m not being funny,” Dan says ponderously, “But, well, you only have one bedroom…”

He isn’t sure how he wants Phil to respond. It’s become fairly normal for him to sleep in there with Phil, and it’s cosy actually, more comforting than he’ll allow himself to admit. Still, he’s not sure that hospitality extends to Dan actually living here. It’s excusable when he’s just visiting, even if it is becoming every night. He’s shocked at how  the idea appeals to him though, being in Phil’s bed every night, being allowed, without needing to look for an excuse.

“I thought we’d look for a different place, one with two bedrooms you idiot.”

Dan tries not to over analyse why he feels slightly disappointed. “Sure.” He nods. “Um, not to sound like, ungrateful for the offer, cus I am, I think it’ll be fun. But, like, You live by yourself, you’re independent, why would you want to live with me?”

“One,” Phil says, emphasising the point with a finger, “Like you said, it’ll be fun. Two,” he adds another finger, before dropping his hand to his lap. “I’m going to quit my job and do YouTube full time. I can make it work money wise. But… Sharing somewhere to live would be good.”

“That’s amazing!” Dan enthuses before rolling his eyes at the pun.

“So, housemates?” Phil asks, holding out his hand to shake.

“Housemates.” Dan agrees, slipping his fingers in to Phil’s hand.

Business partner

They’re always ‘Dan and Phil’. From the Super Amazing Project, to the first t-shirt, to the merch company, the radio show, the gaming channel, the book, the tour, the second book… Dan is honestly surprised ‘business partner’ doesn’t start sooner. But with ‘Best Friend’ on offer, and ‘Housemate’ continuing for more years than Dan could have hoped for, well, he supposes there wasn’t ever an opportunity. Besides, they’ve never really taken all of that seriously.

As it happens, it’s only to sort out a misunderstanding that they use it at all.

“And if your partner could just sign here,” the accountant is saying to Phil.

They share a look. It’s one they’ve shared before, on multiple occasions.

“Um,” Phil says, still looking at Dan, not at their accountant. “We’re not…”

Dan knows he should probably say something too. But, seeing how he’s long since given up trying to repress the feeling of elation he feels every time someone mistakes them for lovers, he doesn’t. There was a patch there where he would have. Would have stood up, questioned how on earth anyone could ever think that he and Phil were together, that they weren’t and never would be. Until he realised that he was just confused as to why anyone thought Phil would want him like that. Because he clearly doesn’t. Honestly, he’s sort of just learned to deal with the confusing twist of emotions he feels in his gut whenever it happens, and let the wave of hope wash over him briefly before shoving it down.

“Oh,” Phil laughs, putting two and two together. “You meant business partner.”

“Business partner.” Dan echoes, “that’s me.”

He leans forward in the chair, being careful not to tip the back two legs off the ground, it’s probably unprofessional to fall on your accountant’s floor.

“All done,” he proclaims, setting the pen back down.

They take care of the pleasantries quickly, rushing from the room red cheeked and giggling.

“Did you think--”

“Yeah,” Dan preempts, “It’s just… business partner. That’s a new one.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“Just seems very grown up.” Phil answers.

“Well, yeah.” Dan agrees, “I suppose it does. But what else would you call it?”

“I don’t know,” Phil says, “Partner is good.”

If Dan notices that Phil drops the ‘business’ from the beginning, he doesn’t say so. He does, however, allow himself to enjoy the sound of it.

“Partner is good.”

Everything. Yours.

Sometimes Dan tests out other labels. Lets them sit in his tongue or roll around his mouth, just to see how they taste.

He fantasises in private moments what it might be like to use another word, one that means something more than the current ones do, but he knows that he can't.  So he tucks it away, buries it under the labels he has available to him and says those where he wants to say the others.

He thinks maybe Phil wants to try it on for size too. Sometimes. When strangers make the inevitable assumption he watches Phil hesitate, weighing up the consequences of letting those labels apply, even for just a short space of time. Phil always comes down on the side of caution though, so Dan never wants to push it.

What Dan doesn't anticipate is when things change without the need for the label to be said out loud. Suddenly Dan has limited options as to the terminology, but Phil seems to be redefining the narrow definitions Dan has assigned to them.

Best friend suddenly means, in random increments, being pretty much a part of Phil's family. Adopted, included, invited along to every gathering.

It means Phil's head on his shoulder in the back of a taxi when he's particularly tired.

Business partner means a joint bank account that spills over into their personal finances. It's not knowing which of their possessions belong to whom, simply using ‘ours’ instead of ‘mine’. It's easier, he reasons, it's just easier.

Whatever this is means Phil wrapping around around him and leaning in, enveloping Dan in his warmth and holding him close. It's the soft brush of lips on Dan's neck that he thinks Dan won't notice.

It's being each other's first speed dial, next of kin, emergency contact. Because really, who else would they call? It's always being at the top of their text messages unless they're sat right next to each other. Even then, it's still a good bet.

It's skyping despite only being away one night, it's letting ‘I miss you’ crackle over a dodgy internet connection and having it returned with soft smiles and flushed cheeks.

Without relying on their limited lexicon of available terms, it is Phil’s hand in his, on the small of his back, his whole body pressed against Dan’s side on the couch. And it’s Dan allowing it, revelling in it, letting himself enjoy it where he might have previously shied away. Actively avoiding denial is less physically exhausting, he finds, letting his body move without the need for taught muscles holding him upright, out of Phil’s space, away.

Eventually it’s Phil, drink-loosened and blurry, pressing his mouth to Dan’s in the silence of their flat. It’s Dan hesitating only for a moment before returning it, fervent and bruising. Then hands gripping, pulling, nails digging crescent shapes onto twin backs as moonlight streams through the window, washing out everything, making decisions seem lighter, paler, less important.

It moves to the bedroom and it’s the feeling of tshirt jersey sliding over soft abdomens, it’s the hiss and rattle of a belt buckle and zip, it’s the rough feeling of carpet on Dan’s kneecaps counteracted with the soft tug of Phil’s hand in his hair.

It climaxes in the sensation of them coming together, Phil inside of Dan, as close as he can be. It’s the hot breath on his neck, teeth nipping, tongue lapping. The rhythmic thrust as their bodies move together, bathed in darkness and shrouded in whatever this all means. For one blinding second towards the end it’s the rush of something real, tangible, with Phil following closely behind. It’s every nerve ending in his body screaming out in relief before collapsing weightless and dreamy into blue and green sheets.

Finally, as he engages in mental acrobatics, it's Dan calling him out on it while lying side by side, sweaty and sated.

“Do you ever think about like, labels?”

Phil is breathing heavily. They’ve been enjoying the silence, or using it to hide in.

“Labels for what?” His voice is low, croaky, as if this emotion is one unused for a while. Dan can relate.

“For us, for what we are to each other.” He doesn’t mean now, he means in normal circumstances. He doesn't know what these circumstances are, can’t even imagine where to start.

“Oh.”

“I mean, there are a few.”

“I guess there are.” Dan feels Phil’s body tightens, leaning slightly away.

Dan misses his warmth already.

“Language has its limits, Dan.”

Dan finds it in himself to nod. “Useful for defining the subtleties of human interaction though.”

“Constrictive.” Phil insists, “Labels aren’t really a great tool for defining what two people are to each other, are they? I mean, one word can’t really encapsulate all of the nuance.”

“I suppose more than one could apply then,” Dan shrugs, “Like for us.”

“Like, best friend and housemate?” Phil suggests.

“And business partner.”

“Yeah,” Phil smiles, Dan can hear it even though he can’t see it in the darkness. “That too. Though that sounds awfully formal and like we sit in an office every day making tough decisions instead of stumbling into a profession where we reply to emails from our couch.”

“Agreed, but it’s a label you can tout in public and one people understand.”

They lapse into silence again, because it’s easier. The rustle of sheets startles him eventually, the dip of the bed as Phil turns on his side to face him.

What little light remains at the window is casting a frosting over his pale skin, highlighting the curve of a hip, slight dip of his waist. Dan doesn’t want to look what it’s doing to the colour of his eyes.

“So what made you ask?” Phil says eventually.

“I just think there are some things… some ‘nuances’ that our current labels don’t really cover.”

“Hm?”

Dan inhales. It’s preparation, because he knows that if he doesn’t he’ll hold his breath for all of what comes next. “Best friends, housemate or business partner don’t really cover what just happened.”

Phil reaches out a hand, curls it around Dan’s shoulder and tugs at him, urging him to turn too. He should feel vulnerable because they’re on top of the bed, naked and exposed, but he doesn’t. He shouldn’t shudder at the press of Phil’s hand on his shoulder given where those fingers have been tonight, but he does anyway.

Instead he turns to face Phil, making out the shape of his mouth in the dim light and wanting to kiss him again. But Phil isn’t responding, so he isn’t entirely convinced it’s allowed now everything is over.

“Do they have to cover it?” Phil asks, quietly.

Dan nods, “No, I suppose they don’t have to.”

“No point labelling it if it's a one time thing,” Phil mumbles. Its barely intelligible, but Dan is fluent in Phil so he understands just the same.

“And if it wasn’t a one time thing?”

He lets it hang in the air, expand to fill the space between them. He feels clammy and sticky, the air still filled with the musky scent of what happened between them, it presses in so that he’s almost choking on it. It probably has something to do with the fact that Phil takes a while to answer.

“Then it would probably mean a shift in the terminology” Phil relents. “If you wanted it not to be a one-time thing.”

“What were you thinking?” Dan asks, a hand raising to cover his mouth. Mostly to cover his blush, but also to prevent him being tempted to rush forward and press his lips to Phil’s, forget the conversation entirely in favour of making it at least a two-time thing right this second.

Phil reaches out and pulls the hand from his face, shifting closer in the process. Sweat cooling on their skin makes him shiver.

“Do you want to get dressed?” Phil laughs.

“Probably should.”

“Well, don’t do it on my account,” Phil shrugs, “I’m quite enjoying the view.”

He lets his eyes drag down Dan’s body so that Dan can almost feel them on his skin. It makes him shiver again.

“Maybe just get into bed?” Dan suggests. He thinks he can probably allow that, enjoy that, without the accompanying terminology.

They shuffle under the duvet, Phil pulling it up and over them with a final draft of air before it settles. They arrange themselves so that are closer than before, still tipped towards each other, feet tangled now. Phil lets a hand drop to Dan’s hip, thumb soothing over the jut of the bone.

“So…” Dan says once the heat of the bed has warmed them up.

“Ah yes,” Phil says, eyes dancing in amusement, “You want labels.”

“I don’t want them.” Dan clarifies, “I just think that, you know, it might be useful to define… this” he gestures between them.

“And we need a label for that?”

“Maybe. I mean, as far as social constructs go, it’s a fairly limiting one. But having a way to describe it in a singular word that's recognised by society might be useful.”

“You mean you don’t just want to tell them the entire story of tonight in vivid detail over and over”

Dan grins, “I mean, I could, probably. I’ll probably go over it in my own head enough times to commit it to memory. But I fear that the people in our lives aren’t prepared for the embarrassment of hearing that to be honest.”

“But you want some way to tell them…” Phil drifts off slightly before continuing. “You want to tell people about… this. About what this means for us.”

Dan hums. “Not everyone. But some people. I’d like to. If you would. But only in terms you’re comfortable with.”

“I don’t think I could keep it to myself if I wanted to.”

It’s a hushed sentence and it lingers. A mutual agreement that this means something has shifted, something that will remain shifted. Something they intend to pursue.

“Well, what label would you suggest?” Dan repeats from earlier, more clear on what he’s asking now.

“I don’t know.” Phil confesses, “What is a word for two people who have sex after 7 years of friendship and apparently don’t want it to be a one-time thing?”

“A wide variety of things,” Dan informs him, “So many things.”

“I’m open to suggestions.”

Dan rolls his eyes, but it’s fond.

“Well, friends with benefits would work I suppose. To cover the parameters you just set.”

“Hmmm,” Phil rumbles thoughtfully. “The definition of that one doesn’t really cover any emotional aspect that might be included though.”

“Emotional. Right.” Dan ponders, “Lovers?”

Phil laughs. “That just sounds… odd.”

“We are odd.”

“Yes but… you wanted one to use in public. I can’t see using that one personally.”

“No,” Dan agrees, “You’re probably right.”

“Besides, it’s still only focussed on the.. Um…physical aspects.”

Dan rolls his body into Phil’s, unable to resist it anymore. He meets Phil’s mouth, feeling his hand tighten at his hip. His own hands slide up and over Phil’s shoulders, and they roll so Phil is slightly on top of him, at an angle.

“Distracting.” Phil murmurs as they part for air.

“Yes.”

“I mean what I said,” Phil says, lips brushing Dan’s with every other word. “It needs to include the emotional side of things.”

“What… What emotion do you want it to convey?” Dan pulls him down for a kiss again, letting their bare chests press together, hips not aligned but so close he feels like he might be able to stir up interest again quicker than he’s been able to since he was much younger. He can’t help but to thrust upwards slightly, seeking contact.

“Dan,” Phil reprimands.

“Sorry, sorry.” He settles himself again, but doesn’t let Phil move any further away.

“I... “ Phil leans his forehead to Dan’s and closes his eyes. “Dan I think it needs to include the fact that I’m in love with you.”

Dan gasps, parts his lips and lets the air rush in sharply. It sends a shockwave through him that temporarily shorts his brain so that he doesn’t respond for a moment. A moment that stretches out so long Phil begins to move away. Dan locks his wrists behind Phil’s neck and holds him close, bending a leg at the knee to trap him there.

“No,” he says, “I think it needs to include that I love you too.”

Phil wriggles closer then, up and over so that he is settled between Dan’s thighs. He kisses him with a fervour that startles Dan at first. There is a push and pull as they both seek to press everything they want to say into each other’s skin. Fingertips roam, hips undulate idly, mouths work in unison. Dan moans and Phil has to move away. They can both feel how the other is almost hard again, panting and overcome.

“I’ve waited so long to say that.” Phil confesses.

“Me too,” Dan nods, “I probably should have said it years ago but… I didn’t know… I was an idiot.”

“You were young,” Phil soothes, a hand ghosting up his side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “I’ll forgive you a sexuality crisis. We got here eventually.”

“We did.”

“I think my body is making a valiant effort to go again,” Phil giggles,”But I’m not sure it’s technically possible.”

“Probably not right this minute,” Dan says, “It’s quite late.”

Phil groans and tips his head over Dan’s shoulder to catch the clock. Nearly 2am.

“It is. I wish we could stay up but…”

“Things to do tomorrow.”

“Things to do.” Phil repeats, sadly.

Phil sighs reluctantly and slides away. They don’t talk about it but both move to pull on underwear at least before settling back into the bed. Dan thinks naked cuddling is all well and good, but an uncomfortable mixture of body heat and proximity causes the quick slide of sweat which, when focussed on certain areas, could mean no sleep for either of them.

Dan thinks that if this had have happened a few years earlier, when they were young and impulsive, neither of them would have had a second thought about staying up all night and continuing this thing. As it is, they have all those pesky responsibilities that have added to them as labels have.

“Boyfriend.” Phil throws out suddenly.

“What?”

“For the label.” Phil explains, “Boyfriend works. For all of… that.”

“It does.” Dan agrees. “Sounds… vaguely permanent though.”

Phil lets Dan tip onto his side and works an arm over his waist, pulling Dan’s back flush with his chest. “Problem with that?”

Dan hides his smile in the pillow. “No,” he whispers, “No problem at all.”

They both close their eyes and settle into the comfort of having each other close. It’s new, and it feels mostly resolved now, except for the nagging sensation at the back of Dan’s mind.

“It still doesn’t feel like enough.”

“Hm?”

“Boyfriend is good for everyone else,” he explains, “It’s the best thing for public and it works as a social construct term.”

“But…?”

“But it doesn’t… It doesn’t, like, mean everything I want it to.”

“What would?” Phil asks, the words flitting onto the nape of Dan’s neck.

“Something more?” Dan suggests, “Everything?... Mine?”

“Everything.” Phil agrees, pressing his lips to the spot on Dan’s neck that makes him squirm. “Yours.”

Dan lets a soft noise of contentment drift from his lips before closing his eyes to sleep. Words won’t ever really be able to define it, perhaps Phil is right, they’re too limiting to encapsulate all the nuance of them, feel too small to really pack all that Phil means to him in to. Still, he thinks, those ones will do.

True to their word, when they get up in the morning they stick to using ‘boyfriend’ when asked. First with those closest to them, then with strangers who make the assumption. Eventually they let it drift online, slowly and without much fanfare. It’s a term that works for the most part.

Until the moments they are brought together, private and enclosed. Whether slick and panting into each other’s mouths, or sleep-warm and lazy propped up on each other’s body, cosy and cuddle together, or insistent and pulling. Then they have what is reserved for them, the terms only used behind closed doors.

“Everything,” one will say.

“Yours,” the other will answer.

[band-blogging]

The Last Thing I Want For You Is A Happy Ending

Title: The Last Thing I Want For You Is A Happy Ending

Summary: Tyler realizes he still has feelings for you after being broken up for almost a year, but is heartbroken when he discovers you are engaged.

Characters: Tyler Joseph x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: 600 followers! Thank you guys so much!

You honestly thought Tyler was the one. If you could go back, exactly one year ago to when you and Tyler were together, maybe things would be different. Because Tyler was everything. But you can’t change the fact that your relationship ended and you can’t restart the day you and Tyler had the fight that inevitably led to you breaking up. It was heartbreaking and one of the things you remember most about that time is the amount of ice cream you ate. It was the only thing you could find comfort in, which sucked because you ended up gaining seven pounds before you finally decided that enough was enough. 

You decided, after a month of moping and eating and sleeping and not doing anything else, to shower, put on a nice outfit and go to a local bar as a single woman. 

There you met Matt, who was one of the only guys there not using pitiful pickup lines to try and score a one night stand. So you started talking, and talking led to a first date, which led to a second, then a third, and many more after that. 

The most recent one was the most memorable. You’ll never forget the jolt that went through you when you saw the ring that he was holding in front of you. 

Y/N Y/L/N…will you marry me?

And you said yes. You said yes again and again and again, because you were convinced you were in love with this man. 

Since then, you had prepared everything for the wedding. The cake, the venue, the dress...the dress. 

Every woman dreams of what their wedding dress will look like, wondering if it will be everything they’ve ever imagined. Well, you can say first hand that it is.

The dress is perfect and the venue is perfect and Matt is perfect. 

But then you remember Tyler. 

Tyler was your world. The one you loved and cherished. The one you wanted to be with forever. 

But that was before. You wanted to be with Tyler and you thought he was the one. That was before Matt. Before the proposal, before the dates, before the bar, and before the unreasonable amount of ice cream. 

But, even though it’s been more than a year, you can’t seem to come to terms with the way it ended between you and Tyler. 

“Y/N, you know how important this is to me, why are you asking me to back out?” 

“Stop making me the bad guy here, Tyler! You know as well as I do that I would never ask you to back out of something like this. I just want to see you more. You’re accusing me of making you choose between your girlfriend and your music career. That’s not what I’m doing!”

“Well, that’s what it sounds like.” 

It went on like that for a while longer. Each of you spit out words that you didn’t mean, but they were still said. At first, those words stung, then they burned, then they sliced at you until you had nothing left to hold onto except your anger. 

It didn’t end until Tyler walked out, not coming back for a few days. You assumed he went to Josh’s, but he never told you. 

He came back and, not long after, you both decided that it would be better if you spent some time apart. Things were different and the words that were said were too fresh for both of you. 

And that’s what led to the seven pounds. That’s what led to the bar. That’s what led to the dates

That’s what led to the engagement. 

You’ve tried hard to tell yourself that you’re over Tyler. That’s a part of your life that you need to let go. 

But he’s always there. He’s there when you pass the little coffee shop on the corner the two of you met at where he spilled coffee on you. He’s there when you see a piano or a ukulele, even something as simple as a microphone. Because Tyler was special, and it’s not easy to get over someone like that. 

And the closer you get to the wedding, the guiltier you feel. You’ve always wished it hadn’t ended the way it had. You wish you could say that you and Tyler are still friends. 

But the truth is, you haven’t spoken to Tyler since you broke up a year ago. 

“Tyler, you know you can’t do this. She’s moved on, she’s probably with someone else.” 

Josh has tried time after time to convince Tyler that seeing you again is a bad idea, but your ex-boyfriend is convinced that he will be able to win you back. 

“When we broke up, we said we needed time, right? Well, time has passed and old wounds have healed. And if they haven’t, then I’ll help stitch them.”

“It’s not going to be that simple, Ty. You know that.”

Tyler doesn’t respond and Josh sighs, trying to get his best friend to see the flaws in his plan.

“It’s been a year. Why the sudden surge of emotion?” 

Tyler shrugs, thinking about the question. Like you, he’s been feeling guilty about the way your relationship ended, but he’s been finding that his old feelings are resurfacing. 

Either that, or they were never buried.

“I’m not sure. Some things are just…meant to be, I guess.” 

“That might be true, but the two of you had your chance and it didn’t work out. This isn’t a good idea. Besides, how are you going to find her? I mean, have you thought this through at all?” 

“Of course I’ve thought this through! She might live in our old house, it was hers originally. I’ll go there first.”

“And if she doesn’t live there?” 

“I’ll call her.”

“And if she changed her number?” 

“I’ll call her mom.” 

Josh scoffs and shakes his head, wanting to express to his friend that this is a horrible idea, but knowing that nothing he says will be able to stop Tyler from finding you. 

“Her mom? Come on, Tyler, you’re not thinking straight. This girl is blinding you like she did last time. Except this time the feeling isn’t mutual and it isn’t exactly a good thing.” 

“You liked her, right?” Tyler asks suddenly, turning to Josh with raised eyebrows.

“Yeah, I liked her. You two were good together.”

“Then why are you so against this?” 

“You know why, Tyler! I’ve been explaining to you why I’m against this!”

Tyler just shakes his head and turns back to the mirror, smoothing his shirt down.

“Look, you can do what you want. And I wish you luck, I really do, but that doesn’t mean I think this is a good idea.” 

“I always appreciate your support, Josh.” 

You hadn’t moved from your old place. That’s another thing that reminds you of Tyler: your house. Your damn house. 

But a lot of things…good things happened in that house and you can’t just give it up. Plus, it’s a nice place. 

And you did your best to get rid of every sign that Tyler lived there. 

There’s a mark on the wall from when Tyler tried to carry his keyboard downstairs and it hit the wall. Neither of you ever bothered to cover up because it was a reminder of a memory that you shared, as insignificant as it was. 

But after Tyler left, you finally got around to trying to scrub it off, but it didn’t work. You didn’t go through the trouble of painting over it…you told yourself that it wasn’t worth the time. It was just a small mark, it would fade with time. 

But the truth is, you smile every time you look at it and remember that day. You were so mad at him for marking the wall, and he had just stared at you with an embarrassed look on his face while you explained to him that he had to be more careful. 

When you had finished your rant, Tyler told you that he wanted to bring the keyboard down so he could sing you one of the songs he had just written. 

You had smiled at him and forgotten about your argument completely, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend with a smile. He played the song over and over that night until you fell asleep with your head on his shoulder. 

And now you look at the mark and that song gets stuck in your head for weeks at a time.

But you were able to get rid of the smaller things. Little things that he left in the house like a pair of socks or a toothbrush. You even found one of his shirts.

You would never admit it to anyone, especially not your fiancé, but you kept that shirt. It’s a white with nothing significant on it to mark it as Tyler’s, but you knew. 

You found it in that short period of time between break-up depression and meeting Matt. You slept in it the first night you found it because it smelled like Tyler. 

And when you met Matt, you figured that throwing away a perfectly good white shirt would be a waste, so you shoved it in the back of your closet and tried to forget that it existed. 

But it was there when you needed it and you always pulled it out when you needed something to comfort you. 

Because it felt like you had Tyler back. 

But it almost felt like you were cheating on Matt, which is stupid because it’s just a shirt. A shirt that belonged to your ex, who is probably the only person besides Matt that you gave your heart too. 

So, yeah… maybe keeping and occasionally wearing the shirt is wrong when you have someone else, but you can’t help it. You can’t help the feeling of safety it gives you and you can’t deny that thinking about Tyler gives you a warm feeling that has never faded. 

But you’re happy with Matt. You’ll always have lingering, distant feelings for Tyler, but Matt is who you want to be with. 

That’s what you always tell yourself.

You and Matt have talked about it and decided that you want to wait to move in together until you’re married. You don’t know why you thought it would be a good idea, but your argument (you’ve forgotten what it was) must have been convincing because he agreed. 

And you’re thrilled to be with Matt, you really are. Ever since he proposed, your feelings for him have basically blown up in your face and all you can think when you see him is that’s the man I’m going to marry. 

And it’s a good feeling, it’s like your floating. 

And then you think of Tyler and all of those feelings dull and the only thing that matters is the songs that he used to sing and the words that were exchanged and every “I love you” that was said. 

But, right now, you feel like you’re drunk on your love for Matt. And you’re always trying to figure out if that’s a good thing, because when you’re drunk, you usually regret the things you do the morning after. 

But when you’re in that moment, you don’t have a care in the world. You just take everything that’s being shoved at you with open arms like hey, this is great! Let’s do stupid drunk stuff, let’s go on a date, let’s get married-

But then you wake up the next morning with a massive headache and one thought going through your head. 

What the hell happened last night?

And that’s how it’s felt for a year. You’ve thrown yourself into this relationship, saying yes to every question because Matt is just so perfect. He is everything you want in a partner.

But you feel like you’ve just woken up and are asking yourself what happened. How did this happen so fast and why did you let it? 

You hadn’t realized it until recently, but the year you have spent with Matt has felt like days. You feel like you went to sleep one night single and the next engaged. You don’t know if that’s how you’re supposed to feel, but that’s not what it felt like with Tyler.

With Tyler, you savored each moment and one year felt like ten. 

And now that you’ve realized how fast your relationship with Matt has moved, when you think through the past year, you think of the nights when you found comfort in Tyler’s shirt and the mark on the wall that makes you want to sing your heart out because the song he played you that night is still your favorite song. 

Everything seems to go back to Tyler. 

“Honey, what color do you want the bridesmaid dresses to be?” 

“How many tiers is the cake going to be?” 

“Oh, you need to come pick out a veil.” 

Questions are being thrown at you left and right and you are about ready to take the color palate your sister is showing you and shove it up her-

“The purple looks nice.” 

Weddings are a joyous occasion. You get engaged and you feel like you’re flying, and then you are at the wedding and that feeling is back and all you want to do it marry the person standing in front of you. 

But in between those two occasions are the preparations. No one ever fantasizes about making invitations and tasting food after food to pick what you want to eat at the event. 

“Mom, where are the veils?” 

“Over here, honey.” 

You start to follow your mom, looking forward to picking something for your wedding for the first time all day. 

But then-

“Y/N, someone’s knocking on the door!”

You groan and tell your mom you’ll be right back, heading towards the door. The visitor knocks again, probably getting impatient.

“I’m coming, one second!”

You open the door and are suddenly looking into the familiar brown eyes of the man you once loved. 

He looks different. The first thing you think is that he changed his hair. It’s shorter now. Then you realize that he’s in front of you and you’re afraid you might pass out. 

But you stand there, staring at him as he stares back, the same expression on his face.

“Tyler?” 

You form one word and it snaps him out of his daze. He suddenly looks so nervous and you remember the way he used to run his hand through his hair when he looked like that. Now there’s not much hair to run his hand through, so he just runs his hand over his head and rubs the back of his neck. 

“Hi,” Tyler says sheepishly, smiling softly at you. 

“What, um…what are you doing here?” 

Tyler opens his mouth, then closes it, trying to remember what he had planned to say. If he’s being honest, the moment he saw his mind went blank. 

“I just wanted to see you.” 

You can’t help the way your heart skips a beat when he says this. Seeing him again, here…it makes everything rush back. It’s like you two were together last week. It’s like last Tuesday you were running through the rain after a date trying to find your car. It feels like three days ago you were dancing to the songs Tyler wrote. 

It’s like the fight was yesterday and everything that has happened since then has passed by in hours. 

You look behind you and see your mom and two sisters staring at the two of you with wide eyes. 

“Why don’t we talk outside,” you say after a silence, taking Tyler’s arm and pulling him out the door. You close it and you and Tyler stand there for a moment, neither of you knowing how to start a conversation. 

You eventually sit on the steps leading up to your porch, sighing and rubbing a hand over your face. Tyler sits next to you and there’s silence for a few seconds, both of you just taking in the fact that you are here…in the same space, breathing the same air. 

You never thought this would happen...you let go of this part of your life. 

“I know that showing up here unannounced is out of line-”

“It’s alright, Tyler,” you say immediately, reassuring him. 

“Okay, good.”

Another silence.

“Is there something you wanted to say? Something you wanted to talk about?” 

Tyler sighs and looks over at you. 

“I just…I don’t know, I’ve been thinking about you a lot recently, and…”

He trials off and you look over at him, waiting for him to continue. You see his gaze on your hand…or, more specifically, your ring. 

“Congratulations.”

He sounds heartbroken. Absolutely heartbroken. And it kills you to see him like that. It may be worse than the way he sounded during the fight, each word he spit at you laced with venom. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, hiding your ring by crossing your arms. 

You immediately feel guilty for that. You shouldn’t have to hide your ring like you’re embarrassed to be wearing it. But it’s different, because this is Tyler. 

This is Tyler. 

“How have you been?” he asks, tearing his gaze away from your hand to look you in the eye. You smile softly and take a deep breath. 

“Wedding preparations,” you say with a light laugh. “Everything has been so hectic and I have no idea how people can do this without screaming every once in a while. But, uh, yeah, everything’s good. My mom is here, and my sisters. I think they’re all taking the whole wedding more seriously then I am, if I’m being honest.” 

You smile slightly and see the corner of Tyler’s lips twitch up, but he keeps his head down as he listens to you speak, savoring the sound of your voice. 

“But I’ve been good,” you finish, answering the original question before asking one of your own. “How’s Josh? How’s the band?” 

“I still have feelings for you.”

Your eyes widen and you look over at him to see his eyes focused on the concrete steps below him. You stutter out a few words that you know he can’t understand before you form the beginning of a sentence.

“Tyler, you can’t-” 

“Look, I know I can’t say that. You’re engaged and that’s amazing, but I can’t keep living with those words like it’s a…a secret that I’m not allowed to tell you.”

You shake your head and let out a breath, trying to think of something to say. How is someone supposed to respond to that?

“I’m getting married in two weeks, Tyler. Two weeks. And you come here to tell me that…” 

You trail off again, trying to sort out all of this out. Thoughts are flying all over the place and you can’t form one coherent thought before another bursts in and mixes you up again. 

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have come. But here I am,” he says with a breathless, humorless laugh. “Josh told me this wasn’t a good idea.” 

You chuckle and shake your head. 

“Josh was always the reasonable one,” you mutter, looking at Tyler for a moment. “Maybe you should’ve listened to him.” 

Tyler laughs this time and you smile. The laugh is so familiar and you suddenly feel like you’re going to burst into tears. 

“Yeah, maybe I should’ve.”

“It’s been a year, Ty. Why now?” 

“That’s what Josh asked.”

Both of you chuckle, but it’s filled with another silence and you have no idea how to fill it.

“I honestly don’t know what to think,” you say. You can barely see that he’s looking at you, but if you meet his gaze you know the tears brimming in the corners of your eyes will spill down your cheeks. 

“Do you…” Tyler trails off and clears his throat, “do you still have feelings for me?” 

You scoff and shake your head, letting out a laugh in disbelief of how ridiculous this is. 

“You can’t ask me that, Tyler. Please don’t ask me that,” you choke out, forcing yourself not to cry. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” 

You sigh, willing yourself to look at Tyler. You meet his gaze and practically melt because of the look he’s giving you. 

It’s the same look he gave you after your first kiss. The same look he gave you when he told you he loved you for the first time, and the same look he gave you after every ‘I love you’ that followed.

“Please think about this,” he whispers. 

“We broke up a year ago, Ty. We’re different people now. I mean, I’ve heard your band on the radio. You guys are famous.” 

Tyler nods and smiles. 

“Yeah. People seem to like our music.” 

“I like it.” 

You purse your lips, looking at Tyler as he stares back at you, a shocked expression on his face. You don’t blame him for being surprised. When you break up with someone, you don’t usually listen to their voice 24/7.

“You listen to our music?” 

“Yeah. I listened to it before and I listen to it now.” 

Tyler smiles and you let a small one slip onto your face. You can’t help it. Tyler looks so happy you’re afraid he might burst. 

“Where’s your fiancé?” 

“He’s away for business. He’ll be back tomorrow.” 

Tyler nods and sighs again. 

“You changed your hair,” he says eventually.

“So did you.” 

He nods and runs his hand over his head to emphasize your statement.

“My mom tells me I look like an egg.” 

You laugh and wipe the tears from your eyes, the lump in your throat gone now that the conversation has lightened up. 

“Do you love him?”

And there’s the lump. 

You let a tear fall then because you don’t think you can take this. You gave Tyler so much time to come to you and say these things and he chooses now. 

Why does it have to be now. 

“I’ve found my happy ending.” 

“Y/N…the last thing I want for you is a happy ending.” 

“What…” you take a deep breath and wipe your eyes, shaking your head, “what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that…the fight we had, that’s a part of our relationship. That’s a part of us. But it’s not a good memory and neither of us can change that. We will look back and see how that fight changed us.”

You think back to the fight and know that he’s right. It changed you more than you’d like to admit. 

“You can marry him and go live in a perfect house and have perfect kids and get a perfect job and live a perfect life with him by your side. But what we had, I know that I won’t be able to replace it…no matter how bad one of our last memories is. 

“And our relationship was always a struggle then, but if we were together now, it would be worse. I would go on tour and the only contact we would have would be texting and calling and FaceTiming. And it would suck…that’s not usually what people think of when someone says ‘happy ending.’”

He pauses and takes a breath before he goes on, his voice desperate. 

“But it would be worth it. It would be an adventure and all of the time away and all of the nights alone…it would be worth it. To me, it would be worth it.”

“Tyler…” 

“You’re worth it.”

You shake your head and stop trying to keep your tears in. You let them slip down your cheeks, each one hurting more than the last. 

“I’m with the person I love, Tyler.”

Despite everything you said and everything you denied, you can’t get Tyler out of your head. He’s always been there, but now it’s like every thought leads back to him. 

And your thoughts of him lead to that damn shirt sitting in the back of your closet. 

And you don’t know what comes over you, but you pull it out and stare at it for a while. Even though it’s been a year since you found it and his scent has faded from the fabric, it still makes you think of everything that happened between the two of you. It makes you want to cry and laugh and relive every memory because most of them bring a smile to your face. 

You feel all of this because of a shirt.

You change out of your clothes and slip the t-shirt over your head, climbing into bed and hugging yourself. 

The last thing I want for you is a happy ending…

Two weeks later…

Tyler had been a wreck after he went to see you. Even after Josh’s countless warnings that you would be in a relationship, he had pushed it all back and it didn’t hit him that those warnings might have been true until he caught sight of the ring on your finger. 

Congratulations. 

Josh has been trying to convince him to go out and do something, maybe meet a nice girl and start over. They both know it won’t be that easy. 

But, at the very least, Josh wants to get him out of the house. He wants to get him driving around again, writing music and performing.

But whenever he goes to Tyler’s house to try to get him to leave, he just ends up staying at the house with him. 

And that’s how he and Tyler ended up sitting on Tyler’s couch a couple weeks after Tyler’s surprise visit to see you. They each have a red bull and are watching some random show that Josh suggested. 

“Ty, you have to get out of the house. Go to a bar or a restaurant. Maybe you could make that ten minute journey to my place. I would count that as getting out of the house.”

Tyler is about to respond and tell Josh that he just wants to stay at home, but the doorbell interrupts him.

He sighs and gets up, putting his drink to the side and unlocking the door. He expects it to be someone trying to sell him something or maybe one of his neighbors. 

He doesn’t expect to open the door and find you standing in his doorway, soaking wet from the rain, you’re eyes red from crying. 

“Y/N…” 

You look up at Tyler, your words heavy with emotion as you give him all the information he needs in three words.

“I ended it.” 

Tyler immediately looks at your hand and notices an empty space where your ring used to be. 

“I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said and I was so confused and I just… I couldn’t marry him.” 

Tyler doesn’t want to be happy. You’re standing in front of him, your heart broken, but he wants to jump for joy because this means you might have feelings for him too. 

But he also feels his heart break for you because he’s only seen you this vulnerable once before, when the two of you broke up.

“Come in, you look like you’re freezing.” 

You walk inside and spot Josh sitting on the couch, staring at you with wide eyes. 

“Y/N?” 

“Hey, Josh,” you say with a weak smile. Josh gets up and disappears down the hall, coming back with a blanket in his hand. 

“Here,” he says as he wraps it around you.

“Thank you.” 

Josh nods and offers you a small smile, looking at Tyler after a moment.

“I’ll just go to the, um…over there,” he says, turning and walking upstairs to the guest bedroom.

You turn to Tyler, feeling another wave of tears come over you. 

“I don’t know what to do, Ty.” 

Tyler immediately pulls you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you as you sob into him. He doesn’t know how long he stands there, holding you and running a hand through your hair, but he eventually begins singing to you until your sobs die down to whimpers, then to sniffles, then to silence. And even then, he still sings because he remembers how calming it was for you.

You keep your arms around him and he eventually starts to sway to the rhythm of the song. You realize then that the song he’s singing is the one he played you the night he made the mark on the wall.

“You remembered,” you choke out, looking up at him. He smiles and nods.

“Of course I did. It was your favorite song.”

“It still is.”

Tyler doesn’t say anything else, but his arms tighten around you and he starts softly singing again, his hand moving up and down your back.

And that’s all it is. A hug. 

But that’s enough for now.

X

[chasholidays]

thanks so much for doing this again, it's always super fun!!! after much deliberation my love for the single best asshole friend murphy fic in the universe won out, and my request is "in the library of my house i have a laugh" + graduation :)

Original fic here!

If Murphy had his way, he’d never actually leave grad school.

It’s not so much that grad school is so great and more that once he leaves grad school, he needs something else to do, and that’s a terrifying prospect. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have a future in academia, not with how much better everyone else in academia is at the whole thing than he is, and he can’t just coast on Jaha thinking he’s brilliant forever. And if he’s not in academia, he doesn’t know what else to do. Somehow, horrifyingly, that’s all he knows.

“Maybe a self-help book,” says Emori. “Isn’t that how people with philosophy degrees and no other skills make money?”

“I think we just starve to death,” he says, staring up at the ceiling. He doesn’t want to have an existential crisis, but it might be unavoidable.

“I still don’t know why you’re so convinced you can’t get a job here,” Emori says. “Jaha isn’t the only one in the department who likes you.”

“Yeah, but can you imagine me as a teacher? Fuck, I don’t want to have the read the bullshit I write, fuck student papers. TAing was a nightmare, and I don’t want to publish research.”

“If only they had an open position for a visionary.”

“I think that’s Jaha too.” He huffs. “You got an idea for that self-help book? I think it only works if I’m actually successful.”

“You have a PhD and minimal student debt. That’s success to many.”

“Probably better to just skip it and be a bartender,” he grumbles, and she kisses his forehead.

“We might be hiring.”

“Awesome, keep me posted.”

*

The thing is, Murphy understands his skills. He’s decent at bullshitting, and he’s not actually a bad writer. He’s definitely engaging, and people like listening to him talk. He’s not exactly competent, but he’s good at surviving. Grad school seemed like a good thing, but now he’s supposed to go into the world and use what he’s learned, except he hasn’t really learned anything, and he doesn’t have any more idea what he should be doing than he did when he decided he might as well get his PhD.

“This is going to sound extreme,” says Bellamy, “but did you think about asking Jaha?”

“How dare you,” he says, reflexive. Then he actually thinks about it. “Asking him what?”

“He’s your adviser. In theory, he’s supposed to help you get a job.”

“That sounds fake.”

Bellamy shrugs, easy. At this point, he’s basically the poster-boy for academic success: not only do he and Clarke both have jobs in their fields, and said jobs are close enough together that they’re on track to be married and start in on their future as functioning human beings in the next year or so. Bellamy even proposed, which, like, it’s not like either Murphy or Emori wants to get married, but he honestly wasn’t expecting Bellamy and Clarke to be so on top of this whole thing.

It’s not a competition, because their idea of a happy future is completely different from Murphy’s. But he’s used to being able to feel a lot more smugly superior to them, and having to admit they seem good while he’s struggling is kind of fucking with his head.

“I’m not saying it’s a miracle fix,” he says. “Honestly, I don’t know what kind of career advice Jaha would give. But if he wants to hire you, you probably want to find out about that now.”

“You think I could be a professor?”

He makes a face. “No. But I didn’t think you could get a PhD, I’m not counting anything out.”

At least his continued success upsets someone. That’s something he’s got going for him. “Guess it’ll at least be interesting,” he says. “Always wanted to know what Jaha actually thought I was going to do with all this shit.”

“If you find out, let us know,” Bellamy grumbles.

Murphy raises his glass. “There’s always drinking myself to death.”

“If that hasn’t killed you yet, it probably never will,” says Gina, as he drains it.0

“Not with that attitude it won’t,” says Emori, and refills his drink.

So at least she’s still on his side.

*

“So, I was wondering if you had any career advice,” Murphy asks. It’s probably the only practical thing he’s ever said to Jaha, and he doesn’t like it. They don’t have real conversations. Jaha drones and Murphy snarks. It’s a really good dynamic. “Since I’m graduating soon.”

“Oh, you won’t need a career,” says Jaha, which is honestly the most terrifying thing he’s ever said to Murphy. And that’s a fucking competitive category.

“I like having food and shelter,” he says.

“John, the end is coming. Soon enough, the entire nature of society will change. In the new world, you won’t need employment.”

“Oh.”

“In the new world, people like us will–” he starts, and that’s a good sign that it’s safe for him to stop listening for a while. He nods and smiles and when he hears, “You should ask your girlfriend about this,” he makes a note to tell Emori that she’s still passing for a robot.

“Okay, so–great,” he says, once Jaha has finally wound down. “Really helpful. Thanks.”

“If you need a letter of recommendation in the meantime, just let me know,” he says, shockingly upbeat. He’s really excited for the robot uprising. “I’m always happy to help.”

“Yeah. Definitely want you vouching for me,” he mutters, and resists the urge to slam the door behind him.

*

It’s not as if Murphy is going to fall into immediate poverty once he’s done with school. Honestly, he’s still in pretty decent shape. He and Emori have a crappy apartment that suits them fine, and he’s still got his odd assortment of part-time jobs, including one he’s picking up at the bar. He’s going to get by.

But there is this weird, annoying, stubborn part of him that thinks he should be using his degree, and that sucks.

“It’s not like I wanted it,” he tells Emori and Gina. “Like, fuck, I was just doing it because I didn’t have anything better to do.”

“You were not,” says Emori. It’s one of the problems with actually having a girlfriend who gets him. “You wanted to prove you could do it, and you did.”

“I did, yeah. So now what?”

“I think you should become a YouTube personality,” says Gina. “That seems like a good fit for you.”

“Huh. I’m listening. Tell me more. What do I do as a YouTube personality?”

“Get high and talk about your thesis, like always.”

“How does that make money?”

“Set up a Patreon,” says Emori.

He shrugs. “What the hell, can’t hurt. Add it to the list.”

*

Murphy doesn’t really have much by way of family, and while he could theoretically invite his racist grandma to his graduation, he’d rather just go on never speaking to her because she’s a fucking asshole. And not in the cool way like he is.

So, instead, he will be celebrating his graduation with his ragtag group of asshole friends, and he’s a little bit emotional about it.

It’s the worst.

Bellamy, being a cook, an officially sanctioned adult, and the most mom-like person Murphy has ever met who is not actually anyone’s biological mother, is making dinner, and everyone else is bringing booze, and they’re having a big party to celebrate the fact that Murphy has somehow conned his way into a graduate degree. So long as he can avoid any accidental, unintentional displays of emotion, he should be fine.

The last thing he wants is for any of his friends to realize he values and loves them.

“If I start getting weird, I need you to take me out,” he tells Emori. “I assume you have tranq darts on you.”

“I have mace.”

“Close enough. If it seems like I’m going to say anything nice to anyone, just mace me.”

“How nice is nice?”

“I trust your judgement.”

“Well, that’s your first mistake,” she says, bright. “I am happy for you, John. I’m glad you were able to do this.”

“Yeah, me too. Now I just have to do something else.”

“Until my kind take over and you become our slaves,” she says, grinning.

“Yeah, do you have a date for that or anything? It would be great if I could plan around the robot uprising.”

“When you least suspect it,” she says.

“Fuck, then it’s never going to happen.”

All of the gang who could make it is at Bellamy and Clarke’s, which is a pretty decent number. They’ve dwindled in numbers over the years, as people have graduated and moved away, but they still have a pretty strong core friend group, and they’ve all come together to celebrate him.

Which is why he needs Emori on mace duty. It’s a very risky situation, emotionally speaking.

Clarke opens the door with an open bottle of whiskey in her hand. “For you,” she says. “You’re graduating, we figured you’d want to just drink directly from the bottle.”

“I want to do that when I’m not graduating,” he points out. But he does take the bottle and take a swig, because that’s what he’s about. “This is actually good whiskey.”

“It’s almost like we’re friends,” says Clarke. “Come on in.”

Miller and Monty are already around, with Gina and Raven on their way. It’s a smaller, more manageable group of people than they’ve had in the past, and it feels like the one that might stick. Couples are easier, it feels like, and they’re all pretty motivated to stay together and in the same place.

He takes another sip of whiskey. These are the thoughts he doesn’t need to be having. Not when alcohol exists.

“I’m going to go help Bellamy in the kitchen,” says Emori. “John, if you need to be maced, just yell.”

Clarke raises her eyebrows, and he shrugs it off. “Inside joke. Monty’s got video games?”

“Lots of video games.”

“Awesome. Thanks for having a party for me,” he adds, against his better judgement. “This is cool.”

“Bellamy’s head might actually explode when you get your diploma,” she says. “So we’re celebrating now.”

“Before he dies?”

“Eat, drink, and be merry,” she agrees. “Video games are in the living room.”

And that’s how it goes. He takes his whiskey and plays Mario Kart with his friends, and everyone swears a lot and drinks a lot, and once the food is done they eat a lot, and at the end of the meal, toasts go around in his honor. Clarke and Bellamy present him with a lifetime achievement award for worst adviser, and Monty plays a song he made with autotune and the best of Jaha’s weird voice messages.

He might say a few kind words himself, even. His breath might even hitch.

“You were supposed to mace me,” he tells Emori, on their way back. Everyone hugged when they were leaving. It was a lot.

“I was,” she says, completely unrepentant. “I didn’t. It was a nice evening. You like our friends, and I’m happy for you.”

“Jesus. Maybe I should mace you.”

She smiles, squeezes his hand. “It won’t happen again,” she promises. “Just this once.”

*

“So, I’m graduating now, you can tell me,” says Murphy. “This is all an act, right?”

Jaha blinks at him. “Excuse me?”

“You had something else going on, right? You’re not actually like this.”

“I don’t know what you mean, John.”

“Do you really think I’m a philosophical genius, or was this some weird prank? Is this a She’s All That deal? One of the other professors made a bet with you?”

“Of course not. All I wanted was for you to realize your potential.”

“Yeah? How’d that go?”

“I consider you one of my great successes.”

“As long as you’re happy.” He shrugs, feeling a little awkward. “Thanks, I guess. For everything. This was–cool.”

“I look forward to meeting you again in the new world,” Jaha says, and offers his hand.

There’s nothing to do but shake it.

“May we meet again,” he says, and that’s it.

He gets his diploma and hangs it on the wall behind the desk in the living room, where he’s been filming his new YouTube series, “Dr. John Murphy’s Guide to the Robot Apocalypse.” Some people in the comments have been doubting his credentials, and he’s looking forward to rubbing it in their faces.

And, he has to say, it looks good up there. Like it really belongs.

[trashangel-dee]

Since there’s some minor ship wars going on and just general discussion and disagreement, and I just feel like sharing my thoughts on the Charlie/Dee relationship, since it’s one of my favorites, and I think one of the most interesting.

Do I think they’re actually in love? No. But I do think they’ll settle for each other. Their relationship feels like one of those things in movies where two friends decide “if we’re both still single [at a certain point], let’s just get together” They both realize they can’t escape the gang, both because they’re all so codependent, but also because no one else will have them. Even meeting someone and bringing them in is unlikely and would throw off the balance.

Charlie may finally accept that it’s never going to happen with The Waitress- he’s already admitted it some in “The Gang Group Dates”, then kind of in “Frank Falls Out the Window”. He decides that he’s getting tired of constantly being rejected and all the work he puts into doing stuff for her/attempts at courting.  Maybe she even gets better at avoiding him, and becomes harder to track down; which could come from experience but also, she apparently doesn’t have a home anymore and might have a new, or even no, job for Charlie to stalk at and hang around. I think after so much rejection, Dee finally admits that some rich, successful, attractive guy isn’t going to whisk her away from Philly and the bar to what she thinks is a better, more classy, life. And that she’s stuck with the gang forever, and the way things are now are the way they’ll stay.

I don’t see them having any really sweet, romantic love story with flowers and presents, and mushy stuff, but they both seem to have a similar, slightly warped, sense of what a relationship is and what they both want. In “Charlie and Dee Find Love” we learn the things Charlie does for The Waitress to keep her safe and healthy. He puts vitamins in her shampoo, chases people away from her bike, and even somehow tests her food for poison. Though I feel like her standards have fallen some over the years, Dee probably still has somewhat high expectations for a lifestyle and wanting to be somewhat pampered by someone. And while both of these beliefs are fairly unhealthy, they work together in a way; one wants to essentially obsess over someone, while the other wants to be obsessed over.

It appears they both want a relationship, or at least the idea. In “The Gang Saves the Day” Charlie imagines moving The Waitress in with him, getting married, and even raising rats, and eventually kids, together. He really sees them living a storybook life. Dee, apparently, also has some desire for an exclusive relationship with someone. In “The Gang Group Dates” she goes out once with a guy, on what probably wasn’t even a “real date” and assumes they’re exclusively dating: calling him her boyfriend, buying him a promise ring, and even deleting her dating profile. Then, in “PTSDee” she hooks up with Mike once, and thinks they’re dating and have a “really amazing connection” and “meaningful sex” Yeah, she used to sleep with guys to get something out of it, or to make herself feel better/prove some sort of self worth; but now it seems like she’s actually looking for someone to be with on a more personal level. She even tries on wedding dresses every Saturday for over a year, and says “I should be the one getting married”

In “The Gang Misses the Boat” they both admit that Mac and Dennis, and maybe Frank?, make them do things they don’t really want to do. Not that they’re any better or nicer than the others but maybe don’t dislike each other as much as they pretend to, essentially out of self preservation. I may be reaching here, but there’s the obvious attack the other before they get it, but there’s probably also a knowing that defending the other one when being teased will result in criticism. I read an article that called them both “the kicked dogs of the group” and it really is a good description as to how the gang treats each of them, and also how they treat and relate to each other.

Together, just as 2, they support each other. Dee explains to Charlie that he doesn’t have to eat beak at all when he admits, and even seems a little concerned, that he doesn’t want to but is made to, and is even genuinely happen happy for Charlie when he successfully orders the sandwich after he seemed stressed about it. She even says “I’m very proud of you” then later, when Charlie suggests they go right out to an open mic night, Dee admits to being scared and he authentically tells her, that she’ll “do great”*

So, I feel like my “shipping” of these 2 is wanting them to essentially have what Mac and Dennis already do. A mutual understanding and support of each other and having that one person they connect with automatically in the group, mostly by having a need the only the other person can fulfill, mostly through a symbiotic relationship. Frank has Artemis, the bridge people, and hookers, and seems to be okay with disappearing from the other 4 for a while. Mac and Dennis have their monthly dinners and movie nights, and I want Charlie and Dee to have the same thing. Maybe they rent a crappy movie and order take-out, or Charlie writes songs and she hangs around listening and giving ideas. (“Well, you know I like making music.” “Yeah, and I like listening to it.”)

I support that they’ll eventually just fall into a pattern of spending time with just each other, doing things they both enjoy that the others will criticize (def poetry and characters for example). And they’ll eventually just give up on chasing other people, because they’ve both found a connection with each other, and actually feel emotionally content. No one in the gang really is capable of having a normal relationship, and honestly, I feel like just giving up on that and settling for each other is the best they’ll ever get. (and maybe even deserve) I’ve seen a few people on here say that they have a good friendship, but platonic and romantic attraction is getting mixed up. In a way, I agree, and think that’s what works. No one in the gang actually knows what a healthy relationship is. Like Dennis’ marriage to Maureen failed partly because marriage wasn’t what he envisioned, and didn’t want to change his lifestyle and give up on friends and doing what he wanted. They both have some sort of romantic drive, and might not find it as great as they expect, but still find something from inside the gang.

It’s also interesting how they were kind of thrown together. I imagine that Charlie and Mac were friends in high school and always were together (obviously). Dee probably hung out with Dennis because they both didn’t really have any friends, and still had that codependency they hadn’t shaken since childhood. Mac and Dennis started to get closer and Charlie and Dee kind of got stuck together because they still wanted to be around Mac and Dennis, respectively, then when those two started getting really close, the other two hung out by default.

tl;dr- I don’t see Dee and Charlie having some sort of real romantic, love driven relationship that’s expected of shows, but they do seem to have a special rapport and a mutual understanding with each other, and need for acceptance they get exclusively from each other.

* I feel like the way she says it is important. It sounds so sincere and vulnerable. Dee has had to put up such a strong front for years, and she’s 100% putting out a weakness in both words and tone. She’s putting real faith that Charlie isn’t going to take an opportunity to insult or put her down.

————————————————————————————–

I know there’s talk and disagreements about sexuality and that kind of thing, and I’m 100% not trying to start discourse, and as much as I love Charlie being on the asexual spectrum, he seems to initiate anything between them that happens along those lines. There is some sort of attraction there. I don’t really want to tie this in with the first part, but want to at least acknowledge it.

There’s something about “Underage Drinking” that feels like there’s something there; when Charlie and Dennis are talking and drinking, Dee comes out of the backroom and he actually calls her over and says “come here, let me take a look at you.” He then seems a little surprised by her outfit, as if he was initially expecting/anticipating something nice and starts out trying to compliment her, rather than having intentions to make a joke. In “The Gang Gets Held Hostage”, he’s the one to kiss her. (then pretty much leaves her to die, but still does something first). Then in “Aluminum Monster vs. Fatty Magoo” when Charlie is getting worked up over the drawings, and Dee snaps him out of it, he asks her what she’s doing, because she looks pretty… before getting cut off. It might have been pretty good, or just more of an okay/good enough thing. In “Charlie Rules the World” after learning what consummate means he seems to think, and maybe even be slightly hopeful, that she means for real; he asks “so, we should have sex, then” instead of something like “we have to have sex then” and when she tells him in the game he responds with “either way” Finally, in “The Gang Misses the Boat” Charlie is the first one to make any sort of move/acknowledgement. He’s the first one to say “I feel like I’m feeling something” then after the silence, he’s the one to acknowledge there’s still something there (the subtitles say “chuckles”) and seems to move in first.